Kassian frowned, slowly, and followed Isaev's gaze toward Aryol, who was smiling and looking at Vitya.
Aryol looked happy, Kassian thought. He smiled so easily, like it was effortless, like doing it cost him nothing.
Kassian turned back to Isaev. He'd heard a particular low, chilly note in Isaev's voice, the one that usually preceded him pulling away in some way, distancing himself from Kassian.
Kassian had come to regard that note with a bit of dread.
It hurt when Isaev retreated from him, especially when it was so hard to understand what he'd done to trigger it.
He searched the winter-grey of Isaev's eyes with a slow and steady look, searching carefully.
"I don't know if it's true or not. But I do know he's a different person," Kassian said. "I am who I am because of the war, and because of my father, and a lot of different things. His experiences aren't the same."
He paused, then reached out to brush the lightest of thumbstrokes across Isaev's hand, like he'd done the very first day they'd met.
The touch was careful, cautious, a testing of the waters, trying to tell where Isaev stood with this. For Isaev to affirm it in one breath and deny it the next meant there was something that had turned cold in the space of a moment, and had caused warm waters to chill.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-08-28 07:49 am (UTC)Aryol looked happy, Kassian thought. He smiled so easily, like it was effortless, like doing it cost him nothing.
Kassian turned back to Isaev. He'd heard a particular low, chilly note in Isaev's voice, the one that usually preceded him pulling away in some way, distancing himself from Kassian.
Kassian had come to regard that note with a bit of dread.
It hurt when Isaev retreated from him, especially when it was so hard to understand what he'd done to trigger it.
He searched the winter-grey of Isaev's eyes with a slow and steady look, searching carefully.
"I don't know if it's true or not. But I do know he's a different person," Kassian said. "I am who I am because of the war, and because of my father, and a lot of different things. His experiences aren't the same."
He paused, then reached out to brush the lightest of thumbstrokes across Isaev's hand, like he'd done the very first day they'd met.
The touch was careful, cautious, a testing of the waters, trying to tell where Isaev stood with this. For Isaev to affirm it in one breath and deny it the next meant there was something that had turned cold in the space of a moment, and had caused warm waters to chill.