Imagine your favorite character being obsessed with their own merchandise. They own every poster that they appear in, they own all their figures, they even have a body pillow with themselves on it
Hajime’s mouth snaps shut. The movie is flickering in white and yellow, a flashback of the protagonist to a happier time when they were younger, the world pure, golden, free of monsters. There’s still so much popcorn over, it’s barely past midnight and usually, they’d be in a heated discussion about whether the aliens are animated like shit or not.
But Oikawa’s hair tickles his neck. Hajime tries to breathe as slow as he can, his arm tingling where it’s falling asleep, supporting the heavy pressure that Oikawa puts against him. How did he get tired so easily, Hajime wonders, watching him as his lips pull into a smile. Oikawa looks young and small like that. His legs are over Hajime’s lap, God, why’s he still wearing those silly alien pajamas, and he smells like summer, the forest they played in as children, popcorn and soft, endless trust.
Hajime is careful when he reaches for a handful of popcorn. He manages to move slow enough for Oikawa to not even flinch. The movie goes on, but Hajime chews on the popcorn and his eyes lose focus on the main protagonist. A hero, out to change the world. Hajime touches his thumb to Oikawa’s collarbone.
“Sleep,” he whispers, words lost in Oikawa’s hair. “I’ll stay here.”
![miss-cigarettes:
“ 나됴 욕조에 넣어보앗다 계속 얼굴이 맘에... || 작은봉구୧ʕ•̀ᴥ•́ʔ୨ [@sorabat]
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