Johan woke with tears in his eyes. He became aware, slowly, of a strange panic in the back of his mind; his heart was beating too quickly, his breath coming too quick. He realized that his face was wet, and he could taste the salt of his tears in his mouth. A few images flashed through his mind. He couldn't tell what they were—something dark, something moving quickly, a flash of something, fire maybe—but he felt the panic spike, felt the tears well up again.

He gripped the sheets and sat up quickly, taking a shaky breath, trying to slow his rapidly beating heart. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, and the world unblurred itself. He realized where he was: Tenma's bed, in his modest one-bedroom apartment. A new sense of panic set in, and Johan looked quickly to his side, expecting to see Tenma there, staring at him, watching his hideous tears and pathetic, quivering body—but the bed was empty, as was the room.

Johan gave a deep sigh of relief. He was fully awake now, and he could hear the sound of the kettle beginning to whistle in the kitchen outside. He heard shuffling and footsteps, and the whistling subsided.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, glancing about the room for something to wear. He found a pair of discarded trunks and one of Tenma's t-shirts, then opened the door and slipped quietly out of the room.

Tenma was standing at the kitchen counter, pouring milk into a cup of instant coffee. Johan tried his best to edge silently to the bathroom, not wanting Tenma to see him before he had splashed water on his face and ran a comb through his hair, but he didn't make it there before Tenma turned around and noticed him.

Tenma's face lit up when he saw Johan. He was wearing what he usually went to bed in, a simple white t-shirt and a pair of boxer briefs. His long black hair was disheveled.

"Oh, you're awake!" Tenma said. "Would you like some coffee?"

Johan blinked at him. "Oh no, that's alright—"

"It's no trouble," Tenma said. "The water's hot already." Johan opened his mouth to protest, but Tenma had already begun busying himself with the kettle.

Johan waited until Tenma wasn't watching, then ducked into the bathroom to wash up. When he emerged, Tenma was sitting on the couch, immersed in a book. He had left Johan's coffee on the countertop, next to a piece of buttered toast.

Johan paused, looking around the room. He wasn't used to being the one who woke up second, and he felt unsure of himself. Did Tenma want him to leave? That was what usually happened when they spent the night together—Johan would wake up first, get dressed, and leave before Tenma had the chance to say goodbye to him. Johan liked it that way. And Tenma had never commented on it, so he assumed that he liked it that way, too. But here Tenma was, preparing him coffee and toast, sitting on the couch like everything was normal.

Johan slunk over to where Tenma was sitting. Tenma didn't seem to notice he was there, so Johan sat down next to him. Tenma still didn't react; he just kept intently reading whatever he was reading.

Johan felt a sudden spike of frustration. He inched closer to Tenma and placed a hand on his forearm. Tenma started and looked up at him, blinking.

"Oh! I, uh… I didn't notice you were there," Tenma said. He closed the book and turned towards Johan. "I'm sorry." He smiled. "How are you feeling this morning?"

Johan didn't answer at first. He looked at Tenma's bright, relaxed face for a few moments. Then he smiled back, coyly.

"How do you think I'm feeling?" he said. He leaned in closer.

Tenma gave him a puzzled look. "I don't…" he began, but Johan had begun sliding his hand up Tenma's thigh. He moved close to Tenma and began fingering the waistband of his boxer briefs, gazing at him with cool blue eyes.

Tenma opened his mouth slightly, as if he were about to speak. Johan had both hands on Tenma's thighs now, and he ducked his head down and began kissing Tenma's stomach, pulling his waistband down slowly.

He felt Tenma tense up, then put his hands on Johan's head. Johan kept going, expecting Tenma to lean back and wrap his fingers in his blonde hair. Instead, he lifted up Johan's head and met his eyes, a look of concern on his face.

"What?" Johan said.

"Johan…" Tenma pulled back, carefully removing Johan's hands from his body.

"What?" Johan repeated.

"You don't… have to do this," Tenma said.

"What do you mean?" Johan said. Confusion and anger welled up inside him. "Isn't this what you want?"

Tenma shook his head. "No," he said. "No, it's not what I want."

"Then what do you want?" said Johan. "You want to blow me, or something?"

"No!" Tenma's face grew dark. "Just… stop."

Johan sat up and folded his arms close to his body. "Okay, I'll leave," he said. His face grew hot with embarrassment. He was angry, not so much with Tenma now, but with himself. He was being stupid. Tenma wanted him to go home, but he was still there, like some desperate child hungry for attention.

Johan averted his gaze and began to stand up, but Tenma grabbed his wrist. "No, that's not…" He pulled Johan down towards him. "Look at me," he said.

Tenma reached forward and tilted Johan's head towards him, and Johan met his gaze. Tenma frowned and pushed a lock of hair out of Johan's face. "You didn't sleep well last night," he said. "You need to eat something."

Johan blushed deeply. He wanted so badly to not be there, to be alone, to not be seen. "I'm not hungry," he muttered.

Tenma sighed. He took both of Johan's hands in his and pulled him closer. They were sitting side by side on the couch now, facing each other.

"I heard you talking in your sleep," Tenma said, his voice gentler now. "What were you dreaming about?"

Johan looked down at his lap. "I don't remember," he said.

"It sounded like something bad. You were crying. I tried to wake you up, but—"

"No, I wasn't!"

"It's okay," Tenma said. His voice was soft, and deep, and Johan felt himself growing calmer, though he did not know why. "It's okay. You're okay."

Johan looked up at him. "Why are you asking me this?" he said. He tried to keep his voice level and firm, but it began to falter.

Tenma tilted his head quizzically, and then a gentle smile played at his lips. "Because I care about you," he said. "I want to make sure you're alright.

Johan felt a sudden ache in his chest. He didn't know what it was—it wasn't anger, or hurt, really. He didn't understand why Tenma was doing this, or why he hadn't laughed at him for something so ridiculous as crying in his sleep. It was strange, and new, but he wasn't frightened. That was the strangest part.

He hesitated. "I have these… dreams, sometimes," he said. "I don't remember them when I wake up. But they…" He swallowed. "I don't know. I'm sorry."

"No, don't be," said Tenma. "It's alright. I understand."

Johan felt tears begin to well up in his eyes again, but he didn't turn away. Tenma was gazing at him, his eyes full of something warm and deep, something that made Johan want to sink into him, to be near him, to be held by him.

Tenma leaned forward and took Johan's head in his hands. He paused for a moment, and then their lips met. They kissed tenderly, softly, their breath sweet and warm against each other's mouths, a hint of wetness on their lips.

They pulled back, and Johan saw that Tenma was looking at him with something like sadness on his face. "I want you to stay, Johan," he said. He took a deep breath. "I don't… like it when you leave. I want to see you in the mornings. Just for a little while."

Johan nodded. "Okay," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "I can do that."

Tenma smiled at him. He seemed relieved. "Alright," he said. He glanced over at the countertop. "I think your coffee's gotten cold."

Tenma stood up and went over to the counter. Johan stayed on the couch, leaning back, letting himself sink down into it. The shirt he wore carried Tenma's scent, and he closed his eyes, breathing it in deeply. His body had relaxed itself now, and the weight of anger and shame had lifted. Instead, a sweet calm settled over him, like everything was okay, like he didn't need to go anywhere or be anything but here. It was a good feeling. He hadn't felt this way in a long time.