ren flopped down next to lusun on the couch, arm wrapping 'round his middle while they buried their face into his shoulder. they murmured quietly in mother tongue, barely there, near inaudible. " < please be here when i wake up. > "
the sound tickles his ears. there’s nothing like it, because nobody else spoke like they did; not in that language, and not with that tone, soft and welcoming even in his presence.
the touch is unlike anything else he knew. it’s gentle, warm, without callous. to be touched without malice or carnal intent.. it was foreign to him, alien even, and it was like learning a new language all on it’s own. the language of passion, with all of it’s complexities and riddles just outside his realm of understanding.
but he didn’t hate it, and that scared him.
all lusun knew was hate; he hated men, he hated women, he hated machines and even ideas. he hated his enemies, and friends were too few and quick to join them.. he even hated himself. it was like a poison, seeping into his veins and turning his blood black and bitter, salting his tongue and splitting his ears. at his very core, he was all of the things he despised.
so to feel something else was wrong. it scared him.
ren’s hair was soft like silk, and shined like ivory. he could not resist running his fingers through it, stroking his fingers against the back of their head as he lets his hand flow through the locks like water. he had to feel this touch, this vital chi, as much as he could, lest he never feel it again.
he had to cherish this moment, because he would not be here when ren woke.
