NONVERBAL MEMES ✧ ACCEPTING !
@catnapscholar said:
[ run ]
* It hadn’t taken either of them long to find out they could both read in dim light. To find out they both almost preferred it; a dull orange glow cast by a single, small lamp. Claude was also quite used to sitting next to a bed, not on one, a habit taken from his school days where he left novels piled on his sheets instead of placing them in shelves. Linhardt could have the bed. After all, it was their’s to begin with. They could sprawl all they wanted while reading.
Except, he had realized not too long ago, Linhardt was actually watching him.
Claude hadn’t moved, hadn’t given a hint that he could tell he was being observed. The crease in his brow he always gained when he concentrated was still there, along with the small downward pull of his lips. Still, he was curious. Why was he being watched? What did Linhardt want from him? There was plenty, he reasoned, that a curious scholar could want from an enigmatic man.
The sheets shifted to his right, but Claude remained still. The worst that could happen would be his reading getting interrupted by string after string of invasive queries from an inquisitive mind. He was used to questions, and used to dodging them.
What he wasn’t used to was lithe fingers running through his dusky locks, disturbing the careful coif. Jade eyes blow wide then snap in the direction of the hand they belong to. Claude can feel his skin prickle, feel himself go on edge in an instant... only for the pad of the other’s thumb to press just right at the raised bone behind his ear and he melts. Eyelids lower, but gaze still focuses on his friend.
“What, was there something in it?” He knows there wasn’t. This wasn’t how someone touched hair in order to remove some dust or a twig. “Kinda coarse, isn’t it?” He gives a crooked grin and receives a pensive hum back. Now Linhardt has the crease in their brow.
“On the contrary,” they start, tilting their head just enough for long, moss strands of hair to fall over their shoulder, “it’s quite soft. Softer than I’d expected, honestly. Silkier than imagined, too. Hmm...”
Than imagined? The words give Claude pause, an eyebrow quirking in response. He opens his mouth to speak, but next he knows, the touch has moved to his jawline. Linhardt gives the strands there a couple of strokes before blatant displeasure crosses their features.
“This though... no thank you. Far too rough. You must only have it for the look, because I can’t see anyone actually enjoying how it feels.”
The straight up bluntness of those words has Claude snorting, a laugh hitching his shoulders in a way that can’t be faked. Perhaps Linhardt’s honesty was rubbing off on him.
“‘On the contrary’, I think you’ll find there’s quite the market for people who like this kind of texture! Perhaps you need your horizons broadened a bit, my friend.” His words have Linhardt, who’d gone back to tousling, looking almost indignant.
“Well, I know they say there’s no disputing taste, but that’s bad taste.”
The banter continued a minute more before they settled again. Linhardt never fully removed his hand from Claude’s hair, and Claude never fully stopped leaning into the contact.
He’d forgotten how nice it could be to just... be.
[ run ] for your muse to run their fingers through mine’s hair
