But, Eiji mused as he dully opened his eyes, was it enough to make him different too? Maybe it took being apart from him, but he could feel the way Emi had fused into his life - his smile had become part of routine, and his careful touch just another daily habit. They all fit in that comfortable groove he'd carved out for himself, made in his shape.
This, now, was simply settling him back into place.
It was a need he'd never required before, Eiji noted. All those other times he had cut Emi out of his life, he'd done so without the slightest feeling of loss. Not in the act, and nary a time afterwards. It was... disconcerting, having to acknowledge the fact that some part of him was no longer complete on its own. By definition, it meant he - the Eiji part of the equation - was lesser somehow. Attached. Dependent.
It was difficult to place whether he was supposed to feel glad over this. Even if he had something to gain from it, Eiji couldn't help the unease building in his chest. How could he stay pragmatic and logical if there was a seed of irrationality growing inside him? How far was it going to spread? How was he even supposed to reconcile its presence when he'd spent all his life fashioning himself to be something that resisted it on principle?
The demi-human's arms finally loosened, slipping from their place as Eiji carefully undocked himself from Emi's embrace. This wasn't something he could uproot on his own, he realized. But...
For a moment, his dark red eyes locked onto gold, lacking all his usual sharp edges but still searching, probing.
...It wasn't the same. Whatever climate had settled in his chest, it didn't match the eruption of sun and warmth that Emi felt, thinking of him. Well... it was only natural. Good. That meant it hadn't taken roots deep enough to make him stupid.
And like that, everything that was Eiji fell back into place. "I'm going to brush my teeth and pass out," he announced quietly, shifting his weight to stand up. He'd throw out what remained of the cup noodle, too.
He wasn't different yet. And sadly, the response he felt was a distant, shameful sense of relief.
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But, Eiji mused as he dully opened his eyes, was it enough to make him different too? Maybe it took being apart from him, but he could feel the way Emi had fused into his life - his smile had become part of routine, and his careful touch just another daily habit. They all fit in that comfortable groove he'd carved out for himself, made in his shape.
This, now, was simply settling him back into place.
It was a need he'd never required before, Eiji noted. All those other times he had cut Emi out of his life, he'd done so without the slightest feeling of loss. Not in the act, and nary a time afterwards. It was... disconcerting, having to acknowledge the fact that some part of him was no longer complete on its own. By definition, it meant he - the Eiji part of the equation - was lesser somehow. Attached. Dependent.
It was difficult to place whether he was supposed to feel glad over this. Even if he had something to gain from it, Eiji couldn't help the unease building in his chest. How could he stay pragmatic and logical if there was a seed of irrationality growing inside him? How far was it going to spread? How was he even supposed to reconcile its presence when he'd spent all his life fashioning himself to be something that resisted it on principle?
The demi-human's arms finally loosened, slipping from their place as Eiji carefully undocked himself from Emi's embrace. This wasn't something he could uproot on his own, he realized. But...
For a moment, his dark red eyes locked onto gold, lacking all his usual sharp edges but still searching, probing.
...It wasn't the same. Whatever climate had settled in his chest, it didn't match the eruption of sun and warmth that Emi felt, thinking of him. Well... it was only natural. Good. That meant it hadn't taken roots deep enough to make him stupid.
And like that, everything that was Eiji fell back into place. "I'm going to brush my teeth and pass out," he announced quietly, shifting his weight to stand up. He'd throw out what remained of the cup noodle, too.
He wasn't different yet. And sadly, the response he felt was a distant, shameful sense of relief.