Whistling winds and the thick scent of pine; you never imagined him living this kind of life.
At that time, you knew him only as the man who gazed at you with dreary, sunken eyes, and a mouth curled downwards. He spoke to you with such disinterest and warmth that you thought he could have been the very definition of death itself. He touched you in ways that you couldn’t quite describe, with thin violinist fingers. His cold seeped so deep inside you that you believed sometimes he’d freeze even you; heart crystallizing in the same way his own did.
Warming your hands over the soup that bubbled over on the stove, you glanced at the window, watching the sun disappear into the thick trees. Any minute, he would be home, soon. The house was crafted out of splintering wood, but it left the both of you warm enough for the winter. No matter how cold it got, you vowed to never use the fireplace, and instead would clench your chattering teeth, curled up in a thick blanket. Your body warmth nonexistent, you had to learn how to cope with the constant chill running through your body.
A thud arrives at the door and for a moment you’re startled, but you memorized the sound of boots clunking against earth and wood. You watch as the aforementioned door swings open, and Shu--your new life partner, lazily walks inside. That was one thing that didn’t seem to change--the way he carried himself with a slump. Perhaps it was a habit after all these years. His hair had grown, long wefts draping down the sides of his face. The rest had been put up, quite sloppily, into a ponytail, strands falling down the back of his neck and over his ears. His worn clothes and boots were caked with mud--it must have rained earlier, and he lets out a sigh, leaning his rifle against the door’s frame.
“No luck today?” You jest, but he sticks his tongue out at you, closing the door behind himself, as to prevent the cool autumn air from getting inside.
“Not really.” You’ve noticed, that over the time of adjusting to this lifestyle, he had changed. No more fussing over broken earphones, speaking to you as if you’re lower than him, or sleeping for long amounts of time. His hands had calloused over from gripping his gun a little too tightly, and for a moment you remember them running over your arms in the morning, in an attempt to wake you up for the day that awaits.
In comparison to his past self, it was pretty laughable. Sometimes you poke and prod him about it and he snarls, baring a fang that reminds you that you’re both not human anymore. Maybe that was also a joke within itself, but before you can dwell on it, his fingertips are at your cheek, grazing, as if to emphasize that it’s all real.
Turning around, flustered, you go back to stirring up the soup to serve it, but his hands find their way around your waist, as they always do, adroit fingers locking together and sitting at the waist. He rests his head on your shoulder and closes his eyes, savouring the moment. You decide not to say anything, letting the silence linger on.
It wasn’t something the two of you expected at all--not this; let alone the idea of something as mediocre as love. With the type of lifestyle he lead before, where the only thing that mattered was whether or not his sleep was disturbed, or if he had to leave his bed. The idea of happiness, seemed so foreign to him, that now that it was in his hands he didn’t know what to do with himself. His cold heart had swelled up with emotion, so much that it could burst if he gets carried away.
Your hands go to his, touching his clammy fingers with your own, a reminder that you had changed yourself this much, for him. But if changing meant that you can spend your eternity like this, with him, it was well worth it.
boochaiku replied to your post: “I wonder where my brother went though, because I was in the shower...”:
c-could you please tag your sprites? at least as 'spoiler' since i have that blacklisted? i haven't gotten my copy yet and i really like kou and i'd like to keep all his faces a surprise.
Ah shit sorry I forgot. But yeah I'll do that. /laughs
