#v. 03

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞. It was here, nearly a decade ago, where his abuser hired goons to kidnap him. Yes, back then he ran off to Europe with Tsuk.asa in what he believed was their attempt to find his father. His abuser– his stepfather –had every reason to try and get the youth back, but not like this– it should have never been like this.

The busker can't drag his eyes away from the elevated lookout. In the morning like this, it looks the same as it did back then. It's the view he should have remembered; not the screaming, not the panic, the thought of–

He blinks back to the present. Feeling the soft headbump of @airxn against the back of his thigh grounds him, for the moment. Iku.to doesn't look down at his small companion. He feels him brush against his leg, but notes how he does not step further than where the busker is standing.

His voice lifts above a whisper. " There's still no foot traffic here... In all these years. "

@airxn inquired - Ikuto isn't paying attention to him so he's going to softly... nom on his arm.

𝐋𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐡, the young adult is mindless scrolling through his phone. It was a long day of practice– his arms were sore and dinner was some reheated, soggy salmon. But despite the desire for sleep weighing on his whole body, the violinist is at peace. Music is playing quietly on his favorite record player, and his life-long pain in his ass companion, is sleeping at his side–

or he thought he was.

Feeling the light pressure of Airin's fangs near his shoulder, Ikuto shifts to look at the mischievous creature. " Hey... " With his free hand, he ignores the little grumbles of the beast and lightly flicks him on the nose. Airin let go before swiftly returning to rest his snout on the young adult's arm; that look in his eyes refusing to falter. And despite the annoyed face Ikuto gives him, his expression can't help but soften with a sigh. He wants to play, doesn't he?

" ...Go back to bed, stinky. "