[Though Kouta was still slow to adopt technology, preferring face to face communication or at least a phone call, seeing those familiar words pop up on the tiny screen of his phone made him a little kinder to it. Warmth swelled so enormously in his chest it threatened to burst his rib cage open, and smiling to himself like a crazy person, he finished up the last of the wards and headed back inside.
Though he had shared countless beds and nights with Setura and Akemi, the connotation of them now was different. He would love Yui for the rest of his life and would always think of her fondly, but Setsura and Akemi had been in his heart first. To have the only barrier that was truly keeping them apart, even if it was unconventional, was enough to put him at ease. There wasn't a need to rush into anything, despite the quick steps he took back up the stairs to Setsura's room.
He paused at the doorway briefly to take in her form sprawled across the bed, wishing he was a poet or an artist or a photographer. The small smile on her face was brighter than the sunlight streaming in through the window, and he felt a tinge guilty that he could have this. And that he would have to break the perfection of the moment to cross into the room and sink down into the bed next to her, plopping down over her. Not enough to crush her, but just enough for there to be a suggestion of weight.]
You're taking up the whole bed. Where am I supposed to sleep?
[Not that he really needed it as a ghost but it was the principle of the thing.]
no subject
Though he had shared countless beds and nights with Setura and Akemi, the connotation of them now was different. He would love Yui for the rest of his life and would always think of her fondly, but Setsura and Akemi had been in his heart first. To have the only barrier that was truly keeping them apart, even if it was unconventional, was enough to put him at ease. There wasn't a need to rush into anything, despite the quick steps he took back up the stairs to Setsura's room.
He paused at the doorway briefly to take in her form sprawled across the bed, wishing he was a poet or an artist or a photographer. The small smile on her face was brighter than the sunlight streaming in through the window, and he felt a tinge guilty that he could have this. And that he would have to break the perfection of the moment to cross into the room and sink down into the bed next to her, plopping down over her. Not enough to crush her, but just enough for there to be a suggestion of weight.]
You're taking up the whole bed. Where am I supposed to sleep?
[Not that he really needed it as a ghost but it was the principle of the thing.]