predilection: a mind of affection
this! because rin_aokuro asked me a couple of questions about yokoo and iida's backstory, and my super tl;dr 1.3k answer reminded me kind of juuust how much i'd actually hashed out during the writing of the main story... so! ★ if you haven't already seen it, you should take a look at her memories of you. ♥ it is set after the main story, and the sweetest little watchtower fic... ;0; (thank you again!)
and now! backstory. iida. yokoo. HOW IT HAPPENED. let's start off slow. i should never, ever, ever say that. um, well...
( predilection: a mind of affection )→500w; iida, yokoo.
Iida liked to watch Yokoo code.
It was by no means a confession he’d ever made aloud-there’d be no end to the teasing if Fujigaya (or, worse, Kawai) got wind of it-but watching was something he indulged in anyway, when he and Yokoo were out and moving around; when it was his turn to stand guard and make sure they kept ahead of the government dogs.
Yokoo had a certain set to his mouth when he was concentrating: an almost-pout that was almost cute, entirely subconscious and unlearned, active offline even while he was logged on. His thin lips would tug sometimes, or twitch, when one scenario or other caused him displeasure, and it amused Iida to catch these little tics and cues. On occasion, he could even guess when his presence would be required online before Yokoo logged off and demanded it for real.
It could be said that Iida liked watching Yokoo, period. Yokoo was the older of them but behaved with an exuberance that Iida’d never had, a kind of free-spirited selfishness only found in those rare youngest children the Capital over. It made Iida smile (and wince inside occasionally, but that only more rarely than not).
Sometimes, those times Yokoo was online and Iida was off, watching, when the Chasers were quiet and things didn’t look like they were going to change for a while; sometimes then Iida thought a bit about what might or could maybe be if he were just as free-spirited as Yokoo, and potentially as selfish. What if he could just demand, in Yokoo’s easy, unrefusable way, something a little more than what they had...?
He couldn’t, though.
(Which was one of the reasons the two of them got along in the first place...)
And so Iida would sit opposite Yokoo in whatever alcove or warehouse they happened to be in then, and watch, and wonder if things would ever change; wonder how far that gap between them was in terms of distance and days.
It was beyond the bounds of possibility to bridge from one side alone.
Sure, Iida could reach over, maybe, if he felt like dying a bit inside, and touch Yokoo’s face perhaps; brush a thumb over that dimple beside Yokoo’s crooked little pout and pursed lips. In that sense there was nothing between them at all. But Yokoo like any sensible person had trips and wires active, alarms that would trigger as soon as real world contact was made-for any reason.
And Iida knew exactly where those boundaries lay: he and Yokoo had coded them together from scratch after all, and Iida activated the very same ones each time he went online himself.
And so he kept where he was, watching, and never raised any red flags; never pulled Yokoo offline any earlier than he had to or was supposed to.
Those bounds were what they had coded, after all, what they had decided upon... and in another sense nothing Iida wanted to destroy either.
and now! backstory. iida. yokoo. HOW IT HAPPENED. let's start off slow. i should never, ever, ever say that. um, well...
( predilection: a mind of affection )→500w; iida, yokoo.
Iida liked to watch Yokoo code.
It was by no means a confession he’d ever made aloud-there’d be no end to the teasing if Fujigaya (or, worse, Kawai) got wind of it-but watching was something he indulged in anyway, when he and Yokoo were out and moving around; when it was his turn to stand guard and make sure they kept ahead of the government dogs.
Yokoo had a certain set to his mouth when he was concentrating: an almost-pout that was almost cute, entirely subconscious and unlearned, active offline even while he was logged on. His thin lips would tug sometimes, or twitch, when one scenario or other caused him displeasure, and it amused Iida to catch these little tics and cues. On occasion, he could even guess when his presence would be required online before Yokoo logged off and demanded it for real.
It could be said that Iida liked watching Yokoo, period. Yokoo was the older of them but behaved with an exuberance that Iida’d never had, a kind of free-spirited selfishness only found in those rare youngest children the Capital over. It made Iida smile (and wince inside occasionally, but that only more rarely than not).
Sometimes, those times Yokoo was online and Iida was off, watching, when the Chasers were quiet and things didn’t look like they were going to change for a while; sometimes then Iida thought a bit about what might or could maybe be if he were just as free-spirited as Yokoo, and potentially as selfish. What if he could just demand, in Yokoo’s easy, unrefusable way, something a little more than what they had...?
He couldn’t, though.
(Which was one of the reasons the two of them got along in the first place...)
And so Iida would sit opposite Yokoo in whatever alcove or warehouse they happened to be in then, and watch, and wonder if things would ever change; wonder how far that gap between them was in terms of distance and days.
It was beyond the bounds of possibility to bridge from one side alone.
Sure, Iida could reach over, maybe, if he felt like dying a bit inside, and touch Yokoo’s face perhaps; brush a thumb over that dimple beside Yokoo’s crooked little pout and pursed lips. In that sense there was nothing between them at all. But Yokoo like any sensible person had trips and wires active, alarms that would trigger as soon as real world contact was made-for any reason.
And Iida knew exactly where those boundaries lay: he and Yokoo had coded them together from scratch after all, and Iida activated the very same ones each time he went online himself.
And so he kept where he was, watching, and never raised any red flags; never pulled Yokoo offline any earlier than he had to or was supposed to.
Those bounds were what they had coded, after all, what they had decided upon... and in another sense nothing Iida wanted to destroy either.