As the novelty of the spinning room and everything that had just transpired began to settle, Basil felt some of his earlier empty sadness begin to creep back. The truth was now defined, and underlined: he… cared for Gus Lissington in a way that was definitely not normal. Or done. The thought rattled something in his brain that, though dusty, was not… new. He couldn’t help it. He felt safe in this thought, even though the very opposite should have been true. There simply was no other way for him to feel that made sense anymore? As he watched the pretty redhead meander about, Basil felt a fond little smile steal across his face. It was lazy almost, this moment very domestic in its essence. He found it was more comfortable than he could ever have imagined. With Gus here he was… content. With Gus here, everything seemed like it might all work out? He didn’t want to think beyond this moment however. His family? His future? Both question marks he was unable to face until, at the very least, the funeral was passed. It wouldn’t be fair to Lissington… to Gus.
The other abandoned his mostly finished teacup then and caught Basil’s eye. The brunette felt something swell and he almost reached out for the other, willing in that moment to just hold him. Instead, he dropped his gaze nervously. Gus, for his part, made himself comfortable in the bed and Basil had to grip his things so nothing would get jostled in the redhead’s energetic curling up on the mattress. Basil frowned for a moment, tucking his essays closer, and then gave a fond eye-roll as Gus commented on his bed. He straightened then from the protective, hunched over position over the essays as the other settled, facing away from him. Oh good, maybe Gus would finally get some rest.
“No,” Basil replied quietly, smoothing the top essay that had gotten a touch wrinkled in the process. “I generally do all my work in the office attached to my classroom.” He gave the quill a small flick, readjusting it in his grip. He didn’t want to add anything else for fear of tipping Lissington off to the fact that he’d only recently started grading up here. Hiding, really. There was no reason to rehash the past, not right now at least. The idea that Lissington graded from his bed was not surprising though and Basil tossed him a fond smile as the redhead settled his head on his scarf.
It was odd seeing such a familiar sight with one very novel attribute. How many evenings now had he curled up in this very spot, determined to grade, with that scarf taunting him right there where Lissington was now curled atop it? How many nights had he sighed miserably, abandoning the same pile of essays, only to turn over and stare at the scarf? He’d never made an active movement to touch it while he slept. In fact, other than the fact that he’d thrown it upon the bed that first night, Basil wasn’t sure he had touched it since. But it was familiar anyhow. That much was certain.
Setting his quill down and holding it in place with his left thumb, Basil moved to brush a red fringe out of Lissington’s face with his right hand. The other’s skin was warm to the touch and he rubbed his thumb gently against Gus’ cheek. “You should sleep,” he offered. “I’ll wake you before I go down for supper.”
![[Image: 7DQFAEf.png]](https://i.imgur.com/7DQFAEf.png)