There's no question that he and Francis are of one mind on this. Not speaking to anyone. Francis, likely, isn't as worried about setting someone on fire.
Maybe worried isn't the word.
He takes Francis' forearm, so Francis has the whole sturdy line of it to lean on instead of only a hand. He presses the things inside of him flat and waits, patient, for his friend's broken body to move, and nods to his request, and leads him to where he needs to go.
Raju can still move through this place as familiarly as if he stayed here every day. He used to. It's a stranger thought than ever now, incongruous with the reality behind him, the crowd of people who would have preached forgiveness and blind mercy even if—
A flame flickers beneath his boot, and Raju's mind goes quiet, and the flame dissolves into smoke. Raju opens the door. He leads Francis through it. The snow is bright, and the cold is sharp over his skin. He'd forgotten to wrap the blanket properly over his neck and head. It doesn't matter. He only remembers it.
The more steps they take away from the building and all its flammable wood, the deeper Raju's breathing gets again. The snow begins to melt in a circle around his feet.
"We're farther from the wheelbarrow here." It needs to be said. His hand is careful on Francis' shoulder, steady on his forearm. His voice is flat, so that it won't be anything else. "Do you need me to bring it to you?"
no subject
Maybe worried isn't the word.
He takes Francis' forearm, so Francis has the whole sturdy line of it to lean on instead of only a hand. He presses the things inside of him flat and waits, patient, for his friend's broken body to move, and nods to his request, and leads him to where he needs to go.
Raju can still move through this place as familiarly as if he stayed here every day. He used to. It's a stranger thought than ever now, incongruous with the reality behind him, the crowd of people who would have preached forgiveness and blind mercy even if—
A flame flickers beneath his boot, and Raju's mind goes quiet, and the flame dissolves into smoke. Raju opens the door. He leads Francis through it. The snow is bright, and the cold is sharp over his skin. He'd forgotten to wrap the blanket properly over his neck and head. It doesn't matter. He only remembers it.
The more steps they take away from the building and all its flammable wood, the deeper Raju's breathing gets again. The snow begins to melt in a circle around his feet.
"We're farther from the wheelbarrow here." It needs to be said. His hand is careful on Francis' shoulder, steady on his forearm. His voice is flat, so that it won't be anything else. "Do you need me to bring it to you?"