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i. 23:17
Rudo’s not sure what pulls him from sleep, but he wakes slowly, limbs heavy and mind thick as he reorients himself in the dark. It could be the chill kissing his cheeks, the only part of him not swathed under his nest of a bed. It could be the wind whistling outside and the rain whipping at his windows like a visitor knocking.
His bedroom door creaks open, spilling soft hallway light across the walls but stopping just before it reaches his eyes.
“Rudo?” Amo whispers from the doorway. Rudo hums and stretches his limbs out, throat clicking and joints cracking with disuse. “Rudo,” Amo says again, a little bit louder.
Rudo sits up, immediately regretting it when cold air rushes under his quilt. He curls his legs up to hoard what little warmth he can still grasp. Panic washes over him as better sense comes to him, when he sees Amo huddled small against his door and shivering.
He moves to get out of bed. “Amo? What’s wrong—”
“—The power went out,” Amo rushes to say. She steps into his room and shuts the door behind her. “Happened a while ago. Amo thought she could handle it, but— It’s dark, and my window… There’s a draft, so—?”
“Oh!” Everything is okay, then. Amo is just cold. “Yeah, I can—” he cuts himself short as he slips out of bed, fingers cold and toes colder when they meet the bare floor. It shouldn’t be too hard to find from where the draft is coming through. He’ll patch it up somehow, or make a quick-fix for the night then repair it during daylight tomorrow.
Amo doesn’t move, though. Rudo stops a few paces in front of her fully expecting her to turn around and lead the way back to her room.
“Um.” She fidgets with the hem of her night shirt, eyes downcast. The little moonlight that seeps through the blinds bathes her in a gossamer glow. Rudo’s chest squeezes. “Amo was wondering if, um. If it’s okay? For Amo to stay. Stay here. With Rudo…” Her voice trails off to a near-whisper, but her words ring in Rudo’s ears.
Stay here with Rudo! In Rudo’s room—!
His heart leaps; his cheeks burn off any remaining chill that still clings to him.
“Y-yes!” He doesn’t mean to shout, but her words have doused him in warmth and his mind buzzes and he’s not sure how to control all the awkward ways his body behaves when he's full to the brim with big emotions.
It takes a bit of clumsy maneuvering to find their respective places in Rudo’s bed. It’s small, but not cramped, and he stays mindful of where his body ends and hers begins. When they settle they lie side-by-side staring at the ceiling, no sound but the heavy wind and their quiet breaths. He won’t be sleeping tonight, he thinks. He’s accepted his fate.
ii. 01:35
Amo shivers. It shakes the bed a bit, but Rudo doesn’t mind. He’s more worried that Amo isn't warm enough to sleep, and when he looks to her he sees her face scrunched in discomfort, her shoulders hiked up in an attempt to condense her own body heat. He wants so badly to wrap her up in his arms, to swaddle her with his warmth and smooth out the hurt wrinkling her face.
She shivers again, but it’s her little whisper of a whimper that has his body moving on its own. In a heartbeat, he has his arms around her pulling her flush to his chest.
Her sudden, sharp gasp is followed by a quick rush of breath against his throat, and Rudo freezes. Shit— he should have woken her first, he should have asked her, he must have frightened her, he should have asked—
“Rudo,” Amo sighs, soft and thin and easy, then slumps her weight against him. Something clicks into place, then. He’s not unaccustomed to somatic comforts. He had crawled into Regto’s bed seeking peace in his arms during many nights when he’d been wracked with night terrors. Even a heavy hand on his shoulder from Enjin had quieted down some of the louder corners of his mind, but this— This is different.
Everything quiets. Every muscle relaxes, and his mind rids itself of even its ever-present static.
Amo nuzzles into him, thin arm slipping over his chest, cold nose pressing against his throat. He makes an embarrassing sound that has his face burning, but Amo only huffs a short laugh before falling into sleep again.
It doesn’t take long for Rudo to follow.
iii. 03:54
Rudo wakes again, drowsy and mildly confused. There’s a heavy weight on his legs that hadn’t been there before, and Amo still rests against his chest. There’s whispering, too, though not loud enough to make out the words over the downpour outside.
Amo pressed tightly against him and their shared body warmth under his quilts makes it difficult for him to wake his brain up enough to figure out where the sounds are coming from— The room next to his? The remnants of a dream?
He can’t be bothered to check, not when Amo is so warm beside him, her breaths delicate against his throat. Sleep calls to him so sweetly, he can’t deny it.
Just as he begins to relax back into it, a familiar little trademark tee-hee pulls him out of it—
Amo grumbles in mild annoyance at Rudo’s attempt to sit up. “Rudo,” she complains, dragging out the last of his name. She sniffles, then gasps in surprise—
“Fu!” she shouts, sitting up. Rudo follows just as quickly. The next consecutive seconds happen so abruptly Rudo’s not exactly sure of the sequence of events: one moment he’s wrapped up in Amo and his quilts, his legs held down by Fu’s weight at the end of his bed, then in the next moment his quilts are ripped from him and an echoing thump follows Fu falling to the ground.
Amo clings to him tightly at the sudden chill, and Rudo’s torn between cleaving to Amo to keep warmth on her or getting out of bed to check if Fu is injured.
“H-how did you know!?” Fu shouts. He’s all wrapped up, only his head peeking out from the nest of blankets. “I didn’t mean to— I-I’m sorry— I can leave!” He attempts to unbundle himself but he’s bound too tightly.
Amo crawls out of bed—crawls over Rudo to crawl out of bed—to kneel on the floor beside Fu. She laughs, though not unkindly. Her hands are gentle as she works to unbind Fu.
“Amo could smell that it was you,” she says, like it isn’t a silly thing to say. To a bunch like them, it isn’t.
Arms now free, Fu leans his nose down to sniff his own pits. His attempt at subtly is poor, and Rudo hides an ugly laugh behind his hand. The blush blooming high on Fu’s cheeks is made delicate under the moonlight.
“You can stay.” The words fall from Rudo’s mouth before his better sense can catch them. His best sense tells him the warmth he gave Amo is big enough to warm another.
“Yes, yes, Fu can stay,” Amo agrees. “Rudo is very warm!” Her words summon a fizzle of heat to the surface of his cheeks. He slaps at them, and falls backwards onto his bed.
It takes another bit of clumsy maneuvering to rediscover their respective places in Rudo’s bed. It takes a bit of clumsy settling down to realize Fu has resettled at the end of Rudo’s bed like a dog, exposed to the cold. He’s curled up into himself to conserve his own heat, and the sight has Rudo’s chest aching. He’s so small, much smaller than he usually is when he’s engulfed in his oversized clothes.
“Fu,” Rudo says, looking down the bed. Fu’s head pops up in acknowledgment. “You can come up here. W-with us. If you, um. If you want.” He has to look away from Fu’s face, he can’t bear the intensity of emotions that rise inside himself—Fu’s eyes well with tears, his eyebrows pull inward, his chin wobbles.
“It’s fine,” Fu whispers. “I’m fine down here. I…I can feel the warmth from here, i-it’s okay.” The shiver he fails to hide betrays him. Something squeezes at Rudo’s gut, viscous and unrelenting.
Abruptly, Amo sits up. There’s a determination that draws her features together in such a way that leaves no room for disagreement. Rudo finds that he likes to see it on her. She wears it well.
“Nuh-uh,” she says. “Amo said you can stay, so—” She turns to Rudo, face softening just a touch with a question he reads easily. He feels a smile pulling at his cheeks, but tampers it down to nod instead. Amo smiles a soft little thing back at him. “So come here.”
Fu doesn’t waste a single breath. He’s on his hands and knees crawling up the bed making a beeline towards Rudo’s other side, and it’s not that Rudo minds where Fu decides to lie down, but he hadn’t expected it to be next to him.
Fu’s arm wraps around his chest in the same way Amo holds him from his other side. Rudo lies flat on his back, unmoving. Nearly unbreathing. Perhaps his soul has left him. He’s familiar with touch, but this, two warm bodies pressed against him like he can provide something useful to them, is entirely new to him. He’s not sure what the rules of it are, like how he’s meant to hold his body. And where his hands are supposed to go. And if he touches them, would they mind the feeling of his rough gloves on them? And what about his legs? Do they have enough room? Does he smell? Does he smell bad? And his eyes—should he close his eyes now, or wait for them to fall sleep first? Is he meant to say something? How does he—
“Amo is right,” Fu whispers, shy and quiet. “Rudo is warm.”
Amo giggles into Rudo’s shoulder and his heart beats against his ribs. Fu nuzzles his cold nose into Rudo’s throat and he thinks maybe his heart has reached its safety limit for beats-per-minute. How’s he meant to sleep now?
Amo moves quickly, leaning up to land a light, soft kiss to Rudo’s cheek, then another to Fu’s temple. Rudo’s frozen in time, and Fu squeaks, hiding his hot face into the crook of Rudo’s throat.
“Goodnight, boys,” Amo whispers, like she didn’t just change the trajectory of Rudo’s life in a single, sweet kiss.
This time, when sleep calls to Rudo, he doesn’t wake until sunlight creeps into his bed too.