There's still so much of this that feels like a dream, like parts of his psyche and slices of memory all slotted into contexts that are supposed to make sense in the moment.
His tired eyes shift around the room in clunky, unsubtle movements, largely from the great effort needed to realign his attention from each small detail to the next. If he were more alert, sharper and more attentive, he'd have a lot more to work with. Instead he has the vaguest sense of a time long passed for him--for both of them--that Ed still seemingly has access to. It's just because he's tired that his chest feels a little tight, that's all it is. That's all.
As he stands just beyond the doorway, Ed slightly behind him at his shoulders, Oswald swallows down that thick feeling in his throat.
"I appreciate this, Ed. I truly do. All of what you have done for me today."
It has to stay in the realm of this day, this moment even if he can help it. To think of even the possibility of something beyond this is just a little too much to handle.
no subject
His tired eyes shift around the room in clunky, unsubtle movements, largely from the great effort needed to realign his attention from each small detail to the next. If he were more alert, sharper and more attentive, he'd have a lot more to work with. Instead he has the vaguest sense of a time long passed for him--for both of them--that Ed still seemingly has access to. It's just because he's tired that his chest feels a little tight, that's all it is. That's all.
As he stands just beyond the doorway, Ed slightly behind him at his shoulders, Oswald swallows down that thick feeling in his throat.
"I appreciate this, Ed. I truly do. All of what you have done for me today."
It has to stay in the realm of this day, this moment even if he can help it. To think of even the possibility of something beyond this is just a little too much to handle.