īŧ the political machinations that surround war, or peace, or the precipice between the two are not esoteric to him. sasuke unfolds his history like the bloody furl of a battle standard, and cy can read between the lines. the things he doesn't say. his older brother must have been a child too, which makes it ache all the more. what an ugly fucking story.
he'd guessed at some of it. pieces slotted together like a puzzle box, from the few things sasuke laid bare, let slip. the way he had reacted to certain things, how he had resisted warmth and affection so incredibly at first and then became so desperately dependent upon it. a boy who had everyone he loved ripped away by such a tender age would be drawn to an immortal who can't be called to death's heel like a dog. cy had proved it to him the first moment they'd met — that time could not touch him, nor blades bite.
sasuke pets him like a worry stone, and cy shifts from his knees to either side of the boy's thighs, arranging his legs in a circle around his hips, crossed at the ankles behind sasuke's back. he holds him, and let the words drip like blood in the air between them, like infection excised. he strokes his hair, and imagines — ten years ago. it feels like so little time, barely a blink to him, but it's different when it's almost half your life. and he lived with it, the grief, the rage, the hate, for so long...
he wonders if it was deliberate. if his brother kept the truth from him as some form of — what, penance? but it must have been love, to hear sasuke tell it now. an awful, twisted version of it, a cruel one, but nevertheless. child soldiers never really have the chance to see what it looks like when it's not tarnished and tattered and torn, too much of their lives become informed by pain.
sasuke falls silent, and cy shifts to kiss at his hair. it's become a gesture of plain, uncomplicated affection between them.
the miracle here is not that he survived. it's that he is still capable of kindness, after everything. īŧ
Thank you for telling me. īŧ that, too, has become almost a ritual. the soft appreciation for pain shared and shouldered. cy finds the line of sasuke's jaw with one hand and gently eases him back from where he's tucked in against him, presses a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. īŧ Do you need anything from me right now?
īŧ there are no apologies to say, no platitudes to level, that do anything but make the focus his own hurt at the hearing. so he won't concern himself with their expression, only with being present, and listening. īŧ
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Date: 2024-02-19 10:27 pm (UTC)he'd guessed at some of it. pieces slotted together like a puzzle box, from the few things sasuke laid bare, let slip. the way he had reacted to certain things, how he had resisted warmth and affection so incredibly at first and then became so desperately dependent upon it. a boy who had everyone he loved ripped away by such a tender age would be drawn to an immortal who can't be called to death's heel like a dog. cy had proved it to him the first moment they'd met — that time could not touch him, nor blades bite.
sasuke pets him like a worry stone, and cy shifts from his knees to either side of the boy's thighs, arranging his legs in a circle around his hips, crossed at the ankles behind sasuke's back. he holds him, and let the words drip like blood in the air between them, like infection excised. he strokes his hair, and imagines — ten years ago. it feels like so little time, barely a blink to him, but it's different when it's almost half your life. and he lived with it, the grief, the rage, the hate, for so long...
he wonders if it was deliberate. if his brother kept the truth from him as some form of — what, penance? but it must have been love, to hear sasuke tell it now. an awful, twisted version of it, a cruel one, but nevertheless. child soldiers never really have the chance to see what it looks like when it's not tarnished and tattered and torn, too much of their lives become informed by pain.
sasuke falls silent, and cy shifts to kiss at his hair. it's become a gesture of plain, uncomplicated affection between them.
the miracle here is not that he survived. it's that he is still capable of kindness, after everything. īŧ
Thank you for telling me. īŧ that, too, has become almost a ritual. the soft appreciation for pain shared and shouldered. cy finds the line of sasuke's jaw with one hand and gently eases him back from where he's tucked in against him, presses a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. īŧ Do you need anything from me right now?
īŧ there are no apologies to say, no platitudes to level, that do anything but make the focus his own hurt at the hearing. so he won't concern himself with their expression, only with being present, and listening. īŧ