It was a topic they kept dancing around, narrowly missing all the prickly barbs that came with it. Most of them, anyway. There were definitely some that had stung in previous conversations. Emi hummed a bit, gently tapping his fingers against the warm cup in his hands.
Explaining something that just seemed like second nature to himself was tricky. Emi found it hard to be anything but honest-- at least in private.
"Well... what do you think honesty is? In your opinion." They could both look up the definition in a dictionary, but when it came to personal practices... Everyone held it a little differently.
"Honesty is..." Eiji's brows furrowed in thought. Idly, he chewed on the tips of his chopsticks as he considered this question - it was more complex than it first appeared.
Eventually, he came up with, "Speaking your mind on your principles and... your sense of reason. And acting only on what you've thought out to be the right course of action." Emotions and acknowledging your own desires sincerely need not apply.
The other teen nodded along with the explanation. It was a pretty sound reasoning. If that was all that was to it though, Eiji shouldn't have been having all the issues he was having.
"I'd agree with most of that." Emi took another thoughtful nibble of noodles before he continued, moving his gaze back to Eiji.
"But can you say that the right course of action-- and I'm definitely saying they're the right thing to do in this. But was it always the option you would prefer?"
Eiji didn't reply immediately, but when he did, it was a stiff, re-enactment of his usual stifled reasoning. Muttered while staring into what was left in his noodle cup, the demi-human could only dully ask, "Why would I prefer something that wasn't the right course of action?"
Even now, he was too trapped in the cage of his own rationality, despite the lack of confidence in his voice. He'd never let himself even consider what he preferred emotionally when making his past decisions. Or if he had, it was only through a lens that could somehow justify it through a contortionist's knot of logic. As such, nothing came to mind...
Bingo. The response didn't surprise Emi in the slightest. He kept careful watch of his friends' expression, knowing full well that the only examples that he had to answer that question were sensitive subjects. It was that very sensitivity that made them the only ones that could work, as far as Emi could tell.
When he spoke again, it was frank and devoid of any of the resentment that Eiji might have feared would be there. However much they might have shaped him, Emi knew the logic of the facts. He just wanted to help Eiji understand.
"Leaving me behind was the right thing to do," Emi stated. For which time, he didn't specify. All of them? "It was absolutely the correct course of action."
"But I don't think that's what you wanted." He hoped not, anyway.
To this, Eiji only had silence. The cup-staring had grown more sullen now - face strained in a look of conflict, jaw tightening without realizing it. Even his grip had gone rigid.
What he wanted in those situations... was it even possible for him to say that he wanted to stay with Emi? No. Of course not. Because he knew, intrinsically, that staying would've meant losing him. How could he ever wish that, just to have the momentary gratification of having a comforting presence a little longer?
It was a fantasy, to think that he could have Emi at his side without risking him. It was beyond his ability to indulgently imagine so far out of the realm of fact.
"I wanted... things to be different," he said at last, quietly. He wanted a different road for the both of them to walk down, together...
Emi moved, scooting himself to sit closer to Eiji's side. There was a small whiff of how clean he smelled, all freshly scrubbed from the shower. The t-shirt was too big on him, making him seem that much smaller as he quietly opened up some of those silent vulnerabilities. Emi gently leaned his shoulder against Eiji's, offering whatever Eiji wanted to take.
"I did too. They will be," he assured him firmly. They were building that road with their own hands, and Emi wasn't going to let anything happen to it.
"As far as I can tell, being honest with yourself is knowing what you want, but understanding you won't always get it. Trying to deny something exists just turns it into a time bomb you can't control."
"So I have a time bomb," he mused darkly. Something dangerous and uncontrollable - that seemed to define his ghost fairly well. Knowing that and having to acknowledge it as an extension of himself, that was. Frustrating. Considering how much the demi-human took pride in having self-control.
Eiji's expression fought against the grimace that tried to surface onto his features - not entirely succeeding - before he simply fell back to shoving more noodles into his mouth.
When he finished off the last ramen-y dregs from his cup, Eiji wiped his mouth again and glanced away. For a moment, looking like he was debating on what to say - with a tint of shame in his eyes. And while he tried to make the words as clinical as possible in tone, it wasn't hard to tell what emotion he was holding back.
"...I missed you. That's why my link with the ghost was stronger. We both... missed you." Heart and mind.
They had wanted the same thing, he'd said. Emi had assumed it was warmth and safety but it had been...
Him.
Emi swallowed hard, almost uncertain that he'd heard him correctly. The racing in his chest assured him that he'd heard Eiji just fine. That was all it took to get him going, it seemed. He was supposed to be keeping up those bits of distance between them that kept them comfortable friends. That was how this worked out, he knew that. What he didn't know was how he was supposed to do that when he felt close to bursting.
"Eiji..."
He'd never considered himself someone that could be missed, but here they were. The remains of his ramen were set aside.
Moving on the impulse his entire body was yearning for, Emi turned and carefully wrapped his arms around Eiji's middle in a loose circle to draw him in. Maybe this was too much. Maybe it wasn't enough. His arms had been ajin-less for too long, and Emi didn't know what else to do with this feeling.
Ah... The stiffness that normally accompanied such an enveloping gesture had ebbed away, momentarily forgotten in the wake of all those lonely nights. Eiji's body sagged against the sudden embrace, relaxing as though he was breathing out a heavy sigh. For the first time, what used to be an uncomfortable, smothering gesture actually felt comforting. It carried with it the promise that he'd always be kept safe.
He really had missed his touch.
Letting his head rest in the slope between Emi's neck and shoulder, he had nary a thought for how this might affect the state of their friendship. What it was doing to the blond's infatuation had ceased to be a concern, greedy as it was. All Eiji knew was that he wanted this right now.
He closed his eyes and set down his styrofoam cup, letting his arms whisper all the thank yous and I need yous that he couldn't say as they settled themselves against the small of Emi's back - lightly holding him in place.
Everything had reached such a clamor between mind and heart that suddenly there was only quiet. Worries and hopes alike were set aside. For now, this moment was the only one that mattered. The memory of Eiji's weight was being written into Emi's skin. The warmth the demi-human had yearned for was burning strong, and it was all his, enveloping him. Keeping him safe. He was so soft and hesitant and wanting.
There was just the soft sounds of their breath. A soft shift of fabric as they leaned in to each other, shifted slightly. Calloused hands splayed supportively against Eiji's back, cradling his head. In the still calm, Emi could be honest with himself as well.
He loved him.
He loved him now in this quiet moment of fleeting honesty. He'd love him later when each careful wall was painfully put back in to place. He loved him in the wild of the woods, and he loved him in the softness of the morning. He'd known it, they'd both known it, but that word had always been elusive. Now that it had slipped into the spaces between his thoughts, he could call it by nothing but it's name.
I love him.
Emi leaned his head against the other's, deeply breathing in the whole moment. They could stay as long as Eiji wanted. However long it took for him to feel content. It was all his for the taking.
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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no subject
It was a topic they kept dancing around, narrowly missing all the prickly barbs that came with it. Most of them, anyway. There were definitely some that had stung in previous conversations. Emi hummed a bit, gently tapping his fingers against the warm cup in his hands.
Explaining something that just seemed like second nature to himself was tricky. Emi found it hard to be anything but honest-- at least in private.
"Well... what do you think honesty is? In your opinion." They could both look up the definition in a dictionary, but when it came to personal practices... Everyone held it a little differently.
no subject
Eventually, he came up with, "Speaking your mind on your principles and... your sense of reason. And acting only on what you've thought out to be the right course of action." Emotions and acknowledging your own desires sincerely need not apply.
no subject
"I'd agree with most of that." Emi took another thoughtful nibble of noodles before he continued, moving his gaze back to Eiji.
"But can you say that the right course of action-- and I'm definitely saying they're the right thing to do in this. But was it always the option you would prefer?"
no subject
Even now, he was too trapped in the cage of his own rationality, despite the lack of confidence in his voice. He'd never let himself even consider what he preferred emotionally when making his past decisions. Or if he had, it was only through a lens that could somehow justify it through a contortionist's knot of logic. As such, nothing came to mind...
no subject
When he spoke again, it was frank and devoid of any of the resentment that Eiji might have feared would be there. However much they might have shaped him, Emi knew the logic of the facts. He just wanted to help Eiji understand.
"Leaving me behind was the right thing to do," Emi stated. For which time, he didn't specify. All of them? "It was absolutely the correct course of action."
"But I don't think that's what you wanted." He hoped not, anyway.
no subject
What he wanted in those situations... was it even possible for him to say that he wanted to stay with Emi? No. Of course not. Because he knew, intrinsically, that staying would've meant losing him. How could he ever wish that, just to have the momentary gratification of having a comforting presence a little longer?
It was a fantasy, to think that he could have Emi at his side without risking him. It was beyond his ability to indulgently imagine so far out of the realm of fact.
"I wanted... things to be different," he said at last, quietly. He wanted a different road for the both of them to walk down, together...
no subject
"I did too. They will be," he assured him firmly. They were building that road with their own hands, and Emi wasn't going to let anything happen to it.
"As far as I can tell, being honest with yourself is knowing what you want, but understanding you won't always get it. Trying to deny something exists just turns it into a time bomb you can't control."
no subject
Eiji's expression fought against the grimace that tried to surface onto his features - not entirely succeeding - before he simply fell back to shoving more noodles into his mouth.
When he finished off the last ramen-y dregs from his cup, Eiji wiped his mouth again and glanced away. For a moment, looking like he was debating on what to say - with a tint of shame in his eyes. And while he tried to make the words as clinical as possible in tone, it wasn't hard to tell what emotion he was holding back.
"...I missed you. That's why my link with the ghost was stronger. We both... missed you." Heart and mind.
no subject
Him.
Emi swallowed hard, almost uncertain that he'd heard him correctly. The racing in his chest assured him that he'd heard Eiji just fine. That was all it took to get him going, it seemed. He was supposed to be keeping up those bits of distance between them that kept them comfortable friends. That was how this worked out, he knew that. What he didn't know was how he was supposed to do that when he felt close to bursting.
"Eiji..."
He'd never considered himself someone that could be missed, but here they were. The remains of his ramen were set aside.
Moving on the impulse his entire body was yearning for, Emi turned and carefully wrapped his arms around Eiji's middle in a loose circle to draw him in. Maybe this was too much. Maybe it wasn't enough. His arms had been ajin-less for too long, and Emi didn't know what else to do with this feeling.
That was one hell of a way to start being honest.
no subject
He really had missed his touch.
Letting his head rest in the slope between Emi's neck and shoulder, he had nary a thought for how this might affect the state of their friendship. What it was doing to the blond's infatuation had ceased to be a concern, greedy as it was. All Eiji knew was that he wanted this right now.
He closed his eyes and set down his styrofoam cup, letting his arms whisper all the thank yous and I need yous that he couldn't say as they settled themselves against the small of Emi's back - lightly holding him in place.
no subject
There was just the soft sounds of their breath. A soft shift of fabric as they leaned in to each other, shifted slightly. Calloused hands splayed supportively against Eiji's back, cradling his head. In the still calm, Emi could be honest with himself as well.
He loved him.
He loved him now in this quiet moment of fleeting honesty. He'd love him later when each careful wall was painfully put back in to place. He loved him in the wild of the woods, and he loved him in the softness of the morning. He'd known it, they'd both known it, but that word had always been elusive. Now that it had slipped into the spaces between his thoughts, he could call it by nothing but it's name.
I love him.
Emi leaned his head against the other's, deeply breathing in the whole moment. They could stay as long as Eiji wanted. However long it took for him to feel content. It was all his for the taking.
no subject
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.