Kenta blinked as he was hugged more, both of Neo’s arms now around him. It was.. nice. Neo’s body was warm compared to his cold one and he enjoyed it. He probably could never not enjoy the warmth Neo had. He didn’t let Neo go just yet either. He held onto him a bit tighter. His eyes widening when Neo asked if he had to. The blond wanted him to stay?
“No.. I don’t have to go.” Besides, Kenta really didn’t want to leave Neo’s arms. “I’ll just text them and let them know this time.. It’ll be fine.” They weren’t his damn parents.
“But you will sleep on the bed this time. No argument about it."
Or they could sleep on the bed together..
The thought made Kenta shake his head a bit. What was he thinking? He was getting too emotionally attached but just this one night, couldn’t hurt, right? He bit his lower lip, chewing on it slightly. He;d just take the floor again. He doubt it would be okay with Neo if they slept together.
The bed… Neo glances up a little from his position atop Kenta’s head, and he stares at the little slice of mattress there peeking in through the doorway. It seems like such a trivial thing, that bed–it seems so tiny in importance compared to the kid in his arms. Neo lets out a soft, nonsensical mumble, and he says nothing as he continues to hold the young man against him.
It doesn’t really register in his head, the fact that he’s gripping Kenta with a sort of quiet desperation. He doesn’t recognise the way he seems to be clinging onto him like the vampire is all he has. Of course, when it all boils down to it, Kenta is all he has. He’s the only one in this goddamned city who’s spent more than a few hours with him. And it’s not that Neo’s grown a dependency; he’s not going to die if he and the kid were separated. He just enjoys having him around, and he also thinks he fits nicely in his arms.
Neo has to move eventually, and he pulls away a little to look down at the young man still trapped in his arms. He doesn’t smile–he’s not ready for that, yet. But he pulls away a little more and shifts his hand to curl around Kenta’s forearm, leading him back into the other room silently. The bed is there, looking sad and lonely without anyone on it, and Neo haphazardly sweeps the archery equipment off it with his injured hand. All the while his fixed one is still wrapped around Kenta’s icy skin. Then he sits at the edge.
Neo has yet to let go, but he isn’t looking at Kenta’s face. Though his jaw is no longer clenched, his expression is still more non-descript than anything of emotional importance. Neo pulls again, gentle again, and his forehead touches the other man’s chest. And like nothing happened, he holds him again.
The sound he makes, lips brushing softly against the fabric of Kenta’s shirt, sounds almost like a content sigh.