Wasting Your Love on Me(Sanegiyuu)

Four

A little known fact about Sanemi Shinazugawa was that he fucking loathed Monday's. Even more than the average person.

He'd always been and most likely would always be an early riser, save for those dreaded Monday mornings. He'd always sleep in past his alarm, his body burning up and his face sickly warm as he flailed around in bed like a dying fish.

He didn't know if it was a product of coming off the weekend, or just some weird quirk he'd picked up along his childhood, but Monday's were always Sanemi's least favorite day of the week.

So, when on what seems to be a regular Monday morning, Sanemi finds himself stirring before his alarm even has a chance to try and wake him, it's a little off putting.

His body doesn't feel disgustingly warm as it always does, and his face is only slightly hot, not burning up like he expects it to be. His legs don't ache as much as they usually do, and he finds himself sitting up and slipping out of his blankets with ease.

The curtains to his window are pulled closed, but a faint orange glow is clear behind them. Sanemi rubs his face, yawning as he stretches. His back pops, and he groans, rolling his shoulders and standing up, leaving the comfort of his mattress.

He blinks his sleep weary eyes, rubbing the crust away from his eyelashes with a frown. He catches a blur of blue, and he turns to his arm, his chest tightening up with a warm feeling.

'Good morning, I hope you have a good day'

It's a simple message, but the effect it has on Sanemi is almost annoying. His head is swimming with incoherent thoughts, a sickly sweet warmth resting at the bottom of his chest.

He shakes his legs, dragging his feet over to his desk. He feels around for his pen through his half lidded eyes, snatching it from the coffee mug he always kept it in.

He didn't need to look as he wrote out his own good morning message, his eyes preoccupied with the red and blue ink smudged all over both his arms, all from the conversations he'd had with Yuu.

Sanemi would've given anything to keep the ink stained on his skin, but he knew he looked ridiculous. His arms looked like one of his younger siblings stupid drawings; incomprehensible and, frankly, ugly.
The smudged ink blended together, the words that they previously spelled out jumbled together.

He needed a shower, desperately.

Brain on autopilot, Sanemi hummed a tune to himself as he walked to his dresser, rummaging around in the drawers before pulling out a pair of old ripped jeans, a random pair of boxer briefs, and a plain black shirt.

He hears his alarm begin to blare from his bedside table, the noise screeching and irritating.

The grating sound would usually only make him miserable, aid to his bad mood, but today it didn't really bother him.
He was swift to shut it off though, ignoring the messages and notifications on his home screen and grabbing his clothes again, pushing his bedroom door open with less force than usual.

The apartment is quiet, which means Genya must be asleep still.

'Thank god' Sanemi thinks, frowning at the thought of Genya taking his sweet time in the bathroom, not only making himself late, but Sanemi as well.