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It wasn’t unusual for Sinclair to find himself in Yi Sang’s room. Despite the environment being almost as sterile as a hospital’s hallways which, admittedly, brought a sense of unease to the man, Sinclair couldn't help but like it. It was simple, Yi Sang had what he needed, not too much and not too little. Along with that, his bed smelled perfectly of him, bringing the man to an eased state of mind when he crashed face first into his pillows, not even bothering to chuck his coat elsewhere as he took in his scent.
With a facefull of pillows, he couldn’t see what Yi Sang had been doing, only hearing a click and a clack as he tinkered about with his belongings. Of course Emil could simply lift his head and see what the other man was up to, but letting his mind wander and guess felt more fun to him. Not to mention the exhaustion that wracked his body after a day of non-stop combat in the mirror dungeons, as well as on their way to their stop for dinner.
As a soft thud fell to his side on the bed, he reminisced on the fellows that fell before him, just as they always did, over and over..
Maybe he should have tossed that coat aside. Yi Sang’s bed will probably get dirty, and..
“Ah, excuse me. I am very sorry if I’m interrupting your thoughts.” A hand combed through his hair, causing a long, relaxed exhale to escape Sinclair’s lips. As he turned over to face the other, Yi Sang retracted his hand, now resting it on his own lap.
“It’s nothing, I just got a bit carried away thinking about.. Nothing really. Your bed is comfortable, that’s all.” Had Yi Sang’s cheeks not been as pale as they are, he probably could have pretended the faint blush that laid there had not been there at all. Unfortunately for him, or fortunately maybe, there wasn’t much to be done to disguise his enjoyment of Sinclair’s company, resting on his bed with him. The soft smile that graced Yi Sang’s features sent a jolt through his heart, and as his own cheeks grew warmer, it was no doubt Yi Sang was no longer the singular person in the room that was flustered at the admittedly intimate scene.
His thoughts had been quickly interrupted, as from the corner of his eyesight, Sinclair caught a quick glimpse of a hand mirror that laid on Yi Sang’s legs.
Sinclair cocked his head to the side, and before he could ask anything, Yi Sang placed his hand on Emil’s head once more, fingers digging gently through the blond strands. “It’s a mirror, not quite unlike the ones we use, yet still very different.” The man turned his legs to rest on the bed, scooting down so he laid next to the other, fingers dexterously dancing across the looking glass, swapping… Something? It was reminiscent of a filter that he calibrated, for lack of a better word, which allowed him to fine tune the images that showed up in the mirror. It behaved almost like a screen, not too dissimilar to the electronic devices his room had been littered with as a child.
The object was not too dissimilar to the one he had seen in his memories when Yi Sang had resonated with the bough. Only smaller, something he can handle with his own hands rather than the larger device that laid centre in the middle of his old… Room. If you could call it that.
“You’re curious about the mirror, I can tell,” Yi Sang kept “tuning” the screen some more, shifting what they were seeing, now catching a glance of two figures that looked eerily similar to them in a library of sorts, searching through books together, “I wanted to show you, our varying selves. We always seem to find each other, somehow.”
As Yi Sang let out a soft laugh, Sinclair stared mesmerised at their other selves. Certainly Dieci members, but this Yi Sang was unlike the one he would frequently see in battle, equipped as an ID. Rather than being a Fist, it seemed he bore a key, which he held clutch to the hefty books he picked out to read. In the meantime, the other Emil appeared to be a fist, no key in sight be it in his hands or stashed somewhere in his robes.
From the time he spent watching Yi Sang’s Southern Dieci counterpart in battle, the other man always appeared serious, not taking a single moment to display concern or let any distractions get to him. This time, as the counterparts waltzed around in the library, it was different. His smile as he watched Sinclair struggle to pick up books on higher shelves was genuine, kind. When he reached for the book and tapped it against Sinclair’s head lightly before handing it to him, his mirror self’s embarrassment at the act… It was cute.
Yi Sang shifted the filter on the screen again, making Sinclair snap out of his trance. He hadn’t realised how close he’d leaned onto Yi Sang, almost making him jump in embarrassment. He held still, though. Yi Sang looked so peaceful, he didn’t want to interrupt the moment of respite, and merely observed as Yi Sang went from mirror world to mirror world, the two, as he had stated, somehow always together, regardless of if circumstances were pleasant or, in some cases, mildly disturbing.
From the two dashing with parcels as Devyats to scavenging through the city as Rats, hoping to find whatever leftovers they could, weapons or guts.
From Yi Sang resting his head on the thighs of a Sinclair covered head to toe in gears and veils, to what appeared to be them in casual get-ups having a nice dinner, only for them to turn and swing their hidden weapons at who they had been hired to defend their contractor against. That’s how Zwei goes about their business, he knew that much.
Much to their surprise, though, both flinch at the sight of a Maestro Sinclair digging his “tools” into a seemingly joyous Yi Sang. Brief words are exchanged among them in those few seconds, something about learning, something about a masterpiece, something about perfection.
Yi Sang was quick to, for lack of a better term, shut off the device.
Maybe it was better to leave their private moments private, he guessed.
Shaking his head in an effort to forget what he had seen take place before the mirror was dropped to the side, Sinclair couldn’t help but laugh regardless. It was odd, very odd. He could barely even tell what had been happening there in the other side, all he knew was that it was bloody, very bloody.
That sudden scare aside though, yeah. Yi Sang had definitely been correct.
They always seem to find each other somehow.
With a sigh, seemingly happy, and a shake of his head as well, Yi Sang got up to pick up the mirror and put it aside to rest on the desk where his tools and books had been stashed away.
Sinclair got up too, but before he could get off the bed, Yi Sang rushed to him, hands landing to rest on his shoulders.
There was a beat of silence, Yi Sang considering if he should say or not what he wanted to, and before he could bring himself to ask, Sinclair blurted out, nervous, flustered, and visibly shy.
“Y-Yes! Yes, I will spend the night, yes!”
Nodding and looking everywhere but Emil’s eyes, Yi Sang let go of his shoulders, turning to walk back to his desk, only for, in a sudden burst of confidence, Sinclair to lunge at his waist and pull him back into the bed.
It would be a comfortable night.
A warm bed, one that smelled like Yi Sang. In a room where plain white walls surrounded them, yet the atmosphere felt less than sterile, certainly not oppressive like that of a hospital. It felt cosy, it was nice.
They would both be sleeping well, in the comfort of this room, and hopefully across the various mirror worlds they had seen as well.