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He wakes up to a pair of hands on his waist, pulling him into a languid embrace. Noé does not even open his eyes before he turns towards the contact, too eager to feel another body pressed close to his.
It’s rare, these days, to find this sort of comfort; the world went bleak a while ago, so long ago it’s getting hard to recall. Made indulgent by the haze in his mind, Noé does not question what he sees in the dim candlelight, the familiar press of lips against his quickening pulse. It would be a mistake to miss the chance, or so he rationalizes, and his legs part ever so slightly at the thought, a quick hand sliding up his thigh as soon as he allows it.
“It’s not fair,” Louis voice calls, sultry and deep and a little bizarre for it, but still recognizable to Noé’s ears, “you keep getting more beautiful, and here I am. I can’t keep up.”
“You do look quite good,” he can’t help but clarify, even when he is vaguely aware this is not the expected response.
Instead of seeming frustrated by it, Louis smiles fondly. “Oh, I think you’re right.”
It’s always easy with him. Louis would know him blindfolded.
( It’s a blessing he’s my partner, Noé thinks. Something about the idea makes him question himself, but he’s too glad to see Louis to do anything about it.)
As if trying to physically pull him away from those thoughts, Louis hugs him a little tighter, so Noé’s mouth ends up pressed against the crook of his neck. The soft perfume there makes Noé think of the forest, morning petrichor and sun-kissed treetops. Noé hesitates, as if biting down would somehow make the whole scene in front of his eyes disappear.
“Don’t overthink it,” Louis says, and the thrill of being understood thoroughly is so strong, Noé has to quench it by sinking his teeth into the other.
Louis does not flinch at all.
One moment and he hears it, his own little desperate sounds as time begins to blur. It could not be any other way. It would be impossible, Noé thinks, to ever have this again: Louis loves him, Louis knows him already, Louis could never fear him at all.
And Noé probably should doubt it, should realize real life never allows him to be this happy, but it’s easy to forget the details when Louis’ hands are working him with such tender precision, when ambrosy is flowing so freely into his mouth.
( Louis never got to be this tall , Noé thinks briefly. It does not matter.)
It should be obvious, because the dead don’t come back, because if Louis isn't gone, then he isn’t really himself either.
“Louis,” he manages to gasp against the other’s skin, in the brief moment he stops to catch his breath.
“I’m here.”
The words make Noé’s chest tighten, even if he does not completely understand why.
“What’s this?” Louis asks, lips so close that Noé can feel the words against his skin. “You seem so sad, my dear. Am I truly so bad for you?”
“I miss you,” is all Noé can manage.
Louis just grins, wolf-like.
“Oh, Noé. You’ve always been such a bleeding heart.”
Noé can’t help but flinch at the callousness of it.
“You miss me too much,” Louis says by his ear, although his mouth does not move to match the sound.
Suddenly desperate, Noé digs his fingers into Louis’ back.
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t- I understand. But let’s agree this does you no good, alright?”
Purple meets yellow, and Noé opens his eyes.
Then, purple meets blue.
"What's with the face, Noé?" Vanitas says, with a smile that's all teeth.
Noé looks down at the cup of tea in front of him. "I didn't sleep so well last night."
"A nightmare of some sort?"
A memory of last night echoes in the back of Noé's mind, making its way down his body and settling inside his ribcage like a caged animal. There's no need to explain, he thinks. Vanitas would not understand.
"Not really, I'm just tired."
And Vanitas sees through the lie, but he isn't one to open a can of worms when he can just throw it away altogether, so he does not press forward. Confirmation bias sets in, and everything that could make a change gets ignored once more.