A Certain Sort Of Loneliness

Rest

Maybe we can leave the room today. Maybe. Depends on the time. We'll have to wait either way. Yes, that's true, wait a while longer.

Conversations like these aren't out of the ordinary, not for Emil at least. He isn't really talking to anyone, yet his words are certainly directed at someone but he isn't really speaking in the first place anyway. It's a little strange, he'll admit, but nowadays he doesn't really know what constitutes as normal. He misses normal. He misses the everyday life, the-

Oh.

He could hear Lukas - he had come back a few hours ago - making his way to his bedroom. Maybe he could..?

Emil waits a little longer, listening for any sound that might throw him off. Nothing. Cautiously, he leaves his room, taking silent, silent steps across the hallway till he stands before Lukas' door. He could leave. He could leave right now and nothing would ever happen. He wouldn't need to be scared. He could hide again- No. Not today. He won't get this chance again, not for a long time.

He can't waste this.

He takes a deep breath, grits his teeth and knocks,

"...Lukas.?" His voice is scratchy and thin, shaky and raspy with nerves as he hears muffled footsteps making their way across the hardwood floors before the door before him is gently pulled open.

"Emil," Lukas blinks, usual monotone expression plastered on his face, but the surprise is evident in his eyes as they scan across his face, "Come in," he says, making room for Emil to shuffle in, shutting it behind him.

Time seems to slow for a moment as Emil looks around the room - it's been so long since he's been here yet everything is the same; the same blank white sheets on the oak framed bed, a desk with neatly organised stacks of paper resting in fragile towers upon it, bookshelves hanging from the walls filled with everything from leather-bound antiques to hardback reprints, a bedside table standing like a pedestal for the lamp resting on it, bathing the room in a dim, yellow glow.

By now, Lukas has sat himself down on the bed again, patting the space beside him to indicate that Emil should do the same.

"..I couldn't sleep." Emil says as he sits down, answering the unspoken question that had filled Lukas' eyes as he pulled his knees to his chest and began to tug distractedly at his sleeves.

Lukas says nothing. There's nothing to say after all. And yet, so much - so many things he's wanted to say and now that the time has come all thought fades in to a glowing warmth that settles in his stomach like embers, glowing with such fierce emotion that Lukas has to bite back a smile, chewing at his bottom lip till he can breathe again.

Silence remains between them.

So Lukas does what Lukas does best (or likes to think he does) and ruffles Emil's hair, relishing in the distant familiarity of it all before pushing him to lay down, pulling him to his chest as he turns off the light.

"Sleep." He says simply, smiling slightly as Emil squirms a little, shuffling away at first before begrudgingly curling up against him.

It's warm. It's been a while since he's slept with this sort of warmth; of course, him and Mathias often share a bed but this is different. This warmth is small to him, Emil's body tiny in comparison to Mathias' larger build. It's like...the light of a candle, Lukas thinks, so small yet Lukas protects it, cradling it, holding it close and begging that it might never go out. It's so warm.

Lukas savours it, running his hands through Emil's hair, not caring that months of anxiety have left his hair largely unwashed and oily, tracing down to his nape and laughing soundlessly as Emil grumbles sleepily.

This is how things should be.

Lukas wishes it could be like this forever.

By morning, Emil is gone, and Lukas is left feeling empty all over again.