Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There’s no lunch bell at Hope’s Peak, which Amami finds jarring after all the TV shows he’s watched that take place in an academic setting. (He says it that way because he’s never actually been in formal schooling before prior to attending Hope’s Peak. He always traveled too much when he was younger to keep with any kind of school schedule so he had a tutor, and then what with his sisters getting lost he’s barely had any time for academics at all; it’s really a good thing that Hope’s Peak doesn’t judge you by anything other than your practical or Amami would be capital-F Fucked.)

...At any rate, there’s no bell. Sensei sort of just glances at the clock around lunchtime and then dismisses the class to go to the dining hall, and it seems as though Sensei has a pretty consistently reliable inner clock so they’ve been doing just fine thus far. That being said, it’s an inconvenience for one real reason, and that being--

“Saihara-kun?” Amami’s desk is right behind Saihara’s, so it wasn’t hard for him to notice, as he began packing up his bags, that the other boy hasn’t moved since Sensei dismissed them. He’s slumped forward on the desk, it looks like, his hat pulled down over his face, his arms tucked underneath his head. His shoulders are rising and falling pretty steadily, even more so than they would be if Saihara was awake right now, Amami is willing to bet, so it’s not much of a reach to assume that he’s asleep. It’s a little bit concerning, though, if only because in the past month or so of the school year, Amami’s never really taken Saihara to be the type to sleep in class.

Then again, Amami’s been absent so often for his travels, maybe there’s a lot of sleepy days that he’s missed. Regardless, Amami swings his bag over his shoulder and pads over to Saihara’s desk, crouching down in front of it. Most of the class has already cleared out by now, save for Akamatsu, who is lingering at the door, her gaze fixed on Saihara. When she moves it, though, she makes eye contact with Amami, seems to hesitate for another moment, and then breaks into a smile, waving at him and winking before she slips on out.

Right, okay, Akamatsu-san. Amami is going to try not to question whatever that was. He turns back to look at Saihara’s sleeping form, tilting his head to the side a bit. From this angle, and from what Amami can see of his face under his hat, Saihara seems quite peaceful. His expression is free of the creases and wrinkles that would be in it usually, whether from anxiety or from some other outside issue, Amami doesn’t know in particular. But he looks younger like this, less haunted.

It’s a good look, actually. Though Amami is pretty sure Saihara would be mortified if he found out Amami was looking at him like this after being given his best friend’s blessing. Amami chuckles a little at the thought, but then eventually decides he’d better get serious, and reaches out to rest a hand on Saihara’s shoulder, gently rousing him.

“Saihara-kun, it’s time for lunch,” he murmurs, and the sleepy little noise that Saihara makes in response warms Amami’s chest. Amami feels himself smile, watching Saihara’s eyelashes flutter under the brim of his hat. He’s cute! It’s like watching a kitten come out of consciousness, actually. Saihara grumbles a little bit as he straightens himself up, and his hat is slightly crooked and his face is a little bit red on the side where he rested it on his arm, and damn, this boy is cute. Okay. Rad.

Saihara blinks at him for a moment, his grey eyes a bit vague and still clouded with sleep, his forehead wrinkled a little bit, but then his vision seems to focus and he lets out a little gasp, his cheeks immediately turning a bit red, and reaches up to grip the brim of his hat. He adjusts it on his head, averting his gaze, his fingers curling up and staying there.

“Hey,” Amami greets, retracting his hand from Saihara’s shoulder and giving him a relaxed smile. “Sorry to wake you, you looked pretty peaceful there.”

“Ah,” Saihara hums, biting his lip. He tugs on his cap, gaze trailing the wall beside them before returning to Amami. (Not that Amami can actually meet his eyes, what with the way that hat is pulled down.) “It’s alright, I don’t mind,” he smiles sheepishly, tilting his head a bit. “I’m surprised I fell asleep-- or, well, not surprised, but… I would’ve preferred if I hadn’t, I think.” Saihara’s smile turns a touch wry. It’s a very attractive look on him.

“I’m sure Sensei doesn’t mind, or she would’ve woken you,” Amami reassures, resting his elbows on his knees and propping his face up in the palms of his hands. This is an easy position, considering that Amami is currently crouching directly in front of Saihara’s desk. “I saw a show once where a teacher woke a student by throwing chalk at them. Is that a thing that actually happens? Because there’s chalk up there that she could’ve used.”

Saihara looks at him for a moment, and then laughs. “Not at any schools I’ve been to, but I’m sure the trope has to come from somewhere,” he says, sounding amused. He pauses, for a moment, looking at Amami more curiously. “Uhm, what time did you say it was? Sorry, I wasn’t entirely conscious when you said it.”

“No worries,” Amami smiles. “It’s lunchtime. That’s why the classroom is empty, now, but don’t worry, I didn’t let you just sleep here for too long. Lunch just started.”

“Thank you,” Saihara says, eventually lowering his hand to the desk. “Uhm, both for that and for staying behind to wake me up, I wouldn’t want to keep you back when there’s food you could be eating right now.”

“Well, to be fair,” Amami tilts his head, “if it hadn’t been me, it would’ve been Akamatsu-san, so it’s really just choose your normie by this point.” Saihara laughs again, and Amami thinks he might compare that sound to a wind chime, a pure-sounding tintinnabulation in the middle of autumn. Autumn is a good season to associate with Saihara, actually. He has a cool disposition, but not a cold one; not in the way that someone who identifies more with winter would have. Autumn is Amami’s favourite season, actually. “Really, don’t sweat it. Wouldn’t want you to miss out either. Get enough sleep last night?”

“Mmm,” Saihara stands, starting to pack up his belongings for lunch. Afternoon classes are in the courtyard, today-- in light of the fact that it’s getting closer to summertime-- so they’re all taking their bags with them to lunch. It’ll be a little crowded in there, probably, with all their belongings, but hey. Leas the dining hall is pretty big. Take that, claustrophobia. “Not really,” Saihara admits, after a moment, slipping his bag over his shoulder. “I was working on a case and I suppose I lost track of time. Not that I ever really go to bed all that early, but I think I was awake until five in the morning last night.”

Amami winces. He’s had his own fair share of all-nighters and they always suck, whether or not they’re brought on by a plane ride. “Ouch.”

“Aha, yeah,” Saihara fiddles with a small music note charm on his bag; likely a gift from Akamatsu. It’s silver, and compliments the dark colour nicely. It reminds Amami of Saihara’s eyes, actually. (The pin, that is, not the bag.) “It’s alright. I think I might miss out on class this afternoon in favour of getting some rest.” He pushes in his chair and starts towards the door, so Amami stands himself up and follows, reaching out to grab the door for him.

“Gonna head straight back to your room?” he asks, tilting his head to the side. Saihara turns to look at him for a moment, humming softly.

“Ah, that was the plan, but,” he frowns a little, “why do you ask?”

“Can I grab you some lunch from the dining hall then and take it to you? Wanna make sure you’re eating properly, even if I do think you should be catching up on that sleep debt.” Amami smiles. “Helps with the fatigue, y’know?”

Saihara lets out another little hum, raising his eyebrows at Amami. “Are you sure? You’ve already missed a bit of lunch hanging back here with me, I don’t want you to have to…” he trails off, perhaps seeing how wry Amami’s expression has become.

“Not any more than you have,” Amami grins. “Trust me, if it was an issue, I wouldn’t offer to do it. I’m pretty reliably selfish, you’ll find.” He pats Saihara on the top of his hat, smiling at the exasperated huff it draws out of the shorter boy. That’s not entirely true; Saihara is a gentle person, a quiet person, the type of person that Amami feels compelled to help out when he can, purely because it makes him happy. He won’t say that, though. He imagines it would only make Saihara feel embarrassed.

“Ah,” Saihara pauses, seems to hesitate for a moment, looking at Amami curiously. “Well, I suppose if you wouldn’t mind… just steer away from an excessive amount of vegetables, perhaps.”

“The vegetables are the best part, Saihara-kun,” Amami chides, tapping the brim of his hat again. Saihara pouts at him a bit, leaning away and grabbing his hat so that it won’t be toyed with further.

“That’s your opinion,” Saihara says, “and if you put broccoli on my plate I simply will not eat it.”

Amami laughs. Okay, Saihara is funny. That’s fantastic. He grins, reaching out to pat Saihara on the head once more, resting his hand there when he’s done. Saihara peers at him grumpily from under the brim. “Alright, then. I’ll take it easy on the vegetables. I’ll get you your carbs some other way, some other time. See you in a bit, yeah?”

“Sure, I’ll leave the door open,” Saihara hums. Amami drops his hand from Saihara’s hat and watches him start to walk away, an easy smile on his face. Before Saihara disappears around the corner, though, he stops, and turns to look at Amami again. “Ah-- thank you, for doing this. It’s very sweet of you, Amami-kun.”

“Yeah,” Amami feels himself smiling at the soft look on Saihara’s face. He’s a good boy, huh. “It’s really no problem. Go rest up.”

Saihara flashes him one last smile before he goes, and when Amami comes into his room, later, he finds that Saihara is already fast asleep atop his blankets. Amami makes sure to take off his hat and tuck him under the blanket before he leaves again.

Chapter Text

Amami is just settling down in his hotel in Canberra when his phone starts buzzing, and that gives him pause. He’s really not feeling the whole talk with Dad thing when he just got off the plane. Of course, his father isn’t the only person in the world who has his phone number, but Amami figures he’s the most likely to actually call him, especially now, when it’s just about to be midnight in Tokyo. (Coming up to one in the morning down here.) Regardless, Amami figures that if it is his father on the phone, he probably shouldn’t let it go to voicemail, so he scoops the device up from the sheets, turning it over and peering down at the screen.

...Huh. Saihara-kun?

Well, now Amami really can’t let it go to voicemail, but this does beg the question of why Saihara is calling him at around midnight in Tokyo. Not that he and Saihara aren’t friends, or anything-- actually, speaking generally, Saihara is probably Amami’s closest friend at Hope’s Peak, because he’s mild and sweet and soft spoken and didn’t tell Amami to give up on his sisters, which is so rare, it’s so rare-- but more that, mmm. Saihara doesn’t like phone calls, period. At this time of night…

At any rate, Amami swipes the screen to answer the call, and sits down on the edge of his bed, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling. “Hey? Is everything okay, Saihara-kun?”

“Ah,” Saihara’s voice comes in a bit breathless on the other end, a bit ragged, and the breaths that Amami can hear from the receiver are slightly laboured. It makes him wrinkle his brow. “Y-Yes, everything is fine--” he cuts off for a moment, breathes, speaks again. “Sorry, did I wake you up? I didn’t mean--”

“You’re just fine,” Amami reassures, keeping his voice low and steady. “I just got to my hotel. You’re not interrupting my sleep, anyway, since I rested so much on the flight.” He hums, softly, and listens as Saihara calms his breathing on the other end. “Did something happen?”

“N-Not necessarily,” Saihara stutters, and Amami hums again, closing his eyes, but not lying back just yet. He waits for Saihara to speak again. “It’s more-- ah, I’m sorry. This is really stupid.”

“No, it’s not,” Amami murmurs, making sure the phone is tilted appropriately so that it’ll pick up his words, soft as they are. “I don’t think it’s stupid, anyway, and I’m glad you called me. Easier for me to help when I know there’s a problem.”

“You shouldn’t have to help me, I--” Saihara takes a breath, “I really shouldn’t have c-called in the first place, I just--” he makes a breathy sound on the other end that Amami supposes his him shuddering, and Amami frowns, wishing he could be there to rub Saihara’s back, or something. He does sound really upset. Mmmm. “I just, had a nightmare, and I needed--” he breaks off, and Amami waits for him to speak again, but he doesn’t, so Amami opens his mouth.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he prompts, gently.

“No!” Saihara replies, too quickly, and Amami smiles. “I-- I mean-- sorry,” he breathes out, “I just, I’d rather not think about it, I don’t think rehashing it would help, it isn’t that I don’t trust you with it or anything, I’m just--”

“Not a problem,” Amami says firmly, but softly, easing himself back into the mattress now, keeping the phone tugged snug against his ear. “Really, Saihara-kun,” he adds, before Saihara can protest, “it’s not a problem at all. There’s nothing else I’d rather be doing right now. Not even eating dinner. They say you’re not supposed to feed gremlins after midnight, y’know?”

Saihara laughs on the other end, albeit weakly, and Amami smiles. That’s a good laugh you got there, Saihara-kun. Just saying. “Alright, if you… if you say so.”

There’s quiet, for a moment. Amami hums into it, because the silence after his nightmares always feels terribly oppressive, so he can only imagine how Saihara must be feeling right now. The pause sort of accentuates the distance between them, and that’s not Amami’s favourite, so he speaks eventually. “What can I do for you, then? How can I help you right now?”

After another pause, and a soft hum from Saihara’s end, he asks, “Can you tell me a story? I don’t have any specific topics in mind, or anything I just… ah,” his voice quiets a bit, and Amami imagines him biting his lip and averting his gaze; he really sounds as though he’s on the brink of tears. It makes Amami a bit sad. “I think I just need a distraction, right now.”

“A distraction, I can do. Okay, then, a story,” Amami hums, running over his most fun tales in his head, trying to figure out one to tell Saihara. Probably something funny, so that Saihara can better take his mind off of his nightmare. Sad and sweet stories have their place, of course, but this isn’t it. Amami is tactful enough to be able to recognise when it’s time to tell a funny one. “Mkay, I got one. You know my second youngest sister, Satsuki? She was lost in Berlin when she was eight.”

“...I remember,” Saihara says quietly. There’s a bit of shuffling on the other end, which Amami assumes is Saihara getting comfortable, so he doesn’t pay any mind to it.

“Yeah, so,” Amami smiles at the memory, “when she was around four, we all went on a field trip to a park near our home. Real fancy place, of course, since the area is so wealthy, but of course Satsuki didn’t have any interest in the playground equipment. She wasn’t quite a troublemaker like Maemi or me but she was still a little rascal. That day she was insisting that I show her how to climb a tree. Already you know this is gonna be a terrible idea, because Satsuki was four, and I was nine, which is no age to be in a position of authority, but I wasn’t thinking that at the time.”

Saihara laughs softly on the other end. “Mhm?” His voice lilts slightly with a quiet kind of amusement, one that makes Amami’s chest warm. “Do you think your actions through often?”

“Hey now,” Amami says, in a jokingly warning tone, and hears Saihara laugh again. “Whenever I do something there’s about a fifty-fifty chance I’ve actually thought about it. Those are good odds.”

“Those are terrible odds,” Saihara giggles. “But continue.”

“Right, right,” Amami clears his throat. “The tree Satsuki chose was a bad tree for climbing, just generally speaking, but she was adamant about climbing that one in particular, and Satsuki was the most stubborn little bugger you’d ever meet, so I had no choice. I managed to get her up onto the trunk by boosting her up onto my shoulders, and she was actually surprisingly good at climbing the limbs of the tree, but problems arose when it came time for me to actually… get her down.”

“Ah,” Saihara intones, voice sympathetic. “I see.”

“You have to understand,” Amami chuckles a little, “Satsuki holding onto the lowest branch with both hands and stepping onto my shoulders wasn’t an option. Climbing up there is so much easier than climbing down. I stood there staring up at her for probably around five minutes before I figured out what to do, and it ended terribly. In retrospect, it’s no wonder I have a bad track record when it comes to getting hurt, because I let Satsuki jump out of a tree and into my arms voluntarily. Not even that, it was my idea.”

“Amami-kun,” Saihara sounds almost scandalised; Amami sputters.

“Well! I didn’t have a lot of options and it’s not like I wanted to grab an adult! They would’ve asked why she was up there in the first place! Which was still a conversation that we ended up having, but only after Satsuki jumped on me and I broke my arm.” Amami clears his throat. “The good news is, Satsuki didn’t get hurt. The bad news is, uh, ouch. And you stop laughing,” he insists, which only makes Saihara giggle harder, much to his pleasure. “This was a traumatic experience for me.”

“Clearly,” Saihara says, through light laughter, and Amami feels his feigned indignance melting away, being replaced with another strong sense of warmth in his chest. Hmmm. It’s nice to hear Saihara laughing. And even though there’s an ocean between them, there’s something… intimate, about this, that makes Amami feel as though Saihara is right here beside him.

It’s not a bad feeling. Even if sometimes (all the time) Amami is afraid of letting Saihara get closer, lest something happen to him. It’s not a bad feeling at all.

“Tell me another one?” Saihara asks softly.

Amami obliges, and then does so again, and even a third time, until Saihara’s voice grows fainter and more slurred, and eventually Amami’s story is met with no reaction at all, just the quiet sound of Saihara breathing, and when he asks, “Still there, Saihara-kun?” there is no response.

There’s a smile on Amami’s face as he hangs up, and subsequently as he falls asleep. He hopes Saihara doesn’t have any more nightmares-- or if he does, he chooses to call Amami again, because that was really nice.

Chapter Text

After over two years of attending classes together, Amami would say he’s gotten pretty familiar with Saihara’s daily routine. This isn’t a product of Saihara being one of Amami’s classmates so much as it is a product of Amami having debatably strong feelings for Saihara. More specifically of the romantic variety.

(Which, generally speaking, sucks, because Amami is pretty sure Saihara has some serious eyes out there for Akamatsu and/or Momota, and the fact that neither of those names is Amami’s is a bit disheartening. But it’s fine; it’s not like Amami has a whole lot of time for dating, anyway. And he’s not around often enough to see Saihara acting too couple-y with either of them so he has just enough plausible deniability to keep the feelings going. It’s a conundrum that doesn’t have to have a solution. But Amami digresses.)

Amami’s interest in Saihara’s schedule has led to him noticing differences in it. One of these being that Saihara doesn’t show up to classes on Saturday.

It’s not like this is a huge problem. Saturday classes aren’t mandatory. No classes are mandatory at Hope’s Peak, actually, but especially not Saturday classes, given that they’re only in the morning and the students have the rest of the day to work on developing their talents. Or just sitting around and being obnoxious, as so many students here choose to do. The thing is, though, that Saihara usually makes it to Saturday classes. He almost always makes it to Saturday classes. The times when he hasn’t made it to Saturday classes, Akamatsu has usually mentioned something about him being sick, or else Momota has. Today, neither of them really have much to say when Amami asks.

“I know he brings his student handbook around with him everywhere,” Akamatsu says, after a moment of contemplating, tapping her index finger against her cheek. “So you could always check that!”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Momota agrees (a common response of his when Akamatsu is the one speaking), tossing his head a little. “Why don’t you go looking for him, Amami?”

Amami chuckles. “Well, I’m not exactly against the idea, but you two are closer to him than I am, aren’t you? Wouldn’t you rather do it?”

At that, Momota and Akamatsu exchange a look, and then both look back at Amami, wearing equally strange expressions, as though they’re both trying not to smile. (It doesn’t work particularly well in either case; Momota’s eyes crinkle a bit without his meaning to and Akamatsu’s own brighten as though she’s excited, and Amami only wishes he could figure out what they’re on about. Seems like a lot to communicate in a single glance.)

“If you say so, man,” Momota’s grin eventually breaks through, “but I still think you should go find him. He might appreciate seeing a new face once in a while, y’know?”

“Besides, you two are close, aren’t you? Even if you don’t go around calling Saihara-kun your sidekick all the time,” Akamatsu giggles, and Momota gives her an exasperated look, but keeps on grinning. Amami smiles despite himself, raising his eyebrows incredulously. These two are acting giggly, like a couple middle school girls who just covered your locker in pages of reader insert K-Pop fanfiction. Amami finds it endearing, if… strange. “You should do it, Amami-kun! Go ge-- er,” she giggles a bit harder, and Momota huffs at her. “Go find the boy!”

“Find him! We believe in you,” Momota adds, with a double thumbs up. Amami rolls his eyes as he gets out of his seat, pulling his student handbook out of his back pocket.

“I almost feel like I’m being told to leave so you two can prepare a surprise birthday party for me,” Amami says, as he ambles to the door. “You know I’m born in October, right? Not gonna be eighteen for another several months yet. Gotta get through summer vacation first, at least.”

Akamatsu laughs. “Have fun, Amami-kun!”

Geez. You’d think they rigged up a bucket of sequins on the door or something. Amami is almost surprised when he doesn’t emerge from the classroom covered in pink glitter. Once he’s actually standing in the hall, though, he checks his student handbook, humming as he flips through the slides. It doesn’t take him all that long to find Saihara’s icon, namely because most of the school is empty right now (except for the classrooms, of course) and Saihara is still in the main building.

He’s in his laboratory. It used to just be called the SHSL Detective Lab, because there were two detectives at this school in their first and second years, but Kirigiri Kyoko graduated from Hope’s Peak a month ago, so it’s just been Saihara’s since then. Amami wonders how he’s adjusting to the solitude. Apparently he and Kirigiri were close. (Amami ponders this as he starts up the stairs towards Saihara’s lab.) Amami is glad that Saihara was able to have that kind of relationship. It’s nice to have a mentor. Amami understands this conceptually, even if he never had one of those himself.

Not at Hope’s Peak, of course-- it isn’t as though SHSL Adventurer is a particularly common talent-- but also not in general. Amami lost respect for his father far too long ago to ever really consider him any kind of role model. It’s too bad. Logically, Amami knows that his father is competent.

Just, not when it comes to keeping a hold on his children. (Not that Amami can exactly judge him for that, when all the losses were his own fault, but it’s one thing not being to blame for the situation; another telling Amami to give up on fixing it.)

Saihara’s lab is unlocked, but Amami still knocks before he starts to open it. He doesn’t receive a response, so after a pause to listen, Amami pushes the door open with a quiet creak and steps inside.

There aren’t any windows in Saihara’s lab (which is a bit stifling, but the space is large enough that Amami can ignore it, for the most part) but there is a gentle orange light coming from the electric fireplace in here. It crackles softly in the background as Amami pushes the door shut with a quiet click. His indoor shoes make gentle padding noises on the carpet as he moves further inside, but it doesn’t take Amami very long to figure out what’s going on in here.

The boy Amami is looking for is resting his arms and his head on his desk, his eyes closed and his mouth slightly open. There’s an open file in front of him and a pen held loosely in his hand. Even though he’s asleep, Amami can see a slight purple tint under Saihara’s eyes, suggesting that he’s been missing out on some sleep. This isn’t anything new for Saihara (resident insomniac snoozing away on those papers, here) but it still makes Amami frown a bit. He’d like for Saihara to take good care of himself, if possible.

Idly, Amami wonders how long the other boy has been sleeping in here, if he worked through the night and fell asleep as the sun rose, or passed out sometime around three in the morning. The particulars don’t matter all that much, though. The main point here is that Saihara looks exhausted and deserves to sleep through morning classes in his own bed.

With that in mind, Amami makes his way over. Saihara’s room keys are resting in the pocket of his jacket, so Amami fishes them out and tucks them into his own pocket, then leans Saihara back in his chair before he pulls it out. Were the floor not carpeted, the noise alone would probably wake Saihara up, but as things are the other boy merely stirs a little and then flops against Amami’s midsection, mumbling a little in his sleep.

Which is, adorable, and Amami is dying. He reaches over to close the file on Saihara’s desk, then reaches down and lifts the pen from the ground, where it slipped out of Saihara’s slackened grip when the chair was pulled out, resting it on the desk beside the papers. That’s probably good for now. Amami wouldn’t want to mess up Saihara’s organisation (if it can even be called that) by moving stuff around.

All of that done, Amami leans down and scoops Saihara into his arms, tucking the boy into his chest. His cheek is cool where it rests against Amami’s clavicle, and it would be concerning if he couldn’t also feel Saihara’s breath ghosting his skin. Hmm. Amami smiles as he shuffles over to turn off the fireplace, and then subsequently shuffles out of the room, fumbling a little both around the boy in his arms and to get the door in the dark. It’s a struggle, but fortunately Amami is very good at opening doors while carrying things, so it’s no real issue.

Out he goes! Amami makes his way back down the stairs, and then out into the courtyard, and as he’s crossing through it he encounters a couple first years (the SHSL Journalist and the SHSL Volleyball Player, Amami thinks, though he definitely doesn’t remember their names) but they mostly just look at him and Saihara and then scuttle off, whispering furiously amongst themselves. No doubt about the fact that Amami is currently holding an entire boy in his arms right now, but Amami is far from unused to being gossiped about. It doesn’t push his buttons nearly as much as it likely would Saihara’s, who can’t even watch Mean Girls without getting hissy.

(It’s… really cute. And sweet, too, that Saihara feels so strongly about gossip. But nevermind.)

Amami enters the dorms, and then strides up to Saihara’s door, shuffling the boy a little in his arms to get the key and slipping it into the lock. The door opens pretty easily, thankfully, and Amami is able to get in and close the door behind himself without too many problems. Just as Amami is walking up to the bed and leaning down to deposite a boy, though, Saihara stirs again, only this time, as Amami settles him down into the pillows, his eyes flutter, and then open, and then he yawns, his nose scrunching up a bit.

Smiling, Amami moves back, just enough to give Saihara room to stretch. He hears the other boy yawn, his eyes shifting around the room and then landing on Amami, and then Saihara smiles, sleepily, starting to sit up.

Only to stop with a wince.

“Ah,” Saihara breathes out, resting a hand on the mattress, propping himself up. He furrows his brow, shuffling and then sliding his legs off the bed. “Uhm, one moment, Amami-kun,” he mumbles, reaching onto the floor and scooping up a black sweatshirt. He shuffles off into the bathroom before Amami can say anything, and then reemerges moments later, his shirt balled up in his hands, the sweatshirt on. He tosses the shirt into the hamper in the corner of the room and tucks something (?) black into a drawer before sitting back down on the bed, breathing out.

Amami isn’t sure what exactly that was, but he deigns not to ask, on the grounds that Saihara’s expression doesn’t exactly invite questioning. Instead, he asks, “All good?”

“Yeah,” Saihara smiles, a touch wryly, lifting his gaze to meet Amami’s. “Sorry if I worried you, everything is alright.” He clears his throat. “Uhm, now, ah,” he gestures, “I’m a bit confused?”

“Oh! Right,” Amami chuckles, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “I noticed you weren’t in class this morning so I went looking for you and found you asleep in your lab. Hope you don’t mind that I carried you back-- here are your keys, by the way, I found them in your pocket--” Amami hands them over, “--I just didn’t think the desk sleep looked all that good.”

“It’s not my favourite,” Saihara admits, accepting the keys in his hand and resting them on the nightstand. “Thank you for that, I’m sorry you had to go to the trouble. You, mm, sort of do that for me a lot, don’t you?” He tilts his head to the side a bit.

“I don’t quite follow,” Amami says, even though he sort of does. Playing dumb is the go-to option when people call Amami out on doing stuff for them.

“Look after me, I mean,” Saihara smiles a bit, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “I appreciate it, don’t get me wrong-- it’s extremely kind of you-- I’m just wondering if there’s a particular reason for it?”

Well! The reason before was that Amami kind of felt inclined to look after Saihara, and the reason now is that Amami is gay, but one of those is considerably safer than the other, so Amami reaches out to ruffle Saihara’s hair. “I kind of just enjoy looking after you,” he admits, which is true, and he chuckles a bit when Saihara ducks away from the touch, huffing at him. “You don’t remind me of my sisters, or anything, okay? It’s nothing like that.” Definitely not. “It just makes me happy to keep an eye on you here and there. Not like you never did anything to deserve it.”

“I think my response to your telling me your life-long goal not being to tell you to give up is hardly something to write home about,” Saihara sniffs. “That should be the default reaction. I wouldn’t want you to get mistreated because your standards are so low.”

“Are you planning on mistreating me, Saihara-kun?” Amami grins.

Saihara opens and closes his mouth, and then his cheeks redden, and Amami feels his grin widening. “That wasn’t what I meant,” Saihara protests, exasperated. “I just meant that you shouldn’t accept anything less than that, that you deserve to be validated and encouraged, and you shouldn’t feel obligated to give special treatment to the people who do do that, just for the bare minimum.”

“I’d hardly call the kindness you show me the bare minimum, Saihara-kun,” Amami smiles, more softly, and Saihara pauses. “And it’s not just because you’re sweet that I like looking after you, y’know. I just think of that as a nice bonus.” He sobers a bit, looking Saihara over. “It’s more to do with you as a person than the way that you behave, in all honesty.”

There’s a moment of silence, wherein Saihara is quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the floor, as though he’s thinking, but eventually he lifts it back up to meet Amami’s again, and there’s an odd, tender look in those grey eyes that makes Amami’s heart stop for a moment. “Alright, I’ll,” Saihara clears his throat, “I’ll accept that answer. But you should let me take care of you, too, sometimes.”

Amami chuckles. “I’ll consider it,” he says. “Sweet of you to say.”

Rolling his eyes, Saihara pats the spot on the bed beside him. “You should stay for a bit. Tell me about your latest trip. We haven’t gotten to catch up yet since you got back.” Amami doesn’t even hesitate.

“Sure thing,” he grins, plopping down on the bed beside Saihara. And if maybe Saihara leans into him a little, and if maybe Amami slips an arm around Saihara’s shoulders a good amount of the way through, that really isn’t anybody’s concern.

(Saihara does end up falling asleep again, though, amidst quiet conversation and soft laughter, and Amami sticks around until he wakes up, just watching the rise and fall of his chest. It’s nice, getting to spend time together like this. Preferable to being covered in glitter, at least.)

Chapter Text

It’s maybe five minutes after Amami has arrived back at his dorm after a week-long trip to Italy that his buzzer goes off. He glances down at the digital clock on his dresser, slightly incredulous. It’s just past seven in the evening, which isn’t such an unusual time to be awake on a Monday, but Amami had been hoping to wash off all the plane stink before having to see other people.

But, y’know, it’s fine. Amami shrugs off his jacket and tosses it onto his bed, tussling his hair a little so it’ll look intentionally disheveled rather than wind swept (it is gusty out there), and then makes his way to the door, swiftly unlocking it and pulling it open part of the way.

He pulls it all the way open when he sees that it’s Saihara standing out there, his brow furrowing when they make eye contact.

Saihara looks wired; his eyes are blown wide and distressed and he’s shaking all over like a leaf. His clothes are crumpled and his hair is messy, like he’s been running his hands through it a lot. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides, so tight that Amami can see the places where his knuckles have turned white, and when Amami returns his eyes to Saihara’s, he sees that they’re starting to fill with tears.

Decidedly, Amami doesn’t ask any questions, he just moves back from the door and gestures for Saihara to step inside. He hears the other boy’s breath hitch as he does as indicated, and Amami’s brow is creasing further as he closes the door. He doesn’t think he missed much while he was gone. Anything too bad, and Akamatsu would have texted him. If not her, then Toujou would have found a way, or else Shinguuji, during one of their late-night conversations about ancient cultures. Amami doesn’t think that very much could have gone down. He was only away for a week, after all.

But the moment the door is closed and relocked and Saihara is facing away from Amami, his shoulders shaking slightly, Amami hears a quiet, abrupt sound, and then the clap of Saihara’s hands against his lips, and it doesn’t take being the SHSL Detective to puzzle that one out, so Amami swiftly maneuvers himself around front of the other boy and leans down to see his face better.

This time, Saihara doesn’t meet his gaze. His eyes are closed, in fact, which would make doing that more difficult, admittedly. He’s hunched over slightly, his expression screwed up, his hands covering his mouth, and the longer they stand there as they are, the more Saihara shakes, until eventually Amami thinks, y’know, I can ask later, and just reaches out, curling his fingers around Saihara’s wrists and pulling them away from his mouth.

Amami’s fingertips ghost against rough, scratchy gauze, and he thinks, ah, but he doesn’t say anything about it. That’s a conversation for later.

(But a conversation for sure.)

Saihara opens his eyes, now, as Amami lowers their joint hands down to hang between them, and unsurprisingly, but still painfully, Amami sees that they’re brimming with tears. Saihara’s eyes are clear and honest and that’s never been more obvious than it is now, with how bright they are under the dim yellow light of the lamp on Amami’s bedside table. He looks shaken, anxious, and his eyes keep darting between Amami’s hands and eyes, as though expecting him to comment.

In lieu of that, Amami mumbles, “I’ve got you, Saihara-kun, it’s okay,” and tugs him in for a hug. Saihara freezes in the embrace for about a fraction of a second before melting into it, and Amami releases his wrists so that he can fist his hands in the fabric of Amami’s shirt. It’s alright. This is what Amami is good at, remaining steady, even if it’s a bit painful, hearing the way that Saihara starts to cry softly into his chest. Amami tucks the thoughts into the corner of his mind and tucks his arms around Saihara, holding him gently, but firmly, as though to keep him from scattering on an imaginary breeze.

...Amami is sure that he won’t. Saihara is strong; strong enough to hold himself together, to withstand the strongest of wind storms, to stay whole, through whatever it was that hurt him. But he doesn’t have to be. Amami doesn’t mind doing this for him.

He presses a kiss to the crown of Saihara’s head, in the way that he’s always wanted to, and after a while, guides Saihara over to his bed, carefully sits him down on the mattress. Saihara cries like that for a bit, his face pressed against Amami’s shoulder, but eventually they end up lying down, Saihara curled up in Amami’s arms.

The crying isn’t quite over when Saihara mumbles, “I-I’m sorry, I-I should really explain, I--”

But Amami cuts him off, gently, “It’s alright, Saihara-kun. It’s just fine. You can tell me all about it when those tears are all gone, or in the morning. Whichever comes first.”

Saihara sniffles at that, and burrows himself deeper into Amami’s chest. Amami really doesn’t mind.

(He falls asleep that way, wrapped up in Amami’s embrace, and well, Amami really doesn’t mind that one either. Not if it’s Saihara.)

Chapter Text

Amami is surprised to find that the door to the dining hall is unlocked so late; he only came down to see if there was a chance of him getting some matcha pocky from the kitchen (which, in retrospect, was probably not the move, as most of the snacks like that are in the warehouse, but fuck, he’s already here) but he really wasn’t expecting the door to be open. It’s getting closer to one in the morning now. Amami shouldn’t even be awake, really. There’s only a few days left until graduation, which means that even if he was the type to do his homework, there wouldn’t be any to do.

Just, y’know. Sometimes you crave pocky in the early hours of the morning. Sometimes the urge is so strong you gotta make a late-night trip across the courtyard. Nothing weird about that. Mind your business.

Anyway, the door swings open silently, which Amami is unaccustomed to hearing, mainly because the doors are always opened already when he comes down during the day, but he appreciates it. There’s something eery about the creak of doors opening late at night. Amami isn’t one to give in easily to spooks, but he’d like to avoid them if entirely possible. The dining hall still smells like the curry that Toujou served for dinner last night, and Amami breathes in the smell as he carefully closes the door behind himself, scuffing the heel of his indoor shoe on the floor.

He’s kinda gonna miss this place. The lights in here are dimmed, which Amami didn’t know they could do, and it sort of gives the room an almost melancholic ambiance, the way the dim yellow glow illuminates the chairs and the tables and the door to the kitchen. He takes a moment just breathing it in, still standing at the entrance to the dining hall, his eyes half-lidded, and just as Amami is about to start moving, the door to the kitchen swings open, and out comes--

“Ah,” Saihara beats Amami to the exclamation, “Amami-kun, uhm, hi,” he smiles, sheepishly, and Amami returns the expression, (albeit marginally less sheepishly,) his eyes darting over Saihara. The other boy is clad in a sweatshirt and loose sweatpants that are a bit too long on him, as indicated by the way the ankles sort of cover the front of his indoor shoes. His hair is a bit messy and there’s a pencil tucked behind his ear, as well as a steaming mug of what is presumably either coffee or tea clutched in his hands. He flushes, a little, when they make eye contact, and pulls his gaze away, though he returns it after a moment. “You’re up late.”

“So are you,” Amami points out, chuckling, and then starts explaining despite himself. “I’m still jet lagged from last week’s trip to Mexico, so I couldn’t sleep too well. Started having a craving for pocky, and who am I to resist the gremlin who comes out inside me when the clock strikes midnight?”

Saihara’s lip curls, and he tilts his head to the side. “It’s a bit of an early breakfast, but I think I saw a couple boxes of pocky on top of the fridge,” he says, shifting over to the side. “You can go on ahead.”

“I will,” Amami reassures, though he doesn’t move just yet. “What about you? What’s kept you up?”

“Oh,” Saihara blinks, as though he had forgotten. “Uhm, right, well, you know how at graduation last year they had Naegi-senpai give a speech because he was class representative, and then they had Ogami-senpai give a speech because their class elected her to? Well, uhm, I think voting happened while you were gone still in the Americas, but Akamatsu-san is class rep, and,” Saihara’s cheeks darken slightly, “I was voted to give the other speech.”

“Ohh, I see,” Amami nods, folding his arms across his chest and smiling. “Well, that makes sense. If I was there, I’m sure I would have voted for you as well.”

“Ah,” Saihara rubs the back of his neck, holding his mug with his other hand. “That’s… very flattering, Amami-kun. I’m also not so sure I’m the best suited to the task, though. I’ve been working on the speech on and off for the past three days and I’m still not very happy about what I have so far. I’ve never been the best with words.”

“I don’t think that’s true at all,” Amami says with a hum. “Were you working on it in here, or in your room?”

“In here,” Saihara replies, tossing his head in the direction of the tables. One of the tables by the windows has papers scattered across it, as though Saihara has been poring over them for hours. Amami lets out another hum. “I find it easier to focus in here than in my room, so the custodian has been letting me use the dining hall after hours. Or, well, I suppose letting me isn’t the right word, necessarily, as it was Ouma-kun who initially started letting me in, but the faculty got tired of him picking the locks every other night and eventually just decided to let me have special permission.” Saihara smiles.

“Sweet gesture on Ouma-kun’s part, I always knew he was a softie,” Amami grins.

“He got his grape soda out of it, so I imagine there were selfish motivations as well, but,” Saihara’s eyes soften a little, “he is a bit of a softie, yes.”

“Well,” Amami clears his throat, rolling one of his shoulders. “Why don’t you go back and sit down? I’ll grab my pocky and then I’ll come out and sit down and maybe I can help you with your speech.” What Amami means by that is read over it and then validate what Saihara has, as he’s fairly confident that Saihara’s work is really good, and he just has a low opinion of it because he’s biased against his own work, but Amami won’t say that. Saihara would probably be embarrassed by it.

“Ah, are you sure?” Saihara’s brows lift, and he tilts his head to the side, a small frown tugging at his lips. “I wouldn’t want you to stay up any later than you already would be just to help me…” he trails off, fiddling with a strand of his hair.

“Believe me, Saihara-kun, I’m not getting very much sleep tonight,” Amami says, smiling, “and I’d much rather spend the time awake helping you out than eating an entire ten pack of pocky in my bedroom.”

Saihara laughs lightly, turning his head. “Alright, then, if you’re sure,” he smiles, his grey eyes sparkling a bit. They’re very pretty in this lighting, appearing almost hazel. Amami hums to himself at the thoughts. “I’ll be over there,” he adds, starting to move again.

“Be right with you,” Amami returns, shuffling into the kitchen. He makes a beeline for the fridge, getting a good amount of pocky (he is having a craving, okay) and putting it in his pockets. He notices that there’s coffee brewed, presumably Saihara’s, so he goes ahead and pours himself a mug, adding in what most would consider an egregious amount of cream and sugar before reentering the dining hall. He pads across the hall and over to where Saihara is seated, claiming the spot right beside him, so as to help him with his speech better.

When Amami seats himself, Saihara is reading over a piece of paper, his brow creased. He looks up after a moment, though, his eyes widening and then relaxing as they land on Amami, and then smiles a little bit, looking back down on his paper. “I’ll organise these in a moment and give them to you to scan through, but I’m trying to figure out the wording here, so give me a minute.”

“Take your time,” Amami reassures, his gaze settling not on the page but on Saihara himself.

His forehead is slightly wrinkled in concentration, and his eyelashes brush against the spot underneath his eyes every time he blinks, grey eyes flitting from one side of the page to the other. His fringe falls in front of his eyes when he shifts his face, and Amami watches Saihara’s hand as he moves to brush it out of the way. His hair is a very pleasant colour, Amami thinks. Dark, and soothing, in the way that Saihara is without trying. Amami recalls the time back two years ago when he confided in Saihara about his sisters, expecting to be shamed, or at the very least pitied and told to quit.

Instead, Saihara had told Amami that he thought he was an excellent older brother, and encouraged him in his goals. It was… the first time anyone had spoken to him that way. Amami will never forget that. It’s the whole reason why he feels so at-ease around Saihara. He hasn’t felt that way around another person in… a long time.

After a while, Saihara lowers the paper, and then gathers all the papers on the desk into a stack, leafing through them, rearranging them. As he does so, his gaze sticks to his task, but he speaks anyway. “How long are you taking off after graduation?” he asks, his brows tilting slightly.

Amami hums, considering the question. “Probably a day or two. Wouldn’t want to miss out on end-of-year festivities, of course, but I’ve got a trip to Vietnam upcoming, so y’know,” he grins, but he thinks it’s something of a sad smile, based on the way that Saihara looks at him. He doesn’t remark, though, so Amami keeps talking. “I’ll be keeping pretty busy now that I won’t have to come back to school every couple weeks. Probably only be staying in Japan for a couple days at a time before taking off again.”

“You have sisters to find,” Saihara murmurs, tilting his head.

“I have sisters to find!” Amami affirms, but sobers, after a moment, at the expression on Saihara’s face. It’s difficult to read, in a way that makes Amami very slightly nervous. He wonders what it is that Saihara is thinking, and whether or not it’s something that he’ll have to try and comfort. He’s always been sort of bad at that, as far as his travels are concerned.

Before Amami can try anything like that, though, Saihara asks, “Do you think it might help you to bring someone else along? I mean, uhm, I know your travels can be dangerous,” he smiles, “ and having someone along might slow you down in those sorts of situations, but…”

“Are you offering, Saihara-kun?” Amami asks quietly, resting his elbow on the table, and his cheek on his head. Saihara flushes, and averts his gaze, flipping wildly through the pages of his speech. “Hey, it’s fine if you weren’t, like if you had someone in mind to suggest to me, or something, I was just wondering if you were--”

“I was building up to it,” Saihara mumbles, and Amami stops talking, looking at him carefully. “It was… a lot, to be asked so suddenly, but yes,” Saihara places the stack of pages down on the table, as though satisfied with their order, “I was offering. Planning on it, anyway. I, uhm, know that I should go to college, and there’s a part of me that wants to, but,” he shifts his gaze to meet Amami’s, his brows tilting oddly, “I also… know what I want to do for the rest of my life, and my uncle has already offered me a full-time position at the agency, should I choose to take it. I just… think that perhaps instead of that, I might like to put my skills to use helping someone I know.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Amami admits, keeping his voice level, so as not to let on that his heart is pounding heavy and that there is blood rushing in his ears. “Think if I was going to ask a detective along with me, it would be you. And travel costs are no issue, either, so you wouldn’t have to worry about that,” Amami doesn’t know what he’s doing, what he’s saying, talking like he’s considering it, like the answer might be a yes… it should be an automatic no is what it should be, but at the same time… “It’s very dangerous, Saihara-kun.”

“I know that it is,” Saihara says, his voice slightly indignant. “You’ve told m--”

“No, I mean,” and Amami hates to interrupt him, he really does, it’s just that, he sort of has to, because Saihara doesn’t understand. “It’s… really dangerous. You’ve seen some of my scars, and I’ve told you the stories behind them, but there have been… other injuries, over the past three years. Ones that I don’t talk about. I wouldn’t want you to make a promise like this-- one that could last you a lifetime-- without knowing all the details.”

“So then tell me all the details,” Saihara responds almost immediately, raising his eyebrows. Amami’s throat dries out. “I know I need to know what I’m getting into-- I didn’t think it would be so simple as you just agreeing to take me-- but the fact is that I’m willing, where I stand now, and wanting to listen to you, at the very least. So tell me,” he pauses, smiling slightly, resting one of his hands on the table, palm up.

Amami takes it. It’s cold.

“Please,” Saihara adds.

“I--” Amami cuts himself off before he can finish saying, I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’s instinctive, at this point, purely automatic, just to go to… push Saihara away. Tell him no, and insist that he drop the subject. Amami has always been so good at that, at distancing himself, at pushing people away. It should be easy. It’s just that it isn’t, with Saihara, and he’s never been good at it with Saihara, and he doesn’t quite understand why. Even so, when he opens his mouth again, what he says is, “If you haven’t changed your mind tomorrow morning, let’s talk, okay? We’ve got a speech to talk through.”

And Saihara’s responding smile is brilliant. “Alright,” he agrees, in a sort of quietly enthusiastic way. “Tomorrow morning, then. I’ll hold you to it.”

Chuckling, Amami says, “I know you will.”

Hours later, as Amami is reading through the last couple words of Saihara’s speak, he feels a weight slump against his shoulder, and looks over to see that the other boy has fallen asleep. Amami smiles at him, for a moment, before leaning back in his chair and allowing Saihara to lie in his lap, instead. He deserves the rest, and Amami is asleep not long after that, himself.

Chapter Text

Shuichi didn’t mean to stay out so late tonight-- he’s sure Rantaro will be worried-- but it’s difficult for him sometimes to just put down a case and say that he’s done with it when he’s been making good progress. And he has, this time. Been making good progress, that is. Shuichi doesn’t necessarily view his cases in the same way as he does mystery novels (that would be terribly impersonal and he tries to avoid that; professionalism is one thing, that’s treating reality like fiction and it’s just not the move) but there’s something… captivating, about some of the cases he takes on, once he has a good lead on them.

Which is what happened tonight, and which is why Shuichi is out at the office past nine o’clock, when he should’ve been home over half an hour ago. He huffs a little bit as he packs up his bags, turning off the lamp at his desk and heading out. His uncle is pretty used to him working so late, so he has a key to lock up, which is a good thing, because Shuichi would hate to make somebody else stay later on his account, just because he was overworking.

He and Rantaro don’t have a car. They’re not in town enough for that, between business trips for Amami Sr. and going out to find the rest of Rantaro’s sisters (though they’re getting closer, having just found Rui in England), and anyway Rantaro doesn’t like using cars, even now, when his claustrophobia has settled down a bit. Shuichi doesn’t mind taking public transportation, but it’s a bit eerie and extremely time consuming and he wishes he could’ve left the office an hour earlier. At least then he’d be riding at his normal time. He’s never been the type to trust an empty bus. There’s just something… ghost-like, about it.

It’s alright, though. Shuichi seats himself near the driver and counts stops until he gets off, keeping his eyes moving around the bus, taking stock of his surroundings. By the time the bus pulls up to the stop near his and Rantaro’s apartment, it’s a quarter ‘til ten, and Shuichi vibrates a little bit down the sidewalk to the apartment complex. He shot a text to Rantaro around half an hour ago, letting him know he was on the way, and Rantaro replied, but there were three typos in the message, which leads Shuichi to believe that his boyfriend is pretty tired.

The thought makes him chuckle. Rantaro is cute when he’s sleepy. But Shuichi hopes he’s resting, and not staying up waiting for Shuichi to get home.

When Shuichi unlocks and opens the door to their apartment, he finds out that the answer is both; the lights are all still on, and Rantaro is sitting on the couch, but it’s pretty clear after a moment that Rantaro is asleep, based on the way he’s curled up at the end, his chest rising and falling evenly. He always looks so peaceful when he’s resting, even if the sleep can’t take away the bags under his eyes from consecutive airplane trips, and from nightmares.

Shuichi shrugs off his jacket and steps into his indoor shoes, undoing his tie as he pads over to his boyfriend. It’s nice that Rantaro doesn’t mind him working at his uncle’s agency whenever they’re in the country. Rantaro is the sort of person who won’t stop for anything, even himself, and yet for some reason he allows these breaks while they’re in Japan, for Shuichi to solve a case or two before they take off again.

Well… no. Shuichi knows why Rantaro allows these breaks. It’s so that Shuichi can get his rest. He’s always been so sweet about that, about making sure that Shuichi is taking care of himself and getting appropriate amounts of sleep, even way back in high school.

His lips curl into a small smile as he watches Rantaro drool on the arm of the couch. It’s nice to get to do the same for him, once in a while. Shuichi undoes his tie and unbuttons his shirt, removing his undershirt to take off his binder and then slipping his undershirt right back on. He pulls off his belt, too, and his socks, before scooping a blanket off the armchair and draping it over Rantaro. Shuichi walks around the room, turning off all the lights, then makes his way back to his sleeping boyfriend, climbing on the couch beside him and curling his arms around Rantaro’s back. Shuichi gets to be the big spoon this time. How’d ya like that, adventurer boy?

Hee hee. Rantaro smells like trees, and hot chocolate, and he’s so incredibly warm. Shuichi pulls the blanket over the both of them and tucks his face into his boyfriend’s shoulder. He really loves this man.

...Good night, Rantaro.