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It is the fifth time this week where Nagi wakes up at midnight, alone on the cool of the blankets as the freezing air embraces him until each part of his body shivers from the breeze.
Five years. They met, fell out, reconciled, and confessed within these five years without break. Five years, and even though they thought the world would try to pull them apart, they will somehow manage to get back together.
Five years almost sounds impossible to Nagi. It’s a hassle to think about the length of time, especially when it’s that long. But now that the frigid feeling of a ghostly presence crawls back to his skin, Nagi realises how much changed after Reo entered his life and how much he wants— no — needs him.
“Reo?” Nagi calls, half of his head poking out of the sheets. His eyes dart across the room, the blur of shelves and desks and a slightly opened doorway emerges into his sight.
Nagi swears something heavy is weighing him down, because for the past few days, no matter how much he tries, he can’t get himself to hop out of bed and actively search for him during these times.
But it’s either staying innate in this arctic room or moving his ass to find Reo and be happy and warm again. The first one sounds like a bother that lasts for a long time. The second one is also a bother, but only until he finds Reo.
A dying yawn dawns out of his mouth. He stretches his body, before sitting up from bed. It gets colder.
“Huh… Where’s Reo?” Nagi asks the wind, as if the wind had the ability to talk back to him, or at least direct him to the answer. Nagi despises the long silence the drags on after, and decides to leave the eerie room.
The door behind him shuts. Soft footsteps pad down the hallway. Even though he moved into this apartment three years ago, Nagi’s brain still tends to get lost within rooms. Luckily, a light shows him a path. A bright light comes shining past a doorway.
Nagi’s eyes widen, mouth falling agape as he rushes towards the doorway. He takes a right to see a purple-haired man slouched on a seat, endless clicks echoing throughout the room. Beside him is an empty seat. It’s almost as if a ghost is sitting there. Nagi doesn’t like it.
“Reo…”
Reo’s entire body flinches. He turns his seat to stare at Nagi. “Wh— Sei? What are you doing up this late at night? Go back to sleep.”
“That’s my line. You can’t just take my line.”
Reo rolls his eyes, facing back to the blinding computer. It’s more in a joking tone, Nagi thinks. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It’s really late. I’m getting tired. I should sleep.” Nagi walks closer to Reo, sitting on the empty seat beside him.
“Then go to sleep.”
“But Reo…”
Reo doesn’t reply to Nagi’s call. Reo continuously types on his computer, eyes wide, unblinking. Nagi notices the red lines cracking through the whites, long droughts of scarlet aiming lines at his pupils.
Nagi lightly massages one side of his pounding neck, eyeing away. “These past few days, I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night without you.” Nagi glances at Reo to see his reaction. “I don’t like it.”
Reo sighs, his typing slowing down as Nagi gets closer. “Sei.”
“I need you.” Nagi buries his face on Reo’s shoulder with his scalp touching his cheek, a waft of jasmine tickling his nose. “I miss you.”
Nagi can feel something shift on his scalp; Reo’s cheek. He imagines Reo smiling. Hopefully, he’s smiling. The typing stops, and familiar warmth rests on Nagi’s head, brushing lines through his bushy disorganised hair. “You’re acting as if I don’t cuddle you everyday.”
“Because you don’t!” Nagi’s voice falters as he lifts it a little to gain more pressure. Reo’s hand— it’s soft, tender. He can fall asleep right here.
“I do! I’m literally doing it right now,” Reo says the obvious.
“Just take me to bed, Reo,” his voice muffles as it drowns against Reo’s clothes. “Wanna cuddle.”
“Fine. But later, after this. It’s only going to take a few minutes. I promise,” Reo whispers, as if it’s a secret between them. A gentle caress presses against his forehead.
It’s shocking how the warmth on Nagi’s head can vanish so quickly. The typing rings back into Nagi’s ears, but now he can sense Reo’s breathing. Nagi lifts his heavy head from Reo’s shoulder to stare at the light of the computer. Nagi can’t even see it. It’s too bright and his eyes are too tired to comprehend whatever is on there. But it doesn’t matter.
Five years. And Nagi is already used to Reo’s warmth.