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maayacolabackupTitle: Happy Moments (In Between)
Pairing: Bemu + Natsume
Summary: It's enough.
Notes: this is in response to a comment on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elanielyn's wonderful ficlet here, where she responded to my sobs and tears with "We have to make do with the happy moments here and there," which, obviously, left me sobbing on the floor.
All they have are soft, silent glances; stolen moments amongst a sea of things that can't change, the crashing immutable waves of time.
Bemu is content with that. It's enough, he thinks, to watch. To catch Natsume's gaze across a dirty, dark warehouse, and to feel the caress of Natsume's eyes across his bared collarbones, sending shivers through him that have nothing to do with the chilly air. After all, Bemu doesn't really feel the cold. He can feel Natsume's gaze like fire, though, burning into him and turning him to ash, and so maybe Bemu can feel the heat.
All they have are secret, fleeting touches; the whisper of a hand across rough, crackled skin where the shoulder of Bemu's sweater slips too low, or the ghosting of Bemu's palm across Natsume's forehead to push the hair out of his eyes.
Bemu isn't used to touching. To being allowed to touch. Natsume teaches him, slowly, about the joys of human contact. About how the brief brush of a palm across the lower back can lift a flagging heart, about how a grab of the nose can make someone feel like maybe it's okay to be different, after all, and about how a hug can make someone feel wanted. He remembers the first time he hugged Bero-- the way Bero's giggles echoed in his ears and made Bemu think, maybe, maybe, they could be happy just like this. Natsume's touches remind Bemu that there will always be that unattainable something more.
All they have are dangerous, unspoken words; they hover at the edge of Bemu's lips, and even though he doesn't know exactly what they are, he knows they're clawing their way up his throat against his will, clamoring for release. He knows, too, that they're not, under any circumstances, to be uttered.
Instead, Bemu consoles himself with soft exhales when Natsume is safe, and quick gasps when Natsume does unexpected things that leave Bemu's heart lurching in his between his ribs. Sometimes there are words, but they're gentle words. Careful words. They aren't the words that stick like tree-sap to the back of Bemu's teeth, and leave him staring out into the water from the deck of their rusted, abandoned ship. "I'll protect you," Natsume had said, and those words had been enough.
It's enough.
For Bemu, it's enough. It has to be enough, because it's all they'll ever have. Bemu watches Natsume and his family and knows that all of this is fleeting; that no matter how much Natsume cares, Bemu will still be on the outside, looking in.
Bemu thinks maybe happiness can be knowing someone you love is happy. Maybe happiness, for Bemu, is only watched.
Then Bero grabs his hand, and Bela makes a disdainful snort, and Bemu's focus locks on Natsume's bright, beaming smile, and there's a flicker, like an old electric lightbulb, in his chest, and Bemu thinks it's enough.
It's enough.
Pairing: Bemu + Natsume
Summary: It's enough.
Notes: this is in response to a comment on
elanielyn's wonderful ficlet here, where she responded to my sobs and tears with "We have to make do with the happy moments here and there," which, obviously, left me sobbing on the floor.All they have are soft, silent glances; stolen moments amongst a sea of things that can't change, the crashing immutable waves of time.
Bemu is content with that. It's enough, he thinks, to watch. To catch Natsume's gaze across a dirty, dark warehouse, and to feel the caress of Natsume's eyes across his bared collarbones, sending shivers through him that have nothing to do with the chilly air. After all, Bemu doesn't really feel the cold. He can feel Natsume's gaze like fire, though, burning into him and turning him to ash, and so maybe Bemu can feel the heat.
All they have are secret, fleeting touches; the whisper of a hand across rough, crackled skin where the shoulder of Bemu's sweater slips too low, or the ghosting of Bemu's palm across Natsume's forehead to push the hair out of his eyes.
Bemu isn't used to touching. To being allowed to touch. Natsume teaches him, slowly, about the joys of human contact. About how the brief brush of a palm across the lower back can lift a flagging heart, about how a grab of the nose can make someone feel like maybe it's okay to be different, after all, and about how a hug can make someone feel wanted. He remembers the first time he hugged Bero-- the way Bero's giggles echoed in his ears and made Bemu think, maybe, maybe, they could be happy just like this. Natsume's touches remind Bemu that there will always be that unattainable something more.
All they have are dangerous, unspoken words; they hover at the edge of Bemu's lips, and even though he doesn't know exactly what they are, he knows they're clawing their way up his throat against his will, clamoring for release. He knows, too, that they're not, under any circumstances, to be uttered.
Instead, Bemu consoles himself with soft exhales when Natsume is safe, and quick gasps when Natsume does unexpected things that leave Bemu's heart lurching in his between his ribs. Sometimes there are words, but they're gentle words. Careful words. They aren't the words that stick like tree-sap to the back of Bemu's teeth, and leave him staring out into the water from the deck of their rusted, abandoned ship. "I'll protect you," Natsume had said, and those words had been enough.
It's enough.
For Bemu, it's enough. It has to be enough, because it's all they'll ever have. Bemu watches Natsume and his family and knows that all of this is fleeting; that no matter how much Natsume cares, Bemu will still be on the outside, looking in.
Bemu thinks maybe happiness can be knowing someone you love is happy. Maybe happiness, for Bemu, is only watched.
Then Bero grabs his hand, and Bela makes a disdainful snort, and Bemu's focus locks on Natsume's bright, beaming smile, and there's a flicker, like an old electric lightbulb, in his chest, and Bemu thinks it's enough.
It's enough.
