Ventus also doesn't apologize for knocking Vanitas's nose or swearing at him (though a little voice says he should). Instead he drops to his hands and knees after Vanitas grabs the blanket, looking around for where his headphones could have dropped in their scuffle. If they broke... the idea makes him feel fuzzy so he focuses on Vanitas's smug expression instead.
"I was awake." Is all he says at first. It's nearly impossible to sleep here, even with his newfound quiet. It's not safe.
"Your idea was stupid." He glares at the blanket woefully. "It's not going to work. There's nothing here but a stupid pit in the ground that eats everyone up. They'll catch us and put me back in the hospital."
There's a bit of vigor in his voice from the irritation, the slightest hint of interest but its scraping against a scared, long running apathy. Too many patterns, too many days spent banging his head against walls trying to solutions to a problem that never went away. Yesterday he rode the high of someone helping him, someone trying to understand him but when he went home that hope was scarier then the dirt and grime and misery Ventus knew down here.
It was strange, but somehow Ventus felt like he had more to lose right now. The risk of failing again was too daunting, his little bits of safety too precious. If he didn't try, he couldn't fail. That was the winning strategy of a years underground.
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Ventus also doesn't apologize for knocking Vanitas's nose or swearing at him (though a little voice says he should). Instead he drops to his hands and knees after Vanitas grabs the blanket, looking around for where his headphones could have dropped in their scuffle. If they broke... the idea makes him feel fuzzy so he focuses on Vanitas's smug expression instead.
"I was awake." Is all he says at first. It's nearly impossible to sleep here, even with his newfound quiet. It's not safe.
"Your idea was stupid." He glares at the blanket woefully. "It's not going to work. There's nothing here but a stupid pit in the ground that eats everyone up. They'll catch us and put me back in the hospital."
There's a bit of vigor in his voice from the irritation, the slightest hint of interest but its scraping against a scared, long running apathy. Too many patterns, too many days spent banging his head against walls trying to solutions to a problem that never went away. Yesterday he rode the high of someone helping him, someone trying to understand him but when he went home that hope was scarier then the dirt and grime and misery Ventus knew down here.
It was strange, but somehow Ventus felt like he had more to lose right now. The risk of failing again was too daunting, his little bits of safety too precious. If he didn't try, he couldn't fail. That was the winning strategy of a years underground.