cecilings:
As soon as Nix crawls into bed, Cecil joins him, arms wrapping around his middle instantly and anchoring himself to someone else. Nix doesn’t give off warmth like other people seem to, he’s noticed that. It’s weird, he thinks he’s got a circulation problem. As if to check, he presses his ear against his chest, listens to the slow thump of his heart. Nothing out of the ordinary there, at least. Like a baby animal, he clings and moves impossibly closer as he feels fingers threading through his long hair.
If he were a cat, he’s sure he would be purring.
Closing his eyes, he relaxes into the sensation of someone stroking his locks, of a gentle brush of lips against his forehead. Nobody has ever been this soft with him his whole life. Maybe a mother, when he was a babe but, that time is long past. He doesn’t remember her, and he doubts she does him. Does she know she left her only son with a monster? Does she care? Cecil tries not to dwell on it, grounding himself in Nix. His smell, how his muscle moves under his skin as he stretches and turns, the rhythmic thump of his strong heart.
Cecil falls asleep to that noise.
/ / / / /
Cecil dreams of him, and Nix. It’s nothing too intimate, thank god, just them on a warm summers day in a meadow. Laid in the grass, holding each other, scared to let go. He knows it’s fear that’s keeping them there. But, of what? It starts to rain, and he swears he sees the other’s eyes turn lilac before he -
Wakes up.
Eyes open, Cecil blinks. This isn’t his bed, no it’s - Nix’s. Who’s still asleep above him, and he’s so close he can count his eyelashes. He can even see soft freckles that dance on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. It’s not sunny yet, so they haven’t properly come out.
Oh god. He’s here, with Nix. Gorgeous Nix, tempestuous Nix who has only ever protected him or fought with him. They’re like an old married couple in many respects but - here. In his bed? It’s frightening. Nix would never…with him, anyways. Cecil was drunk this - he was being nice. He feels pathetic, and the emotion wells in his chest and his eyes.
Slowly, he climbs out of the bed.
Nix is a light sleeper, always has been. He blames it on the fact that he’s half human, if he was like his mother he probably wouldn’t need to sleep it all. Sometimes he wonders if he could ask her for a spell, to get rid of the human part of himself. He wonders if he’d sprout fins or some shit, shark teeth, something darker than the ocean if she played with that type of magic.
But she merely smiles and cups his cheeks and, as much as she despises humans like his father was, she tells him he needs that part of himself and that he’ll learn one day why.
Why?
Sometimes he feels like drowning that part of himself in blood, in enjoying the feeling of killing other humans, in living in how using his powers make him feel.
Other times...
like when he catches Cecil reading in the sun, his glasses sliding down his nose, or when he catches him singing in the kitchen while he makes tea...when he they kissed.
Not so much.
Nix knows that he can’t allow himself to be like this. He just can’t.
He moves a little when he feels Cecil stir and lets out a soft breath before turning on his side, facing the warmth of Cecil’s body and presses his face into it a moment, breathing in fresia and something distinctly Cecil’s skin.
And then he realizes, almost with a laugh, that his roommate is pulling a him. He’s trying to sneak out of bed early and leave him to wake up alone. My, my, how the tables have turned.
“Sneaking away isn’t nice.” Nix says, eyes still closed, voice rough from sleep. He them opens them and fixes them on Cecil. “Is it because I didn’t wake up early enough to make you breakfast?” He teases.
