#yeshens

[yoakkemae-archived]

“you’re acting twitchy,” shinichi observes with a raise of an eyebrow, half his attention still captured by the message thread open on his phone. the only sign that he’s aware of kaito’s presence at his window is in the way his head is tilted toward it in acknowledgement, and the fact that he’s a world class detective who notices things like, you know, his window being unusually wide open.

shinichi taps something out before putting away his phone, and only then does he look over. (he can’t help the instinctive body scan, ever since that other time.) “so, what’s up? are you bleeding out again, or is this just a normal, spontaneous house visit?” his lips twitch, then, giving him away, “or, don’t tell me, did i miss your birthday?”

' if you had to ask , you definitely know about it. ' there's a part of him that wants to pout , so he exaggerates it. lower lip jutting out , eyes growing wide as he fakes tears. he smoothly moves from the detective's window to his desk , closing the window behind him. ' what , do you not care about our friendship ? i'm heartbroken , torn. clearly , you now need to get me the best birthday present ever to assuage my rightfully broken heart. '

[aicidos]

YOU

(kisses you sooooooooooo so much to distract you)

[piliyi]

❛ you're not by yourself, alright? i'm right here with you. ❜ (tender)toomin...

min-chul was just a child the first time he experienced a loss so permanent as to be remembered. it was a story he’d heard countless of times in his earliest days at the church— both from other kids, older than him at the time, and the kind, soft-eyed sisters tasked with their care— and though no one told him the truth for many more years to come, he had always, for a reason unbeknownst to a child who had no true way of knowing, likened their stories to himself. even then, he felt it; that he had been born abandoned, alone, perched on a doorstep, reliant on strangers’ short-lived kindnesses, and that it was how it had to be.

the truth, then, when he learned it one mundane afternoon years later— spilled from the lips of a boy several years his senior in a fit of misplaced resentment-fueled rage— didn’t come as that big of a surprise.

“ that’s, ” not a lie, obviously, but— the emotion that flits across his expression is easy to miss, and he averts his gaze, intentional in his avoidance, but not intending to be cruel. he doesn’t know what it means, for tooru to offer him these words, to placate or to possess? he told min-chul once that he can’t feel emotions, none of the rage, offense, mistrust most other humans do, and min-chul never lets himself forget, never lets himself be lulled, so what can it mean, for tooru to promise him this now? 

he wonders if tooru himself knows. 

—reckons that he must. 

“ i - i know, ” he says at last, as sure of this as he is of most other things, admission pressing heavily against the shell of his heart. it’s a scary thing, he thinks— still focused on something far, far away— to not be by yourself. “ i see you. ”

[piliyi]

❝  you’re making my cheeks warm looking at me like that.  ❞ TOOKAI

he looks at him often, and makes no secret of it. sometimes it’s when tooru isn’t looking, focused on something else, his expression unadorned, the understanding that tooru isn’t just his tucked safely into the cabinet of his life’s memories. oftentimes it’s purposely when he is— warm eyes open and searching, forever searching— if only to see the way that same expression softens, a secret, unchastened, tender thing. not just his, certainly, but in that moment, meant only for him.

“ that so? ” he asks, like it doesn’t concern him, like it wasn’t his intent to provoke exactly this, like he’s not unabashedly attuned to the minute shifts of every inch of him, the way tooru’s eyes dart away, then back, as if the very idea of rebuking kaien’s attention is a strain; inexplicably drawn to him as he is to tooru in turn. 

it was a gradual thing for them, careful and appropriately calculated on either side, but it was never subtle. 

“ yer red all over. ” ever the opportunist, he reaches out, loosely, pointer finger tracing a gentle path from the apple of tooru’s rosied cheek— “ from here— ” to meet the curved tip of his ear in a teasing tap, tap— “ to here. ” 

his touch lingers, as it always does.

[piliyi]

❝  be warned. if you go, i cannot guarantee you will survive.  ❞ vanilla ver<3

the days are getting shorter. it’s the first thing aether takes notice of once the gravest of his injuries have healed and he feels well-enough to venture outside. he estimates it’s mid-afternoon, but when he looks on into the distance, searching the horizon, the feathers of rose-pink amidst the blue are unmistakable. the air feels crisper, the breeze stronger than before, and he watches the still-blooming silk flowers tremble from his vantage point on the inn’s terrace, idly wondering how long till they’re to be harvested— the last batch of the season. he’s so, so tired, weak and aching in this plaguing almost-mortality, but the shoulder he could always turn to and rest his head on in his lowest moments is gone.

the passage of time onsets as it is due—

autumn approaches, a reminder in and of itself

—and it’s a frighteningly heavy burden to have to bear alone. 

“ that’s a grim forecast, ” he laughs. his tone betrays none of the apprehension he should feel, and neither do his eyes when he meets xiao’s steadfast gaze across the several steps of distance separating their respective spots, aether sat on the ground, his legs dangling freely from the terrace edge and xiao stood to the side, arms crossed. it was kind of him to visit; even kinder to caution him, despite. it’s a kindness aether won’t soon forget. “ beidou says the alcor’s due to set sail in seven days. i did hope to have a bit more time before we had to leave, but… ” he rests his arms on the perch of the balustrade, body canting to the fore. he’s growing listless again. it’s been harder to stay awake— regardless of the rest he gets, these days it never feels enough.

“ still, ” he begins anew, “ i’ll keep your warning in mind. thanks, for coming to check on me, ” he smiles, “ and for the company. ”

[aicidos]

hey

woah im so late answering this. hey

[aicidos]

@yeshens + prompt: ❝  you can’t be very wounded if you can stand for so long.  ❞ help.. kisechi

so.

perhaps he didn't actually get sprained during practice, and perhaps he doesn't need taichi to give him a ride on his bicycle, as demonstrated by the way he waits for him after his club and impatiently taps his foot. “and you can’t be too bothered if you’re willing to put up with me,” he counters between dropping the act and playing coy, an expression that shifts from surprise at being caught to a smile that reaches his eyes. “and, anyway, isn’t mashimacchi becoming a doctor someday?” which in kise-speak means, you can’t possibly talk to your patients like that, but more importantly, don’t talk to me like this!

he opts, however, for a more hands-on course correction.

“that reminds me, something really strange happens when i look your way.” he reaches for taichi’s wrist, stopping their way towards the bike, and lowers it to his chest. his heart. “can you feel it? it’s beating so fast! am i sick? lovesick?”

[aicidos]

BABEEEEEEEEEEEE (KISSING YOU) (KISSING YOU) (HISSING) (KISSING YOU)

(KISSING YOU BACK TO DISTRACT YOU FROM THE UTTER HELL IM ABT TO UNLEASH ON YOU ^_^)