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Chihaya can’t sleep.
She’s tried everything she can think of, rolling on her side, on her back, deep breaths in and out, reciting the hundred poems in her head. Yet her eyelids aren’t the slightest bit heavy.
She’s in Kyoto for the weekend, staying at Taichi’s apartment for a few nights. They spent most of the day at the Myoujo Karuta Society, where she played seven matches with Shinobu—who had been complaining about a lack of practice partners and insisted that Chihaya come to Kyoto.
All seven matches were close, but in the end Shinobu won four games, while Chihaya won three. Those naps after her victories are probably why she’s struggling to go to sleep now.
She turns her body to face Taichi, who’s sleeping on his side facing her. It’s her first time staying over in his apartment since they started going out.
It’s comforting, sleeping next to him. Last night was the first time they shared a bed, and while she was the tiniest bit nervous at first, she quickly fell into ease with the warmth of the duvet and Taichi’s arms. Chihaya can’t remember the last time she felt so utterly refreshed and content in the morning.
She takes a closer look at her boyfriend, surveying his sleeping visage. His bangs are a little mussed from the pillow, his jaw relaxed, lips slightly parted. Her heart warms at his vulnerable form.
Ever since they started dating, Taichi’s been slowly letting his guard down around her, breaking down the wall he had put up between them during their high school years.
Maybe he’s showing her more sides of himself, or maybe she’s becoming more attentive of him. Either way, the new things, the little things she’s discovering about Taichi every day make her heart flutter in awe.
There are the things that Chihaya’s always known about him, like the way his voice pitches slightly lower when he’s down but tries to hide it, or how he bites his cheek whenever he’s concentrating extra hard in his studies, or the way his posture stiffens whenever he feels cold.
And there are the new things she’s seeing, like the way his eyes squint when he truly laughs, or the rasp in his voice right before he falls asleep on the phone, or how he fidgets with his Daddy Bear pop-socket when he’s nervous.
Or his whispers of sweet nothings in her ear. The thrum of his pulse under her lips. His gentle fingers gliding on her skin. His grip when he tugs on her hair. The sound of her name from his lips, in those more intense moments.
Right now, though, instead of a hot desire, she’s feeling more of a gentle curiosity. Chihaya leans a little closer until she can feel his breath on her nose. Taichi always squirms whenever she stares at him for too long, so now’s the perfect time to study him, still as a log, as peaceful as the summer night.
Her finger feathers his lashes lightly, careful not to touch his eye. She’s always known how long they are, from how they brush against her nose when they kiss, or when they tickle her neck whenever he blinks, as he leans on her shoulder. Taichi says that hers are longer, but Chihaya's pretty sure that his are thicker, and curl upward too.
She trails down, tracing over the bridge of his nose. She has to squint to make out his tiny freckles, barely visible in the dim lighting. They’re so pale and sparse, only appearing in the summer, and even then invisible from speaking distance; she couldn’t even tell he had them until she leaned to kiss him the other day.
(Apparently Taichi didn’t know either until she had brought it up then. Chihaya had chided him to pay more attention to himself. He’s so smart, yet he’s such an idiot sometimes. Well, she shouldn’t be talking, but still.)
One, two, three, Chihaya counts the freckles. It’s around a dozen, not much, but it adds to his boyishness all the same.
Her finger moves further, to his smooth lips. They’re rarely chapped, because Taichi always wears lip balm nowadays, saying it’s protection from the sun or something like that. He’s gotten so used to it that he wears it at night too, though. His favorite lip balm is a strawberry-flavored one with a slight red tint. (She uses it now too.)
She drags her finger more, down his chin, tracing the line of his jaw before moving to his neck. She runs a thumb over his Adam’s apple, the feeling foreign under her finger. She knows that all guys have them, but it still feels odd touching it.
Her finger trails across the column of his throat, before pressing lightly on his pulse. It’s racing under her fingertips, unusually fast for someone sleeping. Maybe Taichi’s having a nightmare? Chihaya looks up.
Taichi’s eyes are shut tight, his hand is fisted clutching the sheets, and his entire face is blushing red. He’s holding his breath, something Chihaya would’ve noticed sooner had she been less focused on scrutinizing his other features.
“Taichi, are you awake?!” she whisper-shouts.
A pause. Then Taichi sighs as he opens his eyes. Ah, she’s caught.
“Yeah, I’m awake.” He lies on his back and covers his eyes with an arm, though it doesn’t hide the ruddiness on his cheeks. “What was that about, Chihaya?”
Chihaya’s face flushes, her eyes widen like a deer in headlights. “U-Uhm, I…” she stammers, because how does she explain this?
Honestly, she doesn’t fully know why she was examining him like that. It’s hard to find words when she’s put on the spot, but she tries anyway. “I-I…I just wanted, t-to see…to know…more of you…Taichi.”
That string of words probably doesn’t make sense, but somehow it still makes his breath hitch. The room is silent, except for the chirping of cicadas outside and the humming of the AC above them. For a moment, neither of them are breathing.
Then he finally lifts his arm, turns to face her, meets her gaze. And the look on his face—his eyes are so intense and full of some emotion she can’t describe.
Whenever Taichi looks at her like that, it pierces her. Not in a bad way, but it’s like he’s staring into her soul, seeing through her like she’s glass—it’s because of his big eyes.
His big eyes, which are shining golden right now, for some reason, are so earnest, so loving, and she’s wracking her head to figure out why. What was it in her half-formed sentence that moved him so much?
He inches closer to her, till their noses are touching, tenderly cups her jaw with a hand, and lingers like that for a moment, his eyes still glued to hers.
Her eyelids flutter shut, and Taichi takes that as the cue to kiss her.
The kiss is long, but chaste, gentle, yet full of passion, of the feelings gushing out of his heart, like lava out of a volcano.
When his lungs start to hurt, he pulls away. He gazes at Chihaya for a bit, studying her round doe eyes, the rosiness dusting her cheeks, the slight pout on her lips, before he pulls her head to his chest, running his hand through her silky hair.
Taichi likes to think he’s pretty aware of his own thoughts and feelings, that he generally knows why he would feel the way he does, but right now even he’s a little confused about why he’s so touched.
It makes sense. Chihaya likes him, she confessed to him in the spring, and they’ve been dating for a little over three months now. Of course she would want to know more about him. Heck, she’s already seen a lot of him; they’ve gone further than light pecks and chaste touches between them.
Yet when she said those words out loud, it sent sparks trailing from his chest to his fingertips, a wave of warmth rushing over his whole body.
Because since the start of high school—no, since elementary school—that was what he wished for the most. For Chihaya to see him, to seek for him, to yearn for him. For the longest time, it seemed like she was blind to him.
So it always catches Taichi off guard whenever she actually notices him, longs for him, observes things about him that he himself was never aware of.
(Perhaps she’s always been watching him, while he was the one blind to it the whole time.)
“Gosh dammit, Chihaya…” he mumbles lowly. Whenever she pulls stuff like this, it takes all his might to restrain himself, to not kiss her senseless right then and there.
But he holds himself back, because he had crossed the line once, had hurt her once, and he has since vowed to never do it again. So he lets her set the pace, and follows her lead in those intimate moments, where there’s nothing in the world except her, and him, and the air between them.
“You’re such a weirdo, sometimes,” he whispers sleepily, before planting a kiss on the top of her head. The heat in his veins settles into a pleasant warmth.
He’s really gonna miss these nights, when Chihaya leaves for Tokyo tomorrow morning. So he’ll revel in this moment, commit all the sensations to memory, at least as much as he can before his consciousness drifts.
Chihaya takes in everything—Taichi’s fingers combing through her hair, the soothing rhythm of his heart, their legs tangled under the bedsheets, the rise and fall of his chest—before soundly falling asleep.