𝚃𝙴𝙴𝙽𝙰𝙶𝙴 𝙳𝙸𝚁𝚃𝙱𝙰𝙶 ,, high&low

chapter eighteen | disarm

eighteen

disarm

Masaki had fallen asleep a long time ago, his soft snores distracting my mind from all the dissecting and worrying I knew was going to happen at some point. I had given up on sleep a while ago, settling instead for curling into Masaki's side, breathing in the comforting scent of his hair. A heavy arm was draped across my torso, his hand warm on my sweat-covered back, matted hair clinging to my face, clothes scattered around the room

With a sigh, I untangled myself form his comforting embrace, quickly getting out of the warm bed and gathering my clothes. Fully dressed again, I grabbed my jacket from where I had haphazardly thrown it across the back of the couch, pulling the cavernous material over myself and opening the screen door to the balcony. The outside air was nice, especially this early in the morning, before the sun was even up. The cool breeze blew my hair across my face, highlighting the small marks the older Amamiya had left on my neck. My entire body ached with fatigue, but I knew it was going to be another bad, sleepless night.

The door slid open behind me, signalling that somebody else was joining my quiet introspection on the balcony.

"Usually when people go out on balconies at two in the morning, it means they want to e left alone." I hummed, turning to face my visitor

"So you were going to leave me alone in my bed like a loser? I'm the one that leaves, not the other way around." Masaki joked, leaning against the railing "Come on, something's bothering you. I can tell."

I held up my phone. "Nothing from my parents. Not a single call, or a text or a 'I noticed you aren't home yet, have a nice night' or anything. Shows how little they care." I scoffed "The only person worried about me is the ex-Iemura dude who's renting our basement. I've put up with this my entire life, falling second to my sister."

"Well, I know all about that. Hiroto is probably the better one of us to talk to, he always felt the most left out. But family is a tricky thing." He said, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chest against my back, reminding me for a brief second about what we had done mere hours earlier: his bare chest against my back, the side of my head pressed into the pillow, harshly moaning his name.

"I haven't slept properly in almost a week now. I got maybe five hours the other day, but usually I get less. Chronic insomnia, I've had it since I was ten." I spoke quietly "Again, it had nothing to do with you. Sorry for waking you."

Masaki shook his head, gently turning me to face him. "Don't apologize. You went to hell and back today, and you are so brave for it. Stay with us as long as you need. Hell, maybe this place will actually be clean for once."

I took a sip of my piping hot drink as I sat on the window ledge outside Itokan, briefly turning my head back to watch Murayama argue with Cobra and see Smokey coughing harshly into a napkin, the underside of the thin paper-like material turning a bloody shade of red. Rocky had vanished, and Hyuga was yelling at somebody over the phone. Somehow I had a feeling that S.W.O.R.D meetings usually ended in screaming matches.