( almost conspiratorially, he looks down at chishiya, an eyebrow arched. he feels very young, in the moment — or maybe this is how normal people in their twenties always feel, having special moments with a pretty guy in bed, instead of ducking out of the way of gunfire when the king of spades zeroes in on your location. staring at chishiya laying down has a whole host of memories. he hopes this one dulls the throat clogging ache of seeing him bleeding out, two holes, in his chest and side. arisu stares at the bit of shoulder his oversized shirt thought to unveil, before looking back at chishiya, frowning. )
Well … what would you say? If you wouldn’t say that.
( he’s curious. maybe he’s fishing. if chishiya met him before borderland, he would’ve absolutely hated him and his frivolity, his selfish life. he’s not sure it’s fair to let chishiya like him, if he doesn’t know that much. still, though. he wants to be the person chishiya thinks he sees very, very badly. )
no subject
Well … what would you say? If you wouldn’t say that.
( he’s curious. maybe he’s fishing. if chishiya met him before borderland, he would’ve absolutely hated him and his frivolity, his selfish life. he’s not sure it’s fair to let chishiya like him, if he doesn’t know that much. still, though. he wants to be the person chishiya thinks he sees very, very badly. )