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Room 203, Friday most of the day
Stark's room was packed up. Stark did not want his room to be packed up. Being packed up meant he was now left with an even emptier than normal room. He did not want that, either. That might have been why he kept unpacking and repacking one bag at a time. Or that might have been an excuse to stay in his room longer, in the hope that he would see people. Or it might have just been Stark being his not entirely sane self. It was hard to tell.
He was fairly certain that anyone who might care he was leaving knew that this was when he was doing so. He hoped so, at least. He wanted to be able to say goodbye, and any company would have the added benefit of perhaps distracting him for a few moments. He was tired of goodbyes. But not getting to say a goodbye at all was always worse. He knew that all too well. He would take the goodbyes over the alternative, but he'd rather not have to do either.
[Meant to get this up earlier, but work and life got in the way. Repeatedly. SP is everyone's friend. Really.]
He was fairly certain that anyone who might care he was leaving knew that this was when he was doing so. He hoped so, at least. He wanted to be able to say goodbye, and any company would have the added benefit of perhaps distracting him for a few moments. He was tired of goodbyes. But not getting to say a goodbye at all was always worse. He knew that all too well. He would take the goodbyes over the alternative, but he'd rather not have to do either.
[Meant to get this up earlier, but work and life got in the way. Repeatedly. SP is everyone's friend. Really.]
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