Work Text:
He always seems to find her in the stillness between moments.
Lazy afternoons in the dorms, the tranquility of weekend mornings in the communal kitchen, the winding down of visitor traffic at the infirmary during the tail end of the business day. She has been there since they were first years, and she was still here as they grew into adults (or a tall child, she once snorted). Perhaps it is why he’s come to associate her with the calm, and perhaps it is why he has chosen to carve himself a place in her serenity. He basks in her presence like a house cat who has found the best patch of the floor that is warmed by the sun. Little pockets of time and space where everything is suffused by the minute details that remind him of her.
She is everywhere around him, he realizes.
She is the lingering scent of antiseptic in the air with the barest hint of smoke; neither cloying nor revolting, but instead welcome and familiar. She is brown hair awash in the golden glow of the setting sun. She is the mole by her eye that draws his gaze when her face is to him. She is pink lips tinted red by the strawberries he often offers to share (would it taste sweeter from her mouth?). She is purpling circles under her eyes, wringing herself dry for a society, a system, that offers no gratitude. She was in the lighter Getou used to carry in his pocket, and is presently in Nobara’s recovery, in Megumi’s dry responses, in Yuuta’s care and concern, in Yuuji’s now careful positivity. She has imbued her touch in his everyday life, in most of the people he holds close to his carefully guarded heart.
So here they were in their own little universe; specifically: the clock reads 5:02 p.m., she is off work on time for once, the air conditioning unit lends a quiet hum in the background, the windows let in streams of amber light. They are lounging on the couch, head on her chest, his long limbs wrapped around her. His voice is a little more muted, a departure from the usual veneer of manic glee he wears as another shield against the world, because with her, he could just be. He regales her with the less alarming details of his latest mission, embellishing his story for comedic effect, aiming to get even just a giggle out of her. He hears the soft huff of her barely-contained laugh and he loses his train of thought completely. The words die in his mouth, his throat threatens to close up and choke on air. Yet another thing that he treasures fiercely; the vulnerability she allows to the surface when it is just them, her unguardedness that only he is privy to. Yet another thing he'd break himself for to protect and keep having.
“And then what happens next?”
Her fingers in his hair bring him back to earth. The repeated motion is both distracting and soothing, the sensations it sets off incomparable to the rush of a battle. Maybe this particular moment was a far cry from the halcyon days of their youth, but this peace, this quiet, is just as precious to him, if not more.
“I won and now I’m here with you.”
("Obviously, Satoru.")