[Benjamin is far steadier on his feet today than he was yesterday, although just looking at him makes it clear that he's far from back to normal. He's miles away, but also troubled at the same time.
In the morning, he goes to the Boys' Bathroom, going through the motions of taking care of his basic needs and splashing water on his face. But then he catches his reflection in the mirror and spends an agonizingly long time scrutinizing it, the wrinkles and the stubble that's started to come in along his jaw and down his cheeks from four weeks without a razor.
Then with shaking hands, he takes off his shirt (a first, since he's hardly even undressed in front of his roommates), turning and trying to look over his shoulder to see his back in the mirror. Anyone walking in will see the copious thick, white scars that crisscross his back.
After what he finds in the bathroom he seems even more distant. He goes outside, where one might be forgiven for being a little worried about him wandering off into the woods by himself. But he can be found at the garden, sitting on Sissi's memorial bench, his elbows propped on his knees and his head hanging down.
He comes back inside when it starts to get dark, going to the vending machine and putting in some coins that he found. The first eight items are nothing exciting, and he's about to just kind of sad-roomba them in the most logical spots to leave them for others, when he finds one more coin at the bottom of his pocket. He puts it in, because he may as well.
A small, silver locket falls down into the receptacle. He takes it out, and as he turns it over in his hands, they begin to shake. He drops to his knees, clutching the locket to his chest, all of the emotion that he hasn't shown all day flooding out of him in great, wretched sobs.]
cw: scars, dissociation
In the morning, he goes to the Boys' Bathroom, going through the motions of taking care of his basic needs and splashing water on his face. But then he catches his reflection in the mirror and spends an agonizingly long time scrutinizing it, the wrinkles and the stubble that's started to come in along his jaw and down his cheeks from four weeks without a razor.
Then with shaking hands, he takes off his shirt (a first, since he's hardly even undressed in front of his roommates), turning and trying to look over his shoulder to see his back in the mirror. Anyone walking in will see the copious thick, white scars that crisscross his back.
After what he finds in the bathroom he seems even more distant. He goes outside, where one might be forgiven for being a little worried about him wandering off into the woods by himself. But he can be found at the garden, sitting on Sissi's memorial bench, his elbows propped on his knees and his head hanging down.
He comes back inside when it starts to get dark, going to the vending machine and putting in some coins that he found. The first eight items are nothing exciting, and he's about to just kind of sad-roomba them in the most logical spots to leave them for others, when he finds one more coin at the bottom of his pocket. He puts it in, because he may as well.
A small, silver locket falls down into the receptacle. He takes it out, and as he turns it over in his hands, they begin to shake. He drops to his knees, clutching the locket to his chest, all of the emotion that he hasn't shown all day flooding out of him in great, wretched sobs.]