He was still holding me when the early morning light filtered in through the curtains of my bedroom. His slow, even breathing kept time against my neck, measuring the passing night and the time we still had. His body was warm against my back.
He had stayed over at my house. I had never shared a bed before. Correction. Not with my own student. But, the feeling was...peaceful, safe. I sighed in content. The birds, twittering cheerfully outside in the growing sunlight, seemed to agree. Apart from them, the world was silent, still asleep.
His arm draped over me. Half-awake, his hand idly made circles across my thumb. The simple affection of this touch sent goosebumps up my arm, though I was melting with warmth. He stopped circling and curled his fingers around just the very side of my hand. They held there, gentle yet firm, as if he didn't want to let me go. As if he wanted to hold onto me, all of me, yet this small piece would have to do. Just this small token of affection, the tiniest visible evidence of the massive iceberg that lay hidden beneath the ocean's surface.
I knew we both wanted the same thing; that this never had to end. That I could lay here, safe and loved in his arms until the morning's pale light turned to harsh golden afternoon. That I could love him back then, and fear neither discovery nor rejection. That we could just be two people who didn't need fear the light of day. That this could be real.
But we were helpless against the incessant ticking of the clock, heartlessly marking the seconds. When the sun broke over the red sky, both of us would have to leave for school, Hikigaya Hachiman will be pretending he had been sleeping over a friend's house, and I would have to become the smug and sometimes violent teacher, smoking cigarettes and getting angry about my lack of dating life.
In the bright light of the afternoon, the sharp edges of the world replaced the soft pillowed fantasy of us together. In the light, it became clear that nothing about us was real, or peaceful, or everlasting.
It could be. But not outside of my bedroom.