Reki's face is all a mess of hurt and confusion, plain as day. Kojiro might be dumb as a box of rocks, but he's more intuitive than anyone gives him credit for. He knows when he fucked up. Moreover, he knows he must have ruined the -- by all accounts -- lovely day Reki had whittled out for them, and that? That all feels wretched. Despite Reki's reassurance, or maybe just because he says it like that, Kojiro's feeling like the biggest asshole that ever did exist. ]
Yeah. Gimme a sec. You can go wait by the bike if you want.
[ Kojiro pounds the rest of his drink on his way back to the bar counter. It doesn't take long to settle up, and he's trying really hard not to think about anything else while his back is turned to Reki. None of that was an answer. Not really. Not to someone who patently refuses to read into anything. And he has to be okay with that, despite zero clarity from any frame of reference.
That was his promise and his problem before he ever opened his stupid mouth about this. He'll be okay with it, no matter what Reki wants to do. He's gotta stand by that, or risk reinforcing all the awful shit Reki believes about his own worth.
But they're still getting that room. Even if it's just to give Reki some space to process and breathe, even if he just wants to sprawl out on a too-large bed and be miserable for the rest of the day. Kojiro's got his shirt on again when he rejoins Reki by the bike, and they ride -- carefully -- another few minutes down the same stretch of beachfront road before Kojiro steers them into the garage of a love hotel.
He tugs Reki along to the priciest room, in case he had any illusions that Kojiro's willing to cut corners with any of this. But the second they're inside, Kojiro's crowding Reki back against the closed door. His knees hit the ground as his arms wind around Reki's waist, forehead pressed to hide his face against Reki's chest. Silent prostration, wordless plea for forgiveness, because he isn't gonna open his mouth again and risk fucking this up even more. ]
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Reki's face is all a mess of hurt and confusion, plain as day. Kojiro might be dumb as a box of rocks, but he's more intuitive than anyone gives him credit for. He knows when he fucked up. Moreover, he knows he must have ruined the -- by all accounts -- lovely day Reki had whittled out for them, and that? That all feels wretched. Despite Reki's reassurance, or maybe just because he says it like that, Kojiro's feeling like the biggest asshole that ever did exist. ]
Yeah. Gimme a sec. You can go wait by the bike if you want.
[ Kojiro pounds the rest of his drink on his way back to the bar counter. It doesn't take long to settle up, and he's trying really hard not to think about anything else while his back is turned to Reki. None of that was an answer. Not really. Not to someone who patently refuses to read into anything. And he has to be okay with that, despite zero clarity from any frame of reference.
That was his promise and his problem before he ever opened his stupid mouth about this. He'll be okay with it, no matter what Reki wants to do. He's gotta stand by that, or risk reinforcing all the awful shit Reki believes about his own worth.
But they're still getting that room. Even if it's just to give Reki some space to process and breathe, even if he just wants to sprawl out on a too-large bed and be miserable for the rest of the day. Kojiro's got his shirt on again when he rejoins Reki by the bike, and they ride -- carefully -- another few minutes down the same stretch of beachfront road before Kojiro steers them into the garage of a love hotel.
He tugs Reki along to the priciest room, in case he had any illusions that Kojiro's willing to cut corners with any of this. But the second they're inside, Kojiro's crowding Reki back against the closed door. His knees hit the ground as his arms wind around Reki's waist, forehead pressed to hide his face against Reki's chest. Silent prostration, wordless plea for forgiveness, because he isn't gonna open his mouth again and risk fucking this up even more. ]