[Sometimes he wonders if the cracks that split his real body to pieces were ever truly mended - if the metal that was folded into his blade was enough to patch him back up. He wonders that now, when the gaps feel wide and open, when thank you whistles through like wind, leaving him stinging. Those cracks cleave down to his bones and Souji slips in snugly, worming his way past all of Kashuu's pitiful attempts at raising his guard, like rain water or the incoming tide lapping at the shore.
Souji talks about not being very strong, but doesn't the true weakness here lie with Kashuu? He had been able to manage well enough when he was given space, since the temptation to give in hadn't been present. Now it's here for the first time in days, and he can't even stand his ground against it for a full five minutes. He just can't will himself away, can't force the frigidity back into himself when he can't turn his eyes away or empty his arms again or pretend he doesn't feel wet teardrops against his shoulder. He holds Souji like he's made of glass, but his hands can't keep still forever either. That's too much like keeping him at arm's length, and now that contact has been reestablished, Kashuu is hungry for more.]
Don't say stuff like that. [So he speaks softly and his fingers start to thread through Souji's hair, gentle as a spider's weaving. He's quiet after that for a long while, struggling with something unseen, and then:]
D'you wanna talk?
[Communication - it's something that they had promised to work on together, isn't it? He's already crumbling. If he can't push Souji away, this is fine.]
MY HANDS ARE CLEAN
Souji talks about not being very strong, but doesn't the true weakness here lie with Kashuu? He had been able to manage well enough when he was given space, since the temptation to give in hadn't been present. Now it's here for the first time in days, and he can't even stand his ground against it for a full five minutes. He just can't will himself away, can't force the frigidity back into himself when he can't turn his eyes away or empty his arms again or pretend he doesn't feel wet teardrops against his shoulder. He holds Souji like he's made of glass, but his hands can't keep still forever either. That's too much like keeping him at arm's length, and now that contact has been reestablished, Kashuu is hungry for more.]
Don't say stuff like that. [So he speaks softly and his fingers start to thread through Souji's hair, gentle as a spider's weaving. He's quiet after that for a long while, struggling with something unseen, and then:]
D'you wanna talk?
[Communication - it's something that they had promised to work on together, isn't it? He's already crumbling. If he can't push Souji away, this is fine.]