[bloodshot]
Another snippet of memory, another stab of agony.
It's dark out – he's in an office, one that looks eerily familiar. Stacks of paper cover every inch of his desk, and Pikachu was asleep on some paperwork, crumpling and tearing it with every fidget and snore. He would do something about it, but he's completely out of energy.
He swivels in his chair, turning to face his clock, and notices the time. 1:00 AM.
No wonder why he's so tired.
(It's because he's missing her.)
It's been too long since they've talked, and he's beginning to wonder if they would ever meet again. After all, they lived separate lives, save for a random encounter or two; famous people have to interact, right?
When he finally musters up the energy to get out of his comfortable leather chair and into his room, he stares at his reflection in the mirror, for something's out of place.
His eyes are not the warm shade of brown he remembers, the only inheritance he has left from his mother; no, instead, it is a deep red, one that fractured off into the whites of his eyes and left traces of blood.
(He wipes his hand across his face, and pulls it away wet.
Tears were troublesome.)
[notes]
Almost nothing changed here.
When I was rereading the old chapters, I noticed this was rather redundant with red, so I "merged" them.