In the relative silence of the nighttime hospital, Souji's sudden laugh rings out too loud, a strange and almost jittery sound scuttling away over the shiny floor like someone with good news to share. It almost catches in his throat, but he manages to hold on at least a while longer. The other's name is already becoming part of the huge conspiracy of his life, albeit a bit more subtly than what's usual, but that's not why he laughs. He draws a playful spiral with a neatly filed nail on the back of Yamato's hand, and really, maybe he should also amuse him how natural it feels to hold him in his hand, but he's not one to overthink situations like that.
"I'm pretty hard to handle too, I've been told." There's an almost teasing little lilt to his voice, in honor of those who keep telling him so, and his eyes are bright in the flat, dim glow from the ceiling. "So maybe we're the same sort, right? Or at least similar. That shouldn't be too hard to handle." In fact he's already bracing himself for the scolding that will come during the daylight hours; Susumu's medschool student testiness that never really bites very deep, Sannan's mild reproach which does, Toshi's harshness that never quite manages to hold him together in the end, Isami bringing him candy to cover for his worry. Mitsu's kind words on every other subject, resignation folded in between every syllable.
It's a relief to have an ally of sorts while awaiting that sort of assault.
"Maybe I could teach you some dancing one day, and you could teach me to play? And you could play while I dance, too." A dream as insubstantial as mist, maybe completely impossible, but he'd always enjoyed playing pretend. Sometimes, it's almost as good as the real thing.
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"I'm pretty hard to handle too, I've been told." There's an almost teasing little lilt to his voice, in honor of those who keep telling him so, and his eyes are bright in the flat, dim glow from the ceiling. "So maybe we're the same sort, right? Or at least similar. That shouldn't be too hard to handle." In fact he's already bracing himself for the scolding that will come during the daylight hours; Susumu's medschool student testiness that never really bites very deep, Sannan's mild reproach which does, Toshi's harshness that never quite manages to hold him together in the end, Isami bringing him candy to cover for his worry. Mitsu's kind words on every other subject, resignation folded in between every syllable.
It's a relief to have an ally of sorts while awaiting that sort of assault.
"Maybe I could teach you some dancing one day, and you could teach me to play? And you could play while I dance, too." A dream as insubstantial as mist, maybe completely impossible, but he'd always enjoyed playing pretend. Sometimes, it's almost as good as the real thing.