Disclaimer: I own very little.
A/N: I play Kabaji in an LJ-based RPG, konomicomplex. Atobe's player wrote a wonderful fic from Kabaji's POV. This is my response to it.
Reassurance
The night is cold but the bed is warm. The arm wrapped around him is strong, drawing him against the muscular chest. He's had trouble sleeping, sometimes, but never when he's held like this. It's warm and comfortable and safe, so very safe, and everything that usually bothers him seems to flee from his mind as he closes his eyes, listening to the quiet breaths.
He should be ashamed, he knows. This is wrong of him, to behave in such a way, potentially ruining the reputation of his entire family. However, at the moment, he could care less. The family name is important, yes, but if preserving the name means giving up this, he'd rather see it go to waste. This is something he will not give up for anything.
The other sighs in his sleep, not unhappily, and he relaxes. Here, he has no worries. Here he knows he'll be accepted. This person will put up even with his most idiotic whims and spoiled tantrums, never telling him "Told you so" even when he fails. It doesn't matter that he isn't as perfect as he would like to appear, that he, too, is sometimes unsure and even afraid. In these arms even his stupidity will be forgiven.
It's been like this ever since he can remember, and probably longer. There has always been someone beside him, agreeing with him, saving him in the rare occasions his plans go wrong. And he plans on keeping that someone by his side for a long time to come, yet. Preferably forever. To imagine a life without him, without the constant reassuring presence by his side, is like imagining the world without the Sun. To imagine a life without this touch, these warm and sure hands, is like imagining a vast, empty sea all around him, with no living presence anywhere around him.
Those are images he will never want to come true.
"You will never leave me, naa, Kabaji," he whispers, sleepy but not yet succumbing to dreams. He does not expect an answer, knowing the other is asleep; he knows what it would be, anyway.
Nevertheless, as the other stirs a bit and mutters, "Usu," before returning to his dreams again, he feels inexplicably warm.