The next thing you really register in the loosely caring frenzy was that you were in his living room. You were in new clothes now, but you only really knew because it didn't feel as heavy as before. Your mind is fuzzy, deadened to the general ideals of normal society as-is. You're not miserable, per se. You don't really feel anything. It mostly just felt like a quiet, mumbling static. All of it. His name still catches and chokes in your throat. It all refuses to get out of you. Why? It should come to you easily.

"You okay?"

The static clings to you like a thick and heavy fabric, and it drowns out anything you could hear. "What?"