[Keats has always lived knowing something isn't right.]
[He's very, very good at ignoring it. If denial were an Olympic sport, he'd be on the podium with his gold medal year after year. That's how it was. That's how it will be. If there's anything wrong here...he chooses not to address it.]
[Because he's too afraid to acknowledge that the truth hurts, more than not.]
[So he puts aside the cold, the fact that he can't remember how they got in here, and focuses on the man now holding him tightly. Keats reaches over to pat the side of his head.]
The alcohol's getting to you. Shouldn't it make you happy? Come on. No need to be upset over things you're imagining.
[Sakamoto does nothing to remove himself from the position he's in, instead closing his eyes and taking pause to bask in this moment. It's not often that he gets to indulge in tender physical contact like this, not even with the friends he loves so much. In all of those relationships, it's him who's the affectionate one, and him alone.]
This is nice!
[Unfortunately, he and Keats can never seem to go log without-]
Even though you stink! You've gotta wash that beard of yours, you know! Otherwise it'll get dirty, dirty~! Come on.
Maybe I can wash it for ya.
[Provided that Sakamoto will eventually gain the ability to stand upright again...]
Someone going "well, maybe there was something I should tell you but I will conveniently not mention it" while looking like a sad puppy doesn't exactly convince you that they're happy, you know.
[There's absolutely a snide sort of tone to his comment...but even he understands, deep down, that Sakamoto is also thinking something in a similar vein as him. His own expression falls - and then the man actually says that, and he's barking out a snort.]
Oh, I do not stink. Please! I'm a hard worker, but I do take care of yourself. Maybe I should be saying that to you.
[He's reaching over to poke the man right in the forehead. So THERE.]
no subject
[Keats has always lived knowing something isn't right.]
[He's very, very good at ignoring it. If denial were an Olympic sport, he'd be on the podium with his gold medal year after year. That's how it was. That's how it will be. If there's anything wrong here...he chooses not to address it.]
[Because he's too afraid to acknowledge that the truth hurts, more than not.]
[So he puts aside the cold, the fact that he can't remember how they got in here, and focuses on the man now holding him tightly. Keats reaches over to pat the side of his head.]
The alcohol's getting to you. Shouldn't it make you happy? Come on. No need to be upset over things you're imagining.
no subject
[Sakamoto does nothing to remove himself from the position he's in, instead closing his eyes and taking pause to bask in this moment. It's not often that he gets to indulge in tender physical contact like this, not even with the friends he loves so much. In all of those relationships, it's him who's the affectionate one, and him alone.]
This is nice!
[Unfortunately, he and Keats can never seem to go log without-]
Even though you stink! You've gotta wash that beard of yours, you know! Otherwise it'll get dirty, dirty~! Come on.
Maybe I can wash it for ya.
[Provided that Sakamoto will eventually gain the ability to stand upright again...]
no subject
[There's absolutely a snide sort of tone to his comment...but even he understands, deep down, that Sakamoto is also thinking something in a similar vein as him. His own expression falls - and then the man actually says that, and he's barking out a snort.]
Oh, I do not stink. Please! I'm a hard worker, but I do take care of yourself. Maybe I should be saying that to you.
[He's reaching over to poke the man right in the forehead. So THERE.]