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King loved the low rumble of thunder. It was an odd but fascinating thing to him. What brought many fear and uncertainty brought him a feeling of admiration and excitement. Massive, growling clouds vibrated a spot in his heart, and after meeting Variares, he came to understand why he'd always felt that way.
But King always knew the difference among the natural progression of the weather's cycle, the roar in his ears during a heated battle, and the malicious storms he'd visioned in his dreams and experienced in his youth.
The dreams started as young as eight, King thinks, though he could've been younger than that. What should have been an evening cat nap on the roof of his small village's bakery ended up being an agonizing stretch of hours of waking up from a bad dream, being frustrated at the outcome, and falling back asleep determined to fix what had happened.
It was always the same set of dreams. Some were more frightful than others, but they always had repeating elements. There was always the overwhelming sense of doom and despair and the expectation that he would lose. He would lose both the battle he was in and the people he was supposed to protect. He never knew who these people were as he never saw their faces. He tried his hardest to stay in front of them, to prevent whatever evil was dead set on hurting them from taking victory, but their backs always faced him towards him in the end.
And then, not long after, he would be taken too.
King couldn't tear his eyes away from the figures that warped around him, silent and faceless. He didn't know if it was his own last drops of worthless courage or some higher being forcing him look at them head on. Hands, bony and blue, wrapped around his limbs and pulled him under. To where? He had no idea. But he knew once the dreams reached this part that there would be no more wakes to conscious and dips back into unconscious that could prevent the drag down any further.
Soft warm light bloomed in the corner of King's eyelids. His ears were registering a voice, concerned but muffled. It must have been calling his name. There was a gentle shake, and then another as a new hand, warm, tanned, and reasonably calloused, laid itself on his shoulder.
"King? King! Are you okay?"
𖤓 𖤓 𖤓
They've been getting good use out of the electric kettle lately.
It was the third outrageously-early morning in a row that King heard Masamune flick the kettle's switch, listened as the water bubbled and boiled for a time, and watched the other pour hot water into a mug. A teabag was smothered in it, chamomile this time.
King could feel Masamune's eyes staring holes into his head as he looked down at his tea, asking the same questions they asked the previous nights. What happened? Is there a way I can help?
King never answered him before. He didn't know how to answer. The descriptions he gave his night terrors when he thought of them to himself felt too childish. There was scary thunder and lightning in his dreams, how ironic considering the nature of their beys. People died in his dreams. That didn't come off as anything special. Dreams involving death surely weren't that uncommon.
Tilting his head up, King could see reflections from a nearby lamp in Masamune's eyes. It was as if there were little suns in his irises. The idea made it all the more difficult to look at him. And with his mind too occupied, he didn't even think to wait for his drink to cool before taking a sip.
"Shit-!" King hissed, almost tipping the mug over. Masamune winced as if he felt the burn himself.
Over the years, Masamune learned when and when not to pry, but, from the shifting of his feet and the nonrhythmic taps of his fingers against the table, King could tell he was having difficulty deciding this time. He might as well save him the stress.
"It wasn't anything too awful, if you're wondering," King said.
Masamune flared his nose, unconvinced. "You can only say that so many times before I start thinking it was something awful."
"It'll pass, you know that."
"Doesn't make it any better…" Masamune slumped in his chair. King didn't understand why he was getting worked up about it. It's not like he had the dreams himself.
Careful not to burn himself this time, King took a sip of his tea. The warmth traveling down his chest made him aware of the goosebumps on his arms, and the sudden temperature change caused his body twitch. Masamune's eyebrows furrowed. King wasn't doing a great job of acting nonchalant.
"Ready to go back go sleep?" Masamune asked.
"I don't want to keep bothering you while you're trying to get sleep too. I'll just sleep on the couch or something."
"And let you roll off in your sleep and crack your head open against the floor? Hell no."
"Then I'll just stack all the blankets and sleep on that."
"Your back won't be happy with you in the morning." Masamune took a sip of his tea. "I won't be either because you let whatever sleep demon is haunting you make me sleep in a cold bed."
King frowned and let out a great, exaggerated sigh. This absolute cornball. He pressed his palms to his cheeks and leaned forward onto the table, defeated. He knew he had no energy to fight back this time. This was the thing most lovable and irritating about his partner. As self centered as he was, Masamune's heart was always in a good place, and that meant he would always push for his way if he believed it right.
"You are…so difficult."
"Look who's talking," Masamune chuckled, soft and tired. It echoed in King's mind, that laughter, and washed what frustration he felt from his dreams, his lack of sleep, and his partner's decline of the chance to not wake up at stupid o'clock because of his reoccurring stress dreams.
Fighting the weight of his eyelids, King wouldn't mind staying awake just a little longer if it meant hearing more of Masamune.
Though, Masamune rose from his seat and put a wrench in those plans. King felt an arm wrap under his own and around his waist to support him.
"Let's get back to bed before you fall face-flat here. You're really hard to carry, y'know," Masamune teased.
"Shuttt uppp," King slurred as he slung an arm around the other's shoulder.
King was sure he was drifting back to the world of sleep halfway down the hallway. He began to think not being able to see his partner now was more cruel than what his dreams had put him through. Supported by warm hands, King felt the motions of being gently laid onto the mattress, and, shortly after, a body pressing up against his. He could feel fingers begin to slowly card through his hair with the smallest tugs, curling around his locks and smoothing any tangles they could find. Then, massaging their way down his arm, they interlocked with his own.
"Masamune," King mumbled.
"Yeah?" the other replied behind him.
"Nemesis. 'Always has been."
King didn't get back a verbal response. Instead, he felt Masamune hold him closer.
𖤓 𖤓 𖤓
The weather that afternoon wasn't the greatest. An incoming storm called for the bey-battle-race kids at the Dungeon Gym were planning to have to be cancelled, so all activities were held inside. Sad, King thought. It would've been fun seeing Masamune race against the hoard.
"Something going on out there?" Speaking of the devil. King turned around to face him.
"Nothing much, I just like looking out for lightning when the clouds are like this." They could see storm clouds coming in, and the Sun that greeted them earlier was hardly visible.
"I can shoot lightning too, y'know," Masamune grinned.
King snorted. This idiot. "That was awful."
"What!? I don't know what you're talking about. I'm literally the funniest guy on Earth."
"Number-one-funny guy?"
"Exactly! I'm the number-one-funny guy."
"The number-one-funny guy better make sure he doesn't lose his "Number One Blader" title to a bunch of kindergartners in the next hour."
"Nah," Masamune waved his hands. "Not a chance!"
With a bounce, King stepped forward and grabbed those hands, palms against palms, and playfully shook his partner's arms around. Though caught by surprise, Masamune wasted no time breaking out into light, contagious giggles as he shook back, his laughter growing with each push of their little game.
"Masamune," King slowed his own laughter, still focused on preventing the other's arms from pushing his own across the imaginary line they created together. "I forgot to tell you, but I wanted to say thank you for earlier. I'm glad you stayed up with me."
"Ah, no worries. Hey! You can't be getting all sappy on me now, we're at work!" Masamune flushed.
"What? Am I not allowed to appreciate my idiot boyfriend on the clock? Is that a new rule?"
Instead of replying back, Masamune leaned in closer and used his legs to push himself forward, nearly head-butting the other. With quick thinking, King used that momentum to lift him off the ground and spin him around once, twice. He only managed to get two spins in before the dramatic flailing of Masamune's arms could call for a bigger scene.
"You are sick and evil and twisted and all you do is trick me," Masamune bantered as he settled back on the ground. He dusted his jacket in cartoony fashion.
"Yeah, yeah, what's new? Go do your job now. My break's almost over I'll join you soon."
Masamune squinted his eyes and stuck his tongue out, getting one last tease in before turning around and walking towards the indoor stadiums. King couldn't help but chuckle at the childish gesture. Despite being out of their teens, the two of them still entertained each other with this playfulness.
A roll of thunder turned King's attention back to the windows, and the Sun that previously lit up the sky was now completely engulfed by dark clouds. Rain would fall soon and wind was sure to follow it. But even if covered, the Sun would still be with the clouds and the thunder and the rain, and stay shining in the end.