[The sound of the bottle hitting the table and rolling away is somehow still muted in comparison to the rustle of fabric, the brittleness beneath Souji's words, the painful trill that's sewn through everything left unspoken between them. That doesn't matter much, anyway. He understands even the words that aren't said, and isn't that also part of the problem?
Souji's hands are always warm. He can feel it through his shirt where they grasp so tightly, like he's afraid Kashuu will drift off if he doesn't hold him still (and isn't that exactly what he's trying to do?). He can feel the warmth from his forehead against his shoulder too, just a little clammy, always a step away from fevered - or so it seems at times. It's still not unpleasant, though. Even now, it's like slipping beneath the fluffy comforter draped over a kotatsu and falling asleep in the little cove of warmth beneath the table. Souji's hands are always warm, and they always feel like home.]
Hey... [There's hesitation - one, two beats - but Kashuu isn't a strong sword. It's hard for him to turn people away most times, and it's even harder to turn away someone who's seeking him out first. He wants to, he really wants to, but--
In the end, he can't push those familiar hands away and deny the promise of a person relying on him. His own reach up, tentative and cautious in a way he hasn't been in months, and gently cradle the back of Souji's head.]
It's okay. You don't have anything to apologize for.
ugh sprinkles u with holy water
Souji's hands are always warm. He can feel it through his shirt where they grasp so tightly, like he's afraid Kashuu will drift off if he doesn't hold him still (and isn't that exactly what he's trying to do?). He can feel the warmth from his forehead against his shoulder too, just a little clammy, always a step away from fevered - or so it seems at times. It's still not unpleasant, though. Even now, it's like slipping beneath the fluffy comforter draped over a kotatsu and falling asleep in the little cove of warmth beneath the table. Souji's hands are always warm, and they always feel like home.]
Hey... [There's hesitation - one, two beats - but Kashuu isn't a strong sword. It's hard for him to turn people away most times, and it's even harder to turn away someone who's seeking him out first. He wants to, he really wants to, but--
In the end, he can't push those familiar hands away and deny the promise of a person relying on him. His own reach up, tentative and cautious in a way he hasn't been in months, and gently cradle the back of Souji's head.]
It's okay. You don't have anything to apologize for.