WATCHED: for sender to wake up and find receiver watching over them. Taokira
Tao had woken before the sun. He hadn't slept well the night prior, knowing there was an intruder in their home. Akira's step-daughter, Fang, had taken what was once his bed upstairs in the guest room. And while it was a relief to be able to share the same bed with him again, there also existed the sense of unease that came with the fear of being caught.
He felt as if he had to pretend all over again.
Years of early mornings and restless sleep had trained his body to surface long before the world bothered to move. Even back then, when his nights were wild and he surrounded himself with vices meant to conceal the pain hiding underneath—the pain of denying himself acceptance, of playing a role that even then failed to meet expectations. A fuck-up through and through, attempting to prove himself to an organization that treated him as if he were just another body, while secretly giving in to desire.
Tao knew there was no point in closing his eyes again.
The room was quiet, dim with the kind of grey light that slipped through the curtains before morning properly arrived. Tao shifted onto one elbow, letting his gaze wander idly across their surroundings.
Quiet. The kind that no longer brought comfort, but uneasiness. The kind that could be so easily disrupted by a command coming from upstairs, demanding his assistance despite her pride.
Even though Tao knew she was bound to the second floor without his help, he couldn’t wash away the uncertainty that came with having someone else in the house. The feeling came with the realization that, despite how brazen he appeared, there was still a part of him that felt as if he was doing something wrong by lusting after another man.
The subtle sound of Akira breathing was what brought his stare back to the man sleeping peacefully beside him. The light crescent between his eyebrows indicated that something was bothering him—be it the shift in weight as Tao turned, a shared frustration over the idea of having Fang over, or the memory of a man who seemed to hold such deep meaning to him, regardless of his denial, that he had even named his dog after him.
He hadn’t meant to watch him, not really. There simply wasn’t much else to look at.
Tao could have gotten up to distract himself with breakfast or by taking Han on a walk, but his thoughts bound him to the bed just as much as the restless beating of his heart. It had been a while since he had felt anxious, if ever. The feeling was so strange, yet oddly addicting. Like adrenaline coursing through his veins, indicating that he was truly living rather than hiding.
Akira’s breathing was slow and even—the kind of sleep that came with feeling safe in one's own home. Tao wanted to believe that this was partially because of him.
His fingers traced along a bruise he had left at the side of Akira's neck, reminiscent of a night of passion in which skin against skin echoed through the room and Tao had felt consumed by it. Even when he was on top, he often felt powerless when it came to the man lying beside him. The hold Akira had over him was something he wasn’t used to, but didn’t fight either.
His gaze then drifted toward his bare chest and abdomen, the rest hidden from view beneath the blanket.
It was when his eyes shifted back to his face that he realized Akira was awake and watching him in return—startling him for a moment that made him involuntarily withdraw his hand and flash an awkward smile.
“Hey…” he said, the twist of his lips giving away the embarrassment he felt in that moment, caught doing something so vulnerable. “It was about time you woke up, sleeping beauty.”