[Oh no, this look. It's been a long time since he's been fixed with it, and he's having to fight the urge to shrink down under it like a willow. He makes a valiant showing of trying to meet it in turn with his own eyes, but it's painful enough his gaze flicks away.
A little what, Rantaro? His fingers close in the handknit weave of Nene's scarf. There's nothing he can say about it that wouldn't make it worse. 'He was dead then' certainly wouldn't help. There's too much behind it that Shin still hasn't put in words to himself, let alone gotten to the point of spilling it on an effective stranger just to justify his accoutrements. There's no guarantee it wouldn't become just another knife in someone else's mouth.
It just... it just stings, like the surface of his heart's been sandpapered, and he's trying not to let his eyes bead up in frustration. Lots of people wear scarves. How's he to know that's the other Hiyori's real name? He could say those things too. He doesn't trust his throat right now.
He doesn't have another name he can go by... not on the spot with his ears filling with static, eyes on the walls on him and red pooling in the corners. It feels like he's been stripped of identity entirely, like Rantaro's unceremoniously ripped something off him and a thick layer of skin with it. He doesn't know who he is, only that they're feeling miserable.
He's silent as Rantaro packs his things and spares his glance... but when he turns and starts to leave it sends a galvanising jolt of panic through him, stumbling forward hand outstretched.]
W-wait! Just... don't tell anyone else! Use anything else to refer to me, whatever you want... 'Beanie Guy' if you have to. B-but... [He trails off. He doesn't have anything he can offer, any compelling reason Rantaro would accept.] Please.
[Most of him's shut down at this point. There's no thought in this. There's just something very small and very scared and panting clouded-eyed with a direct line to his heart.]
the five would have been him continuing to talk :' )
A little what, Rantaro? His fingers close in the handknit weave of Nene's scarf. There's nothing he can say about it that wouldn't make it worse. 'He was dead then' certainly wouldn't help. There's too much behind it that Shin still hasn't put in words to himself, let alone gotten to the point of spilling it on an effective stranger just to justify his accoutrements. There's no guarantee it wouldn't become just another knife in someone else's mouth.
It just... it just stings, like the surface of his heart's been sandpapered, and he's trying not to let his eyes bead up in frustration. Lots of people wear scarves. How's he to know that's the other Hiyori's real name? He could say those things too. He doesn't trust his throat right now.
He doesn't have another name he can go by... not on the spot with his ears filling with static, eyes on the walls on him and red pooling in the corners. It feels like he's been stripped of identity entirely, like Rantaro's unceremoniously ripped something off him and a thick layer of skin with it. He doesn't know who he is, only that they're feeling miserable.
He's silent as Rantaro packs his things and spares his glance... but when he turns and starts to leave it sends a galvanising jolt of panic through him, stumbling forward hand outstretched.]
W-wait! Just... don't tell anyone else! Use anything else to refer to me, whatever you want... 'Beanie Guy' if you have to. B-but... [He trails off. He doesn't have anything he can offer, any compelling reason Rantaro would accept.] Please.
[Most of him's shut down at this point. There's no thought in this. There's just something very small and very scared and panting clouded-eyed with a direct line to his heart.]