Work Text:
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆❄⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺
Every exhale of hot breath forms soft clouds that stir in the frigid air. The harsh mixture of snow and hail soaks his body, The moisture seeping through his coat, his skin, his bones. He’s almost afraid to breathe… afraid of letting the cold infect his lungs any further. To breathe was to inhale shards of glass. His throat slit by sharp blades with every breath, each edge digging its way into the skin until his breath is stolen from his throat entirely. But even so, Sibyl is a man of his word… and tonight his word happened to be paying his dear friend Caoimhe an admittedly well overdue visit. His bones ached. He's been cold before, but never like this. Never the kind where his cheeks suffer freezer burn, Nor the kind where his bones are worn by the cold to the point of hollowing themselves out. And at the length he found himself, the misty haze that carried in the air drew in on Caoimhe’s house. As comforting as the sight may be, like a watch tower gently coercing him back to shore, He wasn't here for the house.
He was here for him.
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆❄⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺
The door swung open before his knuckles even got a chance to make contact with the door. Caoimhe’s expression was stuck between an odd mixture of joy and overwhelming nervousness. Though, now that he thinks about it, that’s exactly how he remembers him being. His thick-rimmed glasses were slightly askew on the bridge of his nose, and his face still had that roundness to it… Come to think of it, he'd put on a few pounds since Sibyl last looked at him. Cellulite, freckles, and all his little imperfections were still scattered across his arms and shoulders. Unlike Sibyl, Caoimhe didn't make any effort to dress up or make himself presentable in any way. He was wearing nothing but a worn, stained undershirt and a pair of boxers.
“Are you going to stand there and let me freeze or are you going to let me in?”
Sibyl’s eyes widened at his own impendency- he hadn't meant for it to come out like that. He's cold, he's tired, and honestly he had expected Caoimhe to at least try. He had expected to be greeted warmly, to be enclosed with the warmth of his dear old friend’s arms. But once again he's met with nothing but heavy-heartedness and Caoimhe’s ambient stare.
“Y-yes, yes of course… my apologies, Sibyl.” A gentle pink flush crept across his freckled cheeks as he tugged at his collar with a jittery hand. Caoimhe dipped his head, perhaps out of respect but most likely a result of him trying to hide his embarrassment. Either way, Sibyl could tell he was intimidated by his austere demeanor.
“I-I'm so sorry, Sibyl. I had assumed once the sun had set you wouldn't go through all the trouble of getting here… I just simply wasn't expecting you at such an hour.”
Sibyl pushed passed him in one swift effort, his breath carrying in the wind as he grumbled,
“ 'S fine or… whatever. Can I put my coat somewhere?”
He fiddled with the buttons on his overcoat, looking askance at Caoimhe’s messy, stained undershirt. He carried himself without much dignity nor self-respect.
“I assume you’re staying the night? It’s rather dark and cold and I wouldn't want to send you home so late on Christmas eve-” He took Sibyls overcoat, now dripping from the weather, before he had even been told too. Sibyl pulled at the tip of his waistcoat, attempting to assess how much his attire had suffered water damage.
"Y-Yes, yes, Caoimhe I'll stay the night. Wouldn't want you spending Christmas alone again. Do you have an extra shirt? I fear mines been claimed by the rain... I'd like a clean one, preferably." He swabbed his round, thin-rimmed glasses with the dry part of his pants. Caoimhe rolled his eyes as Sibyl clarified he wanted a "clean" shirt, but nonetheless he complied.
"I'm sure I could scrounge something up." And with that Sibyl was left alone in his old friends living room, sopping wet and shivering. He had a comfortable place, certainly well-lived in... What caught his eye was the many framed pictures of them together along the mantel of his fireplace. At the start of the line it was them kids. Sibyl remembers being fresh out of high school in most of these. However as the lineup continued the frequency of their visits dwindled, limited to birthdays and holidays. the last one was dated over 10 years ago. God, they looked so young. Sibyl felt a thin layer of tears pile up, flooding old memories into his expression.
"I-I found a good shirt and shorts, I think."
Caoimhe's attentive and concerned tone snapped him out of his foggy thoughts.
"They might be a bit big on you.. Why don't you change while I cook us a substitute for Christmas Eve dinner?"
"That'd be nice."
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆❄⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺
Oh how he had missed this.
Cuddling soundly on Caoimhe's couch with no sound but the gentle ambiance of crackling firewood and their soft breaths mixing together. Sibyl clung to the bigger man, inhaling his scent like a drowned man gasping for air. Both of their eyes were closed however neither of them had any intention of sleeping... neither of them wanted this to end. Basking in a warm bundle of tangled limbs, Sibyl tightened his grip on Caoimhe's shirt, gently letting him know that he was still going to be there in the morning.
"Merry Christmas, Sibyl. I've missed you."
"Merry Christmas, my love."
｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡