For Emcee

[onceaviking]

Eric's room is neat, cool, and quiet.
He turns the light on as he steps through the door and it bathes the room in a soft glow.

The bed is made. White Egyptian cotton, a blue bedspread . it reminds him of waves.

He turns and looks at Emcee. Quietly.

Comments

[onceaviking]

Eric closes his eyes.

"No," he murmurs. "I didn't."

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee will leave before Eric wakes, as usual. (How there came to be a 'usual,' he'll never know.)

He struggles to keep his eyes open.

"Hopefully I'll get to see you again before you leave. One more last time before the next. Of which I'm sure there will be one."

[onceaviking]

Eric slants a look at him.

"Perhaps," he murmurs.
"I will be leaving soon. "

Not saying anything more because he doesn't quite trust himself not to say something he shouldn't. Oughtn't.

[i_am_your_host]

Sometimes he can be a perfect blend of cynic and optimist.

"Then I will see you soon," he says, and that is that.

Following his impulses, he leans in and drops a quick kiss onto Eric's shoulder, before settling back down on the pillow, a small, cheeky smirk on his lips.

[onceaviking]

Eric doesn't say anything, but maybe, maybe he smiles a little.

He slowly drifts off. Sinks down. Lets himself be embraced by the stillness and the cold at the heart of day.

There are waves in his dreams. Waves and the sound of creaking wood. A hand stroking his hair.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee is good at noticing maybes in all their forms, even maybe-smiles.

He also knows better than to touch Eric when he sleeps, despite the cold, pale arm that begs to stroked, or the strand of blond hair that has strayed over his forehead. Emcee slips his hands under the pillow to better resist and prevent his urges.

But it doesn't prevent him from watching him, and wondering what goes on beyond the deathly stillness.

Eventually he does close his eyes, and he drifts away into a dreamless slumber.