"Sorry," he repeats himself. He comes closer to Souji, and then... stops. What was one even supposed to do in a situation like this? He looks around himself and notices all sorts of things. The small television he kept on his dresser was turned on it's face on the floor, the calendar that hasn't been marked since that day-- a boxcutter jammed into a book so hard it stood upright. It almost made him sweat.

"Did you...?" Yousuke looks about himself, suggesting what he meant to say silently.