[ right now, to likely both of their mutual shock, toji is holding cain like he's made of glass, like he isn't painfully aware that cain's made of the same mangled stuff that he is. scar tissue and knotted, splintered bone bound back together with nothing more than spite and grim determination. he snarls softly, a low rumble deep in the back of his throat, and he pulls cain's hips up to seat him against his lap like he's weightless, like they're in space and he's an irresistible force. ]

You gonna make me waste my breath answering that? If you're eating more now and still losing weight, we got other problems.

[ but problems for later, another time, when it doesn't feel so much like his skin might blister and peel from a lack of having cain against him. his lips wander to cain's jawline, teeth raking over his throat, peeling his shirt from him in inches. but he pauses as the thought strangely, jarringly occurs him to ask— ]

...you want me?