For my fine aquatic Otter friend

[eatsyourscience]

It's been two days.

Two days alone in this house, without Nanako's cheerful "welcome home!". Without the nightly quiz shows on the television downstairs, without dirty dishes in the sink, without the simple knowledge that he isn't the only one there. It's unbearable. Even Dojima's absence, as common an occurrence as it is, seems more obvious than normal.

Souji hates being alone. He'd forgotten what it was like, or has been letting himself think he has. The first night, after coming home from the hospital, he convinces himself to remain calm and settles for pacing first the living room and then his bedroom restlessly. He's gotten used to staying up late, sometimes only sleeping four or five hours a night, so it doesn't faze him when he barely gets about two hours total--stolen ten minutes at a time when he sits down on the couch in his room and considers calling someone, but doesn't.

That first day is a blur, and so is the second night, but in a different way. He knows what he spend the night doing. He knows because his room is a disaster. Everything that he could break, everything he could rip or throw or flip or otherwise destroy has been. He barely remembers doing any of it and he can't bring himself to care when he wakes up on the floor in the middle of the mess on the second day. He doesn't say anything to his friends because if he does they'll worry about him, and he doesn't want that. There are more important things to be focused on right now than his self-indulgent tantrums. Besides, if they knew he was faltering this much, and now when he most needs to be the leader--

And now it's the end of the second day and the start of the third night, and there's nothing left to do except notice how empty the house is around him.

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[masukukunai.livejournal.com]

It was times like these that made his double-life of ordinary student and supernatural crime investigator really started to wear on Yousuke. Despite all that was going on, Dojima's hospitalization, Nanako's kidnapping; he had to keep up the ruse of his daily life. Tonight he had a late shift at Junes, and his mind was nowhere near his work as he automatically swept trash and cleaned tables in the food court.

They had to be calm. They had to do this like they always did. Gather information to take to Rise, find the corner of the tv world where they were hiding, and fight their way through carefully to avoid getting into trouble. But he had to be honest with himself-- everyone had to be honest with themselves-- if it could be done, they'd work themselves down to bone to get Nanako out of there in the matter in a days time. But they couldn't. And so, they waited.

She was so sweet and unselfish, that kid, the least deserving of this kind of trauma. They all loved her. But Souji loved her the most. She was family to him. Yousuke couldn't even try to empathize, there was no way he could understand how awful it would be to have someone that dear to you in such danger... He shook his head in frustration.

While halfway through his shift, Yousuke belatedly realized that with Nanako gone and Dojima in the hospital, Souji was alone back at his uncle's house. The thought sent a chill up his spine. Going home every day to an empty place would be a horrible reminder; he'd never be able to forget. Someone like Souji would never let the weight off his shoulders, even for a second. Something inside him squeezed in response. There was really no way he could fully understand.

Yousuke looks at the clock. He has another half hour before he was off his shift. That'd be 7:30. He could still swing by the Dojima residence to visit. Get some food, a magazine or something, keep him company. Yeah. He was second in command, and someone had to take care of their leader, right? Thinking about it made him feel like he had grown some. This was the right thing to do.

He sends a message to his parents that he'll be late in coming home, and heads off. Before he knows it, he's ringing the doorbell, plastic bag in hand.

[eatsyourscience.livejournal.com]

He makes it through three days. School, afternoons, nights, all of it goes by in a blur of sympathy and condolences that are kept at a comfortable distance.

It's not until that third day, coming home from school, that he sees the laundry on hanging outside and realizes it's been there almost a week, through rain and sun and fog. When he enters the house, he suddenly can't remember the exact pitch of Nanako's voice when she calls him "big bro". He couldn't remember it last week either, but last week he was secure in the belief that he and his friends would save her no matter what, so he didn't need to remember. He would hear it again soon.

He's wrestling his futon into place when he remembers he doesn't actually like being alone. The distance isn't comfortable anymore and he doesn't like the silence. It keeps him up at night.

Wrestling with the futon proves pointless and he flings it away from himself in a rare show of frustration. It catches on the edge of the desk, knocking half of the somewhat-organized clutter on its surface to the floor. He hears the clatter of pencils hitting the floor and without thinking, he turns and with a sweep of his arm sends everything that survived the futon down after them.

And then it's an hour later and he's standing in the aftermath of a typhoon with his name and he can't even bring himself to care that it's his own belongings he's trashed. Tugging his blanket away from where it's tangled with the futon, he wraps it around himself and curls up on the floor without bothering to take his uniform off.