[The first place that his feet carry him to is the porch, because it's outside and suddenly everything inside just feels so horribly stifling. It's like he's looking at the interior of an entirely different house, and the walls that pass him by in a dizzy blur on his way out seem completely foreign and oppressive. He feels as though he doesn't belong, like he's a stranger in a building that he knows (knows?) he had grown up in. It makes bile rise in the back of his throat, and with it comes a deep-rooted feeling of - loathing, despair, anger. They're old, old feelings; it's almost like reaching into a chest and dusting off prized heirlooms.
These horrible, rotten things have been with him all along, he knows - he knows that almost immediately, because of how easily they come to him. He's struck by the fear that maybe he's been an equally rotten person all along, harboring this sort of decay. Maybe he deserves this. A word echoes in the back of his mind - worthless - and it draws up a raw, short and frightful scream, sucking the strength from his legs.
He teeters at the porch edge before collapsing, immediately retching over the side. It's impossible for him to even register where he is right now and Chizuru's words are little more than a distant buzz, drowned out by the harsh pulse of blood at his eardrums.
Still he searches, coughing once his mostly empty stomach has been emptied fully. Curling up doesn't help to alleviate anything, but he does anyway, wiping feebly at his face.]
no subject
These horrible, rotten things have been with him all along, he knows - he knows that almost immediately, because of how easily they come to him. He's struck by the fear that maybe he's been an equally rotten person all along, harboring this sort of decay. Maybe he deserves this. A word echoes in the back of his mind - worthless - and it draws up a raw, short and frightful scream, sucking the strength from his legs.
He teeters at the porch edge before collapsing, immediately retching over the side. It's impossible for him to even register where he is right now and Chizuru's words are little more than a distant buzz, drowned out by the harsh pulse of blood at his eardrums.
Still he searches, coughing once his mostly empty stomach has been emptied fully. Curling up doesn't help to alleviate anything, but he does anyway, wiping feebly at his face.]
Chizuru... Chizuru, where— Where are you...?