siriusly: (have you ever tried to read fob lyrics)
Manabu Yuuki ([personal profile] siriusly) wrote in [community profile] thehauntedfrequency 2024-03-18 11:27 am (UTC)

[a few hours alone, forcing himself to not engage or poke the bear brooding in the bathroom...all while recovering from months of medical torture. it does rather limit the options, doesn't it? Manabu can't even properly pace the room to get energy out, because just a few paces away from the wall feels like he's walking on high beam between skyscrapers! he's never had a problem with heights before, but the way his head spins now...

he lingers near the door for a half an hour or so, debating on whether or not to engage. his impatience wants to, but his better instincts say to leave it - what good can he do or say, honestly? he's not sorry for looking, just...sorry Grey's tied up in this at all. it's his fault.

as is often the case when left to his own devices, Manabu moves to find ways to expend energy - even energy he doesn't have to spare. he makes a slow circuit around the apartment and grabs a shirt still set out (sorry Grey, he's tired of being just in his underwear), and goes to look out the window. this isn't the concrete basement, but it's hard not to feel some of the anxiety that came from being trapped down there again when he knows he can't safely go outside, go on his own, go anywhere...

the moment that dread hits too hard, he moves again, nausea be damned. wall push-ups, water drinking, a few squats (bad idea, whew), some stretches...frustration mounts as he finds himself so feeble-feeling and exhausted, not really giving himself the grace that should come with being tied down for actual months! he wants to get better faster, which ought to mean moving faster in a perfect world, but alas.

by the time the fated moment comes where Grey reemerges, Manabu's curled up on top of the bed, weary and tense. his head hurts. his back hurts. whatever he'd been snowed with for all that work was flushing out of his body and leaving him feeling rawer to the changes that grafting left him with. but his ear still perks at the sound of the door, and he lifts himself partly up to look over.]


Y-you okay? [said the strung-out, sick guy.]

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