There was too much noise after, too many lights, sirens - he was numb to it, he felt, the quiet little professional notch in his brain shutting out the noise, the distraction but instead of his job there was nothing for him to do but sit in the back(more) of the ambulance and stare at his bandaged wrists.
There were too many voices overlapping, too much chatter; Gotou's fingers itched for his phone but he didn't move, head down, nerves frayed raw. It was all he could do to keep from panting, gulping down air into his aching lungs as he kept his eyes trained on the bandages, the echo of metal tight on his wrists.
He jumped at the hand on his shoulder, eyes raised wildly to a familiar face, blue eyes worried and bright. Masayoshi was dressed now - thank god, that same small part of his brain said, his manager would be having kittens if he was naked out in public again - and the words caught in Gotou's throat, didn't make it past thought.
"It's okay, Gotou-san," Masayoshi said, and was it? It didn't feel like it was okay, /he/ wasn't okay, this giant ball of terror curdled in his chest, a black void stretched behind his lungs and his heart beating like birdwings against glass, how could anything ever be okay /again/ - but.
But Masayoshi slid his arm over Gotou's shoulder - awkward yet familiar and when he pulled Gotou's head to his chest in a warm embrace he relaxed despite himself, shoulders trembling in Masayoshi's firm grip. "You're okay. We're gonna be okay."
For the first time in hours, days - eyes squeezed tight against the threat of tears, cheek pressed to Masayoshi's shirt ... maybe he could allow himself to believe it.(less)