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He stared at the ceiling of his given bedroom.
Everything that happened to him today replayed in his mind like a distorted movie. Despite having a full belly and a comfortable bed underneath his body, he just couldn't get drowsy.
He hated the familiarity of this. How many times did he went through this same event?!
At the very least, Masaki could also blame the foreign world he's somehow landed in. It's nothing like Japan, for one thing. So there was definitely an element of homesickness involved.
With a sigh, he sat up in bed. He looked around the room, trying to situate where the door was.
...Wait. Where was each room in the house? This bedroom was in the attic, that much he remembered. Zeoroot's and Precia's rooms were on the second floor, but which one was which, again? In a huff, Masaki lied back down, cursing his sense of direction.
The squeak of a doorknob turning broke the silence in the room. The youth looked over to see the door opening to reveal Zeoroot; he was carrying a mug, steam flowing out of whatever drink was in it.
"Can't sleep, Masaki?"
"No." Masaki pushed himself against the bed to sit up once more. "Feeling pretty homesick, to be honest."
"Yes, well, I've been told that's to be expected, what with the culture shock and everything else," Zeoroot said. He walked over to the bed, placing the mug on the night table nearby. "It's still hot, but... I brought you some tea to help you relax."
"Oh... thanks." The youth brought one of his knees to his chest, hugging his leg. "I just... hope I'm not being a bother or anything."
Zeoroot shook his head. "I don't mind the company, and Precia's already fond of you. Why, is there a problem?"
Under the moonlight- or whatever the equivalent in La Gias is- he saw Masaki's expression darken. "...I don't wanna talk about it. Not now, anyways. I'm... just glad I'm not a pain in your ass."
"Don't worry about that," the man reassured. "Though I can understand why you'd hesitate explaining why." He sat next to the youth.
(tbc)
Everything that happened to him today replayed in his mind like a distorted movie. Despite having a full belly and a comfortable bed underneath his body, he just couldn't get drowsy.
He hated the familiarity of this. How many times did he went through this same event?!
At the very least, Masaki could also blame the foreign world he's somehow landed in. It's nothing like Japan, for one thing. So there was definitely an element of homesickness involved.
With a sigh, he sat up in bed. He looked around the room, trying to situate where the door was.
...Wait. Where was each room in the house? This bedroom was in the attic, that much he remembered. Zeoroot's and Precia's rooms were on the second floor, but which one was which, again? In a huff, Masaki lied back down, cursing his sense of direction.
The squeak of a doorknob turning broke the silence in the room. The youth looked over to see the door opening to reveal Zeoroot; he was carrying a mug, steam flowing out of whatever drink was in it.
"Can't sleep, Masaki?"
"No." Masaki pushed himself against the bed to sit up once more. "Feeling pretty homesick, to be honest."
"Yes, well, I've been told that's to be expected, what with the culture shock and everything else," Zeoroot said. He walked over to the bed, placing the mug on the night table nearby. "It's still hot, but... I brought you some tea to help you relax."
"Oh... thanks." The youth brought one of his knees to his chest, hugging his leg. "I just... hope I'm not being a bother or anything."
Zeoroot shook his head. "I don't mind the company, and Precia's already fond of you. Why, is there a problem?"
Under the moonlight- or whatever the equivalent in La Gias is- he saw Masaki's expression darken. "...I don't wanna talk about it. Not now, anyways. I'm... just glad I'm not a pain in your ass."
"Don't worry about that," the man reassured. "Though I can understand why you'd hesitate explaining why." He sat next to the youth.
(tbc)
