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Alphonse wanted desperately to step into the kitchen and take him by the hands and ask, "If I throw myself off the edge of this cliff, am I going to grow wings or not, and would you please tell me before I commit to it?" That imaginary Jacobi clasped Alphonse's hands in return, his skin silky and dry compared to the sweaty mess that was Alphonse. He looked deep into Alphonse's eyes, his expression calm and infinitely patient. "Sir, it hardly matters. I'll catch you in any case."
He felt like comfort and familiarity and home and the warmest, simplest kind of love, like stepping into summer sunshine.
Cats will do as they please, after all.
have. If any animal were inclined to magic, he would have thought cats to be the most likely, after all.
"I want this all the time," Alphonse said, keeping his voice quiet like if he spoke too loudly, he might bring reality crashing down around them. All he wanted to do was bask in the garden of his brand-new house where everything was safe and warm and friendly, and stay tucked up in Jacobi's embrace forever. "You can have it," Jacobi said, like it was that simple.
