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Soft light bathed the crumpled sheets in deep blues and warm violets. A breeze snuck in through the window opened just a crack and ruffled the cowlicks that stuck out from under the warm comforter wrapped around the two boys in bed. The street lamps down the street couldn’t quite blot out the stars that twinkled overhead. You couldn’t see stars in Tokyo. A cyclist rode her bike down the sidewalk, brakes squeaking against the cement before she pitched herself down a hill uncontrolled. From several blocks away, the smell of a café baking bread and pastries wafted into the air and made any passersby hungry for a snack.
Kageyama awoke to the wind tickling his eyelashes. He sat up in bed and shivered; he’d left his shirt on the floor, but the blankets were so warm that he settled for pulling them over his bare chest rather than get up. He rubbed his eyes and looked around – was it dawn? Was it dusk? The clock wasn’t visible from the bed, and he wasn’t about to go looking for his phone, either. The ache in his hips was enough to send him sliding back under the covers with a quiet yawn.
Hinata’s head was a mere tuft of orange wedged between the comforter and pillow. In the quiet of the suburban town, his breathing was audible: rhythmically blissful with a relaxed face to match. As Kageyama shifted around, Hinata unconsciously rolled over and clung onto his waist, burying his head into his shoulder. His sweaty hair tickled Kageyama’s neck. He thought to nudge Hinata awake – he wasn’t going to fall asleep well with hair in his face – but the heat emanating off Hinata’s body lured him into closing his eyes again. His toes were cold; Hinata was a furnace of whom Kageyama could not let go. Just skin against skin, no bleached fabric separating their heartbeats, no itchy sweatpants keeping their legs from braiding themselves together… this was how Kageyama liked it most.