thoughtformed | [Semi-Closed Log]

Who: Koizumi, Lin, Sheska, and possibly others
What: Being abruptly released from the hospital, coming home to an empty apartment, and misguided attempts to find something to hold on to
Where: outside the hospital and at Koizumi's apartment
When: backdated to the night of April 14th
Warnings: depression, possible talk of suicide
Note: If you want your character to visit Koizumi after he gets out of the hospital, let me know

Koizumi stands outside, blinking and confused. He'd been visiting with Lin, mostly back to his senses after two weeks in the hospital. Lin had commented on his progress, saying that if he kept up this way he'd be out in no time - and the next thing he knew they were being ushered out of the hospital, the nurses swearing he's been cleared to leave and has been discharged.

He had thought he had at least another week before they were willing to let him go. Even if his physical injuries were healed enough - which they weren't, really, the doctors had wanted a couple more days at least - the psychologists had wanted to keep him another week, if not to the end of the month. Apparently they couldn't yet be sure he wouldn't go home and pick up a knife again.

The nurses were adamant, however, no matter how much Lin argued with them. Koizumi had stood there for a time, not seeming to pay attention to the argument happening around him - and then had simply wandered out the front doors.

The sun is bright in his face, and the wind is strong - it's been a while since he has felt either. After a moment, he hears Lin rushing out after him - finally realizing that he's no longer standing inside with her.

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Sheska's voice drifts across the edges of his consciousness - it's a moment before his eyes flutter open, and he lifts his arm slowly from his eyes.

"...Sheska?"

His voice is quiet, not dead but simply uncomprehending. He stares at her for a long moment, face open and mildly puzzled, before something breaks in his eyes. A number of emotions cross his face all at once - grief and joy and hurt and confusion and comfort, and a dozen others, too fast and too mixed to identify - and he closes his eyes, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

Only a moment later he's on his feet in front of her. As if in slow motion, he takes a step forward and puts his arms around her, his head coming down to nestle in the crook of her shoulder. There are no tears beyond the first one, but his arms tremble slightly as they tighten around her.

It feels like no time passes, and yet he's suddenly in front of her, and if she had even the slightest doubt about whether or not she was seeing things, the warmth and weight of him and that very slight shaking is more than enough to banish such notions. His pain and emotion take precedence over hers immediately. What will help him? What can possibly make this better?

Her arms rise automatically to enfold him and hold him closely as she presses her cheek gently against his hair and closes her eyes in wordless thanks to whatever potential divinity might happen to be listening. He's here, alive, conscious, doing things for himself, showing emotion. It is enough. It has to be.

"I'm here," she whispers, stroking his hair gently. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm sorry I wasn't here to welcome you home, but I won't leave you alone."

He stays like that for a long time, emotions fluctuating wildly from comfort to confusion to despair and back again, but her presence slowly calms him, providing him with something to focus on. She's here, she hasn't left him, she's real and solid and present.

It does soothe him, but it also brings the fear that she will leave him, that she'll vanish at any moment - a fear not quite so irrational here as it might be anywhere else. He pulls back gently after a time, his hands coming to rest firmly atop her hips as his eyes probe hers searchingly. His own eyes are wide and still a little uncertain, a little fearful.

She isn't sure what he's looking for, but she can smile for him and stay right where she is. If she provides an anchor for him, his hands on her do no less for her. This is where she belongs. This is where she can do something.

Tentative fingers smooth his hair back from his face and she lays a light palm along his too-thin cheek briefly. "I won't leave you alone," she reiterates. "Are you hungry at all? Would you like something to eat?" He needs food. Hospitals may be nutritious, but the portions are too small and everything is tasteless. She has her doubts as to whether or not he actually ate much of anything while he was there. And eating often helped settle people's nerves, she's noticed.

He doesn't respond to her query - doesn't even seem to hear it, latching on hard to her initial assurance. 'I won't leave you alone.' It's what he needs to hear - but how could she be sure? He needs to be able to believe it, to feel that she's a part of his life, that she won't leave without him.

So it is with something akin to the desperation of a drowning man - his need to be able to feel that one person, at least, won't leave him - that his hands tighten slightly on her hips and he pulls her forward, only a moment's hesitation before he leans in to her, searching fearfully for dry land.

Edited 2014-05-24 06:36 (UTC)

Sheska's breath catches hard in her throat, and before she quite realizes what's happening she presses into his kiss with an answering need and desperation. Her hand slides down his neck and over his shoulder to latch onto his sleeve, holding on tightly, though she couldn't have said if she meant to hold him in place or keep herself upright. She wanted so badly to lose herself in this, in him. To gain comfort from this one person she had left that she cared about more than any other here. She wanted... She wanted...

Rudy's eager hands on her skin. Text messages returned - the phone you are trying to reach has been disconnected... Once-ler's shy, sweet smile. The stark, impersonal lines of the text message: Let's just stay nice friends. Don't put a title to it, okay? I don't think applying a "girlfriend" title to whatever it is you're doing here would work out.

A terrible shudder runs through her and with something caught between a sob and a cry, she tears her lips from his - doesn't pull away, can't pull away, but turns her head so that it's nearly impossible to kiss her again without serious effort. Tears spill over her slightly sunken cheeks. When had she begun to cry? She isn't sure.

"I-Itsuki... I can't." The ragged hoarseness of her voice surprises her, but she keeps going. If she can't get this out now, she won't be able to, and everything will fall apart. "I can't be that for you. You're hurt, and I'm..." Her voice breaks and she shakes her head wordlessly. Making eye contact again is very nearly beyond her. "I'm so sorry. If you want me to go, I'll... I'll call Julie, or Chief Beifong. One of them will come. You won't have to be alone. And I'll stay if you want me to. I just can't... I can't be that for you." Her voice trails off in a hopeless whisper.

For a moment, one shining moment, they're together and there for each other, and Koizumi feels safe and everything is right with the world. His lips are on hers, and she's real, she's there, an anchor holding him near shore. He can feel the need and desire responding in her, and his relief at finding his role - finding something he can be for someone, something important, someone that needs him - is incalculable.

Then she tears her lips from his and everything comes crashing down. She turns away and he lets go of her, stunned, floating back out to sea. He takes a single step back, falling hard into sitting position on the bed. She doesn't need him, doesn't want him; she's the most important person in his life right now, and for some reason he can't begin to fathom, they can't be there for each other. Not like this.

Koizumi draws in a ragged breath, only just realizing he's been holding it. Why is she crying? He looks down, devastated and confused, his world numb. He shivers, though it isn't cold, and turns his head away from her, staring at the wall. He doesn't understand this, can't process anything, can't think. And yet...

"...Stay?" He pleads, voice small and broken, unsure of anything in the world but knowing just that he needs her, he needs her, and he can't bear to see her go. Not her too, especially not after what just happened with Lin. It would destroy him.

Even if he can't now believe it'll last, right now she's all he has - and he'll hold on to that for whatever grasping, fleeting moment he can. Until she leaves him too, and he'll be alone.

Edited 2014-05-24 19:12 (UTC)

The absence of his hands a blow, knocking the breath from her until she presses trembling fingers over her face to hide from his utterly bereft expression. Why is she here? What on earth made her think that she could accomplish anything here. All she's done is make it worse.

His voice is somehow unexpected, the single word entirely unlooked for. Her head jerks up as if on a string, and she stares in disbelief. He isn't even looking at her. Not that she blames him. Did she really hear him correctly?

"You... Yes," she says softly through a throat thick with tears and shock. "Y-yes of course." Entirely lost, she hesitates, scrubbing ineffectually at the tears she can't seem to stop. Eventually she takes a few steps toward him, pauses, then a few more, and finally sinks to sit on the bed with a few buffering feet between them. She doesn't want to crowd him, but she can't quite figure out what he needs except those things she cannot give him.

[Semi-Closed Log]

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