( this is the kind of thing that he isn't meant to see. he can tell, even looking at gojo's face for those few seconds: he can tell that there's something there, some wall that he's building, or perhaps some wall that he's tearing down; maybe it's a tower that he's climbing, or a tower that he's been put into, waiting for someone to scale it to meet him. it's there and gone again, and interesting bargain or not, he's clearly slipped gojo into some position that he doesn't like--and why is it that he wants to apologize? his tongue hurries in his mouth to make the words, but his lips stay shut; he sits there, stony in his silence, like he could bear the entire weight of gojo's staring if it helped him find some way to feel better.
he doesn't know what it is. some kind of memory, maybe. he only knows a little about gojo's past, or at least, parts of it that were colored by kenjaku's retelling, or even yuuji's retelling, or yuki's. he's never heard it directly from the source--and maybe he never will.
maybe he has to learn to be okay with that.
the way that gojo collapses down against him isn't strange, to him, but it is something new. without thinking, he shifts, just a little, twisting slightly to face him so that he can get his arms up around gojo's shoulders; it's a hug that drags him in against his chest, lifting his own chin so that he can tuck it down, matter-of-fact, into a bed of pale hair.
if gojo wants to hide away, then let him hide away. there's nowhere that he has to be, and nothing that he needs to be, either. holding him in silence is easy; far easier that what he imagines gojo holds inside of himself. )
We'll talk about it later. ( he decides, after a moment, quiet and low; his own eyes are shut, squeezing gojo gently in against him. )
Relax, now. You've got nothing to bargain for, now. I'm already here.
no subject
he doesn't know what it is. some kind of memory, maybe. he only knows a little about gojo's past, or at least, parts of it that were colored by kenjaku's retelling, or even yuuji's retelling, or yuki's. he's never heard it directly from the source--and maybe he never will.
maybe he has to learn to be okay with that.
the way that gojo collapses down against him isn't strange, to him, but it is something new. without thinking, he shifts, just a little, twisting slightly to face him so that he can get his arms up around gojo's shoulders; it's a hug that drags him in against his chest, lifting his own chin so that he can tuck it down, matter-of-fact, into a bed of pale hair.
if gojo wants to hide away, then let him hide away. there's nowhere that he has to be, and nothing that he needs to be, either. holding him in silence is easy; far easier that what he imagines gojo holds inside of himself. )
We'll talk about it later. ( he decides, after a moment, quiet and low; his own eyes are shut, squeezing gojo gently in against him. )
Relax, now. You've got nothing to bargain for, now. I'm already here.