Thomas laid motionless in bed, practically lifeless with blankets casually pulled over him, He was tired, his heart hurt, it had been a long night. his attempts to sleep ruined by the thoughts running through his mind, keeping him from finding some release as he closed his eyes fruitlessly. His stomach rumbled as well, his last meal skipped since he hadn't felt hungry at the time and hadn't had the energy, didn't want to risk seeing someone he knew and having them see him in return, the haunted look in his eyes. He was supposed to be their leader, but how could they have trust in his ability to make decisions when he didn't have that confidence in himself anymore? He'd never felt more vulnerable and exposed, now that his walls had been shattered.
If such a thing were possible, there would be a hole in the ceiling now from how his lifeless eyes bored into it, his mind preoccupied with trying to find out who he was, forced to relive all his past experiences, his failures, his mediocrity. He had to toss out the labels for himself, the things he thought were morals he'd wanted to follow. Was there any point to it all? Maybe the keyblade had made a mistake, if those things could....
He sighed as another thought occurred to him, light from the window falling across his form. The others would be expecting to see him sometime today, perhaps at the Struggle Tournament, and his non presence would send people looking for him, and he didn't need people dropping in on him unannounced while he wanted to be alone. But at the same time he found it difficult to work up the will to actually get up and go there, lacking in motivation. He supposed he would have to go, would have to resume the show he knew was a lie now, a fake smile for the audience to convince them nothing was wrong when he didn't feel right at all.
At last his mind reached a decision and he shifted, trying to keep his eyes closed once again. He'd go. Later.
If such a thing were possible, there would be a hole in the ceiling now from how his lifeless eyes bored into it, his mind preoccupied with trying to find out who he was, forced to relive all his past experiences, his failures, his mediocrity. He had to toss out the labels for himself, the things he thought were morals he'd wanted to follow. Was there any point to it all? Maybe the keyblade had made a mistake, if those things could....
He sighed as another thought occurred to him, light from the window falling across his form. The others would be expecting to see him sometime today, perhaps at the Struggle Tournament, and his non presence would send people looking for him, and he didn't need people dropping in on him unannounced while he wanted to be alone. But at the same time he found it difficult to work up the will to actually get up and go there, lacking in motivation. He supposed he would have to go, would have to resume the show he knew was a lie now, a fake smile for the audience to convince them nothing was wrong when he didn't feel right at all.
At last his mind reached a decision and he shifted, trying to keep his eyes closed once again. He'd go. Later.