Be My Halo

Night's Orchestra (Standalone)

The cool air from the fan blew over us. My dark hair fluttered in the breeze, but didn't quite fall into my eyes. The orange cloud Shouyou claimed to be his hair, on the other hand, seemed to be all over the place. Vivid strands clung to the blanket.

The sounds of night wafted in as well, through the slightly open window. Crickets, owls, cicadas, and the distant howling of neighborhood dogs created a melody unable to be replicated by any orchestra. It was a familiar sound - one I'd heard from my own window countless times - but hearing it in his room made me feel... something.

I gazed up at the unfamiliar ceiling, tracing paths in the paint I'd traced hundreds of times now. The soft, yellow glow from his lantern-shaped nightlight was the only source of light. Well, that and the streetlamp a few houses down, but it was almost too far away to count for anything.

I felt his rhythmic breathing; the steady rise and fall of his chest. I quietly turned my head to look at his back. He was so small. It's hard to tell on the court, because he's such a large presence: leaping and shouting and changing the mood of the team all by himself.

But here, lying nearly still beside me, curled up under just a couple blankets, it was easy to see just how fragile Shouyou really was. It was almost unnerving, the way he was so... unmoving. I wasn't used to it, yet. I was used to constant energy, even after hours of practice, or even matches. I was used to boundless leaps, shifting feet, darting eyes.

Now, he was still. The only movement was his breathing and the slight shifting under his eyelids. It was not unlike watching a sleeping dog. I wonder what he's dreaming of.

He shivered. It ran from the ends of his fiery hair to the tips of his curled toes. Goosebumps appeared on his arms and the back of his neck. I had asked him, earlier, if he'd wanted the fan off, since it was a little cooler that night than recently. But he'd said the sound helped him sleep.

I tentatively reached my hand out. My fingertips brushed Shouyou's side, and he shivered again at the touch. I slowly turned onto my side, facing the back of his head. He let out a breath, and I froze - but he fell back into a soft rhythm.

My right hand continued reaching again, trembling slightly. I gulped.

Finally, I settled. My hand was splayed across his ever so small stomach, and his equally tiny back was to my chest. I felt the change in his breathing, and froze again, holding my breath. I saw his eyelashes flutter as he jolted awake.

Maybe he wasn't cold; maybe it was a nightmare, instead. I need to move away from him, before he realizes. I made a mistake, he'll hate me, I need to--

Shouyou turned towards me, interrupting my thoughts, right as I'd started to move my hand. His eyes were squinted nearly shut, and he looked positively beautiful.

"'Yama..?" He yawned. When his big, brown eyes opened again, he jumped at how close our faces were. Mine flooded with color.

"I - I thought you were cold, and--" I stammered, starting to pull away again, embarrassed. He simply turned all the way towards me, wrapping his arms around my chest. I gasped and held still, wide-eyed.

His soft, orange head brushed under my chin. His warm stomach pressed against mine, and I could feel his heartbeat. It raced just as fast as mine. Our legs pressed together, awkwardly at first. But he shifts his - the softness of his pyjama pants like heaven against my bare legs - and suddenly we were tangled together more comfortably.

Shouyou buried his face in my chest and breathed in, not speaking. His small hands gripped the back of my shirt.

Finally, I let out the breath I'd been holding, ruffling his hair further. I let my body relax, though my heart still raced. My right hand settled on the small of his back. He melted into my touch, and breathed in my chest again.

"Shou," I whispered.

He grumbled quietly in response.

"Are you okay?"

He stilled for a moment. It always surprised me when he did. Then he shook his head, jerkily.

I let out another breath. "Want to talk about it?"

He shook his head again.

"Okay."

His hair smelled like vanilla bean and coffee; he'd brought his own shampoo. I breathed in deeply, closing my eyes and filling my mind the scent.

"...You were in it. The dream," he mumbled, startling me.

I blinked, startled - then was gripped by the suffocating worry that I had been the bad part of Shouyou's dream. I only hummed in response, nervously.

"...You saved me."

"...Oh."

A beat passed. My mind was full of flowers and birds and sunshine. My stomach felt full of butterflies and bees. My knees, in comparison, were jelly, and I was thankful I was lying down. I curled more and buried my head into his neck.

"...'Yama?"

"I'll save you, not just in your dreams." I turned scarlet, not having meant to say that aloud. "I - I mean--"

"I know," Shouyou mumbled. I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Thank you," I whispered after a moment, relaxing.

He reached down and pulled a blanket over us. The comfortable silence draped over the room as well. The night's orchestra filtered in, lulling us softly to sleep.