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Ai rolls onto his back and groans, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He makes it a point to angrily kick the ends of his blankets down, so his feet are covered once more. It is quite a feat to wake Ai up at night - he’s a very heavy sleeper - but somehow Momotarou always succeeds.
This isn’t the first time Momotarou has woke him up in the middle of the night either. Whether it be from dancing and kicking around in his bunk too loudly – “But I was trying to be quiet. I even put in my earphones!” “That doesn’t really help when you make the bed shake to the point where I wake up thinking there’s an earthquake, Momo.” – or from staying up too late playing with his toy soldiers.
Momotarou tends to make a ruckus in general. Always. Sometimes, it seems there isn’t a thing Momotarou does that he can do quietly. In fact, Ai is just about to say so when the overwhelming silence sneaks up on him and hits him square in the face. Momo’s not making any noise. But he could’ve sworn he woke up from something, so if not Momotarou then what?
Ai decides to wait, maybe the noise will appear again and then he’ll finally find the source of the current anguish he’s in. He doesn’t realize that his body has frozen up and that his muscles are tense, or that he’s been holding his breath, waiting. Not until the alarm clock on his desk ticks by seemingly endlessly and Ai can hear a soft cry. Oh,’he thinks. This is also not the first time. Ai’s cheeks burn bright red and he wills himself to close his eyes.
Maybe he should ask his mom to invest in earplugs some time, that’d be nice. It’d give Momo the space to be Momo as well. Ai’s thoughts still however when he hears another cry from the top bunk, only this time it sounds a little pained. A little sad. Ai frowns. It’s not supposed to sound like that. Then there’s another, although this one sounds a bit more like a sob and is accompanied by a long whiney “Nii-san.”
“Momotarou?” Ai’s voice is tentative and quiet, the words only spoken after a torturously long five seconds of contemplating whether he should meddle in Momo’s affairs or not. Instantly, the bunk above him stills and Ai can feel Momo freezing up by the soft shake that temporarily sways the bed. Ai can feel his stomach knot with worry when Momotarou doesn’t seem to make any attempt to answer.
He finds himself sliding out from under his sheets and crawling over to the ladder. 'This better be good,’ he thinks, as if he’s not doing this to pacify the worry gnawing at his insides, as if he’s not doing this because over time he has come to care for that silly kouhai that’s always chattering his ears off. His fingers wrap around one of the cold steel rails of the ladder and he hoists himself up, his feet following suit.
“Momo?” he tries again, his voice even softer than the first time, gently trying to sneak into Momo’s ears and wriggle an answer out of him. Once Ai manages to hang from the ladder so that his head’s sticking out enough for him to see and that he’s positioned somewhat comfortably, his gaze turns to the redhead in the top bunk. Momo’s eyelids are closed, but Ai can tell he’s feigning sleep. There are tearstains on his cheek and his nose is so blotched red, there is no way Momotarou has been sleeping.
“Momo, are you crying?” Ai’s eyebrows knit together, troubling his features. He is only met with an obnoxiously loud snore and his face scrunches up in annoyance.
“I know you’re not asleep, Momotarou.”
The no-nonsense tone of his voice surprises even himself, and Ai is this close to apologizing when Momo speaks up quietly, defiantly.
“I’m not crying,” his eyes have turned themselves to stare heatedly at Ai, daring him to refute this statement. The silver-haired boy happily obliges.
“Are too!” Ai cries out and for a moment he feels a little helpless. He doesn’t really know what to do or say from here on. Momo’s always so happy and optimistic, it’s more than a bit unsettling to see him crying. Eyes red, nose and cheeks blotched. He feels a little guilty about his earlier thoughts. So he murmurs the one question he thinks is important. “Why?”
Ai can hear Momo mumbling something incomprehensible into his pillow and Ai frowns.
“I don't have superhuman hearing, you know, I can't actually hear that,” Ai grumbles, still a bit grumpy from being sleepy. The ends of the ladder stick into his sides and arms painfully and he readjusts himself on the ladder as he waits for Momo to repeat himself.
“I just miss home.”
Ai has to strain his ears to hear, even now, but when he does his movements falter. He’d never thought Momo would be the type to miss home all that much, not from the way he jokes about his older brother so much. He’s never been homesick before either – at least not that Ai could tell. It does makes sense for him to be homesick now however, Nitori considers. It’s been only two days since they saw former Captain Mikoshiba at the prefecturals.
“You’ve never gone on an overnight school trip before?”
Somehow that’s the first thing out of Ai’s mouth. He wants to smack his palm against his forehead but if he did, he’d probably lose his balance and fall to the floor so he settles on quietly wishing for the floor to come swallow him up instead. He doesn’t really know how to deal with a sad Momo. Given, he doesn’t really know how to deal with Momo in general most of the times, but no one ever gave him any instructions. Momo should definitely have come with instructions, he thinks. Momo scoffs at his words as if they were an insult.
“Of course I’ve gone on an overnight school trip,” and Ai doesn’t need to see the eye-roll to hear it. “But… I’ve never been gone for this long. I just miss home, okay?”
Ai finds himself smiling at the defensive attitude Momo takes on, and a hand reaches out to pat at Momo’s wild crown of red. He can feel Momo tense beneath his touch and his hands freeze. When the other boy doesn’t tell him to stop, his fingers return to gliding softly over his locks.
“It’s okay,” he says, trying to be reassuring. It’s exactly this action that seems to break the dam, because Momo suddenly chokes on a sob and there are tears gathering in his eyes again.
“And I miss Nii-chan,” he cries, “and Nee-san too.” Momotarou starts listing his entire family and friends, up unto his neighbor’s ginger cat, and Ai can’t help smiling down almost affectionately at his crying face. His fingers comb though the strands swiftly, wincing quietly every now and then when he rakes through a knot on Momo’s messy bed head, until Momo’s quieted down and his sobs have turned to silent crying, until his chest’s no longer heaving violently.
“Nitori senpai?” Momo’s voice disturbs the noiselessness hesitantly, cheeks burning and fingers itching nervously at the mere thought of what he’s about to ask. Ai hums questioningly at that, his fingers halting their ministrations in Momo’s hair.
“When I was little,” he starts, “and I was sad. Nii-chan would always let me sleep in his bed with him.”
This time it is Ai’s turn to freeze up slightly, wondering if Momotarou is asking what he thinks the first year is asking. As the silence stretches around them once more, this time smothering them in discomfort that chafes sourly against their skin like sandpaper, Ai doesn’t miss the way Momo screws his eyes tight shut. Had the room been lit, Ai would’ve noticed the coloring of Momo’s ears as well.
He can’t really reject Momo’s courageous attempt at opening up to him by returning to his own bunk, nor can he muster his lips to blatantly say no. Somewhere he knows that would hurt Momo even more. Momo who’s feeling so alone right now, who must be feeling even more flustered about the ordeal than Ai. Besides, the ladder’s digging into his sides mercilessly and it does hurt quite a bit.
“Momo?” he says as he raises himself up against the ladder, and Momotarou jolts and lets out a squeaky, questioning “Senpai?!”
Ai chuckles and nudges Momotarou’s shoulder.
“Scoot over.”
Cautiously Nitori crawls over the railing of Momotarou’s bed and crawls in, sliding under the covers that Momo so carefully holds up for him. The redhead is surprisingly quiet as Ai rolls onto his side, facing Momo who’s snuggled in between the wall and Ai. There’s not a lot of room, but the tiniest line of space is left between them so they don’t touch, serving as an unspoken boundary. Momo’s eyes are as wide as they can be when they stare into his and Ai feels his chest clench the slightest bit. They’re swollen and puffy.
“Is this alright?” Ai asks slowly. Momo nods whilst slowly, the tiniest beginnings of a smile tug at the corner of his lips. Cautious fingers wrap themselves around Ai’s wrist, and he stares with a look of surprise into Momotarou’s eyes, who gives him a lame smile as he guides Ai’s hand to the top of his head.
“Felt nice,” he mumbles, his mouth pressed half into his pillow. Ai almost doesn’t hear. Instead of making a fuss or laughing, Ai settles on skimming his hands through Momo’s hair again. The strands are soft, a bit greasy from sweating, but nice enough to brush one’s hands through. A small smile slips back unto Ai’s features and he focuses on curling Momo’s locks around his index finger, so much that he doesn’t notice when Momo’s eyelids fall closed, eyelashes resting against the skin under his eyes.
“Senpai?” Momo breathes out. Ai hums again, still focused on making Momo’s hair stick up at odd ends. “Thank you.” Ai doesn’t say anything, only grasps a bit harder at one of the locks to let the other know he heard before gently running his hands through them again.
“Senpai?” Momo continues.
“Yes?”
“Is it okay if we snuggle?”
Ai hesitates for a while, looks dumbfounded at the boy avoiding his gaze as he awaits an answer, and wonders if Momo's forehead feels a little warmer against the palm of his hand than it did before. Ai caves. There's little else to do when Momo asks with a voice so fragile, Nitori's afraid of having it break again.
“Okay.”
Momo's eyelids shoot wide open as he glances upwards to stare at Ai in wonder, as if he didn't expect the reply he received, and he slowly crawls closer to the older boy.
“Nitori senpai?”
“Momotarou?
“I'm going to hug you now,” he announces matter-of-factly, as he nuzzles guardedly into Ai's chest and snakes an arm in between Ai's arm and his side, his hand resting against Ai's back and his fingers clinging into the fabric of Ai's t-shirt. He can hear Ai's heartbeat thundering away against his ear. His brother's had always been slow and steady, whereas Ai's beats loud and fast but Momo finds it no less comforting.
Ai's arms reach out to settle around Momo's body as well. And, thud, thud, thud, thud, the sound of Ai's heartbeat and the warmth that radiates off his lithe body, enveloping Momo whole makes Momotarou feel protected. Somewhat. Despite the fact that Ai could never present himself as being all that impressive, despite that he's smaller than Momo. It makes him feel cared for.
“Senpai?”
Ai can't help the chuckle when he answers, “Yes, Momo?”
“Nothing.”
They can hear the alarm clock tick again and Momo can hear Ai's heartbeat steady into a slow drum as the seconds pass them by. He snuggles closer to Ai's warmth and hopes he isn't inconveniencing his senpai too much. He knows how he's bad news for Ai's nerves most of the time. Momo doesn't even realize tears are rolling down his cheeks again until he feels Ai's t-shirt wet against his nose and Ai's fingers reach up to skip through his hair once more.
“I'm sorry,” Momo's voice croaks and Ai shushes him softly, pressing a kiss to Momo's temple instinctively, before he even processes what he's doing. His hand falls back down and he rubs circles into Momo's back, hoping to still the younger's crying. Momo shouldn't be crying.
“It's okay, y'know?” he tells Momo, “I get homesick too sometimes.” When Momo remains silent, Ai presses on.
“I bet Mikoshiba senpai got homesick too, probably,” Ai continues, breath hitching slightly as Momo's index finger accidentally brushes against his collarbone. He earns himself a scoff however, at which Ai frowns.
“Are you kidding me? Captain obviously cares about you a lot,” Ai says, remembering the way the two siblings had interacted at the prefecturals or how much he runs into Momo calling home throughout the week. They had seemed perfectly at ease around each other, and the former captain had seemed so proud of his little brother, encouraging him when necessary. Ai smiles a little wistful at the thought. He's an only child and whilst growing up, had often wished to have a sibling to play with.
“You're not too bad at this,” Momo says and angles his head up so he can look at Ai's face.
“At this whole comforting thing, I mean,” he continues, trying to clear up any possible confusion. Ai smiles warmly down at him and it involuntarily warms Momo's stomach as well.
“I have a very fussy mother,” Ai explains, shrugging, “and one very attention-needy dog.”
“Are you comparing me to a dog?” Momo narrows his eyes at him and Ai chuckles out a 'maybe', earning him a well-meant slap against his chest.
Ai can see a smile etched onto Momotarou's features, but he still hasn't heard him laugh. His fingers drawing circles into Momo's back slide down slowly, until they reach the hem of Momotarou's shirt and slip underneath to tickle the boy's sides. Instantly laughter is roused from Momo's mouth and Ai joins in, his fingers only retreating and admitting defeat when Momo giggles and his fingers brush against Ai's waist threateningly.
“Momo?” Ai asks and Momotarou raises his head up again.
“Yeah?” he breathes through chuckles, eyes glistening mischievously and white teeth shining in the dark.
“Tell me about your home?”
So Momotarou does. He tells Ai about his siblings and his parents, and how he misses his mother's homemade confection – “She makes the best manjuu on the street, I'll bring some over for you sometime,” – and by the end of it all, when Momo has finally drifted off to sleep, snoring, Ai can recite the names of every pet Momotarou has ever owned backwards in both chronological and alphabetical order, list the exact moment in time Momo's father comes home for each weeknight, and he has a semi-decent grip of what loud kind of terror the family must be in their neighborhood.
The next morning Ai wakes up with a tingling arm that's dead asleep and his neck screaming as he tries to shuffle into a more comfortable position. Momo's face is snuggled into the crook of his neck (which is wet, very wet from Momo's drooling) and Ai retrieves his treacherous left arm from Momotarou's waist. The sheets are scrunched up to just above their knees, his feet cold. There are fingers in the front of his shirt, clinging tightly to his chest and a pair of legs are tangled into his own, preventing any chance of escape.
Except Ai doesn't really want to escape, he wants to pull Momo a little closer still, until their chests are pressed together and Ai can feel Momo's bright locks tickle against the bridge of his nose and smell the shampoo Momo used the day before. He wants to return his hand to Momo's back and draw figures into the younger's t-shirt with the tips of his fingers. And so he does. He pulls Momo closer into a protective hold and re-hooks his knee around Momo's ankle. Beside him, Momo stirs and rubs the sleep from his eyes, yawning as he raises himself up slightly.
“There's not enough room,” Momo's voice is gruff and sleepy as he grunts his complaint, his eyes half-closed. Ai's hand winds itself around the back of Momo's neck and pulls him back down, shushing the younger.
“Next time you come to the bottom bunk. There’s more space there.”
Momo snuggles back into his side, rubbing his cheek against Ai's chest as his fingers snake in between Ai's. He hums approvingly as he gives in to Ai's sweet siren song, booming thud, thud, thud, thud, against his ear and lulling him back to sleep.
“Okay.”