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Sitting in the darkness, stark yellow paper almost glowing as it hung in Seto's hand after being read for the millionth time, Seto heard the rattle of the garage door from around the corner of the house. His eyes opened wide in shock as a bolt of surprise shot through him. There was only one person who had the power to open that door besides himself. In a flash, Seto was on his feet, stuffing the paper in his pocket and rounding the corner at something slightly less than a run. Even knowing, even expecting it, Seto was stopped short at the sight of Tristan backlit by the bright flourescents of the garage. Unable to speak, unsure of what he'd say even if he could, Seto moved forward once again, wondering how close he would get before Tristan percieved him. Tristan usually went to the garage first for any number of reasons - the most simple and obvious being that his motorcycle parked there in the shelter. It was the most familiar part of Seto's home to him. But the garage was empty - he'd known that when he saw it only lit by the security lights anyway. He'd paused in the doorway, was turning back to try the house. There'd been no response all day. He...wasn't worried, per se, just a little off kilter when he'd hoped for at least a call, or a message to let him know that the message hadn't been missed. For a few minutes that day he'd forgotten about it, but it loomed up bright yellow in his mind again afterward like a small sun. Finally, he decided to take matters into his own hands and visit the house. His hands found their way into his pockets, protected from the light chill in the air, then slipped restlessly out again and flexed into fists. He reached up for the switch to close the garage door, when he heard footsteps behind him and turned, blinking into the dark, still dazzled by the fluorescent light. "Hello?" As if Tristan's voice was some sacred key, Seto felt the strong emotions that had wracked his soul ease their grip on his soul. The fear and uncertainty that had tossed him like powerful waves gentled into a quiet undertow that he was well used to managing. Tristan was here, regardless of why, regardless of whether he expected Seto to care, Tristan was here. Seto moved into the light, stopping a few feet away to regard Tristan with serious, silent eyes. "Say it," he demanded. "If you mean it, say it now." The realization that the other presence in the night was Seto was a sharp relief, and then the sober expression, the clipped words...dizzying seconds ticked by as a vague panic stripped his mind and he could no longer remember what, exactly, the other man was asking him to say. Oh, and then he remembered, and went still. "I--" He started to apologize, something was wrong, and then realized swiftly that Seto...being Seto...well. Suffice it to say that he caught himself well before it got out. His eyes closed, and he breathed in, and when he looked at Seto again, his voice was low, and sincere, with none of his earlier panic bleeding through. "I love you," he said slowly, spreading his hands reflexively as if that was all he had to offer. It took less time than Tristan could draw breath before Seto was against him, arms around Tristan's waist in a grip heedless of its strength. Seto held on with an iron will, not even sure himself if he was holding Tristan fast or holding himself safe. "God, Tristan," he breathed with his cheek resting on the broad shoulder, "I love you." He breathed out then, one short, aborted syllable of a chuckle. Tristan kissed the other's hair, not minding that now he could barely breathe, had the advantage of having his arms out already so that Seto was saved the sight of him flaring like a frightened hawk. He waited for it all to settle, and then curled one arm around Seto's neck. The other hand slid into Seto's hair, cupped the side of his face. Tristan hiccupped into his own arm, breathed deep, and closed his eyes once again. They stood like that, the distance between their hearts nothing more than their bodies, until not even that seemed to matter. Seto drank it in, let Tristan fill the cracks and broken spaces inside him until he could never imagine being whole any other way again. Finally at peace, Seto pulled back to smile up into those captivating hazel eyes. "Stay," he said, deliberately echoing Tristan's word of not so long ago. But... being who he was, Seto couldn't just leave it at that. "Stay." "Let me put my bike away," Tristan replied, mirroring the older man's smile, feeling for the first time that day as if there were nothing wrong, nothing sharp-edged and uneasy waiting for him. But for a few minutes after that, he asked Seto to stay wtih him, and guided him into a deep kiss there in the yellow-white glow of the security lamps, heedless of the cold. There was no reason to hurry now. Everything was right...and they had the rest of the night. Back to the Roleplay Logs Home |