[ there are so many things that he could say, instead.
so many things that he wants to say, more importantly, like how he likes that nazuna gets easily flustered by compliments but still meets his gaze head on, like how it would be absurd for people to mistake nazuna for a girl if they just looked at him properly and didn’t just jump to conclusions, but they're all inconsequential if nazuna doesn't like him back, and there would be no reason for nazuna to - he deserves better than someone who's broken, someone who left for three years without a word.
someone who doesn't think that the image of nazuna, strung up like a marionette, blank and docile and silent, is beautiful.
(If I could, I would want to stow you away forever in a museum!)
it’s another stray thought that comes from almost out of nowhere, and for a moment, shu almost. loses his composure, inhaling sharply, letting his gaze flicker over nazuna for a moment.
he stays silent. he tells himself it’s so that he doesn’t say something wrong, that he doesn’t hurt nazuna, accidentally or intentionally.
at least, up till the point where nazuna says the very words that shu can’t (won’t?) bring himself to say, and that causes him to freeze, caught just the slightest bit off guard, lips parted, eyes slightly widened, like he can’t really believe what he’s hearing. it lasts for a short period. a couple of seconds? it feels like longer, before shu’s expression softens, although it retains its intensity. ]
... I am, too.
[ that's not a lie, at least, because his parents' house has never really felt like home, too cold and too impersonal, especially when he'd been struggling to get back on his feet, to re-learn how to walk, how to dance again.
this feels more like home than anything - with nazuna, bright and bold and beautiful, and when he shifts closer, so that their thighs touch, shu allows it. he's not usually the kind of person who likes physical contact, but nazuna has always been a rare exception.
the tension unwinds from shu's body like a string going slack, and at some point, shu stretches out and reaches over, takes nazuna's hands in his own. he’s always been better when it comes to actual body language instead, more so on stage than off it, actions to express intent, treating it like a performance that he’s intimately familiar with.
nazuna's hands are warm in his, soft, smooth skin under his fingertips, just a shade darker than his own pale skin, pressing his palm against nazuna's before their fingers lace together.
somehow, when he glances down at their interlaced fingers, all the differences are all the same as they were three years ago, and despite the spike of deja vu, it feels nothing like the nightmare from earlier.
no subject
so many things that he wants to say, more importantly, like how he likes that nazuna gets easily flustered by compliments but still meets his gaze head on, like how it would be absurd for people to mistake nazuna for a girl if they just looked at him properly and didn’t just jump to conclusions, but they're all inconsequential if nazuna doesn't like him back, and there would be no reason for nazuna to - he deserves better than someone who's broken, someone who left for three years without a word.
someone who doesn't think that the image of nazuna, strung up like a marionette, blank and docile and silent, is beautiful.
(If I could, I would want to stow you away forever in a museum!)
it’s another stray thought that comes from almost out of nowhere, and for a moment, shu almost. loses his composure, inhaling sharply, letting his gaze flicker over nazuna for a moment.
he stays silent. he tells himself it’s so that he doesn’t say something wrong, that he doesn’t hurt nazuna, accidentally or intentionally.
at least, up till the point where nazuna says the very words that shu can’t (won’t?) bring himself to say, and that causes him to freeze, caught just the slightest bit off guard, lips parted, eyes slightly widened, like he can’t really believe what he’s hearing. it lasts for a short period. a couple of seconds? it feels like longer, before shu’s expression softens, although it retains its intensity. ]
... I am, too.
[ that's not a lie, at least, because his parents' house has never really felt like home, too cold and too impersonal, especially when he'd been struggling to get back on his feet, to re-learn how to walk, how to dance again.
this feels more like home than anything - with nazuna, bright and bold and beautiful, and when he shifts closer, so that their thighs touch, shu allows it. he's not usually the kind of person who likes physical contact, but nazuna has always been a rare exception.
the tension unwinds from shu's body like a string going slack, and at some point, shu stretches out and reaches over, takes nazuna's hands in his own. he’s always been better when it comes to actual body language instead, more so on stage than off it, actions to express intent, treating it like a performance that he’s intimately familiar with.
nazuna's hands are warm in his, soft, smooth skin under his fingertips, just a shade darker than his own pale skin, pressing his palm against nazuna's before their fingers lace together.
somehow, when he glances down at their interlaced fingers, all the differences are all the same as they were three years ago, and despite the spike of deja vu, it feels nothing like the nightmare from earlier.
at the very least, he has this. ]