#sarumi fest

[ridiasfangirlings]

Title: Windows

Fandom: K Project

External: AO3

Pairings: Sarumi

Ratings/Warnings: T

Summary: Between them there was a window, and Fushimi would never reach through it on his own. Not yet, at least.

Notes: I wanted to get something written for Resurrection Fest, so have a little fic.

Frost curled along the edges of the window and Fushimi couldn’t quite see his reflection.

His breath came out in small clouds that hung in the air, snow settling on his shoulders, on the sleeves of his coat, and his cheeks were red. His fingers were frozen to the tips, no mittens—he’d lost them, maybe, or ‘that man’ had hidden them somewhere out of reach, it all came out the same in the end. The sky was a soft wave of navy, the stars just coming out and a hint of the moon above, covered by the clouds of winter. Around him people walked, flashes of brightly colored coats that blurred in the hazy surface of the window, and he couldn’t make out their faces. Unimpressive people talking about unimportant things, and no one stopped to ask what a six year old boy was doing out at this hour all alone in the middle of the city.

“We’re going Christmas shopping!” That man had proclaimed it proudly as he stepped into the house like a whirlwind, grabbing Fushimi by the wrist and eagerly dragging him out the door. Fushimi had barely managed to grab his coat and he didn’t doubt that Niki would have taken him outside barefoot if he hadn’t left a spare pair of shoes so close to the door.

He didn’t know what he’d expected, really. Maybe that Niki would shove him face first in the snow and laugh that he’d made a snow monkey, or wrapping Fushimi up in Christmas lights and putting a star on his head while singing about the Christmas Monkey Tree. It wasn’t particularly a surprise when he’d suddenly realized that he was in the middle of the city Christmas market and no one was holding his hand. Niki had likely already gone home to set some traps and was waiting to see if his son could navigate the way back all alone.

Fushimi didn’t want to go back.

He breathed warm air onto the window, letting it melt a clear circle through the frost. He touched it with a finger, scowling at the feeling of cold and wet, and traced the hazy line of his own reflection. Beneath his glasses he thought maybe he could see that man’s face and he lowered his head to let his chin dip into the collar of his coat. The snowflakes melted on his glasses and made spots in his vision. In the half light there was a reflection he didn’t want to see and he tried to look past it, through the glass where he didn’t have to meet his own eyes.

There were warm colored lights bobbing happily on the other side of the window. The frost made it hard to see anything but he could make out figures moving inside and the faintest hint of a Christmas carol being sung. There was one shadow smaller than the others, a figure shaped like a child, and another figure who placed a soft hand on the child’s shoulder. It was late so maybe they’d been out shopping, like a normal family. Maybe they’d held hands as they walked through the market, maybe the child had picked out a toy and they’d walked side by side on the way back home, and prepared a warm dinner for a frigid night.

Fushimi didn’t want to go back.

Someone shifted on the other side of the window, moving towards him, and Fushimi lowered his eyes and walked away. His fingers were red at the tips and he clicked his tongue quietly.

There was no point in looking at things he wouldn’t be able to grasp, and it was stupid to even bother.

--

The subway was nearly empty now, so late the evening after Christmas. All but the most dedicated of salarymen were still on vacation after all, sleeping off the holiday. For Fushimi, that was good. It meant no one even looked up as he stepped on the train and he was able to weave his way through the minimal crowd to find himself a lonely car and a seat by the window. As soon as he was alone Fushimi pulled the PDA from his pocket and opened up the jungle app.

His old jungle account was still active, as he had been promised so long ago, and the green light reflected in his eyes. A previous passenger had cracked open the window behind him and cold wind danced around his face, biting at his cheeks as he scrolled through the mission list. He was cold, but didn’t feel like moving to close the window.

There were plenty of likely missions, even today. Especially today, all things considered. From Hisui Nagare’s point of view Fushimi supposed it must be even more like a holiday. A birthday, of sorts. The mission Fushimi had chosen for his first had a large amount of available points and no takers, he only needed to make his way across town first to complete it in the dead of night.

Fushimi leaned his head back against the seat, mind working. Everyone started at E rank. He had two months – no, probably a month, maybe not even that – to reach J rank. If he failed, everything failed. If he succeeded...well, he probably wouldn’t live to see that either way. Fushimi smiled thinly as the train lurched to life, setting the PDA face down against the seat cushions. There wasn’t a point in thinking about that right now.

The subway moved into a tunnel and the window across from him showed his reflection against the darkness of the tunnel outside. He looked worn thin already, skin bone-white, back hunched, shadows under his eyes. He hadn’t eaten anything since leaving Scepter 4 besides a couple bars of Caloriemate and multiple cans of coffee, and the caffeine was the only thing keeping him awake and alert at this point. It was enough.

He ran a hand through his hair and watched the reflection in the window do the same. This would be his first mission for jungle. In a way it was more the beginning of the mission than even leaving Scepter 4 had been. He couldn’t turn back after this and he would have nowhere to run if things got bad. There would be no hero to save him.

(Not that he expected one, because Fushimi had never believed in heroes.)

(“Come chase me.”)

“Stupid.” Fushimi spat the word out low through gritted teeth. He didn’t expect Misaki to understand the import of those words – he didn’t even entirely understand them himself, why he’d bothered to say them. Why he hadn’t just disappeared into the night like smoke and let Yata draw his own conclusions when Scepter 4 inevitably broke the news of his betrayal to their erstwhile ‘comrades.’ Yata would yell and bluster like always and there would be no worrying about the final words that had been thrown his way, that had not been meant as a request or plea. Yata wouldn’t stop for a single breath to consider those words and to wonder what they had meant, to try and understand. Yata had long since stopped trying to do that, after all.

(Wasn’t that why he’d left the first time anyway, another long drive away from the place that had once been home, and that was when he’d learned never to be so weak as to think of any place as being ‘home’ ever again.)

The reflection in the window wavered, rippling like water. Fushimi’s vision felt blurry as he stared at it, trying to focus on the other side of the window that he couldn’t reach, the pane of glass between him and the world. In that image there was a person beside him, head against his shoulder, lightly asleep. Red hair fell against a tanned forehead, earbud falling out of one ear. They were two, in rumpled school uniforms, tired from a long day of walking to nowhere, talking about anything. Yata always fell asleep first even though he said he wasn’t tired, eyes drooping despite the noise of the train around them. Yata who would press his face against Fushimi’s shoulder, mouth slightly open, breathing softly.

And Fushimi there, unmoving. The reflection sat stock-still, as if afraid to move, as if a single twitch would break the spell, and Yata would wake and run away. A reflection of a memory, of a habit that had once been easy as breathing – side by side on the train on a winter night, a single frozen moment captured in the cage of the window, of a time Fushimi had once dared to wish would go on forever.

The image flickered and died as the train exited the tunnel and the bright lights of the city sliced through the reflection in the window, and Yata wasn’t there anymore.

Once again, only Fushimi staring at his own reflection, once again alone.

Fushimi’s PDA buzzed and he started slightly, shaken as if from a dream. Even as his fingers fumbled for it he looked to one side, as if he could still see the phantom of that reflection there in the flesh, as if he had somehow managed in that space between breaths to reach through the window and pull back the past that had long slipped from his grip. Dimly he remembered standing in the rain reaching for a sword and the hand he’d seen for only just a moment reaching beside him at the same time.

The memory made his expression twist and Fushimi deliberately let it fall from his mind as he opened his PDA and read the updated mission report sent from jungle. This was the important thing, the mission. He had a job to do, he had a use that he had to fulfill. Dreaming about the past was pointless, reaching for things beyond the glass was pointless.

He bought another can of coffee as soon as he left the train and drank it all in a single gulp, even though it made his throat feel tight and his chest ache. It was enough to wake him up anyway, and he headed out into the snow to complete his mission.

---

“Misaki, stay where I can see you!”

“Right, mom!” Yata responded in the affirmative but didn’t particularly slow his pace as he wandered around the shrine. His mom was busy keeping an eye on his siblings anyway, holding Megumi tightly by the hand so she didn’t wander off in her small kimono. His parents and siblings had dressed up for the first shrine visit of the year but Yata had decided not to, wearing a hoodie and sneakers instead. Dressing up was really for kids when you thought about it, kids and old people, and he was more of a grown up but not that grown up. Anyway, if they were going to be walking a lot wearing his sneakers just made sense, didn’t it?

Yata sighed and blew out a puff of breath, pretending to be a smoke dragon in the cold air. New Year’s wasn’t too bad – he’d gotten some money, so he and Saruhiko could go to the arcade the next time they had a chance, and he could buy his own snacks too. He still felt on edge though and a little gloomy, unlike himself. It was just that this time of year was always so heavy on family and it always made him feel a little like everything going on was for people besides him.

Yata glanced back at his mother, who smiled at him in a distracted way as she straightened Megumi’s clothes. Minoru was with Yata’s stepdad, pointing at one of the statues by the shrine steps and chatting about something Yata couldn’t hear. Neither of his parents seemed likely to move any time soon so Yata kept walking, hands in pockets, wandering inside the nearest shrine building. There were a few people inside, talking quietly and lighting some kind of incense that made Yata’s nose tickle. He couldn’t swallow a sneeze and took a few steps back as the adults turned to glare at him.

Anyone’s allowed in here, I can be here too, he thought peevishly. Even so Yata backed his way over to the wall, staring out the large circular window. The shrine was overlooking the stairs they had walked up earlier and Yata stared down at all the people going by below him, most dressed in traditional clothes and making their way from shrine to shrine.

Somehow that just made his melancholy sit deeper. All those families wandering together in a sea of bright colors below him, all belonging. Yata wondered if maybe he should have agreed to dress up after all.

Something caught his eye and Yata stood up straighter as he spotted a single slim figure walking alone, a lone shadow in that bright crowd, head down and even without being able to see it clearly Yata could guess at the gloomy expression that must be on that person’s face. He glanced briefly back at the adults behind him and then gave a quiet ‘okay!’ as he placed a hand on the lower curve of the window and in a single jump hoisted himself right through.

“Misaki!” He was pretty sure he heard his mother yell his name again but Yata ignored it, dashing down the shrine steps as fast as he could go. Multiple people climbing the stairs glared at him as he pushed his way by but Yata didn’t mind them, not when he had a more important goal.

A few steps from the bottom his unlaced shoes finally betrayed him and Yata tumbled down, landing roughly right at the feet of the exact person he’d be running so hard to catch up to.

“Saruhiko!” Yata ignored the stinging of his skinned knee as he sat up. Fushimi stared flatly back at him, as if Yata was a magician who had failed spectacularly on his last trick.

“Misaki.”

“What are you doing here? My mom made us visit a shrine for the new year. Well, I’m not very interested in that kind of thing, but Minoru and Megumi like it, you know? And we’re going to have yakisoba later too at home. It’s been really boring though, I haven’t seen you since the holiday and you barely answer your PDA.” Yata laughed nervously as he got to his feet, aware that his mouth was getting away from him. Fushimi shrugged languidly.

“I haven’t had time to check my messages.” There was something beneath Fushimi’s tone that Yata couldn’t entirely place but recognized nonetheless– a dark thing that was so often lurking beneath the still waters of Fushimi’ s gaze, and whenever Yata tried to grasp it he felt like he was approaching something dangerous and predatory.

“It’s fine, it’s fine!” Yata grinned at him. “Anyway, were you visiting the shrine?” The words had just slipped out of his mouth when he noticed it, the backpack on Saruhiko’s back.

“That is…” Fushimi looked away, somewhat awkward. “An internet cafe—”

“Right.” Yata let that sink in, and then shook it off like a duck shaking off water. “Anyway, if you’re not doing anything then come with us! Mom’ll definitely have plenty of yakisoba, I’ll bet we’d have extra without you and anyway! You barely eat anything as it is, so I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Sure it’ll be fine,” Fushimi repeated with a snort. “You haven’t even asked her.”

“Trust me, okay? I’m great at negotiating, Mom will definitely be convinced if I ask!”

Fushimi clicked his tongue again but didn’t seem like he was opposed to Yata trying, so Yata smiled and waved a hand at him.

“Come on! We’ll go ask.”

“Misaki…”

“Hmm?” Yata glanced back at Fushimi, who was looking up at the shrine with an inscrutable expression.

“Your parents are up there, but you came running down this quickly?”

“Well...I saw you through the window.” Yata laughed sheepishly. “I kinda...jumped out?”

“Idiot.” Fushimi shook his head but there was a ghost of a smile on his lips and Yata brightened immediately, reaching for Fushimi’s hand.

“It’s fine! I had to catch you, right? So let’s go!”

--

There was a gray haze settling over the city as Yata lazily propelled his skateboard down the street, moving slowly to avoid running into any of the crowds still milling about.

It was the new year, and despite the poor weather and late time there were still people wandering around near the shrines, making their new year’s wishes and celebrating in small groups. Yata found himself idly staring at the people as he passed and then quickly looked down at his feet, moving slightly faster as he made his way towards Bar Homra.

It had been a week now, since anyone had heard from Saruhiko.

Yata was trying not to be worried. Why should he be? Saruhiko wasn’t his friend anymore, wasn’t his comrade. He was Scepter 4’s problem now and beyond the tentative alliance between the clans there was really no need for Yata to be concerned about where he went or what he did.

Even so it was hard not to think about it. A whole week, and not a single sign of him. Yata knew better than anyone else that Saruhiko had nowhere else to go if he wasn’t at Scepter 4. He definitely wouldn’t have gone back ‘home’-- not that that place had ever been a home, and Yata dimly recalled Fushimi having mentioned once when they were still roommates that his old place had been sold anyway – and if he wasn’t with any of his coworkers there really wasn’t anyone else he could call on.

(He could have called me, and Yata couldn’t stop thinking about it. If Fushimi had called, would he have answered? Had he missed that last small window before things broke apart completely and he didn’t even realize it until it was too late?)

He slowed his skateboard as a group of revelers came down the steep steps of the shrine, standing awkwardly to one side as they passed. They were chatting quietly, smiling and discussing new year’s wishes, and Yata felt another pang in his chest. His fingers brushed against the face of his watch and he didn’t need to look to know that there hadn’t been a single answer to the messages he’d sent days ago.

‘Making a wish at New Year’s, that can’t hurt at all you know.’ A voice in his head that sounded distinctly like Totsuka whispered, and Yata found himself picking up his skateboard and walking towards the temple. A few people glanced at him as he passed – most of the people here were dressed traditionally, as opposed to Yata’s hoodie and sneakers, and he was carrying around a skateboard – and Yata ignored them. A group of kids had circled around a man selling charms and several girls were eagerly exchanging fortunes, and Yata carefully stepped past them towards the shrine itself. There weren’t as may people here but he still felt out of place, as if everyone here had more of a right to be making wishes than he did – it wasn’t like Yata had really believed in this stuff, not in a long time. He’d made wishes and bought fortunes with everyone else when Totsuka took all of Homra out to the shrines on New Year’s, but he’d always just seen it as going through the motions, not something you took seriously. But now, standing here with a sincere wish, Yata felt like an imposter who had slipped inside when no one was looking. He leaned against one of the open circular windows instead, taking a deep breath of cold evening air, and wondered if he should just get going back to the bar the way he was supposed to be. His eyes swept the crowd outside, noting the way it had just started to snow again.

As his eyes rested momentarily on the girls and their fortunes Yata spotted the briefest flash of green.

Something about it made him stop, his breath catching, and he was about to lean out the window before he checked himself.

What are you even doing, stupid? Yata didn’t know why he’d frozen, what it was he thought he’d seen. It couldn’t have been who he thought it was. Did Saruhiko even own anything green?

(A memory, bubbling up from the depths of his mind:

“You can’t buy that one, Saruhiko! It’s green!”

A tongue click, familiar annoyance.

“I didn’t know you were a fashion critic now, Misaki.”

“W-well, no, but...shouldn’t it be red?” Not like Yata didn’t have other colors in his wardrobe too, but he’d

started having the vague feeling that, as a member of the Red clan, he should be wearing more red. Saruhiko didn’t seem to agree, face twisting in displeasure, a look that suddenly reminded Yata of the expression Fushimi had made when Yata had shown him the new Homra logo he’d placed on his skateboard.

“I’m buying this one.”

“Okay, okay, maybe it’s fine if it’s green – but why the fuck is there fur on it?”

“It’s warm, Misaki. Not all of us are hot-blooded idiots who don’t need to wear coats even in the winter.”

“It’s girly.”

“I’m not buying it for you.” On the contrary, Yata was pretty sure Saruhiko had bought it just to annoy him, because Yata had made a comment about the color, especially when Fushimi insisted on wearing it the next time they went out with the rest of Homra, Fushimi in his stupid green coat standing apart from everyone else.)

Had it been that coat? It was late. His eyes could have been playing tricks on him, making him see things in the fog that weren’t really there. And even if it had been Saruhiko it was too late anyway – what was he supposed to do, jump through the window and chase him down?

(You did, once.)

Saruhiko didn’t want to see him anyway. Fushimi hadn’t answered a single call or text that Yata had sent his way. Even if Yata had run after him, what would he have said? Would Fushimi have even listened? That guy never listened to anything he didn’t want to hear, Yata knew that better than anyone.

Even so, there was a tightness in his chest as Yata turned back towards the shrine, swallowing down a wish, and hoping that half-seen flash of green wouldn’t haunt him later.

--

Fushimi walked slowly through the back alleys, hands stuffed in his pockets. His stomach grumbled and he ignored it, clicking his tongue quietly.

His PDA vibrated softly, making him aware of a new message, and he pulled it out to check. Misaki, as expected.

[You’re late, Saruhiko! Kamamoto’s gonna eat everything if you don’t get here soon, so hurry up!]

Fushimi clicked his tongue again, scowling. As if he wanted to go eat with everyone anyway.

He hadn’t gone on the mission with the rest. Instead Kusanagi had asked him to go talk to a supplier across town, someone who handled deliveries for one of Kusanagi’s many businesses. There were things happening with a rival gang and Kusanagi didn’t feel comfortable leaving Yata and company to it alone — and Fushimi wouldn’t have either, though he didn’t really want to go with them himself — so he’d asked Fushimi to meet with the supplier instead. By the time Fushimi had returned to the bar it was empty, a note on the counter for him and his phone buzzing with missed messages from Misaki.

[Kusanagi-san said he’d treat us all to hot pot for kicking those guys asses! Mikoto-san is coming too, so hurry up and get over here, Saruhiko]

[Hey, did you see my message? We’re gonna eat without you, are you coming?]

[Kusanagi-san said he left the address for you at the bar. You’re gonna miss all the fun! You better not be hiding at home again]

Stupid. Fushimi grimaced and stuffed the PDA back in his pocket. Like he wanted to spend time with all those idiots anyway. And he doubted they wanted to spend any time with him, for that matter — he was the only one who’d been singled out not to go on the mission, after all. Kusanagi had said something about Fushimi being a ‘trustworthy kid’ but who knew what he was insinuating with that. That he could only trust Fushimi with numbers, maybe, or to work on his own instead of with the group.

And that was fine, being on his own. He’d always been able to do things on his own. It was stupid Misaki who kept waving his pride around and yelling ‘everyone, everyone,’ saying pointless things about spending time with their ‘comrades.’

Misaki’s comrades, maybe. Not Fushimi’s.

The streets got lighter as he stepped out into a busier area of the city. Small shops and family restaurants lined the street and pedestrians moved busily from one shop to another. The streetlights were lit brightly and it gave the entire scene something of a cheery feel, which made Fushimi’s head pound more than anything. His eyes scanned the street signs, looking for his destination.

Ultimately he found the restaurant fairly easily. It was even more brightly lit than the streets around it and there was a huge picture window right in the front. From where he stood in the shadows of a lamppost Fushimi could see that Homra had taken the spot right by the window — of course they had — and Yata was sitting right there in the middle, talking with his mouth full as he put Kamamoto in a headlock. Totsuka was laughing and making calming motions with his hands while Kusanagi had a slightly exasperated look. Mikoto was leaning against the window, eyes half closed, but when Anna beside him held out a piece of meat he opened his mouth to take it.

The whole thing looked warm and cozy, a large group having fun. It made Fushimi want to be sick. 

His eyes slid over to Yata again, who had finally sat back down and was picking at a piece of meat. His eyes were down, focused on his food, and Fushimi found himself taking a step closer towards the circle of light made on the street by the lamp beside him.

Misaki. Look at me.

It was a ridiculous thought and he was annoyed at himself for wanting it. Even so he found himself waiting, as if Misaki would look up any moment and their eyes would meet, and he’d hurry outside to meet Fushimi.

Look at me.

Yata shifted, chewing on a piece of meat, and then raised his head. Fushimi froze, a hand reaching out despite himself, and then Yata smiled and looked over at Mikoto.

It was like a shock of cold water over his head and Fushimi bit his lip as he turned on his heel and walked back into the darkened alley he had just come from.

He wasn’t hungry anyway. 

— 

Fushimi stared down at his PDA as he continued to nurse his single cup of water. In the reflection of the big picture window in front of him he could see a waitress pass by, giving him a frigid glare, and he clicked his tongue quietly. He would have ordered something but everything on the menu had looked entirely unappetizing. Of course it would be like Hirasaka to ask to meet at one of the fanciest diners in Shizume City. Fushimi expected he would be paying for her meal and chalked it down to just another one of the necessary expenses of the mission. 

He opened his jungle account and checked his point balance again. He was N rank now, but with the points Hirasaka was meeting him to deliver he would be U. By his calculations he would be J before too long, and then the mission would really start.

One of the waitresses sighed pointedly behind him and Fushimi didn’t bother to turn and look at her. Instead he glanced idly out the window, stuffing his PDA in his pocket and taking another slow sip of his water. The diner was three floors up on a high rise and surrounded by windows on all side, to give a full view of the city below. Fushimi had taken a spot by one of the windows, a small table for two, and he wondered if the waitresses were taking him for a jilted boyfriend. The thought made him snort. In any case Hirasaka wasn’t late yet — ‘time is money,’ is what she would likely say if he asked, and she never arrived anything but strictly on time. It was Fushimi who was early, taking a moment to finally rest his aching body and sit down.

He felt sore all over and strained thin. So far he’d mostly managed to find places to sleep for the night, mainly cheap hotels and internet cafes (the latter would be easier and certainly cheaper than the former, but the first night he’d found himself staying at one it had been hard to breathe and harder to sleep, choked by memories of an empty house and the person who had once promised him that he didn’t need that kind of home). His knife harness had started digging into his shoulders of late and he knew he’d have scars there eventually but Fushimi  couldn’t bring himself to care. He wasn’t stupid enough to take it off even to sleep, not when he was a traitor in unfamiliar territory, and it wasn’t like a few more scars to what he already had would be a problem.

(And what were scars to a dead man walking anyway?)

One of Fushimi’s hands reached up, sliding under his jacket and resting on his shoulder as he subtly shifted the harness beneath to give some peace to the chafing skin. Once there might have been someone who would have yelled at him about doing such a thing but he was on his own now. Hirasaka wasn’t the type to comment on the condition of the person that was paying her beyond verifying that his body would last long enough for the payment to post and anyway, even if she would have tried he would have responded with something biting about not paying for honesty. Their relationship was transactional and that was how Fushimi liked it best. Simple. Qualitative. No expectations beyond the payment that they had agreed upon and the missions each would complete, and that was all.

Below him Fushimi could see crowds of people on the sidewalks, making their way through the city. Most had their faces buried in their PDAs, and he didn’t doubt that there were countless jungle members among them. Hisui Nagare’s network was vast, thousands of ‘pseudo clansmen,’ who carried just a small piece of the King’s power within them, that could be taken away should they fail in their King’s missions.

(Fushimi’s hand hovered for a moment over his chest with the sudden urge to scratch at that scar that never faded, even now.)

He looked back at his PDA again, opening jungle and looking idly over the mission list. Not seeing anything worth doing for the moment Fushimi switched the view to one he’d discovered himself, a list of all email addresses and names associated with jungle. It had been hidden deep within the files of the app and clearly not intended to be accessible to the public. It had been trivial for Fushimi to uncover though, and the fact that there had been no consequences for doing such a thing was tantamount to Hisui Nagare giving him permission to do so. There was no reason for Hisui to keep the files even accessible from the jungle app otherwise, unless he wanted to see if anyone would seek them out. 

Fushimi remembered a small NPC wandering across his screen, calling his code far too beautiful, and scowled as he scrolled through the list with a thumb. Names flashed by, most useless to him, though there were a few he recognized instantly as lesser government officials and civil servants and he made a mental note to give those to Munakata (assuming either of them ever met again of course, and he laughed darkly to himself). The names scrolled by, hundreds and hundreds of users in the jungle network and then—

Yata. 

Fushimi froze his scrolling and didn’t even realize his breathing had stopped until he read the full name. Yata Minoru.

Of course. Jungle is popular with kids. Fushimi clicked his tongue lightly. It wasn’t any business of his though. Misaki should be the one to deal with his own siblings, it wasn’t Fushimi’s job to bother with them at all.

There was a sudden small explosion below and several diners stood up, yelling. Fushimi didn’t move but looked up, gazing out over the city. There was a man on the streets  below, crouched down and holding out a shaking hand that glowed red. In front of him was a smoking crater in the street.

That had been happening more and more too, as a result of the Slate’s slow awakening. New Strains being born constantly, drawing the attention of the general public to the menace around them that the Golden clan had tried so hard to hide. Fushimi clicked his tongue again. It wasn’t like he’d ever had a particularly high opinion of the Gold King but really, hadn’t that guy put any failsafes at all in place to prevent this kind of thing from happening the moment he croaked?

He was about to look back down at his PDA again — Strains like this were Scepter 4’s job to handle, so if Hirasaka didn’t get here soon he would need to change the meeting place to avoid being seen — when a flash of white caught his eyes. Fushimi found himself staring down at the crowd and at the small figure in a sweatshirt riding a skateboard who had just appeared on the screen and was trying to disperse the crowd. Dimly he was aware that Kamamoto was there as well, crouching down by the newly awakened Strain, but Fushimi’s eyes were fixed only on one person.

Misaki.

No matter how much he didn’t want it he couldn’t stop the way his pulse started to race slightly, a small flush rising on his cheeks. His fingers twitched for a knife — come on, let’s play Misaki — and he swallowed hard, hand moving up to scratch at his chest instead. Yata was right there below him, oblivious, but close enough that if he looked up he could see Fushimi in the window.

Look up.

Not that he needed it. This was a mission, and Yata was just a liability. Being seen now could cause all sorts of problems. It was best if they didn’t see each other ever again, when it came down to it.

Look up at me.

Come chase me.

(Save me.)

“Employer.” Hirasaka’s voice shocked him out of his stupor and Fushimi shook it off like a dog coming out of the water. She was standing calmly behind him, expression locked tight, and he didn’t even want to know what she’d read on his face, what he’d been stupid enough to let show if only for a moment. 

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Misaki already skateboarding back into the crowd. The PDA in Fushimi’s hand still had the name of Yata Minoru on it, one finger poised above it.

Fushimi clicked his tongue again and sent off a brief message, then blocked the account he’d sent it to from responding. Hirasaka stood there in silence and Fushimi turned away from the window to face her.

“Well? Do you have the points?”

— 

Yata woke to the sounds of pouring rain and static, and a pounding headache.

The lights of the bar were dim, especially with the storm that had flown up outside swallowing up the usual daylight that would normally paint the walls in sunshine. Instead the bar was dull and dark, lit only by the occasional flash of lightning and the bright spot of the TV playing static in the middle of the bar.

The last Yata remembered he’d left the TV on, playing one of Totsuka’s old videos. It must have reached the end while he slept and Yata groaned slightly as he sat up and went over to the TV. His fingers fumbled around the controller for the VCR and he vaguely recalled Totsuka’s bright voice telling him that this old technology wasn’t so hard to handle once you got used to it.

(“Why can’t you just put these on digital or something…?”

“Hmm….well, there’s something nice about using the old fashioned way, don’t you think?”)

The memory welled up and made him stop for a moment, swallowing hard. Yata quickly wiped a hand across his eyes and waited for the tape to signal it was ready to start over again. He hit ‘play’ and stood there for a moment, watching the screen.

Images of an older time, shortly after he’d joined Homra. Everyone was laughing and Totsuka moved the camera in close, taking in each face. Yata found himself wishing that Totsuka had turned the camera on himself more often — what if Yata forgot his face one day, what if he forgot the warmth that used to be here. What if everyone forgot, and Homra stayed an empty bar forever.

“Saru-kun, wave to the camera!”

The camera swung and focused in on a sour face in glasses, and Yata sucked in a breath between his teeth.

He was aware that most of the guys had left in pairs, when Kusanagi told them that he was going overseas and closing the bar for now. Akagi and Bandou had gone together, talking quietly. Dewa had grabbed Chitose by the wrist, Fujishima had put an arm around Eric and walked off like that. Even Kamamoto was busy watching Anna. 

There was one guy who should have been by Yata’s side now, and he wasn’t.

“Idiot,” Yata huffed quietly. Why was he even thinking about that guy right now? He didn’t need a traitor by his side. Just because Mikoto was — just because Homra was —

The Fushimi onscreen put a hand on the camera lens, pushing it away, and Yata could hear Totsuka’s laugh and his own voice telling Saruhiko to come join the rest of them. He raised a hand and paused the tape, the other hand clenching into a fist. That guy had never listened to anything, really. And now everything was a mess, and Yata was just here alone feeling pathetic wishing for things that had long disappeared.

There was a flash of lightning and for just a moment Yata thought he saw a silhouette in the shadow thrown up against the wall. He turned, glancing out the window, and in the darkness he could almost make out a person standing nearby wearing a blue coat.

“Saruhiko?” He couldn’t stop the longing in his voice and Yata swallowed hard, trying to pull his scattered pieces together. 

Lightning flashed again and there was nothing standing in the darkness, just rain and an empty street. Yata gave a small laugh, pressing a fist against his forehead as he sank back down on the couch. 

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Why did he even think he’d seen anything? And even if he had, what would be the point in going after it? Saruhiko was gone. Maybe not a the way Totsuka was, not the way Mikoto was —

— at least he’s still alive —

Saruhiko had made his choice, and it wasn’t Yata. Chasing after him in the rain, how pathetic would that be. What would that show of Homra’s pride, going after a traitor because he didn’t want to be alone.

Still, Yata found himself sitting up, looking outside and waiting for lightning to illuminate the street again. Maybe if he saw something for sure…

But there was nothing out there, and Yata sank back down on the couch to fall back into a fitful sleep.

—

The sound of splashing accompanied Yata’s steps as he made his way through Shizume’s shopping district, poncho pulled over his head and his skateboard tucked under one arm. The streetlights were reflecting wavy and bright on the wet streets and visibility was too poor for Yata to ride, so he had no choice but to make his way back towards the bar on foot.

Despite the rain the streets were still crowded as people hurried from shop to shop, trying to avoid the weather as they enjoyed the last of the new year deals. The stores and restaurants were brightly lit and as he walked Yata found his eyes drawn again and again to the windows.

It wasn’t like he was looking for anyone in particular. It was just, if that guy was around…

Don’t be an idiot. Yata bit his lip, hands tightening over his skateboard. How long had it been now, since anyone had heard a word from Fushimi? All of Yata’s attempts at calling him had failed, his number either blocked or ignored. Fushimi hadn’t answered any of Yata’s emails either, including the one that he’d sent through the old, long-unused mail app that he wasn’t even sure Fushimi still had on his PDA anymore. Trying that had been a gamble but Yata couldn’t help it — he just needed something. 

Come chase me, that’s what Saruhiko had said before he’d left Mihashira Tower. How was Yata supposed to do that if he couldn’t even find Fushimi? Was it just a parting shot after all, Fushimi leaving behind one last taunt before he disappeared into the darkness forever? 

Yata stared into window after window, looking at diners in restaurants and shoppers busy in stores. There was a hair salon and he ducked his head as a woman getting her hair cut glared at him through the window.

I-I just looked like some weirdo pervert right there, didn’t I? Yata gave a heavy sigh, pulling his hood further over his head and wishing his cheeks didn’t suddenly feel so hot. He needed to get back to Homra anyway, he had some intel to deliver to Kusanagi. Kusanagi might have news too, about Saruhiko….well, it wasn’t likely, because Yata was sure Kusanagi would have emailed him if they’d found anything but still…

Yata looked up again into another window, as if drawn by some unseen force. Fushimi had to be somewhere, right? He wouldn’t have left the city, but that didn’t really narrow it down. It wasn’t like Yata could just keep looking in these windows, and one day their eyes would meet just like—

-- like one day their eyes would just meet and Yata stopped, stared --

—a flash of blue, surprised, meeting his eyes for the briefest of moments and Yata skidded to a stop, almost fell —

“Saruhiko!” It had just been a glance, only that, through the window of what looked to be an electronics shop. Yata moved forward without even thinking, palms flat against the wet glass of the window as his skateboard clattered to the pavement, eyes straining to see past the crowd for the person he knew he’d just seen, if only for a moment. He knew Saruhiko had seen him too, that their eyes had definitely met, Fushimi’s eyes widening for just a breath as he recognized Yata standing there outside.

Door, door… Dimly Yata knew that it was too late already, that he’d paused too long, and it wasn’t like he could just go through the window. Yata paused, taking a deep breath as he bent down to retrieve his skateboard. It was stupid, wasn’t it? He couldn’t catch Fushimi now. Maybe it hadn’t really been Fushimi at all, only another figment of his imagination like that half-seen green coat in the crowd by the shrine.

No. It was Saruhiko. Yata took another steadying breath, staring back through the window. A couple people inside glanced out at him and Yata ignored them, scanning the crowd once again for those blue eyes that he knew far too well.

It was too late. Saruhiko had been here, had definitely been here, but the moment his eyes had met Yata’s he’d fled.

Still. He was alive. He’d been here, with just a window between them, and he was alive.

Yata took another deep breath, steadied himself, and one hand rested on his watch. He would send another message, make another call, and as he started walking back towards the bar Yata kept his eyes on the windows.

---

Fushimi’s fingers clenched against the crisp white fabric of the hospital sheets, eyes staring up at the bright lights on the ceiling that were certainly going to give him a headache as soon as the painkillers wore off. For now though the lights merely made his eyes feel itchy and everything else was vaguely hazy around him. There was an almost pleasant fog in his head and he wasn’t sure if it was entirely from the painkillers or just from the simple fact that he could finally breathe, that after weeks of being constantly on guard he could at last relax. All the pent up adrenaline had finally run out, allowing him to feel the exhaustion that he’d fought back for weeks while continuing his mission. Now at last the mission was over, the danger had passed, and Fushimi was lying there in a hospital bed with a bandage around his thigh and drugs pleasantly pumping their way through his system. 

He hadn’t particularly wanted to go to the hospital but Munakata had insisted, stating that Fushimi’s wound needed to be looked at and that Scepter 4’s own infirmary was likely to be insufficient. Fushimi suspected that the second half of that statement at least was a lie and that this was more Munakata’s way of insuring that Fushimi got some proper rest and didn’t try to immediately go back to his old duties. He hadn’t been allowed a laptop and his Scepter 4 PDA, the one he’d left behind at headquarters and traded for a burner to use his jungle account on, was likely still in his room where he had left it that cold Christmas Eve night. Without his electronics he felt restless and bored but Munakata had been firm about not allowing either, and had brought him a small puzzle from the gift shop instead that Fushimi had promptly dropped on the floor. 

At least he’d gotten a room by the window, to allow a bit of sunshine in to paint the walls of the sterile room. Normally Fushimi wasn’t one for sunshine, preferring the artificial lights of the indoors, but after so many days wandering in the darkness of jungle’s underground headquarters being able to see the sun was like a breath of fresh air after drowning.

There was a light tapping at the window — tree branches scraping against the glass, probably, and Fushimi rolled his head slightly towards it. There was a fuzzy silhouette on the other side of the window and he reached for his glasses as the tapping sound was repeated, more insistently this time. Fushimi slipped his glasses on and the figure waiting outside the window came into sharp focus.

That’s...Fushimi paused, tempted to just roll over and go back to sleep, but the sight outside was so patently ridiculous that he couldn’t help but lean close and pull the window open.

“What are you doing, Misaki?” The words were slightly slurred, not as sharp as he would have liked, and Fushimi quietly cursed the painkillers that he’d been enjoying so much just a moment prior.

“Shh, just let me in, okay?” Of course it was Misaki, because only Misaki would be stupid enough to climb a tree next to a hospital and sit there in the branches looking like a child who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“You do realize that this hospital has a front door, Misaki?” Fushimi responded, flatly unimpressed and not moving an inch to let Yata inside.

“I know that!” Yata sputtered and almost lost his balance, grabbing a tree limb for support. “The lady at the desk wouldn’t tell me which room you were in, she said it was some kind of privacy thing? But then I saw you in the window and this tree didn’t seem too hard to climb, so…”

“The Captain left people all over the first floor. You could have just asked one of them, idiot.” Vaguely he was aware that this was too easy, far too easy — they had barely talked, and he was already falling back into the old habits, into that comfortable back and forth with Misaki under the shining leaves, as if no time at all had passed, as if he hadn’t shattered everything between them. 

“W-well, yeah, but I didn’t recognize any of those guys, so I didn’t think they’d let a member of Homra…”

“Aren’t we in an alliance?” Fushimi snorted, lip curling slightly. Yata didn’t seem to notice or mind though, simply shrugging in reply.

“I figured those guys might not tell me, and since I saw you here I could just come up by myself.”

“You’re lucky security hasn’t seen you and thrown you out already. Should I call a nurse right now, Misaki? Tell them that an annoying bird is outside my window.”

“Come on, don’t act like that Saru! I came up all this way to check on you, you know.” Yata swayed again in the tree, carefully adjusting his balance. 

“I didn’t ask you to.” Fushimi tried to keep his voice cold but the painkillers were rebelling against him, and it came out drowsy and petulant instead. 

“Yeah. You’re not very good at that.” There was a smile on Yata’s face that Fushimi couldn’t quite read — stupid, he was definitely getting slow and stupid from the drugs if he couldn’t read the open book that was Misaki’s expression, but there was something fond and something sad about it, and his brain rebelled against reading between those lines. “I heard from Kusanagi-san that they took you here though and I got kinda worried. You didn’t look so great when I left.”

“I’m fine. Captain’s just going overboard doing unnecessary things.” Just like everyone else around him, fussing for no reason, and Fushimi clicked his tongue. 

“You don’t look so fine. You’re pale as a ghost Saruhiko, what were you even eating down there? Did jungle feed you?”

“Why does everyone always care so much about what I eat?” Misaki hadn’t been the first to ask him about the status of his meals, the Lieutenant and Akiyama had both said the same on the way to the hospital and it was nothing but annoying.

(Come to think, Totsuka had asked him the same, once upon a time, and he hadn’t even bothered then to think about the reasons. It irritated him, vaguely, that there was something everyone else seemed to understand that he wasn’t able to grasp, and the painkillers made him wonder if Yata would explain it if Fushimi could ever swallow his pride enough to ask.)

“Because we’re worried about you, idiot!” Yata leaned forward as if he was going to swipe at Fushimi’s head and Fushimi moved back. Yata gave a small yelp and grabbed onto the branches again. “Will you just let me in already?”

His voice was so plaintive that Fushimi couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped his lips, or the sudden warm flush that spread through his body when Yata smiled at the sound of it.

“Come back in the normal way, if you want to so badly.”

“I’m already up here, just let me in!” Yata said. “Seriously, you’re always such a contrary guy….”

“Since when do you know me so well,” and it came out petulant again, the bitterness refusing to come to his lips when he wanted it to. 

(And suddenly he wasn’t sure if he wanted it to, and everything felt dizzy around him at the realization.)

“Yeah, well, you promised to tell---” The words cut off as a branch broke under Yata’s foot and this time he did start to fall, scrambling for a hold—

—and without even stopping to think Fushimi found himself leaning forward, leaning out, straight out the window with a hand outstretched and reaching to catch Yata’s. Yata grabbed hold of his hand and Fushimi bit back a grunt as he pulled, Yata swinging his feet to plant them against the outer wall and pushing up as Fushimi pulled him back, back through the wide open window and onto the bed, where they lay panting side by side. There were leaves in Yata’s hair and small broken twigs that had scattered on the mattress from when Fushimi had pulled him inside, and a soft breeze came from the open window to settle over them both like a blanket.

“Idiot.” Fushimi was panting hard, a sudden throbbing in his leg from the movement, and he felt Yata’s breath on his cheek as Yata gave a sheepish laugh. 

“I got inside, didn’t I?”

“You could have fallen and broken your head open, moron.” He was so very aware suddenly, of how close they were, of how he had let go of Yata’s wrist but Yata was still holding onto his hand, and the hospital bed felt very small.

“We’re in a hospital, if I’m gonna break my head open it’s better if I do it here, right?” Yata was still smiling and Fushimi could almost see himself reflected in Yata’s bright open eyes.

“And then everyone could see how empty your head is.”

“I don’t need to hear that from the guy who couldn’t even say when he wanted to be saved.” Yata’s voice was light but there was a seriousness beneath the tone that made Fushimi scowl.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t say stuff honestly like that. And you didn’t need to anyway.” Yata’s hand tightened over his.

“Misaki…” The words were stuck in his throat and Fushimi couldn’t tear himself from Yata’s gaze. They were side by side, face to face, and he wondered what reflections Yata was seeing in his own eyes.

“You don’t have to tell me now, okay?” Yata murmured, inclining his head towards Fushimi’s so that their foreheads almost touched. “I mean, I wanna know eventually. Even if you have to say it so that an idiot can understand, I want to be that idiot. But right now you can just rest and feel better, all right?”

“I didn’t ask you for permission,” Fushimi grumbled. He wanted to look down, look away, click his tongue and roll onto his back away from the window, away from Yata’s gaze, but he felt slow, exhausted, and he could only keep his eyes on Yata’s. “But...I’ll think about it.”

“Yeah. That’s all I want.” Yata laughed softly. “Anyway, thanks for making sure I didn’t break my head open.” “Next time you try to come through the window I’ll let you fall,” Fushimi stated, and the lies that usually rolled off his tongue so sweetly got tangled between his head and his mouth so that the words came out thin and brittle.

“Sure you will.” Yata’s voice was teasing, lined with a relief that Fushimi couldn’t understand, and Yata hadn’t let go of his hand yet.

He supposed that he could pull away still, whenever he wanted. He could close his eyes against Yata’s gaze, and pull away from that hand that kept reaching for him again and again.

But Fushimi was tired, and warm, and he decided he could leave the window open for a little bit longer.

[judaluffy]

Sarumi Fest 2018  Day 6  (July 12)

Theme: Colors

We parted ways and let these colors take the best of us. We won't reject them but it's about time to accept them.

(Yep It’s my crappy art! Deal with me! XD)

[nyanrnia]

Sarumi fest 2017, day 3! Fluff ～

me as Yata Misaki @thecrimsonworld as Fushimi Saruhiko

[fchiistash]

my entry for @sarumifest 2017 !

[purejjoy]

All day the sky is blue Maybe you will try to see through, but you are most likely no to. All day the sky is blue Clouds as well as thoughts will pass by, just like a fly. But the sky will be there, even if you are not wondering where All day the sky is blue Then by sunset I come to you, the only red inside my blue ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sarumi Fest 2017 - Day 6 Poetry is not my thing, but since I don't have time for anything longer this year - here you go 😅😅 Anyway Happy Sarumi Fest!!!

[mikafa1212]

Like a Chocolate

Title : Like a Chocolate 

Warning : Mild Languages 

Summary : Do you believe something ridiculous like one small chocolate could change entire story? Fushimi Saruhiko didn’t realize that until he tastes one of small chocolate from a guy that claim want to be his partner for his entire life, Fushimi didn’t wish to dealing any taste he didn’t familiar of, but he admit, it wasn’t that bad. Note : This story goes in Canon Story with Alternative different story progressing Un-beta ed For Sarumi fest 2017

What if people can create time paradox if they changing their own fate?

Or fate always prepare new story for those who want to change?

===========

Fushimi Saruhiko, just ordinary grumpy teenager in some regular middle school, woke up in the middle of class, luckily the school had just finished and the teacher didn’t bother him for all day, its good news for Fushimi. Since beginning, no one try to bother him because he always earns high marks on score and also, he never tries to socialite to his classmate.

"Oii, Saru, it's the class was over, ya know?"

Except this red-head small guy, Yata Misaki.

Fushimi groaned and stretched his body, his whole body feel so stiff because his sleeping habits. The sound of people talking was more crowded than usual, Fushimi feel more annoyed than usual.

"So noisy, what do you want?"

"Well, remember the Taiyaki shop that day? It's on sale now—"

"Hey, did you know? Matsumoto from Class 2 got confessed!" Some randomly guy shout out in the class, and the rest of guy got excited. 'Oh,' Fushimi remembered today was valentine day, which mean his locker would full of chocolates again, he sighed hard.

"Ugh, why people so exciting someone got laid?? Its so damn annoying! I wish I got chocolate too—" Fushimi didn’t listened any Yata's complain while he stood up.

'I better go home fast before somebody caught me,' he thought while pull his bag and went out classroom, ditching Yata.

"Hey!! Why ditching me, you asshole!?" Yata was not happy with it, obviously.

"Shuush, don't be so loud, someone will catch us," Said Fushimi, he takes turn on different route to school lobby.

"What? Who?" Yata dumbfounded, and because of him, unexpected ambush got Fushimi in the lobby.

"F-F-Fushimi-san! Please wait a moment!" The girl cracked her voice, Fushimi sighed again.

"B-Before you go home, c-can you please accept my chocolate?" She said with shy tone, while completely ignoring Yata who was shocked. "Fine." Fushimi took her chocolates without intention to continue the conversation.

"Hey, that's rude! Say something back to h-her!" Yata interrupted but Fushimi didn’t budge it at all, he opened his locker recklessly, which the chocolates fell down because his rough opening, and made Yata more dumbstruck when he saw the amount of chocolates he received.

The girl also kind of shock too, but Fushimi didn’t bother her, he gathered all the chocolates all he could while Yata helping him and dragged Yata out of school. "God!! Seeing you act like that pissed me off, Can you act be more nice to them?" Yata feel bad seeing how poor Fushimi treated the girl.

"I don’t have obligation to be nice like what you said." Fushimi wish Yata won't nagging him over little things, but seems no one can stop Yata for nagging him.

"Argh, that didn't solve anything! I know you kinda popular to girls, but I didn’t know would be like this! Show some gratitude, man" Said Yata, Fushimi clicked his tongue. "I never ask for this, don't be such a loser, Misaki, just because you didn't got some," Said Fushimi with grumpy tone.

"But you are damn popular, even you're so gloomy, Man, its make me so jealous!" He said while opening one of chocolates. "You didn’t mind I eat some right?" "Go on, in fact, take them all, so I don’t need to throw it," The glasses guy muttered without looking his friend.

"What!? Why you throw it?? That's rude!" Yata feel irritated with how Fushimi act, but he knew Fushimi wouldn't change his mind that easily.

"Like I said, I never ask them to give me, I'm free to do anything to these chocolates," He said with mock tone. He was about to throw some of them but Yata stop them.

"Cut it out, man, wasting food never a cool thing, look, if you hate chocolates so much, let me take it all!" Yata look at Fushimi with glare, even though his hands already full of chocolates.

"...Fine." Fushimi was beyond irritated because Yata's meddling habit, but he didn’t disagree and let Yata do what he want.

They decided to drop the chocolates in Yata's house, Yata had two siblings, which mean they would love to help Yata eat chocolates. Luckily or unluckily, Yata's mom was in home, she asked Fushimi to stay, which he had no option to refuse.

"Ara~ Fushimi-kun, I didn't know you're so famous, dear," She said while look surprisingly to the chocolates that gathered in the table. "Hey, why did you assume all the chocolates are Saru's?" Suddenly Yata feel annoyed.

"Just a hunch, am I right?" Yata defeated on the spot, Mother intunition never wrong. 'A mother, huh?' Thought Fushimi randomly.

"Don’t be so sad, dear, here your favorite chocolate," Yata's mom give her homemade chocolates to Yata and Fushimi, which surprised both of them.

"E-Eeh!? Mom, you never made these before!" Yata was surprised how well made the chocolate, and it was delicious.

"Don't underestimate my cooking skill, son, Minoru and Megumi ask me to make chocolate, but if I know you will bring these many chocolates, I wouldn't make it,"

"But these delicious, mom, right, Saruhiko?" Fushimi was bit surprised Yata also asking his opinion, he never tried ate homemade food before, but he didn't want act rude in front of adult, specially his mother.

He took bite, and swallow it. "...It was delicious, ma'am." He said quietly.

"Oh, thank you!" Yata's mom was delighted how they enjoyed her food.

"At least I got one chocolate, after all," mumbled Yata while ate his mother chocolate.

"Pfft, you got a chocolate from your own mother, how lame," tease Fushimi with his mock grin. "W-What the!? You got the same thing too, you little—" "Mom! We're home!" Minoru and Megumi's calling cut of their little fight, in one second, Yata's house was full of laughter and crowded.

But this time, Fushimi didn’t hate it, in fact, he enjoyed the warm atmosphere in Yata's household.

"Sorry, my folks really loudsome and like to meddle things, hope you aren't grumpy than usual," Explain Yata while walk him to the station.

"No, I'm already get used to it, Misaki still the loudest anyway," He chuckled. The sky was clear and no sign of snowing, but the air still cold as ice. He hide his mouth on his muffler.

"Hey!! Don't call me that! Humph—" Misaki hide his hand on his jacket pocket. "Hey, why you didn’t want eat those chocolates, anyway?" "Because some of them was homemade."

"That's more reason to not waste it, you idiot, but you ate my mom's chocolate anyway," he mumbled while looking Fushimi annoyedly. "….It's different, beside, I don’t want upset your mother." Fushimi said quietly. Yata chuckled, "See? You can be nice if you try," they went silent for a moment, when they finished walking on the front station, Yata decided to ask again.

"Then... if I made some, would you eat it?" Fushimi surprised with his ambigous question, but he find Yata's homemade food never fail to entertain his tongue, he nodded slowly.

"Only if you eat it first in front of me."

"Hey! Don't assume I would poisoning you, idiot." He shouted, attracting some passerby to look at them, Fushimi hiding his grin on his muffler and waving his hand. He always bad mood in Valentine day, the so called showing your love day, and he prefer to be alone, but after spending time in Yata's house, he found having a company for while was not bad at all.

==============

Yata Misaki didn’t know that day, he actually pissed off because of how poor Fushimi treated those girls who had crush on him, not because he was one of popular guy that always got chocolate every valentine day and he didn’t get any, he didn’t know why feel like that, but what he remembered, he actually picture himself as one of those girls and feel really bad if Fushimi, which made him weirded out.

A lot of things happened since then, he got to know Oogai Aya, they chasing after the blimp and they discovered some strong gang called HOMRA, he and Fushimi develop unexpected adventure and their bond was deeper than he thought. Like example, Fushimi actually genuinely laughed at him, which was the most rare moment he ever find Fushimi opened himself.

The sound of exciting girls on the class make Yata snapped out from the flashback of the events, he was in the middle of class, the girls were giggling and whispering, some of them bring out their favorite magazines and show some of chocolate's picture.

'Oh right, Valentine Day coming up!' He thought, he found himself anxious and excited in the same time. He did practice with his mother making chocolate but the result never satisfying him. He need to made chocolate that fit with Fushimi, not too sweet but not too bitter.

'Why he is the one who the most difficult picky eater of all people!?' Yata was frustasted how he had not been succeed making chocolates.

"Oi, Misaki, the class is over, why you staring the wall like an idiot?" Fushimi smack his shoulder since Yata didn't response him right away.

"What? Hey! I was thinking hard stuff now, this all your fault for being picky eater!" Yata stood up and carry his bag, he decided to learn again.

"You’re not going to arcade today?" Fushimi was surprised Yata didn’t drag him to somwhere today.

"Ah, about that, I'm gonna busy for while so sorry! Don’t worry I will still hang out with you after I'm done, see ya, Saru!" He waved his hand and quickly get out from the classroom.

Fushimi should feel relieved no one going to bother him, but small part of him feel... little lonely.

========== "Listen, that wasn't the right way to make chocolate, this was the right way to make chocolate!" Yata's mom seem also frustrated teaching her son making chocolate that keep failed.

"What's the difference!? It's still the same!!" Yata even more frustated than her mother, the Valentine Day will come up tomorrow and he has zero chocolate to give.

'For this gloomy asshole, I shouldn't have promise what I can't do' Yata feel regret little, but he slapped his face and face his mother.

"Please one more time," Yata's face and hand full of flour, chocolate and cream, but his eyes still hasn't give up.

Yata's mom sighed, she couldn't turn down her beloved child's request. "Okay, but you promise me to not waste food and you will eat these failed chocolates," "Roger, mom!"

"Listen, I don't think your chocolate fail at all, no matter how bad the appearance, if the taste was good, the person that will eat will enjoy it, so I think we need to focus to the taste first."

'But Fushimi's peaky eater, if he disgusted with the appearance, I doubt he would eat it,' Yata wasn't sure about it but since her mother was the expert, he have to listened her. After countless battles in the kitchen with her mother, like the right proposition of sugar and chocolate, also the patience on baking them, Yata finally made a decent chocolate with warm and delicious taste, similar to her mother's chocolate. He finally feels satisfied to his hardwork and begin to warp it with nice decoration.

His mother giggled seeing her eldest son was excited to give chocolate, which was unusual for him. But she decided to not tease him.

Yata end up eating the failed chocolates as dinner and he got stomachache in the morning.

=============

Yata never been feel stupid, he just realized Valentine Day is all about girls giving chocolates to guys, not the opposite. And he was about to give chocolate to his best friend, best mate, best partner, Fushimi Saruhiko, on Valentine Day.

'Why the heck that day I want to give chocolate!? It's not like he need chocolate, in fact, he always got it some in every Valentine day.' Yata want to bang his head on the walls. "Misaki, what are you doing in the middle of hallway?" Fushimi show up in time when Yata want to run away.

"Oh shit! You're here!" Yata quickly hide his bag that consist the chocolate he made yesterday. "I mean, what a surprise, man, I thought you already gone home since you know—you hate Valentine day, right?" He patted Fushimi's shoulder and walk nervously to the lobby.

Fushimi raise his eyebrow, suspicious to Yata's odd act for entire day, he didn't greet nor say anything to him, he keep staring his table and then nervous for nothing. "Did you hit your head or something? You acting like insane person today," As Fushimi spoke, he changed his shoes and took his umbrella.

Turn out today weather was heavy rainy, a lot of students took shelter or walk with their umbrellas. Yata remembered he didn’t bring any umbrella today.

"Damn, I forgot to bring umbrella!" Yata nervously searching something in his bag. Suddenly Fushimi pull him to under his umbrella. "This umbrella enough for both of us, beside you need to explain what are you planning today?"

"E-Eh what!?" Yata got more nervous because there was no distance between them, but he can't refuse his offer, he didn't want his chocolates get soaked by the rain, knowing how heavy it was.

"Don't pretend you forgot, yesterday you told me free my time so you can surprise me, now tell me," Fushimi clicked his tongue, irritated seeing how slow Yata react. "Ah about that, hmmmmmm," Yata spotted some deserted shop in the side of front station. "Let's stop at that first."

The weather didn't get any better, in fact, the wind went worse and since Fushimi didn't gripped the umbrella that strong, their umbrella got caught on the wind and they get a bit soaked.

"This so suuuuuck!" Complained Yata when his shirt got soaked, luckily the bag didn’t get soaked badly.

Even Fushimi's face got grumpier because his glasses and hair got wet. 'Okay its now or never.' Yata nervously took out the chocolates while Fushimi cleaned up his glasses. "Uh, Saru, don't get mad or teasing me for this okay, here," Fushimi turned his side to Yata and look surprised.

"…. You made chocolates? And now you giving it to me?" Fushimi didn’t quite understand what the meaning of this.

"L—look! You've said you would eat it, okay? And I feel bad if I didn’t keep promise, so here!"

"Are you sure this wasn't poisoned?"

"Of course it's not!!! Here!" Yata took bite one of his chocolates. "I didn't get pass out right?"

"…. If you say so," Fushimi took the his small bag of chocolate and look disgusted to it. "It's look horrible—"

"Don't make me hit you, damn monkey!" Yata growled, but then he bit his lip when Fushimi took the bite and his face didn't look like hate it. "….Not bad, I think your mother genes got in you," He said quietly while ate it.

"Of course, I am! Heh! The amount of practice making these really paid off," Yata rub his cheek while smiling widely. He never thought he would feel happy seeing Fushimi ate the chocolates without complain.

Fushimi end up ate all the chocolates while both of them wait the rain get out. When he finished, he licked some leftover chocolates on his finger. Yata blushed when he staring him too long.

'The fuck wrong with me!?'

"So, Do I need return something in White day? What a pain in the ass," Fushimi started to complain again.

"What? Duh, you don't need to if you don't want, idiot," Yata grumbled, but Fushimi chuckled, he got pat Yata's head.

"Thanks anyway, see you." He said before took his umbrella and walk away to the station. Yata found himself grinning while waiting the rain finished. 'Guess I'm the only person who can make Saruhiko eat,'

On March 14th, Fushimi giving him some cheap looking white chocolates that he bought on the store, of course Yata feel pissed for Fushimi's poor choice, but in the end he enjoyed the chocolate while chatting with him on the rooftop school like usual.

Their habit of giving chocolates each other still continue even after they joined HOMRA, no matter how grumpy Fushimi, Yata never break his promise to provide him chocolates every Valentine's day.

Sometimes, Fushimi feel mad seeing Yata keep giving him just because the promise, or the tradition, the dull feeling he feel on his heart bugging him to throw those irritating chocolates, but he never couldn't do it.

Especially when he saw those messy and burned hands of Yata after baking them, even the chocolates getting better, Yata always pour his hardwork of making it, Fushimi always saw it since they live together.

In exchange, Fushimi also put some effort for White day's gift, sometimes he gives Yata's favorite lollipop, sometimes treat him in his favorite's ramen shop, or anything Yata's favorite food, its not always chocolates, Fushimi pretty sure Yata will get bored of it. But it was bit odd for Fushimi that he never thought he would bored if keep receiving Yata's chocolate.

One day when their apartment full of HOMRA buddies, Fushimi get more upset than ever, 'It's not like I'm looking forward this stupid Valentine's day,' he thought, while he grumpily hide himself on the top of bunk bed.

"Okay guys, time you all get out from here!" Said Yata suddenly when the clock hit on six pm, all his friends groaned disappointingly.

"What?? That's no fun, why Yata-san?" Protested Kamamoto, and rest of guy following him, but Yata didn't give budge to his friends and dragged them out from their room. "Now then, let's start!" Yata said to himself, Fushimi didn't try to talk him whenever he was in bad mood, but he peeked little from his bunk bed.

Yata preparing his chocolates again, and Fushimi remembered tomorrow was Valentine's day, some how, he felt heavy, something on his chest felt hurt. Fushimi didn't know why it irritated him, his logic tell him he should be happy Yata actually ditched those HOMRA clowns and do something for him only.

Everything makes Fushimi irritated, he clicked his tongue. "Are you still preparing those chocolates again?"

Yata look up toward him. "Hmm? What's wrong about that?"

[I don't need those petty chocolates again]

[Why you keep giving me those chocolates anyway]

[I think we should stop doing this—]

But those words never come out from his mouth, he bit his lips and muttered. "Nothing, really."

The next day, Yata left early because he got chores with Kusanagi on HOMRA Bar, but he left the chocolates with notes on it. Fushimi opened it while scratched his messy hair.

{ Happy Valentine's Day—Heck, this sound weird, anyway you have been so bad mood lately, so I tried to make it have same taste like Mom's, hopefully this chocolate taste better than last year!

--- Yatagarasu M

P.S I think I'm getting good making chocolates! Maybe I can be passieter? Or what it's called? Nah, nvm }

He shouldn't be smiling at those crappy writing or the warm chocolates, he thought, because in the end, Yata always go to HOMRA in the first place when he got trouble.

But he can't stop himself for happy that Yata didn't change one bit about the chocolate.

'I should treat him Sushi next March, he never eats fancy food, after all' thought Fushimi while eat the chocolate.

Yata know his friendship with Fushimi have been drift away ever since they joined HOMRA and Yata focused his life to HOMRA. He knew Fushimi actually dislikes HOMRA, Suoh Mikoto, and anything related to them, but despise all of that, he still staying with him, he still come HOMRA sometimes, and he still help him whenever he got trouble. Fushimi always be there for him whenever he need. 'Heck, he still accept my chocolates every year, if he hates me, he wouldn't even bother to eat it in the first place,' He thought whenever he had doubt on Fushimi. But he can't turn blind eye about Fushimi's talent. Fushimi got worst attitude when he dealing with people, he also likes to saying something that likely people will mad at him for saying rude things, and he one of typical person that won't tell you if he was mad, sad, or anything that make him look like weak person. He can't blame him, having monstrous father like Fushimi Niki was one of reason why Fushimi act like that.

But his talent was different matter. Fushimi really good at programming, he could hack any website when he was middle school, and now when he had a lot free time, Yata know Fushimi's skill had been increased after they joined HOMRA, especially Fushimi also learn some basic self-defense and how using knife. Even Fushimi joined HOMRA just for following Yata, his talent also useful to HOMRA and he helped a lot of works for Kusanagi and others, sometimes Yata was so jealous to him, because his good point only his loyalty toward HOMRA.

He would never admit he was weak, but he knew his power was nothing if compared to Fushimi's talent, that's why he worked hard, he spends time so much to Mikoto and others, spending time practicing and fight some thugs so he would become stronger. But Yata only human after all, he also make mistakes.

He should talk more to Fushimi, thought he already tried it and it was making Fushimi more bad mood, but at least he should have communicated Fushimi more than ever. So Fushimi won't go away.

Like today, he was standing in front of him in the alley, saying things he want to quit HOMRA and join Scepter 4 instead.

Yata knew someday Fushimi would prefer going somewhere without him, but he didn't know it would be today and all of this happening so fast.

"Oi, Misaki, did you hear me?" Said Fushimi in mocked tone, seeing Yata frozen up wasn't in his plan.

"A-Ah, what? O-oh right, well, you said you want to quit, huh?" Yata can't thinking right now, suddenly his brain stopped working and the anxious that he have been hiding all this time blow up in his stomach.

"Are you listening? Or is this too much for you to handle, huh?" Fushimi begin to taunt him with his wicked smile.

"OF COURSE IT IS, DUMBASS! You, who never tried to listen to me whenever I want to talk to you, suddenly deciding to join that shitty group without ask me first?? What are you expecting!?" Yata started to lose himself, he didn't know what to do or to say anything, but he knew he shouldn't keep quiet, he need to say something. Something.

"Why would I ask you first, You will be always saying HOMRA This, HOMRA that, I'm sick it of—"

"Of course not!!!" Yata gripped hard Saruhiko's jacket. "I would have listened to you, Asshole, You never try talk anything to me ever since we joined HOMRA, you close yourself, even to me, and What I suppose to do!? I always thinking what best for you!"

It wasn't going exactly what I planned, Fushimi thought, he planned to tell Yata while riled him off, so Yata would hate him and he can go to Scepter 4 peacefully. He started to feel annoyed, Yata should be the one who pissed off, not him, why Yata keep saying like he was the one who most understood him? Fushimi pushed Yata off. "The best of what? You always thinking about HOMRA, all for the sake Oh The Great Suoh Mikoto and those precious comrades of yours, just admit it, I'm nothing but also those pawns."

"You've got it wrong, I don't understand what the heck are you talking about, the pawns or shits, But what's wrong you being a HOMRA Comrades?" "See—That's the point, I'm not in the circle of thugs like you, I'm not some fanboy who fawning over 'Mikoto-san', Ugh, even my tongue feel disgusted saying his name—" Fushimi pull out his best mockery face to Yata, the more Yata get angry, the more he can cut off their bond as soon as possible. "SHUT UP!" Fushimi smiled wickedly when Yata fell for the bait.

'Good, say it, Misaki, say it that You hate me and you want to—' He saw Yata swung his hand toward him, Fushimi didn't budge to move. But the fist missed on purpose. He hit the wall beside Fushimi. "Are you idiot, you missed—"

"SHUT UP, I KNOW!" Yata screaming, but Fushimi notice Yata actually cried in front of him. "I know, dammit, I know you didn't like HOMRA and Mikoto san in the first place, I know you didn't enjoy them as company whenever we hung out, Heck, it's not like we know each other just for moment, I have been with you for years, dumbass!" Yata tried his best to not let his voice cracked, but the tears wont stop flowing on his cheek. Fushimi never guessed Yata would breakdown in front of him, out of all people, and Fushimi feel something hurt in his chest.

'The hell, this wasn't going as I planned!'

"That's why I tried so hard to be strong, That's why I devote myself to Mikoto-san so I could be strong like him. So I could protect you and others!!" "The hell.... I don't need your protection." Fushimi mumbled, he was out of idea what he could do to make Yata hates him, and the worst, he start to feel guilty. 'Dammit' he cursed on his head.

"Shut up! You don't know how terrifying when I saw you almost dying because of me!! I never been feel scared and hopeless like that time! I don't want to lose you again!" Yata's teary eyes and his words suddenly make Fushimi's heart thumping.

'Ugh, not now.' Fushimi grip hard on his own hand. "You are so dumb, recalling those memories won't make me return to HOM—"

Slap.

Yata slapped him, but Fushimi felt Yata had just slapped his life, his vision of all this time. Yata grabbed his shirt again, for making sure Fushimi listened him.

"Listen here, you asshole, I'm talking about how you almost dying, I-if you want to quit, FINE! You can quit, I don't have right to stop you, nor anybody, because it's your choice...." Yata avert his eyes, he tried to not pled him to go back to HOMRA, but he couldn't lie to himself that he wasn't okay Fushimi would left him.

".... Idiot, you should have hated me and called me traitor, you HOMRA lover, why won't you hate me?" Fushimi spoke, he tried his best to cover his sadness, but his tone couldn't lie.

Yata noticed how hurt Fushimi too, judging how he look pained when seeing Yata's messy face. Yata swallowed all the nervous and decided to tell him. "Because you are my number one partner, there is no way I would want break this."

Fushimi can't say anything, he didn't expect to get answer like that. Both of them staring for while, lost of words to say, they didn't said anything provoke or pleading to go back HOMRA again.

Fushimi decided to dismiss the car that have been waiting him to escort him to Scepter 4, he also send text message to his new boss that he would move to Scepter 4 tomorrow instead.

After Yata feel calm, he wiped his face with his arm to erase the tears and asked him. "How long you have been wanting to move Scepter 4?"

"….. Not for long..." Fushimi seems hesitate to answer, but he spoke to him anyway. "Then.... Does Mikoto-san and Kusanagi-san know this?"

".... Yes, they know,"

"Dammit, I am not the first person to know this, you're so cruel, you know what, you should be honest to me and to yourself," Yata stood up and cleaned his mess. Both of them still mess because the earlier fight.

"…. I don't think you would accept it, Misaki, that's why I keep it secret." He look away from Yata, he didn't know how to act in front of Yata anymore, all his plan messed up. "You're too underestimate me, you know," Yata hit Fushimi shoulder with his bro fist while grinning. Fushimi clicked his tongue and slapped his hand.

"You're too dumb, any normal person would straight call me traitor and leave me alone." Fushimi didn't want see Yata smiled to him, even after what he has done to him.

"Why you want me to hate you so bad? I have been knowing you for long, sure, you make me pissed off every day, but hate is strong word, I don't think I can, you know, mad at you all the time, so won't it much better if you want to parted away in good terms with me."

[It's not like that, if you don't hate me—]

[You won't looking at me anymore]

[All this effort to move out from you become useless]

Again, Fushimi can't find any right words to tell him the truth, he didn't know why he want Yata hate him so much. "Well, let's go home together, for the last time, you haven't packed your items, right? Let me help you," Yata bumped his hand again to his shoulder and walk toward their small apartment.

"Misaki."

"Hmmm?"

"You're not mad?" "Hmmm, I was, but when I'm thinking back again, I think it's also part of my fault for not reaching you or be with you when you need me the most, so, maybe this decision could make us self-intropection, ya know?"

"…. Who are you and what you did to Yata Misaki?"

"Hey! Even I'm dumb, I'm still capable thinking with logic, unlike you"

"So you admit you're dumb."

"Uuuuuuugrh!"

It's been 3 years after Fushimi moving out from their small apartment and they decided to sell it off and Yata rent new apartment with Kamamoto that closer toward HOMRA. 'Good bye our small world' That what Yata thought when he parted with his first apartment with Fushimi, he thought he may can't meet Fushimi often. But he was wrong. He always there, whenever he crashes to Scepter's 4 Patrol, and the funny thing, Fushimi never stop teasing or taunting him whenever he had chance. He used to hate all Scepter's 4 members and the ice queen but ever since Fushimi joined, he was way more annoying, even more than the Scepter's 4 captain, especially when he changed his hair that have similarity with his late father.

"Alone all by yourself, Mi~Sa~Ki~?"

"Shut up, you damn monkey!!!!"

They never stop fighting whenever they meet, start when both of teams awkward to each other until they both get used to their fight and waiting, The Ice Queen or Kusanagi stop the fight.

"He just pissed me off." That's what they answer if they were asked why they keep fighting everytime they met.

But gradually, start on the 2nd year after Fushimi left, whenever Yata was chilling out in the small gang while drinking some soda from vending machine, Fushimi show up and drinking the same thing. They still bickering and mocking each other, but they didn’t engage a battle, they just talking like some normal comrades.

And Fushimi didn't hate it.

"I never thought you like spending time outside, when you live with me, you don't want to come out no matter how I budge you!" Said Yata casually.

"It's because there so many gossipers and useless subordinates that cares stupid things, and Ice Queen so bossy," Explain Fushimi while rubbing his head, he got more less sleep than ever thanks to Captain's orders.

"Sound like a hell job, but you like it at there right?" Fushimi didn’t expect Yata would ask how he feeling, he never asked those questions before, its like he was scared seeing how Fushimi fit in other groups.

"…. The payment it's not bad." He avoided it while took a sip again.

Yata grinned. "I'm glad, then!"

Fushimi clicked his tongue and look away, somehow he felt annoyed if Yata would delighted if Fushimi happy.

"Oh, right timing, here." Misaki pulled out his small gift that full of chocolates, he still giving Fushimi chocolates depise they live in different place, if he couldn't found Fushimi, he usually give it to Scepter's 4 guy that patrolling that day.

"What? You still baking these?" Fushimi didn't reject it and examine the chocolates, it was bit melted because it have been in Yata's pocket too long. "Of course, I have been looking forward to give it you, since I found the secret ingredients, I realize what I have been missing!"

"What?"

"I'm making it while thinking about you, and its turn out more effective!"

It caught him off guard, the bizarre thump sound of his heart make him suddenly nervous. He got annoyed, Fushimi pull Yata by grabbing his jacket, and he saw chances. "Why are you drinking like 5th graders?"

"What are you—AAAAAH! What the hell!? Get off!!!" Yata didn't expect Fushimi would pulled him closer and licked chin, almost got his lips.

"You never stop acting like a child, huh"

"P-p-pervert!"

Fushimi hurriedly ran toward Yata who had been hiding in the back of alley that they usually met on free time.

The situation has been dire. Suoh Mikoto had been sent to Hospital because of Ashinaka's incident, Totsuka hasn't recovered from the shots yet, Kusanagi gone for months and no news from him, and the Gold King has been missing, HOMRA was completely mess.

The only remaining faithful members only Yata, Kamamoto and Anna.

Unfortunately, they had been attacked by someone that may from Green clan and Anna was kidnapped.

The black hair guy who had been helped them can't stop him from kidnapping Anna.

"Misaki!" Fushimi found him laying on the corner while coughing, he was injured badly because trying to save Anna earlier from the Green guy.

"S—Saru!" Yata suddenly stood up while coughing. Luckily Fushimi was in right time to catch him from falling.

"H-Help Anna! He kidnapped her! Somebody must save her!" Yata desperitaly shook off Fushimi's shoulder.

"Calm down, I already asked Awashima to find Anna, but it will took time to prepare the squads,"

"What the hell!? What are you waiting for!? Anna can got killed if you guys didn't do anything!" Yata yelled too loud, which cause him more coughing.

"Snap out it, Misaki, if you want to save her badly, then you must the one who save her, You are HOMRA Vanguard after all." Fushimi was irritated seeing how broken and unstable Yata's state.

Ever since Mikoto has been treated in hospital and hasn't regain consciousness for months, Yata was the one who get most depressed. The pressure and the worry he felt must be heavy enough to corner Yata and made him look like pitiful guy.

"You're right, I shouldn't have look for help, I must the one who help her! Heck, I even ask help to blues! I must be goddamit crazy!" Finally Yata get himself together, he slapped his own face and stood up with his favorite bat.

"Tch, I shouldn't have encouraged you if you going reckless again. Let me ask, do you know where she is?"

"Ah....Nope?"

"You're hopeless, here." Fushimi send some coordinate that consist Anna's location. "You go to here first, I will return to base to get some help, if you're in great danger, I suggest you give signal to me,"

"Thanks, Saru, I know you're the best, I owe you one!!" Yata left while using his skateboard to speed up, Fushimi waved back and he return to base.

He didn't like seeing Yata happy with other than himself, but he hate it more if Yata was depressed.

'At least this what I can do.'

Yata never been feel more grateful when Fushimi helped him last time, not only he could save Anna, he got himself a new King, or Queen exactly, safe and sound.

He owes a life debt to Fushimi, because for him, HOMRA always his second home. Fushimi didn't want to admit he just helped him and he act more annoying than ever, especially after Scepter's 4 and HOMRA team up to defeat the Green clans.

But when he found out what Munakata assign Fushimi a suicide mission, Yata never felt so hopeless, not only he regrets doubting Fushimi's loyalty, he felt scared, the same horror sensation like when he almost watching Fushimi died in front of him. This time Mikoto didn't help them.

Yata decided he will save Fushimi, even if it cost his life.

He came in the right time, when Anna allowed him to help Fushimi first before the main mission, he use all his strength to catch up Fushimi and it turn out he almost get killed by Sukuna.

He feel so relieved after he succeed saved him.

Fushimi protested to him why he would save him, and Yata yelled him back because he knew Fushimi's loyalty always in Scepter's 4 side, he knew Fushimi acknowledge Munakata as his king, just like he acknowledge Mikoto as his king.

Fushimi won't admit how he feel happy when Yata always believe in him, but Yata knew anyway, because there is no way Fushimi would have fought back Sukuna together with Yata if he wasn't in good mood.

When Fushimi asked who the most important in his life, Yata would have answer it was Fushimi all the time, ever since he met him. But remembering how improtant his main mission, he answered Anna.

Fushimi didn't feel irritated for the answer, he wouldn't need a word from Yata for recognition of their feeling, he knew Yata always coming right to him, just like when he did to him.

This time, Fushimi saved by Yata's words, he can learn he was allowed to feel grateful toward his teammates and Captains, because his loyalty also stay on Scepter's 4.

But he still uncomfortable got welcome hug from his teammates, especially from the Captain.

"I can't believe The Slate have been over, I'm gonna miss my days when I could use my powers!" Yelled Yata in the middle of the night after he and Fushimi visited Yata's family.

When they welcome him like in old days, Fushimi admit he missed them for years after leaving the hometown.

"If you're going use Slate Power until you grown old, I bet you die quickly." Said Fushimi in monotone.

"Don't say die in that tone! It's like you didn't mind I would die in any moment!"

"I'm just joking, idiot," Fushimi messed Yata's hair while Yata mumbled, usually he owuld slapped back, but it seems he got used to it. As long Fushimi didn't mention about their difference height.

"Hey, even thought we didn't have power anymore, I'm still thinking Anna and Mikoto-san are my King and Queen! How about you, Saru? Munakata always be your king, right?"

Fushimi stared Yata little, usually Yata always be in bad mood whenever he mentioned Munakata or Captain in front of him, its like he was jealous, but now he just giving normal response.

'It's not fair.' He nodded slowly. Yata stretching his hand out to the air while yawned.

"Misaki, there something I want to tell you..." Fushimi stopped his track while looking seriously to Yata.

"Hmm, what is it?"

"I think we should stop the exchange chocolate tradition." Both of them were silent.

Yata was dumbfounded by Fushimi's random request. Sure he knew Fushimi was uncomfortable with it, but it was unexpected.

"And I think I don't want hang out with you for while."

"W-What!? Why!?? We had just reconciled last month! And there so much things I want to do with you!"

Fushimi averted his eyes, Yata's reaction was always exceed his expectation and he wanted to tease him so bad, but this wasn't the right time.

"Ugh, if I did something offensive again, I would apologize for that, but cutting off communication like that—"

"I never said I was cutting off communication." Fushimi still keep his cool posture.

"W-What? but you said you don't want to meet me—"

"We could still keep in touch by message, but we won't meet for while."

"Why!? Don't decided things like that! I-I don't want to stop seeing you..."

"Why, then? Give me reason why I should,"

"D-Don't you get it.... Argh!" Suddenly Yata pushed Fushimi over the neighbor walls and keep his both arms beside Fushimi, ilike he was trying to kabedon Fushimi.

"I-I just figure out after uh—You know, the slate incident, I want to be with you, not because about HOMRA, mission, partner, stuff like that. It's because... Just you, the monkey that I care about,"

"Cute." "W-What did you just call me—Hmph!" Fushimi pushed his lips toward Yata's lips. Their lips crashed, it was dry and bitter, but Fushimi took his whole lips and suck the Yata's bottom lips.

Yata still frozen up until Fushimi pulled out from their kiss. "T-That was my irst kiss!! You Asshole!!" Yata walk backwards and giving Fushimi space.

"Sorry, I was just teasing you." Fushimi pulled off his trademark smirk. "All of them was lies!!? Including the chocolates!?" They were lucky the neighborhood didn’t suddenly went out and scold them how loud Yata was.

"Yes." Fushimi didn't regret single thing about what he have done.

"Y-You fucking sadist! I hate you—" Yata was about to punch Fushimi again, but he stopped him and pulled him into hug instead.

"Misaki, go out with me." This time Fushimi asked him, with serious tone, even their eyes didn't meet, Yata notice how red Fushimi's cheek.

"Y-Y-You could ask me without teasing!" Yata feel so dumb for believing every words that come out from Fushimi's mouth.

"I need to make sure you feel the same way," Fushimi chuckled while nuzzling his head into Yata's neck, he felt Yata so small in his embrace, he still would told his feelings even if Yata didn't feel the same way.

"Dumbass, you won't get chocolate this year!"

[FIN]

[muchmeus]

bedheads and idle mornings ♥✈️

[brocolis-n-e-couveflor]

[crinnyan]

—The first time they held hands were in middle school. It wasn’t even ‘holding hands’. It was only Misaki’s holding Saruhiko’s, their hands didn’t intertwine, they wasn’t even dating. But both of them were blushing, and their heart didn’t shut up either.

[Sarumi fest 2019 — day 1 : no theme]

I,,,tried,,,,

But happy Sarumi fest!! I was kinda excited for this, since not only July 7th is Tanabata, Sarumi day, it was my birthday! So I went all out on the coloring, I hope you like it!

[o-yata-o]

SaruMi Fest | Day 3

You told me you would be my family...

I never believed it to be honest...

But over time, I think I changed my mind.

I don't need my broken "family" or any stupid clan.

As long as I can be with you forever.

You are my family.

You are all that I need to get old with.

Here's my third entry and I really hope it counts TwT

[brynne-lagaao]

(Fanfic) Morning After

Title: Morning After

Rating: R18

Description: It wasn’t just the alcohol that brought them to this point; it had been a long time coming, even if Yata hadn’t quite realized it before. He wasn’t about to let it end there, either.

Crossposts: AO3, FFNET, my website. Links are here.

Happy Sarumi Day, and happy (early) birthday to Yata Misaki!

-----

The morning after his birthday, Yata woke with a dry mouth and a faint but persistent headache. His body felt unusually sweaty and sticky and he could tell even before opening his eyes that he was in an unfamiliar place.

He was also completely naked under the covers of whatever bed he was sleeping on.

It was that last fact that had him shaking off the final haze of sleep and opening his eyes, grimacing at the way the light in the room caused them to sting. Yata muttered a few swears under his breath as the heavy, aching feeling of having had a few too many drinks the night before started to make itself known.

Goddamnit, I told them to cool it with the shots…

That one stray memory seemed to open the floodgate; even as he squinted up at the ceiling, he could feel the evening’s events start to come back to him. Hanging out with his friends at that bar, the classy one he and Saruhiko sometimes went to. Having Saruhiko himself show up, something he’d been vague about beforehand - ‘not enough free time’ and all that crap - along with a few of the Blues that Yata had gotten friendly with during their alliance. Everyone buying him beer, shots, and even a few fancy cocktails with the repeated insistence that you had to get loaded on your own birthday. Stuff started to blur together after a while, but…

His vision cleared.

The room he was in was a hotel room. Nothing too fancy, but the bed was huge and it was sitting on some kinda platform - he was pretty sure it rotated, even. There were some questionable looking bottles on the side tables and the lighting was artfully dimmed. When he turned his gaze up at the ceiling, his own reflection squinted blurrily back at him, flushed and ruffled and looking thoroughly befuddled, from the large mirror mounted there.

One of those hotel rooms, even.

The sound of a running shower was coming from somewhere nearby, and when he glanced in that direction, he could see light coming from beneath the closed door across the room. Further investigation revealed that the other side of the bed was empty but the covers were in disarray - clearly, someone else had slept there.

Holy shit… For a moment, Yata could only stare blankly at the evidence of what had obviously happened, the pieces falling together in his head before his thoughts had quite caught up.

He had… he had totally gotten laid last night, hadn’t he?

Coming to that realization was like reaching a trigger point in a video game to unlock a cutscene - or, in this case, a memory. The vivid impression of his mouth pressed against someone else’s, opening and moving with hot, clumsy fervency as they pressed together. Pulling off his clothing with haste between sloppy kisses; the feel of hands on his naked body; the warmth of uncovered skin beneath his fingers. They’d been rough with each other, grasping harshly for purchase against arms, hips, torso, anywhere - tumbling blindly onto the bed and rolling a few times before coming together somewhere in the middle. The chest against his was flat and firm; he could very clearly recall how delicious the contact had been and how much pleasure had come just from their lower bodies rubbing sinuously against one another. The heat of another man’s erect cock moving against his own had sent him over the edge, an unexpectedly intense orgasm ripping through him as he was pressed down hard against the mattress.

There was heat rising on Yata’s face now, embarrassment at the erotic recollection nearly overpowering his senses. Fuck. He pushed himself up to lean forward against his knees, letting the bedcovers sink around his hips and running a hand over his face as he shut his eyes against the rush. It didn’t help that the memory had him about halfway hard now, a pleasant prickle of arousal overriding the discomfort left by his excessive drinking the night before.

Damn, it had been good, he had to admit, going by just the memory alone. Even aside from that first hasty climax, he had other impressions rushing back: the sensation of muscle tensing and relaxing under his tongue as he migrated down along a toned stomach; the feel of fingers threading in his hair and encouragingly pulling him down; the weight and bulk of his partner’s dick sliding into his mouth with surprising ease.

… The reversal, lying on his back with his legs spread and hands securing his hips, feeling warmth and suction closing around his own cock as his thoughts broke apart in the wake of intense pleasure.

Holy shit. Yata could feel his cheeks flaming beneath his fingers, breath growing short and ragged against his palm as his pulse started to quicken. They’d really done… that. Recalling the taste and the feeling gave him another little squirmy rush of arousal, his body taking further interest at the memory of what it had done to incite those sensations.

They’d done it, and it had been good.

That single fact was still sinking in when the bathroom door opened, and he turned his head instinctively just as his partner in this unexpected little affair stepped out.

Instantly, his skin prickled up, and his earlier embarrassment seemed to fly out the window. Because that tall, lanky figure standing in the doorway in just a thin shirt and pants with a towel wrapped around his neck and his dark hair hanging damp and limp around his face was so familiar Yata would’ve recognized him in his sleep.

Saruhiko…

It didn’t feel like as much of a shock as it should’ve. Even as Yata sat there on the bed, blinking stupidly at his oldest friend - his oldest friend who he’d just fucking had sex with last night - something in the back of his mind seemed to click into place. The thought crossed his mind: ‘Oh. So that’s it.’

Of course it was Saruhiko. Of course.

There was no real time to process that revelation before Saruhiko made a sour face, clicking his tongue and turning away from Yata’s gaze. “You’re already awake, huh?” he muttered, sounding a bit put out. “Do you actually remember anything from last night, or am I going to have to explain it?”

The petulant tone grated on his nerves; Yata scowled back, instinctively on the defensive before he could properly think about it. “Why the hell wouldn’t I remember?”

“Hmm?” That response was drawn out almost mockingly, a tone that Yata had begun to recognize as Saruhiko hoisting his own defenses. That cool gaze met his again; behind the slightly fogged lens of his glasses, one of Saruhiko’s eyebrows raised. “Based on how many drinks you had…” He spread his hands, almost lazily. “Who knows.”

Right, the drinks… And now that it had been brought back up, Yata sorta remembered something else. A whole tray of shots set on the table in front of him, when he still had a nearly full glass in his hand. He’d already been feeling tipsy, and the prospect had been kind of alarming. He’d tried to laugh it off at first.

“Hey, c’mon, this is getting stupid - ”

A light snort from beside him. “Lightweight,” Saruhiko’s murmur followed.

“Huh? What the hell? Look who’s talking!” Yata leaned sideways in the booth to offer a pugnacious scowl in return, not fully serious about it but going with the flow of their usual banter. “As if you’re any better, Saru .”

Saruhiko met his stare head on, unphased. “Your memory must be going if you think so.”

“Yeah?” Impulsively, Yata slid the tray on the table, causing the shots on it to quiver as it came to rest between them. He smirked at the narrow look Saruhiko gave him. “Prove it.”

Neither of them was good at turning down a challenge. He could already see the fire lighting in Saruhiko’s gaze, even before he clicked his tongue and reached for the nearest glass. “Fine.”

That was it - that was how it had started.

At this point, Yata couldn’t remember who had won that impromptu competition - if either of them had. He vaguely recalled getting up from his seat and feeling unsteady on his feet, grinning stupidly at the laughing group of his friends as he stumbled for the bathroom. Saruhiko had been with him - he remembered the two of them bumping into each other, shoving back and forth playfully with their elbows.

Saruhiko had been smiling too, fierce and wide. It had been difficult to look away from his face, with how it transformed when he was like that.

Something inside his chest had seemed to flip, and he’d been able to see that same something reflected back in Saruhiko’s eyes. Acknowledgement - mutual understanding. It was too perfect.

Yata didn’t quite remember going through the bathroom door. He didn’t remember stumbling into a stall, or closing it behind them. But he vividly recalled how it had felt to press back against the closed stall door, tilting his head up as Saruhiko tilted his down - how their lips had met tentatively. So achingly, agonizingly soft. Phantom shivers went through him just from the memory, the longing he’d felt in that moment rising up again to clog his throat.

In that moment, he was painfully aware of just how much he’d wanted that kiss without even knowing it. Almost from the very start of their relationship, years ago. It was the sweetest thing he’d ever experienced, that unfulfilled desire being finally, finally answered.

Part of him had probably always known.

The silence had stretched on just a little too long while he was feeling the weight of the remembered awakening. Saruhiko clicked his tongue again, turning his head to break their gaze and frowning at the wall instead with obvious displeasure. “You’re better off not remembering anyway.”

Following on the heels of his recent memory, those words hurt more than they probably should’ve. Yata felt his hands curl into fists at his side, the now-familiar blend of frustration and confusion that rose at these moments when the two of them had a disconnect in understanding flaring up in immediate response. He had to force his voice even when he responded. “Why?”

“‘Why’?” Saruhiko repeated, still in that hatefully condescending drawl. He was still not making eye contact. “Isn’t it less awkward if at least one of us forgets this happened?”

Years of dealing with this crap had at least given Yata some perspective on some of Saruhiko’s baiting tactics, but that didn’t make it easier to handle. He could feel the hurt and the indignation surging up through his veins, demanding a response - demanding that he jump out of bed and grab Saruhiko by the collar and shake him. His fingers clenched even more tightly, almost painfully, as he forced the urge back.

It was a statement designed to cut, but it wasn’t just aimed at him. It was defensive at its heart in a way that was hauntingly familiar.

Yata didn’t fully understand Saruhiko - couldn’t wrap his head around what drove him to be like this, even after hearing the mumbled explanations during the series of painfully honest conversations they’d had as they healed their broken relationship. But more and more, he was able to recognize patterns and habits.

More and more, he was resolving to be honest and straightforward about his own feelings in response - even if he had to choke on his pride a little in the process - rather than playing into that game of secrets and lies. It was the best way he’d found to reach for the things he wanted without either forcing things to go his way or getting manipulated into a distraction.

Not gonna let you dick me around like that anymore.

Yata sucked in a long breath, then shook his head, forcing his hands to soften. “Heh.” He managed a wry grin. “You still pull that shit when you’re feeling cornered, huh?”

That at last earned him Saruhiko’s attention, although the gaze that shifted his way was wary. “What are you talking about?”

“You know.” Feeling buoyed by that small success, Yata shifted toward the edge of the bed, swinging his body around so that his feet were on the floor. “That whole ‘break everything’ bullshit.” Despite the fact it was kinda awkward to be naked when Saruhiko was dressed, he deliberately shifted aside the covers and pushed himself to stand, pugnaciously scowling to cover any residual embarrassment. “If last night was a mistake for you, fine, whatever. Just spell it out for me, and I’ll let it go.”

It was necessary to brace himself internally as he met Saruhiko’s gaze with as much conviction as he could muster. “It wasn’t for me, though.”

That much, he was sure of. The memory of their first kiss still burned brightly inside his head. He could remember it clearly - not just the press of Saruhiko’s lips on his or the mingling of their breath or the way his skin had prickled with awareness, but also the way his heart had felt like it would explode with the intensity of the emotions surging through him. Relief. Affection. Desire. Happiness. Satisfaction.

The very obvious absence of any confusion or uncertainty.

Everything they had done had felt good. It had felt right. And he wanted more. So much more…

Saruhiko’s eyes widened noticeably in response to his declaration, and Yata felt a tiny thread of the uncertainty that had been missing the night before worm its way through his thoughts. His instincts wanted him to believe that everything had been mutual - that the sense of understanding he remembered from when their eyes met had been real, and not something he’d imagined because he’d wanted it so badly. But that was where he made a lot of his mistakes in the past, right? Assuming things. Projecting his feelings onto other people.

In the end, he really had no idea what Saruhiko’s feelings were about this.

And that was why the only way to do this was to say exactly what he did know - to put himself out there, and take whatever answer he got.

After that initial surprise, Saruhiko seemed to collect himself, frowning in response as his eyes narrowed again. He clicked his tongue and mumbled, “Do you even know what you’re saying?”

“Huh?” Yata returned the frown. “What’s that s’posed to mean? Of course I do!”

“Do you really?” Saruhiko raised an eyebrow at him, another little sardonic smirk turning his lips up at the corners. “You remember what we did last night, right?” He lowered his eyelids a bit, slowly drawing out his next word. “Everything?”

The reminder sent a hot flush rushing up Yata’s neck to settle across his cheeks. “Th-that’s - !” He was suddenly, embarrassingly aware of his own nudity, and had to struggle against the immediate urge to cover himself. It was stupid - Saruhiko had already seen everything, up close and personal - but still somehow…

Still somehow, he couldn’t help but be reminded of how he’d got that way in the first place - eager fingers tugging at the fabric of his shirt and the zipper of his pants almost before the door slammed shut behind them. He’d done his part to help that along too, enthusiastically discarding each piece of clothing as it was insistently pulled off of him and returning the favor with Saruhiko’s shirt, pants, and cardigan as well. They’d both been impatient and fueled with confidence from the alcohol, pawing at each inch of bare skin as it was exposed.

Both of them had clearly wanted it in the moment, that was for sure.

The exact details of exactly how they’d migrated from the bathroom stall out of the bar and then to the hotel district were kind of blurry. He only remembered a sense of increasingly heightened anticipation and excitement, and the shivery thrill of exploring something fresh and unknown and fascinating. Trading glances with Saruhiko and seeing those same feelings reflected back at him, and knowing. Hell, he’d ditched his own birthday party. The two of them had booked a room at a goddamn love hotel. It hadn’t been all that spontaneous.

Even if it still kind of felt that way now, in the aftermath.

Saruhiko seemed to take his silence as some kind of weakness, because he made another of those low, mocking hums. “Are you that bothered by it, Misaki?”

“Shut up!” Yata blurted back, without even thinking about it. He huffed a bit, flustered. “I didn’t say I was bothered by it!” Reaching up to scratch at the back of his head with agitated energy, he muttered, “I’m just not used to it, s’all.” The words were barely out of his mouth before it occurred to him that he could turn this around, and he glared back stubbornly. “Anyway, you’re the same, right? That’s why you keep flipping this shit around and trying to distract me.”

Saruhiko blinked at him, clearly taken aback, and then clicked his tongue again, the smirk seeming to slide off his face. “Distract you from what, exactly?”

“From…” Yata struggled with that for a moment, before going for the simplest answer and swinging his hand around to indicate the room they were in. “This.” He brought that same hand back in front of him to wave back and forth between the two of them. “Us.”

The wariness was still there in Saruhiko’s expression, but he wasn’t looking away from Yata now. “What kind of ‘us’ are you talking about?”

It was about as plain a question as he was likely to get - considering the source, anyway. The easiest answer - What the hell do you think? - was on the tip of his tongue, but Yata managed to choke it back and stick with as much bare honesty as he could summon up. “Dunno about your side, but for me…” It was surprisingly difficult to force the words out; he could feel his cheeks grow warm as he did. “I - y’know - I liked it. What we did. Last night.”

Saruhiko blinked at him, clearly taken aback by that declaration. He opened his mouth, then closed it again and frowned. After a brief and very awkward pause he tried again, eyebrows furrowing. “What are you - ?”

“What the hell, Saruhiko?” Yata cut him off before he could finish that stupid question. “Don't play dumb, you asshole - are you seriously gonna make me spell it out for you?” He didn't even wait for an answer, scowling with enough aggravation to almost overpower his embarrassment. “I got feelings for you, dumbass!” The confession sent another flood of uncomfortable heat up his neck, and he deepened his scowl in instinctive response. “That's - that's plain enough for you, right?”

He had the satisfaction of seeing Saruhiko’s eyes widen at that, momentarily open and uncharacteristically defenseless. “Misaki…” he said, voice a curious blend of wonder and disbelief. And then he seemed to think twice on it, that old wariness rising like a protective layer across his face. “You decided that overnight, huh?”

You gotta be kidding me… Yata narrowed his eyes. “I realized it last night. When we - ” It was amazing how embarrassing it still was to say. “When we kissed, that first time, back at the bar… I got it. Everything just made sense. It felt like I’d been waiting for it for years without knowing.”

The frank confession had another surge of awkward awareness through him. Yata was starkly conscious of his own shameless nudity as he spouted out his most personal feelings, but he couldn't stop now. Not when he’d come this far already.

“It's always been you in my head like that,” he said, stubbornly holding his gaze steady on Saruhiko’s face. Only now was he noticing just how well he knew the small details of that face - all the curves and edges and the way it moved with different expressions. “I just never realized until it got spelled out for me. Then everything just… clicked.”

Shoulda been obvious, huh?

His last words hung in the air for what felt like a long, painful moment as Saruhiko stared blankly at him, seemingly robbed of any kind of sarcastic or biting response. And then, just as Yata was starting to shift anxiously on his feet, he abruptly clicked his tongue, turning his gaze to the side.

“It just clicked now?” he murmured, almost as if to himself. To Yata's amazement, a tiny hint of color seemed to have risen on his pale cheeks. “You're always late with these things, aren't you, Misaki?”

Something about the sight bolstered Yata's spirits just a little. “Shut up! I get it, okay? I'm slow with this crap sometimes.” Still… He hasn't rejected me yet. With Saruhiko, that was a positive sign - but he wasn't about to take anything for granted. “So?” Yata braced a hand on his hip, forcing as much confidence as he could muster. “You heard about me; now what about you?” A mix of anxiety and hope was brewing behind his ribcage, expanding so strongly he was sure it would bust its way out. His voice when he spoke again came out more tentative than he would've liked. “How - How do you feel? About me.”

Saruhiko let out a soft sound, like something between a hum and a chuckle. For a moment, he closed his eyes, lips curling up at the corners of his mouth with apparent reluctance.

Yata swallowed, reminded himself to breathe, and clenched the fingers of his free hand into a fist. And waited.

“You want to know how I feel?” Saruhiko drawled out, after that seemingly endless pause. He tipped his head back up and forward, lowering his eyelids and offering that lazy smirk Yata was so familiar with. There was a spark in his eyes that was almost manic. “I spent years of my life interested in you, and only you.” A sardonic undertone crept into his voice as he continued, “And somehow, I managed to be in denial through most of it. But I’ve known for some time now what I want.”

The combination of that soft mumbling tone, the words themselves, and the intense gaze that accompanied them had Yata’s stomach doing somersaults. “And what’s that?” he shot back, with as much bravado as he could summon.

“You.” The answer was immediate; Saruhiko’s gaze didn’t waver. “Everything about you. I want to see everything there is to see about you, hear every sound you produce…” A short, very poignant pause. “ Feel ” - Delicate fingers brushed a lock of hair from his face, and Yata felt his skin prickle - “every inch of you.” The touch lingered, and the manic look in Saruhiko’s eyes shifted to a kind of undeniable longing, so open and intense that it caused an ache to rise up swift and strong at the back of Yata’s throat. “I think about you all the time - you’re always there, at the back of my mind. I’ve felt like this for so long I don’t even remember what it was like when I didn’t.”

It was difficult to even breathe, much less formulate a response. Yata stared back, unable to tear his gaze and certain he didn’t want to anyway.

Saruhiko…

A soft, faintly mocking hum followed that brief silence, and Saruhiko withdrew his fingers, studying Yata covertly behind his lashes. “Does it bother you, Misaki? My feelings? A little much for you, are they?”

Even if he hadn’t caught the edge of self-preservation behind that, Yata would still have managed to collect himself at that point, shaking his head to dismiss that conclusion. “Are you kidding me?” He could feel the tremor in his fingers - his body - all the way down to his bones . “That was awesome.” The grin that spread across his face felt like it had bubbled to the surface without his consciously sending it there, but he didn’t care. This feeling… this raw excitement… There was nothing else like it. “You’re so…” Impulsively, he snatched up Saruhiko’s retreating hand and brought it back to his face, tipping his head sideways into it. “Amazing. You’re amazing, Saruhiko.” Catching the way those cool blue eyes widened, he followed up his advantage with shameless enthusiasm. “And I’m crazy about you too, you fucking dumbass!”

Those words could’ve started a fire; Yata could feel it building in the way Saruhiko’s fingers trembled in his grip - in the way Saruhiko’s eyes widened and then narrowed, darkening with intense focus. He could feel it in himself, raging from the inside, as hot and thrilling as Homra’s blaze.

And still - still - he wasn’t ready for the moment when Saruhiko’s mouth found his, fierce and desperate and clumsy, fueled by the pent-up longing he’d seen before. The sensation in his chest and through his body was something like an explosion. Nerves, tension, passion - all of it crashing together within him. He could only go with his instincts: focus on the pleasant pressure of lips against his, press back up into the kiss with all of his own excitement, and… breathe.

It was more vivid in the moment - or maybe that was due to being sober this time. The little details - fabric wrinkling in his fists, frenzied breath fanning over his cheeks, fingers pressing hard into the crease of his hips - seemed to stand out starkly. The clumsy wet glide of tongue against his lips and inside his mouth had that pleasant buzz of arousal firing to life in the pit of Yata’s belly; he couldn’t hold back a moan, and the soft, desperate-sounding response he got from Saruhiko sent a hot shuddering wave through his body.

Goddamn. It really was incredible. He should’ve known. Everything between the two of them was like this.

He wasn’t even really sure how much time had passed by the time Saruhiko pulled back a fraction, murmuring his name in a way that brushed their mouths together as Yata chased him in momentary confusion. “Misaki…” There was a moment of hesitation, almost imperceptible but enough that Yata opened his eyes a fraction so their gazes could meet.

Saruhiko’s glasses were askew on his nose, cheeks flushed and eyes still intent with that inferno of emotion. It set Yata’s heart to racing just looking at him. When he continued, the familiar slow mumbling timbre of his voice had an underlying desperation to it. “Let me fuck you.”

With that look and that tone, the words went straight to the building erection between Yata’s legs. “Yeah,” he managed to respond, voice unsteady. Clearing his throat against the anxious excitement, he yanked sharply against the fabric of the shirt still draped over Saruhiko’s shoulders and tried again. “Yeah.”

That was enough encouragement for Saruhiko to discard the stupid thing, shrugging it off with haste as he leaned in. Yata was pretty much done with waiting, reaching down for the fastening on Saruhiko’s pants instead. His fingers were unusually clumsy, tense with nerves and distracted by the arousal that lit his body again as Saruhiko urged him impatiently to step backwards toward the bed, their lips meeting and parting multiple times in short, heated kisses.

There was some awkwardness when the back of Yata’s knees hit the edge of the mattress and he nearly overbalanced. It forced them to part momentarily so that they could focus on ridding Saruhiko of the last of his clothing and when that was done there was a moment when they just kind of… stood there, naked and hesitant, eyeing each other with mingled desire and uncertainty.

Damnit, this was way easier when we were drunk.

That didn’t mean he was cool with stopping , though. Yata let himself fall back onto the bed, trying not to think about it too closely and desperately ignoring the rush of embarrassment that rose up brazenly as a flush across his face. “Right,” he said gruffly, forcing down the tremor in his voice. “Let’s do this!” It was pure bravado but whatever, couldn’t be helped. He smirked back up in open challenge, spreading his arms impulsively. “C’mon, Saru.”

He could tell immediately by the answering spark in Saruhiko’s eyes that it was the right move. There wasn’t time to process that really, though, because his invitation was taken immediately and he found himself pinned down to the bed with surprising force. “Misaki,” Saruhiko all but sighed out, eyes going lidded again and lips curling up just slightly even as he leaned in for another kiss.

Through the pleasant haze, the reality of what they were about to do was worming its way up to the forefront of Yata’s mind. Saruhiko’s lean hips were already settled between his thighs, their cocks rubbing together in a deliciously sinuous motion as they exchange increasingly sloppy kisses. It was distracting - but not distracting enough that he didn’t notice Saruhiko’s fingers sliding down and past his hips, curling around his ass cheeks with obvious intent.

He’s gonna… in there… It was kind of unnerving - going all the way, just like that - but at the same time... well…

Impulsively, he freed one hand to snake it between them, finding the hot length of Saruhiko’s dick with his fingers. The movement caused Saruhiko’s body to quiver, and Yata drank in the soft moan that vibrated against his open mouth greedily.

Feeling it like this in his hand and thinking about what it was going to feel like inside him was a serious turn-on. A little surge of pleasure shot through his lower body, precum oozing from the head of his dick, and another of those involuntary sounds escaped his throat in response.

Might’ve been kinda scary, sure, but it was hot as hell at the same time!

Saruhiko pulled back, breaking their kiss with obvious reluctance. His eyes were hazy with desire, cheeks flushed under the rim of his glasses, lips red and swollen, and the sight of him had Yata’s breath catching in his throat. Unconsciously, his fingers clenched in the hair at the base of Saruhiko’s neck, nerves on edge from the visual and physical stimulation.

Despite the fact that it clearly made reaching to the nightstand more awkward, Saruhiko didn’t attempt to dislodge him, groping blindly on the table with obviously unsteady fingers for a moment or two before he reached his aim.

It took a bit to refocus on what he was grabbing. Yata squinted at the bottle - right, lube, obviously - and the thin package. “We really need a condom?”

Saruhiko paused, then raised an eyebrow at him in response. “Unless you want it bareback and messy.”

Somehow just the wording of that… Bareback. The feel of Saruhiko’s dick in his hand - in his mouth, even, with his memories from last night. Messy. Oh yeah, he remembered that too: the telltale quiver that came with Saruhiko’s orgasm, just a bare instant before his mouth was flooded…

In the heavy silence that fell, Yata could feel his face and body growing hot. It was difficult to meet Saruhiko’s gaze as awareness slowly settled between them.

Damn… don’t make me say it!

Saruhiko blinked several times, seemingly taken aback. It was sort of a cute reaction, but it didn’t last long; after that brief moment of realization, his eyelids lowered, corners of his mouth curling in a smirk. “Really?”

The expression should not have been a turn-on. Yata felt his eyebrow twitch, and scowled against the embarrassment. “Just get on with it already!”

“Mm.” The smirk didn’t budge, but there was clear fondness in Saruhiko’s gaze behind that teasing edge. He set the condom package aside and flipped the cap on the bottle, awkwardly shifting his weight so that he could pour a generous amount into his palm. “So impatient, Misaki.”

This was it. A sudden mix of excitement and anxiety had Yata huffing out a low ‘heh’ and offering his own smirk in response. “Like you’re not!”

He expected another flippant reply, but Saruhiko surprised him by offering a lidded but intent stare instead, fully serious as he mumbled back, “I’ve been waiting all this time, haven’t I?”

All this time. The words resonated. “Yeah, well,” Yata responded gruffly, swallowing back against a rush of emotion, “just ’cause I didn’t know I was waiting doesn’t mean I wasn’t doing the same.” He met that gaze boldly, drinking in the charged energy between them and letting the hand still braced at the back of Saruhiko’s neck slide forward to cup the side of his jaw. “So let’s get on with it, huh?”

Something in Saruhiko’s eyes seemed to soften, just a bit. He let out an amused huff, pressing very slightly against Yata’s hand. “If you say so.” Without waiting for a response, he lowered his slicked fingers, prodding with surprising gentleness at the base of Yata’s ass.

Yata took the hint, shifting to bend his knees and move his legs further apart. The touch felt more intimate than others had before - it gave him an odd sense of vulnerability that chewed on his nerves a little. But at the same time, he didn’t… dislike it.

Even when Saruhiko pushed his fingers in, one first and then the others as Yata gave him shaky nods to signal that he’d adjusted, it was… not bad. Kind of almost good. Strange, yeah, and there was a stretch that wasn’t quite comfortable, but still. The sliding sensation as those slender digits moved in and out of him was sensual enough to build up some anticipation for what was coming.

Saruhiko looked up to meet Yata’s gaze as he pulled his fingers free and reached for the bottle again. There was an unspoken question in them - ‘are you okay?’ - along with a demand - ‘tell me if you’re not’ - that Yata picked up in an instant. He offered a grin in return, curling one hand into a thumbs up.

Gimme all you got, Saru!

Apparently the message got across clearly, because Saruhiko’s lips curled up a tiny bit. His eyes shut briefly as he ran lube-covered fingers down his dick to coat it, a little shudder rocking his body. As Yata watched, momentarily enchanted by the sight, he let out a shaky, desperate murmur of, “Misaki.”

“Nn.” The sound escaped Yata unconsciously, though whether it was in response to the visual, the voice, or the feeling of Saruhiko’s dick pressing against the base of his ass wasn’t entirely clear to him. His head felt foggy with lust. “Yeah… Saruhiko…”

And then Saruhiko was pressing inside him, and the sharp sting that accompanied the stretch as his body spread to accommodate took all the breath out of him in a rush. For the first few seconds he tensed up, until the pain of the initial entry started to ease and he could focus more on the actual sensation of being filled.

It was… pretty hot, no surprise.

As the stars started to clear from his vision and reality intruded in that bubble of feeling, Yata became aware of Saruhiko’s eyes on him. That gaze was a storm of emotion, though it was hard to place all of it. Mostly, he got the impression of need - desperation. Saruhiko shut his eyes shortly after they made contact, lashes standing out on the flushed skin beneath them. He was clearly holding himself back.

That was sorta endearing. Yata took in a breath and let it out in a huff, smiling. “Hey.” He reached up with shaky fingers to brush the damp fringe of dark hair away from Saruhiko’s face. “M’good. Move.”

It was short, but effective. Saruhiko opened his eyes again, a fire seeming to light within their depths, and his grip on Yata’s hips tightened just a fraction before he shifted his own hips forward to push all the way inside.

It hit them both; Yata unintentionally dropped his head back, fractured shivers of pleasure and pain seeming to shoot all along the lines of his frayed nerves. In the same moment, Saruhiko moaned loudly, mouth dropping open and eyes fluttering shut.

Fuck… good…

There wasn’t space to think deeply about it, even if Yata had been capable of it; their eyes met, and there was no doubt they were on the same wavelength. Yes, more, faster… There was less pain and more delicious sliding and filling as Saruhiko pulled out and thrust back in, the tension in Yata’s lower body building all the more with each motion.

He couldn’t have helped it if he’d wanted to. Yata worked his hand between his legs and took his own cock in hand, thumbing the moisture weeping from the tip and letting out an involuntary moan as he began to jerk himself to Saruhiko’s pace.

It didn’t take long. Assaulted by sensation from within and without, Yata reached the breaking point quickly, release seeming to shudder through him in waves of intense pleasure.

Above him, Saruhiko abruptly bit his lip, eyes wild with desperation, and thrust twice more in hard, fast succession before stiffening up and letting out a low cry. His cock twitched within Yata’s body, a little rush of warmth accompanying it. The sensation brought another unexpected jolt of pleasure and a last spurt of come from Yata’s dick at the tail end of his orgasm. He was still trembling in its wake as Saruhiko’s whole body started to shake violently and he abruptly slumped forward, spent.

The fractured remnants of Yata’s thoughts seemed to melt back into the bed along with his weary muscles. For that first moment of afterglow, he stared up at Saruhiko’s slack face with a kind of wonder, lulled by the echo of their shared breathing.

We really just did that, huh? It felt unreal, but also right. Like something that should’ve happened ages ago.

Well… plenty of time still to make up for that.

Saruhiko seemed to come back to himself around the same time as Yata, raising his head wearily so their gazes met. A faint, almost bewildered little smile was playing on his lips.

Yata found the responding grin spreading on his own before he thought about it, and reached up impulsively to cup the side of that flushed face above him, gratified when Saruhiko shut his eyes and leaned into the touch. In that moment of mutual openness, he didn’t mind blurting out the first lazy thought that came to mind.

“Happy birthday, me.”

[ridiasfangirlings]

Concept: Fushimi is the first to say 'I love you.' Yata's reaction?

Slight apologies to the anon who asked this, I was deliberately saving this one for Sarumi Fest. Hope the small fic makes up for it ^^

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“….This is boring,” Fushimi clicked his tongue, leaning back in his seat as he glanced over at Yata. The movie theater was nearly empty save for the two of them, side by side in the very back row. It was a hot day even for July and they’d taken refuge inside the theater just to enjoy the air conditioning, grabbing tickets for whatever happened to be playing.

That ‘whatever happened to be playing’ was a sappy romance movie had presumably not been intentional, judging from the way Yata had spent the last half an hour or so with his hands over his eyes and his face bright red even in the dim light of the theater.

“D-did she put her clothes back on yet?” Yata had shrunk back in the chair, popcorn stuck to his shirt, still in the same position he’d been in ever since the sex scene had started.

“Yes,” Fushimi said, even though the actress hadn’t. Yata carefully removed one hand and then gave a small scream as the movie screen filled with a close up of the actress’s naked breasts.

“S-Saruhiko!”

“Don’t be such a virgin, Misaki.” Fushimi clicked his tongue again, crossing his arms and staring down at his PDA. “You chose this movie, right?”

“I didn’t know it was a—a–” Yata groaned and threw his head back. “What the hell was that guy at the front counter thinking anyway? We’re kids, we shouldn’t be watching this kind of stuff! Right?”

Fushimi just shrugged in reply, focused on his PDA. The couple onscreen cuddled in bed and Fushimi rolled his eyes.

“This is stupid.”

“Let’s go then.” Yata risked opening an eye to reach out and tug on his sleeve. “We can go back to my place and play video games, okay?”

“It’s too hot for that.” Fushimi didn’t even look up.

“I’m sure Mom’s got the fan going.” There was a slight pause. “Or we could go back to your place–”

“No.” Flat and final,enough that even an idiot like Misaki couldn’t miss the undertone. “This is fine.”

“But–”

“The movie’s almost over, right?” Fushimi said curtly. “At least it’s cool in here.”

“You really don’t like hot weather, huh?” Yata sighed, looking back at the movie screen now that everyone was fully clothed again. “Hey, I bet if we hide in here they won’t even notice if we stick around for the next movie. Maybe it’ll cool down outside by then and we can go back to my place.”

“We.” Fushimi said the word softly under his breath, as if testing it. Yata was looking at him with a bright open smile and Fushimi’s gaze traveled back to the movie screen. “Your mom doesn’t like you having people sleep over when there’s school tomorrow, I thought.”

“She won’t mind if it’s you.” Yata leaned on the arm rest and if Fushimi turned his head there would be only inches of space between them. “Saruhiko….it’s too hot to spend the night by yourself, right? We could stop by the convenience store on the way home and look for another fan, then we’ll have two in my room and it’ll be cool enough for both of us.”

“….Fine.” Fushimi’s eyes slid back down to his PDA, but he could hear Yata’s smile without even seeing it. Yata had begun to feel that way for him, lately – bright like a sun he couldn’t quite grasp, wild emotions that Fushimi could almost feel as if they were rays of heat pressing against his skin.

“All right! What movie do you think’ll be playing next? There’s gotta be an action movie playing some time, they can’t play this sappy stuff again and again all day.”

“I love you.” The actress on screen was speaking again and Fushimi felt a small spike of annoyance, that her voice was drowning out Misaki’s.

It was too too hot out, and Misaki was right there next to him. Later they’d go back to Misaki’s house and Fushimi would be able to sleep for the night. Then they could walk to school together, or skip if Fushimi didn’t feel like going. If he was feeling under the weather Misaki would argue with his mother about staying home to keep an eye on him, and make an ice pack and porridge with pineapples for him to eat.

Lazy, unconcerned days that went on and on, and had been for what seemed like a long time now. Sometimes Fushimi could almost forget it, that big empty house and those wide empty rooms, and laughter that froze his blood and echoed from wall to wall. As long as Misaki was here, it felt like these days could go on forever and Fushimi wouldn’t mind at all.

“I’ve always loved you. Without you….I haven’t got anyone!” Tears were falling from the actress’s eyes, fake and melodramatic, and Fushimi saw Yata shifting beside him with an irritated face. The words sounded flat to Fushimi’s ears, and foreign – what did that kind of thing mean anyway, confessions of love? It was a stupid thing to get so worked up over. The characters onscreen embraced, and Fushimi clicked his tongue and watched Yata from the corner of his eye.

Yata smiled back at him and Fushimi’s heart fluttered, just a bit.

                            –

The room was dark and quiet, the only sounds the soft insistent hum of the fans and Yata’s steady breathing.

It was too hot to sleep on the floor, Yata had decided. Fushimi always took the bed – even though it was Yata’s, but Yata never complained after the first time – so there was really only one choice.

Fushimi stared at Yata’s back in front of him, Yata’s hair that was tousled against the pillow, and one hand started to reach up to touch the edge of those strands for just a moment before Fushimi forced it back down.

They’d hid in the theater for three different movies, and it had been the same romance each time. The second time a group of teenagers had filled the theater in front of them and Yata had spent the majority of the movie hiding behind his seat and complaining that they should go to another theater. Fushimi had refused just because it felt like too much effort, and because it was fun watching Misaki squirm and blush like a little kid.

Hazy images flashed through his mind, of an actor and actress tangled in bedsheets, foreign words on perfectly made-up lips.

Fushimi didn’t really know what those words meant. No one had ever said them to him, even from the very start. He’d assumed that emotion was something meant for other people, not for him. It was a weak thing, anyway. The movies always acted like it was an amazing thing but really, all it did was open you up to being torn apart from the inside. All it did was build up a garden that wouldn’t even grow, that would burn down before a single flower could take root.

Yata murmured something in his sleep and rolled over. His bangs were covering his eyes, and this time Fushimi couldn’t stop himself from brushing them aside. Yata stirred a little in his sleep, and smiled, but didn’t wake up.

Fushimi felt the fluttering in his chest again, the longing he hadn’t thought existed inside of him. Of course it was stupid. Of course it would all burn into ash. This wasn’t a movie, and he wasn’t the type of person who could ever be a romantic hero.

Fushimi inched himself a little closer to Misaki, head inclined, and if he moved just a little bit more their foreheads would have touched.

“I love you.” He mouthed the words, but he didn’t say it.

                            –

“Seriously, Saruhiko, why don’t you guys have a summer uniform or something? Is your King an idiot?”

“Shut up.” Fushimi’s voice was only a dry croak, eyes closed as Yata pressed a cool palm against his forehead. Fushimi tried to bat him away but his limbs didn’t seem to want to obey, weak and clammy as if they weren’t his own, and he lay there limp against the couch.

“Did you drink anything today? Hey, Saruhiko, are you listening?” Yata pressed another hand against his cheek and Fushimi could feel the heat gathering there like a small burning fire. Really, it was bad enough that he’d fainted on patrol, he had no idea why Akiyama and Benzai had decided the best course of action was to call Misaki of all people.

“I’ll take care of him.” Misaki had shown up too, like a parent picking up a sickly child early from school. He’d half-carried Fushimi back to their apartment and laid him on the couch and fussed over him for at least ten minutes now.

It….maybe wasn’t so bad. Fushimi clicked his tongue and tried to turn his head from Yata’s gaze, only to be stopped by Yata’s palms on his cheeks. Yata was looking straight down at him and for a moment Fushimi’s eyes met Yata’s straight on, cold blue and warm amber, and suddenly Fushimi’s face felt even hotter than before.

“I-I’ll get you some water, okay?” Yata coughed, abruptly sitting up. Fushimi let out a soft breath from between clenched teeth and closed his eyes, letting his head rest on the arm of the couch as he heard Yata get up and walk towards the kitchen.

They’d been living together for two months now. It had been Misaki’s idea and Fushimi had agreed because his mouth had spoken the words before his brain could catch up. Maybe he’d just needed a change of scenery, he decided. Maybe he’d just gotten bored of Scepter 4’s dorms, of his plain room without a single important item in it, the room where only the uniform hanging on the closet door suggested that it belonged to anyone at all.

This apartment was fully painted in Yata’s colors. The moment Fushimi had stepped inside, shoulders hunched and a backpack on his back, he’d been able to feel it in his bones, those warm sun rays of Misaki’s smile splashed across the walls. There was a skateboard in the corner, posters haphazardly taped to the walls. The kitchen was fully stocked – vegetables in the fridge, and pineapples – and there were extra towels in the bathroom, brand new blue ones next to the well used red.

It shouldn’t have felt like home, stepping into the apartment. But it had.

Fushimi’s hands fumbled for the remote on the table in front of the couch. His head was pounding and he could still feel the ghost of Misaki’s fingers on his cheeks, he needed a distraction. There was the soft static sound of the television being turned on and then he let the remote fall to the floor as Fushimi curled his body up on the couch.

“Here, drink.” Familiar footfalls and Fushimi didn’t even need to look up to know that Misaki was standing over him. In the background Fushimi could make out the faint noise from the TV.

“I love you.”

“Hey, Saruhiko, come on! You need to drink. You didn’t faint on me again, right?” Yata bent down, half his body casting a shadow over Fushimi’s, and Fushimi blinked up stupidly at him. It was strange to be the one feeling small under Misaki, and dimly Fushimi realized that he’d lost his glasses at some point.

It felt a little like standing in the shadow of a statue, the kind you would see in museums, Greek gods stolen from their temple. The thought was so ridiculous it made Fushimi feel giddy and he let a wide twisted smile split his face as he reached up towards the water bottle and batted at it with his fingers.

“H-hey, careful!” Yata pulled the water back and there was that hand on his forehead again.

“I’ve always loved you.”

Words didn’t seem to be fitting right in his head, and Fushimi wondered why Yata’s face seemed red too. Come to think, that had been happening a lot lately too. Yata had invited him to coffee and stumbled over a word that he never had fully spoken: “It’ll be like a da—like a– never mind, just get coffee with me!”

Fushimi wasn’t stupid, he knew what Yata had been trying to say. But what his mind knew and his heart knew were always at cross purposes, and no matter how much his mind insisted on the logical answer his heart knew better. Words weren’t meant for him. His heart was a walled garden that didn’t grow, that twisted over all in vines and weeds. That sort of place would only serve to choke someone like Misaki, until neither of them could breathe.

“Saruhiko…” Yata’s voice was there again, at the edges of his mind, cutting through the fog and the darkness. Fushimi looked up at him and past him, towards the fuzzy figures on the TV screen.

“Forever…you’ve always been the only one for me. The only one I would ever choose…”

Yata held the bottle in one hand, the other twisting off the cap and setting it aside. The world seemed to move in slow motion as Yata brought the bottle to his lips, water dripping down his chin, and suddenly Fushimi’s own lips parted, parched.

Yata’s mouth pressed over his, cool water down his throat. It slid from the corner of his mouth, tongue brushing against Yata’s all on its own, and Fushimi heard Yata’s breath stop for just a moment, felt his own heart skip a beat.

Yata stepped back, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand. His face was burning.

“S-Saruhiko….” Yata seemed to be arguing with himself for a moment, before his whole body straightened. “L-look, I know this isn’t really – it’s not a good time to say it or anything, but I’ve been wanting to – just hear me out for a sec, okay? I–”

“I love you.” Fushimi wasn’t sure if he’d meant to say it. Maybe he’d only been planning to mouth the words that had sprung forth, water shifting aside tangled vines and the sun pouring in without him noticing. But his whole body was still on fire, burning down his spine, beating blood through his heart. He’d known it from the start, really. It wasn’t meant for him, but he’d still known it.

“What….did you say?” Yata’s voice was a hollow shadow, thin like a reed, and Fushimi could have laughed if he’d had the breath for it. Well, he’d made the mistake. He always read the signs wrong, because a human body wasn’t math and couldn’t be quantified. Maybe Yata had meant to say something else all along. Maybe Yata had only been forcing water down a parched throat, and nothing more. Maybe there was an anthill burning in the sun and here he was, placing his hands in the fire like a moron, like a Misaki with emotions swinging wild.

“I love you.” It was stupid, saying it again. What did those words mean anyway. What did someone like him know about love, when he’d never spoken the word aloud in his entire life. It was the stupidest thing, but his mouth still formed the words. “I’ve always….”

Always, always loved you.

Yata took a step forward, took a breath, and Fushimi braced himself.

And then Misaki’s mouth was over his again, wet and warm, burning his breath away and Fushimi could only reach up for him, grasp uselessly at skin and clothing and Misaki was mumbling something between the workings of his mouth, words that escaped with his breath and were caught in Fushimi’s throat, carried through blood vessels to make his heart beat, faster and faster.

“I love you….Saruhiko, I—I’ve really….I’ve always loved you, you know…it’s always been – even when I hated you I loved you, so…”

Such unfamiliar words, etched on his bones, and Fushimi pulled Yata closer, desperate, grasping, and Misaki didn’t pull away.

I love you.

He’d never said it before and now he wanted to say it a hundred times, over and over, until even he himself couldn’t deny it. The words echoed back, Misaki’s music in his ears, and Fushimi could hear the soft chime of Misaki’s laughter as Misaki’s arms wrapped around him.

It was warm, and it was comforting, and it felt like a weight being lifted off with every syllable, something he hadn’t known he’d been carrying until now.

I love you, and he let Misaki’s lips swallow up the rest of the words.

[judaluffy]

Sarumi Fest 2018  Day 5  (July 11)

Theme: Reconcile

I still wish we never broke apart but since we reconciled and all I guess all is well in the end.... And a fistbump is enough to make us get over it...!

(Yep It’s my crappy art! Deal with me! XD)

[sarumifest]

Sarumi Fest 2019 - Announcement and rules

Nearly time for Sarumi Fest yet again - and especially with the release of Lost Small World, hopefully there’s still plenty of enthusiasm for the 2019 event!

For those who are new to the event, this will be one week where we all try to post as many Sarumi/Misaru fanworks as possible. The event is centered around July the 7th, or 7/7 (the combination of their birthdays - 7/20 for Misaki and 11/7 for Saruhiko, so 7/7 for Sarumi Fest). Here you can find a list with all the entries from last year’s Sarumi Fest.

To submit a work for Sarumi Fest 2019:

Post your fanwork on tumblr using the tag #sarumi fest 2019 during the time frame of July 7, 2019 to July 14, 2019 (inclusive).

Rules for entries:

All of your fanworks must be your own original stuff or scanlations/scans/editing. Reposting won’t count. If you’re not sure whether something counts as a valid fanwork, send us an ask and we’ll let you know.

The fanworks must be newly created for the fest, and not works that have already been posted, on tumblr or elsewhere.

Any fanart or comics taken from pixiv/twitter/etc for use in your entry must include a source and you must have permission from the artist to use it

Your fanwork must be about Yata and Fushimi, Sarumi or Misaru

Sarumi Fest will last from July 7 to July 14 (late entries will still be accepted)

Don’t forget to tag your posts with #sarumi fest 2019

Optional fun things:

We will have themes for each day, so please check those out and plan your entries!

We will be preparing a special header and footer to add to the spirit of the fest - please check back with us later for more details.

We will be opening the sarumifest blog for submissions during the fest timeline. If you do not have a tumblr or you wish to make an anonymous entry, you can use the /submit url to make your entry.

Submissions will open at the start of the fest.

The goal of the event is to have fun and get some fanworks posted, to show our love for Sarumi/Misaru! There’s no obligation to participate or anything, so please don’t feel pressured if you’re busy. Hopefully we can all have a good time with this!

Please send any questions through the ask box on this blog, and reblog to spread the word if you can!

Thanks, all!

[kmorelikegay]

wheels of fate

It had been Misaki, of all people, to insist on the deep blue wheelchair.

(Or, selected moments from Saruhiko and Misaki's life together after Saruhiko is seriously injured.)

A fic with the worst title in recorded history, written for @sarumifest 2019, day 8: Free day. Also on Ao3.

It had been Misaki, of all people, to insist on the deep blue wheelchair.

Saruhiko hadn’t cared, had maybe even been leaning toward red (call him a masochist, but he had wanted it to hurt a little, a constant reminder of how he’d almost lost everything – and also, maybe, he associated red with good memories and life and – )

Misaki, though, had insisted, and so here he was, freshly discharged from the hospital and blinking in the too-bright sunlight. It’s Thursday morning, and Misaki should be working at his part-time job at the bookstore near Homra (the irony of which isn’t lost on either of them), but instead he’s here, proudly wheeling Saruhiko out the glass front doors of the building where he’s spent the better part of a month, and Saruhiko can feel his smile even facing the opposite direction.

It’s contagious, and he allows himself a small grin despite the residual aches in his body. They are moving back in together, after all.

~

The day of the accident had been excruciating, both emotionally and physically.

Saruhiko is reluctant to even call it an accident, since his actions had been backed by deep and unhesitating purpose. When he threw himself between Misaki and what had turned out to be three bullets coming his way he was driven by the need to repent, to prove himself worthy of Misaki’s time and love, but mostly by desperation to protect.

The bullets, shot from the weapon concealed from their combined clans by a violent and powerful post-Slate Strain until it was too late, would have hit Misaki somewhere around his stomach and lower chest. It would likely have been fatal. In the moment, Saruhiko had calculated this, made the assessment that three bullets to his lower back (due to their height difference) would be far better than three to Misaki’s midsection, and this cold logic had almost been enough to distract from the near-paralyzing fear he’d felt when he recognized what had been about to occur.

They had been hanging out more since the destruction of the Slate, talking and gaming and rebuilding, even opened a joint savings account they’ve both been depositing into whenever they can, even talked about getting a place together. The warmth that flooded him when he was around Misaki had never faltered, just changed shape over the years, through their friendship and separation and reconciliation, so Saruhiko is familiar enough with what it means when his chest tightens up and his fingers tremble at the mere thought of Misaki’s smile, to say nothing of its physical presence. Their relationship is different this time around, and so the warmth has shifted a little bit again, but mostly it’s intensified, spread through his entire being until sometimes when Misaki’s around he quite literally cannot see or feel anything other than him.

He has lived with that feeling for the better part of his life; he doesn’t know what he’d do without it. That was the thought racing through his mind as he shielded Misaki’s body with his own, his momentum throwing them both to the ground where he’d cupped the back of Misaki’s head in one hand to cushion it. Just as he calculated, two bullets hit his lower back as he fell, one on each side of his spine and the other in his left thigh.

He doesn’t remember much after that – he’d confirmed Misaki’s safety, the relief from his assessment temporarily cushioning the pain of his condition, and then mostly what he remembers is Misaki’s panicked cries and the pain in his back. (He later learned he’d also broken the fingers of one hand from the impact of Misaki’s head, but that couldn’t have mattered to him less – Misaki was safe, Misaki was alive, Misaki was still warm and bright and red.)

As he’d laid on the sun-heated asphalt in a pain-induced daze, his view of the sun blocked every so often by the desperate bustle around him and by Misaki’s figure and Misaki’s fingers wrapped tight around one of his hands, he slowly started to accept another realization: he had been shot once in the leg, but couldn’t feel any pain radiating from that wound.

He figures the others figured it out at some point, when they tried to lift him and his legs proved to be no help at all, but some time later (minutes or hours or weeks, Saruhiko hadn’t known how much time passed) when they arrived at the hospital (Misaki always at his side, that he does remember), the prognosis had become clear: at least temporary paralysis from the waist down, with possibility of recovery through an ambitious new physical therapy program.

With possibility of permanency, in other words.

Saruhiko had stared at the doctor after he was told this, not feeling one way or another about it, still nearly numb with relief at Misaki’s safety even days after the injury. Misaki, though, had broken down, sobs wracking his exhausted body as he collapsed over Saruhiko’s chest on his hospital bed. For the first time, he had thought beyond his in-the-moment justifications of his actions to how Misaki must feel: his best friend paralyzed from saving him, and he must be blaming himself.

Saruhiko had wrapped his arms around Misaki’s heaving body, then, wrapped trembling fingers around his jaw to force eye contact, and told him, “Don’t,” with all the feeling he could muster, “blame yourself.” Misaki had teared up even more, Saruhiko’s fingers trying to catch his tears as they fell, and they had laid like that for hours or eons, processing and reflecting and bathing in each other.

Saruhiko thinks later that that’s the longest they’ve ever continuously touched each other, and again finds it difficult to regret what he had done.

~

Misaki stayed with him at the hospital for every moment of the first two weeks he’s there. He has to go back to work after that, but he doesn’t stop visiting, comes by every afternoon he can and always brings a co-op game for them to try or a new dish he’s testing out (“since you must be sick of hospital food, Saruhiko”). They still touch a lot, mostly initiated by Misaki, as if he needs to reach out and touch to confirm Saruhiko is really there every few seconds or else he might disappear.

Saruhiko knows how he feels, wants to do the same but is prevented from following through by the ever-present insecurity in the back of his mind telling him his touch isn’t wanted. This feeling is being slowly quieted, however, the more Misaki shows up, the more he stays, the more they touch, the more he insists they move in together when Saruhiko is released, the more Saruhiko catches him staring out the wide hospital window at the city far below with something quiet and melancholy and regretful and fond and determined in his eyes.

~

Misaki doesn’t stop visiting him after he’s released from the hospital. They do move back in together, find a place midway between their workplaces, a two-bedroom with reasonable rent and all the utilities except for Internet included. There’s no washer or dryer in the unit but neither of them particularly care, too wrapped up in excitement and each other to give a damn about walking a couple blocks to the coin-operated laundromat.

It’s amazing, if Saruhiko’s honest (which he is trying to be, at least to Misaki – he deserves that much, after all he’s put him through), but it doesn’t end there. Misaki comes to Scepter 4 at least a couple times a week now, bringing him lunch or sodas to share or sometimes just news about his day – some customer talked back to him and he gave them the what-for, and boisterous stories like that. Saruhiko grows to depend on those visits. They give him strength to get through the day, help him do his job without snapping at everyone who stares at his wheelchair, make him fall so much fucking harder for Misaki than he even thought was possible.

Half their clan members think they’ve started dating. The other half thinks they have been for years. Saruhiko finds himself wishing they were right every time he sees Misaki smile.

~

He had been baffled, at first, why Munakata would possibly want a paralyzed clan member on his special forces squad.

He’d assumed, when he’d recovered enough from the pain and drugs to assume anything, that he would be slowly phased out of Scepter 4 and encouraged to find more appropriate work either outside the special police or elsewhere altogether. When he’d brought it up to Munakata, however, during one of his several visits to the hospital, the Captain had looked as close to surprised as Saruhiko had ever seen him look before calmly explaining that Saruhiko would be expected to return to his regular duties, with field time obviously reduced as appropriate, assuming he desired such a thing. He did, of course, just hadn’t wanted to ask for it and especially hadn’t wanted to be a burden, but Munakata says it like it’s obvious, like it’s logical, and so Saruhiko finds himself with another reason to make his recovery as quick as possible.

(When he’d revealed this insecurity to Misaki – well, more like his friend had forced it out of him, but semantics – Misaki had also looked surprised, but recovered quickly to spout his usual, “But you’re amazing, Saruhiko!” He’d been so sincere, eyes so bright, that Saruhiko had almost believed him, and either way he’d been too busy trying to keep the color off his cheeks to respond.)

His second day back (after a somewhat miserable first day of accepting condolences, glaring at stares, and answering questions), there’s an attack on the Scepter 4 mainframe by an unknown foreign source. Munakata requests he take command of a small team to secure the mainframe and track and neutralize the breach, and so Saruhiko is immediately able to put his skills to use again. He feels more validated at work after that, as if he’s still actually useful. If he felt like admitting it (which he doesn’t), he might even be thankful his mental state is improving now thanks to the people around him, because dealing with half-body paralysis even a year ago might have done him in.

(He thinks of Misaki’s smile again, and immediately feels better. That dumb face must be better than any pain killer his doctor could give him for it to make him feel this way, this much.)

~

Misaki has been acting a little…strange, since they moved back in together.

Sometimes he helps with Saruhiko’s morning routine, which has become somewhat longer since the injury. Saruhiko doesn’t really need help but never says this out loud because Misaki helping mostly involves a lot of touching – from supporting him as he rolls out of bed and into his wheelchair, to wrestling with sweaters and pants as he helps dress him. Every time they touch or make eye contact Misaki will freeze, stare, turn red with embarrassment (or could it be…?). He never runs, though, like Saruhiko probably would if his legs still obeyed him, just lets the moment swallow them both.

He doesn’t know what it means but seeing Misaki make faces like that just for him…it definitely isn’t bad. He thinks he could get used to it, even addicted, if Misaki doesn’t stop.

~

He had never realized how naturally wheelchair-friendly the Homra bar was until…yeah.

He visits Misaki there now, sometimes, when he has a day off and feels well enough to roll the few blocks to his old clan headquarters. The front door is right at street level, and the strip of wood on the floor supporting the base of the door is low enough he barely even feels the bump as he rolls over it. (Scepter 4, between its size and the sheer number of stairs connecting its different divisions, was decidedly not wheelchair friendly, something he’d obviously taken for granted before.) Homra, by contrast, is almost nice, almost makes him feel like nothing is different about him since he can get around the bar nearly as easily as if he could walk.

The atmosphere itself, too, is less uncomfortable than he thinks it should be, given everything he put everyone there through. Kusanagi, he thinks, probably understands why he did what he did, probably even knows of his…feelings for Misaki. It had really been Anna he’d been worried about – though she probably understands those things too, he thought she would have a far more difficult time forgiving him for how much he hurt Misaki.

On his fifth or so visit to the bar – enough visits in he’s started to lose count of the number – Misaki is running a little late, kept for an hour or so of overtime at the bookstore, and Anna is the only one there, sitting on the couch immortalized in Saruhiko’s memory as the one that supported Suoh Mikoto’s weight as he napped. He had been about to turn around and wait outside, but Anna had gestured to the empty spot across the table from the couch, and Saruhiko had reluctantly rolled over.

Their conversation had been short but poignant: Anna asking how he was feeling, if anything still hurt, and giving him knowing looks when he lied and said everything was healed even though he knew she hadn’t just been referring to his recent injury. Her pointed, unsettling gaze had forced a quiet apology out of him – an apology for hurting Misaki, mostly, but also for waiting so long to apologize in the first place. She had stared at him some more, then reached out for his hand to unclench it from the arm of his wheelchair and take it in both of hers. “It’s alright,” she’d told him. “Saruhiko hurt Misaki, but Saruhiko was hurting because of Misaki, too.” She was right, but he’d never considered he wasn’t the only one in the wrong, and to hear it laid out so simply by a child had been a little jarring. She had added something about how they were rebuilding their relationship now and so wasn’t it all worth it in the end just as Misaki had stumbled in, breathless and sweaty from having run from work, but snippets from their discussion echoed in Saruhiko’s brain for days afterward.

Visiting Homra, in short, becomes a comfortable part of his routine – if you subtract Kusanagi’s knowing gazes at the two of them and the fact that even the more idiotic members clearly know more than they should about their relationship.

~

Misaki has been trying to teach him skateboarding tricks. It’s cute to see him try to figure out how to adapt the tricks he knows to a wheelchair. Misaki’s thinking face has always been cute, and seeing that combined with the sweat-slicked hair sticking to that face tends to do things to Saruhiko’s chest.

Misaki mostly fails, most of the tricks lost in translation (or in technology?) between his board and Saruhiko’s chair, but Saruhiko leaves the skatepark after their second or third attempt knowing how to do a wheelie on both his back and front wheels (“we’ll try the side ones next time, Saruhiko!”), and even if he hadn’t, Misaki’s blinding smile was worth the sweat and embarrassment.

~

They stumble back in from the skatepark grinning, Misaki wheeling him into their first-floor apartment and kicking the door closed behind them. Saruhiko can’t keep the smile off his face, a rare thing for him (though more and more common these days), and it’s still plastered to his face stubbornly when Misaki goes to help lift him off the chair and into a kitchen stool, arms under Saruhiko’s armpits to support him and Saruhiko’s arms around his waist. Except when he’s sitting there on the stool, arms still wrapped around Misaki and legs parted to accommodate him, Misaki doesn’t move like usual, doesn’t look away, doesn’t stop smiling, just lets his lips slip into something softer and impossibly fond and even before he whispers his name Saruhiko already can’t breathe. His hands tighten reflexively on Misaki’s hips, grasping for dear life and breath coming in warm pants as Misaki’s eyes drop to watch his mouth for a moment before leaning in.

Their eyes meet, Misaki closer than he’s maybe ever been, and there’s a question there, one that’s almost impossible for Saruhiko to process given what he knows about himself, and it’s there all the same, and his answer is clear. He says Misaki’s name, too, almost against the smaller man’s mouth, and leans down the close all but an inch of the remaining distance between them.

Misaki, as Misaki does, takes care of the rest, and from there Saruhiko’s heart outpaces any of Misaki’s skateboarding tricks.

His lips are warm and a little salty-damp from sweat, and they taste like history and home in Saruhiko’s mouth, which parts to let Misaki’s questing tongue inside. Misaki wouldn’t be Misaki if that didn’t embarrass him, though, and he pulls back a moment later, panting and flushed and if Saruhiko wasn’t equal parts turned on and fucking in love before then he is now. Misaki’s taken care of everything else; he isn’t going to let him beat him to a confession this time.

“Misaki,” he starts, voice much shakier and gruff than he’d like, and then realizes he has no idea what to say, how to convey how much he’s feeling. Misaki’s no help at all, his fingers tracing Saruhiko’s jawline and making their way to his lips, all the time wearing an impossibly loving smile that Saruhiko really doesn’t know what to do with.

He’s willing to try, though – for Misaki, it’s been proven by now, he would do anything. “Misaki – “ tell him, tell him – “Misaki, I…I want – this, want you…I’ve always – ”

Misaki kisses him again before he can finish, and Saruhiko groans into his mouth, grasping at Misaki’s shoulders and hair, weaving fingers into the red locks and holding on as he kisses him like he means it because he’s never meant anything more. It’s his tongue that seeks out Misaki’s lips this time, and Misaki accommodates him, gasping out half-finished confessions between partings of their mouths, and they pour love into each other like that for long seconds, minutes, eons.

By the time they part Saruhiko feels like he might explode – and, god, more parts of him than one agree; he’s so hard he could come just from thinking – and it gets even worse when he sees everything he’s feeling reflected back at him from Misaki’s tender gaze. Misaki’s fingers are around his neck, tracing the lines of it down to his chest, and while Saruhiko’s distracted with that Misaki manages a quiet but fervent, “I‘m in love with you, Saruhiko.”

Saruhiko’s fingers clench at Misaki’s hips again, and he drops his head to rest against Misaki’s as they stare at each other. He has never felt so much. Knowing it is shared is almost enough to completely fucking break him. He had never dared to think, never expected, never hoped, and yet here Misaki is, telling him he’s been loved since the beginning, and Saruhiko’s at a total loss. What do you say to someone who’s stood by you, saved you more times than they know, made and remade you and made you fall in love everyday for the better part of your life?

Saruhiko doesn’t know. Maybe no one does. His answer lies in action, and so he breathes in Misaki’s air, holds him so close their shared body heat has nowhere to escape, and presses their mouths together again softly.

When they part again, Saruhiko finds the breath to say, “Me, too,” and then “Misaki,” and then they’re lost in the press of lips and tongue again and there’s no breath left for anything else. 

He hadn’t known this much feeling was possible for one person. He never wants it to stop.

(Some time later, Misaki, hands questing down toward his hips, pulls back from their kiss just far enough to ask, “So, when they say ‘paralyzed from the waist down,’ does that mean…?” His blush does nothing to cover his pointed glance down Saruhiko’s body, and Saruhiko gasps as the implication registers, yanking Misaki’s mouth back to his before suggesting he find out for himself.)

(The next time Misaki visits him at Scepter 4, he surprises him with a pointed but soft kiss on the lips before handing over his bento. Saruhiko can’t even be annoyed at the clapping and congratulations that follows him around the rest of the day.

If he believed in useless things like fate, he would maybe think he and Misaki were meant to be.)

[its-love-u-asshole]

Pairing: Fushimi Saruhiko/Yata Misaki, Awashima Seri/Douhan Hirasaka 

Summary: Saruhiko would never admit to being inspired by...anyone really, but he's come to learn there are always exceptions.

Rating: T

Tags: fluff, established relationship, fushimi pov

Note: yooo ITS BEEN FOREVER!!! I assume this year will be the last sarumi fest, so I thought I should do at least a little something! I missed these two losers a lot, they're the pairing that brought me back to writing four years ago, and I owe the K fandom so much. I've met some amazing, lifelong friends, and whenever I remember my days in the fandom I just remember endless support and encouragement! I'm sad this will probably be the last K fic I'll ever write, but I'm also glad I'm sticking to my roots and delivering some plain old fluff ^^ (also seri and douhan pft I adore them) I hope you enjoy!

It starts with Douhan and Seri.

Saruhiko never would've expected it from them; out of all the people in his life who he's...somewhat comfortable calling friends, they're the two who annoy him the least. Sometimes they drag him to the gym or the mall, if for no other reason than to expose him to sunlight and fresh air...but even then, their words and the general cadence of their voices don't grate on his nerves.

He's...not entirely against being around them, is what he means.

Even when the two women began to date that didn't change, though he did avoid them during the first month. Back then, the intimate and subtle demonstrations of affection didn't compute in his mind. He couldn't make sense of them without feeling weird; a strange coiling would start in his gut and work through his body until he couldn't sit still. Like a code he couldn't crack or particularly rough work day, he couldn't figure out what it was about every delicate touch or private whisper.

It was uncomfortable, and he hated to admit that. He hated being bothered by things he didn't understand.

At least with large crowds or hot-blooded people, it was easy to explain away; they were annoying, simple as that.

Yet, like with a lot of other habits he'd clung to over the years, the instinct to shy away from understanding when it came to that level of intimacy began to be more trouble than it was worth.

There was just nothing to fuel it anymore, and besides...

Douhan and Seri simply embodied something he was grasping for, something he’d always been grasping for, though he refuses to admit it.

Back then, and now. Nothing has changed.

"I like you, Saruhiko!" Misaki says at the top of his lungs. It's too loud, the volume might make Saruhiko squint in distaste.

If it were anyone else.

Misaki had always been his exception, and he never liked to admit it.

Saruhiko's heart stops in his chest as he stares at his best friend, looking like a drowned rat on his doorstep. They'd met for dinner on the other side of town; by that time, it was a habit. No more distrust, no more fights...

Just a lightness Saruhiko never thought he'd feel again, something he's still not used to feeling.

And just when he thought he was okay with just that, just when he'd begun to ignore the nagging in his mind which always seemed to want Misaki closer and closer, the other decided to cross the distance entirely.

Saruhiko's honestly shocked the redhead was dealing with the same issues, but now there's no way to deny the possibility.

Because Misaki is here. He probably ran all the way back from his home at this ungodly hour because as always, he couldn't wait. He couldn't just...slow down.

And Saruhiko's completely powerless to do anything but cave.

When Saruhiko doesn't say anything for a while, Yata's rain-soaked features flood with red, and it’s not like that of his aura. "I-I mean, like-like you know?"

Yes, he does.

Shockingly he does.

Misaki is blushing for Saruhiko, and it's so satisfying and scary all at once.

"I probably always have but--I was waiting for you to get over yourself!"

Saruhiko almost laughs.

Of course. He could make fun of Misaki's shyness, his complete inexperience with anything resembling romance. How could he possibly know what he feels? How does he know Saruhiko deserves it?

Those are the instinctual questions which run through his mind, but they're not the last. Again, old habits don't necessarily fade away, but they lose some of their power, as all things do.

Saruhiko can't run from this, not this time.

He clicks his tongue after the longest silence in the world, and Misaki's fidgeting comes to an abrupt halt.

"Was that supposed to be a confession?" Saruhiko laughs, and for a moment, he sees the fear in Misaki's. The moment where he knows the expected defiance should be, the refusal. Saruhiko can't hold it against him, it's what part of him still yearns to do.

Yet, Saruhiko still defies expectation. "I bet I could do a better job."

It's a lie, his hands are shaking from how much of a lie it is. He's not sure what he's capable of these days, but when Misaki is looking at him like that...

He can't deny him anymore.

Misaki's eyes widen, the clear shock so priceless and satisfying, despite the uneven beating of Saruhiko's heart. Then, it's gone, replaced with a grin too bright and fiery. Lately, Saruhiko sees it a lot, but he'll probably never be used to it. Misaki scoffs, the challenge burning in his eyes. "Yeah? Prove it."

And in a matter of seconds, the doorstep is as empty as before.

Many would say he was just as bad as Seri and Douhan now. After that, things seemed to spiral. It’s been a year, but with Misaki, time seems to stretch on and on. His boyfriend has a habit of making everything they do together seem like the first time, it's a power Saruhiko has yet to understand.

But, otherwise, he's used to it now. He gets it, in a way. The intimate touches, the whispered words, he's familiar with them now, along with a hundred other small things which come with being with Misaki.

So, Seri and Douhan were no longer an issue.

For a year.

Unfortunately, here they are again, disrupting his normal stream of consciousness with a boulder, leaving him stranded and stuck without an ounce of knowledge of where to go next.

He watches from his desk as Douhan gets down on one knee, revealing a rose gold wedding band with opal in the center.

Why does Seri's desk have to be in his immediate line of sight?

Saruhiko's finger twitches as Douhan slides the ring onto Seri's finger; it's a fitting choice, given their different clans, he guesses. When it comes to accessories, Douhan always knows best. The opal reflects all the colors.

Douhan's normally neutral face is the same to any outside observe; but Saruhiko sees the gentle upward tilt of her lips, the shakiness of her usually precise hands.

It's overwhelming, but he can't look away.

Again, they've thrown him totally off center, and with what? A proposal?

Why does that bother--

He crushes the question like a glass bottle. He knows why, and he hates it. It's so pathetically vulnerable and unnecessary and yet...

He sees the way Seri blushes, the mistiness taking over her strict expression; Douhan is truly bold, coming to their place of work to make such a grand gesture.

The guys are already up and congratulating Seri loudly, but Saruhiko hears none of it.

Seri jumps into Douhan's arms and then green eyes meet him from across the room, like they know he's been watching. They always know.

Douhan gives him a knowing look, it doesn't even last a second, and then her focus is all Seri.

Saruhiko understands.

Yes, that's why the gesture bothers him, because unlike before, he does understand this. He just wishes he knew how to deal with it better.

The proposal bothers him for one reason and one reason only: he wants it.

Saruhiko wants.

And it never gets easier admitting that.

Beside him, his phone buzzes, like it tends to around this time. He knows exactly who it is before he picks it up, and it drives his new revelation home.

Misaki: Hey! We r still grabbing dinner yeah?!

Don't they always?

Saruhiko's eyes soften, he can feel it, and he can't do anything to stop them.

Saruhiko: We do every Thursday.

It doesn't stop him from being a bit of a smart-ass though.

He doesn't read the barrage of texts he gets after that, though the urge is there. His phone vibrates for a few seconds, some weak retort Saruhiko will no doubt tease his boyfriend for later.

Then, thirty seconds pass, and a reluctant buzz comes again. Saruhiko doesn't have to read it to blush, Misaki is so predictable sometimes.

There's about two hours until he's off work, not enough time for what needs to be done, but he pulls up a few websites anyways.

As far as rings go, there's a lot to weed through, some gaudy and some plain. He wrinkles his nose, and the light feeling in his chest doesn't leave him for the rest of his shift.

It takes him a while to realize it, but he finds he doesn't care what rings they have, all of them suit Misaki in Saruhiko's mind, and nothing will probably change that.

He doubts he'd try.