Souji watches the other young man scoot closer, catches the tissues before they reach his sheets, just as he effortlessly catches the intention. Maybe that ought to be a bit weird, but Souji has never been good at telling - because, like he'd heard Tatsu mutter once in a not necessarily mean-spirited way, he's got plenty of weird of his own to match. In fact, the gesture is so kind and yet so devoid of pity that it makes his heart clench slightly, and it's just as well that he has tissues to press against his eyes for a moment. Then he uses them to check for blood on his lips. Some spotting, but he can tell from the color that it's from his poor abused throat, not his lungs.
"It certainly felt like it," he admits with a small smile, dropping the napkins in the wastepaper basket under the desk next to his bed. Recently emptied, but he wrapping of a hypodermic needle is wedged underneath it. "But hitting my head meant I didn't have much time to really get a feel for it, you know?" Not that he doesn't know anyway, but he likes downplaying his damaged state as much as possible.
After a moment's hesitation to check that he's not attached to anything else - it's never fun to find out by accident that you've been fitted with a urinary catheter - he cautiously gets a bit more upright and scoots a bit closer as well. As much as his foot will allow, since he can't bend his leg much like this. "And I know they wouldn't put me with anyone contagious. I've got a weakened immune system." Which is why he very often ends up with no roommate at all when things like this happens. And so he's left to while away the hours alone, because Mitsu has to work all the time, and the other people that Souji considers family aren't actually counted as such, and can only come during visiting hours.
This time, he doesn't hesitate, but simply reaches out and finds the other boy's spindly hand with his own unbroken one, giving it a small squeeze. "I'm not contagious either. I haven't been in years. So I guess we're both staying exactly as sick as we were before, huh?"
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"It certainly felt like it," he admits with a small smile, dropping the napkins in the wastepaper basket under the desk next to his bed. Recently emptied, but he wrapping of a hypodermic needle is wedged underneath it. "But hitting my head meant I didn't have much time to really get a feel for it, you know?" Not that he doesn't know anyway, but he likes downplaying his damaged state as much as possible.
After a moment's hesitation to check that he's not attached to anything else - it's never fun to find out by accident that you've been fitted with a urinary catheter - he cautiously gets a bit more upright and scoots a bit closer as well. As much as his foot will allow, since he can't bend his leg much like this. "And I know they wouldn't put me with anyone contagious. I've got a weakened immune system." Which is why he very often ends up with no roommate at all when things like this happens. And so he's left to while away the hours alone, because Mitsu has to work all the time, and the other people that Souji considers family aren't actually counted as such, and can only come during visiting hours.
This time, he doesn't hesitate, but simply reaches out and finds the other boy's spindly hand with his own unbroken one, giving it a small squeeze. "I'm not contagious either. I haven't been in years. So I guess we're both staying exactly as sick as we were before, huh?"