[ This time it's Cain invading his personal space and he finds, just as he did before during their arguments or rare moments of truth, that the reciprocity is important to him. It soothes his natural anxiety-driven doubts that his partner in conversation is disappointed to be speaking with him or unimpressed by what he has to say, and it just makes it feel... comfortable. Comfortable enough for him to keep looking at him even as Cain stares back, eye contact more prolonged than before. ]
Fine. I guess I can't stop you from taking it however you want. That means "magic" and "beyond this world" are compliments too. [ It sounds like a joke and that he's deciding for himself right now. In reality he already thought they were. ]
侘び寂び is... ah, the whole word doesn't translate to anything. It's an idea. Some people make a way bigger deal out of it than others, but... 侘び is when something's nice in a subtle way. 寂び is the rust or age on something.
When you put them together it's when something is good because it's not perfect. Like if it's old or broken or messed up somehow. It'd be worse if it weren't, because then you wouldn't appreciate it or it wouldn't be different. And sometimes it's just still in progress.
[ He takes a short breath, unaccustomed to talking so much or so seriously. Expectedly, he breaks the tension. ]
Like how you're an asshole, but you're becoming less of one.
[He listens as Noctis explains, naturally drawn to the rhythm of that soft voice, its patterns and tones becoming more familiar to him now with prolonged exposure. It doesn't surprise him to discover the nuances within language, but — he thinks he sees a glimpse of what Noctis is trying to say, without outright saying it.
Something good because it's not perfect.
And then of course Noctis takes the edge off, that jest meant to allay the new tension between them. Cain's almost disappointed. He's been staring at Noctis's mouth, remembering how it felt to kiss him and wondering if there is some way to make it happen again, but... obviously that's a stupid thought fueled by runaway attraction. What happened before was all adrenaline, and there's still a big, glaring, unspoken question between them.
One in the shape of a boy.
Cain huffs, leaning back suddenly and holding his cigarette aloft.]
Hey, you ever smoke before? [Pinched fingers hold it out.] Wanna try?
[ Immediately Noctis's gaze drops, curiosity visible in the way that stare lingers on the cigarette. He hardly needs to verbalize his answer to the first question. ]
You're really asking? Who do you think would offer me something like that?
[ Certainly no classmates, unless they wanted a reckoning with teachers or parents. No friends, not when that category has a population of one and he doesn't believe Prompto's ever smoked in his life. No strangers, not when he might not know them but everyone in Insomnia had known him.
Cain's like a breath of fresh air. Irreverent, exciting, rough in a way he understands, and rough in a way he doesn't. There was a certain chemistry they had when they were challenging each other and arguing, and in fighting for resolution he expected some of that to fade. It hasn't, it's just now layered with an undercurrent of understanding.
So a gloved hand reaches out, fingers brushing Cain's when he nicks the cigarette off of him. ]
... you do that a lot, you know. I say all kinds of stuff, then you change the subject...
Why? 'Cause you don't know what to say? [ It's lifted to his mouth after a moment, brow furrowed as he places it between his lips with a short inhale. There's a clear effort to make the action appear casual, a common theme underlying his inexperience with life, and the cloud of smoke that leaves his mouth looks too thick to have even made it to his lungs. ]
[He looks satisfied when Noctis accepts the offering, though there's a moment where dark eyes fall to the brush of fingers — unavoidable in the exchange but another moment of physical connection among several others tonight.
A snicker as Noctis aims for casual ease with the cigarette. It's not like he doesn't know it'll be new to him, so there's no point pretending, but it's a little cute that he tries anyway.]
... 'Cause I'm thinking. [He taps his own temple with two fingers.] About why you'd call me that and what it's supposed to mean. It's just... dunno, how I am. I want to be careful what I say, not just with you but with everyone.
[It isn't easy for him to speak his mind; Noctis should get that by now.]
But mostly you. [A slight smirk tugs the corner of his mouth, though it doesn't stay.] You're the one challenging me the most whenever we talk. And you played it down just now, didn't you, calling me less of an asshole. But thanks.
... C'mon, at least try to actually smoke it. Take a real breath.
So... I've been getting the censored, carefully thought-out version of you this whole time?
[ It's too easy a jab not to make and is even partly sincere, forced to wonder what it would be like if Cain weren't constantly filtering himself around him. What if he were to be the same in return? The thought is immediately intimidating, and he loses the will to push him on it. ]
I was smoking it, by the way, or did you not notice? You show me again, then, if you're such an expert. [ The cigarette is held back out without any real sense of agitation or competition for once. He can still taste the smoke, less sharp and suffocating than the razing of ground by his elemancy, and decides at once that it isn't unpleasant. ]
It's pretty weird, actually. That after this whole conversation you're sitting there trying to guess what I mean, again. I feel like we made it obvious that we're both bad at it and always wrong, but you'd still rather do that than ask me.
[There's a soft snort, though soon he falls to silence as he listens. Censored isn't the word he would use, personally, but to some degree he gets what Noctis is trying to say. And that's a step in the right direction.]
You seriously think I don't know how to smoke? Just admit you don't know what you're doing. It's not like I'm gonna blame you — just gotta have the experience, which you're getting right now.
[Cain plucks the cigarette back with another gentle slide of fingers, then takes a deep drag off the end, blowing out smoke in a funneled stream.]
When you do it right, you get this nice, heady feeling... like all the rough edges get filed off whatever's nagging you. You need to inhale like you mean it, though. Breathe into your chest. [Hand extended once again, he offers the cigarette back.] It sounds like you want me to ask, so I will.
侘び...寂び. [His own accent is strong.] What does that really mean? Without just saying I'm less of an asshole.
I don't know what I'm doing. [ The admission is made readily though not without a quiet knowing look at Cain, and even the hint of a sly smile. Tonight, at least, he's not putting up a front. Tomorrow might be different... but right now it still feels okay. Refreshing. Relieving, maybe. So he watches him, eyes dropping to his chest to watch it swell with the deep breath, before he accepts that shared cigarette back. ]
... feels like I have a lot of rough edges right now. Might take more. [ It doesn't sound self-pitying, rather one more bit of honesty between them. It feels like Cain can relate, anyway, and commiseration doesn't need to be wordy to be felt. So he places the dart between his lips and again sucks in smoke, taking as deep a breath he can and holding it for a few seconds longer before he exhales. ] I definitely wanted you to ask, by the way. Not 'cause I wanna' figure out how to word it. Just because I've gotta' train you to have normal conversations apparently.
–thanks. [ He reaches out his hand to pass the smoke back off before pausing, suddenly taking another quick drag before it's actually relinquished. He needs it. ]
... you know the phrase "diamond in the rough"? When something has a lot of good in it but people don't see it. I guess... I see it in you. You don't make it easy, and that's obviously on purpose. You... I dunno. You get crass or act like a dick to chase people off, like you did with me. But then you act like this too, and it's a different person. This guy's pretty cool.
And when you're like this I know you mean it, 'cause of the other stuff. "Beauty in imperfection", it means something like that.
[There's just a soft snort, at first, listening to Noctis confide a sentiment he knows too well.
But then comes the rest. And Cain finds that his attention is deeply fixed on the other man, caught on every word with focus — a little terrified to hear what he has to say. Maybe that's part of what he's avoided. Knowing Noctis' real opinion of him, in light of all he's said and done by now, is unvisited territory. It will reveal too much truth. In their reflection of one another, Cain has always thought of himself as lesser, worse than Noctis' high-minded ideals and bravery; he doesn't know what to do when he's spoken of like this instead.
It sounds — affectionate. Is he just crazy?]
... Didn't think I'd ever hear you talk about me like that.
[And what is he supposed to do with it? The atmosphere changes with his own tension and uncertainty, exposed by vulnerability, and though he would like to think of himself as beyond such a childish reaction, his face feels hot.]
Thanks, I guess. [Eye contact has become impossible.] Keep the cig. Got plenty more where that came from.
["Anyway, good talk." Noctis has effectively put him on the back foot. But not enough that he can't say —]
[ His hand retracts, pulling back that proffered smoke to eye it himself. Even holding it feels like some kind of crime, but not more so than engaging in their current conversation. They were meant to settle things and get along, and they've achieved that, but Cain's reticence makes him feel... almost unsure. Like he's said something right enough to be wrong, and he wonders, not for the first time, if this also counts as pushing him too far too fast.
The compliment sits well on top of everything else, easing some of his doubt and ensuring that shared warmth stays painted on his face too. ]
Here I thought I got pretty close earlier. [ He takes a deep breath, ashing that cigarette with a gentle tap as he looks over. ]
... thanks. I'll, ah... talk to you later for the questions, okay? [ After a moment's consideration he stands first, plucking up that heater and leaving Cain to spend more time in the cool air clearing his head.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Fine. I guess I can't stop you from taking it however you want. That means "magic" and "beyond this world" are compliments too. [ It sounds like a joke and that he's deciding for himself right now. In reality he already thought they were. ]
侘び寂び is... ah, the whole word doesn't translate to anything. It's an idea. Some people make a way bigger deal out of it than others, but... 侘び is when something's nice in a subtle way. 寂び is the rust or age on something.
When you put them together it's when something is good because it's not perfect. Like if it's old or broken or messed up somehow. It'd be worse if it weren't, because then you wouldn't appreciate it or it wouldn't be different. And sometimes it's just still in progress.
[ He takes a short breath, unaccustomed to talking so much or so seriously. Expectedly, he breaks the tension. ]
Like how you're an asshole, but you're becoming less of one.
no subject
Something good because it's not perfect.
And then of course Noctis takes the edge off, that jest meant to allay the new tension between them. Cain's almost disappointed. He's been staring at Noctis's mouth, remembering how it felt to kiss him and wondering if there is some way to make it happen again, but... obviously that's a stupid thought fueled by runaway attraction. What happened before was all adrenaline, and there's still a big, glaring, unspoken question between them.
One in the shape of a boy.
Cain huffs, leaning back suddenly and holding his cigarette aloft.]
Hey, you ever smoke before? [Pinched fingers hold it out.] Wanna try?
no subject
You're really asking? Who do you think would offer me something like that?
[ Certainly no classmates, unless they wanted a reckoning with teachers or parents. No friends, not when that category has a population of one and he doesn't believe Prompto's ever smoked in his life. No strangers, not when he might not know them but everyone in Insomnia had known him.
Cain's like a breath of fresh air. Irreverent, exciting, rough in a way he understands, and rough in a way he doesn't. There was a certain chemistry they had when they were challenging each other and arguing, and in fighting for resolution he expected some of that to fade. It hasn't, it's just now layered with an undercurrent of understanding.
So a gloved hand reaches out, fingers brushing Cain's when he nicks the cigarette off of him. ]
... you do that a lot, you know. I say all kinds of stuff, then you change the subject...
Why? 'Cause you don't know what to say? [ It's lifted to his mouth after a moment, brow furrowed as he places it between his lips with a short inhale. There's a clear effort to make the action appear casual, a common theme underlying his inexperience with life, and the cloud of smoke that leaves his mouth looks too thick to have even made it to his lungs. ]
no subject
A snicker as Noctis aims for casual ease with the cigarette. It's not like he doesn't know it'll be new to him, so there's no point pretending, but it's a little cute that he tries anyway.]
... 'Cause I'm thinking. [He taps his own temple with two fingers.] About why you'd call me that and what it's supposed to mean. It's just... dunno, how I am. I want to be careful what I say, not just with you but with everyone.
[It isn't easy for him to speak his mind; Noctis should get that by now.]
But mostly you. [A slight smirk tugs the corner of his mouth, though it doesn't stay.] You're the one challenging me the most whenever we talk. And you played it down just now, didn't you, calling me less of an asshole. But thanks.
... C'mon, at least try to actually smoke it. Take a real breath.
no subject
[ It's too easy a jab not to make and is even partly sincere, forced to wonder what it would be like if Cain weren't constantly filtering himself around him. What if he were to be the same in return? The thought is immediately intimidating, and he loses the will to push him on it. ]
I was smoking it, by the way, or did you not notice? You show me again, then, if you're such an expert. [ The cigarette is held back out without any real sense of agitation or competition for once. He can still taste the smoke, less sharp and suffocating than the razing of ground by his elemancy, and decides at once that it isn't unpleasant. ]
It's pretty weird, actually. That after this whole conversation you're sitting there trying to guess what I mean, again. I feel like we made it obvious that we're both bad at it and always wrong, but you'd still rather do that than ask me.
no subject
You seriously think I don't know how to smoke? Just admit you don't know what you're doing. It's not like I'm gonna blame you — just gotta have the experience, which you're getting right now.
[Cain plucks the cigarette back with another gentle slide of fingers, then takes a deep drag off the end, blowing out smoke in a funneled stream.]
When you do it right, you get this nice, heady feeling... like all the rough edges get filed off whatever's nagging you. You need to inhale like you mean it, though. Breathe into your chest. [Hand extended once again, he offers the cigarette back.] It sounds like you want me to ask, so I will.
侘び...寂び. [His own accent is strong.] What does that really mean? Without just saying I'm less of an asshole.
no subject
... feels like I have a lot of rough edges right now. Might take more. [ It doesn't sound self-pitying, rather one more bit of honesty between them. It feels like Cain can relate, anyway, and commiseration doesn't need to be wordy to be felt. So he places the dart between his lips and again sucks in smoke, taking as deep a breath he can and holding it for a few seconds longer before he exhales. ] I definitely wanted you to ask, by the way. Not 'cause I wanna' figure out how to word it. Just because I've gotta' train you to have normal conversations apparently.
–thanks. [ He reaches out his hand to pass the smoke back off before pausing, suddenly taking another quick drag before it's actually relinquished. He needs it. ]
... you know the phrase "diamond in the rough"? When something has a lot of good in it but people don't see it. I guess... I see it in you. You don't make it easy, and that's obviously on purpose. You... I dunno. You get crass or act like a dick to chase people off, like you did with me. But then you act like this too, and it's a different person. This guy's pretty cool.
And when you're like this I know you mean it, 'cause of the other stuff. "Beauty in imperfection", it means something like that.
no subject
But then comes the rest. And Cain finds that his attention is deeply fixed on the other man, caught on every word with focus — a little terrified to hear what he has to say. Maybe that's part of what he's avoided. Knowing Noctis' real opinion of him, in light of all he's said and done by now, is unvisited territory. It will reveal too much truth. In their reflection of one another, Cain has always thought of himself as lesser, worse than Noctis' high-minded ideals and bravery; he doesn't know what to do when he's spoken of like this instead.
It sounds — affectionate. Is he just crazy?]
... Didn't think I'd ever hear you talk about me like that.
[And what is he supposed to do with it? The atmosphere changes with his own tension and uncertainty, exposed by vulnerability, and though he would like to think of himself as beyond such a childish reaction, his face feels hot.]
Thanks, I guess. [Eye contact has become impossible.] Keep the cig. Got plenty more where that came from.
["Anyway, good talk." Noctis has effectively put him on the back foot. But not enough that he can't say —]
Ty krutoy.
🎀
[ His hand retracts, pulling back that proffered smoke to eye it himself. Even holding it feels like some kind of crime, but not more so than engaging in their current conversation. They were meant to settle things and get along, and they've achieved that, but Cain's reticence makes him feel... almost unsure. Like he's said something right enough to be wrong, and he wonders, not for the first time, if this also counts as pushing him too far too fast.
The compliment sits well on top of everything else, easing some of his doubt and ensuring that shared warmth stays painted on his face too. ]
Here I thought I got pretty close earlier. [ He takes a deep breath, ashing that cigarette with a gentle tap as he looks over. ]
... thanks. I'll, ah... talk to you later for the questions, okay? [ After a moment's consideration he stands first, plucking up that heater and leaving Cain to spend more time in the cool air clearing his head.
He's got his own thinking to do. ]