[Nice effort, Jay! Sadly, Dirk is definitely not having a great reaction indeed. Fear washes over him and drags him under, and he slams a hand out (hard, he'll have bruised it) against the doorframe to use it as a brace. His chest is tight and he can hear the blood in his ears. His lungs are not taking in air.
Jake is gone. Jake is gone. He isn't here, he's gone, and if he is dead he's gone and if he's out past curfew he'll probably be dead too, he's gone. He's gone, Dirk lost him. Dirk lost Jake.
He lost Jake.
Like the crash of water the regrets flood his lungs and tell him all the ways he could have stopped this, analysing every damn mistake he made. His grip on the door slips, and he does too, like he might just collapse.]
no subject
Jake is gone. Jake is gone. He isn't here, he's gone, and if he is dead he's gone and if he's out past curfew he'll probably be dead too, he's gone. He's gone, Dirk lost him. Dirk lost Jake.
He lost Jake.
Like the crash of water the regrets flood his lungs and tell him all the ways he could have stopped this, analysing every damn mistake he made. His grip on the door slips, and he does too, like he might just collapse.]