[ familiarity is a thing not often considered until one stands on the precipice of losing it. lighter knows too well what hindsight is and how it affords good vision. some days, he doesn't even have that, play as he might about it. at odds with himself, his eye flinches beneath the gentle path of harumasa's thumb, but his weight cants into his palm as if he can instead anchor the airy drift of it with the warm height of his cheek, a stray in so many instinctual parts. at least until his touch disappears over the divot of his shoulder, its intent obscured by worrying faintness. like a tide without the mooring of gravity, the trembling way it rolls in and out.
lighter can't fight this battle for him. his heart might have tasted the the blackened bitterness of his own betrayal, but his body burns strong as his means of atoning for it. if not with fists and fire, then with blood and bone, the currency of people left with no other recourse. physical strength does nothing against the clutch of illness.
but he has learned in slow, wary increments. in having freedom, lawless as it is. to be close.
after the way the roar of the crowd has imprinted itself on his soul, he doesn't think he could hold up the way harumasa has held up, the esteem of the new capital riding on his shoulders — shoulders that seem so fragile against the curve of his arm. yet somehow, it suits him. if lighter never has to be in the public's eye again, he would prefer it, a creature more suited to stalking along an underbelly in support of a cause. an honor that prowls, that metes powerful coincidences.
so, then... as harumasa draws close to him, making him fight to not be too aware of it, to not imagine gratefulness where it might not be... are these quiet shadows cast long and stormy against the walls of an apartment no one will ever know he visited perfect for him to do something stupid in?
the thought flashes in his mind, momentarily flooding his nerves with anxiety, feverish and white hot.
again, a simple dichotomy. he's here. ]
Hey, first of all... [ lighter takes a deep breath, shoulders sloping and rolling as a prompt for harumasa to easier put his arms over them. ] I'm not worried.
[ a lie. ]
And second of all, I'm going to ask for forgiveness before I ask for permission. Fair warning.
[ because harumasa is a cop and could make his life extraordinarily difficult in a way that won't actually have repercussions, and lighter likely wouldn't even blame him if he did, but he's going to Make A Decision even when he's usually so loathe to do so. as if cupping rough hands around a small fluttering to keep it safe from its own influence. ]
Turn a little this way. [ he shifts harumasa aside, the dogtags around his neck clattering softly against skin. ] And relax.
[ one arm tightens around his back and the other slips low beneath his knees. in one easy hoist, lighter pulls harumasa against his chest and picks him up from the couch. he pauses, clears his throat, and steps around to head back towards the bedroom. ]
no subject
lighter can't fight this battle for him. his heart might have tasted the the blackened bitterness of his own betrayal, but his body burns strong as his means of atoning for it. if not with fists and fire, then with blood and bone, the currency of people left with no other recourse. physical strength does nothing against the clutch of illness.
but he has learned in slow, wary increments. in having freedom, lawless as it is. to be close.
after the way the roar of the crowd has imprinted itself on his soul, he doesn't think he could hold up the way harumasa has held up, the esteem of the new capital riding on his shoulders — shoulders that seem so fragile against the curve of his arm. yet somehow, it suits him. if lighter never has to be in the public's eye again, he would prefer it, a creature more suited to stalking along an underbelly in support of a cause. an honor that prowls, that metes powerful coincidences.
so, then... as harumasa draws close to him, making him fight to not be too aware of it, to not imagine gratefulness where it might not be... are these quiet shadows cast long and stormy against the walls of an apartment no one will ever know he visited perfect for him to do something stupid in?
the thought flashes in his mind, momentarily flooding his nerves with anxiety, feverish and white hot.
again, a simple dichotomy. he's here. ]
Hey, first of all... [ lighter takes a deep breath, shoulders sloping and rolling as a prompt for harumasa to easier put his arms over them. ] I'm not worried.
[ a lie. ]
And second of all, I'm going to ask for forgiveness before I ask for permission. Fair warning.
[ because harumasa is a cop and could make his life extraordinarily difficult in a way that won't actually have repercussions, and lighter likely wouldn't even blame him if he did, but he's going to Make A Decision even when he's usually so loathe to do so. as if cupping rough hands around a small fluttering to keep it safe from its own influence. ]
Turn a little this way. [ he shifts harumasa aside, the dogtags around his neck clattering softly against skin. ] And relax.
[ one arm tightens around his back and the other slips low beneath his knees. in one easy hoist, lighter pulls harumasa against his chest and picks him up from the couch. he pauses, clears his throat, and steps around to head back towards the bedroom. ]