[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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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.]