FLUFIC
Rin sleeps without dreaming. That isn't to say he doesn't have dreams-- A gun shot, heavy regret about a death he's never seen. A sharp rabbit panic, despair and worthlessness that drips through his mind. But they're not his. He supposes he's lucky, that he doesn't have vivid nightmares of his own, and the fact that he's starting to think 'okasan' instead of mère is a small price to pay.
Rin is always the first to wake up. It's nice to watch the sun rise and it gives him time to make breakfast, even if the breakfast table is filled with the sort of awkward that needs a laugh track (and it's just his luck, to live with two people both with the same issues: Women).
Walking down the road, he's hit with terror, heart-pounding fear, and a rage that almost makes his hands shake-- I hate you, how could you do that?!I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, oh god--
A fight in a building, floor above. Husband and wife and the bile at the back of his throat from a relationship collapsing dinner plate by shattered dinner plate. He could go up and stop them, but they still love each other, bitterly closer to hate than anything kind; He knows she'll never confess, he'll never admit, no point calling the police. But it's enough to make him stumble a little on the crossing, and he can hear the dismissive sneer in the minds around him-- Drunk, some sort of drugged up prostitute, clumsy-- before they go back to their own little worlds. No one cares.
Rin just smiles. If he hoped for that every day, he'd soon be mad, right?
It's early morning, and he walks the back-alleys confident and shameless. There's brief desire of his coat against a backdrop of a hangover, the whispering off the homeless schizophrenic that he has breakfast with (Kill him, murder him, he's evil, he's wrong, set him on fire) that follows him down the street, a flashback so vivid from a house he passes that he can almost taste the blood in his mouth as his vision shimmers with overwhelming memory not his own (wait no he just bit his tongue, that is his blood), a rather interesting fantasy from a guy he pretends not to notice and passes quickly (And Rin is that flexible, but he really has no interest in joining the man's line up. He'll visit it again later, definitely, see about getting those girls and boys a nicer friend.)
Nearly an hour into the day, and the city is already screaming in the back of his head-- Mugging, pain, confusion, psychosis, hate/love/hate/hate. He hasn't even made it to a main street.
The start of one more day.
Rin is always the first to wake up. It's nice to watch the sun rise and it gives him time to make breakfast, even if the breakfast table is filled with the sort of awkward that needs a laugh track (and it's just his luck, to live with two people both with the same issues: Women).
Walking down the road, he's hit with terror, heart-pounding fear, and a rage that almost makes his hands shake-- I hate you, how could you do that?!I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, oh god--
A fight in a building, floor above. Husband and wife and the bile at the back of his throat from a relationship collapsing dinner plate by shattered dinner plate. He could go up and stop them, but they still love each other, bitterly closer to hate than anything kind; He knows she'll never confess, he'll never admit, no point calling the police. But it's enough to make him stumble a little on the crossing, and he can hear the dismissive sneer in the minds around him-- Drunk, some sort of drugged up prostitute, clumsy-- before they go back to their own little worlds. No one cares.
Rin just smiles. If he hoped for that every day, he'd soon be mad, right?
It's early morning, and he walks the back-alleys confident and shameless. There's brief desire of his coat against a backdrop of a hangover, the whispering off the homeless schizophrenic that he has breakfast with (Kill him, murder him, he's evil, he's wrong, set him on fire) that follows him down the street, a flashback so vivid from a house he passes that he can almost taste the blood in his mouth as his vision shimmers with overwhelming memory not his own (wait no he just bit his tongue, that is his blood), a rather interesting fantasy from a guy he pretends not to notice and passes quickly (And Rin is that flexible, but he really has no interest in joining the man's line up. He'll visit it again later, definitely, see about getting those girls and boys a nicer friend.)
Nearly an hour into the day, and the city is already screaming in the back of his head-- Mugging, pain, confusion, psychosis, hate/love/hate/hate. He hasn't even made it to a main street.
The start of one more day.