shi-no-toge:

hanakotobawakodoku:

Entirely unaware that he had an audience, Eric kept it up. His movements were fluid, hips inspired to sway with the music and feet bouncing against the bed in time. Yes, he was the sort to go about dancing on his bed. And while he wasn’t bad at it, it seemed his balance needed a little work — for one wrong step and he was sent (in a fit of loud shouts and cursing) tumbling to the ground with a crash. Sheets tangled around his legs and hair disheveled.

He nodded. “I like to have something sweet on hand. I usually make a fresh batch every week or so.” he said softly. It was calming to speak of trivial matters, to take a break from the chaos of their previous discussion. The kettle began to whistle and he stood, pausing a moment to grasp the table as he became dizzy. He managed to shake it away and retrieved the teakettle, along with two cups. He made his way back to the table carefully.

So deep in his own mind, Eric didn’t notice as Alan faltered. He kept to himself until the smaller reaper returned. And by the time the cups and kettle were sitting upon the table, he was turning an intense gaze on his friend. “Alan.” He murmured softly, with more conviction in his voice than he’d had all night. “Come here a moment."