13 sheep in the heap
title: empty
pairing: sho/gino (amatverse)
word count: 3930
rating: um, pg-13
Gino sat inside the nook at the front window in his apartment, staring out through the glass and waiting for the clouds to pass across the sun again. Even though the weather wasn't terribly chilly, he felt cold, and had been enjoying the feel of the sun on his face. He hugged his knees to his chest, both arms wrapped around them and tucked almost up to his chin, which made him feel distinctly childlike. When he was a child he sat that way all the time, alone and vulnerable. And now here he was doing the same thing, eleven years later, feeling the same way.
It would be wrong to say he felt 'worse' than he had back then, but he did certainly feel... emptier. But the fortunate thing about that was that it was one of those temporary spells that everyone went through during their adolescence. He was mature enough to know that it would pass sooner rather than later, and also that he wasn't really 'empty' at all. But when he was down in the dumps, that was usually the most prominent thing he felt. Not sadness. Emptiness. Almost a lack of all emotion. Or something like that - the more he thought about it, tried to pin it down and give it a description, the harder it got to classify. Maybe, he supposed, what he was feeling was guilt. Resting his cheek against his knees, he stared down into the courtyard outside the apartment building, staring at the grass. It seemed like there was no one out there in the world then, just a sea of green grass and trees, flowers and shrubs. There weren't any birds chirping (and he was glad about that, because that was a sound that always wrenched his heart whenever he heard it). And yet he was also keenly aware that somewhere else on the island, people were living, dying, surviving, suffering. They had their own problems, their own fears, their own feelings.
But it was easy to feel lost in the world when you were bringing it down so heavily on yourself the way Gino was.
Even the pile of ferrets in his bedroom were unusually silent while Gino stirred in his thoughts and regrets. Normally there were at least a few of them dook-dooking at some hour of the day or night. There were times when he could sit and listen to Max pipping at her babies, and he imagined what kinds of things they must be saying to each other. Whenever he watched them he got the distinct feeling that they were a happy, loving sort of family. Max was a little on the foul tempered side, but around her children she almost seemed warm and cuddly. Nuturing. Protective. Exactly how Gino imagined a mother should be. And the babies all crowded around her and let their tiny little lives revolve around her because there was nothing they knew or loved more. For the vast majority of the time, whenever Gino observed this he felt touched and proud of Max, and proud of himself for being the caretaker for such a clan. But sometimes he thought about jealous he was. He wanted to go home, find the person he was missing and loving and start a family and just lead a... a rich life. Something gentle and fulfilling like what Max had.
He tried to reason with himself that, in a way, that was what he was doing - it was just different than how he'd envisioned it in his idea of a perfect life. The setting, he hated with all the force of effort his heart could possibly put into hating something. But he had Sho. Really had him, this time, and they were, for all intents and purposes, partners. A team. A family. It was a peculiar arrangement and not at all adhering to fairy tale standards, but that was okay, because there was love, and that was what he wanted. Love and room to grow and learn.
The clouds blocking the sun slowly rolled by, and little by little beams of warm light fell across Gino's face, in his hair, touching on the adornments on his uniform jacket and cloak that was folded and sitting on the floor beside the window nook. Gino shuddered from the sudden warmth and looked back up at the sky, tired of focusing on the uncomfortably empty courtyard below. All that time he'd been thinking and waiting for the sun to come back out, and now he didn't feel gratified at all; if anything, he felt a little spiteful toward the soft rays. He figured the weather didn't suit how he was feeling. If it did, it would be foggy, and very cold, with a heavy breeze. Maybe. Something like that. Even his internal weather channel seemed damaged.
What was he supposed to do about Joshua? They hadn't known each other long, and there were circumstances that made him someone untrustworthy. Sho was threatened by him, and approaching him compromised the relationship he'd wanted to have for months now. There was also the unadmitted thought that a great majority of his overwhelming fixation on helping Joshua was that he only wanted to be able to prove that he could - only to himself, of course - and still be none the worse for wear (of course, that was bullshit. Every time he "helped" someone that he didn't love - and there were only a few people here that he really loved - he came home and just about threw up. Bending to rules he knew were wrong would never, ever sit well with him, not ever). And yet he felt so painfully cruel for having to tell Joshua that there would always be distance between them. If only the Composer had had someone else to turn to, but he didn't seem to. Gino hated being depended on so much, at least in that kind of way. How could he ever fail someone when their life and self-respect was on the line like that? It was just sickening.
No matter what he offered to arrange, it just wasn't enough. And finally there had just been nothing more he could say. Nothing more he could think or say or do or promise that would make things okay for Joshua. He had to let him go, looking hurt and abandoned and frightened. And Sho could cry "manipulator!" all he wanted, but Gino knew emotions when he saw them. Something just felt... off. Distinct. Joshua was really in need and there wasn't anything he could do about it. It made him feel horrid, when only a few days earlier he'd brought Sho home and spent some time just enjoying his company, and being lost in happiness at having him as his - really, truly. Or close to it. Now he came home feeling as though he'd won a trophy for a game he'd cheated at. And that, too, was a sick thing to think about someone he loved. It was ungrateful. Selfish. Downright wrong. He'd said without hesitation, in complete honesty, that Sho was worth the sacrifices, and yet he felt as though he was wasting the Reaper's time by being so morally incapacitated.
Clouds passed in front of the sun again, and Gino curled in on himself slightly, shivering. His brow furrowed and shoulders jerked up as if someone had just struck him. Thinking was a damnable pasttime. He preferred the way most everyone else saw him: an airhead, just happy-go-lucky Gino, playful and inquisitive and innocent. Not that he wasn't those things, but there was so much more to it that nobody ever needed to know about. ...except maybe Sho, he supposed. Someday he'd have to stop trying to except him to be satisfied with seeing only half the picture.
Sighing, Gino stretched one leg out in front of him until the bottom of his foot pressed against the wall of the window nook, and draped his forearm across his other bent knee, chin in hand. His head hurt from the sharp creases of his grim expression. And his heart hurt just the same way.
Then, just out of the corner of his eye, he spied something moving in the courtyard below. At first he suspected it was a squirrel or a bird, foraging for dropped seeds in the grass. But then he saw a flash of black, then red - and he lifted his head a little, blinking slowly. Sho was making his way up to the front steps. For a long moment Gino sat in stony silence and watched the Reaper approach the door, unabashedly staring since he was up on the second floor, partially obscured. But he didn't feel anything. No excitement, no happiness - but no sadness or further guilt, either. Just nothing. That scared him a little, and his vision slowly slid out of focus, blurring the image of Sho and the courtyard into a mix of colors. Why wasn't he feeling anything? Anything at all? Was something wrong with him? Was he dead? How could he not feel anything at all? He shut his eyes tight for an extended pause and then opened them again, slowly, and peered down through the window again.
And there Sho was, looking straight up at him. Gino visibly started, blinking repeatedly with parted lips (the sure sign of him blanking out) for a good long time. It only registered to him after that, when his brain clicked back on, that Sho had stepped down around the corner to retrieve the mail, and was holding it in his hand. That must have been when he spied Gino sitting there. Was he just waiting for Gino to notice him standing there, watching? Gino didn't seem to know how to react - until he caught Sho smirk a little and raise a hand in greeting before heading back up the steps again.
As if someone had painted it there, a smile spread across Gino's face, and he buried his nose in the crook of his arm, trying to hide it as it grew wider. Whatever had damaged him inside snapped back into place - his chest burned with something tight and warm. He stayed exactly that way, staring straight ahead and smiling to himself until the door opened. Then he slowly slid out of his rigid position and leaned his back against the wall behind him, raising the hand draped across his knee in imitation of Sho's earlier gesture. "Welcome home." Gino's hand dropped. The moment he spoke, he was startled - he still sounded just as weary as if he hadn't started to feel better at all.
If Sho picked up on it or not, he didn't indicate. He simply dropped the mail on the coffee table and crossed the living room to stand by the nook where Gino was seated. "Hey. Been sitting there zoning out all day, or what?"
"Sort of," Gino answered, now keenly aware of how his voice sounded and discomforted by it. "I only got home an hour or two ago."
"Huh." Sho was working on his work uniform, getting whatever parts of it off that he didn't feel like wearing and tossing them onto the couch. "Thought your shift wasn't until 0800."
At first, Gino's only response was to nod. He wasn't watching Sho, he was staring out the window again, which was unusual for him, and he knew Sho would pick up on it quickly if he didn't stop it, but he couldn't. After nodding over and over for a good few seconds he finally turned his head in Sho's general direction, though still not facing him, and replied, "It's not. I was... just out." It didn't strike him at the time as favorable to tell Sho that he'd been out talking to Joshua. Even though it wasn't part of the rules that he couldn't meet the guy somewhere for lunch, he knew Sho wouldn't be happy with it. And he really, really wasn't in the mood for another debate on conflict. In fact, if that subject came up on more time he might have to personally escort himself to the Forest of Mirrors for a time out.
Sho didn't reply, and Gino figured that meant the subject was over, or that he was going to bring something else up when he got around to it. There was the occasional rustle, and Sho left the room for a moment or two, though to where or to do what, Gino didn't know, since he had gone back to looking outside. Any moment now, Sho was going to come back in and unload suspicion on him and get him to spill where he'd been and who he'd been with and they'd argue, he just knew it... but soon there was a brush against his arm and his leg and Sho had seated himself on the small space between Gino and the edge of the nook. "What's so zetta interesting out there?"
"...nothing, really."
Silence. Gino could feel himself being studied. His shoulders straightened out of habit - all his life he'd had his posture watched like a hawk. Then after a long enough time of Sho staring, he turned his head to look at him - which is exactly what Sho had been shooting for. Neither of them said anything for a moment, but Gino took the initiative: "I'm just tired, okay?"
"Right. You look it."
"--oh." Gino seemed surprised by that. "Guess I didn't notice," he added finally. Sho didn't look like he was about to reply right away, but then just as he opened his mouth, the blond started up again, abruptly. Even he hadn't expected to say anything again. "Sho--" And then he stopped short.
"What?"
"...how was work?" Gino asked, sighing in defeat. He couldn't even figure out what it was he had started to say first. But before Sho could answer he started again. "Sho--" And stopped. Sho was frowning now, giving Gino a hard stare as if trying to figure out exactly what was circulating around in that mind of his, and Gino quickly evaded meeting his eyes. "Can we... go lay down?"
Sho's immediate reaction was a split-second glance at Gino's collar (even though he knew it wouldn't be tight). Gino shook his head quickly at that. "Not for that. I just..." Guilt nearly swallowed up his words. How could he stand to ask to be near Sho for his own comfort when he was doing someone else that needed him a disservice? Hurting someone that he called his friend. "...I just want to be close to you right now."
Finally, Sho managed to get an edge in before Gino had the chance to throw some other afterthought in. His voice lowered, one eyebrow crooked just so. "Braids, what happened."
"Please?" Evaded. But then he thought better of it. "I'll tell you later. Right now, I..."
Whatever was bothering Gino, it was doing a number on him, and Sho's options were to either let him simmer in it and potentially sink into a worse state, or give him whatever he needed to pull himself out of it. If all he wanted was to lay down and cling to him like he so often did, he could live with it. A Gino in good spirits was far more tolerable than a brooding one that was keeping things from him. "Alright, fine." Sho stood, heading off toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms without another word - not dismissively, but with a certain sort of... well, 'understanding' was definitely not the word. 'Acceptance,' maybe. For a long time Gino simply watched him go, staying where he was, and then finally he slid off of the nook and meandered after the Reaper. By the time he got to his bedroom (predictable; Gino's bed was superior for sharing), Sho had already made himself comfortable, one arm folded behind his head. Again, Gino could only stand there and stare for the longest time - not necessarily in fascination, but as if he wasn't sure what he was looking at. He felt blank, lost. He might've stood there forever if Sho hadn't quietly murmured his nickname to get his attention.
Gino mumbled an apology and moved over to the bed, hovered there for a moment-- and then simply flopped lifelessly onto it, draping himself over and nestling up against Sho as if completely by accident. But once he was settled he held on as if someone were trying to pry them apart (and, Gino felt, in a way, maybe someone was), burying his face in Sho's arm - and then against his chest when Sho shifted to accommodate him better, one arm carelessly wrapped around his shoulders. It was altogether bewildering, and maybe a little on the uncomfortable side for Sho, but he didn't say anything, waiting for Gino to snap himself out of whatever funk he was in. That was always how it went. The blond would get clingy and maybe a little emotional, and then he'd be fine.
But after a half hour, and then an hour, of idle gestures of affection on Gino's (and sometimes Sho's) behalf, Sho began to get tired of it. Gino wasn't acting like he was fine yet at all, and yet he was obviously too strung up about something to settle down long enough for one of them to drift off, which would have been something rather than laying there for forever. "Braids."
Gino jumped as if someone had dropped a dish and shattered it nearby. "What?"
"What the factor is your problem."
Silence fell between the two of them for awhile, and Sho felt agitation rising-- and finally the reply came. "I love you."
It'd be an understatement to say that it took Sho a moment to recover from that. What. What. What I don't even- "That's a problem?"
"No, I was just saying it because I can," Gino answered, sounding a little more himself than before. There was still a distinct weariness to his voice that didn't seem to want to go away, but at least he'd managed to make himself sound something like playful this time. "I like the sound of it, and I like what it means. If I could only ever say one thing to you forever, that'd be it, I think."
Again, a long moment of recovery followed. This sappy garbage was going to take some getting used to - particularly since Sho found himself perplexed and inexplicably lost on what to say in return. That was not something he supposed he liked feeling. Lack of control. "Oh."
"Oh?" Gino raised his head a little, expression impassive. "Is that a good 'oh' or a bad 'oh'?"
Sho simply frowned. Gino and his damned mood swings had taken him off guard, and now he was being put on the spot. There were things he knew he could say, things that would probably satisfy Gino, but he wasn't about to say them. Or maybe it wasn't that he didn't know how. Screw verbal responses. He leaned in and caught Gino's lips with his own when the blond raised his head, turning somewhat into the tight embrace he'd been locked in for some time now.
This time it was Gino that had been caught off guard; he sat completely slack is if someone had turned off his brain again. And then, finally, whatever dam had been holding everything back broke. He shivered and melted into the kiss, pressing back with more fervor than what there had been to start with, bringing his fingers up to slowly, gently stroke Sho's jaw, his cheek, his hair. For the two of them it was a surprisingly tame and... perhaps tender sort of gesture, and when Gino finally pulled away he looked utterly stunned, face a bright shade of red as if what they'd just done had been something far more personal than what it was. "Sh-Sho..."
"Does that answer your question?"
"Mm...mmh." Slowly, Gino sank back down, resting his cheek on Sho's shoulder. "Yeah." He let his lips rest against Sho's neck, only occasionally giving the skin there the slightest of brushes or kisses. Sho seemed to have gone still, but Gino caught a tiny shudder and laughed quietly, tilting his head up to Sho's ear and letting out the softest, faintest breath against it that he could manage. And then, even more gently, a whisper so quiet a pin drop could have drowned it out: "Love you."
Oh. That again. After several days now, Sho supposed he ought to have been completely used to hearing it. Or that he would have found a suitable strategy for evading it or responding to it, whichever was more absolutely necessary at the time. His head turned slightly toward Gino, and he felt the blond recoil, clearly expecting another kiss. But being predictable was in fact garbage, and so he leaned toward Gino's ear in the same way the blond had just done and-- was silent.
Gino held his breath in anticipation. Was he finally going to-- after holding out so long, finally going to say-- his heart pounded hard enough that he was almost positive Sho could hear it. Or feel it, since he was sure it was enough to shake the bed. Suddenly his throat was dry; even if he had wanted to urge Sho to go on and say it, he wouldn't have been able to. His face hadn't ever felt so warm before. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion. It was almost dizzying. He couldn't stand the tension anymore. Just as he shifted, he felt Sho exhale and froze again - even his heart seemed to stop.
"Love you too."
Whatever magic power there was in those words, Sho certainly became appreciative of it. Gino had always been someone that was able to keep some semblance of control and awareness in these kinds of situations, but, as he found throughout the course of that evening, and on into the night, he had found the ability to bend Gino to whatever whim he wanted. The blond was aggressive as hell, more than he'd ever seen or even expected from him, but completely and utterly willing to drop everything and do what he asked. As long as he was in command of the magic phrase. As it turned out, Gino missed work entirely and the two of them never left that bed until the next morning - late the next morning. And when they finally did get up there was a distinct sort of magnetic pull that seemed to draw the two of them back into each other over and over, so that breakfast got awfully messy and the coffee maker was somehow broken, somewhere along the line. They ran the shower long enough that they used up all the hot water, and one flooded bathroom floor later it was back to bed.
Alright, so it wasn't exactly productive. But neither one of them could complain, and never would. Gino slept more comfortably than he ever had in his life, and not a single moment of those dreams was what he would call 'empty' at all. They were full and complete, and so was he. Nothing going on outside that apartment was worth the way he felt then, and he was perfectly content to stay in and let those things go on without him to worry about them - at least for a little while longer.
pairing: sho/gino (amatverse)
word count: 3930
rating: um, pg-13
Gino sat inside the nook at the front window in his apartment, staring out through the glass and waiting for the clouds to pass across the sun again. Even though the weather wasn't terribly chilly, he felt cold, and had been enjoying the feel of the sun on his face. He hugged his knees to his chest, both arms wrapped around them and tucked almost up to his chin, which made him feel distinctly childlike. When he was a child he sat that way all the time, alone and vulnerable. And now here he was doing the same thing, eleven years later, feeling the same way.
It would be wrong to say he felt 'worse' than he had back then, but he did certainly feel... emptier. But the fortunate thing about that was that it was one of those temporary spells that everyone went through during their adolescence. He was mature enough to know that it would pass sooner rather than later, and also that he wasn't really 'empty' at all. But when he was down in the dumps, that was usually the most prominent thing he felt. Not sadness. Emptiness. Almost a lack of all emotion. Or something like that - the more he thought about it, tried to pin it down and give it a description, the harder it got to classify. Maybe, he supposed, what he was feeling was guilt. Resting his cheek against his knees, he stared down into the courtyard outside the apartment building, staring at the grass. It seemed like there was no one out there in the world then, just a sea of green grass and trees, flowers and shrubs. There weren't any birds chirping (and he was glad about that, because that was a sound that always wrenched his heart whenever he heard it). And yet he was also keenly aware that somewhere else on the island, people were living, dying, surviving, suffering. They had their own problems, their own fears, their own feelings.
But it was easy to feel lost in the world when you were bringing it down so heavily on yourself the way Gino was.
Even the pile of ferrets in his bedroom were unusually silent while Gino stirred in his thoughts and regrets. Normally there were at least a few of them dook-dooking at some hour of the day or night. There were times when he could sit and listen to Max pipping at her babies, and he imagined what kinds of things they must be saying to each other. Whenever he watched them he got the distinct feeling that they were a happy, loving sort of family. Max was a little on the foul tempered side, but around her children she almost seemed warm and cuddly. Nuturing. Protective. Exactly how Gino imagined a mother should be. And the babies all crowded around her and let their tiny little lives revolve around her because there was nothing they knew or loved more. For the vast majority of the time, whenever Gino observed this he felt touched and proud of Max, and proud of himself for being the caretaker for such a clan. But sometimes he thought about jealous he was. He wanted to go home, find the person he was missing and loving and start a family and just lead a... a rich life. Something gentle and fulfilling like what Max had.
He tried to reason with himself that, in a way, that was what he was doing - it was just different than how he'd envisioned it in his idea of a perfect life. The setting, he hated with all the force of effort his heart could possibly put into hating something. But he had Sho. Really had him, this time, and they were, for all intents and purposes, partners. A team. A family. It was a peculiar arrangement and not at all adhering to fairy tale standards, but that was okay, because there was love, and that was what he wanted. Love and room to grow and learn.
The clouds blocking the sun slowly rolled by, and little by little beams of warm light fell across Gino's face, in his hair, touching on the adornments on his uniform jacket and cloak that was folded and sitting on the floor beside the window nook. Gino shuddered from the sudden warmth and looked back up at the sky, tired of focusing on the uncomfortably empty courtyard below. All that time he'd been thinking and waiting for the sun to come back out, and now he didn't feel gratified at all; if anything, he felt a little spiteful toward the soft rays. He figured the weather didn't suit how he was feeling. If it did, it would be foggy, and very cold, with a heavy breeze. Maybe. Something like that. Even his internal weather channel seemed damaged.
What was he supposed to do about Joshua? They hadn't known each other long, and there were circumstances that made him someone untrustworthy. Sho was threatened by him, and approaching him compromised the relationship he'd wanted to have for months now. There was also the unadmitted thought that a great majority of his overwhelming fixation on helping Joshua was that he only wanted to be able to prove that he could - only to himself, of course - and still be none the worse for wear (of course, that was bullshit. Every time he "helped" someone that he didn't love - and there were only a few people here that he really loved - he came home and just about threw up. Bending to rules he knew were wrong would never, ever sit well with him, not ever). And yet he felt so painfully cruel for having to tell Joshua that there would always be distance between them. If only the Composer had had someone else to turn to, but he didn't seem to. Gino hated being depended on so much, at least in that kind of way. How could he ever fail someone when their life and self-respect was on the line like that? It was just sickening.
No matter what he offered to arrange, it just wasn't enough. And finally there had just been nothing more he could say. Nothing more he could think or say or do or promise that would make things okay for Joshua. He had to let him go, looking hurt and abandoned and frightened. And Sho could cry "manipulator!" all he wanted, but Gino knew emotions when he saw them. Something just felt... off. Distinct. Joshua was really in need and there wasn't anything he could do about it. It made him feel horrid, when only a few days earlier he'd brought Sho home and spent some time just enjoying his company, and being lost in happiness at having him as his - really, truly. Or close to it. Now he came home feeling as though he'd won a trophy for a game he'd cheated at. And that, too, was a sick thing to think about someone he loved. It was ungrateful. Selfish. Downright wrong. He'd said without hesitation, in complete honesty, that Sho was worth the sacrifices, and yet he felt as though he was wasting the Reaper's time by being so morally incapacitated.
Clouds passed in front of the sun again, and Gino curled in on himself slightly, shivering. His brow furrowed and shoulders jerked up as if someone had just struck him. Thinking was a damnable pasttime. He preferred the way most everyone else saw him: an airhead, just happy-go-lucky Gino, playful and inquisitive and innocent. Not that he wasn't those things, but there was so much more to it that nobody ever needed to know about. ...except maybe Sho, he supposed. Someday he'd have to stop trying to except him to be satisfied with seeing only half the picture.
Sighing, Gino stretched one leg out in front of him until the bottom of his foot pressed against the wall of the window nook, and draped his forearm across his other bent knee, chin in hand. His head hurt from the sharp creases of his grim expression. And his heart hurt just the same way.
Then, just out of the corner of his eye, he spied something moving in the courtyard below. At first he suspected it was a squirrel or a bird, foraging for dropped seeds in the grass. But then he saw a flash of black, then red - and he lifted his head a little, blinking slowly. Sho was making his way up to the front steps. For a long moment Gino sat in stony silence and watched the Reaper approach the door, unabashedly staring since he was up on the second floor, partially obscured. But he didn't feel anything. No excitement, no happiness - but no sadness or further guilt, either. Just nothing. That scared him a little, and his vision slowly slid out of focus, blurring the image of Sho and the courtyard into a mix of colors. Why wasn't he feeling anything? Anything at all? Was something wrong with him? Was he dead? How could he not feel anything at all? He shut his eyes tight for an extended pause and then opened them again, slowly, and peered down through the window again.
And there Sho was, looking straight up at him. Gino visibly started, blinking repeatedly with parted lips (the sure sign of him blanking out) for a good long time. It only registered to him after that, when his brain clicked back on, that Sho had stepped down around the corner to retrieve the mail, and was holding it in his hand. That must have been when he spied Gino sitting there. Was he just waiting for Gino to notice him standing there, watching? Gino didn't seem to know how to react - until he caught Sho smirk a little and raise a hand in greeting before heading back up the steps again.
As if someone had painted it there, a smile spread across Gino's face, and he buried his nose in the crook of his arm, trying to hide it as it grew wider. Whatever had damaged him inside snapped back into place - his chest burned with something tight and warm. He stayed exactly that way, staring straight ahead and smiling to himself until the door opened. Then he slowly slid out of his rigid position and leaned his back against the wall behind him, raising the hand draped across his knee in imitation of Sho's earlier gesture. "Welcome home." Gino's hand dropped. The moment he spoke, he was startled - he still sounded just as weary as if he hadn't started to feel better at all.
If Sho picked up on it or not, he didn't indicate. He simply dropped the mail on the coffee table and crossed the living room to stand by the nook where Gino was seated. "Hey. Been sitting there zoning out all day, or what?"
"Sort of," Gino answered, now keenly aware of how his voice sounded and discomforted by it. "I only got home an hour or two ago."
"Huh." Sho was working on his work uniform, getting whatever parts of it off that he didn't feel like wearing and tossing them onto the couch. "Thought your shift wasn't until 0800."
At first, Gino's only response was to nod. He wasn't watching Sho, he was staring out the window again, which was unusual for him, and he knew Sho would pick up on it quickly if he didn't stop it, but he couldn't. After nodding over and over for a good few seconds he finally turned his head in Sho's general direction, though still not facing him, and replied, "It's not. I was... just out." It didn't strike him at the time as favorable to tell Sho that he'd been out talking to Joshua. Even though it wasn't part of the rules that he couldn't meet the guy somewhere for lunch, he knew Sho wouldn't be happy with it. And he really, really wasn't in the mood for another debate on conflict. In fact, if that subject came up on more time he might have to personally escort himself to the Forest of Mirrors for a time out.
Sho didn't reply, and Gino figured that meant the subject was over, or that he was going to bring something else up when he got around to it. There was the occasional rustle, and Sho left the room for a moment or two, though to where or to do what, Gino didn't know, since he had gone back to looking outside. Any moment now, Sho was going to come back in and unload suspicion on him and get him to spill where he'd been and who he'd been with and they'd argue, he just knew it... but soon there was a brush against his arm and his leg and Sho had seated himself on the small space between Gino and the edge of the nook. "What's so zetta interesting out there?"
"...nothing, really."
Silence. Gino could feel himself being studied. His shoulders straightened out of habit - all his life he'd had his posture watched like a hawk. Then after a long enough time of Sho staring, he turned his head to look at him - which is exactly what Sho had been shooting for. Neither of them said anything for a moment, but Gino took the initiative: "I'm just tired, okay?"
"Right. You look it."
"--oh." Gino seemed surprised by that. "Guess I didn't notice," he added finally. Sho didn't look like he was about to reply right away, but then just as he opened his mouth, the blond started up again, abruptly. Even he hadn't expected to say anything again. "Sho--" And then he stopped short.
"What?"
"...how was work?" Gino asked, sighing in defeat. He couldn't even figure out what it was he had started to say first. But before Sho could answer he started again. "Sho--" And stopped. Sho was frowning now, giving Gino a hard stare as if trying to figure out exactly what was circulating around in that mind of his, and Gino quickly evaded meeting his eyes. "Can we... go lay down?"
Sho's immediate reaction was a split-second glance at Gino's collar (even though he knew it wouldn't be tight). Gino shook his head quickly at that. "Not for that. I just..." Guilt nearly swallowed up his words. How could he stand to ask to be near Sho for his own comfort when he was doing someone else that needed him a disservice? Hurting someone that he called his friend. "...I just want to be close to you right now."
Finally, Sho managed to get an edge in before Gino had the chance to throw some other afterthought in. His voice lowered, one eyebrow crooked just so. "Braids, what happened."
"Please?" Evaded. But then he thought better of it. "I'll tell you later. Right now, I..."
Whatever was bothering Gino, it was doing a number on him, and Sho's options were to either let him simmer in it and potentially sink into a worse state, or give him whatever he needed to pull himself out of it. If all he wanted was to lay down and cling to him like he so often did, he could live with it. A Gino in good spirits was far more tolerable than a brooding one that was keeping things from him. "Alright, fine." Sho stood, heading off toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms without another word - not dismissively, but with a certain sort of... well, 'understanding' was definitely not the word. 'Acceptance,' maybe. For a long time Gino simply watched him go, staying where he was, and then finally he slid off of the nook and meandered after the Reaper. By the time he got to his bedroom (predictable; Gino's bed was superior for sharing), Sho had already made himself comfortable, one arm folded behind his head. Again, Gino could only stand there and stare for the longest time - not necessarily in fascination, but as if he wasn't sure what he was looking at. He felt blank, lost. He might've stood there forever if Sho hadn't quietly murmured his nickname to get his attention.
Gino mumbled an apology and moved over to the bed, hovered there for a moment-- and then simply flopped lifelessly onto it, draping himself over and nestling up against Sho as if completely by accident. But once he was settled he held on as if someone were trying to pry them apart (and, Gino felt, in a way, maybe someone was), burying his face in Sho's arm - and then against his chest when Sho shifted to accommodate him better, one arm carelessly wrapped around his shoulders. It was altogether bewildering, and maybe a little on the uncomfortable side for Sho, but he didn't say anything, waiting for Gino to snap himself out of whatever funk he was in. That was always how it went. The blond would get clingy and maybe a little emotional, and then he'd be fine.
But after a half hour, and then an hour, of idle gestures of affection on Gino's (and sometimes Sho's) behalf, Sho began to get tired of it. Gino wasn't acting like he was fine yet at all, and yet he was obviously too strung up about something to settle down long enough for one of them to drift off, which would have been something rather than laying there for forever. "Braids."
Gino jumped as if someone had dropped a dish and shattered it nearby. "What?"
"What the factor is your problem."
Silence fell between the two of them for awhile, and Sho felt agitation rising-- and finally the reply came. "I love you."
It'd be an understatement to say that it took Sho a moment to recover from that. What. What. What I don't even- "That's a problem?"
"No, I was just saying it because I can," Gino answered, sounding a little more himself than before. There was still a distinct weariness to his voice that didn't seem to want to go away, but at least he'd managed to make himself sound something like playful this time. "I like the sound of it, and I like what it means. If I could only ever say one thing to you forever, that'd be it, I think."
Again, a long moment of recovery followed. This sappy garbage was going to take some getting used to - particularly since Sho found himself perplexed and inexplicably lost on what to say in return. That was not something he supposed he liked feeling. Lack of control. "Oh."
"Oh?" Gino raised his head a little, expression impassive. "Is that a good 'oh' or a bad 'oh'?"
Sho simply frowned. Gino and his damned mood swings had taken him off guard, and now he was being put on the spot. There were things he knew he could say, things that would probably satisfy Gino, but he wasn't about to say them. Or maybe it wasn't that he didn't know how. Screw verbal responses. He leaned in and caught Gino's lips with his own when the blond raised his head, turning somewhat into the tight embrace he'd been locked in for some time now.
This time it was Gino that had been caught off guard; he sat completely slack is if someone had turned off his brain again. And then, finally, whatever dam had been holding everything back broke. He shivered and melted into the kiss, pressing back with more fervor than what there had been to start with, bringing his fingers up to slowly, gently stroke Sho's jaw, his cheek, his hair. For the two of them it was a surprisingly tame and... perhaps tender sort of gesture, and when Gino finally pulled away he looked utterly stunned, face a bright shade of red as if what they'd just done had been something far more personal than what it was. "Sh-Sho..."
"Does that answer your question?"
"Mm...mmh." Slowly, Gino sank back down, resting his cheek on Sho's shoulder. "Yeah." He let his lips rest against Sho's neck, only occasionally giving the skin there the slightest of brushes or kisses. Sho seemed to have gone still, but Gino caught a tiny shudder and laughed quietly, tilting his head up to Sho's ear and letting out the softest, faintest breath against it that he could manage. And then, even more gently, a whisper so quiet a pin drop could have drowned it out: "Love you."
Oh. That again. After several days now, Sho supposed he ought to have been completely used to hearing it. Or that he would have found a suitable strategy for evading it or responding to it, whichever was more absolutely necessary at the time. His head turned slightly toward Gino, and he felt the blond recoil, clearly expecting another kiss. But being predictable was in fact garbage, and so he leaned toward Gino's ear in the same way the blond had just done and-- was silent.
Gino held his breath in anticipation. Was he finally going to-- after holding out so long, finally going to say-- his heart pounded hard enough that he was almost positive Sho could hear it. Or feel it, since he was sure it was enough to shake the bed. Suddenly his throat was dry; even if he had wanted to urge Sho to go on and say it, he wouldn't have been able to. His face hadn't ever felt so warm before. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion. It was almost dizzying. He couldn't stand the tension anymore. Just as he shifted, he felt Sho exhale and froze again - even his heart seemed to stop.
"Love you too."
Whatever magic power there was in those words, Sho certainly became appreciative of it. Gino had always been someone that was able to keep some semblance of control and awareness in these kinds of situations, but, as he found throughout the course of that evening, and on into the night, he had found the ability to bend Gino to whatever whim he wanted. The blond was aggressive as hell, more than he'd ever seen or even expected from him, but completely and utterly willing to drop everything and do what he asked. As long as he was in command of the magic phrase. As it turned out, Gino missed work entirely and the two of them never left that bed until the next morning - late the next morning. And when they finally did get up there was a distinct sort of magnetic pull that seemed to draw the two of them back into each other over and over, so that breakfast got awfully messy and the coffee maker was somehow broken, somewhere along the line. They ran the shower long enough that they used up all the hot water, and one flooded bathroom floor later it was back to bed.
Alright, so it wasn't exactly productive. But neither one of them could complain, and never would. Gino slept more comfortably than he ever had in his life, and not a single moment of those dreams was what he would call 'empty' at all. They were full and complete, and so was he. Nothing going on outside that apartment was worth the way he felt then, and he was perfectly content to stay in and let those things go on without him to worry about them - at least for a little while longer.