Only a short little bit. Foggy's POV in the next section :)
The silence that follows is oppressive. His senses are still heightened enough that everything he’s experiencing is dialled up a notch (or ten), so the quietness that blankets the room, aside from his own panting, sets him off balance. He casts his hearing outward without consciously trying, catching the sounds of footsteps down the hall; trainers with a worn in heel, the clank of pipes in the bathrooms, and sirens in the distance; a girl two rooms over is coughing wetly in her sleep. He winces, slams his hands over his ears in an attempt to block it out, but he’s not had to do this since before he met Stick all those years ago, and it’s excruciating. His skin feels like it’s on fire, and he can taste the chalky remnants of the pill, the brownies, and the girl’s lip-gloss on his tongue.
Smells begin to filter in too, and he becomes keenly aware that their dorm room isn’t as clean as it looks. He can smell beer where Foggy had spilled some on the carpet three weeks ago, can smell the sweat on the bed sheets and the heady odour of panic coming from his own body. He gets himself upright enough that he can strip the bedcovers from his bed, then curls up in the middle of it and rocks himself till the ecstasy begins to wear off and the hypersensitivity lessens, and he manages to fall into a blissful, dreamless sleep.
He wakes up with a start, his head throbbing and his mouth dry, sweat cooled against his skin and making him shiver. When he cautiously opens one eye the fire licks back against his vision, and he slams it shut again. He’s managed to get his senses back under control, but he can still remember the leftover tastes in his mouth, and the overwhelming smells in the room, and he can’t push it away. He wants to brush his teeth and shower, and he wants to clean the room till there’s not a single smell beyond that of bleach, but his body is aching still, so instead he stays where he is, and he lets himself cry into his hands until his tears dry up and he can only breathe harshly against his skin.
Re: Fill: The Sarx of Galatia Part 2/?
The silence that follows is oppressive. His senses are still heightened enough that everything he’s experiencing is dialled up a notch (or ten), so the quietness that blankets the room, aside from his own panting, sets him off balance. He casts his hearing outward without consciously trying, catching the sounds of footsteps down the hall; trainers with a worn in heel, the clank of pipes in the bathrooms, and sirens in the distance; a girl two rooms over is coughing wetly in her sleep. He winces, slams his hands over his ears in an attempt to block it out, but he’s not had to do this since before he met Stick all those years ago, and it’s excruciating. His skin feels like it’s on fire, and he can taste the chalky remnants of the pill, the brownies, and the girl’s lip-gloss on his tongue.
Smells begin to filter in too, and he becomes keenly aware that their dorm room isn’t as clean as it looks. He can smell beer where Foggy had spilled some on the carpet three weeks ago, can smell the sweat on the bed sheets and the heady odour of panic coming from his own body. He gets himself upright enough that he can strip the bedcovers from his bed, then curls up in the middle of it and rocks himself till the ecstasy begins to wear off and the hypersensitivity lessens, and he manages to fall into a blissful, dreamless sleep.
He wakes up with a start, his head throbbing and his mouth dry, sweat cooled against his skin and making him shiver. When he cautiously opens one eye the fire licks back against his vision, and he slams it shut again. He’s managed to get his senses back under control, but he can still remember the leftover tastes in his mouth, and the overwhelming smells in the room, and he can’t push it away. He wants to brush his teeth and shower, and he wants to clean the room till there’s not a single smell beyond that of bleach, but his body is aching still, so instead he stays where he is, and he lets himself cry into his hands until his tears dry up and he can only breathe harshly against his skin.