Pout. Just a pout, visible reaction of stretched muscles, making the blind boy appear even more childish despite all --those delicate traits moving and indeed hiding the trauma they were showing and showing, even unwillingly. Arms finally moved, just to cross in front the covered chest, enhancing the idea of a brattish behavior, a show being aired only in front of Koujaku and Koujaku alone.
Because that presence, the serenity that presence was able to give him --like with Ren, or Tae herself. . . It was relieving. Healing his broken soul and mending the cuts and bruises staining his skin, muscles, organs, bones. He couldn't help but feel safe, within the walls of his house, with the scent of his blankets and the stuff Tae cooks downstairs, the sweet noise of blankets shifting and yes, even the constant blurting and screaming of the woman who tutored him all these years, as lovingly as a true grandmother could be.
But hey, there was Koujaku in there who needed to be mocked, the pouted words accompanied by a little gesture of his head, hair softly covering part of the horrible scars maiming his neck. Still better than nothing --the slow, steady return to what his usual abilities used to be, the nerves finding their way towards the surface, towards the complete rehabilitation.
« I should make you w-wait on purpose-- » Here it was, the little smile curling his ruined lips, those blind, dull orbs of his moving towards wherever the friend was supposed to be.
He wanted the other to move --to come closer, to allow him to feel even more his presence next to him, the support and anchor he needed to grab in order to .--metaphorically, of course-- stand up and hold his head high once again. He wanted to move his hands over that face of his, feel the usual smug over his awakening touch, his chest being the pillow where he could rest and, maybe, even dream.
But maybe he wanted too much.
And a doll shouldn't want something at all.
« But since I k-know the answer, I won't make you waste a-any time --It's 'omnom', isn't it? »
