Sleeping and Waking

A/N: I'm taking a bit of a liberty here. While it's kinda weird to think that a family as high and mighty as the Usamis would allow two children in one bed, the thought of Hiroki and Akihiko sleeping in separate rooms (or even separate beds, considering that said beds are freakin' huge) is even weirder. So for the purposes of this fic they sleep together. Poor Hiroki, heh.

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Their tunnel of blue and green and white was just green and gray the next day, and…

Hiroki's flute was driving Akihiko crazy.

Or rather, not so much the flute as the person blowing it. I can't write with this 'po-po' flying around in the air, Akihiko thought childishly, stowing his notebook. I give up. It's not like I can tell him to stop, either, because…

'Kamijou-kun, okinasai!'

Because he was fast asleep in class. I don't think he slept very well last night. Akihiko sighed. Because of him, him and his irresistible urges and crazy ideas. Lazily, he allowed himself to sink a little into the invitingly soft bushes behind him and watched Hiroki fret over the flute.

A frown folded itself between Hiroki's eyebrows as he glared at the offending instrument. His fingers, small and slender and pale, wiggled over and across the holes like fireflies. His lips—

He looks like he's kissing that thing.

Hiroki's pursed lips touched the flute softly, delicately. Akihiko found himself unbelievably captured by the swell of his cheek as he blew, eyes blazing in concentration, fingers flying over the sleek wood, brow furrowed. If I'd watched him from the start, I wouldn't have minded the horrible sound.

In any case, I'm not getting any writing done today.

'I can't get this at all', said Hiroki finally, and Akihiko immediately regretted wanting him to stop. 'I need to learn how to play it, though, or else Sensei's just going to scold me again.'

'You're playing an octave higher than you should', offered Akihiko by way of help. Not that I want you to stop, now that I've realized I can just watch you.

'I know that', said Hiroki peevishly; his eyes hadn't left the flute. The brown of the flute is just a shade darker than his eyes…but it looks so different when I know he's looking at me from behind that color.

'My fingers don't reach all the holes.' Hiroki's nostrils flared briefly, and a strip of even deeper pink was revealed as he stuck out his lower lip in a pout. It was an I-dare-you-to-make-fun-of-that stance. One that Akihiko knew too well by now.

He had other plans, though, as he gazed at Hiroki's bottom lip. The weak sunlight from behind the silver clouds was caught in the saliva coating his friend's lips like a beacon. It was glistening feebly off the intimate skin that came right after the lip, glimmering, sparkling. Enticing.

Hiroki really had been blowing hard.

And just like that, looking isn't enough right now. Right now, I need to touch him.

'Impossible', he said in response to Hiroki's remark. 'Let me borrow your hand.' He reached out and took one of Hiroki's hands, limp and ridiculously warm in his own palm.

Just a couple of inches. All I need to do is lift it a couple of inches, and I can press it to my mouth. I can taste him again. In order to divert himself from this particularly disruptive train of thought, he lined their hands together, palms facing inward. His hand dwarfed Hiroki's, the other boy's fingertips ending at Akihiko's third knuckles. Hiroki's tepid warmth and his contrasting coolness brought a sudden blush to his cheeks.

He pulled his hand away as though burned.

'Yeah, you're right. Your hand's smaller than mine. Hey, lend me your flute.' Hastily, he twisted the flute away from an unsuspecting and rather flustered Hiroki, and raised it to his own mouth. If he saw Hiroki twitch and glare, he did not react. I know it's an indirect kiss, if that's what you're thinking. That's the reason I'm even doing this.

He played a little bit of 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star', a nursery rhyme he'd learnt in England. There was a very faint taste of Hiroki still fresh on the mouthpiece; greedily yet covertly, he savored every ounce until it was completely eclipsed by his own. He pulled the flute away rather reluctantly.

'I think the bigger problem is that you're blowing too hard', he commented idly. Hiroki had turned away from him, determinedly facing the sky. These things embarrass him, I saw that a long time ago. But it's not like I can control every urge that bubbles within me, not when I don't even know what they are. All I can do is hope he gets used to it. Or puts it down to my personality. Or something.

Hiroki's eyes were a study in shyness as they probed the clouds that veiled the sky in myriad shades of grey. If he'd heard Akihiko's remark, he showed no sign of it; slowly yet surely, Akihiko watched the blush evaporate from his cheeks. I think I could spend all my life just watching him blush and unblush.

He's looking at the sky so keenly…it makes me wonder what he'd do if raindrops fell right into his eyes.

Plink.

Akihiko felt a pinprick of coldness on the back of his wrist. Plink, plink, plink. 'Oh', he said wonderingly. 'It's raining.'

'We'd better get out of here, then', said Hiroki, breaking his self-imposed silence. 'Woah! It's a deluge!' The drizzle had rapidly evolved into an outright downpour, and the two of them scrambled to their feet in the now slippery grass and made a break for the trees. Their book bags provided little shielding against what was threatening to become a full-blown storm.

'Let's go to my house!' said Akihiko frantically, as loudly as he could over the squelching of their shoes and the pounding of the rain against the leaves. Looks like Tanaka's going to get his wish.

They splashed their way to Akihiko's front door to find Tanaka already there—doesn't miss a thing, this man—with a towel. 'Tanaka-san, can we get another towel? I have a guest', muttered Akihiko as he stepped in, shaking the water out of his shoes.

Tanaka was looking inquiringly at Hiroki, who'd followed Akihiko in without invitation and was looking at the hall wide eyes even wider than usual. Akihiko, for the first time, felt glad that he lived in such a big house. Hiroki will like it here. Guess Tanaka was right. 'This is Kamijou-kun from across the street', he said in response to Tanaka's unspoken question.

The butler's face lit up immediately. 'Ah, Kamijou-sama? I have heard a lot about you from Akihiko-sama here!' Instantly, a second towel was produced. Hiroki gingerly took it between his fingers and raised it to his head. 'Yeah, hi', he mumbled.

'Welcome to our house', smiled Tanaka, bowing. 'I shall bring you something warm to drink.'

'Come, I'll show you my room', said Akihiko, heading for the stairs. Hiroki padded after him, whispering urgently. 'Hey, you told him about me?'

'Yeah, maybe', he said vaguely, pausing to towel his hair so Hiroki wouldn't see the color on his face.

'Who is that man, anyway?'

'Butler.' Akihiko reached the top of the stairs. 'My room's this way, come on.'

He allowed his eyes to rest on Hiroki every step of the way to his room. Hiroki was a mix of wary and wowed; his eyes took in the high ceiling and plush red carpet that Akihiko despised so passionately with guarded enthusiasm. I can tell what he's thinking. He's thinking, why would I not want to come back here?

As Akihiko pushed open the well-oiled door to his room, Hiroki's jaw dropped. 'Wow!' he rushed to the bookshelf that spanned an entire wall in Akihiko's room, practically swooning with ecstasy. 'There are so many books! Way more than at my house! Say', he added, his voice dropping in the familiar catch that it snagged on when its owner was feeling shy. 'Can I borrow some when I go home?'

'Help yourself', said Akihiko mildly, unable to take his eyes off the solitary damp lock that was clinging to the side of Hiroki's smooth, cold-whitened neck. Hiroki let out a very un-Hiroki squeal of delight and twirled around. 'This is awesome! And oh my God, this is the first time I'm seeing a bed with a roof!' He practically scurried over to Akihiko's four-poster bed and set his hands on hit, palms facing downwards, leaning into the soft covers. 'How do you clean the top, I wonder?'

Akihiko was too entranced by the dip of Hiroki's neck—and that one rain-kissed lock of hair—to listen; he was jolted awake only by the knocking at the door.

It was Tanaka. 'Akihiko-sama, your mother is calling you.'

Oh

Akihiko slumped. I wonder what it is…she doesn't usually call. Was he going to be yelled at for staying at Hiroki's? It sounded unlikely; they'd visited the Kamijou home themselves, after all.

'Sorry', he said to Hiroki's puzzled face. 'I'll be right back.'

Tanaka shut the door for him, which was a relief.

I don't want to see Hiroki looking at me with those eyes now. The world where he spoke to his parents and the world where he let himself sink deep into Hiroki were two separate entities. I can't have them clashing. Hiroki is something new, and though I don't know yet if I like this or not…I don't want the universe with him in it to collide with all of this.

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'Akihiko-sama?'

The concern on Tanaka's face was almost funny as Akihiko exited his mother's room. The last sliver of vision that met him before the door closed was the fireplace, alive and crackling. 'It's nothing, Tanaka-san. She just wanted to talk.' He managed a bit of a smile.

It really had been just talking, he supposed. You're way too quiet for a child of your age this and it's all right, baby, we'll spend more time together that. 'I'm fine. Really.' He gave Tanaka a pointed look, and the butler didn't press the subject.

'…well then, Akihiko-sama, your friend must be hungry. What would the two of you like to eat? We have cake and Japanese snack as of present.'

'Umm, I don't know', said Akihiko, shrugging. 'Let me see. I'll ask him.' He found a real smile forming on his face as he thought, I'm going to see him eat again. Hiroki eating was a feast for the eyes. The frown that never seemed to unfold, even stronger as he chewed…the precise, measured actions of his hands…Hiroki seems to do everything with the same intensity. It's amazing to watch.

'Hey, Hiroki', he pushed the door open, 'would you like cake or Japanese snacks—? HEY!'

Hiroki was leaning over his desk, reading his notebook.

'Hey, give that back! Who said you could read that!'

An emotion flashed in Hiroki's eyes, that was neither anger nor embarrassment, as Akihiko ran over to him and tried to grab the notebook out of his hands. 'I'm sorry!' he said quickly, but still held on to the book. 'This—this story's somewhere in the middle, right? Let me read it from the beginning!'

'Hiroki!' Akihiko almost yelled, face flaming. What am I getting so worked up for? The thought burned up in the blaze of his own embarrassment, though, as Hiroki yelled back, 'But this is really interesting!'

What?

His face was growing warmer as he stared at Hiroki; there was a very pregnant pause.

Finally, Akihiko spoke. His voice sounded strained even to himself. 'You don't have to say that to make me feel better, you know.'

'What?' the petulance was back in Hiroki's face. 'I've read two-thirds of our school library! I know what a good story is! Don't you think it's insulting to say I'm just telling you something to cheer you up? If I say it's interesting, it is!'

He's cute even like this, Akihiko thought miserably. Hiroki was having his last word, completely oblivious to Akihiko's plight. 'Now give the rest of that story, I wanna see—'

'Oh.'

He'd finally seen Akihiko's face. Akihiko lowered his eyes. I can't even look at him. This is so…embarrassing. No wonder Hiroki gets angry when I embarrass him.

The chuckle that rose within him died before it could reach the surface. He must feel awkward too, seeing me like this. I'm sure this is the first time he's seen me blush.

'I wasn't flattering you', said Hiroki presently, voice small. 'I only tell the truth about things like…' he trailed off and lowered his head, and the blush which Akihiko knew and loved so well was dripping down his face again.

That little sight brought Akihiko back to his normal self-possessed state of mind. This is more normal.

It's still unbearably weird that he read my stuff, but when I see him blushing like this, I…

'Okay, then.'

Hiroki's head jerked up. 'Huh?'

'Okay, I'll let you read the rest', said Akihiko, feeling calmer by the minute. 'Only you, though.' If I can get you to turn pink so prettily, his mind added.

'Thanks.' There was considerable relief mingling with the gratitude etched on Hiroki's features, and his eyes glowed. 'I'd love to read the rest.'

Then, a second later, 'And I'll have the cake, if you don't mind.'

The lock had dried against the side of Hiroki's neck, and Akihiko had a fleeting, but powerful vision of Hiroki's chestnut strands, dampened with sweat. Sweat?

And my fingers threading through his sweaty hair.

Akihiko was horrified at the image forming in his mind, an image that he hardly even understood. 'Fine, cake then. I'll go get Tanaka.'

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Around eleven-thirty at night, Hiroki spoke. 'Hey, Akihiko?'

'Hmm?' Akihiko murmured. He's still awake? I was hoping he'd had nodded off by now, because I can't sleep like this. There was no way he was sleeping when Hiroki was in his bed. Though it was too dark to see, just the other boy's heartbeat felt like tremors that shook him to the very foundations. I can't remember the last time anything stirred me up so much.

Nothing has ever stirred me up so much. The realization blew little sandstorms in his mind. It got into his eyes and made them water. It made him want to cry.

Unless I can hold him again—touch him again—I won't be able to sleep.

'Are you awake, Akihiko?'

'No', mumbled Akihiko impishly. 'I'm talking to you in my sleep.'

'Jeez, just reply like a normal person for once', came the irate reply. 'Well, I was just going to say…I really do like your story. What I read of it, anyway.'

The last bit added credibility to his remark and, just like that, dispelled any lingering doubts Akihiko had harboured about promising Hiroki to let him read his work. 'Thank you', he said quietly.

He was lying on his back, facing the ceiling, because turning towards Hiroki was no good—I can feel his breath on my face, which is just torture. He couldn't face away from him either for similar reasons—if I can't feel his breath anywhere, that's also torture.

This world is hell.

'Hey, Hiroki?' he asked suddenly.

'Yeah?' Hiroki's voice, sure enough, was snappy and alert. He doesn't sound drowsy at all.

'How come you're not asleep yet?'

'I don't know', said Hiroki's voice, deeper and growlier. I don't have to see him to know if he's embarrassed by now. Why would something like this embarrass him—?

Oh.

'I'm sorry for clinging to you last night.'

Hiroki yelped and Akihiko could tell from the rustling of the sheets that he'd flipped onto his back, too. He was facing my side before.

'It's got nothing to do with that!'

'Maybe', said Akihiko, 'but I don't think you slept well. I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was doing it. I didn't mean to.' That wasn't a complete lie either, as excuses went. Hiroki possesses me. Just how am I supposed to see all these impulses coming? How can I tell myself to stop when I don't know…

'It's—it's fine', Hiroki ground out. 'I couldn't feel anything, I was asleep. Anyway, oyasumi.'

'Oyasumi', said Akihiko, as softly as he could.

'H-Hey', said Hiroki after a pause. 'My swim meet is tomorrow. I mean—you said you wanted to come—so—' he stopped abruptly; another balloon of embarrassment welled up between them, then popped.

I don't think I'll ever know if I like this feeling or not. It's too intense to let me decide.

'I'll come', said Akihiko simply. Even if it kills me to see, I have to. 'Oyasumi, Hiroki.'

He lay awake for an hour more as Hiroki's staccato breaths gradually evened out into deep, easy sighs. Then he slid an arm under Hiroki's neck. Draped another one over his chest. Clasped his two hands together by the fingers. Brought his forehead forward until it touched Hiroki's shoulder. Took a deep, greedy breath.

He could smell Hiroki and himself.

He's wearing my pajamas this time.

I'll come. His second promise of the evening came back to him with new clarity.

Those words mean everything and yet nothing, if he has no idea what it does to me when I look at him. Tomorrow I'll see more of his skin than I ever have. The thought is…scary.

I don't know what I'm thinking one bit.

The mingling smells of his own clothes and Hiroki's warm body proved too relaxing for his weary mind; again, he slept so soundly that when Hiroki woke with a start, he was still wrapped around his best and only friend, and first impulse.

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A/N: Once again, a thank you to all my (well, both my) reviewers, particularly Cerberus :D I must say I enjoy reading your review more than my actual story. Thank you so much!