[ While things are quiet, frozen in whatever limbo this is, Masamune does something he's not often interested in doing: he lets his focus drift. Trying to take in one thing at a time would mean missing everything else, and that's not what he wants when he feels like this moment - this exact moment, with everything it carries - won't ever come again. His hand stills while Furuya starts moving again, and lingers before it moves. He finds Furuya's elbow with his fingertips, touch feather-light, and lets it settle. It'd be easy to pull Furuya's hand free from here, but he doesn't.
Furuya's not the only person who had to fill in a hole in his day with thoughts of someone who wasn't there.
(He's carefully not thinking about how many times he went back to his room early, waving off teammates, and left some animal documentary playing just high enough to distract him sometimes while he read. How many times he'd left his hand spread across a page and learned something new about finches the night before he came back.)
He draws in breath at Furuya's admission, not quick enough to be totally obvious, but then Furuya is tucked against his shoulder, and knows him, too.
He focuses up on the ceiling when he answers, soft but deliberate, a moment later: ]
no subject
Furuya's not the only person who had to fill in a hole in his day with thoughts of someone who wasn't there.
(He's carefully not thinking about how many times he went back to his room early, waving off teammates, and left some animal documentary playing just high enough to distract him sometimes while he read. How many times he'd left his hand spread across a page and learned something new about finches the night before he came back.)
He draws in breath at Furuya's admission, not quick enough to be totally obvious, but then Furuya is tucked against his shoulder, and knows him, too.
He focuses up on the ceiling when he answers, soft but deliberate, a moment later: ]
Yeah. Me too.
[ His hand on Furuya's tightens for a moment. ]