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If a gust of wind found its way into this pale room at night, it would chance upon two people whose tendencies are to sleep facing each other, hugging their respective sides of the blanket. It would find that for the quiet souls that they are, their inhales and exhales are loud and heavy, hoisting the baby hairs of the one opposite in a short flight. It would almost relent to this simple setting, and then whoosh back outside to partake in the early winter chill.
One of these nights, it’s nearly 4 a.m. and Midorima can’t sleep. Kuroko is close enough that he can see the trembling of his eyelashes and he wonders if this clarity of vision holds if he moves a bit further away. Now the eyelashes are unmoving, but he can still see the part between his lips that lets out that loud inhale, exhale. Two shuffles later, he shuts his eyes in a sudden fit of self-consciousness. He peeks once more to reach that shore of reassurance, then lets a wave of fatigue take over.
A bell chiming startles him - wait, it’s just his alarm. Midorima rubs his face in his pillow, trying not to nod off under the blanket’s ever loyal warmth. It felt like being buried in sand at the beach - half-heartedly shifting his weight around was not going to get him any closer to the surface. But he’s long used to being the first one up.
Coming out of the shower, Kuroko finds Midorima with his back straight against the wall, knees bent, toes curled over the edge of the bed.
“You’re not studying?”
“Just taking a break.”
Kuroko picks up a book, joins him on the bed, and starts reading.
“Are you cold?” Midorima asks.
“A bit.”
“You can come closer.” He sinks down a little to lend his frame, and Kuroko scoots over to bring his back against his right arm. Midorima tilts his head to the right, nestling against the towel-rumpled hair. His thoughts drift in concert with the lingering minutes. As these silent minutes float, they pass by someone with his head in a book, by someone with his head in the clouds.
Arm a little numb, Midorima tries to shift to another position but something tugs him down.
“You’re sitting on my shirt.”
“It’s not comfortable like this?” Kuroko leans back into Midorima’s lap, flipping his book over to let it rest on his stomach. He puts his arms around Midorima and closes his eyes.
“Hey, get to bed if you’re tired.”
“Mm?”
“My legs are going to fall asleep like this.”
“And how well-rested we’ll all be.”
The sigh that follows is duly anticipated, and Kuroko smiles.
“What now?”
“I was just thinking that it’s been a while since you got annoyed at me.”
“I’m not annoyed.”
“Okay.”
Midorima wiggles his arms out of Kuroko’s hug and pinches his cheeks. Kuroko’s eyes open, exasperation marked in a slightly stretched frown.
“See, that’s annoyed.”
“Tricked you. You’re smiling,” Kuroko says, bringing a hand up to flick Midorima’s bangs. Midorima takes his hand and covers the telltale expression.
“If you say so,” he mumbles.