one day Others come, outsiders with no knowledge of us or the way we think.
they will observe those with More spit on those with Less, and that those of this Color do not talk to those of that Color. these Others will look on (more)as those of this Belief determine that their god is not love but hate and rage against those of another Belief.
they will visit the children, the young ones--perhaps in these innocent untouched minds there will be purity. but no. those boys who like Girls harass the boy who likes Boys. the Pretty girl casts snide comments like a net around the Average girl. the small children shove each other and fight instead of share.
these Others will only know this of us. they will go to their home and tell their fellow Others: here is a quarrelsome and violent race.
why are they like that? asks an Other
the Others think
they are only divided by the walls in their minds(less)
Yosuke wasn't sure what he expected to find in Nanako's hospital room. The scene was nearly identical to the one from a year before; Nanako, small and fragile in a bed made for adults, tubes and wires surrounding her small frame. He could just hear her labored breathing over(more) the sounds of the machines.
"I'm terribly sorry," a nurse was saying, one hand pressed to Yosuke's arm. "The doctor needs to run some more tests. We'll have to ask you two to leave."
Souji was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room; at the nurse's words, he got up and left without a sound. Yosuke crushed his hands into fists at his sides. "When can I come back?"
If the nurse understood the implication behind Yosuke's singular pronoun, she didn't acknowledge it. "Not tonight, I'm afraid. Perhaps tomorrow, if her condition has improved."
"Thank you," Yosuke muttered, turning and marching out the door without looking where he was going. He barreled right into Souji, who was waiting just outside. "What are YOU still doing here?"
"We were going to talk," Souji said, his voice flat. He was staring down at Yosuke's shoes.
Yosuke could feel his nails cutting into his palm. "I don't have anything to say to you."
"Obviously you do," Souji said, putting a hand on Yosuke's shoulder, holding him in place so he couldn't turn and walk away. "Unless you're enjoying picking fights with me."
Yosuke made a strangled noise, moving his arm up to press against Souji's neck, pushing him roughly against the wall. Souji didn't resist. "Don't fucking talk to me like you have the moral high ground, you MURDERER."
"Please," Souji choked out, his hand clutching at Yosuke's jacket. "Let's not do this here."