Work Text:
Komaeda always pulls all-nighters. He never studies regularly, and when the exam period comes, he is all about cramming books after books and praying his luck will work things out for him.
This time is no different, and he’s in the living room, with one light and the fan turned on, trying to make as little disturbance as possible to your sleep. It’s not as if that helps.
Lying in a bed without Komaeda is difficult to say the least. It’s long since you’ve grown comfortable with having his cold warmth pressed against you, your limbs entangled; his wheezing breaths and the even beatings of his heart. Having one of it missing, not to mention the whole of him missing unsettles you.
Usually, you would stay up with him, cramming more information or revising things you’ve already gone through, but this exam’s had you near beat. It doesn’t help that tomorrow is a calculus paper. Still, you lay awake in the dark, waiting endlessly for him to crawl into bed next to you. It’s practically killing you.
…
You find Komaeda hunched over the low table in the living room, wispy white hair pulled back into a ponytail that’s growing messier by the second with the way he keeps running his fingers through his hair out of frustration and nervousness. He’s so absorbed he does not even notice your footsteps, or the clinking of metal against ceramic. You find a small unoccupied spot and set the plate down: a hot cup of sweet-smelling tea accompanied by sugar cookies.
Komaeda all but stops his hand from scribbling continuously as he looks up at you. “Can’t sleep?”
“No,” you say carefully, you wouldn’t want to botch his exam just because he thought he was causing you discomfort or something… “I just wanted to see how you are doing before I go to bed.”
“You said that less than an hour ago," he says, almost pointedly.
“I brought tea,” you offered.
Komaeda smiles at you, and finally stops writing. He takes up the cup and sips a little from it, never taking his eyes off you. “Thank you.”
“It’s the least I can do,” you reply, leaning over to look at the problem he was solving.
It effectively stops him from saying something along the lines of “Trash like myself doesn’t deserve such kindness.” because instead, he says, “Don’t tell me. I’m almost there.”
“If you insist, pretty boy,” you reach for his pencil, covering your writing from his view as you scrawl on an empty space next to his curling handwriting – “You can do it <3”.
You’re smiling at yourself when you take your hand away, sliding another piece of paper to cover the note from him. He looks at you, then at the paper, and relents. He’ll see it later.
“Darling, if you stay here any longer, I’m not going to get much studying done,” Komaeda says at last, though he sounds like he’s struggling to keep every word back with increasing inefficiency.
“Fine,” you almost seem to pout, but then you lean forward and kiss him on his lips, then on the crown of his head. “Your good luck kiss and your good night kiss.”
There’s a light tint of pink on his cheeks, and Komaeda kisses you back, long and slow.
“Here’s yours.”
When he’s done, you give him a hug and tell him not to stay up too long, then make your way back to your bedroom.
The kissing practically makes Komaeda forget about the question he was solving and the note he was so eager to see. When he does though, his heart fills with a comforting and sweet warmth. You really were a distraction… and he really was lucky to have you.