Give me just one night [Kekkaishi | Gen/Yoshimori | PG]
Title: Give me just one night
By: worblehat
Fandom: Kekkaishi
Pairing: Gen/Yoshimori
Rating: PG
Summary: Yoshimori tries to get Gen to like coffee milk.
Notes: Yes, the title is stolen from a boyband song. I have not had much luck coming up with titles lately.
Word Count: 2,821
Gen stared at the person who was currently blinking at him in the darkness of early morning, bags under his eyes.
"I ran out of coffee milk," said Yoshimori with a yawn, looking as if he was about to fall over any second. Instead, he raised one hand to cover his mouth, using the other one to prop himself up against the door frame. "You don't have any, do you?" he prompted, when Gen continued to stare.
"...It's four in the morning," said Gen, blinking. He was pretty sure there was a hint being passed to him, though what it was seemed a little too hard to comprehend when he'd only gotten back to his apartment half an hour before.
"Is it?" asked Yoshimori. He gave Gen a surprisingly sharp, thoughtful look before placing his hand on his shoulder, edging him backward a little so that he could walk past, not bothering to make sure the door closed behind him. "I'll just check for myself," he said, walking towards the kitchen.
Slowly, Gen closed the door, raising his fingers to the latch and making sure it was secured. He scratched at his head, yawning. Normally, his reflexes were a little sharper; but this was just Sumimura, trying to get more of that stupid coffee stuff he always had. Gen had gotten some to try, but hadn't really warmed to the taste; he just couldn't see what was so great about it. Then again, he wasn't big on actual coffee either. Maybe it was something you grew into.
Or maybe it was just for weirdos like Yoshimori, who thought showing up at four in the morning was a Good Idea when it most definitely wasn't.
Trudging into the kitchen, Gen folded his arms across his chest, watching with slightly bleary eyes as Yoshimori's back bent, one arm thrust into the open fridge, moving things around. He heard an "oops- Oh, phew," and the slosh of something liquid. Stepping forward, he placed one hand on the top of the lower door of his refrigerator, holding it steady. His body leaned forward, above Yoshimori's as he strained to see: there was some extra soup Atora had bought him after her visit from before that he wanted. If Sumimura spilled any... he thought only half-viciously, a yawn crawling around the back of his throat, still deciding if it was worth the effort to open his mouth or if the sleepiness should merely spread to his eyes, causing him to blink again.
"...Close," said Yoshimori, his voice low.
"Hmm?" asked Gen, moving the other boy's hand gently out of the way as he looked for his soup.
"Don't...um," Yoshimori began again. Gen looked down at him, feeling odd when Yoshimori angled his head to return the glance. "Don't you think you're a bit...close?"
The heat surged to his cheeks and Gen let go, taking a step backward, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Sorry," he said in a voice mixed with sheepishness and sleep. "I...wasn't thinking," he said. His stomach gave a rumble as if to illustrate what his real intention had been.
He held his breath, wondering why Sumimura was looking at him like that. The refrigerator door closed, Yoshimori holding the last of the coffee milk in his hand - they had only come in packs of two and the first one had been dumped unceremoniously down the kitchen sink after Gen had tried two sips. "Do you have an straws?" asked Yoshimori.
"No." Gen's fingers curled around the counter, squeezing it tightly, wishing Yoshimori would stop looking at him. There were plenty of other things he could be looking at: the wall, the ceiling, the sink - well, no, the sink was behind him. Even so, he could-
Yoshimori lowered his eyes to open the carton, taking a swig. His Adams apple bobbed slightly as he finished half the container, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked at Gen once more, holding the coffee milk out to him, proferring it. Gen shook his head and Yoshimori frowned.
"Half of one won't keep you up," he said.
"It's not that," said Gen. "I just don't like it."
"Huh?" Yoshimori's frown deepened. "Then why'd you buy it?"
Gen shrugged.
"You...You weren't hoping I'd..." Yoshimori trailed off, face going an awkward shade of pink.
Though normally slow to these kinds of things, considering what had just transpired, Gen caught on immediately. "No," he answered emphatically. His hand went to his neck. "I just see you drinking them all the time, so I thought I'd see if they were any good." He looked at Yoshimori. "But they aren't."
"What?!" Yoshimori looked personally offended. "Maybe you just ate something bad before you tried it? Because this" - he said, holding the carton up for proof - "is the best thing man has ever made!"
"...Okay," said Gen, not wanting to rain on the other's parade.
Yoshimori took a step forward, making Gen's body tighten in response; he raised the carton, bringing it to his lips and tipping his head back just a little. Gen watched, not sure what this was supposed to prove.
It was then that he noticed Yoshimori had managed to take another step closer, so that they were waist-to-waist. Yoshimori's hand was on his arm, holding it there as if to make sure he didn't get away. The next few seconds were filled with tension, the air seeming to disappear completely as brown hair went out of focus to be replaced with nothing but the feeling of lips on his own.
He wasn't given much time to get used to this; all he could register is that Yoshimori's lips were cold before hearing the swallow and frustrated, throaty grunt - and then the lips were frozen against his. Gen wasn't sure why Yoshimori had stopped until he realised his own mouth was open; he'd eventually remembered to breathe, and in that moment, his mouth had opened, allowing for Yoshimori's tongue to slip past his lips - only the tips of both tongues touching.
Gen panicked. He was pretty sure it was stupid to label what had happened first as anything but a kiss, though in his mind, he'd somehow made it okay by chalking it up to random body parts touching that just happened to be ones that were usually used in more...romantic situations. But tongue...he couldn't rationalise that. Tongues were a whole different story, and Yoshimori's tongue wasn't moving. Neither was his own. Both remained where they were for a time that seemed to stretch on endlessly. And then Yoshimori leaned, just the slightest bit, and his tongue slid against Gen's.
It wasn't an accident this time; there was no way of mistaking or writing that off as anything other than what it was. Gen didn't resist, having no idea of what to do. Didn't Yoshimori like that Yukimura girl? What was he doing sliding his tongue against Gen's? Was he one of those weird kids who liked to experiment? Maybe the lack of sleep had gone to his brain, and he was hallucinating. Or maybe the coffee milk was some sort of aphrodisiac...
When their mouths met, Gen's body made a traitorous noise: something that almost sounded like a moan, but he was sure was born mostly out of shock. There was no time to communicate that to Sumimura, however; Gen worried in the seconds that followed, which were shorter and broken when Yoshimori's hand squeezed his arm, the rough exhalation of air warming the inside of Gen's mouth as their tongues began to slowly swirl against each other.
This was kissing. Gen had never kissed anyone before, but here was Yoshimori, with his cold lips and warm tongue, the sweet bitterness of coffee milk underlying the feel of his mouth and the scent Gen was getting to know well as a result of having to spend so many nights with him and the Yukimura girl at Karasumori. His hand shifted as he moved it, palm-up, to grasp at Yoshimori in turn: the kitchen light above them dim as their eyes closed, mouths breaking apart just briefly before meeting again, wet and slow; hands gripping each other awkwardly, but firmly.
He wondered if his cheeks were as red as Sumimura's when they finally stopped, Gen reluctantly letting go of the arm that had held onto his own so tightly. Yoshimori grinned at him, tipping his head back and downing more of the coffee milk before offering the last fifth of the carton to Gen once more.
Many thoughts passed through Gen's mind as he considered the brown cardboard with white writing, finally extending his hand to take it, neck bending as he drank the rest. Rather than saying anything - which, from the look on Sumimura's face, he was expecting - Gen walked towards the trash, dumping the empty container into it.
"So?" prompted Yoshimori. "Do you still think coffee milk is bad?"
"Yeah," said Gen.
Yoshimori's jaw dropped. "But... But I just...!" He glared. "Why'd you drink the rest, then? I could have had that!"
"Why'd you come over tonight?" asked Gen.
Yoshimori fell silent.
"I'm sure you have plenty of this stuff at your house." Gen sighed. "You probably even have a secret stash of them somewhere."
The surprise on the other boy's face was easily to read; it was quickly replaced with a look of indignation. "Like I would do something so stupid," he said, arms folding angrily across his chest.
"Tell me why you're here," said Gen. "Or I'll throw you out." His hand moved away from his body, one claw extending.
"All right, all right!" said Yoshimori. "Stop pretending you're going to chop off my head."
Ignoring the urge to retort with Who's pretending?, Gen did as he was told, leaning against the wall nearby.
Yoshimori opened and closed his mouth just three times before sighing. "Can I sleep over?"
"...What?" asked Gen, thrown off.
"Well, it might take a while to explain," said Yoshimori.
"You don't live that far from here," said Gen. "Why would you need to sleep-" He stopped mid-sentence, catching the look in Yoshimori's eyes, his own gaze sliding to the floor as he muttered, "...sure."
It wasn't as if he really wanted Sumimura to go. ...Not really. Kissing wasn't something he had spent much time thinking about; he'd long since abandoned ideas of traditional love, preparing himself for a solitary life, with the exception of the group setting of missions. Sumimura hadn't fit into his normal categorisations of people or their behaviour, and while something in him still wanted to resist - wanted to protect himself from anymore pain - another part wanted to let Sumimura in. He wanted to know, or to glimpse at least, how it was to be wanted: how it was to be part of something. He hadn't expected it to be to this degree, much less from Sumimura, who was a boy; but in a way, it made sense to him. Usually boys and girls went together: Gen was aware of that much. But perhaps because he had pushed girls and boys alike into one entity knows as "everyone else," he found his body hadn't discriminated as much between sex. Scent-wise, he could easily tell the difference; but when it came to his heart, it seemed to be another story.
Pulling himself out of his thoughts, he walked towards his bed in the other room, Yoshimori following. "I only have one bed," he said. Silence followed his statement, broken only when he spoke again: "I'm guessing that's not a problem."
"No," said Yoshimori. "I just need something else to sleep in."
Blushing, Gen rifled quickly through his closet, handing Yoshimori black shorts and a blue t-shirt. He made sure not to look as he excused himself, heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth; blanching when Yoshimori followed, grabbing his toothbrush before he could put it back and applying more toothpaste before shoving it in his mouth.
In...indirect kiss, he thought before lowering his head and recalling that they had done more than that earlier.
Sitting awkwardly on top of his bed, Gen waited; staring at the other boy with feigned apathy as he finally returned from the bathroom. "...Are you waiting for me before going to bed? Or do you sleep sitting up?" asked Yoshimori, confused.
"I thought we were going to talk about...something," said Gen, feeling stupidly lame. He knew he wasn't wrong! Sumimura had definitely asked to sleep over because he said it would take a while to explain...whatever it was he had done.
"Talk?" asked Yoshimori. "I just wanted to sleep over."
"But you said-"
"You seemed to need a reason, so I gave you one," shrugged Yoshimori. He tugged on the covers beneath Gen. "Are you going to move or not?"
Not feeling fully present, the experience too surreal - had Sumimura just said he'd made up something to get Gen to let him stay over?! - the ayakashi-majiri muttered "...oh" and moved, slipping underneath the covers and facing the window, his head resting at the edge of the pillow. Heat all but radiated from the body behind him as Yoshimori followed his lead, breath warm against Gen's neck as he spoke.
"You really didn't like it?" he asked, shuffling closer under the covers. "The coffee milk."
"It's not to my taste," Gen answered honestly. "But it's okay when it comes from a different source."
Yoshimori tried to make sense of this in the darkness. Was Shishio talking about cows? No, even he wasn't that slow.
Realisation dawned. His face darkened and he was glad he was lying behind Gen rather than in front. "...Oh," he said. "You were talking about my mouth."
The urge to knee Yoshimori was strong but impossible from Gen's current position. "You don't have to say it so bluntly," he muttered.
"...Sorry."
Gen watched the darkness, eyes adjusting to it quickly. He focused on the small bit of light in the ceiling, approximately three feet back from the window. It was a leftover glo-in-the-dark sticker one of the previous tenants had left; Gen had left it where it was. Things felt less lonely that way, somehow.
"Shishio? Are you still awake?"
"Yeah," answered Gen. His eyes widened then, a small noise of surprise escaping his lips - not quite a grunt, not quite a gasp, but something bordering on both. A hand was on his stomach, the warm curve of an arm around his waist. The breaths on his neck became hotter, and then lips were touching - he was sure it was lips, judging from the wetness, and the way Yoshimori's head was resting partway against his own.
"This okay?"
"...Y-Yeah," said Gen, stammering a little as Yoshimori's leg shifted against his, the other boy getting comfortable behind him.
"You sure?" asked Yoshimori with a yawn.
"Positive," said Gen. "Stop asking me so many questions and go to sleep."
"Okay, okay," said Yoshimori, his voice thick with exhaustion.
Gen listened as the breathing by his ear became shallower, falling into an easy rhythm. He could sense the heartbeat, calm and unafraid: comforting.
The star-shaped sticker wavered slightly before his eyes as he looked up. The arm around him tightened what seemed instinctively and heat stung behind Gen's eyelids as he closed them, one hand gripping the edge of the pillow more tightly.
He knew it was no big deal for Sumimura. He knew there was no reason to be so privately happy about another body lining up with his, only to be unconscious for a few hours before waking up to go to school - or, in Yoshimori's case, to go back to sleep; no reason for his chest to tighten so much.
He knew all of that.
But in the darkness of his small apartment, Gen breathed in the scent of another body - of Yoshimori, next to him, sleeping easily beside a monster as he dreamed of coffee milk and whatever else he liked; mumbling stupid things in his sleep as four AM turned into five, Gen's eyes glancing at the early grey skyline peeking through his curtains before closing once more, surrounded by a warmth he would never forget and always be grateful for.
By: worblehat
Fandom: Kekkaishi
Pairing: Gen/Yoshimori
Rating: PG
Summary: Yoshimori tries to get Gen to like coffee milk.
Notes: Yes, the title is stolen from a boyband song. I have not had much luck coming up with titles lately.
Word Count: 2,821
Gen stared at the person who was currently blinking at him in the darkness of early morning, bags under his eyes.
"I ran out of coffee milk," said Yoshimori with a yawn, looking as if he was about to fall over any second. Instead, he raised one hand to cover his mouth, using the other one to prop himself up against the door frame. "You don't have any, do you?" he prompted, when Gen continued to stare.
"...It's four in the morning," said Gen, blinking. He was pretty sure there was a hint being passed to him, though what it was seemed a little too hard to comprehend when he'd only gotten back to his apartment half an hour before.
"Is it?" asked Yoshimori. He gave Gen a surprisingly sharp, thoughtful look before placing his hand on his shoulder, edging him backward a little so that he could walk past, not bothering to make sure the door closed behind him. "I'll just check for myself," he said, walking towards the kitchen.
Slowly, Gen closed the door, raising his fingers to the latch and making sure it was secured. He scratched at his head, yawning. Normally, his reflexes were a little sharper; but this was just Sumimura, trying to get more of that stupid coffee stuff he always had. Gen had gotten some to try, but hadn't really warmed to the taste; he just couldn't see what was so great about it. Then again, he wasn't big on actual coffee either. Maybe it was something you grew into.
Or maybe it was just for weirdos like Yoshimori, who thought showing up at four in the morning was a Good Idea when it most definitely wasn't.
Trudging into the kitchen, Gen folded his arms across his chest, watching with slightly bleary eyes as Yoshimori's back bent, one arm thrust into the open fridge, moving things around. He heard an "oops- Oh, phew," and the slosh of something liquid. Stepping forward, he placed one hand on the top of the lower door of his refrigerator, holding it steady. His body leaned forward, above Yoshimori's as he strained to see: there was some extra soup Atora had bought him after her visit from before that he wanted. If Sumimura spilled any... he thought only half-viciously, a yawn crawling around the back of his throat, still deciding if it was worth the effort to open his mouth or if the sleepiness should merely spread to his eyes, causing him to blink again.
"...Close," said Yoshimori, his voice low.
"Hmm?" asked Gen, moving the other boy's hand gently out of the way as he looked for his soup.
"Don't...um," Yoshimori began again. Gen looked down at him, feeling odd when Yoshimori angled his head to return the glance. "Don't you think you're a bit...close?"
The heat surged to his cheeks and Gen let go, taking a step backward, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Sorry," he said in a voice mixed with sheepishness and sleep. "I...wasn't thinking," he said. His stomach gave a rumble as if to illustrate what his real intention had been.
He held his breath, wondering why Sumimura was looking at him like that. The refrigerator door closed, Yoshimori holding the last of the coffee milk in his hand - they had only come in packs of two and the first one had been dumped unceremoniously down the kitchen sink after Gen had tried two sips. "Do you have an straws?" asked Yoshimori.
"No." Gen's fingers curled around the counter, squeezing it tightly, wishing Yoshimori would stop looking at him. There were plenty of other things he could be looking at: the wall, the ceiling, the sink - well, no, the sink was behind him. Even so, he could-
Yoshimori lowered his eyes to open the carton, taking a swig. His Adams apple bobbed slightly as he finished half the container, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked at Gen once more, holding the coffee milk out to him, proferring it. Gen shook his head and Yoshimori frowned.
"Half of one won't keep you up," he said.
"It's not that," said Gen. "I just don't like it."
"Huh?" Yoshimori's frown deepened. "Then why'd you buy it?"
Gen shrugged.
"You...You weren't hoping I'd..." Yoshimori trailed off, face going an awkward shade of pink.
Though normally slow to these kinds of things, considering what had just transpired, Gen caught on immediately. "No," he answered emphatically. His hand went to his neck. "I just see you drinking them all the time, so I thought I'd see if they were any good." He looked at Yoshimori. "But they aren't."
"What?!" Yoshimori looked personally offended. "Maybe you just ate something bad before you tried it? Because this" - he said, holding the carton up for proof - "is the best thing man has ever made!"
"...Okay," said Gen, not wanting to rain on the other's parade.
Yoshimori took a step forward, making Gen's body tighten in response; he raised the carton, bringing it to his lips and tipping his head back just a little. Gen watched, not sure what this was supposed to prove.
It was then that he noticed Yoshimori had managed to take another step closer, so that they were waist-to-waist. Yoshimori's hand was on his arm, holding it there as if to make sure he didn't get away. The next few seconds were filled with tension, the air seeming to disappear completely as brown hair went out of focus to be replaced with nothing but the feeling of lips on his own.
He wasn't given much time to get used to this; all he could register is that Yoshimori's lips were cold before hearing the swallow and frustrated, throaty grunt - and then the lips were frozen against his. Gen wasn't sure why Yoshimori had stopped until he realised his own mouth was open; he'd eventually remembered to breathe, and in that moment, his mouth had opened, allowing for Yoshimori's tongue to slip past his lips - only the tips of both tongues touching.
Gen panicked. He was pretty sure it was stupid to label what had happened first as anything but a kiss, though in his mind, he'd somehow made it okay by chalking it up to random body parts touching that just happened to be ones that were usually used in more...romantic situations. But tongue...he couldn't rationalise that. Tongues were a whole different story, and Yoshimori's tongue wasn't moving. Neither was his own. Both remained where they were for a time that seemed to stretch on endlessly. And then Yoshimori leaned, just the slightest bit, and his tongue slid against Gen's.
It wasn't an accident this time; there was no way of mistaking or writing that off as anything other than what it was. Gen didn't resist, having no idea of what to do. Didn't Yoshimori like that Yukimura girl? What was he doing sliding his tongue against Gen's? Was he one of those weird kids who liked to experiment? Maybe the lack of sleep had gone to his brain, and he was hallucinating. Or maybe the coffee milk was some sort of aphrodisiac...
When their mouths met, Gen's body made a traitorous noise: something that almost sounded like a moan, but he was sure was born mostly out of shock. There was no time to communicate that to Sumimura, however; Gen worried in the seconds that followed, which were shorter and broken when Yoshimori's hand squeezed his arm, the rough exhalation of air warming the inside of Gen's mouth as their tongues began to slowly swirl against each other.
This was kissing. Gen had never kissed anyone before, but here was Yoshimori, with his cold lips and warm tongue, the sweet bitterness of coffee milk underlying the feel of his mouth and the scent Gen was getting to know well as a result of having to spend so many nights with him and the Yukimura girl at Karasumori. His hand shifted as he moved it, palm-up, to grasp at Yoshimori in turn: the kitchen light above them dim as their eyes closed, mouths breaking apart just briefly before meeting again, wet and slow; hands gripping each other awkwardly, but firmly.
He wondered if his cheeks were as red as Sumimura's when they finally stopped, Gen reluctantly letting go of the arm that had held onto his own so tightly. Yoshimori grinned at him, tipping his head back and downing more of the coffee milk before offering the last fifth of the carton to Gen once more.
Many thoughts passed through Gen's mind as he considered the brown cardboard with white writing, finally extending his hand to take it, neck bending as he drank the rest. Rather than saying anything - which, from the look on Sumimura's face, he was expecting - Gen walked towards the trash, dumping the empty container into it.
"So?" prompted Yoshimori. "Do you still think coffee milk is bad?"
"Yeah," said Gen.
Yoshimori's jaw dropped. "But... But I just...!" He glared. "Why'd you drink the rest, then? I could have had that!"
"Why'd you come over tonight?" asked Gen.
Yoshimori fell silent.
"I'm sure you have plenty of this stuff at your house." Gen sighed. "You probably even have a secret stash of them somewhere."
The surprise on the other boy's face was easily to read; it was quickly replaced with a look of indignation. "Like I would do something so stupid," he said, arms folding angrily across his chest.
"Tell me why you're here," said Gen. "Or I'll throw you out." His hand moved away from his body, one claw extending.
"All right, all right!" said Yoshimori. "Stop pretending you're going to chop off my head."
Ignoring the urge to retort with Who's pretending?, Gen did as he was told, leaning against the wall nearby.
Yoshimori opened and closed his mouth just three times before sighing. "Can I sleep over?"
"...What?" asked Gen, thrown off.
"Well, it might take a while to explain," said Yoshimori.
"You don't live that far from here," said Gen. "Why would you need to sleep-" He stopped mid-sentence, catching the look in Yoshimori's eyes, his own gaze sliding to the floor as he muttered, "...sure."
It wasn't as if he really wanted Sumimura to go. ...Not really. Kissing wasn't something he had spent much time thinking about; he'd long since abandoned ideas of traditional love, preparing himself for a solitary life, with the exception of the group setting of missions. Sumimura hadn't fit into his normal categorisations of people or their behaviour, and while something in him still wanted to resist - wanted to protect himself from anymore pain - another part wanted to let Sumimura in. He wanted to know, or to glimpse at least, how it was to be wanted: how it was to be part of something. He hadn't expected it to be to this degree, much less from Sumimura, who was a boy; but in a way, it made sense to him. Usually boys and girls went together: Gen was aware of that much. But perhaps because he had pushed girls and boys alike into one entity knows as "everyone else," he found his body hadn't discriminated as much between sex. Scent-wise, he could easily tell the difference; but when it came to his heart, it seemed to be another story.
Pulling himself out of his thoughts, he walked towards his bed in the other room, Yoshimori following. "I only have one bed," he said. Silence followed his statement, broken only when he spoke again: "I'm guessing that's not a problem."
"No," said Yoshimori. "I just need something else to sleep in."
Blushing, Gen rifled quickly through his closet, handing Yoshimori black shorts and a blue t-shirt. He made sure not to look as he excused himself, heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth; blanching when Yoshimori followed, grabbing his toothbrush before he could put it back and applying more toothpaste before shoving it in his mouth.
In...indirect kiss, he thought before lowering his head and recalling that they had done more than that earlier.
Sitting awkwardly on top of his bed, Gen waited; staring at the other boy with feigned apathy as he finally returned from the bathroom. "...Are you waiting for me before going to bed? Or do you sleep sitting up?" asked Yoshimori, confused.
"I thought we were going to talk about...something," said Gen, feeling stupidly lame. He knew he wasn't wrong! Sumimura had definitely asked to sleep over because he said it would take a while to explain...whatever it was he had done.
"Talk?" asked Yoshimori. "I just wanted to sleep over."
"But you said-"
"You seemed to need a reason, so I gave you one," shrugged Yoshimori. He tugged on the covers beneath Gen. "Are you going to move or not?"
Not feeling fully present, the experience too surreal - had Sumimura just said he'd made up something to get Gen to let him stay over?! - the ayakashi-majiri muttered "...oh" and moved, slipping underneath the covers and facing the window, his head resting at the edge of the pillow. Heat all but radiated from the body behind him as Yoshimori followed his lead, breath warm against Gen's neck as he spoke.
"You really didn't like it?" he asked, shuffling closer under the covers. "The coffee milk."
"It's not to my taste," Gen answered honestly. "But it's okay when it comes from a different source."
Yoshimori tried to make sense of this in the darkness. Was Shishio talking about cows? No, even he wasn't that slow.
Realisation dawned. His face darkened and he was glad he was lying behind Gen rather than in front. "...Oh," he said. "You were talking about my mouth."
The urge to knee Yoshimori was strong but impossible from Gen's current position. "You don't have to say it so bluntly," he muttered.
"...Sorry."
Gen watched the darkness, eyes adjusting to it quickly. He focused on the small bit of light in the ceiling, approximately three feet back from the window. It was a leftover glo-in-the-dark sticker one of the previous tenants had left; Gen had left it where it was. Things felt less lonely that way, somehow.
"Shishio? Are you still awake?"
"Yeah," answered Gen. His eyes widened then, a small noise of surprise escaping his lips - not quite a grunt, not quite a gasp, but something bordering on both. A hand was on his stomach, the warm curve of an arm around his waist. The breaths on his neck became hotter, and then lips were touching - he was sure it was lips, judging from the wetness, and the way Yoshimori's head was resting partway against his own.
"This okay?"
"...Y-Yeah," said Gen, stammering a little as Yoshimori's leg shifted against his, the other boy getting comfortable behind him.
"You sure?" asked Yoshimori with a yawn.
"Positive," said Gen. "Stop asking me so many questions and go to sleep."
"Okay, okay," said Yoshimori, his voice thick with exhaustion.
Gen listened as the breathing by his ear became shallower, falling into an easy rhythm. He could sense the heartbeat, calm and unafraid: comforting.
The star-shaped sticker wavered slightly before his eyes as he looked up. The arm around him tightened what seemed instinctively and heat stung behind Gen's eyelids as he closed them, one hand gripping the edge of the pillow more tightly.
He knew it was no big deal for Sumimura. He knew there was no reason to be so privately happy about another body lining up with his, only to be unconscious for a few hours before waking up to go to school - or, in Yoshimori's case, to go back to sleep; no reason for his chest to tighten so much.
He knew all of that.
But in the darkness of his small apartment, Gen breathed in the scent of another body - of Yoshimori, next to him, sleeping easily beside a monster as he dreamed of coffee milk and whatever else he liked; mumbling stupid things in his sleep as four AM turned into five, Gen's eyes glancing at the early grey skyline peeking through his curtains before closing once more, surrounded by a warmth he would never forget and always be grateful for.