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It's not often that Sugilite and Sunday get time to themselves this way, given their allegiances, so it is that they cherish it when they can. Especially if it's at Sugilite's ridiculously ostentatious Pier Point apartment or Sunday's newly allocated room at the Astral Express.
But even for them- this way, means something new to them, having entered into a relationship so newly, after so many hesitant silences, after shared smiles and unspoken addendums to glances shared across a room, after confessing their hearts' most intrinsic desires to each other because really they were the only ones who understood, which was unprecedented really, given the two had initially met on hostile terms, considering Sunday's then status as a fugitive of the IPC.
But when someone with an empty, blank void for a heart meets someone so willing to split and carve out their heart for others- well, a meeting of those so opposed in ideology was always an extraordinary kind. And it was extraordinary.
Sugilite had felt only half a human all these years being a Stoneheart, once believing he might truly live up to the literal title one day considering how he had felt as if the very expression of wanting was some kind of frailty, a human weakness for indulgence. And then there was Sunday, someone who believed with all his heart, that everyone deserved a paradise of their own, no matter how costly, that everyone deserved to want.
A selfish, heartless hedonist falling in love with a selfless, altruistic ascetic. It was something only ever truly spoken of and romanticized.
Which is why it steals Sugilite's breath away, whenever Sunday so readily loves him as if it is so easy to do so, as if Sugilite himself is someone easy to love.
Like now, where he's being held by Sunday in bed, as if he himself isn't easily a head taller than the Halovian, as if he's a child to be held so indulgently, as if-
Sugilite exhales, smile drowsy yet gaze alert as he glances up at Sunday who's smiling down at him softly, so softly in a way it threatens to steal the breath from Sugilite's lungs yet again, if he dared to indulge himself by gazing at that soft, pretty, loving smile for a moment longer.
Yet, Sugilite is a greedy man- and he lets himself be held by Sunday, just so he can have a much better glance at that lovely smile, a mean indulgence for him and him all alone.
"Any...reason to be holding me this way, angel?" Sugilite asks, wry, amused and hesitant despite himself all at once.
"Because I like to." Sunday says, simply, pressing a kiss to Sugilite's forehead. "Because I cherish you enough to do so."
Sugilite's smile widens helplessly, as Sunday smiles down at him again- and he thinks, ah.
Ah. This is what it means to love.
If someone like Sunday could love a selfish man as he, hold him as if he were something to be treasured- then surely Sugilite could love him back in full. Somehow, Sugilite doesn't feel quite less of a human anymore.
"Is that alright?" Sunday asks, nothing but warmth in those beautiful eyes of his.
"If I ever refuse to be held by you, then consider it a Masked Fool in disguise, angel." Sugilite says, quite seriously, and the sound of Sunday's delighted laughter is yet another reward Sugilite will seize and hold to his heart, however quietly beating, close.