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Iris sits at the table, chin resting in his hand, watching Lillium make dinner.
Something between them is…definitely different now. Of course it would be.
After Iris broke down, poured his heart out to him, confessed all his insecurities…
After Lillium was vulnerable with him, finally telling Iris about his past… Not just telling him about his past, but using it to illustrate a point to him, to persuade him to be better, more conscientious. Lillium has come so unbelievably far, has gone through devastating life events and through unimaginable pain and anger and succumbed to numbness towards everything and…
The fact that he’s come out wiser for it is awe-inspiring. He’s so incredibly strong.
Iris can’t believe he was the one crying at the cemetery after all of that. Can’t believe that Lillium was comforting him after recalling something so tragic. How pathetic could he be, seriously?
No matter what happens, my home is yours. You won’t lose me.
Then Iris asked if they could go back home together.
But…Lillium himself is Iris’s home.
Can I come back home?
Can I come back to you?
Was it too obvious?
Iris feels unbearably hot. His cheek still burns where Lillium touched him so gently.
He should have done more to comfort him after Lillium laid himself bare like that. He should have hugged him. It felt too late now. But in the moment he was just so shocked by…
It wasn’t a surprise that Lillium cared about him, really, but how…tender he could be.
Whatever is changing between them terrifies him; whatever collision course they’re on, they’re only accelerating.
Lillium glances at him over his shoulder, and Iris pretends he hasn’t been staring at him this whole time and immediately becomes absorbed in sketching in his notebook.
Lillium had felt chills up his spine, like he was being watched. But clearly Iris isn’t paying any attention to him, so… He turns back towards the stovetop.
All of this might have been a mistake.
He had sounded so confident an hour ago. It was all an act, then and now.
But he had lost Iris once already, what did he have to lose by saying everything that had been on his mind?
Well…he might lose Iris again.
He told him how, in his life, he had gone through terrible things, how he had changed, became something he knew his mother and sister would have hated, but realized they would have loved him anyway…
But honestly, that was only because he saw Iris go through terrible, traumatic things, saw Iris change, but Lillium still…
He still…
Was he too obvious?
The desire to hold him still haunts him, even after they walked home with their arms around each other. The moment they parted, he wanted more. He still wants more. His chest burns with the desire for more.
He feels greedy. He can’t push these feelings onto Iris. After everything he’s been through. After everything Lillium has put him through…
He needs to get out of his head and not burn the shakshuka.
He covers the pan with a lid. “Okay, should be ready in a few…”
He turns to Iris, just in time to see his head quickly turn down towards his sketchbook.
“…more minutes.”
Ah, that was too close.
Did Lillium catch him staring?
Was Iris staring at me?
Nah, I don’t think he saw.
I guess I imagined it.
Lillium walks over and sits across from Iris.
“What’re you drawing?”
“Oh, just…nothing. I don’t know.”
He only has a sketch of a head and shoulders that hasn’t become anyone in particular yet. In a few minutes it might have become Lillium, but…
Not while he’s watching.
Silence hangs heavily between them. An awkward and unwanted third attendee at dinner.
“I missed your drawings,” Lillium says out of the blue.
Iris looks at him questioningly.
“Y-you know, they all got destroyed because of fish face flooding the damn house.”
“O-oh, right. Well, the fridge was getting cluttered…”
“Gotta reclutter it. So get drawing.”
Iris snorts. “It was about time to throw them out anyway. I kept telling you to take them down.” He carefully keeps his gaze down on his sketchbook, although now the only thing coming out of his pencil is spirals. He draws an infinity sign, tracing over the lines again, and again, almost meditatively.
Lillium huffs and stands up to check on the food. “It’s ready,” he says, taking the lid off and setting it aside. He heaps the food into two bowls and sets them at the table.
Iris sets his sketchbook and pencil aside. “Thank you…” He smiles tentatively.
I missed your smile.
Hell, I missed you.
“Yeah, yeah. Eat it before it gets cold.”
Their old “friend” Silence settles in as well, with a big heaping bowl of awkwardness and anxiety for dinner.
Iris briefly forgets about how weird the atmosphere is once he has warm, perfectly cooked egg in his mouth. “Oh my god, thish ish sho good.”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full. What are you, five?”
Iris can’t help but laugh and almost chokes. “Sorry. This is the best though. I just really missed your cooking.”
I just really missed you.
“Anyone ever tell you that flattery won’t get you anywhere?” Lillium says with a smirk.
Oh? Then how do I get somewhere with you?
Iris turns red at his own intrusive thought and starts choking again.
Lillium’s eyebrows raise in concern. “Uh? Do you need some water?”
Cough cough cough. “I thi—” cough “—yeah, probably—” cough.
Water is obtained, and things settle into silence again for a bit. Then they find other things to talk about, to fill the silence, trying their best to ward it off.
I should have hugged him.
I should have held him tighter.
Whatever they’re talking about, it isn’t actually what’s on their minds.
Iris has seconds of dinner. The atmosphere is pleasant. It reminds him of how things used to be. It can’t last though. He still needs to go back tonight.
“Thanks again for dinner. I should…probably head out.”
“Oh, already?”
Don’t go…
“You sure you don’t want to rest more?” Lillium suggests, his voice carefully even, neutral.
I don’t actually want to go…
“Well…”
Don’t go…
“At least let me check your bandages. We’ve been doing a lot of walking around.”
Iris concedes, his defenses already shot. “Alright.”
Lillium smiles and takes his hand—emboldened by the way Iris took his hand earlier at the cemetery—and leads them to the couch.
Iris sits and—
—Lillium leaves for a moment to grab a medical kit.
Then he sits behind him, and—
—Iris faces away.
“Lift your arms.”
Lillium pulls Iris’s shirt over his head, like it’s nothing, like it’s an action as simple as breathing.
It feels normal. It’s weird that this feels so normal.
Lillium spies a place in Iris’s bandages that’s a little dark.
“Well, I don’t think we need to change them all, but we should probably change this one area at least.”
“Okay.”
He feels calloused fingertips on his back, gingerly peeling bandages away. He winces. Most of his back is still pretty tender. But Lillium’s rough hands are conversely so gentle when he handles him, wiping away excess dried blood that isn’t part of the scabs, applying more ointment, then gently sealing the wounds away under clean gauze and tape.
Iris’s heart beats so hard he worries if Lillium can feel it through his back.
I want to hug him…
I want to hold him…
“Better?”
“Yeah, loads.”
He turns abruptly, forgetting how close Lillium is, and freezes up just before colliding with him. “Ah…”
I want to hug him…
I want to hold him…
“Oh.” Lillium flinches, drawing back. “W-what is it?”
Nothing.
“I’m really grateful for you.”
Oh wait. Oh fuck, he got his thoughts and speech mixed up. His face heats up.
“Ah.” Lillium can feel himself blushing as well.
I want to hold him I want to hold him I want to hold him oh my god.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s the least I can do.”
Iris can’t maintain eye contact, and his eyes dart down to Lillium’s hands. A spot on his bandages is a little red from where…where Iris’s sword had cut him…
“What about you?”
“What…”
His eyes follow Iris’s gaze to his palm.
“Oh.” Goddamnit. He flips his hand over, palm now on his thigh. “Don’t worry about that. I told you, it’s just a paper cut. I’ll change it later.”
“Can I change it?” Iris asks quietly.
Lillium swallows. “Um.”
At this point it should be clear why Lillium always has his hands bandaged, even without actively present injuries. He doesn’t like looking at his hands, let alone anyone else looking at them.
But if it’s Iris…
Iris watches several emotions flicker across Lillium’s face.
He remains patient. Waiting. Letting Lillium take as much time as he needs to decide.
“…Alright,” Lillium finally says with a sigh.
Iris’s heart swells, threatening to grow too large for his rib cage.
The way Iris’s eyes shine makes it worth it all on its own.
He holds out his hand, and—
—Iris holds it gently, examining it.
Lillium’s heart races. This is too intimate, this was a mistake, but it’s too late now because—
—Iris takes the small medical scissors and carefully slips the blade beneath the bandages, snipping away, until the bandages fall apart and unravel in their hands.
The recent cut is the most obvious mark, of course. Definitely deeper than a paper cut, purple and red, bleeding slightly, oozing yellow.
Iris’s breath hitches, and—
—Lillium doesn’t miss that small intake of breath.
“Iris—”
“You haven’t been taking care of this,” Iris points out.
Lillium’s mouth clamps shut. He can’t argue with the truth.
Who cares?
But he knows Iris will be angry if he says that, so he keeps it to himself.
Iris starts to wipe the wound clean, and—
—Lillium is used to pain, has to grit his teeth through it with the sort of work he does, and he does so now, especially because he doesn’t want Iris to be more concerned than he already is.
He can already see that—
—Iris is clenching his jaw.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
He’s not sure if he’s calling himself that or Lillium, honestly.
He fights back tears. He can’t cry again. He’s not the one that’s injured.
Conveniently forgetting that, yes, he is.
He’s not the one that terrible things have happened to.
Conveniently forgetting that that’s not true either.
Just look at these scratches all over his palm.
Conveniently forgetting that he has plenty of scars of his own.
Older, faded, but marred with desperation. He’s not…
A single tear plips onto Lillium’s palm.
Lillium’s chest tightens. “Iris…”
“Shut up,” Iris snaps, but all the bite is taken out of the statement with how choked up he sounds.
Iris stubbornly rubs his eye that hasn’t released its tear yet. He covers the wound with ointment, obliterating the teardrop that dared to escape. His fingers then tentatively drift across the older scars, studying the divots.
Lillium lets him. His shoulders droop forward, and their foreheads almost touch. It pains him and soothes him at the same time.
Iris wants to kiss the old wounds better.
He tamps that urge down.
Instead, he rewraps Lillium’s hand, firmly but not too tight. When he’s done, the way it’s wrapped looks exactly like his other hand.
It’s exactly how Lillium does it. It looks exactly as if he did do it himself. If Iris had done it while he was sleeping, Lillium would have been none the wiser. He flips his hand over, flexing his fingers.
“You’ve been watching me carefully, huh?” Lillium murmurs, a little stunned.
“Of course I have,” Iris mutters. He looks up. “I…always have.”
His dark brown eyes look like wells that are about to overflow.
I want to hold him so badly.
“Iris—”
Iris caves, flinging his arms around him, knocking a small “oof!” out of him.
Lillium tenses up in surprise.
“S-sorry,” Iris says quickly. “I should have hugged you sooner, at the cemetery, after everything, I just, I…”
Then Lillium melts into him, heart overflowing, squeezing him back just as tightly, pressing his face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in.
Iris, conversely, feels twisted up inside, like a mechanical toy that’s been wound once too many times.
I love this.
I’m scared.
He trembles.
I want more.
He’s shaking. I should stop.
“Thank you,” Lillium whispers in his ear. He pulls back and touches Iris’s face, pressing his palm to his cheek.
He smiles at him like Iris is his whole world.
This is dangerous.
Less than an inch from his mouth is…
His eyelashes flutter as he glances at the hand in his peripheral vision.
It’s too tempting to turn his head, just a tiny bit, and press his lips to the place in his bandages where he knows the old scars are. As if a kiss could heal it.
It becomes an urge he can no longer control.
Damn.
Lillium’s heart stops. He feels the warmth of Iris’s breath, but can’t actually feel his lips, and curses the bandages in the way. He wonders how soft they are.
He knows what Iris is doing. He knows why he chose that spot in particular and it makes him ache.
Now what the hell am I doing?
Iris feels Lillium tug his hand back—
—I messed up, I went too far, I—
—but his face comes with it, closer to Lillium’s, and—
—Lillium, in turn, presses his lips to Iris’s cheek, to one of his scars.
Iris freezes, wide-eyed, heart racing, lets those lips linger there for a second or two, before turning sharply and—
—their noses bump.
Oh.
It was inevitable, wasn’t it?
This shrinking space between them.
Just like magnets,
As senseless as fighting gravity,
It has always been only a matter of time
before
we
collide
Ah…
he’s warm
he’s soft
he’s soft
he’s warm
Am I dreaming?
I must be dreaming
I hope I never wake up
I don’t want to wake up
I want more…
They both press in harder, Iris pushing his way into his lap as Lillium pulls him in, fingers combing through hair, holding each other so tightly and kissing each other so persistently that it’s hard to breathe.
Lillium, Lillium…
Iris, Iris, Iris…
Lips part in a foolish attempt to say the other’s name and they taste each other instead.
Ah…
Oh fuck…
He’s sweet…
God, please…
please…
They part, breathless. Questions in both their eyes. At a loss for where to begin. Silence looms.
“I missed you so much,” Lillium forces out. “It’s not… It’s not home without you.”
I’m not me without you.
Iris feels like he could cry again. Fighting it proves to be a vain endeavor.
Lillium’s fingers wind through his hair, pulling his face close again, and he kisses his tears.
Fuck, his tears are sweet, too. Aren’t tears supposed to be salty?
Goddamn…
I’m so screwed.
Lillium’s tiny kitten licks on Iris’s cheeks tickle, and he can't help but smile. Iris notices how he plants extra kisses on his scars. He melts.
“M-me, too,” Iris stammers. “I missed you, too…”
“I need you,” Lillium insists. His kisses slowly find their way back to his lips. “Please stay…”
“Stay home?” Iris asks softly.
Lillium hesitates. Has he been sounding overprotective? Well…he is, a bit, but he’s been trying to not let that show. “Um—”
“Stay with you?” Iris adds.
Oh.
You’re my home.
Oh.
“Stay with me,” Lillium pleads.
Iris nods shyly. Lillium nibbles on his chin, nips the soft part of his jaw right above his neck, delighting in his small gasps.
My home is yours.
“I’m yours,” Lillium confesses.
Iris makes a choked up sound, then grasps Lillium’s face in both his hands and claims his lips as his. Lillium becomes pliant, moldable, surrendering the rest of himself readily.
I’m yours…
Mine…?
Iris kisses him deeply, and Lillium whines.
Mine…
Yours…
All yours…
All mine…
“Welcome home,” Lillium whispers between kisses.
Iris laughs wetly. What a perfect welcome home gift.