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Finals
Roxas hated whenever his boyfriend pulled an all-nighter. AU. [RoxasxSora]
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Roxas took in a lungful of spring air as he stepped into the spring breeze outside Baird Hall. He hiked down the stairs, settled into an even pace, and began his cross-campus trek back to his apartment, strolling down the sidewalk without a care in the world.
He wasn't worried about his latest final in the slightest. He might not have known faire from fare, but Roxas knew he would pass his French class no sweat. He was a great—if not perfect—test-taker.
His brunet boyfriend, Sora, on the other hand, was not.
Sora was the kind of student who studied several days before an exam, only for the information to slip away from him a few hours later. It frustrated the boy to no end.
Suddenly, Roxas caught himself frowning. The last time he had seen the brunet, he had been cramming for his upcoming biology exam—his comprehensive, worth-seventy-percent-of-his-total-grade final exam, he had emphasized for the last two weeks of Roxas's life—running on only sugar and caffeine.
He had never told Sora this, but he hated it whenever the brunet pulled an all-nighter. The outgoing teen would turn into an absolute monster. And in all honesty, Roxas didn't think that the twelve straight hours of studying helped him at all. So, understandably, Roxas was a little anxious to get back and check-up on Sora.
He waved a hand towards one of his friends before he darted across Delaware Street (tossing his left side a cursory glance before deciding that pedestrians had the right-of-way) and headed toward the Fisher apartment buildings.
He knocked lightly on the door to their apartment, but didn't get a response. He began digging around in his pockets for his keys as he tried the doorknob. It was unlocked.
"Hmm…" Roxas hummed to himself, his brows furrowing. Sora always made sure that every door and every window were locked tight. Him leaving the front door open was very uncharacteristic.
"Sora?" he called as he stepped inside, flipping on the lights as the door clicked shut behind him. He dropped his satchel inside the front door. The TV was on, a Friends rerun gracing the screen, but the brunet was nowhere to be seen.
He wandered towards Sora's room. His door, much like the front door, was closed but unlocked. He braced himself before pulling it open. All-nighter Sora was often an ugly sight, and with the stress of finals, Roxas expected the worst. Maybe he would find the brunet foaming at the mouth and rambling about endoplasmic reticulum and mitochondria. Or maybe he would just be sprawled across a pile of textbooks, dead.
Instead, he found his beloved asleep on the floor, discarded candy wrappers and empty Coke bottles scattered around him like fallen leaves. He could just make out the handle of Sora's favorite mug—decorated with pugs and most likely stained, inside and out, with coffee—buried beneath a massive stack of books, a forgotten relic.
More than twenty-four hours without sleep, combined with a nasty sugar crash, had finally caught up with the boy, leaving him sleeping soundly.
Roxas chuckled softly to himself. Despite living together, it wasn't often that he got to witness Sora like this. He went to pick up the brunet, intending to put him into bed.
"Damn, Sora," he muttered under his breath, straining to lift his deceivingly thin boyfriend, "you gotta lay off the pizza rolls…"
He navigated past a giant pile of clothes (both dirty and clean) and, with a grunt, dumped Sora onto the twin bed, his arms already aching. It did little to stimulate the boy out of his sugar coma, though. Sora's eyes fluttered open for an instant before sliding shut again. A bleary groan escaped his lips, and he rolled over, curling into a small, Sora-shaped ball.
Roxas looked down at the sleeping figure and smiled.
"I guess a little nap never hurt anyone," he said. He wiggled onto the bed and curled up next to his beau, throwing an arm around the brunet's waist with a sigh of content. He took in the lavender scent of Sora's hair as he laid his head down on the pillow and closed his eyes.
After all, summer was just around the corner...
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Some days—okay, most days—I just want to curl up in a ball and take a nap. (We're all a bit overworked nowadays, don't you think?) That's where this drabble comes from, I suppose.
4 February 2013