Daniel's words are already more than Chozen is certain he can take. When Daniel says he trusts him with his life, a feeling of terrible fullness stretches his chest, crowding out the tumult of emotions from before. He does not have the word for it in any language.
And then Daniel takes his hands, and a wave crashes over Chozen. He startles as if Daniel is the one with electricity trapped within his fingers, the hair on the back of his neck rising all at once with static. It is only by a miracle he suppresses the nascent new reflex of lightning, tamping it down with control he will be shocked by when he recalls it.
(His first instinct is protection, not withdrawal. He would be surprised by this as well, if he were to think of it.)
Doing that distracts him from being able to control certain other responses. Chozen blinks hard against the abruptly blurring sunlight, wondering absently if the dangerous plants have, perhaps, developed some new and insidious brand of pollen they are releasing into the air. He clears his throat roughly, swallowing down a slight thickening in his mouth, and the air seems to clear.
Daniel's hands are soft. Absurdly, Chozen wonders if he uses moisturizer, and if he does, what sort it might be. There are callouses there, the signs of wear, but even those are smooth. His hands have always been very gentle seeming. Chozen does not know why he is surprised by this; he has touched Daniel's hands before.
But this is different. This is a new kind of closeness. Very tentatively, still afraid that he might forget himself, send sharp crackles of pain into Daniel's slender fingers, Chozen squeezes. It seems like what a person should do.
"And I am glad I found my way to you again," he says, switching back into English. He feels fortunate he has never been prone to showing colour in his face when it flushes, the vague sense of embarrassment settling over him like a blanket.
"After all - what would you do without free gardener?" And just like that, some aspect of the moment changes. It is not a retreat, he tells himself. It is - a redirection. A step onto firmer ground. A way for Daniel to save face, if he might find the moment awkward. "Labour these days, very expensive."
A pause, then, his gaze dropping to their hands.
"Thank you, Daniel-san." Perhaps - there is room for one more instant of sincerity.
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And then Daniel takes his hands, and a wave crashes over Chozen. He startles as if Daniel is the one with electricity trapped within his fingers, the hair on the back of his neck rising all at once with static. It is only by a miracle he suppresses the nascent new reflex of lightning, tamping it down with control he will be shocked by when he recalls it.
(His first instinct is protection, not withdrawal. He would be surprised by this as well, if he were to think of it.)
Doing that distracts him from being able to control certain other responses. Chozen blinks hard against the abruptly blurring sunlight, wondering absently if the dangerous plants have, perhaps, developed some new and insidious brand of pollen they are releasing into the air. He clears his throat roughly, swallowing down a slight thickening in his mouth, and the air seems to clear.
Daniel's hands are soft. Absurdly, Chozen wonders if he uses moisturizer, and if he does, what sort it might be. There are callouses there, the signs of wear, but even those are smooth. His hands have always been very gentle seeming. Chozen does not know why he is surprised by this; he has touched Daniel's hands before.
But this is different. This is a new kind of closeness. Very tentatively, still afraid that he might forget himself, send sharp crackles of pain into Daniel's slender fingers, Chozen squeezes. It seems like what a person should do.
"And I am glad I found my way to you again," he says, switching back into English. He feels fortunate he has never been prone to showing colour in his face when it flushes, the vague sense of embarrassment settling over him like a blanket.
"After all - what would you do without free gardener?" And just like that, some aspect of the moment changes. It is not a retreat, he tells himself. It is - a redirection. A step onto firmer ground. A way for Daniel to save face, if he might find the moment awkward. "Labour these days, very expensive."
A pause, then, his gaze dropping to their hands.
"Thank you, Daniel-san." Perhaps - there is room for one more instant of sincerity.