❣️ for a kiss to a specific spot. i want takuya to kiss raf on the forehead & see that reaction. those are the facts
SEND A HEART FOR A SPECIFIC KISS
Send ❣️ for a kiss to a specific spot.
Status | Closed
He thinks of his hands now more than anything these days. Brass like, strong and curved from the usage of ball point pens to write his poems and the frequent times he’s balled them up into fists.
Index finger, righteousness.Middle finger, deliverance.Ring finger, yearning. Pinky and thumb gratification. He doesn't think about where they could belong or how the first three would taste the sweetest. No.
Two palms spread wide and open as it reaches out for him and waits. Rafel remembers the gift in his own hands before apologizing and handing it over.
“Couldn’t think of anything to get you, so…” He mumbles and watches Takuya take out a slender rectangular terrarium out of a brown paper bag. “It waters it self sorta..” Rafel explains, “just keep it someplace sunny I guess.”
Takuya nods, it looks like a promise.
What Rafel didn’t expect after the word “Happy..” come out of his lips- are the hands.
Takuyas hands clasp on to Rafels shoulders with a grip that shakes him awake from the fog he’s been living in most of his life. His hands part dangerous clouds- ominous things that cast shadows across a lifetime of agony. The pressure from his hands wade the habit to retreat. Rafel stays put, feels the hands he has been dreaming about wander around his waist.
They hug awkwardly due to Rafels ineptitude. They stay like that for something else entirely.
For weeks, the place under Rafels ribs are tainted. The skin is pink and yellow flesh raw with that only memory. Hands wrapped like vines, littered with scars and hardened with muscle, the lines of his palms grooved their mark onto hollow obliques like fossils. Every time Rafel would change his clothes or someone would bump into him on the train the memory came rushing back fragrant with bitter coffee and the solvent of ink.
He looks at the terrarium now, the protective glass covered in a bit of dust but it’s been growing well so far. Rafel picks it up from the kitchen counter decorated in array of old take out, an open jar of cherry preserves, vintage newspapers and faded pink slips that have oiled sanctimoniously on faux granite.
The moment the terrarium fits between his hands, Rafel feels like he’s choking on shards of glass. His lungs search for air that only push the shards further down his throat. His chest constrict around hard pangs that bring his whole body into a frenzy, the terrarium drops to the floor and shatters into pieces.
“Fuck! No no no no no…” Rafel is on his knees, the legs of his pants now wet with moss and water. He chants the same line over and over, till it’s replaced with “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” His hands prickle against cold broken glass trying to scramble up the pieces before he’s stopped. Bracing hands you would think would be rough are actually full of patience. Takuya’s fingers wrap around Rafels wrist to stop him but he’s already too late, the water around his feet run red.
“I’m so sorry.” Rafel looks up at Takuya, who is smiling with his teeth locked behind his lips. “Is that the only thing you know how to say?” He’s asked. Rafel looks down to hide his eyes.
He can feel him hovering closer than before, and as Rafel finds the courage to look up, he feels wet lips on the middle of his forehead, a hand he silently hopes to pray into soothing down his hair. He can finally breathe.
The kiss doesn’t bother him as much as Rafel wondering if Takuya knows exactly what he’s doing. If he knows things like this don’t go away easily for him. In actuality they don’t go away at all.
Yet, the sensation grows from the middle of his forehead down his face and neck relieving him of whatever embarrassing feat he wanted to ramble about. That he was only looking at the terrarium, that he didn’t mean to break the last minute gift he got at some swamp meet in mid-town. It was all just an accident- and he isn’t wondering who else had been here and touched the fucking plant.
It doesn’t matter.With his good hand, Rafel pulls him closer and buries his face into Takuyas neck. The memory of the terrarium was tainted, someone else had touched it and Rafels psychometry is useless to stop the feeling of envy or rather insecurity wash over him. He’s not owed an explanation if there is one even if the question sits at the tip of his tongue.
Dear self, Rafel thinks, please don’t fuck this up. Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.
They both manage to stand from the floor now. When Rafel moves his face from the column of Takuyas neck his own lips brush against the pulse of it. There, a new memory forms.
Deliberately or not. Good or bad, Takuya should have a sensation of his own to remember or haunt him..
“Okay,” he says, his head is still lowered and fear is still warming his skin, “I’ll get something to clean this up.”
