#daisukexreader

it's summer.

the sun is bright, with the fan on full speed, and frozen treats will eventually melt onto your hand, sticky residue forgotten. 

it's /summer/.

that means you'll be loitering around a certain boy’s room with the windows open, and the low buzz of pixelated music in the background. it’s a routine at this point, the way your body finds itself at the same spot every year, slouching on the messy bed. it sports different patterned sheets every time you visit. it was pandas last time, and this time - it seems to be hibiscus patterned. 

you swear that there was a shirt with the same exact print in his closet. did he buy it in a set, or something? you try to imagine what the person who thought to do this, and what they were thinking. … ah. does it really matter? 

you would normally entertain these questions - but the way your brain is getting fried right now isn’t really helping. the heat is really getting to you. “hey.”

- and your counterpart seems to have gotten the memo.

your eyes flicker towards his, to at least acknowledge that you did hear him, and god. 

he looks like he’s suffering as much as you are. but with the way his features gleam when the sun shines on him is unfair. how come you’re stuck with clothes glued onto your skin, damp and wet from sweat, while he gets to look like - you don’t know - a highschool heart throb? 

his hair filters the sunlight - making his hair look like it’s glowing brown, while his eyes seem to gleam - looking more golden than brown right at the moment. .. god. you’re so pissed. “why do you seem more upset now..”

daisuke frowns, and you only notice then, that you’re also frowning. you immediately correct your expression. you look away, arms folded. “nothing.”

“ooooo-kay. weirdo.”

you continue to sulk. not that you would admit that you were sulking, of course. .. so the next best thing to do is to make sure you looked like you weren’t sulking. you try your best - face slowly straightening out, removing any semblance of a pout, or any expression at all. it’s rather hard to do, once again, because of the heat.

you close your eyes. this is all because of the heat. you won't accept defeat. you're going to face the epitome of sunshine straight on, and you're going to win. after much self-convincing, you open your eyes, ready to face the sun itself.

but when you finally look back at him, you’re not met with a view of the male sitting beside you with his eyes trained on the television, no.

you’re instead met with brown hair kissing your own hair strands, his face so close - and his lips even closer. 

and he seems oblivious about it - a smile on his lips, dimples showing, as a triumph look shines in his eyes.

“done sulking?”

with each syllabus - you can feel the heat of his breath hit your skin.

you can barely breathe. your chest feels so full. your brain isn’t responding.

fuck.

you can’t get your eyes off him.

fuck.

“let’s play a ga-oomf!”

before your brain could formulate another thought, you slammed a pillow onto his face. as soon as he was down on the bed, temporarily immobilised, you immediately scramble towards the exit of the room, door already open, and your heart pounding than your own voice -

“you suck! you really suck!"

a pause ensues. before you shuffle back to the door frame - with only your middle finger in view for the male to see.

“fuck you!” you could already imagine his face of confusion once you come back. god - you'll deal with it later. for now you'll deal with the warmness in your face, and the same one in your chest that feels like it's going to explode.

this is all because of the heat. you swear.