[ There are false starts and lengthy pauses as he reads what Rin wrote - and while they have all manner of proficiency in disguising their thoughts from display, Sen's every shift of expression can be read plainly.
The catch of breath and furrowed brow. The closing of his eyes and hard swallow.
How he sets his phone aside, face down, at one point, and feigns needing his drink as he looks anywhere, anywhere, but at his "fate on-view". (Yes. Yes, they're a pretty picture.) He closes his eyes and sees them there, too. (His Rin. A thought not unaccompanied by a faint twitch of a smile.)
There's untold warmth in this. The texts alone could sustain a starving man for years. (Nevermind that there have been other things. Conversations long into the night. Rin leaning against him, their back to his side, his arm slung around their waist. Several times - an undiscussed occurring. When it was late, when the conversations had worn through to their natural conclusion, when Rin was leaning and Sen was arm-slung beside them.
Without passion, or intent, he tells himself.
Friendly. Just - friendly. An offer of something possibly needed, intimacy afforded without expectation or price - those occasional kisses. One does need intimacy. (Who between them needed it, though?)
Nevermind that Rin has ever been close and constant.)
(Nevermind that the starving man hasn't got years.)
He reads the last line, unaware that he's nodding, assenting silently, because his Rin is not his Rin, but he is their Sen. He has been. Will be until the day he dies.
Which is looking to be another fate on-view, a not-so pretty picture: soon.
Which is why there's no approaching them with any of this. Ever.
But - ]
Not a mongrel, no. I merely liken myself to the habits of one.
For instance, a mongrel dog will form an attachment to the being that shows it such depths of fondness. Have you read - I'm sure you have. The MRI studies, dogs shown photographs of their people. A dog's brain will prove to spark alight at the sight of its human companion, much in the same way said human's does when they experience happiness.
The same regions of the brain activate for a mongrel. They feel pleasure at the sight of their singular, select companion.
You might find a similar reaction from me. Little happiness that I experience. But here is a singular, select companion who hovers, and gives me shelter, who ensures I have eaten when I forget, who plays games both absurd and elaborate with me.
The fate on-view does spark me alight.
A pretty picture, indeed. Prettier than any, a view to inspire two years of yearning
[...]
Pookie, are you fishing for compliments? If you want your vanity stroked, stop playing helicopter null, and I shall aspire to render unto you no less than three compliments, one of which is sure to draw a blush to your (youthful!) visage.
(Your past self, by the bye, is held immaculate in memory, and I will not permit you to besmirch my Rin. Shh, new Rin! Shh! Their hands were pure as fresh fallen snow, and one may be permitted to entertain fancies of criminal mischief.)
no subject
The catch of breath and furrowed brow. The closing of his eyes and hard swallow.
How he sets his phone aside, face down, at one point, and feigns needing his drink as he looks anywhere, anywhere, but at his "fate on-view". (Yes. Yes, they're a pretty picture.) He closes his eyes and sees them there, too. (His Rin. A thought not unaccompanied by a faint twitch of a smile.)
There's untold warmth in this. The texts alone could sustain a starving man for years. (Nevermind that there have been other things. Conversations long into the night. Rin leaning against him, their back to his side, his arm slung around their waist. Several times - an undiscussed occurring. When it was late, when the conversations had worn through to their natural conclusion, when Rin was leaning and Sen was arm-slung beside them.
Without passion, or intent, he tells himself.
Friendly. Just - friendly. An offer of something possibly needed, intimacy afforded without expectation or price - those occasional kisses. One does need intimacy. (Who between them needed it, though?)
Nevermind that Rin has ever been close and constant.)
(Nevermind that the starving man hasn't got years.)
He reads the last line, unaware that he's nodding, assenting silently, because his Rin is not his Rin, but he is their Sen. He has been. Will be until the day he dies.
Which is looking to be another fate on-view, a not-so pretty picture: soon.
Which is why there's no approaching them with any of this. Ever.
But - ]
Not a mongrel, no. I merely liken myself to the habits of one.
For instance, a mongrel dog will form an attachment to the being that shows it such depths of fondness. Have you read - I'm sure you have. The MRI studies, dogs shown photographs of their people. A dog's brain will prove to spark alight at the sight of its human companion, much in the same way said human's does when they experience happiness.
The same regions of the brain activate for a mongrel. They feel pleasure at the sight of their singular, select companion.
You might find a similar reaction from me. Little happiness that I experience. But here is a singular, select companion who hovers, and gives me shelter, who ensures I have eaten when I forget, who plays games both absurd and elaborate with me.
The fate on-view does spark me alight.
A pretty picture, indeed.
Prettier than any, a view to inspire two years of yearning[...]
Pookie, are you fishing for compliments? If you want your vanity stroked, stop playing helicopter null, and I shall aspire to render unto you no less than three compliments, one of which is sure to draw a blush to your (youthful!) visage.
(Your past self, by the bye, is held immaculate in memory, and I will not permit you to besmirch my Rin. Shh, new Rin! Shh! Their hands were pure as fresh fallen snow, and one may be permitted to entertain fancies of criminal mischief.)