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Sometimes, not often, Kei wakes up first. It’s only ever after those very busy weeks where the hours Shoyou put in at the gym can’t help but catch up to him. It builds up, week after week, and Kei can see it coming because Shoyou can’t stay awake during dinner and turns in for the night earlier than usual.
And even though Kei goes to bed hours after him he wakes up first. He slowly adjusts to the morning light, their too-thin curtains letting in every last ray and filling the room with a bright yellow-orange hue. When he rolls over he marvels at the fact that Shoyou is still there, the site of him sleeping, lit up by the morning sun, is so rare and so precious.
Sometimes he considers taking a picture but he knows that no camera would be able to accurately capture the beauty. No camera would see the flecks of light in his long eyelashes or catch his blissful sighs. Kei never risks reaching over him for his cellphone to even try and capture a glimpse of the moment. He doesn’t even get his glasses. But at this close he doesn’t need them, not that he would need to physically see to recall every centimeter of his lover’s face.
He loves watching Shoyou sleep because seeing him so still is a rarity. But Kei figures that’s partially his fault, Shoyou used to meditate around him but every time he remained still for too long Kei would push him over and kiss him gently, so now he did his meditating elsewhere.
Sleep is a different type of peace and a different type of stillness. And Kei watches as his bare chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. It’s been almost ten hours since he fell asleep, any more time in bed and he was going to get sore, but Kei doesn’t want to disturb him, he wants to keep Shoyou in bed with him as long as possible.
Shoyou let out a sigh and rolled onto his stomach, Kei knows that he’s going to wake up soon so he doesn’t feel too bad about running one of his hands up and down his back. After a few strokes Shoyou let out an appreciative noise but didn’t open his eyes.
“You love me,” he mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.
Kei smiled at him because he wasn’t looking, “No,” he said warmly, “I don’t.”
“Yeah, you do,” he yawned, and Kei grimaced when he got a face full of morning breath, “You love me.”
He huffed, “No, you’re just in my bed,” he said, but he kept running a hand up and down his back and leaned over to kiss his shoulder.
Shoyou finally opened his eyes, they were hazy with sleep and Kei wanted to keep him like that forever, “Guess we should break up then,” he said lazily into the pillow.
Kei frowned and pinched his side, “Why would we do that?”
“So I can find someone who loves me,” he chuckled.
Kei kissed his shoulder again and whispered, “You’re so needy,” before capturing his mouth in a kiss. It was slow and uncoordinated and stale, but the best way to start any morning.
Shoyou laughed again, “You’re the needy one.”
“No, I’m not,” he whispered against Shoyou’s lips.
“Tell me you love me,” he murmured.
Kei shook his head. It would be easy to tell Shoyou he loved him, but he didn’t want him to get out of bed.
Shoyou smiled at him, “What do I need to do to get you to love me?”
“Stay with me,” he blushed involuntarily at his neediness and hid his face in Shoyou’s shoulder.
“What do you think I’ve been doing all this time?” he scoffed playfully.
Kei rolled to lay on his back and looked up at the ceiling, “I guess I need new conditions then, how about--” Shoyou rolled on top of him and kissed him, “That’ll do,” he said after Shoyou pulled away and rested his head on Kei’s chest, “I love you.”
“I know,” he said smugly, “but I like to let you pretend you’re in charge.”
Kei pushed him out of the bed.