[ Gojo settles his arms on either side of Choso's head again once his hands are released, and something settles a little bit in him as Choso's hands return to his thighs and his own are freed again so that he's allowed to touch.
Those terms bring a tense, surprised twitch to his shoulders, head lifting, and there's a momentary flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes, then a more careful wariness for about a second and a half as he debates between hiding his face in Choso's shoulder and seeking comfort, or hiding behind his usual insouciant smile. The vulnerability is more than he can take. He smirks and straightens up, though he keeps his seat on Choso's lap. ] Hm. Interesting bargain.
[ His own name always feels so raw. So few people call him that, and really only those who have known him since childhood.
Satoru, in Yaga's stern, impatient tones, the mentor who Gojo still trusts.
Satoru, from the elders in his clan, scolding and irritated, a combination of resentful and reverent that still doesn't make sense even after having grown up under the reality of it.
Satoru, a hundred different ways from Suguru. Laughing, fond, annoyed, warning, trusting, sleepy, mocking, wary--
Hey, Satoru.
He flinches.
Blinks. Shakes his head. He's been staring at Choso, guarded as he processes, and even though he's left no more than two seconds of pause, it still couldn't be more obvious that he just got lost in his own head.
The same choice again. Seek comfort or brush it off and hide it--less effectively this time, no doubt.
He can't let himself seek comfort.
Choso knows he's broken. Fine. Let him see a few more of the cracks while Gojo processes.
His head drops forward, one hand bracing against Choso's shoulder, the other falling limp against Choso's side.
Why does his own name make him feel so exposed?
And yet he'd offered it so easily to Johann. Never considered anything else. Using formality with his monster was laughable. Gojo was the face he showed the world, the mask he used to navigate civilization.
His mind is such a tangle. Why does Choso always turn him introspective? What would it take to get him to offer his own name? If he gives that to Choso, he'll have to give it to Fel, too. It feels like handing out crowbars to let people pry him open and get at the meat inside.
His ability to process emotions overheats from effort, and he just gives up and flops sideways with a whine, tucking himself against Choso's side with an arm draped lightly over Choso's shoulder. Like he wants to make himself small and hide, which is an absurd thing for a creature as long and sprawling as he is.
No answer. Nothing else offered instead. Satoru.exe has crashed. ]
no subject
Those terms bring a tense, surprised twitch to his shoulders, head lifting, and there's a momentary flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes, then a more careful wariness for about a second and a half as he debates between hiding his face in Choso's shoulder and seeking comfort, or hiding behind his usual insouciant smile. The vulnerability is more than he can take. He smirks and straightens up, though he keeps his seat on Choso's lap. ] Hm. Interesting bargain.
[ His own name always feels so raw. So few people call him that, and really only those who have known him since childhood.
Satoru, in Yaga's stern, impatient tones, the mentor who Gojo still trusts.
Satoru, from the elders in his clan, scolding and irritated, a combination of resentful and reverent that still doesn't make sense even after having grown up under the reality of it.
Satoru, a hundred different ways from Suguru. Laughing, fond, annoyed, warning, trusting, sleepy, mocking, wary--
Hey, Satoru.
He flinches.
Blinks. Shakes his head. He's been staring at Choso, guarded as he processes, and even though he's left no more than two seconds of pause, it still couldn't be more obvious that he just got lost in his own head.
The same choice again. Seek comfort or brush it off and hide it--less effectively this time, no doubt.
He can't let himself seek comfort.
Choso knows he's broken. Fine. Let him see a few more of the cracks while Gojo processes.
His head drops forward, one hand bracing against Choso's shoulder, the other falling limp against Choso's side.
Why does his own name make him feel so exposed?
And yet he'd offered it so easily to Johann. Never considered anything else. Using formality with his monster was laughable. Gojo was the face he showed the world, the mask he used to navigate civilization.
His mind is such a tangle. Why does Choso always turn him introspective? What would it take to get him to offer his own name? If he gives that to Choso, he'll have to give it to Fel, too. It feels like handing out crowbars to let people pry him open and get at the meat inside.
His ability to process emotions overheats from effort, and he just gives up and flops sideways with a whine, tucking himself against Choso's side with an arm draped lightly over Choso's shoulder. Like he wants to make himself small and hide, which is an absurd thing for a creature as long and sprawling as he is.
No answer. Nothing else offered instead. Satoru.exe has crashed. ]