He's so beautiful when he sleeps. Normally, you can't tell that he can even come close to looking like this; his constant jabbering and whining always seem to dim his natural beauty. Sure, he can still look cute, and on occasion, alluring as hell, but its moments like these when no word besides beautiful seems to fit.

I wonder if I should ever tell him that. Probably not.

He's sleeping beside me at the moment. He always falls asleep right after we have sex, a fact which annoys and gladdens me at the same time. Annoys, because it's irksome to have a lover who's out cold five minutes after climax, and gladdens… well, it gives me the chance to just watch him. Being quiet. Being serene. He's never like this when he's awake. I wonder why.

Although perhaps that's part of his charm. His inability to keep still, keep quiet. Another thing that's both irritating and insanely lovable. Don't ask me why, I haven't a clue. Which is why I never admit that last bit.

Of course, for most people, it'd probably be very easy. Just say it to him. Three, monosyllabic words. They shouldn't be so hard to say. They shouldn't frighten you. Unfortunately, in my case, they do. They scare me something fierce, and so I hide like a coward.

Just tell him that I love him. Sure, good advice. Now, you come step in my shoes and take it. See how easy it is. I can't tell him, that would be admitting it to myself, and that's something I'm scared of as well. I'm scared of admitting that my heart's been ensnared. Again. And this time… shit.

He's stirring, and I stiffen slightly. However, he doesn't wake up, just snuggles closer and remains asleep. I sigh softly, my breath stirring a few strands of his hair. Easy. Sure.

I couldn't say it to his face; of course not.

My hand reaches out, seemingly of its own accord, to start running softly through his hair. The strawberry strands fall over my fingers like silken threads, and I allow myself to admit that I enjoy this action. Something so simple, so… loving. I could never allow myself to do it while he was awake.

Could I…?

Maybe, someday, I'll become brave. Maybe, on that day, I'll be able to admit it to him. And myself. Perhaps then… things will be better. And maybe they'll be worse. And perhaps the only thing that will change is my self-respect… though I haven't figured out yet whether that change would be positive or negative.

Pessimistic. Perhaps, and perhaps not. I'm not one to underestimate my own weaknesses, and I know very well how pathetic I can be. I don't let anyone else know, but as long as I do… It still tears me up inside. Maybe it would be better to just…

I couldn't let him go, who am I fooling. Even if I could, he wouldn't let me push him aside. He's too stubborn for that. Stubborn… I'm stubborn as well… but perhaps his pig-headedness negates mine.

My hand is still running through his hair without me noticing. I watch as the pink locks tumble into his sleeping face, only to be pushed back by my hand and then fall forward once more. It reminds me of him… clinging to me, being pushed away, and coming back for more. I wish I wasn't so cold.

Can I make that wish come true…?

Damn. I don't know. I just don't know. I could make an effort, at least. I might fail. I'll more than likely fail. Well, of course I will, going in with that attitude… It seems so hard to be positive though. I'm not going delude myself into thinking this will be easy. I'm not that stupid.

Still… It seems that I've finally found a reason to make an effort. An honest one. I mean, come on. I think about him far more than I've ever thought about anyone else. I won't admit that, of course I won't. But it's the truth. It's amazingly hard to live in denial when you're denying yourself. You can't alienate your own thoughts from your bubble of seclusion.

I should know.

He's stirring again. My hand stops moving, and I look at his closed eyelids, expecting them to open. Nothing. Sighing softly, he turns his head slightly, pushing himself into my palm. I have no idea whether he's awake and pretending or actually asleep and unconsciously doing this.

Fifty-fifty chance. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he's still asleep. My hand begins moving again, although it only stays in his hair for a few more moments. Soon my fingers are lightly tracing patterns on his sleeping face, and my eyes are unfocused. I've lost myself in this. I enjoy it.

Dangerous, I know. Fuck it. At the moment, I don't care. No one knows but me. That's safe enough. He won't wake up. I'd deny anything if he did.

Would I though?

Of course I would. I berate myself for the idiocy of the question. And yet…Idiocy or not… perhaps it deserved to be asked. Perhaps it is a question with more than one answer.

As much as I hate to say it, even within the confines of my own mind, Tatsuha is right. There, I admitted it. He's right, I'm just… Damn it. Ok, that's enough. No more little brother lecturing, thank you very much.

I sigh and go back to stroking Shuichi's hair. His mouth moves slightly, and I lean closer to hear what he's mumbling about in his sleep. It surprises me that I even care.

"Mmmm… love you, Yuki…" He must sense my nearness, because he takes the opportunity bury his face in my chest.

"Idiot, you're going to suffocate yourself…" I don't mean it. It's barely a whisper anyway. There's even the ghost of a smile on my face as I say it.

I consider for a moment. He's asleep. He wouldn't hear me. No one would. I could deny saying it. I could conveniently forget. It's nothing, just… seeing what it feels like. If I can actually do it. A test-run, so to speak.

Still, why am I so nervous? Coward.

Fine. I'll do it.

Exhaling softly, I lean back against the pillow and close my eyes. I can do this. I will. I… Again, just a test-run. Nothing special. People say it all the time and don't mean it. Let's see.

"I love you."

Surprise. It came out easier than I had expected. And what scares me is…

I think I meant it.