Se Majesté.

Tu m'as tellement manqué.

Shibusawa Tatsuhiko + Fyodor Dostoyevsky.
Fluff.

The moment the school's bell rang, Fyodor got up from his desk, preparing everything to go back to the dorms. Walking out of the class 2-4 after clumsily vowing- he still wasn't used to it-, his dark eyes explored the hallways like usual and walked directly to the higher floor, looking for class 3-3. He didn't usually do this, as he felt stares from the upperclassmen while he was on his way, but his best friend came back from a trip to Shanghai and was finally back here in Japan. They hadn't seen each other yet, considering the albino was late today and didn't get to meet Dostoyevsky when they arrived.

Shibusawa was, as predicted, about to walk away from his classroom, so Fyodor hurried his step and placed his hand on his shoulder, successfully getting the other man's attention. "Tatsuhiko. Welcome back." he simply said, grinning and earning a grin as well.

The Japanese was expecting his best friend outside, next to the entrance- not outside his classroom. His usually dead eyes lit up, as he moved without thinking and hugged the younger male.

Dostoyevsky didn't think much of it, and just held the long haired man close, feeling the pale hands with black nail polish stroking his back.

He commonly wasn't this touchy. However, the Russian didn't mind- actually, he was more than pleased with that behavior, coming from someone who is almost always depressed and cold. Well, the privileges of being best friends.

"Would you like to spend some time in my room? I believe my roommate won't be home until late. Overheard something about a party." It was a small invitation, but meaningful for the raven. With a single nod, the just started walking to the third years' dorms, chatting about Shibusawa's trip as they shyly intertwined their pinky fingers. It was like a whole aura around them that just made everyone think (and correctly guess) that they were in love.

They were, technically, best friends, however, for them there was no need for words, as they could read each other like an open book when it came to their feelings for each other.

Tatsuhiko unlocked his door, and let the second-year inside, like other countless amount of times. Sitting in the couch as if it was his own dorm, Dostoyevsky simply pats his thighs, following every movement from the albino until his head was resting on his lap. The Russian's hands immediately go to his hair, placing the small accesories away to play with his hair. Doing and undoing small braids, brushing the silky white locks...

It was as relaxing as listening to the sea or soft rain for the raven. His eyes immediately closed as he brushed the long, long hair in his hands, and Shibusawa seemed to be in the same drunk state. But before Dostoyevsky could stop, the albino sat up and held the Russian's waist to nuzzle him.

Like always, they just closed their eyes and held each other tightly, without spitting a single word. They knew exactly what the other was thinking.

I missed you so much.

525 words.