"Yeah, yeah," Ishigaki replies, breathing out a laugh through his nose as he kicks his shoes into the entry way and shuffles his jacket off.
"I'll show you something better," he continues. It's only a few strides before he's on the other side of his tiny apartment and inside the kitchen, rummaging through the junk drawer.
Ishigaki pauses for a moment, closing his palm around his spare keys. Their wasn't any implication in giving him these, and it wasn't premeditated- Ishigaki had just opened the drawer without a second thought.
Was he making things weird? Well, the line between what was weird and what wasn't with Midousuji was difficult to read, and even Ishigaki was unclear of his own emotions most times. Ishigaki had been mostly treating Midousuji the way he would anyone else- kindly- and although that alone was too much for Midousuji at times, it had gotten him far enough to be in his current situation.
Ishigaki looks back at Midousuji, who isn't looking at him quite yet. His pale face is speckled pink from the cold.
"Here," he says, and he returns to where Midousuji is still taking off his layers. He bumps his knuckle on Midousuji's before dropping it into his open palm, refusing to meet his eyes.
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"I'll show you something better," he continues. It's only a few strides before he's on the other side of his tiny apartment and inside the kitchen, rummaging through the junk drawer.
Ishigaki pauses for a moment, closing his palm around his spare keys. Their wasn't any implication in giving him these, and it wasn't premeditated- Ishigaki had just opened the drawer without a second thought.
Was he making things weird? Well, the line between what was weird and what wasn't with Midousuji was difficult to read, and even Ishigaki was unclear of his own emotions most times. Ishigaki had been mostly treating Midousuji the way he would anyone else- kindly- and although that alone was too much for Midousuji at times, it had gotten him far enough to be in his current situation.
Ishigaki looks back at Midousuji, who isn't looking at him quite yet. His pale face is speckled pink from the cold.
"Here," he says, and he returns to where Midousuji is still taking off his layers. He bumps his knuckle on Midousuji's before dropping it into his open palm, refusing to meet his eyes.
"For next time."