The answer is perplexing in all honesty, though the entirety of Jumpstart has proposed nothing but questions. It’s foreign ground, whatever this is, some kind of dance or performance-- considering Ju was a man of the high arts, this could all be routine for him, it wouldn’t necessarily be surprised if it were. Ken would prefer other things, the hard facts, the day to day life and a sense of stable ground to be on-- he’d rather trek mountains then let himself be suspended in the clouds as Ju seems to have him ( or rather, if he in the palm of the other’s hand? ).
After what feels like an hour of holding his breath and tentatively waiting for the craftsman reply, Ken is shocked-- well, as shocked as he can. As much as he’s held his suspicions ( and that ball-and-chain weight of self-depreciation ), the same conclusion is met: Ju enjoys him, enjoys his presence. The thought is all but confusing to him, and it’s also one he’s not entirely sure how to meet with a reply; in most cases, when Ken doesn’t know what to say or do, he just altogether doesn’t give it his attention anymore-- but Jumpstart wants his attention, and so a pattern is broken.
Problems are harder to access and to target when they hang in the air like silence, as it does now-- because Ken isn’t quite sure what to say. His lips purse, drawn into a thin line; he owes Ju a decent response at the very least.
The crescendo of a pink comes to his face once more, rising over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose; Ken’s not used to this, admitting these things into the open world; he’s a blunt person in all respect, but a matter of opinion is entirely different from a matter of the heart. Brown eyes shift to the side, away from the man in front of him-- someone too elegant, too genuinely beautiful and confident in himself to even consider sharing his time with a bull-headed crumbling person such as himself. His hand covers his features, a half-assed attempt to conceal the view from Jumpstart; he’ll probably take to teasing it as soon as he noticed, much to the poor boy’s dismay.
kaledo-art
areudirty
dededos
theartofmadeline
dailybridgerton
