[Ayumu helps him up, still not meeting his gaze in the process. He doesn't want to look at Hizumi, doesn't want to look at the room-- his gaze is towards the floor, their feet, anything that doesn't force him to take in the results of the past few days. It's futile, he knows that, but he can't.
He'll help lead Hizumi out of the room, nodding as he goes, eyes constantly averted from the tableau of despair in the room. Neither of them had touched the room, not since Frisk.... and now....]
There's... leftovers, I think.
[He remembered that. Leftovers in the ice box, some soup, some meat-- from dinner last night. He'd made more than enough for two, and Hizumi had only had a tiny bit.]
cw: suicide
He'll help lead Hizumi out of the room, nodding as he goes, eyes constantly averted from the tableau of despair in the room. Neither of them had touched the room, not since Frisk.... and now....]
There's... leftovers, I think.
[He remembered that. Leftovers in the ice box, some soup, some meat-- from dinner last night. He'd made more than enough for two, and Hizumi had only had a tiny bit.]
I... can make something else, if you'd prefer.