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It’s silent when Keiji wakes up from a loud nightmare he doesn’t remember, his ears ringing with phantom screams he couldn’t understand.
When he opens his eyes, his vision is filled with the snug view of Koutarou’s chest, visible thanks to the faint moonlight leaking from the window. Appreciable, he thinks absently, but the irrational fear from his dream lingers on and Keiji forces himself to breathe, counting up to 23 (their current age) in his mind until it eventually fades away.
Keiji slowly removes himself from Koutarou’s arms and sits up. He takes one more deep breath and reaches for the bedside clock. It reads 1:34 A.M.
Well. Now he’s hungry.
Keiji sets the clock back down gently and takes the blanket off of him. After a few stretches, he stands up and shuffles towards the kitchen, straight towards the fridge where they kept the leftover onigiri from yesterday. If he remembers correctly, there should at least be three servings left. He is pleasantly surprised to find five.
Keiji takes out the entire plate from the fridge and peels back the cling film. He sits down (and flinches when the chair makes an abhorrent screech - they should really buy new chairs already) and makes quick work of the first two onigiri. 'I should compliment Myaa-sam again the next time I see him,' he thinks absentmindedly. Satisfied, he rewraps the plate and is about to return it to the fridge when a soft groan catches his attention.
“Keeeiiiijiiii,” whines Koutarou, his voice sounding muffled from the bedroom. “Where are youuuuu?”
Keiji closes the fridge. “I’m in the kitchen, Koutarou,” he calls back softly. “I’ll be there soon.”
“Okaaaaaay,” came the reply. Keiji shakes his head, laughing to himself, and proceeds to look through the cupboard for tea. His idle humming fills the kitchen as he prepares himself his drink.
When Keiji sits back down, steaming cup of tea in hand, he is only able to take one sip before he hears the sounds of sleepy footsteps. Koutarou drapes his body over Keiji, bending down so that his chin tucks over Keiji’s shoulder from behind.
“Bed,” he mumbles. Keiji hums in agreement and pats his cheek, before offering his cup of tea. Koutarou hoots softly and lifts his head to take a sip before dropping back down into Keiji’s shoulder. His stubble tickles against Keiji's skin.
“Why’re you up?” Koutarou asks then.
“I was hungry,” Keiji simply replies, and adds, as an afterthought - “Because of a nightmare.”
He feels Koutarou mumble something incomprehensible into his shoulder, and he smiles. “Don’t worry, I don’t remember any of it.”
They stay like that for a while, with only the sound of Keiji’s sips filling the air.
Having finished his tea, Keiji stands up and sets his cup on the sink to be washed tomor - later. Bokuto follows all the while, sleepily insistent on clinging on to him. Keiji ignores his boyfriend and they awkwardly waddle to the bathroom.
Grabbing his toothbrush, Keiji tries to squeeze out some toothpaste with minimal difficulty. After doing so, he turns his head to Koutarou, whose head is now digging onto his nape.
“Bokuto-san,” he starts.
Koutarou stirs at that and pouts at him. “Keeiiiijiiii, I told ya to quit tha-” he yawns. “That.”
“Sorry, it’s still a habit.”
“Mmmhm, okaaay. You’re forgiven.”
“Thank you. Can you let go now?”
“No.”
“Koutarou, I need to brush my teeth.”
“Mmmhm.”
“Koutarou.”
Keiji sighs when obnoxious snores are sent his way as a reply and proceeds to just brush his teeth anyway.
After placing his toothbrush back in it’s container, he turns to Koutarou again. “Okay, I’m done. Let’s go back to bed.”
Koutarou cheers and releases him, and, in a sudden burst of energy, runs back to the bedroom. Keiji hears a soft thump and laughs.
When he enters their bedroom, he sees Koutarou under the sheets, shuffling to make some space. Koutarou opens his arms (well, tries to anyway, as sleepy as he was) and yawns. “C’mere, Keiji,” he murmurs drowsily. Keiji is happy to oblige.
He tucks himself close against his boyfriend’s chest and sighs. Koutarou hums happily, having closed his eyes already. Keiji, slightly drowsy as well but not yet quite to the point of sleeping, can only stare at Koutarou’s face, content. He briefly thinks about his nightmare, wonders what it could have been, before dispelling the thought entirely.
When Koutarou’s eyes suddenly open, Keiji’s breath is taken away. He can’t help it - they’re absolutely beautiful. Golden and honeyed, ethereal in all their warm splendor. If Keiji was slightly more awake, he would have thought of a million more descriptors, but he settles for this.
Koutarou smiles, and Keiji just drowns in the light of his star.
His eyes dart to Koutarou’s lips, and he licks his own absently. So close, his mind whispers. They’ve kissed more times than he could count (and in under far more intimate circumstances) but he finds himself wondering again what it would be like to press his lips against -
A small, breathy laugh interrupts his (frankly embarrassing) train of thought and he promptly smacks his face into Koutarou’s chest, hiding away. He could feel the tips of his ears steaming.
(If he had looked up, he would have seen the way Koutarou’s eyes were lit up in fond, fond amusement.)
“Bokuto-san,” Keiji starts, emphasizing the suffix a tad more than usual. His voice soft and muffled, the usual blunt tone tempered by his embarrassment. “If you would stop laughing at me, please forget that. I wasn’t thinking straight. Your face is distracting. Goodnight, Koutarou. Go back to sleep.”
A soft silence passes, and Keiji thinks he might have gotten away with it. But then he hears, no, rather feels, Koutarou laughing sleepily, the vibrations from his chest soothing. “Aghaashiee!” he whines softly, playfully mispronouncing his name as he usually did back then when they were still in highschool. “Look at meeee.”
Keiji snorts, his small, ugly laughter (ugly only to him, that is) leaking out just a tiny bit, and only presses his face closer to Koutarou’s chest, unrelenting. “It’s Keiji, Bokuto-san,” he parrots back teasingly. “Go back to sleep.”
At this, Koutarou only continues to laugh.
Keiji then feels Koutarou shift slightly, and a hand slowly comes under his chin. It’s ticklish, so Keiji can’t help but yelp in surprise and back away a bit, which only allows Koutarou to gently tilt his head up further until their eyes meet. Keiji freezes.
(If this happens every time he has to look into Koutarou’s eyes, Keiji really might need to do something about it. Or not. Maybe. He doesn’t really know. They’ve been together for more than three years now and he’s still such a disaster.)
Koutarou leans in until their foreheads bump into each other, close enough that their breaths mix when he whispers, “Keiji, your face is distracting too, y’know.”
The hand under Keiji’s chin slowly moves to cup his cheek. Koutarou mouths his name with a sleepy grin, and Keiji is gone, just like always.
“Can I kiss you?” Koutarou finally asks, voice impossibly soft. Keiji stares into his eyes and smiles fondly at the question, before leaning in and closing the gap between them. Koutarou hums and reciprocates happily.
And only after a few seconds, Keiji feels the lips on his still, and he leans back to see that his boyfriend’s gone back to sleep, his face peaceful and endearing. Dead to the world, just like that. Keiji laughs quietly in wonder and brushes Koutarou’s bangs away to give him a kiss on the forehead, before retreating back and closing his own eyes as well.
(When sleep finally claims him, no nightmares come to wake him up anymore.)