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Regect stood in the doorway. The warm, inviting light of home was a backdrop to his black figure, drawing Ze in. He missed everything about home. The sight alone weighed him down with more guilt.
Ze was pitifully sodden, black hair sticking to his almond face. He was scraped up in bruises, gauze lining his forearms. Soot and grime clung to his unwashed clothing.
He felt the need to avert his gaze, to pin it to the ground shamefully. But, he kept his eyes locked onto Regect stubbornly.
"Ze," Regect spoke softly.
Rivulets of rain rolled down Ze's face, and he wiped it messily. "I'm sorry, Regect." He apologized, cheeks rising in shame like he'd been slapped.
Regect breathed out, and Ze could feel his gaze pinned on him. "I thought I lost you," he said, so out of character Ze was caught off guard.
Ze's voice wavered. "Can I come in?" It was even more humiliating to beg at his own doorstep.
Regect made way, and Ze stepped into the familiar foyer. Regect reached over and closed the door. The warmth and orangey light enveloped Ze, the rain forgotten.
Ze bit back tears prickling at his waterline. His anger had boiled down into shame. Regect stood in-front of him, body language tense.
Ze's eyes hovered over him, hesitant. Then, he extended his arms, offering up his better dignity.
Rather than be swept in, Regect stuck out his own arms, and he reeled him in tight. He could feel Regect's heartbeat thrumming frantically against his chest, hardly resuming a natural pace.
"You're getting me soaked," Regect snarked, perfectly familiar.
"Shut up," Ze said, giving himself away with a much-needed laugh.
Regect ran his hand over Ze's back— everywhere he touched sent pin-pricks of electricity down his spine. He shivered deeper into his touch, feeling his body run hot despite being soaked. Ze breathed out shakily, head planted in the nook of Regect's shoulder. His wet hair plastered itself against Regect's skin, but he didn't seem to mind.
Regect pulled him in a bit closer, as if making sure Ze was real.
Eventually, they pulled away, Ze savouring the body heat they'd shared.
Regect swiped a thumb over Ze's face, brushing a stray, sodden strand of hair away. Ze flushed, eyes flickering away and then back to him.
"Can we talk upstairs?" Regect asked.
———
Ze's bedroom was dark, with only a small halo of light cast from the bedside lamp. His mattress was small, cheap. Posters peeled at their edges on the walls.
Ze sat, averting his eyes. Was he nervous? He gnawed on his lip, biting it into a thin line.
"I know I fucked up— I'm sorry, okay?" he apologized again, drawing out the words like it was difficult.
Regect sighed. He wanted to bring himself to be angry, to fight with Ze, but he simply couldn't. Not with his wavering voice; not with his nervousness; not with his hopeful glances. Regect didn't want to bring out the worst in himself just to prove a point he didn't want to make.
"Ze," he responded, choosing his words carefully. "It's okay."
Defensively, "You're angry, aren't you? I'm a bad friend."
Regect paused, regarding Ze. "I was. Not anymore."
Ze glanced at Regect, fidgeting with his hands. He was silent, taking in his voice.
"I was angry that you left me and Moe; I was angry that you weren't listening to me. But, most of all, I was really worried and that was more important," he admitted. "I care, alright? It just... it fucking sucks that you can't see that. Or don't want to."
"Don't let me lose you. No— promise me you won't let me lose you."
Ze's eyes were pinned onto his lap shamefully. "I promise."
He lifted his gaze to meet Regect, waiting for another break in the silence. His expression gnawed at Regect's conscience— it was a blend of hopefulness and shame. He couldn't do nothing about it. Despite everything, he deserved some kind of reassurance, didn't he?
Regect tentatively offered an arm, draped over Ze's shoulder. He slid Ze in closer to him, sides bumping against one another. It didn't need words; the body language spoke for itself. Ze's head plopped onto Regect's shoulder, leaning in to settle against the cusp of his neck.
"I was worried too," Ze admitted in return, voice softer.
"We all were."
Underneath Regect's honest, much-needed relief, he felt threads of shame. Not shame because of their argument, or their conversation, but rather their shared touch. Ze, innocently placed against his shoulder, was nothing more than platonic. So why did Regect tense, core running hot?
He didn't know why he'd fallen for Ze. Maybe it was because of his eyes— deep brown and intelligent. Maybe it was his sharp sense of humour. Maybe it was his looks— deep, olive skin; handsome, black curls.
They were nothing more than friends, and they had more than their fair share of arguments. Ze never signalled desire; no slipped in remarks, glances, nor attention. And, if he actually did, Regect was surely imagining it, wasn't he?
Was the care and worry he felt more than basic platonic connection?
Regect savoured Ze's body melded against his, feeling guilty for doing so. He wasn't sure of what to say, or when to. All he knew was that he felt safe in Ze's presense, relieved in knowing that he was alive.
I wish you were easier to understand.
Surprisingly, Ze was the first to cut through the silence. "Can we just... stay like this for a bit?" he asked. The shared vulnerability hung in the air, Regect taking hold of his question.
"Yeah."
Ze breathed out, closing his eyes. "It's weird," he laughed awkwardly, "that I can't see your face but I can feel it."
Regect could feel Ze's face, cushioned underneath his jaw from where he was rested on his shoulder.
"Do you have a face?" Ze asked.
Regect snorted. "Obviously. What would you be feeling if I didn't?"
Ze moved from where he'd been plopped on his shoulder. Regect turned curiously to face him, trying to suss out what he was doing. He moved his hands closer, hovering around Regect's face.
"Can I?"
"Okay."
Ze brushed his cheek curiously in a cupping motion. "Warm," he remarked.
As if he'd realized the weight of his word, he jerked his hand away and diverted his gaze. Regect flushed, gold splaying out and highlighting his invisible cheeks. Ze's face darkened in return.
Bravely, Regect reached forwards, carefully so as to not prick Ze with his claws. He took his hand in his own, and guided it upwards. Ze traced his movements, following the motion of his hand being led. He didn't pull his hand back, nor did he object; Regect let go, and Ze followed his unspoken command.
He started on Regect's jaw, sliding his fingers over the contour and mapping it out. It sent electricity up Regect's spine, him shivering. Ze's hand trailed upwards further, to his cheek. He cupped it, and Regect leaned into his touch.
Tension blanketed the two. Ze filled Regect's vision, suffocatingly so.
How did we end up like this?
He remembered their earlier days, when Regect was still under control of the Daemon. He recalled how they bickered and fought, how they could hardly hold a conversation without it boiling into an argument. Never had Regect expected to share a moment like this with him, so tender and vulnerable.
Perhaps this was a form of rebellion against the Daemon, to care for Ze against their odds.