Kenta let Neo move him around all he wanted. He was a bit tired and didn’t really care. He just wanted the other comfortable. He opened his eyes when Neo looked at him for a quick moment. He closed his eyes once more, snuggling into the other male. His hand still hanging onto Neo’s.
The sentence Neo spoke, surprised him. It made his eyes open one last time. Worth more than a week…? What exactly did that mean? No, he shouldn’t ask. At least not now. He just re-closed his eyes and breathed in slowly and out. Though questions still lingered in his head and he too, whispered a good night.
Though it took Kenta an hour or two to actually fall asleep. But once he did, his body slowly relaxed a lot more than he was, more limp now. Curling to the other but his hand did not loosen on Neo’s.
He forgot to text his housemates too. Great.
What would tomorrow bring them? (Besides the fact that Takato will probably chew him out)
It’s only when Kenta relaxes against him that Neo does the same, and though the process by which it came was relatively difficult, he sleeps without unrest. As always, his dreams are meaningless–they’re wisps, fragments, pictures of his memories and what he’s done mixed in with pulsating colours of the bright and blinding variety. It is as if a lava lamp exploded in his head, and at the damage Neo is in, that possibility looks more and more likely everyday.
He doesn’t move against the vampire, perfectly comfortable even in his subconscious with the feel of the young man held in his one arm. The fingers locked with his are good, too; Neo hardly notices the cold, and really, the temperature is more relieving to him than terrible. It numbs the flaring ache in his nerves the way mind conditioning can’t. Adding in the fact that Kenta is curled up and lined against him, and the contact is more intimate than he would’ve preferred under normal circumstance.
What’s done is done, nevertheless. He’s not sure what time it is when he awakes, but it definitely isn’t early with sunlight filtering in through barely cleaned windows. Neo remembers every detail of the night prior regardless of his catatonic state, and when his eyes flicker around and land on the brunet in his hold, Neo doesn’t do much other than let out a sigh.
He’s not a hundred percent yet, but his lips tweak slightly in a downward curl. Kenta had seen… something of him, that he’d never intended the kid to see. But the idea of him being taken to a hospital had wrecked him something terrible. The establishment in itself hadn’t been terrifying, per sé, but rather the prospect of doctors looking at him. Neo isn’t against the medical field, not at all. Hospitals can exist as long as they want.
As long as their personnel don’t try to play with his organs.
Neo remembers Kenta’s brave little promises, though, and how the young man had said that he didn’t dislike him at all. He doesn’t feel sorry about the cold words he’d spat at him–rather, Neo feels worse over the fact that Kenta had let his walls down for the wrong reasons. But again, what’s done is done. And it could have turned out worse, not that Kenta holding onto him isn’t bad (and even then, the definition of ‘bad’ is sketchy, because it’s nice not to wake up alone, even if it’s not so nice that he must’ve overstepped some boundaries).
He remembers what he said. Worth more than a week.
Neo is such a sap.
He lays there in silence, listening to Kenta breathe even if the kid doesn’t need to. Old habits are hard to break, he supposes, and it’s nice to feel the way the vampire’s lungs expand as their clothes brush together with each inhalation. Neo can’t see his face from here, but he hopes the kid isn’t dreaming anything awful in particular.
He can’t remember the last time he’d woken up to such a beautiful, content feeling.
And it warms his heart over.