( A noise, half inquisitive, before understanding filters in. He pulls back with enough space to look, one hand immediately shifting to curve around Gojo's unmarked bicep like he'll disappear if Geto doesn't keep a hold. His fingers dig in, gaze resting on the scar around his waist, the jagged cruel edge of it, and if he had been burning with something before, it changes shape now.
Geto blinks, mouth twisting, palm moving to press against the edge. )
It doesn't make you look any sexier.
( Childish, and abrupt, but it's tease or cry and he's sure one would be worse than the other. )
Satoru. ( Softer than he means, thumb tracing a line. ) I'm sorry.
no subject
Geto blinks, mouth twisting, palm moving to press against the edge. )
It doesn't make you look any sexier.
( Childish, and abrupt, but it's tease or cry and he's sure one would be worse than the other. )
Satoru. ( Softer than he means, thumb tracing a line. ) I'm sorry.
( For what? Everything, possibly. )