Archive of Our Own ^beta

Before being in the predicament he was in now, he always wondered if he'd ever find someone he ‘liked’. 

It tugged at something in him. Curiosity, maybe, but not envy. Not quite.

Relationships had never been something he thought too much about anyway, not in the way his friends did with their jokes and easy conversations about crushes. It sort of left him on the outside of a joke he didn’t understand at times.

When he did date someone (Hana), it always felt like there was some unspoken script he was supposed to follow, one that never really made sense to him. There was always this quiet sense that he was missing something, and he didn’t know how to ask what.

Love at first sight also seemed like a concept that was a bit hard for him to understand. Sure, you might feel drawn to them or think they’re attractive, but could that really be called love?

Hirose had tried asking around to see if anyone had a better idea than he did.

"How do you know if you like someone?"

Oomori had squinted at him like he'd asked something obvious but answered gently. "You just know."

Well, that was frustratingly vague. 

The rest of the responses he got weren’t much better.

"You get that fuzzy feeling in your chest." (You also get a fuzzy feeling after drinking too much soda, but sure.)

"It just happens, you’ll see, dude." (Great. Can’t wait to be even more confused.)

Suffice to say, none of it helped. No one had a real answer. And that annoyed him. People acted like romance was this big, all-consuming thing but if no one could explain how it worked, how could they be so sure?

He once mistook what he felt for Otogiri-Sensei as something bigger than it was. In hindsight, it was more curiosity than anything else, a passing infatuation that felt intense only because it was new. Still, it was enough to help him recognize something about himself. At least he helped him now recognize a part of himself though, so there's that.

With Otogiri-Sensei, it would feel like he was trying to live up to some unspoken standard, to impress him, to be worthy of his attention.

But this…this was different. It didn’t feel like chasing something just out of reach. It wasn’t about being enough, or proving anything.

The more he spent time with Nakamura, the more he realized that his heart no longer raced whenever Otogiri-sensei came to mind. Instead, it was Nakamura who stayed there, quietly taking up space.

He’d caught himself watching Nakamura the way he once watched his teacher. Only this time, it wasn’t just admiration or fleeting infatuation making his chest tighten. It was the way Nakamura’s eyes would linger on his, flickering and skittish but still there or how little sparks of enthusiasm broke through Nakamura’s shyness in conversation.

With Nakamura, it wasn’t about trying. It was just… being. It felt easy. The warmth Hirose felt around him wasn’t overwhelming or confusing, it was quietly comforting. Then, strangely, that comfort turned into a kind of oxymoron, because realizing it made everything he’d thought before feel uncertain and tangled all at once. Like suddenly seeing the world in a way both clearer and more complicated.

Hirose wouldn’t say he’d been blind before. It was more like… like how a dog sees the world with a limited color palette, and then one day wakes up seeing them all, the same way a human could. It doesn’t erase what came before. But it makes everything after... feel different. Brighter. Truer.

Nakamura was a strange guy. But not in a 'strange' way if that made sense. More of.. him being a fascinating case. He's shy, reserved, awkward but very endearing.

When they went on their class trip, he could still remember the expressions Nakamura made when looking at the aquarium entrance. It was kind of hard not to since as opposed to his usually timid appearance, he looked so full of excitement, joy brimming. And when Hirose and Oomori had initially rejected the idea of going inside it (because the entrance fee was a bit of a steep price), his expression changed, like a wall was there again. And Hirose didn't like seeing that. Nakamura said it didn't matter that much, but Hirose still didn't like that he just easily brushed it aside.

Maybe that's why Hirose paid for the entrance fee. The thought of him going off alone made him feel bad (he'd get lonely, wouldn't he?) Maybe that's why Hirose's face slightly lit up when seeing him look at the tanks and figuring out he does like octopi (it's weird he tried hiding it in the first place, it's awesome how passionate he is) and in turn told him his fascination with crabs (it's not as deep but they are pretty rad).

Maybe that's also why Hirose so easily told Nakamura something he never told anyone. That, despite his care for his friends, there are times where he just.. didn't connect with them, sort of an odd ball out when they would talk about girls or tell dirty jokes.

Maybe he sensed something familiar in Nakamura… or because of his demeanor, he'd probably just listen…

Talking to anyone sort of just came naturally to Hirose but Nakamura wouldn't tell him how to feel. And he was right, Nakamura just listened. And for once, the weight on his shoulders shifted slightly and it felt as refreshing as the ocean waves.

And when he used Hirose's own words against him, the weight almost crashed into the pavement. 

'Don't go... I mean, um...you said you should always be true to yourself, right?' 

Oh, he thought, isn't he clever. Because of that, he now felt more comfortable setting boundaries and while it's probably not a seamless process, he'll always thank Nakamura for helping him in that regard. Taking that first step felt less daunting with the quiet confidence Nakamura gave him.

It's kinda funny to him that they kept running into each other a lot out of seemingly nowhere up to now. If he didn't know any better, he'd say it was just luck or something but.. it's certainly not bad luck if that was the case. Having a friend like him seemed like really good luck in fact. (Which is why it kind of shocked him when Nakamura asked if they could be friends in the first place because were they not already? Was that not clear to him by now?)

There are times where he wouldn’t really look him in the eye, which he thought was weird since it’s just him. It wasn’t like he was a teacher or elder or something so hopefully he wasn’t scared of him or whatever. He didn’t think Nakamura was like that with other people, but also… what did he know? It’s not like he was paying that much attention back then.

And while Nakamura doesn't say much, he tends to surprise Hirose at times. Like him ranting about his younger sister Kana or simply telling him that Hana 'just didn't get your charm,' after he said she thought he was 'too dull and boring.' 

Maybe that’s why he’d gone red back then when someone asked if he’d kissed Hana. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but now… he thinks he understands. He hadn’t really been thinking about Hana at all actually.

Maybe that's when he should have realized it, like a puzzle piece finally clicking into place. That he feels more comfortable talking to guys for a particular reason. Or all the other non subtle stuff Nakamura did that he'd dismiss. Literally jumping at the opportunity to be around him at times before tumbling out of his chair. Hirose would help him up anyways, it’s not like he’d just leave him there. It was also kinda sweet, nice, even. To feel someone be that genuinely happy around you…

The way Nakamura’s face would flush when their eyes met, like a deer caught in headlights. Stunned, exposed, completely seen.

He’s gentle with the way he speaks. And his voice is...

Pretty, Hirose thinks, catching himself mid-thought. It’s not exactly a word you use for another guy when you're a guy, but it fits Nakamura. 

He's also unafraid when it counts.

There’s something about Nakamura’s honesty, when it comes out in those rare, unfiltered moments. It’s disarming.

When it happens, it’s like Hirose is pulling open a door to something soft and tender inside, a fragile thing that flutters with every beat. Nakamura watches, his gaze stuck on the rhythm, the pulse that seems to call out from his friend's chest. But Hirose isn’t sure how to hold it, how to cradle it without it slipping through his hands. His fingers are too greasy, slick from the potato chips he tends to eat often. Every time he reaches out, his heart races, an ache gnawing at him.

What if he drops it?

What if it shatters on the floor, staining everything? 

Or worse, what if he smears it, ruins it somehow, and the beat fades to nothing?

No. Hirose clenches his fists. He can’t do that. Nakamura doesn’t deserve that. 

Though he hasn't known him for a long time like Oomori, it's kind of hard not to really like him. Aside from his taste in manga (he jokes since Nakamura apologized profusely afterwards and was pretty shaky during the whole interaction anyways so he'll assume the best from him), he trusts him. Almost fully actually. He did it during that class trip to Yokohama, after Hana broke up with him (what he said also made him feel better about not fully being into the whole romance scene...yet. On top of the revelation it gave him), when he confided in Nakamura about liking guys the same as how his friends like girls (Bisexuality, he learns, is that strange thing that was on the top of his tongue but it also feels very welcome to say. Turns out liking someone doesn’t always look how you expect but it feels real all the same).

It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell him. He does. If anyone would take it well, it’d be him.

But what if he says something and ruins one of the few friendships he holds close?

Still…

Even if he’s just being stupid, even if it ends up making things weird… would it really be so bad for Nakamura to know he’s cared for?

That someone sees him, just as he is, and thinks that’s someone worth falling for?

Maybe that’s worth the risk.

𓇼 ⋆.° 🐙⋆.ೃ࿔*: 🦀⋆.° 𓇼

Somewhere between falling asleep on search result pages and bookmarking listicles like “Ways to Tell if a Guy Likes You (And What to Do Next!”), Hirose figured a plan was better than nothing. It helped. Gave him steps. Like he could chart something uncertain (like liking Nakamura) into a map.

He knew it wasn’t that simple. But the guides made it feel like it could be less of a hassle.

A lot of them were clearly aimed at girls, or straight couples, but Hirose didn’t really care. He took notes anyway.

Some of it sounds like a bad shoujo plot but he guesses that in a way, they made sense. 

Little things. Thoughtful things. The kind of things Nakamura would appreciate.

Maybe writing them down would help.

Even if his heart felt like it might burst out of his skin or puke out those god-damned stars in his stomach, twinkling and poking his walls in there, he was going to try because Nakamura was like medicine for the weak, and somehow, he made Hirose feel stronger.

𓇼 ⋆.° 🐙⋆.ೃ࿔*: 🦀⋆.° 𓇼

1. ‘Offering food is a quiet way to show you care.’

“Make him a bento!” it said. “It creates intimacy and trust.”

Which…yeah, okay. But it could be…

Too much, he’d thought. Too on the nose. Maybe a little… too strong.

But after hearing Nakamura casually mention that he liked takoyaki in conversation, Hirose figured he could at least try.

If it’d make Nakamura happy, maybe it would be worth it. The way to a man's heart is through his stomach after all.

Unfortunately, he's not much of a cook, not at all. But surprisingly, he was doing an alright job. At least before his sister kept hovering over him, insisting he was doing it all wrong, messing up his process and just being an all around nosy big sister.

Despite her nitpicking, he did it. He managed to get a decent batch together and was excited to see if Nakamura would like it. He packed it up carefully, hoping it would make a good impression. Somewhere between his sister’s comments ("Oooh, who are you making that for, Aiki?") and his own impatience (“It’s for no one,” he muttered), Hirose hadn’t noticed he’d shut the container a little too tight. But as long as it was sealed, the takoyaki would stay fresh, right?

.

.

.

While at school, Oomori had been telling him something, but Hirose hadn’t been paying enough attention to catch what he was agreeing to. So when Oomori whisked him away for health committee tasks, lunch had already come and gone.

Which meant he missed his shot.

And now, after school? No sign of Nakamura.

“He's not even here…” He taps his fingers against the container, then switches to lightly picking at the skin around his thumb. It’s not bleeding or anything. Just a bad habit. One he does when he’s nervous. Like now.

Then, down the hallway, he spotted someone. A familiar silhouette, just out of focus.

Hirose squinted. Paused.

He wasn’t totally sure. But something tugged at him anyway. Just in case…

"Nakamura?"

The guy paused and turned his head, confused, looking around like he couldn’t quite figure out where the voice came from.

Oh.

The fringe. It was hanging low today, practically covering half his face. (Definitely not school-approved, but it’s not like Hirose was about to rat him out.) 

Hirose exhaled. Great. He’d been looking for him, assuming he wasn't here, when in fact, he hadn’t even left. Embarrassing, truly.

As he got closer, he could see it more clearly. The way Nakamura’s lips were pursed slightly, eyes trying and failing to squint past his bangs. 

"Pfft.."

It turns out to all be for nought anyway. Hirose reaches out, brushing Nakamura’s fringe aside with one hand to look at him properly.

He’s pretty sure Nakamura doesn’t need him to do that. But he’s glad he lets him do it anyway.

His skin feels nice enough to make Hirose almost forget what he's originally here for, his heartbeat probably thrumming through his fingertips. 

Then he pulls his hand away slowly.

“Um..” Hirose coughs into his hand

Get a grip, Aiki.

“Why not just get a haircut?”

Nakamura rubs the back of his neck. “Well… Normally I would. But I, uh. Had a bad experience last time.”

Hirose opens his mouth to ask how bad could it have been but stops himself. Not the point right now.

He shakes his head a little, trying to reset into something more easy.

"You like takoyaki, right?" He asks like he doesn't know.

Nakamura nods.

"Um, cool! Because I tried to make some at home and wanted to share since I made too much. Do you want the rest?"

And while Nakamura doesn't respond immediately, he gives a slow nod.

Hirose tries to open the container he brought the food in. It wouldn't budge. He tried again, gripping the container tighter with his knuckles becoming more prominent, more white. 

When he finally gets it open with a pop however, the takoyaki had slipped out of the container, landing squarely on Nakamura's pant leg with a sickening squelch.

Hirose stared, mortified. Nakamura blinked frozen in place.

Nakamura glanced down at his pant leg and while the dark material didn't make all the stains super noticeable, it didn’t make it any better. It left Hirose having to imagine the worst. The sauce sinking deeper into the fabric, soaking into the fibers, and possibly even starting to seep into Nakamura’s socks. Suddenly, his appetite was gone completely.

Hirose winces. “I— I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

"It's okay." Nakamura said, soft. He’s lying. He has to be. There's no way this is genuinely okay with him.

Hirose watches as Nakamura walks away, his leg still wet with sauce. He could hear the sticky squelch of sauce slowly oozing through Nakamura’s shoe with every step. It only makes him feel worse than anything he’d imagined. 

Hirose catches a glimpse of his cheeks, the pink spreading slowly, and it hits him. Nakamura’s embarrassed.

Darnit.

His hands feel cold from all the nerves, and he has this pit in his stomach that keeps growing. He just wanted to do something nice. He wasn’t trying to make it perfect, just… thoughtful.

Dangit.

The sound of Nakamura’s footsteps fades, but it doesn’t make Hirose feel any better. In fact, the longer he thinks about it, the worse it gets. How did he screw that up so bad? All he wanted was for Nakamura to know he cared.

Damnit. 

Even after their conversation, Hirose couldn't stop feeling like he’d failed. Maybe it wasn’t the right time, maybe he wasn’t doing this right, or maybe, just maybe, he was wrong and Nakamura wasn’t feeling what he was.

𓇼 ⋆.° 🐙⋆.ೃ࿔*: 🦀⋆.° 𓇼

2. ‘Choosing a comfortable, low-pressure environment.’

Hirose had invited Nakamura to the movies shortly after the school day was over, hoping it might give him a chance to test the waters. Movies were pretty standard for that sort of thing, right? Cool, quiet, chill… easy. No pressure. Just enough room for the silence to feel like something shared, not awkward.

A quiet way to spend time together. Something simple.

Hirose had tapped Nakamura’s shoulder while he was seemingly lost in his own little world. "Hey Nakamura! Wanna go see this movie with me?"

Nakamura jolted, practically jumped out of his skin, nearly stumbling down in surprise. Hirose blinked, worried for a split second… until he caught that flicker of something like enthusiasm in Nakamura’s eyes as he steadied himself. Hirose let out a quiet laugh, relieved.

Nakamura had said yes and it was great! Awesome even!

It felt like a good start.

So when Oomori, Takeuchi, and Mukai invite themselves along, it's less awesome.

Hirose winced internally, mentally kicking himself as he tried but couldn't really find much of a way out of it.

Nakamura didn’t say much. Well, he sometimes never really did but gave a small shrug that looked neutral at best. 

So there he was with his "amazing plan" in the dumps, sort of. But hey, at least they were sitting together. If only his friends won't stop being a bit... distracting. Don't get him wrong, he liked them but those rare moments would leave him the tiniest bit exasperated.

They were still filing into the theater, shuffling down the dim aisle in a loose cluster, chatting and trying not to trip over the steps. Hirose gave a little shiver as a draft of cold air brushed the back of his neck.

Man, the one downside to some theaters is how cold they can get…

Serendipitously, he had a buffer for this. Sort of. He hadn’t worn his jacket at school, uniform rules and all, but he’d stuffed it into his bag that morning just in case.

He fished it out, shaking it loose as they sat down. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Nakamura doing the same. Shrinking slightly into himself, a little tremor running through his shoulders.

Nakamura didn’t say anything, didn’t even really react but Hirose noticed and handed it to him.

Nakamura blinked, surprised. Well, it was a bit hard to really see his expression as it was dim but he didn’t hand the jacket back either.

He’ll take it.

Hirose tugged his own sleeves down a bit. The shirt was old and a bit worn thin after too many washes. Comfortable? Yeah. But not exactly built for protection from the elements.

.

.

.

Takeuchi leaned forward at one point to talk across Hirose, invading his view for a bit in the process. Mukai, only half-watching the movie, absentmindedly kicked Hirose’s foot while shifting in his seat, not even noticing.

Oomori was fine actually. Nakamura’s hand nearly brushed his. Hirose didn’t flinch but he didn’t pull away either. He just smiled, hoping the movie had something funny on-screen to cover it up.

Then midway through, there was a sharp jump scare.

Hirose startled hard, not registering the grip on his arm in the rush of adrenaline.

Nakamura had flinched, clutching his sleeve without thinking.

They both sat frozen for a beat.

Then Hirose felt it: the slight give, the quiet rip.

He looked down. The seam had torn right where the fabric was already thinning.

Nakamura immediately let go, whispering, “I'm so sorry! I didn't— um…”

Hirose shook his head. It was fine. Actually…it wasn’t the worst thing. Sort of. He should’ve minded. Should’ve cared more. Although it wasn’t great, it was Nakamura and that complicated things.

Takeuchi leaned over again, laughing at something Mukai said, reaching across Hirose. His elbow knocked against his cup in the holder.

The soda tipped.

It spilled right into Hirose’s lap but not just his pants, his shirt as well. 

Cold. Sticky. Splotchy.

He stared down at the spreading stain, already feeling the AC make it worse.. 

Oomori stood. “I’ll get napkins!” Nakamura opened his mouth, probably about to say the same thing but Oomori was already gone, walking off.

Takeuchi and Mukai followed, looking guilty but also trying not to laugh. Of course they did.

Hirose slumped back in his seat, arms crossed awkwardly across the front of his shirt. He could already feel it drying stiff and sweet. 

And again, the AC was not helping. It was already cold. Now it was miserable.

A soft movement beside him.

Nakamura didn’t say anything. Just gently held out the sleeve of Hirose’s jacket, quiet and unsure. He looked like he was shrinking in it too, curled into himself like he regretted coming along.

Hirose took it. It didn’t fix anything. But it helped more than he thought it would.

The movie played on. But Hirose wasn’t really watching it anymore.

𓇼 ⋆.° 🐙⋆.ೃ࿔*: 🦀⋆.° 𓇼

3. ‘Make the moment count.’

It was made clear that Nakamura wasn’t exactly comfortable, with the way his shoulders tensed, eyes shut, and face pale during the car ride.

"Hey, you can hold my sleeve if you need to," Hirose suggested, and wordlessly, Nakamura lets his fingers brush against Hirose’s sleeve. 

He still looked a little queasy when they arrived, occasionally letting out a soft heave, his grip tightening just slightly. Hirose didn’t mind. He slowed his pace, walking steady just in case.

While it wasn't just the two of them, they did manage to have some time together alone as everyone else kind of just split up to do their own thing. 

Nakamura still holds onto Hirose’s sleeve as they wander through the arcade, the stuffy air buzzing with bright lights and colors. It seemed like a lot, but at least Nakamura looked like he was recovering.

“You good?” Hirose asked, voice quiet.

Nakamura gave a small nod, not letting go.

They kept walking.

Hirose spotted a plush octopus in one of the claw machines, then noticed Nakamura looking at it.

"Do you want it?" Hirose asked, trying to sound casual.

Nakamura shook his head and scratched his cheek but the glance he cast toward the octopus said otherwise.

Hirose pressed his hands to the glass, eyeing the octopus. He turned around to find Nakamura starting to move his hands as if he'll say that "it's really alright! I don't need it!". It's sweet but...

The smile on Nakamura’s face would probably be sweeter, Hirose thought, as he dropped a coin in the machine.

.

.

.

After a few attempts, the plush octopus STILL remained untouched. Those stupid claws gleaming at him as if sensing Hirose’s stubbornness (or desperation).

He's not mad, a little peeved but not full blown angry. It’s— Look, he knows these things are supposed to be rigged, but it’s almost comical how unlucky he was recently. Whenever he tries to impress Nakamura, he ends up crashing and burning. Kind of like how Nakamura seemed to trip over himself around him during the first stages of their… friendship.

…With that, Hirose really hopes Nakamura’s clumsy nature isn’t rubbing off on him.

Nakamura doesn’t seem bothered at all, more like he’s just... watching, genuinely interested. Hirose feels a twinge of guilt for fixating so much on it but he's been staring at this damn claw for so long, he did say he’d try and he’s going to get it, so help him.

With a deep breath, he inserted his last coin, and grabbed the control once more with hope surging through him, gripping the controls with a determined glint in his eye. 

He moved the claw, pressed the button and…

Grabbed it! The octopus was lifted, dangling in those mocking claws for a moment before—

"Hirose!" Takeuchi called his name at the worst possible moment. His finger twitched.

The plush slipped.

Hirose stared, horror-stricken as it tumbled back down.

The octopus remained elusive, as did Hirose’s last coin.

It's definitely contagious all right…

.

.

.

After that, Hirose almost wanted to sulk, his mind still lingering on the octopus that slipped through his fingers. But before he could dwell on it too long, they wandered into a photo booth tucked in a quiet corner. It looked worn out, abused with the love it had received in years past, like a child’s plus— 

He slumped a little. Great, now he really wanted to sulk.

Nakamura also glanced at the booth, his gaze lingering a little too long before his fingers fidgeted at the edge of his pocket. He pulled out a coin with a small, almost sheepish shrug.

Hirose blinked, caught off guard by the offer. Still, it was a small gesture. A small, sweet gesture.

“Thanks.” Hirose said, a little surprised, but grateful.

Hirose eyed the booth once more as they approached. He'd be fine. A bit of grime wouldn’t be the worst thing if it meant they could have a little fun. Besides, the idea of them having more photos like the one from Yokohama was enough to make it worth it.

They squeezed in, shoulder to shoulder, the space tight. After inserting the coin, the flash went off, blinding Hirose. He laughed, eyes squinting, unsure of how to pose. Nakamura’s awkward smile mirrored his, but Hirose didn’t mind.

He grabs the strip absentmindedly, a silly but sweet reminder of how things seemed to fall into place when Nakamura was around. He pockets it and moves on, the memory of the booth lingering in his mind.

It’s only much later, as they’re dropping Nakamura off and heading home, that he pulls the strip out to take a better look.

One of the pictures in the strip has Nakamura staring directly at him while Hirose's eyes are squinted from the blinding light, a look that felt like…

“You okay, Hirose?” Oomori asks, pulling Hirose out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, I'm fine…" His voice trails off, a bit softer than intended. His hand runs over the photos, and for a moment, he wonders if that little moment really did make things... right, like correcting his blunder earlier. 

He doesn't regret it either way though. 

𓇼 ⋆.° 🐙⋆.ೃ࿔*: 🦀⋆.° 𓇼

4. ‘Let small moments and shared silences reveal what words can’t.’

Nakamura sits at the table, his pencil in hand as he writes down notes. Hirose is sitting across from him, casually flipping through a textbook, though his attention slowly drifts from the pages in front of him. His gaze keeps drifting to Nakamura, watching the way his hair falls over his eyes. 

Hirose also notices the slight smudge of graphite along the side of Nakamura's hand as his palm drags across the page while he writes. One of those little quirks that he hasn't put much thought into before. 

Now, with his attention pulled toward it, he finds himself thinking about how natural it seems for Nakamura, the way his left hand works and the rhythm of his movements. It’s kind of endearing, despite it's… minuscule-ity

"Hey, Nakamura." Hirose shifts his weight, glancing at him before he pulls out his phone and taps on his playlist. 

He hesitates but then says, "Let's take a break for a bit.."

"Hm?"

"Listen to this with me," he says, holding out one earbud.  

Nakamura takes the earbud, his fingers brushing Hirose’s for a brief moment. He leans in a bit, letting the music play between them. It’s mostly Western music, songs Hirose has probably played a dozen times before… though every now and then, a random new track sneaks into the mix.

One of those new songs, in particular, catches their attention.

It’s in English, so neither of them can fully understand the lyrics. Hirose can tell Nakamura doesn’t have much of a preference when it comes to the music they’re listening to, but he seems to be absorbing this one quietly anyway, nodding slightly in time with the rhythm.

The melody is nice, and it fits the mood, so they let it play. Hirose doesn’t think much of it at first. It’s just something that popped up on his playlist. He can't tell if it's either Nakamura or him that's slightly humming to the music but the smile on Nakamura's face is there the same.

He shifts a little, unconsciously brushing his knee against Nakamura's and the touch feels like a surge of warmth radiating through him, a gentle burn or something.

The moment, however, is short-lived. Suddenly, the warmth vanishes in an instant when Hirose feels something... wet, and cold against his leg. He looks down, and what he sees is Incchan, Nakamura's octopus, crawling on his lap, its little tentacles brushing against his clothes. It’s not the usual kind of distraction, but it’s definitely unexpected. His eyes widen and Hirose jumps a bit, but the octopus doesn’t seem to care, its tiny suction cups still clinging to his wardrobe.

Nakamura, noticing the commotion, looks down with a start and quickly realizes what’s happening. “Ah!”

He immediately reaches over, carefully pulling the octopus off Hirose’s lap.

“Incchan…” he mutters, exasperated yet affectionate.

The octopus responds by planting a tentacle on Nakamura’s face, as if unfazed.

“I’m sorry about him…” he adds with a small sigh.

"It's alright!" Hirose says, his voice cracking a little. He gives a small cough, trying to cover it up. There’s a short pause, just the soft rustle of the octopus shifting in Nakamura’s hands.

“Can I.. uh, hold him?”

"Sure." Nakamura looks at him, a bit hesitant, before he hands Incchan over.

Hirose holds the small creature gently, feeling its little tentacles curl around his fingers. It’s strange, but kind of calming. It reminds him of when he held one for the first time in preparation for their cultural festival.

"I guess he likes you.." Nakamura says, voice softening before he takes his octopus back and watches Incchan settling back in the water gently. It's sweet how deeply he cares for certain things like aquatic life. Hirose wouldn't be surprised if he studied it after high school. 

Hirose exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Lucky me."

"Yeah, lucky you.." Hirose can't see his expression from where he's sitting so he pretends to read until Nakamura comes and goes back to writing. He catches the red on Nakamura’s ears. Probably embarrassment, though it wasn’t that big a deal.  

The moment was lost, and Hirose was left feeling a bit embarrassed but somehow grateful for the distraction, even if it wasn’t exactly what he had in mind.

𓇼 ⋆.° 🐙⋆.ೃ࿔*: 🦀⋆.° 𓇼

5. ‘Liking someone doesn’t mean anything has to happen. You just feel what you feel and they are just humans to see.’

Takeuchi had lucked into some hotpot deal (one of those limited-time discount things with enough people or something) and decided to make it a whole outing. Naturally, he brought Hamaoka, and Hamaoka brought her friends Kawamura and Masako. The group kept growing like that.

Hirose didn’t think too hard about who’d be there. He just liked the idea of hanging out.

When he found out Nakamura was coming, according to Kawamura, it caught him off guard.

Apparently, he’d said no at first. But something made him change his mind.

She didn’t say what.

But it still made him smile.

Nakamura showed up a little while later, just as they were getting settled. His hair was a little out of place, flattened in spots, slightly puffed in others like he’d just taken off a helmet. Which probably meant he biked over. 

He didn’t make a big entrance. Just gave a quiet nod, muttered a soft “hey,” and slid into the open seat next to Kawamura.

Around the table, Takeuchi and Mukai were already arguing. Something about the perfect dipping sauce to meat ratio. It wasn’t loud, just enough for Hirose to catch the gist as plates of sliced meat and vegetables circled the bubbling hotpot.

Hamaoka and Masako were chatting easily nearby, laughter bubbling here and there as one of them tipped the water pitcher to refill the other's cup.

Nakamura didn’t say much at first, quietly sipping his drink, gaze half-focused on the bubbling pot. But Kawamura nudged him into the rhythm, and soon they were talking about something Hirose didn’t quite catch. Whatever it was, Nakamura looked relaxed.

Hirose watched them chat a bit. He didn’t know Kawamura well, but she seemed sweet. Nakamura looked at ease with her. Laughing, even. It wasn’t loud or anything, just soft and low, caught under his breath like it almost got away.

Hirose blinked as it was something he realized he’d never heard before.

‘Not that it’s a big deal,’ Hirose told himself quickly, as if that could erase the thought. He hated how easily these things crept in. He wasn't the jealous type. He wasn't.

Oomori gave him a brief, quiet look, then shifted his attention back to the others. He seemed to try and diffuse a bit of the escalation between Takeuchi and Mukai, tossing out something neutral in tone.

Hirose shifted in his seat. ‘Focus,’ he thought, reaching for the grill. ‘It’s not that serious.’

He wasn’t really watching what he picked up.

The second it hit his tongue, he knew something was wrong. The texture was weird. Bouncy. Slippery. Something about it made his stomach recoil on instinct.

He nearly gagged, eyes wide, brain catching up too late.

He’d grabbed some of the horumonyaki by mistake.

The entrails.

He jerked forward with a cough, nearly knocking over his water. Hand clamped over his mouth, he grabbed a napkin and spat into it, trying to do it quietly but ending up louder than he meant to.

“I’m fine,” Hirose muttered, throat tight. “Water just… wrong pipe.”

No one says much, but it's clear they don't really buy the excuse.

Hirose muttered something vague like an ‘I’ll be right back.’

He didn’t look at anyone as he walked off, napkin still in hand.

His ears felt hot.

.

.

.

Hirose made his way back to the table after a trip to the bathroom, hoping to shake off the awkwardness. The warm haze of the hotpot lingered in the air, mixing with steam and quiet chatter. Someone had refilled his drink.

Kawamura was talking to Nakamura, leaning in close with a grin, and Nakamura, of all people, was blushing.

Hirose’s stomach gave an uncomfortable flip, but this time it wasn’t the food that was causing it.

Nakamura had told him before, when Hirose had asked about the person he liked, that they had…

It was a sweet description, but mind-numbingly vague. Almost everybody has brown eyes… At the time, Hirose thought it hadn’t told him anything, but now it felt different, like something he hadn’t really understood until this moment.

He knew why it bothered him. Nakamura had told him at this point he already had someone in mind, and Hirose wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe that Nakamura would tell him when the time was right, whoever it was. Whether they were a guy, a girl, or whoever else would make him happy.

Because that was all Hirose really cared about.

As long as Nakamura was happy, who he ended up with didn’t matter to Hirose. Sexuality wasn’t set in stone anyway. People change. Feelings shifted.

Nakamura should be with someone who makes him smile, someone who sees him the way Hirose does. That’s what mattered.

Nakamura, noticing his return, glanced over with a concerned look. "Are you feeling better?" he asked softly, his tone careful, but with a hint of genuine worry. He scooted over slightly, making room for Hirose to sit down.

He sat down and smiled but it felt stiff. "Yeah, I’m fine," he muttered. The unease hadn’t gone away, not completely. It clung to him, soft and lingering, like something half-formed that didn’t know where to settle.

He glanced over at Nakamura, who was still looking at him, concern etched gently across his face and eyes. ‘Kind and loving brown eyes.’ Hirose had thought that description was vague when he first heard it, barely helpful. But now, sitting here like this, it didn’t feel vague at all.

He takes long sips of his water, the cool liquid easing some of the tension.

After a while, Hirose glanced down and noticed his glass was almost full again. The pitcher hadn’t moved far, still sitting nearby.

He caught Nakamura’s eyes for a second before the other boy looked away, his fingertips slowly circling a faint mark on the table. A wet ring that shimmered slightly under the light.

Hirose’s ears felt just a bit warm again. But this time, he didn’t mind the heat.

𓇼 ⋆.° 🐙⋆.ೃ࿔*: 🦀⋆.° 𓇼

"You're still on that nutrition plan thing that Nio-Sensei made you try?"

"Yeah... I mean, it’s not as bad as I would've thought. I can’t believe you remembered." Nakamura winces slightly, cringing at the memory.

Hirose grins. He did have a good memory. Exceptional even. So exceptional, he probably couldn’t forget Nakamura if he tried. The guy was lodged so deep in the silvers of his brain at this point that he'd probably yank out some important organ trying to forget or dislodge him. "I'm glad it's working for you! Though, I wouldn’t put it past Nio-Sensei to throw in extra push-ups or something anyway."

"Maybe... but I guess it’s kinda helpful. Sometimes." Nakamura shrugs.

They're just walking to the vending machine to get drinks since this heat in the air is unbearable today, even for Hirose's standards.

They drop the coins in for their respective drinks (he got a soda and Nakamura got a tea) and before he flips the tab, an idea pops up.

"Oh, you have something on your face." It's a lie, a dumb lie. He just wants to hold his face.

"Hm?"

Hirose just doesn't say much as he puts his drink down and he grabs Nakamura's face. He doesn't move his fingers much, his palms on his jaw, staring at his face.

He tries to shift his facial expression into something more poker-like. Nevermind the heat he feels on his face, he will continue to try and look focused on finding that invisible something on his friend's (crush's) face.

Then he finds his eyes.

He can’t help but notice that Nakamura’s eyes are locked on him. He’s still and there’s something in his gaze. It’s not confusion or curiosity…it’s something else. Something.. he might recognize. Something that anchors Hirose in place. 

His pupils, usually hard to see unless you’re this close or the light hits just right, dilate a little. He still looks nervous, but it’s edged with something else. His face is warmer in Hirose's palms.

He leans into them, just a little. He doesn't seem to notice it.

Trying to keep his cool, Hirose tells himself he can manage this. But the longer the silence stretches, the more it starts to get to him. Nakamura hasn’t looked away, and there’s an unspoken tension between them.

He's somewhat glad Nakamura's lashes aren't super long, it makes it easier to see his dark eyes. The more he continues to stare, he wonders how monolids look when they crinkle with joy. He hasn't seen Nakamura smile that wide yet. He wants to change that soon.

“Nakamura?"

"Yes?" He leans into them further, his mouth hovering so close to the inside of Hirose’s palm that it’s impossible not to notice.

"You'v-" So close it almost looks like he might k—

Before he could finish, the bell rang, cutting him off.

Hirose felt his heart drop, frustration creeping in. But he quickly shook it off, trying to brush the moment aside. “...your face is really warm, um…here.” Hirose muttered quickly, and pressed his cold soda can into his cheek. "It might cool you."

Nakamura nodded slowly, leaning forward just a little as he did like his body was moving before he could think better of it. Then, as he straightened up, he blinked once, then again like he was only just now snapping out of something.

(Did.. his knees just buckle or something? This was new.)

He was red. Not the usual kind of pink that brushed his cheeks either, no, he was crimson. Crawling up to his ears, his face, and even his neck.

Nakamura’s mouth opened a little, like he was about to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, he reached for his tea, hands shaking slightly and even they looked flushed. His hands. Red. (This was also new.) 

He took a few big gulps like it could save him. (He definitely didn't need to drink it that fast.)

“Did you get it?” Nakamura asked, voice still shaky.

Hirose blinked.

Huh?

…Oh.

He nodded. “Yeah, it’s gone…”

“Thank you…” he says and it still sounded parched. Like the word scraped its way out. Like he hadn’t spoken in a while and wasn’t sure how it would land.

.

.

.

.

As they walk back, Hirose doesn’t say much. But his thoughts won't settle. 

Dilated pupils. Lingering stares.

Crimson cheeks. The way Nakamura blinked like he was waking up from a dream. How he drank his tea like it might put out a fire.

He didn't actually end up having the guts to say it out loud yet but he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe he didn’t need to. It wasn’t really much of anything he saw from those guides... 

Hirose felt it like a low hum in his chest.

It just felt…

Felt like warmth bleeding into his palm and a thud in his wrist, steady and alive.

Like eyes that didn’t look away.

Something he already knows the feeling of.

He still kinda hated that line: ‘if you know, you’ll know.’

Or, well… maybe ‘hated’ was too strong of a word now.

𓇼 ⋆.° 🐙⋆.ೃ࿔*: 🦀⋆.° 𓇼

So.. bad news. He knows he said that Nakamura was a bit quiet before but today is just.. a little too quiet. He seems out of it for whatever reason, his whole demeanor full-on distant… like his volume’s been turned all the way down.

He glances at him and can see him picking at his face, not really looking ahead a bunch of the time. His note-taking is sluggish too, slower than usual, like he’s lagging behind or just not fully engaged. It’s subtle, but Hirose notices.

He even contemplated passing notes and paper airplanes or something just to ask what was up without interrupting class but knowing their luck, they’d get caught and have to explain it all later. Not ideal.

During their lunch period while they eat outside, Hirose wants to bring it up. He’s chewing slowly, searching for the right words, when Nakamura suddenly speaks again, quieter this time.

"Um.. Do you think I look creepy or plain?"

Hirose blinks. “Huh?”

He just watches Nakamura for a moment and doesn't respond. Not immediately anyway. 

"What makes you say that?"

Hirose’s question hangs in the air, the chopsticks frozen in his hand for a moment. Nakamura doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he shifts a little, almost as if he's thinking about brushing it off, but then he picks at the strands of his hair, running his fingers through them absently.

He doesn't meet Hirose’s eyes, but there’s something in the way his shoulders slump, something that makes Hirose pause.

Hirose watches him, sensing that it’s more than just a passing thought. But Nakamura doesn’t offer more, instead pushing the awkwardness away by looking down at his lunch, picking at what's left of it without much enthusiasm.

His first instinct is to say, “Of course not, what are you talking about?” But that’d be dishonest.

Because the truth is, he has thought both.

When they first met, he didn’t really register Nakamura’s face. He didn’t remember much beyond the fact that he stepped on his handkerchief and awkwardly tried to give it back. That was it. Not his eyes. Not his voice. Just a small, weird moment with a classmate.

Then there was the time in art class, he’d looked at a corner in the room and caught Nakamura staring. It was... a lot. Intense. A little freaky, if he was being honest with himself.

When Nakamura stepped in to help him from those creeps, doused in that fake holy water that looked more like blood. He looked totally soaked, hair plastered down, eyes blank and wide. The others ran screaming. And Hirose couldn’t even blame them. (Even though he still appreciates what he did dearly)

Even when he finally saw him again outside the whole homeless costume thing for Tamura's play... he didn’t recognize him. The makeup wasn’t even that different. That stung in hindsight.

And Matsumura, he hadn’t thought much about it at the time, but now he remembers Nakamura’s quiet glances, almost like he was measuring something. Tight-lipped and assessing.

All those things made Nakamura seem a little odd to him back then. But now…

Now it just kind of breaks his heart.

Because the more he’s gotten to know Nakamura, the more everything settles into place. The stares didn’t feel weird anymore. They felt focused. Thoughtful.

He doesn’t seem creepy. He doesn’t seem plain.

He just seems like Nakamura. And Hirose kind of hates that it took him so long to figure that out.

He glances at Nakamura, who looks even quieter and sadder maybe. Crap.

Nakamura’s fingers are fidgeting, this time pulling at his own sleeve. “Nevermind, it's nothing. Um, just forge—”

"Not anymore." …Fuck. Why did that sound worse than he meant? Hirose’s heart drops, instantly regretting the words.

Nakamura doesn’t respond right away, eyes still avoiding Hirose’s.

“Wait, I didn’t—” Hirose starts, mind scrambling for a fix. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I don’t think you look weird at all.”

For a moment, the silence is deafening. Hirose feels like he might choke on his own words or the food. But he doesn’t look away. He can’t. This is important.

“It’s like… when you start to look at a piece of art, the more you look, the more you see all these little details that make up the whole picture. You’re not weird to me. Just a bit different, but in a way that makes sense after a while. I don’t know… I guess I don’t really care what other people think about it. Or about you.” His hands move as he talks, the chopsticks swirling in the air.

There’s a long pause, and for a second, Hirose wonders if he messed up.

But then Nakamura’s eyes flicker to him. Shiny, like they’re holding back unshed tears.

And in that brief glance, Hirose swears he sees something along the lines of hope and relief, tangled together so tightly they almost look the same. He feels it too.

"Thank you."

And somehow, those two words feels like all the words he needs to hear to erase any lingering doubt, leaving Hirose feeling like he’s said exactly what needed to be said.

"Of course."

Before he can say anything else, or even have time to pick up another bite from Nakamura's lunch—

WHAM.

A stray ball smacks Nakamura right in the face. His head jerks back, and his chopsticks almost go flying out of his hands.

From across the field, Hirose hears someone yell, “Shit! Sorry, man!” as a group of students (presumably, since he hears footsteps) rush over to grab the ball.

Nakamura groans, pressing a hand to his forehead and rubbing his nose. 

Hirose's brow furrows. "Are you okay?" he asks quickly, eyes scanning Nakamura’s face for any visible injuries. He sees the slight reddening in the middle of his face where the ball hit him and winces. "That looked like it hurt."

Nakamura exhales, pressing his fingers lightly against his sore nose, though he’s trying to play it off. "Yeah... I’m fine," he mutters, clearly not convinced himself. “I’m… ow...”

Was that blood?

"Are you sure?"

Nakamura nods, not very convincingly.

Hirose looks at him for a beat, unimpressed but still concerned (he's bleeding after all). “At the rate you’re going, I’m not sure you will be.”

Hirose offers his hand almost instantaneously, and Nakamura instead reaches for his sleeve, gripping it lightly as he pulls himself up. “Come on. Let’s go find the nurse.”

As they start walking, Hirose lets out a small sigh. If getting hit in the face was what it took to make Nakamura forget his own insecurities for a second, then at least it wasn't the worst trade in the world.

Although he'd really prefer if Nakamura’s nose wasn't bleeding because of it.

𓇼 ⋆.° 🐙⋆.ೃ࿔*: 🦀⋆.° 𓇼

They spent the afternoon together. The sun hung high above them, casting a warm glow as they strolled through the lively streets on their way to the zoo with Nakamura riding ahead on his bike. Hirose hopped on the back, the two of them squeezing together just a little close. 

By the time they made it to the zoo, the day had settled into a soft rhythm. They wandered past enclosures, pausing every now and then to watch the animals, exchanging idle thoughts or making small jokes.

It was the kind of day that felt perfectly comfortable, like a quiet shared secret, but as they were preparing to head home after the zoo, Hirose’s eyes caught a sign for an aquarium nearby.

Naturally, it would be their last stop.

The aquarium was alive with color and movement, the sound of bubbling water and soft, rhythmic splashes filling the space. Hirose found himself easily caught up in watching the swirling, vibrant fish drift lazily through the tanks.

But even with all that around him, it was Nakamura’s quiet presence at his side that kept tugging at his attention more than anything else.

Nakamura, clearly in his element, leaned in to admire the delicate creatures, his excitement bubbling beneath his calm demeanor. It made Hirose smile.

As they approached the octopi exhibit, Hirose absentmindedly slipped his hand into his pocket. His fingers brushed against the small, smooth surface of the crab keychain Nakamura had bought him a while ago from Yokohama.

Nakamura’s eyes lit up as he watched the octopus change colors, a look of awe on his face as he leaned in closer, clearly mesmerized by their graceful, ever-shifting patterns. And Hirose finally felt a surge of courage, but just as he was about to speak, a soft sigh escaped his lips instead, being drawn in by the octopi as well.

Nakamura shifted slightly, his gaze still fixed on the octopi, but there was something different in his expression. Hirose couldn’t quite place it but it felt like there was more in there than just his interest in marine life. Nakamura glanced at him, eyes bright. Hirose could feel it, like they were both on the edge of something, but the moment wasn’t quite there yet.

He absently twirled the crab keychain in his pocket, the tiny sound of the metal clinking against itself, grounding him.

It felt almost silly. His hands were occupied with something so small yet it was somehow the biggest thing on his mind right now. The moment was subtle but the weight of Nakamura’s quiet joy and the way the two of them were simply existing in this shared space made Hirose's thoughts wander. 

Then he spotted the octopus keychain he got Nakamura on his bag. Matching. It suits him. 

He clenches his own keychain with a smile and then lets it go.

It rests quietly in his pocket as he leans forward, his hand now free, eyes tracking the hypnotic sway of the jellyfish in the next tank. Their movements are slow and dreamlike, like something out of a lullaby. He lets himself get lost in it for a moment, the hush of the aquarium wrapping around him like a blanket.

Then,

A touch.

Fingers, tentative and long, brush the back of his hand.

Hirose looks down.

Nakamura, still facing the glass, doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t look at him. But his hand is there, gently slipping into Hirose’s like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

No big declarations. No dramatic music swell.

Just the quiet weight of someone choosing to hold his hand.

Hirose’s breath catches in his throat, eyes flicking between Nakamura’s blushing profile and their now-joined hands.

And then he smiles even wider.

𓇼 ⋆.° 🐙⋆.ೃ࿔*: 🦀⋆.° 𓇼

Hirose glanced over at Nakamura, who seemed a little distracted. “Hey,” Hirose said, nudging him gently. “You okay?”

Nakamura looked up, his expression a little softer than usual. “Yeah, Hirose. I'm fine, just... thinking.”

Hirose doesn’t quite remember how their lunch break turned into him absentmindedly playing with Nakamura’s fingers, but he’s not complaining. They’re nice hands. 

Tracing his hands, Hirose wonders how they would feel holding him, his face, his hair. Nakamura seems to be really gentle holding the things he cares for (like octopi). Maybe he'd hold him the same if the way his hands sometimes graze over his own are any indication.

Nakamura doesn’t seem to mind either. If anything, he looks kind of dazed, eyes seemingly half-lidded, watching Hirose trace over his knuckles. As if it doesn’t make his own ears go all pink. Like it doesn’t make Hirose himself feel weirdly light.

Good thing they're dating, Hirose thinks, a little helpless. Otherwise he'd probably keel over on the spot or something.

He looks at his features a bit, looking into the calmness in Nakamura’s expression. He's sort of caught up in it. Whenever he looks at him and Hirose catches him before he looks away, the expression he has makes his throat dry. He looks at Hirose like he never knew people like him were real. It’s mesmerizing the way he looks at him. It makes him gleam, like he'll crack and spew actual sunlight through the crevices.

Jeez, it's no wonder that Kawamura used to have a crush on him.

“...What?”

Nakamura looks at him, tilting his head slightly. His tone is light, but there’s a flicker of surprise in his expression.

Hirose hadn’t realized how long he’d been staring before blurting that out. He froze, caught between wanting to play it cool and feeling like he’d just been caught in a moment he wasn’t ready to explain. But no need to backtrack now, right?

Hirose swallows, feeling the words slip out a little faster than he expected. “I just mean… you're really easy to like, so it's not surprising."

Nakamura blinked at him, the hint of surprise still lingering in his gaze. But then he caught himself, letting out a breath through his nose, almost a quiet laugh. Whatever. It’s not like this was new territory. They’d been like this for a while now, close in a way that didn’t really need explaining.

And in that soft tone Nakamura always seemed to have around him, he just said "Thank you.."

The weight of the moment settles between them, quiet but warm. It lingers. Not awkward, just full.

Hirose clears his throat, the silence pressing gently at the edges. He shifts slightly, thumb brushing over Nakamura’s knuckle again.

“While I’m on the topic, actually…” he starts, voice light, casual. “There’s this guy I like. Kind of a lot, actually.”

It’s meant to be playful. Obvious, even. A little nudge in the ribs, not a grand confession.

Nakamura’s expression freezes for just a second like someone who just caught a whiff of something unpleasant. Hirose doesn’t catch it at first but when he looks up, he notices how Nakamura’s brows pinch together, his lips parting slightly.

Maybe it’s the way Nakamura shifts uncomfortably, or how he avoids meeting Hirose’s eyes, but something feels... off. There's something almost too still about the way he's holding himself, like he's bracing for impact.

Hirose hesitates. Maybe he should’ve been clearer.

“Anyone I might know?”

Hirose huffs a quiet laugh, but it comes out softer than he meant it to. “Maybe.”

Nakamura’s gaze flicks to his, unreadable. There’s a pause—tight, thin-edged.

Huh?

“Is it Otogiri-Sensei?” Nakamura asks, but it’s not the casual tone Hirose is used to. His voice is just a little too steady. There’s an odd flicker in his eyes, like Hirose’s words have somehow thrown him off balance.

Huh??

Hirose blinks, caught off guard. “What? No. God, no,” he says, with a soft laugh that doesn’t quite land. “Not anymore, at least.”

He tries to keep it light but there’s something stiff in Nakamura’s posture now, like he’s gone still from the inside out. Hirose keeps going.

“I guess I’m kinda thankful for that phase,” he says, voice quieter now. “If it wasn’t for that, I wouldn’t have figured out certain things about myself.”

His fingers curl into his sleeve. Release. There’s a weird tension in the air now—unspoken, tangled. Not cold, just… fragile.

Nakamura still won’t meet his eyes.

“I'm sure he's a great guy.”

Hirose tilts his head. “Huh?”

Nakamura offers a smile. Small. Soft. A little sad.

“If he makes you happy, then... I’m really glad.”

Hirose just stares at him.

Is he serious?

“You really think I’m talking about someone else?” Hirose asks quietly, a hint of disbelief creeping in.

Nakamura nods slowly, avoiding his gaze. “Well… I mean, it's got to be someone, right?”

Hirose blinks, lips parting with something half-formed. His thoughts race.

It was someone. Just… not someone else.

Either way, the silence between them feels heavier now. 

He exhales softly, a bit of exasperated fondness sneaking into his smile and his voice dipping with warmth and certainty.

“Well, you're right about one thing. He's a great guy.” He scoots closer, holding Nakamura’s gaze now, something soft in his eyes. “Do you want me to show you?”

He watches as Nakamura doesn’t respond right away, and for a split second, Hirose feels the knot in his stomach tighten. What if it’ll be too much? But then Nakamura blinks, his gaze wavering for a moment, and Hirose catches that brief hesitation, a soft tension in his posture. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s something there, unspoken. Hirose isn’t sure if it’s hope or uncertainty, but it’s definitely there as Nakamura nods.

Before Hirose thinks too hard about it, he presses a soft kiss against his fingers. It's quick and clumsy, the kind of kiss that barely counts as one.

Nakamura’s quiet for a moment, like he’s still processing what happened. His eyes are wide, glazed over as if he's not sure whether he’s awake or dreaming. His breath catches, and for a moment, he looks… lost. The quiet between them feels different now, heavier.

Hirose’s heart drops in his chest. Crap, maybe that wasn't the best idea… Maybe this wasn’t the best move, maybe he went too fast.

“Nakamura?” he asks, voice trembling. The name itself isn't foreign on his tongue but maybe saying something else might fit the tone better.

A few silent seconds pass, and then, slowly, Nakamura blinks again. His eyes are glossy, like he’s trying to blink away something that’s threatening to spill over. But instead of pulling away or being confused, he smiled, small and wobbly but with brilliance that rivals the suns', almost blinding. Although Hirose wouldn't mind going blind by looking.

His face is crimson enough to look sunburnt. He looks overwhelmed.

He also looks very very pretty full of joy. Relieved almost.

He just watches Nakamura, feeling like the world has tilted just slightly, and this time, it's okay. The way Nakamura smiles—so hesitant, so fragile, like he's still trying to make sense of it all—makes Hirose’s chest tighten again. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know if there’s anything that needs to be said. The world feels so full of possibilities in that moment, and yet so... quiet.

Nakamura looks at him in a strange calm mixed with a frantic sense of wanting to say more, but unsure of how. His eyes kept fluttering like Hirose's insides.

“I meant… you, you know.”

Nakamura opens his mouth to speak, his voice soft but intent. “Hirose, I—”

Before he can finish, Hirose blurts out, his words tumbling over each other in a rush, desperate to get it all out before he loses his nerve.

He rubs his fingers together like he’s cold, even though he’s not. Just a scratch at the edge of his thumbnail. Over and over. It's a miracle there's any skin left there.

"Nakamura, I—" No. "...Okuto." Ah, that's better. "I like you," 

It slips out before he can stop it, a little too naturally for something he’s never said out loud before. He says it once, but that’s probably enough for now.

Hirose figures he’ll just call him Okuto in his head a bunch before he can say it again. But it’s not where he plans to stay forever.

"I really do. Not just as a friend, though you’re an awesome friend but it’s more than that. You’re easy, in the best way. Easy to talk to. Easy to be around. You're smart, thoughtful... I like how you’re not just drawn to me because of some idea of who I am, or because of how you think I should be. I like that you actually see me, like, really see me, and still want to be around me. I like the way you get so passionate about octopi. You make everything feel a little lighter. I don’t know how to explain it but.. I just— it’s the easiest thing in the world to just be around you and I…"

He pauses for a second, his eyes flicking away before meeting Nakamura again. "I think about you a lot. I—" He shrugs, a little sheepish, but still sincere. "It just felt important that I say it out loud… especially since you apparently didn't already know. I guess I kind of get why people are so into romance. Not that it’s exactly how they describe it, but… being around you... it feels like... it’s like the colors were always there, but I can finally see them now. So…”

The words fall between them, like a breath held for too long. Hirose doesn’t know if he should keep talking or if he’s already said too much. His heart is racing, each beat echoing in his chest, but the world feels quieter now. As if, for a moment, the space between them has shifted and everything has grown more fragile, more real.

“...how'd you think I still liked someone else, dude? Have you really not known?”

Nakamura doesn’t immediately respond. His gaze doesn’t waver from Hirose, but he looks almost... embarrassed. Like he’s holding something back.

Finally, with that usual softness of his voice, he says, “...Well, I always hoped. I just didn’t want to assume.”

And that’s it. That tiny sentence. Hirose's eyes widen as the realization hits him like a cold splash of water. (Always?)

“For how long?”

“Since our first year. You just stood out to me.”

Hirose, though surprised, starts to laugh softly. “So, you're telling me I’ve been stuck with this crush on you for months, no, nearly a year probably, and you never thought I might’ve liked you back?”

A beat.

“And you liked me all this time?” He wasn’t still sure about love at first sight. But he guesses Nakamura never needed convincing.

Nakamura finally manages to find his voice, but it’s a little weaker than usual. "I’ve… I’ve liked you for a while now, but it’s not something I’ve been able to say out loud, not until now.” He pauses, his gaze dropping for a moment, like he’s trying to find the right words. “It’s not like you said anything either."

Hirose can’t help but grin, shaking his head. "Well, I thought it was pretty obvious.” He laughs again, a little breathless. “Or at least implied. I figured you might’ve liked me back at some point… just not this whole time.”

Nakamura frees their hands together and groans into his.

“Ah, you’re gonna be fine,” Hirose manages to pry his hands down, catching a glimpse of his face. He grins, probably way too pleased with himself. “C’mon, it’s not that bad.”

Nakamura huffs, but there’s a small, sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He doesn’t seem to know how to respond to that, so he just fidgets, hands folding and unfolding in his lap like he can’t figure out where to put them. The silence between them stretches a little longer, more comfortable than awkward.

He scoots a bit closer, his hand reaching hesitantly to brush against Hirose’s arm. It’s the kind of touch that’s almost too soft, like he’s still unsure if this is real, like he's afraid to fully believe that it is.

Hirose feels his chest tighten at the contact, warmth spreading through him. But he goes to hold Nakamura's hand in his despite how cold and clammy they probably are now. He instinctively leans into the touch just a little, as if reassuring Nakamura that this is real, that it’s okay.

They both lean in and their teeth clash, causing them both to pause and laugh softly. There's a bit of shy fumbling as they try to figure out the rhythm, faces very red. With a shared grin, they lean in again, this time slower, softer. 

And Hirose is buzzing through his skin, he's sure the other can feel it. It's stupid, bumbly and awkward but god is it cathartic. To finally kiss the guy he's liked for months, nearly a year now. His head is nearly dizzy with the thought that maybe he'll have plenty of chances to do this again, and again, and again, and again. 

When they pull away from each other, they're still a little breathless. 

Hirose speaks, his voice quieter now, almost shy, as if this is the first time he’s ever really allowed himself to say what’s been building up inside of him. "I guess this is my way of officially asking you if you would like to be my boyfriend?”

Nakamura nods quietly, still processing everything. “I would love that,” He says a little too quickly, his voice full of warmth, eyes brightening with that smile of his. 

Oh, that's how monolids crinkle.. What a thought. The silence stretches a bit longer, and Hirose just looks at him, noticing all the little things that have always been there, things that somehow seem even more important now.

With the way he's looking at him right now makes Hirose wanna kiss him again already. Words fail him right now but from the way Nakamura smiles bigger, maybe his face says all that needs to be said for the both of them.

𓇼 ⋆.° 🐙⋆.ೃ࿔*: 🦀⋆.° 𓇼

He doesn’t think much of it when he reaches out to steady himself, his hand goes naturally to Nakamura’s shoulder like it always does. But this time, Nakamura’s already turning to say something, and the light pressure knocks him off balance.

“Ah—!” Nakamura yelps, nearly tripping over his own feet before Hirose grabs his arm to keep him upright. They nearly stumble together but still able to stand, almost chest-to-chest.

“Crap, sorry!” Hirose laughs, still holding on. “Didn’t think I was that strong.”

Nakamura’s ears go bright red, looking anywhere but at him. Hirose watches him, thumb brushing over the crease of Nakamura’s sleeve like he’s smoothing something out. He should let go. He really should. But the warmth under his fingers is grounding.

It’s been a few weeks since they made things official. It shouldn't feel this fragile. But it does.

He lets go, reluctantly but his hand lingers a second longer than it should. And Nakamura definitely notices. So does he.

Hirose tries to sound offhand as he fiddles with the buttons on his uniform, pretending they suddenly need urgent attention. They don’t. 

“Hey, uh… wanna hang out after school?.”

He doesn’t say date out loud yet. The word feels heavy in his mouth. It’s not like they haven’t been alone together before, but things are different now. A little newer. Softer.

Nakamura doesn’t say anything at first, but then he nods. Quick, maybe a little too quick, like the answer was already ready in his mouth and he just didn’t trust himself to say it out loud. His ears are red again. Hirose catches it and bites back a grin.

That’s enough.

It’s strange. How something so familiar can feel completely new just because it has a name. The same glances, the same touches. They don’t mean anything different, exactly. They’ve always been there, but it feels more real now. Solid. Since they’re finally standing on the same page. 

They walk a few blocks like that, side by side, not really saying much. The silence isn’t awkward, though. It’s kind of nice. Comfortable. The kind of quiet that settles in when you don’t have to pretend.

They end up at the convenience store without really planning to and they don’t linger but Hirose catches Nakamura glancing at the snack aisle like he’s weighing the pros and cons of impulse-buying melon bread.

It’s all so... normal. It's not extravagant or showy. No big moment, no dramatic shift but it feels like more than hanging out somehow.

Nakamura glances at him, cheeks a little pink. “Um… is this a date?”

The question sits in his chest like a pebble dropped in water. Not heavy, exactly. Just... there. Making ripples.

He hadn’t really thought about it like that. Not in so many words. They’d just been walking. Just hanging out. But now that Nakamura says it, he can’t unhear it. 

Is this a date?

For some reason, it feels like one. Yet somehow, it doesn’t.

They’re not at a café, not sharing desserts or doing anything picture-perfect. Nothing traditionally romantic. Just convenience store lights, a glance toward melon bread, and the familiar space between them that’s starting to feel a little less uncertain.

It’s all so normal. But that’s exactly what makes it feel different.

With Hana, she’d just show up at times, dragging him into extra plans and spontaneous detours, no warning, no time to really prepare. Not that he would’ve minded exactly, but it didn’t leave much room for himself. While he understood that was just her way of showing she cared, it wasn’t really his style.

But he guesses some things really are just easier with boys.

Or rather, one boy.

Hirose blinks. His brain scrambles for something clever, but all that comes out is a small laugh.

“Yeah,” he says. “I guess it is.” Hirose smirks, nudging his shoulder. “Took us long enough to figure that out.”

Nakamura doesn’t say anything right away, but his smile, small and sheepish, says enough.

𓇼 ⋆.° 🐙⋆.ೃ࿔*: 🦀⋆.° 𓇼

"Nakamura?"

"Huh? Oh! ...Hey.”

"You ok?" Hirose stares down at him, scrawled out with his back on the grass and hidden behind a bush. It looks like he took a tumble off something, one leg tangled awkwardly with his uniform and sleeves stained with dirt and grass stains.

Not very comfortable looking.

“…Yeah. Just, uh… fell. I'm fine though.”

Hirose raises a brow but doesn’t push it. Instead, he offers a hand, and Nakamura takes it. He wants to chuckle and say ‘You sure? Looks like you just fought the ground and lost' but then again, that might be a bit much for his boyfriend.

He instead starts brushing the remaining debris off of Nakamura like it's nothing. 

"You’ve got, like... actual leaves in your hair," Hirose mutters, flicking a few away.

"Thanks," Nakamura says quietly, tugging at a stubborn one near his collar.

They walk off together to the station, some grass still clinging to Nakamura’s uniform as he tries, mostly in vain, to brush it all off.

They don’t say much on the way to the station. 

They ride in silence, the kind born of fried brains and overused highlighters. The train rocks gently beneath them, lulling in that post-study haze. 

The air grows still between them, the kind of stillness that happens when you’re too focused to speak or maybe too tired to try. It’s easy to slip into it, comfortable almost. Like time slows down just enough to let them both forget how drained they are.

But it resides in their bones now, a weight sunken into their marrow or something.

He’s tired, okay? They're cramming for college entrance exams and it’s racking their brains (Hirose’s most definitely). It’s been building for days. Weeks. That’s the excuse. So he leans. 

Hirose leans in, letting his head rest against Nakamura’s shoulder. His hands stay folded in his own lap, fingers fidgeting, thumb brushing over knuckles, picking lightly at the edge of his nail, slow and steady. His chin settles against Nakamura’s shoulder, and it’s fine. It’s chill. He likes how it feels.

Nakamura settles soon enough and doesn't shift away. Hirose lets his eyes fall half-closed, lets his body relax into the warmth beside him. The contact is steady. Solid. It seeps into his muscles, quiets his head.

Nakamura lets out this tiny laugh, nervous and flustered and Hirose’s heart does something familiar by now, curling in on itself. 

𓇼 ⋆.° 🐙⋆.ೃ࿔*: 🦀⋆.° 𓇼

The hallway isn't very packed but it still has its fair share of traffic, voices bouncing off the walls. Hirose’s barely squeezing through when he brushes shoulders with a taller guy who immediately scowls down at him.

“Watch it, shrimp. Lost or something?”

Hirose clicks his tongue, holding his ground. “Jeez, relax dude. Just move out of the way.” 

The guy steps in closer, like he’s enjoying the tension. “Or what? You're gonna stand on a chair and make me? How about you try asking nicely?”

Hirose presses his nails into his palm, chewing the inside of his cheek. He tells himself he’s not gonna say something impulsive, but the way he keeps picking at the rough patch of skin near his cuticle says otherwise. He opens his mouth to say something when—

Someone barrels down the hallway.

It’s Nakamura. Hair windblown, strap half-slipping off his shoulder, something vaguely occult-looking flapping from his sleeve (guess Aokiyama was still trying to recruit him). He’s speed walking, no, sprinting, like a man on a mission only he understands.

He zips past the two. In the rush, something slips from his half-zipped bag.

The taller guy steps back—then his foot lands wrong. He skids, flails, and barely catches himself against the wall. Then skids again before tripping and landing hard on his ass.

“Seriously?” he hisses, throwing a glare over his shoulder at no one in particular.

He straightens up quickly, brushing off his blazer like nothing happened, but there’s an awkward flush crawling up his neck. He mutters something under his breath and storms off, more annoyed than actually hurt.

Hirose blinks.

Down the hall, Nakamura’s already half-gone and he watches the last trace of him disappear around a corner.

“Hm.”

As the hallway clears, Hirose spots the thing that had slipped onto the floor. A manga, its cover slightly creased and definitely one he’s seen before.

Love Bento.

Maybe not the same volume, but definitely from the same series. The manga Nakamura claims he didn't (and still doesn't) read.

Hirose picks it up, fingers brushing the bent corner. For a second, he just stares at the cover. He glances down the hall where Nakamura disappeared, then back at the book.

Then, without a word, he turns on his heel and heads toward the staff office.

He hands it off to a teacher, who barely glances at the cover before slipping it into the lost and found box. Tucking it away like a small secret.

He shrugs to himself, letting the moment pass.

No teasing. No judgments

Just a quiet understanding.

.

.

.

The next day, as students shuffle out for lunch, Nakamura sidles up beside him.

“Hey,” he says, scratching his cheek a bit. “So, um… a friend of mine lost a book. Kinda important. You didn’t… happen to see anything lying around, did you?”

Hirose raises an eyebrow, still half-focused on his own manga. “What’d it look like?”

Nakamura hesitates. “Just… y’know. A book. Worn. Manga, I think.”

Hirose turns a page. “Why doesn’t your friend just buy another copy?”

Nakamura huffs, subdued and a bit flustered.. “They, uh… don’t really have the money for that right now. And it’s kind of… limited.”

That gets Hirose to glance up, just for a second, something faint flickering across his face. “Must’ve been something special, then.” He closes his manga with a quiet thwap.

Nakamura shrugs, not quite meeting his eye. “Maybe.”

Hirose doesn’t miss a beat but almost smirks behind the cover hiding his face. “Well, I did find a manga on the floor yesterday. It could still be in the lost and found if you check.”

Nakamura nods a little too quickly. “Right. Good idea.”

He turns like it’s nothing—too quickly, almost. Hirose watches him for a second longer. That was… fast. No questions, no surprise. Like he already knew exactly what it was.

Hirose shrugs. “Looked like something someone wouldn’t want to lose,” he calls out after him casually.

Nakamura pauses just a second too long. “I’m sure…”

His voice is even but there’s a faint stiffness to it like he’s working to keep it that way. 

Hirose catches the flush creeping up the back of his neck, just above the collar.

Nakamura walks off normally enough not to draw attention—but Hirose notices the way he speeds up a little once he thinks no one’s watching.

Yeah. Definitely his, Hirose thinks, but ultimately says nothing.

He just smirks, small, smug and knowing.

𓇼 ⋆.° 🐙⋆.ೃ࿔*: 🦀⋆.° 𓇼

Hirose expected Nakamura to be an awkward boyfriend. And well, he still is but he doesn't mind at all. 

They're laying on the bed while Hirose traces Nakamura's closed monolids with his fingertips and it's more soothing than he thought. He sees from his drowsy expression that Nakamura will probably sleep soon at the rate he's going and seeing his face relaxed makes Hirose’s heart flutter.

"Are you just gonna keep staring at my face, Aiki?"

He liked the way his name sounded coming from him. It might be mushy (and he does NOT care), but the warmth in it could drown him if love could fill a body of water. Ironic, considering the meaning of his name or the way it’s written in kanji.

“Mm.” Hirose hums, fingers trailing down to his hand, lacing their fingers together instead. “Yeah, why do you ask?"

"Hm..." Nakamura doesn't reply but his voice is soft, and Hirose feels the slight pressure as his hand squeezes his.

"You falling asleep on me, Okuto?" It felt right, the way the word "Okuto" hung on the tip of his tongue.

"Mhm.." Hirose can hear Nakamura's breath evening out, his body slowly relaxing against him.

Hirose’s other hand moves up, fingers gently ruffling through the hair at the back of Nakamura’s neck. He means it to be playful. Really. Just a quick ruffle because Nakamura's hair looked all matted for whatever reason. 

But when his fingers catch in his hair, he pauses. It's soft. Softer than he thought.

The motion slows, almost instinctive now, like he’s committing the texture to memory. Nakamura shifts slightly under the touch, just enough that Hirose feels it. The way his shoulders drop, the tiny breath he lets out. A quiet sigh, easy and content.

A small smile tugs at his lips as Hirose smooths the hair down again. Once. Twice. Three times.

"...I like this," Nakamura murmurs, already half-asleep.

Oh. Right. He hasn’t said anything in five whole seconds.

"Me too." Hirose murmurs, feeling the warmth of Nakamura’s hand in one of his and the smoothness from his hair in the other.

Nakamura sleeps in his hands.

And Hirose smiles, now knowing that he won't slip through them.

𓇼 ⋆.° 🐙⋆.ೃ࿔*: 🦀⋆.° 𓇼

They’ve gone on plenty of dates now at this point. The movies where their hands brushed and didn’t move away. The beach day where Nakamura got stuck in the sand and pretended it was fine until a crab pinched his nose.

The water gun fight they had with the rest of their friends that ended with them both drenched and grimacing but still gleaming in weal.

The day he won a big octopus plush that's currently sitting on the bed now. The one they're laying on now.

They don’t bicker much at all but when they do, it’s petty stuff, like Hirose flinging insects out with his hands (he washes them after!) or Nakamura accidentally deleting his saved game data. It never lasts that long though.

“You know, for your birthday, you should’ve let me give you something more,” he said, a little sheepish. “I feel like I didn’t do enough, heh.”

“Spending the day with you was enough of a present, Aiki.”

Hirose smiled softly, feeling warmth spread through him. “I guess that’s fair,” he murmured, the simplicity of it all making him content. (Nakamura seems to have a habit of making that happen to him frequently.)

Nakamura feels warm against him, tucked under Hirose’s arm as they sit together quiet, close, and warm. And then he notices Nakamura’s nose twitch, just slightly.

At first, Hirose thinks nothing of it. Nakamura shifts a little closer, subtly.

Or, well… what Nakamura probably thinks is subtle.

With his nose almost brushing the fabric, it clicks. His head dips the tiniest bit, angling toward Hirose’s shoulder like he’s adjusting his position, but Hirose feels it. Feels him leaning in and softly inhaling.

Hirose glances, amused. There’s a faint, clean scent of detergent clinging to his hoodie. It’s nothing special. Just a hoodie. But when he sees the slightly guilty look flicker across Nakamura’s face, he can’t help the small smirk that forms.

"Are you trying to sniff my hoodie, Okuto?" he teases lightly, his gaze softening with an amused glint.

Nakamura goes quiet again, probably hoping Hirose will drop it. And maybe he should. But it lingers in Hirose’s chest—that familiar warm feeling. The idea that someone might find comfort in something as small and dumb as the way his hoodie smells.

Honestly? He kind of likes it.

“I don't mind, ya know.”

Nakamura blinks like he wasn’t expecting Hirose to actually say it. But Hirose means it.

Instead of saying anything more, Hirose just lets his arm tighten slightly around Nakamura and kisses his cheek, letting the moment settle between them. They’re quiet for a few beats.

A little smile tugs at Nakamura’s lips, his eyes still a little wide from the surprise, and he shifts slightly closer, resting his head on top of Hirose’s.

After a while, with Nakamura warm under his arm and the soft weight of the moment settled around them, Hirose’s thoughts drift.

It’s his birthday, after all. And somewhere in the back of his head, there’s that tiny, creeping thought—is there supposed to be something more? Like, something extra. A kiss that lingers. Something that makes it feel like a next step.

Not that he minds the idea. Just… he’s never really been in a rush. Never felt that need the way people always seem to talk about. That ache, that urgency. But he’d thought… if it’s Okuto, maybe it'd be okay.

He leans in and presses a soft kiss behind Nakamura’s ear. It’s tentative. 

And Nakamura shivers a bit, although he doesn’t move away. If anything, his shoulders melt just a little.

“Hey, are you cold?” Hirose asks, trying to sound casual.

“N—No..”

“Are you sure? I don't mind giving my hoodie if you are.” 

“Yeah yeah, I'm fine,” Nakamura blurts out, still struggling to make sense of what just happened. “Just a little surprised is all.”

Hirose grins, bright and easy. “Okay, cool! I don’t wanna scare ya too much.”

Hirose shifts, just a bit closer. Testing the space. Testing himself.

He leans down again, slower this time, and brushes his lips against the side of Nakamura’s neck. It's less of a test, more of a... step. The next thing. That's what people normally do when they’re together for this long. Right?

This is how it’s supposed to go, isn’t it? Moments like this. Touches that linger. A kiss behind the ear, then one on the neck. And maybe more, if it’s with someone you really like. And he does like Nakamura. A lot.

It’s not even bad. It’s actually kind of nice. Especially because it’s Nakamura.

But still, there’s a quiet voice in the back of his mind, unsure. Like he’s following a script he never fully studied for. Like he’s doing it right but isn’t sure he wants the whole scene. Not yet. Maybe. He doesn’t know.

Nakamura exhales, a shaky breath that gets caught somewhere in his throat like he’s trying to keep up but is just… 

“...Was that too much?” Hirose asks again, quieter now.

Nakamura nods, then shakes his head, then kind of does both at once. 

His breath stutters, like he’s trying to catch it before it runs off without him. “No, just...No, I’m fine,” Nakamura adds quickly, but his voice has softened, almost shy. He looks away briefly, his gaze distant, a little hazy. “It’s just… a lot to take in at once, you know?”

He feels the tension coil and uncoil beneath his hand, Nakamura’s stomach curl in on itself through his arm like air was sucked out of it. Not from fear, exactly. More like… too many signals at once. Like his system’s on overload. 

Hirose stays quiet for a moment, reading the shift in Nakamura’s posture. “I don’t want to push you,” he murmurs, a gentle reassurance, squeezing his boyfriend’s shoulder lightly.

“Thanks,” Nakamura says, eyes flicking down. “I really do like it but, um…”

“Not yet?” Hirose offers, voice more gentle now. A thread of relief woven in. Like he’s grateful for the out too.

Nakamura lets out a slow breath, as if grounding himself again. “I’m just not sure if I could handle all of this at once right now.”

Hirose grins, and it’s softer this time. “That’s perfectly fine, Naka. Honestly, I'm not sure either.”

He bumps their shoulders together, light and easy.

Nakamura just smiles.

They stay like that for a moment. Close, but settled. The air feels a little warmer now, like it’s holding them gently in place

“…Is this okay right now though?” Hirose asks, his voice even softer now. “Me holding you like this?”

Nakamura nods almost immediately, eyes a little watery when Hirose glances up at him—not from sadness, but something more fragile. Like the moment cracked something open in him. Something careful. 

“More than okay.”

His gaze is wide and warm. And he’s smiling.

Like when Hirose asked him out.

“I love you.”

He holds Nakamura a bit tighter for that comment.

“I love you too.”

Nakamura was a strangely fascinating guy for sure, one that he's proud to call his boyfriend.

.

.

.

It’s late.

The kind where everything feels a little softer, like the world’s been turned down a few notches.

He’s just trying to clear a few things off his phone before he goes to sleep. Set his alarm, delete some stuff for storage, something small.

He scrolls through old files he made back in high school, long forgotten, and deletes a few. He won’t need those anymore.

Then his eyes catch an old file title: Make Your Move, Dude!

He pauses.

He taps it open, looking through all the tips he took note of. Not bad advice, of course. But there’s something kind of comforting about knowing he didn’t need it in the first place.

Or at least, not the way he thought he would.

Everything he thought he needed to plan out—the steps, the gestures, the cues—ended up happening but they never exactly went to ‘plan’. But it did form other moments. Quietly. Naturally.

He didn’t have to win Nakamura over.

Turns out, he already had.

All he had to do was show up.

He smiles faintly. He won't need it anymore. 

Before he can press delete, Nakamura rustles beside him, shifting closer in his sleep. Just barely. Like he’s meant to be there.

Hirose glances over once more. Watches the way Nakamura’s hand curls near his chest, how his face softens in sleep.

His thumb presses the delete button.

The screen clears.

He places his phone face down on the nightstand beside him.

He guesses that sometimes the move you think you have to make… was already made for you all along. Some part of you might've already known. All that was left to do was to notice it.

And with that, he finally lets himself drift off in Okuto's arms.

𓇼 ⋆.° 🐙⋆.ೃ࿔*: 🦀⋆.° 𓇼