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Kamukura was not an easy person to read, in fact he actively worked against it. The boredom he complained of likely helped suppress some of his reactions, but Komaeda knew there was also a carefully crafted shell of indifference. One that never so much as crinkled a brow, or scrunched its nose unless it served him, and that was a rarity.
Komaeda wondered then, if Kamukura knew the way it crumbled away at times like this.
It was a hot night, so hot that even Kamukura was shirtless, sleeping soundly next to Komaeda. He didn't curl close like he usually did, but their bare thighs were pressed together under the thin sheet.
The heat was too much for Komaeda, sitting upright and fanning himself. He had pulled his damaged curls into a bun, but it still managed to look messy and unruly. There was a rickety box fan blowing towards him, doing the best it could to fight the humidity.
Blankets covered the windows, and Komaeda knew that they were only trapping heat even further, but he also knew Kamukura was right when he said it was the safest course of action. The area they were in had been a bit more active than usual, from both their fellow remnants and the foundation.
Komaeda let out a raspy sigh, giving up on fanning himself. It was really only a pretense, doing nothing to actually cool him down. He looked down at Kamukura, fast asleep through it all. He'd braided his hair back to keep it from tangling around them both like a second blanket, and Komaeda could see his face was slightly red, shining with sweat.
He reached down, wiping the dampness from his forehead. It was hard to tell what Kamukura was dreaming about, whether it was good or bad. He looked like he was concentrating on something. His eyebrows were knit together, soft lips turned down into a frown.
It made something in Komaeda ache. It was silly to hope for a happier expression on the others face, especially in this day and age, but he couldn't help the thought. To see a smile from him that wasn't meant to manipulate.
He knew it was selfish, but in moments like these he liked to pretend he was the only one to see Kamukura like this, mask of stoicism cast aside for the comfort of sleeping with a lover. Not Togami, and certainly not Enoshima, just him. To wish for a smile was even greedier. He'd keep it to himself, never so much as a whisper about it to anyone outside of their shared bed. Maybe not even to Kamukura himself. The thought pulled a breathy chuckle from him, the sound cracking halfway through.
Suddenly, Kamukura’s expression twisted, frown deepening and face scrunching up. His breathing shallowed out too, the sheet twisting around his body as he rolled over, lying half on top of Komaeda now.
Komaeda stilled at the sound of a small, disgruntled mumbling from Kamukura, before wiggling his arm out from where he'd accidentally pinned it. The movement seemed to startle Kamukura, who wrapped his arms around Komaeda’s stomach and dragged him closer, clinging to him like an oversized stuffed animal.
Komaeda swore he felt himself heat up instantaneously at the contact, sweat beginning to drip down his back, but he didn't dare pull away. Instead, he gently ran his thumb across Kamukura's forehead, trying to smooth the worry lines there. He seemed to relax ever so slightly at that, sinking further into Komaeda.
Komaeda let his hand trail further down, skating across too-skinny ribs and scars until he was lightly patting Kamukura's back.
He knew Kamukura didn't sleep enough. He knew that nightmares like this were part of the reason, even if he didn't say so. He was determined to help with that now, finding a simple tune to hum. He was a bit hoarse, and kept losing his place and repeating sections, but he kept on.
He didn't deserve to hold Kamukura like this, to see him so vulnerable, but he could try and make his presence worth something.
Soon, the cramping in his wrist paid off. Kamukura's hold loosened, his expression flattening back into something unreadable. A deep breath like a sigh before he fell back into a comfortable rhythm. But still, he didn't pull away, his head resting on Komaeda's ribs as he held onto him. It was still too hot for it, but Komaeda didn't care. He'd stay like this forever, dying of heatstroke before he pushed Kamukura away.
Kamukura would wake up before him tomorrow morning like he always did. He'd pour their instant coffee into cold water rather than hot, and he'd wake Komaeda with a kiss that tastes like cigarettes, press a few pills into his palm. Komaeda would ask if he'd had any dreams, and Kamukura would say no. Whether he was lying, or simply forgetting, Komaeda could never tell, but he didn't presume that he deserved to either. This was enough for him.