"I can check if he's in the warden dorms," Jedao offers, although he doesn't move either.
"I would have told you eventually." It would have been easier, in an awful sort of way, if that were enough to drive Gonou away, relieving Jedao of the obligation to admit the things he's truly ashamed of. But Jedao didn't think it would be, even with Gonou's history with non-humans.
"...I would have told you eventually," Gonou says, in wry agreement. Being youkai is one of the secrets that bothers him the most, even if it's not really something he's ashamed of. Disgusted by, perhaps, but not ashamed of.
He settles a little bit further, letting his eye slip closed.
"I, ah... wouldn't have minded. Even if I were still human."
"Mm." He inhales through a pang of sympathy. He understands, in part. In another part--
-- it's very hard for him to consider the possibility that they would only have a little time, outside of the possibility that they both might die in weeks. When death isn't an immediate concern, well.
He opens his eye, just enough to look down at their hands through his eyelashes.
Quietly, he adds, "I am glad we'll have more time than I thought we might."
"I am too," Jedao murmurs, then turns, shifting up for a moment to press a kiss to Gonou's temple. "I love you too," he adds, barely more than a whisper. "I don't know why I couldn't say it before."
But they're alive, and they have a little time, quiet and tired, before he can't justify withholding his final confession any longer, and he wants Gonou to know. Now, in the wake of the storm, where hopefully it can live, unstrangled by danger and untainted by what's to come.
Gonou's breath catches at the tenderness of the kiss and at the words. He'd thought he understood as much from what Jedao had been able to say to him: it's not a surprise. Still, somehow, it matters to hear it spoken.
He turns too, lifting his hand to Jedao's cheek as he leans up to kiss him, slow and deep.
Jedao groans quietly into the kiss, leaning in with his whole body, close and easy. He feels strangely vulnerable and safe at the same time, terribly exposed and somehow sheltered under the barge's own strange stars.
Gently, Gonou's hand slips from Jedao's cheek down along the line of his neck to curl around his nape, keeping him close.
He feels -- protective, aching with tenderness and terror alike: the thing he's feared about letting himself love again had always been that possibility of a second loss, truly shattering after he had so barely survived the first. He hadn't precisely meant to let himself. And yet--
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Re: [shortly after waking up on the Barge]
"I would have told you eventually." It would have been easier, in an awful sort of way, if that were enough to drive Gonou away, relieving Jedao of the obligation to admit the things he's truly ashamed of. But Jedao didn't think it would be, even with Gonou's history with non-humans.
Re: [shortly after waking up on the Barge]
He settles a little bit further, letting his eye slip closed.
"I, ah... wouldn't have minded. Even if I were still human."
Re: [shortly after waking up on the Barge]
He's pretty sure Gonou understands perfectly.
Re: [shortly after waking up on the Barge]
-- it's very hard for him to consider the possibility that they would only have a little time, outside of the possibility that they both might die in weeks. When death isn't an immediate concern, well.
He opens his eye, just enough to look down at their hands through his eyelashes.
Quietly, he adds, "I am glad we'll have more time than I thought we might."
Re: [shortly after waking up on the Barge]
But they're alive, and they have a little time, quiet and tired, before he can't justify withholding his final confession any longer, and he wants Gonou to know. Now, in the wake of the storm, where hopefully it can live, unstrangled by danger and untainted by what's to come.
Re: [shortly after waking up on the Barge]
He turns too, lifting his hand to Jedao's cheek as he leans up to kiss him, slow and deep.
Re: [shortly after waking up on the Barge]
Re: [shortly after waking up on the Barge]
He feels -- protective, aching with tenderness and terror alike: the thing he's feared about letting himself love again had always been that possibility of a second loss, truly shattering after he had so barely survived the first. He hadn't precisely meant to let himself. And yet--
They are safe here.
And he is, to his own shock, happy.