Ground. He was approaching the ground at a quick pace. Falling. Falling from who knows where, to his death. It was only a matter of seconds before his body would be a jumbled, gelatin mess. There was no calling for help. It was too late for that. The only thing he could do, was close his eyes, and take it like a man. Die in dignity.
It was as he closed his eyes, that he actually opened them. Golden eyes were wide, as they scanned the room around him. It was dark, the only light illuminating the room was coming from the alarm clock on the table beside the bed. He hadn't even realized he had been breathing heavily, until he felt his pulse to make sure he was still alive.
This had been the third time this week, that he had had this nightmare of himself falling to his death. The author rubbed his eyes once more. Well, everything seemed normal. He was alive, the brat...oh, he hadn't checked the brat. Reaching his hand out, he tried to feel around in the darkness. Screw having such bad eyesight!
Panicing for a moment, he let out a sigh of relief when he felt those pink locks between his fingers. The boy was fast asleep, he could tell by the way the other didn't move. He didn't remove his hand, though. Instead, his fingers slid through the pink vocalist's hair. The hair was soft, and always smelled like whatever shampoo the vocalist had decided to use that day.
It was then the author decided to lean down, pressing his nose against the top of the vocalist's head. Another soft sigh escaped from his lips. The vocalist's hair smelled like strawberries. It was his favorite scent of them all, and the vocalist had quite a selection.
Strong arms wrapped around the vocalist, as the author decided that he wanted to snuggle, for once. Especially after having such a nightmare. He didn't care that the other was asleep, as once he had his arms around the vocalist, skinny arms wrapped right back, as if the author was now a pillow.
Not that the author minded. For tonight, he would be a pillow to the vocalist. But only if the vocalist would be the same. The author pulled the blankets back over the two of them, and he could feel the vocalist snuggle even closer to him. He was warm, and it felt really nice to have the pink bundle snuggled so close. Although he'd never, ever admit that.
In the morning, he'd most likely kick the vocalist out of his bed, and go back to working on his newest novel. But for now, for now he would enjoy the small, quiet moment of having someone so dear to him, snuggled up to him, without a care in the world.
"Oyasumi, Shuichi." The author said softly, with another soft pat to the head. As if on cue, there was a soft noise that came from the vocalist's lips.