Secret Snuggles
WARNINGS -
slight cursing
implied sex
When I write a story, there's always a character that's sort of the un-official stoic. In fact, in most of the stuff I read, too. There's always someone who makes an obvious effort not to show any emotion, not to let on that he or she feels anything. Maybe it's cool. Who can say?
In my story, in my life, I'M that stoic. I refuse to let anyone know what I'm feeling. In fact, the large majority of the time I make it seem like I'm not feeling anything at all. It's to protect myself; I won't give people that advantage over me anymore.
Even so, people like me still need a chance to care, right? We need a chance to take our masks off and breath the fresh air.
Me? I take that mask off when he's asleep.
With one hand I push the bedroom door open, and with the other I rub a towel through my still-dripping hair. I close the door as quietly as I can and stand, silently; allowing my eyes to adjust to the almost complete lack of light.
I make my way towards the bed as soon as I'm able to see it, dropping my towel on the floor as I go. I stop when my knees bump the mattress and gaze at the figure illuminated in the ghostly reflection of the moon.
He's lying on his side, with his back to me; I can see his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths.
Asleep.
Good.
Carefully I pull the covers back and slip under, moving close enough that I can wrap my arm around his waist. I exhale slowly, my breath warming the skin of his neck.
"Oyasumi nasai... Shuichi-koi." I murmur into his ear, closing my eyes.
"...Y-Yuki?"
...Shit.
It takes all my resolve not to leap up and go hide somewhere. I think I may even be blushing, if that's at all possible.
"Sh-Shuichi? You... you're awake, huh?"
He doesn't say anything for so long that I start to think he's gone back to sleep. But...
"...I'm awake, Yuki." He takes a deep breath, and I feel the warmth on my arm when he lets it out. "Sorry if I startled you. You sure startled me, though."
I'm about to snap at him, tell him he didn't startle me in the least; but then I notice the frantic pounding of my heart, and decide it would be a rather obvious lie.
"...How often do you do this?"
The question surprises me, which is probably the only reason I respond.
"Do what?"
"...Hold me like this." His answer is so soft, so hesitant, that I almost don't hear it.
"...Only..."
He turns his head so he can catch my eyes, but I look away.
"...Only when you're asleep."
He tilts his head, and I catch the confused expression out of the corner of my eye.
"...Why?"
I actually have to think about that. Why? Why don't I let him know how much I care? Why do I hide it?
"...I don't know."
He gazes at me for a moment, thoughtful. Then his expression softens, and he turns away, looking out the window.
"...Are you scared?"
I blink, then sputter. "Scared?! What do I have to be scared--... of...?"
The look he gives me when he turns back stops me.
"...Maybe you're scared of me? Of me hurting you? Maybe you think that if you open up to me... that I'll take advantage of that."
I stare at him, wide-eyed.
Because he's right. Even after all this time, I still don't trust him.
He holds my gaze, finally stirring me into reply.
"...Maybe." I mutter.
And again, even after all this time, it still surprises me how expressive his eyes can be.
He's hurt.
And that thought seems to loosen my tongue, and I find myself admitting things I never thought I was keeping inside.
"But... but it's not your fault. It's not you. It's... damn, this is so clichéd. It's not you, it's me. I just... if there's anyone who I'd trust not to hurt me, it's you. I'm just... yeah. You're right. I'm scared. I'm still scared."
Disbelief. Utter disbelief.
I guess he never expected that, because the shock on his face is blatant.
"You... YOU're scared? Of ME??"
I sigh, exasperated. "No. You don't get it. I just... I just don't want to get close to anyone. It's an advantage, I guess. The closer the blow, the more it hurts. Right?"
He seems to consider it, eyes lifted to the ceiling. "Hm. Right, I guess." Then he rolls over, turning so he's staring me straight in the face; a warm smile causing me to melt inside. "...But you don't have to be scared of me, Yuki. I love you. I'd never hurt you."
"...I know." I whisper. Gently I push his shoulder down, so I'm on top of him. We lock eyes, just for a moment; then I'm leaning down; then we're kissing.
With one hand I push the bedroom door open, and with the other I rub a towel through my still-dripping hair. I close the door as quietly as I can and stand, silently; allowing my eyes to adjust to the almost complete lack of light.
I make my way towards the bed as soon as I'm able to see it, dropping my towel on the floor as I go. I stop when my knees bump the mattress and gaze at the figure illuminated in the sun's faint glow coming through the curtains.
He's lying on his side, with his back to me; I can see his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths.
Carefully I pull the covers back and slip under, moving close enough that I can wrap my arm around his waist. I exhale slowly, my breath warming the skin of his neck.
"Ohayou... Shuichi-koi." I murmur into his ear, closing my eyes.
"Ohayou, Yuki... daisuki." He mumbles back.
And not soon after, we're both asleep.
A/N: I want to apologize for any OOC (out of character-ness) in this story. It was kind of hard to write without that, but hey, I tried. 'Japanese terms:
oyasumi nasai
-koi (short for 'koibito')
daisuki
ohayou
English Translation:
goodnight
-love (short for 'lover')
I love you
good morning