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“Spending time with your partner is, in fact, good and normal” - thought Senku somewhat forcefully, lying down next to Tsukasa’s relaxed frame.
Of course, in describing Tsukasa, one must understand the limits of his natural expression and, therefore, adjust their standards. If Gen, for example, in his most relaxed state reminded Senku more of a puddle-like cat, Tsukasa’s peacefulness was limited by the seemingly constant necessity of being alert enough to catch a stray arrow mid-flight.
Even so, after years spent together, Senku could see without any particular effort the slightly relaxed muscle outlines, the softness in the facial expression. He wasn’t sure how to feel about himself knowing his partner in such detail. On one hand, of course, his scientific mind told him that such pattern recognition was expected if not inevitable after such prolonged interactions. On the other hand it felt like it meant something and even if Senku could accept him having some sorts of positive feelings, he definitely did not, by default, appreciate any further meaning creeping into his relationships with those closest to him. Especially if it meant wanting things.
“The human mind is just another part of the universe. It is explorable and testable, it is knowable. There is nothing that will not yield after the patient eye of the scientific method!” - he continued in his head
Making that statement somehow helped. If he could revive a whole civilization’s progress, he could manage his own emotions. He would start slowly, as usual, eliminating possibilities by running them through his mind until inevitably, a clear picture of his current state would arise.
(...)
Tsukasa was lying down next to Senku. Next to his partner. Thinking the word warmed him from the inside this time, like all the times before. Such a soft word, not requiring, at least not by itself, any justification or strife. It’s been some time, of course, but out of all of his friends he might have been able to feel that steady comfort the clearest.
He could see Senku, with his eyes half-closed, going through an array of emotions for the last half an hour. It was obvious that the scientist was intensely focused on something. A new problem all of them were about to face? Or a conflict resolution strategy taking shape? By some of the momentary expressions on Senku’s face Tsukasa suspected the latter. He wondered, briefly, if the situation involved him and whether that was the reason Senku wanted to spend time together that day, but quickly dismissed it. It was not in his partner’s style to leave anyone in such obvious limbo, waiting for his words.
Senku was absolutely swamped with conflicting inputs. The desire for closeness dosed with the innate repulsion he tended to feel towards things that were too soft, too… intimate. The two feelings, like a polar and nonpolar liquids, refused to mix into each-other to form a conclusion. Instead, no matter how much he tilted his inner perspective, there were always “bubbles” of one in the other, pockets of wanting or reprehension that confused his logic.
“The scientific method cannot fail you, only you can fail it” – the only truth that Senku knew. In a situation where the conclusion was elusive or uncertain, or simply changed every couple of seconds the only conclusion was that he was missing something. Or doing something wrong. Missing something, even after running though his head a simulation of close to a hundred scenarios involving Tsukasa. But the mind cannot see the flaws in itself, at least not easily. What was he to do…
“Another couple of minutes and I will start to really worry” – said Tsukasa, shattering the increasingly tight silence between them
Senku paused, torn from his inner turmoil.
“How… Sorry, how long was I silent?” – he replied in a slightly hoarse voice
“Oh I don’t know, about 40 minutes more or less?” – smirked Tsukasa anticipating a great opportunity for a friendly jab – “Heavy is the crown of Scientist in Chief, huh? I was starting to suspect that you called me simply so you could ignore me more conveniently”
In response to Tsukasa’s words, Senku suddenly jerked, as if struck by electric current. He looked at Tsukasa and took in a breath as if preparing for a long winded explanation…
But it didn’t come. Senku laid there, propping himself up with an elbow, in his own bed, with one of the people he trusted the most, and couldn’t say it. Couldn’t ask for it. As if a wall of sheer emotion was standing between him and any of the sentences he’d already constructed in his brain. Was the apprehension drawn from the intimacy of it or was it a deeper wariness? As if asking for something more than a casual hug would make him A Person Who Engaged In Intimate Things and that by itself, somehow, felt like a step into an abyss. He didn’t know, couldn’t know, so he did what every scientist would.
Senku dropped from his elbow in Tsukasa’s direction, face down on the bed sheet so that his face was entirely covered.
“Could…” – Senku started and halted immediately
“Hold me, please?” – he squeezed out of his throat, feeling as if each word has grown too big in its intensity for his mere human anatomy.
Tsukasa’s thoughts flew into disarray. Here he was, just a heartbeat ago, ready to console or consult his partner and friend on some insurmountable problem, but now? Of course they were no strangers to physical affection, that fact Tsukasa held very dear, given Senku’s general aversion to it with most people. But this felt different somehow. As if a beginning or an invitation for something. Something that could not be less clear to Tsukasa.
“Was it related to what Senku was thinking about just now? Does he simply want to feel the reassurance of his partner close to him or am I expected to understand this as something else? “ – wondered Tsukasa, lowering himself onto the bed next to Senku and gently, but not too-gently, wrapping his arms around his partner
In a fight each movement has a meaning. It states, clearly and loudly, the direction in which the thoughts of the opponent are moving, the previous battles that shaped their experience and patterns, the state of their soul. Even a faint or another false movement cannot but reveal the beliefs of the person, after all to light a candle one must be prepared to cast a shadow and therefore to throw a faint one must expect the shadow to be cast from the shape of their knowledge and expectations.
In the political dance that is a fight for the soul of the world, each word carries a meaning. Each vote, each secret alliance, each move of the pieces on the board. More than that, simply the act of choosing to move a piece and which piece to move, tells more of a person than they would forfeit even in the shaded anonymity of a confession booth.
In a relationship… Tsukasa didn’t know. In that moment it seemed to him as if this most genuine, open and honest part of his life was the far darkness space, the deepest ocean abyss, as unknowable to a man like himself as the future itself.
“Does Senku see here clearly?” – he thought idly. After all, to his brilliant partner neither the depths of the ocean nor the heights of space lay closed to understanding.
All he can do, he decided, is to make sure he is not interpreting the situation in a way that would hurt Senku. That at the time seemed like the most important part of all this. Regardless of whether he just wanted comfort or something else, the assurance that Tsukasa would not push him into anything, would not hurt him, must be preserved.
Senku shifted slightly from his face-buried position and slowly, perhaps more gently than usual, returned the hug.
(...)
They were lying there, for several minutes or several moments. Someone who knew Senku close enough would know what it meant that even he could not tell the passage of time. All he could measure right then was the warmth of his partner’s body, the texture of clothes and skin lightly pressed against him. It was so much. But after the first shock of contact subsided he could not stop feeling, could not stop knowing, that it wasn’t yet enough.
“Oh, will I have to say more?” – he thought, shriveling up internally at the prospect. He knew that he would not be able to do it under normal “lab” conditions. Some people were simply not made for requesting such things and he was one of them. Everything in him screamed that he was working with a 10 billion percent probability of death on the spot. These were not, however, lab conditions.
He could feel a lock of Tsukasa’s hair that landed on the side of his face. The soft but slightly tingly sensation of it felt like being able to touch the sun with an open hand.
Senku stopped that train of thought, drowning in embarrassment. What he definitely didn’t want out of this is to suddenly become a poet. Can you imagine? Horrible. When was the last time a poet invented anything? Or went to the moon? No, definitely not.
That said, he still wanted more contact, even though he couldn’t figure out any specifics. Running scenario projections proved to only yield frustration and psychological distress. It is good, then, that he was not alone in this project.
“Can I get some more?” – half-whispered Senku, happy that his partner could not see his flaming red face from his position and making a slight motion on Tsukasa’s back with a notion to be helpful in interpretation.
More. More could mean more things. Too many things for comfort. Tsukasa collected his thoughts in an attempt to be measured. He could feel his partner’s hand briefly trace a circle on his back, triggering a cascade of sensation that made it all the harder to think clearly. The gesture itself didn’t help either. Was it a request for a similar thing? No, then he would say “Can I get this” and not “Can I get some more”. Does it even have a meaning, could it be just an encouraging gesture to make him more comfortable? Possibly, but ignoring any other option would feel like willingly misinterpreting the situation.
“Just because I want to touch him and show affection, doesn’t mean that this is what he wants or means by this” – decided Tsukasa. The only safe reaction, it seemed, was to do something small, not changing the position of his hands much. Thinking that he started, slowly and cautiously, caressing Senku’s shoulder, while pressing them together just a slight bit more with his other hand.
Senku was torn again. Now, not only was it very difficult for him to struggle out any more words, but it was starting to worry him that Tsukasa might not be as enthusiastic of a participant in this as he previously thought. Usually Senku could rely on himself being the most physically closed-off person in their policule and expect for Tsukasa or Gen to either be on board with any of his touchy experiments or be open enough to refuse directly and outright. Now though, he was starting to wonder if the difference in situation, the context of them being alone in his room, the probably horrible 40 minutes of wait his partner had to get through, would push him to do something he was not that on board with.
Was that the reason why Tsukasa went with the simplest and least intimate interpretation of his words? Was he trying to politely show a boundary here and Senku, assuming regular behaviour from previous experiments, was oblivious to it? Suddenly, their closeness felt like sandpaper on Senku’s skin. He could not allow that possibility to stand.
Senku pushed himself away, a little more awkwardly than he was planning to in his own mind, and stared Tsukasa directly in the eyes. A minute passed, then another one. Tsukasa’s face went from surprise and light terror to confusion to fascination before settling finally on resignation.
“Am I asking you to perform actions that you are not comfortable with?” – finally uttered Senku, voice steady and gravely serious to contrast his still red face.
“No” – Tsukasa simply replied, reflexively pushed into the same serious mood as he noticed in Senku’s voice – “I would let you know if something was wrong”
Senku did not feel like he could directly say “Then why are you making sure to touch me only a minimal amount?”. The sole idea of saying that with his own mouth made him feel petrified without a need for any fantastical device. But what else could resolve this? He knew he could trust Tsukasa above all, so at least his partner did not feel any pressure or discomfort. What was it then? A simple misunderstanding? Was he jumping to conclusions just now, assuming intentionality where there was none?
Senku slowly returned into Tsukasa’s arms, regaining the sensation of warmth streaming through him. At least that was okay. Then, after a few moments, Tsukasa continues the motion of his hand on Senku’s shoulder. That, Senku thought immediately, gave him an opening. Still, that didn’t mean it was easy.
Was he even sure that he wanted it? This was a significant deviation from his usual patterns and preferences. Of course, there was also no precedent of him being in such relationships but still. It felt weird, it felt far fetched. But it didn’t feel wrong, and so
“Lower, please?” – said Senku, his voice tightening into a near-squeak at the end of the last word.
Tsukasa moved his hand down from Senku’s shoulder to the middle of his back and continued the slow and gentle motions. The palm of his hand felt like it was on fire. Was this kind of touch really okay with his partner? Was the enjoyment Tsukasa himself got from it okay with Senku’s sensibilities? It felt like plunging in a cold spring and suddenly finding yourself able to breathe underwater.
Unknowingly, Tsukasa was starting to slightly blush at that moment, a fact that would endlessly amuse both of his partners. He continued moving his hand up and down Senku’s back, getting slightly more comfortable and experimenting with putting more or less pressure into his touch.
Senku was submerged, entirely, in the waves of heat and sensations from his partner’s hands. Something within him, that showed its hunger in the days prior, was being fulfilled by each movement of Tsukasa’s hand. He felt himself dissolving into the feeling, not even melting but sublimating and floating in a vague shape where his body was surely supposed to be.
On instinct, Senku squeezed his hands tighter and the feeling of added pressure of Tsukasa’s body, overwhelming even the embarrassment from all this expression, made something give and relax in his heart. Regardless of any hiccups, he thought, being able to commit only 5% of his brain to the task, the experiment was a resounding success.