Fox's Glade in split infinity

Evien's sudden insistence on finding him some proper rest both amuses and slightly irritates Taylor. Distantly, he can hear his brother's voice, berating him. There's nothing he wants more to do than tear himself out of this body. This head. 
He wonders if he slams his skull hard enough on a surface, if the brain will spill out of his ears. He wonders if he holds his breath for long enough, if it'll hurt to breathe water.
There's no time to dwell on these things. Wordlessly, Taylor bites down on the inside of his cheek and walks beside Evien with languid strides of his disproportionate teenage legs, away from the fox shithole and towards breathable air.