[He's dripping on the rug. He could keep that from happening, he thinks vaguely, if he were to stop time and undress in the five seconds he'd have before the flow of the world resumed. Star would do it for him if he wanted, he thinks even as he's tugging off the ratty shirt he'd worn to bed and shoving down the elastic waistband of his sweatpants with mindless abandon. Star would do anything for him if he wanted it.
Adrian would too, he muses. Everyone would. Everyone always — for him, they always, it's always about him, and everyone —
Weakly, he shoves away that train of thought and lets his mind blank out again, silently going through the motions until his wet clothes are in a heap and he's down to just his boxer briefs, idling a minute before it occurs to him to pick up the damp things and give them to Star so they're not just soaking into the rug.
Say thank you, he reminds himself when Adrian returns with dry clothes for him. Say something. Say thanks. Say it, say anything.]
...
[That's not what was supposed to happen. He tries again, determined, and manages a faint whisper.]
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Adrian would too, he muses. Everyone would. Everyone always — for him, they always, it's always about him, and everyone —
Weakly, he shoves away that train of thought and lets his mind blank out again, silently going through the motions until his wet clothes are in a heap and he's down to just his boxer briefs, idling a minute before it occurs to him to pick up the damp things and give them to Star so they're not just soaking into the rug.
Say thank you, he reminds himself when Adrian returns with dry clothes for him. Say something. Say thanks. Say it, say anything.]
...
[That's not what was supposed to happen. He tries again, determined, and manages a faint whisper.]
Thanks...sorry.