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The Geldrenner , Kuwei found, was the cleanest place he’d been to, at least in Kerch. Though it was crowded with people covered in grime and crusting blood, it still had an air of wealth and asepsis to it. It was also the first hotel he’d ever been to. He found he quite liked it.
He found himself immersed by its large rooms, and just how many there were. Whether that was because he had been stuck in a tomb with six other people, and a lone prison cell before that, he couldn’t be sure. When he wasn’t busy writing something down or watching in horror as some plot unfolded in front of him, he would trace his fingers along the trim of the walls. It was a simple pleasure, but he’d been robbed of any such things during his time in Fjerda, and to him it seemed worth a great deal - as, he had been told, was he.
He walked around the suite, and came across an open doorway. The room it led to was small, yet felt spacious. In its centre sat a white lacquer piano. It glinted in the sunlight. The walls were purple silk, adorned with small silver fish, and at its edge was a cabinet filled with blown-glass ships. It was, admittedly, hideous; the kind of audacity that immense wealth brought upon a person. Still, he didn’t mind it. The sun filtering through the window gave it a sense of mystery, and he sat himself on the stool of the piano. It’s not like he had much else to do anyways.
He lifted the lid to reveal keys of the brightest white, glimmering in the soft sunlight. A smile spread on his face, and he tapped one of the keys. He’d never been a fan of music as a child, but looking at the instrument in front of him, he was able to recognise its beauty. He tilted his head to the side and played the same note. He couldn’t quite explain why, but it brought him back to being a small child in Shu Han, laughing with his Dad whenever he’d let him do something in the lab. They’d never had a piano at home, there was nothing to make him remember, but he still couldn’t stop the nostalgia coming in a wave, bringing with it a flush that stained his cheeks.
“I like that. Has a great beat - you can dance to it.” Kuwei whipped his head to the open doorway. There, towering over the door, stood Jesper; his brown skin sparkling in the dim light coming above from the silver chandelier. The Zemeni boy sauntered over. “Saints, this place is hideous.” Kuwei shrugged, his attention drawing back to the pianoforte. He switched his finger to another note, trying to seem disinterested. He was sure that Jesper could see him blushing, a redness that had only grown more fierce since he’d entered the room. He leaned on the piano, his elbow rested on its top, his cheek in his palm.
“Wanna get out of here?” Kuwei looked up at him. Jesper’s eyes stared back at him, creased at the edges with the lines of a confident smirk. Saints, his eyes . They were the most perfect quartz grey, with a slight hint of amber around the pupil. And they were staring right at him through dark lashes, lidded. He nodded.
“Really?” Jesper’s posture changed. His shoulders fell, no longer stiff with anticipation, and his back straightened. Kuwei held his eyes, an unblinking stare. He could feel the air in the room, thick and heavy. He could feel its combustibility, and tapped into it. His heart fluttered alight as the room became hot. He stood up from the stool, and looked Jesper up and down, eyes wide. If he was honest, he was still fighting the adrenaline from the attack on Black Veil, and riding the high of using his powers to separate the river. He grinned broadly and lifted his brow.
And then, there was no distance between them, and Jesper’s hands were cupping his face. Their lips brushed, and Kuwei drew him in. He was soft, and warm, and beautiful - hell, he was so, so, beautiful. Jesper’s hand snaked up to his neck, and he tilted back. They moved in a slow, steady rhythm, the heat of their bodies intertwining. Jesper pushed into him, making a discordant clank of keys as he hit the piano. Kuwei lusted after his touch, delved into his touch, his lips.
Jesper pulled away. His hands fell to his sides, an art of awkwardness plastered on his face. Kuwei sat himself back down on the stool, a smug smile lighting up his face.
“What?” Jesper asked. “Do the Shu not kiss before noon?” Kuwei’s golden eyes followed Jesper's gaze to the doorway. There, standing in its centre, was Wylan Van Eck, slack-jawed and startled, wearing his face.
“I wouldn’t know.” He said sourly. Jesper’s face seemed to twist into recognition and guilt all at once.
“Oh, Saints,” He groaned. Their eyes met and Kuwei grinned at him, ever smug. Jesper turned on his heel.
“Wylan-”
“Kaz wants us in the sitting room.” He interrupted.
“I-” Jesper trailed off as Wylan disappeared from the door. Kuwei only smiled to himself and plunked a note on the piano. He’d never been fond of the demolitions expert; he’d always grown angry whenever he saw him wearing his face as though it were a visage, a disguise; and not him, a real person.
Jesper’s finger appeared, accusatory, in Kuwei’s face. “You should have said something!” he simply shrugged.
“You were very brave on Black Veil. Since we’re all probably going to die-”
“Damn it.” Jesper muttered and trudged toward the door.
“You’re a very good kisser!” Kuwei called after him, eyes branded with the glint of mischief. The smile playing on his lips gave away how pleased he was with himself, but he didn’t mind. Jesper turned on his heel.
“How good is your Kerch really?”
“Fairly good.”
“Okay, then I hope you understand exactly what I mean when I say you are definitely more trouble than you’re worth.” Kuwei contemplated this for a second.
“Kaz seems to think I’m worth a great deal now.” Jesper’s eyes gave a hyperbolic roll.
“You fit right in here.” He stalked out the door, the listless repetition of that same note carrying him out.