[He murmurs the words, as if he's not exactly saying them to Yamato so much as just reacting, but there is nonetheless a fond quirk to his expression. It's really not unlike how Kashuu would react, and something about that thought is just rather endearing to him. So like Kashuu - and so alike himself. Not necessarily in the same ways, but there is a definite overlap there, painted in the trails of blood and loving touches he had left behind on both their blades, like maps of different parts of the same city.]
I'm really happy too. But, ah-
[It's so kind of Yamato to simply accommodate him like that, to not mention it, and it's not as if Souji doesn't understand that it's to spare his dignity. He'd tried so hard, after all, to keep going as if nothing was wrong, to hold himself together as if that was going to make everything okay. He'd wanted it so badly to be true, and had kept up pretty and brave appearances so that people wouldn't see the sickly mess inside him, in his mind as much as in his lungs.
But in the end, that had only ended up hurting people more, hadn't it? So with a small smile and a bowed head, maybe so he doesn't quite have to meet Yamato's gaze for a second or two, he manages to make himself say the right words. (They are the right words... right?)]
You know... I think I should probably sit down. Can you help me?
no subject
[He murmurs the words, as if he's not exactly saying them to Yamato so much as just reacting, but there is nonetheless a fond quirk to his expression. It's really not unlike how Kashuu would react, and something about that thought is just rather endearing to him. So like Kashuu - and so alike himself. Not necessarily in the same ways, but there is a definite overlap there, painted in the trails of blood and loving touches he had left behind on both their blades, like maps of different parts of the same city.]
I'm really happy too. But, ah-
[It's so kind of Yamato to simply accommodate him like that, to not mention it, and it's not as if Souji doesn't understand that it's to spare his dignity. He'd tried so hard, after all, to keep going as if nothing was wrong, to hold himself together as if that was going to make everything okay. He'd wanted it so badly to be true, and had kept up pretty and brave appearances so that people wouldn't see the sickly mess inside him, in his mind as much as in his lungs.
But in the end, that had only ended up hurting people more, hadn't it? So with a small smile and a bowed head, maybe so he doesn't quite have to meet Yamato's gaze for a second or two, he manages to make himself say the right words. (They are the right words... right?)]
You know... I think I should probably sit down. Can you help me?