Built to Last
These nights, it's Shin who has nightmares. Dark and heavy, as if something was chocking him and he can't fight. He hears Eiko's voice, and Ryuu's, but he can't reach for them, he can't reach for anyone like this.
"Brother," Jun says, and he sounds sad, sadder than ever before, and softer. Shin thinks he's still dreaming, that Jun's lost as well and he gasps, feels the mattress shift as Jun sits in it. "Brother, wake up."
Jun's hand is soft on his face, quiet and gentle, and Shin gasps as he wakes, draws a deep breath to try and wake up, push nightmares away, leans his head against Jun's touch and he tries not to hate himself too much, that he's getting this much comfort from his brother.
But they don't talk that, and they don't talk about the nightmares. Jun moves so that he can get besides him in bed, leans forward and brushes his lips against his. Shin shivers a little but he accepts the kiss, and then he opens his mouth for another one, curls a hand on the nape of Jun's neck as Jun straddles him, Jun that now moves in a different way, a little bit less free, a little bit more controlled.
And Shin wonders, sometimes, about the subtle differences that Jun has every now and then, how when Jun came to sleep besides him two nights ago he moved in a different way, curling close, his head on his shoulder, and how now it's a little different, more subtle and yet more free, more direct. But it's unfair to think about things like that right now, when Jun is doing this for him, to help him forget his fears at least for tonight, unfair when Jun is warm and sweet in his arms, and Shin lets go of the kiss just long enough to take off his shirt, to take off Jun's before he's kissing him again, just trying not to think, enjoying the slow kiss of skin on skin, shivering at how it feels, caring not about nightmares right then and then, distracted of pain and loss and everything but for the way Jun fits in his arms like this, and it's almost enough to forget.