Kazutora frowned, sitting up along with [y/n], reaching forward to encircle his arms around her waist, "stay in bed..." he drawled out, pressing his forehead within the crook of her neck.
"How about you stay here, and I go make your coffee," [y/n] whispered out, planting another kiss against Kazutora's temple and down to his cheek, before withdrawing out from his loose embrace.
In response, Kazutora grinned happily at the trade, eye's staring at [y/n] as she clambered off of the bed.
"Also," [y/n] says, turning to point at Kazutora, "remember, dinner with [b/n] tonight. Whole family is going to be there—can't wait for you to finally officially meet everyone."
As [y/n] talked, Kazutora was shamelessly eyeing her up and down, causing her to scoff that turned into a light-hearted chuckle.
"Damn, girl," Kazutora remarked, chewing on the his bottom lip, sending a flirtatious smirk.
At that, [y/n] released unconstrained laughter, "you're making it difficult to go make your coffee," she says.
Taking it as an opportunity, [y/n] returned Kazutora's favour of blatant provocative gazing, incinerating the view into her memories.
[y/n]'s eyes worked upwards—from where the cotton sheets clung just above his mid-thighs, unveiling his navy blue shorts riding down his hips, revealing the way the skin of his abdomen dipped. His right arm was tucked behind his head as he lent against the bed frame, long hair that was once tied into a man bun was loosed during sleep, the shorter sections of his blonde hairs falling to frame his face.
"I'm... going to go make coffee now," [y/n] declared, swivelling to exit from the room.
Kazutora locked his jaw, squinting his eyes after [y/n]'s retreating frame.
As [y/n] made her way into the living space, and in behind the island counter that separated the kitchen, she couldn't help but pause to enjoy the mundane moment.
How the morning sun filtered into the shared home, and how the cicada's resting on trees outside was the only sound filling [y/n]'s ears. It was a peaceful, tranquil moment in time.
It was something that summer had always provided her—despite the heat and passing thunderstorms.
A reminder, or perhaps a time that brought feelings of sentiment.
In every timeline, Kazutora began as just the boy across the street for [y/n]; starting as an innocent ignorant child wanting to make a friend out of a child who hid terrible truths behind that white picket fence.
Who had a love for picture books of zoo animals, and would share his passion with the girl who always listened. Something that over time, Kazutora came to not understand, and would question her of the reasoning.
At the time—the age of adolescence—[y/n] wouldn't know either. It would be another few years until she understood, herself.
There was an inevitability in that aspect, the sense that Kazutora and [y/n] were always going to be each other's first, in friends and lovers. That there was going to be a moment when he would look at her in a certain way, and they would cross the threshold from friendship into something so much more.
It was to be a gentle, tactile love. It was all touching of lips and hands and hearts in tandem. A symphony of a melodic melancholy. When he found peace within just her presence, there was no mistaken that she was not only to be a friend or lover.
It was something greater, that neither [y/n] or Kazutora could put into words.
She would hold his hand—scarred since childhood until time fades the marred flesh—through it all.
And he would hold hers—guiding her through unfair days and when life threw its crossroads—through it all.
They shared the intimacy of being understood.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
˗ˏˋ END 05: KAZUTORA HANEMIYA 'ˎ˗
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
