More Or Less | ayato & thoma

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

A camellia has no certain aroma, it isn't consistent-It differs-but Thoma had learned how to differentiate it from any other flower. The first time Thoma tried to smell the camellia in the courtyard of Kamisato Estate, he thought it was zesty and acidic. The recent time he tried to smell it again, it reminded him of another flower's scent. Now, he's smelling a camellia again, but he can't describe how it smells - it's almost everything yet the sweet smell conquers the everything.

But, something else is strange. He doesn't know what this camellia looks like, but he can smell it.

Thoma opened his eyes and everything was pitch black, not until he backed away from what was in front of him. His hands were strangled on a forearm as he lay on his side. He comes to a halt as he looks up to the person next to him.

Ayato was sleeping so quietly, he doesn't know how the young Master could sleep in such an uncomfortable sitting position. He slowly removes his hand intertwined with Ayato, so carefully as he didn't want to startle Ayato. He tries to get up but he feels his body twitch and all he could do was rest against the wall and be next to the young Master. Thoma shuts his eyes as he recalls what he has done just earlier with the liquor, he glances outside where he could barely see anything if the lights around the Estate weren't lit.

He breathed heavily, his body was clenching him, and the temperature inside the shed had seemed to drop for his body. It was freezing him. He pulls the blanket over him, he covers himself up before glancing back at Ayato.

Thoma tilts his head, getting a better view. He had never seen Ayato this way at all, so close but so hidden. He was asleep after all, so Thoma gazes at every little feature Ayato had that he never realized was so beautiful.

His pale blue asymmetrical hair matched the color of his perfectly shaped eyebrows, his nose bridge that he would often pinch when he is distressed, the small mole below his lips - and his lips, his lips, those lips.

Thoma hasn't forgotten how it felt on his, how exactly could he erase it from his mind when every little detail of it has been plastered to the very deep of him? It was soft, his lips, and he doesn't remember anything else that could beat the gentleness of it being pressed against his own. That night, Ayato had a hint of a smell of alcohol and he tasted it from his lips. It made him drowsy and when he left Ayato there, he felt the desire to look for the same feeling he experienced from the young Master. It left him awake in his abode, wondering and recalling every second of the memory.

As he thinks about the past, he doesn't recognize that he's been slowly leaning onto Ayato; inclining his head so that he doesn't nudge Ayato's nose once he finally brushes his lips on his.

He gets closer, closer, and closer and he pauses when he glances back at Ayato's eyes. His light lavender eyes set at him, he tried to move away but Ayato caught his back. Thoma stares at him, nervous yet anticipating.