Oh my, now I can’t speak
There’s nothing to say, I guess I’m out of words
Yes I cried
White lies, is all you preach
There’s nothing to ask, I’ve picked up your pattern
And people start to walk away
Because no matter what I seem to stay
And I have all of these answers except for why
Why haven’t I left
Why I am I a mess
Why am I holding onto a love that doesn’t exist
Why am I stressed
Why can’t I rest
Why did I let you put my heart under arrest
He observes Tetsurou’s dark circles when he comes home from work every night, in turn kissing them all, a silent “i’m glad to be home”. Tetsurou never complains, though. He loves teaching little kids about chemistry and physics and the secrets of the universe. But Kenma knows he likes it best when he’s wearing a pair of ratty old sweats, eating popcorn and laughing at really bad movies with the rest of them. And he always brings back leftover candy from school.
He observes Keiji’s mouth, a slight droop of lips indicating his discomfort at having to work overtime at the hospital. Keiji never complains, though. He loves helping people. But Kenma knows he likes it best when he’s at home, absorbed in a good book, his head on one of their laps, enjoying one of the quieter moments with the rest of them. And he always brings back flowers that remind him of them.
He observes Koutarou from a distance, a star shining almost too bright to look at directly. But he sees the sagging of his shoulders, an indication of self doubt and dejection. Koutarou doesn’t complain about it, though. He loves playing volleyball and he knows his students look up to their coach, a figure of strength and resilience. But Kenma knows that no matter how spirited Koutarou might appear to his students, he likes it best when he is sitting under the blankets with the rest of them, late at night, talking about the latest ghost story he’s heard from his students, an act that always always leads to cuddling. And he always hugs them all so hard, lifting them off their feet and planting a kiss with a plop on their cheeks.
Where does Kenma find himself in this equation? How does he show his love, when he can’t even say the words “i love you”? Maybe he doesn’t have to.
I just read this book, Song of Achilles, and oh my lordy it was SO GOOD, guys, so. frikkin. good. It’s basically a retelling of the Iliad with 1000% more Achilles and it’s WONDERFUL. Excellent characters, beautiful writing, and you can tell the author knows her subject backwards and forwards but it never, ever feels fact-dumpy - it just feels like you’re within ancient Greek culture which is SO AWESOME. Go! Read it! Although be warned! It will also make you want to rip your heart out through your spleen and then cry a lot!