[ Sleep usually takes him quick and clean as a kind kill, a skewer sweeping through his frontal cortex and every waking thought in the way of his slumber. Just not tonight. Outside of that morning tread back home and his brief meet-up with Yoshida, the hours of his day have already been depleted by recovering from his illness and resting up. Sure, his "rest" was more like a fevered half-consciousness, Denji constantly shifting and tangoing with his bed sheets, but it's all the same. Falling asleep like this won't be simple.
Unfortunately, there isn't anything else to do, but to try. Whether it's because he's that tired or because he's making an effort not to move too far from him, he stays situated atop Aki as time wheels forward. Denji's face turned out sideways, his breathing comfortable and constantly rolling, the warmth from the other hybrid's chest caressing his cheek. Not awake, not asleep, not thinking about anything in particular — aside, of course, from a passing moment he considers teething at one of his nipples, but that'd make him mad, so he doesn't — that's how Denji spends the next few hours.
Eventually, his consciousness does begin to converge on that familiarly blank slate that comes with actual sleep, but as swiftly as he'd touched the surface of that well, he's removed from it — shoved from it, really. Feeling his head gently slide, then land on what could only be the futon's pillow, his eyes squint open just as a chill films over his skin. He crosses his arms over his chest, rubbing against his goosebumps as he watches Aki retreat into the bathroom, taking all the sheets with him. ]
Aki, it's cold…
[ Denji, having crawled after him on his hands and knees, whines at him through the door, his voice trying to reach him over the cascade of the shower head. ]
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Unfortunately, there isn't anything else to do, but to try. Whether it's because he's that tired or because he's making an effort not to move too far from him, he stays situated atop Aki as time wheels forward. Denji's face turned out sideways, his breathing comfortable and constantly rolling, the warmth from the other hybrid's chest caressing his cheek. Not awake, not asleep, not thinking about anything in particular — aside, of course, from a passing moment he considers teething at one of his nipples, but that'd make him mad, so he doesn't — that's how Denji spends the next few hours.
Eventually, his consciousness does begin to converge on that familiarly blank slate that comes with actual sleep, but as swiftly as he'd touched the surface of that well, he's removed from it — shoved from it, really. Feeling his head gently slide, then land on what could only be the futon's pillow, his eyes squint open just as a chill films over his skin. He crosses his arms over his chest, rubbing against his goosebumps as he watches Aki retreat into the bathroom, taking all the sheets with him. ]
Aki, it's cold…
[ Denji, having crawled after him on his hands and knees, whines at him through the door, his voice trying to reach him over the cascade of the shower head. ]