[ From day one, Ryousuke had tried to figure out what Kuramochi was about. What he was up to. He doesn't like secrets, and he doesn't like it when he doesn't know something that should be so obvious. With every sense of deja vu, of trying to understand him, understand something, his frustration mounted and mounted, until it nearly had snapped. Especially given how he'd be gone for weeks, months, years. (He missed his high school graduation, and Ryousuke had held fast to a bitterness at the back of his throat until he could throw something at Kuramochi's stupid head the next time he saw him, no longer bleached like when he was in junior high.)
There was never... where his friends talked about dating and jostled one another about people they liked, there had never been anyone in his mind's eye that wasn't his stalker. A definite sentence that should never be spoken aloud, given how it sounded, but there simply wasn't. Especially not when he finally got some answers, some understanding, of what was going on. Maybe not everything, but enough that he wasn't so dumb to what he was up to, why he followed him, why he acted the way he did. Why everything seemed so nostalgic to Kuramochi.
Having it all prefaced with "is Haruichi all right?" had been enough to get him to take it seriously.
And here they are, now. Haruichi is probably curled up much like his brother, in his own apartment, using his stupid bear as a pillow. But he's probably actually asleep, unlike his brother. ]
It's too early, Youichi. [ It comes out in a faint hiss against Kuramochi's chest, nose rubbing into his collar as he cuddles closer. At first, that's all he intends on doing, saying - because going back to sleep sounds heavenly, and feels natural, encircled like this. But then he goes tense in his arms, eyes snapping open, his fists uncurling from where he's got them trapped between them so that he can set his worn palms against the firm wall of muscle, finding the warmth of tanned skin and nicks and scratches from an adventurous childhood. The chain.
That's all it takes for him to jolt upright, staring down at him, pink of his eyes visible in disbelief. Lovecraft, offended by all of the disturbances, skulks off to wait them out, but Ryousuke doesn't even register it. All he feels is the sudden tightness in his chest, one that explodes into a warmth that tangles itself all the way through his ribs as he curls his fingers a little against Kuramochi, like he can sink hooks and tethers into him just with the blunt edge of his nails. ]
Youichi. [ His voice is hushed, soft, as if he doesn't want to break what ever spell this might be. ] Youichi.
rubs hands on this
There was never... where his friends talked about dating and jostled one another about people they liked, there had never been anyone in his mind's eye that wasn't his stalker. A definite sentence that should never be spoken aloud, given how it sounded, but there simply wasn't. Especially not when he finally got some answers, some understanding, of what was going on. Maybe not everything, but enough that he wasn't so dumb to what he was up to, why he followed him, why he acted the way he did. Why everything seemed so nostalgic to Kuramochi.
Having it all prefaced with "is Haruichi all right?" had been enough to get him to take it seriously.
And here they are, now. Haruichi is probably curled up much like his brother, in his own apartment, using his stupid bear as a pillow. But he's probably actually asleep, unlike his brother. ]
It's too early, Youichi. [ It comes out in a faint hiss against Kuramochi's chest, nose rubbing into his collar as he cuddles closer. At first, that's all he intends on doing, saying - because going back to sleep sounds heavenly, and feels natural, encircled like this. But then he goes tense in his arms, eyes snapping open, his fists uncurling from where he's got them trapped between them so that he can set his worn palms against the firm wall of muscle, finding the warmth of tanned skin and nicks and scratches from an adventurous childhood. The chain.
That's all it takes for him to jolt upright, staring down at him, pink of his eyes visible in disbelief. Lovecraft, offended by all of the disturbances, skulks off to wait them out, but Ryousuke doesn't even register it. All he feels is the sudden tightness in his chest, one that explodes into a warmth that tangles itself all the way through his ribs as he curls his fingers a little against Kuramochi, like he can sink hooks and tethers into him just with the blunt edge of his nails. ]
Youichi. [ His voice is hushed, soft, as if he doesn't want to break what ever spell this might be. ] Youichi.