Not a word.
At this time of night, it was to be expected, and it certainly wasn't unusual. The only sounds punctuating the silence were the regular, muffled whoosh of cars driving through the lightly falling rain and the occasional rustle of paper as either of the occupants of the room went about their respective businesses.
Subaru looked up from his newspaper to glance at the time. 3:06am. They really ought to be heading home soon. Work tomorrow - no weekends in this line of work. Especially not for ones so... specialised as themselves.
He considered putting away the newspaper, but decided not to. Not yet, at any rate. A prolonged silence had filled the room, and he didn't wish to be the one to break it. Let it be a passing car, or let it be Arashi, but it would not be him. There was something soothingly familiar about this sort of silence. It wasn't comfortable by any means, nor was it uneasy. It was simply familiar. It reminded him of things.
A heavy sigh cut through the air, and the moment was over. With a barely-visible shake of his head, Subaru folded the newspaper and placed it in his suitcase. It was time to go home.
Not that there was much of a home to go back to. Not for him. He had no idea about Arashi.
He walked across the dimly lit office to where his partner sat, bent over paperwork sprawled haphazardly across a desk, her long hair covering her face. Wordlessly, he perched himself on the corner of the desk, and then waited.
"I miss him, sometimes."
Subaru smiled faintly. Sorata had been an incredibly selfless man, as well as highly entertaining with a knack for lifting your spirits just when you needed it the most. It was hard not to miss him.
"Me, too."
The words, so simple, meant so much. Yes, he too missed Sorata. He had fought beside him, had been cheered by him, been understood by him. Of course, he would never miss him as much as Arashi did. The love between the two men had been strictly platonic.
He missed him, though.
Seishirou.
It had been three years since the end of the world. Three years since his sister's curse had come to full effect. Three years since he had somehow -- somehow -- driven his hand through the heart of the one that had meant everything to him.
That man had been there since before he could clearly remember. He had been everything, from a friend to a mentor to a nightmare to a victim. For most of Subaru's life, Seishirou had been the world.
Now, of course, he was gone. So yes, he missed him.
Arashi looked up, then. Her hair was still fallen across her face, but there was no mistaking the look in those tear-filled eyes. It was not like her to cry. Indeed, she never did anymore, save in Subaru's presence alone. There was a connection between them that allowed it. Both knew a sort of pain few others did.
Her face, as always, was stoically blank. Just like Subaru's. But those eyes conveyed deep understanding and an undying gratitude. No words needed to be spoken; both knew what the other was thinking.
For an instant, Arashi's eyes dropped. Hesitantly, she reached out across the desk, watching her hand carefully as she did so, before tentatively placing her hand upon Subaru's. It was the first physical contact Subaru could recall between them, and while it startled him, it did not repel. He smiled just a little more, turning his palm upward so that he could clasp the girl's hand in his own.
She raised her eyes again, and smiled through the tears.
They were already home.
