Work Text:
Saimon was alone in silence. Whiskey glass used as a paper weight, one hand keeping guard over the papers scattered across the table, the other gripping a pen to take notes with. These were important documents, he had to be care-
“Hi.”
He startled at the unexpected voice, the pen obediently following his unexpected movement over two sheets of paper and then Yohei’s wrist.
“Haha. Didn’t mean to scare you … I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Saimon smiled, putting down the pen and reaching for Yohei’s hand. “I just wasn’t expecting you … sorry about this,” he mumbled, his thumb running across the accidental line of ink on Yohei’s skin.
“It’s nothing,” Yohei leaned closer, kissing the top of Saimon’s head. “I should've known you were too immersed in work to see anything, it’s my fault I couldn’t keep my hands to myself.”
“Tap me on the shoulder next time,” Saimon suggested. “The table is … ah, a dangerous place to be when I’m trying to sort out our license renewal.”
“It’s complicated, huh?”
“It’s really not. I just wish to make sure it’s all proper … so the bar can continue to operate without trouble.”
“Thank you for your work,” Yohei kissed his cheek before sitting down on the other side of the table. “I’ll wait here until you’re done,” he added, reluctantly letting go of Saimon’s hand and lamenting the emptiness which replaced it.
“You should go wash that off before it needs to be scrubbed with soap,” Saimon advised him, absentmindedly pointing at the back of Yohei’s palm with the pen.
“It’s fine,” Yohei shook his head with a smile, bringing his hands up to his face and touching the stray line of ink in the same way Saimon did before. “... almost looks like it belongs here anyway,” he mumbled quietly, his fingers hovering over the spot where the ink of the pen met the ink of the needle from his tattoos.
“There is no way you could add anything more to your arm without making it look crowded,” Saimon disagreed.
“Eh … who knows. There’s always enough space for something important,” Yohei shrugged, standing up again to fetch himself a drink. “You want anything?”
“I’m good.”
“Is it gonna take long?”
“A bit. You can go to bed if you want.”
“Nah. I’ll stay here with you.”
It was reassuring. To have companionship, unexpected, even in these mundane moments that didn’t require it … to have a constant presence that didn’t ever think of fading away, or running out of patience, or having better things to do.
What took Yohei so long to make the drink or why he thought he heard him rumbling through the drawers in the back room, Saimon didn’t know. But before he could think about it, Yohei was with him again: sitting across from him, gently rocking back and forth on the chair every now and then, tapping his foot against the floor or moving his glass against the grain of the table.
Tiny, almost unnoticeable little sounds.
But for Saimon, they were as loud as a snapped string wreaking havoc inside their piano, and as memorable as the laughter the two of them shared when replacing it. This, too, was music. Expression. Soul. An outpouring of emotion through an unnecessary presence alone, like rain on an already cool autumn day.
Even if no one in the whole world would wish for something like this, it mattered to Saimon more than anything.
I am here.
I know you’re busy, it’s okay.
You can look up at any time.
I’ll be here.
And as the last form was finally completed and signed, as the papers were pushed aside and the pen rolled with them, almost dropping off the edge of the table, he finally did look up.
Only to catch Yohei red-handed, one arm resting on the table and the other leaning over it with his own pen in hand.
“Eh? When did you get that?”
“Took it out the back, together with my drink,” Yohei grinned. “You said you’d take a while.”
“And what have you been doing in the meantime?”
“Haha … nothing,” Yohei shrugged, picking up both of their glasses and taking them back to the counter.
“Yohei,” Saimon raised an eyebrow, following behind him with no idea what he was up to this time.
“I said it’s nothing,” Yohei promised quietly, taking the opportunity to wrap his arms around Saimon’s neck and kiss him properly now that he was free from work.
As the kiss ended and they slipped apart again, so did Saimon’s gaze slip towards Yohei’s forearm, where some of the gaps between his old ink were now filled in with little hearts and about a dozen repetitions of Saimon’s name.
“You idiot,” he sighed, rolling his eyes.
“Why?” Yohei grinned even wider. “There’s more than enough space for something important, see?”
“And who’s gonna get that off of you?”
“I was hoping you’d help.”
“Well, I suppose … if you put it that way,” Saimon grumbled, sneaking in another quick kiss before securing a firm grasp on Yohei’s wrist and leading him towards the bathroom.
“Be gentle,” Yohei teased him, watching as Saimon turned on the shower and began to unbutton his shirt.
“When have I ever not been?” Saimon asked earnestly, ditching his clothes on the floor and kissing Yohei as he got out of his.
“Just saying. I feel like part of you wants to come at me with a sponge and dish detergent,” Yohei chuckled as Saimon pulled him under the stream of hot water in his arms.
“That’s what you get for doing silly things,” Saimon softly scolded him.
“I was just passing time.“
“But pen ink is hard to get off.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah,” Yohei smiled, closing his eyes and resting his head on Saimon’s shoulder as he endured the punishment of having the doodles on his arm scrubbed out with soap. “I’d love to have your name etched into my skin,” he admitted quietly, his voice almost lost under the water. “All of you, actually.”
Perhaps it did get lost. Saimon didn’t say anything in reply, but that was fine too. Yohei nuzzled closer to him, kissing his neck every now and then, drowning in the warmth, the care, the presence of someone he loved, the-
“I don’t know about all of me.”
“Ha?”
“But if you ever get my name tattooed, take me with you.”
“Why?”
Their gazes met as Yohei raised his head, his furrowed brows finding one of Saimon’s rare mischievous smiles. With their hands intertwined and all but one heart washed away, Yohei watched as Saimon slowly kissed every red spot on his arm, repaying the skin for the stress it endured while simultaneously making Yohei tear up from the overwhelming gentleness of it all.
“I’d want one too.”
“... eh?”
“Your name,” Saimon laughed, rewarding Yohei’s confusion with another kiss.
“I’d want it etched into my skin too … just like I want all of you.”