[it's the thumb across his knuckles that gets him. not because he didn't think Rom capable of such tender affections, but because-- it is different. far more different than Edamura's defensive roughhousing from the past three weeks. something flutters lightly in his chest as he glances down in turn, as he watches that thumb return to its original position after its brave excursion forward. . . while quietly wishing it would try again]

[. . . one breath in. then two. he looks up afterwards, catching Rom's gaze with his own. it's not on purpose, but the sheer timing of it all sends his pulse skittering]

. . . I don't want any of that.

[he isn't meant to have fame. he is far too ordinary for that. fortune? nah. . . he still has a pretty solid stash of money back home from the cons he pulled off. a comfortable life. . . would bore him, if he is being honest, and he knows it. political power? fuck no. and the coffee shop--?]

[-- that's the only tempting option. and even then, he thinks he'd want to build it from the ground up himself. and certainly not now.]

[Rom squeezes his fingers, and Edamura returns the gesture in kind, holding on just a little bit too tightly. it's hard not to, with how his heart feels like it might lodge itself into his throat any second now]

So. . . if Yingying will have it, I'll use my wish on her. [. . .] If someone else doesn't first.

And if someone does, then-- [a helpless little laugh] I'll just find someone else who needs it.

[. . .]

[though he thinks he may have already]