snippet of ficness
Something was moving. The earth... the earth was moving... oh god, he knew he was an idiot for moving to California...
He opened his eyes in a panic and gave a choked scream at the sight that met him - eyes!! Gah--!
"Calm the fuck down," Sugizo muttered tiredly, collapsing in a heap along Yoshiki's side. "It's just me, not the fangirl army come to rape you. Can't rape the willing anyway, though, can you..." he smacked his lips a little, yawning, and settled himself in small fidgets until he was cozily draped around Yoshiki, evidently planning to go right back to sleep.
"Yuu." Yoshiki caught his breath slowly. "You asshole. I thought you were a fucking earthquake."
"Nah." Lips curved lightly against his bare shoulder. "Just your everyday run-of-the-mill bed invader. You should be used to those."
"Not anymore," he murmured. A little puff of air from Sugizo's "hmmph" hit his neck, and he peered down at the man that had summarily appropriated his person as a body pillow. "That's fine, Yuu, make yourself at home. I live to serve as your security blanket."
"I know you do," came the sleepily smug answer.
He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.
It was far too early for this.
...wait, what time was it? There shouldn't be sunlight crossing through his bedroom... as pretty as it did look on the white comforter, and the too-dark pink hair spread over his chest... (scratch that train of thought - it only led to another day spent curled in bed and sobbing, and what good had that done anyone so far?) He rocked up on one elbow, dislodging the Sugi to much disgruntled muttering, and hunted around for several minutes before finally locating a clock - right where he had hung it when he moved in to this house eight years ago, but that was so beside the point.
He stared at it, and stared, and turned his head around to stare some more at every possible angle... and finally shook off the guitarist masquerading as a limpet for long enough to turn upside-down and... realize for good and all that unless there had been a conspiracy on the part of the clock, his watch which he found on the floor while hanging off the edge of the bed on his back, and the alarm clock in his bedside drawer, to all change in the same amount at the same time...
It really was four in the afternoon?
"Yuu, I have to get up," he said abruptly. "Let go. Oh, don't look at me like that, you're not a puppy and I won't hesitate to kick you. Off."
He opened his eyes in a panic and gave a choked scream at the sight that met him - eyes!! Gah--!
"Calm the fuck down," Sugizo muttered tiredly, collapsing in a heap along Yoshiki's side. "It's just me, not the fangirl army come to rape you. Can't rape the willing anyway, though, can you..." he smacked his lips a little, yawning, and settled himself in small fidgets until he was cozily draped around Yoshiki, evidently planning to go right back to sleep.
"Yuu." Yoshiki caught his breath slowly. "You asshole. I thought you were a fucking earthquake."
"Nah." Lips curved lightly against his bare shoulder. "Just your everyday run-of-the-mill bed invader. You should be used to those."
"Not anymore," he murmured. A little puff of air from Sugizo's "hmmph" hit his neck, and he peered down at the man that had summarily appropriated his person as a body pillow. "That's fine, Yuu, make yourself at home. I live to serve as your security blanket."
"I know you do," came the sleepily smug answer.
He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.
It was far too early for this.
...wait, what time was it? There shouldn't be sunlight crossing through his bedroom... as pretty as it did look on the white comforter, and the too-dark pink hair spread over his chest... (scratch that train of thought - it only led to another day spent curled in bed and sobbing, and what good had that done anyone so far?) He rocked up on one elbow, dislodging the Sugi to much disgruntled muttering, and hunted around for several minutes before finally locating a clock - right where he had hung it when he moved in to this house eight years ago, but that was so beside the point.
He stared at it, and stared, and turned his head around to stare some more at every possible angle... and finally shook off the guitarist masquerading as a limpet for long enough to turn upside-down and... realize for good and all that unless there had been a conspiracy on the part of the clock, his watch which he found on the floor while hanging off the edge of the bed on his back, and the alarm clock in his bedside drawer, to all change in the same amount at the same time...
It really was four in the afternoon?
"Yuu, I have to get up," he said abruptly. "Let go. Oh, don't look at me like that, you're not a puppy and I won't hesitate to kick you. Off."