Can't touch me, like Gojo—Look good in all my photos
The secret-telling is drowned out for the moment by the steadily rising roar of outrage over the men the secrets were about. She hasn't been the only one rehearsing this fight, but she'd gone off script here, and he's found that instead of tempering his feelings with the time and notice afforded to him, they've layered with every dress rehearsal and now stack too high to neatly sweep away. He feels the height of what he says, the way it builds and erupts from him, but gods he can't hold onto it before it's set loose with all the clawing fear splintering through the indignation. He'd once blamed Jack's shadow, but perhaps he's too quick to jump at them all, because now it's Danta's looming here, and he's still worried.
The sight of the fish swimming closer halts the trail he's begun to carve in the room, staggered by scales and confidence. For a moment his eyes pinch shut, breath fighting like something caught in the snare of his chest. The cradle of her hands around him pulls him back, and one look is all it takes for him to sink into the sea of her stare. This is what he'd been missing—his scene partner.
Even beneath the repetition of fine, her touch steadies him. Husband settles through the layers, a reminder of what they'd promised to each other, of the trust placed unshakibly in one another, and what they'd build hand in hand. He sighs, ribs loosening around the fight, the ugly thing tangled there scurrying off. "You're right," he murmurs, a hand reaching up to cup over hers, leaning into the feel of her as he holds her there longer. "You're right, you're right. I trust you, without a doubt. Whatever way Danta feels doesn't matter beyond that." As she slips away, he palms both his own cheeks and pulls his face down for a moment, sighing dramatically and shaking his head thoroughly. "It just was surprising, to find out your friend had been more, wants more, still." It felt like maybe that's all Danta would want, if that could truly be his happiest memory, but Danta did admit he wouldn't do anything Flora also didn't want. Even the bullshit explanation of the memory really being about her gaining confidence and not the sexuality of it all, there's maybe more honesty to that than he first considered.
A weak smile rises in response to the rest of her words. They work away each layer, softening him to the idea that there's no scary monsters hiding in this friendship after all. "It doesn't matter what kind of partner Danta wants to be," he admits slowly. "I just...I don't understand." His fingers flex at his sides, searching for something to grasp that makes sense. "I'm so in love with you, the idea of anyone else feels...wrong." It's not just his thoughts; he can feel portions of his body constrict at the very idea of being in someone else's embrace right now, as if on a physical level he's bracing against the very notion. Everyone else isn't ugly, exactly, but they hold so little appeal that it feels like being forced to go to prom with his Cousin (sorry, Noe). "I wasn't trying to make him feel shitty, I just thought if he loves Asta, wouldn't he feel the same way I do about you?" He sighs, and this one isn't freeing so much as deflating. The realization of what he's managed to mangle much by accident.
"I should have told you about this sooner," he admits with a grimace. "Instead of holding onto it and letting it build. I should have told you about all of it," His hand waves off in the air above him for a moment before slapping down to his side. "I should have told you what I planned to asked Asta, before I did it, because you're right, the secret was not mine to be bringing up." If he'd included her more in this, she could have asked too, could have found another route to carve out this plan even. "I'm sorry I put you in that position." The one where she had to lie, where she had to be surprised, where she had to feel like she couldn't trust him with the weight of this. He steps in, reaching to draw her hand back into his, folding it into his grip and smoothing his thumb over her knuckles.
The sight of the fish swimming closer halts the trail he's begun to carve in the room, staggered by scales and confidence. For a moment his eyes pinch shut, breath fighting like something caught in the snare of his chest. The cradle of her hands around him pulls him back, and one look is all it takes for him to sink into the sea of her stare. This is what he'd been missing—his scene partner.
Even beneath the repetition of fine, her touch steadies him. Husband settles through the layers, a reminder of what they'd promised to each other, of the trust placed unshakibly in one another, and what they'd build hand in hand. He sighs, ribs loosening around the fight, the ugly thing tangled there scurrying off. "You're right," he murmurs, a hand reaching up to cup over hers, leaning into the feel of her as he holds her there longer. "You're right, you're right. I trust you, without a doubt. Whatever way Danta feels doesn't matter beyond that." As she slips away, he palms both his own cheeks and pulls his face down for a moment, sighing dramatically and shaking his head thoroughly. "It just was surprising, to find out your friend had been more, wants more, still." It felt like maybe that's all Danta would want, if that could truly be his happiest memory, but Danta did admit he wouldn't do anything Flora also didn't want. Even the bullshit explanation of the memory really being about her gaining confidence and not the sexuality of it all, there's maybe more honesty to that than he first considered.
A weak smile rises in response to the rest of her words. They work away each layer, softening him to the idea that there's no scary monsters hiding in this friendship after all. "It doesn't matter what kind of partner Danta wants to be," he admits slowly. "I just...I don't understand." His fingers flex at his sides, searching for something to grasp that makes sense. "I'm so in love with you, the idea of anyone else feels...wrong." It's not just his thoughts; he can feel portions of his body constrict at the very idea of being in someone else's embrace right now, as if on a physical level he's bracing against the very notion. Everyone else isn't ugly, exactly, but they hold so little appeal that it feels like being forced to go to prom with his Cousin (sorry, Noe). "I wasn't trying to make him feel shitty, I just thought if he loves Asta, wouldn't he feel the same way I do about you?" He sighs, and this one isn't freeing so much as deflating. The realization of what he's managed to mangle much by accident.
"I should have told you about this sooner," he admits with a grimace. "Instead of holding onto it and letting it build. I should have told you about all of it," His hand waves off in the air above him for a moment before slapping down to his side. "I should have told you what I planned to asked Asta, before I did it, because you're right, the secret was not mine to be bringing up." If he'd included her more in this, she could have asked too, could have found another route to carve out this plan even. "I'm sorry I put you in that position." The one where she had to lie, where she had to be surprised, where she had to feel like she couldn't trust him with the weight of this. He steps in, reaching to draw her hand back into his, folding it into his grip and smoothing his thumb over her knuckles.
Kaisel
Sexy jutsu, I feel like Naruto—Fightin' demons in my head like I'm Itadori
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
