The rustling of leaves outside on the wind is the first thing Yumichika is aware of when the pulsing afterglow starts to dispel from the pit of his abdomen. A cricket is chirping slowly in the garden outside, despite the season and that the other crickets have been gone for nearly months. It is winter again; cold enough outside that everyone has taken to wearing haori over their uniforms. For now, though, there is still enough residual heat around to keep them comfortably warm under the covers.
Izuru's eyes have slid shut and his breathing has steadied, but his fingers are still in Yumichika's hair, tangled the same way their legs are twined together. Finally, after a few long moments of lying together in silence, Izuru turns to face Yumichika, who guides his head to lie on his chest and slips his hand into the one Izuru has laid beside his head. It isn't the first time they've done this, but it also isn't as though they are yet well-versed in the rhythm of the other's habits. They know enough of one another, though, to do this much.
They stay in silence longer still, before a thought occurs to Yumichika, a faint, nagging notion, and he stares at the ceiling before finally giving a tentative voice to the words.
"Izuru?" he whispers, and immediately wishes he had kept his silence. They don't talk about Ikkaku and Shuuhei like they used to. The comparisons have faded away completely, mostly because they have both realized that there is no fair comparison between the lovers they lost and the relationship they share now. There is still a somber mood about them, but there have been months for them to learn to laugh and love again like they used to.
"Hm?" The response is soft and accompanied by a lazy kiss to his neck.
"Do you think they were reincarnated?" The question sounds stupid when Yumichika says it aloud, and he keeps staring at the ceiling. It probably is a stupid question, because everyone knows that people in Soul Society are born again back on Earth. And while Yumichika knows this, he wants the reassurance that it's happened for them as well, as though that would somehow make things okay again.
Izuru doesn't move for a few seconds, but when he does, it is to push himself up and look down at Yumichika with an unreadable expression.
"I'm sorry," Yumichika begins. He shouldn't have brought it up. They were moving on, and now Izuru will think that he can't, that there is something wrong when there isn't. He was just wondering, but the last time he should have brought up a dead lover was in bed, when he should have been feeling the closest to complete and contented.
"Yes," Izuru interrupts him and cups his cheek in his palm. "They were." His eyes don't ask for an apology, but he untangles himself from Yumichika and watches him for a moment before settling onto the pillow next to him.
Yumichika takes a shaky breath before turning onto his own side to face Izuru. If they have been reincarnated, they will be infants only now beginning their lives. They will remember nothing of their previous existence. The idea that he and Izuru have been left behind doesn't sting like it used to. He is hopeful for the lives they have put back together, and the lives Ikkaku and Shuuhei will begin anew. It's a good feeling, but he can't help but think of them from time to time, and it makes him feel a guilty pang, as though he is doing Izuru wrong somehow.
"I think about them too, you know," Izuru tells him, and now his fingers are back in Yumichika's hair. "And I still miss him." Izuru has never been one for many words, allowing what is unsaid to speak louder still for him. It is a habit he can't quite break, and one Yumichika has yet to fully accustom himself to. It takes him a moment for the full impact of what Izuru is trying to say to him to sink in, and he nods, closing his eyes and leaning into the tender touch.
They lapse back into silence, but Izuru doesn't close his eyes, just watches Yumichika as he drifts toward sleep until a single violet eye opens in question. "Hm?" Izuru hums the question and leaves a brushed impression of his lips on Yumichika's before giving him the chance to answer.
"Do you think they would mind if we didn't go looking for them?" This question seems less foolish, but this time Yumichika opens his other eye at the soft exhale of a laugh that Izuru makes.
"I think they would have told us to get the hell on with our lives months ago," he answers truthfully in a pale imitation of Shuuhei's stern look and Ikkaku's exasperation. Yumichika laughs, but returns the caress of fingers in Izuru's hair. "No," Izuru continues seriously. "I don't think they would mind at all."
Yumichika hums soft agreement and his eyes flutter shut again, touching his lips to Izuru's in a chaste kiss. "I don't mind either," he murmurs.