[ raphael doesn't tense when their shoulders touch, but he does swallow, like he needs to give himself something to do beisdes think about the contact. he's not usually like this. this, whatever he's neglecting to call it, is rare and for the most part unexplored, and he can't help but feel a little on edge because of it all.
he presses onward, hesitating only a second when justin offers him the book, another gesture that takes this concept of sharing to yet another level. he glances subtly at justin again, just a slide of his eyes, before flipping through the pages of the book in front of him. his immediate instinct is to tease justin for drawing so many people in secret—he assumes most of these subjects were unaware—but instead, he says nothing, thoughts going quiet upon finding his own face sketched out among the rest.
he supposes it's not completely unexpected. they do see a lot of each other, and apparently justin takes inspiration from all around him. raphael's just about convinced himself to think nothing of it when he finds the second drawing.
it's strange to find himself smiling, and maybe that in turn should be strange. he's not aware of himself looking like that—pleased, open—often, can hardly remember the last time he would have seen himself looking like that in a reflective surface. justin has seen it, though, and he's chosen to lay it out like this, make it something permanent and tangible rather than fleeting.
raphael swallows again. ]
Am I really such an important part of your life? [ he asks, and it's a joke, because raphael is the one reoccurring image in the pages of justin's "life," but it's also... not a joke. it's a question he'd very much like to know the answer to. the words are directed at the book in his hands, but once he's said them he turns his head to look at justin again, expression unreadable. he's not sure what he wants his face to say. ]
no subject
he presses onward, hesitating only a second when justin offers him the book, another gesture that takes this concept of sharing to yet another level. he glances subtly at justin again, just a slide of his eyes, before flipping through the pages of the book in front of him. his immediate instinct is to tease justin for drawing so many people in secret—he assumes most of these subjects were unaware—but instead, he says nothing, thoughts going quiet upon finding his own face sketched out among the rest.
he supposes it's not completely unexpected. they do see a lot of each other, and apparently justin takes inspiration from all around him. raphael's just about convinced himself to think nothing of it when he finds the second drawing.
it's strange to find himself smiling, and maybe that in turn should be strange. he's not aware of himself looking like that—pleased, open—often, can hardly remember the last time he would have seen himself looking like that in a reflective surface. justin has seen it, though, and he's chosen to lay it out like this, make it something permanent and tangible rather than fleeting.
raphael swallows again. ]
Am I really such an important part of your life? [ he asks, and it's a joke, because raphael is the one reoccurring image in the pages of justin's "life," but it's also... not a joke. it's a question he'd very much like to know the answer to. the words are directed at the book in his hands, but once he's said them he turns his head to look at justin again, expression unreadable. he's not sure what he wants his face to say. ]