A/N: So, here's the next part! I'm hoping for more reviews, because they truly make my day! :D
When Ryou wakes up, there are hot tears running down his face and loose strands of white hair wrapped around his fingers. His whole being aches - mental, physical, emotional, and he stumbles to his feet almost mechanicaly.
Around him, the house seems both too large and too small at the same time. Like it's trying to come crashing down on him but there are too many forces holding it up.
The feeling scares him.
Terrifies him.
Petrifies him.
So he leaves, just like he does every time that he falls asleep. Still clad in his pajama bottoms and nothing more, he stumbles towards his front door. Doesn't bother to lock it when he leaves, just slips out into the cold fall night.
The concrete is like ice to his bare feet, wind wrapping around him and twisting, tangleing his hair even further than his hands had done earlier. There are no lights on his street but that doesn't really matter, because this path is so well worn into the young man's mind at this point that he doesn't need them.
He just walks on autopilot.
Arms wrap around his bare chest and his head tilts downwards, knotted white hair forming a curtain in front of his face.
It is cold, but he doesn't care. Barely even registers that fact. Just registers the horrid screams that still echo in his mind, as though the blood and ash covered figures are still there, begging him for retribution.
There is nothing he can do about it, so he keeps walking. The same path after every nightmare. Going as far away from his house as he can until he just cannot walk any further, legs giving out beneath him and frozen body hitting the harsh pavement.
Skin might tear, it might not. Ryou doesn't know.
It might hurt, it might not. Ryou cannot tell.
He should get up, that much he knows.
Ryou doesn't.