Work Text:
2:57 AM.
The silence in our apartment was a physical presence. It was the kind of deep, city-night quiet that wasn't truly silent at all—the hum of a distant elevator, the occasional siren a dozen blocks away, the soft meows of the cat next door. But it was empty. The space next to me in our bed was a cold, flat expanse of sheet.
I’d been tossing for what felt like hours, my mind refusing to shut down. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the stark difference between the chaotic, vibrant energy of Rin’s last video call—him surrounded by laughing teammates in a brightly lit hotel hallway, still buzzing from their win—and the stillness of our bedroom. Two months. He was finally back in the same time zone, the same city, but he still felt a world away, wrapped up in the team's post-victory bubble.
My phone glowed on the nightstand. A stupid, impulsive idea bloomed in my sleep-deprived brain. I didn't want a conversation. I didn't even expect a reply. I just wanted to send my feelings out into the universe, to pin my lonely thoughts to him like a digital note.
I unlocked the phone, the light making me squint. My thumbs hovered over the keyboard before typing the simple, aching sentence.
To: Rin
I wish that we were laying in the same sheets.
I hit send before I could overthink it. The message drifted away into ether, a tiny flare shot into the night.
I stared at the screen for a moment longer, half-hoping, half-dreading to see those three dots appear. But nothing. Of course not. It was the middle of the night in Tokyo, of course he would finally be catching up on the sleep he’d lost during the tournament. He was probably drained, his big hands curled around a water bottle instead of my waist, his clever mind focused on game analytics instead of my silly midnight whims.
I let the phone drop back onto the nightstand, the screen facing down. A sigh escaped me, fogging in the cool air. I flopped onto my back, staring at the ceiling, trying to conjure the feeling of his weight beside me, the sound of his breathing, the way he'd unconsciously reach for me in his sleep.
*He’ll see it in the morning,* I told myself. *He’ll send back a heart or a silly sticker, and that will be that.*
I squeezed my eyes shut, pulling the duvet up to my chin, trying to ignore the profound emptiness of the other side of the bed. The wish was sent. Now, I just had to wait for it to be granted.
My trusty alarm rang again on time at 7am. I heaved a sigh, ready to flop myself out of the comfort of my cozy bed. Just as I was about to lift the covers, a strong pair of arms circled my waist and pulled me back.
“Wh-, Rin you know I have to go to work.” I sighed, voice dripping with tiredness.
“Mhmm,” Rin nuzzled into the nape of my neck, his voice sending vibrations up my spine.
Wait. Something’s wrong.
I turned to face him in amazement. “Aren’t you still in post-comp week?.”
He shifted, and even in the dim light with the curtains still drawn, I could see the familiar, playful glint in his fox-like eyes. Two months of international tournaments had honed his muscles even more; I could feel the solid strength of his arms, the definition of his chest against me.
"For the record," he continued, his long fingers starting to gently massage my scalp, a move he knew turned my brain to mush, "the coach called it 'mandatory post-season rest.' I just... expedited the paperwork. Told him my recovery depended on optimal cuddle conditions."
I snorted, burying my face in his neck. He always smelled like clean soap and a little bit of the crisp, cold air from outside, even now. "You did not."
"Okay, fine," he laughed, the sound warm and infectious. "I might have said I had a pressing personal matter to attend to. Which," he paused, his tone softening as he used his thumb to tilt my chin up so I had to look at him, "is the absolute truth. This is the most important thing I have to do all week."
His expression was so earnest, so completely serious, that any last thought of my abandoned work email vanished.
"Besides," he added, the playfulness returning as he flopped onto his back, pulling me so I was half-sprawled on top of him. "You think I could focus on training after getting a text like that last night? 'I wish that we were laying in the same sheets'?" He mimicked my voice, badly, making me giggle. "That's a distraction of the highest order, doll. A national athlete needs his focus."
He settled us back into the pillows, his arms a secure, warm weight around me. "So, no more talking. Official team orders. We are achieving optimal rest and cuddle synchronization. The fate of Japan's volleyball future might depend on it."
I laughed softly, finally giving in completely and relaxing against him. "Yes, sir."
"Good," he murmured, his voice already drifting back towards sleep. "Now... wish granted."