Baby

Author: jayded kitsune
Disclaimer: Not /my/ babies.

The digital numerals on the clock read 03:48. Not exactly the time that normal people would be awake. The lights are off, the fan is whirring gently overhead, the curtains are open to display the view of city lights in the distance. There's an occasional glare of headlights as a car makes its way across the deserted roads and expressways. Other than that, it doesn't seem like anyone else is awake.

So what am /I/ doing, sitting up in my bed, back leaning against the wall, eyes fixed on the picture across the room?

No, not the picture of the view from my dormitory room. The picture of my roommate, blissfully unaware as he lies asleep amongst the covers and pillows on his bed, that he's being admired. Rukawa Kaede.

He looks so innocent when he's asleep. The hard contours of determination smooth themselves away, the frowning mouth softens to a passive line, falling open slightly as he breathes. The ebony fringes that fall gently across his face to cast a light shadow on the fair cheeks. I've heard that you look the most vulnerable when you're asleep, and I guess that's true of him, too. That expression that tells me he's found peace, even if just for a little while. Just like a baby's.

Soft, white skin that never seems to burn or get tanned despite long hours in the sun, playing basketball or cycling. The contrast between us is obvious, every time I trace a calloused finger along the sharp jaw, every time I hold a pale hand in my own darker one. Soft, white, and smooth, like the skin of an infant, that so many girls try desperately to attain by using enough beauty products to kill an elephant.

I remember staying at an aunt's house some years ago; she'd just had her first child and my mother decided to take me with her when she went to live with her sister for a few months, helping to keep the house clean or cook when my aunt was busy with her baby, taking turns to get up in the middle of the night to feed my cousin or soothe her when she cried. Not that I minded. I got to play with Fuyuko-chan, teaching her to crawl, to walk. She tumbled and fell so many times, but she never cried, and she never gave up. She just struggled back onto her feet without any help and kept on, until finally, she was walking on her own. There was so much determination in her little body, perseverance that I'm constantly reminded of every time I watch him play basketball.

Babies don't seem to have any idea of time, or at least, Fuyuko-chan didn't. She slept in the day, waking up only to be fed or to have her diapers changed, but woke up and stayed awake almost the whole night. Kept everyone else awake too, more often than not. Just like Kaede, except he wakes up to play basketball, and never demands attention.

That doesn't seem to be keeping me from staying awake tonight to watch him, though. I could do this all night, keeping all my attention on the slender figure curled in a foetal position as he sleeps. A breeze lifts his hair away from his face momentarily. A light blanket is draped over the slight figure. His chest heaves gently as he breathes. I could spend eternity watching him like this.

The bed creaks loudly as I move to shift position; I stifle a gasp. For some reason, Kaede doesn't sleep as soundly at night as in the day, and that sound might wake him. I hold my breath and cross my fingers. Too late.

Eyes that were previously shut peacefully in slumber open slowly, searching for something. The blue gaze finally locks on to my own as his lashes flicker briefly, as if he is trying to focus.

"Akira?" The slight confusion in his voice is reflected in his eyes. So deep, so blue. So innocent and vulnerable. So many emotions racing through them, blurred by sleep. Feelings that he never hides from me, not any more. "Is something wrong, Akira?"

I smile as I make my way over to him, a special smile only for him, unlike the one I flash readily to the rest of the world. I settle behind him on his bed as he sits up, rubbing his beautiful blue eyes like a little boy, leaning forward to whisper in his ear, "Nothing, Kaede. Everything's fine."

He smiles then, a small, tentative expression of all the things he shows so clearly in other ways. Letting out a soft sigh, he relaxes against me, leaning his head on my shoulder as my arms circle his lithe body. I like holding him like this, like cradling a small child, something precious and irreplacable. "That's good, then."

His expression is one of complete trust as he slips back into light slumber in my gentle embrace. Sometimes I think he never really grew up, even though we're already in college now. He's still a baby, who needs someone to love and protect him.

Most importantly, he's /my/ baby. And he always will be.