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Michael can’t quite remember the last time he’s felt this relaxed. It’s a comforting feeling that comes once in a while, for some or for no reason at all. The sheets rustle slightly beneath him, shifting under his weight.
The grating ringing of his alarm is background noise to him, a melody that no longer sends him sitting upright in a matter of seconds. Regardless, he reaches over to turn it off, pressing the ‘stop’ button without looking. A few more minutes of sleep would do him good, he thinks, though this is hardly like him. He curls further in the sheets, pulling the blanket over his shoulder and succumbing to the comfort of slumber.
Before long, he hears breathing that’s not his own, faint but near, like, really near. He doesn't get time to react, though, as arms wrap around his midsection and pull him towards a certain warmth, one that makes his eyes snap wide open. He doesn’t realize how startling it is to see a fellow New Generation World XI member in front of him and not just that, but in his bed, cuddling up to him in a manner that can barely be classified as platonic. He almost jumps out of his skin, sitting up abruptly and in the process, accidentally smacking the latter square across the face with his palm.
Sae wakes with an incoherent grumble. Exhaustion is etched deep into his expression, holding a clear unwillingness to let go of the blonde. Michael finds this appalling, completely and utterly out of character for the latter.
“Sae—Itoshi, wake up,” He mutters, his voice hoarse and frankly, a bit desperate. The midfielder, however, doesn’t. Refuses to budge in the slightest. In fact, he seems to have fallen right back asleep, relishing in the warmth of the blankets—Michael's blankets, mind you, and his body heat, too. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”
-
He recalls the events that took place the previous night, internally groaning at his lack of foresight. After camp that day, Kaiser noticed a few things off about the latter. First, that Sae seemed to be close by wherever he was, presumably watching his every move; for what reason, he couldn't quite figure out. He hadn't given it much thought until the second thing he noticed, which was the reply he had given when confronted.
"Took you long enough," Sae says, no elaboration given. Instead, Michael gets pulled along by his wrist, forced to be dragged away and into his room. His room? What is he scheming?
Michael protests, snatching his wrist away with a hiss. "Is your translator broken? I asked you a simple question, Itoshi."
Surprisingly, Sae doesn't try to grab him again. Instead, the midfielder makes himself comfortable on his bed, cozying up in his sheets. Preposterous.
At that point, Michael is exhausted. He's made a reputation for himself for his arrogance and superiority on field, but really, he doesn't feel like maintaining that. Not now, at least, when practice has been endlessly tiring and his bed is right there, albeit being hogged by someone else.
He decides to climb into bed, only after nudging Sae off the bed and taking the blankets for himself. They were rightfully his, after all.
Somewhere during the night, the blanket was no longer just his. He doesn't realize it until he wakes up.
-
Michael attempts to pry off the arms around him, though he realizes soon enough it’s futile. Sae is surprisingly, and infuriatingly, strong when asleep, keeping a tight hold around him.
This’ll be a long morning.