#nai also stares at you in public without realizing it and you pick it up as if there’s something on your face

[cheralith]

food for thought before i succumb to slumber… take a listen to this track for some fitting background music!

a little bit of the aftermath of what happens in gunsmoke, where nai and you are in your bed, tucked away during the brief minutes before midnight strikes. the night is still young for those at the nightclub, where most people are entering the height of their exhilaration.

but you and him had decided long ago to close it off with your stripped limbs tangled with another under a warmed duvet. the soft glow of a candlelight (nai insisted on a candle every session, claiming it’d amplify the mood) is the only illumination wafting throughout the room, your sleeping face just barely visible amidst the ink of darkness of the night.

you had gone to sleep some time ago. between the two of you, nai knew you’d often fall victim by the induced melatonin after entangling your beings together so intimately, the passion usually emitting much more of oxytocin in your case. nai often would watch as you fought the sandman so uselessly that it became a routine. he’d slowly watch the soft lashes atop your cheekbone flutter close and your lips forming a soft “o” that’d let out whispers of breaths with each fleeting second. nai knew you were fully unconscious when your head would fall forward ever so softly toward him—and he’d take this as you unconsciously wanting him closer to you.

he’s convinced it was your body’s way of telling him that you yearn for him the same way his does for you, that it longs to be in a proximity where there’s little to no space between you and him, where your chests touch together and beat as one.

a finger would also trace the crevices and curves of your body and face, studying them like a portrait of another human being. he’d recount the freckles adorned on your skin and face, perhaps leaving off where he started from last time. his finger would gently skim down the slope of your nose and he’d have to bite back a chuckle when you would twitch in similarity of a bunny out of reaction. ivory carved hands would examine the textured of markings and scars adorned on your skin, enjoying the softness and warmth radiating from each as he would wonder how they came to be (minus the one scar on your shoulder that he knew you got from falling down their mother’s apple tree when you were just children playing hide and seek. you cried endlessly that day and nai barely managed to cease it but quietly putting a hello kitty bandaid on it—courtesy of vash).

the duvet grows warmer the longer you and him are under it, but nai feels as if he’s being hugged more from your natural body warmth and sweet, somnolent scent. a mix of soap and the blueberry candle you light up every morning is what he can pick up, maybe some hints if citrus from your usual breakfast yuzu and honey tea, or something of the sort (he wonders if he’d be able to taste it on your lips if he was quick enough come morning).

fingers would dance over the valley of your back as if it were keys on a keyboard. they glide softly over it, feeling the dip and curve of it with his fingertips like he was playing a hypnagogic ballad on your spine. an adagietto sort of rhythm, perhaps, something that sings to you in your slumber.

nai is convinced love for another person is a feat impossible for his heart. but when you let out a soft call of his name in your sleep, as if you’re dreaming about him—perhaps even yearning, if he may be so bold—perhaps he can leave room for second guesses every once in a while.

he gets so entranced by your own unique beauty amidst the starlit night that nai doesn’t realize his eyelids heave heavier with each passing second…

… until you find yourself awake the next morning, showered in embers of sunlight and what seems to be a hand flat against your back.

its palm feels invitingly warm—almost as if it’s been brining in your heat for a while now.