[Hikaru's hair is so soft, smoother than fresh grain, a better whisper than the sway of summer grasses. It's nourishing. It keeps Akira fed. Akira rests his cheek against Hikaru's hair, and he's holding onto Hikaru—his hands are hooked up over the back of Hikaru's shoulders. Little by little, with Hikaru stroking him in the way he's learned to, Akira's fingertips press less harshly. Eventually, he's just holding Hikaru, mostly gentle about it.] I'm feeling better, [he confirms quietly. Sometimes it amazes him that Hikaru wants to ask that. Hikaru makes him so angry sometimes, and it used to be even worse, with all the outrageous, disrespectful things Hikaru would say and do... Akira wanted to scream at him. Sometimes he did scream. And he still screams, but...
But he's thinking about something Hikaru said over the phone, earlier. If you cared about what I wanted, he said, if you cared...]
Are you feeling better, too?
[He's not so good about being forthright in his care. His love, maybe, for all the passion and the intensity of it, but not his care... In fact, he's poor enough that maybe he hasn't realized it wholly until now. He turns his head, nosing into Hikaru's hair, speaking against him.] I want you to be, so tell me. Tell me so I know. [If you're not, he means. Maybe he can be better enough that Hikaru will forget why Akira ever needed to be better in the first place.]
no subject
But he's thinking about something Hikaru said over the phone, earlier. If you cared about what I wanted, he said, if you cared...]
Are you feeling better, too?
[He's not so good about being forthright in his care. His love, maybe, for all the passion and the intensity of it, but not his care... In fact, he's poor enough that maybe he hasn't realized it wholly until now. He turns his head, nosing into Hikaru's hair, speaking against him.] I want you to be, so tell me. Tell me so I know. [If you're not, he means. Maybe he can be better enough that Hikaru will forget why Akira ever needed to be better in the first place.]