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Seto stared at the satisfied bundle of fur currently inhabiting the couch in his den. Robin stared back. Time pulsed onward, measuring the contest of wills. Eventually Seto turned away, heading for the kitchen. This was... going to take some adjusting. **************************** Seto pulled up in front of the small, neat building in Brooklyn. He sat quietly, watching as a small boy tossed a football in the air, seemingly content to play alone. Hand on the door, Seto thought to himself that he should go knock. Should say something to the sister who waited for Tristan's return even as he did. The handle remained cool and unmoving beneath his fingers. Eventually a dark, pretty woman opened the door and called to the boy, who tucked his football into the crook of his arm and ran inside. Twilight had fallen before Seto started the car and drove away. ************************** Seto stared at the motorcycle, sleek and lean with potential. The bike waited quietly. If it could have stared back, it wouldn't have bothered, it was that kind of bike. It was made for speed and joy and freedom. Aching, Seto left the garage. *************************** Seto started as Robin's cold nose touched his elbow. He raised his arm and smiled as she slid into the space beside his hip, sharing the couch as he sat reading. Turning his attention back to the research material, Seto's hand dropped automatically to stroke her soft fur, taking comfort in the warmth of her presence. ************************** Waking from a glorious dream, Seto turned and reached automatically. "Tris..." Reality fell around him, as cold as the undisturbed pillow beside his own. ************************* Dustcloth in hand, Seto moved purposefully through Tristan's apartment. After a short conversation with Tristan's mother, who had power of attorney in her son's... absence, Seto had subleased the apartment. He needed to make sure it was ready for whenever his partner returned. Yet the thought of someone else, some... stranger from a cleaning service touching Tristan's things... So Seto was determined to come over every two weeks and make sure things were in working order. Water flowing through the pipes, nothing leaking through the ceiling, general overall cleaning. He almost made it through this time. He was alright until he reached up to wipe the dust from the top of the bookshelves and the cloth swept down an object that struck with a metallic clatter. It was a miniature Christmas wreath, an ornament that had obviously escaped notice when Tristan had packed up last season. Staring at it, Seto paled. Clutching the dustrag tightly, Seto turned and left. ************************ Seto woke from a nightmare, choking on fear. The warm tickle of Robin's purr against his side eventually soothed him back from the darkness. Looking at the cat, Seto felt a warm rush of gratitude for the little feline. He whispered then, an incoherent prayer to a nebulous power for a barely-formed notion of protection. ************************** Seto guided the trailer into the garage and unloaded Tristan's motorcycle to stand next to his own. It would be safer there. And he wouldn't have to pay parking fees. And that's where Tristan's bike belonged anyway, right next to his. Home. ************************** Though it probably wasn't the first time Robin had experienced catnip, it was definitely the first time Seto had seen Robin experience catnip. He laughed out loud as she stalked and pounced and batted the little stuffed mouse with perfect concentration. ************************* Seto sat on Tristan's bed, bleeding emotion. His hand ran idly over the comforter, remembering the times they'd lain here together. "Please," he whispered, and his broken, jagged voice shed all the tears he could not. "Please, please, please." ************************** The bathroom was warm and humid from the heat of his shower. Seto's tags jingled together as he moved, drying off with a thick, soft towel. He smiled and closed his hand around the slick metal. Always. Even after he was dressed, Seto could still feel the hardness of them and the line of chain under his shirt, like a burning kiss. His smile deepened. ************************** "Don't worry," Seto murmured to Robin as she lay in his lap, a contented weight he'd grown to love. "He'll be back." Back to the Lost Gallery E-mail the Author Home |
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