[Warning: Potentially sensitive content. Also, @Kathinja ]
Nim swallowed thickly as he stood, awkwardly shifting his hem of his hoodie around his waist. He felt odd.
Then again, he figured he was fairing well, all things considered.
It wasn't very often that he got stuck in a psychotic clown's fun-house for three days straight, after all. Between strong alcohol, almost-murder and demonic chinchillas, this one would have stood out anyway. Yes, all things considered, Nim felt he was reacting fairly well. He hadn't flipped too much, he hadn't died at all, and he hadn't said anything terribly stupid.
Well, he almost hadn't.
Nim wrapped his arms around himself, his knuckles white and fisted in his hoodie as he glanced at the closed bathroom door. Inside was Mia Vesuvius, Miarrito, his newest... friend? Acquaintance? Ally of the drink? Nim didn't want to get ahead of himself, but he hoped they could be considered friends. He didn't have many of those.
A sigh left his lips when he realized how many times he had nearly screwed things up. Even still, with lingering intoxication and a few choice revelations out in the open, he might have messed it up anyway. Mia was probably just being nice right now, letting him shower at her place. Her concern was probably just politeness as well. Surely, she didn't really care about his personal life. He had a pity party, and Mia attended because she wanted to waste time. That was probably it.
Besides, his home life wasn't... that bad. Nim knew it wasn't exactly a normal family dynamic, but it could be worse, right? He could be without a dad altogether. He could be living in a box, starving and uneducated, and he could have had any one of the infinitely worse backstories that other island residents did. So what if his dad liked to drink? So what if he was unemployed? So what if he lashed out at Nim when angered? There were worse things in life than bruises and raised voices. There was much worse, so in the scheme of things, it really wasn't that bad.
That didn't mean Nim had to like going home, though.
But it did mean he should stop complaining to strangers.
It was decided, then - he wouldn't say anything else. It would save people the worry, on the off chance they pitied him enough for that, but he doubted anyone had. Once again, there were worse things in life, especially on Manta Carlos. He didn't want to cause a scene.
Nim blamed his previous actions on the alcohol, because he wouldn't have even brought those up, otherwise.
Thinking of alcohol brought Nim back to the present. He wrinkled his nose at himself before carefully pulling off his hoodie. Frankly, he was filthy, covered in dirty and booze and blood and unspeakably disgusting "water." And also chinchilla fur. He shuddered at the memory, their beady little red eyes, their elongated fangs, their silky soft fur... They were ravenous........
Nim shook his head, dispelling the gory war scenes. The point was, he was gross, and it was going to be hard enough to get the stains out of his hoodie even after taking it off.
Grimacing, Nim looked down at his black long-sleeve - or, should he say, "once-long-sleeve." He had ripped off one sleeve in efforts to treat a bullet wound, despite the attempts being useless in the end, and had also gotten covered in blood in the process. Sludgy water stained his remaining sleeve from when he tried to wash away said blood, and countless other tears had developed from the hundreds of tiny, fluffy satan... mouse... things. To wrap it up in a nice little bow, Nim wreaked of terrible pizza and fancy alcohol, and he hadn't showered in three days.
He really felt super, super really gross. Really. A lot.
Not really paying attention to his actions, Nim set his hoodie on Mia's desk and moved to look out the window. It really was a beautiful night, despite the less-than desirable events. In his musings, he vaguely heard the show shut off, followed by the telltale thumps of someone moving about nearby. Nim wrapped his arms back around his waist, subconsciously hiding his scars, and turned towards the door.
His hoodie forgotten, he managed a smile, and asked whenever Mia emerged, "Enjoy your shower?"
He was awkward, leave him alone!
Nim swallowed thickly as he stood, awkwardly shifting his hem of his hoodie around his waist. He felt odd.
Then again, he figured he was fairing well, all things considered.
It wasn't very often that he got stuck in a psychotic clown's fun-house for three days straight, after all. Between strong alcohol, almost-murder and demonic chinchillas, this one would have stood out anyway. Yes, all things considered, Nim felt he was reacting fairly well. He hadn't flipped too much, he hadn't died at all, and he hadn't said anything terribly stupid.
Well, he almost hadn't.
Nim wrapped his arms around himself, his knuckles white and fisted in his hoodie as he glanced at the closed bathroom door. Inside was Mia Vesuvius, Miarrito, his newest... friend? Acquaintance? Ally of the drink? Nim didn't want to get ahead of himself, but he hoped they could be considered friends. He didn't have many of those.
A sigh left his lips when he realized how many times he had nearly screwed things up. Even still, with lingering intoxication and a few choice revelations out in the open, he might have messed it up anyway. Mia was probably just being nice right now, letting him shower at her place. Her concern was probably just politeness as well. Surely, she didn't really care about his personal life. He had a pity party, and Mia attended because she wanted to waste time. That was probably it.
Besides, his home life wasn't... that bad. Nim knew it wasn't exactly a normal family dynamic, but it could be worse, right? He could be without a dad altogether. He could be living in a box, starving and uneducated, and he could have had any one of the infinitely worse backstories that other island residents did. So what if his dad liked to drink? So what if he was unemployed? So what if he lashed out at Nim when angered? There were worse things in life than bruises and raised voices. There was much worse, so in the scheme of things, it really wasn't that bad.
That didn't mean Nim had to like going home, though.
But it did mean he should stop complaining to strangers.
It was decided, then - he wouldn't say anything else. It would save people the worry, on the off chance they pitied him enough for that, but he doubted anyone had. Once again, there were worse things in life, especially on Manta Carlos. He didn't want to cause a scene.
Nim blamed his previous actions on the alcohol, because he wouldn't have even brought those up, otherwise.
Thinking of alcohol brought Nim back to the present. He wrinkled his nose at himself before carefully pulling off his hoodie. Frankly, he was filthy, covered in dirty and booze and blood and unspeakably disgusting "water." And also chinchilla fur. He shuddered at the memory, their beady little red eyes, their elongated fangs, their silky soft fur... They were ravenous........
Nim shook his head, dispelling the gory war scenes. The point was, he was gross, and it was going to be hard enough to get the stains out of his hoodie even after taking it off.
Grimacing, Nim looked down at his black long-sleeve - or, should he say, "once-long-sleeve." He had ripped off one sleeve in efforts to treat a bullet wound, despite the attempts being useless in the end, and had also gotten covered in blood in the process. Sludgy water stained his remaining sleeve from when he tried to wash away said blood, and countless other tears had developed from the hundreds of tiny, fluffy satan... mouse... things. To wrap it up in a nice little bow, Nim wreaked of terrible pizza and fancy alcohol, and he hadn't showered in three days.
He really felt super, super really gross. Really. A lot.
Not really paying attention to his actions, Nim set his hoodie on Mia's desk and moved to look out the window. It really was a beautiful night, despite the less-than desirable events. In his musings, he vaguely heard the show shut off, followed by the telltale thumps of someone moving about nearby. Nim wrapped his arms back around his waist, subconsciously hiding his scars, and turned towards the door.
His hoodie forgotten, he managed a smile, and asked whenever Mia emerged, "Enjoy your shower?"
He was awkward, leave him alone!
