Eiji wakes from a dream that leaves him weeping alone in his bedroom when a dip sinks in the bed next to him. He turns to it and sees Ash, only making the tears that slip from his eyes hotter.

Ash smiles in that painfully soft way that he only smiles at Eiji and with one hand, caressing his cheek, he wipes away a cooling wet trail from Eiji's face.

"That frown really doesn't suit you, y'know?"

Speechless, Eiji's shaking has come to a stop and he remains silent as Ash brushes his unkempt, oily bangs out of the way to slowly plant his lips on the outer corner of Eiji's right eye. Eiji's breath stops in his throat, petrified, as if he's afraid of even the smallest of movements being enough to sway reality and make Ash disappear. Yet, a shudder runs through his body at the tenderness of the motion.

"At this rate, no one will see these again. It's almost like they haven't crinkled in ages," Ash mumbles against his skin, referring to Eiji's crow's feet. Smile maintained, he lets out a sigh and slowly rocks side to side as he holds Eiji.

Yet his breaths never disturbed the hair his nose was nuzzled against. His motions never caused the wood of the old, noisy wooden bedframe to creak. The dip in the mattress never warped with his movements.

Was the sensation of Ash's body against him solid and warm enough to feel real?

Truthfully, he was afraid to check, so he remained board-stiff in his embrace.

All of these little things added up as a firm, yet harsh reminder of reality. One that Eiji is too afraid to confront in the moment:

Ash died five years ago.

And no matter how real this fact was, he can't help himself. He can't help but indulge in the touches, the smolder he gets when he feels thin fingers carding through his hair, the sigh he lets out when his heartbeat is drowned out by the vibrations that fill his entire body, the timbre of Ash humming some song whose melody he can somewhat recognize as something he heard on the radio once.

Every last drop of this little dream is nothing short of bittersweet. No matter how much it hurts, he doesn't want it to end.

So he lets his eyes slide shut once more and rests his aching head on Ash's shoulder. He knows it's unhealthy, but maybe it wouldn't hurt to lean into those touches just for tonight. He'll be able to resist doing this next time.

But he told himself that last week. And a couple nights before that. And there was that other time.... But he falls to his desire to be held every time.