[That initial press of resistance is almost cursory, an acknowledgement of a barrier that Stephen had already made the choice to do away with. That they both had. Takeshi lets the ghost of it haunt between them for a moment, before he takes that curled fist and loosens it, pulls it up to his neck, gentle but firm prompt to hold onto him fully. Let him be steady while Stephen wasn't. Couldn't be.
There's alarm for that, of course. Confusion. Concern. Doubt, even, for his ability to handle this, to be what Stephen needed. That he'd never seen Stephen like this didn't mean that Stephen never was, but the thought occurs that he may never have let himself be. That it was being with Takeshi that allowed it. It's humbling. Terrifying. It only makes him hold Stephen a little tighter.
He guides them to the bed, when there's enough give in Stephen's frame to allow it. Keeps him held close, sat on the edge. Waiting for the worst to pass.]
no subject
There's alarm for that, of course. Confusion. Concern. Doubt, even, for his ability to handle this, to be what Stephen needed. That he'd never seen Stephen like this didn't mean that Stephen never was, but the thought occurs that he may never have let himself be. That it was being with Takeshi that allowed it. It's humbling. Terrifying. It only makes him hold Stephen a little tighter.
He guides them to the bed, when there's enough give in Stephen's frame to allow it. Keeps him held close, sat on the edge. Waiting for the worst to pass.]