He nods, silent. Settles back into a seated position again. Starts over.
Before he does, his glance travels to the spot behind Malcolm where Glenn was standing. Not there, now. He shakes his head slightly and closes his eyes.
Hat box. Symbols. Each one carefully handled and set inside.
Close the box.
Neal can't make himself pick the lid up this time. What if he goes under again? He opens his eyes slowly, focus back on that spot, but Glenn still isn't there. He closes them again.
Close the box.
He lifts the lid and moves to set it down on top of the hat box and instead of all the little trinkets he tucked inside, it's Malcolm's head, slightly dented, one eye bulging loose.
"Fuck." Neal presses the heels of his palms against his closed eyes until he sees phantom lights flash.
no subject
Before he does, his glance travels to the spot behind Malcolm where Glenn was standing. Not there, now. He shakes his head slightly and closes his eyes.
Hat box. Symbols. Each one carefully handled and set inside.
Close the box.
Neal can't make himself pick the lid up this time. What if he goes under again? He opens his eyes slowly, focus back on that spot, but Glenn still isn't there. He closes them again.
Close the box.
He lifts the lid and moves to set it down on top of the hat box and instead of all the little trinkets he tucked inside, it's Malcolm's head, slightly dented, one eye bulging loose.
"Fuck." Neal presses the heels of his palms against his closed eyes until he sees phantom lights flash.