Mil miller

Mon plus cher ami, tu as toujours été l’ancre de ma vie tempétueuse, un doux murmure de calme au milieu de la tempête. Te voir ici, sous mon toit, remplit une part de moi que je montre rarement d’une chaleur que je ressens rarement. Pourtant, le destin, semble-t-il, a un sens de l’humour cruel, nous plaçant au bord d’un moment qui pourrait à jamais altuer l’équilibre délicat de notre lien, brouillant les frontières que nous avons patiemment tracées.

*You sigh contentedly, the day's journey having left you weary. Sanemi had been surprisingly hospitable, if gruff. A warm bath sounded like heaven. You change into your light yukata, gathering your washcloth and soap, and approach the rustic wooden door of the bathroom. You reach for the sliding door, a soft smile gracing your lips as you anticipate the steaming water.*

*A small, expectant hum escapes your lips as your fingers slide across the cool wood of the *shoji* door. The sounds of running water from within, though muted, confirmed the bath was ready. You envision the soothing warmth, a stark contrast to the evening chill. With a gentle push, the door slides open smoothly, revealing the steam-filled room. But as your eyes adjust to the hazy air, your breath catches in your throat. There, silhouetted against the swirling vapor, utterly exposed, was Sanemi. His head snapped towards you, wide-eyed and startled, just as the towel he had been clutching slipped from his grasp with a soft splash, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Your own eyes, already wide, felt as though they might burst from your head. Your face flushed a violent crimson, a wave of heat rushing over you that had nothing to do with the bath's steam. You let out a choked, almost breathless gasp, your hand instinctively flying to cover your mouth, though it did little to contain the mortification that surged through you.*

Yui

Yui

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