"I could walk on my arms, byon," Ken mutters, but he's not really fighting Chikusa on it. He seems almost relieved when Chikusa drapes him over his back, burying his face against the back of Chikusa's neck.
He'd hated every second of his imprisonment. Mostly he'd been angry and in pain, with no room for fear. But when he'd been alone, with nothing else to do or think about...he'd been scared. A lot of it had felt like their days with the Estraneo, although the Estraneo had been experimenting on them, not just torturing them. But, at the time, he'd been too young to really appreciate what their family had been doing to them. To him it had boiled down to his being restrained and hurt by people who didn't care if it hurt, maybe wanted it to hurt, and him not being able to get away. He knows the Corvi weren't experimenting on him, but in a practical sense, it had all been uncomfortably familiar. He'd felt small and helpless again. A lot of his fighting and his violence hadn't been against the Corvi; it had been his rebellion against the feeling that, even bigger and stronger, he still couldn't do anything. The people he'd managed to hurt or kill, the looks of fear on the faces of his tormentors - they'd been tiny fragments of reassurance that no, it wasn't all the same.
The best antidote to fear and insecurity, for Ken, has always been things that are warm and familiar and safe. Chikusa is all of that, and the smell of him while Ken is hurting and helpless relaxes him right down to his broken bones. Even with the pain, he could almost go to sleep like this.
Between simply breathing in Chikusa's scent and being generally exhausted, he almost does. It's certainly the reason why it takes him so long to notice something off with Chikusa, even with his heightened senses. But after almost a full minute, he stirs against Chikusa's back slightly. "...Kakipi?"
no subject
He'd hated every second of his imprisonment. Mostly he'd been angry and in pain, with no room for fear. But when he'd been alone, with nothing else to do or think about...he'd been scared. A lot of it had felt like their days with the Estraneo, although the Estraneo had been experimenting on them, not just torturing them. But, at the time, he'd been too young to really appreciate what their family had been doing to them. To him it had boiled down to his being restrained and hurt by people who didn't care if it hurt, maybe wanted it to hurt, and him not being able to get away. He knows the Corvi weren't experimenting on him, but in a practical sense, it had all been uncomfortably familiar. He'd felt small and helpless again. A lot of his fighting and his violence hadn't been against the Corvi; it had been his rebellion against the feeling that, even bigger and stronger, he still couldn't do anything. The people he'd managed to hurt or kill, the looks of fear on the faces of his tormentors - they'd been tiny fragments of reassurance that no, it wasn't all the same.
The best antidote to fear and insecurity, for Ken, has always been things that are warm and familiar and safe. Chikusa is all of that, and the smell of him while Ken is hurting and helpless relaxes him right down to his broken bones. Even with the pain, he could almost go to sleep like this.
Between simply breathing in Chikusa's scent and being generally exhausted, he almost does. It's certainly the reason why it takes him so long to notice something off with Chikusa, even with his heightened senses. But after almost a full minute, he stirs against Chikusa's back slightly. "...Kakipi?"