yukito's arm around your shoulder is a familiar weight.

just as familiar as the scent of coffee wafting through the room, and the casual meows that greet you when you've been spotted by his cats.

you're curled up into him, your cheek pressed against the warm planes of his chest as you reach out for his hand, placing kisses at the back of it. the television in the corner of the room flickers to life, and he tosses the remote aside, instead reaching out for his kiseru with his free hand. shaky footage of a blood-splattered scene begins playing. freak accident... figures… how many cases does this make it now, close to sixty thousand?

he softly strokes your head, and you savor every gentle touch of his. it had been a while since you got to be with him like this, relishing in intimate moments, and completely unbothered about anything else. a pleasant silence envelopes the two of you as you tune out the background noise from the television,

he leans down with the lingering remnants of a smile, going to press his lips against yours. his lips are warm, and his touch tender where his hands are over your body. your own hands find their way onto his shoulders now, eagerly reciprocating his affection.

momentarily taking the sight of you in before readjusting his arms to bring you into a comforting embrace, your chin on his shoulder and his face buried into your neck. the soft strands of his hair tickle where they press against your skin,

"happy birthday," he whispers, his voice low and soothing. "your heartbeat just picked up, didn't it? you must be curious to see what i got you. you won't have to look far—your gift is here."

from the corner of your eye, you catch sight of a meticulously made doll, placed carefully on top of his desk. every minute detail—from the color of its eyes to the way its hair fell across its head and even the outfit it had on—was clearly made to resemble you. the clear care and dedication that had been put into it was startlingly clear. next to it, his own doll was seated.