Stephen's hand bumps up against his own, their fingers interlocking together as if they're about to make a promise, or keep a secret. It even feels a little like that, with Stephen's note in his pocket and their backs to the rest the Hawking. Near to each other as they are, most of the Hawking probably can't even see their linked hands at all.
Yujin doesn't move, not to resist, nor to push Stephen any further than where he is right now. He's recognized this for what it is, after all: another cautious testing of the waters, in reply to his own. For as long as he's dwelt upon how fleeting time is here... now's no time to rush. He's got plenty for whatever Stephen has to say.]
He knows what he wants to do. He's had plenty of time and cause to think about it over these last weeks, thanks so much. It wouldn't be unwelcome either, that much has been made perfectly clear, but he hits the same snag every time. What about the cost? I'll manage, Yujin had answered, just moments earlier. Goodbyes are never easy. Is it fair to make this one harder? Do either of them really need that?
(Is it fair to make this about Yujin, when he's really just scared for himself?)
He glances over - and gets caught up again by the look on his face, by his patience, by the well of easy fondness fostered over months instead of years. A smile tucks itself into the corner of Stephen's mouth.
Abandoning linked hands only lasts for a second before he's curling his fingers through the gaps between Yujin's, using that hold to lift it away from the railing and guide them around to face each other. It isn't much from there to draw close, cradle Yujin's jaw in his hand. He lingers there for a moment: strokes a thumb over Yujin's cheek, steadies the frantic racing in his own chest.
Then he leans in. Faces close, close enough to brush noses, to share breath, lips warm and near and so very almost —
— moving away? Up along the rise of a cheek, tilting his head until his mouth's close enough to Yujin's ear that all he has to do is murmur, low and rich with challenge and promise: ]
I'll see you on the island.
[ And just like that, he's gone. No drawing back, no pulling away. There one second, nowhere the next, a burst bubble on a breeze.
You may have the moves, Mikotoba. He's still got the magic. ]
[The cost, as it were, isn't on Yujin's mind at all. Isn't it worth the cost, anyway, to play these odds together-- to seize whatever impossible, out-of-time thing they could have, before their chance has long gone? Yujin has let enough years, and enough potential, pass him by; Stephen won't be another if he can help it.
So when Yujin anticipates Stephen closing the gap between them, he moves with him readily. The man's fingers finally interlace with his own; Stephen's hand, capable of spellwork Yujin knows he can scarcely conceive of, rests warm against his cheek.
But just when he parts his lips, Stephen's moved away to whisper in his ear instead.]
W-wait-- [he stammers, blinking back his surprise, but it's too late. In an instant, where Stephen was standing is now only open, empty air.
Damn sorcerors. But turnabout, he supposes, is fair play. Yujin stares, bewildered, at the space once occupied by Stephen Strange and brings his hand to his lower lip-- thinking hard, willing the tempo of his heartbeat slower. Then he presses his lips together, shakes his head, and turns on his heel. He'll really have to get to that island now, if only to finish what they've started here.
For now, however, he has a first mate to find, and a letter to pass along.]
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no subject
Stephen's hand bumps up against his own, their fingers interlocking together as if they're about to make a promise, or keep a secret. It even feels a little like that, with Stephen's note in his pocket and their backs to the rest the Hawking. Near to each other as they are, most of the Hawking probably can't even see their linked hands at all.
Yujin doesn't move, not to resist, nor to push Stephen any further than where he is right now. He's recognized this for what it is, after all: another cautious testing of the waters, in reply to his own. For as long as he's dwelt upon how fleeting time is here... now's no time to rush. He's got plenty for whatever Stephen has to say.]
What is it, Stephen?
no subject
He knows what he wants to do. He's had plenty of time and cause to think about it over these last weeks, thanks so much. It wouldn't be unwelcome either, that much has been made perfectly clear, but he hits the same snag every time. What about the cost? I'll manage, Yujin had answered, just moments earlier. Goodbyes are never easy. Is it fair to make this one harder? Do either of them really need that?
(Is it fair to make this about Yujin, when he's really just scared for himself?)
He glances over - and gets caught up again by the look on his face, by his patience, by the well of easy fondness fostered over months instead of years. A smile tucks itself into the corner of Stephen's mouth.
Abandoning linked hands only lasts for a second before he's curling his fingers through the gaps between Yujin's, using that hold to lift it away from the railing and guide them around to face each other. It isn't much from there to draw close, cradle Yujin's jaw in his hand. He lingers there for a moment: strokes a thumb over Yujin's cheek, steadies the frantic racing in his own chest.
Then he leans in. Faces close, close enough to brush noses, to share breath, lips warm and near and so very almost —
— moving away? Up along the rise of a cheek, tilting his head until his mouth's close enough to Yujin's ear that all he has to do is murmur, low and rich with challenge and promise: ]
I'll see you on the island.
[ And just like that, he's gone. No drawing back, no pulling away. There one second, nowhere the next, a burst bubble on a breeze.
You may have the moves, Mikotoba. He's still got the magic. ]
no subject
So when Yujin anticipates Stephen closing the gap between them, he moves with him readily. The man's fingers finally interlace with his own; Stephen's hand, capable of spellwork Yujin knows he can scarcely conceive of, rests warm against his cheek.
But just when he parts his lips, Stephen's moved away to whisper in his ear instead.]
W-wait-- [he stammers, blinking back his surprise, but it's too late. In an instant, where Stephen was standing is now only open, empty air.
Damn sorcerors. But turnabout, he supposes, is fair play. Yujin stares, bewildered, at the space once occupied by Stephen Strange and brings his hand to his lower lip-- thinking hard, willing the tempo of his heartbeat slower. Then he presses his lips together, shakes his head, and turns on his heel. He'll really have to get to that island now, if only to finish what they've started here.
For now, however, he has a first mate to find, and a letter to pass along.]