Twilight
Shunsui administers a few final kisses to his lover's eyelids and forehead before slipping down, tucking his head under a chind and waiting for the breathing to ease off into sleep. When it does, he slowly unwrapps his comforting weight from the slighter, but no less powerful, figure and sits on teh edge of the bed where he can see out the window in teh garden, where the moon is rising above the trees.
Although he himself prefers tatami mats, the western-style mattresses are better for easing hte passage of sleep for Jyuushirou, and that is enough reason for it to be here in his apartment. They're also easier to make love on, although that was not what they had been doing tonight. They have already tried that cure and it has not worked.
Shunsui has only left his opposite's side because he firmly believes leaving a bottle of sake unfinished is unlucky. He pours the ceramic saucer to the brim and toasts to the full moon, praying in his heart to the sky that tonight will be the night that his love will be able to sleep through to dawn without waking with a coughing fit that will leave blood on the sheets and black circles under Jyuushirou's eyes.
When he finished his cup with a sigh, he realizes that the moon is not full - it is waning. But the light it shines is bright enough to cast shadows on teh sleeping garden. Shunsui knows, with ehte wisdom of too many ages to count, that his time with his other half is coming to an end, and he knows that when his precious other half succumbs to his illness that he will follow, becaues there is no use living as a half. He does not know where he will go, but whereever it is, he knows he will find Jyuushirou there. But he also knows that the hair on the pillow is the same color as moon-beams and that his heart of hearts will wake up if his comforting weight is not added to the bed soon.
They are not dead yet.