[ He's the one overreacting? Tomura doubts it. It's been long enough that he doesn't remember the specifics of their exchange, but maybe he would have if it had mustered genuine anger, the kind of thing that can be called an overreaction. He could lay that out, about how he answered as most people would to an unsolicited little piece of advice (the rare trait that could be said he actually shares with "most people"), but what's the point? He's losing track of where this argument is going, if he hadn't just lost it awhile ago.
What's worse is that he wasn't even trying to wholly disregard Kajiyama's words. He tried to follow the logic, if only to poke holes in it later. And instead of following, he's beset with a distraction that draws his attention elsewhere: to the heat under his skin, the sensitive prickle of it against the brush of fabric, an annoying itch that takes hold with even the slightest bump against his combative accompaniment. Is the path of their debate circular, exactly? He can't tell anymore, but even if Kajiyama is saying something new, they don't exactly seem to be going anywhere.
Unlike their actual, physical pathing, which is at least making progress, although it's not any more straightforward. ]
Where do you think? Back out.
[ He says it like it's obvious. Someone had definitely become way too absorbed in the arguing and the... sudden physical peculiarities besetting him that he's autopiloted back the way he came in. Is there a different route out? If so, the thought to search for it hadn't made it through all the damn noise in his head. ]
To throw this shit in the laundry. It's probably—
[ getting hard to ignore. The heat. The distraction. The ache. He doesn't want to call it what it likely is, or put words to the way his body is reacting to it, as though acknowledging it only makes it more potent, a capitulation to a reality he doesn't particularly want to deal with. But even so, he can guess at one inciting factor. ]
ty ty and no worries about any delay!!
What's worse is that he wasn't even trying to wholly disregard Kajiyama's words. He tried to follow the logic, if only to poke holes in it later. And instead of following, he's beset with a distraction that draws his attention elsewhere: to the heat under his skin, the sensitive prickle of it against the brush of fabric, an annoying itch that takes hold with even the slightest bump against his combative accompaniment. Is the path of their debate circular, exactly? He can't tell anymore, but even if Kajiyama is saying something new, they don't exactly seem to be going anywhere.
Unlike their actual, physical pathing, which is at least making progress, although it's not any more straightforward. ]
Where do you think? Back out.
[ He says it like it's obvious. Someone had definitely become way too absorbed in the arguing and the... sudden physical peculiarities besetting him that he's autopiloted back the way he came in. Is there a different route out? If so, the thought to search for it hadn't made it through all the damn noise in his head. ]
To throw this shit in the laundry. It's probably—
[ getting hard to ignore. The heat. The distraction. The ache. He doesn't want to call it what it likely is, or put words to the way his body is reacting to it, as though acknowledging it only makes it more potent, a capitulation to a reality he doesn't particularly want to deal with. But even so, he can guess at one inciting factor. ]
—to blame.