Kaz isn’t the crying type, so that isn’t how his time has been spent, but there’s nothing to be done about it, either. He can’t slam into action to get her back, there are no plans to be made, no houses to break into to steal her back out of. She was there, and then she wasn’t, and he has just had to sit with that, and no sense of purpose toward fixing it.
Kaz also isn’t a wallower. Three days was… arbitrarily… enough. It isn’t that he’d really ever stop feeling the loss of her— he hates how much any way he thinks of it makes it sound like she’s dead— but he can’t, and won’t, dwell in it, either.
Knowing his sharpshooter was on his way, he's left the door unlocked, but Jesper won't find him immediately on entering. He isn't in the living room, instead he'll find him on the bed in the bedroom. It isn't the depression nest it could have been, were he a different sort of person. He’s just laying on top of the otherwise pristinely made bed, twirling a hairtie in a long, slow rotation between both of his index fingers when Jesper bursts in.
He’s noticeably in the red hoodie he’d stolen from Noah weeks ago, though there is no sign that anyone else has been in the flat at all. He didn’t feel like talking to Noah yet, but there’s still something comforting in wearing it. He’s also in a pair of black jeans from Blue. No shoes on his socked feet, though. No need when he hasn’t left the suite.
Kaz’s eyes cut to the other boy and everything in his chest constricts immediately. It’s a crushing wave of everything he’d spent days trying to neatly store away in a box in his mind with all the things he doesn’t want to think about or look at or touch.
His gaze drops back down to the hairtie resting on his fingers. He starts up the slow circular motion again. His jaw tightens and he gives the small, clipped answer of, “Three days.”
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Date: 2022-03-03 12:10 am (UTC)Kaz also isn’t a wallower. Three days was… arbitrarily… enough. It isn’t that he’d really ever stop feeling the loss of her— he hates how much any way he thinks of it makes it sound like she’s dead— but he can’t, and won’t, dwell in it, either.
Knowing his sharpshooter was on his way, he's left the door unlocked, but Jesper won't find him immediately on entering. He isn't in the living room, instead he'll find him on the bed in the bedroom. It isn't the depression nest it could have been, were he a different sort of person. He’s just laying on top of the otherwise pristinely made bed, twirling a hairtie in a long, slow rotation between both of his index fingers when Jesper bursts in.
He’s noticeably in the red hoodie he’d stolen from Noah weeks ago, though there is no sign that anyone else has been in the flat at all. He didn’t feel like talking to Noah yet, but there’s still something comforting in wearing it. He’s also in a pair of black jeans from Blue. No shoes on his socked feet, though. No need when he hasn’t left the suite.
Kaz’s eyes cut to the other boy and everything in his chest constricts immediately. It’s a crushing wave of everything he’d spent days trying to neatly store away in a box in his mind with all the things he doesn’t want to think about or look at or touch.
His gaze drops back down to the hairtie resting on his fingers. He starts up the slow circular motion again. His jaw tightens and he gives the small, clipped answer of, “Three days.”