[He can't really lean into the touch like this, so instead he closes his eyes, focusing on the familiarity of Kashuu's hands.
If there's anything good to be said for these bodies, anything at all, it's this--that there's nothing quite like being able to touch each other with their own hands. It's not the same as what they had as spirits, that indescribable proximity impossible to replicate in the physical realm, but it's the closest thing to it that he's had since Kashuu's death.
He makes a small sound of dissent, since he doesn't want to shake his head.]
No. I want to stay with you.
[Maybe he'll sleep when, if, Kashuu does. But this exhaustion doesn't feel the same as battle fatigue. He's not sure sleep would help any more than Kashuu's presence is helping now.]
[Well. It's not like he can blame Yasusada, here. He doesn't think he could sleep even if he tried, and even if he did, he doesn't think it would help much. There are just some forms of tired that sleeping can't seem to shake off.
He smushes Yasusada's cheek, but it's not a teasing gesture so much as a reflexive one. In the next second, he's pulling Yasusada even closer, tucking Yasusada's head beneath his chin and wrapping him up in his arms.]
[He'll say it, even if Kashuu knows. He accepts the face squishing without protest, and he lets Kashuu pull him closer, as if there's any space left between them. He stays like that for a while, just feeling his breath, but eventually he mumbles into Kashuu's collarbone.]
...If I sleep, I'll see you.
[Kashuu's broken pieces, all over again. Or maybe Nagasone's, or Buzen's--at this rate, he can't even be sure of his own nightmares anymore.]
[He doesn't have to ask to know what Yasusada means. He didn't have to witness Nagasone break, or fight off Yasusada and watch him shatter, too, but those chaotic moments with a spray of metal and that split-second of pain and what it all meant - that's something he's going to be seeing in his dreams for some time, too.
...If anything, he wishes he could take some of the weight from Yasusada onto himself, so that he didn't feel so heavy. A tiny little flicker in the back of his mind nearly wishes they could go back to Thursday evening, when everything was so lively, and redirect things from there. But it's not a conscious thought. Certainly not one he would entertain.
With a soft sigh:]
You're gonna have to sleep eventually, Yasusada.
[He apologizes in tone rather than word for having a hand in making his nights harder.]
[It's true, but a small part of him--the part that had held on for so many years, that made it so easy to whisper what if, what if--doesn't want to listen. He can't, he knows, truly outlast the limitations of this physical body. It won't truly make him feel better to try. But if he doesn't acknowledge it, then he can pretend, just for a little while, that he has some semblance of control over anything that matters.
He doesn't answer with words. Instead, he just nods, knowing Kashuu will feel it.]
[He's quiet for a second, just holding Yasusada, feeling that closeness, the warmth of his human form and the ricochet of heartbeats in both of their gifted bodies.
He'd said "wanna hear a song", but he doesn't sing, at first. It's a soft and quiet humming instead, something gentle and somewhat melancholy that sounds like it comes from a distant, different time. The things he turns to when he's hurting are always familiar, even if it's a painful sort of familiarity. Songs from the people he'd known, so many hundreds of years ago, who often had nothing but their voices to express all of that misery with.
Even now, he thinks he's grateful for it. To have this heart and this mouth. To have the ability to understand the grief he feels and express it. But it's hard in the moment to feel anything but hurt.]
[This is a part of Kashuu's history that Yasusada doesn't share.
It isn't because he doesn't want to. If there's anything he's never learned, it's when to stop wanting to take and take, until there's no part of Kashuu left unseen and unloved. He's always, always pushed too hard, too far, and no matter how good his intentions, they've both ended up damaged because of it.
But there are some things that can only be freely given. Yasusada knows Kashuu's origins. But he can't see what Kashuu saw, back in those days. He'll never truly know how it felt, spending day after day amongst the tainted and unseen. He only ever has this--the bits and pieces that Kashuu only ever shares with him when they're at their most vulnerable.
Nothing will ever fill the hole that Okita and Kashuu left behind, so many hundreds of years ago. And someday, when the loss isn't so fresh, Yasusada knows there will be a new one right beside it. But at least he can use them to keep all of this--the sound of Kashuu's voice, the rhythm of his heartbeat, the warmth of his hands where they rest. He can tuck them away carefully, right beside laughter and blood and starlight, and use their weight inside his chest to stay upright.
But not tonight. Tonight, he just listens, and hurts, and breathes.]
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no subject
If there's anything good to be said for these bodies, anything at all, it's this--that there's nothing quite like being able to touch each other with their own hands. It's not the same as what they had as spirits, that indescribable proximity impossible to replicate in the physical realm, but it's the closest thing to it that he's had since Kashuu's death.
He makes a small sound of dissent, since he doesn't want to shake his head.]
No. I want to stay with you.
[Maybe he'll sleep when, if, Kashuu does. But this exhaustion doesn't feel the same as battle fatigue. He's not sure sleep would help any more than Kashuu's presence is helping now.]
no subject
He smushes Yasusada's cheek, but it's not a teasing gesture so much as a reflexive one. In the next second, he's pulling Yasusada even closer, tucking Yasusada's head beneath his chin and wrapping him up in his arms.]
You can stay with me even if you sleep, y'know.
[But he gets what he's saying.]
no subject
[He'll say it, even if Kashuu knows. He accepts the face squishing without protest, and he lets Kashuu pull him closer, as if there's any space left between them. He stays like that for a while, just feeling his breath, but eventually he mumbles into Kashuu's collarbone.]
...If I sleep, I'll see you.
[Kashuu's broken pieces, all over again. Or maybe Nagasone's, or Buzen's--at this rate, he can't even be sure of his own nightmares anymore.]
no subject
...If anything, he wishes he could take some of the weight from Yasusada onto himself, so that he didn't feel so heavy. A tiny little flicker in the back of his mind nearly wishes they could go back to Thursday evening, when everything was so lively, and redirect things from there. But it's not a conscious thought. Certainly not one he would entertain.
With a soft sigh:]
You're gonna have to sleep eventually, Yasusada.
[He apologizes in tone rather than word for having a hand in making his nights harder.]
...Wanna hear a song?
no subject
He doesn't answer with words. Instead, he just nods, knowing Kashuu will feel it.]
no subject
He'd said "wanna hear a song", but he doesn't sing, at first. It's a soft and quiet humming instead, something gentle and somewhat melancholy that sounds like it comes from a distant, different time. The things he turns to when he's hurting are always familiar, even if it's a painful sort of familiarity. Songs from the people he'd known, so many hundreds of years ago, who often had nothing but their voices to express all of that misery with.
Even now, he thinks he's grateful for it. To have this heart and this mouth. To have the ability to understand the grief he feels and express it. But it's hard in the moment to feel anything but hurt.]
no subject
It isn't because he doesn't want to. If there's anything he's never learned, it's when to stop wanting to take and take, until there's no part of Kashuu left unseen and unloved. He's always, always pushed too hard, too far, and no matter how good his intentions, they've both ended up damaged because of it.
But there are some things that can only be freely given. Yasusada knows Kashuu's origins. But he can't see what Kashuu saw, back in those days. He'll never truly know how it felt, spending day after day amongst the tainted and unseen. He only ever has this--the bits and pieces that Kashuu only ever shares with him when they're at their most vulnerable.
Nothing will ever fill the hole that Okita and Kashuu left behind, so many hundreds of years ago. And someday, when the loss isn't so fresh, Yasusada knows there will be a new one right beside it. But at least he can use them to keep all of this--the sound of Kashuu's voice, the rhythm of his heartbeat, the warmth of his hands where they rest. He can tuck them away carefully, right beside laughter and blood and starlight, and use their weight inside his chest to stay upright.
But not tonight. Tonight, he just listens, and hurts, and breathes.]