Rooibos.
A sweet, mellow pool, still and warm in his cup. The aroma drifted into his face, steam kissing his cheeks.

He stood there, in calm and silent withdrawal, thoughts swimming idly in the back of his skull as his eyes were set at the window frame. They didn't venture past the glass, no. Their fixation was the fine white grain of the wooden lattice that held the panes. He studied their impurities, not thinking of them in particular, but focusing on them as his mind wandered.

It was in this sort of seizure, this silent trance, that he could search himself. It was often wondered what others would ponder in this state, and what, exactly, did he himself contemplate? It couldn't be traced.

Inhale..

The room shifted ever-so-slightly, then. Not physically, but something stirred his senses, like noticing a speck on a wall you hadn't before. He didn't move, save for the mechanical motion of the teacup to his lips. The taste filled his head, flooding heavy like it always did.

Behind him, a figure approached, gliding effortlessly over the carpet- or had they even taken a step? Tall.. so very tall. Not imposingly so, not a fortress or a tower, but a lighthouse. A pillar of effortlessly radiant warmth. He could feel their glow, their smile, it poured over him, into his skin, his bones, filling his bloodstream. His very essence was embraced by their presence.

The teacup lowered, setting motionless in his delicate fingers- long and thin as they were, and the presence behind him made itself closer-still, fingertips brushing his shoulders as they sank with the release of his breath. He smiled, then, and the other's palms cradled his crown as those same fingers parted locks of pearly white hair, sifting tenderly to his scalp and drew the silky tendrils back, before losing them, again. The motion was repeated, slowly, and soft lips were pressed to the boy's head, held there as his companion inhaled- breathing him in, everything of him.

Those lips thinned with a smile and the boy let his weight shift back, into the dear company that kept him, supported him with expected ease.

Such idle comforts, treasures of his life. Sugar in his tea, and arms around his middle. If only such things lasted forever..


Oh, if only.