cherry sugar || bokuaka

early mornings

It's the next day, Tuesday.

Well, the day was more of an understatement. It was exactly 6am, a subtle fog rolling over their city with the trudge of the morning, coating the windows in a lush ivory mist that you would only ever see in horror movies.

Akaashi was caught in the purgatory between willing himself to go back to sleep, or allowing himself to wake to the sting of the morning as muffled, distant rings became deafening and merciless.

This was a dreaded time, worse than the witching hour almost, in which he vowed to never be caught dead waking up at again after high school.

Unfortunately for him, there was a blaring alarm clock from Bokuto's side of the dorm that sent jolts of electricity into his skull, his heart racing as all the blood in his body ran cold from the sudden loud noise, earsplitting like tornado warnings.

He slowly opens his eyes and tries to focus on breathing, hearing shuffling from across the room as Bokuto wakes. Along with the fog, it was too dark to see anything, pitch dark bleeding into their dorm, save for the dim light of Bokuto's phone screen as it sits on the edge of his desk.

The blankets on Bokuto's bed shuffle.

There was a soft groan that sounded strained, telling Akaashi he was stretching.

Akaashi leans up on his elbow and squints in his direction, knowing damn well it was all in vain, considering he couldn't see without glasses or contacts, and he was too lazy to reach for the nightstand.

Plus, it was incredibly dark, so blindness would have to win this one.

Akaashi watches a silhouette of Bokuto peel his blankets off of himself, just to sit atop of them, the ancient bed bawling beneath his weight as he stretches his arms above his head again.

Akaashi blinks, his eyes heavy and caustic with lack of sleep as a slight irritation runs through his bloodstream already, wondering what was so important for Bokuto to be up at 6 in the damn morning when they were still supposed to be on summer break.

Bokuto was the last person Akaashi expected to be an early bird.

There's an ache in his shoulder from sitting up for so long, wanting so desperately to plop himself back down into his mattress, to hopefully sink into it and let the earth swallow him whole, just so he could get some more sleep.

Bokuto finally stops the alarm clock, a default melody that solely brought back the dread he felt in high school, before lying on his back where he sat, bringing his legs straight up and resting his heels against the wall. Akaashi blinks, before slowly reaching for his glasses, thinking maybe he was still in a dream with the way time seemed to slack around him, silently coaxing him to sleep.

What the hell was happening right now?

"Oh, Akaashi! Good morning, Pretty Boy!" Bokuto beams once he hears the scraping of his frames against the wood of the desk, his eyes never leaving the ceiling.

Even in the dark, Bokuto's voice sparked voltages and lit fires, incandescence against the shadows.

Akaashi hated the way his name sounded coming from Bokuto, a thick, saccharine drip covering each syllable in a considerate ruse that he'd love to smack right out of his mouth.

Disgusting.

"Why are you up so early?" Akaashi asks, annoyed that he was also woken up, but deciding to make peace with it now before it ruined his entire day, thinking of an excuse to tell the residence office and get himself a new roommate in the process.