Notes: Reuploaded because I thought it deserved it's own individual page.
Caius drinks his coffee black.
He watches the sky from the kitchen wearing only cotton shorts and a shirt that's not his own. His bare toes starting to numb to the sting against the cold tiles beneath them. The mug in his hands is his only consolation to being otherwise entirely consumed by the bitter morning air.
He watches as the world slowly comes to life before him. The air surrounding him is crisp and biting with frost, and the sky is still a deep grey from a night that still has yet to pass over, but a blinding light has already begun to slowly pour out from behind low morning clouds.
Caius hates mornings.
His shoulders and neck are painted in fresh purple and red hues that he likes far more than he probably should. His bleached hair is pulled back into a tight uncaring knot, and there are still dark circles under his eyes from another sleepless night.
His coffee is too sweet, he thinks, and he swears he can faintly taste the metallic pang on blood between sips.
His ears ring as another flock of birds awakes to join the already obnoxious choir of chirps.
He grinds his teeth in annoyance. Gods, he really hates mornings.
The floor boards squeak from behind him, and he's suddenly pulled into a warm embrace. Coffee splashes his fingers and over the fabric of his shirt, but he can't find the will to care.
Soft fingers avert his gaze from the window, hungry for attention as they tug his head to the side so he can look at him.
Aro's hair is damp from the shower as it soaks his pale skin, and he still smells vaguely like soap. His expression is sheepish, that stupid boyish grin that makes Caius roll his eyes in a desperate attempt to stop his own breaking out, but before his facade can falter, Aro has already dipped down to capture his lips with his own.
Caius hates mornings.
But for Aro, he decides, maybe he can make an exception.
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