action and text; @bacura

[mellowyellow]

[It's late on the seventh when Masaomi wakes up on a church pew. At first, he can't bring himself to do anything other than stare at his hands. Slowly he raises them above his head, takes in the palms, flips them over, hesitantly touches the backs, slides his fingers down his own arms.

He's whole.

Suddenly, he digs his nails in. It hurts, and he pulls back, leaving harsh red marks. Masaomi sits up then, still staring like he can't believe his own senses.

He's not crying. You're crying.]


[It's not until the eighth that he sends out another text. No ominous snapshots this time.]

Didn't cut it as a carny.