Fandom The Reunion [clostridium & Soul_]

[Soul_]

Sebastian listened like his life depended on it. And maybe, in a way, it did. Ominis’s voice—so quiet, trembling on the edge of breaking—struck a place so deep inside him that it felt like time itself paused to let the words sink in. He could hear the exhaustion in every syllable, the way Ominis was clinging not just to him, but to something more fragile—hope, maybe. Or the terrifying possibility that he might still be loved. He could feel each word as if it had been pressed directly into his chest: Then—please stay here. For now. Stay…home.

The way Ominis said it shattered him. There was nothing poetic about it, nothing tidy—it was messy and aching and real. It was exhaustion in the form of a plea, and it made something inside Sebastian fracture. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe for a second, afraid that even the smallest shift would send Ominis crumbling into pieces he couldn’t put back together.

He didn’t speak right away. Instead, he simply held him tighter, his hand still drifting gently through Ominis’s hair as if trying to soothe the ache out of his very soul. He shifted just enough to press a soft kiss to the crown of Ominis’s head, featherlight, reverent, like the words he hadn’t yet found could be passed through that touch instead.

It was dawning on him now, in full, how much Ominis had been carrying—alone. The thought of him waking up every day in this cold, silent flat, convinced that no one remembered him, that he didn’t matter, that he could disappear and nothing would change—it made Sebastian’s chest ache.
He couldn’t go back in time and fix it, couldn’t force Ominis to believe how wrong he’d been told he was. But he could stay. He could be here, and he could prove it. Over and over again, for as long as it took.

“You won’t have to know,” Sebastian said at last, his voice low and thick. “Not right now. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. I’ll be here. And I’ll know enough for both of us until you’re ready.” He leaned back only slightly. “I don’t care if you’re exhausted. You don’t have to be strong for me. You don’t have to carry this alone anymore. You don’t even have to make sense of it right now, alright? You can just… be.”

There was no pressure in his words, no expectation. Just the quiet, unwavering truth of someone who meant it. “You asked me to stay. That’s all I need,” he murmured.He closed his eyes and let himself sway with Ominis again, slower this time. Not because he needed the movement, but because it felt like the closest thing they had to breathing in rhythm.

 

[clostridium]

Ominis shivered despite the warmth. He allowed Sebastian to sway them both, slowly, softly. He let his eyes fall shut, and he relaxed slowly into the motion. He was far from calm, but Sebastian’s words were gradually quelling the paralytic anxiety that had kept him stunned and struggling for words since his old friend arrived. A whole new surge of overwhelming emotion came up when he felt the ghost of Sebastian’s lips press against his head. Every motion was so careful, and so reassuring, that his heart welled up, sending the shame he felt for enjoying this to war with the bright spark of gratitude that it inspired.

The worst had not come to pass. Sebastian was still alive. He was wounded, but he was alive, and he was himself, not some horrid, warped shadow of the boy he had once been, made ghastly by further indulgence in dark magic. He could not speak some of the things he had feared into the open air, but he could try to confide some small amount, an acknowledgement of his appreciation. A slow, creeping path toward trust.

“I was afraid to contact you,” he finally admitted. His own hoarse whisper felt foreign in his throat, like someone was speaking through him. “That you would try to…justify it all to me. The way…”

The pause hung in the air, soaked with meaning. Ominis had caught himself before he could say the way you did at Hogwarts. It was not something he wanted to speak aloud. There was plenty of blame to be had, but he did not have to be the one to lay it. He was no longer the only one left acknowledging that any of it had happened.

“…and…I was afraid you would blame me. For her death. Because I was not…capable…I chose not to…I…did not…I was…reluctant, and I slowed your progress. But worst would be…if you simply did not care. If you received my letter and thought me a pitiful fool for sending it, because you had moved past the need for me long ago, and I…but…you came.”

His voice surged with wonder, like he still couldn’t believe that any of this was real. He had been plagued by dreams for years that were variations of this meeting - whether endlessly, unbelievably tender, leaving Ominis feeling empty when he woke, or scenes of horror from which he woke, panting, face slick with tears and sweat. One of his hands rubbed slowly back and forth across Sebastian’s upper back, reassuring himself that everything was true, that he wasn’t concocting a scenario in his sleep to assuage his own desperate loneliness. He was so tired, always so tired - he adapted poorly to working nights, as with most other things in his life. Somehow, now, as spent as he felt, he couldn’t imagine falling asleep anytime soon. The spot that Sebastian’s lips had brushed radiated heat, and he could not even begin to comprehend what it had meant.

 

[Soul_]

Sebastian didn't know what he wanted to do in the moment. Remembering how cruel he was to Ominis even after everything they went through. Everything he knew. He was angry back then and took it out in everyone around him. Everyone who didn't deserve it.he felt like he might just crumple to the ground.When the final whispered “but…you came” reached him, Sebastian closed his eyes, his hold tightening just enough to be felt. As if he could anchor the words and the man who spoke them to this one fragile, real moment.His voice, when he finally replied, was thick and quiet, shaped by the pressure building in his chest. Sebastian’s fingers drifted in a slow pattern at the small of Ominis’s back, drawing lazy, grounding shapes, something rhythmic to chase back the shadows still clinging to his voice.

“You think I wouldn’t care? Ominis, there hasn’t been a day I haven’t thought of you. Not one. You—” he laughed softly, bitterly, but without cruelty—“you“ haunted me. Not like a ghost. Like a memory I couldn’t set down.

"He pulled back just slightly—not to break the embrace, but just enough to tilt his head and press his forehead against Ominis’s, so their breaths mingled in the thin space between them.“I blamed everyone,” he said softly. “You, myself, the world. Especially myself. I was angry—gods, I was angry—but never because you didn’t go along with me. I was angry because I did not know what to do, and I kept pushing. And still—after everything—I hope—" Sebastian’s hand slipped to gently cup the side of Ominis’s face, the pad of his thumb brushing across his cheekbone with reverence, the way you might touch something too sacred to name.

“You were never a coward. Not once. You stood where I crumbled. You said no when I couldn’t. You were… you are the best part of me." He whispered, knowing most of this was beating around the main problem.

"As soon as I pushed you away, I realized what I did…all that I couldn't take back." Sebastian forced himself to keep ahold of Ominis even as his arms started to feel heavy with all that guilt. The guilt that Sebastian could never get rid of. "I can never justify what I did; it's just words... I did it for Anne, but that does and means nothing. Because look what I did." With every word, his arms got heavy. He could no longer hug Ominis as his arms fell to his sides. "I can never be forgiven."

 

[clostridium]

“Oh, Sebastian,” he sighed. Warmth brimmed up in his voice, and he held on all the tighter when the other man’s grip fell away. He kept one arm wound around Sebastian’s waist, and he trailed his other hand up to carefully cup his jaw, gently keeping him in place with their foreheads touching. Had they ever held each other this close for so long? Ominis had certainly wanted to from time to time. When they laughed together in the Undercroft, sharing secrets and experimenting with magic, he remembered how captivated he became listening to Sebastian’s laugh, wishing he could know how Sebastian thought of him, the way he looked at him, any kind of real signal. He didn’t even know what he had been looking for, but he had always been looking, whenever they were together.

Sebastian had been a shining light, a light that, paradoxically, Ominis felt like only he had truly been able to see. He was smart, daring, protective, and empathetic. He had drawn Ominis into his orbit, and Ominis had been stunned by the intensity of his gravity, and incredibly happy that someone wanted to pull him in so close and keep him there. He would eternally be grateful for Sebastian’s friendship, just as he was sure that the wounds he left behind would never heal seamlessly. But…it didn’t need to be seamless. He was content to be scarred back into a shape that only vaguely resembled who he had once been. What else was there?

“Sebastian, I have you.” Ominis’s voice was soft and surging with comfort. This was familiar. Sebastian had been a cracked plane of glass after the extent of Anne’s condition had been discovered, and Ominis recalled late nights, letting Sebastian rest his head against his chest as he cried bitterly, wishing to be with her, wishing to bring an end to all of her suffering. “I’ve got you. Just hold on. Breathe deeply. You are safe with me. My dearest. My friend - still, after everything, my friend. Always my friend. I do not… know. Forgiveness is not…I do not know. I am…wounded, still. I do not know if I am strong enough for that. But please allow me the chance to try. Give yourself the chance. Allow my friend the grace he needs to recover.”

Ominis stroked slowly up from his jaw and ran his fingers up to tease through his hair. When he got to the crown of his head, he mussed it forward, flipping his bangs into his face. He smiled sweetly, a little bit too innocently, as he always had when he attempted a little bit of mischief. He needed to drag Sebastian out of his spiral somehow.

 

[Soul_]

How could Sebastian just give himself grace? The very thought felt impossible—like asking a wound to stitch itself closed without care, without time. He couldn’t do it. Not yet. Maybe not for a long time. Maybe never, not entirely. There were too many ghosts still living behind his ribs, too many wrong turns burned into the backs of his eyelids when he closed them. The faces of the people he couldn’t save. The versions of himself he’d left behind.

But he could focus on Ominis.

He could try—for him. He could take this single, precious thread being offered and use it to prove that he had changed. That he was changing. That Ominis could trust that his remorse ran deeper than words, that it shaped every small, quiet choice he made now, including this one—standing here, not fleeing from the pain or hiding behind anger. Not begging, not forcing, just… staying. Listening. Holding.

Sebastian let out a breath that sounded like it had been caught in his chest for years. The way Ominis said “I have you”—with such steady tenderness, like it was the most natural truth in the world — it nearly brought him to his knees. And when those familiar fingers threaded into his hair, when the fringe fell into his eyes just like it used to, he gave a startled laugh. A real one. Crooked, surprised, but real. Something that he had lacked for years until now. He blinked at Ominis through the curtain of mussed hair and smiled, lopsided and boyish, a flicker of the old Sebastian surfacing through the ache and time.

“I should’ve known you’d pull something like that,” he murmured. Gods, I missed that." His hands, still resting gently at Ominis’s back, squeezed with careful affection. Not too tight. Never too much. But enough to say I’m here. I feel this too. Then he leaned in again, forehead brushing against Ominis’s as he whispered, “I’ll take whatever you can give me. Forgiveness… if it comes, it comes. If it doesn’t… I’ll still be here. You don’t have to carry it alone anymore, alright?” Sebastian tilted his head slightly, nose bumping Ominis’s with quiet fondness, and for a moment, he just looked at him. Really looked — as though trying to memorize every line, every new softness, and every old scar. And there was a kind of reverence in his gaze, something fragile and eternal all at once.

“I’ll hold on,” he said. “To you, to this… to the chance.”

 

[clostridium]

Ominis lit up when Sebastian laughed. His smile shone, and his angular features softened. Now that he had started, he couldn’t stop his fingers from playing through Sebastian’s hair, taking in the changes in length and style. He wanted to know everything he was, everything he had become in the time that separated them, everything he had lost with time. He wished he could know how Sebastian’s eyes sparkled. At least when he smiled, when it was genuine, it shone through in his voice. He took a lock of his friend’s hair in his hand and twirled it around his finger. He stayed there, nose to nose, although it made his heart beat painfully quickly.

“You know, I have been…an absolutely abysmal host. I think I’ve a seat in here. I’m not sure I’ve ever sat in it, I…this room has been more of a corridor for me. If you would like to sit down, you’re welcome to. It’s perhaps more conventional.” Ominis paused, realizing that he was smothering himself away from the weight of Sebastian’s words. From the devotion. There was nothing else to call it. The man who he had been terrified would forget him was not only here, he was holding him like singing he was terrified would shatter, not because he was fragile but because he was precious, and because if he broke Sebastian couldn’t live with himself. It was a reality he didn’t know how to cope with. In direct contrast to how Ominis had desperately tried not to think about the years of his adolescence so that he could keep himself sane, Sebastian had kept Ominis in the forefront of his mind. How long had he been waiting for a letter like this? Had he retained any hope that it would ever come, or had he long since yielded and expected that Ominis would blame him until the day he died? How could Ominis make up for all that time left wondering? How could he heal the wounds that his long silence had furrowed into his beloved friend’s flesh?

“I won’t let you slip away again,” he said softly. “I won’t let you be alone. I’ll keep you so close you’ll be sick of me. I am so…so desperately glad that you’ve returned to me.” With a sudden realization, he blinked. “I am not…making you miss work, am I? I’ve only just realized, it must be midmorning.”

 

[Soul_]

Sebastian’s eyes softened the moment Ominis smiled—that real smile, bright and unguarded, the kind of rare expression that could melt through armor. It struck him like a sunbeam cutting through the dust, that smile. He would have given anything to see it again, and here it was, close enough to touch, close enough to feel against his skin. He didn't even try to hide the way he leaned into it.

And Ominis’s hands—Merlin, those hands—slid through his hair with such familiar ease that Sebastian found himself closing his eyes for a beat, just to soak it in. The twirling of a lock around a finger, the soft tickle of his breath at such close range—it made Sebastian feel simultaneously like a boy again and something altogether older, something forged from longing and the relief of finally, finally being seen again. When Ominis spoke, his attempt at casual banter about furniture and forgotten chairs drew a low, breathy laugh from Sebastian—warm, fond, and amused. “Oh, yes,” he murmured with a lopsided grin, “how scandalous of you, truly. Inviting me in and not offering a chair, after a long moment he would finally see the chair and pull away just slightly. Then when he heard Ominis mention work, something he had forgotten all about.

“Who cares?” he whispered. His voice was breathless, raw. “Let the world wait a little longer. I’ve waited years for this.” His words clung to the air, heavy with sincerity. He had missed shifts before for foolish reasons—hangovers, injury—but this… this was the first time he had missed work and not felt an ounce of regret. But then he blinked again; the concern was mirrored back at him. His gaze flicked toward Ominis with new focus. “Wait—are you missing work?” he asked, his voice suddenly gentler, quieter. “Or… I’m keeping you up, aren’t I?” He glanced toward the dim light beyond the windows, suddenly aware of the quiet hush of morning creeping in.

Sebastian’s brow furrowed with guilt, but his fingers stayed where they were, lightly resting at Ominis’s side. “You’ve always been awful at sleeping,” he murmured. “And now I’ve come barging in like a storm and made it worse." He whispered still, not sitting yet. His brown eyes stared into Ominis’s foggy blue eyes. "Do tell me to shut up if I talk too much."

 

[clostridium]

“You’ve made everything better, Sebastian. Don’t be foolish. I told you to come in the morning, didn’t I? I…yes, I am usually asleep by now. But I can miss out on a spot of rest for your sake. As you said, I sleep poorly anyways. I would much rather do so with an excellent excuse. When I rest, I’ll do so much more soundly for having had this talk with you. …Please. You know I’ve always loved hearing you speak. And I’ve had a deficit of that lately, hearing you…anyone speak. You know, all I seem to hear is…I’ve got a spell that recites figures for me. Aloud, in a lady’s voice. I’ve grown absolutely sick of her. So - unless you decide to begin speaking to me four times at once, overlapping yourself, I don’t think that you’ll wear me out.” Ominis stroked affectionately through his hair, refusing to consider that there were implications to doing so. It was the one privilege that came with his blindness, the ability to escape judgment for a bit more physical affection than the average person could get away with. Well, it was that and the ability to keep his wand out in situations when other people were not allowed to draw theirs, but that was more of a frustration than a boon, since someone invariably had to whinge that they should be able to take their wand into the secure room, too.

Ominis began walking slowly backwards, keeping one hand in Sebastian’s hair and the other ghosting along at his lower back to draw him toward the couch. Work was certainly a consideration. He didn’t even know where Sebastian lived, but the idea that they would part, even briefly, was a bit nauseating at the moment. Still, he knew that he had to be grateful for the opportunity that he had. Things had been hard. He was not the employee that any business advertised for, not by a long shot. He felt lucky to have been kept on for as long as he had, and he knew that part of his longevity had been his impeccable timing - he didn’t call out when he was sick, and he arrived early no matter what. It was all he could do to prove that he was worth employing.

“…I…will have to go tonight. But you can stay, and…sleep, if you like, while I am gone. We have a long time until that is a concern…I think, I think that it is only midmorning. Things have been…difficult for me. Just…difficult. As much as I would like to fall away from this world and speak to you, just…think of nothing else, I…am afraid. To take that chance, I am afraid.”

With that, Ominis sat in the center of the couch, releasing his grip on Sebastian but catching his hand lightly as he did. He smiled up at him, hoping to coax him down for both of their sakes. He was exhausted, and resting his legs sounded incredible.

 

[Soul_]

Sebastian followed Ominis's slow backward movement as if guided by a spell far stronger than any they’d ever cast in the Undercroft. The way Ominis’s hand stayed in his hair—careful, unhesitating—and the other traced a feather-light path at his lower back made it impossible not to follow. The contact was grounding. Anchoring. Sebastian had spent so long feeling unmoored that he would’ve followed Ominis anywhere if it meant staying tethered to that quiet touch.

His heart ached at the softness in Ominis’s voice, at the gentle deflection in his words. There was pain behind it, buried but audible if you knew how to listen—and Sebastian had always known how to listen to him. He let out a breath, slow and careful, like he might scare off the fragile calm between them if he exhaled too sharply.

““You should be careful,” he murmured with a small smile, letting Ominis draw him along, their steps slow, deliberate. “You keep saying things like that, and I’m going to start talking your ear off just to spite that infernal spell-voice of yours. I’ll recite numbers at you in my voice. Be the most charming talking ledger you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.”

His voice was light, teasing—but underneath it, something warmer pulsed through every word. A longing not just for laughter, but for permanence. For place. He paused as Ominis sat, watching him settle in the center of the couch with that same grace that had always felt slightly too elegant for the common room they used to share. When the other man caught his hand—lightly, but meaningfully—Sebastian didn’t hesitate. He sank down beside him, their hands still connected, fingers curling instinctively around the familiar shape of Ominis’s. There had been years between them, but in that moment, there was no distance at all.

"You don't have to be so afraid anymore,” Sebastian whispered after a beat, his voice raw with sincerity. “I know that’s not how this works, really. I know it doesn’t just go away. But I just want you to know—you don’t have to be. Not with me. I am here. Hopefully to stay.”

He hesitated, fingers squeezing gently around Ominis’s before he let go—not out of withdrawal, but to shift. To move carefully, slowly, as though offering something delicate and invaluable. He reached out, this time to guide Ominis toward him, his touch featherlight on the back of his neck. And when Ominis didn’t resist, Sebastian pulled him in, letting the other man’s head rest against his shoulder if he wanted.

“I’ll only stay if you’re sure you want that,” he added after a quiet moment. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome. Not ever. But gods, Ominis…” His voice faltered, then steadied. “I-I want to be someone you can lean on. Someone who gets to hear your voice again, and see that smile. Someone who gets to stay.” He exhaled slowly, the weight of everything between them softening just a little in the shared warmth.

 

[clostridium]

Ominis yielded easily to the affectionate touch and allowed his head to rest on Sebastian’s shoulder. He was warm and solid, a bastion of comfort on which he could rely. …Could he? He desperately wanted to. He thought that he could… but then, he had always thought that he could. He had always put his faith in Sebastian, for better or worse. And Sebastian had come back to him. If nothing else, he could always put his faith in that. Sebastian would come back. Sweet, earnest, adoring Sebastian, who lit up whenever he smiled. Ominis had punished himself for years for how deeply he had cared, and how much he still cared. He was on the razor’s edge now. He just couldn’t take any more punishment. All that he wanted was this closeness. If it could continue into infinity, he would be happy frozen in this moment for an eternity. He tucked his head a little closer, took a deep breath, and let his eyes fall shut.

“You are welcome here. I want you. Hear me - you are. Please do not worry that I do not want you here. There is nothing that I…” Ominis’s voice choked up with emotion, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. The thought that Sebastian didn’t feel wanted was completely unbearable to consider - but how else could he have felt? The silence must have been crushing. Sebastian projected an aura of confidence, but he had always been fragile. He had always vied for others’ approval…particularly Ominis’s. “…I do. Sebastian, you make me smile. I haven’t smiled in…I could not even say, but you showed me how to do it again. I would even take you as a talking ledger, if that was the only way I could have you. You… I missed you so desperately. I tried not to think about it, but my heart ached.”

Ominis wished that he could curl closer, but that had to be a bridge too far. Something he did was bound to be. So far, every clinging little gesture had been met with reciprocation, but the fear never left that the next step he took would make Sebastian’s lip curl with derision.

“I don’t want you to fear, either. I certainly don’t want you to fear something that I might do. That I might change my mind. I know my mind. I will not. Trust in me, Sebastian. Trust in me…and I will trust in you.”

 

[Soul_]

Sebastian was still, utterly motionless, as if the slightest shift might break the fragile, precious moment Ominis had offered him. The words that had just been spoken lingered in the air like the last notes of a haunting melody, and every one of them had pierced him with aching sweetness—a kind of raw, unfiltered hope he hadn’t dared let himself feel in so long. His throat tightened with emotion, and something deep within his chest ached, like a wound he had forgotten was there suddenly remembered.

He hadn’t expected this—not really. Not after everything. Not after the months of silence that had stretched between them like a chasm, after the cold distance that had seemed insurmountable. He had told himself he was fine, that he’d moved on, that he had accepted what they had lost. But none of it had been true. And now, here was Ominis—pressing in close, trusting him, offering not just his presence, but the kind of soul-baring honesty Sebastian had once believed was lost to him forever.

He let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding, slow and shaky. The air between them felt different now—warmer, safer. He lifted a hand, tentative at first, and gently cradled the back of Ominis’s head where it rested against his shoulder. His fingers curled just slightly into the soft blond strands, grounding himself in the reality of it. This wasn’t a memory. This wasn’t a dream. This was now.

“I never stopped wanting to be here,” he said softly. “Even when I didn’t know if you’d let me. I was lost for a while, Ominis. But the thing that kept me going—what I kept coming back to—was you. Always you.” He let the silence settle again, no longer heavy but full of promise. “I trust you,” he said, and it wasn’t a plea—it was a vow. “I trust you with everything.” Sebastian looked to Ominis, unsure if he could get closer. It wasn't that he didn't trust Ominis; it was that he didn't trust himself, not just to use magic but also around people. Now he was near someone he couldn't bear to lose—not again.

And so, for a long time, he didn’t move. He just sat there, letting the steady beat of Ominis’s presence ease the storm in his chest. He memorized the weight of him against his shoulder, the rhythm of his breathing, the quiet way he just fit into the space beside Sebastian, like he’d always belonged there.

Eventually, Sebastian’s fingers twitched and then moved again—just the barest shift, enough to ruffle Ominis’s hair, soft and slow. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. A gesture that said I’m here when words felt too heavy to speak.

“I’ll stay,” he whispered at last, his voice barely holding together, cracked around the edges with emotion he couldn’t push down any longer. “As long as you’ll have me… I’ll stay.” And though the fear still lingered, the weight of the past still hung behind them like a shadow; Sebastian felt—just for that moment—that maybe they weren’t beyond repair. Maybe this warmth between them could be real. Maybe it was. Maybe he wasn’t too late.

 

[clostridium]

The fire crackled away steadily, and Sebastian’s heartbeat, first hammering and then gradually slowing, lulled Ominis into an unusual state of relaxation. He laid in place, breathing deeply, savoring the gentle touch at the nape of his neck. The more confidence Sebastian gained in interacting with him, the more Ominis relaxed. He has always fed a bit off others’ anxiety, allowing it to reflect and double in himself, although he was usually adept at hiding it. He and Sebastian had always dragged one another along on their epic emotional highs and lows. It was nice, after all this time, to finally settle into a high.

Sebastian spoke to him softly, and his voice welled up with affection and appreciation. Ominis hung off every word. The way he spoke to him was entrancing, gentle and adoring beyond his wildest dreams. In fact, it was actually perfectly in line with any of his best, happiest dreams about this exact scenario. It was rare that he allowed himself to be happy, even in sleep, but when he did, it was always this - Sebastian holding him close, acknowledging the pain and promising loyalty and everlasting gentleness. He always felt empty upon awakening from such a dream, but there was no awakening from this. Somehow, this had become his reality. There was no rude awakening on the horizon; of this he was sure. Despite everything, he found that he did trust Sebastian. Every single word out of his mouth struck Ominis as genuine. He knew that how badly he wanted to trust him had to be a factor…but he just couldn’t imagine that the gentle reverence with which he had been treated was anything but the truth.

“I’ll have you,” Ominis echoed, “as long as you’ll stay.” Tentatively, he reached out and looped his arm around the front of Sebastian’s waist. He left it draped there softly, a far cry from the desperate clinging in front of the fireplace, or the cold, stilted distance when he opened the door for the first time. The tension was slipping away from him, leaving only a joyful contentment that fell like a fog across his mind. With his eyes shut, and the soft, relaxing ambiance, he was starting to drift off. He blinked slowly to try and keep himself up, but they kept drifting closed again, despite his best efforts. He took a deep breath, and it came out in an incredibly soft sigh. He yawned again, then blinked away the tears that welled up. Still, he refused to believe that he was falling asleep. He would not allow it.

“Ah, I should have…should have finished my tea. I’m afraid I’m a bit…”

 

[Soul_]

Sebastian couldn’t help the quiet, affectionate laugh that escaped him—low, warm, and entirely involuntary—as if it had been drawn straight from the softest part of his heart. The fire crackled on beside them, casting golden light that shimmered across Ominis’s pale hair and painted the room in amber hues. He shifted just slightly, careful not to disturb the serenity of the moment, tightening the arm that had already been curled protectively around Ominis. He pulled him a fraction closer, enough to feel the deep, steady rhythm of his breathing against his side. It was comforting in a way Sebastian hadn’t known he craved until now.

The way Ominis’s voice had trailed off—sleepy, uncertain, but laced with quiet trust—nearly undid him. It was rare to hear him like this, voice stripped of its usual precision and control. He sounded young, for once. Soft. Human in the way that people only allowed themselves to be when they knew they were safe. And he was safe. Sebastian would make sure of it.

“A bit what?” he asked, lips brushing the crown of Ominis’s head in a whisper of a smile. “A bit charming? A bit perfect? A bit hopelessly asleep in my arms?” His teasing was gentle and light, threaded through with the same reverent fondness that had colored his every word since Ominis let him in.

He pressed a small kiss to Ominis’s temple, lingering just long enough to feel the soft exhale that followed. “You don’t have to fight it, you know,” he murmured. “You’re safe. You're warm. You’re home.”

The weight of Ominis’s arm around his waist grounded him more than any spell ever could. It wasn’t desperate anymore. It wasn’t driven by fear or grief or guilt. It was simply closeness—simple, sacred being. After everything they had been through, every heartbreak and every haunting memory, this soft vulnerability was the most precious magic Sebastian had ever known.

“You can finish your tea later,” he whispered. “Right now, you’re exactly where you should be. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Sebastian let the firelight dance across the room, his fingers tracing light, absentminded circles at the base of Ominis’s neck. He could feel the tension ebbing out of him, slow and steady, like tidewater slipping away from the shore. There was a peace in this silence—a peace he'd thought he’d never feel again. “Sleep, Ominis,” he said, voice barely above the crackle of the fire. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

 

[clostridium]

Charming? Perfect? Oh, he was hopeless alright! Ominis’s face grew a bit warm, and he was glad that his head was resting on Sebastian’s shoulder so he wouldn’t be teased any further. His cheeks were glowing with heat when he felt Sebastian’s lips brush his temple. He took a deep breath and let his eyes fall shut again. Sleep had always been difficult for him, ever since he was a child, but he felt warm and comfortable, tucked gently up against Sebastian’s side. The soft attention of his warm fingers at the back of his neck lulled him into a state of perfect relaxation.

“Shh,” Ominis hushed with a sleepy little smile. It grew easier by the moment to drift beside Sebastian. Each tender word softened the jagged edges of their fractured bond. Both of them wanted to smooth over the rough edges. Both were invested in the repair of their relationship. That made things, if not easier, more possible. “If…you had your way, my ego would be.. infinite.”

Ominis yawned again and smiled against his shoulder, then scooted a bit closer, inspired by the soft tightening of Sebastian’s grip. It had to be permission to keep clinging close to him, he thought, and it was permission that he was happy to take him up on. His smile grew, and he sighed contentedly. This was…new. It was nothing like how things had been when they were teenagers. Maybe it was just how tired he was, but he was certain that he would have been too anxious to curl up with Sebastian like this at any previous point in their lives. Somehow, he didn’t feel anxious at all. Sebastian crooned gently to him, and he melted into the sound. His breaths grew slower and shallower and he drifted off to sleep. All of the tension fell out of his body, and he sagged against Sebastian’s side, head sliding down from his shoulder to his chest.

 

[Soul_]

Sebastian barely breathed as Ominis settled, as if even the softest exhale might startle him out of this rare, hard-earned peace. He could feel the heat of his blush where Ominis’s face was hidden against him, and it made something bloom in his chest—something bright and inexplicably tender. It wasn’t just affection. It was reverence. The kind of reverence that came from knowing how long it had taken for this moment to exist.

The sleepy little “shh” made him grin helplessly. “If I had my way,” he whispered against Ominis’s hair, “you’d believe every good thing I ever said about you.” His voice was warm and low. “Because they’re all true. Every one of them.”

He felt Ominis scoot closer—just a slight shift, but enough to let him know he was wanted, welcomed. That, more than anything, was all he ever wanted. His fingers slowed their motion at the nape of Ominis’s neck, trailing lightly down to rest between his shoulder blades. The weight of him, warm and heavy now that sleep had taken over, pressed against Sebastian’s chest like an anchor. He could feel the steady rise and fall of his breaths, the way his head had slipped from his shoulder and come to rest right over his heart.

He lowered his cheek to rest against the top of Ominis’s head and let his eyes fall shut. Not to sleep—not yet. He just wanted to be here. To stay like this for as long as the world would allow. For the first time in years, his own mind wasn’t racing. There were no nightmares clawing at the edges of his thoughts. Just the soft crackling of the fire, the slow rhythm of Ominis’s breath, and the overwhelming sense of rightness.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into the quiet. “I’ve always had you.”

 

[clostridium]

Ominis slept more soundly than he had in years, uncommonly warm and comfortable. Undoubtedly, his neck would be sore the next night, with how he was slumped forward, but for the time being he was more comfortable than he knew was possible for himself. His chest rose and fell very slowly, and his heartbeat was so slow that it was barely perceptible. From time to time, he mumbled in his sleep, and over the course of the night he slid gradually downward and to the side since he was no longer supporting himself, and his upper body slumped sideways across Sebastian’s lap.

Hours later, in the early evening, he began to stir. He took a deep breath, and let out a long, contented sigh. He opened his eyes, then went to reach for his wand, rolling a bit more fully on his back rather than his side, before realizing that he was absolutely not in his own bed. The events of the previous morning came flooding back, and he was overcome with joy and regret in equal measure. Sebastian was here. Sebastian was here, and he was safe. However, he had wasted precious time immediately after their fraught reunion by drifting off. It only struck him seconds later that he was lying partway on Sebastian, probably staring him full in the face without realizing it. He opened his mouth, then closed it, looking a bit like a surprised, embarrassed fish.

“Oh—Sebastian, next time, you must wake me, or…toss me off on the floor, something.” Ominis’s prim voice was still heavy with sleep, and there was a nervous, twisting note of embarrassment threading through it. He didn’t actually know whether Sebastian was even awake, but in his mind, he was assuming he had only been out for an hour at the absolute maximum, with plenty of daytime left for them to talk.

 

[Soul_]

Sebastian had, in fact, been awake for quite some time. Not fully, not in the sharp-edged awake but the just barely aware of your surroundings type of awake.

He’d barely moved, save to shift now and again to support Ominis better as gravity gradually claimed him, guiding his slight frame down until he ended up draped across Sebastian’s lap like some fragile, aristocratic cat who had finally deigned to nap on a sunlit windowsill.

And Sebastian—he hadn’t minded at all. He could have sat there for days.
The slow, deep breaths had been a balm, the occasional soft murmurs in Ominis’s sleep like music. Even the awkward, crooked angle Sebastian had adopted to keep the blond from slipping off completely had been worth it. He would’ve endured far more for this peace, this proof that Ominis could rest.

So when those pale lashes finally fluttered open and Ominis blinked up at him with dawning horror and the most delightfully flustered expression, Sebastian’s heart swelled in his chest—affectionate, aching, and very nearly amused.

He tilted his head, looking down at him with a grin that had only the faintest edge of teasing to it. “Toss you on the floor?” he repeated, his voice thick with fond disbelief. “You do realize you were sleeping like the dead for hours, right? I tried moving once. You made a sound like I’d personally hexed your soul out of your body.” Sebastian leaned in slightly, elbow propped on the arm of the chair, resting his chin in his hand as he gazed down at the flushed, still-bedheaded figure half-sprawled over his lap. “Besides,” he added, softer now, “you looked so peaceful. I didn’t have it in me to wake you. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you sleep without frowning". He yawned softly, still waking himself up.

 

[clostridium]

“You are much too indulgent of me,” Ominis said, and his smile shone with warmth. As embarrassed as he was, he was obviously flattered and blatantly pleased. He knew that he should sit up and free Sebastian; he hadn’t intended to lie down on him, and he felt in the back of his mind that he had to be over some kind of line…but Sebastian’s voice was easy to read, and he sounded so sleepy, and so blatantly eating it up. It was true that he tended to look miserable in his sleep. Well, he assumed it was - he really only had it on Sebastian’s authority, but that was because it was really only Sebastian who he could consistently sleep around. That was one of the reasons why they constantly snuck down to the Undercroft, even in the middle of the night. Sebastian had insisted after they found the place that they sleep there from time to time. He hadn’t ever framed it as because Ominis couldn’t sleep so that he could spare his feelings…but they had both known why the two of them snuck down to sleep on the floor together for the first time. Ominis felt a rush of affection. Sebastian had always been that way. He would assess what Ominis wanted or needed and try to do it for him without letting on that he was trying at all. It was ridiculous. It was sweet.

“Hours? Ugh… Really, I am sorry. I’ve made you sleep through most of the day. But then…perhaps I should be proud that I got you to allow yourself to relax for a little while. As much as you say about me and my sleep, if I remember correctly, you would try to procrastinate going to bed as long as possible. But…well, I suppose this was long enough ago, you may not have the same bad habits. I…here, I will…”

Ominis couldn’t justify laying across his lap any longer. As comfortable as he was, and as nice as it sounded to flash Sebastian an impish grin and cuddle right back up, he didn’t want to express his affection or gratitude in any way that might make Sebastian regret answering his letter. Thus, heavy with regret, he sat up slowly, yawning as he did so, and rubbed his cheekbone with the heel of his hand.

“Do you know when it is? I may need to make myself ready, depending. I’ve prepared poorly for all of this.”

 

[Soul_]

Sebastian watched every movement with quiet, unguarded fondness—eyes tracking the way Ominis blinked himself back to full awareness, the delicate curve of a yawn he tried and failed to hide, the self-conscious grace with which he finally, regretfully, sat up. There was something painfully sweet about the way he did it—like he thought he might be imposing by existing too closely. As if Sebastian had not spent the entire day grateful for every moment of contact, every quiet breath, every inch of shared space.

And now that Ominis was upright and looking away, rubbing at his cheek like someone bracing for a lecture or rejection that would never come, Sebastian felt the sharp urge to reach out again—not just to reassure him, but to anchor him. Instead, he let himself smile, slow and lopsided. “It’s early evening, about five in the afternoon,,” he said. “You didn’t make me miss anything important, unless you count the distinct joy of making you tea and fussing over whether or not you’d like your toast with jam or honey.”

He paused, then leaned in a little conspiratorially. “I had plans to be insufferably doting. You ruined them by falling asleep mid-moment like a cat in a sunbeam.”

He straightened slightly, brushing at a faint, imagined wrinkle on his sleeve as though to compose himself before saying, more sincerely, “You don’t need to be sorry for any of this. Not a single part. You don’t need to be ready, either. "

Sebastian fell into silence for a moment, his gaze drifting to the fireplace, though his mind was clearly elsewhere. The quiet stretched—not awkward, but thoughtful—until he spoke again, more subdued.

He let out a small, sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I forgot you remembered that,” he murmured, lips quirking. “That I used to… stay up all night cleaning my room or rewriting the same parchment three times just to avoid going to bed.” There was a pause. “Yeah,” he admitted, more to the room than to Ominis, “Still a bad habit. I’m just better at pretending I sleep like a normal person now.” He glanced back at Ominis, smile tinged with guilt and gratitude. “Back then, you were the only one who noticed. The only one who cared enough to do something about it.” His voice turned almost wistful. “You’d pretend it was about propriety—‘Sebastian, it’s indecent to be wandering the halls at this hour’- I missed that." He sighed.

 

[clostridium]

Ominis held on to a lot of painful memories, and they consumed him so frequently that he tried his best not to think about any of his memories at all. Lately, it had been simplest to focus on things day by day, not considering the past or the future. But he had a lot of excellent memories, too, and with Sebastian beside him, they didn’t make him feel empty to consider. The way the two of them snuck out, the hundred justifications they each used to avoid confronting the fact that they cared about one another aloud.

“It was improper, you know,” Ominis teased in return. “…You did the same thing to me, too. But you always framed it as something exciting. An adventure. You wanted to be rebellious and try to see if we could spend the night in the Undercroft without being caught. Of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that I was making myself ill, too nervous to fall asleep around anyone in the dormitories for fear that I would talk in my sleep, or…well. Anything else. But you dared me, so if I refused, I would be a coward. You know, you were impressively sneaky. Trying to trick me into doing what was best for myself, since you knew that otherwise I would be so strung up with guilt that I could not make myself do so. A trickster, through and through, you know. Meanwhile, I would simply chastise you - and I would think myself dreadfully subtle, too.”

Ominis smiled at his own reminiscence, and he cupped Sebastian’s cheek for just a moment, reassuring himself that he, too, was smiling. It was nice to be smiled at by Sebastian again. It was like having his skin touched by the sun after years indoors. He wanted to let it warm every part of him and chase away the cold that had crept into his bones while he wasn’t paying attention.

“…You know…I’m not certain I have jam or honey. I may yet continue to foil your ambitions to dote on me. I’ve got a bit of bread, and oats for porridge…some kind of tinned meat, I think. Something in a tin, at any rate. It’s not got a label.” Ominis grimaced. He was a bit - a lot - posh, and he certainly hadn’t been enjoying his subsistence off foodstuffs of dubious age and quality.

 

[Soul_]

Sebastian’s smile deepened with every word, fondness welling in his chest until it nearly overflowed. Ominis, with his dry wit and impossible softness disguised as disapproval, had always been this way—coaxing warmth from Sebastian just by being himself. Hearing him speak so openly, even in teasing, about those nights in the Undercroft felt like breathing in fresh air after being underwater too long. Pain and memory tangled with comfort in a way only time could create.

“It was improper,” Sebastian agreed with a low chuckle, “and scandalously fun. Admit it—you liked sneaking around just as much as I did.” His eyes twinkled, but the playfulness didn’t hide the emotion underneath. “Besides, I had to frame it as an adventure. If I told you I just wanted to be near you, you’d have hexed me in embarrassment.”

He leaned into Ominis’s touch with something close to reverence, eyes fluttering shut for a moment beneath the palm that cradled his cheek. The moment passed, but the warmth of it lingered, the ghost of Ominis’s fingers still imprinted on his skin.

“You weren’t as subtle as you thought, by the way,” he added gently, nudging Ominis’s knee with his own. “Your chastising always came with a touch of a smile you tried so hard to smother.He sat back a little, scanning Ominis with that same gentle affection. “You were scared, and I knew it. But I never saw you as fragile, Ominis. Just… fierce and tired, and still fighting to be decent, even when everything hurt. That’s why I never stopped trying to get you to rest. I figured if I couldn’t take away what haunted you, I could at least give you one night of peace.”

Then, his smile turned crooked again, the softness giving way—just slightly—to exasperated amusement. “No jam? No honey?” he gasped, mock-affronted. “And here I thought this was a dignified household. Next you’ll tell me your tea selection is just a sad little bag of mystery leaves labeled ‘Herbs.’” After seeing the grimice on Ominis’s face, and the fact he could taste the mystery meat from having to eat it himself. "Right. Then we’ll fix it,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’ll go out tomorrow and get you proper groceries. Posh ones, even. Things with labels. Fruit that doesn’t look...odd. We’ll stock this place until even you can’t complain. I’m talking honey in a glass jar and jam that costs more than it should. The good stuff.”

 

[clostridium]

“Ugh, I know, I was terribly obvious!” Ominis said, visibly cringing. He shook his head, trying to dismiss the mental image of how proud he had been of how adroitly he thought at the time that he had handled things. Looking back on himself, in any capacity, made Ominis cringe. All of the things that seemed so obvious in hindsight that he found completely opaque at the time…ugh, it made his skin crawl. Sebastian pulled him out of the awkward, creeping shame, however. The way his smile crept into his voice made Ominis feel completely electric. A smile crept across his face, growing so broad that he looked dreamy and a bit silly.

One night of peace. Sebastian had given him far more than one night. Even when he had kept him up, talking his ear off until the first light of dawn, he had still lulled Ominis into a greater sense of rest.

His eyes widened and he pursed his lips very slightly when Sebastian started to talk about shopping. He shook his head slowly, looking deeply awkward. Money had become a constant stressor, a carrot dangling at the end of a string to haul him back into a life that would crush him into nothing. He couldn’t find well-paying work for more reasons than he cared to expound upon, and, although he had always been adamant to not think like his family, the shame at being unable to comfortably support himself ran deep.

“Don’t be foolish, Sebastian. Really, it is…about time I learn to live with it. It would be irresponsible if I allowed you to spend money that I assume that neither of us have just to…pamper me. No, dote, I suppose, that was the word that you used. Really, you’re ridiculous. …But…you’ve made me smile. Really, realism never has been your strong suit. Luckily for you, your charm makes up for a lot.”

Ominis reached up slowly, tentatively. He had been steadily building up the confidence to touch Sebastian again, and he finally brought his hand up to stroke his cheek. The affection he felt far outweighed his sense of shame, and he used his other hand to ruffle his hair again. He could spend all day like this and be perfectly happy, just softly touching Sebastian’s hair and listening to him talk.

 

[Soul_]

Sebastian all but melted under the quiet weight of Ominis’s hands—first the gentle brush of fingers along his cheek, then the affectionate ruffling of his hair. He leaned into both like he might never get the chance again, eyes half-lidded with something tender and far too raw to be anything but real. It was intoxicating, this soft return to a closeness he’d feared was lost to time and grief.

“You say I’m ridiculous, and yet here you are messing my hair and calling me charming,” he murmured, his his voice edged with warmth and playful reverence. “You’re going to ruin me, Ominis Gaunt."

He let the silence settle around them for a moment, not uncomfortable or heavy, but warm andand companionable. The kind of silence that had been impossible for years—now reclaimed like a forgotten room in a house neither of them had dared enter. Then, more softly: “I know money’s hard. I’m not blind to that. And I know what it costs you to talk about it, even in passing.” He glanced at Ominis’s face, gauging the tension there, then reached up to gently catch the wrist still nestled in his hair, not to stop him, but to hold him there. “But I’m not trying to pamper you, not really. It’s not about jam or bread or a decent tin of meat—though Merlin knows, I’m not letting you eat something unlabeled ever again.”

His fingers curled lightly around Ominis’s wrist, grounding and sure. “It’s about giving you something good. Something normal. You’ve been surviving for so long that I think you’ve forgotten what it feels like to have comfort without guilt attached to it. You’ve given up on wanting more, and you don’t have to.” Sebastian’s smile returned, smaller this time, more solemn, but no less genuine. "Itmight not be the posh food,, but it will be labeled. In my humble opinion, it's still better than unlabeled foods..." Sebastian gently let go of Ominis’s hand;; he had forgotten that he even held it. "Its not much,, just some stuff… I swear." Sebastian was still trying to convince Ominis to let him do this, though he would stop. Looking around to find the kitchen so he could see the light from the windows. It was getting later and later.

 

[clostridium]

The way Sebastian’s breaths slowed, becoming shallow like he was waiting for a wild animal to pass, was intoxicating to observe. That fondness with which Sebastian regarded him had only intensified over their time apart, galvanizing into something closer to awe. Meanwhile, Sebastian had come to represent home in Ominis’s mind. He hadn’t felt like he deserved that feeling, after all he failed to do, after all he failed to stop. He still didn’t, if he were to be honest with himself. But after meeting Sebastian again, feeling firsthand how badly he wanted to make things good, he could not condemn him to suffer…and as a result, Ominis could not avoid becoming happier as well.

It was harder because Sebastian seemed so deliriously happy every time Ominis confirmed that he was wanted. He would be happy with anything - he thought. But Ominis could feel it coming - a grievous social blunder that would erode the trust between them. It was something that he had always feared, a specter that reminded him that it was abnormal to cling as he desperately wanted to, to rest his chin on Sebastian’s shoulder, to wrap up in a hug and doze off. He hadn’t been expecting to be so forcibly reminded of the mental list of absolutely nots that had haunted him in school.

It was even more difficult to push from his mind when Sebastian spoke to him with such earnest kindness. He wished that he could fall into the sound. Of course, he knew Sebastian well enough to know that he would strain himself financially to make Ominis smile. How could one respond without just holding on to him for a long time in silence?

“…I…suppose. If it would satisfy you, I…will be grateful, whatever you bring. We can see if I am still able to burn even water alone.” Ominis withdrew completely from Sebastian’s hair, already missing the gentle touch on his wrist. Elsewhere in the flat, a grandfather clock rang out with the time, and Ominis looked stricken.

“Oh. I…I really did sleep for a while. I should…here. I am assuming I do not look professional. I’ll need to make myself presentable…am I coated in ink stains?”

 

[Soul_]

Sebastian didn’t say anything at first. He just watched Ominis—really watched him—with the kind of quiet intensity that made the air feel heavier, somehow softer, like a hush before a storm or a song you almost remember. He noticed the way Ominis withdrew, the subtle retreat from affection that still hovered like heat in the space between them. It hurt, not in any way Sebastian would ever blame him for—but in that aching way of knowing someone you love is bracing for rejection even as you’re trying to offer them safety.He wanted to reach for him again. To gather him up But Ominis’s thoughts moved faster than his hands could, skittering toward something safe, something familiar: self-effacement, embarrassment, routine.

“No ink stains,” he said lightly, smiling just a bit as he inspected him with a kind of mock solemnity, “but your hair’s a little ridiculous. Like a very distinguished man who got into a duel with a wind charm and lost.” He would reach to fix Ominis’s hair but stopped himself feeling that would be far over some line he wasn't allowed to cross anymore.

The clock still echoed faintly, marking time that suddenly felt too fast. Sebastian didn’t want the moment to end, not when Ominis had been sitting beside him with that dreamy, caught-off-guard smile just minutes before. He didn’t want to let him slip away behind manners and routine, and that wall of old rules Ominis had never quite stopped obeying.
“But if you really must get ready,” Sebastian murmured, voice quieter now, “then let me be selfish just a moment longer.”

Without giving Ominis too much time to argue, Sebastian reached up again, featherlight, brushing a wayward strand of hair from his forehead and letting his hand linger for just a moment. Not fixing his hair not crossing that line. A soft chuckle would slip from Sebastian, “I’ll fetch us something better than mystery tins. And if you burn the water, I’ll consider it a charming personal talent. One more reason to keep showing up.”