The sickening, thick and oozy splattering sound of black bile hitting the pavement blended in with the sounds of the fabricated rain pattering around him, on the pavement, on the dumpster lid, rolling down the walls. Splashing off of the soles of boots. He could hear it all, in painful, crystal clarity, rattling around in his skull and Shini reached up with a trembling hand to card fingers through thick, black, tangled locks as he retched again and more splashed out onto the pavement.
Black black black. Black. BLACK. So much black today.
It was running from his nostril, he was sure of it, could feel it pouring from his ears, his tearducts, oozing from his pores, or was that all sweat? He didn't know, he couldn't see. His eyes squeezed shut tight as his body gave another violent shudder and more spilled out as he dropped to his knees there in the alley, the hand from his hair going to support himself on the cold pavement as his other hand had wrapped itself around his gut.
Every organ was hurting, he felt like his skin was too tight, like he needed to break out and breathe--
He couldn't remember what he'd been doing before this, where he had been. The imminent sense of danger was always there, always lurking, dreary and oppressive in the shadows. They were looking for him. They were going to find him, one day. Let today not be that day. Black. Let today not be that day. Black.
Black and... Black. So much. So much, why wouldn't it stop? It hurt, it hurt,
it hurt,
make it stop--
Something touched his back and he coughed and choked, starting violently as his bright, glowing neon eyes snapped open and he lunged forward. For a moment, his body flickered in and out of existence as he turned on a heel, crouched low to the ground, black oozing from the corners of his mouth down his chin until his eyes found boots and then moved up a body and saw... A rather pretty face. One laced with concern, pity--it wouldn't have been, if he knew what This One was, what This One really was.
For a moment This One contemplated killing him, but no no no no no no no no, that wouldn't do, no no no. Draw attention. Unnecessary. Unwanted. Must stay hidden.
Home? No. No no no. Black. So much black.
Fuck it really hurt.
He winced, eyes darting nervously around before he slowly, wearily, stood up to his full height, all long pale and gangly limbs with a mass of black hair that had been drenched with rainwater that was clinging to his head and his shoulders. He wore a simple black tanktop, black ripped jeans, and some black boots.
"Home?" He echoed with confusion, his voice sounding gaunt, surprisingly deep and crisp in clarity for a man like him.
His brows furrowed, a shaking hand reaching up to rub at one of his temples, wincing at the sound of his own voice, it was so loud. So loud. So loud and there was so much black and it hurt. Everything hurt. He swayed a little and he had to reach out with his other hand, unwrapping it from around his midsection to place a slender-fingered hand against the cold wet side of a building to steady himself, swallowing thickly and resisting the urge to hurl again, as a drop of the black bled from his left nostril down to his lips.