i want to hold higuruma in the tub fully clothed...);
there's just something almost comforting about the idea of...being trapped under the weight of the clothes he's trying to drown in, so solidly there even as you're both slumped on the tiles in silence, grateful for the cascade filling it up. Rostered tragedies and back to back bad days and the monotonous minutiae of horror spiralling down the drain
You stay that way for hours, risking rheumatism and streaming sinuses and steam wrinkled skin, only feeling those fingertips skate each other's cheeks when they're shriveled long past pruney, finding in those creases the final caches and vestiges of, if not warmth, then a faint desire for it, sullen and tentative, but still there, trying to remember what wanting feels like, even as he's trying to forget what being wanted is.
So there you both are in the shower, embracing on the edge of the chasm, bracing vertigo, resisting the urge to tiptoe forward and step off the ledge, and all it takes is that slight nudge of his nose against a pulse point, to remind each of you you have one despite your best efforts
And he'll ask if you're cold, cold enough yet - and the answer is always No, because you can still feel his arms around you too...
