Chapter Text
You’re walking down a hallway; now that you have legs and feet.
The stone floor is cold. The wall tapestries and floor runners are soft but dark. Windows line the wall to your left. Doors line the wall to your right. All of them are closed. It’s a quarter past one in the morning and everyone else in the mansion in sleeping.
You stand in front of a door midway down the hall. Your new hand drifts cautiously to the door, careful not to wake anyone up with your tentative knock.
The door creeps open. Surprised eyes meet yours from across the threshold.
“Viina…” he says. “Are you having trouble sleeping too?”
You nod.
He opens the door wide enough for you to enter and ushers you into his room.
You step inside and look around for a place to sit.
He closes the door behind you and grabs a robe off of the back of a chair. He puts the robe on, in addition to the undershirt and pajama trousers he was already wearing.
You look down at your own clothes to compare. Only a thin satin slip and a loosely tied silk robe cover your various curves.
While he scurries to straighten up the room in the dark, you prod each seating surface with your fingers. You find the longest one to be the softest by far. So you sit on that. It bounces a bit under your weight.
He sets the book he was holding back down on the side table and reaches for the lamp. He’s struck with a moment of panic, wondering if he should turn the light on to see what he thinks he’ll see, or leave it off and never move again in his life. Well. Not his life, per se. But that hardly matters to you.
He swallows and turns the light on. He spins away from you.
You tilt your head with a slight lean to the side.
“Kazuma?”
“Yes?”
“Won’t you come sit with me?”
“Yes’m.”
He steps backward in a semi-circle and flops into the chair that originally had the robe on it.
“No, here,” you clarify with a pat on the rumpled comforter.
“This is fi--” He begins to protest. He stops when your eyes meet again.
Kazuma joins you on the bed.
“Did I interrupt your book?” You ask politely.
“It’s fine. It’s more of a reference book than a continuous story.”
“What’s it about?”
“Spirits?” He looks at the cover. “I’m not quite sure. It’s a collection of folk tales from overseas. I don’t know if any of the spirits were ever wished into existence or not.”
You nod contemplatively.
“Was there something you wanted to talk about?” He turns to you again.
Your mind drifts forward through an azure mist. In the space between, you hear heavy steps ascending an endless staircase. The closer and louder the sound gets, the more compelled you feel to say “no”.
“Not in particular,” you reply.
Your mind passes through the mist into a warm lake. You dip into it for a brief swim without concern for lack of air. Grazing the bottom of the lake, your chest chills. You examine the feeling until it surrounds you completely.
You push away from the cloudy mud, out from the water, back through the mist, and return to the young man staring at you with tired eyes.
You smile softly.
“I just felt a bit lonely is all,” you say.
His eyes stumble over a blink.
The heavy steps ascend the stairs faster.
“I’m always here,” he eventually manages.
“Thank you.” You smile further. Despite this tranquility, you feel compelled to leave. “Shall we try again to sleep?”
He nods.
Like an umbrella pushing against the wind, every millimeter you lean toward him takes more effort than the last. Yet the sound of the footsteps keeps calling you closer.
It’s only a peck on the cheek, a simple goodnight kiss, but it’s enough to break the pressure pushing against you. You set your hand on the bed to keep from falling. You pull away without assistance or resistance.
He stares at you, baffled.
“Good night,” you say.
“Good night,” he nods.
You close the door behind you as quietly as possible. Then you slip into the exterior wall and wait for tomorrow night.
Even before you knock, you hear footsteps on the other side of the door. This time, the door opens faster.
“Good evening,” you say.
“Good evening,” he agrees and welcomes you into his room again.
“Have you only now retired to your room?” You ask, nodding to his attire.
He looks down and blinks, then to each side and looks back down at nothing in particular.
“No, I’ve just not changed yet,” he admits without clarifying why he’s embarrassed by it.
He gestures to the bed.
“Would you like a seat?”
“Thank you.”
You sit together on the cold, impeccably arranged bedding. No one has touched it since this morning. You look across the room to the chair, now beside the door. The book rests upon its cushion, more indented than what the weight of a book can contribute. The rug near the door looks wrinkled, about as roughly as the comforter was last night.
“Have you had trouble sleeping a lot lately?” You ask.
He chuckles nervously and scratches his cheek.
“For a little while now, maybe.” He looks at you. “What about you?”
“Only the past couple nights.”
You look around for what to say next. You can see that the room is cleaner than last night. It may have had less time to gather what mild clutter there had been, but you sense more time was spent on it after you left. The windowsill is still damp from the window being open during the day’s rain shower.
“Can we open the window?” You ask him.
“Of course.” He hurries to it. With his hands on the frame he stops. “Would it be alright to keep it closed? Someone might overhear us talking.”
“Just the curtains then?”
He slides the sheer curtains aside. Moonlight floods the room.
You stand and turn the lamp off to end the competition.
You look at each other from opposite sides of the bed.
He stands, motionless again.
You slowly crawl onto the bed to get nearer to him.
He takes a step back and is blocked by the window.
You stop and listen to the ascending steps. They’re heavier than ever.
Your mind leaps forward, plunging into the tall grass. The grass quakes and shudders as you pass through it. It whispers and shushes but gives way under each padded step. You prowl to the far side of the field where the grass has caught fire. You look behind you and the space where you had been is also exclusively fire.
You have no reason to fear fire. You do not see any harm in anything at all.
Under the soothing moonlight, the repulsion from him begins again like a magnet mismatched. You search for the way to flip the magnet to its other side.
“What has kept you awake these past few nights, Kazuma?”
He grips the windowsill.
“Have you been unhappy?” You ask further.
“No, not at all.” He shakes his head. “Quite the opposite in fact.”
“Then,” you relax your posture and sit more casually on the bed. “What’s on your mind?”
“Everything has been going so well for us recently.” His thumb fidgeted against the window. “So it’s not that I’m unsatisfied with the way things are…”
“And yet?”
“And yet… It’s not much of a leap to imagine how much further we might go. Eventually.”
You nod.
“I-I don’t want to selfishly put us at risk, either,” he stammered “Or push beyond a reasonable boundary.”
You listen carefully. You close your eyes to hear with your heart. You can sense he expects certain things from you. Behaviors that are cohesive with his admiration for you. Beneath that, in quiet pleas, you can also sense his desire for you to catch him off guard.
You dismount the bed and draw close to him. You reach for his hands and pull him back to the bed with you.
He follows you obediently. He climbs up and sits with you. His mind jumbles to the point of unseeing. He disuades himself from getting his hopes up. He prepares to be dropped into despair after yet another close call.
You cup his jaw in your hand, pulling him away from his thoughts. You slide a slender finger behind his ear. You rub your thumb across his reddening cheekbone. Your pull leads his parted lips closer and closer to yours.
His eyelids fall in a sigh and don't reopen. He grips the sheets, still unable to bring himself to touch you.
When the kiss ends, he gives you a bashful smile.
“Not that I'm complaining, but what brought all of this on?” His half-lidded eyes twinkle, betraying a hidden giddiness.
You blink.
“Don't you want to make love?”
“I--” He looks away and stops, then looks back. “What?”
His eyes dart between yours.
You stare back, rather matter-of-factly.
“Yes! I mean… of course! No, wait.” He covers the side of his face with his hand. “I had something for this. A few things, in fact.”
He rubs his eyebrows and groans.
“It's been so long... I've forgotten them all.”
He slips into a momentary self pity until he remembers what he had initially asked.
“So,” he lifts his head. “Why now?”
You pull him back toward you with a delicate pinch of his chin.
“I want to be kind to my beloved. Don't you?”
“Yes,” he breathes as he leans in and kisses you in return. He trails kisses along your cheek to your ear.
Your earlobe is soft as mochi against his lips and the tip of his tongue. For as much time as he spends there in spirit, it still feels like bold new territory. He savors the soft, uninterrupted skin.
He pulls back again.
“Viina…” he begins, unsure of what to ask.
You look at him, confused.
“Does your ear heal?” He says, examining it.
You pinch your earlobe with your thumb and the side of your forefinger. You sense that he wants you to say “yes” but expects you to say “no”.
You reach your hand to the side of his neck and pull him close one last time. You'll only give him what he expects if it's what he truly wants.
“It's kind of a relief,” he breathes into your hair. “I've never noticed until now.”
// Do you think he suspects something?
A: “Oh, my dear, sweet, innocent Kazuma… He has no clue.” (Skip to chapter A.)
B: “He's a smart boy. He'll figure it out.” (Skip to chapter B.)