Cold Nights
Aya cracked one eyelid open groggily, taking in his surroundings slowly. He was on his bed, which for some reason had a second twin pushed up against it, and he was sprawled lengthwise across it. Multiple bed sheets lay in a tangled array at his feet, and he stretched slightly.
It was then he noticed that something was different.
There was an unusual warmth next to him, and he glanced at his right to discover the source of it. A sleeping Omi had taken captive of his arm, using his forearm as a pillow, and clasping his hand gently in his smaller, paler one. Alarmingly, he found his arm encircling the waist of the younger boy, and Omi's back directly against his chest.
Panic swept over the redhead. When had this happened? What happened? Why was Omi leaning on him like this? And more importantly, why was he holding Omi like this?
Goosebumps passed over the older man's body in waves, and he found it difficult to breathe, not only from the fact that the boy's hair was covering his face. He searched his mind wildly, trying to remember the chain of events that may have led him to that situation in particular.
Aya jumped at the sound of the boy stirring. He could only watch in open-eyed wonder as the boy lazily rubbed an eye, and nuzzled closer against the warmth of Aya's body, squeezing his hand slightly. A small, soft smile graced the redhead's face, and for reasons unbeknownst to him, he squeezed back.
Some time later, Aya felt himself begin to hyperventilate, and so he rolled onto his back, still clasping Omi's hand above his head, but no longer encircling his waist. Not three minutes after he did so, Omi rolled over and curled against Aya's side, tucking his head into Aya's chest and nuzzling against it softly. Their hands had been separated when Omi moved, and so Omi reclaimed Aya's hand, hugging it to his chest.
The same soft smile graced Aya's face, and he gently tucked some stray bangs from out of Omi's eyes behind his ears, brushing his fingertips across his forehead and cheeks as he did so.
It wasn't too long after that that Omi woke up, stretching lazily. He opened one bright, blue eye, and grinned sheepishly at Aya.
"Gomen, Aya-kun," Omi apologized, half slurred with sleep. "It got cold in my room last night, and you're so warm..."
"Betsuni, Omi." Aya said quickly. "Don't worry about it."
Omi smiled, appeased, and rolled off the bed, making his way towards the door. "I'll make us some breakfast, okay?" He said on his way out.
Aya just nodded, glad to be left to his thoughts.
Why?
The predominant question on his mind right now was why.
Why had Omi chosen him to curl up with?
Why had he looked so content to do so?
Why hadn't Aya pushed Omi away? Or, at least moved himself.
He came to the rather disturbing conclusion that he had enjoyed that brief encounter; that unrestricted outlet of emotion. It gave him a chance to express true emotion, and receive it, without having to sacrifice any of his sturdily built floodgate against all the emotions he was too afraid to release. Love happened to be one of those.
.... Wait. Love? I don't think so. There was no way Aya could possibly love Omi. He just felt... at peace. Needed. Wanted. Cared for. The way Omi had leaned against his chest and smiled. The way Omi had clasped his hand, and squeezed it ever so gently in his sleep. The way his arm seemed to fit so perfectly over his waist. The feel of his back leaning against his chest...
"Aya! Breakfast is ready!"
Aya jumped again. "H... hai." He managed. Shaking his head, he rolled off of his bed and made his way downstairs.
He'd have to sort all this out later. As for now, he had a day to get through.
Aya cracked one eyelid open groggily, taking in his surroundings slowly. He was on his bed, which for some reason had a second twin pushed up against it, and he was sprawled lengthwise across it. Multiple bed sheets lay in a tangled array at his feet, and he stretched slightly.
It was then he noticed that something was different.
There was an unusual warmth next to him, and he glanced at his right to discover the source of it. A sleeping Omi had taken captive of his arm, using his forearm as a pillow, and clasping his hand gently in his smaller, paler one. Alarmingly, he found his arm encircling the waist of the younger boy, and Omi's back directly against his chest.
Panic swept over the redhead. When had this happened? What happened? Why was Omi leaning on him like this? And more importantly, why was he holding Omi like this?
Goosebumps passed over the older man's body in waves, and he found it difficult to breathe, not only from the fact that the boy's hair was covering his face. He searched his mind wildly, trying to remember the chain of events that may have led him to that situation in particular.
Aya jumped at the sound of the boy stirring. He could only watch in open-eyed wonder as the boy lazily rubbed an eye, and nuzzled closer against the warmth of Aya's body, squeezing his hand slightly. A small, soft smile graced the redhead's face, and for reasons unbeknownst to him, he squeezed back.
Some time later, Aya felt himself begin to hyperventilate, and so he rolled onto his back, still clasping Omi's hand above his head, but no longer encircling his waist. Not three minutes after he did so, Omi rolled over and curled against Aya's side, tucking his head into Aya's chest and nuzzling against it softly. Their hands had been separated when Omi moved, and so Omi reclaimed Aya's hand, hugging it to his chest.
The same soft smile graced Aya's face, and he gently tucked some stray bangs from out of Omi's eyes behind his ears, brushing his fingertips across his forehead and cheeks as he did so.
It wasn't too long after that that Omi woke up, stretching lazily. He opened one bright, blue eye, and grinned sheepishly at Aya.
"Gomen, Aya-kun," Omi apologized, half slurred with sleep. "It got cold in my room last night, and you're so warm..."
"Betsuni, Omi." Aya said quickly. "Don't worry about it."
Omi smiled, appeased, and rolled off the bed, making his way towards the door. "I'll make us some breakfast, okay?" He said on his way out.
Aya just nodded, glad to be left to his thoughts.
Why?
The predominant question on his mind right now was why.
Why had Omi chosen him to curl up with?
Why had he looked so content to do so?
Why hadn't Aya pushed Omi away? Or, at least moved himself.
He came to the rather disturbing conclusion that he had enjoyed that brief encounter; that unrestricted outlet of emotion. It gave him a chance to express true emotion, and receive it, without having to sacrifice any of his sturdily built floodgate against all the emotions he was too afraid to release. Love happened to be one of those.
.... Wait. Love? I don't think so. There was no way Aya could possibly love Omi. He just felt... at peace. Needed. Wanted. Cared for. The way Omi had leaned against his chest and smiled. The way Omi had clasped his hand, and squeezed it ever so gently in his sleep. The way his arm seemed to fit so perfectly over his waist. The feel of his back leaning against his chest...
"Aya! Breakfast is ready!"
Aya jumped again. "H... hai." He managed. Shaking his head, he rolled off of his bed and made his way downstairs.
He'd have to sort all this out later. As for now, he had a day to get through.
