Characters and plot belong to their rightful owners.
Momentous
They sit in the bathtub together, back pressed to chest and limbs intertwined together under the cooling bathwater.
Candlelight – the only source of light in the fogged-up room – flickers along the murky green tiles on the walls, the flame dancing uneasily among the pooling wax and heated cloth wick.
The only sound is the steady dripping of water from the leaky bathtub faucet and the ragged breath that's pulled into seeking lungs from the pair in the tub.
He thinks that if he listens carefully and strains his ears enough, he might be able to hear the other's heart pounding away under layers of thick muscle and bone, but no matter how hard he tries, all other sounds are blocked out by his own breath.
He shifts minutely, sending a frenzy of ripples over the water, and frowns.
While he doesn't mind the silence, it somehow feels wrong.
He is unsettled by the sound of their mingled breaths that sound so foreign and far away to his ears.
"If you don't want me here-" he starts, beginning to rise from the water's clairvoyant depth, startling when the other suddenly turns around – he's not heard the other man move – and grabs him around the waist, uncertain when a pale, smooth cheek is pressed against his warm, sweaty chest.
"Stay." The other commands, though there's little force behind the word. The grip around his waist tightens and the pressure against his chest is reinforced, grasping, grasping, grasping onto him like a lifeline. "Stay with me – don't go! Please!" He's begging now, but he probably doesn't care, and he won't bring it up until later.
Slowly, his arms come up to cradle the body pressed against his own, and he lowers them to the lukewarm water once again, making sure not to jostle his precious bundle of living sinew and flesh before fully enveloping it in a firm, sweaty hug. Neither could care much, and the ironies of life sink in as a single tear escapes one impeccably dark eye.
"Don't leave me." The whisper echoes like a foghorn around the room, and he tightens his hold, pressing a kiss to the top of the head in silent reassurance.
"I won't." It says, and the weight of the world lessens a little.
(A present of sorts to myself. Happy birthday! Not quite how I had planned it, but satisfactory, nonetheless. There is no "set pairing", but I had Shikamaru and Naruto in mind when I wrote it. What does it mean to you? – Requisite)