[ the past few hours have been something of a blur, though if asked oushi wouldn't be able to recall anything that had transpired prior to it. it's good that nobody's actually asked him, though, because he would have said something embarrassing like, does it matter? life didn't really start until i saw him. "him" being none other than gojou satoru, a man he had only met once prior to all this, and yet somehow seeing him across the food stalls during today's festival had felt like the true first time, as if he were seeing the young man in a light he hadn't been privy to before.
it's — a deeply suspicious thing, frankly, and oushi had thought as much for all of three seconds before something far more primal kicked into gear in his brain, and suddenly it became extremely important that he never let the other man out of his sight again. crowding him, grabbing at his wrist, pulling him close, dragging him along. maybe oushi might have felt bad for his behavior, if gojou didn't seem to enjoy every second of it, or at the very least enable the worst of it.
that's how they end up spending the better half of the afternoon together. sharing snacks, drinking from the same bottle, even slaving meticulously over the goldfish catching game all to ensure they had walked away with a "matching pair" (oushi's was mostly white with orange spots, while gojou's orange with a smattering of white). and now, here, in the ferris wheel, the hotel's simulated sun sinking deep into the horizon to cast a pinkish haze over their entire surroundings. nestled against the corner of the seat beside oushi, the two goldfish swim merrily in their mutual plastic bags.
when the announcement rings out, and their predicament is made clear, oushi finds himself suddenly conflicted. but — perhaps not for the reason one might have expected from him... ]
But, [ he says, suddenly quite shy despite all his actions up until this moment, ] the goldfish will see...
( it feels the closest to some kind of fever dream. this entire resort has felt that way, at times, as though nothing about it could truly be real, as though these are all just the thoughts and memories of a mad man: like he's still laying somewhere in a pool of his own blood, choking past a torn windpipe, trying desperately to be anywhere else but there. when oushi touches him, it feels warm, and soft, distant enough that he has to remember whether or not he's taken down infinity to begin with--but then why would he not lay himself bare, and open, for the guy that makes him feel so twisted up inside? there's beauty to be found in the simple life of a touchy little human, like he's finally putting the pieces together of why it's so important to protect them; and this one, in particular, is now his to protect. eternally, his thoughts say, or the token says, but whatever, he gets it--he's not letting up.
easy enough to give into temptation when that's all he's ever done--jumped right into challenge after challenge, charged headlong into everything and anything. pragmatic, when he ensures that oushi's arm is always just within reach, his hand clamped palm to palm; possessive, when he offers a blank, blue-eyed stare to anyone who dares to think they can get close. for awhile, it's like nothing else exists outside of them and this silly carnival--like it's the old days, like it's happiness, like there's nothing that can hurt, here.
the warm sunlight of the sunset, cast out over the interior of the ferris wheel car, makes him want to duck his chin down against oushi's shoulder and watch it--he's trying, anyway, long and lanky frame slumped down and contorted so that he can sink his cheek against the side of oushi's neck, peering out past his profile at the heat of it. disappointing, to have the day done, but night will come soon after: and besides, now they have a predicament to deal with.
his first response is--to snort a laugh, forcing himself to sit up a little, nudging his nose in against oushi's cheek in a tease. )
So take your shirt off and put it over them.
( idly, teasingly, and without his sunglasses, his eyes are that strange, sparkling blue they always are, heighted by both the dying sunlight and the voracity of his interest--focused entirely on oushi, perhaps a terrifying burden. )
I've waited all day and-- ( he slides himself up to sit, properly, next to him, though one hand is reaching for oushi's chin, holding it carefully between long fingers to twist him to face him properly--his lips curve into a grin. ) --I'm not gonna keep waiting.
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gojou.
it's — a deeply suspicious thing, frankly, and oushi had thought as much for all of three seconds before something far more primal kicked into gear in his brain, and suddenly it became extremely important that he never let the other man out of his sight again. crowding him, grabbing at his wrist, pulling him close, dragging him along. maybe oushi might have felt bad for his behavior, if gojou didn't seem to enjoy every second of it, or at the very least enable the worst of it.
that's how they end up spending the better half of the afternoon together. sharing snacks, drinking from the same bottle, even slaving meticulously over the goldfish catching game all to ensure they had walked away with a "matching pair" (oushi's was mostly white with orange spots, while gojou's orange with a smattering of white). and now, here, in the ferris wheel, the hotel's simulated sun sinking deep into the horizon to cast a pinkish haze over their entire surroundings. nestled against the corner of the seat beside oushi, the two goldfish swim merrily in their mutual plastic bags.
when the announcement rings out, and their predicament is made clear, oushi finds himself suddenly conflicted. but — perhaps not for the reason one might have expected from him... ]
But, [ he says, suddenly quite shy despite all his actions up until this moment, ] the goldfish will see...
no subject
easy enough to give into temptation when that's all he's ever done--jumped right into challenge after challenge, charged headlong into everything and anything. pragmatic, when he ensures that oushi's arm is always just within reach, his hand clamped palm to palm; possessive, when he offers a blank, blue-eyed stare to anyone who dares to think they can get close. for awhile, it's like nothing else exists outside of them and this silly carnival--like it's the old days, like it's happiness, like there's nothing that can hurt, here.
the warm sunlight of the sunset, cast out over the interior of the ferris wheel car, makes him want to duck his chin down against oushi's shoulder and watch it--he's trying, anyway, long and lanky frame slumped down and contorted so that he can sink his cheek against the side of oushi's neck, peering out past his profile at the heat of it. disappointing, to have the day done, but night will come soon after: and besides, now they have a predicament to deal with.
his first response is--to snort a laugh, forcing himself to sit up a little, nudging his nose in against oushi's cheek in a tease. )
So take your shirt off and put it over them.
( idly, teasingly, and without his sunglasses, his eyes are that strange, sparkling blue they always are, heighted by both the dying sunlight and the voracity of his interest--focused entirely on oushi, perhaps a terrifying burden. )
I've waited all day and-- ( he slides himself up to sit, properly, next to him, though one hand is reaching for oushi's chin, holding it carefully between long fingers to twist him to face him properly--his lips curve into a grin. ) --I'm not gonna keep waiting.