The night remained thick, a mist seemingly seeping through the very walls. Yuki hadn't been able to sleep. Rei's reflection had vanished from the mirror, but his presence still hung in the air, as if every corner of the house breathed his name.
He had gone down to the old parlor, where the fire never burned. The wood creaked beneath his feet, and the air smelled of dampness and memories that refused to die.
Then he felt it.
It wasn't a sound. It was a subtle vibration in his chest. A chill at the back of his neck. And then, a voice whispered deep into his ear:
—"You hear me more clearly when you stop running."
Yuki turned sharply. Rei was there—not a nebulous apparition, but solid, real, human. His hair fell in dark waves over his face, and his eyes… his eyes burned with a liquid, ancient light.
"What exactly are you?" Yuki asked, not stepping back this time.
Rei stepped forward, closing the distance between them. His chest nearly brushed against Yuki's. His breath was cold, yet intoxicating.
"I'm… what's left of me after what this house did. What they buried. What they couldn't completely break."
"And what do you want from me?"
Rei raised his hand, but this time he didn't touch Yuki's face. He placed his fingers carefully against Yuki's sternum. His touch was icy, but firm, as if reaching for something deeper.
"I want to know if I still have a reflection," he whispered. "And you give it back to me."
Yuki trembled. Not just from the cold, but from how the energy between them vibrated. Something beyond desire—something primal—connected him to Rei.
The floor beneath them creaked. From one of the walls, an impossible shadow briefly hung—elongated, clawed. Yuki turned his head, but Rei held his face gently.
"Don't look. Don't give it power. This house feeds on fear."
"And you?" Yuki whispered. "What do you feed on?"
Rei smiled—his broken smile, edged with sorrow.
"Memory. And you."
On impulse, Yuki touched him. He placed his hand over Rei's, trapping it against his chest. That's when he felt it—not a heartbeat, but a vibration from somewhere else. An echo trapped in the flesh of the world.
The fireplace, without anyone touching it, suddenly came to life. Blue flames—like spectral tongues—began to dance. The shadow returned, but this time it didn't flee. It stayed. Watching.
Rei didn't move. Instead, he brushed Yuki's cheek with his nose and lowered to his neck, breathing in.
"The house is awakening with you," he whispered. "And so am I."
Yuki closed his eyes. For a moment, he felt no fear. He felt a kind of vertigo, as if falling inward, with Rei as his only anchor.
But the calm shattered with a piercing shriek. A scream not from their throats, but from the walls. The windows cracked in an instant. The fire burst upward.
Rei stepped back. What had been lurking was no longer a whisper—it was a force. A judgment.
"You shouldn't have come so close," Rei said, voice tight, his eyes now reflecting a storm.
Yuki took a step back. But inside, something held him. Despite the terror, he didn't want Rei to vanish again.
"Don't go," he whispered.
Rei hesitated for a breath... then vanished.