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“Daiyu,” Lotus says suddenly, breaking the tranquil silence that had settled over the pair like the glassy surface of a lake, “Do you think I’m beautiful?”
Daiyu’s head shifts minutely to glance up at him, and his curious eyes meet Lotus’s gaze. The bold question hangs in the air, suspended in tension. That moment of daring starts to feel like a mistake now, and Lotus wishes he could take it back. “What about it?” Daiyu finally questions quietly.
The room feels too warm, and Lotus’s heart races. His hand, previously on his knee, quickly goes up to play with a lock of his hair. “Oh, it’s nothing. Forget about it, Daiyu.” He flashes a grin at him, trying to play it off as a joke, but also to quell his nerves. Mostly to quell his nerves. “Just a silly question.”
Daiyu closes the book he is holding about something something astronomy and turns to face Lotus properly, his full attention now on him. Lotus sits up a little straighter under his gaze and gives him a questioning tilt of the head. After a short eternity of sitting in the sunlight-filled study, the woody scent of ancient books mingling with the mildewy air, Daiyu finally sighs and leans back, eyes closed. “Daiyu?” Lotus starts, voice thick with a foreign emotion. Fondness, maybe. Or fear.
“Yes, Lotus. I do think you are beautiful,” His eyes open and make contact with Lotus’s own, “The most beautiful person I’ve ever met.” He says, then stops, eyes casting down and frowning slightly at Lotus’s knee as though it has personally offended him.
Lotus doesn’t think too much of it. There is nothing anger inducing, as far as Lotus knew, about his knee. Instead, his eyes widen with a thrill. He feels the warm rush of blood fill his cheeks and his heart flutters with delight making the room feel even stuffier. He needs fresh air, Lotus thinks, distracted by the warmth in his cheeks . When was the last time they aired it? Really, he ought to open a window or two. He allows himself to beam, and not just to quell his nerves this time, a genuine grin.
“Yeah? Well, I think you’re pretty beautiful too.”
A mixture of surprise and bashfulness find their way onto Daiyu’s face, evident in his expression, not expecting it. He murmurs a small thanks before casting his eyes down, seemingly unable to meet Lotus’s gaze, and fiddles with the pages of his book. Lotus wishes he were that book, he wants to feel Daiyu’s hands, no matter how perpetually cold they always are. He wants to trace every crease and ridge and scar on his palm and knuckles and everywhere. Stupid book. Lotus just stares at his hands for a moment longer before lifting his eyes to ask timidly, hopefully. “Can I hold your hand?”
It’s Daiyu’s turn now to give a questioning tilt of the head before he extends his hand out in invitation. Lotus grasps it with both of his own, a wide smile illuminating his face. He takes extra care to cover Daiyu’s hand fully, and as expected, it feels cold, but Lotus doesn’t mind. He never minds, not when it’s Daiyu . And besides, Lotus thinks, gently but firmly rubbing his fingertips across Daiyu’s palm, it’s okay, because I can just warm them up with my own.
The sun bathes the study in a warm, golden glow, and time seems to slow as Lotus holds Daiyu's hand in his own. The touch, the closeness, sends a jolt of electricity through him, and he can’t help but notice how perfectly their hands fit together – like two missing pieces finally reunited. Daiyu's cold hand nestled securely within Lotus's warm embrace, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. As they sit there in comfortable silence, their breathing starts to synchronise, and Lotus thinks, I love you, the words echoing like a mantra in his mind. I love you I love you I love you I love you.
He doesn’t say it, not now, he believes it deserves more care than what the current situation is offering. But he thinks it.
.
.
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