[the slow walk to suguru's destination bought him time to consider the many possible outcomes while also allowing him to steel himself for this? for the sight of satoru close enough to touch, were such a thing possible. it was, once. satoru allowed suguru to come closer to him than anyone else, proof of all that they were, all that they hoped to be—but now their physical proximity only serves to highlight the distance between them.
(and yet suguru can't help but to think of the last time satoru dropped his barrier, seeking to bridge said distance. suguru can feel it still: satoru's hand closing over his, rain-chilled but still warm.)
...such thoughts, however, are dangerous, especially as suguru studies the smile soon directed his way. another thing suguru accepted, but failed to fully understand when he committed to his path all those years ago: cutting ties with someone does not erase them from your mind. every gesture, every quirk, every tell—they remain tucked away somewhere, silent until something sends them springing to the surface.
and that something, in this moment, is not a something that suguru could ever hope to accurately describe, because satoru is acting as he always did. anyone who knows satoru would take one look at him, sitting on this floor, and think nothing at all was amiss—but suguru looks at him? looks past what is expected to see what this show is costing satoru. the actual effort behind it. you could thank me for my hard work.
...well. this was always suguru's specialty, wasn't it? spotting that which everyone else missed, when it came to satoru; spotting that which satoru attempted to hide. suguru wonders, briefly, if satoru expected this particular skill of his to have dulled over time.
he doubts it. this is yet another display of something akin to trust.
but suguru distracts himself from such a thought by reaching into his robes, awkwardly feeling for the "prize" he'd neatly tucked far, far away after realizing that it had, for whatever reason, made this journey with him. such a silly trinket. it should be sitting in a drawer somewhere.]
Something annoying.
[something suguru is, therefore, rather fond of, though he's careful to tightly wrap his fingers around it before pulling it free. what makes it annoying is what would give it away—but he manages to bring it out into the open without it making a sound? allows it to rest in the center of his palm as he holds his hand between them, the frog's small, blank eyes staring right back at him.
until, of course, he shifts his eyes back to satoru's face, waiting for even the slightest hint of recognition—that will never come. suguru knows what is missing, now; this is merely a show of his own.
(and if satoru attempts to reach for it, suguru will be quick to close his hand.)]
no subject
(and yet suguru can't help but to think of the last time satoru dropped his barrier, seeking to bridge said distance. suguru can feel it still: satoru's hand closing over his, rain-chilled but still warm.)
...such thoughts, however, are dangerous, especially as suguru studies the smile soon directed his way. another thing suguru accepted, but failed to fully understand when he committed to his path all those years ago: cutting ties with someone does not erase them from your mind. every gesture, every quirk, every tell—they remain tucked away somewhere, silent until something sends them springing to the surface.
and that something, in this moment, is not a something that suguru could ever hope to accurately describe, because satoru is acting as he always did. anyone who knows satoru would take one look at him, sitting on this floor, and think nothing at all was amiss—but suguru looks at him? looks past what is expected to see what this show is costing satoru. the actual effort behind it. you could thank me for my hard work.
...well. this was always suguru's specialty, wasn't it? spotting that which everyone else missed, when it came to satoru; spotting that which satoru attempted to hide. suguru wonders, briefly, if satoru expected this particular skill of his to have dulled over time.
he doubts it. this is yet another display of something akin to trust.
but suguru distracts himself from such a thought by reaching into his robes, awkwardly feeling for the "prize" he'd neatly tucked far, far away after realizing that it had, for whatever reason, made this journey with him. such a silly trinket. it should be sitting in a drawer somewhere.]
Something annoying.
[something suguru is, therefore, rather fond of, though he's careful to tightly wrap his fingers around it before pulling it free. what makes it annoying is what would give it away—but he manages to bring it out into the open without it making a sound? allows it to rest in the center of his palm as he holds his hand between them, the frog's small, blank eyes staring right back at him.
until, of course, he shifts his eyes back to satoru's face, waiting for even the slightest hint of recognition—that will never come. suguru knows what is missing, now; this is merely a show of his own.
(and if satoru attempts to reach for it, suguru will be quick to close his hand.)]
Would it be worth your hard work?