[ Gino smoothes the free sheet over the bed before he starts slipping the pillowcases on. It's mundane, making the bed, but it fills him with a kind of content happiness he hasn't had in a long time. Just the small things of home life. It makes him think of his family, before everything fell apart. Of sunlight filtering into his bedroom in the morning, Masaoka sitting on the edge of his bed and gently waking him for breakfast, big hand ruffling through his hair. He thinks of his mother, how she'd tuck him in tightly, sheets pulled all the way up to his chin before she gently pinched his nose and kissed him goodnight.
They're bittersweet memories, looking back. But he holds them close all the same.
And this, between he and Kogami, it's a step in that direction. A permanence, signified in a piece of furniture.
There's a ruffling sound as he unfurls the blanket, snapping his wrists to make sure it laid without as many creases. ]
Why wouldn't I? It really does look nice. [ He brushes out the wrinkle on the corner before stepping back to admire the work. Nothing fancy– he'll spruce it up over time– but it's theirs. ]
I'll have more of a reason to stay, if that's what you're asking. [ Gino slides his glance to Kogami, smile light. ]
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They're bittersweet memories, looking back. But he holds them close all the same.
And this, between he and Kogami, it's a step in that direction. A permanence, signified in a piece of furniture.
There's a ruffling sound as he unfurls the blanket, snapping his wrists to make sure it laid without as many creases. ]
Why wouldn't I? It really does look nice. [ He brushes out the wrinkle on the corner before stepping back to admire the work. Nothing fancy– he'll spruce it up over time– but it's theirs. ]
I'll have more of a reason to stay, if that's what you're asking. [ Gino slides his glance to Kogami, smile light. ]