Re: Holly's place: Holly/ Noah
There was a lot going on. In Noah's head, there was a lot going on. Like, a lot. He was picking up more than he was used to. Maybe throwing himself, or projecting himself, or whatever it was, into Holly at the Facility had made him sensitive or something, because he felt like the world was made of TV static and it was clinging to him. He could feel Holly's pain. His tiredness. His hope about the pharmacist. The troubled sleep. He could feel the pharmacist's annoyance and disgust. He felt like he was this crazy antenna, just picking up everything and amplifying it, and, even in his short sleeves, even with sweat clinging curls to nape, he felt cold as he jogged upstairs in Webster's Vinyl.
He opened the door to Holly's room slowly, knowing the dude was skimming the surface of sleep. Somehow the creak of hinges even sounded loud to him, but he assumed that was, like, Holly's current break of nerves affecting him. With the paper bag of Holly's drugs in hand, Noah moved across the space toward Holly's desk, where the dude was slumped over in his pajama pants. Noah set the stuff aside, to push at the damp hair on Holly's forehead. Like he promised, he didn't try to wake the dude up. But, he did have to try to figure out how tf to get him into his bed. Gentle, he pulled at Holly's (good) elbow, seeing if he could get him to move to the suggestion. "Wanna get in bed?" He asked, quiet and close.