[ closing an eye against the touch to his hair, orga's fingers ruffling through it naturally, confidently, Mika glances sidelong at the other boy with an expression that doesn't visibly match up to the warmth, at least not in an outward reaction. Something about the corner of his lips quirking up, there's an edge of softness about it, cracking through the impassive demeanour like a plant through dry soil, small and secret. ]
I can't help out much around here if I can't.
[ his voice is deadpan, matter of fact, but he curls his fingers around the other's wrist, brushing thumb against the inside of orga's wrist. Soil and warmth and life, not the bitter acrid smear of motor oil. ]
no subject
I can't help out much around here if I can't.
[ his voice is deadpan, matter of fact, but he curls his fingers around the other's wrist, brushing thumb against the inside of orga's wrist. Soil and warmth and life, not the bitter acrid smear of motor oil. ]
If you like it, I'll grow some more of these.