[Would that he could take this moment and put a pin in it just like this, use it to keep time at bay, to hold of Charles' inevitable exit. If he could hold tight enough that Charles couldn't go anywhere at all, that Charles would be so wrapped up in this that his team would solve the whole problem easily and not even need an extra set of hands— but all of those are just fantasies, and Junpei knows better. He scoffs quietly, cheek pressed into Charles' shoulder; Charles says he only wants to be around Junpei and then hits him with the "as long as you want," like it's entirely up to Junpei...
They'll get to that. When Charles is back, they'll get to that, and whatever else they have to get to. He crosses his arms as Charles steps back, to keep himself from reaching for him again; this is real and happening and he can't put it off any longer, no matter how badly he wants to.
Whatever Charles leaves unsaid there at the last moment will drive him crazy for the next few days, but—]
I— yeah. You too.
[But there he goes, and Junpei stands there and looks at the still surface of the mirror for longer than he'll readily admit after he's gone.
He makes it almost a whole two days after that, before his plan to leave Charles to his business without distractions collapses in on itself. To his credit, he thinks about it for a while, staring at his tablet. And the iterations, oh, his backspace button is getting the workout of a lifetime—
"is it done yet," no, that's pushy and probably insensitive,
"gab says hi," no, god, he's not that embarrassing, that's just stupid,
no subject
They'll get to that. When Charles is back, they'll get to that, and whatever else they have to get to. He crosses his arms as Charles steps back, to keep himself from reaching for him again; this is real and happening and he can't put it off any longer, no matter how badly he wants to.
Whatever Charles leaves unsaid there at the last moment will drive him crazy for the next few days, but—]
I— yeah. You too.
[But there he goes, and Junpei stands there and looks at the still surface of the mirror for longer than he'll readily admit after he's gone.
He makes it almost a whole two days after that, before his plan to leave Charles to his business without distractions collapses in on itself. To his credit, he thinks about it for a while, staring at his tablet. And the iterations, oh, his backspace button is getting the workout of a lifetime—
"is it done yet," no, that's pushy and probably insensitive,
"gab says hi," no, god, he's not that embarrassing, that's just stupid,
"i miss you," absolutely not—]
hey. how's it going?