[kinki, nagase] sketch of a scalene triangle (g)
So I have not written in such a long time that going over my old files, I'm finding things I can't actually remember writing.
the thing is, threes are shapes full of points and angles. they don't fit together, not quite, and they clash together all knees and elbows. it's uncomfortable.
in sleep koichi sprawls and moves like one used to sleeping alone and tsuyoshi shrugs off touch, away from nagase's long reaching limbs. koichi kicks and nagase pulls and the heat of three bodies is too much, hot and damp and claustrophibic.
nagase sleeps in the middle, an uncrossable physical barrier better than the pillow forts and duct-tape lines of their junior days. they rarely touch, each rare brush of skin on skin like an accident.
in the morning, if koichi wakes up to nagase's affectionate fingers combing through his hair, he'll smile fuzzy and sleep fogged. he'll make a joke, or try, about going bald and nagase will kiss him instead, long and sweet until koichi laughs and ruins it all, complaining of morning breath and steals all the covers to sleep a little longer. he'll curl up small and happy, the awkward tangle of sheets baring a thigh or foot, ignoring the way nagase's hands affectionately linger and shift a little into the warm hollow left by nagase's body but never too far into the dip of tsuyoshi's weight.
if it's tsuyoshi, he'll complain about nagase only doing it to make his hair stand funny and banish nagase to the bathroom with a hard kiss and a shove before waking koichi on his own, with a touch light and fleeting. koichi will smile at him but tsuyoshi will look away before the smile even fades but he doesn't flinch from the hand that glances over his cheek.
nagase is the affectionate one, with rough and tumble touches. pulls them in and whirls them around, big and strong and surprisingly fast. koichi has never been afraid, lets nagase wrap him up with only a few laughing protests.
tsuyoshi doesn't like it when they touch him too much, press against his barriers of skin and flesh. koichi has always been there and if they're close, too close, they'll meld right together. tsuyoshi doesn't want to lose himself in anyone else.
koichi will laugh and say he doesn't understand love, can't figure out what this is and why it's happening. he remembers anniversaries without fail and wears his heart, brand shiny new, on his crumpled sleeve.
a scalene triangle; all sides are unequal, no angles are the same
I am half convinced that I copied and pasted this from someone, except it's... my narrative voice and my annoying tautologies. But. Um.
the thing is, threes are shapes full of points and angles. they don't fit together, not quite, and they clash together all knees and elbows. it's uncomfortable.
in sleep koichi sprawls and moves like one used to sleeping alone and tsuyoshi shrugs off touch, away from nagase's long reaching limbs. koichi kicks and nagase pulls and the heat of three bodies is too much, hot and damp and claustrophibic.
nagase sleeps in the middle, an uncrossable physical barrier better than the pillow forts and duct-tape lines of their junior days. they rarely touch, each rare brush of skin on skin like an accident.
in the morning, if koichi wakes up to nagase's affectionate fingers combing through his hair, he'll smile fuzzy and sleep fogged. he'll make a joke, or try, about going bald and nagase will kiss him instead, long and sweet until koichi laughs and ruins it all, complaining of morning breath and steals all the covers to sleep a little longer. he'll curl up small and happy, the awkward tangle of sheets baring a thigh or foot, ignoring the way nagase's hands affectionately linger and shift a little into the warm hollow left by nagase's body but never too far into the dip of tsuyoshi's weight.
if it's tsuyoshi, he'll complain about nagase only doing it to make his hair stand funny and banish nagase to the bathroom with a hard kiss and a shove before waking koichi on his own, with a touch light and fleeting. koichi will smile at him but tsuyoshi will look away before the smile even fades but he doesn't flinch from the hand that glances over his cheek.
nagase is the affectionate one, with rough and tumble touches. pulls them in and whirls them around, big and strong and surprisingly fast. koichi has never been afraid, lets nagase wrap him up with only a few laughing protests.
tsuyoshi doesn't like it when they touch him too much, press against his barriers of skin and flesh. koichi has always been there and if they're close, too close, they'll meld right together. tsuyoshi doesn't want to lose himself in anyone else.
koichi will laugh and say he doesn't understand love, can't figure out what this is and why it's happening. he remembers anniversaries without fail and wears his heart, brand shiny new, on his crumpled sleeve.
a scalene triangle; all sides are unequal, no angles are the same
I am half convinced that I copied and pasted this from someone, except it's... my narrative voice and my annoying tautologies. But. Um.