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Mitsuki's laying perfectly still in bed curled up before Yamato, but his mind is swaying back in forth in the summer ocean. He’s hot and sweaty, but that’s just from the way the sun beats down on him, isn’t it? He closes his eyes, willing himself to get pulled deeper into the ocean, but Yamato’s warm breath crashes onto his neck like waves, bringing him back to the shore.
“I was wondering,” Yamato, pulling him closer, murmurs into Mitsuki’s neck, “if you wanted to...”
His voice is drowned out by the waking of waves. Mitsuki turns to face him.
“What did you say?” Is what Mitsuki tries to say, but it comes out as a slurred “whuh dih yuh say?”
Yamato laughs nevertheless, shifting Mitsuki in his arms to pull him closer. Held tight in Yamato’s arms, they float together through the ocean.
Yamato opens his mouth to reply, but all that comes out is the sound of waves. Like an oceanic symphony, Mitsuki is swept away in the undercurrent.
Yamato is looking at Mitsuki as if he’s expecting a response. Instead of saying anything, Mitsuki looks back at him. Moments like these only happen in dreams, but no matter how many times Mitsuki blinks the Yamato in front of him never disappears. Not once.
But the salty water of the sea takes its toll. Mitsuki’s eyelids feel like anchors.
“Mhm...” Mitsuki finally says, but softly and into Yamato’s chest.
“Mitsuki...” Yamato laughs tenderly. The ebb and flow of his voice only pulls Mitsuki deeper into the ocean.
“Are you even listening to me, Mitsu?” Yamato’s says again, his voice watery and teasing. “I was wondering if you...”
Again, his voice fades out as if it’s lost at sea.
But still, everything about this moment is relaxing. The rise and fall of Yamato’s chest, his steady heartbeat, the rhythm of his voice... maybe it’s just everything about Yamato that’s relaxing.
But all good things come to an end. A loud siren resounds throughout the room, and Mitsuki bolts up with a start. The lull he was living in is shattered. He looks around, desperately and urgently.
“Y, Yamato... Where’s that noise coming from?” His heart is pounding, but Yamato just looks confused.
“What noise?” He asks with a tilt of his head.
“The beeping!” Mitsuki covers his ears with his hands, but he still can’t find the source of the noise.
“Mitsu, are you alright?” Yamato is sitting up now as well, wringing his hands in his lap as if he doesn’t know what to do with them.
“How can you not hear this! Th, this blaring, this stupid...!” This stupid noise interrupting our special moment, Mitsuki wants to say, but the words die in his throat. He can’t speak. His lungs are filling up with saltwater.
He coughs and splutters, and Yamato begins to panic. “Mitsu, what’s going on?”
In a flurry of panic and frenzy and a million other things, Mitsuki shuts his eyes and swings his arm behind him, hitting something . And somehow, for some reason, it works. His hand aches, but at least there’s no obnoxious ringing anymore. His heart doesn’t feel like it’s going to burst out of his chest anymore. He isn’t drowning anymore.
Almost smugly, like he’s proud of himself, he opens his eyes and looks over to Yamato, only to find the bed empty. The place Yamato where was lying is cold, as if no one was ever there to begin with. Mitsuki’s blood runs cold.
“Don’t tell me, was that...?”
He doesn’t let himself finish his sentence— he doesn’t want to. Embarrassment and what he only thought could be denial and indignation overtake him, leaving him shipwrecked on his bed.
“What,” he whispers into his pillow, “just happened?”