Question: Do You Want to Live?

[] Suddenly Hate You []

Mask didn't realise he'd fallen asleep on the couch after being comforted until he was being moved by Rider's strong arms. Exhaustedly, Mask groaned and sniffled, recognizing his Gas Mask was removed as soon as the air was as raw as possible...

"He's awake," Army's voice was firm, and was rather scolding towards Rider. Rider let out a long sigh, and although Mask was significantly taller than Rider, he curled in just enough to feel the rise and fall of his chest, before moving his head to rest on his shoulder. His tired blue eyes traced over the room, noting the way that he was being held like a baby, and how everyone was watching. In an instant, the embarrassment hit.

"Put me down," Mask demanded swiftly, and was gently placed back down by Rider onto the couch, right next to Aloha. Space, he needed space. He'd squash himself up, leaning his head onto his legs, and position himself like he was back in the doctor's office, scared to be examined. Thankfully, Aloha took the hint and inched off of the couch, standing by Rider.

"Mask, we need to take your blood pressure," there were kind tones and firm tones that nurses used with Mask, and realistically, he should have known the difference, but he didn't. Mask only replied with the same shake of his head and a whine like he was a kicked puppy. He kept his knees to his chest, his arms tucked by his thighs, and his head resting upon the bone of his knees in an uncomfortable bend of his neck.

"Rider got here as fast as he could, Mask, but Team Cyan wasn't able to come," Army explained, his voice going in and out of Mask's focus as he stared off to the art piece on the wall he'd examined countless times. Whenever he didn't want to look at anybody, he took note of the red, took note of the bits of paint that blended, and those that did not, and made sure to remember that abstract art isn't supposed to be anything. It's abstractly nothing. Mask didn't feel abstract right now. Mask felt pretty concrete.

"Goggles is in the car, if you want to see him," Rider added, noting the light hum that Mask let out. Goggles wasn't terrible. He was lanky, he was happy, he was childish, but also serious. He had a lot of experience in being a comforter, as Mask had later found out, and the other wanted to be a child psychologist at some point. Wherever that dream had gone, Mask empathised. He sniffled.

"Not yet," Mask simply spoke, eyes drifting off to look for Skull in the room. He frowned, finding that the gentle giant was missing in action. Mask closed his eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling deeply. He lifted his gaze up, eyes locking onto Army's green ones. For an odd moment, he stared at Army, then glanced towards Rider, then Aloha. His arms itched, and he scratched them with his nails, only to be stopped by neatly wrapped bandages.

"Oh, uh... You kinda got torn up buddy," Aloha muttered, quickly rushing back over before either of the others could, and grabbed his hands to stop Mask's scratching. Mask didn't pull away, instead taking in the touch like it was a nice fall day. His hands were cold, but Aloha's gave warmth to his thin body. Aloha's thumbs went over his palm, and although it made Mask's hands tingle, he focussed instead on those worried brown eyes. Aloha looked so pale, despite his medium brown skin tone, and it was there Mask noted how worried everyone was. Army's freckled face was tired, eye bags dark and ever deep. Rider's dreadlocks were his pride, and yet the hair was so messy, Mask could see how the frizz was trying to escape.

"I'm sorry," Mask eventually said, voice cracking in a pathetic way. Trying as he might to fight it, he felt tears well up in his eyes, "I didn't mean to, I'm sorry," Mask repeated, lowering his head as he grabbed onto Aloha's hands for some sort of grounding. Mask didn't see Army rush over, but he felt the other's arms wrap around him in some comforting hug.

"I-I'll go get Goggles," Rider stammered, boots clicking on the hardwood floor in a rush. Mask reached his hands up to his face to cover his eyes as he breathed out in a silent cry, hearing the air exit his lungs in an attempt to make sound. He gasped, sputtered, and let out the same quiet wheeze. Aloha's hands let go of Mask's, and he instead began to rub on his shoulders as a comfort. Army's arms were loose in the hug, and for now, Mask didn't feel the sensory panic of closeness, only an ache to feel better.