Yuji rubs his hand along his back, laughing softly. ]
We will.
[ Then, haltingly, hesitating - ]
I love you, Choso.
[ In whatever way that love is... He knows he feels it, intensely, rushing through him in the last few weeks, a deeply, platonic affection he can't hide. ]
[ choso is so, so silent for a long minute afterward. for that minute (seventy-nine seconds), there is only the sound of their breathing; the steady rise and fall of choso’s chest, the whisper of each exhale through his teeth, the individual cacophony of each fiber in each thread in each shift of their weight on the bed. even his heart feels quiet, its beat become muted in the perfect inertia of this singular, aching moment
the maelstrom of his thoughts has quieted.
In the aching, heavy pause after Yuji has spoken, Choso whispers back, (quiet as he can be but it is still an agonizing grate, a jagged stone stumbled into a mirror-surface pond) ]
He's sure his grandpa loved him, but it's not like they had that emotional connection. He never got to say it to Nanamin, and he could never admit to Kugisaki or Megumi how much he cares about them, so... So...
Breathing out, he tilts his head up and presses his forehead to Choso's, gripping him as he sniffles. It's too much.
He doesn't deserve this, does he?
He's barely Choso's brother. Barely a person, now. But still...
[ Yuji’s head lifting pulls Choso out of hiding, bares for the world the tears streaking heavily down his face to run in messy red bars through his weird, oozing blood mark. Once again, Choso is a mess, sniffling loudly now that the jig is up and he need not hide his moistness. (a wet spot has formed on top of Yuji’s head anyway.) When their foreheads meet, Choso’s tears are free to just plop everywhere, dripping bloody and ominous from his chin and jaw all over Yuji and down the deep v-cut of Choso’s outfit.
He hasn’t the breath or the head for words now, not when he’s snuffling, eyes positively running free with tears he can’t even fathom stopping. Bereft of language, Choso lets his hands talk for him, lets his palms run up the planes of Yuji’s back to run his fingers through pink hair.
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so choso rocks, and he buries his face in yuji’s hair, uncaring of whatever he looked like, whatever they looked like. ]
Yes. Yes, okay. We will hold each other to it. Okay.
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Yuji rubs his hand along his back, laughing softly. ]
We will.
[ Then, haltingly, hesitating - ]
I love you, Choso.
[ In whatever way that love is... He knows he feels it, intensely, rushing through him in the last few weeks, a deeply, platonic affection he can't hide. ]
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the maelstrom of his thoughts has quieted.
In the aching, heavy pause after Yuji has spoken, Choso whispers back, (quiet as he can be but it is still an agonizing grate, a jagged stone stumbled into a mirror-surface pond) ]
I love you too, Yuji. I will always love you.
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He doesn't know.
He's sure his grandpa loved him, but it's not like they had that emotional connection. He never got to say it to Nanamin, and he could never admit to Kugisaki or Megumi how much he cares about them, so... So...
Breathing out, he tilts his head up and presses his forehead to Choso's, gripping him as he sniffles. It's too much.
He doesn't deserve this, does he?
He's barely Choso's brother. Barely a person, now. But still...
... Still.
He blinks back his tears. ]
I'm glad. I'm so glad.
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He hasn’t the breath or the head for words now, not when he’s snuffling, eyes positively running free with tears he can’t even fathom stopping. Bereft of language, Choso lets his hands talk for him, lets his palms run up the planes of Yuji’s back to run his fingers through pink hair.
Sorry about your head and shirt, Yuji. ]