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The data bank was dead silent when he heard the sound of heels becoming more and more apparent for every half a second. Welt intended to leave the door hanging ajar to indicate that a presence is surfing the archives, and when he turned his head towards the direction of the noise, he saw Himeko entering the space wearing a smile to acknowledge his occupancy, before closing the door behind her. The man could only nod in return, his gaze returning back to the book he held on his hand.
“Looking for a record?” He asked, eyes never leaving the leaf as deft fingers turned towards the next page. Himeko's eyes wandered over his hand for a few seconds, mentally noting how he had always been gentle with everything that he held, before she hummed in response.
“There's just something I need to check.” She hooks a few red strands of hair straying her vision behind her ear, walking past the taller figure and standing firm next to him, in front of the shelves.
Welt spared him a glance just to say, “Alright, let me know if you need anything,” before laying his attention back to his book.
Himeko on the other hand had a plan. An overdue one, perhaps, with the unfathomable prolonging of this can't-even-label-what-this-is between them. There were times that the man greeted her nice and warm, and some system days where he seemed to avoid being involved with anything linked to her, deliberately. They have been platonic for Aeons know how long, but the frequency of a push and pull made her wonder if he's avoiding her for a reason.
Silence enveloped the room for a minute, with Himeko second-thinking whether she should or should not. She allowed the subtlety slip quite a lot, considered every point-of-view of his she could think of. But Welt, he seemed to live on half-truths, uttering sweet half a lies, hiding something lodged in his throat. She had seen the way his lips would gape a second or two, hesitating the words. She never asked, because if he was ready to speak, he would.
Waiting, however, feels like torment.
So when she walked towards him, Welt withdrew the book on his front towards the side, welcoming her in his personal space. He didn't mind proximities, they've been together trailblazing for quite a while now. It remains nothing but a measly, platonic gesture. It had always been like that.
The older shot her a confused look, seeing the resolve burning in her amber eyes, her countenance speaking in lengths. It looked for the answer that might have written itself on his face; a sign, a word, micromovements—any change on his end. And that's when the apprehension of being seen settled through his veins, the truth that concealed itself behind the lens of his spectacles. He knew that if she looked hard enough, she would undoubtedly see what she had been looking for. Perhaps not all of her questions can be answered through just that. It might even fuel the already existing discombobulation they both share. But bearing this weight in his heart is a complex, fucked up thing he wished he could have thrown away so easily.
The lady took his glasses off, placing it on the table behind him as he blinks profusely. It's easy to hide the rawness behind fragile glass, and now he lost his last line of defense. There was nothing enchanted about his glasses, just that it is a material that psychologically made him act according to the persona he built with it; confidence, but ironically not so.
Himeko's lips loomed dangerously closed to his, testing the waters between them, but Welt only stood in his indifference — confused, wanting, restraining — yet dares not to utter a single word, nor a gesture. He held firmly at the hardbound cover of the book he is presently holding, it slightly being squeezed in between them. And when she sensed no complain from the other, she tiptoes to meet his lips in a chaste kiss.
The book fell down with a thud on the floor, but he paid it no heed. The sensation of her mouth daintily crushing on his own felt like an enigma. It is like the bloom of spring from the drought of winter. He does not understand the fuzzles and the electrifying current sent by the feebleness of such a contact, foreign to the warmth enveloping the surface of his skin. And when she pulled away, he stared down at her hooded lids, uncertain, questions after questions dragging him forth to mental ruination.
Though it was easy to silence them when she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down this time, lips in a sweet waltz, a frenzy rendezvous. For once, she felt him withdrawing from the chains he bound himself in. To Himeko, it was need being poured down her throat. He held her gently, pulled her close with the urging of his hands around her waist. There was ache in it, in the way she is still handled with consideration. That very trait of his, a mock to her embers; she was meant to withstand storms, and yet it felt like her defenses were so easily toppled by the most tender breeze. It burns — his touch — and she wanted to erupt into flames.
Himeko pulled away with a gasp but he chased in return, hovering but never quite closing the gap. Welt rarely ever takes. He would be providing, indulging — his entire existence some charity work, but you will never see him take more than what he is given. Even if it's displayed in front of him, waiting for him to take, he still won't budge. It's a drag, and he's insufferable. But that's also what she learned to love about him.
She eyed him closely, and this is the first time she ever saw him with raw need. His brunet hair is in disarray due to her own doing. Funnily enough, it fitted him, adorably. Even at the pinnacle of temptation, he exudes self-control. Respectful. Mindful of others but not of himself. And this is exactly why Himeko wants to keep him. If the world knew about this side of Welt, his overall nature, he would only be consumed by the greed others. Perhaps, she too, is greedy for thinking that way. It would not count, however, if he wanted her too.
And what better evidence is there to speak of, apart from the smudge of her bright red lipstick tainting his very own?