Gentle
It's dusk and Nezumi and Shion are lounging around both with books in their hands and heads full of contemplations. The room smells of the soup they just cooked, a simple broth but one that gave off a heady, tempting scent. It had turned out quite well if Shion were to say. He's content and feeling a little lost in thought. At first it had simply been wondering how Safu was doing, and then he wondered about his mother and then it was Number Six in general and how strange it is that Nezumi hates it so much.
But right now he's thinking about Romeo and Juliette and how strange and exploited the 'good versus evil' concept is. That's what it boils down to, isn't it? But where did it come from? What's the point of it? Is there a point at all? Did someone just decide what was right and what was wrong? What was the line between? How did some people with good intentions end up doing the most terrible things? What about the colourless, gray areas that sat in between? How did one decipher those? How did one even begin? Did a way even exist? There's always theories but it's always just speculation.
"You look constipated." Nezumi's dry voice drops into his thoughts and Shion glances over with a roll of his eyes.
"I was just thinking-"
"Really? Shocking." He supposes he walked right into that one.
"Nezumi."
"What?"
"I was just contemplating what good versus evil really is." He says, a bit rushed. He's a bit excited about it because he feels like he's stumbled onto a well of philosophical ideas that he hadn't realized were there.
Nezumi doesn't look particularly impressed.
"It doesn't exist." Nezumi turns away.
"Why?" Shion asks, leaning forward in his chair slightly.
"Why?" Nezumi repeats drily. "Because nothing is ever innately good, or inherently bad. It becomes that way. Nothing ever starts out evil."
"How do you figure?" Because Shion isn't sure if he agrees or disagrees with that theory but he likes the conversation. He rather likes any conversation if it's with Nezumi. He thinks it's because Nezumi offers a window of insight that he would otherwise pass by without looking twice. It's nice. It lends him a look into the way Nezumi sees the world; the way he receives information and what he does with it. How he reacts. Who he is.
"Evil people, contrary to popular belief, have to start somewhere. They're not just born with the idea of ruining something or someone. It's how they're raised. What shapes them as they grow up." Nezumi says. "And besides, good people can do bad things. Perhaps they had a good intention, but there's always that one scenario where good becomes evil."
"What about... ideas." Shion says carefully. "Couldn't they be good or bad?"
Nezumi looks thoughts for a moment before saying, "I would say it's a matter of how they're used. What shape they take."
"So," Shion presses his hands into his knees thoughtfully, "what about Number Six? It was an idea wasn't it? Are you saying it could be a good idea too or-"
"Don't twist my words!" Nezumi is in his face, a hand poised at his throat. Shion wonders if that movement has become a habit and wonders briefly how hard it would be to break him of it. He really isn't all that fond of being strangled every time he says something that sets him off.
"What about actions then, Nezumi?" Shion's voice is a bit strained, courtesy of Nezumi's hand still coiled around the base of his neck like a snake in waiting.
"Actions?" Nezumi scoffs. "Like I already said, it depends on-"
"-on this?" Shion's hand is mirroring Nezumi's, except on Nezumi's neck. His fingers are not tight though. Instead they are just barely pressed to his neck, his thumb rubbing small circles into the soft skin there. He almost expected it to be chilled, but he's pleasantly surprised to find it invitingly warm. Nezumi's eyes are wide and a bit confused almost as though he's having a hard time figuring out what Shion's done.
Nezumi's eyes dart away from his.
"And this?" Shion's hand slides down to his heart and presses firmly, fingers poised like they might dig into his skin and fetch his heart away. Then he's using two hands and they're just barely touching his ribs, hovering there quietly. The warmth from them seeps gently into Nezumi's skin, through his bones, reaches the coldest parts of him and warms them up.
It's unsettling in ways he never expected to feel. Hopes to never feel again because it makes him feel very exposed. Too exposed. Like Shion can see all of his thoughts and all of his weaknesses and the marrow of his bones. Everything, right down to the very last inconspicuous detail. Everything, including all the things he tries so impossibly hard to hide from the worlds prying eyes.
Shion sees it all And Nezumi doesn't know how to feel about that. If it were anyone else, he knows he would hate it but it's Shion and Shion's always been... special.
"Nezumi?" Shion's voice is hushed, almost faint against the backdrop of impossible silence.
"What?" He looks everywhere but at Shion.
"Are you okay?" Nezumi has a vague sense of deja-vu because years ago Shion was the first person to ask him that, and now he's asking him again.
"What else would I be?" Nezumi counters, brushing the question off. He felt for some reason that answering that would be quite emotionally draining and he doesn't feel like being weak. Not today. Not ever, if he had the choice. And especially not in front of Shion.
"You seem sad." Shion's hands have moved since the last time Nezumi checked in with them. They're back to his neck, rubbing just below his jaw now. Nezumi wants to pull them away and shove him back so he can maybe, you know, think for five seconds but he doesn't. He can't.
"Sure." He drawls, oozing sarcasm. He doesn't particularly know how else to respond. He's never been in this type of situation before and it's giving him a headache.
"You know," Shion comments as he lets his hands drop to where Nezumi's are and intertwines their pinky-fingers. "My mom used to say sarcasm is a last resort."
Nezumi rolls his eyes, trying to think of anything but the fact they're holding hands. Sort of.
"...You're important to me, Nezumi." Shion says after a moment, tone cautious.
"Where did that come from?" Nezumi responds, feeling the pale-haired boy shift closer. His breath ghosts across his collarbone and Nezumi feels goosebumps sweep across his skin at the sensation.
"I just thought you should know." Shion leans in and presses a very simple kiss – more of a glance of skin-to-skin contact really – to his neck, like it's the most normal thing in the world (Nezumi can feel him smiling when he does that) and then looks up. There's a brief, almost not-there moment of noiseless lull in which Nezumi tries to determine whether Shion has lost his mind or not and why he's not more upset by the fact the little albino brat kissed him. Sort of. It wasn't really a kiss. Not really.
"You've lost your mind." Nezumi finally decides, standing up and realizing just then that he's still holding eye-contact. He quickly looks away, hoping Shion doesn't see what he's been thinking, and rubs the back of his neck. The places Shion touched still feel tingly and different from the rest of him.
But Shion's still smiling when Nezumi tells him he's going to sleep and that they'll just have to share the bed since the rats ambushed the couch and chewed it to hell the day before. Nezumi can only shake his head in wonder, contemplating how much stranger Shion could possibly get.
000
a/n: Fluffy as a cloud made of marshmallows and foam. How did that happen. It was supposed to be angsty dammit. And that ending. Agh.