Prompt: "a what-if au-ish scenario where break and reim started a relationship prior to the opera house arc" (from myself)
Rating: K+ for implied makeouts?
Warnings: ReimBreak. Otherwise it's just kinda fluffy.
I was basically woken up by OTP feelings in the middle of the night. That is what my life has come to. That is the level of trash that I am.
"Wait." It's one hushed syllable, but compared to how feather-light and careless Xerxes's words always are, it seems so infinitely heavy. His hands tense as they faintly clasp Reim's wrists, another measure of weight onto the air, and indeed, the other man's hands freeze in place as if on command.
He doesn't say anything—his fingers are inside a royal blue shirt, fingertips barely tangent to pale skin—but he glances up from behind his spectacles in worry and surprise, seeking affirmation that he hasn't done something dreadfully wrong (Xerxes is so odd, like that, taking everything so casually that the slightest show of unease seems so wrong from him).
The one-eyed man looks away and begins to laugh, not letting the air stay thick for too long, but such an inexplicable expression truthfully does little to placate the oddity of the moment. But he's such a fool that he can't help it—on no grounds does he ever seem to think himself equal to another, but here, it seems absurd that he should allow himself to freely touch Reim and yet call a halt at being touched himself.
It isn't the same, of course. Reim hasn't so many things to hide under his clothing—or under his skin, for that matter.
Large hands slide down, falling gently out of the other's garment. He sighs, gives a little smile; he's sure he doesn't understand, he's not upset. (No, that's wrong—he is upset, but only because his partner is laughing that fake and self-deprecating way.) But delicate fingers don't let his wrists entirely pull away; Xerxes opens his mouth to speak, but he interrupts with "It's fine, I don't have to—"
"It's not that," the albino cuts him off with a grumble, "It's just…" At a loss for words he trails off, hands finally moving to adjust his shirt, hopefully bringing attention to the source of the issue—but not the real one, the one he can't stand to recall, just the thin layer of fabric keeping it concealed.
Before, Reim has noted that this man is like an infinite box of mysteries and puzzles—somehow, he finds himself able to solve them more and more easily now, noticing his indications far more sharply than he used to. "It's nothing you'd understand," Xerxes clarifies, giving a wry smirk—another of his annoying expressions.
"Even if I did, I wouldn't mind," his partner insists, as stubborn as he is, as he leans away; there's a mark of irritation there, which is certainly normal enough—really, Xerxes wouldn't have it any other way. He's being irritating, after all. "I already told you, because it's you—"
"Then why don't you just find out~?"
Bright brown eyes blink a few pointed times in surprise; it sounds like a challenge, a bit, though he's sure that's not how he should take it. The elder undoes his scarf, still not looking at his partner, somewhere between invitation and resignation and Reim realizes that he has a rare opportunity to prove a point by not taking it—but he can't seem to resist his curiosity, either, his drive to solve another one of those puzzles locked around this mysterious man.
Is he nervous, or does he just feel ridiculous for saying it like that? Xerxes has trapped himself in a corner, he notes, between various stiff and unreasonable emotions, between his good sense and his self-loathing and some silly desire to open up—but he can't bring himself to seek an escape now, even as his shirt's pressed upward again and he knows he's instinctively stiffening up.
As his pale chest meets cool air, time freezes around them.
Seconds of silence seem like eternity; Reim is staring at it and Xerxes is quite sure that he's not even breathing as his eye is fixed on nothing at all.
The ice breaks when he brushes his fingers across the horrid insignia; the other man jumps as though he may come out of his skin, only to quickly contain himself and turn to face his friend; he still can't breathe, upon seeing such a sorrowful and fascinated expression, but it's for a very different reason, perhaps.
"It's complete…" Reim mutters absently, noting how the skin is rough over the black seal; only after saying that does he realize that his first concern was that it was still ticking. He snaps back to reality, suddenly aware of how taught the muscles under his fingers are; he pulls his hand away, letting soft cotton fall back over the marking. It takes a second, but he looks up again to find that Xerxes is giving another of his stupid grins—Reim's brow suddenly furrows and he snaps, "So what? So you were an Illegal Contractor once. You're still you now, and I still—"
Laughter breaks out of the albino's throat again, loud and joyless, disrupting the words he might have been trying to say; Xerxes puts a hand to his mouth as though to contain it, but he's quite sure that he's laughing because he can't bear to hear any more. "Oh, to be young and naive~!" he laments softly as his giggling dies down; Reim's expression has become a disgruntled grimace on the verge of exploding, in the meantime.
"Don't give me that pitiful old man nonsense." He stops himself short with a grumbling sigh, putting his fingers to the bridge of his nose as he collects his thoughts. But what can he say to someone too stubborn to hear it? So instead, he loosely wraps his arms around Xerxes's small torso, places his forehead to Xerxes's sealed heart—sometimes he just has to accept the mysteries as they are.
The one-eyed man again freezes up, but even the most obstinate old man can't tune out such a gesture. He chuckles weakly, and after a moment, he places his arms over Reim's back as well. He still doesn't understand—he can't possibly, from something so small, but perhaps he had a point—perhaps he doesn't have to understand. Perhaps just allowing him to know could be something good.
"I don't understand, you're right. You're like a damn puzzle box—but that doesn't change how I feel about you, so…"
"—Shut up, won't you?"