#Me'wo

[reikhafaara]

day 6 - avatar

Day 6 - Avatar

Tags: Reikh’a/Me’wo, other Scions floating around, Canon Divergence, What If (Me’wo takes the role of Shiva in Eden 8 instead of Ryne)

“I’ll do it instead.”

Reikh’a snapped to attention at Me’wo’s quiet words, sitting bolt upright where he’d been leaning against the wall of Eden’s central command. To be honest, he hadn’t actually been following their conversation very carefully. Me’wo was better at this sort of thing than him, and while Ryne’s explanations certainly made more sense to him than Urianger’s, the entire concept wasn’t really the easiest to grasp. Something about Aether and needing to create a representation of it, was all Reikh’a got. 

“Sorry,” Reikh’a said, pushing himself up to his feet. “You’re gonna do what instead?”

Thancred shot him a glance, mouth opening to say something or other, but Me’wo cut him off. 

“I am going to channel ice Aether to summon Shiva.”

Reikh’a’s jaw dropped. 

“To be fair,” Ryne said, stepping forward, “I believe I’m more than capable of—“

“But it is too dangerous,” Me’wo said, looking at her and then back to Reikh’a. 

Reikh’a nearly choked. “That sounds like a great reason to not do it at all!”

Me’wo had the wherewithal to at least look sympathetic at Reikh’a for a split second before he turned back to Ryne. There was a determined set to his shoulders, his tail stiff behind him, that Reikh’a knew as telltale signs that Me’wo, for once, was planning to stand his ground. 

Rare as that occasion might be, it almost always meant no one was going to sway him from his course; although Reikh’a would be remiss if he didn’t at least try, especially when the words “dangerous” were involved.

“I believe I will have a better understanding of what to summon,” Me’wo said calmly, his voice even. “I have faced Shiva before.”

“Shouldn’t that make you a better choice to fight Shiva?” Ryne asked, and Reikh’a balked at the word “fight,” stepping between the two so he could get Me’wo’s attention.

“Okay, hold on here,” Reikh’a said, reaching out to grab Me’wo’s shoulders. “Why do we have to do it this way again? Can’t we come up with a solution that doesn’t involve anyone fighting anyone?”

His question was Urianger’s cue, apparently, because the man stepped forward and gave Reikh’a a sympathetic, if somewhat tired, look. “We must needs restore the presence of ice aether to the Empty, and Shiva is the only primal of such aspect. As she was initially summoned via a host, that being Lady Iceheart, we must replicate the same environment.”

Reikh’a shook his head. “Okay, but can’t we come up with an ice primal on our own? Does it have to be Shiva?”

It was Me’wo’s turn to look at Reikh’a with something almost like concern, his eyes going slightly wide as he considered Reikh’a’s proposal. Reikh’a could tell what he was thinking, of course--the memories of their fights with Ramuh and Leviathan were fresh in both of their minds, and it was hard to ignore that there had been some notable… variances in the designs of those primals.

“Look, I can’t help that I thought of the big lightning horse--”

Me’wo shook his head, a fond smile creeping onto his lips. “I understand, Reikh’a,” he said. He pat Reikh’a’s chest comfortingly. “However, perhaps this approach would be the most… predictable.”

Reikh’a’s ears flattened against his head. Me’wo had a good point. They didn’t exactly have the best track record for conjuring up the images of primals to fight. And if Me’wo was in charge of this one, to the point he was physically taking the place of Lady Iceheart, perhaps things would be easier this time. More controlled. 

“Alright,” Reikh’a said. He gave Me’wo’s shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “I trust you, and I’ll do whatever you need me to, but no unnecessary risks or anything, alright?”

Me’wo simply smiled.

---

“I thought,” Reikh’a said, as he flicked a shard of ice away with his broadsword, skidding on the icy floor dangerously close to the edge of the platform where they’d chosen to summon the aspect of ice. “That this would be easier this time. Maybe we wouldn’t even have to fight for our lives or anything.”

Around him, the rest of the Scions were handling the fight with their own measures of grace--Urianger nearly slipped, masking the mistake with a well timed magic cast which lifted him off of the ground, and Thancred just narrowly managed to deflect an icicle that had been aimed for Ryne. 

Standing in the middle of the arena was Me’wo, glittering and resplendent with the power of Shiva spiraling around him. He looked beautiful, Reikh’a thought, even as Me’wo sent another spray of ice in his direction, forcing him to deflect it with a shield of dark aether. Shiva’s style suited him, and with the ice and snow whipping around them like a whirlwind, he looked even more supernaturally pale, glowing like a moon over the shiny stone beneath their feet.

They should have realized that allowing Me’wo to take into himself the aspect of Shiva would be a mistake, given the recent events and the impact the Light had had on his aether. At the very least Urianger should have spoken up. Reikh’a’d have to give him a stern lecture about keeping key details a secret--again--after they managed to quell the aether consuming Me’wo and clouding his judgement. 

For now, they were forced to fight.

Reikh’a spared Me’wo no quarter as they fought, Me’wo’s conjured blade of ice colliding with Reikh’a’s broadsword in a shower of frost. It was obvious the other man was hesitant to directly harm Reikh’a, choosing instead to launch his most fierce attacks toward Thancred or Ryne, which was a problem.

“Hey Me’wo,” Reikh’a said as he held against Me’wo’s attack, his feet skidding on the icy floor beneath him, pushing him closer and closer to the edge once more. “Now would be an excellent time to snap out of it.”

Me’wo’s eyes narrowed, but he did not respond other than to kick at Reikh’a’s legs in an effort to unbalance him. Skidding out of the way took considerably more effort than Reikh’a truly had to spare, and he ended up on his back a few feet away, panting and aching from where he’d crashed to the floor. 

Reikh’a groaned. “Guess not.”

The fight was long and hard, in the end, and were it not for Fray’s well timed intervention of dark aether, Reikh’a suspected Me’wo might’ve gotten the better of them; but in the end he’d snapped out of his aether controlled state, looking at Reikh’a with a flash of alarm a moment before the summon shattered around him like a broken mirror and he fell, hard, to the floor.

Reikh’a dropped his broadsword as he rushed to Me’wo’s side. He fell to his knees, looping an arm around Me’wo’s back as he helped his mate slowly sit up. Me’wo was shivering, chills wracking his body from the ice aether, and he was clutching his head, a pained expression on his face, but he seemed otherwise unharmed.

“You okay?” Reikh’a asked quietly. He took one of Me’wo’s hands in his own, rubbing his thin fingers to get some warmth back into them. “You you again?”

Me’wo groaned softly. “Yes, I think so,” he said. He pulled his head from his hands and opened his eyes to glance at Reikh’a, his face becoming flush a moment later with embarrassment. “I’m… sorry.”

Reikh’a shook his head. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said, pulling Me’wo up into his arms, giving him no choice but to let Reikh’a lift him off of the ground and cradle him bridal style against his chest. “No harm done, we’re all okay, and I guarantee that was enough ice aether to last the Empty the next hundred years or two.”

Me’wo’s flush deepened. “I hope so.”

So did Reikh’a, really. He wasn’t entirely keen on trying that out with Ryne too, if it came to it. Something told him it’d be just as much of a disaster.

[reikhafaara]

Day 8 - Adroit

Day 8 - Adroit

Tags: Me’wo/Reikh’a, Pining, Emotional Constipation, Confused about feelings Me’wo

Moments to sit and simply exist have been few and far between in Me’wo’s life.

Before coming to Eorzea, he’s actually not sure he’s ever had such a moment. Even when he was following his master, learning the ways of this land the best that he was able, he was never one to sit idle. Between his master’s personal goals and the needs of the people around them, they were always busy, constantly moving from place to place to do what they could to help those in need.

Reikh’a, however, feels no such compulsion, it seems. As they settle down for the night in the middle of the Shroud, their tent pitched and a fire cheerily blazing before them, Me’wo finds himself rather at a loss for what to do with himself. They have no immediate mission. They have no one who needs their attention. Tomorrow they will go into Gridania and witness the Elder Seedseer’s memorial speech, but for now they are simply doing nothing.

“Hungry?” Reikh’a says. He’s settling himself quite comfortably next to the fire, his bag at his side and a pile of jerky in his lap. Me’wo eyes it warily. Reikh’a has offered him this food several times before, but Me’wo has yet to muster up the will to try it. Not for lack of wanting to, to be honest; he’s simply uncertain whether or not he could stomach it, which is a gamble he does not want to take.

Me’wo simply shakes his head and Reikh’a shrugs. “Alright,” he says, packing up the jerky. “Let me know if you change your mind. We’ve got plenty.”

Me’wo does not understand Reikh’a. They’ve spent several moons together now following the path set forward for them by the Scions, and Me’wo feels no closer to understanding his strange companion now than he did when he first drug the boy out of a Marlboro’s hungry mouth. Reikh’a is careless and foolish, yet brave and kind. He is loud and often obnoxious, yet his voice is comforting, a familiar presence that Me’wo finds himself missing when the boy is not around.

Reikh’a moves to drag his bow and quiver into his lap, the movement making Me’wo realize that he’s been staring. He looks away, a warm flush creeping up the back of his neck at the misstep. Reikh’a is so peculiar. He brings out something in Me’wo that he isn’t quite sure how to name--a frustrating, flustered feeling, something complicated and foreign.

“So, tomorrow, when we head into Gridania,” Reikh’a says, easily falling into his usual idle chatter. “Here’s what I’m thinking we should do.”

The boy goes on to list his plans--the supplies they need, the people they should check in with--and Me’wo finds his gaze wandering back toward Reikh’a as if pulled there by some unseen force. His companion has set about tending to his equipment, checking the tension of the bow string and cleaning the wood bow form. It’s a process that Me’wo has watched him complete several times before, and so it’s nothing new; yet he can’t bring himself to look away, either, as Reikh’a moves from his bow to the quiver, checking the arrows and making repairs where needed.

Reikh’a’s hands are broad and, if they are anything like the rest of Reikh’a, which Me’wo has been close enough to know quite well, they are warm and strong. Thick calluses have formed on his fingers where his arrow rests when he nocks his bow. In the dim firelight, Me’wo can see Reikh’a’s hands as they go about their tasks quite clearly. 

They look especially warm in the light of the campfire. Reikh’a fletches arrows and handles his bow with a deftness that is surprising, considering the boy’s overall clumsiness in all other things, and Me’wo finds himself mesmerized by the motions.

Idly, he thinks, I wonder what his hands would feel like, and the thought brings him up short. He blinks hard, tearing his eyes away from Reikh’a’s hands to stare into the fire as if he means to burn the image of Reikh’a’s strong, deft fingers out of his mind. Where had such a thought come from? Why would he even want to know?

Heat flushes up Me’wo’s chest and to his cheeks and he ducks his face down into the scarf that’s wrapped around his neck to hide the blush from view. Now that the thought has come to him, he cannot shake it. His eyes wander, drawn back to Reikh’a’s broad hands and painted nails. 

Me’wo’s flush deepens. Alarmed and uncertain, he stands quickly, clearing his throat as he gets to his feet. He just needs to sleep. Perhaps he is tired.

“You okay, Me’wo?” Reikh’a asks. He pauses in his work to look up at Me’wo, and there is such genuine concern in his face that Me’wo can feel the heat in his chest and cheeks burn tenfold. 

“I am simply tired,” Me’wo says, and before Reikh’a can question him further, Me’wo dips into the tent and straight into his bedroll, curling into the blanket despite the sticky humidity of the Shroud’s summer night air.

When he finally falls asleep moments later, he dreams of warm hands, gentle fingers lacing with his own, and he wakes feeling confused and frustrated, thankful that they have a day full of their Scion obligations to keep them occupied.

[reikhafaara]

day 3 - scale

Day 3 - Scale

Tags: Reikh’a/Me’wo (background), Reikh’a & Katah, Canon-Verse, Father-Daughter Bonding, Fishing Trips, Implied/Referenced Mpreg

Recommended listening: https://open.spotify.com/track/35n4H6ezFyY4DBumwK2X1h?si=fa54451b037549fe

Today was finally the day.

After begging and pleading and begging some more, Katah had finally convinced her father to take them out on a fishing trip. It was the first one of the summer. He'd been hesitant about it because of the cooler weather that had stuck around, but today was perfect. Warm and sunny, the waves perfectly calm.

Katah bounced up to her father's side as he was checking over their bags for the dozenth time that morning. She peered into the bag around his arm, spying a bundle of sandwiches and cookies that her mother had definitely packed them.

"Are you ready yet?" she asked, tugging on her father's tail impatiently. "We've been getting ready for hours."

Reikh'a turned around to look down at her with a warm smile. "Just one more thing and then we'll head out. Promise."

Katah rolled her eyes as she watched her father slip back into the kitchen where her mother was tending to her baby brother. Her parents were so gross, she thought, turning away as her father took her mother into his arms and gave him a chaste kiss. Adults were so gross.

Before she could start calling for her father once more, Reikh'a returned to the doorway, a bright smile wide on his face. In his hands he had a small pink scarf.

"Me'wo said you have to wear this in case it gets too cold," he said. Katah glanced at it, then around her father's arm to where her mother stood in the kitchen. He gave her a small, soft smile and a tiny wave.

Katah grabbed the scarf, looping it around her neck once. "Okay, I'm good now. Can we go? Please?"

Reikh'a laughed. "Alright, alright. Let's go."

Before her father could grab the bag of their fishing gear and packed lunches, Katah bent down and threw it over her shoulder, hauling the entire thing up with ease. She knew her father could carry it, too, but he'd be so slow about it, and they'd already wasted half of the morning. Wasn't fishing supposed to be best in the morning?

Without waiting for her father, Katah darted out of the door, near sprinting to the chocobo that was stabled near the gated entrance to their property.

"G'mornin Boco," she said, greeting the bird with a few pats on it's feathered neck. It kwehed at her gently as she fixed their gear onto it's saddle, nudging her arm with its beak until she relented to fishing a gysahl green out of the feeding box nearby.

By the time she'd fed the bird it's first snack, her father had finally caught up. She spun at him, tail arching into the air and ears flat in her annoyance.

"You're so slow today!" she said, marching up to him to grab his arm. "Come ooon, we're going to miss all the fish!"

Her father laughed as she hauled him through the stable. She would've drug him onto the chocobo herself if he didn't pick her up first, scooping her into his warm arms and squeezing her against his chest before sitting her up on Boco's back. 

"Where did you even get all of this energy," her father grumbled as he led Boco out of his stable and into their yard. Katah grinned.

"Dunno," she said idly. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Boco's neck, trilling happily in response to the chocobo’s coo of pleasure. It liked going out for a ride as much as Katah did, she just knew it.

"Definitely not from me," Reikh'a said.

He walked away from them to unlatch the gate before returning to the chocobo's side and swinging up into the saddle behind Katah. "Ready to go, kitkat?"

"I was ready hours ago!" she said, and her father laughed and gently clicked his tongue at their bird, urging it forward into a steady trot.

Katah loved going on rides with Boco and her father. The place that they've come to call home was peaceful and full of wildlife. Trees as far as the eye could see, lush and vibrant green. Delicate wildflowers growing between their trunks in a kaleidoscope of hues. Birds scattered as they rode on toward the sea, chirping as they took off into the air around them.

Katah leaned back against her father's chest and watched it all, taking it in with rapt attention. The morning was probably her favorite time--the sun was so bright it lit up the trees, chasing away the shadows and bringing out the beauty of the forest around them. 

Before long, the scent of salt and the sea began to reach Katah's nose. She wiggled intently in her father's grip, stretching up around Boco's neck to try to see the shoreline she knew was steadily approaching. 

They stepped out of the forest onto a sandy shore a moment later. Boco slowed to a steady pace, automatically guiding them toward the wooden fencepost where they would tie up the reins while they fished. 

Katah scrambled out of her father's grip before the bird had even stopped moving, wriggling free of his arm and managing, just barely, to land on her feet upon the sand. She beamed up at him.

"Katah, what did I say about jumping off of moving chocobos," her father said, although he was laughing as he did, and she just shrugged at him, thrashing her tail around playfully as he guided Boco to the fencepost and dismounted.

"Don't remember," she said, grinning. "Let's go!"

As Reikh'a tied Boco to the post, depositing a healthy pile of greens before him, Katah reached up and grabbed the bag of fishing gear from the bird's back. Hefting it over her shoulder, she sprinted down the beach toward their preferred fishing spot: a long pier that stretched out over the water, ending just where the sea became so deep she could hardly see the bottom any longer.

Her father had built this pier, apparently, back when they'd first moved here all those years ago. She remembered it a little; but she'd been much younger then, and they hadn't really used it, what with all of the important things going on in their life at the time.

Which was just all the more reason to get good use out of it now, Katah figured. She dropped their bag of fishing gear on the end of the pier, then plopped down on the edge, her feet dangling over the water. She paused to take in the surroundings--and to wait for her father to come bait her hook for her, although she would never, ever admit it was because the worms were gross.

The water was calm, just as she'd expected it to be. Fish could be spotted gliding about beneath the surface, leaving trails of bubbles and subtle ripples in their wake, and sea birds cawed around her as they did fishing of their own nearby. Katah leaned back onto her palms and tilted her face toward the sun, closing her eyes to soak it all in. 

Someday, maybe she’d sail out to sea on her own. Go on an adventure like the kind her parents had been on. Fight pirates or monsters or find treasures to bring home to prove all of the things she’d done.

“What’cha thinkin’ about, kitkat,” her father said, as he finally caught up to her and dropped down onto the pier at her side. Katah opened her eyes and tilted her head toward him, chewing on her lip for a moment.

Her parents were more than a little over protective. They had good reason to be, probably--she may be young, but she understood enough to know the kind of life they’d lived before, when they were Important People doing Important Things. She didn’t want to worry him.

“Pirates,” she said.

Reikh’a immediately laughed. “See any?”

Prim squinted out at the horizon, holding her hand over her eyes to block out the sun. There weren’t any boats out there at all, normally. They lived in a relatively secluded area, and sea travel was rare.

“Nope,” she said, before dropping her arm to drag the fishing supplies closer. “Just all kinds of fish for us to catch.”

Her father nodded. “Good looking out. Let me know if you spot any.”

Katah rolled her eyes, but she smiled as she handed her father her fishing pole and the jar of bait. She looked away while he baited her hook--it always made her feel a little bad for the worm--ducking down into the soft scarf that her mother had given her before leaving. 

It smelled like home, soft and warm against her collar, and she was glad that her parents had thought to give it to her. It was rather chilly on the seaside.

“Alright, here you go, kiddo,” Reikh’a said. He handed her the baited pole, and Katah took it eagerly. “First one to catch a fish wins?”

“You’re on.”

They fished for hours, idle and comfortable in the midday sun. Katah reeled in the first catch--and the second, and third--and her father cleaned them, preparing them for the trip back home. They’ll have them for dinner, probably. Fried fish and fresh veggies from the garden that they’ll pick up on the way back home. 

When the weather finally began to turn, the air cooling now that the sun was setting behind the trees, her father finally began to pack up their belongings. “Better get you home or you’ll get sick and your mom will kill me,” he said, reaching out to ruffle Katah’s hair with his nasty fish smelling hands.

“Stooop,” she said, pulling away with a laugh. “You’re the one who always gets sick.”

And he was a big baby about it. Which meant she needed to get him home or she’d have to hear him whine about it more than her baby brother did.

As they packed up their gear and walked down the pier back toward Boco, Katah bumped up against her father’s side, looping her tail against his and taking his stinky fish hand in her own.

“Thanks,” she said, purring as he returned the gesture. “I had fun.”

Her father laughed. “Me too, kitkat.”

[reikhafaara]

Day 15 - thunderous

Day 15 - thunderous

Tags: Me’wo, Reikh’a, modern AU, fear of storms

To say that Reikh'a's new roommate was strange would be an understatement.

Me'wo was something of an enigma to him so far. The other man was quiet, almost abnormally so, and shy, except for when he wasn't, and he was making calm, dull, biting comments about some thing or another (normally something stupid Reikh'a had done). He was kind, mostly? Reikh'a wasn't entirely sure on that one.

He'd come home embarrassingly drunk on their first night living together, and Me'wo had been obviously put off by Reikh'a's clear drunkenness. Yet despite his clear frustration with Reikh'a's current state, he'd still managed to drag him into his own room, get him into bed, even remove his shoes and leather jacket, like he was explicitly taking care of him.

He'd then woken Reikh'a up at five AM with sunlight streaming through his window and the loud sounds of breakfast cooking in the kitchen.

So Me'wo was kind of a mixed bag so far, which Reikh'a, really, wasn't too bothered by. He didn't mind the strangeness, because at least it meant there was someone else around when Reikh'a really would rather not be alone. (It helped, of course, that Me'wo was unbelievably pretty, a fact that was causing a few internal crises for Reikh'a on a nightly basis.)

Reikh'a groaned as he shifted uncomfortably in his bed. Why was he thinking about Me'wo again. He cracked open an eye to check his bedside clock. It was two AM, which was a miserable time to be awake on a weeknight considering tomorrow -- today? -- he had class, and then work, and then was supposed to meet up with Nhagi'li afterward for dinner.

Maybe he should go out and get a drink. Or at least pick something up from the corner store or something. At least then he'd been tired, probably, and being a little hungover was better than being sleep deprived in his book. At least he'd gotten used to the hangover.

Reikh'a swung his legs out of the bed, sitting up and preparing to make a trek down to the corner store, when the gods decided to spite him and a loud crack of thunder shook the foundations of his apartment.

Reikh'a froze, listening intently for the inevitable sound of rain, which began pounding against his bedroom window a moment later. Oh how cruel his fate.

With a dramatic groan Reikh'a threw himself back onto his bed once more, tossing his arm over his eyes and fighting the urge to actually whine to no one about his predicament. Maybe he should call Nhagi'li. He was probably awake, knowing him.

Another loud crash of thunder shook the windowpanes in his room. Reikh'a peeked out from under his arm at the window, surprised by how fast the storm had come. Judging by the sound, it was already right on top of them.

When the third crash of thunder subsided, Reikh'a noticed an accompanying sound: a loud, almost shrill squeak.

He froze, his ears twitching as he tried to focus in on the noise. Was there something in the house that got knocked loose? What would even make that kind of noise?

Squeak.

Reikh'a climbed out of bed once more, grabbing a pair of sweatpants out of the heap of them on his chair and tugging them on. If there was something in the house that was broken or whatever, he should probably fix it. It'd be a good distraction from his lack of sleep.

Slipping into the hallway, Reikh'a followed the sound down the hall, past the doorway to the living room and kitchen and the bathroom, straight to Me'wo's bedroom door. He paused, tilting his head against the door to listen more closely, and a moment later--a boom, thunderous enough to shake the door under his cheek, followed by a loud, pitiful squeak.

Reikh'a blinked as he pulled back from the door. Now that he was close enough, he could tell that the sound wasn't just coming from a part of the apartment. It was too inconsistent, too... organic? Like the kind of noise a mouse might make. A really big mouse.

What should he do? Was that sound actually coming from Me'wo? Maybe he was hurt? He was pretty sure Me'wo wouldn't appreciate him barging into his room at two AM, but the sound was so pathetic that Reikh'a couldn't bring himself to just walk away.

Taking a deep breath to muster up his courage, Reikh'a knocked on the bedroom door, which was immediately met with another yelp of surprise.

"Uh, Me'wo? Are you okay?" Reikh'a asked through the door, resting his hand over the doorknob.

For a moment he was sure his roommate wasn't going to respond, but then another boom of thunder shook the house, and Me'wo let out a yelp, followed by a shaky "I-I am fine."

Reikh'a frowned. "You... don't really sound fine."

Without waiting for a better response, Reikh'a pushed open Me'wo's door just a crack so he could get a glimpse of his roommate.

Me'wo was huddled on his bed, the blankets wrapped around him as tight as a cocoon. A tuft of white hair and a small corner of Me'wo's face were the only things visible in the clearly shaking lump, and when another bolt of lightning heralded a following boom, Reikh'a noticed that the entire pile seemed to jump with fright.

With the door open, the squeak was impossible to miss.

If it weren't for how obviously terrified Me'wo was, Reikh'a might think he was acting, for how exaggerated and, quite honestly, different Me'wo was currently behaving. But the other man's fear was palpable, and Reikh'a instead felt only worry as he stepped into Me'wo's room and took a few steps closer to the other man's bed.

"Hey, it's okay," Reikh'a said, holding out a hand as if he meant to sit it on the shivering lump of blankets. "I bet it'll be over soon. They don't normally last too long around here."

At Reikh'a's words Me'wo's face poked out of the bundle of blankets, his eyes wide and shimmering in the dim bedside lamplight. Reikh'a gave him a reassuring smile.

"See, it's already--"

Before he could finish his statement the thunder returned, somehow even louder than before, and Me'wo nearly shot out of his bed in his alarm. Purely on reflex Reikh'a reached out to steady his roommate, grabbing the bundle of blankets and holding him securely on the bed.

"Okay, maybe not," Reikh'a said.

He chewed his lip as he considered how he could help. Leaving Me'wo alone like this was out of the question--he felt too bad, especially seeing how Me'wo leaned into Reikh'a's touch when he'd grabbed the blankets to steady him. Besides, it wasn't like he was sleeping much, either.

"Hey," Reikh'a said, looking over his shoulder toward the living room to give Me'wo a hint. "Wanna go watch shitty late night TV with me?"

Me'wo blinked up at Reikh'a from his bundle. It seemed as if he might decline--but then he gathered up his blanket cocoon, shuffling slowly out of the bed before nodding.

"Okay."

It took some maneuvering to get the pile of blankets that was Me'wo down the hallway and into the living room without tripping, but a few moments later Reikh'a had gathered the other man up and tucked him comfortably into the corner of the couch. He plopped down next to Me'wo, grabbed the remote, and flicked on the TV, choosing whatever show looked suitably loud and cheery and annoying.

Reikh'a shot Me'wo a smile as he cranked up the volume until he'd drowned out the sound of the storm with the campy music and tinny laugh track of the show. Their neighbors were definitely going to get pissed, but it was worth it for the way that Me'wo slowly began to relax, his white knuckled grip on his blankets loosening as he focused on the show instead of the storm.

(That morning, they don't talk about the way they awoke four hours later, late for class and tangled together on the couch, Me'wo's cheek resting against Reikh'a's chest and Reikh'a's arm around Me'wo's waist. But it becomes a routine after that, during each spring and summer storm, and Reikh'a can't really find it in himself to mind.)