Title: Sky
Genre: Romance
Rating: T
Couple: HitsuMatsu

No mornings had felt more welcoming. The sun, warm and gentle, made her dozing form glow, and when he touched her, she was soft, smooth. Eyes half shut, he let his eyes rest on her, ran a hand through her messy, gorgeous bright hair, let his thumb trail across her cheek, down to her lips, and he bowed his head, his nose bumping into hers. She slept on, unaware, oblivious, so innocent and sweet. The boy had never witnessed such a perfect sight.

The sheet covered their naked forms, shielded them away from prying eyes, from monsters which hid in the shadows, from those who would only glare and frown. One of her legs was between both of his, and he lay close to her, propped himself on one elbow, watched her, without a word. There wasn't any need to wake her up, he wouldn't dare. Oh, how relaxed she appeared. It was so relieving to see her this way, without anything on her mind. Her gentle, soft breaths escaped her lips, tickling his chest.

It was times like these when he remembered why he always kept her near. Always, with her near, he was content and sane. To wake up to her, was an honour he never even imagined. To wake up to her, there was nothing so wonderful. To wake up to her, made him happy, made the days brighter, easier to face. To open his eyes from a deep slumber, to see her, near, always near, was enough for him. The world, power, glory could be handed to him, but he would turn all of that down just to have her close.

When alone, once the doors were shut, curtains drawn, she would remove his bloody, beaten armour, peel it away from his sore body, kiss his wounds, and they'd make love, gentle, carefully. There was no need for violence or aggression. Such behaviour was only required once the blade was in their grip. Now, those nights, neither had to fight, there was no blood left to shed. Just each other, and he would hold her close, whisper everything into her ear, and she would embrace him, love him for every flaw and broken piece that he was. And he would treasure that, treasure her affections for him; they were only of one kind, never to be offered by another.

In her arms, he was free. In her arms, he was home at last.
In his arms, she was happy. Safe.

A rough, cold hand tenderly stroked her cheek, and he kissed the tip of her nose. Another hand smoothed its way over her hip, his arm locking her in a half-embrace, before pulling her closer. It was her warmth he desired the most. The sun could beat its heat on him, and he would flee. But he would never flee from her. For she was the onlywarmth which desired no harm on him, she was the only one who had no desire to hurthim. With her, he felt protected. He trusted she wouldn't burn his flesh, wouldn't allow the ice to melt completely. Allow him to be himself, for it was he she fell in love with, not another version she had imagined. Just he, and only he.

Always, her eyes would startle him. This morning, they were as bright as the sky, as clear as water, dancing. Smiling. Filled with joy, love and tenderness that he had never seen from another. It was what he cherished about her, that whenever she saw him, she was always glad, always happy. His presence never brought her misery, his presence always completed her. And that- that was something he would never, evertake for granted. That was something he would hold close, remember her for.

'Tōshirō.'

Only she were to speak his name, speak his true identity, uncover the ugly beneath. His ears loved her voice, how she said his name, the glee in her tone, although a whisper. It was small thing, but so much for him; his name, to her, was important. Proved that barriers were not necessary anymore, that it was time to lay down the blade, and accept that they were no longer standing on a battlefield. Together, alone, they were not soldiers. They were lovers, who only required each other to keep going.

That was all.

That was everything.

Leaning down, he pressed his lips to hers, inhaling her sweet scent. She tasted of sunshine, of the glow in the morning, of so many wonderful, bright wonders. The girl warmed his cold, hard spirit, eased his aching mind. Her hand trailed up his chest, reached his shoulder, neck, the back of his head where she held him. Slowly, softly, they kissed, sealed yet another memory. Another silent confession, another hidden message. A code, an enigma, only formed by the two of them, only legible by both.

It had always been lonely at night and in the mornings, until she came into the picture. Until he allowed her to step inside his empty, blank apartment. To shower the place with her presence, bring parts of herself to the place. Her company was acknowledged, she had marked herself as one with him. An unbreakable, frightening bond, which death wouldn't be able to shred.

Only since she appeared, kissed his body, eased his soul, did he begin to dream again. They were not nightmares. They were not of voices, they were of her. Of him. Of silly, happy scenarios. No more nightmares. They had fled from her presence, suddenly afraid. The heat became too much. She had finally brought youth to his dying, old soul. Finally. Finally.

'Good morning,' he whispered, eyes intense, but fond.