[ He knows that Shaxx is there, but the message on his phone that he hasn't seen for weeks makes his heart hit his throat anyway. It's a sharp, stinging sensation; anxious. After a moment's frowning consideration, he turns the screen off and puts it face down somewhere in the garage. He goes back to work with awareness niggling in the back of his mind. He'd dismantled this, put it in one of his little drawers and shut it away like he does with everything else. So that he can be controlled and gracious and never so sad that he shakes anyone else. He was always going to be fine.
And now he has to show it wasn't fine at all. Opening up put away feelings is an ugly surgery, pestering a wound back open to make it sticky and painful again. It would be much easier not to.
He goes back to the phone much later in the day, back at his apartment complex. On the open cold rooftop where he smokes and watches the noise of his neighborhood below. ]
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And now he has to show it wasn't fine at all. Opening up put away feelings is an ugly surgery, pestering a wound back open to make it sticky and painful again. It would be much easier not to.
He goes back to the phone much later in the day, back at his apartment complex. On the open cold rooftop where he smokes and watches the noise of his neighborhood below. ]
Welcome back.