Shion sighed as he sank down onto the sofa, nudging a pile of books aside to make room for himself, a steaming mug of tea cradled in his hands. A small smile tugged at his lips as the rats scrambled for the cookie that he had crumbled up for them on the plate. It was easier to focus on them, watching as they bickered over the largest crumb before eventually retreating to their own places and nibbling away with only the odd squeak to break the contented silence than it was to look across at the tree that he had abandoned by the front door. It had been his mother who had insisted that he should take part in the festivities this year, and he wasn't sure whether some childish part of him had been hoping that he could recapture the magic of the childhood Christmases that lingered in his memory, or whether some part of him had prayed that it would fill the Nezumi-shaped gap in his life.

If he was honest, he still wasn't sure which part had made him agree, he just knew that neither of them was working. He had felt nothing while choosing the tree, hollow in a way that he hadn't since the early days of Nezumi's absence, and now…

Now, he wished he hadn't tried.

It wasn't so much that he didn't want to celebrate Christmas, he was even going to visit his mother in the city later and to deliver the small pile of carefully wrapped gifts stacked on the table. He just didn't want to celebrate it here in the four walls that still whispered of the times – far too short – that he spent with Nezumi, not alone in the space that he should have been sharing with the man that had crept in and made a home for himself in Shion's heart. A living, breathing memory, that only seemed to grow stronger as the days had become weeks, and then months and now years.

Nezumi, I…

He what? Missed him? Yes, with an almost physical ache that never left, often waking him late at night, a hand flung out to the far side of the bed as though he expected to find Nezumi lying there and watching him sleep. Was angry with him? Sometimes. Sometimes the ache of missing Nezumi became a spark of burning anger. Anger that he had been left behind, that Nezumi had chosen to walk away after everything, and that he hadn't come back yet. Hated him?

No.

No, even in his darkest moments when the nightmares had overwhelmed him, leaving crouched amongst the pile of books crying out for Nezumi, for Safu, for anything that would make the dreams, that weren't merely dreams slip away. Even when the loneliness, a chill that had seeped beneath his skin, lingering, draining away his hope and leaving him feeling as though he was a step out of sync with the world especially when he was surrounded by other people. Or when the words in the pages blurred beneath the tears in his eyes. He had never been able to hate Nezumi. Oh, there had been a time when his anger had been larger, almost incandescent because that had been easier than the hurt, the confusion… the feeling that despite everything that had been gained, he had lost.

But, there had never been hate.

Some part of him, the one that had seen and learned too much, who had nearly died and who had woken to that song, understood. He had found himself with Nezumi, so who was he to deny the other man that same chance? It hadn't made it any easier or stopped the sting as he'd watched Nezumi walking away from him, the warmth of that kiss still lingering on his lips. It hadn't made the days and weeks and months since easier. The days like this that was supposed to be shared, but which he faced alone, any the more bearable. Because all he had was the memory of that kiss and the promise that wasn't really a promise.

Growling a word that would probably have impressed Nezumi he set aside his mug and stood up. He couldn't stay here, he couldn't pretend, not today. Usually, he was able to hide it behind a fake smile, one that never reached his eyes and that those who knew him were kind enough to pretend that it was real. To bury it in his work, which was a promise of his own. He worked to rebuild his world, Nezumi's world, to make sure that the other man had something to come back to if…When! He came back. Normally it was enough, but not today. Not here, in the four walls that were slowly closing in on him, hollow and empty, and his hands were trembling as he reached for his coat, allowing the rats to scurry up and hide away in his pockets and hoods. He glanced at the presents, but couldn't bring himself to lift them up, and instead he all but fled for the door, not letting himself look at the tree lying forlorn and abandoned when he had dropped it as he slipped out of the house, escaping the memories and the loneliness that curled closer day by day.

Merry Christmas to me…

It was cold. Nezumi had forgotten how the winter chill here could curl into your bones until it felt as though you were encased in ice, and he shivered now, drawing his coat and scarf as close as possible as he followed the once familiar road. It had taken him longer than he'd hoped, and the afternoon was already turning dark, and he was eager to be home and warm, back beneath the familiar lights and surrounded by his books and the walls that had kept him safe for so long.

He hadn't missed the changes that he'd passed, the progress that had been made in the days, weeks and months he'd been gone, and he could see Shion in it. His touch, his enthusiasm… his hope. It was everything he had imagined and more, and yet as he walked through it, he felt out of place, a ghost in a life that was no longer his. Was it a mistake to come back? There had been nights when he had decided to stay away, to bury himself in his new life, and yet the pull to this place, and to Shion had always been stronger.

So, why was he hesitating now?

Why had his steps slowed now that the familiar building had come into sight? A pillar of the past in the changing landscape, as it seemed as though Shion's progress had not yet reached this far. Or maybe that was by design. Perhaps Shion had never come back here, and why would he? When he could go home, make a new life for himself.

This was a mistake.

Yet… he found himself still moving forward, slowly but steadily getting closer to home. It had been the thought of coming back here, losing himself in his books, the smell of home and the gentle squeaking of his friends that had driven him to travel night and day for the last week. But, now it wasn't what he wanted, or maybe it had never been, an odd feeling settling over him as he came to a halt and stared up at his front door. It wasn't so much that he didn't belong here, he realised, even with all the changes around them.

It was that this wasn't what he had been coming back for.

He had been fooling himself, even when he wasn't, telling himself it was home, and the books and the rats that he had been coming back to. But, now in this moment of honesty, all he could see was crimson eyes and white hair, and that smile, soft and broken, lips still warm from where they had just parted ways. Shion. He almost wanted to laugh, or groan, or cry. When? When had Shion become synonymous with home?

When I lost him…

When I walked away…

He hadn't let himself falter that day, forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other, even when another part of him had strained to go back. Crying out for him to turn around and kiss Shion, to kiss him and kiss him, and never let go. Deep down, he had known that he couldn't, that if he had stayed, then he would have regretted it. Yet, now as he stared up at the home that was no longer his home, the lies that he been clinging to in order to survive the last few days, weeks and months crumbling around him.

I missed him.

I miss him.

He was turning away, still shivering and cursing as he realised that he wasn't going to be able to settle now until he saw Shion for himself. Until he held him. Kissed him. If he lets me. And there it was, the reason that he had been lying to himself for so long because he was the one who had walked away. The one who had left Shion behind, with nothing but a kiss and a promise that hadn't really been a promise.

What if he didn't wait…?

Still, he had to try and see for himself. However, he had just turned away when he heard the familiar dull clang of his front door opening, and for a moment, he froze, before hearing footsteps. That sound broke him out of his shock, and he whirled, his hand slipping down to his knife, only to find himself freezing again, the blade falling from suddenly nerveless fingers as he found himself staring up into Shion's stunned gaze.

Shion…

They remained like that for a long moment, just staring at one another, and Nezumi wasn't sure that either of them was breathing. He knew that he wasn't, staring at Shion as though he had never seen him before. He felt as though he hadn't. Shion looked the same, and yet there were changes. A confidence, a weight that hadn't been there the last time they'd seen each other, as he slowly lifted a hand, clenching it against his chest. Nezumi ached to be closer, to reach out and take that hand, smooth it out and tangle their fingers together, but he still couldn't move. Not sure that he had the right, because Shion had changed without him, had grown and survived and lived in a world different from his.

"N-N-Nezumi?" Shion was the first to break the silence, his voice cracking and breaking – but it was the tone, the longing, the hope…the fear that had Nezumi up and moving before the question was even fully out. He wasn't the only one. Shion was apparently done waiting for him, rushing down the narrow steps to meet him halfway, and Nezumi's heart was in his mouth when the other man slipped and nearly fell, but not as much as it was when Shion recovered and bolted across the last of the distance, slamming into him at full pelt. Nezumi immediately wrapped his arms around him, steadying them both, breath catching at the feel of Shion in his arms again.

Shion…

Shion must've felt his hesitation, or maybe he was experiencing an echo of it too because he pulled back and looked up at him with wide eyes. "You're really here?" It was a question, barely whispered, and yet it sounded like a scream at that moment and Nezumi flinched. In those three little words, he heard all the answers to the questions that he hadn't allowed himself to ask himself while he was away, the doubts and fears. The hopes. It was all there in Shion's voice – he had been missed, he had been shouted at and cursed in the time that he was gone, but he hadn't been hated.

He hadn't been left behind.

His arms tightened then, drawing Shion closer. An answer in kind as he thought to get his voice working, swallowing as Shion shifted, moving to rest his head over his heart. Shion. It was coming home, it was home…

"I'm back," Nezumi murmured, his voice cracking in the middle as he dropped his head on Shion's shoulder and took a shuddering breath. It was warm and soft, and home. It was Shion. Shion whose arms were wrapped around him, fingers buried in his jacket, clinging to him as though he might disappear again. "…for good if you will have me?" Shion was trembling now in his hold, shaking and leaning into him, and at first, Nezumi thought he was crying, but then he looked up at him, and while there were tears glistening in his eyes. He was smiling. Smiling and laughing through his tears, and Nezumi could taste that laughter and the salt of those tears when Shion kissed him soft, and slow.

Again, and Again.

A warmth that didn't linger but consumed, and a promise that was a promise. And an absolution. Forgiveness for leaving and taking so long to come back, as Shion kissed him again, before leaning back with a smile that lit his eyes.

"Merry Christmas, Nezumi."