Chapter Text
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The one day Kirschtaria is free, a storm rolls through.
The traffic light glows red against a bruise dark sky, car headlights flashing through the night. Daybit eases the truck to a stop and the click of the turn signal echoes through the silence, keeping in steady tempo with the downpour. Kirschtaria isn't looking at him— his gaze is turned to the storm outside, pounding at the window to be let in. His folded hands are pale in his lap, unusually still for him.
"I'm glad it's rain and not snow." Kirschtaria starts after a moment. His face is still turned away, and Daybit traces the curve of the shell of his ear with his gaze. "I prefer the spring storms that bring rain."
"You live in a good city for it, then."
The light turns green, and Daybit accelerates.
His new flat isn't far from the Clocktower and it takes them little time to get there. Kirschtaria supposedly has the day off, but the shrill ring of his pager can change that at any moment. It'd have been easier to move in alone— it only took Daybit half an hour to pack away eight years into two boxes, his room since childhood now as empty as any other room on the hall. Waiting for a day where he would be free had been a nightmare.
But Kirschtaria had asked, which is reason enough.
The truck lurches to a stop as he pulls into a parking space. If he's parked between the lines is anybody's guess— the rain comes down in thick sheets, roaring against the windshield. The window wipers scrape over the glass, flicking back and forth. He has faith in the truck— if it can survive the Department of Lore, it can survive a storm. He shuts off the engine and turns off the headlights.
"Well, there is no time like the present." Kirschtaria turns to him and offers a small smile.
"No point in waiting." Daybit sets his jaw and glances towards the truckbed. A tarp is thrown over the boxes, but they still have to brave the downpour. "We'll take one each."
It's a good plan. It just doesn't survive Kirschtaria.
Daybit slips from his seat and into the rain, moving quickly to the truckbed. He opens the tailgate and reaches for the tarp, pulling it off swiftly.
Kirschtaria tries. Then he tries again, because his first attempt hasn't budged it an inch. Daybit watches as he struggles to even move the box and breathes out an incredulous sigh. "You volunteered to help me move and you can't lift a box?"
"… I didn't know until I tried." Kirschtaria admits as he steps away, flicking his gaze away and smiling sheepishly.
"Only you." Daybit shakes his head. He steadies his box against his body and with his newly free hand, unhooks the keys from his belt. They flash silver through the air, and Kirschtaria catches them neatly. "Go unlock the door, then."
He watches Kirschtaria dash through the downpour and follows after.
The stairs creak with every step, Daybit's flat on the last floor of the building. Kirschtaria is already at the door and he holds it open. Daybit passes him and steps into the darkness of the flat, moving towards the counter. He sets the box there and leaves it with Kirschtaria to make the last trip.
When he gets back, Kirschtaria is examining the emptiness of each cabinet with increasing disappointment. Daybit drops the box on the counter and Kirschtaria turns to him then, a question on his lips. "Do you not have a kettle?"
"No. You'll have to bring one with you next time." Daybit answers.
"A kettle is just as much part of the kitchen as a stove or sink." Kirschtaria protests, but Daybit doesn't doubt there'll be a kettle soon and mugs to keep it company. "What's next, then? Unpacking or setting up the Bounded Field?"
Daybit doesn't pause as he draws the box cutter along the tape. "I wasn't planning to set up a Bounded Field but you can, if you want."
He lets Kirschtaria mull that over for a moment, peering into the box's contents. Clothes. He has no dresser to put them in, but the shelf in the closet will serve well enough. "You're right. You are the last person who has to worry about thievery— you keep it all in your head."
"There's nothing here worth stealing." Daybit adds as he goes for the other box. It's full of textbooks, notebooks, and other texts. Those go on the counter opposite to the sink. He leaves his latest notebook aside, mechanical pencil tucked into its spiral. He doesn't doubt he'll find Kirschtaria flipping through them idly later, as casually as if they're paperbacks. "The clothes, then. That's all that's left."
Kirschtaria drifts along after him as he carries the box to its final destination. He stops just in front of the door to the balcony, where the rain still falls. Daybit doesn't mind— he finds it easier to work by himself. He hears the door creak open as he hangs up shirts, but he pays it little mind. Kirschtaria has been steadily filling the seats Marisbury has left cold, the responsibilities piling on his plate by the day. If he's been called away, then that's his business.
It's when he finishes that he goes to find Kirschtaria.
He stands out on the balcony, face tipped towards the sky. He's still staring out into the storm, watching the brake lights trail red ribbons into the night. The darkness bleaches the color from his hair and the rain soaks it through to the roots, plastering it against his face. A pale flash of lightning splits the sky open, illuminating everything.
What snapshots Daybit has of Kirschtaria are always sunlit. The way his hair burns molten gold in the dying sun's glow, or the thoughtless tangle of their fingers as he tugs on Daybit's hand, always with a you have to see this.
He steps out before he thinks better of it, careful to keep a hand on the door. "You'll catch your death out here."
"I know. It's about time to head in." Kirschtaria turns to him then. His shoulders shiver, but his voice is steady as the rain. "I find I can't just watch, sometimes. I want to get in the middle of things— no matter how ill advised."
"I know." Daybit reaches then for his hand. Kirschtaria's fingers are icy with exposure, but Daybit firms his grip anyway. "Sometimes, you'll have to walk away, too."
Kirschtaria's gaze sharpens at that. He holds on then, like he might never let go. "Not today," he says after a moment.
"Not today." Daybit agrees. "But still, you should change."
He lets Daybit lead him in and he goes for the closet. Their wardrobes cannot be more opposite— Kirschtaria's most casual and Daybit's most formal still don't overlap. Daybit is never invited to the events that necessitate a good suit and Kirschtaria has too many eyes on him to commit to casual. Kirschtaria takes to it with joy, stepping out with a sweatshirt and sleep pants over one arm.
"Do you ever get to dress yourself?" Daybit asks as Kirschtaria pulls off his shirt, tossing it into the corner with a carelessness better suited to Daybit himself.
"Yes, but my tailor has strong suggestions on everything." The pants go next, revealing lean legs and thin thighs. sometimes, Daybit thinks Kirschtaria feels like a scarecrow in a silver suit. Skins and bones and little else. "And of course, it's rare I get to wear your clothes."
There's a jagged ripple of scar tissue across his chest, sharp and white. The only bit of memory that accompanies it is I, too, am just a man. Maybe Kirschtaria has told him more. Maybe he hasn't. But it's not important.
"You can keep them, if you want." He offers. Kirschtaria pulls on the sweatshirt first, ROSWELL writ in silver across the dark fabric. Something he definitely must have bought with the other in mind.
"If I want to see them again, I'll have to keep them here." Kirschtaria laughs. Daybit has half a mind to tell him he doesn't need the pants. "I have lost more to my childhood maids than anybody else."
It sounds like a promise and Daybit turns then, moving to the bed. He'll have to trust Kirschtaria to remember it.
Daybit's bed is just a mattress, pillow, and blanket. The blanket is a gift from Kirschtaria that has kept him warm through the late nights, the first thing he touches upon waking and the last thing he touches before he goes to sleep. The mattress is only twin sized because Daybit must have thought anything larger too optimistic.
"Would you mind if I joined you?"
"Suit yourself." Daybit answers as he moves over.
Kirschtaria prefers Daybit to his back but he makes do with the wall, settling in parallel to it. Daybit lies down to face him, gaze lingering on the hollow of his collarbone. His sweatshirt is a size too large on Kirschtaria's shoulders and while Daybit doesn't feel anything in particular on most things, he finds he likes it this way.
"I'm afraid I've been no help at all." Kirschtaria's voice is a low murmur. The blanket rustles as Daybit pulls it up to cover them both. "I would say I have more energy in the sunlight, but it mostly makes me tired."
"I don't mind. I like the Kirschtaria that visits when it rains." He offers. Kirschtaria's hair spills in the space between them, a pool of moonlight.
Across from him, Kirschtaria's eyes glitter ultramarine in the darkness. "It's a good thing then, that we live in a city of endless rain."
