[ jayce complies quickly, keeping his face turned sideways and expression grimly straight, dulled and unfeeling from disassociation. going through the motions. anything to get through it and to keep a lid on anxiety that's screaming and a creeping sensation that urges him to scrub his hands raw. it might also be of better use to stop breathing, to quit shifting the entrails out of the already tight fit of skin and cavity with every exhale, so— jayce does just that.
he only blinks a few times as the seconds become minutes of rigidness. it feels unnatural not to fill his lungs, makes him truly feel like a corpse damned to half-life. his lower lip juts into his top, and teeth dent into chapped, cracked flesh of scars and meat. he's got this. in his head, he's screaming. outwardly, there's no need to. he feels talented hands work his pliant skin shut. he does not feel the pain. just the discomfort. ]
no subject
he only blinks a few times as the seconds become minutes of rigidness. it feels unnatural not to fill his lungs, makes him truly feel like a corpse damned to half-life. his lower lip juts into his top, and teeth dent into chapped, cracked flesh of scars and meat. he's got this. in his head, he's screaming. outwardly, there's no need to. he feels talented hands work his pliant skin shut. he does not feel the pain. just the discomfort. ]