This story is long overdue. I wrote it out nearly a year ago, but wasn't happy enough with it to share. After numerous rewrites I ended up with the text you see below. Hopefully you guys like it. It's the best I can do for now. This story is, in several ways, an extension of To Cry, To Smile and is based on the ever powerful Library Scene. We all know it's an important scene in the Egoist storyline and I'm sure it's been referenced to death in other fanfics, but I had to do it again!

Hiroki's POV

Transition

I nearly stumbled as I dashed urgently into the room after hearing a heavy crash, followed by a series of thuds to the flood. I half-expected a disaster but found my books scattered across the floor instead. Nowaki had risen beneath the disarray with texts sliding off his shoulders and down his back. He rubbed his head and graced me with a smile. His bright demeanor showed fiercely like the late morning light through the clear windows. I paused and took a breath, relieved that nothing serious had happened. The aftermath of Nowaki's unusual clumsiness was an amusing sight. I nearly chuckled but resisted the disruptive urge. The great amount of unpacked boxes around us were reason enough to draw back. Any playful acknowledgement would encourage distraction, and I wanted to get everything organized before work-life consumed us again.

Nowaki examined the covers of the novels he'd picked up as he stood to his feet. "Hiro-san, did you have these arranged in any particular order?"

"Hmm? No." I answered as I walked towards the mess and knelt to help him.

"Then, why were they stacked in the middle of the room?" he asked curiously, not a hint of judgement in his voice.

I recalled piling the books earlier to pass time, looking for something to read while we waited for the movers to deliver the rest of our furniture. I twitched, realizing the accident was partly my fault. Any soft entertainment I'd gotten out of Nowaki's small mishap evaporated as quickly as it had formed. Brushing aside the small and irritating thought, I began sorting the books onto the wide shelves, focused on clearing the obstacle before us. We said little to each other apart from a few comments about the novels we came across. The faint sound of chimes from the balcony of another household added a peaceful ambience to our activity, but when the soft winds died down we were left with the thin waves of our mundane task.

I hadn't so much as glanced at Nowaki after our brief exchange, but I was becoming more concentrated on his presence, the sound of the fabric of his clothing grazing against itself and the transfer of pressure through the floor at the lightest of his movement. His heat traveled nearer, signaling that he'd taken notice of my peculiar behavior. My fingertips remained on the spine of the text I had just slipped into place on the shelf when Nowaki's hand reached gingerly over mine and guided my digits to his lips.

I turned slightly, eager to see his expression. That sapphire spark and that sweet smirk were all the beckoning needed to sway me. Nowaki wrapped me in and eased his face to mine. Our bangs mingled as our lips tucked into unity. I clutched the texts I had curled in my arm. I meant to lay them on the shelf but they left my grasp unbalanced and plummeted to the floor. I heard the pages unravel but I had no inclination to save them. Nowaki's hands slipped beneath my shirt after loosening the buttons, sending a shiver through me as his palms traveled my torso. His fingers sauntered towards my waist, tracing shapeless figures over my skin before unfastening my pants and slickly submerging his hand down my front. I arched back, trying to subdue my moans, as he teased the sensitive zones of my chest while his hot mouth fell over my jawline. His tongue marked me tenderly across the neck and settled on my collarbone, thrilling me with every trail of contact.

"Sorry, I can't hold back," Nowaki cooed in his alluring tone, swiftly bringing me to reminiscence. We descended to the floor like heavy leaves cutting through the air. He raised his sweatshirt over his head and set the clothing folded on the floor before cushioning my back over it. The coldness of the floor was startling and unpleasant, but I didn't want to move. Nowaki's firm chest hovered closely to me. He lowered in with his fingers leisurely strolling my hair. His tongue retraced every spot his hands had previously visited—down my neck, down my chest, over my abdomen.

I rested my head to the side, dazed by Nowaki's motions. I gazed at the various books that were still scattered on the floor, some were closed and some were opened with their pages faced down. The familiar vision provoked sensations within me that had been previously rested. Not long ago, such pleasure had a bitterness wrapped around it, and I could feel the effects of a looming shadow again. The scene we were in was exactly like before.

The chimes sounded faintly for a second session, carried by a gentle and cold breeze that swept delicately past us. I recalled the low pressure night of almost a year ago, when something much greater than nature's fluid attack had us chilled and fragile. Little by little, I remembered the frustration and the words we'd exchanged—how sharp and raw they were. In our current state I had every reason to pull out of these intrusive memories, but with my heart thumping and my spirit fluttering in reaction to our intimacy, I couldn't win. The floor of the University library which had once been dark and eerie to us was all that filled my mind.

The brokenness and the hopefulness collided.

The past poured into the present...

Nowaki was kneeling across from me under the dimness, eyes to the floor and hands tightened around his knees. We were inches apart but our hearts were far from each other, yearning but struggling to meet in the middle. Having Nowaki back home, after his year of study in America, had brought me to a stark realization which I had pondered while he was away, that we had a problem beyond repair. Among our personal needs and goals, we were lacking in a very crucial and fundamental part of any well-functioning relationship—communication. We had been together for the longterm; yet somehow, we'd never succeeded with the basics. Even before Nowaki went abroad, our words were sparse.

We could hardly deal with our issues when we were both students with more relaxed schedules. With my new career as a professor and Nowaki's progress in his medical degree, our lives were being pulled in opposite directions. We would hardly have enough time together. We wouldn't be able to work on our problems sufficiently enough. If we stayed together, we could only restrict each other. Our lives would be better if I distanced myself and if, subsequently, he did the same. I tried to convince myself of that, and for a short period I may have succeeded; but, my resolve was easily shaken by every nuance of Nowaki's presence in the silence of that aisle.

My angst was cloudy and thick yet all I wanted, with Nowaki before me, was to hear the softness in his nurturing voice again, the low and the high tones. After a year of absence I wanted him back. I wanted to know everything I had missed. I watched his mouth and ached for the smallest syllable. The stubbornness I had built up was abated. My ears were finally ready to listen, and my mind was fully attentive. I took in every word Nowaki carried to me. He lifted his head and those cerulean moons opened, showing gorgeously against the dimness, but the vibrancy and the calmness I cared for so much had been shaken. I'll never forget the worry that drenched him.

Nowaki said he wanted to become a better man, someone who could be my equal, someone I could be proud of. From the way Nowaki curled his fists, he may have thought himself weak for feeling the way he did and even weaker for admitting it, but I could only see his courage. To display his vulnerability and relinquish control at the risk of being hurt was an incredible thing. I could hardly imagine myself doing it. Every note of Nowaki's truth rushed loudly like a fierce wave submerging me.

There were countless opportunities before when I could have given Nowaki words of endearment, even a little reassurance of my feelings, but I hadn't thought to say them. I shouldn't have been so careless. I should have held his hand more often. I should have kept him closer to me. Had I done those things, then maybe, I wouldn't have missed such an important milestone in his life. Nowaki had left the country to pursue his dreams. If I had known, I could have helped Nowaki feel a little stronger about himself instead of leaving him to deal with his own weaknesses alone.

Like me, Nowaki had chosen to keep his insecurities hidden, never wanting to falter in the eyes of the person he cared for the most. I had an image I wanted to preserve too, even in front of Nowaki. Though I prided myself in being a calm, competent, and rational person, I could be reckless, unreasonable, and weak at the core of it all. And while Nowaki loved me, how much of me could he accept? The roaring part of me wanted to quiver to him and tell him how much I loved him. The last book I'd thrown at him out of frustration landed on its spine faced up, pages opened revealing words to the air. "I love you," those three simple words came through in frantic repetition.

Every inkling of my pain and frustration rushed forth, plopping like pebbles into a river. I felt sorry because the man Nowaki had spoken so highly of was crumbling before him. I displayed the most ill-composed side of myself, but Nowaki showed no prejudice and hauled my heavy heart closer. The touch of Nowaki's digits at the side of my face and the warmth of his voice on the tip of my nose reminded me of what we had, a beautiful reciprocal love.

The interval closed with the touch of our lips and the pressing of our chests as the coldness elevated from us. Nowaki's kiss was as fervent as it had been when his love first bloomed and possessed me. I reached around him, feeling his back and hugging him more securely. Nowaki's fingers caressed my body, and I let mine revel along his. We'd imprinted our pain and our passion onto each other. I saw the glistening in Nowaki's eyes. I could feel all of his worries and struggles, and I let him know mine. Our insecurities and our tears played as healing forces, two wounded hearts mending and repairing each other.

There was so much to remember, and so much to be amazed over.

It was too important to forget...

Nowaki laid beneath me, his dark bangs falling just between his eyes and past the arches of his ears. My breath passed over his collarbone before I rested my head upon his chest. The disorderly scene of the scattered books came into view again. I wondered if our surroundings had triggered Nowaki's memories as well, or if I'd been the only one musing over it. Nowaki chuckled against my weight and I rose slightly to peak at the unrivaled gleam of his smile.

"Why are you so happy all of a sudden?" I asked mostly out of impulse.

"Hiro-san..." the curve of his lips grew wider, "This is exactly like the time you asked me to live with you."

"Huh?" I couldn't remember the moment he was referring to, much less if it had been anything like our current situation. All I could recall were the two of us discussing our plans and arrangements to make Nowaki's move happen.

"I'll never forget it." His palm settled on the side of my face, slowly pulling my view back towards him. "You whispered to me saying, There's room for two at my place. We were lying on the floor of the library. I was looking up at you, happy that I could touch you and hold you again."

My eyes must have widened several sizes as the memory flowed back in. Nowaki's embarrassing account of the event brought me to realize, clearly, the changes our dynamic had undergone since then. The new place had more space and made for a more comfortable living, a slight upgrade from where we'd previously been, and Nowaki had paid for it on his own. This was his place. Not too long ago, Nowaki was moving into my home. He'd gone from being a broke college student to someone who was able to make his own way.

I looked to the side knowing a fierce color was gaining on my cheeks, "And now, I'm moving in with you..."

"No," he replied running his fingers along my jawline and to my chin, "We're moving in together."

His statement shot an array of fluttering feelings inside me. Nowaki was right in his own way. This was the first place we'd both moved into together. Neither of us would have to adapt to the other person's environment. We were creating one together, bringing the old and welcoming the new. His thumb traced the upward curve of my lips. I couldn't restrain it. It was the smile I would only want Nowaki to see. He began to sit up and I raised my weight from him before he brought me into another brimming kiss. His tongue slid against my teeth and went in to engage me further, gently leaning forward with a subtle tilt of the head.

"I love you," Nowaki uttered pulling back to kiss my cheek. I didn't think his smile could grow any wider, but it did. His lips parted, moving slightly on the verge of a sentence. Then, unexpectedly, his expression went from a joyful smile to an almost mischievous smirk. I could tell from his hooded gaze that something cringeworthy was running through his mind.

"Hiro-san…" he started but paused cautiously. What he wanted to say was obvious. Knowing Nowaki, the timing was perfect for him to say it but he knew I'd get irritated and opted to withhold his comment. Nowaki gave a deep breath and ran his fingers through my hair, occasionally strumming my bangs.

I sighed and averted my gaze to one of the opened novels laying on the floor. "You can say that I'm cute, I don't mind..." I hadn't heard Nowaki say it in a long while, and I was oddly craving for it.

"Actually, I wanted to say you're sexy."

"Brat!" I exclaimed, slapping his arm, "Now you're messing with me!"

"I really mean it. Of course, you're adorably cute as always."

"Adorably." By adding a single adjective Nowaki rendered me even more anxious than I had already been a minute ago. "You're still an idiot." I said resting my forehead on his shoulder.

"I know," he responded and brought his arms around me.

I linked my hands at the back of his waist and continued in a quieter tone. "But, I'm glad you're mine."

"Hiro-san."

As Nowaki held me tighter, my lips pressed lightly against his hot skin and I let them linger there. The scent and taste of him rang in my senses. There was no misunderstanding, no confusion, and no turmoil. From the window across the way, strips of glittering rays sent their calm beauty through the pane onto us. I scanned the area and was reacquainted with the sight of numerous cardboard boxes stacked upon each other. There was much to get done. Though our moment of intimacy and reflection had to end for now, we had many reasons to move forward.

"That's enough," I lifted my head rather lazily and extend an arm between us, forcing myself to snap out of the daze. "We still have a lot of work to do."

Nowaki nodded, pulling his pants over his waist and replying optimistically. "We'll get through it, right?"

Buttoning my shirt, I replied with confidence. "Yes, we will. I know we will." We are imperfect and growing, and I couldn't be more proud of us.

End