[Richard can't help but feel a sharp pang of sympathy at seeing his friend so upset. He's starting to have second thoughts about breaking the news about a couple of departures right now (he'd heard the announcements over the journals, though he'd said nothing), but at the same time...
The hand stroking Isamu's hair stills for a moment, then resumes its soothing motions.]
[Somehow the best he can never seems to be enough... He makes a quiet, noncommittal sound in his throat.]
Isamu...
[Just rip off the bandaid, Richard. He knows it's best if Isamu hears it from him rather than anyone else, and there's no doubt he'll start to wonder if he doesn't hear from Raphael for a while, yet still he hesitates.]
[The words seem so hollow, so empty, and when Isamu buries his face in his shirt again, Richard can't help but tighten his arms around him in a silent reassurance that he's still here.]
[Richard will just shift to lean back against the pillows to get more comfortable, tugging Isamu with him (because he suspects they may be here for a while), one hand resuming that back-rubbing. He won't say anything, because he knows there's really nothing that can be said at this point.]
[Good thing Richard doesn't mind being a pillow (albeit probably not a very good one given how slender he is). In fact, he kind of enjoys it-- not that he'll say so out loud. He'll likely end up half-drowsing himself, though he'll wake up if Isamu stirs or makes any sounds. He just wants to be sure he's there when his friend wakes up.]
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[He buries his face in Richard's clothes.]
...Fuck all of this.
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The hand stroking Isamu's hair stills for a moment, then resumes its soothing motions.]
... I'm sorry I couldn't have done more.
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You did the best you could.
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Isamu...
[Just rip off the bandaid, Richard. He knows it's best if Isamu hears it from him rather than anyone else, and there's no doubt he'll start to wonder if he doesn't hear from Raphael for a while, yet still he hesitates.]
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I mean it, man. Don't fret over it.
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... Raphael was sent home. I'm sorry.
[It sounds so horribly cold and matter-of-fact that he hates himself for having to say it at all.]
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What??
[His head jerks up and he immediately regrets it, wincing and burying his forehead back in Richard's shirt.]
Shit. Shit. How is that... even fair...
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[The words seem so hollow, so empty, and when Isamu buries his face in his shirt again, Richard can't help but tighten his arms around him in a silent reassurance that he's still here.]
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[He'd just gotten all his brothers together too. It wasn't right. And it left Isamu with even less people he felt particularly close to.]
When did this happen?
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[Which... probably makes it worse.]
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[His grip on Richard tightens. He must look so pathetic right now, but he really doesn't care.]
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Will you be all right?
[A stupid question, maybe, but sometimes it just helps to hear it asked.]
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[He sniffs a little.]
Shit. He was one of the first friends I had here.
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[But he's already tearing up a little, and he lets out a choked sound.
He hates everything.]
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