Chapter Text
Just a week into the new era — A.S., After Sonogram — and it's clear Aoi's had it up to the brim with their nomadic love life. His frustration is palpable the moment they rendezvous at Sasazuka station, under a sky that's decided to side with Aoi's mood on the misery scale.
"I'm so over this hotel-hopping," he gripes as soon as Toshiya is within complaining range. He latches onto his arm like an overgrown, petulant child, and Toshiya has to seriously reevaluate how he ever thought this guy was older than him. "I miss just hanging at your place, not having to worry about checkout times. Don't you?"
Yeah. Toshiya especially misses the part where he doesn't have to bleed cash like he's splurging on some high-end escort instead of hanging out with his own boyfriend. But he doesn't say that, obviously. He pulls the younger boy into a one-armed hug that was supposed to be a greeting but feels now more like an apology for crimes he's still actively committing.
"I know," he sighs out. "Believe me, I can't wait for things to get back to normal." Liar, some nasty little voice in the back of his head whispers.
Aoi leans back to glare up at him, arms locked around his waist. "You're letting him walk all over you," he accuses. "It's your place. You shouldn't have to pause your life just because someone's crashing on your couch. Why can't we just head over and watch a movie or something?"
"Because…" Toshiya kneads the back of his neck, his eyes sweeping the street for some inspiration. "Kyo's not really the 'let's hang and chill' type. Gets weird around new people. That, and my place is pretty snug for three—"
"It's perfectly fine," Aoi insists, "and I doubt he'll combust just because we're in the same room. Stop making excuses." His resolve catches fire, and he grabs Toshiya's arm and starts marching them toward his apartment. "Let's go. I'm gonna lose it if I have to see one more heart-shaped pillow or neon headboard."
There's a pit in Toshiya's stomach as he thinks back to the tableau he left at home just ten minutes ago: Kyo in his full prenatal splendor, draped across the bed-couch like a stranded seal in the middle of a gaming bender.
With an uncomfortable laugh, he twists his arm free from Aoi's iron clasp before they reach the crossing. "Look, no. We're not going there. Kyo doesn't—"
"What the hell is with all this tiptoeing around him?" Aoi bursts out, loud enough for a few passersby to do a double-take. "Are you fucking him?" More heads swivel their way.
"What?! No!"
"Well, something is clearly going on!"
Toshiya clamps down hard on the inside of his cheek as he absorbs the full force of Aoi's stormy expression. Truth is, Kyo did say he'd make himself scarce if needed, though Toshiya never actually intended to cash in on that. But here they are — desperate times, etcetera. Kyo can kill a couple of hours at a cafe or somewhere, surely? Aoi gets his movie night, Kyo gets mildly inconvenienced, and Toshiya gets to feel like a dick for a day.
"Okay, fine, just…" he says, patting at his pockets. "Let me text him, will you? Give the guy a heads-up so he's at least wearing pants when we get there." Or a small circus tent.
Reluctantly, Aoi steps back, and Toshiya pulls out his phone, thumbs banging away at the bulky buttons.
SOS Aoi's coming over, I'm so sorry!! Will txt u when coast is clear again
They make a pit stop at a video rental on the way, which Toshiya hoped would buy Kyo some prep time but is a blink-and-you-miss-it event; Aoi's locked onto a film before Toshiya can even feign interest in the new releases.
When they round the corner to his street and there's still no word from Kyo, it starts to dawn on Toshiya: he has fucked up. Royally.
Why the hell did he text instead of calling? What was he thinking? Is he really this obtuse? Kyo could have been halfway to safety by now if Toshiya wasn't such a colossal embodiment of incompetence.
Sweat starts beading on his forehead as they trudge up the stairs. His feet weigh a hundred kilos each and his imagination runs rampant with visions of Kyo, controller in hand and belly in full view, completely blindsided by their arrival. God, this is so messed up. They can't just barge in on him like some twisted reality TV surprise.
Just as Toshiya's starting to consider the viability of throwing himself down the stairs to stage a last-minute cardiac emergency, his phone buzzes. Hope flares briefly — maybe it's Kyo, confirming he's successfully made his escape.
No dice. The message greeting him spells out in no uncertain terms how utterly unprepared the guy is:
Fuck. ETA?
Toshiya's foot stumbles over the next step as he aggressively types back, NOW.
Aoi is side-eyeing him something fierce when they reach Toshiya's floor. "Does he know we're a thing?" he probes.
"Huh? Yeah, he knows," Toshiya answers, barely processing the question because his brain is on fire.
He's dragging his feet so hard he might as well be moonwalking, which puts Aoi a step in front. Inevitably, Toshiya's gaze drifts down to the curve of his denim-clad ass. A harebrained plan springs to mind.
Without another nanosecond of conscious thought, he swings his arm, palm meeting Aoi's rear with a hearty smack that ricochets down the corridor like a gunshot.
Yelping, Aoi whirls around to shield his backside, though the giant grin splitting his face says he's far from upset. No surprise there; he lives for this shit. He barely has time to inhale before Toshiya grabs him by the hips and shoves him up against the wall, pinning him there with his body, his thigh jamming between Aoi's legs with enough pressure to knock a sharp gasp out of him.
Leaning in, Toshiya summons every ounce of playful charm he can muster as he inquires, "New pair of jeans?" His hands slide down, grabbing two greedy handfuls of Aoi's ass. "Or you been working out?"
Aoi swallows audibly, his fingers digging into Toshiya's shoulders. "Both," he manages, and it's all Toshiya can do not to roll his eyes to heaven. Of course it's fucking both. But whatever. Chit-chat time's over. His attention locks onto Aoi's lips, and then his mouth follows, crashing down in a kiss that's a wild mix of pretend passion and real desperation, designed to buy precious minutes.
Aoi bites into the ruse like a man starved. His hands slide up into Toshiya's hair, tugging him down with an insistence that screams don't you dare stop. So Toshiya doesn't. He yanks Aoi's hips flushed against his own, grinding into him in a way that obliterates any last shred of decorum, until they're utterly lost in their inappropriate bubble of two, moaning shamelessly into each other's mouths.
"Jesus," Aoi breathes when they finally break away for air, part surprised, part impressed, completely pleased.
Fully committed to this public display of dubious decision-making, Toshiya is about to go back in for a second helping when a figure hovering at the corner of his vision pulls his attention. His thigh is still firmly pressed against Aoi's hard-on when he locks eyes with Kyo, who's standing stiffly just a couple of doors down the hallway.
Reality comes slamming down like a jail door. Hastily, Toshiya steps away from Aoi, hand flying up to smooth through his hair like that's going to fix anything.
Well, that went… differently than planned. Ugh. Mission kind of accomplished, though?
"Hey," he says awkwardly.
Kyo looks mortified. Red-cheeked and trying to shrink into his coat, he shuffles toward them, or rather, the escape route behind them. That's when Toshiya clocks the backpack slung over his shoulder, and a little alarm bell goes off in his head. Kyo's not thinking he's been kicked out for the entire night, is he? Because that was absolutely not the plan.
Meanwhile, Aoi seems to be operating in some alternate reality where cringe-inducing hallway run-ins are just another tick on the fun checklist. Oblivious of the tension clogging up the hallway, he flips on the charm with a smile that says he's not at all ruffled. In fact, he looks downright delighted.
"Hi," he says to Kyo. "Nice to see you again, and sorry you had to catch that little show. No idea what came over Toshiya just now." He lets out an airy laugh, all innocent amusement, and Toshiya begs for the floor to kindly open up and end his misery.
"Hi," Kyo mumbles into his mask, his embarrassed gaze flitting from Aoi to Toshiya and back before zeroing in on the staircase like it's the promised land.
Aoi's smile dims a fraction. "Hope you're not heading out because of us? I was kinda hoping we could all hang out. Watch a movie." He lifts the bag containing the VHS and snacks in his hand.
"No, I — uh, I've got stuff," Kyo says, gripping the strap of his backpack tighter as he sidesteps around them.
"Oh, okay… catch you later then…" Aoi's voice fades out as he watches Kyo make his escape, his smile wiped clean off. When he turns back to Toshiya, he looks genuinely confused. "He's not leaving because of us, is he?"
Toshiya gives him a sour look. The hell is this kid surprised for? He was duly warned. "Yes he is," he says bluntly as they pivot toward his door. "Tried to tell you. He's not up for company, ever."
Aoi's forehead creases in thought. "Is he okay, though? He was walking kinda funny."
The observation makes Toshiya's stomach tighten a bit. Kyo's gait isn't yet what he would call a 'waddle,' but there's definitely a slight back-lean developing. Trust Aoi to notice. Trust Aoi to comment.
"He's got back pain," Toshiya says curtly. He yanks open the ever-unlocked door, waving Aoi through with a gesture that's more 'move your ass' than 'after you, my dear.'
Once inside, he excuses himself to the bathroom. The second the door clicks shut, he's on his phone, hammering out a text to Kyo:
Shouldn't be more than 3 hours! Really sorry about this
Message on its way, he takes a leak for optics, flushes, washes his hands, and then presses his forehead against the cool glass of the mirror, exhaling slow and deep.
Man… he sucks. Kyo moved in so he could have one place to exist without stress, and here Toshiya is, shoving him out like he's some unwelcome squatter. Real stand-up behavior. Friend of the year. Father of the year.
He thunks his forehead against the mirror once, twice.
But self-loathing is a luxury he can't afford right now. He straightens up, rolls his shoulders back, and tries to polish this turd of a situation. It's not the end of the world, he reasons while adjusting his hair to cover the red mark on his forehead. Fresh air, change of scenery — it might even do Kyo some good. And really, can he blame Aoi for feeling suspicious? Toshiya's been shifty as hell lately. Any boyfriend with trust issues would start asking questions.
With that weak mental pep talk barely cushioning his conscience, he steps out. He finds Aoi standing in the middle of the room, hands nervously twisted together, looking like he's about to deliver the world's most awkward public address.
"Actually, Toshiya…" he starts.
Toshiya halts at the threshold of the living area.
Aoi flexes his fingers. "Thing is, I kinda wondered if the whole 'Kyo's staying at my place' was just a cover. You know, for her. I thought maybe she's the one you're hiding here."
A stillness blankets the room for a moment as Toshiya absorbs the confession.
"Sorry I tested you," Aoi adds, and he sounds like he means it. "I just couldn't stop wondering. The whole thing about Kyo moving in, and the ultrasound… The timing, just — I thought maybe I was being played." With a breathless, self-deprecating little laugh, he adds, "I'm a crazy person, aren't I?"
Toshiya sighs. "No. You're not crazy." It's the easiest truth he's spoken in weeks, and it doesn't make him feel any better. Aoi's far from crazy; he's right. And Toshiya wishes he could just lay everything out in the open, but of course, Kyo's circumstances are just so much bigger than either of them.
The space between them shrinks as Aoi steps forward, his arms coming up to loop around Toshiya's neck. Toshiya pulls him in, gripping just a little tighter than usual like that might make up for everything he can't say.
"You know, finding out my boyfriend isn't lying to me? Kind of a kink of mine," Aoi jokes. "Real fringe stuff, I know. Not a lot of people are into it."
Toshiya lets out a choked laugh. "Well, I'm glad I could... service that particular kink."
They never get around to watching that movie.
Aoi, naturally assuming the couch is Kyo's domain, steers them straight to the bed, and Toshiya lets him. What's he supposed to do? Admit that, on top of everything else, he's also given up his own bed? Wouldn't exactly help his case when Aoi already thinks he's bending over backward for Kyo. So, he just silently adds it to the ever-expanding list of stuff he'll feel bad about later.
But things take a weird turn when the clothes come off and Aoi goes down on him. Normally, this would be where Toshiya's brain checks out. Not tonight. Tonight, it latches like a leech onto something intensely uncomfortable: Kyo's scent, hanging heavy in the bedsheets.
Deep in the more logical corners of his mind, a small, sensible voice tries to call him back from the edge. But it's no use. The scent wraps around him like a noose, and soon the past is consuming the present, memories that have no business being so alive in his mind flooding back.
It's that long, blistering summer all over again, sticky days that bled into even stickier nights, escapades that took place right where he's now lying. Mental snapshots of Kyo, panting and cursing into the pillow as Toshiya takes him from behind. Kyo with his hands braced on Toshiya's thighs as he rides him, lips parted and hair plastered to his flushed face with sweat. Kyo's body taut and then loose, resisting and then giving, a live-wire of reactions to every thrust. Breathy little noises he made when Toshiya got the angle right.
Toshiya's fingers find Aoi's hair. The texture is soft and silky where it should be coarse and thick, wrong for this half-hallucinated reenactment where Kyo is now taking him into his mouth, lips plush and wet, wrapped snug around his girth. Still, the fantasy persists.
And if those are the images that push Toshiya over the edge, well, it's just another proof that the human brain is a messed-up place, notorious for linking scents to moments past with zero regard for propriety or timing.
Toshiya doesn't waste a second after Aoi's out the door. He shoots a quick text to Kyo letting him know it's safe to come back, then gets to work.
Off come the compromised bedsheets, stuffed into the wardrobe to be dealt with next time Kyo's out for a doctor's appointment. A fresh, identical set goes on. It takes some effort to track down the banana body pillow — which Kyo thankfully had the wherewithal to hide (try explaining that emotional support phallus to Aoi) — but it eventually turns up propped behind the curtain.
Dumping it back to its rightful place on the bed, Toshiya can't suppress a cringe at the mental slip-up earlier. Awkward, yes, but such is life.
Then, still running on that guilty adrenaline rush, Toshiya reroutes his energy to the kitchen. What begins as tackling a few stray dishes snowballs into an aggressive deep-cleaning of the entire kitchen until it damn near sparkles.
He's contemplating his warped reflection in the polished chrome of the faucet, weighing the merits of chain-smoking his way through a pack of cigarettes against drowning himself in a sento, when the click of the door opening rouses him.
Kyo steps in, halting as they lock eyes.
"I'm really sorry," Toshiya blurts before the guy can even get both feet inside.
Wordlessly, Kyo pulls the door closed behind him. His backpack drops to the floor with an unceremonious thud, and he starts peeling off his outer layers.
It's only as he's toeing off his sneakers that he mutters under his breath, "Too freaking pregnant to sleep in an armchair," making it clear that he's back purely out of physical necessity and not because he wants to.
"Yeah," Toshiya says weakly, leaning his hip against the kitchen counter for lack of a spine.
Kyo pulls off his mask and stuffs it into the pocket of his coat now hanging from a hook. Turning to face Toshiya, he rests a hand on his pronounced stomach, a gesture he's only recently stopped feeling self-conscious about. Toshiya's throat feels all wonky and locked up just looking at him.
Flatly, Kyo says, "You could've given me more of a heads-up."
"I know," Toshiya says, the words coming out rough. "I'm an idiot. Won't happen again."
"Well," Kyo sighs, his gaze wandering away as he shuffles into the room, "at least you're aware." It's not exactly forgiveness, but it's enough of an acknowledgment to let some air out of Toshiya's guilt-inflated chest.
He picks up the abandoned backpack and follows, setting it down by the kotatsu. He's on the cusp of broaching the topic of dinner when he notices Kyo standing stock-still, staring at the bed.
Crap.
He was so sure the sheets were an exact match for the ones he stripped off earlier — same navy blue, same Nitori bargain-bin quality. But clearly, Kyo has a sixth sense when it comes to his little nest being tampered with, because his back has gone rigid, his entire posture screaming violation.
"Ah, uhm…" Toshiya stammers.
"Shower," Kyo exhales, disgust rolling off him in waves as he collects his sleepwear. Without another word or backward glance, he locks himself in the bathroom.
It's well before their regular lights-out when Kyo burrows under the covers, hair still damp from the shower. His face is a little red, his eyes a little puffy, and Toshiya doesn't dare to breathe wrong. He doesn't ask if Kyo has eaten, doesn't dare to fix himself anything either even though his stomach is starting to eat itself. He'll fast tonight. It nothing else, let it never be said he doesn't pay his dues for being a disrespectful ape.
The room goes dark, and just as they're both pretending to settle in for the night, Kyo speaks.
"I can find another place if I'm in the way here. Just be honest."
Toshiya squeezes his eyes shut in self-reproach. "No, Kyo, you're not in the way. I want you here until you've recovered from the surgery. Okay?"
A torturous pause stretches out, long enough for his stomach to start to cramp from more than just hunger. Then Kyo's voice emerges again, a helpless edge to it now.
"Don't you think it's weird that I'm here?" he asks. "I mean… I don't know… Do you not feel weird about this whole setup?"
Toshiya lets out a slow breath, grateful at least that Kyo isn't packing his bags yet. "Maybe because of all the sneaking around, yeah," he says, not wanting to pretend everything's perfect when it isn't. "But just between you and me, no, I don't think it's weird at all."
And he means it. On paper, their arrangement should be the definition of awkward, but somehow it's been anything but. It's been easy. Comfortable in ways that nothing else is these days.
Clearly, he's alone in thinking this, because Kyo's response is a quiet, "I feel weird about it."
Toshiya's heart sinks a bit at that, and he tugs the comforter up to his chin, turning onto his side. Well, that sucks to hear. The last thing he ever wanted was for Kyo to feel out of place, to feel anything other than at home. He's supposed to be the getaway, the refuge, not another source of stress, and to learn that there has been an undercurrent of unease he's entirely missed…
He's stewing in these miserable thoughts when the silence is shattered again by Kyo's voice, a little more pointed now.
"He pisses me off."
That would be Aoi, though Toshiya's not sure why Kyo's casting him as the villain here. If anyone's to blame for today's fiasco, it's Toshiya and his spineless inability to set boundaries. Still, peace-keeping is his new full-time job, so he assures, "I hear you. Promise he's not setting foot here again while you're staying."
"It pisses me off that he even exists."
Toshiya purses his lips in thought. Banning Aoi from the premises while Kyo's staying here? A no-brainer, really. Erasing him from existence because he irks Kyo? That's a little out of his jurisdiction.
"Right," he ventures, hoping to steer this ship back to saner waters, "but maybe let's not get hung up on him, yeah? You've got enough going on, and getting worked up isn't good for you or the baby—"
"Baby, baby, baby," Kyo cuts in, frustrated, and Toshiya feels like he just walked face-first into a glass door. "You know there's a whole person around that baby? Me?"
…Excuse me, what?
The whole reason Kyo is here is the baby, and despite that, they've barely talked about it. Kyo prefers it shelved, ignored, tucked out of sight, and so it is. Never mind that the baby in question is as much Toshiya's as it is Kyo's, a fact he's bitten his tongue raw over several times out of respect for Kyo's complicated feelings.
"Look," he starts, the couch creaking as he shifts onto his back again, "I'm all ears if you've got feedback for me. But 'too much baby talk' is just not true at all, and you know it."
"Forget it."
"No, seriously, talk to me. If something's bugging you besides what happened today, let's hash it out."
"Why? Why do you even care? Just 'cause I'm incubating your precious spawn?"
"No," Toshiya says, appalled that Kyo would even suggest that. "I care because you're my friend. Because you're my bandmate. Is that not enough?"
"When have we ever been friends?" Kyo challenges, his tone now bordering on hostile.
"Well, I've thought of us as friends since last summer," Toshiya retorts, doing his best to ignore the little pang of hurt. "My mistake, I guess."
"Is fucking people your idea of friendship?"
Oh, come the fuck on. Toshiya exhales hard, frustrated hands rubbing his face before pushing into his hair. "Here's a wild idea," he says, "how about you skip the dramatics and tell me what's actually bothering you, so I can fix it? Because this back-and-forth is going nowhere."
"Excuse me for not being all smiles," Kyo sneers. "Had to watch the guy who ruined my life dry-hump his pretty boy toy in front of me, and now I get to sleep in the bed where they screwed just hours earlier. So yeah, it's been a great day. Living the dream here."
There's certainly some valid criticism buried in there, but what feels more pressing is the one glaring piece of bullshit Toshiya refuses to let slide. "Oh, I ruined your life?" he says, a bit louder than necessary. "Right, because you had no part in making that baby. It's not like it takes two or anything."
"Ever heard of condoms?"
"Have you?"
"Who was the supposed sexpert between the two of us? I trusted you."
"Well, sorry I didn't factor in male pregnancy into my risk assessment!" Toshiya exclaims, shoving himself to sit up, glowering at the vague, pissed-off lump that is Kyo's silhouette in bed.
With effort, he forces himself to take a breath, to reel it back in before this turns into an actual shouting match.
"Look, Kyo," he says, voice tight but steady, "I feel horrible about everything you're dealing with, and I'd trade places with you in a heartbeat if I could. But that's not how this works, okay? So I'm here, trying to do whatever I can to make things bearable for you, and I know I drop the ball a lot, but damn it, I'm trying. So unless you can tell me how to fix this, how to let you know I'm genuinely sorry about today, can we please just call it a night and try again tomorrow?"
Silence crashes in, but for once, it feels more like dust settling than a prelude to the next punch. It has Toshiya tentatively hoping that maybe they're rounding a corner.
A single, loaded demand from Kyo breaks the quiet. "Massage," he orders. "Tomorrow. My back's a wreck. My everything's a wreck."
Toshiya stares at the vague shape of him under the covers. That's it? All this drama, and a back rub is the price of peace?
Something inside him untwists, and the end-tail of his sigh of relief comes out as a light chuckle. "Easy," he mutters, flopping back into his makeshift bed and pulling the comforter up. "I'll work those knots out every damn day till the B-word comes out. Hell, after, too. You'll have to pry me away."
—
The night before Kyo's return to the studio to lay down vocals for Cage, Toshiya finds himself in yet another tacky hotel room with Aoi. They're having a smoke at the window, elbows on the sill and shoulders pressed together, the clock ticking steadfastly toward the end of their borrowed time.
Aoi's staring out into the night with that squinty, deep-in-thought expression — the one that usually means something's been gnawing at him, and he's about to stop pretending it hasn't. And sure enough:
"I worry about you and Kyo," he confesses. "I worry there's something between you two."
The urge to sigh his soul out of his body is strong, but Toshiya can't exactly say he's surprised.
After realizing Toshiya wasn't secretly housing the mother of his accidental offspring, Aoi's relief lasted for about five minutes before his paranoia found a new target. The interrogation started the next day. Does Kyo have a girlfriend? Does he ever leave the apartment? What exactly do Toshiya and Kyo do when hanging out together? It didn't take a genius to see he was piecing together a conspiracy map in his head.
"At this point, I'm not even hung up on why he's staying at yours," Aoi goes on, tucking a windblown strand back behind his ear. "It's just, all those hours you guys are cooped up, just the two of you… I mean, it's natural to think something could happen, right? He's always there, and I bet he's pent-up as hell."
Toshiya flicks ash out the window, watching it scatter into the night air. Knowing he hasn't committed this particular crime, there's no urge to trip over himself with denials or defenses. Feels nice — being innocent for once.
"You think he swings our way?" he asks.
Aoi shrugs, the cherry of his cigarette flaring bright as he takes a slow drag. "Lots of guys don't," he says, slow ribbons of blue-gray smoke streaming from between his lips. "Doesn't mean they won't go for it anyway. That's, like, the whole theme of all my exes."
The mental gymnastics of Aoi calling some horny, bi-curious straight dudes 'exes' don't quite compute, but Toshiya's not about to touch that mess. "And you think I'm just jumping at the chance to be his stress outlet? Come on." He glances at Aoi with a smile that's supposed to convey when I've got someone like you without having to come off like he's slighting Kyo by saying it out loud. "Besides, you live with your bandmate, too. Should I be worried?"
"Yeah, well," Aoi mutters, "at least Yune and I aren't crammed into one tiny room together."
"I don't see how a few extra square meters makes such a huge difference."
"I'm just saying, it's easy for things to happen when you're living on top of each other like that. Boundaries get blurred."
Toshiya gives his profile a dry look. "Oh really?" he says. "And how's the tour bus life for you, then? Nightly orgies?"
Aoi doesn't even have the decency to look sheepish at being called out. He just lets out a tired sigh and leans over, resting his head on Toshiya's shoulder as he flicks his spent cigarette out to the alley below. Toshiya adjusts, his arm coming around to hold him.
Quiet takes over the space between them while they gaze at the breathtaking view of concrete and more concrete. As Toshiya's thumb idly caresses Aoi's hipbone, dipping slightly under the fabric of his jeans, his thoughts start to wander. He ponders if there's some truth to what Aoi's saying.
Is Kyo pent-up? Mornings have provided enough evidence that pregnancy doesn't just nuke libido out of existence — or at least, it doesn't kill morning wood. So… does Kyo masturbate? Is it different now? Is it difficult with the—?
Before his brain can chase that precarious line of thought any further, Aoi's gravelly voice pulls him back to the present.
"I love you like crazy, you know," he says, sounding almost burdened by it. His next words knock Toshiya's emerging smile clean out before it even has a chance to make it. "I think I'd kill myself if you screwed me over."
The cigarette suddenly tastes like ash in Toshiya's mouth, the weight of Aoi's head on his shoulder more than just a simple lean.
It's past midnight by the time Toshiya gets home. He finds Kyo still up, huddled over the kotatsu, doodling away in the amber light of the corner lamp. The radio plays in the background, some old tune winding its way through the quiet.
"Hey," he greets, and god if coming home to someone doesn't feel better than it has any right to, even in this soap-opera nightmare of a situation.
Kyo gives him a quick glance. "Hey."
He looks all cozy and domestic, bundled up in a baggy gray sweatshirt with his hair tied up, save for his bangs and some rebelling strands framing his face. Shinya wasn't kidding that one time — the guy's skin really is glowing. His hair, too, seems to be thriving, roots fiercely reclaiming their natural black against the blonde bleach job. Girly hormones at work, no doubt.
"Tea?" Toshiya offers, more to keep his hands occupied than anything. He's still emotionally concussed from Aoi's verbal Molotov cocktail, too casually cruel for his liking.
"Sure. Thanks."
He retreats back to the kitchen. Faucet runs, stove flares, and Toshiya zones out, gnawing at his thumbnail as he stares at the tiny bubbles trembling at the bottom of the pot. Will he still be drinking tea after Kyo moves out? Doubtful. He'll go back to chugging cheap beer in front of whatever mindless garbage is on TV, sinking into that solitary routine he used to think was peak living.
Tea done, he brings the mugs back to the kotatsu, setting them down with coasters — another habit he's picked up from Kyo. He sits down cross-legged across him, pulling the elastic from around his wrist to tie his hair back.
Kyo finishes up whatever section he was working on, slides the notebook aside, and picks up his tea, fingers barely peeking out from the too-long sleeves. He reclines, and they lapse into relative silence, letting the radio take over the room for a moment as they blow on their teas. Loving you, I'm feeling midnight blue, croons the singer on the airwaves.
Kyo studies Toshiya over the rim of his mug. "Did something happen?"
Slouched over the kotatsu, cheek mashed against his fist, Toshiya keeps his gaze fixed on his hand, where his thumbnail is intently scraping at the flaking nail polish on his middle finger. "Why?"
"You seem off."
Toshiya finally lifts his eyes, meeting Kyo's steady, expectant stare. Alright, then. If Kyo wants candid, he can have it.
"Aoi thinks I'm cheating on him with you."
There's a momentary short-circuit in Kyo's expression. Then: "Wait — what? He knows we used to...?"
"Nope." Toshiya snorts. "He'd lose his shit if he did."
Kyo hums, his hand smoothing over the kotatsu quilt draped over his lap. "Well…" he says at length. "Sorry you're dating someone who thinks you're a cheating scumbag, I guess? But it's kinda hilarious he figures it'd be with me."
Toshiya shifts, stretching his back slightly before planting a hand behind him for support. "Apparently, sharing a room and breathing the same air is all it takes to blur the lines. That, and…" He hesitates, because even thinking about saying it feels dumb — but clearly, he's a glutton for the uncomfortable because he plows ahead anyway. "He figures you're pent-up. Stuck here without much… outlet."
Kyo's eyes widen a fraction before his expression twists into pure outrage. Knuckles whitening around his mug, he spits out in one torrential exhale, "I don't even know where to start with that level of stupidity. What gives him the right to speculate about my—? It's none of his business — or yours! The guy's a complete idiot. You're dating a moron. You're a moron!"
The sheer overreaction sends a ripple of unexpected joy through Toshiya, and before he knows it, he's grinning. "Interesting," he says with feigned curiosity, "because I distinctly recall you once saying you're always pe—" He grunts as Kyo's foot collides with his shin under the kotatsu, but though his grin gets a bit of a pained edge, it doesn't budge.
"Shut up," Kyo mutters. "And tell your dumbass boyfriend to keep his dumbass theories to himself."
"Will absolutely pass that message along," Toshiya promises as he rubs his battered shin. He takes a moment to compose himself, to tuck the grin away for long enough to take a cautious sip of his tea. "Real talk, though," he starts again after a reflective pause.
He had one last killer jab lined up, something that would have sent Kyo straight into another righteous, sputtering fit. But seeing his expression soften, all vulnerable anticipation, fully braced for something profound, the joke withers on Toshiya's lips. He pivots quickly, voicing the first halfway decent thought in mind.
"I'm glad you're here. I like having you around."
Kyo quickly schools his features, lips pressing together in that way he does when he's trying not to smile. "Yeah?" he asks coolly.
"Yeah. It's been cozy," Toshiya confirms. He lets the idea simmer in his head for a moment, then continues, more to the air than directly at Kyo, "Honestly, wouldn't be too bad making this a permanent thing. But, y'know, with a bigger place. Have our own rooms and all that."
"Yeah," Kyo says dryly, "'cause I'm just dying to spend every night listening to you and that joker screwing in the next room. Pass."
"Fair," says Toshiya, and leaves it at that because Kyo is absolutely right not wanting to listen to anyone screwing in the next room.
An idle moment drifts by.
"But, you know…" Kyo picks up again, voice casual to the point of indifferent, "if you guys ever break up, and Kaoru decides he wants his own place…" He lets the thought taper off with a strategic shrug, sipping his tea like he totally just said something meaningless.
Toshiya nods. "Deal." Then, because his brain is fundamentally wired for self-destruction, he tacks on, "And hey, if I do become single and you're still feeling pent-up—"
He's quick on the draw this time, catching Kyo's leg mid-kick, his grip firm around the ankle. The indignation on Kyo's face is a sight to behold, and Toshiya has to bite back a laugh as he yanks the socked foot into his lap, earning a startled squawk as the guy nearly spills his tea.
"Now, cool it," Toshiya orders, his thumbs already digging into the stiff arch of Kyo's foot. "Or I'll tickle you straight into early labor."
Kyo scoffs, but notably, he stops resisting. "Please. I'm tickle-resistant."
"Sounds like something a highly ticklish person would say in a desperate attempt to avoid death by giggles."
"It's true. Got shafted by the genetic lottery in a million ways but not that one."
"Alright, alright," Toshiya relents, continuing his ministrations. It's like trying to massage a block of cement, same as his shoulders the other night. "But seriously, try to loosen up," he murmurs. "The murder-scowl doesn't pair well with all that pregnancy glow you've got going on."
"Ha?"
"You heard me." Toshiya glances up from his task with a slight grin. "Hormones doing some good work over there."
Kyo's expression wobbles between suspicious and faintly embarrassed, but eventually he seems to decide against any scathing retorts or coy denials. His head tips back a little, and a long, defeated-yet-suspiciously-content sigh coasts through his lips. His eyes fall shut, lips twitching slightly before sealing up into a neutral line.
It sneaks up on Toshiya then — the preemptive tug of nostalgia for this strange little domestic life they've fallen into. Because these nights are numbered, and for all the stress and fear and headache their situation has brought into his life, Toshiya knows that when all is said and done, he's going to miss it. Every last odd, exasperating, unexpectedly sweet second of it.