Tick…tick.  Four-eleven.  Four-twelve.  Tick…tick.

He still can't sleep.  He wants to.  Doesn't want to admit to missing him, his presence in the room.  How the room feels empty and even though it's summer, he's shivering underneath the thin blanket.

Tick…tick…tick…

Four-fifteen.

It's too cold.  I should close the window.

But the window's barely open as it is, and the room's stuffy.  The air is close, too close, and it doesn't smell of him.  That's funny, it is, since normally his scent, musk and mountain wind, permeates everything.  But they cleaned in here today, and now what he breathes is all chemical, floor-wax and detergent.  It's not what he needs.

Four-twenty-four.

He knows it's ridiculous, pining away in his bed like some lovesick girl from the trashy manga Yoh and Anna's little girl leave around the Inn.  (Not that he ever reads it.  She likes to tell him about it-- maa, she likes to tell him about pretty much everything.  Tch.  Cute child, but she clings like a leech.) 

Four-twenty-seven.

Tick…tick…tick.

Doesn't the clock ever stop, ever run down, ever go silent?

There are just some nights he can't stand this.  His roommate always brightens things, but he's not here tonight, even just the first year of college snatching him out of the house until the early hours.  Some sort of project, he'd mentioned.  He doesn't know himself exactly what the project's about, he doesn't need to know, still in the final year of high school (and a more brilliant student Funbarigaoka never did see.)  Without the other young man's bright personality, this place is--

He's sick of this.  He rolls out of bed, shivering slightly as the air strikes his unprotected skin.  He's too wide awake and too twitchy to stay still for any length of time; his hand is already on the edge of the door when it slides open anyway.

Horohoro's standing in the entrance to their room, not looking like much of a threat in fuzzy pajamas and tousled hair.  He blinks tiredly at the smaller man.  "Ren-kun?  Why're you up…?"

Ren's glare intensifies, even as he seizes the Ainu shaman in an embrace.  Horohoro 'meeps' – the grip is crushingly tight – before relaxing and running his hand over the familiar planes of the other's back.

The uneasy aura around the Chinese man melts away, and he realizes for a minute how odd this must look.  Himself in boxers and nothing else, clinging to someone dressed in absurdly patterned orange pajamas (with ducks on them, no less!) like it's the end of the world.

There's no one to see, anyway.  If there was, neither of them would probably care.  But Horohoro's swaying on his feet, and now that he's here Ren is starting to feel his eyes grow heavy as well.  They move awkwardly towards the bed, Ren only conceding to move his grip upwards from waist to neck as they tumble onto the sheets.  Horohoro's lips are oddly cool on the scar that runs from collarbone to stomach. 

"So, didja miss me, then?"

"Baka," Ren replies, closing his eyes.


"…ve ya too, Ren-kun," he (thinks) he hears, before slipping away into peaceful dreaming. 

When he wakes up the next morning, he's still not sure.  But Horohoro's there, breath gentle and warm against his neck.  And that's all that matters anyway.

~-~-~-~-~

A/N: Guwah.  Woke up at 4:10 (hence the time mentioned in this fic) thinking about this.  It was a nice dream. *faint smile*  Maybe I'm not so much of a Mankin fan anymore, but I'll always worship RenHoro and HoroRen.

Unintentional Nightmare – Sankyuu, and sorry I kept you waiting for so long ^^; risiz - *blushblushblush* All fifteen, really? *_*

I'm SO tired!  Will try to get the next chappie out soon, but...might not be able to…gah.  Well, see you!