Archive of Our Own

The rustling of paper gently flipping over to the next page is the first thing I notice when I walk into our room. The second thing I notice is an artificial glow and a familiar posture seated at the study desk, which in itself is a regular sight that greets us in the morning- I'm just not used to catching a glimpse of it at this late hour of the night.

"... You're awake?" is what stumbles out of my mouth, unable to say the words more softly.

Rather than startling, only a questioning "Hmm?" is softly uttered, the reader taking a moment to mentally bookmark his position in the story before finally raising his head, a small smile blooming in the direction of the late arrival. He whispers, "Kawase, you're finally home", as he lightly moves his chair backwards and settles the papers on the desk. I smile back instinctively, although my brows remain slightly furrowed in confusion.

"I'm home, but what are you... Ah."

Despite the hour, Minakami reads under lamplight what I discern is likely to be Tamamori's latest manuscript; the writer himself snuggled on our bed with only his hair peeking out from under the blankets. Curiosity getting the better of me, I walk over and lean against the back of Minakami's chair slightly, peaking at the writing even as I am too tired to read it. I lower my voice down into a matching whisper; even if Tamamori-kun tends to be a deep sleeper, I don't wish for his rest to be needlessly interrupted or for his adorable sleeping face to be contorted into a grimace.

"So? How is it this time?"

"Oh, this?", Minakami smiles wider, a bright sight I nearly frown at, and steadily continues in calm excitement, "I just finished it when you came in, actually. It's fantastical as always, of course, but Tamamori's grown in the way he structures the story itself. It felt like... The way coffee, if scalding hot, has a tendency to burn the roof of one's mouth, mixed with the soothing nature of freshly brewed green tea. It's contrasting but somehow pairs nicely." I hum in response, his incredibly incomprehensible metaphors flying over my head more so than usual but calming, somehow, instead of frustrating. Absently, I twirl a strand of his hair as he gushes on, eyes lidded and mind lapping the shores of dreams.

"Give it a go when you can, you might enjoy it-"
He pauses and my eyes snap open, not having registered the losing battle against my weighted eyelids, much less when it had even begun, to Minakami's smile replaced with an almost concerned expression. 'Almost' because his face is currently shadowed, facing opposite from the lamplight and being crowned by it instead, making it difficult to tell.

I narrow my eyes defensively, "What?"

"Nothing, just... You seem to have forgotten to take off your coat." He points helpfully at my shoulder. I dumbly follow the movement, where dull white greets my eyes. Before I can form a response that goes beyond subdued surprise or a graceful attempt at shrugging it off, Minakami rises from his seat and places his hands over my coat in a feather light touch.

"Let me help you out of that."

I manage a laugh, sleepy as it is and teasingly say, "Is that an invitation?"

Shaking his head, Minakami only smiles. Neither continuing nor moving away, perfectly still and unassuming, he waits until I give in with a sigh. Too tired to protest, I gesture at myself impatiently, "Well? Get on with it."

Quietly, Minakami moves closer and- it's strange, how ghost-like he feels even when he's right in front of me. The scent of old paper wafts over me, not helping the vague sensation. Those are his hands that brush over my coat, mindlessly wiping away dust or whatever he sees, his fingers that deftly unbutton, his face that I nonchalantly try to examine for some hint of emotion or of thought to leak through and expose itself, but as always, there is nothing. Nothing but gentle hands on me that ask to move my arm, please; nothing but that aggravatingly indecipherable expression.

There is little I fear than unreadable people and acts of good will done in the dead of the night, where there is no proof of them in the morning, where you cannot recall whether it was a dream or an actual happening. It's no surprise that once the coat is removed and neatly placed on the chair, that I grab Minakami's face and hold it fast, squishing his cheeks in the process even as I know this is ridiculous and uncalled for.

Minakami, to his credit, merely stares at me with mild surprise, his blue eyes appearing larger. In this darkness, their brightness could almost serve as a source of light themselves, I muse. When he tries to speak, I mercilessly grip his face harder and he winces, looking at me in an almost tender confusion. Having had my fill of tormenting him, I lean in to kiss him, loosening the grip on his face in the process and tempering it into a sort of tender hold instead. For that brief moment, breathing seems to fill me with warmth. Pulling away, my heart is finally able to rest at the slight flush his face, the wonder and shock seeping out. I can't help but let out a smirk in satisfaction at the sight, even as exhaustion calls out to me.
Tamamori-kun was right, catching him off-guard is the best way to make him look alive.

"K-Kawase... You..." His gaze flicker down to my lips and then away, but he doesn't continue. For a moment I stand there, slightly confused, close enough that he could kiss me if he wanted, it's as close to a permission as he could get.

"Hmm?", I raise an eyebrow at that trembling voice, vaguely irritated, "What is it?"

He stares at me for a moment longer and huffs a laugh, seemingly having collected himself. His regular calm returns, "...Nothing, I suppose. Ah, let me give you your clothes, I left them out since you were running late."

His quick withdrawal pricks at me but I keep my displeasure under wraps. Something about the way he said that also seemed off, but I let it go to instead take a seat on the chair, taking a mental note to sanitize it later. Deliberately, I let my mind wander- I should probably sanitize this entire room considering I walked in here with my dirty hospital coat of all things, who knows what germs were latched onto it after an entire day. Thinking of the next day, I suddenly realize what was off about Minakami's statement earlier and look at him in exasperation as he flits about, the man who caused our moment to evaporate into the cold night. When Minakami finally hands me my clothes, head lowered and refusing to make eye contact as if he were some servant and not a lover, I flatly intone, "...You were waiting up for me, weren't you."

"Ah... No-", he stops himself, bites his lip and then sighs, slightly reluctant, "Well, actually, perhaps."

I level him with an increasingly bitter look. "'Perhaps'?"

"By which I mean yes."

I rest my chin in the palm of my hand, the fingers of my other hand nervously drumming against my knee. The sudden bout of wakefulness makes my mind whirr faster, "Why? Is there something urgent?" I quickly run through potential issues in my mind; Tamamori's grandmother falling ill or worse, Minakami's parents having had an accident, Minakami planning another-
Large hands hold mine, or at least the one that had unconsciously begun to grip my knee and gingerly envelops it, the owner of this anchor kneeling before me. His hold is hesitant, but when I don't withdraw, instead merely watch him as my shoulders leave the tense position they had unconsciously risen to, he smiles apologetically.

"Kawase, it's nothing serious." He presses my caught hand softly, "I just wanted to wait for you."

Oh? Is that so? My shaken heart rises to my throat, a piece of bitter insecurity flaring up and I smile widely, willing myself to not laugh at his face for the sake of Tamamori-kun's sleep. Taking in a deep breath, I snidely reply, "Really? Why would you do that? You clearly didn't like me kissing you. Why are you still awake? Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

Minakami's consoling expression immediately falls, looking up at me as if at a loss or biting back his own heated words. I can't tell, after all.
I've always been in control of my voice, so it does not give me away even as I immediately regret. With all hope, my face doesn't let in on the uncharacteristically fierce pang of hurt in my heart; I'm usually better at this, better at covering it up.
It must be the slow pace of the night, the weak glow of the lamp that lacks the sway of a patiently burning candle, the way I desperately want to take a bath and melt the grime and exhaustion away, the way I know sleep won't come easily yet again. The way I replay scenes I wish I had never experienced or seen; the way Minakami is still, even now, looking at me without a sliver of judgment.

Sickening.
It feels nauseating to be at the center of such attention. How does Tamamori-kun handle it from both of us? It's so tiring I want to cry but as always, when I see his clear face peering closely at mine or Tamamori-kun's cheerful one beaming at me, I end up holding it back instead.

"I wanted to kiss you, Kawase-", is a sentence that has a strange effect of making me glare harder, daring him to continue, "-but I wasn't sure if that would be overstepping it. After all, you looked so exhausted, I thought it would be best to just help and let you sleep."

I blink back at his soft and earnest explanation, and then groan slightly, covering my face with my free hand. Minakami remains silent, probably waiting for me, and I peek through the gaps of my fingers at the, perhaps, nervous man. Considering it was my own fault this time for lashing out unprompted, I swallow the urge to sigh, lowering my hand and attempting a lopsided smile as a peace offering.

"Sorry for that, but just how troublesome do you think a kiss can be?"

Minakami smiles back at me so sweetly, I can't help but wish I knew what he's thinking. Is he beating himself up for having caused trouble? No matter how much Tamamori-kun and I try, some realities are so difficult to erase entirely, persisting despite everything. Perhaps our attempts only feel like chains weighing him down instead of the comfort we intend for them to be. Thinking this, I reach down to pet his head softly, running my fingers through the thin strands of his hair, and he looks at me with what is definitely some confusion but when he speaks, "Haha, what're you doing Kawase?", his words are tinged with relief. It's a small thing but it's soothing, to be able to read him at least slightly, so I smile back at him, relieved myself.

"Giving you a treat, what does it look like?", I say softly to take the edge off my words as I extract my hand, "Anyhow, you should get up from there- I have to go and take a bath."

"Ah, alright", he stands with some awkwardness, long-limbed and careful not to trip, "I'll probably be awake for a while longer as well, do you want me to heat up the food? Tamamori left some aside for you."

"I bet he insisted on giving me a larger portion than his or yours, didn't he?", I joke as I get up with him. He laughs under his breath and nods. Somehow the sound makes me feel restless, like sinking my hands in that hair again and messing him up a little but I hold myself back, for now.

"After all, it's a new thing for you to be working like this isn't it?"

I wave a hand dismissively since it's really nothing that grand, I'm only at the beginning, "It's just a bit different from how we used to study so it's not all that new, all thing's considered, but...", with lowered eyes, I reach for his hand and he meets me in the middle, grasping each other lightly, "I appreciate it, honestly."

Visibly lighting up, he surprises me by pressing a chaste kiss on my forehead and smiles, saying, "I'm glad."

Taking a bath had refreshed me more than I expected, or perhaps I'd already woken up with that taxing conversation. I trail into the dining room, Minakami already seated with his hands folded in his lap, scent of warmed food in the air. It's always surprised me, given his penchant for reading so consistently even while walking, that he doesn't read while eating as well. Is it the fear of ruining his books that stops him, or is it that even someone like him has certain flavors he enjoys? Musing absentmindedly, I take a seat next to him and elbow him lightly, pointing at the pile of omurice Tamamori-kun had lovingly prepared.

"Thanks for the food but shouldn't you eat something too? You've been up a while."

He blinks, clearly not having registered just how late it actually is. I consider it generous of me to blankly stare at him when he says, "Oh... That's right, I've been up a while, haven't I?" instead of making a comment. With a helpless expression, he continues, "Well, it can't be helped. I'll just have a bigger breakfast in the morning."

I click my tongue at him, eliciting a quizzical smile in response. Pointing the fork at him sternly, I say, "Don't give me that. Have some of mine, there's no way I can eat all this alone."

"Ah, but Tamamori-"

Lightheartedly, I stab his argument to death, "-isn't awake, and besides, neither of us have huge stomachs. Let's share." Scooping it up, I hold out a spoon full of unconventional omurice as dinner and make myself to look as impassive and dead as possible.

"Say 'ahhh', Minakami-kun."

His lips wobble and before I have time to frown, wondering whether he's developed a strange allergy to the dish in the hours I was away, he snorts and quickly devolves into laughter, clutching his stomach while fruitlessly trying to smother himself with a hand pressed to his mouth. Watching him shake, my own mouth quirks up in a small smile.

"Really, you have the weirdest sense of humor don't you?"

"Aha, it's just- How did you manage to make something like this", he weakly gestures at my arm, still helpfully outstretched, "look so threatening, ahaha! It's like-"

It probably says a lot about me that I instinctively know what he has in mind. For the sake of my plan, I play along.

"What, like some evil doctor force-feeding his poor patient something incredibly dubious, you mean?"

"Exactly, hehe- mmph!"

Right as he calms down somewhat, wiping away a lone tear, I take the opportunity to jam it in. His wide eyes are slightly less overwhelming in a well-lit room, although the surprise in them still makes me snicker. Grinning, I wave the spoon before daintily dropping it in his hand, "Got you. Make sure to chew properly, okay?" I walk towards the cabinets, turning my head to talk, "Since this spoon has your saliva on it, you have to eat with it. I'll get another one."
What a shame, he's forced to comply. If he minds, he should say it but instead he nods and starts to divide the dish into two equal halves. Returning with a spoon and eating together from the same plate, apart from the clinking of utensils a familiar quiet settles around us; the type we have always found ourselves in when left to our own devices. This silence, the source of so much annoyance before, is almost like a warm blanket of understanding now. Although, I doubt either of us would mind Tamamori-kun disrupting it either.

As usual, I finished eating before him, slumping in my seat as I watch him through hooded eyes. Almost methodical is the way I'd describe his eating style; where Tamamori-kun eats with enjoyment, relishing the dish as if it were his first or his last, Minakami's calm countenance hardly ever changes. If he enjoys specific flavors, I certainly can't tell; all I know is that he very much detests mochi and adores plums, turning as pale as a mochi itself whenever either of us brought any home.
I close my weary eyes, resting my head on his shoulder without giving up on this train of thought.

"We should make something for Tamamori-kun sometime."

Chewing and swallowing before responding, such good manners. A certain someone could certainly learn from him. "Hmm? Oh, sure."

I reach out to tweak at his hair roughly, not knowing if he's actually listening or lost in thought, "I don't know many dishes though, so you should decide what to make."

Unperturbed, he hardly reacts to his head being yanked, humming in response and sounding troubled when he speaks, "Ahhh, hmm, that's a bit difficult..."

The reasons as to why it's 'difficult' would probably range from something like 'I'm not that great in the kitchen and don't want to be a burden' to 'I have a library of recipes in my head', both of which are large issues too difficult to unravel and prod holes into currently. I stick to the simple facts instead, "A guy like him would enjoy anything you make so just make what you're most confident with or what you like the most."

"What I like the most... Well, he isn't picky so it should be fine, I suppose."

"Right? We should do it."

"Mhm. Ah, Kawase?"

"Mm?" His shoulder is surprising comfortable, Tamamori-kun and I should use him as a pillow more often. I hear the sound of cutlery scraping against an empty plate, he's nearly finished.

"You shouldn't fall asleep here."

Breezily, I say, "Don't worry, I won't." He tenses slightly and I sigh, lazily opening one eye, having guessed what's coming next.

"...I knew it. You haven't been sleeping well lately, have you?"

How is it that this guy manages to pick me apart so well these days? Although I expected it I make a face, too tired to give him a dirty look directly. A few pesky strands of my hair falls into my eyes from the contortion and I blow at them as I respond, "It's nothing serious, I'm just too tired to sleep immediately these days."

He takes one last bite, having cleaned his side of the plate and pushes it aside. Placidly, like the surface of a perpetually undisturbed pool, he asks, "But it's been going on for the around- no, more than 2 weeks hasn't it?"

I freeze, stunned.

"Wh- How do you know that...? You weirdo, have you been watching us in our sleep?" The worst part of asking that is the fact that I wouldn't be surprised if he does.

He gives a refreshing laugh, turning his head towards me and brushing away the hair that fell into my eyes, "I was awake as well so I couldn't help but notice, is all."

"That late and this often? ...Ah, wait." I grab his wrist, halting him in the mindless stroking he'd fallen into. Just like earlier, I scrutinize his face; just like earlier, I find nothing. This time, thought, I have an inkling of what the issue might be because I remember. What a cruel joke, to be similar in this sense.

"...The dark, huh."

Smiling, he doesn't reply- then again, he doesn't need to. Letting go, I lower my eyes, looking down at his lap instead. It's not difficult to connect the dots, to remember the differences that stretch between us longer than the lost years, greater than recorded time. It would be foolish to assume that our knowledge of at least some of his feelings would ever be enough.

If it's not enough, that's fine.

A shadow falling over my face, I get up and shove the chair in unceremoniously. He looks at me and I smile but before he can ask, I clutch his hand and yank him up like a puppet on strings. Yelping, he trips over his feet, but I give him no time to recover, speedily heading towards the living room without a single glance behind. He manages to squeeze out a bewildered, "K-Kawase, what-" which is quickly aborted when I push him onto the sofa, emitting a soft "oof" instead.
Lying there, looking up at me in visible befuddlement with his hair and garments askew, it paints such a pretty picture that I almost feel energized. I plop down in an open spot next to him and fold my arms, demanding, "Read to me."

If it's not enough, then it can't ever be. Yet at the very least, I could do this.

For the first time in this seemingly never-ending night, his eyebrows furrow in abject confusion.

"Eh?"

"Neither of us can sleep right now. That's why, read to me. You don't even need a book to do it."

He looks around us, at the lack of a book in his hands and finally returns to me. "N-Now?"

"Of course not, you need to sit up first-", he straightens himself up instinctively and I smile in appreciation, "Oh, thanks." Promptly, I lay my head down on his lap, staring up at the smooth and soft edge of his jawline as he tries to protest for whatever bizarre reason.

"But that's- Not that I mind, but you, at least, should-"

"Were you honestly planning on spending the whole night alone until you fell asleep from sheer exhaustion?"

Words coming out a bit sharper than intended, he falls silent, mouth open mid protest. He gives me a look that would border on flustered for someone as unflappable as Minakami and it drags an oddly helpless smile out of me, despite my annoyance. Grinning wider, I hold the back of his head and pull him towards me, leaning up to graze my lips against his. His eyes, clear and cloudless, seem to reflect me only.

"Or you can think of it this way- I can't sleep so shouldn't you keep me company? Minakami-kun."

It's as if I can see the very moment he chooses the path of least resistance, sighing even as he accepts the compromise. He removes my hand from the back, bringing it to his lips. My fingers twitch from surprise and he smiles, letting them go after saying, "If that's what you want, Kawase."
What a dirty move. No one would think he had this side to him, but I definitely knew better.

Taking a moment to think, he tilts his head slightly to the side. "Alright, hmm... How about Water Ma-"

I push him away, instantly cutting in with my best cordial tone, "If you mention one of the Four Great Chinese Classical novels as a bedtime story, I might just tie you up and leave you like that until the morning."
Under the belief that I'm joking, he laughs. I continue, eyes crescents of promise.

"I'll tie it tightly too. Tamamori-kun won't be able to help you."

"That would be inconvenient, wouldn't it...", he says, sounding mildly inconvenienced. He probably didn't hear me, sifting through that library of his. I should feel honored, knowing that I'm one of the few people he'd sincerely want to do right by, even with something minor as this but instead I watch him brighten up about to suggest yet another outlandish title.

"You know this already, but I deeply enjoyed Dogra Mag-"

I wave my hand in rejection, "Pass. Next." His taste in literature was expected, alarming as it was. Did he honestly think a story about madness would be nice to fall asleep to?

"Hmm... Tsurezuregusa was-"

Vaguely, I recall having read it years back and tug his clothes, "I'm not in the mood to hear about some guy's observations about the nature of life or whatever."

Once again, he takes this in stride without comment, "Then... Kokoro by Natsume Soseki might be good?"

Ever so thoughtful, I wonder what he'd do if I were to tickle him right now. I crack a smile at the thought.

"Never heard of it. When's it from?"

"It was published in 1914, initially titled 'Kokoro: Sensho no Isho'. It's about-", he catches himself on the path to a tangent and realigns himself, "Well, instead of telling you, shall I begin?"

It might end up being something strange, given it's Minakami suggesting it, but I reach up to poke his face impatiently, "Obviously, that's what I told you to do after all."

"Hahaha. Then...", he clears his throat, adjusting his posture slightly. The air around him changes slightly, growing stronger and delicate in equal measure, or perhaps that's just my own anticipation marring my senses.

With the clear and precise pronunciation of a storyteller, he begins, "'Part 1: Sensei and I. I always called him "Sensei." I shall therefore refer to him simply as "Sensei," and not by his real name. It is not because I consider it more discreet-'"

I let the low timbre of his voice to wash over me as he details what I presume to be the prologue of the story. I don't even know how long it is or whether I'll remember the plot in the morning, but for now I let those concerns drift away, focusing on the story as much as I can, about the nameless immature youth and his quick fascination with a calmer older man.

Right now, in this haze between the land of the living and that of the temporary dead, I can see with vivid clarity the reason why Tamamori-kun has a fixation on Minakami's reading profile. Every word he recites from that inhumane memory of his, seems to be laced with the care and love only someone truly passionate could present; like a quiet admittance of a deeply aching love into a void, knowing no one will ever truly hear you. Yet despite this, it looks so deeply peaceful as well; a breathing contradiction.
Or something like that. I'm hardly a poet and definitely not a writer, but the least I can do here is listen to him as his unwavering voice flows on and on like a silent song meant for only his precious ones. He caresses my hair soothingly as he recites and I automatically lean into the touch, observing him through lidded eyes as he gazes down at me in turn.

"The sea stretched, wide and blue, all around us, and there seemed to be no one near us. The bright sun shone on the water and the mountains, as far as the eye could see."

He hardly moves apart from the caressing, breathing at an unshaken pace. My own pace is quicker than his, almost disruptive; breathing deeper, I find myself mimicking his pattern. Our matching rise and fall and his words made me feel as if we were at sea as well, being lulled by the waves. Maybe we could all go together one day. The thought is quickly decimated by the reality of the scorching heat, the unbearable sand and general repulsion towards hordes of people- but if it were just us three, maybe it'd be alright. Maybe it would even be nice.

"'He was always quiet.'"

Torn away from my drifting thoughts, I tune back into the story that I'd been loosely listening to. Wearing the same expression as always, a familiar story flowed out from his lips.
"'At times, he seemed so quiet that I thought him rather lonely. I felt from the start his strangely unapproachable quality. Yet, at the same time, there was within me an irresistible desire to become close to Sensei. Perhaps I was the only one who felt thus towards him.'" He paused, as if waiting for me to say something or thinking himself. Had he noticed what I had?

My voice is a little more than a whisper, at this point, "This Sensei guy sounds like you."

A huff of laughter that doesn't shake his shoulders, "That's funny. I thought he sounded like you, Kawase." I open my mouth to say something, a lazy tease, but a glimpse of his eyes stopped me. For a quiet moment, mirroring each other, we let this exchange sink into ourselves akin to matching ink tattoos. When he resumes I hold onto what he says, despite the severe soporific effect of his voice at this point.

"'-a man who could not wholeheartedly accept the love of another--such a one was Sensei.'"

Ah, so this is the type of story that could apply to us easily, huh. Minakami doesn't pause, as he had done before, and nothing about him betrays what he might feel. A tired, bitter smile dredges up from somewhere within me. Someone could replace 'Sensei' with me or him, editing nothing else, and it would still make sense. It's not even a sorrowful thought, just reality.
Messing with the hem of his sleeve, my fingers travel from there, transition to climbing his arm. He doesn't look at me, lost in his recollection and recitation or maybe just going with whatever I'm doing, trusting me even as he reads what should be so painful, so saddening.

It's not sorrowful, nor is it pitiful. Pitying him would be the same as pitying myself and I refuse to ever do that.

Fingers dancing up and down his arm idly, his soft jawline catches my attention and I zone in on it. Reaching up to hold the hand caressing me to my chest, I raise myself towards him, kissing a spot on his jawline. He gives a little gasp which I ignore, kissing the side of his neck next and resting there, just for a moment.

If there is something I know about myself, it's that I would want that love even as it were too difficult to accept it entirely, even if it were marred by a perpetual sense of tethering on a tightrope. I would want it, despite the living contradiction it would present.

His reading finally falters, Adam's apple bobbing up and down. Briefly, I think of biting it but his stutters bring me back, "K-Kawase?"

It's as if this were a dream, the edges of my vision blurring. I mumble, "Treat for you, Minakami." It comes out far more tender than expected, a sickening sort of sweet I would sooner retreat than risk, and Minakami takes in a sharp breath, trembling for a harsh second. Before I can slide back to his lap, he pulls me towards him and holds my face softly, taking a good moment to just look at me. A slight flush and happy smile greets me, before nuzzling my cheek, humming lowly like a purring cat.
Taken aback, I let myself become boneless in the face of this naked affection, yet even the shock doesn't rouse me from my dazed state.

"Mm. Minakami", he continues to nuzzle me wordlessly, this time my other cheek, "Minakami, you. I want to hear more."

"Just a minute."

It's definitely been more than a minute already but I quietly murmured in agreement. Once five minutes pass like this, too tired to protest, I pinch his cheeks and simply say, "Minakami."

When he smiles at me, sheepish but with zero regret, I lean in to kiss him again, our shadows merging once more. When he resumes his reading, I find myself nudging close to him until my temple meets his abdomen and his dull scent lulls me further.

If Tamamori-kun were awake, our little cuddle session would've been complete. Thinking this, my eyes flutter shut.

'...It's cold.'
This is the thought that I wake up to, shivering despite the blankets. I reach out in front of me, expecting contact with one of them but the only thing that embraces me is air.
Slowly I sit up, rubbing my eyes, staring incomprehensibly at the empty space beside me. It takes a few moments for me to realize why that seems odd and I immediately twist to look behind me, patting both sides of the bed in search. When that fails to give me an answer, I look towards the desk where the lamp sits alone without its' companion.

"...Both of them?", my words come out as a mumble and I yawn, smacking my lips. The lamp being left on isn't an uncommon experience, but the lack of Minakami definitely is. The curtains are thick and drawn, so I can't tell how early it is but Kawase should have been back by now too. Maybe they're still up?
Nodding drowsily, I gather the blankets around myself like a cape and slip off the bed, hissing at the cold floor. Padding off, the blankets drag behind me as I look into the dining room- empty, ok- then head off to the lounge, where I end up seeing Minakami's drooping head and Kawase's feet on the arm of the sofa.

"There you are~", I drawl, practically skipping over to them, peering at the sight with a goofy grin. Kawase's practically nuzzling Minakami's stomach, clinging to his middle in a hug, while Minakami's head lolls forwards, one hand on Kawase's head.

It looks warm, so warm. I nod to myself again, dropping myself next to Minakami and drawing my knees to my chest. I take his free arm to drape over me and my cocoon and collapse against him, a perfect fit. I try to wrench one of Kawase's arms free to take for myself but he stubbornly holds on fast around Minakami, clinging harder. I whine, "Kawase, even in your sleep, you're so mean..." but he only mumbles incoherently.
Giving up, I close my eyes. Distantly I know we'll all have back pain in the morning, but my heart feels too full to deny it so coldly.

"See you... tomorrow...", so mumbling, I fall asleep with love singing sweetly in and around me.