For You, My Life.

Crossed Wires

Suguru kept his promise.

He didn't say a thing the next morning, didn't address the fact that Satoru finally got in bed and fell asleep beside him.

He didn't mention it the following morning either.

Or the morning after that.

Or the morning after that.

Or for any of the mornings in the weeks to follow.

"I'm gonna get up now, okay?" Suguru chuckled airly, eyes creasing at their corners from how ridiculous yet simultaneously sweet the whole thing had become.

Satoru just smushed his face into Suguru's chest with added force, grumbling incoherently.

The lanky sorcerer had legs every which way, tangled in sheets and in Suguru himself. His hands pulled tightly at the blankets between them as if holding them close enough would keep Suguru here despite the man's will to get out of bed.

"You're such a brat," Suguru complained, laughter continuously bubbling in the back of his throat. Five fingers threaded themselves through loose white bangs, trailing lines to the back of Satoru's nape to massage at the short fuzzy hairs of a fresh undercut. Things like this practically encouraged Satoru's clingy behavior. As if Suguru hadn't already told himself he'd get up in ten minutes, some half hour ago. At this point, he allowed Satoru to completely fuck with his morning routine, the creature of habit Suguru was, and yet he still didn't quite have the heart to push away from the space heater of a man. But he needed to, for no other reason than knowing he'd be trapped in bed all day if he continued to indulge Satoru. Something he never, ever, thought he'd want again after how brutal his recovery was between these four walls and all the arguments, frustration, and anguish that came with it.

Suguru's digits moved again, backtracking to comb lacey strands over Satoru's forehead, brushing them over his scalp and revealing how lovely those ivory lashes lay over sleepy, blushy cheeks. He leaned in just a touch, enough to ghost a feather of a kiss over the crown of the other's head. The disheveled strands of white tickled his nose while he breathed in Satoru's energy like it was pure oxygen itself.

The room remained dark, curtains remaining drawn and negligent to the sunshine outside despite the little gaps that cast slim warm rays onto the bedding. And like the sunlight, Suguru could practically feel the heat radiating off the body in his chest, like a personal furnace that came with a sharp tongue and a wicked ego.

Suguru hummed out a sigh as he carefully slipped his fingers underneath Satoru's ivory cheek, lifting it with gentleness. He edged his own pillow underneath that sleeping face, safely replacing his scarred chest so he could begin to inch his way off the mattress and free himself of the eternal snuggle session. It wasn't the cleanest break, but Satoru seemed blissfully unaware.

Suguru slipped out of the room, biting into his smile and failing miserably to maintain the happy feeling in his chest as the hundreds of mental images of a snoozy Satoru played behind his eyelids.

Satoru adjusted slightly in his peaceful slumber. He let go of the sheets Suguru used to be under to squeeze long arms around the pillow now smushed against his face. Notably, it wasn't Suguru's chest- but it smelled like his hair and it was warm enough to be a substitute. He sleepily mumbled, sweet and serene in the calm of the morning.

Even though the snowy haired sorcerer began to sleep better with Suguru by his side, the remnants of exhaustion pulled at the fragments of the subconscious.

Like the little fingers of a child holding strings attached to sky-high balloons- Satoru tugged the invisible tethers to his mind at every interval to make sure his newly found solace wouldn't float away. And it was tiresome- taxing, even. To be so aware yet so out of control. Every time his porcelain lids covered his all-seeing eyes, he acted only in response to the imagery of his dreams regardless of how many times he yanked at the strings for reprieve.