[ Gorgug doesn't want to ignore Fabian. There's plenty that Gorgug longed for while he was in that state, and being able to listen to his friends, to speak with them, for everything not to be the way it was (for everything to be normal)--he would have done anything for it. He tried. Even in his most apathetic states, the thoughts always crept back to him of his friends, whether they were about them stopping him--they were always about them stopping him.
And worse. But he wanted to do the things that people told him and not what the thing inside him did, a voice that felt a part of his own that he couldn't differentiate between himself and it.
Gorgug doesn't want to ignore Fabian, except for, now, the part of him that does; if only Fabian was asking for anything else, anything. But despite the strong reluctance that extends through his body, a near-physical reaction that wants him not to turn his head again (and he doesn't, he really really doesn't), he does so, slowly. Angling his face so just a side profile shows against his pillow, a hand sliding up into his hair, his forearm pressing against his nose and cheek; an increasing rise of his shoulders as he breathes harder, as small sobs start to sound in his throat.
He doesn't want to do it, but Gorgug opens up an eye to look at Fabian as everything hits harder than it had been before. Every disgusting little thing, and everything surrounding Fabian the most pressing, churning.
Because he can't remember their last fight as well, but he does everything else: because he was never allowed to forget anything. He was never allowed to rest.
As if there was anything like rest from reality. ]
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And worse. But he wanted to do the things that people told him and not what the thing inside him did, a voice that felt a part of his own that he couldn't differentiate between himself and it.
Gorgug doesn't want to ignore Fabian, except for, now, the part of him that does; if only Fabian was asking for anything else, anything. But despite the strong reluctance that extends through his body, a near-physical reaction that wants him not to turn his head again (and he doesn't, he really really doesn't), he does so, slowly. Angling his face so just a side profile shows against his pillow, a hand sliding up into his hair, his forearm pressing against his nose and cheek; an increasing rise of his shoulders as he breathes harder, as small sobs start to sound in his throat.
He doesn't want to do it, but Gorgug opens up an eye to look at Fabian as everything hits harder than it had been before. Every disgusting little thing, and everything surrounding Fabian the most pressing, churning.
Because he can't remember their last fight as well, but he does everything else: because he was never allowed to forget anything. He was never allowed to rest.
As if there was anything like rest from reality. ]