gurabad | 037 » on and on we carry through the fear

[ Zephirin's long legs don't quite fit on the mattress without his angling them slightly — his bent knees briefly touch Francel's thigh before he shifts his position, straightening his legs. His feet bump into the far end of the bed's frame. ]

...Nevertheless, feel free to give him my contact details.

[ Francel sounds wholly certain that not a single member of his family would notice his absence, but surely they see one another at least once in a while — surely his siblings and his parents would eventually begin to question his never coming home.

Though Zephirin sees no reason to be angry with Francel, had he known the truth of the boy's seeming drunkenness sooner, he would have waited until tomorrow, making use of that time to plan out a better organized move. ]

[francel murmurs quiet assent. in truth, he regrets nothing — he did not want to spend even one more second in a space where he thought aucheforne might find him, and anyway, zephirin's apartment feels strangely comfortable, as though he is being welcomed home to a home that was never his.

when zephirin touches him, then pulls away, he smiles.]

...Um... if you need to touch me, that's okay. I don't mind.

[ The room is too dark now to see anything but vague shapes, and it hides Francel's expression, but Zephirin hears the boy's smile in the tone of his voice. ]

Likewise — sleep as you would in your own bed.

[ Touching each other sooner or later is inevitable. Even though Zephirin barely moves all night once asleep, his body is accustomed to his drawing his legs up to keep his feet underneath the covers, avoiding the cold foot of the bed. Before long, it returns to the usual. ]

[before long, too, francel falls asleep. he, too, barely moves all night once asleep — albeit with one caveat: the boy has forgotten to mention that he likes to hug something while he sleeps, and tonight, that something is zephirin.

assuming that the professor has no especially strong objections to an undergraduate hugging him all night as they sleep, zephirin will wake in the morning to francel's arms wrapped tight around his waist.

the boy feels strangely soft and full of delicious sleepy warmth...]

[ It's been some time since anyone was where Francel is now. The boy's embrace enfolds Zephirin in his warmth; it rouses him from his rest when Francel's arms first wind themselves around him, but he doesn't pull away, settling again soon to sleep through the night.

The next morning, wakefulness comes gradually and gently — it's tempting to stay in bed. Zephirin's eyes flutter open. He blinks, and his gaze falls on the crown of Francel's head. The boy lies nestled against him, hugging him in his sleep, which makes it difficult to move in order to check the time, let alone get up.

Fortunately, it's Sunday, and they don't have anywhere to be by a certain time. Allowing himself to relax, Zephirin waits patiently in Francel's hold, only moving one arm out from beneath the covers, placing it atop the blanket. ]

[francel's breaths come slow and warm, like the gentle wafting of a summer breeze. even when consciousness claims him, he doesn't dare open his eyes; he wants to drown in zephirin's scent, clean and masculine but faintly sweet. the first sign of the boy's waking is that he draws closer to zephirin's neck and takes a deep breath.]

...Mmmm.

[with one last squeeze of zephirin's solid, sturdy frame, francel draws back. his eyelids flutter open; he smiles sweetly, sleepily, as a lover might smile after a night of passion.]

...Good morning, Zephirin.

[ Although a lie-in goes against Zephirin's normal routine, he finds himself content to linger in bed while his body doesn't protest and Francel's is comfortably wrapped in slumber. Fast asleep, the boy looks unburdened by every source of stress to upset him of late, his soft features turned softer.

It makes for another strangely appealing sight. It might be outdone, however, as Francel wakes up, greeting the morning and Zephirin as though this is their routine, just an ordinary start to the day, with everything as it should be.

In return, Zephirin's lips quirk upward at their corners. ]

Good morning.

[ He wonders then, for a moment, what sort of mornings Francel woke to when Aucheforne's visits were presumably a regular occurrence. ]

The bathroom is yours first, if you wish. Will you need a change of clothing?

Mmnnnmmm...

[francel's eyelids close for a moment — the thought of sleeping in for just one more hour is dangerously seductive — but they flutter open once more. he buries his cheek in his claimed corner of the pillow; he has no desire to rise while zephirin is still lying beside him.]

Are we going out today? [he supposes that he is going to see civerege later, at least...] I can wear my clothes from last night.

[ No longer held in Francel's embrace, Zephirin sits up on his side of the mattress, resisting the temptation of continuing to stay underneath the covers. His fingers comb through his hair in lieu of a hairbrush to use later. ]

You'll want your own bed, I imagine, and the kitchen may not be adequately stocked to suit your preferences...

[ There are no cookies in the apartment, for instance. ]

I like your bed.

[with a mischievous grin, francel rolls onto his belly and grabs the pillow where zephirin left it, holding it close to his chest as if to suggest that he is going to claim zephirin's bed and thereby leave the professor bed-less. his impishness passes after a moment, however — though francel does not sit up in bed, he reaches for his phone upon the bedside table, and checks the time on its crystal-clear display.]

...Well, I should at least tell Civerege not to let Aucheforne in if he comes calling... I wonder if he's already there...

So do I.

[ Again Zephirin's mouth curves ever so slightly. Sharing the bed wasn't an inconvenience — on the contrary, it was pleasant — but keeping it up each night would become less justifiable.

Mention of Aucheforne extinguishes Zephirin's amusement, which disappears alongside Francel's playful mood. With a nod, he leaves the bed, meaning to give Francel some privacy to talk to Civerege and get dressed. ]

...Hello? Civerege? Yes, it's me. I wanted to speak to you about today...

[once francel's housekeeper (who seems rather too loyal to be a mere housekeeper) has been apprised of the latest events in his employer's life, and francel has changed into the same rose pink sweater from the night prior, he leaves the bedroom, hoping to find zephirin. the apartment layout is still a little confusing to him, though it isn't terribly large, so he raises his voice a little as he calls out:]

Zephirin? Did you want breakfast?

[ In the time it takes Francel to contact Civerege and change out of his sleepwear, Zephirin goes about his usual morning routine, altering it somewhat in that he gets dressed in the bathroom instead of his bedroom today, emerging neatly brushed but relatively casual in a button-up shirt and jeans, and sets the small dining table in the kitchen for two. While no Janlenoux, he is prepared to put some effort into breakfast.

Francel's voice has the kettle's noise to compete against as it heats up its contents; Zephirin moves to the doorway out of the kitchen, which faces the airy living room area. Civerege and Aucheforne are put aside for now. ]

Did you have something specific in mind?

[francel pokes his head into the kitchen — quite literally, as he braces his arms against a wall and peers over the edge of it, as though he expects to be shooed away should he be spotted. zephirin looks handsome, freshly dressed, though part of francel prefers the slightly mussed look he sported in bed.]

No... but I'm your guest, so I thought the least I could do was make breakfast with whatever was on hand.

[evidently, they were of the same mind in regards to their morning meal...]

I was under the impression that as your host, it falls to me to make breakfast. On the other hand, you'll be more than a guest... You may enter and make use of the kitchen as you please.

[ Zephirin isn't blocking the way, preventing entry, but Francel almost seems afraid to cross the threshold. The boy's roommate-to-be steps aside, motioning to a cupboard and the fridge. These days, the selection within is limited. ]

We have some toast and a block of cheese left, as well as a few eggs. Do you drink tea or coffee?

I'll have to pay you for my stay here somehow. Paying the rent doesn't seem to cut it...

[beckoned closer by zephirin's gesture, francel ceases his hovering at the kitchen entrance and walks more confidently to the stove. he peers at the contents of the cupboard, then opens the fridge. sure enough, there isn't much for him to work with. it's enough for him to wonder how zephirin normally eats.]

Maybe we could whip up some cheese omelets and have them with toast? I normally have tea in the morning... Do you mind if I use the milk and sugar?

Use what you need. Paying me isn't a requirement, but if you enjoy cooking, again, you have unrestricted access to the kitchen.

[ Francel's cookies and the repayment he offers suggest an interest in cooking and baking for others, at any rate.

Another cupboard and a drawer opened reveal where Zephirin keeps his dishware and utensils; he retrieves a mixing bowl, and a frying pan to heat up. The tea is left to steep while he and Francel choose their tasks to start on, whether cracking the eggs or grating some cheese. ]

[francel steeps himself some tea before he gets started on the omelets — zephirin has faster hands in his own kitchen, however, so francel consigns himself to the simpler task of grating the cheese. he steals shy peeks at zephirin every now and then, as though he is afraid of being caught, though with their proximity, zephirin is no doubt already aware of francel's curious gaze.]

...Have you lived by yourself for a long time, Zephirin?

[ Zephirin completes his task efficiently, looking up from whisking the eggs to catch one of Francel's timid glances. The boy seems to watch him with something akin to fascination, perhaps because they've done away with so many of the expected boundaries of their relationship since they met. Here, they redefine it again. ]

I moved out when I enrolled in college. As a student, I lived in a residence hall near campus, however.

[with his task complete — francel prefers a mere touch of cheese in his eggs, and would like to avoid over-saturating them with the stuff — the boy sets the bowl of grated cheese to the side, all the while peering at zephirin's whisking work with no small amount of interest. he is seized by a momentary bout of whimsy; he feels rather like a child playing sous chef for the first time, but, far from focused on the meal at hand, he is only hungry to hear more about zephirin's life.]

Is that how you met Janlenoux?

[ The frying pan is heated up, the eggs and cheese are readied, and Francel has freed his hands. With a nod in reply, Zephirin holds his bowl out for the boy to take over from here — the first omelet is Francel's, to cook to his taste. ]

During my final year as an undergraduate — I was fortunate. I'm certain some students were less so...

[ Regarding Francel, Zephirin smiles slightly as the boy's seeming eagerness to learn more about Janlenoux makes a return. ]

Should I prepare to lose to younger, cuter roommates a second time?

[the boy tilts his head, seemingly amused and perplexed in equal measure.]

But this time I'm your young and cute roommate!

[with tender care, francel pours enough of zephirin's whisked eggs to coat the bottom of the frying pan, making himself a thin sheet of egg — then he sprinkles a modest amount of grated cheese into the quickly heating eggs. once the egg is sufficiently cooked — fluffy and soft, the consistency of what one would imagine clouds to be like — he folds it in half, making himself a neat omelet.]

Want me to cook yours, too?

[ If Janlenoux and Adelphel were to invite Francel to move in with them, for some reason, it would of course be the boy's own decision to make, but Adelphel doesn't seem inclined to share, and Francel already looks at home in Zephirin's apartment, taking up position in front of the stove as if this isn't his first morning here. His choice of sweater enhances the somehow cozy atmosphere the scene creates.

Waiting nearby, Zephirin holds a plate ready for Francel to transfer the finished omelet onto — the boy's handiwork is that of someone who has cooked many an omelet, promising the perfect consistency. ]

Thank you. I would be a fool to decline.

Heheh...

[with a childishly gleeful giggle, francel begins at once on zephirin's omelet, pouring the remainder of the egg batter into the pan. truthfully, francel is a remarkable egg chef, but an only average cook of everything else; he is a better-than-average baker. eggs are simply his forte.

if he and zephirin were a couple, francel thinks, he could lean over and peck the taller on the mouth as the eggs cook. but they are not a couple, and there is still aucheforne to think of (or is there?), and francel does absolutely nothing of the sort as he folds zephirin's omelet and transfers it to a plate.]

There. That's two cheese omelets for the two of us. Anything else I can get you, sir?

[francel's tone turns teasing — making zephirin a customer of his own kitchen.]

[ A cute roommate indeed.

Zephirin becomes both customer and waiter, gracefully setting the two plates down on opposite ends of the table, knife and fork placed atop a serviette beside each one. A few slices of bread, lightly toasted, sit on a third plate halfway between the other two. Pulling Francel's chair out for him, Zephirin then claims the remaining seat before he pretends to think the boy's question over. ]

That will be all for now. I'm expecting a friend to join me.

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