the cicadas were the first sound of the morning. they chirped and sang from the trees and the blades of grass outside, letting the rising sun know what was on their minds that morning.

sleepy fingers trailed across warm skin, feeling and reassuring their owner that, yes, you were still here beside him. he'd have to ask you if you were really staying (again) when you woke up.

a soft groan left his lips, followed by the immediate regret of making such a loud sound to disturb the calm setting of their bedroom.

he just watched.

maybe he was admiring. taking notes, perhaps? he'd have to ask yuji for help when it came to the morning after. or any morning, at all. ever.