Lavi lies back down at the same time, shifting so that he's on his side and facing Kanda. Both his expression and emotions are pleased, touched that Kanda is once again going along with what Lavi wants. It makes him want to stay awake just to soak up this moment, being with Kanda again after all those weeks of separation. He doesn't have to wonder about what Kanda is doing or thinking, or whether he's thinking of Lavi at all. If he's upset that they're still separated or if he's grimly accepted that distance.
Now the only distance remaining is the slim space between them on the bed, and Lavi shifts closer as if to make up for it. He doesn't reach out to touch Kanda, as tempted as he is. He just moves a little closer, so that the line of their bodies are pressed next to each other, marveling again at being able to touch and feel heat instead of a chill.
I missed this.
The touching, the tangibility. The quiet moment of shared intimacy, and the space for vulnerability... and the chance to just let go. To shed some of the weight accumulated from this past week -- months, to stop trying to shoulder everything on his own. It's not so much that he thinks Kanda will pick up those burdens for him -- but that he knows that the other won't judge him for wanting to let them go.
He thinks of falling and curls closer as if to ward off the sensation, distracting himself by looking at Kanda instead. At his newly formed ear, the strands of his now silky and smooth hair, the cord pulling it all up from his face. At how his chest rises and and falls with every breath -- that's important, very important. If only he could burn this image of Kanda over all the rest, but memories never work that way. But maybe he could still try?]
Yuu.
[he says the name half because he wants to, and half because he wants Kanda to look at him directly,]
[YOU SAY GAY AND THEN WRITE THIS GAY-ASS TAG HELLO
Once he's lying down, Kanda closes his eyes, intending to meditate instead of sleeping. It's the best of both worlds, he reasons; this way, he can rest his mind without sacrificing any alertness. Even if he can't sink into a full meditative trance, it won't matter, since this wasn't planned anyway.
Normally, he doesn't like to do this with other people around. Lavi has always been a complicated sort of exception. There are times when he's absorbed in his books, or his records, or even just his moodier thoughts, when he's quiet and still and Kanda's awareness flows around him, like a stream parting around a steady rock. Other times, he is impossible to ignore. On purpose, yes, when Lavi's in the mood for mischief--but even when he's quiet, there are days where his presence is simply impossible to ignore.
(Kanda has never told him this, and has no intention of ever doing so. Lavi doesn't need more turmoil over the space he takes up in the world.)
This, right now, is somewhere between the two. Even with his eyes closed, Kanda finds himself very much aware of Lavi beside him--he feels Lavi shift and turn, and he senses the way Lavi's gaze lingers on him. Kanda can't pretend he's not there even before he moves close enough to touch. But this time, it's comforting, not distracting. It's a reminder that their efforts worked, that they are both alive and whole for now--that one way or another, this nightmare is almost over. No more monsters that they don't know how to handle. No more torturous trips rife with faces from their memories. Finally, finally, no more distance.
They might meet their end tomorrow, but at least they'll be able to face it together.
Lavi thinks I missed this, and Kanda's thoughts don't respond--but they don't have to. This closeness is proof enough that he did, too.
He's still until Lavi says his name; at the sound of it, he opens his eyes again, turning his head to meet Lavi's gaze. Whether he knew Lavi wanted that, or simply wanted the same thing--his thoughts don't betray that either.
Lavi waits patiently, but it turns out he doesn't have to wait at all, because Kanda is already looking back at him. Kanda is looking at him with his usual serious, dark-eyed gaze, and it turns out hearts can flutter and jump and do all those things the books say they can just by meeting someone's eyes? Woah.
If asked, Lavi would say he's many things, but he's not a romantic. He can pretend to be a romantic, yes, and he can see the romance in other people's lives, but he's never been very interested in the subject. Curious, yes -- because what is Lavi not curious about -- but it's never possessed him the way love is supposed to, apparently. It was never a great sacrifice to be made, a wondrous thing to give up. And now?
Kanda tells him to 'go to sleep', and maybe the great poets forgot to mention how insane love can be, because this simple sentence makes his cheeks flush and his chest thump and his stomach twist itself into a braid. Is this love or a stomachache? Lavi can only wonder, and then immediately pray that his thought goes unheard. He's not a romantic, but he doesn't want to be the complete opposite either. (He can be detached. He can be logical. Rational. But he doesn't want to be those things right now.)
What he should want is to sleep, so Lavi shuts his eye and tries to surrender himself to the darkness and quiet, tries not to think too much about how Kanda is right here next to him, and how apparently he doesn't hate Lavi as much as anyone should hate him. Or worse, think of him with the indifference that Lavi used to crave.
His thoughts tumble along, but eventually -- eventually -- they slow down at the same time Lavi's breathing does, emotions ebbing away as the tide of sleep claims him.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Lavi lies back down at the same time, shifting so that he's on his side and facing Kanda. Both his expression and emotions are pleased, touched that Kanda is once again going along with what Lavi wants. It makes him want to stay awake just to soak up this moment, being with Kanda again after all those weeks of separation. He doesn't have to wonder about what Kanda is doing or thinking, or whether he's thinking of Lavi at all. If he's upset that they're still separated or if he's grimly accepted that distance.
Now the only distance remaining is the slim space between them on the bed, and Lavi shifts closer as if to make up for it. He doesn't reach out to touch Kanda, as tempted as he is. He just moves a little closer, so that the line of their bodies are pressed next to each other, marveling again at being able to touch and feel heat instead of a chill.
I missed this.
The touching, the tangibility. The quiet moment of shared intimacy, and the space for vulnerability... and the chance to just let go. To shed some of the weight accumulated from this past week -- months, to stop trying to shoulder everything on his own. It's not so much that he thinks Kanda will pick up those burdens for him -- but that he knows that the other won't judge him for wanting to let them go.
He thinks of falling and curls closer as if to ward off the sensation, distracting himself by looking at Kanda instead. At his newly formed ear, the strands of his now silky and smooth hair, the cord pulling it all up from his face. At how his chest rises and and falls with every breath -- that's important, very important. If only he could burn this image of Kanda over all the rest, but memories never work that way. But maybe he could still try?]
Yuu.
[he says the name half because he wants to, and half because he wants Kanda to look at him directly,]
no subject
Once he's lying down, Kanda closes his eyes, intending to meditate instead of sleeping. It's the best of both worlds, he reasons; this way, he can rest his mind without sacrificing any alertness. Even if he can't sink into a full meditative trance, it won't matter, since this wasn't planned anyway.
Normally, he doesn't like to do this with other people around. Lavi has always been a complicated sort of exception. There are times when he's absorbed in his books, or his records, or even just his moodier thoughts, when he's quiet and still and Kanda's awareness flows around him, like a stream parting around a steady rock. Other times, he is impossible to ignore. On purpose, yes, when Lavi's in the mood for mischief--but even when he's quiet, there are days where his presence is simply impossible to ignore.
(Kanda has never told him this, and has no intention of ever doing so. Lavi doesn't need more turmoil over the space he takes up in the world.)
This, right now, is somewhere between the two. Even with his eyes closed, Kanda finds himself very much aware of Lavi beside him--he feels Lavi shift and turn, and he senses the way Lavi's gaze lingers on him. Kanda can't pretend he's not there even before he moves close enough to touch. But this time, it's comforting, not distracting. It's a reminder that their efforts worked, that they are both alive and whole for now--that one way or another, this nightmare is almost over. No more monsters that they don't know how to handle. No more torturous trips rife with faces from their memories. Finally, finally, no more distance.
They might meet their end tomorrow, but at least they'll be able to face it together.
Lavi thinks I missed this, and Kanda's thoughts don't respond--but they don't have to. This closeness is proof enough that he did, too.
He's still until Lavi says his name; at the sound of it, he opens his eyes again, turning his head to meet Lavi's gaze. Whether he knew Lavi wanted that, or simply wanted the same thing--his thoughts don't betray that either.
Quietly:]
Go to sleep.
no subject
Lavi waits patiently, but it turns out he doesn't have to wait at all, because Kanda is already looking back at him. Kanda is looking at him with his usual serious, dark-eyed gaze, and it turns out hearts can flutter and jump and do all those things the books say they can just by meeting someone's eyes? Woah.
If asked, Lavi would say he's many things, but he's not a romantic. He can pretend to be a romantic, yes, and he can see the romance in other people's lives, but he's never been very interested in the subject. Curious, yes -- because what is Lavi not curious about -- but it's never possessed him the way love is supposed to, apparently. It was never a great sacrifice to be made, a wondrous thing to give up. And now?
Kanda tells him to 'go to sleep', and maybe the great poets forgot to mention how insane love can be, because this simple sentence makes his cheeks flush and his chest thump and his stomach twist itself into a braid. Is this love or a stomachache? Lavi can only wonder, and then immediately pray that his thought goes unheard. He's not a romantic, but he doesn't want to be the complete opposite either. (He can be detached. He can be logical. Rational. But he doesn't want to be those things right now.)
What he should want is to sleep, so Lavi shuts his eye and tries to surrender himself to the darkness and quiet, tries not to think too much about how Kanda is right here next to him, and how apparently he doesn't hate Lavi as much as anyone should hate him. Or worse, think of him with the indifference that Lavi used to crave.
His thoughts tumble along, but eventually -- eventually -- they slow down at the same time Lavi's breathing does, emotions ebbing away as the tide of sleep claims him.]