we are all dying to give our lives away to something, maybe.

[protential]

--
i don't know why you think spamming me with shit is going to help anything

Comments

[ashlar]

[If he hadn't, if he hadn't. If Akira hadn't curtly said that Hikaru was complaining way too much. If he hadn't glittered with outrage at Hikaru's defiance, and if he hadn't followed that glitter with fire from his mouth. If he hadn't pressed the flat of his foot onto a packing box of books, sent it spinning on its side... But now, his docility. When he's in Hikaru's arms, Akira remembers what true docility is like. It isn't the proper language and softer pitch of professionalism, when he manages to strike that much. It's—he's breathing. It doesn't make his head rush. His throat isn't gripped in on itself; maybe, this way, he could speak closer to cotton. And it all affects his chest, too. Strange how he doesn't realize the way his chest hurts him until it doesn't. Until a time like this.

He is docile. He doesn't care that they're in the middle of the sidewalk at the mouth of a shopping center. All that matters in this moment is Hikaru's body and the things it offers: the solidity, the solace.] You know, my parents still sleep in their own futons. [It's the most traditional thing: two futons, side by side, a couple of inches between them. It's the first sort of marriage bed Akira ever saw.] So I think it's good I didn't get a bed just now, because I need you to show me what kind you like and how it works. [Of course he's slept in beds. Hotels and things. They've slept in hotel beds together, too. But it's different, isn't it, when you're choosing a marriage bed. He thinks Hikaru might be saying some of that.

He's reluctant to remove himself from this tight, solid hold, and to loosen his hold on Hikaru, but he does it. He's still close, though, leaning against Hikaru's arm, his shoulder up against Hikaru's. He's demanding of touch.] Well. Let's go make you feel all the way better. [It takes effort for him to be that soft, you know. To mend his hoarse throat at least a little of the way. Hikaru can be such honey, though, down his throat, tending to his belly. Even when Hikaru is otherwise vinegar, Akira will always come after the honey.

He seems further mollified by the ice cream, when he finally gets to eat it. Hikaru was considerate in his purchase of the little pistachio carton for Akira, and Akira seems to have been made tired by all his earlier anger, so his lashes are low while he idles with his spoon in his mouth. He's leaning heavy against Hikaru's shoulder, from a far angle, while they sit on the back porch. You know, their porch.

He breaks the quiet of his own breath with,] I'll sleep in a bit tomorrow. [That probably means by half an hour. It's his own sort of concession, though. A little lenience for Hikaru. Akira's morning alarms tend to be unforgiving. And they'll have that much more time to lie together.]

[protential]

[The grass in the backyard--you know, their backyard--feels so good on Hikaru's bare feet. He opens his eyes and looks down at them, at his toes curling and meshing with the vivid green, and he wonders why he was so worried about his future here. There's really no better place they could have found for living together. To be honest, he still doesn't know how they were ever able to afford it... The house itself is more traditional than not, without too many modern upgrades, but it's still functional and comfortable. The backyard is just incredible--totally unlike the uninspiring, sardine-packed neighborhood he had to grow up in. Here, the backyard is a sprawling dream with its own large pond and wildflowers in abundance. The smell of it is so good, so fresh; he can't help but breathe in deeper with each breath. He's careful, though, not to jostle Akira and Akira's warm perch on his shoulder. He's being careful not to do anything to upset Akira again, not after what he did earlier, not after all the stupid things he did and said...

Hikaru exhales into a quiet laugh, and he licks the evidence of cookies-and-cream from his own lips.] If I ask you nicely, [he murmurs, because he knows how to be nice when he wants to be,] can you make it so it's longer than a bit? Maybe you could let it happen on its own? [They do have an official function to attend in the mid-morning, but it isn't mandatory, technically speaking, when it's compared to most other things. He isn't aiming for the extra sleep so much as the chance to ease Akira awake without the help of a blaring alarm clock.] Then we can really take our time, and... you know, enjoy our first morning together. Our first real morning together.

[No vinegar to speak of. This is honey all the way down, every last drop.]

That sounds good, right? You can't tell me it doesn't sound good...