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there’s a kind of mildly frosty autumn chill to the atmosphere today, though spring is in full bloom. nevertheless, you wake up in a good mood, shaking off the cold layer of air surrounding your legs by jumping out of bed quickly and doing short little jumping jacks in front of your mirror. the bare soles of your feet thud against the wooden floor as you jump up and down, and you glance back nervously every few minutes to check whether or not your boyfriend is still sleeping. pausing to check again, you twist around and sigh with relief as you see that sakusa is indeed asleep.
his head is on the very edge of his pillow, wavy black locks curling around the corner of said pillow. sakusa seems to be breathing evenly as if sleeping peacefully; puffs of air exit his mouth in small clouds of translucent fog and his eyelids are smoothed over his eyes, wrinkles non-existent on his forehead, limbs lax from what you can tell. turning back to face the mirror, you stretch your arms above your head, holding one in place with the other and then repeating the process. your bedroom is silent aside from the tiny pants of exertion on your side and the sounds of your feet slamming out a rhythm against the wooden floor as you continue your methodical routine.
sakusa groans suddenly, and you stiffen and whirl around, almost slipping on the floor as you do so. his arms are stretching in front of him now as opposed to their folded position before, as if the first thing he’d done as soon as he’d woken up was look for you. a smile lifts the corners of your lips as he slowly drags his gaze up to meet yours, eyes murky with drowsiness.
“what time is it?” he asks groggily, a slight rasp to his voice, eyes half-closed.
you check the clock before turning toward him sheepishly, “it’s 6:17 am.”
“what.”
“6:17 —”
“no.” he cuts you off flatly, turning the opposite way, his back toward you.
“no?” you ask, amused. sakusa in the mornings is childish, different from the sakusa throughout the day; the sakusa other people see. this petulant sakusa is what makes him your kiyoomi, and it’s the side of him only you get to see. the thought makes your amused smile turn giddy.
“why are you smiling.” sakusa says, not asks, still turned away from you.
you grin wider, “how did you know i was smiling?”
“it’s so annoyingly loud i can feel it from here.” what you get from that sentence is the fact that he instantly knows when you would or wouldn't smile and the fact that he is aware of all the little details that make up who you are is heartwarming.
you pad over to the bed and kneel on the mattress, shaking sakusa’s shoulder slightly, “omi.”
he turns around to look at you, dark eyes a little more awake and a little less murky with drowsiness, instead with a gentleness to them.
“hm?” he asks, staring up at you carefully. your hands move on instinct to brush away the locks of his hair hanging over his eyes as you ask him if he’ll go pick up some coffee with you. you’re really in the mood for a white chocolate mocha right now.
“now?” sakusa asks, not even surprised at this point. this isn’t the first time he’s been woken to go to the local McDonalds (in your defense, 3 am cravings are the most valid) or to go out for groceries just because you felt like it. he’d tag along most of the time, though he didn’t prefer going into crowded markets, he still went out of his way to go with you when you asked him. the remembrance of all the times he’s done this for you makes you move your hand from his shoulder down to his own hand, where you press against his slightly larger one in thanks, for the moments before, and the one today.
you think back to the beginning of your relationship, when sakusa hadn’t been as comfortable with physical touch as he is now. and knowing that he is most comfortable with you, and doesn’t mind physical affection from you every now and then makes you smile, again, at the intimacy and closeness of your relationship.
he presses back, dark pools of onyx still boring into yours, before he sighs and gets off the bed, sweeping his locks to the side. you watch him go get ready, waving at him when he raises an eyebrow at you in the bathroom mirror, presumably to ask what you’re still doing on the bed. you hop off and slide into a crewneck sweater and a pair of jeans, paired with doc martens. by the time you’re styling your hair, sakusa is dressed and ready to go too, his own curls neatly in their usual place.
he comes and stands next to you, “do you want me to?”
knowing he’s referring to the act of styling your hair, you nod and stand in front of him. your hair had been a particular mess today, and on days you struggle with styling it, sakusa always offers to help. his patience helps in the frustrating task of getting your hair to agree with you.
his fingers on your scalp feel nice, occasionally combing the hair at the top of your scalp to make it loose and make you feel as comfortable as possible. yet another wave of affection for this man washes over you and you smile to yourself as he finishes and braids your hair, seemingly just knowing you want it in that style before you do.
telepathic communication is one of the things you absolutely adore in your relationship with sakusa; the fact that the both of you can read each others’ minds so easily is very convenient and makes for accurate guesses on what surprise romantic gestures the other would want.
making your way out of your house, sakusa’s hand grips yours tightly as you walk toward the tiny coffee shop located not even two minutes away from you. the sky is a cool and crisp shade of blue, and white wisps of clouds drift by.
you’re chattering about some show you’d started watching the day before, eagerly going into depth about the characters, the premise, the drama — everything. sakusa is only half-listening this time; though he normally listens to everything you say intently, today he can just stare at you and at the strands of hair that have escaped your braid and are framing your face in the cutest way.
your voice is excited and happy, and it infects him, one side of his lips turning up as he watches you ramble on about your show, laughing as you tell him one particularly funny moment that had made you laugh so hard you spit out all your popcorn. you’re so engrossed in your explanation that you almost don’t notice you’re going to bump into someone.
sakusa tugs your hand quickly, arm slipping around your waist to pull you to one side. “careful,” he mutters, unconsciously tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. rose tints the apples of your cheeks and you intertwine your fingers tightly, “thanks, omi.”
he nods, squeezing your fingers lightly before letting go, “want me to order for you? the line’s short today so i can do it this time.” before you’re about to ask him if he knows your order, he starts speaking as if can read your mind, “white chocolate mocha?”
touched he remembers, you nod as he goes in and makes the order. standing outside the coffee shop, you lean against the window slightly and stare up at the sky, letting the wind ruffle your hair. affection for sakusa kiyoomi rushes through you, and you sigh softly, wistfully, gratefully.
sakusa comes back then and you lean up to press two consecutive kisses to his cheek. he blinks in slight surprise but nonetheless accepts the sudden affection, handing you your drink, eyes crinkling slightly as he does. he tugs you closer, and the two of you make your way back home together, the scent of coffee and love in the air between you.