"I should get going," Samon murmured as he lay on top of his lover, ear just above his heart, a pale arm tucked around Samon's back to keep him in place.

It was after midnight, Seitarou observed as he glanced at the digital alarm clock on his nightstand. Practically speaking, Samon should leave now before it got any later. He could acknowledge that in his mind, even as he untangled his fingers from Samon's hair and caressed his cheek, angling his head so Seitarou could kiss him and hesitantly whisper, "You could stay."

"You know that I can't." Samon sounded patient but stern, and Seitarou's sense of regret was immediate.

"I know, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—" His breath caught in his throat when Samon took the hand on his cheek and started nibbling on his fingertips. Seitarou blushed, watching him for a few moments before he looked away and muttered, "I shouldn't have asked."

"It's understandable." Samon kissed Seitarou's palm before he sat up, moving away from Seitarou and reaching for the nearest article of his clothing. Seitarou reluctantly sat up too, sitting on the opposite edge of his bed for a moment, watching Samon's faint shadows on the wall, before he started to dress too.

That done, there was nothing to make the supervisor of Building 5 remain here any longer. Seitarou walked with him to the door, a step behind him as he fidgeted with his hair, tackling with his fingers the knots that had developed from his carelessness in not tying his hair back before Samon came over.

Samon opened the door and looked over at Seitarou, who was determined to avoid eye contact in an effort to appear like he didn't care.

Samon took Seitarou's chin between thumb and forefinger, angling his face upwards so he could give those soft lips a quick peck before crossing the threshold.

"Goodnight," Seitarou called softly from behind him, closing the door before he had the chance to see if Samon would reciprocate or not. He turned the lock and turned around to lean back against the door, fingers still working through the tangles in his hair.

Was it really too much to ask for Samon to stay the night, just once? The very least he could do to humor the low-ranked guard was stay until Seitarou fell asleep, then leave without waking him.

Seitarou had suggested that last time, and Samon had pointed out that Seitarou would be leaving his door unlocked at night, which was a stupid thing to do even on an island populated by prison guards. Seitarou, flustered, had begun apologizing before he even finished.

He pushed himself away from the door and wandered back to his bedroom, flopping onto the bed and burying his face in the sheets so he could inhale the supervisor's lingering scent.

He didn't mean to start crying, but the tears started flowing before he could stop them.

Was it really so wrong for Seitarou to want to cuddle afterwards? For him to want to be able to fall asleep in Samon's arms and have his face be the first thing he saw when he woke up? And how come they only did it at Seitarou's apartment? How come they never spent time together outside of work besides this? He understood that their jobs were demanding, their hours were long, and they were often exhausted during their off-hours, but if you cared about someone, wouldn't that care give you the energy you needed to do whatever it took to reach them? Why couldn't they ever just have dinner together?

Deep down, Seitarou knew the answer. This was the curse always suffered by the person who fell in love first.

Seitarou closed his eyes and dabbed at his wet cheeks with a corner of his top sheet.

He was trying so hard not to mess things up this time. In past relationships, he'd been accused of being clingy ("you text me way too much"), expecting too much ("I need my space"), and moving too fast ("you're like the opposite of a commitment-phobe; it's creepy"). He was trying so hard not to make those mistakes again that it was tearing him apart. Seitarou reached for his cell phone on his night-stand and opened his notes app, entering a particular note titled "Dear Samon" where he typed all the things that he wanted to tell him, but didn't.

Have a safe trip home :)

he tapped out onto the screen with a sigh. He stared at the screen, then added another line.

If you sleep over next time, I could make you breakfast ;)

The good thing about typing these kinds of thoughts into a note was that he didn't agonize over "send" or "don't send," or "should I change that" or "how will he respond?"

The sad thing was that he knew he'd never get a response, and that Samon would never know what he was feeling or thinking. Seitarou was trying to keep a lid on the ever-growing flood of feelings. Sometimes he felt like Alice from Through The Looking Glass, bound to drown in a deluge of his own tears if he remained trapped in this bottle.

He had faith in Samon, though, for better or for worse. He had faith that Samon wasn't using him, that Samon would come around and feel more strongly for him, strongly enough that their relationship would encompass so much more than the bedroom.

I miss you

Sleep well. Sweet dreams~

Are you free tonight?

Seitarou was still agonizing over that text that he'd received almost two hours ago. He still hadn't responded. He didn't know how to respond.

He was tempted to say no, even though every opportunity to see Samon was a cherished one that he never wasted. They'd never quite defined in explicit terms what their relationship was or how they felt about each other, and the longer this went on, the more confused he felt. They were distant enough as it was, but maybe if he pulled back just a little more, Samon would follow and end up closer than before.

He felt like he'd heard that or read that somewhere. What was it called, rubber band theory?

Whether it was or not, Samon's text deserved a response.

Not tonight

Two little words, no explanation, no apology. It hurt to send the message, but Seitarou wasn't in a state to have Samon come over tonight only to watch him leave again. Maybe he'd give his family a call instead. It had been a while since he talked to his sisters.

He never got a response from Samon, but he assumed he'd gotten the message. Perhaps he even understood what Seitarou was trying to communicate to him.