"I don't know. I'm too fucked up to understand anything I say. I'm sorry you got injured. Sorry we got interrupted. Sorry you're in love with him."
This whole illusion thing wasn't supposed to have pain.
"Get some rest."
Yohji found himself in bed again, breathing heavily and shaking. He stared at the ceiling, his face wet with tears. He couldn't remember crying.
"Damn it…" he whispered, "damn it…"
He turned for a moment to roll over, instinctively wanting to curl up into a ball. He caught himself as pain shot like ice across his middle. He lay with his hands over his face, shuddery breath hot against his palms. As he drifted to sleep, his hands fell against his chest, crossing as if he were clutching something against him.