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It’s a short walk from Kaito’s house to Shuichi’s, maybe half a mile at best, but Kaito still lingers by the door as Shuichi steps into his shoes, a worried frown on his face.
“You sure you wanna make it alone?” Kaito asks. He pokes his head out the door, squinting down the sidewalk. “It’s getting pretty late, y’know. And I wouldn’t mind walking you.”
Shuichi shakes his head, smoothing out his sweater as he straightens back up. “It’s not dark yet,” he insists lightly. “Besides, if you walked me, then you’d have to walk back alone afterwards, and it would be even later then. This way minimises the amount of time spent out past nine.” That it’s even light out is still leaving Shuichi a bit off centre, but he always adjusts poorly to the changing seasons. It’ll be worse when autumn comes and it starts getting dark around six again.
With a huff and another glance at the empty street, Kaito eventually nods. “Fine, fine. I trust ya. Sorry my folks couldn’t give you a ride tonight.” His eyes dart back over his shoulder and trail their way up the stairs behind him. Shuichi reaches over to squeeze Kaito’s elbow, stepping backwards onto the front porch.
“I don’t mind. Tell your grandparents thanks for having me over. And, ah, thank you, too.” Nights like these are always so much better spent at Kaito’s house than his own. His uncle works late during the summer, and even his aunt has been spending a lot of time out at the office recently. Shuichi doesn’t blame either of them for being busy, just… when he doesn’t have school to occupy himself, he can get a bit restless in the empty house. It’s nice to be able to spend that time with Kaito instead.
Kaito smiles at him, a warm eye-crinkling grin, and ruffles Shuichi’s hair. With a sigh, Shuichi can’t help but lean into it, a pout coming onto his face when Kaito’s hand is withdrawn.
“Get some rest. We had a pretty rough set today.” Kaito winks. “See you on Friday?”
“Right.” Shuichi nods, lifting a hand to wave as he walks down the steps and then across Kaito’s lawn. He’s still waving over his shoulder until he’s reached the end of the block, at which point Kaito finally shuts the front door. Shuichi lets his hand fall to his side and hefts his backpack, letting out a puff of air.
Even in the evening, the air outside is balmy with late-July humidity. Shuichi glances up at the setting sun as he makes his way down the street, running his fingers down the strap of his backpack. Summer is far from his favourite season—owning so many black collared shirts makes it seriously difficult to survive during this time of year—but there is something very pretty about it. The way the sunlight turns all the trees orange-tinted when the sun is setting. The way all the flowers come into bloom. If there was just the addition of an autumn breeze, Shuichi thinks this time of year would almost be perfect… oh well. September should come around before long.
He continues down the sidewalk, tucking his hands into his pockets now. The roads are empty save for the occasional car rolling by. Shuichi’s aunt and uncle live in the middle of the suburbs, the kind of area where the houses all blend together and the people all seem a bit sleepy. It certainly doesn’t feel like the sort of spot to attract anyone suspicious, but it’s also the kind of neighbourhood where you could disappear off the side of the road and go unnoticed for hours on end.
…Geez, that’s morbid, Saihara. Shuichi shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair, cheeks puffing out. He must be taking too many missing person’s cases for his uncle. He’d better lay off of the gruesome thoughts before he starts saying them out loud. Even if Uncle Akifumi won’t mind, Aunt Mei will surely have something to say if Shuichi starts talking about getting snatched in a drive-by.
With another head shake and an exasperated sigh, Shuichi turns the corner. There’s a tall man coming down the sidewalk towards him, head lowered and eyes shadowy. Shuichi edges closer to the right side of the sidewalk, pressing against the lawns to give the stranger a wider berth. As he passes, though, he can’t help but glance up at the man’s face, seeking out his eyes.
The moment he meets them, a chill runs down his spine. Shuichi lives in Japan, where brown eyes and dark hair are easily the most common, most generic combination around. You can’t turn a corner without meeting a pair of brown eyes. These, though, stare into Shuichi’s with an intensity that makes his heart race, his breath catching in his throat. Somewhere, rationally, Shuichi knows they’re not quite the same, but the louder part of his brain recognises that look. It’s the same look that wakes him up in the middle of the night, sweat pouring down his back in buckets, his eyes and face hot with shame and fear. It’s the same look he dreads, the one he expects to find every time he makes eye contact with someone, even if they have no reason to be upset with him.
Shuichi’s throat closes up. His feet still. The stranger walks on past him without even a glance over his shoulder. Blood roars in Shuichi’s ears, but he forces his internal monologue to be louder, counting down from three a few times in an attempt at kickstarting his legs again. His house is just on the next block. If he could just start walking again—
All at once, Shuichi moves. He pivots on his heel and gapes, quite obviously, at the man he just passed. As though sensing eyes on him, the stranger pauses in turn, glancing over his shoulder.
He’s younger than the one Shuichi convicted. Eyes a lighter shade. But the way the light catches in them, just for a moment—
Hit with a sudden wave of vertigo, Shuichi swivels back around and takes off running down the block. If the stranger says anything, Shuichi doesn’t hear it. Not past the painful throb of his chest, the sharp ache in his temples from the pounding in his ears. He crosses the street without looking for traffic and cuts across his neighbour’s lawn to his uncle’s house, where he ducks under the railing and takes the stairs two at a time. His hands tremble violently as he grabs for his keys, but he manages to get the door unlocked and slam it shut behind him, breaths ragged as they come in and out.
The house is empty, all the lights off. From the foyer, Shuichi can see into the kitchen, where someone—his aunt likely—has stuck a note on the fridge. Probably a heads up about when she’ll be home, and instructions on what to do for dinner. She’s left chicken to dethaw before, or fish for Shuichi to clean. He should get started on that so his aunt and uncle have something to eat when they come home.
Instead, Shuichi shoves off his backpack and shoes, running up the stairs to his room and shoving the door open with his shoulder. He fumbles for his cell phone, thumbing through contacts until he finds Kaito’s and pressing on it hard before shoving his phone against his ear.
The phone rings six times before it goes to voicemail. Shuichi hangs up and calls again, only for the same result. Kaito always turns off his ringer after nine o’clock. It’s responsible of him, but Shuichi can’t help but feel a rush of panic as he listens to Kaito’s pre-recorded voicemail message, the cheerful way Kaito says to leave a message after the beep!
When the phone beeps, Shuichi hangs up again and scrolls back up in his contact list. He won’t call Maki. Maki has enough to deal with. Kaede’s out of the country for the break and probably asleep right now. Kokichi would make fun of him. Who else could he bother with something like this? It wasn’t even him. It was just some random stranger, some neighbour who Shuichi probably made feel horrible by suddenly taking off down the sidewalk like that—
His thumb stops, abruptly, on Rantaro’s contact. To Shuichi’s knowledge, Rantaro’s out of the country right now too, but Rantaro never stays in any one place long enough to adjust to the timezone—and he’s in Australia, anyway, which is only two hours ahead of Tokyo. It’s a long shot, and knowing why Rantaro is out of town, Shuichi really shouldn’t even be considering bothering him with this, but…
Already, Shuichi’s pressing down on his contact. Swallowing thickly, Shuichi puts the phone to his ear. As he listens to each ring, he feels regret cooling the inside of his chest, his heart dropping down into his stomach. Rantaro’s probably busy. He might be sleeping. He probably won’t answer even if he’s awake. Why would Shuichi think it’s a good idea to—
Click. “Hello? Saihara-kun?”
“Ah—” Shuichi fumbles his phone out of surprise, nearly dropping it on the floor. “A-Amami-kun, hi, sorry, I didn’t think you were going to be awake.”
There’s a faint chuckle from the other end. “You don’t need to apologise, it isn’t that late over here.” He pauses, and breathes in like he’s going to speak again, so Shuichi bites his tongue. “Something the matter?”
“Um.” Shuichi hates that that’s Rantaro’s first assumption. “A little… is it that obvious?”
“You sound a bit wrung out, admittedly.” Shuffling on the other end fills the gap between Rantaro’s words. He speaks again when he’s stopped. “Is that what you called about? If it’s something else, I can just pretend I didn’t notice.”
A smile fights its way onto Shuichi’s expression despite what happened. He leans against his bedroom door and slowly sinks to the carpet, pulling his knees into his chest with one arm while the other hand holds his phone up to his ear. His heart is still pounding hard enough to feel it against his thighs.
“That… is what I called about. But it’s stupid,” Shuichi sighs. “I just… saw someone.”
“You saw someone?”
“Mm.” Rantaro doesn’t know about the case. He wouldn’t have the context required to reassure Shuichi about this, even if it was his job to. “Someone… who resembled the killer in an old case I worked. My first murder case.” And his only murder case, but that goes without saying. It’s fairly common knowledge what kinds of cases Shuichi solves, and which case got him accepted into Hope’s Peak to begin with.
After a pause, like Rantaro is waiting for Shuichi to say more, Rantaro responds, “Ah, I see. Are they in jail? I’d be pretty shaken up running into someone like that too.”
Shuichi bites his lip. “Well… yes. But um, again, it wasn’t them. And…” Shuichi holds his breath. The ringing in his ears grows to almost a deafening volume, so he exhales forcefully, taking controlled breaths in and out until it subsides. Even after it’s gone, the static from Rantaro’s end of the line is just as distracting.
“And?”
“That isn’t really why I was upset.” A lump is rising in Shuichi’s throat. His face burns. “I-I’m sorry, this really is stupid—I’m going to hang up now, you should go to sleep, Amami-kun, it’s nearly midnight over there, isn’t it? Besides, it wasn’t—”
“Hey, Saihara-kun, breathe,” Rantaro’s voice cuts in, a bit sharply. He only sounds that way when he’s trying to get someone to listen to him—Shuichi has never actually heard him upset—but Shuichi still flinches, sucking in a sharp breath. He hears Rantaro do the same on the other end. “Sorry, sorry. But I don’t like hearing you beat yourself down like that. It felt important enough to call when you called. That’s good enough for me. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay too, but don’t call it stupid either, alright?”
Shuichi’s lower lip wobbles dangerously. He hugs his legs tighter against his chest and sniffles into his pants, trying not to cry. Rantaro is so nice to him, even when he doesn’t have to be… there’s a ragged edge to his voice right now, subtle but still noticeable. He must be exhausted, and yet he still…
“Saihara-kun?”
“Sorry,” Shuichi whispers. “Just, um… I appreciate it a lot. It really is silly though, I just,” he takes a breath, “the killer… killed someone who had been mistreating a family member of theirs. Someone who arguably deserved to die. I didn’t know. When they saw me at the trial…” Shuichi’s eyes close. He can still remember that dark, hateful look, the way it had pierced into him… at the time, he’d clutched onto the hat his uncle gave him like a lifeline. Right now, it’s tucked away into the back of his closet. He hasn’t touched it in half a year. A part of him wants to go and get it, but the rest of him feels stuck in place, listening to his own heartbeat as he tries to gather the courage to finish.
Rantaro does it for him. “I guess they weren’t happy?”
“Not at all.” Shuichi lets out a strangled laugh. “I’ve never seen hatred like that before… and directed towards me, when I actually deserved it…”
“Hey…” Rantaro sounds like he’s frowning. “Listen, I can’t say that I wouldn’t have done the same thing if I heard about one of my family members getting mistreated. You never know until it happens, right? It doesn’t really matter whether they were justified or not. That’s not for you to decide, Saihara-kun. Your job started and ended with uncovering the truth of what happened. It didn’t make you deserving of hatred.”
Swiping at his cheeks with the back of his hand, Shuichi admits, “Ah… I know. I’ve gone over this with Momota-kun and Akamatsu-san quite a few times, and they’ve said the same thing.” Or just about, anyhow. Kaito always calls the culprit a coward, and Kaede just insists that Shuichi did the right thing. Rantaro’s empathy towards the culprit… actually makes it just a little more reassuring, that he still doesn’t hate Shuichi for what he did. Even so… “I-I’m more embarrassed that I’m still so afraid of him… I thought I’d moved past that chapter of my life when I took my hat off.”
“Your hat?” Rantaro repeats, confused.
“Ah—um. Symbolic gesture. I couldn’t make eye contact with people after the trial.”
“Oh.” After a pause, “Oh! I understand. Alright.” The newfound clarity in Rantaro’s tone makes another laugh bubble out of Shuichi. “Gotcha. I’m following now. At any rate… you’re a detective, Saihara-kun. You of all people have got to know that people don’t really work like that. The things that hurt you keep hurting you for a long while, even after you start to recover from them.”
Shuichi fidgets with a piece of his hair. “I know…”
“Yeah you do.” Rantaro sounds a touch wry. “Take me for example… it’s been over a year since I lost Kei. When I first lost her I was a wreck. Terrified to care about anyone else so I wouldn’t have to lose them. But I’ve made a lot of progress, right? I chose to trust you.” He says it so plainly, with a smile in his voice. Shuichi can’t help but redden a little, grateful that they’re talking over the phone and not in person. “I still get scared when I think someone’s got taken away from me, though. That doesn’t mean I’m not getting better, does it?”
It’s an extremely sound argument. Rantaro’s good at that, incredibly rational and levelheaded. When he builds a point like that, you just can’t help but believe him.
Still, a slight pout tugs at Shuichi’s lips. “Of course it doesn’t, but…”
“It’s different when you do it?” Rantaro’s smile is wry again. “Be kinder to yourself, Saihara-kun. Why don’t you go get yourself a comfort food and a book? Recover from tonight. I’ll stay on the line if you want me to.”
“Ah…” Shuichi’s face is only warming more. Rantaro is so nice to him. “No, that’s alright… I can be alone. My aunt and uncle should be home soon, and I should really work on dinner… um.” He sniffles, wiping his face again. “Thanks, Amami-kun. I’m sorry for bothering you, especially when you should be resting right now to find your sister…”
“You could never be a bother to me, Saihara-kun,” Rantaro reassures him. “I’ll talk to you later, alright? Maybe even see you soon.”
“Right.”
Though as Shuichi pulls his phone away from his ear, murmuring a good night to Rantaro, he can’t help but frown as he ponders that. Rantaro’s plan, if he remembers correctly, is to go straight from Australia to New York, and then be in Europe in time for his sister Satsuki’s birthday. He isn’t coming back to Japan until school starts again in September, and that won’t be for another month yet.
Then again, Rantaro’s awareness of time as it passes has always been a bit weak. “Soon” could be anywhere from a few days to a full month with him. Not that Shuichi blames him for being a bit spacy… if anything, he finds that to be an endearing quality of Rantaro’s, so long as it’s not causing him any real issues.
Regardless… Shuichi tucks his phone into his pocket and stands, rubbing some of the kinks out of his back. He feels calmer now after that conversation. Talking to Rantaro always has that effect on him, even if it’s not the express reason for the conversation like it was this time. Shuichi shakes himself out, then turns to the door, slipping out into the hall and back down the stairs. Hopefully there’s still time to get started on dinner before his aunt and uncle get back.
Shuichi wakes up at around noon the next day. Not to an alarm, and certainly not on his own; it takes Shuichi a moment, groaning and rolling onto his other side with his pillow pressed against his ear, to realise what actually did wake him up, and even then, he’s still confused.
Blearily, Shuichi sits up, rubbing at his eyes with one hand and plugging his ear with the other. It, like the pillow, does little to fend against the incessant ringing of his doorbell, but Shuichi doesn’t lower his hand until he’s out of bed and reaching for a sweatshirt to pull on over his tee. He only knows one person who would ring his doorbell like that, but why would Kaito come here…? They’re not supposed to hang out again until tomorrow, and Kaito usually calls before he shows up…
…Mm, wait. Shuichi grabs his phone off the floor as he exits his room. Six mixed calls from Kaito. That’ll explain it. Shuichi must have slept through them. Yawning, Shuichi thumbs through the notifications as he pads down the stairs, stopping only when he notices a couple missed calls from Rantaro.
Suddenly more alert, Shuichi shoves his phone into his pocket and takes the rest of the stairs two at a time. He jogs through the house and to the front door, hastily unlocking it and pulling it open without even looking into the peephole.
As he’d just begun to suspect, standing on Shuichi’s front porch alongside Kaito is Rantaro, hair ruffled from transit and a backpack slung over his shoulder. He has a couple takeout bags in his hands and a harassed smile on his face that broadens when he and Shuichi make eye contact. Shuichi swallows, his throat a bit dry, but only manages to sustain an incredulous look for another half second before Kaito is ruffling his hair.
“Ah—good morning, Momota-kun.” Shuichi ducks away from the touch so he doesn’t lean into it and fall asleep again. He gets a big, toothy grin from Kaito for his troubles. “Amami-kun… what are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you,” Rantaro replies, awfully casual, like he wasn’t just in a completely different country fifteen hours ago. “Is it alright if we come in, or is this a bad time?” His eyes drag down from Shuichi’s face to his pyjama pants, then back up again, his lip curled into a smirk. It makes Shuichi’s face redden, but not quite with embarrassment; the look in Rantaro’s eyes is too distinctly fond for him to be anything but flustered.
“I-It isn’t, just,” Shuichi stammers, “M-Momota-kun, what are you doing here?”
Kaito puts his hands up. “What, I can’t see my sidekick when I want to?” He grins, ruffling Shuichi’s hair again. Shuichi just sighs and lets it happen this time. “Amami told me he was coming by and asked if I wanted to tag along! ‘Course I wasn’t gonna say no to an offer like that. Especially not with food involved!”
Shuichi senses, mostly because he knows Kaito, that Kaito isn’t being entirely transparent. Though Kaito is smiling, his gaze is sharper than it is usually, darting from Shuichi’s face to his attire, as though sizing him up. Whatever Rantaro said to convince Kaito to come over, it couldn’t have been as simple as I’m visiting Saihara-kun, you have a free afternoon?
Though… maybe that’s a reason to be appreciative, not to be indignant. Shuichi swallows, nodding as he takes a step back to let the both of them in. Rantaro enters first, stepping out of his shoes once he’s through the front door. Kaito follows, but stops in front of Shuichi, affixing him with another scrutinising look.
The intensity of that look is… kind of a lot for Shuichi after last night, but he still forces himself to meet it, raising a single eyebrow in question. They’re not looking at each other for longer than a second before Kaito closes the distance between them, wrapping a strong arm around Shuichi’s back and pulling him in. Shuichi sucks in a sharp breath, but closes his eyes, his own hands coming up to reciprocate on pure instinct.
Kaito smells of his body spray, which is generally a pretty unappealing scent, but… comforting, on him. Shuichi rubs his forehead against Kaito’s chest, whatever tension was still in his shoulders bleeding out of him as he relaxes into the embrace.
“Sorry about missing your call last night,” Kaito mumbles, his voice rumbling through his abdomen. “Didn’t mean to leave you hanging.”
Shuichi lifts his face from Kaito’s chest to speak, his cheek leaned heavily into the fabric of Kaito’s t-shirt. There’s not much he can see from this angle, so he doesn’t bother opening his eyes as he responds, “It’s alright. I um… I figured it out.”
With another ruffle of Shuichi’s hair, Kaito says, “I know.” Shuichi hears the smile in Kaito’s voice, and it makes him smile himself, even as Kaito pulls away and wanders into Shuichi’s kitchen like he owns the place. Shuichi is still smiling as he closes and locks the door, watching Kaito from the foyer until he remembers that they aren’t the only two people in the house right now, at which point he does sober, his gaze drifting back over to Rantaro.
Rantaro is leaning against the wall by the front door, a relaxed grin on his face. When he meets Shuichi’s eyes, it widens, and he raises a single eyebrow.
“Hey,” Rantaro greets, before Shuichi can say anything. “Sleep alright?”
“Um… I slept fine.” Shuichi shifts, rubbing his arm. He mulls over what best to say. “Why did… why did you come, Amami-kun? Really.”
“What, is it that unbelievable to you that I would book an overseas flight on pure impulse?” Rantaro’s eyes crinkle at the edges. “I’m pretty sure I’ve pulled worse over the course of our friendship, Saihara-kun. This isn’t that bad.”
Shuichi shakes his head. “No, it isn’t out of character or anything… it’s just, um.” His brow furrows. “If this is because you were worried about me, or… you thought I needed someone, I,” he swallows, averting his gaze, “I really do appreciate it, but I would never want to pull you away from your search, or inconvenience you… I’m glad you came, don’t take this as me telling you to leave, just…”
Now, Rantaro’s smile does soften. He stands up and walks over to Shuichi, shuffling the takeout bags that hang off one of his wrists into one hand and resting the one that’s newly freed on top of Shuichi’s head. It’s more of suggestion of a ruffle than anything, but Shuichi still puffs out his cheeks as he looks up into Rantaro’s eyes. They’re softer than usual, warm with affection as they gaze down at Shuichi. It’s not really a look Shuichi is used to from Rantaro. It makes his heart stutter.
“It’s okay that you’re worried. I won’t get offended or take it as you not wanting me here,” Rantaro promises. “I guess it was that. I didn’t want you to be alone after something that shook you up like that, but I could only get back so quickly.” His lip curls. “I thought about calling Momota-kun’s grandmother and asking her to send him here last night, but…” Rantaro pauses, his head tilting to the side. “Selfishly, I wanted to be here myself.”
That makes Shuichi’s eyes feel a bit wet. “Amami-kun…”
“Look, I can’t promise that I’ll always be here in a
timely
manner.” Rantaro sighs. “But how you feel is important to me, Saihara-kun. If you’re in pain, then I want to know about it. If you need someone to be there for you, then I want to be that person.” His brow lowers, his smile slipping from his expression in a rare serious look. “You know? You don’t ever have to try and backtrack after asking me for help. If you need me… I’m here. With an eight to twelve hour delay depending on where I am in the world at the time.”
A choked laugh escapes Shuichi. It’s embarrassing that he’s crying, so he steps forward and puts his hands around Rantaro, burying his face in the other boy’s chest. Rantaro shifts his weight, and Shuichi hears the plastic bags crinkling as he presumably tries to figure out what to do with the takeout he’s carrying. After a beat, Shuichi feels Rantaro twist backwards to put them down on the shoe cubby, and then his arms are encircling Shuichi in turn, not quite as tight as Kaito’s earlier but equally as comforting.
“Sorry if that’s a lot to hear first thing in the morning,” Rantaro whispers. “I know you just woke up.”
“No.” Shuichi sniffles, lifting his head just a little to peek up into Rantaro’s eyes. “I-I mean, it is. And I did. But it’s not a bad thing.” He swallows thickly, pushing his eyes back into Rantaro’s shoulder. “I want to be that person for you too, Amami-kun… no matter what that looks like. I can’t exactly fly out to see you on a whim, a-and I’m nowhere near as comforting as you are, or good at words, but if there’s anything I can ever do for you when you need me, then I—”
“Hey.” Rantaro squeezes Shuichi, voice gentle this time as he cuts him off. “You already are that person for me, Saihara-kun. You don’t have to worry about doing anything else.”
It almost feels like a concerted effort to make Shuichi bawl. Shuichi’s face is probably bright red against Rantaro’s shirt right now. He ducks his head down so that Rantaro won’t see the blush that hits his forehead. Based on the chuckle that he feels buzz through Rantaro’s chest, though, it might already be a failed effort. Shuichi grumbles.
“I’m sorry,” Rantaro says immediately. There’s a smile in his voice. He is not sorry. “It’s just—”
“Amami-kun, if you’re about to call me cute right now,” Shuichi huffs, lifting his head, “while I’m crying—”
“He’d be right,” Kaito’s voice remarks from behind him. Shuichi jumps, flipping around halfway without taking his arms off of Rantaro, and sees that Kaito’s leaned against the entrance to the kitchen with an odd smile on his face. Just the sight of it makes Shuichi’s stomach do flips, and he feels his face become twice as hot. “Sorry. Little bit of tears don’t make it less true, sidekick.”
“Momota-kun!” Shuichi cries, betrayed. He groans, pulling Rantaro close so he can hide back in his chest.
Rantaro is laughing, the monster, but he still tucks his arms around Shuichi again and squeezes him tight. “I dunno. I think you’re outnumbered here, which basically means we’re right,” he teases. When Rantaro speaks again though, his voice is a lot softer, less cheeky. “Take your time, Saihara-kun. I brought sushi whenever you’re ready, but there’s no rush for you to be ready to eat. I don’t mind staying like this for a while.”
Mmmm. Shuichi certainly wouldn’t mind doing that, but… he shifts, turning his head out of Rantaro’s chest again so he can look back over at Kaito. They make eye contact for a long, awkward moment, and Shuichi watches Kaito’s expression slowly grow more and more confused until—
“Oh!” Kaito pushes off the wall and bounds over with a goofy smile on his face, coming up behind Shuichi and wrapping his arms around him. His reach is good enough to extend behind Rantaro’s back, and he pulls them both in tight; Shuichi lets out a bit of a squeak as the air is pushed out of his lungs and feels heat spread down to his neck.
The grin that Rantaro gives him in response doesn’t help matters much, so Shuichi hastily says, “I’m fine staying like this! J-Just for a couple minutes, and then we can eat.”
“Sounds good by me,” Kaito responds. Shuichi is enveloped in warmth as Kaito slots his chin over the top of his head. Rantaro, in turn, leans forward, hooking his own over Shuichi’s shoulder.
He’s liable to overheat like this, really… but just for a couple minutes, he thinks he can indulge. Rantaro and Kaito are holding him up so well that Shuichi just lets himself loosen into both of their arms, tilting his head back against Kaito’s neck and gripping onto the sides of Rantaro’s jacket. The chill that he hadn’t realised was lingering from last night slowly disappears, leaving him warm and supported, sandwiched between his two closest, dearest friends.
…And crushes. Ugh. Shuichi really wishes he could just choose, but how is he supposed to under these conditions…?
That’s a crisis to have later. For now, Shuichi just closes his eyes, listening to the sound of Kaito’s heartbeat, a steady thrum against his back. He’s beyond grateful to have them both here… Rantaro especially, but… Shuichi isn’t going to forget how instantly both of them came over when they thought he needed them. Not in a hurry. Not at all.