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A shuffling peeled Tezeta from his grogginess, shoving him out of lead-weighted eyelids, those arachnid eyes shifting open from under the veil of silken white hair, glancing over to the side of him.
A pressure had been lifted off his back, leaving a cold gap where the warmth began to seep out into the cool air of the room, glancing down at his side to see an imprint of an arm reddened into his fine scales, the brilliant scarlet fading back to that mauve tone, disappointment washing over his face as his thin lips pursed into a slinking pout.
He'd moved. Glancing up and shifting slightly, making an attempt to not give his awareness away, he stared up from behind that curtain of silver at Nero who sat up, arms folded to his chest, his face wrinkled into a frown as he stared off. Tezeta couldn't see where his vision laid, that patch obscuring the view of his eyes, the man's nosebridge wrinkled in a sense of distaste, a clear sign of annoyance.
“What's wrong?” His voice slipped between his lips, filling the quiet silence. That smooth, brilliant tone he always had to his voice, watching it reach Nero's ears, though it warranted no response.
“Nero.” He repeated, watching those ears flick, tracking those sounds. It was obvious he heard him.
“Nero.” He began once again, being cut off by a short, stout quip from the man, who's mouth snarled back in some sort of involuntary hyperbole. To be frank — his face always moved quite eccentrically.
“I don't like this.” He snapped back in a quick, dismissive sense, pulling at the sleeve of his shirt for a moment, before sealing his lips back shut.
A beat drew between the two.
“Why? You were doing so fine before.“ A twinge of concern itched at Tezeta's voice, mainly annoyance, his brow shifting up on his face to rest on his top most eyelids.
”Well, I'm not now.“ He spat back, tongue flicking on the back of his teeth, unable to hide that slight melody of a whine in his voice.
As a much longer silence drew between the two, Tezeta could feel the cold air now hugging his body. Nero always insisted on spooning him, regardless of being much shorter. Tezeta truly couldn't complain, though — While the man was practically a backpack against his bony spine, His form was softer, and he irradiated an intense amount of warmth, like some strange little hare-shaped lamp.
”Nero, Lie back down.“ He requested, more demanded, his body yearning for that pressure to return to his back before the cold seeped too far in, his fingertips beginning to dance into a graying blue tone.
”It's not right.“
”What's wrong?“
”I don't like it.“
”Nero, Just talk to me.“
The man's demeanor shifted into one of embarrassment, making the mistake of glancing over at Tezeta with those stressing, maroon eyes, quickly swiveling back.
”There's no sun down here. I can't sleep without it up. It's too cold.“ He tried to say as matter-of-factly, though his chin pulled at his smile lines, dropping them down to a childish pout on his face.
A moment of silence followed.
”Nero, Am I too cold?“
”No, It's not that, It's just -- It's wrong, is all.“ He shifted his position on the bed, the soft, heavy sheets lightly crinkling ontop of him.
Tezeta's ears flicked as he finally noted the light sound of Nero's paw drumming against the mattress below the comforter, the situation clicking in his head.
He was Overstimulated. Or Understimulated. Whatever it was, it explained the sudden polarity of his emotions, his paranoid and tense demeanor.
”I can turn on the lamp, If you'd like.“
”I'm not scared of the dark, you moron. I'm not a little kid, I just —“
He cut himself off, brow furrowing as he looked at that empathy itching over Tezeta's face. Lord, did he hate to be pitied, to see concern on that man’s crooked features, did it kill him inside a little.
”Sure. Fine. That'd be nice.“ He admitted with a huff, the ornate glass lamp clicking on and emitting a soft orange hue, Nero's posture softening slightly, pulling further back into the bed.
”Better?“
”Yes.“
Tezeta couldn't hold his grin as he watched the man's ears flicking back slowly against his head, releasing from their upwards, pin pricked position, turning his head back to face the wall as he man slipped himself back under the covers, wrapping his arms back around Tezeta, pressing the warmth of his beating heart back against his spine.
He shut his eyes back, feeling as a small splotch of scarlet began to shift onto the nape of his neck from the hot air that breathed from Nero's nose, a soft red beginning to blossom over where the man's arm pressed against his ribs and stomach.
Both of them knew this was temporary. A cope with their own personal yearings, a hatred that peeled back below for one another even under this display.
But even while it was fleeting — it was still a love, a comfort. All things came and left with due time, regardless.
So Tezeta laid there, contentful, Like the dawn cupping the moon at the last, short, golden lick of twilight.