warnings!: a bit drunk sylus, so mentions of alcohol and consume of it
your hometown seems prettier than ever with sylus walking by your side, with your hand entwined with his, as his voice hums some sweet song while you approach your old house's main entrance. the tall man smiles at you, his red eyes shining tenderly, as he knocks on the door.
all your memories - your childhood, the smell of food, the paintings hanging on the walls - hit you as soon as the door opens. sylus introduces himself to them, to your family, to those tied to you by blood and those that became part of it. he patiently hears the elder's talk about their young days, they way they embarrass you with stories of when you were younger, the way they compliment him and how he looks at you with a playful grin. he kneels to be able to talk with the younger ones, the ones that tell him he looks like a prince, whom ask for a game after lunch. sylus - your present and your future, the man that promised to protect you, the one you want to be with for the rest of your life - and them - your past, the ones that made you became who you are now, who shaped you, who forged your virtues and defects. - merge so well, as if all the pieces that took so long to repair inside of you were finally glued by the sound of their shared laughter.
lunch happens without any incident, apart from the continuous questions to a very confident sylus, and suddenly it's already time for the after lunch. bottles and bottles of exquisite local liquor and other alcohols run through the table while the kids play in the background. even when your man has a really strong alcohol tolerance, you fear maybe they're giving him too many things to try.
"sylus, maybe... that's enough." you see how the next shot -this time, pomace cream- slides into his mouth, with a drop running down his lip, that he's quick to catch with his tongue. he gives you a quick kiss, leaving a sweet flavor on them.
"i'm alright, love. it would be rude to refuse." but their tolerance outpaces your boyfriend's. green liquors, coffee ones, strawberry creams... he tries at least a shot of all of them, and even when he's being polite and rejecting most of the glasses, your family keeps insisting on the most famous ones. the elders pat his shoulders and you stand up quickly, taking your boyfriend's arm and walking towards the upper flat with a poor excuse. "please, forgive us. we're very tired of the trip, and we would like to rest. we'll be in my old room."
going upstairs, sylus walks by your side, tangling his arm on your waist and following you closely. as soon as you arrive, you see the old couch you used to spend so many afternoons in, reading a book, playing a game or watching a show. before being able to arrive to your old room, sylus turns around and, with a smile, he kisses the tip of your nose. seeing this version of him - so blushed, so soft, so tipsy.- makes your heart flutter.
"you're so drunk, sylus. i knew i shouldn't have let you stay for the afterlunch." he laughs and lets all his tall body fall in your couch, way too small for his body. he seems uncomfortable, so you guide him to lie properly. "here. your feet. now your knees, bend them." his movements mimic your orders, and his eyes are focused on you with attention.
"and now?" he asks. his voice sounds sleepy, but he's incredibly attentive to you.
"your hands under your head." he does so, and you kneel near him, his face close to yours. he hums.
"you could just buy a bigger couch." he whispers, glancing at his knees. "you can't fit here with me if my knees are not straight." his faces turns into a pout, before looking back at you. his red, sleepy eyes in contrast with his white, wild hair. he smiles sweetly. "but don't worry, love." he stretches his body, letting his feet hang from the couch, and resting his back against the cushions. "i can sleep with my feet outside the couch, but not without you." his hand moves to your cheek, caressing it, the very most sincere gaze you've seen from him looking directly at you. so full of love, of affection and happiness; of desire, of willing, of sweetness, of devotion. all the feelings he always tries to demonstrate to you, to tell you, to shout to everyone; caged in such a passional red-shade eyes.
his hand caresses your cheek, your jaw, your neck. it follows the pace of the same song he has been humming all day, some local tune he heard on the radio on your drive here. it's slow, pleasant, subtle; and his thick voice, roughened by sleep and alcohol, welcomes you to hear more of it. his hand quickly reaches your arm, pulling you sweetly towards the couch, making room for you in front of his body, facing him. his chest rises and falls with each quiet breath, and your bodies are too close. he sighs.
"are you alright, love? comfortable?" you nod a couple times against his collarbone. he smiles, even when you can't see him. you silently thank fate for bringing him into your life, for the smell of his cologne that feels like being home, for the warmth of his hands on your lower back, for the way you tangle your legs between his.
"forget the bigger couch, i think we should get one this size for our home." his sudden words make you laugh, quickly passing in on to him. his embrace becomes stronger and you close your eyes, face buried on his chest, feeling the laughs and the chats of the floor below. you smile.
maybe he's all you've been searching for.
"sylus." you fear he's asleep, but his low "hm?" reaches your ears.
"i love you."
the room falls silent for what seems to be hours, but you feel how his grip tighten, his body pressing even closer to yours as he takes a deep breath.
"i love you. i love you so much, so much more"
