It's getting harder and harder for Idia to convince Ortho to shut down and recharge at night, his brother concerned for his deteriorating state in a way that would prickle if Idia wasn't so damned exhausted. Even games can't hold the elder Shroud's interest, and he won't ruin his stats by playing half-assed. He sits motionless and stares at random videos on his monitor but barely registers any of what he sees.
He's too afraid to sleep, too afraid of what nightmare he might see.
During the day, Ortho only tells the professors and those who ask that Idia has been very sick, blaming a frail constitution finally falling victim to an erratic schedule. No one questions it, everyone knows how weird Idia is, and the lessons pass without physical or virtual attendance from the hikikomori.
Idia loses track of how long it's been since he did anything except going through the motions. He stays awake by downing caffeine in alarming quantities, barely eating and then only microwaved plain rice or dry toast. He doesn't trust his stomach. He only changes clothes when Ortho shoves them into his arms, then settles back into his chair with one of his blankets wrapped around him like a cocoon. His hair barely glows, the blue much softer and darker, closer to evening than bright sapphire. Even with the blot gathered by his drone, he's fading. He can't bring himself to care.
The soft chime of his phone startles him, but it's a quick spark of feeling that fades into dullness too soon. He plucks it up and opens the message, staring blankly at the short string of letters until they make sense. Why is Cater messaging him? Didn't the ginger boy make it clear that Idia's presence was only a passing dalliance, a whim? He finally got a photo of the illusive shut-in of NRC, the quest is done and the NPC can be forgotten.
no subject
He's too afraid to sleep, too afraid of what nightmare he might see.
During the day, Ortho only tells the professors and those who ask that Idia has been very sick, blaming a frail constitution finally falling victim to an erratic schedule. No one questions it, everyone knows how weird Idia is, and the lessons pass without physical or virtual attendance from the hikikomori.
Idia loses track of how long it's been since he did anything except going through the motions. He stays awake by downing caffeine in alarming quantities, barely eating and then only microwaved plain rice or dry toast. He doesn't trust his stomach. He only changes clothes when Ortho shoves them into his arms, then settles back into his chair with one of his blankets wrapped around him like a cocoon. His hair barely glows, the blue much softer and darker, closer to evening than bright sapphire. Even with the blot gathered by his drone, he's fading. He can't bring himself to care.
The soft chime of his phone startles him, but it's a quick spark of feeling that fades into dullness too soon. He plucks it up and opens the message, staring blankly at the short string of letters until they make sense. Why is Cater messaging him? Didn't the ginger boy make it clear that Idia's presence was only a passing dalliance, a whim? He finally got a photo of the illusive shut-in of NRC, the quest is done and the NPC can be forgotten.
He taps out one word, slowly: always