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[likethelight]

< An.Exorcist > Aʟʟᴇɴ Wᴀʟᴋᴇʀ

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[swellter]

[ He nods silently, lost in thought. Someone collected the jars he gathered that night, he remembers belatedly. Seventy-two, shy of the one-hundred he meant to collect. ]

I didn't know they would keep this long.

[ Or else he would have tried to collect more than the 100 he allotted himself, not that he reached that figure anyway, so it was a moot point.

He shakes his head lightly, turning to Allen for the first time since he spotted the twinkling lights. ]

I like them where they are.

[ He utters, more reserved than usual, but walks into the room, closing the door behind them. ]

Thank you.

[likethelight]

[ Many people collected the hope in jars to stockpile, knowing they would have important potential for reducing corruption harmlessly in others who may need it. At one point more than a thousand had been collected by Sanctuary, hence being able to fill even its large halls with a night sky, though that number is smaller now as they've needed of course to use them. But Allen's also unaware that's what Shouto had been collecting that night. After all... he was dead for the next two weeks. But even so...

... yes. Some of these may very well be the ones he collected that night. Not that, of course, Allen has any idea.

His expression remains thoughtful, recognizing something happened there, there's some deeper recognition he had, but not knowing what that could be. It cools the passion in his veins, concern ever trumping that no matter the scenario, as he's not sure if he believes you... but, ultimately, takes Shouto at his word. Reaching up to touch his cheek faintly, stroking it thoughtfully. ]

Hope isn't something that fades like that.

[ He says it softly, applying just enough pressure to encourage him to look at him. Gentle and earnest. ]

Looking at you gives me hope too. Whether we're under a sea of stars full of possibilities to wish on or not.

[swellter]

[ For Sanctuary to have this many jars makes sense. After all, he was one of many who went out to collect the orbs. Walking through the starlit room, memories of the festival foster to life. Allen walking once more. The paleblood stone he had made for him. Allen agreeing to wear it for the night. Most of all he remembers the night sky that day. Spending the night looking up at it with Allen at his side.

At the touch of cheeks, his eyes shift to him, and the distant look in his eyes fades, replaced by a tender look. ]

You're right.

[ He gently touches his forehead to his, no longer far away, but present. ]

Hope is what lets us dreams.

[likethelight]

[ He relaxes at that then, the anxiety in his heart letting up to see Shouto come back from whatever place he'd gone with a gentle look once again. Lost in thought-- in memories, perhaps? Ones maybe Allen didn't know about—or didn't realize what might have actually been going through Shouto's head at the time.

You might not say it all the time, but you think a lot.

Craning up into where their brows touch and relishing the sentimental contact, he smiles softly. Kissing first one corner of his mouth very gently-- ]

Yes. [ --and then the other. The hand that had been at his cheek slipping back to sift through his hair and touch his ear, rubbing the bloodstone band—the one made of Allen's blood—gently. With his own kind of faraway thoughtfulness as he stays nestled very comfortably in his embrace.

One year ago, you held him in this room and he touched your cheek to try and pull you back from heavier thoughts too before they bathed. A quiet and nebulously intimate moment, one of their first. ]

Kiss me?

[ Not at that exact moment, but that was the first day he realized he wanted to kiss you, you know. ]

[swellter]

[ The orbs of hope hold two distinct memories for him, opposite in every way. Memories of the dead. Of souls fading and returning from the sea. Memories of celebration. Of souls, brightly burning, embarking on a new voyage. ]

I was collecting them. The jars of hope that day. [ He tells him, no longer far away; present in the telling. ] The day my brother turned into a beast. The day you fought him.

[ He breathes deeply, letting those memories slide back into the folds of his mind. They still hurt. Seeing his brother turn into a twisted version of their father. Seeing Allen struck by his ice, bleeding and fading in his arms. Memories of that day still haunt him. Still clog his throat, still overwhelm him. When he walked into the room decorated with those jars, that long-ago feeling of loss overtook him, overshadowing the burgeoning feelings of affection tied to them too. ]

I forgot [ he admits, expelling a shaky breath ] they were at the Tanabata Festival, too.

[ Overwhelmed by affection, the corner of his mouth tugs up, even as the corner of his eyes well up with a hint of tears. ]

Thank you for reminding me. That bad memories can also be good.

[ His eyes glitter with affection, regarding Allen with a soft look brimming with more than those burgeoning feelings tied to the jars strung up around them. They had taken root since then, matured. Developed into a kind of secret correspondence of the heart. He kisses him, loving how natural it is to kiss him. Loving the certainty in his heart, no longer conflicted over details, knowing this feeling was so deeply entrenched it would always be a part of him.

All those feelings, he pours into the kiss, no longer afraid when his quirk fluctuates between fire and ice. He lets it bleed into his fingers that gently touch his face. Lets it bleed into his hair, letting one side dance in flames and the other freeze in frost. Lets it bleed into his mouth, tongue half-cold, half-hot. Trusting his heart to sort it out on its own. ]

[likethelight]

[ Shouto... that was why? Allen's eyes widen when he explains that was what he had been doing the day his brother turned-- ...the day he died. With mild dismay at first, because of all things that's not what he wanted to remind him of with the gesture. But he keeps talking, explaining his feelings as he works through them and-- oh.

He stares, transfixed by the soft sheen in his eyes. Are you..? Shouto. His own throat threatens to clog over and everything he wants to say -- he can't. No, he has no idea what to say, even if his heart is full of too many things he wants to express. Too awed by the depth of Shouto's own feelings, to be looking at him like that and speaking so gently. Too overwhelmed by his own and finding his body not able to contain them all. So his eyes begin to well for a second too, before Shouto leans to kiss him and Allen meets him halfway like it's everything he's been waiting for, something he expects as naturally as breathing. Delicate and sweet, desperate and earnest. A balanced contradiction like he is. Wholly welcoming of the chill tingle and flicker of warmth that dances across Shouto, no longer hesitating or worrying if it meant he might be losing control of himself.

And even if you do, I'll stop it. Less apprehensive of invoking Crown Clown for such a purpose, and there's a small hum of power from the crystal in his left hand as he slides one hand along his jaw, into his frosted hair, and tips his own head to kiss him better. Softly and unhurried, exploring the kiss and his mouth with the same eagerness as the first time and the languid thoroughness that comes from sharing a hundred such kisses and knowing there'll be a thousand more. Opening up and encouraging him to kiss him more deeply with that half cold and half hot tongue before somewhat cheekily licking it with his own, thighs tightening around his middle to hold himself up as he winds closer and presses into Shouto's bare chest. Shifts, loosened yukata gaping, until they're skin-to-skin, chest-to-chest.

But they've shifted over time, haven't they? Those kisses. Something... easier. Something he can't quite put his finger on, but... you don't doubt yourself as much when you kiss him, do you? ]

I love you. [ It's whispered softly and a little breathlessly as they part and prepare to meet again, within the secret space between their lips. Peppered with gentle, loving touches to his face as Allen tries to seek him out and catch his eye. ]

So much. [ So much, he can't even articulate it right.

Through the good memories and the bad both. And all the memories still to come. ]