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Akito knows his partner. He knows Toya better than anyone—it’s not something he’d say just for the sake of saying so. They’ve been together for near seven years now, meeting in middle school and being singing partners ever since, passing each year in high school side by side and graduating without any real plan besides keep singing and stay together that ended up with the two of them in a little apartment, living together while Toya studied in college for music composition. Akito’s I don’t understand why you need a degree, you’re good at it anyway had been met by a it never hurts to learn more that made him relent—it’d only help their goals, anyway, and Toya had gotten into a university only a twenty minute drive away.
“Tokyo University of the Arts?” Toya’s face looked like it’d been glowing, back then, eyes shining when he’d shown the letter of acceptance in a way that made Akito’s heart swell, with pride and relief and other things he didn’t bother to name.
Akito drives Toya to campus, goes to work, meets him at home after his shift to meet An and Kohane for practice. It’s a simple existence, but Akito’s fine with that for now. He knows Toya well enough to know that Toya’s happy, too, and that itself is enough for Akito to be content. As well as Akito knows him, though, living with Toya is as unpredictable as it could be living with anyone else—Toya has his impulses, from innocent things like buying something unnecessary at the supermarket to coming home on a rainy day with a kitten in one arm shielded by his jacket. It’s nothing that Akito can’t deal with, anyway—Akito knows better than to try and resist Toya’s eyes, and the things he does tend to be harmless anyway.
Akito held that sentiment tonight, too, when Toya had come home from buying groceries in the middle of Akito cooking dinner—it took Akito a few moments and a double take to notice the expensive-looking bottle of red wine poking out of the top of one of the bags that he’d set down on the floor. “Welcome back,” he calls out, before glancing over, eyebrows furrowing. “Hey, Toya, what the…?”
“I bought alcohol,” Toya says plainly. There’s nervousness in his expression, in the way that his eyes don’t meet Akito’s and how he shifts on his feet. Regardless, there’s a hint of giddiness, too—even if Toya refuses to look at him, the glow in his eyes is more than obvious. Akito can feel his heart soften just with that—I’ve gotten weak, haven’t I? “You can’t have any,” Toya says suddenly, eyebrows slightly furrowing into a stern expression that Akito can’thelp but laugh a little at, given the situation. Toya’s eyes narrow. “I know you wouldn’t, but…”
“Jeez, are you ever gonna let go of that thing with MEIKO-san? That was what, four years ago?” Akito catches sight of Toya’s smile before huffing a laugh under his breath and turning back to the stove to pay attention to the yakisoba still in the pan, poking at it with the chopsticks in his hand to keep it from charring unevenly. Toya peeks over his shoulder to watch. “What’d you get it for, anyway? It’s not like there’s any special occasion.”
Toya’s quiet for a moment—when Akito glances back at him he looks hesitant, as if he’s second-guessing the choice, but then he finally speaks. “I’m 20 now,” Toya says. Akito raises an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to continue. “There’s still a lot I haven’t experienced. And while I was shopping, I saw the shelves, and I thought…I might as well try this now that I can, at least once.” Toya finally looks up, silver eyes meeting Akito’s with a new, still slightly tentative sort of resolve. “I’ll be responsible, so it won’t be a problem. Either way, I have you with me, and I know you’ll take care of me—”
“Yeah,” Akito says, cutting him off before Toya can exacerbate the burning of his cheeks. It still catches Akito off guard, that subconscious habit of sappiness, his complete lack of hesitance to say anything he wants; with the way his chest feels warm, he figures it isn’t so bad, even if it’s always unexpected. “Yeah, I’ll take care of you,” Akito finally says, and he can’t stop his expression from falling into something softer at Toya’s smile. What am I going to do with you? “After dinner, though. I just finished cooking, and I don’t want you too drunk to enjoy it.”
The resulting smile is blinding. Akito resists squinting while Toya nods, excitement written in the way his eyes squeeze. “Of course. After dinner.”
That’s how Akito ends up here—seated on the far side of the sofa with Toya’s head on his shoulder, full body leaning against Akito’s side despite the space on the rest of the couch. He didn’t have that much, but his drunkenness is still evident— of course Toya would have a low tolerance . His eyes are closed, breaths soft, light pink flush on his cheeks—if Akito didn’t know better he’d assume Toya was sleeping. The thought of that is proven wrong quickly enough, because his eyes flutter open when Yasou comes pawing at his leg. Toya’s smile is gentle when he reaches down, pulls the cat into his arms and cradles her like a baby, rubbing his cheek against her head.
“Hi, Yaya,” he murmurs, speech slightly slurred. Yasou’s purring loudly enough for Akito to hear, her eyes closed as Toya cuddles her. Even after the months they’ve had her, Toya’s still her favourite; watching how Toya kisses her little head, Akito supposes he understands why. “You’re so happy,” he mumbles, rocking her in his arms—something about the gentleness makes Akito’s chest ache, but he doesn’t pay it much mind. “Are you happy? I’m happy.”
It’s quiet. The sun is down by now, surely, their windows closed and blinded; it’s just the three of them, now. Toya’s humming, the mellow sound of his voice soft in Akito’s ears—his face looks softer under the light of their tiny living room and Akito’s heart feels like it’s gone squishy with the warmth of his fondness, but it isn’t bad. He’d find it strange how used to it he is, but it’s been too long to think about that sort of thing, now. Toya’s always made him feel some kind of softness, whether it came from buying him meat buns from convenience stores to eat before class in junior high or draping a blanket over his shoulders after he’d fallen asleep while doing music theory homework. Maybe Akito’s heart is growing softer—not that he’d ever say it out loud—but it’s nothing new, when it comes to Toya.
“You’re staring,” Toya says, and it pulls Akito out of his thoughts—he’s smiling, eyes sparkling. Akito barely has a chance to react before Toya lets Yasou out of his arms and crawls closer, pressing up against Akito, winding his arms around him tightly—Toya’s face is warm when he tucks his face into Akito’s neck.
“Huh? Toya—”
Toya’s attached before Akito can react, pressed close enough that the place where he ends and Toya starts feels like a blur. His hair is silky, the faint smell of vanilla and coffee being enough to make Akito burn even without alcohol—the flush spreads across his face and into his ears, molten warmth in his bones as he hugs his partner back, trying not to be too affected by how Toya cuddles into him with a hum and a soft breath. “Don’t be jealous, Akito,” he mumbles—his body is so warm and so close, and it takes more than a little effort to stay focused. “I love you, too…”
“Yeah,” Akito breathes out, voice trembling. “Yeah, I know…” Toya’s hair is soft between his fingers when he brushes them through it. His finger hooks on the thin hair tie that holds it up, pulling it out so that Toya’s hair falls loose across his back. Toya doesn’t seem to notice, and if he does, he doesn’t care—Akito cards his hand through it, listens to how Toya lets out a breath and relaxes into the touch like it’s sapped out all the leftover tension that the alcohol didn’t take away. “Love you, too,” he finally says—his mouth is dry, heart in his throat, but Toya doesn’t notice.
Akito isn’t the drunk one, but there’s a sudden courage in his veins anyway—Toya seems perfectly happy with Akito moving to lie down, not hesitating to lay right on his chest, head on his shoulder. His body is pleasantly heavy, a comforting pressure, a reminder of his presence; Akito runs his hand over Toya’s back, through his silky hair and over the soft material of his sweater, coming to a rest at his waist. His hand fits into the dip perfectly, like it was made for it, and a sappy part of Akito wants to believe it was—it doesn’t matter that Akito isn’t sappy by any means, that this soft affection is melting right through his ribs, dripping out of him like it’s overflowing. He doesn’t want to think about it too long, but Toya always brings him back to this anyway.
Toya’s silent again, soft breaths making his back rise and fall, face pressed into Akito’s shoulder. Akito can’t tell if he’s asleep or not, but Toya doesn’t react when Akito brushes the hair out of his face, traces over his flushed cheek. He doesn’t look real, despite the weight of his body, the feeling of his soft skin against Akito’s fingers. His figure is soft under the living room lights, just slightly blurry like a dream, long eyelashes casting tiny shadows over his face.
I don’t deserve this, is Akito’s first thought. It’s not a bitter one, but his heart aches as he tucks Toya’s hair behind his ear, fingertips trailing along its pink shell. He can already hear Toya’s protests, his insistence that you don’t need to deserve me, that I’ll always be right here whether you deserve it or not . It’s a nice sentiment, that’s for sure—but Akito can’t believe in it, not really, not with a partner like Toya, not when the person he’s standing next to for the rest of his life is somebody like him. It feels wrong, being able to have him and keep him without earning it—maybe it’s a good thing, though, because Akito has no idea how he’d even try to begin earning someone like him.
Maybe it doesn’t matter. After all, Akito knows that to Toya it certainly doesn’t—to Toya, nothing would be better than this, from now on for the rest of their lives. It’s not like Akito can disagree with that idea. There’s no point in dwelling on it longer than this. He knows Toya won’t change his mind, no matter what Akito thinks. He knows him well enough to be aware of that.
“Akito…”
Toya’s eyes are fuzzy when he blinks at him, head lifted to face him properly. His face is still flushed, slightly red from the warmth of Akito’s neck, hair falling over his face that Akito brushes away with his fingers. He closes his eyes as he leans into the touch; his face relaxes entirely, expression falling again into that same, tired peace as before. His voice is soft with sleep when he speaks, nothing more than a mumble under his breath. “Stay here,” he murmurs, pressing his cheek into Akito’s palm. It’s warm. In the back of his mind, Akito realizes he’s been holding his breath. “Don’t go…I want to see you in the morning…”
“Yeah?” God, Akito thinks his chest might collapse. “You always do, though.”
“You always go on your run, then I don’t see you until breakfast.” Toya’s lips are pulled into a slight frown. There’s something about the expression that Akito thinks he might do just anything for. What am I saying…? Toya presses his face back into Akito’s neck, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt while Akito pats his back. “I want to wake up with you this time, so don’t leave me behind…stay with me, okay?”
There’s something in Akito that feels at the verge of bursting. “Okay, Toya,” he breathes. “I won’t go. I’ll wait for you, so don’t worry about that.”
Toya seems content with that answer—he relaxes again, falls back into comfortable silence while Akito listens to his breathing slow. You know already, don’t you? The words stick in Akito’s throat, but he doesn’t need to say them, not really. Not right now. The apartment is silent besides for Yasou’s purring, the gentle hum of their heater, whispers of the outside world muffled against the closed windows. This isn’t the right time. You know I’ll wait for you. You know I’ll never leave your side. Toya doesn’t stir—he might really be asleep now. Akito leans his head back, closes his eyes so that the only sensation he has is Toya’s weight on his chest and his soft, gentle breathing, the rise and fall of his back against Akito’s hand. We promised forever, didn’t we?
It’s okay that Toya’s asleep, that he’d be too drunk to process what Akito really means even if he were awake. Akito exhales, letting himself relax, allowing Toya’s body to melt into his where they fit together perfectly. There’s no rush. There isn’t any need to say everything right away. They’ll have so many more peaceful nights, just like this, so many more chances to say what they want. Maybe Akito’s an impatient person, but they’ve got all the time in the world.