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9:37 AM
[Ritsuka is a boy who depends on routine. He falls into a basic pattern even when he's not trying to, and it comforts and grounds him in a less tangible way than his obsession with photographs. Ritsuka is also a boy who very rarely allows other people to get close to him. Other people forget. Other people disappear. And nothing he does can change that.
Knowing this, it's understandable, really, how isolated Ritsuka has become since being uprooted from one prison to the next. Roxas, the only boy who has understood Ritsuka on such an unfathomably deep level, was among those who disappeared. Just days before they were moved, the metaphorical rug had already been yanked from under Ritsuka's feet with the realization that his brother has not been dead these past months, just simply gone from Ritsuka's life. It had shattered and reformed his bond with Soubi, a bond he values more than ever now for its strength and its surety.
But all this change left Ritsuka exhausted and unwilling to engage with the others. He heard from Soubi of Yuiko's arrival and equally sudden departure, his regret at missing her matched only by his relief that he did.
He has spent every day since he arrived in quiet isolation. He and Soubi moved into a small apartment in sector four together, and Ritsuka has focused what little energy he has on busywork - cleaning and rearranging things in the apartment, learning how to make simple dishes, inhaling the books Soubi brings home from the library for him. Sleeping.
But most of all, he has spent hours poring over his photographs: organizing, cleaning, creating a careful display on his bedroom wall. The display has spilled out into the living room, though he uses frames for those, selecting the most precious photographs that he thinks Soubi will also find important. It's a long process; Ritsuka has to pause over each picture and remind himself of the memories associated with it, has to be absolutely sure he does not forget. He's surprised to find it helps more than his Wednesday appointments back home.
Then he's taking his album off the shelf and accidentally knocks his communicator to the floor. He hasn't worn it since the first few days in the new prison, so it feels weird when he puts it on again, but he does. He turns it on, scans some of the other messages, not recognizing half of the people. He doesn't really enjoy talking to strangers. He almost turns it off without posting anything, but reconsiders at the last second.]
I might go read in the library tomorrow. [his grip tightens on the photo album in his hand, cat ears flattening against his head] If anyone knows of a good place to sit, I'd like some recommendations.
[Yeah, it's about as awkward as he thought it was going to be. Ritsuka quickly shuts off the communicator - he'll check if he gets any replies later - and, face flushing, goes to plunk down in an armchair to wait for Soubi to get home.]
Knowing this, it's understandable, really, how isolated Ritsuka has become since being uprooted from one prison to the next. Roxas, the only boy who has understood Ritsuka on such an unfathomably deep level, was among those who disappeared. Just days before they were moved, the metaphorical rug had already been yanked from under Ritsuka's feet with the realization that his brother has not been dead these past months, just simply gone from Ritsuka's life. It had shattered and reformed his bond with Soubi, a bond he values more than ever now for its strength and its surety.
But all this change left Ritsuka exhausted and unwilling to engage with the others. He heard from Soubi of Yuiko's arrival and equally sudden departure, his regret at missing her matched only by his relief that he did.
He has spent every day since he arrived in quiet isolation. He and Soubi moved into a small apartment in sector four together, and Ritsuka has focused what little energy he has on busywork - cleaning and rearranging things in the apartment, learning how to make simple dishes, inhaling the books Soubi brings home from the library for him. Sleeping.
But most of all, he has spent hours poring over his photographs: organizing, cleaning, creating a careful display on his bedroom wall. The display has spilled out into the living room, though he uses frames for those, selecting the most precious photographs that he thinks Soubi will also find important. It's a long process; Ritsuka has to pause over each picture and remind himself of the memories associated with it, has to be absolutely sure he does not forget. He's surprised to find it helps more than his Wednesday appointments back home.
Then he's taking his album off the shelf and accidentally knocks his communicator to the floor. He hasn't worn it since the first few days in the new prison, so it feels weird when he puts it on again, but he does. He turns it on, scans some of the other messages, not recognizing half of the people. He doesn't really enjoy talking to strangers. He almost turns it off without posting anything, but reconsiders at the last second.]
I might go read in the library tomorrow. [his grip tightens on the photo album in his hand, cat ears flattening against his head] If anyone knows of a good place to sit, I'd like some recommendations.
[Yeah, it's about as awkward as he thought it was going to be. Ritsuka quickly shuts off the communicator - he'll check if he gets any replies later - and, face flushing, goes to plunk down in an armchair to wait for Soubi to get home.]