Silence.

Apprehensive

In the living room

Sitting on a chair

The white light

Did no good

To him

It felt like an imminent

Interrogation.

No real reason

To fret

His mind

Playing tricks on him

But foresight tells

Violent reactions.

It should be.

This was a very

Unpleasant situation.

A severe deprecation

Of a serious condition.

It was catastrophic.

He himself

Already

An abominable combination

Cynicism and spite

Any fools guess

What disaster

Wreak havoc

To an already bleak man.

Only now

Did he see

With his own eyes

A simple gesture

Yet

Speaking paragraphs

Of emotions.

Difficult to comprehend

But perhaps

The key

Is not always

Seeking understanding

But placing

Trust.

A concept

Reserved

For the most

Intimate

Relationships

One being

Family.

Footsteps

Looking to his side

From the stairway

This time

Wary eyes

Even more

Lugubrious.

Certainly

Off-putting

Bad mood

Provoking.

An audible sigh

Exasperation

In a way

The two men

Sharing similarities

Both

A dry husk

Cynics

The stubbled man

Dragging towards the fridge

Passively scrummaging

For a beverage.

Eerie silence

Between the two

Yet

Subtle understanding

The saying held true

Fellow cynics

More often than not

Get along

With another cynic

As birds of the same feather

Flock together.

However

It would seem

Ironic

The two

Added together

Simply mixing

Black

With even more black.

There was difference

He knew it

The bleak man

A weary visage

He had certainly seen better days

Telltale signs

He was not always

A cold shell.

The recluse.

He

As all people

Over time

Like flowers

Dry up

Leave

Faded colors

All

Decompose.

Literally. Figuratively.

Passing by

The man handed him

A particular

Canned drink

With that

Immediate change of opinions

The recluse

Another one of his kind!

Like a stone

Drop

Onto an armchair

The two

Sat in relative silence

Sipping the icy liquid

Sweet

Figurative alcohol

For the pain.

Tensions

Like taut string

The obvious

Elephant in the room

Had to be discussed.

"Hikigaya-san. When did this happen?"

In a quiet voice

Yet his tone

Stern.

"Yumiko had run away. I followed her here, only to find her-"

He refused to continue.

He was blunt

But

Lines must be drawn

Especially

Sensitive topics.

At the same time, it was ironic.

Too often

We speak

What we mean

But not mean

What we say.

In his mind

Abhorrent thoughts

Composed by his cynicism

Another reason

Why words

Must be taken

With a pinch of salt.

But if actions

Speak louder

Than the words.

Contradict.

The pen

Is mightier

Than the sword?

"How is she?"

A question from the cynic.

His narrow eyes

Tired

As he swished

Contents of the can

In deep contemplation.

"Yumi-chan lost quite some blood. Severed a vein or two. Hopefully not an artery."

"Should we bring her to the hospital?"

His gaze

Moving upwards

Looking at the young man

To him

It seemed like a mirror image

Of himself.

"That would be unnecessary. It'll stress her even more. Better to let her rest."

Conversation

Marked by lengthy

Interludes

Accompanied

Underlying motives

Between the lines

Skepticism.

Skeptical

The recluse

Looked

The cynic

Right in the eye.

"What does Yumiko mean to you?"

A simple question

With a simple answer.

Only fools

Complicate.

Skepticism

Like a visor

Severely obstructing

Lucency

View

Of truth.

Unfortunately

Cynicism

Answers.

"She means a lot. To me."

To this

The recluse

Raised a brow.

He knew.

Common people

To this question

The answer is.

Everything.

This young man, however.

Meant what he said.

"Thank you."

Different.

"For being there. For her."