[ Morning. It comes too quick, sunlight over clouds cutting like knives through the curtains of his second-floor window. It might've been the most successful night of sleep he's had in a while, what with no dreams to wrench him away from his comfort and over to a copper sink to splash water on his face.
In fact, he's so content with sleeping in a little later that when he rolls over to discover a certain someone he conveniently forgot wrapped in so many blankets that it's nigh impossible to see much aside from his strikingly attractive face, Kaoru just quietly accepts it. It's hard to recall why, but there must be a good reason, he thinks, ears folding back as he stares a little longer than usual. There's a strange something to the way he studies the slow rise and fall of Rei's chest... — like he's holding close to this selfish feeling of comfort since it won't last very long, this privilege of seeing something that most don't get a chance to see... of there being a shade of ( joy? maybe? this is weird, and new, ) satisfaction in knowing that everything in here smells like...
( like him, like the sweet-smelling yellow of a petal, and so — )
He dismisses it all as soon as he slides out of bed. There's too much to do in a day, and he expects Rei to wake up and come crawling out of his cave for food eventually. Right. Just give him some time. Give him some time and space and he'll come around.
And so he goes about his daily routine of tidying up the living space, hair tied back with something soft and elastic ( thank you neighborhood housewives for the advice and the freebie ). To him it's better to keep acting like everything is fine and normal given what they've been through lately, to keep piling on the distractions. People are counting on him, after all, no matter how tiring.
When evening rolls around, though, and he's home from running errands and entertaining during his late-night shift, it's a little concerning to hear... nothing. To sense nothing and no one around. It uproots his stable state of mind for a moment and a moment's more as he looks around for a familiar shape. Before the whole... event they went through just a week prior, it was common to find Rei sitting in an armchair, flipping through a text idly as if he'd been waiting for his return ( and for something to eat, naturally ).
But the only light that fills the kitchen and living area is silence.
Their housemates must be busy or asleep, too, huh...
Kaoru lets out a little ( disappointed? ) sigh as he treks up the stairs and into to his room, and it's only then that he finds what he's looking for... exactly where it was just this morning. ]
Sakuma-san? ... don't tell me you were sleeping in here all day long? I get that it's been pretty cold lately, but you've got a room of your own, right? Anyway... I was going to make us something, so I thought I'd... — hey, are you listening? Or like, awake at all?
[ Kaoru twirls a lock of hair impatiently, nervously even, because he's definitely being loud enough to get a response. It's not like Rei to ignore him either... but maybe he's just really, really tired? It's a thing with serpent-kind, he recalls from the signs and the special tables that've been setup at work, but that's got to be enough blankets for him to be okay, right? The silence must have followed him all the way up her, though. He breathes and there's nothing but a living silence trying to soak its way into his bones —
... and it's terrifying.
When he's close enough, he puts a hand on Rei's shoulder and starts shaking him lightly, the gold of his hair like a halo as he leans over. ]
he's a child again in the study though it's cold here, and the top of the bookshelves here hang over him even when he stretches out his arm on his toes. besides those books—the ones on the top seven or eight shelves, if he's counting rightly—he's read almost everything here, and out of some sense of procrastination he's reading over some books he's already done for something he must have missed. they have another room with more books than this, but his parents have guests over and he doesn't want to cross the gathering room to get there.
he hears the click of the door of the study lock, but he doesn't have time to spend on worrying. when morning comes, he can't read anymore. so he sits hunched over his book (one spread in his lap, some others piled beside him) with a candle beside him, his figure just next to the window, from which the moon shines vaguely in, and he rubs the back of his ankle with the broad of his foot as he reads. in truth, the room with the books is an even bigger one than this, and it isn't so comfortable: it's broad and gothic, with shelves of collected knowledge everywhere and too much space between the aisles. light doesn't travel very far in it, and sound is muffled by the embroidered carpets and maybe the cobwebs, too. you sink into the darkness there, and the windows face west, so dawn never finds you.
they (the children in the park) had told him not to return until he had their answers for them. he doesn't know what the question is, but if he keeps reading he'll find something useful. if he takes too long to come up with a solution, they'll forget they ever asked. the window shutters closed from the outside, and the clatter makes him jump; he looks to the door, then to the window, and can't see either in the dark. but he has his candle still, so he can keep reading, even if his skin feels a little cold from the nervous sweat.
if they forget they called for him, they won't invite him in. if they won't invite him in, he has to stay here, and his candle won't stay lit in this chill room forever.
regardless of kaoru's efforts, rei does not stir or wake up. when the shaking dies off, there's no rise of his chest, or contraction of muscle; he's limp, like a ragdoll, under all of his blankets. )
[ There's a peaceful emptiness in the way he settles Rei down against the embroidered case of the pillow he's been resting on, in the way that Kaoru's heart half-pulls, half-sinks at how cold and distant that shoulder feels. It's obvious things are off as he bites his lip and waits for a sign, for the deep shudder of a breath and a visible fang. But nothing changes no matter how long he holds his breath. The punishing quiet persists. His thoughts start running like a three-legged creature across snow, lurching and staggering as quick as they can in a search for what transpired the other night... for what he can do.
Serene, sleeping faces with their colors diluted to a deathly pallor — he's accustomed to it when he shouldn't be, and as arms fold across chest he can feel his own claws dragging against cloth until they pierce. Is he going to just keep waiting? To just keep waiting for the inevitable... again and again? First her, then him... and now... he should've known a few blankets weren't enough. He should've checked in more, should've wondered why he didn't feel the daily crossing of that emotional line — so many should haves and concerns when ultimately it might be too late.
The kind, the tender — they always go so quietly when he's useless to help them. If he were to kneel in the dark and speak his name a hundred times or more it might still not wake this lifeless body, he thinks and knows, because... because it's always been that way. Desperate. Hopeless.
( and maybe he's tired of surviving, of being alone and mostly fine but not at all ) ]
Please...
[ Don't shut away.
Don't leave him for the dark.
The faintest memory of what he might've said and felt is coming back. Rei's honest look of desperation... the first time he's ever seen it that close ( and let it not be the last ). A tremble of guilt runs down his back and into his lungs, and every gasping breath of what he wants to say comes out primal and hollow. It's a kind of heartache, this feeling he's embraced so many times before, a heartache that holds no solace, because every loss is just a gash in his heart.
But through each shaking breath, he realizes the only different between then and now...
— their Bond.
He's not sure it'll make a difference or not, but he's willing to try it, to try anything at this point to right things, to hear that low tone of voice and every whine that comes with it again. He folds back each comforter carefully, red transferring to cloth from hands that've gripped too tightly at himself in all his panic, and as leans over Rei's inanimate body to clasp a cold hand and press their foreheads together, he hopes with all his heart that the slight spark of magick is going to help. ]
( beneath the gravity of this foreign feeling, the room seems to sink around him, as if crushed beneath the weight of a great sigh. it's a heaviness that tears downward at his chest; his heart, a rock, sinking down, and his lungs gently crushed. this is the sort of sadness he doesn't know (not yet), but—no—he does know, he does know; the boy in his coffin, whose shape is twice his size.
the ceiling seems lower; coming lower, he thinks, and the books, those seven or eight shelves he couldn't reach, come lower, too, to the ground. should he collect them? his breathing comes ragged; he coughs sudden, inhaling jaggedly, and the shock blots out the candle. in the dark, sweat framing his hair wet around his face, he grips his book against his stomach and a hand against his chest. he's afraid, he's afraid of dying here, he thinks; but if he had to put a a truer name to it: he's afraid of loss.
perhaps it is better, then, to let the encroaching cold of the casket seize him, and deliver him to the cool rivers that lap against the shores in the land below the earth. maybe it's better to die here, his small body hunched over and trembling, and not a sound in the darkness but his harsh coughing alone.
and then there is warmth, and a sharp flash of fire.
ah, his forehead feels hot. he presses his fingers against it, and around him he sees— a field of dandelions blooming, the wind carrying wishes around him, into the coming dawn. )
... Kaoru... kun...?
( a faint voice, groggy, his vision unfocused and vague; but he had known this scent of tulips, he had known this familiar presence pulsing through their shared heart. he doesn't know why kaoru's here, or why their faces are so close, nor does he recognize, even, that they're so close at all; in his half-asleep state, everything seems natural, nonsensical, and well.
how wonderful it is that kaoru would greet him first thing in the morning. his fingers curl around kaoru's hand around his, seeking instinctive warmth. his body is still terribly cold ... but a degree or two warmer than it was several moments ago. )
[ His breath holds itself in his throat at first, captivated by disbelief and by the unpredictable return of life through the joy entwined in their hands, through the gentle notes playing in the space between their hearts.
It's a miracle, really, one he's only been able to achieve in this universe thus far, and oh — he's so lucky. So lucky for once, his useless tongue and trembling weight trying desperately to keep up with how that single phrase is making him feel.
Good morning.
His gratitude is crushing him. It's pushing hard against his clumsy heart, so glad to be free of that wild feeling of loss for once, so glad to be able to hear future hellos and how are yous that it's impossible to keep his expression neutral, ears flattening pathetically as his mouth opens and closes with everything he's struggling to say. There's a silent shake to each and every breath he's taking at this point, but —
Thank you. Thank you.
He chokes on a great hiccuping breath, unable to stop himself from being small and vulnerable in the face of someone who, even barely aware of what's going on, still looks up and into his wide, wet eyes like he's something good. ]
Good morning... Sakuma-san.
[ Boys don't cry, but maybe, just maybe, it's okay to think that someone will catch him if he stumbles. It's okay to let your tears fall like rain into the ocean when you're trying to swallow the leftover failure in the wake of such happiness. ]
No... no, I didn't. I...
Edited (sometimes... you just platonically say good morning to your friend in your own bed at 9PM) 2019-07-25 20:02 (UTC)
( it feels like morning, the way kaoru hangs over him, and, like a beast on a rock, he reclines into it; how warm it seems to feel. he has no particular excuse for this by way of transformation; kaoru has always been so naturally sunny, and he has this sort of breeze about him that clears away the clouds.
he is satisfied, until the churning of emotion laps against that early morning haze in his head, and then crashes over with a great grateful wetness, completely unlike rei's own simple thanks just moments earlier. it wakes him up much quicker when he settles his gaze on the glossy look in kaoru's eyes; that little swelling of tears; the faint raggedness of his breath.
this isn't sadness...? but it looks like it? but what is there for kaoru to be so happy about? ah, if only knowing how someone felt meant you understood it. to rei, it's all contradiction, and it's all uncharacteristic for kaoru at equilibrium. he tries—though with some effort—to push himself up half way, to get himself more alert, even if it doesn't fully work quite yet. )
Kaoru-kun...? Did something happen?
( tentatively, so tentatively, he reaches out to brush his fingers along the edge of kaoru's eye, catching kaoru's warm tears on his pale skin.
how gentle, like the rest of him. how delicate, too; kaoru wasn't the sort to show his worries to another, but rei had always had the sense he was the type of person easy to bruise. he only barely touches kaoru's skin with his fingertips, as if he's afraid to hurt him.
(but perhaps it's simply convenient to have someone fragile as kaoru around; how wonderful it is, to have an excuse to refrain from getting closer. if he were to reach out fully to comfort him, the way he had asked after kaoru last night, would kaoru reject him? rei doesn't have to know.)
—but he still, )
... Do you want to lie here with me?
( —but he still wants so badly to comfort him, the way he had the night of the full moon before last. he wants so badly to let kaoru press himself into his shoulder, and let the warmth of his shuddering breaths and the heat of his tears sink into his body, until it left kaoru try. even if he's afraid, even if he's afraid, he wants to try.
his palm presses soft again his cheek, almost as if cupping it, even if it's not quite. )
Not just a something, really — an everything, and the gentle, invading touch that wants to offer solace to his suffering is too sweet for how pathetic he's being. Too accommodating for how his soul's still shaking with every unreasonable breath. Too...
— forgiving. Since this is his fault, right? Again, he thinks, only this time he's able to watch the lily bloom after each tender petal of life has fallen and faded away. So... why isn't Rei more upset? Scold him. Tell him he was being stupid, that despite the past few weeks he should've been paying more attention, that he can deal with a little skinship and shared warmth if it means never going through this again.
It's a little frustrating, really, made even more so by the concern he sees in the red gazing straight up and into him. A red that's more dazzling than usual given the closeness, and for a moment the light of it startles him out of another sob. It's more captivating than he gives him credit for ( this someone who was glorified like a God ), and as his heart starts to slowly to patch up the sadness it feels like he might spiral down and into and against the unseen curves of each other if he isn't careful.
And that's... — he can't, not right now or ever, and so his gaze retreats to somewhere else, because it's better to run from thoughts he shouldn't have.
Kaoru squeezes the hand he's still trying to steal the cold from and then answers with one last shiver: ]
... yeah. I do.
[ Short and simple and child-like — it's all he can manage without another gasping breath, and luckily it doesn't take much to ensure that there's room for him in the bed next to Rei. He nestles in close and unspoken, head resting on the pillow and just tired from all the crying and comfort he doesn't deserve.
The one who deserves it is... still too worried. There's a dull, fading ache across the line, and with a frown Kaoru rolls over to lean an arm awkwardly against the rise and fall of Rei's chest, to press warmth against his side. ]
( maybe it's because night's come again that this feels a little like how ritsu would crawl into his bed when he had a nightmare (a daydream?), halfway to tears, slight and trembling. rei's expression softens - kaoru pressed against his side like something small, and teary at the edge of his vision. about him, rei tastes the scent of day.
ah.
rei had felt, instinctively, that he'd been asleep longer than usual - longer than even lately, when he'd been sleeping more than every night prior. but he has a sense of what the trouble is now as he comes to feel more awake - the shadows of a fresh night peering from behind the curtains. heat from a full day's sun radiates from kaoru's skin in pretty accent to his usual - and, lately, growing - warmth, and on rei's parted lips there settles the taste of salt; kaoru's hiccuping breaths, which scrape ragged against his throat in crooked vibrations. )
... It's warmer this way.
( he says, but his hand linger's in kaoru's for another moment, before he snakes around kaoru with his other arm. it's bolder than he might normally be, but the affectionate friction of kaoru's blood pumping through his skin hoists him stumbling forward - wrapping his arm around him and pulling him close against him.
ah, he feels like he could melt.
he isn't angry with kaoru, because kaoru hadn't known. he'd felt lonelier for it, and he'd felt stung - and he'd felt guilty for scaring him, and afraid of being tired of - so he hadn't persisted. maybe if he ever cared for himself more and others a little less, he'd have been much better off in so many ways - but kaoru isn't to blame for his bad habits; not when he can feel that ache, not when he'd heard how kaoru's voice trembled weak.
worse yet, though, worse yet - is how even in the face of that ache he still feels a little bubbling in his chest, over how kaoru would mourn for him, too. how wonderful it is, that he wouldn't be just another nameless grave in a person's heart. )
. . . It's all right. ( he takes kaoru's hand in his and presses it against his chest, palm against his heart beat. a steady rhythm; slow, but gaining ground. across the line there is a certain warmth - concern - an agape-like love. ) I'm all right. We're connected, now. I wouldn't go anywhere without you.
( a lofty promise, but a comforting one; and if it comforts kaoru, it's one he'll try to live by best he can. )
[ It's more alarming than he'd like to admit, that reciprocated touch, but he struggles against the presence that's gone and all memory if only to hold on for as long as he can ( even if a memory burns eternal like a candle, maybe it can be replaced, he thinks idly ).
He doesn't know how to say much else, mouth dry with how generous the beat is against his palm, with how easily Rei's words manage to sink into the bruised spaces of his heart to overtake the tide of melancholy and distress. There's a familiar feeling of peace and contentment here, Kaoru discovers, and very quickly realizes with the way his body leans in to fill in the spaces and share his sunlight — a feeling that he's strangely okay with, maybe, despite the growing exhaustion from his crying spell.
Connected... — it's true, even if he'd grown to have some doubts about sacrificing a part of himself for a little magical protection. It was necessary at the time and necessary even now, but being all open heart meant being able to sense a whole new language — a something spreading thin across the thread between them only to speak voiceless, soothing sympathy.
It's a different sort of warmth — one that never ceases to surprise and one he knows they'll never talk about openly, but maybe this is enough for now, one fist coiled against the sheets, his own heart thumping restless and knowing, a dangerous sweetness stirring the more he listens to Rei be kinder than the cruelest thing that's ever just happened to him.
Kaoru swallows, and okay, maybe it's finally hitting him just how embarrassing their positions are, but there's no going back when that promise battering against his soul is seemingly everything. He wants it to be true ( this time, for sure ), and he trusts Rei — who works tirelessly when all hope seems lost, who suddenly doesn't seem all that distant and detached with what Kaoru's felt and known without wanting to acknowledge.
The hand holding tight to his is so pale and white against the blackness, so pristine and almost untouched in comparison, so human and yet not with how claws brush lightly against his skin that ah; Kaoru's sure of one thing as he rests and lets his own grip around Rei grow firmer in turn —
He's glad the moonlight planted a garden inside his bed instead of a graveyard. ]
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In fact, he's so content with sleeping in a little later that when he rolls over to discover a certain someone he conveniently forgot wrapped in so many blankets that it's nigh impossible to see much aside from his strikingly attractive face, Kaoru just quietly accepts it. It's hard to recall why, but there must be a good reason, he thinks, ears folding back as he stares a little longer than usual. There's a strange something to the way he studies the slow rise and fall of Rei's chest... — like he's holding close to this selfish feeling of comfort since it won't last very long, this privilege of seeing something that most don't get a chance to see... of there being a shade of ( joy? maybe? this is weird, and new, ) satisfaction in knowing that everything in here smells like...
( like him, like the sweet-smelling yellow of a petal, and so — )
He dismisses it all as soon as he slides out of bed. There's too much to do in a day, and he expects Rei to wake up and come crawling out of his cave for food eventually. Right. Just give him some time. Give him some time and space and he'll come around.
And so he goes about his daily routine of tidying up the living space, hair tied back with something soft and elastic ( thank you neighborhood housewives for the advice and the freebie ). To him it's better to keep acting like everything is fine and normal given what they've been through lately, to keep piling on the distractions. People are counting on him, after all, no matter how tiring.
When evening rolls around, though, and he's home from running errands and entertaining during his late-night shift, it's a little concerning to hear... nothing. To sense nothing and no one around. It uproots his stable state of mind for a moment and a moment's more as he looks around for a familiar shape. Before the whole... event they went through just a week prior, it was common to find Rei sitting in an armchair, flipping through a text idly as if he'd been waiting for his return ( and for something to eat, naturally ).
But the only light that fills the kitchen and living area is silence.
Their housemates must be busy or asleep, too, huh...
Kaoru lets out a little ( disappointed? ) sigh as he treks up the stairs and into to his room, and it's only then that he finds what he's looking for... exactly where it was just this morning. ]
Sakuma-san? ... don't tell me you were sleeping in here all day long? I get that it's been pretty cold lately, but you've got a room of your own, right? Anyway... I was going to make us something, so I thought I'd... — hey, are you listening? Or like, awake at all?
[ Kaoru twirls a lock of hair impatiently, nervously even, because he's definitely being loud enough to get a response. It's not like Rei to ignore him either... but maybe he's just really, really tired? It's a thing with serpent-kind, he recalls from the signs and the special tables that've been setup at work, but that's got to be enough blankets for him to be okay, right? The silence must have followed him all the way up her, though. He breathes and there's nothing but a living silence trying to soak its way into his bones —
... and it's terrifying.
When he's close enough, he puts a hand on Rei's shoulder and starts shaking him lightly, the gold of his hair like a halo as he leans over. ]
Sakuma-san... ? Wake up already...
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he's a child again in the study though it's cold here, and the top of the bookshelves here hang over him even when he stretches out his arm on his toes. besides those books—the ones on the top seven or eight shelves, if he's counting rightly—he's read almost everything here, and out of some sense of procrastination he's reading over some books he's already done for something he must have missed. they have another room with more books than this, but his parents have guests over and he doesn't want to cross the gathering room to get there.
he hears the click of the door of the study lock, but he doesn't have time to spend on worrying. when morning comes, he can't read anymore. so he sits hunched over his book (one spread in his lap, some others piled beside him) with a candle beside him, his figure just next to the window, from which the moon shines vaguely in, and he rubs the back of his ankle with the broad of his foot as he reads. in truth, the room with the books is an even bigger one than this, and it isn't so comfortable: it's broad and gothic, with shelves of collected knowledge everywhere and too much space between the aisles. light doesn't travel very far in it, and sound is muffled by the embroidered carpets and maybe the cobwebs, too. you sink into the darkness there, and the windows face west, so dawn never finds you.
they (the children in the park) had told him not to return until he had their answers for them. he doesn't know what the question is, but if he keeps reading he'll find something useful. if he takes too long to come up with a solution, they'll forget they ever asked. the window shutters closed from the outside, and the clatter makes him jump; he looks to the door, then to the window, and can't see either in the dark. but he has his candle still, so he can keep reading, even if his skin feels a little cold from the nervous sweat.
if they forget they called for him, they won't invite him in. if they won't invite him in, he has to stay here, and his candle won't stay lit in this chill room forever.
regardless of kaoru's efforts, rei does not stir or wake up. when the shaking dies off, there's no rise of his chest, or contraction of muscle; he's limp, like a ragdoll, under all of his blankets. )
no subject
Serene, sleeping faces with their colors diluted to a deathly pallor — he's accustomed to it when he shouldn't be, and as arms fold across chest he can feel his own claws dragging against cloth until they pierce. Is he going to just keep waiting? To just keep waiting for the inevitable... again and again? First her, then him... and now... he should've known a few blankets weren't enough. He should've checked in more, should've wondered why he didn't feel the daily crossing of that emotional line — so many should haves and concerns when ultimately it might be too late.
The kind, the tender — they always go so quietly when he's useless to help them. If he were to kneel in the dark and speak his name a hundred times or more it might still not wake this lifeless body, he thinks and knows, because... because it's always been that way. Desperate. Hopeless.
( and maybe he's tired of surviving, of being alone and mostly fine but not at all ) ]
Please...
[ Don't shut away.
Don't leave him for the dark.
The faintest memory of what he might've said and felt is coming back. Rei's honest look of desperation... the first time he's ever seen it that close ( and let it not be the last ). A tremble of guilt runs down his back and into his lungs, and every gasping breath of what he wants to say comes out primal and hollow. It's a kind of heartache, this feeling he's embraced so many times before, a heartache that holds no solace, because every loss is just a gash in his heart.
But through each shaking breath, he realizes the only different between then and now...
— their Bond.
He's not sure it'll make a difference or not, but he's willing to try it, to try anything at this point to right things, to hear that low tone of voice and every whine that comes with it again. He folds back each comforter carefully, red transferring to cloth from hands that've gripped too tightly at himself in all his panic, and as leans over Rei's inanimate body to clasp a cold hand and press their foreheads together, he hopes with all his heart that the slight spark of magick is going to help. ]
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the ceiling seems lower; coming lower, he thinks, and the books, those seven or eight shelves he couldn't reach, come lower, too, to the ground. should he collect them? his breathing comes ragged; he coughs sudden, inhaling jaggedly, and the shock blots out the candle. in the dark, sweat framing his hair wet around his face, he grips his book against his stomach and a hand against his chest. he's afraid, he's afraid of dying here, he thinks; but if he had to put a a truer name to it: he's afraid of loss.
perhaps it is better, then, to let the encroaching cold of the casket seize him, and deliver him to the cool rivers that lap against the shores in the land below the earth. maybe it's better to die here, his small body hunched over and trembling, and not a sound in the darkness but his harsh coughing alone.
and then there is warmth, and a sharp flash of fire.
ah, his forehead feels hot. he presses his fingers against it, and around him he sees— a field of dandelions blooming, the wind carrying wishes around him, into the coming dawn. )
... Kaoru... kun...?
( a faint voice, groggy, his vision unfocused and vague; but he had known this scent of tulips, he had known this familiar presence pulsing through their shared heart. he doesn't know why kaoru's here, or why their faces are so close, nor does he recognize, even, that they're so close at all; in his half-asleep state, everything seems natural, nonsensical, and well.
how wonderful it is that kaoru would greet him first thing in the morning. his fingers curl around kaoru's hand around his, seeking instinctive warmth. his body is still terribly cold ... but a degree or two warmer than it was several moments ago. )
... Good morning. Did you sleep well?
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It's a miracle, really, one he's only been able to achieve in this universe thus far, and oh — he's so lucky. So lucky for once, his useless tongue and trembling weight trying desperately to keep up with how that single phrase is making him feel.
Good morning.
His gratitude is crushing him. It's pushing hard against his clumsy heart, so glad to be free of that wild feeling of loss for once, so glad to be able to hear future hellos and how are yous that it's impossible to keep his expression neutral, ears flattening pathetically as his mouth opens and closes with everything he's struggling to say. There's a silent shake to each and every breath he's taking at this point, but —
Thank you. Thank you.
He chokes on a great hiccuping breath, unable to stop himself from being small and vulnerable in the face of someone who, even barely aware of what's going on, still looks up and into his wide, wet eyes like he's something good. ]
Good morning... Sakuma-san.
[ Boys don't cry, but maybe, just maybe, it's okay to think that someone will catch him if he stumbles. It's okay to let your tears fall like rain into the ocean when you're trying to swallow the leftover failure in the wake of such happiness. ]
No... no, I didn't. I...
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he is satisfied, until the churning of emotion laps against that early morning haze in his head, and then crashes over with a great grateful wetness, completely unlike rei's own simple thanks just moments earlier. it wakes him up much quicker when he settles his gaze on the glossy look in kaoru's eyes; that little swelling of tears; the faint raggedness of his breath.
this isn't sadness...? but it looks like it? but what is there for kaoru to be so happy about? ah, if only knowing how someone felt meant you understood it. to rei, it's all contradiction, and it's all uncharacteristic for kaoru at equilibrium. he tries—though with some effort—to push himself up half way, to get himself more alert, even if it doesn't fully work quite yet. )
Kaoru-kun...? Did something happen?
( tentatively, so tentatively, he reaches out to brush his fingers along the edge of kaoru's eye, catching kaoru's warm tears on his pale skin.
how gentle, like the rest of him. how delicate, too; kaoru wasn't the sort to show his worries to another, but rei had always had the sense he was the type of person easy to bruise. he only barely touches kaoru's skin with his fingertips, as if he's afraid to hurt him.
(but perhaps it's simply convenient to have someone fragile as kaoru around; how wonderful it is, to have an excuse to refrain from getting closer. if he were to reach out fully to comfort him, the way he had asked after kaoru last night, would kaoru reject him? rei doesn't have to know.)
—but he still, )
... Do you want to lie here with me?
( —but he still wants so badly to comfort him, the way he had the night of the full moon before last. he wants so badly to let kaoru press himself into his shoulder, and let the warmth of his shuddering breaths and the heat of his tears sink into his body, until it left kaoru try. even if he's afraid, even if he's afraid, he wants to try.
his palm presses soft again his cheek, almost as if cupping it, even if it's not quite. )
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Not just a something, really — an everything, and the gentle, invading touch that wants to offer solace to his suffering is too sweet for how pathetic he's being. Too accommodating for how his soul's still shaking with every unreasonable breath. Too...
— forgiving. Since this is his fault, right? Again, he thinks, only this time he's able to watch the lily bloom after each tender petal of life has fallen and faded away. So... why isn't Rei more upset? Scold him. Tell him he was being stupid, that despite the past few weeks he should've been paying more attention, that he can deal with a little skinship and shared warmth if it means never going through this again.
It's a little frustrating, really, made even more so by the concern he sees in the red gazing straight up and into him. A red that's more dazzling than usual given the closeness, and for a moment the light of it startles him out of another sob. It's more captivating than he gives him credit for ( this someone who was glorified like a God ), and as his heart starts to slowly to patch up the sadness it feels like he might spiral down and into and against the unseen curves of each other if he isn't careful.
And that's... — he can't, not right now or ever, and so his gaze retreats to somewhere else, because it's better to run from thoughts he shouldn't have.
Kaoru squeezes the hand he's still trying to steal the cold from and then answers with one last shiver: ]
... yeah. I do.
[ Short and simple and child-like — it's all he can manage without another gasping breath, and luckily it doesn't take much to ensure that there's room for him in the bed next to Rei. He nestles in close and unspoken, head resting on the pillow and just tired from all the crying and comfort he doesn't deserve.
The one who deserves it is... still too worried. There's a dull, fading ache across the line, and with a frown Kaoru rolls over to lean an arm awkwardly against the rise and fall of Rei's chest, to press warmth against his side. ]
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ah.
rei had felt, instinctively, that he'd been asleep longer than usual - longer than even lately, when he'd been sleeping more than every night prior. but he has a sense of what the trouble is now as he comes to feel more awake - the shadows of a fresh night peering from behind the curtains. heat from a full day's sun radiates from kaoru's skin in pretty accent to his usual - and, lately, growing - warmth, and on rei's parted lips there settles the taste of salt; kaoru's hiccuping breaths, which scrape ragged against his throat in crooked vibrations. )
... It's warmer this way.
( he says, but his hand linger's in kaoru's for another moment, before he snakes around kaoru with his other arm. it's bolder than he might normally be, but the affectionate friction of kaoru's blood pumping through his skin hoists him stumbling forward - wrapping his arm around him and pulling him close against him.
ah, he feels like he could melt.
he isn't angry with kaoru, because kaoru hadn't known. he'd felt lonelier for it, and he'd felt stung - and he'd felt guilty for scaring him, and afraid of being tired of - so he hadn't persisted. maybe if he ever cared for himself more and others a little less, he'd have been much better off in so many ways - but kaoru isn't to blame for his bad habits; not when he can feel that ache, not when he'd heard how kaoru's voice trembled weak.
worse yet, though, worse yet - is how even in the face of that ache he still feels a little bubbling in his chest, over how kaoru would mourn for him, too. how wonderful it is, that he wouldn't be just another nameless grave in a person's heart. )
. . . It's all right. ( he takes kaoru's hand in his and presses it against his chest, palm against his heart beat. a steady rhythm; slow, but gaining ground. across the line there is a certain warmth - concern - an agape-like love. ) I'm all right. We're connected, now. I wouldn't go anywhere without you.
( a lofty promise, but a comforting one; and if it comforts kaoru, it's one he'll try to live by best he can. )
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He doesn't know how to say much else, mouth dry with how generous the beat is against his palm, with how easily Rei's words manage to sink into the bruised spaces of his heart to overtake the tide of melancholy and distress. There's a familiar feeling of peace and contentment here, Kaoru discovers, and very quickly realizes with the way his body leans in to fill in the spaces and share his sunlight — a feeling that he's strangely okay with, maybe, despite the growing exhaustion from his crying spell.
Connected... — it's true, even if he'd grown to have some doubts about sacrificing a part of himself for a little magical protection. It was necessary at the time and necessary even now, but being all open heart meant being able to sense a whole new language — a something spreading thin across the thread between them only to speak voiceless, soothing sympathy.
It's a different sort of warmth — one that never ceases to surprise and one he knows they'll never talk about openly, but maybe this is enough for now, one fist coiled against the sheets, his own heart thumping restless and knowing, a dangerous sweetness stirring the more he listens to Rei be kinder than the cruelest thing that's ever just happened to him.
Kaoru swallows, and okay, maybe it's finally hitting him just how embarrassing their positions are, but there's no going back when that promise battering against his soul is seemingly everything. He wants it to be true ( this time, for sure ), and he trusts Rei — who works tirelessly when all hope seems lost, who suddenly doesn't seem all that distant and detached with what Kaoru's felt and known without wanting to acknowledge.
The hand holding tight to his is so pale and white against the blackness, so pristine and almost untouched in comparison, so human and yet not with how claws brush lightly against his skin that ah; Kaoru's sure of one thing as he rests and lets his own grip around Rei grow firmer in turn —
He's glad the moonlight planted a garden inside his bed instead of a graveyard. ]