A/N: I am so grateful to my amazing beta katBelle for the help and taking my work serious!
FEEL
"You are what you feel," said the teacher.
The classroom was dimly lit and outside dark, suspicious clouds were hanging above the murmuring trees. It was a spooky November afternoon and little raindrops were beating against the large windows almost gently. It was such a day when it is nice to hear from faraway vanishing echoes of a sad ballad.
"The thoughts and words are empty without feelings. Because it is feelings that force you to take action. It is feelings that inflame the bloody revolutions, deserved victories and miserable defeats. It is why we have senses in the first place. They are given to us to be able feel to the most extent. We are created to feel."
Students were quiet and there was a strange feeling of unspoken sentences.
"Nezumi's smell…" thought Shion. It is what I feel most. There is something about his bizarre scent, like an unpredicted, captivating climate. A mixture of old forgotten books, a wild jungle, and the odour of night itself that catches you off-guard. Just like those times you wake up in the middle of the morning and open the windows to let the shivering air in. Like when you take a breath too deep and choke on air too cold and too much and too wonderful. And it is in that very moment, for the first time, you understand how amazing it is to be alive. I know without seeing his face, without hearing his voice, without having a reason to be sure, just by his scent, that of all the people it is him alone. It is like freedom, Nezumi's smell.
"Shion's touch…" thought Nezumi. It is what I feel most. There is something about his burning touches like a familiar yet somehow forgotten melody. It is like a soothing whistle of your favourite tune brushing your ear, only with more passion. Just like tasting some kind of exceptional tonic, which can alone stimulate my inner consciousness. A warm beverage that goes through my veins; drawing out my desires, my needs, my hopes, my everything to the surface. My emotions are piles of blue litmus papers and only he can turn those papers red. It is only him who can reveal all of my secrets, one by one, and in doing so allow me to be more of myself — to be at ease. It's like home, if there is such place, Shion's touch.
The classroom was dimly lit and outside the light breeze was about to turn into a storm. The teacher's words echoed within the giant walls of the classroom and gradually disappeared in the air. The last word –love- though, lingered on. In the midst of that echo the boys' eyes met and stayed tied until the end of the class.