Sanctuary

It was strange waking up in a bed different from one's own, Kise Ryouta concluded.

The sheets seemed to be much warmer among those he has recalled ever sleeping on. Inviting, drawing him in as he sank into the comfort, his form fitting almost perfectly as if the space was reserved especially for him. His fingers daintily traced the soft fabric. Some spots moistened; others still a shade darker.

A different scent wafted through the air. It was not the sweet fragrance of air fresheners Kise would usually wake up to. It was the lingering odor of sweat, mixed with the overwhelming aroma of something raw and powerful; a scent which didn't belong to him, but the other. Kise could almost taste its very essence—an intense and pungent flavor with just a hint of sweetness. Like rum chocolates. It was intoxicating.

The sun shined from a different angle. Kise peered back at it—at the windows that hung right above the headboard. Its curtains were tied that night, and Kise had gazed out through it as slender fingers came woven onto his golden locks. Looking up at the sky as fists clenched and tugged on his hair. Counting clouds as each hot touch burned his skin; grazes marking his neck—collarbones—chest—everywhere else. The expressions Kise had made were volatile. Breath hitching at the ministrations; eyes half-lidded and reeling to the back of his skull, fingers clawing at anything within its reach—and as a feeling of ecstasy dominated his senses, the stars had been the ones to have witnessed it.

When Kise turned to his side, it occurred to him again that he was in fact, sharing the bed with someone. He didn't forget. Rather, he was still in disbelief—astonished, even. He observed the sleeping figure. His tanned back was exposed, heaving lightly as he breathed. And his blue hair was unruly. Kise wanted to run his hands through them once more like he did. But he couldn't. He wouldn't. Kise didn't dare disturb his slumber, so he merely watched him—admired him.

Recollections from the previous night—that dawn—this early morning then start running into Kise's mind in perfect succession as if he had been watching a movie. They were vivid like his photographs on magazine covers. Still vivid, even when those unholy hours had passed long ago.

It really did happen, didn't it?

And for a fleeting moment, Kise was genuinely happy.

To be in a place like this was

Bliss.

Because it wasn't just anyone's room; it was this person's sanctuary.

And he was in it. And if he'd let a spark of hope burst into flames, he'd someday want to be a

Part of it.

But Kise knew it wasn't going to happen.

It was a dream too far-fetched.

Because Kise had kept in mind the concept of reality.

And this wasn't it.

Everything had dawned onto Kise hard like a ton of bricks. And he realized the time; he wondered what he was still doing here. And he remembered his busy schedule; over-welcoming his stay was not part of it. To be the first person he sees when he wakes up was not a privilege Kise had.

So scrambling out of bed, Kise immediately retrieved his clothes and put them on. All while reasons why he should be leaving now raced through his head.

Because this person was one of his closest friends and Kise didn't want to fuck it up.

Because Kise knew—assumed, that he had someone else he had his eyes set on.

Because Kise had a heart he wanted to keep mended and unbroken.

Because this must have been a mistake.

"Isn't it?" Kise mumbled with a chuckle of hurt and resignation as he gave one last glance at Aomine before leaving the room.

.

.

.

.

.

"It wasn't a mistake, Kise." Aomine trailed off silently to himself as he heard the room of his door shut gently.


/facepalm. I don't know how, I don't know why but this pairing is just too good to not to write about.