[ When silence is his only reply, the redhead quickly shakes his head, swallowing back his dread. Henry's bleeding body before him is too close to the vine-ensnared, blossoming corpses from months earlier.
He's reminded how alone he is this time, unable to consult anyone for additional materials or an extra pair of hands. Even a warm figure to comfort eludes him, leaving him crushingly alone, unable to speak freely and reassure someone else that everything will be okay while knowing full-well it's he, too, that needs that reassurance.
Situating Henry's head comfortably on his emptied bag, he threads plastic line through his needle and rests one hand on the mage's hip, hoping to patch up the wound just enough around the edges to stop some of this bleeding. He needs another person to be doing this, he thinks, knowing that any untrained set of hands could be fussing with thread and needle while he could be applying pressure to the wound between cleaning it—
But every time he blinks, the wound appears smaller. Another pair of eyes might be able to see reality better than him, too. Color begins to return to Henry's skin just as Otonashi considers picking up his phone and calling for help. Watching each cut fade and each organ heal into place before skin mends itself over them leaves him gasping for breath, wavering between terror and relief.
In the end, all he can do is pull the bloody figure to his chest, swaying both of them back and forth. ]
Come on, you're okay, right..? You're okay... Please, please be okay...
half of his carvaka inbox is people either dying or crying about other people dying
He's reminded how alone he is this time, unable to consult anyone for additional materials or an extra pair of hands. Even a warm figure to comfort eludes him, leaving him crushingly alone, unable to speak freely and reassure someone else that everything will be okay while knowing full-well it's he, too, that needs that reassurance.
Situating Henry's head comfortably on his emptied bag, he threads plastic line through his needle and rests one hand on the mage's hip, hoping to patch up the wound just enough around the edges to stop some of this bleeding. He needs another person to be doing this, he thinks, knowing that any untrained set of hands could be fussing with thread and needle while he could be applying pressure to the wound between cleaning it—
But every time he blinks, the wound appears smaller. Another pair of eyes might be able to see reality better than him, too. Color begins to return to Henry's skin just as Otonashi considers picking up his phone and calling for help. Watching each cut fade and each organ heal into place before skin mends itself over them leaves him gasping for breath, wavering between terror and relief.
In the end, all he can do is pull the bloody figure to his chest, swaying both of them back and forth. ]
Come on, you're okay, right..? You're okay... Please, please be okay...