25 -- ish.

It seemed.

If he remembered right. The glare of the screen didn't help -- he couldn't really make out the numbers like this, with his mind all fuzzy.

25 minutes since he hit the ground, if he's right. 12 since he texted Fuchi, and probably 11 since he'd shut his eyes. Some shitty call for help that it was supposed to be, but he realized now that it might not have been all that useful -- his thumb dragged sloppily across the screen to pull up the messages, taking a clumsy couple of tries to hit the right button. Blurred eyes scanned the letters he'd sent, trying to guess just how likely help was actually about to arrive.

he found out, retaining almost no memory of it, that they looked like this.

[ helooooooooo lol ] [ soory need] [ loil outside right fell ] [ bhnth konbiiiniii ] [ p ] [ again ] [ sory ] [ loooooooll ] [ sorry ] [ sory ]

His eyes felt wet.

Ugh, damn it - fucking --