[That instance of withdrawal, combined with a look to someone only one of them can see, serves to confirm Kanda’s suspicion all the more. Lavi – his partner – has ever been more inclined to draw arms to match Kanda’s mood or diffuse Kanda’s anger with a ready laugh and a light word.
But either way, he doesn’t look to someone or something else to decide for him.
And as much as he calls the other an ‘idiot rabbit’ here lately, his temper has never been something Lavi has retreated from.
But now?
…Now there’s a shift in the way Lavi looks at him, a flicker of something Kanda doesn’t recognize before the space between them disappears near completely, with something in that gaze that does nothing to ease the unsettled feeling Kanda has in this moment… before Lavi reaches up, pulls that hand down to reveal an old, familiar smile.
"Shutting off your thoughts, in front of Alma… just because it’s painful – what the hell are you running from? Kanda!"
Isn’t that what you’re doing, Lavi? Making my damned mistakes for us.
It, surprisingly, hurts to see, a dull ache to ring hollow in his chest.
Because Lavi’s hand is warm, the weight of their fingers entwined not lessened or let go by… either of them, actually.
And then a tug that throws him off balance in an instant, because his body had been tensed for a fight – he’d been prepared to subdue his partner, with force if necessary to protect the man from himself, and so he hadn’t anticipated the warm ghost of laughter across his lips. It’s more than enough to completes the shift, to throw the world around him on its side.
(Softer laughter, more melodic warms his ears – a woman’s gentle teasing, the rich tone honeyed with a playful promise echos behind that deeper whisper lost between the two men)
"I’ll be waiting… forever. "
Longing, sharp and relentless knifes through him at her confident words, causes his breath to catch and his eyes to widen.
"Yu, are you feeling okay? "
Lavi’s voice, grounding him in the chaos of his thoughts before his lids flicker, fall nearly shut as he looks down at the question, delivered in a soft tone that sounds unexpectedly inviting, disarmingly intimate.
Another voice, the tenor lighter than the man before him, heavier than the woman he can’t quite remember, caught somewhere in between slams into him, makes his breath catch at the raw anguish he can hear in the desperate words, "As long as he was bound by the promise he made with ‘that person’, he is hers forever. He’s the one person I didn’t want to lose! "
And then softer, resigned, "Just watch… until my soul is crushed by this dark matter."
The ache sharpens, carves out a piece of his own soul already given to someone else. He can feel the loss of it, marrow deep. The finality of something precious sinking into mud, forever beyond his reach, now.
"I know… I’ll see you off, to the very end." His own voice, low and rough with pain and tenderness, bittersweet understanding… and love.
The memory and the moment twist and intertwine, the ache of letting something so precious go threading with the something equally fragile before him now, just out of reach – a feeling magnified by a gentle touch capable of sending a faint shiver down the length of his spine, as a calloused finger trails along his jaw.
Rather than falling deeper into this confusion or paranoia induced despair, his lips part slightly as his chin is raised, breath catching at the intimacy of the moment before dark lashes finally lift. His gaze snaps up, meets that seemingly concerned look fearlessly, the depth and roil of his own emotions laid bare in what remains of the space between them.
Not this time. Not again.]
I’m the one worrying you?
[Some part of him knows it doesn’t make sense, this vehement rejection of repeating past mistakes (mistakes he doesn’t even fully remember or understand), and yet, he can’t stop himself from stepping onto that razor’s edge.
Dropping the hand from Lavi’s bicep, his fingers curl around his partner’s hip, closes what little distance remains by pulling their bodies flush in order to call Lavi’s bluff, this tease that feels all too real and has his pulse quickening with something so simple as a few barely there touches, yet enough to impart a lingering sense of tenderness between them, not for the first time.
And when he speaks, his voice is equally low, lips almost brushing lips with the harsh words.]
Don’t fucking patronize me like this - not when you’re the one running away.
no subject
But either way, he doesn’t look to someone or something else to decide for him.
And as much as he calls the other an ‘idiot rabbit’ here lately, his temper has never been something Lavi has retreated from.
But now?
…Now there’s a shift in the way Lavi looks at him, a flicker of something Kanda doesn’t recognize before the space between them disappears near completely, with something in that gaze that does nothing to ease the unsettled feeling Kanda has in this moment… before Lavi reaches up, pulls that hand down to reveal an old, familiar smile.
"Shutting off your thoughts, in front of Alma… just because it’s painful – what the hell are you running from? Kanda!"
Isn’t that what you’re doing, Lavi? Making my damned mistakes for us.
It, surprisingly, hurts to see, a dull ache to ring hollow in his chest.
Because Lavi’s hand is warm, the weight of their fingers entwined not lessened or let go by… either of them, actually.
And then a tug that throws him off balance in an instant, because his body had been tensed for a fight – he’d been prepared to subdue his partner, with force if necessary to protect the man from himself, and so he hadn’t anticipated the warm ghost of laughter across his lips. It’s more than enough to completes the shift, to throw the world around him on its side.
(Softer laughter, more melodic warms his ears – a woman’s gentle teasing, the rich tone honeyed with a playful promise echos behind that deeper whisper lost between the two men)
"I’ll be waiting… forever. "
Longing, sharp and relentless knifes through him at her confident words, causes his breath to catch and his eyes to widen.
"Yu, are you feeling okay? "
Lavi’s voice, grounding him in the chaos of his thoughts before his lids flicker, fall nearly shut as he looks down at the question, delivered in a soft tone that sounds unexpectedly inviting, disarmingly intimate.
Another voice, the tenor lighter than the man before him, heavier than the woman he can’t quite remember, caught somewhere in between slams into him, makes his breath catch at the raw anguish he can hear in the desperate words, "As long as he was bound by the promise he made with ‘that person’, he is hers forever. He’s the one person I didn’t want to lose! "
And then softer, resigned, "Just watch… until my soul is crushed by this dark matter."
The ache sharpens, carves out a piece of his own soul already given to someone else. He can feel the loss of it, marrow deep. The finality of something precious sinking into mud, forever beyond his reach, now.
"I know… I’ll see you off, to the very end." His own voice, low and rough with pain and tenderness, bittersweet understanding… and love.
The memory and the moment twist and intertwine, the ache of letting something so precious go threading with the something equally fragile before him now, just out of reach – a feeling magnified by a gentle touch capable of sending a faint shiver down the length of his spine, as a calloused finger trails along his jaw.
Rather than falling deeper into this confusion or paranoia induced despair, his lips part slightly as his chin is raised, breath catching at the intimacy of the moment before dark lashes finally lift. His gaze snaps up, meets that seemingly concerned look fearlessly, the depth and roil of his own emotions laid bare in what remains of the space between them.
Not this time. Not again.]
I’m the one worrying you?
[Some part of him knows it doesn’t make sense, this vehement rejection of repeating past mistakes (mistakes he doesn’t even fully remember or understand), and yet, he can’t stop himself from stepping onto that razor’s edge.
Dropping the hand from Lavi’s bicep, his fingers curl around his partner’s hip, closes what little distance remains by pulling their bodies flush in order to call Lavi’s bluff, this tease that feels all too real and has his pulse quickening with something so simple as a few barely there touches, yet enough to impart a lingering sense of tenderness between them, not for the first time.
And when he speaks, his voice is equally low, lips almost brushing lips with the harsh words.]
Don’t fucking patronize me like this - not when you’re the one running away.