Despite everything

Band: DIV

Pairing: Chobi&Chisa

Rating: 17+

Genre: romance

Warnings: -

Note: Chobi, Chisa and their little own world.

 When I woke up in the morning, you are still asleep. You're laying with a face cuddled in a pillow, covered with quilt to the tip of the nose. I kiss you on the forehead and you just just twist a little and mutter in your sleep.

I put my dressing-gown on and go to the kitchen. I prepare the water for the hot drinks and sit on the windowsill. I'm waiting.

I'm making coffee and you appear in the doors. With messy hair, sleepy and completely distracted. You watch me pour you that green quince tea of yours that you drink every morning. You're smiling. You sit down on the counter, I go back to my windowsill and there is silence for a moment. Until you mumble something like, "I burned my tongue again". Standard. Then we start talking. As if your whining was your starting signal.

Our conversation continues until I finish my coffee, jump off the windowsill and put the mug in the sink. Then you go silent for a while, finish your tea, stand next to me, put your cup next to mine, and you usually tease me somehow. Then you run to the bedroom and I chase you like a naughty child, who accosted a parent, who was washing dishes. I catch your waist as you try to close the door before my face and after a little goofing around coupled with a funny struggle, you land underneath me on the bed, giggling.

Still laughing, we run to the bathroom like kids. You usually win, unless I kept you awake last night. Then I just let you win. You have to win. I want it. Because I love the way you laugh when you point out again to me that I lost. I love your laugh.

When we are ready to go, I tease you because of your clothes and you always say the same thing as the answer. You're always pointing out, how thick the soles of my shoes are. I should get used to it, but it still irritates me a bit.

We go to rehearsal. We're first, the rest is always late. Usually you tease me more and you cross the border of being tactful. But I'm patient and I don't care. I just pretend that I didn't hear it.

During the rehearsal, I forget that I'm secretly mad at you. You do your best, sometimes even too much. I worry about you, I tell you to not overwork yourself, but of course you don't listen. Because why would you?

The rehearsal is ended. We grab our things and go home. It's chilly and you can't handle the cold as usual. I take my jacket off and throw it over your shoulders. You're worried that I will catch a cold. I answer that I'm always warm with you. You smile and I kiss you gently. I was mad at you? When?

We're going home and, of course, something goes wrong on the stairs. Did I tell you not to overdo yourself? As usual, you have an attack, as usual I have to pick you up and carry you to my apartment. As always, you reassure me that you'll be fine and you drink your tea with an apologetic expression as usual. And I'm mad at you again, I reproach you again that someday you'll be taken to the hospital because of your actions. You lower your head and stare at your hands or the cup or the table. I don't know, what you are looking at, I don't know, why you close your eyes and I don't know, why I have to rub your cheeks again, when you start crying with helplessness, when you realize that I'm damn right. I hug you and you calm down by entwining your fingers with mine and saying something like my heartbeat lets you calm down. As always, poetry in every field.

Everything is okay again, when we're watching anime on the TV, eating pizza and drinking beer, which you like so much. And when you fall asleep with your head on my shoulder, I forget about everything. About your teasing, about your love for big breasts, about how sometimes you try to not give up a bit too much. I brush hair off your face, which wakes you up and you look at me confused. I explain that it's time to go to sleep. You nod your head and go to the bathroom, staggering slightly against the wall, maybe from exhaustion or maybe you've drunk too much beer after all.

I'm cleaning up the mess we made and I catch you, when you're stumbling over the bathroom threshold as you step out of it. You mumble that it's my style rather than yours. I walk you to the bedroom and cover you with the quilt.

When I return, you're already asleep. Or you just pretend. I turn off the light and slide under the cool sheets. I put my arm around your waist and I hear you chuckle softly. So you were pretending. You take my hand and you fall asleep. A bit uncomfortable, but I can handle this. Because despite everything, despite your teasing and too high expectations of yourself, I love you. Forever.

The end