[ if he ends up having to physically wrestle the violin from ugetsu's hands tomorrow, he wouldn't be surprised. "no" is only a part of ugetsu's vocabulary when he's saying it to other people, not when people someone tries to use it on him.
it's fine. it'll be fine.
very carefully, he lowers ugetsu onto his bed after pulling the covers back. he quickly fetches a towel to slide under his head, then scoops viola off the floor to set her down beside ugetsu, where she explores the blankets before climbing up ugetsu's leg. ]
I'm just gonna clean you up a little. This is gonna sting.
[ mars is busy with the first aid kit, pulling out cotton pads and some gauze. he's cleaned up his own cuts and bruises enough times that it doesn't bother him, but he's still gentle as he dabs a cotton ball soaked with alcohol against the cuts on ugetsu's face. they'll heal, though there might be a bit of scarring leftover. he's more concerned with the concussion, and he's even gentler when he slips some damp gauze behind ugetsu's head, cradling him carefully. ]
Do I look like one person or two? [ hopefully not more than two. ]
[ highly probable, and the saving graces if one believes in such things will be that 1. ugetsu won't want to damage the violin and knows he's good at breaking things not putting them back together; and 2. ugetsu will be too ill to argue the way he might have. not knowing that though, he submits himself suspiciously docilely to mars' attention. well, maybe not so suspicious; ugetsu does like attention though not in the way he's garnered it for himself over the years. he doesn't mind the audiences but sometimes he thinks they even listen with their eyes and that...bothers him. to what purpose is it in coming to a violin concerto only to half-hear?
often he thinks he should feel anger; but privately he just feels sad. then he feels neither and smiles and waves and says thank you and life goes on. it's nothing.
the hand ugetsu turns palm up is a gentle offer for viola who noses his palm before turning in two circles and experimentally pressing her paws just against the bedding next to his hand. he smiles and it turns into a flinching wince nearer the end of when mars is tending his face. but he blinks and ignores it otherwise, much more fascinated by how gentle mars' hands are. he's careful. ugetsu thinks he's probably well versed in this having had to take care of himself for so long, and that ugetsu himself is reaping the benefits is sort of bittersweet. he knows he doesn't deserve it but he's also the kind of person to keep taking what's offered.
eventually, he'll fuck things up. that's almost a certainty.
but for now he has the privilege of mars and the much preferred personal first aid over any hospital. the cautious but deliberate touch to the back of his head hurts but of course it hurts. ugetsu's languid smile doesn't budge as his eyes flit up and he considers the question. ]
One and a half?
[ mars almost looks like a time lapse. ugetsu can hear the music that would play and it has nothing to do with what they're doing right now so much as the particular curves of mars' eyes and the soft set of his mouth, the sort of sad fear he remembers from when he stayed in his apartment, and this even quieter resilience that manages to care about people who haven't ever earned it. it doesn't say enough to call a song that belongs to someone sad or happy or lost or found.
if mars had a song, ugetsu thinks it would trill well under his fingertips and the fine clear cadenzas would ferry in different weather the way the sky does: blue days are clear knowing they won't always be.
how lucky, ugetsu thinks, to meet a day aware of himself. ]
But I know there's only one of you, so that counts, I think.
[ medical experts say: no.
ugetsu: does not care.
viola: has taken up camp on just the bare edge of ugetsu's palm, her tail flopped along the instep of his wrist. ]
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no subject
it's fine. it'll be fine.
very carefully, he lowers ugetsu onto his bed after pulling the covers back. he quickly fetches a towel to slide under his head, then scoops viola off the floor to set her down beside ugetsu, where she explores the blankets before climbing up ugetsu's leg. ]
I'm just gonna clean you up a little. This is gonna sting.
[ mars is busy with the first aid kit, pulling out cotton pads and some gauze. he's cleaned up his own cuts and bruises enough times that it doesn't bother him, but he's still gentle as he dabs a cotton ball soaked with alcohol against the cuts on ugetsu's face. they'll heal, though there might be a bit of scarring leftover. he's more concerned with the concussion, and he's even gentler when he slips some damp gauze behind ugetsu's head, cradling him carefully. ]
Do I look like one person or two? [ hopefully not more than two. ]
no subject
often he thinks he should feel anger; but privately he just feels sad. then he feels neither and smiles and waves and says thank you and life goes on. it's nothing.
the hand ugetsu turns palm up is a gentle offer for viola who noses his palm before turning in two circles and experimentally pressing her paws just against the bedding next to his hand. he smiles and it turns into a flinching wince nearer the end of when mars is tending his face. but he blinks and ignores it otherwise, much more fascinated by how gentle mars' hands are. he's careful. ugetsu thinks he's probably well versed in this having had to take care of himself for so long, and that ugetsu himself is reaping the benefits is sort of bittersweet. he knows he doesn't deserve it but he's also the kind of person to keep taking what's offered.
eventually, he'll fuck things up. that's almost a certainty.
but for now he has the privilege of mars and the much preferred personal first aid over any hospital. the cautious but deliberate touch to the back of his head hurts but of course it hurts. ugetsu's languid smile doesn't budge as his eyes flit up and he considers the question. ]
One and a half?
[ mars almost looks like a time lapse. ugetsu can hear the music that would play and it has nothing to do with what they're doing right now so much as the particular curves of mars' eyes and the soft set of his mouth, the sort of sad fear he remembers from when he stayed in his apartment, and this even quieter resilience that manages to care about people who haven't ever earned it. it doesn't say enough to call a song that belongs to someone sad or happy or lost or found.
if mars had a song, ugetsu thinks it would trill well under his fingertips and the fine clear cadenzas would ferry in different weather the way the sky does: blue days are clear knowing they won't always be.
how lucky, ugetsu thinks, to meet a day aware of himself. ]
But I know there's only one of you, so that counts, I think.
[ medical experts say: no.
ugetsu: does not care.
viola: has taken up camp on just the bare edge of ugetsu's palm, her tail flopped along the instep of his wrist. ]