Pairing: Tohma/Eiri
Genre: Romance/angst
Rating: K+ - T
Notes: No idea when this is set; sometime right before the series, or during it, or right after…
Word count: 220
Tohma realizes, when he allows himself to think about it, that too much has changed. Nothing between them is easy now, not glances or conversation or moments of silence. Their kisses, when they happen, are tense, their embraces accidental, brought on by misery and alcohol. Tohma knows this, but he can't seem to make it matter, on those rare occasions when they find each other again.
He runs his hands over the miraculously smooth skin of the beloved face, presses trembling lips there. He knows stubble will cover those smooth cheeks in the morning if, of course, he is still here in the morning. He usually isn't. But Tohma doesn't let himself think about that, because with Eiri, he has to live for the stolen moments. For now, the skin beneath his hands is smooth, and the cruel golden eyes are almost tender, even if the taste on his lips is new—cigarettes and beer.
"What are you smiling about now, Seguchi?" The edge is off Eiri's voice, dulled by alcohol. In this moment, harsh reality is softer.
"You taste like an ashtray," Tohma teases.
"You don't have to kiss me," Eiri grumbles, and those fantastic golden eyes narrow.
"Yes," Tohma says, a little sadly. "I do."
Letting go is not something he will ever be strong enough to do.