“My— it was probably a bad move I did, Tasuku-kun. As I said, nothing to concern yourself with.”
“Just sit and let me see, for Gods’ sake.”
Tasuku grabs Homare’s hand and makes a few motions, careful not to make the movements too quick. He sighs tiredly. “You know a wrist motion you do continuously can inflame the tissues around joints, right? You should try to use a computer like Minagi at least. I’m sure this is not the first time it’s hurt before a due date.”
With Tasuku already dabbing on antiseptic, Homare supposed he had no choice but to oblige.
“But how could I dare such thing! I’ll have you know it is imperative I present my drafts by hand so that I can fiddle with sonnets and rhythms without intermission, Tasuku-kun. Many of you might be unaware, but for us artists words are dictated by a gentle voice outside of ourselves. We fall under a spell— and become the conduit of forces beyond our power and control.”
Tasuku listens and chooses to make no comments, keeping his eyes on his work instead. The bulked actor twists the fabric up and around, layering it over with precision and an uncommon extra attentiveness that even Homare notices. Once he reaches the end of the wrist, he pauses.
“The bandages,” he nods, murmuring towards the hand, “are they too tight?”
Homare hums, then rotates his hand and gives a little shake. They stay in silence as he watches the winter actor now trying to finish tying the bandage. “…How very interesting indeed.”
Tasuku raises an eyebrow, his voice a slight tone of exasperation. “What now.”
“You are much gentler than I thought.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t have to do this if you took care of yourself, you know.” And yet despite his manner of speaking – brusque and curt like usual - he doesn’t lose hold of Homare’s hand. The poet notices this. Notices Tasuku could have let go by now, but keeps nagging at him about buying a splint, or at least call him for help whenever it started hurting again, all while tracing unconscious pressure on his wrist to alleviate the pain - as though he cared.
As if he was touching something precious to him.
Well, Tasuku has indeed always been a man of actions rather than words – completely opposite to Homare. “Are you even listening to me?”
Homare’s red eyes encounter a purple glaze staring right at him. Being taken care of still felt strange. He nods.
“Ah, but of course! I shall buy the wrist splint you mention. I was merely thinking about those angry wrinkles on your forehead.”
“What?”
“See? There they are again,” with his free hand, Homare’s thumb traces a vertical line in between Tasuku’s eyebrows, trying to erase them. “You frown too much, Tasuku-kun.”
“That’s because the lot of you drive me insane daily.”
He doesn’t retreat or shake his head to stop what’s going on. In fact, Tasuku’s whole body seems to melt at Homare’s brief touch. It makes his eyes soften, despite such a response. Homare laughs.
Both of them have yet to let go of the other’s hold.
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Adding this beautiful drawing of the last scene courtesy of my talented and lovely friend @usuallyangrypanda 💕 It captures the emotions so well I think it's mandatory for me to put it here asdfghj thank you my love!
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Eyyyyyyy some totally innocent oc content. This was pretty experimental for me, tried a few new techniques, don’t know what I’m going to stick with but I definitely don’t hate the outcome!
The full image can be found here.
Auren belongs to me and Onto belongs to @kote-wan
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