#todoroki oc

Core themes: Haunting grief, Control vs. surrender, The truth will set you free.

Tropes: Slow burn, touch starved x touch starved, He falls first, Villain gets the girl, Mutual obsession, Possessive love interest, Praise kink, Secret relationship, virgin x virgin, Found family, Emotional intimacy before the physical.

CW: sex.

10.5. Phase change

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A few days later, she came to the townhouse to find him waiting.

Not working, not ready, just waiting. Standing in the kitchen with his sleeves rolled up and his bands braced on the counter, staring at nothing, his jaw tight.  "Kai?" He turned. His amber eyes were very bright - and there was a flush on his cheeks that she had never seen before. 

"I've been thinking," he said. "About?" "You." He swallowed. "Constantly. I've been thinking about you constantly. About that night. About what we did, what we didn't do and I want to-"  He stopped, pressed his lips together.  I want to try." Her heart stuttered. "Try what?"

"You know what." His voice was rough. "I want to. . . I want to be with you. Properly. I've been thinking about it for days and I can't stop. I thought if I just ignored it, it would go away. But it hasn't, and I'm going insane." She set her bag down. Crossed the kitchen, stopping in front of him.  "Are you sure?" she asked softly.

"No." He laughed. "I'm not sure of anything. I don't know what I'm doing because I've never done it before. I've never wanted to do it before. But I want to do it with you, and I think that has to count for something."  "It counts for everything." She took his hand and lead him towards his bedroom. He followed. 

_____________________________________

The bedroom was different this time. 

The lamp was on. New sheets. Soft, dark blue, nothing like the sterile grey ones before them. They looked expensive. He'd been preparing for her. For this.  "You changed the sheets," she said.  "I wanted something. . ." he trailed off, looking away, "that felt like you. Cold colours. Deep water. I don't know why." She turned to face him, reaching up and cupping his cheek.  "Thank you, for thinking of me."

"I can't think of anything else." She rose on her toes and kissed him. He responded immediately, his hands coming up to frame her face, his mouth moving against hers with a desperation that made her heart ache.  She broke the kiss just long enough to pull her shirt over her head. His eyes tracked every movement, dark and hungry. 

"Your turn," she said.  He unbuttoned his shirt with trembling fingers. She had to tell him with the last two buttons, this hands were shaking too badly.  "You're nervous," she said. "I'm terrified," he admitted, "I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if my body will let me." "It will." She took his hands. Placed them on her waist. "Feel. Don't think."

He exhaled shakily, his fingers spreading across her skin. Only a bra between them. She felt him tremble.  "Cold," he murmured.  "Too cold?" "No." His hands slid up her sides, tracing her ribs, "Perfect." She reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. It fell.  His breath caught, and his hands stilled.

"Reiko. . ." "Touch me." He did. His palms covered her breasts, cold against her cold skin, and she gasped at the sensation. His thumbs brushed her nipples and she arched into him without thinking.  "That's. . .you're. . ." "Yours," she said, "Only yours."

Something shifted in him. The nervousness didn't disappear, but something else joined it. Something hungrier.  "Mine," he said.  The word sent a shiver down her spine. 

They undressed each other slowly. She unbuttoned his pants, he unzipped her skirt. They stepped out of their clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor. He was hard. She could see the outline of him through his boxers, and the sight made her stomach flutter with excitement and anticipation and anxiety all at once. 

She had never done this before. Neither had he. They were both fumbling in the dark, trying to find their way by touch alone.  But that was okay. Because they were doing it together.  She hooked her fingers into his waistband. Pulled down his boxers. He helped her to step out of her underwear. And then they were standing there - bare, exposed.  He was beautiful. He was beautiful to her. Beautiful because he was letting her see him. Because he was choosing to stay. 

"You're staring," he said.  "I am memorising," she whispered, "stepping closer, "In case I wake up and this was all a dream." "It's not a dream." His hands came up to rest on her hips. "I couldn't dream something like this up. Something this terrifying." She laughed. The sound was nervous and breathless.  "Come here," he said, and guided her towards the bed.

They lay down together. Skin to skin. Chest to chest. Her cold pressed against his warmth, and he didn't flinch. Didn't pull away. Just gathered her closer and held her tightly.  "I don't know what I'm doing," he said against her hair. "Me neither." "What if I hurt you?" "You won't." "What if I can't-" "You can." She pulled back, looking up at him, "Kai. Look at me."

He did. His amber eyes were dark with want and fear and worship.  "I trust you," she said, "that's all that matters." He kissed her then. Deep and slow. His hands moved over her body. Her shoulders, her back, the curve of her hips, learning her by touch. She did the same. Mapping the territory of his skin with cold fingers. Finding the places that made him shiver (the back of his neck), the places that made him gasp (the inside of his wrist), the places that made him groan (the dip of his spine). 

By the time her hand wrapped around him, he was trembling.  "R-Reiko." "Is this okay?"  "Yes. God, yes." his head fell back against the pillow, "Don't stop."

She stroked him slowly. Carefully. She didn't know what she was doing, but she could read his responses. The way his breath hitched, the way his hips moved, the way his hands fisted the sheets.  "Tell me what feels good," she said.  "Everything. You. Everything," he was panting now, "Please. I need you."

She released him. He made a sound of protest that turned into a groan when she shifted, positioning herself above him.  "Are you ready?" she asked.  "I don't know." His hands came up to grip her hips. "I think I've been ready my whole life. I just didn't know what I was waiting for." She reached between them, guiding him to her entrance.  And stopped.  "I'm scared," she whispered.

"I know." His thumb stroked her hip. "I'm scared too." "What if it hurts?" "Then we stop. We figure something else out." His eyes held hers. "We have time, Reiko. All the time in the world." She nodded. Took a breath. . . then sank down onto him. 

Pain.

It hurt more than she'd expected. It was a sharp ,stretching, burning sensation that made her gasp and freeze. He went rigid beneath her, his hands tightening on her hips, his jaw clenching with the effort of not moving.  "Reiko." "I'm okay." Her voice was strained. "Just a moment, please."

She breathed through it. In and out. In and out. The pain didn't disappear, but it faded. He was inside her. The reality of it hit her all at once. The intimacy, the vulnerability, the absolute trust of letting someone this close.  "Kai" she said.  "I'm here," he said, "I'm right here."

She opened her eyes and looked at him.  His face was a wreck. Flushed and sweating and strained with the effort of holding still. His amber eyes were wide, and wild.  "You feel. . ." he stopped, swallowing, "This is. . .I've never felt-" "I know." She leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Me neither."

She moved. Slowly at first, just a tiny shift, testing how it felt. The pain flared and then something warmer that made her breath catch. He made a sound, low and desperate.  "Again," he begged, "please. Move again." So she did.  They found a rhythm. It wasn't graceful. or smooth. They were both inexperienced, too overwhelmed and uncertain. But it was them - awkward and honest and achingly real. She moved above him and he moved beneath her, their bodies learning each other in the oldest language there was. His hands gripped her hips, guiding her, steadying her. Her hands braced against his chest, feeling his heart pounding against her palms. 

"Kai," she was gasping now, "I can't--" "Let go," he said, voice strained, "I've got you." She let go.  The pleasure built like a wave, rising and rising until it crested and broke. She cried out, his name on her lips, and the frost spread from her hands across his chest, crystallizing across his skin like lace.  He didn't flinch. He watched it bloom with wander in his eyes. 

"Beautiful," he said, "you're so beautiful." He followed her over the edge moments later. His hands tightened on her hips, his body arched up off the bed, and all he said was her name: "Reiko, Reiko, Reiko," as he spilled inside her. Then he stopped. Just stopped. His forehead nested into her shoulder. His whole body went rigid. She could feel him shaking, the tremors running through him. 

"Kai?" She touched his face, "are you okay?" "I can't," his voice broke, "I've never-" He couldn't finish, but she understood. He had never felt this way before. Never let himself feel this way before. The overwhelming sensation of being inside someone, of being wanted, and being chosen. It was too much. It was everything. 

She held him, pulling him close. Let him bury his face in her neck and shake apart in her arms.  "I've got you," she whispered, "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." He held her like she might disappear. His bare hands traced her spine, her shoulders, the curve of her hip. Like he was making sure she was real.  "I didn't know," he said finally. His voice was muffled against her skin. "I didn't know it could feel like this."

"Neither did I." "I thought. . . I thought I was broken. That I couldn't feel this. That something was missing." "Nothing is missing," she cupped his face, "you're whole, Kai. You've always been whole." "I don't feel whole without you."

The words hung between them, raw and devastating.  The frost had spread across the sheets. He traced one pattern with his fingertip, his expression thoughtful.  "Does this always happen. . . when you. . ." "I don't know."  She felt her cheeks warm. "It's never happened before. With anyone." "There hasn't been anyone before."

"No." She looked at him. "You are the first. The only." Something shifted in his expression, something posessive and tender and fierce.  "Good," he said quietly, "I don't want to share you." "You don't have to."

He pulled her closer. She went willingly, curling into his side, her head on his chest.  "Tell me something. Anything. Something you're thinking right now," she said. He was quiet for a moment, then: "I'm thinking that I've spent my whole life trying to control things. My environment. My body. The people around me. For the first time, I don't want to control anything." "What do you want to do?"

"I want to feel." His arms tightened around her, "I want to feel whatever this is. As long as you'll let me." "I'll let you forever." "Forever." He tested the word, "I've never had forever before." "Me neither." She tilted her head up, kissing his jaw, "But I'd like to try with you." He didn't respond with words. He just held her tighter. They fell asleep like that, tangled together, frost on the sheets. It was the most peaceful night of either of their lives.

_____________________________________

He woke before she did. He'd known he would. He was too afraid to sleep. Afraid that if he closed his eyes, he'd wake up and find this was all a dream. That she had never come to the townhouse, never taken his hand, never let him inside her body and her heart.  But she was still there. Still tucked against his side, her white hair spread across his chest. She was real.

He traced the line of her shoulder with his fingertip. She shivered in her sleep, burrowing closer. His chest ached.

I love you. 

The words were there, sitting on his tongue, demanding to be spoken. But he couldn't say them. Not yet. Not when things were already too big and scary and likely to send him spiralling into a panic.  So he just held her. Watched her sleep. Letting himself feel things he couldn't name. 

The frost had melted from his sheets. The room was quiet and warm. . . and for the first time in his life, Kai Chisaki didn't feel contaminated.

He felt clean.

_____________________________________

When she woke up, he was watching her. 

His amber eyes were soft in the morning light, softer than she'd ever seen them. His hand was in her hair, stroking gently. Like he'd been doing it for a while. "Good morning," she smiled.  "Good morning. How do you feel?" "Sore," she stretched, wincing slightly, "Good sore, though." "Good sore," he repeated, "I'm not sure what that means."

"It means I'd do it again," she teased, "if you asked me." His breath caught. "I--" "I'm teasing," she laughed, "mostly.  He stared at her, and then he laughed too. 

"Come here," he said.  She went. He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly.  "I didn't want to sleep," he admitted quietly, "I was afraid I'd wake up and this wouldn't be real." "It's real." "I know. Now." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, "Thank you."" "For what?"

"For staying. For seeing me and wanting me anyway." "I'll always want you." She pulled back, then looked up at him. "Even when you're being impossible. Even when you push me away. Even when you try to convince yourself that you don't deserve this." "I don't deserve this." "That is not your decision to make." She cupped his face. "It's mine. and I decide that you do."

He kissed her. Soft and full of gratitude.  "I have to go," he said reluctantly, "there's a meeting at the compound I can't miss." "Okay." "But I'll be back. Tonight. And I want-" he stopped, looking away shyly, "I want you to be here when I come back." "I will be." "Promise?" "Promise."

He kissed her once more. Then, he got dressed and paused at the door. "Reiko." "Yes?" "I'm glad you were my first." She couldn't respond. Her throat was too tight, her eyes too wet. 

He left before she could find her voice.  She lay in his bed - their bed, whether he knew it or not. She pressed her face into his pillow. It smelled like him. 

Commission for @renrenardine (✿◡‿◡) Other: Commission info Kim Dojka and Choi comic Anderson and Santana comic

Oh, look... it's Mafuyu again. You can really tell that my MHA phase is coming back. So, since the last time I did a drawing of these two, I've since started rewatching My Hero from the beginning instead of starting from season 4 like last time.

a snippet of my bnha oc fanfic i’m trying to write

lemme know your thoughts :)

The atmosphere felt light that evening as Hoshiko walked the halls of the Todoroki abode, a cookie in hand. Her mother started to make dinner as her older siblings were in their respective rooms. She went to take a bite of her sugar cookie but stopped midway as she heard a deep voice come from down the hall of her father’s training room.

None of her older siblings were allowed to be there and especially not Hoshiko. She’d only been in the room a couple times, and each ended worse than the last.

She slowly walked down the hall, stopping in front of the room where she heard the voice. Cautiously sliding open the paper door, she poked her head in.

No not to fall for Hawks or steal Dabi's life.

Just, a twin who has their mother's power. The only person who went through the same training Dabi did. Becuase endeavour wanted to train them to be a team yes. But also becuase the ice would help keep the flames at bay when needed.

(Until they fail)

She became a hero becuase society failed her and her twin and her siblings and mom. She resents her father, she lives at home though to help care for her siblings.

She goes by Cryo maybe? But she's a morally grey hero, she's known to let crimes go when she sees they're for a cause. She's let a woman get off with a chain stores entire cash reserve becuase she knew the woman was broke and has two kids, she replenished the money for the store herself.

She changed her name, her looks, and endeavour is happy to let her cut ties becuase she isn't a "proper" her.

But dabi meets her again and imagine the hatred he feels as he realizes she's just like his sister?

Imagine dabi thinking his flame blast /killed/ his sister becuase she begged her father to keep her from news. She stayed hidden becuase she needed time.

Imagine this girl helping Fuyumi. Fuyumi still becomes a mom figure, she still forces her way to it to prove her worth and her love.

But she has help. It's safer. She has a person to look to.

Todoroki has another pillar of support, and he's still him, but he has proof he can survive his father.

Core themes: Haunting grief, Control vs. surrender, The truth will set you free.

Tropes: Slow burn, touch starved x touch starved, He falls first, Villain gets the girl, Mutual obsession, Possessive love interest, Praise kink, Secret relationship, virgin x virgin, Found family, Emotional intimacy before the physical.

10. Sublimation

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She stayed the entire weekend.

It wasn't planned. She had only meant to sleep off the exhaustion from what they found at the clinic. To rest for a few hours and then go home. But when she woke up on Sunday morning, there was a cup of tea on the nightstand, still warm. The blue cup. Her cup. 

She found him in the kitchen, attempting to cook eggs. Key word being attempting. The pan was smoking. The eggs were. . . she wasn't sure what the eggs were. Something between rubber and charcoal.  "Kai." "Yes." "The eggs are ruined." "Also yes."

He turned off the stove. Stared at the pan like it had personally offended him. "I'm beginning to think the universe doesn't want me to cook for you." She laughed. He snapped his head in her direction. "You," he said, "are not taking this seriously." "You're right. Burnt eggs are a very serious matter." "They were supposed to be sunny side up." "I don't think the sun has ever been that dark."

He opened his mouth, then closed it. Then he laughed too. The sound was so warm she forgot how to breathe.  She had never heard him laugh so. . .unguarded before.  "Come here," she said.  He crossed the kitchen. Stopped in front of her. His expression had softened, the frustration melted away.  "You stayed," he said.  "You asked me to." "I didn't think you would." "Why not?" "Because people always leave," he said.  "I'm not people." "No," his hand came up, brushed a strand of hair from her face "you're not."

_____________________________________

They spent the day together. 

Not doing anything in particular. She read on the sofa, he worked at the table. He made tea when she wasn't looking, always in the blue cup, always at the perfect temperature. They ate lunch on the engawa, shoulders touching.  It was domestic. Ordinary. The kind of day she'd never had with anyone. The kind of day she stopped believing she could have. 

"Tell me something," she said.  He looked up from the laptop, "what would you like to know?" "Anything. Something I don't know yet."  He considered the question. His expression was thoughtful.  "I've never had a friend," he finally said.

She blinked. "What?" "A friend. Someone I spend time with voluntarily. Not because of business, or obligation." He gestured at the space between them. "This is the closest I have ever been. And I don't know if that makes us friends or something else. But I wanted you to know you are. . . unprecendented." The words warmed her heart. "What about Kurono?" she asked.  "Kurono is my subordinate. He's useful. I trust him to execute my orders," A pause, "I don't trust him to care whether I live or die."

"That's not friendship?" "It's loyalty. That's not the same thing." She placed her book down. Turned to face him properly.  "Then what is friendship?" she asked, "if not loyalty?" "Friendship is. . . " he trailed off. Frowned. "I don't actually know. I've never had the opportunity to define it."

"It's this," she said softly, "What we're doing right now. Being together without needing a reason. Caring about someone because you want to, not because you have to." He was quiet for a long moment. "And if I said I wanted more than friendship?" Her heart stuttered, "what do you mean?" "I mean that when I look at you, I don't feel friendly," he said, his voice low and rough, "I feel like I'm standing on the edge of something I can't control. And I have spent my whole life controlling things, Reiko. But I find with you, I don't want to." She couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe.

"What do you want?" she managed to ask.  "I want. . ." he stopped, swallowed. "I want to touch you. Not just your hand, or your face. All of you. I want to know what it feels like to hold someone without being afraid of what I might do." "You're not afraid of me." "I am terrified of you." HIs amber eyes held hers. "I'm terrified of how much I want you. I'm terrified that I'll ruin this the way I ruin everything. I'm terrified that one day, you'll see me clearly and realise I'm not worth staying for."

"I already see you clearly." "You see what I allow you to see." "Then show me more." She reached out, took his hand. "Show me everything, Kai. I'm not going to run." He stared at their joined hands. His bare fingers against hers.  "Come with me," he said quietly.

_____________________________________

He led her to his bedroom.

She had never been inside. The door had always been closed. A boundary she had respected without question. But now he was opening it, inviting her across the threshold. The significance of it wasn't lost on her. 

The room was like the rest of the townhouse - minimal, clean, aggressively ordered. A bed with grey sheets. A single night stand. A window overlooking the garden. Nothing personal. Nothing soft. Except for the lamp on the night stand. It cast a warm glow.  "Kai-" "I'm not going to do anything you don't want." His voice was steady, but she could see the tension in his shoulders. The way his hands curled and uncurled at his sides. "I just wanted to be somewhere private. Somewhere I can--" He stopped, and she waited.  "Somewhere I can take my time."

He stepped closer. His hands came up to frame her face. The same gesture he had made before. Careful tenderness. But this time, his fingers slid into her hair, tilting her head back.  "Tell me to stop and I will," he said, "Anytime. Any reason." "I know."

He kissed her. This kiss was much different than the others. Slower. Deliberate. Like he was savoring every second, cataloguing ever sensation, memorising the shape of her mouth against his. Her hand came up to rest on his chest. She could feel his heartbeat - rapid, unsteady.  "Your heart is racing," she murmured against his lips.  "I know." "Are you okay?" "I don't know." He pulled back, his eyes searching hers. "I've never done this before. I don't know what okay feels like."

She understood. He wasn't just talking about the kissing. He was talking about all of it. The intimacy, the vulnerability. Letting someone close enough to hurt him.  "Then let's find out together," she whispered. 

He started with her face. His fingers traced her features like he was learning them by touch - the line of her jaw, the slope of her nose, the curve of her cheekbones. His touch was feather light, and she found herself leaning into it without thinking.  "Your skin is cold," he murmured.  "Does that bother you?" "No." His thumb brushed her lower lip, "it feels like you."

She shivered. His eyes darkened.  "Can I. . ." he stopped, swallowing, "Can I take your hair down?" She nodded. His hands moved to the claw clip keeping her hair in place, fumbling slightly with it. When it came free, her hair spilled over her shoulder in a white wave.  He stared. His expression was something she'd never seen before - wonder.  "Beautiful," he said quietly.

"Kai. . ." "You're beautiful." He said it again, more firmly this time. "I've never told anyone that before. I've never wanted to." Her eyes stung. She blinked rapidly, trying to contain the emotions that were threatening to spill over.  "I want to touch you," she said softly, "can I?" "Where?" "Anywhere. Everywhere." He closed his eyes, breathing shakily. "Yes."

She placed her hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath her palms again. Still too fast. She slid her hands upward, over his shoulders, down his arms. Learning the shape of him through his shirt.  "Can I take it off?" she asked.  His eyes opened. He nodded once. 

She unbuttoned his shirt slowly. One button at a time, revealing pale skin inch by inch. He was lean but not thin, there was muscle underneath. A scar on his ribs that she didn't question. Not yet. The pushed the shirt off his shoulders, watching it fall to the floor. He stood before her, bare from the waist up, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. His eyes were on her face, watching for signs of disgust or rejection. He saw none. 

"You're beautiful too," she said.  He made a sound, "I'm not." "You are to me." She reached out. Placed her cold hands on his bare chest.  He flinched. Not from the cold, but the sensation of being touched there.  "Too much?" she asked.  "No." His voice was strained. "Don't stop." She didn't. 

Her hands explored his skin. His shoulders, his arms, the planes of his chest, the ridge of his spine. She mapped him with her fingers, learning the landscape of his body, discovering the places that made him shiver and the places that made him gasp. He was trembling by the time she finished. Not from the cold. From want.  "Your turn," he said hoarsely. 

His hands shook as he undressed her. From the overwhelming, terrifying reality of what they were doing. Of what she was allowing him to do. He had never seen a woman like this. Never touched one. Never wanted to. The thought of physical intimacy had always been repulsive - the mess, the sweat, the biological processes he couldn't control. 

But this was Reiko. And nothing about her was repulsive. Not her cold skin or her careful silences or the way she looked at him. He unbuttoned her blouse with clumsy fingers, slid it off her shoulders. Stopped. She was wearing a simple white bra. Her skin was pale in the lamp light, and he could see the faint blue veins beneath the surface. She was shivering too.  "Should I. . ." he gestured vaguely to the bra.  Reiko laughed softly, then reached behind her back and unclamped it herself. The bra fell away, and he stopped breathing.

"You're staring."  "I'm observing," he corrected, "Intently." She smiled, then took his hand, pressing it to her chest.  "Feel that?" she asked. Beneath his palm, her heart was racing. Fast, matching his own.  "That's you," she said, "you did that." "I don't understand." "You don't have to." She stepped closer, close enough that he could feel the cold radiating from her skin. "You just have to feel it."

He did. His hand moved from her heart to her shoulder. Down her arm. Along the curve of her waist. Every inch of her was cold. He traced the line of her collarbone, the hollow of her throat, the soft skin behind her ear. She shivered, her eyes fluttering closed. "Kai. . ." "Tell me what you want." His voice was barely above a whisper, "I don't know how to do this without instructions."

"I want you to touch me." She opened her eyes. "I want you to keep touching me until we can no longer think." He made a sound - something desperate, and pulled her against him. Skin to skin. Chest to chest. Her cold against his warmth, her softness against his hardness. It wasn't too much. It wasn't enough. He buried his face into her neck and breathed her in.  "I've never wanted anyone like this," he said, "I've never wanted anything like this." "Neither have I." "Is it supposed to feel like this?" "Like what?"

"Like I'm dying." His arms tightened around her, "Like I can't live without you. Like if you walked away right now, I would follow you to the ends of the earth and beg you to come back." She pulled back, cupping his face in her hands. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here. And I'm not leaving." He kissed her.  Not gentle this time. Desperate, hungry. She kissed him back with equal ferocity. His hands fisted in her hair, her body pressed against his. They stumbled towards the bed. Fell onto it with tangled limbs. He braced himself above her, his eyes dark, his breath coming ragged. 

"I don't want to stop," he said. "But I don't know if I am ready to go further." "Then we don't go further." She reached up, touching his face. "We just stay here. Like this. That's enough." "Is it? For you?"  "It's everything." She pulled him down. "You're everything, Kai. Just being here with you . .. it's everything."

He buried his face in her shoulder. His body covered hers, warm and solid and trembling with the effort of holding back. She held him. Stroked his hair. They stayed like that for hours.

_____________________________________ 

They didn't have sex that night. 

They came close. His hands on her bare skin, learning her shape. Her hands in his hair, pulling him closer. The heat building between them until it felt like they might combust. But when she reached for his belt, he froze. "I can't," he said, "not yet. I'm sorry." "Don't apologise," she whispered, "pressing a kiss to his jaw, "We have time." "What if I'm never ready?" "Then we'll figure something else out." She smiled against his skin, "I'm not with you for that, Kai. I'm with you for this." She gestured at the space between them. The tangled sheets, the discarded clothes, the warmth of their bodies pressed together, "For the touching. Being close. Then falling asleep in your arms."

"You make it sound simple." "It is simple." She pulled back. Looked at him. "I want to be with you. You want to be with me. Everything else is details." He stared at her. The woman who had walked into his study and shattered everything he thought he knew about himself. Who looked at his walls and saw doors. Who touched his fear and called it trust.  "I don't deserve you," he said.  "You're stuck with me anyway," she grinned. He laughed.  "Come here," he said. 

She curled up at his side. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. Her cold skin against his warmth, her head on his chest, her breath slow and even. He held her through the night without gloves. Without barriers. Just skin to skin, breath against breath. Two people who had never been touched learning what it meant to touch. It was the most intimate night of their lives. 

And they hadn't even had sex.

_____________________________________

When she woke, he was gone. 

The sheets beside her were cold. The space where he had been was empty. For one terrible moment, she thought he'd left. That he had woken up and realised what they had done and fled before he had to face it. Then she saw the note on his pillow. His handwriting was neat.  I'll be back. Don't leave. 

She pressed the note to her chest and smiled.