[ There is an old saying rising from the recesses of Sen's mind: to have gone off the edge of the map. When maps had edges. When beyond those explored reaches, there were serpentine monsters and, beyond, the edge of the world.
They are, both of them, in vast and uncharted waters.
He could ease back from Rin - who is staring at him in a way Rin has never stared at him, as though seeing him for the first time. As though, in seeing him, has realized Sen is nothing they have ever seen before. (It would be gratifying, if it wasn't the way a deer stares at an oncoming car.) He could ease back from them, true, and steer them back to safe, known harbors - or leave Rin stranded.
Would they be? Would they, now that their eyes are fixed on him, now that they see him not only as their Sen, but as someone other, someone they had no idea he could be - would they fall, or drown, or shatter if he turned away?
(He doesn't know the conclusion of these questions. He doesn't know the alternative to walking off and pretending this never occurred, save that staying means clinging to them. Save that staying means something about perilousness of not clinging. The potential, the likelihood, of wreckage.)
Look at them, staring. Barely breathing. White-knuckled and struggling for thought. Was that all he ever had to do to reach them?
(What has he done.) (He doesn't want this. To reach them only for a moment. For a night.) (He wants -) (He wanted. Would have liked. To set them ablaze for a lifetime. That chance is - Fuck, what was he playing at? To turn their head when he'll be gone soon?) (Granted. With that in mind, he might only have a night, so that does rather solve the problem of -)
(He's not going to fucking think about that. Any of that.)
He keeps close. He drowns in their eyes, with his fingers caressing (soothing, reassuring) their cheek (would they stare like this -) (don't think about it) (he hopes not, though; he hopes Rin, in the hypothetical twining, the infrequently imagined coupling, would be the bold, courageous, confident null he's known.)
His hand falls still under theirs, and he registers dimly that they're shaking. (He struck deep this time.) (But they have untold depths; how could he know where his words would land, and that they would prove seismic?) (He knew. Of course he knew.) Sen rests his forehead against theirs, briefly, lightly, offering comfort and hush.
But no apology.
He'll never apologize for this. (They caught his kiss. Oh, it's still there on their cheek, an his heart swells again. His smile flickers soft, devoted - happy. One kiss for a lifetime.)
They've found their voice but lost their English, and that - oh, that is gratifying, enough that he catches his lip between his teeth to stave off a laugh. And he listens.
And his brows raise in gentle dispute. Or acknowledgement, perhaps, that what they said is already terribly true. His hand remains motionless beneath theirs, save for a sweep of his thumb along their cheek. ]
The only cold I've known has been in the absence of you. Whatever we have been to one another - near-friends, or friends, or lifelong companions - I have always been happily - happily - warm in your sphere. Of course there will be no more winter - I promised to remain for all my days. For good, with you - Rin. My Far-From-Nothing. Antithesis, opposite of nothing. Embodiment, soul, thought of all that is.
[ He's so damned near, and they've caught him again with a touch and a glance. They've fixed him to this spot, where he can do nothing but gaze at them, and offer words.
They are everything he has.
'They'. His words.
'They'. Rin. ]
Rin, whose name ought to have been 'Tous'. In 'everything', there is a fire in the dark. A blanket. A blazing sun rising. Rin once spoke my own name on a cold night in Germany - do you recall? Three times, and a touch of their hand like a charm, and so brought warmth into my world. So long as you are near, of course. So I have kept near.
Never touching springtime, true. But the winter is a dim recollection, fading ever faster before my delight in you. There is my own vow, 'Pas Rien':
In your company, no matter its form, I am warm to my most hidden heart.
no subject
They are, both of them, in vast and uncharted waters.
He could ease back from Rin - who is staring at him in a way Rin has never stared at him, as though seeing him for the first time. As though, in seeing him, has realized Sen is nothing they have ever seen before. (It would be gratifying, if it wasn't the way a deer stares at an oncoming car.) He could ease back from them, true, and steer them back to safe, known harbors - or leave Rin stranded.
Would they be? Would they, now that their eyes are fixed on him, now that they see him not only as their Sen, but as someone other, someone they had no idea he could be - would they fall, or drown, or shatter if he turned away?
(He doesn't know the conclusion of these questions. He doesn't know the alternative to walking off and pretending this never occurred, save that staying means clinging to them. Save that staying means something about perilousness of not clinging. The potential, the likelihood, of wreckage.)
Look at them, staring. Barely breathing. White-knuckled and struggling for thought. Was that all he ever had to do to reach them?
(What has he done.) (He doesn't want this. To reach them only for a moment. For a night.) (He wants -) (He wanted. Would have liked. To set them ablaze for a lifetime. That chance is - Fuck, what was he playing at? To turn their head when he'll be gone soon?) (Granted. With that in mind, he might only have a night, so that does rather solve the problem of -)
(He's not going to fucking think about that. Any of that.)
He keeps close. He drowns in their eyes, with his fingers caressing (soothing, reassuring) their cheek (would they stare like this -) (don't think about it) (he hopes not, though; he hopes Rin, in the hypothetical twining, the infrequently imagined coupling, would be the bold, courageous, confident null he's known.)
His hand falls still under theirs, and he registers dimly that they're shaking. (He struck deep this time.) (But they have untold depths; how could he know where his words would land, and that they would prove seismic?) (He knew. Of course he knew.) Sen rests his forehead against theirs, briefly, lightly, offering comfort and hush.
But no apology.
He'll never apologize for this. (They caught his kiss. Oh, it's still there on their cheek, an his heart swells again. His smile flickers soft, devoted - happy. One kiss for a lifetime.)
They've found their voice but lost their English, and that - oh, that is gratifying, enough that he catches his lip between his teeth to stave off a laugh. And he listens.
And his brows raise in gentle dispute. Or acknowledgement, perhaps, that what they said is already terribly true. His hand remains motionless beneath theirs, save for a sweep of his thumb along their cheek. ]
The only cold I've known has been in the absence of you. Whatever we have been to one another - near-friends, or friends, or lifelong companions - I have always been happily - happily - warm in your sphere. Of course there will be no more winter - I promised to remain for all my days. For good, with you - Rin. My Far-From-Nothing. Antithesis, opposite of nothing. Embodiment, soul, thought of all that is.
[ He's so damned near, and they've caught him again with a touch and a glance. They've fixed him to this spot, where he can do nothing but gaze at them, and offer words.
They are everything he has.
'They'. His words.
'They'. Rin. ]
Rin, whose name ought to have been 'Tous'. In 'everything', there is a fire in the dark. A blanket. A blazing sun rising. Rin once spoke my own name on a cold night in Germany - do you recall? Three times, and a touch of their hand like a charm, and so brought warmth into my world. So long as you are near, of course. So I have kept near.
Never touching springtime, true. But the winter is a dim recollection, fading ever faster before my delight in you. There is my own vow, 'Pas Rien':
In your company, no matter its form, I am warm to my most hidden heart.