"So I wait for you like a lonely house
till you will see me again and live in me.
Till then my windows ache."
― Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

.

S

The sounds came like the unpretentious drizzle of rain in a spring morning. Much like the soft pattering against tin roofs and wooden floor boards it started off gentle and low. A hitch barely audible and velvet soft against the shell of his ear; jagged draws of short breaths and lengthy sighs that tugged a second too long at the last note. Shion caught every single one of them, bits and pieces of Nezumi he had never witnessed before. A Nezumi he had never heard, had never seen, have never been able to even imagine. Each sound was a tiny droplet that fell teasingly on his parched skin but not nearly enough to quench his thirst for more. His yearning was blinding him.

A part of him had always felt had Nezumi touched him, had he allowed Shion to touch him this way, his fiery nature, his stormy make-up would make it something almost too powerful of a feeling for Shion to bear and he had been right. He had been right all along. Nezumi never did anything half-heartedly. When he was decided on doing something, he never held back, he had no reservations, no safe-playing. For Nezumi, it was always an 'always or never' thing. And that's why there was such a crushing tangle of feelings, such an overwhelming sense of need in Nezumi's surrender to Shion. The sounds he made echoed in Shion's heart with painstaking precision for Shion was determined to memorize every nuance and every hitch of his voice as it cracked and slipped through clenched teeth. His hand moved with steady tugs, his lips brushed across the reddened skin of Nezumi's neck and Nezumi caved. He shuddered, undulated and he caved in his arms.

The first moan that flowed into the narrow space between Nezumi's lips and his ear seemed to expand in Shion's chest, stealing a jagged gasp from him. Shion indulged in it, his entire being feeding off the sound covetously; feeling it intoxicate him, cloud his senses and drag him back into the dizzying waves of his lingering afterglow. His fingers tightened around Nezumi's arousal, jerking him off with a rhythm that increased as Nezumi rocked his hips into his hand in search of the peak Shion was so close to deliver to him. The sounds heightened, grew in volume, in rawness, in abandon. Nezumi was losing himself, his body rocking above Shion with tidal waves; his lips left wet kisses over Shion's ear as he panted and tried to keep himself quiet. He couldn't. Nezumi couldn't keep quiet.

Shion picked up the pace; his hand slipped over Nezumi's slick length faster and harder with a hold tighter than before. His other hand laced deeper into black locks as he used his hold as leverage to tilt Nezumi's head to continue leaving scorching, open mouthed kisses across his neck. The smell of him filled his nostrils with each desperate inhalation; rain, earth, leather, vanilla…Nezumi.. Nezumi..Nezumi. Shion inhaled against the small curve under his ear, sucking in his succulent scent, filling his lungs with it, letting it suffuse him. His exhale was a moan, leaking into the fractional space between his wet lips and Nezumi's dewy skin. His lips trembled as a shiver ran down his spine; making his hips roll into Nezumi's in a languid thrust.

The drizzle became a downpour, soaking Shion down to the very bones as Nezumi abandoned all restrictions and his unearthly voice—the very voice that had told Shion stories of faraway lands and of free people and had recited fairy tales for him just an hour ago— caught every tone of need and non-syllabic plea. Shion was wrapped up in Nezumi's heat, enveloped in his crushing fire and his all-consuming desire and the intensity was so staggering he could barely breathe. Touching Nezumi like this, being as close to him, inhaling his scent, exhaling his breaths, limbs entangled and laced together… Shion felt himself more alive than he ever did, exposed and pulled naked into the fierce battering of wildest of storms. Uncontrolled, untamed, wild and primal; Nezumi's nature spoke to him in a way nothing else did and the very core of his being responded with aching need to reciprocate. His lips found Nezumi's ear and he whispered his name with a tremulous sigh; his voice was filled with a mystical awe and a searing sense of longing. He longed for his peak just as much as Nezumi did. He susurrated again and again; the name falling from his lips with blazing adoration as Nezumi drove their bodies up the mattress and dragged them back down with each thrust of his hips.

And then he responded…

"Shion.."

The name fell abruptly from his lips, just as the hand that suddenly gripped his shirt. Nezumi's fingers closed tight into a fist over his shirt as he breathed out his name and for one moment of painfully prolonged bliss Shion wanted to laugh, cry and cease to exist in Nezumi's arms all at the same time as the man he loved more than life itself called his name in needful abandon. Nezumi's head fell on his other shoulder, face hidden in the curve of his neck and his pants fanned against his skin and there was a sharp edge at the end of each thrust into his hand and then.. it happened again..

"Shion."

Shion closed his eyes as he gave Nezumi the last few tugs he needed. Tilting his head, he kissed the top of Nezumi's head and let his lips remain there over the mess of midnight black hair while Nezumi breathlessly reached his peak, Shion's name flowed out of his lips and it was a cry and it sent goosebumps across Shion's burning skin. Nezumi shuddered in his arms with a release almost too powerful for him to keep himself together. Shion felt warmth—loaded, so hot, achingly intimate— spill into his hand, onto his fingers and spread on his stomach. His lower abdomen convulsed at the sense of unexpected heat licking his skin over his shirt and helplessly.. he shivered. Nezumi's movements slowed, hips rolling in languid, short thrusts as he rode his orgasm. Shion kept his hand moving until he was sure he had gotten every last drop out of him. Nezumi collapsed in his arms, face still buried in the crook of his neck and panting against his skin. Shion ran his left hand through his hair; down the nape of his neck, between the shoulder blades until it came to a rest over his back; right on top of the burn marks he could feel through the thin layer of clothing.

Every puff of breath that brushed against his neck, every heartbeat thundering against his chest that wasn't his own, every last drop of Nezumi's release he could feel coating his skin gathered in a throbbing mass in Shion's heart; aching, threatening to split him open with the cutting intensity of his emotions. His gaze slid upwards, towards the ceiling and he realized that night had fallen. The quiescent golden light of the small bedside lamps illuminated the bed and a 5-feet wide area surrounding it but the rest of the room was taken over by shadows; a crepuscular darkness sheltering them from the rest of the world. For one beautiful moment, it was entirely too easy to conjure the scent of old books, imagine the amorphous silhouettes of aged wooden shelves and see the flickering light of a single kerosene lamp. Nezumi shuddered in his arms and Shion drew in one tremulous breath, releasing it into the tangled locks of Nezumi's hair.

Their breaths fell into rhythm. Hearts steadying against one another in the silence neither of them felt the need to fill. Shion lifted his right hand to his face and stared at his fingers coated with Nezumi's release.

Nezumi had swallowed his essence..The memory made his heart skip a beat as heat rushed to his face.

He couldn't help but wonder… how it tasted like. Was it pleasant for Nezumi? How did Shion taste like to him?

… How did Nezumi taste like?

Shion slowly brought his two fingers to his mouth. Eyebrows slightly knitted in wonder, he parted his lips and pressed his fingertips against the tip of his tongue. The first touch was barely enough to give him an idea, so he pushed his fingers in and deliberately sucked the liquid coating them.

It was rich. Intense. Redolent. It had a sharp, evocative scent and a strong taste. 'It is like over-seasoned soup,' Shion idly thought. A smile curved his lips. It tasted like Nezumi's soup. He giggled to himself before speaking.

"I didn't think it would be so salty."

N

Shion..

He was everywhere, coiled around Nezumi tightly—so tightly that his bones just might snap, that his very foundation might split in two, leaving each and every story of build up to crumble, to cascade downward and blanket his remains with ruin. Shion was chaotic—chaos itself—and yet.. it was that same vice grip, that same enveloping and near suffocating embrace that stalled the seemingly inevitable collapse. Shion's being was both his salvation and damnation, and it was only in those fleeting moments, in a dizzy haze of post-orgasmic high, that Nezumi understood that truth: by those hands, with a simple flick of the wrist, Shion could throw his world into turmoil, leave him lost and delirious, aching for an ounce of control.
Nezumi had, over the years, somehow relinquished bits and pieces of himself to Shion. They had been lost in small hours, in little moments—in a shared bed at twelve, in a dusty underground space amongst countless books, in a dingy hotel that reeked of dogs and vagrants, and even, in the back of a worn bakery, flopped down on a sofa, sipping hot coffee. But he hadn't missed them, those parts of himself; in truth, he barely realized they had been lost at all. The day he stepped away from Shion, ventured off into the expanse of blue just beyond the hilltop, Nezumi hadn't understood just how much of himself remained.
But now, he had finally grasped at the gravity of it, just barely, but it was enough for him to vaguely understand.
And this was just the beginning.

A hand, gentle.. and soothing—near caressing—filtered through his hair, before stroking skin to skin, and it was that touch that carried with it a searing sensation, one that drew a fiery path along his neck, across his shoulder blades, and down his spine. It tore through the thin fabric of his shirt, leaving this scorching tingle along the jagged edges of his aged scar tissue, but.. it was an oddly pleasant feeling. It carried that same all-consuming nature of flames, but this wasn't a destructive type of burning, but instead, a comforting one—like bundling up before a fireplace after trekking through miles upon miles of snowy terrain.
He felt.. at ease.
His journey had finally ended, and here he was, ready to collapse into Shion's arms—fully spent.
Moments ago, he had been so enthralled, so wrapped up and thrown into madness, and now, his body was creeping into a steady descent of activity, waning off into a relaxed state, one that left him leaning into each and every touch. Head still tucked away from Shion's wandering gaze, Nezumi indulged in those fingertips lightly slipping through his hair, petting him as if it were finally time for him to rest, finally time for him to settle into a sleep he hadn't known he ached for so desperately.. until to sprung up upon him. It was a somewhat airy feeling.. one he hadn't ever experienced fully, or at least.. not one he had a memory of. The closest he could recall was the last time he had lied in bed with Shion, had those arms wrapped around him: it was the last time he had allowed himself to slip out of consciousness and straight into a state of dreaming.
Though, he hadn't any intentions of falling asleep just yet.
No, he was simply.. resting his eyes for now.
He nudged his face closer, tucked it toward Shion's neck, hiding beneath his line of sight for the time being.

And when he opened his eyes once more, when he let them readjust after the physical and emotional experience he had just endured, Nezumi became acutely aware of the time change. There was a dash of surprise in him to find that somehow the darkness had crept up on the pair of them without his knowledge, but he hadn't found it in him to care much beyond that. It was just another detail, just another fact directing the two of them toward what would naturally come in the cycle of things: the thing that he wasn't entirely sure he wanted.. but clearly, needed.
Nezumi wasn't the type to have irrational fears, nor was he really the type to let his mind linger on senseless things.. but there was something hanging just outside of his consciousness, a part of him that couldn't fully shake the fear that it was all a dream. He had visions before, plenty of them, night after night, of being reunited with Shion only to reawaken and find the sun breaking over the horizon of some distant city, one months away from No.6.
More than anything, he needed to know that this was reality.
So he fixed himself to what was tangible, what his senses could take in and register. Shion's heartbeat, a frantic pace that raced to the speed of his own, was real—there was no doubting that—and he was positive he hadn't ever felt it pound so rapidly in his own chest, that he actually hadn't ever felt a person's heartbeat this closely, this quickly. It couldn't be a dream, nor could that warmth; he had felt Shion's embrace before, had felt those arms wrap around him in the best and worst of times, but never like this, never with so much passion that it felt like catching fire, like the heat was coursing through his veins. And finally, that breath, the one Shion had drawn in, face pressed to his hair, was unfamiliar. None of this was familiar; this closeness was a new concept for the both of them. But that was what made it so clear: this was reality, a new reality they were building.
If he let sleep take hold of him, he'd reawaken to find himself bound up in Shion.
He hadn't a need to fear this happiness, to view it with his usual apprehension.. because he was home.

And he probably should have let himself slip away with that thought. He probably should have just kept his head turned away, hidden from Shion's face because the moment he finally cast an eye toward the other man.. he caught sight of that curious expression, of those bright wine red eyes lit up in a way that could only lead to trouble. And oh god, the way Shion sucked at his own fingers, cleaned Nezumi's cum clear off them, it made a shiver shoot up Nezumi's spine, made his teeth sink back down onto his own lip, and he stared, just stared at Shion, as if awaiting some explanation. But none came, instead, he heard this silly giggle bubble up out of Shion, a tiny smile playing on his lips as if he had learned something fantastic that the world needed to know. That sense of wonder hadn't ever left Shion, and for that, Nezumi wasn't sure if he should be grateful or not, especially when he voiced his thoughts in a way that gave Nezumi a bit of secondhand embarrassment.
He groaned—half out of frustration and half out of exasperation.
"..Idiot. Don't go putting that stuff in your mouth."
If he had it in him, he might have played up his voice to sound more like a mother reminding a child to do as she says, not as she does, but the exhaustion spared Shion to extra teasing.

He lifted his hand, even as his limbs protested to the movement, and shimmed his fingertips through Shion's—not giving much care to the miss; it all washed off in the shower—pressing their joined hands back against the sheets. The other hand rose to brush a few fickle strains of Shion's hair back away from his forehead, where the perspiration had made it cling to his skin.
And Nezumi stared, just stared down at Shion with a strange sense of satisfaction, a sense of completion. It showed in his eyes, revealed itself through his mouth.. in the form of a soft smile.

"..This feels right."

He said nothing, simply leaned forward, let his lips skate across Shion's before planting a light, feathery kiss on them. They had enough passion, enough tension, enough roughness; no doubt their lips would be bruised come morning, but it was worth it, any little aches and pains this night brought forth come tomorrow would be worth it.

Nezumi lingered for only a moment more before willing his body to climb off of Shion.
He gave a low promise to return, heading toward the restroom again to clean himself up, all the while, far too eager to crawl back in bed, to wrap himself up in Shion.. because he knew, without a doubt, that was where he belonged.

S

Nezumi's groan somehow made the entire thing seem a lot more amusing than it was. His chosen word of endearment fell warmly on Shion's ears; familiar, unrehearsed, habitual. The reprimand that followed was so contradictory—so typically Nezumi—Shion couldn't help the soft laughter that bubbled up in his chest and escaped his lips.

"I knew it could be done like that." He heard himself speak candidly. "I mean, the way you did it but I didn't know how it tasted like." He flashed a goofy smile. "I liked it."

Nezumi's movement as he rose was unexpected. He caught Shion's hand, lacing his fingers through his own, paying no heed to the residue of wetness coating them and he pushed their entwined hands back on the sheets. His other hand was gentle as fingertips moved against his forehead, brushing the dewy fringes of snowy white hair away from his sticky skin with feather-light touches. Shion gazed up at him while curiosity, wonder and marvel glowed in his golden tinted eyes of red wine.

Something in the very depths of his heart ached in pulsating waves with a kind of love so strong; he felt his breath catch in his throat. His lips parted at the sight of pure compassion, adoration and satisfaction pouring out of Nezumi's eyes. The grey he had been helplessly drawn to for eight years was ablaze, gleaming with life and with the same grounding feeling Shion had always felt in his bones. The one thing that had shattered, torn, broken their converse, unforgiving, jagged edges in countless pieces before welding them in the heat of its fire, reshaping both their frames and building them anew so that they could touch without scarring, kiss without tainting, whisper confessions without scaring and love without holding back. Shion's own reflection glazed the silver of Nezumi's eyes and Shion was shaken with the realization of their true coalescence. The feeling that he had felt burning behind his eyes every time those succulent lips spoke of walls that separated people, differences that were too big to bridge, hatred that was too strong to forget and enemies they were sure to become… The feeling that had ensnared his heart in a vice, vicious hold when Nezumi had walked away from him, turning his back to Shion's outstretched hand and his open heart… The feeling that had greyscaled Shion's world and had left him trapped in a monochrome cage that continuously reminded him of the one thing he endlessly yearned for… not a single second of any of it was unreciprocated. What flowed out of Nezumi's eyes and enveloped Shion with the same passionate warmth his arms had done moments ago was the single most powerful proof that those feelings were shared for both of them. Mutually. Equally strong. It was no truth that Shion didn't already know—he had never questioned Nezumi's feelings—but seeing it so openly like this was something so overwhelming his throat caught fire and a deep sigh fell in between their faces.

Nezumi closed the distance, lips fleetingly brushing against his own before pressing ever so lightly. Shion closed his eyes as his free hand slowly ran down over Nezumi's shirt and came to a stop over the small of his back. Although he could still count the number of the kisses he had had with the fingers of his single hand, he didn't need to ask Nezumi what this one meant. Every fiber of his being was in perfect tune with Nezumi and everything he felt. In that moment, they were the same.

'This feels so right…'

The thought echoed in his mind and its warmth suffused him. Shion smiled with glowing contentment as Nezumi lifted himself up. His eyes lingered momentarily at the front of Nezumi's pants before traveling north and finding his gaze. They stared at each other for a moment before Nezumi excused himself with a promise to return and Shion nodded at him, his smile widening on his reddened face.

As he heard the bathroom door close, Shion rolled onto his side and buried his face in his pillows. Nezumi's scent had already become a part of his bed. He was filled to the brim with it and yet he inhaled and indulged in the pleasant shiver it gave him. He wanted to laugh but he also felt on the verge of tears. The sound of running water reached his ears and for one moment of untamed desire Shion couldn't help but imagine how Nezumi must look like fully naked under the warm water—in his own shower. The ache in the pit of his lower abdomen brought him back to his senses and he got up from the bed and turned on the bedroom lights before walking to his wardrobe to change. His reflection on the mirror mounted on his wardrobe made him stop. Eyes of deep crimson examined the tangled flurry of white hair, the flushed expression, reddened lips. He raised a hand, lightly touching the swell of his scar on his neck. The mark Nezumi left was visible even against the pale red band. His heart skipped a beat when his fingers brushed over it and the sensitive skin prickled with the same grazing ache Nezumi's mouth had given him. A smile, bright and alive, curved his lips before his eyes caught sight of the shoulder of his shirt where it had darkened with wetness.

He stood there for a few grinding seconds, staring at the mark with a bemused frown before pulling the shirt off of him. He was holding the cloth in his hand and looking down at it with confusion when suddenly understanding dawned on him. His heart throbbed in his chest and he raised his head, turning towards the bathroom

Shion hadn't noticed… he hadn't realized it at all…

Shion's hand closed tightly around the cloth as he listened to the steady sound of water with a growing ache in his chest. In the four years they had been apart, the way Nezumi's tears made him feel hadn't changed at all. There was no one else in the world Shion wanted to protect more than he wanted to protect Nezumi. He never wanted him to feel pain, suffering, sadness, fear, worry, confusion. Just thinking about the long years Nezumi had spent in the underground room all alone made him feel a crushing sense of sorrow. The tightness in his heart grew as he held the shirt that held remnants of both Nezumi's pleasure and his pain. The feeling threatening to split his chest open was heavy, powerful, selfless.. infinitely unconditional. It was unadulterated love.

And it was Shion's truth; he heard it resonate through his being.

—I will take care of you.

…

I will take care of you.

It had been three months and the words continued to reverberate in his mind. Shion's heart ached for the man waiting for him at home. He was still not used to returning to his apartment and finding Nezumi there. With his books, with his cooling coffee, with the blankets he carried around and his smell that seemed to fill every room in… his existence still took Shion's breath away; making him stop in the middle of his tracks and watch the graceful movements of his lithe body as he walked to their kitchen, as he dropped himself on the couch in the living room with a worn copy of Swan's Way or simply stare at him as Nezumi looked over his shoulder to speak to him with a smile playing on his lips. Shion did not understand how the very heart he felt was killing him with its unforgiving tightness could feel so large now, larger than life; larger than he could even comprehend. But Nezumi had taught him better than that; he no longer tried to understand. He simply accepted it.

Shion's footsteps crunched on the snowy pavement. Plumb clouds of pure white continued to shed snow over the city and Shion walked to his apartment with his gloved hands pushed deep in his pockets and the lower half of his face buried under his scarf. His breath filtered through the wool and sent amorphous fumes of white into the air like ephemeral signs from the high heavens, leading him back home.

Rounding the corner, Shion pulled his keys from his pocket. The coldness of the metal seeped through the fiber of his glove as he walked past the sublime weeping willow tree standing outside his apartment. Naked branches caressed the top of his hat but he barely noticed it. In two strides, he climbed up the steps leading to the apartment's main gate.

He would be there, Shion knew. He had no doubt he would be. What made his hands shake as he unlocked the door into the apartment and his heart quicken wasn't some doubt that he wanted to clear out. It wasn't the need to prove it to himself that for the past three months he hadn't been merely dreaming; a dream of the best kind—the warmest, most beautiful, most enrapturing kind—it was the simple fact that Nezumi was there, waiting for him to return that made him want to run. He wanted to return to him; to his observing gaze and his knowing smile and his gentle hands and his low voice. To the scent of his soup and the taste of the cup of coffee he made. To the sound of his reading through pages and the sound of his footsteps. To the burning feel of his lips over his and the heat of the fire glowing in his grey eyes.

Shion wanted to return to him.
The elevator would be faster but Shion took the stairs. Skipping every second step, he climbed up a floor and stood before the door to their apartment. Pulling his scarf down his face, he tried to push the key into the keyhole and finally got inside.

Nezumi was waiting for him.

…

Shion had fallen asleep in Nezumi's arms the day he had returned. When Shion had gotten out of the shower, it seemed Nezumi had long since fallen into a deep sleep. After pulling on a clean pair of sweatpants, Shion had climbed into bed next to him. He had watched his face; eyes listlessly following every line and curve, drinking in every detail the years had preserved and had added to him. Only when his heart had finally slowed down to its regular rhythm had Shion let out a small breath, lying down beside him. He had scooted closer under the covers, draping an arm over his chest; bringing them closer than they had ever been while sleeping. Nezumi's bare skin felt quiescently warm against his own and Shion had closed his eyes with an artless contentment, breathing against the curve of Nezumi's neck. But Nezumi's arm had curled around him, a sure and swift movement; pulling Shion closer than he previously had been. Shion had looked up at his face only to find the elusive vestige of his infamous half-smile.

Nezumi had waited for him.

…

Shion walked towards the man standing in the hallway with a blanket draping over his shoulders. Winter was still within every fold and crease of Shion's clothes and ingrained into his skin but Nezumi raised his arms, lifting the blanket and spreading it open like a makeshift gate to his chest with an inviting smile melting in his grey eyes. Covering the distance barely took a second and Shion was wrapped up in Nezumi and his spring warmth and in everything he ever was and everything he ever would be.

N

The transition between his memories and the tick of the clock was a gradual one; far more seamless than the one preceding it, but, just as before, there was this jarring sense of reality to how much time had slipped passed him: virtually undetected but now glaringly obvious. Somewhere in the folds of it, Nezumi had gotten tangled up, lost even—for roughly an hour—and even though he wasn't the type to get hung up on minor details, something about that.. really irked him.
Shion hadn't gotten back yet.
But why hadn't he gotten back yet?
The secondhand was mocking him by this point; Nezumi was sure of it. It had somehow gotten louder.. yet slower, moving in this listless pace, like a child dragging his feet to do his chores, the ones he knows he better damn well do and do right. And yet, it seemed no matter how desperately Nezumi wanted time to pass, for that unruly child to do as he should, time lurched onward just the same with a methodical tick-tock.
Why couldn't this near eternal stillness just pass? He just wanted Shion to return, for him to bring with him an air of warmth and welcome, the kind the apartment was currently lacking. His absence left a space, a near gaping hole in the wall that let all the icy winter winds leak in. The chill sapped away any of the usual comfort Shion's warmth brought. No matter how much of a home this place had become to Nezumi, it only remained so when Shion's presence was felt, when his radiance cut through the cold and filled every corner.

He berated himself, his thoughts, and his irritation.
Today felt like a test of his endurance, one clearly marked in big, bold letters as: failed, especially if Shion didn't burst through the doorway soon, if he didn't tear through the cold and toss himself into Nezumi's arms like some romantic sap from a cheesy romcom.
Usually, the image would make Nezumi cringe, and the fact that it didn't made him cut himself down another notch.
Why are you being so pathetic?
He was the child here, the immature, selfish, and unruly brat who couldn't wait a few hours. Shion had spent years awaiting his return, four of them, and here Nezumi was grinding his teeth to the gums over a few hours of loneliness. Sure, the cold hadn't helped his mood, nor had the break in their usual weekend routine, in their usual hours spent together..
He chastised himself with a long groan of annoyance.
Shion had left today for a reason, had even offered to take Nezumi along. He hadn't a right to feel this way, and yet, Nezumi found that no matter how much he criticized himself and tried to busy his restless mind, nothing could steal him away from that strange sense of longing.
It lingered, sank into his very bones a way even the cold couldn't.
But why?
The memories.. it's probably the memories.

Of course a room would feel so much colder after revisiting the first night he bent beneath the weight of Shion's passion, of his heat, his fire.

Nezumi stretched himself lengthily across the arm of the sofa, releasing a hefty sigh: a drug out exhale and inhale, before rolling on his side. Hamlet had begun a sluggish climb over the mess of books tossed atop the table, but the moment Nezumi turned his way, he stopped, gazed at his master, and then cocked his head, giving a small chirp.
"What?"
Another.
"He's out. Shion can't read to you."
Cravat wiggled from beneath two particularly thick novels to join in on the conversation, a vain attempt at helping Hamlet get his way.
"No."
And then, as if waiting for a cue, Tsukiyo chimed in, before scoffing at his master's behavior. Out of the trio, he was least willing to deal with an agitated Nezumi, and thus, lead the others back toward the pet bed, reasoning with them that it would be best to just sleep and let Shion handle such a moody person—and Nezumi realized, yet again, that the mice had too much personality; that, too, irked him.

Nezumi readjusted himself, curled his limbs tightly beneath the afghan and screwed his eyes shut, attempting to fix his thoughts on something else, anything else really, just something to pass the excruciating amount of minutes left before Shion's return. And what came to mind was a moment, a single moment that had carried over from the memories of their first night together: it had been when he awoke in middle of that night, to find himself wrapped up in Shion, and Shion curled around him. They had been knotted together in a jumbled up, fixed, sort of way, and it had been so warm, so hot, that he had considered untangling their limbs from one another just to give Shion some space to breathe, to give himself some cooler air. And somehow, as if Shion had heard that quiet thought, the tiny idea that Nezumi might put space between them, he had roped himself tighter around Nezumi, pulled them together just a smudge more, until Nezumi felt Shion's steady heartbeat against his own chest. He had been asleep, sound asleep, and yet, even in that deep sleep, he had reacted to Nezumi's thoughts.
Nezumi hadn't asked about it the following day, not because he had forgotten or because he wasn't interested, but more so because he hadn't a need to ask. They had always been bound to one another in that sort of way, in a way that overlapped their consciousness from time to time, and it made Nezumi wonder now, if Shion were on his way up those steps, if he were climbing the stairway and racing up to meet Nezumi's need for him.

He rose from the sofa, blanket coiled around him in a last effort to fight back the cold, to hang onto that warm memory, and he took steady steps across the icy tiles, soaking in the memories every bit of this apartment had to offer him, each moment that put the heat of summer to shame. This home held parts of Shion's life during a time he hadn't seen, but it also held countless parts of a newly built life, of a life they were forming with one another here.
Time had passed, and time would always pass.
This was proof, right here, the fact that he could trace back the past three months of all they had built, all they had created with each other in these walls, and there was still time, still so much ahead of them. A day, a month, a year, or four, maybe even twelve, no matter how much time drug its feet, no matter how often it lurched, it would always pass eventually.
Time waits for no one.

The door opened, a final testament to the fact that time had passed, had brought back the one who made this house a home, and Shion stood in the doorway, snow caught in every crease, hanging onto him in some bitter attempt to win with numbers. But Nezumi would have none of that; he spread open the blanket wide, inviting Shion toward him with a smile, inviting Shion home, and there wasn't even a second's hesitation, not even a trace of it as Shion crossed the distance between them, tossing himself in Nezumi's arms and curling up in the warmth they provided.
A small shiver shot up Nezumi's spine as he roped his arms snugly around Shion's snow covered form, burying his face in that weather worn scarf hanging loosely on his neck, and shutting his eyes; he just indulged in the heat trapped beneath Shion's clothes, the heat that not even the winter winds could snuff out, and that's what it felt like to be home, Nezumi decided, it was having a warmth that not even the coldest of days could smother.

"Welcome home."
 He cupped Shion's icy cheeks in his warm palms, stroking the slightly reddened skin with a loving touch, and then, all at once, leaned down and properly welcomed him home.

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"For the two of us, home isn't a place. It is a person. And we are finally home."
― Stephanie Perkins

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THE END

This is the tenth and last chapter of my roleplay thread with my partner A-Wanderer-No-More on Tumblr.

Nezumi = A-Wanderer-No-More. [a-wanderer-no-more. tumblr. com]
Shion = Me at Shion-of-No.6 [shion-of-no6. tumblr. com]

This is a really long thread. I expect it to be around 10 chapters long. My partner and I decided on weekly updates here.
I hope you enjoyed it.

Preview image by Fujiroku [ fujiroku. tumblr. com ]