[The cooldown -- if it is that, it's close enough -- is not as difficult for Shiroe as it is for Keith. It's the feeling of being close to someone else, for someone like Shiroe who doesn't even have friends (you can tell a person's limitations but the company they keep, indeed). Even if this hallway tryst isn't exactly tender, it reminds him of the vague, dwindling memories he has of his mother holding him. For a moment, the ruthlessness he keeps lying in wait abates, and he feels almost subdued.
It passes. Keith is not his mother, will never earn even a fraction of the affection and feelings Shiroe had-- has for her, and so he doesn't think about it. This is more clutching than being held, anyway. As the edge of the kiss fades away he can't help but think, was that worthwhile? Keith still hasn't hit him -- are they going to do this from now on? It certainly leaves less marks.
He has a scoff and another taunting question about Mother Eliza on the tip of his tongue, but the way Keith looks at him after his prodding stops him. He lets out a kind of stupid, vague sound, something that tried to be a word and gave up in the middle. Then there's another arm around his waist and, wait, when did he break concentration? His confusion bubbles back up to the surface and he gapes, just a little. Keith is surely going to hit him, or crush his lips again, or throw him or something besides hold him in this public hallway and not stop Shiroe from touching his hair. None of his questions have been answered and he's finding his ability to remain calm comes and goes in little bursts--
Experimentally, he sticks his fingers in Keith's hair. It's is too long; he thinks about that and swallows his mounting panic. Then he rolls his eyes - of course Keith calls it observations. Of course.]
I asked. [A smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth, then. Of course they both know pleasantries mean little between them, but what's a little more pretending between... between schoolmates. Somethings. Boys being untoward in the hall.]
You don't have an audience, so why not? You've already crossed one line -- or is it more?
no subject
It passes. Keith is not his mother, will never earn even a fraction of the affection and feelings Shiroe had-- has for her, and so he doesn't think about it. This is more clutching than being held, anyway. As the edge of the kiss fades away he can't help but think, was that worthwhile? Keith still hasn't hit him -- are they going to do this from now on? It certainly leaves less marks.
He has a scoff and another taunting question about Mother Eliza on the tip of his tongue, but the way Keith looks at him after his prodding stops him. He lets out a kind of stupid, vague sound, something that tried to be a word and gave up in the middle. Then there's another arm around his waist and, wait, when did he break concentration? His confusion bubbles back up to the surface and he gapes, just a little. Keith is surely going to hit him, or crush his lips again, or throw him or something besides hold him in this public hallway and not stop Shiroe from touching his hair. None of his questions have been answered and he's finding his ability to remain calm comes and goes in little bursts--
Experimentally, he sticks his fingers in Keith's hair. It's is too long; he thinks about that and swallows his mounting panic. Then he rolls his eyes - of course Keith calls it observations. Of course.]
I asked. [A smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth, then. Of course they both know pleasantries mean little between them, but what's a little more pretending between... between schoolmates. Somethings. Boys being untoward in the hall.]
You don't have an audience, so why not? You've already crossed one line -- or is it more?