|
Post by Yao Wang on May 5, 2012 3:17:21 GMT -5
"Hm?" He gives a glance over his shoulder, though his gaze doesn't linger on Kiku for very long. "It wouldn't be an opportune time for an orderly to come check up on us. Contrary to their egotistical beliefs, sometimes being alone is the best way to keep your head together." The bed gives a soft creak as he sits up straighter. "You probably wouldn't want anyone to peek in, either." Yao sits still as a pillar, allowing Kiku time to make sense of his response. Or, rather, lack thereof, if one was to look for a definitive answer.
|
|
|
Post by Kiku Honda on May 5, 2012 13:35:52 GMT -5
"Oh," he replies. Yao's response runs through his mind, considering each word one by one... before he realizes just what he meant. He was trying to make sure no one saw him crying. A slight warm sensation fills Kiku, and he can't help but turn his mouth up a bit. Smiling was rare on his part, but lo and behold, there was one on his face at this moment. Small, but present nonetheless. "W-well, you're right... I never like people seeing me cry." Sitting up, he stares down at the sheets and picks at a stray piece of string hanging off of them. "S-so, ah... t-thank you, I guess." His head lifts up again to look at Yao, hoping for some sort of reaction from the other man.
|
|
|
Post by Yao Wang on May 9, 2012 15:49:38 GMT -5
"Not many people like to be seen crying." His eyes swivel to Kiku's, perhaps staring for longer than what seems necessary. He really does look totally harmless. How can he feel safe in a place like this?" Thinking harder about it, Yao figures that he most likely doesn't feel safe. Hell, I don't feel all too safe in this nuthouse and I lived in a back alley dumpster in Queens. This kid probably can't even throw a straight punch. His gaze travels to the kid's arms; they're thin and frail-looking, even under those baggy sleeves. Taking the time to see just how tiny the kid is gives him an odd, itching feeling in his hands as if his skin is cracking and peeling.
|
|
|
Post by Kiku Honda on May 9, 2012 19:39:14 GMT -5
Kiku gazes back at Yao's eyes, noting the color of them. A soft amber, with a hint of brown undertone. Lovely, really... he thinks about his own eyes; a very dull brown. He really doesn't care for them, wishing they were blue or green... or even amber, like Yao's. "That's true," he says, looking back down, once again picking at the sheets. Not one for conversation, though wanting to continue (Yao's voice was somehow... comforting to him), Kiku thinks and thinks of something to say next. Instead, he starts to hum under his breath, a habit of his when he's either mildly nervous or bored. Eventually, those notes turn into words, and he's singing a quiet song to himself.
|
|