"Gross," Midousuji grinds out irritably, and he (too) vigorously scrubs a hand up and down one side of his face, screwing up his expression in exasperation at Ishigaki's admittance, though in his own way, by Midousuji's parameters, his had been just as so. It feels pertinent to exchange, but that doesn't make it any the less unbearable. This is, Midousuji currently hypothesizes, what keeps bonds from snapping as natural distance grows, pulling and thinning them. Coming to that hypothesis was unpleasant on its own, when Midousuji had indeed decided this, because it acknowledged that he didn't want them to drift.
His instinct still is to think that sentimentality is so useless; feelings outside of thrill instinct and motivation are so useless. But he's seen results too tremendous to dispute it, and the dam is cracking. Midousuji isn't aware of it, how deep down inside, there's a yawning, cavernous, and hungry abyss—he knows, of course, he's empty. That hollow feeling is still there, big as ever as when his mother had passed, but rather than utilizing for his own means, it feels more like now he's trying to fill it. Tentatively, hesitantly, uncertainly. It's a risk, and a gamble; he isn't convinced that it's a sustainable long-term consequence that will be a good one. But Midousuji has to remind himself he is a risk taker; he's recently realized he's afraid of connection, though he hasn't realized that that fear stems primarily from the fear of loss.
But fear is unacceptable. Weak. And so. Here he is. Unbearably uncomfortable, hoping that's just growing pains that will make him bigger, and stronger.
Midousuji knew that Ishigaki wanted that, which was why, for so long, he couldn't stand him—wanting to influence Midousuji positively, even after Midousuji had violently rejected that extended olive branch years ago, was insulting. Demeaning! And most of all, arrogant. But that's how they both were, weren't they? Arrogant, in their own ways. Cocksure.
His eyes widen subtly, hand still kind of unnaturally clawed against his face, when Ishigaki reveals the ultimate and main bullet point (or so it now seems) of his reasons to be so invested in Midousuji.
"I know all that," he says slowly, and narrows his eyes, cogs turning. "Well. Most of that. I knew you wanted to impact me. I used to feel that was such a domineering quality of yours. Suuuper gross." Used to. "You're still gross...more and more. Yuck."
Feelings were gross. Especially positive ones. Ishigaki's feelings, the more Midousuji comes to understand them, are increasingly gross as a result. And so is he. But Midousuji is helplessly starved before those qualities, unaware of how much he needs it—from the right source.
"But."
He pauses, then drops his arm, tilting his head curiously as he faces Ishigaki again as they walk, pointing at himself.
"Ishigaki-kunnn. Did you think—" (see,) "—at some point, that I was unhappy? Do you think I'm an unhappy person?"
Midousuji "can't lighten the fuck up in almost any circumstance" Akira
no subject
His instinct still is to think that sentimentality is so useless; feelings outside of thrill instinct and motivation are so useless. But he's seen results too tremendous to dispute it, and the dam is cracking. Midousuji isn't aware of it, how deep down inside, there's a yawning, cavernous, and hungry abyss—he knows, of course, he's empty. That hollow feeling is still there, big as ever as when his mother had passed, but rather than utilizing for his own means, it feels more like now he's trying to fill it. Tentatively, hesitantly, uncertainly. It's a risk, and a gamble; he isn't convinced that it's a sustainable long-term consequence that will be a good one. But Midousuji has to remind himself he is a risk taker; he's recently realized he's afraid of connection, though he hasn't realized that that fear stems primarily from the fear of loss.
But fear is unacceptable. Weak. And so. Here he is. Unbearably uncomfortable, hoping that's just growing pains that will make him bigger, and stronger.
Midousuji knew that Ishigaki wanted that, which was why, for so long, he couldn't stand him—wanting to influence Midousuji positively, even after Midousuji had violently rejected that extended olive branch years ago, was insulting. Demeaning! And most of all, arrogant. But that's how they both were, weren't they? Arrogant, in their own ways. Cocksure.
His eyes widen subtly, hand still kind of unnaturally clawed against his face, when Ishigaki reveals the ultimate and main bullet point (or so it now seems) of his reasons to be so invested in Midousuji.
"I know all that," he says slowly, and narrows his eyes, cogs turning. "Well. Most of that. I knew you wanted to impact me. I used to feel that was such a domineering quality of yours. Suuuper gross." Used to. "You're still gross...more and more. Yuck."
Feelings were gross. Especially positive ones. Ishigaki's feelings, the more Midousuji comes to understand them, are increasingly gross as a result. And so is he. But Midousuji is helplessly starved before those qualities, unaware of how much he needs it—from the right source.
"But."
He pauses, then drops his arm, tilting his head curiously as he faces Ishigaki again as they walk, pointing at himself.
"Ishigaki-kunnn. Did you think—" (see,) "—at some point, that I was unhappy? Do you think I'm an unhappy person?"
Midousuji "can't lighten the fuck up in almost any circumstance" Akira