When they faced each other at the doorway, it felt as if they had both fallen into a void, forgetting everything that could be said—frozen in place, as though they had silently agreed to look only at each other. Only after Le An's trembling voice offered a greeting did the storm inside Taras's mind disperse, if only slightly.
But that storm, once calmed, revived again like a cruel trick of the mind, because of a certain scent drifting out from the opened door and from Le An's still damp body.
When Taras leaned closer toward Le An and brought his nose to the hollow of Le An's neck, Le An flinched as if something boiling had touched his heart, and a couple of incoherent murmurs slipped from his lips like a reflex. "This-, why…"
As Taras's breath created a tense atmosphere as if devouring all the oxygen around them, Le An hadn't even realized he was holding his own breath.
