( having wandered around the garden long enough to realize it's a bit cumbersome to do so with his usual eye covering and without a shred of his jujutsu means that he's since traded the blindfold for dark glasses. people have stopped mistaking him for blind, for one, and it does make it easier to get around without running the risk of tripping over his own feet before he fully learns the layout of this place.
( one: this is not a small place, so good luck with that and two, how does it feel to be alarmingly normal for once in your entire life? more on that later. )
this much, to start, means that he won't be as acutely aware of the other man's presence as he would be otherwise ( you know, it's not as though he can just go sniffing the air for his residuals ) but he'll still be able to sense him at his periphery, soon enough that he won't be so close as to leave him wide open should he choose to do … anything … but close enough that it will find the fine hair at the back of his neck standing on end. like the promise of an electrical storm on the horizon with how it charges the air around him.
is it really you?
it's the touch of that hand against his own that has him sucking in a breath and holding it, such a simple but achingly familiar thing catching in the back of his throat alongside a ruined exhale; he doesn't lift his gaze to look at him directly, or even cast a sidelong glance because he's not entirely convinced he can trust himself to do it in the first place. not without giving something away that he desperately needs to keep for himself. )
Since when have you ever gone out of your way to apologize to me for anything? ( he finally asks, voice low, the ghost of a wry smile curving one side of his mouth upward — but only because it helps to mask the way he's now biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to make it bleed. )
Is it you, Suguru? Really you? Or have I— ( here, he laughs to himself, equal parts incredulous and exasperated. ) Have I finally gone mad?
scratch that, mistletoe because why not make it awkward AND painful;
( one: this is not a small place, so good luck with that and two, how does it feel to be alarmingly normal for once in your entire life? more on that later. )
this much, to start, means that he won't be as acutely aware of the other man's presence as he would be otherwise ( you know, it's not as though he can just go sniffing the air for his residuals ) but he'll still be able to sense him at his periphery, soon enough that he won't be so close as to leave him wide open should he choose to do … anything … but close enough that it will find the fine hair at the back of his neck standing on end. like the promise of an electrical storm on the horizon with how it charges the air around him.
is it really you?
it's the touch of that hand against his own that has him sucking in a breath and holding it, such a simple but achingly familiar thing catching in the back of his throat alongside a ruined exhale; he doesn't lift his gaze to look at him directly, or even cast a sidelong glance because he's not entirely convinced he can trust himself to do it in the first place. not without giving something away that he desperately needs to keep for himself. )
Since when have you ever gone out of your way to apologize to me for anything? ( he finally asks, voice low, the ghost of a wry smile curving one side of his mouth upward — but only because it helps to mask the way he's now biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to make it bleed. )
Is it you, Suguru? Really you? Or have I— ( here, he laughs to himself, equal parts incredulous and exasperated. ) Have I finally gone mad?