Chapter Text
Sakuya gets to Ryo's favourite bubble tea store fifteen minutes earlier than planned. He orders both their drinks and carries them to a secluded table tucked into the back corner, away from the eternally long queue and the other overly excited high schoolers. He sets Ryo's down across from his own: brown-sugar, straw balanced on the lid, angled so all Ryo has to do is sit and drink. Then he nudges the cups around until they sit parallel, the way you set a table for a fancy meal.
He sinks into his chair, sighs, and takes a long pull of his own strawberry tea. He drinks it like fuel, and braces.
It's not that hard conversations scare him. It’s just that he knows Ryo, and so he knows this particular one is about to be a fight. Not in the literal sense – but it will be a long, drawn out back-and-forth, and he’s going to need to run his brain on overdrive to keep up with how fast Ryo thinks, and how much faster he talks . Whatever you say to him comes volleyed straight back, sharper. So he steadies himself, reconsiders his opening line one more time, and waits for the bell over the door.
He's still thinking it through when the bell chimes and Ryo comes in, cheeks pink thanks to the cold February air, and drops into the seat across from him. He shrugs off his padded jacket and slings it over the back of the chair, and underneath he's in a fuzzy cream sweater with sleeves that swallow his hands. Ryo looks unbelievably soft in it, his hair a little messed up from the collar — and for a second Sakuya just kind of stares, caught off guard by how stupidly cute he looks today. It’s a ridiculous thing to be caught off guard by, because it’s not any different from how Ryo looks most days. But it derails him all the same, cute enough that he very nearly forgets, for one soft peaceful moment, that he is about to unleash the full and terrible wrath of Hirose Ryo upon this bubble tea shop.
Sakuya cringes slightly, but forces a smile as Ryo meets his eyes.
"Ah, you already got our drinks? Aw. How sweet." Ryo pulls the cup toward him and looks at the label before stopping.
"...You got me the brown sugar milk tea." He looks up, and Sakuya can see the machines whirring in Ryo’s head, taking in the drink choice and the 75% Sugar label that’s printed alongside it. "You told me, like, three days ago this was going to give me diabetes." He stabs the straw down nonetheless. "And you're here early. And you pre-ordered." His eyes narrow. "Not to shoot a gift horse in the mouth or anything, Fujinaga, but this is suspicious. What did you do this time? There’s bad news, isn’t there.”
“I think it’s look a gift horse, dude. And there’s no bad news, relax.” Sakuya turns his own cup in a small semicircle, a teasing thought emerging in his head. “I'm not breaking up with you or anything."
Ryo just raises an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. "We'd have to be going out for you to break up with me."
"...It was a joke." Sakuya feels his ears go a little warm, and tries to ignore why. "Forget it."
"You're deflecting." Ryo levels a look at him, undeterred. "Which means I was right. There is bad news! Spit it out, Saku, you're stressing me out."
"Okay— okay." Sakuya sets both hands flat on the table like that'll ground him. "You know how we were going to get a place near campus. For uni."
Ryo goes still. He takes a slow, deliberate sip, eyes not leaving Sakuya's face. "Mmhmm."
"Well, about that… my parents just kind of told me they want me to stay with Yushi. Since Riku's moving out, there's an empty room there now."
"Hmm. Why." There was no emotion in Ryo’s tone. He bites down on his straw and doesn't look away.
"I guess it's easier? Yushi doesn't want to move, and he's too lazy to go looking for someone to replace Riku…"
"So make Riku find a replacement. Why does it fall to you?"
"Ah, hm. I think they'd already been planning to put me in there, actually. That's why Riku's not renewing his part of the lease in April."
Ryo’s eyes start to get judgier and judgier. “They’re kicking Riku out for you?”
“No! He was going to move in with Sion-hyung anyway, which they’ve been planning for a while...”
"I thought you told your parents about the apartment idea."
"Well, I was planning to float it to them, but…"
"But?"
"But it's..." Sakuya continues to fidget with his drink. "It's kind of a lot and unnecessary, right? Money-wise. Technically kids from Saitama don’t typically move out just for uni in Tokyo, and Yushi’s already out there, so if we’re both renting for no practical reason, in separate apartments…”
Ryo sighs, putting his boba down. "Sakuya. Did your parents say that, or did you come to that conclusion all on your own?"
Sakuya taps on the table, not saying anything. Trust Ryo of all people to work out that Sakuya never really had a proper conversation about this, and would rather just go along with what he was asked to do.
He watches Ryo process this information, and the exact moment he lines up his next attack.
"Well, if cost is really the concern, like you say, then I'll just take care of it. Like, all of it." Ryo says, a finality in his voice. "Your parents keep paying for Yushi's place exactly like they're already doing. Nothing changes for them. I ask my parents if I can pay for both our shares—"
"No. Ryo, no, we can't have your family pay for me, that's— you don't get it—"
"If you think it’s too expensive, we downgrade." He doesn't even slow down. "Let’s get a smaller place, I don't care — no gym, no elevator, whatever, and my parents are planning to buy the house anyway so it’s an investment—”
"Ryo—"
"—or we could even share a room. There's barely anything but studios in that area anyway, so it's not like we'd be losing much, and that's basically free compared to—"
"Ryo!"
"Or!" He pauses, and Sakuya can see him catch himself spiralling. "Or we tell your parents you’re still living with Yushi. And then—“
“Ryo.”
It comes out a lot harsher than Sakuya intended, and Ryo stills at that.
“I just don’t want to make things hard for my parents.” Sakuya sighs. “Let’s not make the logistics of uni any more complicated than they have to be — it’s already asking a lot to have both me and Yushi living on our own. The last thing I want to do is to add to their worries. Okay?”
Ryo's eyes drop to the table.
Sakuya has to restrain himself from taking it back, because he doesn't think it was an unfair argument. It is what it is — he can't go to his parents and ask them to make room for some childhood dream. Even if it's one that he and Ryo share.
Worse still, Ryo then looks up at him with his sad, puppy dog eyes, and Sakuya really has to look away. He does not enjoy asking Ryo to be the one to relent — sure, Ryo will forgive him eventually, but it feels like going against his own nature.
Ryo's thumb works at the seam of the cup sleeve, once, twice, and stops.
"...Okay," he says, to the empty space on the table between them. "Fine. Yeah."
"Okay?"
"Yeah. I heard you. You don't want to make it hard for them. I get it."
Ryo goes quiet for a second. "I just already dreamed it all up, though. In my head." He looks up. "Like — we could have those housewarmings, and our friends could come over to eat. Pizza nights, movie nights, Mario Kart nights. We could even invite Yushi and his friends…"
Sakuya sits there and lets Ryo keep talking. He wants that too — he sees glimpses of it every time Riku posts a story from one of Yushi's Mario Kart nights, the takeaway chicken boxes open on the table, someone's foot in frame. And he knows Ryo idolises Yushi, possibly more than Sakuya does, so it makes sense that Ryo would want his own version of it.
"It would've been really good," Ryo says.
"I know," Sakuya replies.
"...Whatever." Ryo reaches for his drink. "It's fine. Your mom's right, it's the only practical solution." He says practical with a trace of disdain. "It's fine. I guess now Yushi's kind of forced to hang out with us, right."
It's so obviously not fine that Sakuya gets the same tight, guilty clench he's had every time he pictured this conversation on the way over. His own drink sits there, barely touched since that one nervous gulp at the start. He couldn't swallow another mouthful if he tried. It's insane, if he looks at it straight — that hurting Ryo can makes him feel actually, physically sick.
Ryo fills the silence with large, noisy sips of his tea. Then, without asking, he reaches across the table, takes Sakuya's, and starts on that too.
"You're not finishing this, right?" he says, when Sakuya blinks at him.
He drinks it with equal vigour, and Sakuya lets him have it without protest.
Ryo goes quiet after that, lost somewhere behind his eyes, the way he gets when he’s deep in thought. At least he doesn't seem all that upset anymore. So Sakuya pulls out his phone and thumbs through his TikTok feed, half-watching, giving Ryo the room, until a couple of minutes have gone by.
"...Is that it? That's all you wanted to talk about?"
"Hm?" Sakuya looks up. "Yeah. That's it." He tips his head toward the door. "We still heading to the arcade after this?"
"Oh—" Something flickers across Ryo's face. He's already gathering the empty cups to bin them. "Sorry, Saku. I forgot, I told my mom I'd help her with something at home. I should head off." He stands. "I'll go first. See you tomorrow, yeah?"
"Huh? Wait—"
"Bye!"
Sakuya follows him out of the store, a step behind, whiplashed. His first thought is that Ryo must be more upset than he let on. But then Ryo turns on the pavement and waves — a little too big, and too enthusiastic for someone who just got disappointing news. Then he's off, speed-walking toward the station, and Sakuya is standing outside the bubble tea shop by himself.
He should get ahead of whatever that is. Whatever Ryo's feeling, or planning, or scheming. But maybe the move is to give him some space first.
He'll call later. He'll get Ryo talking, and he'll fix whatever this turns out to be.
He walks to the station with the strange feeling of having lost an argument he technically won.
If there's one thing Hirose Ryo learned from his years in the oratory society, it's that truth is relative, and every no is temporary until a good enough reason to say yes comes along.
Whether that makes him stubborn, or a sore loser, or — as some people have said — a princess, he doesn't really care.
Sakuya doesn't want to fight for their apartment? Fine. Ryo can do it himself.
So forty minutes after getting home, Ryo is in deep research mode — hunched at his desk, twelve browser windows deep in SUUMO listings, a slide deck already saved as v3 — when his sister leans in the doorway with a plate of cut pear.
"Mom said to bring you—" She stops, taking in the focus of his shoulders, and the fact that he hasn't looked up to complain about her barging in. "...Never mind." She sets the pear at the very edge of the desk, the way you'd leave food out for an animal you didn't want to spook, and retreats.
Ryo doesn't even register the pear bowl. Ryo is working.
By eight he's relocated to the living room, laptop hooked up to the big TV and holding on the title slide, still trying to pair the karaoke mic he stole from the home cinema downstairs to the living-room speakers.
His mother comes in from dinner with her girlfriends, still in her good jewelry, and stops short in the entryway of her own living room to find her youngest standing in front of the TV, and in front of the words:
WHY SAKUYA AND RYO SHOULD MOVE IN TOGETHER
His father is already on the couch — changed into his loungewear, nursing a gin, phone in hand. "Ah. Finally," he says, turning his head toward his wife. "Honey, thank God. He's been hogging the TV all evening. Can we get this over with?"
"Thank you, Otou-san. Yes. Sit." Ryo gestures grandly at the couch with the mic. "Because I'm going to need both of you on board before I take this to Sakuya's parents."
"Take what to Sakuya's parents?" his mother says in disbelief, not sitting.
"This is my pitch for why we should move in together. Let me establish some context. For those of you who don't know, Sakuya and I have been planning for months to move into our own place for university, and I believe we already have buy-in from everyone in this room. However." Click. "We've since encountered a new development. Sakuya's parents want him rooming with Yushi instead, on the grounds that his Takadanobaba apartment is now one resident short. So I'll need your cooperation to help me align our remaining stakeholders — namely the Fujinagas — on the optimal university living arrangement."
"Do we?" His mother sets her handbag down on the coffee table. "Because your sister lives at home and seems perfectly happy."
"Oh, I love it," his sister confirms from her spot on the couch, phone poised at Ryo. "Free food. No rent. Ten out of ten."
His mother looks at her for a moment. "...Are you recording this?"
"No, mom." She doesn't lower the phone. "I'm livestreaming it. For my friends."
There’s a beat of reconsideration on his mother's face. "...Actually. On reflection. It might not be the worst thing, getting you out of the house. Before you turn out like that."
"HEY."
"You're welcome," Ryo says, and clicks, sensing momentum. "Why cohabitation with Sakuya specifically is non-negotiable — the case I'll be making to his mother." A bulleted list shows up on the screen. "One. While I do enjoy cooking, I am not the best at kitchen safety. Left unsupervised, I will die."
"Well, Sakuya can't cook at all," his sister says, not moving. "Didn't you tell me he's the reason you two almost set our neighbours' house on fire?"
"That was one time—"
"What about the ramen."
"—Furthermore, if I don't cook, then Sakuya will die. Sakuya provides emotional support,he gets to eat my food, and he will make sure I clear the counters." Ryo amends, without a flicker, and clicks. "Two. I will be lonely."
His sister cackles and types furiously, replying to a comment. Their mother looks over at her with open disdain.
"Next. What are the plus points of living with Hirose Ryo?" Click. "One. I'm significantly more organized than Sakuya, so I'll keep him on track with school."
"Ryo, honey." His mother interjects. "Look at the state of your room. I'd say you're more disciplined than organized."
"I will also be providing the Nintendo Switch 2. And I'll make sure Sakuya sleeps on time."
"Now. The most important part. The financials." His voice shifts. This is the section of the presentation he’s most proud of. "I looked into Yushi's current rent—"
"Whoa. Look at Mr Detective over here." his sister adds, cackling into her phone.
His mother's eyes narrow. "...If you're livestreaming, is Yushi-kun going to see this?"
"Hm? I don't even think I follow him." His sister doesn't look up. "And don't worry, it's my private account. There's only like twelve people"
Their mother sighs deeply.
"Back to me." Click. "I know exactly why the Fujinagas want Sakuya to live with Yushi, and I'm not going to stand here and pretend it's a bad plan. It's a good plan. One, there’s a designated real adult on premises. Two, he can be our campus tour guide — Yushi's already at Waseda, he knows where everything is, this saves us an entire month of being lost. Three, deterrent presence. Their younger son isn't out there unsupervised. He's living with his brother, who reports back." He lets that sit. "Which, incidentally, is also something for the two of you to consider. As you send your precious youngest son out into the world."
"Mm," says his father.
"So." Ryo spreads his hands. "Imagine having all of that."
He pauses for dramatic effect.
"And Ryo!"
Nobody says anything.
"HAHA! Dad, look at this comment. ‘Does your brother have nothing else to offer?’” his sister announces.
"Whose side are you—"
"She's right." His father doesn't look up. "You did his brother's selling points and skipped your own."
"What do you mean? I'm there to make the apartment more lively."
His mother touches her temples in frustration. "...Ryo. Do you want to move into their house?"
Ryo opens his mouth. He then closes it, seemingly actually considering this.
"...Hm. That's not a bad—"
"Ryo."
"—but what I'm actually proposing," he says, recovering quickly, "is savings."
Click.
"As I mentioned, I managed to find Yushi's current rent. From April, with Riku gone, the Fujinagas are covering that place on their own. Two hundred thousand yen a month." Click. "Whereas. This three-bedroom unit is ten floors up, and in a quieter neighbourhood. There is a gym, bigger bathrooms, and it’s two minutes closer to campus." A small pause. "I used a placeholder apartment from the ones you viewed last month, mom."
His mother's head turns.
"Three hundred and forty a month, split down the middle — so the Fujinagas pay a hundred and seventy." He clicks, and the number arrives in enormous type. "A fifteen percent discount. They get a better apartment, and both their sons are in the same place. It’s perfect!"
Silence, while his mother reads the slide.
"...So if, in this scenario, both Yushi and Sakuya are moving in with you, why does it say assuming rent is split fifty-fifty, Hirose–Fujinaga?"
Shit.
He did obfuscate that. By quite a lot, actually, and he'd been hoping it would sail past. Curse his mother's analytical eye.
"Hm? Because I'm taking the master. I've got the floor plan in the appendix—"
"No, but even by floor area that's not a fair split. There’s two of them, one of you. So the Fujinagas end up paying more. In real terms."
"I'm getting to that," Ryo says, not losing his composure.
His father nods in acknowledgement. "Well. I can see why you want to go into business. They all make misleading slides like this to get you to buy something."
"Okay. Yes. But I'm prepared for all rebuttals." Click. Click. Click. "Here's an alternative model. We purchase the apartment instead. I know you were considering it anyway, right mom? I know the market isn't great right now, but investment property isn't exactly new territory for our family. So — we buy, and we extend a friends-and-family rate to the Fujinagas. The ask to his parents stays cost-neutral, and it demonstrates the level of commitment we're—"
His sister shakes her head. "Oh my god. Emperor Ryo strikes again."
But when she turns to their parents for acknowledgement, the mood has shifted.
Their father isn't half looking at his phone anymore. Their mother has her arms crossed, her anger clearly simmering.
His sister lowers the phone and sets it face-down on the table.
"Ryo," their father says, not mean — just tired. "Do you hear yourself?"
"What do you think the Fujinagas are going to make of you, turning up with some ludicrous friends-and-family rate just to get everyone under one roof?" His mother's voice has gravity in it now. "They'll insist on paying properly, or they'll turn you down flat. Either way the damage is done."
"..."
"When did I raise someone who stages a production because he didn't get exactly what he wanted the second he wanted it? This is a spoiled little boy's tantrum, Ryo." She pauses. "And don't you dare go over there and let them think your father and I signed off on any of it."
"...In fact." His mother picks her handbag back up, which in this house has always meant the conversation is over. "I'm starting to rethink whether you should be moving out at all this year."
That one stings.
Arguing with his mother has always gone like this — fast, pointed, the two of them trading cuts until one of them runs out of material. But what she said got through to him. Because what if she’s right? If Sakuya isn't going to be there, what is he moving out for?
"Okay," he says. "Fine. Keep it."
The living room goes eerily quiet.
His mother stops where she is. His sister finally sits up straight, out of her slouch across the couch. Ryo does not fold. Ryo will always argue to hell and back, even if he doesn't win at the end of the day.
"...Ryo."
His mother closes her eyes briefly — the specific fond exhaustion of a woman who knows exactly what kind of boy she raised. She crosses the room, and instead of scolding she flicks him once, on the forehead. "Idiot."
"Listen to me" Her voice levels back out, quiet and serious. "Moving out, wanting to be near your friend — that, I understand. That's fine. But this—" she nods at the screen, the tables and haphazard charts still glaring on the screen "—this you delete. All of it. You do not so much as breathe a number in the direction of the Fujinagas."
"As for the apartment. We're still purchasing a maisonette near Nishi-Shinjuku. I finalized everything with our agent three weeks ago. Whether you stay there or not is up to you."
Ryo takes all of this in, before starting again in a quieter voice. "...Can I still try asking the Fujinagas if they might consider moving the boys there instead?"
His mother sighs, a slight exasperation still in her voice. "You're a smart boy. Do you really think it makes sense for them? If there's a perfectly good apartment that they're already renting closer to campus, at a fraction of the price?"
His sister stands up, ruffling his hair on the way past. "Hey. At least the presentation was entertaining. Invite me to your next one, yeah?"
Ryo sits there with the debris of his presentation. He picks up his laptop, navigating back to the first slide and sighs. It's not enough anymore to have things stay the way they are just because he wants them to.
He closes the deck and deletes the file.
His parents start to make their way out of the living room too, but not before his mother pulls him into a side hug. "Darling, you have nothing to worry about. You'll still be on the same campus, and I’m confident you’ll keep hanging out all the time…"
"...I know," he says sullenly, leaning into her touch. "I just wish some things didn't have to change so much."
Sakuya doesn't go straight home after leaving the bubble tea place.
He hadn't planned on an empty afternoon. He and Ryo always do the same thing after — drift somewhere, kill the afternoon, wander a mall or sit in the park until it gets dark and they decide it's time for dinner. They don't usually just part halfway through the day. But Ryo ran off the way he did, and Sakuya can't stop thinking about it. It wasn't his usual I-really-gotta-get-home-even-if-I-don't-want-to walk. Ryo didn’t even sulk at the prospect of being dragged away to do chores. There’s something else behind that — and Sakuya has no idea what.
Which is the part that sits under his ribs. Instead of complaining about the lost apartment the entire way to the arcade, the way he's complained about every unfair thing since they were six, Ryo went home to deal with it by himself.
Whatever he's about to do, he doesn't want Sakuya involved. Which is very, very worrying.
So he doesn't go home. He can't sit in the too-quiet house overthinking it — it'll just be his mom, and she'll be busy with either her work stuff or the housework. Instead he pulls out his phone and texts Harua, an older friend from the neighborhood who's at the local uni now: yo. ur circle practicing today? can i crash. Harua sends back a thumbs-up and a dropped pin, and Sakuya goes and loses himself in it: two hours of soccer on their university pitch with a rotating cast of Harua's circle mates, the light going gold and then thin. Luckily, he's good enough that they keep feeding him the ball, and he's funny enough that they're happy to have him as company.
He doesn't think about Ryo once. Or at least, he tries not to.
He heads home only when the streetlights flicker on and his stomach reminds him about dinner. Sweat cooling fast in the February wind, he walks back refreshed, with that clean tiredness that comes from running your worries out of yourself.
He lets himself in quietly. The house smells faintly of fried garlic, and he's toeing off his shoes in the genkan when he hears his mother's voice from the kitchen.
"—so it's really okay? You're sure? Because if it's a bother, Yushi, I can figure something else out—"
Sakuya goes still, one shoe half-off.
"No, mom." Yushi's voice, tinny through the speaker, patient in the way he only gets with their mother. "It's not that. It's not that I don't want Sakuya to stay. I told you."
His mother says something Sakuya doesn't catch, moving a pan.
"...Yeah, as I said, I was just surprised, that's all. I'd sort of gotten used to the idea of having the place to myself once Riku moves out. That's it. You said it's fine if nobody moves in, so I thought—" He lets out a breath. "It's fine. Really."
Sakuya walks slowly towards the kitchen, trying to make as little noise as possible.
If it's a bother, I can figure something else out.
Well, isn't that convenient. There's the way out of the exact thing he spent two hours on a pitch not thinking about. He could walk into that kitchen right now, say hey — about the room, and sure, his mom would fuss a little, and it'd cost more in the end, but she'd let him go live with Ryo. She already offered. He wouldn't even have to be the one who asked.
He could text Ryo tonight and listen to him lose his entire mind.
Except.
His brain has already skipped past that and snagged on something else.
Why doesn't Yushi want to live with me?
It's not that Yushi said that, exactly. Sakuya knows his brother needs to recharge on his own sometimes. But it still lands like a blow.
If you asked anyone who knows Sakuya at school, they'd say he and Ryo have been planning to go to university together since first year of high school. The truth is that if Ryo had really gotten his way, the two of them would be preparing to move a lot further than Tokyo — to Kyoto, most probably. Sakuya picked Waseda for Yushi. Ryo thinks they chose it together.
So he decides — he’s going to find out exactly why Yushi doesn't want to room with him. Is he the only one who's excited about being under the same roof as his brother again, after three years apart?
He's going to move into that room. He's going to move in and be so fun to live with that Yushi forgets he ever wanted it nice and peaceful.r
And if Ryo ever asks, there really was no other option.
Guilt threatens to creep up into him, low and unpleasant. He chooses not to think too deeply about it and hides himself in the kitchen doorway anyway.
"He won't be a bother," his mother is saying, warm and oblivious. "And I worry about you rattling around that place alone, you know. It's too big for one boy."
"I'll have friends over, mom. I won't be rattling around."
"Mm. Though — isn't Sion moving into that bigger place, the one with the proper kitchen? With his boyfriend?" She taps the spoon on the rim of the pot, not looking up. "Your old roommate, right? Riku-kun. You'd probably just go over there when you want company."
"I have friends of my own who come over."
"Oh, I'm sure. Is it that tall boy? The very polite one, the one I saw you with the other week—"
"Mom. I'm not going to stand here and list my friends for you."
Sakuya almost smiles at that — the cornered note in Yushi's voice. But he doesn't have time to mull that over right now. His brain is still three minutes back in the doorway, chewing on I'd sort of gotten used to the idea of having the place to myself.
The more he thinks about it, the angrier he gets. Sure, people get annoyed at the prospect of having to take care of their younger siblings, but he and Yushi are close! And Yushi's not all that mature compared to him!
"Alright, alright." His mother laughs. "Fine. You let Riku know Sakuya's taking the room, then, so they can sort out the handover. And — sorry for bursting your little living-alone bubble, sweetheart."
Yushi replies, fond even through the crackle of the speaker. "...It's fine, mom. Text me once you're done with dinner, okay?"
"That's my line. I love you."
"Love you. Bye."
The call clicks off. And Sakuya, who has been standing frozen in his own house, takes a few steps back and orchestrates his own entrance.
"Mom, I'm home!" he calls out. His tone's too bright, and he knows it, but tries his best to make it seem like he's just arrived.
His mother startles at the stove, the spoon knocking against the pot. "Oh — Sakuya! Honey, when did you get back?" She turns back to the pot before he can answer. "I thought you were out with Ryo today? Goodness, why are you all sweaty, did you two go running around somewhere—"
"Yeah, I was with him but I went to play some football after. With Harua and his friends." Which isn't a lie. He drops his bag by the table. "Who were you on the phone with?"
"Oh — it's just your brother." She beams at the wall in front of her. "He's thrilled you're moving in, you know. Just like we talked about."
Sakuya stares at the back of his mother's head.
He can’t believe his mom is lying to him. Blatantly, and frankly not even well — he could probe once and she'd probably fold.
Is he, though? Thrilled?
It would be so easy to ask. But for some reason, he can’t seem to bring himself to.
"Cool," he says, and goes to take a quick bath before dinner.
It's almost eleven when Sakuya finally texts Ryo.
[Sakuya]: u up? can we call
The reply comes back before he can even exit the messaging app.
[Ryo]: yeah, i was gonna text u if u didnt
He calls. Ryo picks up on half a ring, and Sakuya's room fills with the rustling of Ryo's pillow and the click of his desk lamp. Sakuya lies back in his own bed, phone on speaker, face-up on the pillow beside his ear, the ceiling above him gone soft and blue in the dark.
"Hey," Sakuya says. "Ryo. Are you still mad at me?"
"What are you talking about?" Ryo replies, a little too quickly. "I'm not mad."
"You really don't have to pretend that you're not upset about the move-in thing."
Ryo stays silent on the other side of the line, which Sakuya thinks is all the admission he's going to get tonight.
"...Ugh." Ryo exhales, long, and Sakuya can picture the exact face — the one where he finally gives up and drags a hand down cheek. "Fine. You're right. But — okay, you would not believe the evening I had. I was so out of sorts. I might have done something a little bit deranged."
Sakuya rolls onto his side, pulling his blankets up. "Yeah?"
"...So I may have made a presentation."
"A—" Sakuya blinks in the dark. "A what?"
And Ryo tells him. He starts out sheepish, a lot of okay but hear me out, bracing for the moment Sakuya decides it's weird. But Sakuya doesn't find it weird at all — he's known something was coming since the afternoon anyway. He's glad that it turned out somewhat innocuous and amusing, even if Ryo did get a small scolding from his parents.
What it means is that Ryo went home and built a whole presentation. Because of him. For him, even — if he allows himself to indulge a little.
"You didn't."
"I made so many charts, Sakuya."
"I still can't believe you figured out Yushi's rent! And you wanted to be his landlord," Sakuya says. "Oh my god. He would've laughed in your face—" And he loses it completely, the laugh shaking out of him helpless and delighted, and he can hear Ryo start to laugh, too, a reluctant caught-out laugh, the anxiety of how ridiculous he was being gone and replaced with a tinge of pride.
"I know, but I swear the presentation was really good," Ryo mumbles.
"That is insane." Sakuya wipes his eyes. "I'm — okay, honestly? I'm flattered. That's the most unhinged thing anyone's ever done for me." He's grinning into the phone. "But yeah. It's never going to work."
"...Yeah. My mom made that pretty clear." There's a rueful pause on the other line. "So anyway, I deleted the whole deck."
"What! I was just about to ask you to send it to me! Go check if you can still recover it somehow!"
"No!" Ryo quickly replies, a little too loud for the hour. "…I've come to my senses. It's too embarrassing to show to you."
Sakuya laughs again, quieter, and then it settles. He loves having Ryo this vulnerable and open. With that feeling in his chest and their guards down, his mind turns over to his other worry from that afternoon.
"...I mean," he says, and his voice turns quieter and more subdued. "It's kind of a moot point, right? Turns out Yushi didn't even really want me there." He lets out a small breath. "Imagine if we asked him to move in with the both of us."
The line goes quiet.
"Hey." Ryo's voice shifts — the joking gone out of it, alert now, careful. "What are you talking about."
And Sakuya, who didn't mean to divulge any of this, who filed it away this evening the way he does every mildly uncomfortable thing, finds it spilling out of him in the dark anyway — maybe because there's a certain safety and comfort that he gets from the dark and Ryo's voice on the other line. "I heard him on the phone with mom, earlier. He wasn't — he didn't say anything mean about me or anything. He just said he'd kind of gotten used to the idea of having the place to himself once Riku's gone." He picks at the edge of his blanket. "Like he'd already pictured this whole year, and I wasn't in it."
"Saku."
"It's fine. I'm not—" He stops. "It's dumb. He's my brother, but it made me feel like I'm some kind of hindrance—" He doesn't finish it.
"Then don't move into that room."
Sakuya closes his eyes. "What?"
"Tell your mom you'd rather not. We can just stay home here together." Ryo's already moving, already three steps in. "She'd listen to you, she always—"
"It's already decided, Ryo. And Yushi would totally insist that everything's fine and I should move in anyway."
It comes out easy. Easier than it should.
"...Okay, no." Ryo's voice goes very steady, the way it does whenever he's trying to comfort somebody. "Then listen to me. You only caught half a sentence from their conversation. You don't know what that was about. Yushi could have a hundred reasons that have nothing to do with you — maybe he wanted the quiet, maybe he's got something going on you don't know about. It does not mean he doesn't want you. Those aren't the same thing, and you know they're not." A pause. "Don't build a whole tragedy out of one line you heard out of context. You always do that."
Sakuya huffs, surprised into a smile. "...I don't always do that."
"You catastrophically do that. In your head. Where nobody can get in to talk you out of it." Softer: "So talk to me instead. Or — better. Talk to him. Just ask him."
"...Yeah." Sakuya breathes out, and something in his chest loosens a notch. "Yeah. Okay. I'll ask him. Like an adult."
"Like an adult. We're adults now. We need to be more communicative." Kind of ironic, considering it's coming from Ryo, but Sakuya lets him have it. "And hey — you never know. Maybe the problem was just that it was only you and him. Right? Two people might be kind of awkward, kind of a lot. But if you added a third — someone fun, someone who really elevates a shared living space—"
"Oh my god."
"—I'm just saying, I'm fun, you're fun, we can keep each other company if he wants to be alone—"
"Ryo. Please. Let it die."
"Fine, fine." He can hear Ryo smiling. "At least for tonight, okay?"
"Ryo."
"Okay fine! I won't talk about moving in together anymore."
And then neither of them says anything for a while, and it's fine. It's better than fine. Sakuya lies there with the phone warm next to his head and listens to Ryo breathe on the other end — the small sounds coming out of him, the pillow, the faint noise of their neighbourhood behind him — and feels the whole day finally let go, all its sharp edges going soft.
"You still there?" he mumbles, eventually.
"Mm. Where would I go."
"Dunno. You could hang up. Like a normal person."
"You called me," Ryo points out. "You hang up."
"...I don't want to."
It comes out before Sakuya can dress it up as a joke — plain and sleepy — and on the other end Ryo goes quiet for a second, before he says, just as quiet, "...Yeah. Me neither."
So neither of them hangs up. They stay on the line, not really talking now, just there. Sakuya hears some more shuffling on Ryo's end, hears him burrow down into his blankets, and it feels, ridiculously, like he's in the next room. Like nothing's changed at all.
"Hey, Saku."
"Mm."
"I'm rooting for you. The Yushi thing — ask him. It'll be fine." There's a pause, and then, softer, the last of it slipping out under the wire, "And even if it's not. You've still got me. Obviously."
Sakuya smiles into the pillow, eyes already shut, his chest filling with a familiar warmth and quiet at the reassurance. "Obviously," he echoes.
"Night, Saku."
"Night, Ryo," he murmurs — but neither of them moves to end the call, and neither of them mentions it.
He falls asleep like that — phone still lit against the pillow, the line still open, Ryo's breathing steady and even in his ear. He sleeps better than he has in weeks.
(One street over, Ryo listens to the exact moment Sakuya's breathing goes slow and deep and steady, and does not hang up for a long, long time.)
Chapter Title from Carly Rae Jepsen - E·MO·TION