[He can see plainly something about his determination doesn't sit right with the other and he waits for whatever comes of it--waiting, maybe, for a challenge or a conflict with some feeling of inevitability, a sense that in all the things these myriad strangers have said to him, about him, or around him, it was only a matter of time before something jarred the going along to get along to a halt.
The pale-haired man swallows whatever it is while Kofun searches his features, waiting to see if it's about to come roaring back up like a disagreeable aftertaste, one eye still on their four-legged sentinel.
What he gets isn't a rebuttal but a question. One he blinks at. The answer is yes, but it feels unbearably relative when not knowing where his twin is for the first time in his life is a different kind of unwell.]
They asked the same thing when they took me aside to talk. Did it do something to us?
no subject
The pale-haired man swallows whatever it is while Kofun searches his features, waiting to see if it's about to come roaring back up like a disagreeable aftertaste, one eye still on their four-legged sentinel.
What he gets isn't a rebuttal but a question. One he blinks at. The answer is yes, but it feels unbearably relative when not knowing where his twin is for the first time in his life is a different kind of unwell.]
They asked the same thing when they took me aside to talk. Did it do something to us?