[He tries to suppress and stamp out his own smile that wants to bloom in response to Miyuki and gangster's reaction, to remain obstinate and pouting, firm in his declaration. Doubt slips in, suddenly, instead in the beginning of Miyuki readying to lift him, and he keeps looking between older boy's face and watching what he's doing as if figuring out a puzzle, and the second he starts to get up, he does throw arms around his neck to keep himself from what he feels is a certain fall.
And he even goes further by spinning, and so Alois clings—not unused to being picked up, but still not in expectancy, and not having had quite this experience—knees tightening in their own way, planting face at the side of his chest, and pleading small-voiced:] don't drop me - don't drop me - don't drop me.
[The older stops, and younger hesitates, peeking first over the top of his arm to make sure the ground isn't moving. When he finally turns face to look up, Miyuki is coruscating, and it's really wonderful. He's like a small, well-built sun who's come to play on earth, and guilt twists its knife in Alois' gut. He wants so much to apologize that he wound up here, tell him he doesn't deserve it, and he's too good for this.
He doesn't know how to respond with the same, what he sees overwhelms him with shame and distorted self-blaming. He still wants to weep, and beg for forgiveness. In some way, they're still strangers. Only acquaintances perhaps, but Miyuki is the closest he's come to a true friendship, and he wonders if it's wrong to see him this way. There's a gripping urgency to take care of him, and make sure nothing bad happens to him, and yet how does he prevent such things? How come he has to feel this way? Don't smile at him like that, because he'll want to put Miyuki in a treasure box, or a jar with holes in the lid, and make sure he stays safe and warm.
His contrite little expression is slow to fade, a shivering sigh given. The girl arrives once more in his place.]
Uh-huh. You're really wicked. The scariest criminal, I know. [Girlish, playful pouting, now.] You always baby the women you're bedding?
no subject
And he even goes further by spinning, and so Alois clings—not unused to being picked up, but still not in expectancy, and not having had quite this experience—knees tightening in their own way, planting face at the side of his chest, and pleading small-voiced:] don't drop me - don't drop me - don't drop me.
[The older stops, and younger hesitates, peeking first over the top of his arm to make sure the ground isn't moving. When he finally turns face to look up, Miyuki is coruscating, and it's really wonderful. He's like a small, well-built sun who's come to play on earth, and guilt twists its knife in Alois' gut. He wants so much to apologize that he wound up here, tell him he doesn't deserve it, and he's too good for this.
He doesn't know how to respond with the same, what he sees overwhelms him with shame and distorted self-blaming. He still wants to weep, and beg for forgiveness. In some way, they're still strangers. Only acquaintances perhaps, but Miyuki is the closest he's come to a true friendship, and he wonders if it's wrong to see him this way. There's a gripping urgency to take care of him, and make sure nothing bad happens to him, and yet how does he prevent such things? How come he has to feel this way? Don't smile at him like that, because he'll want to put Miyuki in a treasure box, or a jar with holes in the lid, and make sure he stays safe and warm.
His contrite little expression is slow to fade, a shivering sigh given. The girl arrives once more in his place.]
Uh-huh. You're really wicked. The scariest criminal, I know. [Girlish, playful pouting, now.] You always baby the women you're bedding?