Work Text:
“Sometimes there is no darker place than our own thoughts; the moonless midnight of the mind.”
Kiyoomi stared at the ceiling not knowing how long has he been at it. He turned to the side of the bed where his nightstand lies and looked to the soft light of his digital clock.
01:47 AM
Three hours and two hundred and twenty-five minutes of tossing and turning hoping to meet that "peaceful" abyss everyone oh so loves, called sleep.
But not for Kiyoomi. While everyone else has a healthy and happy relationship with sleep and welcomes them wholeheartedly, Kiyoomi has a complicated love-hate relationship with it.
He's tired, he just wants to rest and be on that partially dead boat for at least eight hours. Or more. Sleep is a prick and refuses, and Kiyoomi is left with thoughts that didn't have the time to bother him during the day, but flood his mind during the wee hours of the night.
Kiyoomi would usually get a book, or mindlessly browse social media while waiting for sleep to stop bitching at him. It’s not really effective when he just ends up being awake for another four or so hours and is left to rest for only three hours or none at all before he has to prepare for another day being a capitalist’s chess piece and maintain the economy.
Not that Kiyoomi took a bachelor’s in Economy and Society, but the global economy would probably have better stability with less global waste if it followed a circular economy with all the environmental degradation issues becoming more prevalent everywhere. In addition to that, poor governance of world leaders in these trying times.
But then again, his thoughts and opinions about the global economy and how nation-states use their resources is none of his business. Sort of. Plus, they’re anarchists and only really care about their national interest.
Anyway, enough about the non-existent degree. There are other things than global issues that piqued Kiyoomi’s unsolicited interest for a while.
It’s actually more than that. With night as the timekeeper, moments are longer and fleeting and they don’t even notice. Only when the dawn is about to break that oh — it’s morning.
Though Kiyoomi prefers calling it as someone who stole the role of his books and indie rock playlists. Yet he stands up and heads to the balcony.
The night is young with its cold air caressing Kiyoomi's mask ridden face. Other than the gloomy sky that just finished weeping a few hours ago, it's calming.
There's just something about staring at the night sky and be surrounded by silence. Occasional loud speeding cars passing by be damned, Kiyoomi's playlist can drown them out.
Or a certain blonde's pop-rock playlist.
Kiyoomi walked to the edge of his balcony and heard the beats of Chlorine playing.
So where are you? It's been a little while
"He's awake.", Kiyoomi thought.
He went back inside and went straight to the kitchen and got two Häagen-Dazs mini cups.
Coffee & Vanilla and Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough.
Kiyoomi just set foot on his balcony and he can already see the side profile of the blonde leaning on the ledge, a vanishing puff of smoke in front of him, and a cancer stick being played around by his fingers.
The soft piano intro of The Hype-Berlin can be heard as Kiyoomi walked to the edge of his balcony to get close to the balcony of the unit beside his.
The blonde hasn't spared him a glance but he knows.
He knows that Kiyoomi is there. The rattling of the sliding doors was enough giveaway.
Atsumu didn't have to look. He only knows one person who'd be awake in this ungodly hour and is NOT a law student. And he's pretty sure what he'll hear next.
Or not. Atsumu just took a drag when his cheek is hit with something cold.
"Quit it. How many is it today?"
Ah. And there it is.
Sometimes I feel cold, even paralyzed
"Omii! That was just my first one!",
Atsumu leaned further on the ledge to look down. A pitiful attempt in trying to find his fallen cancer stick. Unfortunately, their flat is just fourteen floors above the pool area. It's probably floating in it already. Luckily, Kiyoomi doesn't even use that pool.
"Your lungs will thank me later," Kiyoomi said as he handed the Coffee and Vanilla ice cream to the devastated blonde.
"And yer at it again with ice cream.", Atsumu said while opening his mini cup.
"I take mine in moderation", Kiyoomi scoops ice cream of his own and eats.
My interior world needs to sanitize
"Liesss.", Atsumu grumbles as a memory of the person beside him eats a whole pint of Häagen-Dazs just because he's bored and can't sleep resurfaces his head.
Atsumu started eating his own ice cream and sighed in delight. "Ya got the coffee layered flavor 'was talkin' bouut."
I got it because you won't shut up about it, dummy. And it's better than hearing you complain about mint chocolate. What a hypocrite for someone who likes nicotine.
Is what Kiyoomi wanted to say, but let the thought get stuck in his throat and just hummed.
"Are you on deck tomorrow?"
"Hmmm, not quite. Same issues and I just wanna be prepared."
"Oh? The smell of smoke is strong. That wasn't just one."
Atsumu looks to a pair of dark narrowed green eyes staring right at him. As if no excuse would get past this man’s piercing gaze accompanied by the clearing night sky surrounding him. Usually, Atsumu would've put on a mask and try to save face. But not from Sakusa Kiyoomi.
They’ve spent too many nights like this, chattering, about everything and nothing.
In silence, with ice cream, with fading souls of cancer sticks, or just with the other’s presence.
It’s nice.
Their days might not always be the best, filled with stress, chaos, and clamor of life’s distress.
At least at night, they know they can rest.
And only the night knows of the midnight rendezvous of the insomniac capitalist chess piece and the sleep-deprived law student.