Keep me in distant sight

Chapter 3 "There will come a time"

One big and warm hand leaves his hips to lightly trace unknown shapes on his forearm. A pair of lips graces the slope of his neck, uncaring of the cold sweat wetting the skin. He sighs, pushing his body towards the other. Broad fingers lace themselves with his own, encompassing them easily. And they are still playing with his hair, easing him into a much more relaxed state. Legs tangle together.

The other is bigger than him. Taller, broader and oh so warmer. They are a furnace. His ear rests on a chest, wide, flat, muscular, just above their heart. Beating slowly, lulling his exhausted self to sleep, it's a whole orchestra of one instrument resonating within them. The presence shifts and, suddenly, a curtain of something warm, soft and alive fully covers him.

The final stone is set when a kiss finds its way on his forehead.

He doesn't know who the other is but he knows he loves them. How could he feel anything else? They are two pieces of the same whole who fit together perfectly. He loves them so much. He's bursting with joy, knowing he can stay in their arms for all eternity. Is he allowed to feel such bliss? He doesn't know but it's okay. As long as he can stay here forever, he will be fine. A star who brought him, Akaashi Keiji, back to life.

He smiles, entwines them further. He laughs when his lover tightens their arms around him. And he let go.

"Uuuuuurgh..."

The wake-up is decidedly way less charming than his dream.

The room is, thankfully, a dark-grayish brown because someone had the brilliant idea of closing the curtains before going to bed. He doesn't know who but he will write an amazing poem celebrating their thoughtful act.

After dying.

He doesn't know what's worse. The pounding headache behind his eyes and temples? The dryness of his mouth, so dry he can't swallow? The lead in his limbs, paired with aching muscles from dancing? Or can it be the damp bed he's sprawling on?

What's on this damned bed? What did he do last night?

Keiji wakes up, feeling like he had been trampled by the whole Agency before being tossed into the Gulf Stream. In other words, he feels atrociously bad. And on top of that, he had dreamed about this strange dream again.

He slowly gets up, wobbling as his shaking legs try to support his weight. He hisses. There's a burn in his legs. A sticky feeling on his body. And now that he's more awake, there's a taste in his mouth that's totally a result of his binge-drinking. There's also a lump under the covers beside him. At least this explains his sore body - he must have had a good workout session on the makeshift dance floor.

Akinori must have dragged his sorry ass back home before collapsing on the bed. Perhaps they have done more than just sleeping but he can't be sure. Yet, despite focusing as much as possible, he has no idea when, how and what occurred. He needs to have a word with Anya. Her newest creation is definitely a weapon of mass destruction and should be handled with all the care in the world. He shrugs. It wouldn't be the first time he had sex with Akinori while tipsy (not scratch, he was black-out drunk and this is a first), just the first time he doesn't remember any of it. He trusts Akinori with his life - his best friend wasn't in the best of shape either so really, they're both at fault here.

He stretches, looking around in hope of finding his glasses. To his dismay, it's too dark to find them when he barely makes out the furniture's contour around. The EASA must have been desperate to accept a man with such bad eyesight in their ranks, he swears. It's a good thing he knew the layout by heart at this point, after a decade of living in this flat. He walks unsteadily towards the bathroom where a cold basin filled with recycled and purified water is waiting for him with a washcloth and towels. Enough to get by until they pester their supervisor enough for him to activate the showers for today.