[The pillow doesn't work. It just makes it oppressively hot and hard to breathe. He knows he's imagining it, but it almost feels like the pillow is making it echo around him, something physical drilling into his eardrums and assaulting his brain directly. Unless he's going to emerge from this experience talented in all kinds of music, he wants off this ride. Right now, immediately.
Eventually, he jams the pillow under his head, willing sleep to come. Come on, this is supposed to be like a movie, right? Isn't just being together with someone supposed to bring some kind of peace, so he can finally, finally get some rest?
He closes his eyes, and tries to think about the sound of the water fountain in the garden outside Hope's Peak Academy. The water always sounded soothing to him, a random melody that helped him focus his thoughts, try to ignore the voices telling him he isn't good enough, that he doesn't belong. That the only way to ever make something of himself is to stop being himself entirely. Or no, that's not how it went. Being at the fountain made it easier to do those things. Didn't it?
It's all swimming, hazy; frustrated, he grabs his pillow with one hand, ready to hurl it against the closest wall, when he hears a weird noise. It takes a few seconds to register that Erika's crying, again, and his own eyes burn sympathetically. God, he wishes he could cry. If he could cry, maybe that would exhaust him enough to sleep.]
...Mishima?
[he doesn't know what to do, but the sound of her crying is annoying. And he hates himself for thinking that; there's a part of him that's upset that she's crying, but there's a bigger part of him, tired, emotionally drained himself, that hates the sound.
He shits closer on the puddle of blankets, reaching out to gently try to take her hand.]
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Eventually, he jams the pillow under his head, willing sleep to come. Come on, this is supposed to be like a movie, right? Isn't just being together with someone supposed to bring some kind of peace, so he can finally, finally get some rest?
He closes his eyes, and tries to think about the sound of the water fountain in the garden outside Hope's Peak Academy. The water always sounded soothing to him, a random melody that helped him focus his thoughts, try to ignore the voices telling him he isn't good enough, that he doesn't belong. That the only way to ever make something of himself is to stop being himself entirely. Or no, that's not how it went. Being at the fountain made it easier to do those things. Didn't it?
It's all swimming, hazy; frustrated, he grabs his pillow with one hand, ready to hurl it against the closest wall, when he hears a weird noise. It takes a few seconds to register that Erika's crying, again, and his own eyes burn sympathetically. God, he wishes he could cry. If he could cry, maybe that would exhaust him enough to sleep.]
...Mishima?
[he doesn't know what to do, but the sound of her crying is annoying. And he hates himself for thinking that; there's a part of him that's upset that she's crying, but there's a bigger part of him, tired, emotionally drained himself, that hates the sound.
He shits closer on the puddle of blankets, reaching out to gently try to take her hand.]
Hey, Mishima... don't cry.