he remembers the words, the dry night stretching behind him as he'd clambered over the sill and onto the desk. yellow light, the must of books nearly unraveled to looseleaf, sand sifted through his jacket and his wind-wild hair in crumbs -- and shiro, an elbow against the grain, his hair all dark and strange, brows struggling to knit even as his mouth twitches up, as he says -- ]
I -- forgot.
[ it's too blank, an answer to the half-electric dream of a man in the tasseled beige-and-gold of some unknown military as much as it is to the companyman at his side, warm enough to feel it. instinct more than anything settles his fingers at shiro's arm, curling tight for the relief of touching something real. ]
I forgot that your building locks the front door at night.
[ as he lifts his head -- as another hand rumples the rain out of his wet, mussed hair. he's staring, he knows, stark-eyed as a lost thing. he can't seem to stop. ]
no subject
he remembers the words, the dry night stretching behind him as he'd clambered over the sill and onto the desk. yellow light, the must of books nearly unraveled to looseleaf, sand sifted through his jacket and his wind-wild hair in crumbs -- and shiro, an elbow against the grain, his hair all dark and strange, brows struggling to knit even as his mouth twitches up, as he says -- ]
I -- forgot.
[ it's too blank, an answer to the half-electric dream of a man in the tasseled beige-and-gold of some unknown military as much as it is to the companyman at his side, warm enough to feel it. instinct more than anything settles his fingers at shiro's arm, curling tight for the relief of touching something real. ]
I forgot that your building locks the front door at night.
[ as he lifts his head -- as another hand rumples the rain out of his wet, mussed hair. he's staring, he knows, stark-eyed as a lost thing. he can't seem to stop. ]
. . . At least I got in.