That's an interpretation he likes, too. There's something he finds agreeable about choosing to be overpowered by something gentle enough to be worth it.
"It's... complicated." Not the explanation, the song itself.
"There're a lot of emotions in it that other songs or poems often try to make out as simple, but they're not. They're tied up together and they continue when they shouldn't. They're messy, but the song isn't."
"It's why I've never liked love songs. The real thing shouldn't be simple. I'm not even sure real love should make any kind of sense."
He is, of course, an outsider looking in, but he's never bought the glitzy, sugary storefront window version of love. Nothing that can break people so thoroughly and so easily could possibly be summed up the way sonnets imply.
"There's a line in one of the verses," K starts, almost hesitant, but he's watching Jesus and Jesus has always wanted to hear what he has to say before.
He watches, and the moment he sees any concern - or doubt, or disgust - start, he'll stop.
"All I've ever learned from love is how to shoot somebody who outdrew you. And I know most people have heard that as love being vicious, as having to get in the first shot before someone else can hurt you, but the pronoun says you. Like maybe even if something hurts in the end, that love carries over and makes you want to defend them from others anyway, but it's also the other. It's complicated."
It's that gaze, something he sees there, that makes him glance down for a moment; it would have made him smile, before the blade runner, before he was retired for a second time, and rose again from it.
He's aware now, though, of a faint twist in it, like maybe he's lying, like he's deceiving Jesus somehow. He watches his thumbnail, rubbing a fingertip over it.
"I know I haven't - felt that. Love, not really. But sometimes when I listened to that song it seemed familiar anyway."
"I've never been in love either." Platonically he's loved people yes, many people. People he would kill for. People he did die for in the end. But not the sort of love that leads to giving up your supernatural powers and your throne.
"In that song you hear about wanting to defend someone even if you've been hurt, though. I like that about you."
He nods, quirks his lips again when he looks up even though it fades again as his smiles are wont to do. He's not surprised Jesus noticed - he's perceptive - but it's not anything he wants to talk about even here.
And, genuinely, he is tired even though it takes a lot for him to admit to that part of it.
K follows him, and as soon as they're outside he pulls a cigarette out of the tin in his pocket and lights it up. He gives himself the time it takes to smoke it down to nothing before he says anything else, walking alongside Jesus and both smoothing the wrinkles out of his own mood and steeling himself to admit what he knows he needs to regardless of the consequences.
"I - didn't make quota," he offers, quietly, when it comes to choosing which direction they'll go: towards Jesus's apartment, towards K's, or separate. "One of the messages on my phone is to report to the SLUT center for injection, or I'll be taken there anyway."
He looks up at him, troubled but quiet. They cross the street toward K's apartment. "It might feel like the aphrodisiac we tried," he offers. He hopes it won't hurt. It's awful enough on its own without being painful. "What are you thinking about it?"
He wants to shrug, wants to refuse to take responsibility for having an answer like real people do sometimes, but that's not an option for him.
"I haven't been, but - if it's not like that, I don't know what it'll be like. And I'd understand if you'd rather not be around me until we know for sure either way."
Even on a normal day, but he'd also seen the way Jesus held himself decidedly separate instead of simply not thinking of being closer.
They're at a corner but he stops them in a more decided way, turning to face K directly. "I don't want anything that happens between us to be for any reason except we want it. As much as we have any say on that." Because he likes K in a way that borders on the old world, and he's afraid of muddying that in any way.
"But I'd rather be there for you however you want me to be."
As a rule, K doesn't show much emotion in his expression, ever; but for just a moment when Jesus stops them here, when he takes the time to look directly at him - furthermore when he looks at him like that, there's a moment when the look in K's eyes fractures open just enough. He has absolutely no idea what to do with that offer now if he ever did, no idea if it would be better - for both of them, for Jesus - to ask him to stay, to ask him to go, to leave the choice in his hands. No hope in this moment of ever knowing, because they don't have a say in it, and he's certain that if they did have a say this wouldn't be an issue. Replicants don't have a place with humans. Not as equals.
But that's not true either and he knows that every bit as confidently as he does the other; for the first time since Joshi told him to erase all evidence of a miracle he wishes desperately that someone would just tell him what to do, and it shows in the way he looks back at Jesus before he shuts it down and pushes it all away.
Dreadfully distinct. "Okay," is what he says even though it doesn't mean anything, even though it's just a noise his mouth makes while he draws himself up straight again.
"You don't have to decide what you want right now." The tiniest smile. He holds up his device. "I have a phone. I'm a light sleeper. You can call me whenever you want. Even if it's just to listen to Elvis."
The light changes and they have to go, but not before he murmurs, "I'm sorry this is happening."
It's not Jesus's fault. It's not even really K's fault. He thinks about that while they cross the street, as they take a turn away from the few other people on the street and the way they're going.
This is how long it takes him to make any kind of decision, even though it's not a very good one as far as decisions go. Not very decisive. All the same he reaches out to touch Jesus's wrist, and comes to a stop.
"Yeah," he says, and doesn't say Anything you want, because he's not that naive. But there's not much he'd say 'no' to with K's expression still fresh in his mind.
He's not looking for the limits of what Jesus will allow him to do anyway, but very earnestly asking permission. It's a little unfair, he thinks, but replicants aren't the only ones that use visual cues. Humans do it too, so it's not so dishonest after all.
He studies Jesus a moment, memorizing all the little tells at the corners of his eyes and mouth, the set of his jaw and the crease of his brow. Then, his touch is light as it had been on his wrist, he reaches up to the corner of Jesus's jaw until his face just enough to kiss him.
It's not a deep kiss, but it's not light either, and he doesn't rush. He needs a good solid few moments to feel whatever he's going to feel, to feel the way Jesus reacts to him.
And when he steps back, he studies Jesus's face again, long and steady and deep, looking for anything that's changed. Looking for anything that tells him that Jesus would rather he goes, or ask to be left alone.
He returns the kiss, taking his time with it, enjoying it despite not knowing what K is looking for in it. His smile is a little quizzical when K looks at him, but there's pleasure in it, too. Even a little relief.
"Was that all you wanted to try?" A little mischief in his smile now. "Or do you need to try it again?"
K doesn't smile back but, bit by bit, his eyes soften to something very similar. Both hands are at his side again and he considers reaching for Jesus's hand again but doesn't, not quite yet.
Jesus is teasing but K owes him an explanation so what he says is, "You went through something difficult. So did I. We face more difficult things, and there's a lot I don't know how to talk about. I just... Needed to check in."
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"Is that okay? You like that one?"
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He likes the theme, he likes the tempo. He'll be able to pick up the song easily if he can find a guitar.
"Why did you pick it?"
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"There're a lot of emotions in it that other songs or poems often try to make out as simple, but they're not. They're tied up together and they continue when they shouldn't. They're messy, but the song isn't."
Anything real should be a mess.
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He is, of course, an outsider looking in, but he's never bought the glitzy, sugary storefront window version of love. Nothing that can break people so thoroughly and so easily could possibly be summed up the way sonnets imply.
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He watches, and the moment he sees any concern - or doubt, or disgust - start, he'll stop.
"All I've ever learned from love is how to shoot somebody who outdrew you. And I know most people have heard that as love being vicious, as having to get in the first shot before someone else can hurt you, but the pronoun says you. Like maybe even if something hurts in the end, that love carries over and makes you want to defend them from others anyway, but it's also the other. It's complicated."
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"Any good song should be complicated," he murmurs, but he's watching K, smiling softly.
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He's aware now, though, of a faint twist in it, like maybe he's lying, like he's deceiving Jesus somehow. He watches his thumbnail, rubbing a fingertip over it.
"I know I haven't - felt that. Love, not really. But sometimes when I listened to that song it seemed familiar anyway."
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"In that song you hear about wanting to defend someone even if you've been hurt, though. I like that about you."
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It's just harder to know how to settle that on his own shoulders, on reconciling that with who - with what he knows he is.
He glances up again and asks, "How long did you want to stay here?"
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He's not just asking about K's recovery, but about that quiet before K asked.
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And, genuinely, he is tired even though it takes a lot for him to admit to that part of it.
"I don't want to rush you."
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"I - didn't make quota," he offers, quietly, when it comes to choosing which direction they'll go: towards Jesus's apartment, towards K's, or separate. "One of the messages on my phone is to report to the SLUT center for injection, or I'll be taken there anyway."
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"I haven't been, but - if it's not like that, I don't know what it'll be like. And I'd understand if you'd rather not be around me until we know for sure either way."
Even on a normal day, but he'd also seen the way Jesus held himself decidedly separate instead of simply not thinking of being closer.
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"But I'd rather be there for you however you want me to be."
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But that's not true either and he knows that every bit as confidently as he does the other; for the first time since Joshi told him to erase all evidence of a miracle he wishes desperately that someone would just tell him what to do, and it shows in the way he looks back at Jesus before he shuts it down and pushes it all away.
Dreadfully distinct. "Okay," is what he says even though it doesn't mean anything, even though it's just a noise his mouth makes while he draws himself up straight again.
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The light changes and they have to go, but not before he murmurs, "I'm sorry this is happening."
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This is how long it takes him to make any kind of decision, even though it's not a very good one as far as decisions go. Not very decisive. All the same he reaches out to touch Jesus's wrist, and comes to a stop.
"May I try something?" he asks, low.
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He studies Jesus a moment, memorizing all the little tells at the corners of his eyes and mouth, the set of his jaw and the crease of his brow. Then, his touch is light as it had been on his wrist, he reaches up to the corner of Jesus's jaw until his face just enough to kiss him.
It's not a deep kiss, but it's not light either, and he doesn't rush. He needs a good solid few moments to feel whatever he's going to feel, to feel the way Jesus reacts to him.
And when he steps back, he studies Jesus's face again, long and steady and deep, looking for anything that's changed. Looking for anything that tells him that Jesus would rather he goes, or ask to be left alone.
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"Was that all you wanted to try?" A little mischief in his smile now. "Or do you need to try it again?"
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Jesus is teasing but K owes him an explanation so what he says is, "You went through something difficult. So did I. We face more difficult things, and there's a lot I don't know how to talk about. I just... Needed to check in."
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"Yes," he says, and lets Jesus close the difference still but once he does K relaxes into it, too.
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