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Mar. 30th, 2008 12:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kat8chaMitaka would never admit it, but he had a tee-shirt of Sakamoto’s that he had smuggled out of Akira’s house on one of his visits. The tee-shirt was worn, a little threadbare, with the edge of one of the sleeves beginning to unravel. Mitaka could not imagine Akira wearing such a shirt daily, but possibly… possibly Akira wore it to sleep in. When Mitaka had spotted it sitting on top of Akira’s laundry pile he had picked it up. The fabric was so soft under his hands, and it had smelled so distinctly of Sakamoto’s pure scent. Mitaka had had folded it quickly and tucked it into his bag before Sakamoto came back with tea.
Some nights when the pressure of the world was pressing heavily down on him Mitaka would pull the tee-shirt out of it’s hiding place, the bottom of Mitaka’s underwear drawer, and he would hold it tightly in one hand while he slept. It could not be considered a security blanket, it wasn’t a blanket for one thing, and also the feelings inspired by sleeping with Akira’s tee-shirt were not those of security. Instead they were the type of feelings that lead to erotic dreams and inevitably to sticky sheets. Mitaka was grateful he had never met the people who washed his sheets, even if it was normal for a teenage boy Mitaka still remembered with embarrassment the first time he had done it and the ‘talk’ his father had with him afterwards.
Bringing Akira’s shirt up to his face Mitaka took a deep breath before lying down on his pillow. Maybe some day soon he could have Akira in bed with him, instead of a poor substitute.
Some nights when the pressure of the world was pressing heavily down on him Mitaka would pull the tee-shirt out of it’s hiding place, the bottom of Mitaka’s underwear drawer, and he would hold it tightly in one hand while he slept. It could not be considered a security blanket, it wasn’t a blanket for one thing, and also the feelings inspired by sleeping with Akira’s tee-shirt were not those of security. Instead they were the type of feelings that lead to erotic dreams and inevitably to sticky sheets. Mitaka was grateful he had never met the people who washed his sheets, even if it was normal for a teenage boy Mitaka still remembered with embarrassment the first time he had done it and the ‘talk’ his father had with him afterwards.
Bringing Akira’s shirt up to his face Mitaka took a deep breath before lying down on his pillow. Maybe some day soon he could have Akira in bed with him, instead of a poor substitute.
