I love you, I love you, I love you.

The words are a mantra as Barnaby curls himself as close to Kotetsu as he possibly can, buried within the warmth of his arms. His lips are fastened to the side of the other man's neck, warm, needy kisses pressed against the soft skin as he burrows closer still, throws a leg around his waist, hooks his fingers into the back of his shirt – anything to be close, to remain close.

It's still hard for him to believe that Kotetsu is his.

He's still afraid that somehow, for some reason, Kotetsu will disappear from his life, like so many other things have.

And then he's crying before he knows it at the mere thought, muffled sobs and huffs of breath lost into Kotetsu's shoulder, and the older man's hands are smoothing along his back, brushing against his hair, soothing, calming things lost within his ears.

All Barnaby can hear is I love you. Nothing else matters.