Jin feels unsettled when he wakes suddenly. Not because of the dismal sight of a rain streaked window that greets him, nor the (albeit also unpleasant) chill to his skin where the covers have long since parted their way with him.
Jin’s eyelids are heavy, limbs heavier still when a second sharp jab to his shin startles him fully awake again.
Really, Jin thinks, giving the covers a wistful glance, he is happy - pleased, (relieved) at Kame’s deep state of sleep.
When Kame is in the middle of a full blown panic over a project, or homework, or some other part of his stressful and eternally fascinating lifestyle, he sleeps lightly. Jin curls into his embrace and imagines his day with increasing wonder; if he smells smoke clinging to Kame’s warm skin he imagines shady meetings in an underground club; if his lover lists verbs, nouns and puzzles over what an onomatopoeia is under his breath, Jin drifts in and out of sleep happily thinking that his fiancé is undoubtedly the top of his class.
When Jin sits up, it takes what feels like minutes. He shifts carefully, so carefully, in case the creak in his bones and the taut pull of his tense muscles will wake his lover. When Jin sits up, by the time he is righted, he realizes what an aimless action it was.
Finding Kame sleeping so uncharacteristically -so selfishly, makes Jin’s heart thrum at a happy pace. The sheets cocoon Kame, twisting around his calves and elbows, in knots under his hip; Jin has no hope of reclaiming his half, and he doesn‘t particularly care.
“Miserable..” He breathes into the palm of his hand, the dull wash of grey over the usually light room doing little to better his opinion of the weather.
Perhaps, he wonders, he could slip out of bed. Feed the dogs and make Kame breakfast; wear an apron over bare skin and sweatpants, and fill the air with clouds of sugary powder as he ambitiously, methodicaly decorates the pancakes that -if he gets it right- will be exactly as Kame likes them.
Jin’s eyes wander over the ‘organized’ mess currently surrounding them - a haphazard spread of both Kame’s class and modelling work covering the dresser; two cameras waiting for Kame to get a break in his schedule and develop the full rolls of film inside. The tangle of both of their clothes on the floor, Kame’s cashmere sweater (the burnt orange one that Jin loves to press his cheek to, lovingly nuzzling Kame’s shoulder for a touch of the soft fabric) looks none the worse for wear buried underneath the creases and folds of Jin’s faded jeans.
It had never exactly been a formal arrangement - Jin’s living with Kame. They had both, unbeknown to each other, given it thought. Often in the negative, as sharing space and losing solitude can be challenging (especially in the case of losing it to someone as adoring and fearful of loneliness as Jin).
Four months on, and the boxes containing the entirety of what Jin wanted to remain of his life before this relationship are still in the spare room, barely touched. Photos that Kame had thoughtfully dug out and slipped into frames, dim and blurry in comparison to his own pictures on display, are one of the few things that Jin contently sees as this truly being his home. Although he often turns the photos of him and Pi staring excitably out of their frame to face the wall if a night of romance is planned. Kame laughs when he sees them. Jin can’t wait for them to move to New York and start a home together from scratch.
Rebelling against his silent stance, Jin hums thoughtfully against the heel of his palm, trying to discern who removed what first by the order the items lay in, until the notion of warmth from the heavy material reminds him just how cold he is.
Turning to Kame with a considerate tilt of his head, Jin wonders how it’s possible to steal good as all of the sheets yet still be exposed to the chill of an early autumn morning.
Jin sighs, reaches to brush his knuckles over the taut skin of Kame’s shoulder blades, and sighs again at the chill. ‘Never let your shoulders get cold.’ Kame’s mother had told him with a sweet smile while her son avidly protested to both he and Jin being wrapped up in old jackets belonging to his brothers, and although it may not be anywhere near as cold as watching the New Year fireworks from Kame’s parent’s lawn last year, Jin tends to take her advice to heart.
It’s a lengthily process, careful inching the bunched up covers out from under the curve of Kame’s hip, but Jin feels satisfied with his efforts as he wraps the sheet around Kame’s shoulders, smoothing the fabric over Kame’s back and feeling the chill seeping through to his fingertips.
“There,” Jin breathes, propping himself up on his elbow and admiring his work. “Should be warm in no time~”
Smiling as he watches the gentle rise and fall of the sheets now covering Kame, Jin loses count of the time he’s been blissfully noting how even the dim light from the window makes his ring glint as he runs his fingers through Kame’s unkempt morning hair.
Kame’s voice is soft, soothing like the rain against the window. But Jin, who had innocently assumed his lover was still in a deep slumber, shrieks.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jin mumbles once his heartbeat is no longer pounding in his ears. “You know I don’t have the attention span to do anything for three minutes.”
Kame yawns widely. “I’ve been awake long enough to know that your attention span lasts longer than you give it credit for..”
Rolling onto his back, he smiles blearily at Jin, his flushed cheeks not going unnoticed. “How much longer~?”
“Tw..enty five-- four minutes.” Jin says after a glance, and then another, at the clock. Deeming this more than enough time, Kame opens up the sheet and holds it in a way that briefly reminds Jin of a cape, as though he’s a (sleepy, dishevelled) vampire and Jin is his next victim.
“Twenty three minutes.” Jin amends, Kame curled against his chest and a tangle of sheet curled around them both.
“You’d still have been watching me now if I hadn’t said anything, wouldn’t you?” There’s not a hint of anything but lethargy and affection in Kame’s voice as he trails his fingertips over Jin’s cold skin, his breath a welcome warmth against Jin’s chest.
Jin makes an indignant sound in the back of his throat, declining an answer despite knowing it’s glaringly obvious.
“Six more minutes~” he murmurs, lips pressed to Kame’s hair. “Shame the weather hasn’t cleared up.”
Kame smiles and presses closer, only now noticing the sound of the rain fading in and out between the solid beat of Jin’s heart.