[All this rearranging has conspired to place Kaworu fully in Paul's lap, nestled against him in a way that usually Paul only wakes up to discover after his worst dreams, the ones that leave traceries of light in his eyes and salt damp across his skin.
They don't talk about it. Not really, even when they do, in glancing jokes about Kaworu's cold feet and Paul's sharp elbows. They don't talk about it in the way people don't talk about anything in this house; they don't talk about it because they show it to each other.
(Maybe that's why he still doesn't leave. Because it feels like a House, not just some structure.)
Paul runs his thumb back the way it came, then up again, slowed and soothing at Kaworu's cough even as his smile tilts.]
I noticed a theme. I've already learned a lot. People think I'm starving you, you know.
[He taps one of Kaworu's ribs for light emphasis.]
And telling you would be cheating. You have to wake up with me one morning.
no subject
They don't talk about it. Not really, even when they do, in glancing jokes about Kaworu's cold feet and Paul's sharp elbows. They don't talk about it in the way people don't talk about anything in this house; they don't talk about it because they show it to each other.
(Maybe that's why he still doesn't leave. Because it feels like a House, not just some structure.)
Paul runs his thumb back the way it came, then up again, slowed and soothing at Kaworu's cough even as his smile tilts.]
I noticed a theme. I've already learned a lot. People think I'm starving you, you know.
[He taps one of Kaworu's ribs for light emphasis.]
And telling you would be cheating. You have to wake up with me one morning.