Archive of Our Own

He can never get used to it. 

The uncomfortable, and troublesome pangs of constant hunger.

He is but a child who silently wished everyday to stop feeling hungry, but not in the way others might think. He thought that if he’s not hungry, he didn’t have to eat. If he didn’t have to eat, he wouldn’t have to go through the day-to-day pain of going through town begging for food and competing with other street children for thrown-out scraps, often chased away by irked vendors, ignored by most common folk, or thrown unkind gazes, and hurtful words at by random passers-by. He wouldn’t have to feel too small and insignificant. Life would be so much easier without the trouble of it all.

Another day has gone as he dragged his bruised, and aching feet on the unforgiving soil. He was tired, both in mind and body as he sat right in the nearest boulder he saw, pulling out the piece of old bread he managed to pick up on the way. Just a few pats here and there and the dust and soil were brushed off. The bread was now partly clean, edible enough for his liking.

Though his face show no reaction, the first bite made his dangling, little feet softly sway back and forth. His shadow casting behind him through the vibrant sunset.

The path he takes on the way home is always swathed in bright, warm colors during pleasant weathers. The vast wheat fields along the way turning into a sea of glowing gold as far as the eye can see. But he never thought anything of it, just wished they were true gold so he can use them to buy himself something more delicious. He’d dream of a feast, of hot soup, desserts, and soft, warm bread, roasted meat, freshly cooked rice and more. Though the thoughts only provoked his hunger, he couldn’t entirely shake it off.

But aside from the illusion it casts toward the wheat fields, there was nothing special about the sunset, or the glaring, troublesome orange-yellow light it gives off that hurt the eyes before fully setting on the distant horizon.

He heard some adults often say it was a ‘beautiful’ phenomenon, but he’s too young to understand what they meant. To him, the sunset was a simple reminder that he managed to survive another redundant, tiring day.

Too occupied by his dinner and wishful thinking, he did not notice the presence of another boy curiously watching him. Not until something rolled by his feet.

A ball made of bamboo skin woven together. He sees a lot of boys and girls his age playing with something similar. 

“Hey, play with me.”

He looks over his shoulder. . . to see familiar purple eyes and hair. A boy anyone can tell  just from one glance, is not from the world he’s living at, wasn’t a street dweller like him. The boy’s skin, unlike his own, is fair and without blemish, clothes were simple yet bright, pristine, and wearing slippers made from fine materials. But what separated the boy from other wealthy people in town is the fact that the boy approaches street kids with a beaming face, trying to join them in their games. That was why he is familiar with those purple features.

But the other kids do not engage in even the slightest conversation with the boy. They have all been warned by their own parents, and the common townsfolk. So they all stay away, afraid of offending the boy’s family, knowing that the parents of such kids do not like it when dirty, street children gets too close to them. And so whenever that particular boy approaches any of them, they all run away immediately.

The glaring difference of the status in life couldn’t be more obvious. As distant as the grassy ground was to the skies above.

Ignoring those purple eyes that bore at him, he kept eating. Because he does not have very good experience with wealthy people in general either.

“I have more bread with me.”

That, however, caught his attention. This boy had actually approached him directly a few times before, but without anything at hand, and knowing that engaging with the wealthy kid could mean trouble later, he stays away like the others. But this time, he once more looked up, the boy now holding up a loaf of bread. And his wide, silver-gray eyes seemingly sparkled against the sunset lights at the sight of it. The bread’s brown surface is smooth, shiny, in perfect oval shape, and looks so tantalizingly soft and delicious. Nothing like the old, dusty bread in his dirty hands.

A huge smile, “I’ll give you this if you play with me.”

It was a bait being dangled up front. The old bread barely grazed the surface of his hunger, and so his stomach got the best of him. He no longer thought anything else, he no longer cared. It would be a problem for another day, but right now, at least for now, he’ll have something nicer to eat. He was tired. Of the same old difficult day, the same sunrise, sunset, the same painful growl of his often empty belly.

Entirely, of living.

But again, he’s only a kid driven by instincts. To keep going.

“Okay.” He said, ate the last bite of his dry bread and went to get up. But he stumbled as he got off the boulder, landing hard on his knees. The fall leaving a small bleeding bruise.

“Whoa, are you okay?!”

To his surprise, the boy with purple eyes reached out a hand, as if not the least bit bothered by dirt and grime.

He hesitated a little before taking that neat hand, because he knows aside from the dirt, he smells. He hasn't bathed in days, too tired everyday, and finding the rivers too cold as autumn settled in. But the hand does not withdraw, only drew closer, and so despite his hesitation, he allowed the boy to pull him up, get to his feet.

“Is your knee okay?”

He did not answer right away, thinking of how soft and warm the boy’s hand is, like the inside of freshly baked bread he hadn’t had in forever. “. . . uhm, it doesn’t really hurt much.”

“Good then! We can still play! Oh, but you can have this bread after that. I don’t want to risk you running away from me like the others.”

“. . .”

Mind all over the food, he agreed, not bothering to tend to his scrapped knee. At first, he was unsure of what to do, realizing he hasn’t really played for a long time, mind in constant mode of survival, but the boy’s energetic laughter and lively movements around him seemed to infect him through, and he was soon moving how he wants to, flailing a little, but overall fine.

They played as the glow of the setting sun intensified, kicking the bamboo ball around, running and passing it between the two of them back and forth across the field with their hands and feet. At some point, his mind had gone astray from the food, and he became fully absorbed in their little game. He does not know the last time he played with someone else like this, he is always occupied thinking about where to find food for the day, wandering around town scouring and begging for scraps along with other street kids he never gets along with. 

It was all should be for the sake of food, so he was a little surprised that he felt a bit down when the boy said, “The sun had set. I need to go home.”

The boy took the ball, and handed over the bread as promised. Full of smiles, the boy ran off towards the carriage waiting not far, and waved him goodbye, purple eyes brimming with life.

He stood there quietly, the night breeze blowing lightly against his white hair, staring at the bread in his hands. His little body was somehow feeling a bit lively and heart humming from running around. He feels tired, a little out of breath, and hungrier, but not in the familiar, troublesome way he had (not entirely) grown accustomed to.

He looks at the distant horizon, past the wheat fields, now looking a dull shade of brown without the sun’s rays, and for the first time, he wished that the sunset dragged on a little longer.

In an area that bordered the town and the forest’s edge, a young man with snow-white hair digs the soil using a rusty shovel, silently complaining, yet he does not stop. He’s been at it for fifteen minutes now, and as the tip of the shovel catches on another sturdy rock, making him slip a little, he curses the hassle of it all.

Nagi Seishiro thinks it would have been better if he could throw the body on the town’s river, but he thought that would contaminate the waters. He does not want the nearby villagers or the townspeople be troubled.

A while back, before the sun went down, while his companions were busy, he had been subtly keeping an eye on a certain stranger sitting on the far corner of the diner who’s been following them since yesterday, probably making a mental map of he and Reo’s movements and daily routines. He and Reo were no strangers to such kind of people and their obvious motives.

They were used to it. The threat to their security and lives. Even as kids.

“Sei, what’s wrong?” Reo asked, one brow raised.

Seishiro casually resumed eating, “Nothing.”

“Heh, it’s definitely something.”

When they got home late that night after separating from their friends, Kunigami and Chigiri, and having a few drinks, Reo had immediately fallen asleep, while Seishiro stayed awake. Troublesome as it was for him, he needed to take care of the nuisance outside.

Making sure not to accidentally wake Reo, he quietly slipped out of the room carrying a short sword and tucked a dagger in his boot. Seishiro would normally camouflage his white hair with dye or wrap a cloth around his head so he could move stealthily in the dark without being spotted right away, but this time, he thinks he does not need to do so.

The stupid ruffian was an easy prey, he didn’t have to be subtle or too quiet all. All he did was evade the first swing of blade and then he lunged in fast, sword piercing right through his opponent’s chest, past the ribcage, flesh, and out the other side, the flawless blade now wet with fresh blood glistening ominously under the moonlight.

“Troublesome.” He mumbled as blood splattered on the ground, nearly soiling his clothes and boots as he drew the sword back.

That done, he took a quick look around, straining his ears to know if there are others. Convinced there’s no more after a few minutes of not moving an inch, he loaded a shovel and the lifeless body on a rickshaw, dragging it as he does not want to have blood all over him, and headed to the next suitable place.

And now here he is, not for the firs time, in the forest, under the cloudy, starless sky, digging up a grave.

Everything was too much of a hassle, he thought as he continued to work, but when it’s for Reo, he will do just about anything.

Anything.

The boy, whom Seishiro learned the name is Reo, returned the very next day. And the day after that. In the same quiet, golden hours before the sun disappear. Until it became a routine Seishiro unknowingly began to look forward to. Mostly because he did not have to worry anymore about dinner or breakfast. Reo would always bring him something to eat in generous amount. Loaves of bread, fruits, rice balls, and sometimes, if he's lucky, there'd be roasted meat. Reo would pretend to wholly finish his portion, only eating off a few bites before hiding it within his clothes to sneak it out for later.

“Won’t your parents find out and get mad?” he asked as they sit side by side near the wheat fields, eating some berries they picked in the nearby woods.

“They won’t! I made sure of it!” Was Reo’s confident answer, throwing a berry up high and trying to catch it midair with his mouth, pouting when he fails, “And you? How about you? Where are your parents?”

“Gone.” He simply said. His parents were rarely home, working for a noble in a bigger town. He sees them only once a week. But they always made sure to leave him with enough food and a few silver coin every time. It’s always like that and Seishiro was used to it. But then a week of their absence became two, three, turned to an entire month. . . until his parents simply never returned. What he should've done was ask around and try to find them, but he no longer bothered. And in only a few months, their faces quickly began to become nothing but a blur in Seishiro’s memory.

“That must feel lonely.”

“I don’t really mind that they’re gone. They don’t really care about me.” He says indifferently, that alone was enough for anyone to tell how his relationship with his parents had been.

“Mine either. In a way.” Reo frowns with a dramatic sigh, “They keep giving and making me do things I don’t like, and saying it’s for my own good. They don’t listen to me or even allow me to play outside.”

“Why do you want to play with street kids like me anyway? Surely there must be other kids like you that you can be friends with.”

“Nah, my parents let me meet their friends’ kids because of their own reason, letting us play but. . . ah, you know– there’s always a hidden motive when adults are involved, that’s why it’s so boring in the mansion.” Was Reo’s pouty response. “I get envious seeing the kids outside always playing since they all seem to be having real fun everyday! I tried joining them, but they’d ignore me or run away. . .”

“. . .”

“Even with bribes they’re quick to run.” Reo adds up, pouting even more, “You’re the only one who didn’t!”

“I have. Repeatedly.”

“I mean with the bribes.”

Seishiro kind of understand that. He too, would sometimes want to play with other kids, to pass time, to forget about his empty stomach and aching feet, but it seemed the kids around don’t like him joining them. They’d harshly turn Seishiro away, or push him out of their way, so he just stopped bothering them and would climb trees by himself, catching bugs, and beetles, all while wondering what he did for them to be hating on him that way.

Reo was the only person who did not treat him as such. Ironically.

One day, as he waited by their usual spot wearing the slippers Reo had given him, with their ball in his little hands, and his quiet, but growing anticipation, only Reo’s attendant came– a big, kind of scary lady Reo refers to as Ba-ya.

Ba-ya had brought Seishiro some food in a nice storage wrapped in cloth, and said with a smile, “I am sorry to disappoint you, but Master Reo won’t be able to come for a few days. He is out of the town with his family. So I, Ba-ya, has been instructed to deliver this to you.”

He had taken it, and Ba-ya left just as quick, leaving him alone once more on the golden wheat fields staring at the food in his hands. The rice balls were still warm, and the small portion of meat was roasted to perfection; without any bite, unlike the ones Reo had given to him before. Seishiro quietly sat down and began to eat, saving half of it for tomorrow. He had felt full in minutes, but strangely, not entirely satisfied. He kept glancing over and again to the woven bamboo ball by his side. There was a new sensation inside his chest, something unpleasant, a stinging, burning itch he cannot scratch and made him frown on the inside and out. He immediately knew he dislike that feeling.

Ba-ya’s words suddenly made sense, and he wondered if what he felt was true ‘disappointment’. Seishiro actually likes playing with Reo, and hasn’t realized it at all, thinking nothing else mattered but food. However, the invisible weight of life on Seishiro’s young, frail shoulders, the unfairness of it all, the blisters and tiny wounds on his bare little feet and hands from digging root crops in a small farm in exchange for old bread– all of them disappears when he play and talk and run around with Reo.

Something deep within him warms, forgets the passage of hours, finding out for the first time what Reo meant by ‘having fun’.

And Seishiro kept on wanting it. To taste, to feel it again and again. A sort of hunger no amount of food can sate. Everyday, as he stood by the wheat fields bathed in sunset lights waiting for the boy with bright, purple eyes. An inherent craving for something beautiful that the world has deprived him of. With the pure, innocent wish of a child who has only began to understand what happiness is.

The plunge of shovel on soil resonates against the quiet evening, nature and sky mute witnesses. Seishiro occasionally wipes sweat off his forehead as he continued to dig, and somewhere inside him whispered that he should just leave the body out there to rot and save himself the hassle, but he thought of Reo, and he did not want the other man to find out what had occurred near the inn. If someone sees the body, and the splatters of blood on the street, news and gossip would spread in town and will reach Reo’s ears. It’s been a couple of peaceful months for them, he does not want Reo to think of this troublesome thing again.

His arms begin to strain, but he kept going. Seishiro distracts himself by thinking of the recent, peculiar wedding they had attended. He and Reo had been baffled by everything Chigiri and Kunigami had told them. At first, of course, they could not believe it, and thought the two were messing with them. But then, seeing Chigiri and Kunigami’s expressions, they swiftly realized that there was no reason for the couple to joke or lie to them about matters like that.

Despite their hidden doubts, Chigiri and Kunigami are their good friends. The improbable truth revealed to them was not going to change that. And so, he and Reo attended the wedding; met, spoke and argued to actual Gods, had stroked a very large panther that seemed like Chigiri's pet, and watched in awe as the demigod's sister grew flowers out of the palm of her hands, and saw someone at the reception literally grow wings and fly like a massive raven. There were other things too– manipulating the wind, the intensity of the sun’s brightness, shapeshifting, and more. They stood with gaping mouths, dumbstruck but amused, Reo laughing at how it was all impossible and yet there they were watching it all happen before their very eyes.

It felt like some weird adult dream. Or one that belongs to that of a child sleeping peacefully, unaware of blood and beasts. Nevertheless, it was a celebration he and Reo truly enjoyed. The food and wine were all of quality, and Chigiri’s other friends don’t seem like they’re Gods and demigods at all. Seishiro thought if it weren’t for their powers, he might as well be speaking to ordinary humans.

Pausing from his work a little, Seishiro looks up at the moon, still partially hidden, breathing a little ragged, and a moment right after the formal wedding ceremony danced across his mind.

“That was a simple but nice ceremony. Makes me wanna hold one for us too. What do you think Sei?”

Seishiro had said it was troublesome, and Reo had laughed it off, did not mention it again, but he didn’t really give it much thought either, thinking it was nothing but Reo’s usual impulsive remarks, and so now he wondered: What if Reo really wants a wedding too?

His brain suddenly forms a picture of Reo in matrimonial robes, walking beside him hand-in-hand towards a makeshift altar, like Chigiri and Kunigami. Seishiro blinks slowly, and found he don’t particularly mind a ceremony. If it’ll make Reo happy, Seishiro will go through with it. Either way, with or without them marrying, it won’t change the fact the two of them will be together forever.

Because they promised.

Thinking of asking Reo about it tomorrow, he pulls himself to the present and resumed digging, faster than before. His silver gray eyes showing a dangerous glint as he focused with precision on finishing this stupid task.

“No one will take Reo away from me.” He mumbles without thought, “Not you. Not anyone. Not here. Not ever. Me and Reo, we will always be together.”

It happened too suddenly. Amidst the peace and fun.

During one of those rare times when Reo’s parents were far from home, and Reo would bring Seishiro into the family’s mansion so they could play there all they want even after sun down. In the gardens, by the fish pond, running all over the house, their little, unruly footsteps bringing life and laughter into the normally quiet and stoic rooms, chasing each other, bothering the servants, sneaking out sweets from the kitchen, playing hide-and-seek. . .

Unfortunately, that particular day, uninvited guests had snuck in to take the family’s only heir. 

It had been a coordinated, and planned infiltration. Though not as skillfully strategized, it had been enough for the ruffians to force their way in and do real damage. They hurt servants, killed guards, and had stolen valuable house ornaments and handy furniture. But their real target was Reo.

They've been playing too much that they separated from Ba-ya, they weren't with her when the commotion began, but the rest of the mansion's guards helped them run to a safer place, and defended the room where the two of them would hide. Reo and Seishiro didn’t know where it came from, too focused on escaping, but suddenly, when they thought no one had caught up to them, one of the intruders had forcibly made way inside through the connecting rooms before the two could reach the door towards a secret underground passage.

Wooden frames and walls wrecked, splinters and ripped cloths flying all over.

Huddled together, they’ve been forcefully torn apart, the ruffian throwing Seishiro on the side like garbage while taking Reo, who instinctively fought back; kicking and shouting, and biting the attacker, hands grabbing at whatever they can reach, ripping clothes, hair, and more.

Seishiro, ears ringing and back hurting from being thrown so hard, had been too stunned, too shocked, head and heart pounding amidst the chaos of it all. He couldn’t move, mind a blank, he hears almost everything in a muffled haze. And then his bleary eyes met Reo’s. . . usually full of light, but is now cloaked in despair and fear.

Something in him snapped. A tiny spark that gone ablaze.

Seeing how Reo reach out towards him with bruised, desperate hands, call his name, frightened and tearful, jolted Seishiro’s frozen body to life. Mind still a grainy blank, yet his body moved, eyes seeing sharp, any emotions gone, as if a dark creature had taken over his being. Only one thing remained, the rest of his senses focusing on one thought– to save Reo.

Not fully aware of what he’s doing, Seishiro picked up the hunting knife with serrated edges that had randomly fallen on the floor, and without fear nor hesitation, lunged at the man–

But everything that happened after that, unfortunately, had been a dark blur in Seishiro’s memory. When he came to his senses, he was hearing Reo, shouting, and trying to pull him away from a body.

An already lifeless body he’s sitting on and still stabbing as if to make certain the man would never again rise. The dead man’s once neat chest was now a vile, carved ruin, torn open, so much like ground meat, as if clawed mercilessly by a vicious beast, digging till bones peek out, crushing heart and other organs.

And Seishiro, from head-to-toe was covered in blood as if he bathed in it. Tiny pieces of flesh clung to his clothes and skin, splattered across the floor.

“Nagi, I’m fine already! You can stop!”

“. . . Reo?”

“I’m not hurt! It’s over!” Reo says with a somewhat hesitant smile. “Now put the knife down. . .”

The serrated blade clattered on the floor with a dull sound as his fingers spasm, and his entire body began to shake and feel like a puddle, as if what remaining strength he had left had gone and abandoned him in an instant.

Unbothered by the fact that Seishiro was covered in the sickening miasma and stench of blood and of the whole stomach-churning carnage, Reo gently pulled him into an embrace, softly stroking the back of his head, cradling and comforting his trembling body. No one has ever hugged Seishiro before. Not even his own parents. He was not familiar with the act, with the warmth, how it made him feel real, but he thought immediately in that moment that he likes it, the bodily heat of another person who honestly cares.

“It’s alright now. Thank you for saving me, Nagi.”

“. . .”

As his little, trembling blood-soaked hand went up, awkwardly trying to put his arms around Reo too, unsure of how, he caught sight of the bloody, horrifying mass strewn across the floor. His eyes widened, a wordless gasp, hands now clutching the back of Reo’s clothes tightly, blood seeping through the white fabric.

There was a kind of shock that heightened the beat of his heart, made his vision swim, when he finally truly saw the brutally murdered body before him, but it quickly settled the more he stared. Eerily, Seishiro felt no remorse, no guilt, no fear. He never understood such emotions, or why he did not feel them. Was there something wrong with him? Hurting and killing someone is bad as far as his young mind understood. But then, what he could only think of that time was that the man is evil and deserved it all. This particular man tried to take Reo away, had put that unpleasant look on Reo’s face, made Reo afraid. . . someone so kind and always full of sunshine smiles. . .

“Nagi, are you okay?”

He blinked at Reo as the latter drew back from the hug, and said nothing. Seishiro couldn’t think of any word to say, just silently glad that Reo was alright, and still here with him.

“You’re not scared? I. . . killed. . .” He finally asked, reluctant, and voice shaking.

“Of course not! You saved me!” Reo exclaimed immediately, startling him. “And you did amazing! You should've seen how you moved and everything!”

The way Reo’s eyes shone as they looked at him in genuine wonder, and praising him for what he did made Seishiro feel strangely warm and soft inside that he altogether stopped caring about the mangled corpse lying beside them. He was barely aware that Ba-ya had been there with them for minutes now, and the arrival of other Mikage household servants hurrying towards the scene, making their way inside the room, telling them that the whole attack was over, and some of the intruders had been captured, all while awkwardly trying not to stare or maybe throw up at the disturbing sight on the floor.

When one of the servants tried to separate him from Reo so he could clean himself up, Seishiro simply held Reo’s hand tighter, refusing to come with the servant by himself.

“Nagi?”

“. . . don’t go.”

Reo smiled at him, that usual beaming face easing the sudden tension on Seishiro’s body, “Haha, what’s that? You got so scared you don’t wanna be alone?”

Scared? Maybe he was scared after all.

Of losing Reo.

“Alright, we’re sharing a bath then! I need one too.”

Though the servant seemed to want to argue, Ba-ya stepped in and said she will take full responsibility, escorting the two kids out of the room. 

After everything that happened, Reo spoke with his parents. And with Ba-ya supporting his argument, they tried to convince them that Seishiro had the potential to become one of Reo’s personal guards in the future, and thus, has to be nurtured as early as possible. Akin to a wild, sharp sword that needed a sheath. They were not easily persuaded, but Reo’s parents acknowledge the fact that Seishiro indeed saved their son. And so despite their doubts, and haughty eyes, they granted Reo’s wish, setting their own conditions which Reo agreed upon with full confidence, believing in Seishiro.

And so Seishiro was reluctantly accepted into the Mikage family as a temporary servant, helping in the stables and doing minor house chores in the farm during the day. And in the afternoon, he was taught to read and write, receiving the basic lessons on it.

But when Seishiro showed progress and intelligence way above his age, Reo’s father had a change of mind, and decided to invest in him more. The temporary five-month agreement had become indefinite. Seishiro was also soon taught advanced economics, arithmetic, art, and more by different scholars. He's been even required to take etiquette classes. The Mikage head wanting to make sure to drill and shape Seishiro into the ideal, perfect guard in both body and mind, was excessively hard on him due to his status as a street kid.

Though both of them were in the mansion, his classes were separate from Reo’s, so Seishiro was often bored. Kids being kids, and because both Reo and Seishiro were too bright for their ages, they would often make plans and conspire on skipping their classes, laze, hide in the gardens, or sneak out to play. Especially Seishiro. He would always find ways to slack off, take the easier way around.

With Ba-ya’s trainings, however, the two never fail to show up and both are always in high spirits.

However, since Seishiro was being molded into a guard, he was told he needed more to toughen up. And so he was thrown into harsher sparring sessions, and extended hours of training more grueling than Reo’s. Physical drills that were too much for his young body and mind, often leaving him on the brink of collapse. He hated the pain, bruising, the sweating, how his lungs and bones ached, how he’d nearly throw up. He hated how he can barely move the next morning, muscles screaming, even simply raising a hand required effort. It made him want to give up, again and again, not expecting that making conscious and consistent effort would be terribly too much of a pain to handle.

But Reo would always be there waiting for him after each training, carrying Seishiro on his back when Seishiro’s legs were too shaky and exhausted to function properly. Reo would walk him to his room, footsteps heavy, passing through moonlit corridors, telling him about how his own day went. Sore and still trembling, too tired to have an appetite for dinner, Reo would simply help him wipe clean his body, change clothes, would even tuck him to bed till at times, they end up falling asleep together. And those quiet moments at night made everything else bearable, worth the pain, made Seishiro drag himself through the hard phases of it all.

For Reo. Anything for Reo.

The fruits of his labor began to show and take shape in a span of months. Everything he absorbed in training sharpened his senses and honed his reflexes, and instincts to a dangerous, gleaming edge, hardened his body and resolve. Those, and with Ba-ya’s additional tutelage in handling weapons, Seishiro, after just a few more years, had became a true, lethal asset. Reo's father was deeply impressed.

To prove his worth, he was put through a series of mission that tested his skills, instincts, decision-making, and overall ability. And each time, he returned victorious and unscathed. Not minding the few assassination assignments that had been given to him.

He was told it was for Reo’s safety and future. So he executed them all without question.

And by the young age of thirteen, on the date of his birth, he was officially appointed as Reo’s personal guard alongside Ba-ya.

A short ceremony was held. He was made to take a formal, solemn vow to protect Reo at all costs in front of the Mikage family, like a royal knight was to a crown prince, and was finally granted a beautiful, new sword and set of daggers that were exclusively his, forged solely for him.

Nagi Seishiro not only vowed to keep Reo safe in front of the family, but silently to himself as well, vowed to protect the happiness he’d found. His place in this world, his home, his greatest and only treasure. . . the one who breathed life into him, treated him human, the person who brought him out of the darkness and shrouded his dull life with light as dazzling as that of a promising, golden sunset.

The digging and burying mercifully came to an end, and Seishiro quickly returned to the room he shares with Reo after washing up a bit. Expecting to find Reo still sound asleep and tucked comfortably in bed, his blood ran cold when what welcomed him was an empty room, the window wide open, and on the frame were traces of soil and crushed grass, as if someone had jumped outside, or in.

“Reo?” he whispers against the defeaning silence

He suddenly remembered the last time he buried a body in the forest, it had been raining that night, Seishiro silently complaining about the cold and stubborn soil. Because he’d been tarrying too long, soaked to the bones, a familiar face saw him– Kunigami. Though they weren’t as close to each other as the other man was to Reo, Seishiro had asked Kunigami not to tell Reo about it. But Kunigami just said: 

“You know him longer than I do, and you know he will likely figure it out even if I don’t say anything.”

Seishiro dashes outside, thoughts scrambling. He know Reo is strong, probably more than him, but Seishiro can’t help himself from worrying.

As he exited the residential streets, and nearing the deserted market establishments, way past the commercial area of town, he heard faint, distant sound of blades clashing, the crunch of soil and stones under heavy boots, pained groans, and stifled battle cries, floating above the quiet night. Following it, he urged his legs to go faster, only stopping when he finally spotted Reo, seeing the scenery in a dramatic, slow motion. Dressed in dark gray robes hastily put on, a gleaming, blood stained sword in hand, poised mid-strike, and profile lit inauspiciously by the moon's shine, accentuating those enigmatic, amethyst eyes. He looked otherworldly and divine, as if he was death itself in human form.

The spell breaks as Seishiro breathlessly called out, “Reo!” 

“Oh, Sei. There you are, my treasure.” Reo cheerfully greets before sending his opponent on the ground with a kick, finishing it off by driving the blood-stained blade into the man’s heart, twisting it as if to make sure. “What’s with your face? Haha, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Reo. . .” he steps closer, chest heaving.

“You idiot.” Soft laughter, “You made me promise not to die before you, didn’t you?”

“. . .”

“Well, not like these blokes would actually kill me.”

Reo pulled his blade out and sharply waved the excess blood off, further staining the grass. He strode towards Seishiro with light, springy footsteps and slumped one arm around Seishiro, rose on tiptoe and kissed the latter on the mouth.

“Now, where were you?” Reo asked as their lips separated.

“I. . . took out the trash.” Seishiro breathes out, reaching out to wipe the drop of blood smearing Reo’s cheek with his thumb. “In the woods. . .”

As if he knew, just like last time, Reo beamed and ruffled his white hair, “You never learn. See how more trashes came in while you’re away taking out the other?”

“I guess I was too careless.”

“Your senses are getting rusty, huh?” Reo teased. “That’s no good. Go ask Chigiri or Kuni to spar with you some time, ‘kay? Or do some meditation.”

Seishiro did not answer, was too busy contemplating how he made a grave mistake. He was too careless, too confident, and had let his guard down too early. If something were to happen to Reo, Seishiro would–

“Hey, you alright?” Reo ruffled his hair again, peering through his eyes. “Sei? Were you hurt? Where?”

“. . . no, I’m fine. Are you?”

“Not a scratch. Anyway,”  Reo tapped the remaining ruffian with the tip of his boot, “These men’s orders were to capture me.”

“Is it your Father?”

“Most likely.” Reo sighed, “That old man. . . but it’s been awhile, huh? Remind me to mark the calendar.”

“Shall I kill this one?” Seishiro casually asks, eyeing the last ruffian still crumpling in pain on the ground. The other two were dead.

“No, I left him alive on purpose, we’ll have him send a message to my dear father.”

“I told you to bring him back here. Where is my son? Why is he not with you?”

Head bowed, a sixteen year-old Seishiro answered, “Reo– Master Reo said he didn’t want to come.”

“I explicitly gave the order to bring him back, not ask him to.”

Seishiro does not immediately answer, his mind going back to how Reo left the mansion without him, and without even telling where he had gone to. But what he truly could not forget was the look on Reo’s face. He had seen it before. An unpleasant mix of emotion. Frustration, anger, pain, and other things Seishiro cannot name. The only thing he knew is that he hated it. He hated seeing Reo unhappy.

The Mikage family of course, wanted Reo back inside the walls of the mansion as soon as possible, and so they ordered a few of their men to go search for their son. But of course, it was only Seishiro who managed to find him. And before he can even utter a single word, Reo just spoke in an angry, trembling voice:

I don’t want to go home.
 
Hearing that, he no longer commented, and simply went back to the mansion by himself intending to relay Reo’s words to the family. It does not matter if he is punished for his disobedience, before everything or anyone, to Seishiro, Reo always comes first. Reo was his only reason to be here. And just as expected, the people stared at him in disbelief. Only Ba-ya, who stood on the side seemed unsurprised and without worry, as if she had expected Reo’s defiance and fully supporting it in quiet.

“Use whatever means you can, just bring him back here. It’s dangerous for him to be alone outside for a long period.” Reo’s father says again. “Now go.”

“No.” Seishiro curtly responds.

“What did you say?”

“I can’t do that to Master Reo.”

“You can. And you will. My orders are absolute!”

Seishiro refuses to back down, “No. I won’t do it.”

“Useless urchin! How dare you defy and talk back to me?!” The head of the Mikage family’s voice bellowed in ire, “Have you forgotten what you owe me?! Everything you have right now I gave them to you! I made you what you are!”

His fist lightly clenched, “I owe you nothing. Not anymore.”

“What?! If it weren’t for me you’d still be a worthless, filthy nobody begging for scraps! Or worse, you’d have long died of hunger on those streets like a wretched animal!”

No, that was not quite true. Seishiro rejected the words by calmly speaking, his voice remaining soft but loud enough to hear, concealing the rising storm in his silver gray eyes, “Every penny, every plate of food and grain of rice; the roof over my head. I earned them all fairly by working my way up. I never questioned the things you made me do because you said they were all for Reo’s sake. That was our agreement, but you lied. My debt to you has been paid when you had me repeatedly dirty my hands for your own selfish ego.”

“How dare you–!” Reo’s father was red in anger, but he remained composed in general, tempering it in the presence of his wife and subordinates. Raising a hand, he ordered, “Hah. Enough. It seems my son have given you too much freedom. Guards! Seize him! You shall learn a hard lesson down in the dungeon!”

Seishiro did not want to hurt the people in the mansion. He does not really get along well with others, nor is he good in making friends, but some of the guards there had been decent acquaintances. Breaking bread together, casually greeting and asking how each other’s day had gone. Not wanting to drag them into a bloody fight, Seishiro broke out of the room, and ran as fast as his legs could carry him, taking the rough but shortest route out the mansion– through the roofs, low walls, and canopy of trees that surrounded the structure. He took a wooden, sparring sword along the way instead of drawing his blade, only disabling the guards trying to intercept and block his way as he crossed the gardens, aiming for their legs or spraining their arms. He does not want to truly hurt them, but if they hindered him enough from going back to Reo, then he has no choice.

But as he had expected, he managed to get out of the house and town,  without injuring himself, silently apologizing to each of the guards.

Though he was certain no one was able to follow him, Seishiro did not let up. He kept running, concealing himself through the forest, covering his tracks. It was tiring and troublesome but he has to make sure they won’t be able to catch up to him. At least not right away.

The sky was donned in soft colors of pink, blue, lilac and more, preparing for another sunset when he found Reo by the seaside, still looking sullen and conflicted. The other man was not surprised that Seishiro managed to track him. Again. Reo just took Seishiro’s hand and they began to walk along the coast, leaving footprints on the sand, the wind threading through their hair, tugging at their robes.

He curved his hand around Reo’s, familiar and warm. He was not aware as to when it started, he just looked up from tending to the stables one day and realized as he stared at a smiling Reo beside him that something has changed. In his heart, in his soul. His feelings for Reo has grown into something too complicated for him to fathom. He didn’t understand. What used to be fine for him suddenly wasn’t anymore– seeing Reo surrounded by ladies at parties, trying to gain Reo’s affection; the gaping distance that should be put between them when Reo is fulfilling his duties as heir; and Reo calling him ‘Nagi’, instead of ‘Sei’.

He first thought his feelings as something abnormal, something that should be kept hidden, thinking it wasn’t right.

Through his confusion, and the strange, bothersome attraction he was starting to feel towards his master and childhood friend, Seishiro, still, had been content simply being with Reo. Them together, for him, was as natural as breathing. Sharing meals, sharing a bed, spending the whole day and night together. He thought no greater happiness could exist. And he thought as well, that nothing in the world could throw a wedge between them and their beautiful days together. Not until. . .

Not until the marital announcement.

Even if he’d been trained and conditioned not to question the head of the family’s orders because they’re for ‘Reo’s sake’, Seishiro’s heart wavered for the first time, and he wondered: If this was really for Reo’s best interest, then why did it made Reo unhappy? Why would it steal Reo’s bright smile? Make him run? Seishiro knows that Reo doesn’t really want most things that his parents give and decides for him, but Reo remained a good son and went along with what his parents wanted. But it seems this was the only thing that Reo won’t budge on or compromise. The only exception, his boiling point.

Seishiro stopped walking when Reo did. Reo turned to face him and asked in a low voice, lightly kicking the sand beneath their feet, “What did you tell my Father?”

“That you don’t want to go home. And I’m no longer his puppet.”

A small laughter, “Wish I could’ve seen his face. Haha. I can’t even imagine the things he made you do in the past. I can guess, but. . . well, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Not everything he made me do is entirely for himself.”

“I know that. He’s a controlling person, but he looks after me in his own sickening way. And then there’s Mother, she just nods to his every decision.” Reo answered with a sigh, “But enough of that– it seems we both have nowhere to return to now, huh? We’ve got nothing out here.”

Seishiro squeezed Reo’s hand, and spoke, as if it was a matter of fact, “. . . we have each other though.”

Reo simply stared at him, soft eyes of purple gazing deep into Seishiro’s silvery gray ones.

They were innocent children who’d found solace and place in each other’s side, young boys who grew up in strength and learned more about the beauty and unfairness of the world together, reckless teenagers who kept running, oblivious of what had bud in their hearts. A precious feeling which bloomed into something that went beyond friendship. It had taken root without them knowing, deepened with each passing day, each passing year, with every sorrow, every laughter, meals, and simple adventures they shared, but they were too young to understand, too young to know what it was. Just two kids who did not want to be apart.

But they were kids no more.

There was a shifting pause, silent yet monumental, a serene second where the gentle waves were the only thing they could hear as their gazes held one another.

Reo gently tugged him down by the collar of his robes, and suddenly, those delicate lips Seishiro was looking at a heartbeat ago were gently brushing against his own. Soft, delicate, like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings, warm, and sweet, and tingly. Seishiro had seen those lips smile and laugh a thousand times, pout from displease, tightly pursed or twist from anger, parted or frowning in deep concentration. He never once thought of how they’d feel like. . . or how it would feel like to have those very lips he is so painfully familiar with kissing his own.

Reo drew back with a grin, a faint blush on those cheeks, as if the kiss didn’t just send Seishiro’s heart to a screeching halt before it raced at a disturbing rate. Reo did it so casually, as if it was only natural, as if it was only normal. And none of it all is wrong.

In that moment, Seishiro knew.

Once more, he thought greater happiness could not exist. That it couldn’t possibly take on another level. But he found his already ardent feelings only intensified in that one gesture.

“Reo. . .” 

Seishiro found himself urgently chasing that euphoric sensation, heart-pounding and gut-wrenching but pleasant feeling. He pulls Reo in, a hand on the other’s nape, and kissed Reo with every bit of love and longing he felt, from when they were only kids sneaking out to play, till that time he found out of the ‘troublesome’ feelings and kept it hidden. How he wallowed in woeful questions he could not find answers to. But now he has no reason to do that, or to stay locked in that place, Seishiro pours it all out, allowing his feelings to freely flow and overwhelm his whole being.

In silent answer that conveyed more than words can, Reo kissed him back with the same ardor, the same longing. It wasn’t that pretty, wasn’t that magical. It spoke of inexperience, the recklessness, eagerness, and sweetness of youth. But it was a kiss that has been waiting for many long years to happen. They pulled each other closer, anchoring to one another, almost desperate, humming at the back of their throats as their mouths messily fused again and again, subconsciously finding their own rhythm, the ideal angle, the better way for them to deepen their kiss.

Reo pulls back for a bit, licking his lips, both of them breathless, cheeks flushed, that infectious smile brighter and beautiful than any sunset, “This means you like me too, right?”

Seishiro could only so much as nod, “Mm. I think. . .”

 I think. . . ‘like’ is a word too weak to describe it.

“You think?!” Reo blurted out, laughing. And began to roughly tousle Nagi’s hair with both hands, “I risked ruining our friendship in that kiss and that’s all you had to say?! Take this– I’m gonna make you go bald!”

“Ow. . .”

The ruffling game soon stopped shortly, and Reo’s face crumpled slightly, eyes sheen with a flimsy layer of tears, “Sei, you knew about the matrimonial arrangements, and you knew about your own feelings about me. Why have you never told me anything?”

Seishiro can still feel their kiss on his lips, a searing brand, as if it left a visible mark he’d never want to erase, “I don’t know. . . I just thought that it might trouble you. Or make you unhappy. We’re both guys. It’s not. . . right.”

“What’s not right and will make me unhappy is me marrying someone I don’t even like. Or even know the name of.” Reo huffs exhaustingly, “What were you thinking?”

Seishiro’s head had spun, the surroundings had felt like closing in on him, sucking out the air he breathes, when he first learned about the marriage. But he tried to see reason, as marital arrangements are normal within the wealthy and the noble. He knows that even if Reo will indeed get married, Seishiro believed they will still be together, as master and personal guard, so he keep telling himself over and again that he’d be fine with Reo’s marriage. Because that was the normal, the right thing to do. It was for Reo’s ‘sake’. But no matter how much he convince himself, he ends up spiraling into an agonizing abyss each and every time, an absurd, selfish question running like vicious, poisonous water in his veins, keeping him up at night, distracting him all day, and seemingly staining his treasured memories of him and Reo:

What about me?

He did not understand why he would feel and thought of such a thing.

But now he does. And with him and Reo feeling the same, Seishiro allowed the defiance in his own heart to take over. To let the voice inside he desperately tried to suppress scream out: that Reo marrying someone else will never be fine with him at all.

“Sei, what they want for me, they keep telling you is for my sake, for my future. But it is not what I want for myself.” Reo painfully says. “Do you understand? For Gods' sake, I have a mind of my own, I can make decisions for my own future.”

“. . .”

“Will you please say something? I know you’re not a guy with a lot of words, but this here is really important, you know?” Reo impatiently pesters, a little pained, “Don’t tell me you were actually fine with the marriage?”

Seishiro breathes deeply, and replied softly, pouring it all out while clasping Reo’s hand; now more than ever, he does not want to let go, “The mere thought makes me wanna throw up. It makes me feel so miserable. I would never want to hand you over to someone else. Life was nothing but a pain to me, I see the world as no more than dull black and whites, until you came. . . and suddenly, everything was dazzling, like how the sunset lights turn simple wheat fields into a sea of gold–”

Reo, now blushing twice as hard moments ago, frantically waved his other hand up front, “Wait, wait, stop! T– that’s too much! You said too much!”

Seishiro simply blinked, a small blush on his own cheeks.

But Reo was deeply joyful with his answer. Reo smiled, and then laughed lightly, reaching with both arms to hug Seishiro. Reo breathes out a shuddering sigh as he rested his face on the curve of Seishiro’s neck, the waves softly lapping their feet. On the far horizon, the sun had began to set, touching the line between sea and sky. The vast, and endless shimmering ocean waters tinted with ethereal golden glow, reminiscing the wheat fields where they played as kids.

“Sei,” A whisper, “Let’s run away.”

“. . . we already did?”

Reo pulls back, laughing, “Damn right. My mind’s sort of blank yet. I’ve never gone against my family this bad. So, what do we do now? Got any ideas?”

“Uhm, for now, how about we kiss again?”

They soon returned to their rented room after washing up by the nearest well they can find, wiping the dirt, and blood off their bodies, and as much as they could scrub off their clothes. The biggest travel lodge in town is managed and owned by Reo, but the two of them often rent a room in different inns, even rotating within a few towns and villages because of Reo’s father. Persistent, anger seemingly hasn’t abated even though years have passed.

“Man, that was some crazy exercise. I’m wide awake.” Reo whines as soon as shutting the door close, tossing his boots on the side along with Seishiro’s.

“. . . sorry, Reo. I should’ve been more careful.”

“Heh, it’s normal to make mistakes. It’s okay.”

“Not if that mistake will cost me you.” Seishiro somberly replies, a hand over his nape. He was still standing by the door, a little fidgety.

“Well, even if they manage to take me away– which I doubt– you’ll just come and get me back, right?

“Absolutely.”

“So I’m not worried.” Reo motioned for Seishiro to sit beside him on the bed, “Come here.”

Normally, Seishiro would go straight into Reo’s arms, press his face against Reo’s neck, or chest, but now, he simply sat down, not meeting Reo’s eyes as the latter began to dry Seishiro’s still wet hair with a clean fabric that smelled of sun-dried citrus. He was disappointed at himself, he hadn’t felt like this in forever.

“Don’t you worry, Sei. We won’t lose to him. Or to anyone.”

“I promise it won’t happen again.”

Reo’s bright smile peeks out, “Heh, we take promises so very seriously. Scary.”

What Reo intended to do initially was to cut complete ties with his family, but the head of the family was persistent in ‘bringing him home’, sending one ‘messenger’ after another. At first it was tolerable, but Seishiro got injured badly in one particular ambush, prompting Reo to go on the offensive and finally make their own move.

One moonless night, Reo and Seishiro slipped into the Mikage mansion unnoticed, and headed toward Reo’s father’s study room. Reo knew his father would be there even at wee hours. He knew his old man’s routine and habits, knew when the latter stays up late.

With a blade pressed against the old man’s neck, the very sword he had given his son’s personal guard, Reo stood before the head of the family, and forced his own Father to sign an agreement like how the latter would force Reo to do certain things. Reo raked his mind for weeks to make the ideal contract. Everything that was taught, drilled into his brain inside the damned walls of his used to be home, he used them all to his advantage. So he and Seishiro could gain freedom and the financial capacity to swiftly ease their living conditions. Reo knew of his own capabilities, knew he can just build a business from the ground up, but he really wanted to get back on his Father for hurting Seishiro.

Reo has had enough.

“Sign these papers right now. Reading them will take time and we can’t stay long, so do it later.”

The old man merely glanced over the papers Reo placed on the table, the flame on the lone, lit candle, swaying, “If I refuse?”

Reo pursed his lips and rounded the table, taking in the angry, but utterly terrified state of his father whom he can tell has never been in a dire situation like this where literal blood is at stake. Though it was apparent, the old man still stood before Reo with dignity, as expected of a Mikage. It was always like that, appearances first, what other people would say mattered first. . . businesses first, everything else, second. Friends, even family. . . so Reo shall play his father’s game his way.

Of course, Reo had doubts at first, going against his family to this extent, but he has ignored his own heart, his own voice, for far too long.

His eyes flickered to Seishiro for anchor, who stood there pressing the decisive blade against his father’s neck. Reo sighed, “Majority of the profits of the businesses under my name as heir will remain as it is and still go to your pockets, you know. It’s not a bad deal. You have ample merit in this contract, rest assured.”

When the old man remained silent, the blade against his neck moved one breath closer, grazing the skin, “If I refuse, you’ll kill me? Your own blood? Your own Father?!”

“Pipe it down, you'll wake the house.” Seishiro grumbled.

Reo drew back with a confident smile, “It’s alright, Sei. You know, dear Father, there are many ways you can kill a man without actually cutting their breaths off. For example,” Reo drew his own sword and pointed at a spot on his Father’s leg right at the joint, “I could just aim here, and you’d no longer be able to walk.”

The old man visibly flinched.

The tip of the sword moved up, slithering like venomous snake towards the old man’s wrist, “Over here, you’d no longer be able to even hold a quill. Much less eat by yourself. And here–” Lastly, the blade nestled at a specific spot on his Father’s neck, drawing a thin line of blood, a serious warning.

“–a small precise needle is all it would take to permanently damage your chords,” Seishiro softly said, completing Reo’s threat, “And you won’t be able to speak anymore.”

“How would you like living like that, father?”

When his father only made a pained noise, Reo stepped back, sheathed his sword and went to sit on the floor by the table. He took out the special quill, ink, and stamp from storage, was happy that his hands did not tremble the slightest while pointing a deadly weapon in his father’s direction. He did not want to show even a bit of himself wavering.

Seishiro dragged and pushed the old man down to sit across Reo, sweat ran down his Father’s temple, but the old man did not say anything or even moved a finger.

“This is me being kind, Father.” Reo spoke next, a little soft, “Despite everything. As you said, we’re still family. . .”

“How many times did I tell you not to show kindness to an opposing party, ingrate son of mine?”

Though obviously against his will, with shaky hands, both from anger, and blatant humiliation, the old man wrote his name on the papers right next to his son’s. But still, when it was all done, he hesitated on putting his seal, as if thinking whether he still had a choice.

Grabbing it himself, Reo took the seal and stamped the agreement in rightful places, making it official and binding.

Seeing the papers in their final form, checking every pages, Reo smiled, satisfied, “A pleasure doing business with you, dear Father.”

Seishiro immediately knocked the old man unconscious, before the latter could shout for help, and Reo let out a long, deep sigh, smile widening. He was proud that he did not falter despite the uncertainties seemingly trying to seep in through his mental guard.

“I didn’t kill him.” Seishiro flatly said.

“Well, you could’ve.”

“No. It will make you unhappy.”

He shrugged, nodding, “Yeah, in spite of everything.”

Seishiro gently touched the strands of hair framing Reo’s face, as if in comfort. “Are you done?”

Reo glanced once more at the man lying unconscious on the floor, before reaching for Seishiro’s hand, holding it tight. From hereon, this is their future, “I am. Let’s go home.”

Done drying their hair, the two quietly changed into fresh white robes, put out the lamp, and lied down the bed side by side, kind of waiting, and not, for sleep to come. For good long minutes, none of them said anything, just staring on the walls, the roof, occasionally, the closed window. Their hand instinctively sought the other, fingers giving lazy caresses and tracing irregular patterns on each other’s skin– wrist, back of the hand, palm, fingernails. . .

Just as Seishiro raised their clasped hands and went to kiss the tips of Reo’s fingers, Reo mumbled, “Wonder when my old man would just give up.”

The pursuit for them did not end after that one moonless night, unfortunately. But it has lessened dramatically. It did not really stop for Reo’s father found a loophole in one of the clauses of the ‘agreement’. Reo admitted it had been a mistake on his part, he thought he’d read, revised, and studied everything thoroughly. He knew the contract he made was flawless, so it seemed to have boiled down the gap between real experience. His father is after all, a clever merchant, an exceptional businessman for a family that’s been thriving in the industry for a long time. 

“I don’t think he will.” Seishiro replies, “We trampled on his pride really bad.”

“Ha.” Reo snickers, “No regrets.”

“Same here.”

Another minute of silence passed, but Reo can tell that Seishiro has something else to say as the latter stroked and kissed his hand. It was a familiar gesture, a habit Seishiro does to comfort and ground himself when something is on his mind, not so good at hiding it. Reo gently squeezed Seishiro’s hand, whispering, “Sei, what is it?”

Seishiro did not answer right away, maybe coming off a little shy now that he has to actually ask it. “I’ve been thinking of that question you asked me on Kunigami and Chigiri’s wedding.”

“. . .”

“Were you serious about it?” Seishiro nervously asked, still playing with Reo’s fingers.

A pause, “Oh, you mean us getting a matrimonial ceremony like theirs?”

“Mm.”

Reo pouts his adorable lips, “Hmm, kind of? I just thought it’ll be fun, and worth doing. You know, we’ve always been like that, going against the norm and doing whatever we want, whatever comes to mind. . .”

“Then let’s get married.” He says immediately.

Reo laughed, adoring the way Seishiro's big eyes sparkled, “Aww, fine. Seems like it’s you who really want it.”

Clearly still feeling too rushed and awake to sleep, they fully turned to each other, lips meeting halfway. Reo wrapped his arms around Seishiro, both melting into a slow, lazy kiss. Patiently licking, nibbling, an unhurried, yet sensual dance of tongue and lips. Carefully sipping every precious second.

Their lips parted, a soft, wet sound, a string of saliva between them, and Reo laughed as it broke, “So, we’re doing it?” he asked, threading his fingers through locks of white hair, soft and still lightly damp.

Seishiro knew Reo isn’t pertaining to the wedding. That thing has been settled, so he simply nodded.

“How do you want me tonight?” A sensual murmur.

Seishiro gently pushed Reo back down, “. . . like this. On your back, with–”

“–you inside me?” Reo completed with a huge, seductive grin.

“Mm. Is that okay?”

“Yeah. But that’s twice in a row, so we’re switching next time, alright?”

“Mm.”

He loved it when Reo is inside him, but he loved it the other way just as much. It’s just a matter of who was in the mood to be in a certain position. Sometimes, they would be too competitive, and settle things by rock-paper-scissors. But often times, Reo decides for them. Seishiro did not really care much, as long as he get to experience that one of a kind bliss with Reo. They were each other’s first in everything. Especially of what they knew about love-making, pleasure, and intimacy, they learned and discovered it all together. Their first time doing it had been filled with laughter, clumsiness, with many awkward pauses and shy hesitations. And then more laughter, mostly from Reo. But because they were equally both eager, curious, and basically hungry for each other, they managed to somehow get things right after hours of trying, promising after that the next time will be better.

They could no longer count now how many times they’ve done it, but each night or day they spent tangled in bedsheets, naked bodies locked in each other’s embrace, were treasured moments they hold close in each other’s hearts.

And now, here they are, about to forge another one of those priceless memories.

Reo raised an eyebrow when Seishiro suddenly went and embraced him as he was undoing his clothes, “Sei? We can’t start if you cling to me like that. Haha.”

“Mmm. . . a few seconds?”

Reo kissed his hair, softly patting his head, “As long as you like.”

In answer, Seishiro went to bury his face comfortably in Reo’s chest, feeling the other man’s steady, rhythmic heartbeat, soothing him than any music ever could, taking in Reo’s warmth and lovely scent, the things he cannot live without. Seishiro’s silver-gray eyes brimming with unbridled possessiveness and blistering devotion.

With the battle earlier, along with previous other flashing across his mind, his arms instinctively tightened around Reo.

Seishiro didn’t care how much blood he’d spilt, how many bodies he’d buried, how stained with crimson his hands are. In fact, he does not care how much of a trouble it would be, but if he had to fight and kill a thousand more, he will do it. If he had to defy even the Gods, then so be it.

But no one shall take Reo away from him.