Amaguuji Oneshots

♡ Sleep Well, Darling ♡ - ❤️‍🩹

TW for S/H.

It was the worst. How else could he describe it? He felt so alone, so fragile, so insecure. He couldn't tell anyone, because they'd brush it off, because they didn't care. He couldn't tell Shinguuji because he was going through stuff of his own. If he told Shinguuji, he'd burden him.

So he sat in his room, light headed and dizzy from crying. He struggled to catch his breath. He struggled to get over it. His problems weren't even half of Shinguuji's, or Ouma's, or anyone else's. He was being dramatic and he knew it. He gripped the bedsheets and choked back a sob, sitting up and stumbling to the bathroom. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and regretted it. Jeez, he could see why Akamatsu thought he was always flirting with her, he really did look like a fuck-boy. It didn't help that he wasn't a pretty crier. He almost broke down again at the sight, but he looked away and got ready for a shower.

He let the water run over his body as he began washing his hair. He pulled at his hair a little to ground himself and then washed the shampoo out. When he finished in the shower, he stepped out and wrapped a towel around his shoulders. He got dressed in his room and admired his outfit. He didn't really like it, but he didn't hate it so he'd wear it. He dried his hair off with a towel and left to Shinguuji's dorm - he'd planned on meeting the older boy. He knocked on Shinguuji's door, and was greeted by Shinguuji with his hair in a messy bun. It cheered Amami up a little bit to see Shinguuji being a bit more free with his appearance.

Shinguuji invited Amami in and they made their way to Shinguuji's bed, sitting down on it. Shinguuji sat cross legged while Amami sat with his legs to the side, sitting on his thighs. Shinguuji was in a dark red hoodie and black sweatpants, as well as white socks and a gray paper mask. He had a little notepad in front of him with a few sketches here and there and a lot of writing.

"What'cha doing?" Amami inquired.

"I'm making little 'tabs' on our classmates, it includes their personality, stuff they like and don't like, and how they interact with other people. I add a few sketches in for a little bit of fun." Shinguuji answered, picking up his pencil and finishing a crude drawing of Ouma that Amami assumed was drawn bad on purpose.

"Don't be biased, Ouma looks like a 2 year old drew him." Amami joked.

"I don't like Ouma at all, he's quite annoying." Shinguuji said, flipping his pencil around and erasing the picture of Ouma anyway.

"He's annoying alright, but he just wants to get a reaction out of us. I guess you could say he's doing a few experiments on how people react to annoying little shits for you." Amami said, smiling lightly.

Shinguuji visibly lit up. "Well, when you say it like that..."

Amami smiled again, hoping it didn't look too fake. He scooted closer to Shinguuji.

"Can I see your arms please?"

Shinguuji flinched slightly before placing his pencil down and pulling his sleeves up. There were scars littered on his forearms but there was nothing new. Amami smiled tiredly and held Shinguuji's hand in his own. Amami rubbed his thumbs in the palm of Shinguuji's hand and felt the taller of them relax. Shinguuji repositioned himself and rested his head in Amami's lap, his arms wrapped around the shorters waist.

Amami waited until the anthropologist fell asleep before letting his smile drop. His hand rested on the side of Shinguuji's head and it trembled lightly. It was getting difficult for him to fake everything around people for even 10 minutes. It was exhausting, emotionally and physically. He felt himself tear up again. He choked back sobs and felt himself get overwhelmed. As gently as he could, he moved Shinguuji off his lap and made his way to the bathroom for a bit of privacy.