Smoking cats - shinsero

Close Enough to Break

It had been a quiet evening, the kind that made Shinsou's apartment feel like a sanctuary from the world. Tipi was stretched out lazily on the windowsill, her eyes half-closed as she soaked in the last bits of fading sunlight. Sero was sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch, flipping through a magazine he had found on the coffee table.

Shinsou was beside him, legs stretched out, his head resting on the arm of the couch. The air between them was calm, peaceful. But beneath the surface, there was something else - a quiet tension, unspoken but lingering.

They'd been getting closer. Every touch felt more deliberate, every glance lasting a second longer than it used to. Shinsou had grown used to the other boy's presence in his apartment - used to the warmth that followed him around whenever he was near. But tonight, there was a heaviness in the air that neither of them could quite ignore.

Sero set the magazine down, turning slightly to face the other.
"You've been quiet tonight," he said softly, his voice barely breaking the silence.
"Something on your mind?"

Shinsou blinked, caught off guard by the question. He hadn't realized how much he'd been stuck in his own head.
"Just... thinking," he muttered, avoiding Sero's gaze.

Sero didn't push him, didn't pry the way others might have. He simply waited, his gaze steady, offering Shinsou the space to speak when he was ready. It was one of the things he had come to appreciate about Sero - his ability to just be there, without demanding anything in return.

The purple haired boy let out a slow breat, his gaze drifting toward the window. The rain had started up again, soft and steady, like the heartbeat of the night.
"It's nothing," he finally said, but his voice lacked conviction.

The other shifted closer, his knee brushing against Shinsou's leg.
"Doesn't sound like nothing."

There was a softness in his voice, a kind of patience that made something inside Shinsou tighten. He wasn't used to this - to someone actually caring enough to notice when something was wrong. For so long, he had carried the weight of his past alone, burying it deep beneath layers of silence and indifference. But now, with Sero here, it felt harder to keep it all locked away.

He swallowed hard, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the edges of the couch.
"I don't like talking about my past," he said quietly, his voice barely audible above the rain.
"It's... messy."

Sero's gaze softened, his expression gentle but steady.
"You don't have to tell me if you're not ready."

Shinsou felt a pang in his chest at the boy's words, the quiet understanding in his voice. It made him feel both grateful and vulnerable at the same time, like Sero was offering him a lifeline he didn't know how to accept.

"I just... sometimes, it's hard to forget where I came from," he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. He hated how weak he sounded, hated the way his chest tightened at the thought of opening up about the things he'd spent so long trying to bury.
"I don't like people knowing."

Sero was still for a moment, his gaze never leaving the other's face. Then, slowly, he reached out, his hand finding Shinsou's where it rested on the couch. His fingers were warm, gentle as they laced through Shinsou's, and the touch sent a shiver down his spine.

"You don't have to hide from me," Sero said quietly, his thumb brushing softly over the back of the boy's hand.
"I'm not going anywhere."

Shinsou's throat tightened, and he turned his head away, his eyes burning with unshed tears. He wasn't used to this - wasn't used to someone caring enough to stay, even when things got hard. For so long, he had convinced himself that he didn't need anyone, that he could survive on his own. But now, with Sero here, the walls he had built around himself felt like they were starting to crumble.

"I almost didn't make it," Shinsou whispered, his voice raw with emotion.
"When I was younger.... I almost didn't make it through."

The words hung heavy in the air between them, and for a moment, Shinsou was afraid of what the other might say. But when he finally looked up, all he saw in his eyes were quiet understanding.

"I'm sorry," the boy said softly, his voice thick with emotion.
"I wish I'd been there."

Shinsou blinked, surprised by the sincerity in the other boy's words. He hadn't expected that - hadn't expected anyone to care about something that had happened so long ago. But now, with Sero's hand in his, it felt like maybe - just maybe - he wasn't as alone as he thought.

Before he could say anything, Sero shifted closer, his arm wrapping gently around Shinsou's shoulders. The warmth of his body was comforting, grounding in a way that made Shinsou's chest ache. He leaned into the boy's embrace, letting out a shaky breath as the weight of his past started to lift, just a little.

"You don't have to carry it all by yourself," Sero murmured, his lips brushing softly against the other's purple hair.
"I'm here. For however long you need me."

He closed his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest as he let Sero's words wash over him. There was something so achingly tender in the way the boy held him, like he was trying to piece together all the broken parts of Shinsou's soul without asking for anything in return.

For a long moment, they stayed like that - wrapped in each other's warmth, the soft sound of the rain filling the space between them. Shinsou felt the tension in his body slowly start to melt away, the heaviness in his chest easing as he allowed himself to relax into Sero's embrace.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, vulnerable.
"I don't want to push you away."

The black haired boy's grip tightened ever so slightly, his breath warm against his ear.
"You're not. You couldn't if you tried."

Shinsou's chest tightened at the other's words, and before he knew it his head was tilting up, his lips brushing softly against Sero's in a tentative, almost hesitant kiss.

Sero froze for a split second, surprised by the suddenness of the kiss. But then, just as quickly, he responded, his lips soft and warm against Shinsou's, his hand gently cupping the back of Shinsou's neck. The kiss was slow, unhurried, filled with a quiet tenderness that made the boy's heart swell.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads resting against each other, the purple haired boy's breath came in short, shallow bursts, his chest tight with emotion. He hadn't meant to kiss Sero - not like this, not when everything still felt so raw and exposed. But now that he had, he couldn't deny the way it made him feel - like something inside him had finally clicked to place.

"I'm not going anywhere," the other whispered, his lips brushing softly against Shinsou's temple.

He closed his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest as he let the warmth of Sero's words settle deep into his bones. For the first time in a long time, he felt like maybe - just maybe - he didn't have to carry the weight of his past alone.

And in the quiet, rain-soaked moment, wrapped in Sero's embrace, the boy allowed himself to believe that it was okay to let someone in.

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