When Fuuma looks at Kamui, all he thinks of is glass.
Looking at Kamui is like looking through a glass ornament, sculpted and crafted, each line and curve meaning something. It really doesn't take much to reach forward and wrap firm fingers around a thin wrist, smile as Kamui scowls and tries to jerk away.
It wouldn't take much to snap his hand off, right there and then.
Of course Kamui is easily broken. All that confusion and emotion that's blurring Fuuma's image into Fuuma, making him what Kamui wants him to be. In that way, Kamui breaks himself. Because when Fuuma says things that hit directly into Kamui's heart as Fuuma, he can see things shatter behind those purple eyes.
But he supposes that Kamui is also strong, in a way. The fact that he still refuses to shift under all the weight, the way in which he presses his lips together, chin jutting out slightly when he has decided on something. A form of protection, perhaps. Like a window pane against rain.
Glass. Not crystal, because he's not that delicate and he's not worth that much. Somewhat durable. Easily breakable.
Also, very transparent.
end