@shirabbu
‘ morning, midnight. ‘ there’s a sort of drudging apathy in his voice slicing like a dull blade. it could almost make one’s ears bleed, which seems to be the desired effect –– smirk stealthily stifled against shirabu’s ear, and the shell is cold ( the boy seems to have poor circulation and that doesn’t surprise eita one bit ) beneath the embers of his chapped-bitten lips. he puckers them, ashes fluttering, and breathes his passion as smoke from his lungs. ‘ or, well, seven o clock, bright and early. about ready to give up yet, shirabu? ‘ the volume of his words is unapologetically normal and he won’t be surprised at the glare, probably seething and tired, he’s sure shirabu will toss at him –– as if him speaking in anything less than muted guilt is completely unacceptable. as if he had forced the other to bare the long night with him.
‘ guess you’re not a morning person, huh, princess? ‘ more like, not a didn’t sleep all night and now my eyes feel like they’re bleeding and bulging person. but eita? eita is a through and true insomniac. he grins, infuriating and chipper. he’s not a morning person but he’s found a way to beat the system –– by simply not sleeping and erasing the concept and morning and night all together. shirabu, however, seems to find no merit in his particular regimen, if his tousled hair ( eita had dragged his hands through it more than once throughout the night, glancing over the top of his book ) and bruised, sunken eyes have any say. any other day, eita might feel a tad remorseful and treat his boyfriend gingerly –– despite the fact that the boy had brought this upon himself! –– but today it’s the weekend and he’s more than a bit amused at how determined the spitfire had been to stay awake all night with him. no, no, it’s the weekend and though he figures shirabu probably has homework ( eita knows he sure does ), they can do it later, foregoing rising with the morn sun to take a hot nap in each others arms. it’s a devious plan, really, but he’s nothing if not a deviant.
the book he had been reading lays finished and forgotten at the foot of his futon. instead of turning page after page, his hands busy themselves with carding through every soft strand of shirabu’s hair. the next smile that graces his lips is significantly kinder than the previous ones –– and he presses it just as kindly to the other’s own tiers, pillowing the lower lip between his full peach pair. a sweet kiss to his sour teasing. ‘ go to bed, now. i’ll even nap with you. ‘
