ic contact

[acknowledges]

Taco Salad is not happy to help you. Taco Salad hungers for justice, and for a bite of whatever you're eating.

Comments

[sediments]

[ It is an unusual type of embrace. Bolin has never been afraid of contact, especially once he understands someone to be his friend. It's an expression of closeness; an admission of emotion without words. He's never held Korra, Asami, or - he can't even imagine this - Mako while lying in bed. Though if he'd ever needed him to, he would. It's unusual and different, but it's not weird or unnatural. If this is how his friendship with Naruto is going to be, then that's all there is to it.

Bolin's existence itself might not be outside the norm, but he doesn't bother restricting himself or analyze his actions by some standard of "normal". (Doesn't bother to think or reflect at all, really.) He cherishes relationships for what they are, the closer the better.

He likes feeling close to someone. ]

A big garden? Where are you going to do that? [ His tone is light as his contentment wavers, remembering strongly the garden that Adrasteius had been so intent on—remembers napping in that garden sometimes after training.

He picks back up, excited at the prospect of something that would make Sakura and Naruto happy. ]

I'll help. Are you getting a house after all?

[acknowledges]

[There are little lines in his face now, from the creases of the sheets pressed into his skin and the strange fold they're making- tucked into one another. It doesn't occur to Naruto, in this moment, that this is the kind of embrace he'd been wanting for years- this full bodied awareness of another person. The sense of safety, of being understood, of not being for anything. All his life he's been trying to grow- to outgrow the boy he'd been, to outgrow his shortcomings and the things he couldn't do or understand. He's always been trying to be more. More for the village and for his team and for Sakura-chan and for Sasuke and for his sensei and for his mentor and for everyone but himself.

It won't occur to him that this purely selfish moment had been something special until long after its over. Maybe until he's climbing in bed for the night and smells Bolin's shampoo on the pillow.

He pulls back slow, because he thinks abstractly, that he's supposed to.]

I don't really know that part yet, and I still don't think I'm gonna get a house. But I think it'll be fun to work on something like that. When I was younger I always thought it'd be kinda nice to garden with somebody else.