[Midousuji leans back a little as Ishigaki suddenly stands, grimacing for the ill-prepared for proximity. which isn’t actually all that proximate; there’s still more than decent enough distance between the two of them. Ishigaki does tend to know better than to challenge Midousuji’s personal boundaries, and he’s appreciatively (ew) aware of that—but the instinct and reflex remains.

the eagerness is definitely gross, though.

but Ishigaki’s question draws Midousuji’s slow, slightly wicked smile right back in place. he tilts his head again, this time with less severity, voice all air, lilt, and drawling cadence. his expression looks almost curious.]

Oh, a while, a while. Since mid February. It took over a month for me to even believe this wasn’t some sort of indefinite, punishing nightmare from my subconscious, like the result from a coma or something like that.

How about you, Ishigaki-kun?

[Midousuji chuckles, a sound boyish and meanly amused.]

How’s your relationship with reality doing?

[Midousuji’s sure it’s probably surreal, but he suspects Ishigaki wouldn’t be so outright rejecting of this reality as compared to himself. but it’s fun to tease, anyway. and speaking of reality, it’s surreal to Midousuji that Ishigaki’s even here. anyone else from Kyoto, much less his Kyoto—much less anyone he knew, and much least of all, Ishigaki.

of all people.

this place really does have a horrific sense of humor.]