[ action | closed ]
[ when Soubi returns to his room--Ritsuka's room, really--in the evening, his sketch book is considerably less empty than it had been that morning. there are now fully colored pages of butterflies, flowers, and plants rendered in pastel; considerably more of the former than the latter two, making it fairly obvious where he'd spent his day.
he closes the door quietly behind him after he enters, and notes at once that Ritsuka hasn't returned yet from...whatever he'd been doing today. they haven't exactly been communicating very well recently. things have been strained, to put it nicely. he's still got a cigarette between his lips, and he sets his sketch book down before he leans back against the wall opposite the door to finish smoking it. he allows his knees to give so that he slides all the way down, sitting with his legs drawn up.
he's been brooding all day--stewing, really, alternating between self-depreciating and genuinely angry; at who he isn't quite sure. but the way he blows smoke from his mouth in a short, hard exhale makes his frustration fairly obvious. ]