[Akira certainly, most certainly does not want to pull away. He wants Shindou to find these things out, exactly—he wants to offer green tea, turmeric, cinnamon. He wants to offer the start of his day: the crisp, cold air in his otherwise empty home, and its hand in helping him get out of bed; the anticipation of a headache, and the tea that followed, clean and soothing against his lips, his throat. Truth be told, Akira didn't trust the lack of tension in his neck and skull when he woke up this morning. The sooner he drank his tea, the better he could stave off the headache before it even came... A mouthful of green tea is soft and cleansing. It heartens the lips. Akira thinks idly that he should have taken the time to make some, before coming up to Shindou's room. They could have settled together, with tea, sharing the taste of tea—Akira blanches white, when Shindou's mother calls from the front of the house. His parting from Shindou leaves Akira with wide eyes, a staggering head rush, and breaths only tentative. In the same moment Shindou dabs at that mix of saliva, Akira can feel it, wet on his top lip. His eyes go wider, and the color returns to his face. All of it, at once. He stares at Shindou, and he stares at Shindou's laughter, and his heart is gushing its way into the blush of his cheeks. A person's laughter has never sent him spinning like this. His brow twitches—why, he wonders, does this make me feel like crying? How can a person's joy make him feel overcome with all the blood and water in his body?
He looks completely mystified, lost in marvel, his lip still glistening.] Uhm, [he says, and then his eyebrows raise sharply. Quick, flustered, he turns his face to the side. His hair fans out for a frantic second before settling back near his chin.
Being interrupted by Shindou's mother is embarrassing, but not to the full degree of his discomfort. What he saw in Shindou's laughter, the bright and compelling warmth of his pleasure, was frightening in all it offered. There's more of this, he knows. More laughter, and more shine to gain from each other's mouths. He blinks his eyes a couple times, but they open no less wide, and he seems at a loss as to how he should process all the stirring Shindou's mirth has done. Shindou's helium is carrying over, making Akira light-headed, and slowly, deliberately, he takes his own top lip between his teeth.
It's a moment more before he glances back at Shindou, just past the curtain of his straight, dark hair, its gloss protective.] You should let her know you have a guest. [—"A friend over"? Could he have gotten away with saying that instead? His fingers worry a bit while he wonders that; his hands are clasped loosely at the base of Shindou's neck. He should slide them down and away, perhaps, or else wrench them away completely. But he likes the feeling of letting his thumb stroke against Shindou's skin, and the body heat that has come with that exuberance.
Akira looks down, but no less near with his hands and his body, before he raises his eyes up to Shindou at a questioning angle.] You could tell her I'm here to study with you. I want to... [His lips press together, just seconds long.] I want to look at our game again, anyway, so...
[What he really wants is to demand, with a face free of the uncertain blush he has now, that Shindou hold onto him again. Both hands, both sides of his waist. It felt like its own sort of praise, to be held in somebody's hands. To be held in Shindou's hands. Akira sighs, a shallow pool of sugar water, its sweetness stopped short by his own rote restraint. One mustn't hyperventilate. He's tried not to do that even in the face of Shindou Hikaru, but that's when it's most difficult...]
Does she know it's me with whom you're spending New Year's Eve? [He frowns just a little, thoughtful and maybe disapproving, and his thumb strokes Shindou's hairline in another direction.] I should... maybe, a gift for her, for your father... for New Year's...
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He looks completely mystified, lost in marvel, his lip still glistening.] Uhm, [he says, and then his eyebrows raise sharply. Quick, flustered, he turns his face to the side. His hair fans out for a frantic second before settling back near his chin.
Being interrupted by Shindou's mother is embarrassing, but not to the full degree of his discomfort. What he saw in Shindou's laughter, the bright and compelling warmth of his pleasure, was frightening in all it offered. There's more of this, he knows. More laughter, and more shine to gain from each other's mouths. He blinks his eyes a couple times, but they open no less wide, and he seems at a loss as to how he should process all the stirring Shindou's mirth has done. Shindou's helium is carrying over, making Akira light-headed, and slowly, deliberately, he takes his own top lip between his teeth.
It's a moment more before he glances back at Shindou, just past the curtain of his straight, dark hair, its gloss protective.] You should let her know you have a guest. [—"A friend over"? Could he have gotten away with saying that instead? His fingers worry a bit while he wonders that; his hands are clasped loosely at the base of Shindou's neck. He should slide them down and away, perhaps, or else wrench them away completely. But he likes the feeling of letting his thumb stroke against Shindou's skin, and the body heat that has come with that exuberance.
Akira looks down, but no less near with his hands and his body, before he raises his eyes up to Shindou at a questioning angle.] You could tell her I'm here to study with you. I want to... [His lips press together, just seconds long.] I want to look at our game again, anyway, so...
[What he really wants is to demand, with a face free of the uncertain blush he has now, that Shindou hold onto him again. Both hands, both sides of his waist. It felt like its own sort of praise, to be held in somebody's hands. To be held in Shindou's hands. Akira sighs, a shallow pool of sugar water, its sweetness stopped short by his own rote restraint. One mustn't hyperventilate. He's tried not to do that even in the face of Shindou Hikaru, but that's when it's most difficult...]
Does she know it's me with whom you're spending New Year's Eve? [He frowns just a little, thoughtful and maybe disapproving, and his thumb strokes Shindou's hairline in another direction.] I should... maybe, a gift for her, for your father... for New Year's...