[Sequel(?)] Those soft eyes
Ninomiya was beautiful. Even when all Ohno could see was a faint outline of his features in the softening light of the dying embers of the small stove. Ninomiya was beautiful.
It was snowing outside. Ohno couldn’t see it, but he could hear it in the way it silenced the world.
“I should tend to the stove before the fire dies out completely.” Nino murmured his voice as soft as the sound of snow.
“Don’t leave,” Ohno entreated, “I’ll be the stove.”
If Ohno could have seen his face, he knew Ninomiya would have been smiling that same soft smile, perhaps with a touch of exasperation. But Ninomiya let himself be pulled back down, closer, until they were chest against chest, nose against nose, and their legs a tangled mess.
Ninomiya’s nose was cold.
Ohno began to rub Ninomiya’s arm, side, back, neck and cheek. Anywhere he could touch without having to change their positions. His hands knew the landscape of Ninomiya’s body better than his own. Every line, every dip, every curve. If he’d already touched Ninomiya a thousand times, and touched him again a thousand more it would never be enough.
Ninomiya rubbed Ohno’s arms and side too, but even though Ohno’s skin warmed under the caresses, the goosebumps remained.
“Why do you have to be so difficult?” Ninomiya laughed, rubbing Ohno’s arm harder.
“I’m not really,” Ohno chuckled, ending the warming expedition by cupping Ninomiya’s check with the tenderest of touches. “I’m not difficult at all.”
“You are the most difficult.” Ninomiya replied, rolling over and crawling up until he landed on Ohno’s chest.
The covers slipped back as Ninomiya sat up taller, and they both winced at the sudden shock of cold.
“Now who is making things difficult?” Ohno shivered, pulling the layers of blankets and cast off kimonos back up over Ninomiya’s shoulders.
“That would be the gods and spirits in charge of winter weather.”
The last of the firewood in the stove heater shifted, and collapsed in a cough of ash. For a moment the embers in the stove glowed brighter, and Ohno saw Ninomiya’s face illuminated by the gentle orange glow. There was something different in Ninomiya’s eyes. The usual mysterious sadness was gone. In its place was something else. Something just as soft, and just as deep but uniquely warm.
The embers died out completely, and the room was cast back into complete blackness.
Ninomiya let his weight down slowly, until he was completely on top of Ohno.
“Am I too heavy?”
“Not at all.” Ohno replied, one hand working up into Ninomiya’s unbound, unshaven hair, the other rubbing little circles along Ninomiya’s spine.
Ohno closed his eyes, feeling not only the warmth of Ninomiya’s body against his, but also the weight. It prevented Ohno from moving anything more than his arms or toes. But it proved with every second that Ninomiya was with him, that he wasn’t alone, and that they were, at least for the moment, inseparable.
It was, Ohno realized, how he wanted to die. Feeling Ninomiya’s existence with him, on every inch of skin, all the way until his final breath. But he didn’t want to die, at least not unless Ninomiya had died first. He didn’t want to be in any world or heaven or hell where Ninomiya didn’t exist.
“Are you…are you crying?” Ninomiya asked, and a second later, Ohno felt fingers seeking the tears on his cheeks.
“I…” Ohno sniffed, “I wish you could eat me.”
“You what?” Ninomiya snorted, and Ohno smiled at the unrestrained shock in his voice.
“I wish you could eat me.” He repeated, “So I would always be with you no matter what.”
Ninomiya was silent after the confession, but Ohno didn’t mind. He continued to rub Ninomiya’s spine, and tease his hair.
“That,” Ninomiya said at last, his voice sounding a little coarse, “would be cannibalism.”
“……I suppose it is if you think of it like that.” Ohno sighed.
“It is no matter how you think of it.” Ninomiya laughed into Ohno’s shoulder. When he was done, Ohno didn’t answer. He tipped his check against Ninomiya’s head, closed his eyes and simply held him as close as he could.
“Are you still cold?” Ninomiya asked after a while, his voice as gentle as falling snow. “I could fix the fire.”
“Please,” Ohno whispered. “please don’t leave.”