Oliver stood in front of the window-wall; he took in the city skyline as the sun reflected off the metal buildings, making it twinkle yellow and white like stars of day. He held his hand out and let it bask in the warm light. It was early spring so the sun wasn't too harsh on his skin, but comfortable, warm.

Len walked out of the bathroom, towel in his head as he dried his hair. He scanned the room and stopped at Oliver. He watched him rock back and forth, a smile visible on the edge of his cheek.

"Morning, Ollie," Len chirped.

Oliver turned to him and widened his smile. "Morning, Lennie."

"Something bothering you?"

Oliver shook his head and looked outwards. "Nothing, I was just thinking," he said, fidgeting with his fingers.

"About what?"

"I was thinking—what our lives would be like if we weren't famous singers," he said, "would, would we even have met? I used to live in England, and, well, you live here in Japan."

Len stayed quiet, and watched as Oliver glided onto their bed.

He sat on the edge and kicked his legs playfully, looking up and down uncomfortably. "What if—What if I found someone else, instead of you... what would that be like? Would I—still be happy?"

A sliver of jealousy coiled around Len's heart but in a drumming heartbeat it disappared, replaced by an intangible feeling of satisfaction. He stepped forward and sat himself just beside Oliver. "I—think you will," he said looking up to the ceiling.

"Hmm?" Oliver studied Len's expression.

"Well, I'm not really special—"

"But you are," Oliver complained, looking into him, his eye narrowed and his lips frowned, "to me. You're special to me."

"I know," Len smiled contently, "but I'm not special, objectively," he said, running his fingers on the bedsheet creases. "If you weren't a singer, and you stayed back in England, you would have found someone other than me. You'd be happy with him."

Oliver put his hand on Len's and hugged it. He looked down and away. Oliver did not want anyone other than Len, he wanted Len and only Len; only Len has loved him the way he is, and only Len he loves. Oliver began to kick his legs again, and bit his lip.

"But that doesn't matter," Len said, and that took Oliver's attention. "It doesn't matter 'cause—that's not you. You are Oliver. You're a singer and you came here as a Vocaloid. You were the one who met me and you were the one who I fell in love with," Len smiled, continuing, "And you're the one who loves me, right?"

Oliver nodded, and their hands rubbed a little and sparked a warm fuzz. "Right."

"And that's what matters. It's okay that not-you might never meet not-me, 'cause it's not you, and not me. It's fine if not-you wouldn't fall in love with not-me, or if not-me, some-crazy-how, wouldn't fall in love with not-you, 'cause it's not me, it's not you."

"Len."

"I love you, Oliver. Love you and now that I know you, I won't be happy with anyone else. Am glad to have met you and that's what matters."

Oliver took a deep breath and settled with a smile, "I—guess you're right," he said, "But—I still like to think that, even if we weren't both Vocaloids, that we'd still meet—somehow."

They smiled and looked to each other with a light pink blush on each of their faces. Oliver released Len's hand from his grip—and for a second Oliver longed for touch again—and gently placed his palm on Len's chest. Len turned to a mellow smile and returned the gesture. As Len's hand touched Oliver could feel Len's warm hand, warm on his chest that was cold.

Oliver was so happy he giggled, a small one at first, but as soon as Len joined, the laughs began to simmer.

When they were done Len ran his right hand on Oliver's face and tugged at the bandage. Oliver blushed from the touch but didn't resist. Once the bandages had fallen off, Len's hand rubbed its way to the back of Oliver's head. He could feel Len gently caress his hair, mess it up from when he had it combed just twenty minutes ago but he didn't care. Oliver let his hand slide the same way, softly through Len's chest and around Len's firm shoulders and to the back of Len's head, soft, still moist from his shower.

Oliver looked at Len, looked into his eyes and saw his lust for Oliver burn, his love for Oliver twinkling like a fire in his eyes. Oliver's heart bade for Len and he pulled Len as Len slowly pulled him in. Len's eye grew bigger and bigger and Len's face slowly took over his vision and when he could see nothing but Len they closed their eyes together. It took a heartbeat but the instant they touched Oliver could feel his heart jump and burst in excitement. Len was soft, soft but firm, firm but smooth but still rough enough in a way that fixes you and makes you feel satisfied. Slowly, Oliver could hear Len's breathing synced, and as he placed his other hand on Len's chest he could feel their hearts beating in sync.

Love;

Len,

Love.

Warmth filled them; warmth grew from all where they touched and enveloped them. It fed their desire for each other and made them feel relaxed, and... safe. When they were done they pulled away but as they opened their eyes they stayed fixed on each other. They smiled at each other languorously and their arms moved to settle them in a gentle embrace.

"Then," Len said, in a low soft voice; his lips wavered between a smile and a tight poker, "I guess we better do some fanfiction."

Oliver chuckled, pulled his arms back and playfully shoved the unbelievable, laughing Len. Afterwards, Len lay back on their bed and Oliver lay beside him in an intimate hug; they nuzzled each other and settled there for a while.

The producers can wait.

____________________

※ A new oneshot collection! :o

This one will have oneshots that are actually connected in the same universe (as it's mainly fuelled by my main HC for their existence lol.) I'll make different collections for different AU's from now on I think.

What do you think of this little piece? Lol. (Feedback pls)