Elias doesn't smell of citrus and lavender naturally?! The horror

Elias was soon sitting on a stool inside the bathroom, his hair suspended in the sink. This was the only way they could wash his hair without wetting his injuries, after all. Raphael was in the middle of washing his hair as Elias gave him instructions. 

He opened the tub of hair mask Elias had told him to use, curiously taking a sniff. A soft scent of citrus and lavender floated through the air. His eyes widened, and he had a eureka moment, looking as if he'd just been told his whole life was a lie. 

"...So this is where the smell in your hair comes from! It wasn't natural???" 

"...No one smells like that naturally!" Elias huffed, surprised—no, *startled*—by the sudden statement. 

Raphael blinked for a moment, looking at the tub of hair product. He let out an exasperated groan, putting it back down. 

"Wait, so you're telling me this citrusy, flowery smell isn't your natural scent? I've spent so much time complimenting and teasing you about it, and it isn't even your damn natural scent? And here I was, thinking you were just extra special…" 

"It's the 'Elias' scent in my mind, you know? To think there could be hundreds of people with the same Elias scent… The horror," he said, his tone laced with playful disappointment and betrayal. 

Elias laughed at Raphael's over-the-top reaction. He shook his head, sighing. 

"You're so dramatic, you know that? It's just a hair product scent. I sincerely apologize for breaking your bubble," he teased, though deep down, he was surprised by how touched he was by Raphael's words. The fact that he had been associating that scent with him for years made his heart flutter a bit. But he would never admit it out loud. Nor would he admit that the words made him feel warm inside. 

Raphael continued his work on Elias's hair, his movements gentle but firm. The silence that fell between them was comfortable and familiar, the only sounds being the running water and the occasional swish of the comb. 

Despite his attempts to focus on the task at hand, Raphael's eyes drifted to the other's back, tracing the curve and arch of his spine, visible through the oversized shirt. His gaze slowly traveled downward before he snapped out of his thoughts, his cheeks heating up ever so slightly. 

The skin was pale, the curve of his neck swan-like and delicate. A light flush was spread across his ears and shoulders—Elias insisted on washing them with cold water, apparently because it was good for hair. Raphael was sure the other was going to catch a cold at this rate. 

"Hey," Raphael finally broke the silence, the word coming out softer than he intended. "Why do you take such care of your hair, anyway? It's not like you're a model or some fancy businessman who needs to constantly look his best, right? I can never wrap my head around someone spending so long on something so trivial." 

He began to gently rub the other's shoulders, massaging out the tension as he awaited a response.

Elias nodded thoughtfully at the question. Honestly, he'd never really thought about the exact reason either. 

"Hm… Honestly? I don't know. Not everything has to be for a profession or for male or female attention, you know? It's just something I do for myself. It makes me happy, and it relaxes me. There's nothing deeper about it." 

Raphael listened to Elias's words, his hands pausing momentarily before resuming their gentle kneading. He nodded in understanding, a small smirk forming on his face before he spoke again. 

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong, love. Everything we do has a psychological reason behind it. The fact that you care so much about something as frivolous as your hair says a lot about your psyche." 

Elias rolled his eyes lightly, a small smile on his lips. He raised an eyebrow. 

"And what would you know about psychology, Mr. Lawyer?" 

Raphael laughed at the comment, shaking his head in amusement. 

"Hey, I may be a lawyer, but that doesn't mean I can't understand psychology. It goes hand in hand with my line of work, you know." 

"Oh?" Elias leaned his head back, looking up—so they were now staring eye to eye. He smirked in a challenging way. "Then shower me with your great knowledge, Mr. Psychology Expert. What does it say about me?" 

Raphael's breath hitched slightly as Elias met his eyes, the proximity sending a flutter through his chest, but he quickly schooled his expression. He paused his movements for a moment, pretending to think deeply before speaking again in a nonchalant tone. His hand moved up to gently caress Elias's jawline and face, to warm up the cold skin. 

"Well… I'd say it means you're rather vain and quite self-obsessed. A bit of a narcissist, too. A bit of a princess. Love being pampered, spoiled." 

The response caught Elias by surprise—but then again, it didn't. He hummed seriously, as if carefully considering it. 

"Hm? And?" 

Raphael chuckled, his thumb tracing the curve of Elias's jaw, the soft line of his lips. He tilted his head to the side, feigning thoughtfulness. 

"Well, there might be a bit of insecurity in there too, hiding under all that surface-level narcissism, of course." 

He paused before continuing in a tone he himself couldn't quite place. 

"Also, you might have some control issues. Which I already knew, but it's nice to have confirmation, princess." 

Elias chuckled softly, amused. 

"Ah, yes, I'm sure you're the expert on psychoanalysis now. Did you take a two-week course on the internet? Maybe a weekend seminar?" He joked, but his voice was soft—almost fond. 

The way the other held his face with so much tenderness made his chest tight. A small part of him that he'd ignored for years came back in full force, and it hurt. 

Raphael didn't reply. He just… stared at Elias, who was looking back at him. With that smile. 

He couldn't deny it now. Not to himself. 

He loved Elias. 

Not liked. Not just attraction. 

He loved him. 

He loved him in the way one does when they want to see someone smile forever. When they would die to keep that smile on that one person's face. 

At that moment, he knew— Elias could ask for his soul, and he'd gladly offer it to him on a silver platter. 

Raphael continued studying Elias's face, his gaze never wavering. His thumb gently traced the sharp lines of his jaw, the soft slope of his nose, the pink of his lips. He let out a sigh, his voice dropping to a low whisper as he replied, 

"I'm a natural talent, princess." 

His finger traced the line of Elias's collarbone, making him shiver—but not in an unpleasant way. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife. His voice softened, almost wistful. 

"...Can I kiss you?" 

Elias's brain stopped working. 

He couldn't even process the words—or the sudden switch from playful teasing to this. 

But it didn't feel wrong. It felt… right. 

That single question made him painfully aware of the almost tangible tension between them. 

He couldn't reply. His lips parted slightly as he just… blinked. 

Raphael's eyes darkened at the reaction. His hand now gripped Elias's chin, keeping his head tilted up as he leaned in closer—so close their lips were only millimeters apart. 

His breath mingled with Elias's own as he spoke, his voice dropping an octave lower. 

"I'll take that as a yes."