Chapter Text
Homare stares at Tasuku. Tasuku is good looking, that’s for sure, and Homare does want to kiss him, but there’s a problem—Tasuku is definitely not going to want to be kissed while he’s in the middle of being stuck in his role. On the cusp of bursting into lines, and calling Homare by a different name—what a shame!
“What are you doing, Arisugawa?” Guy’s hand meets Homare’s shoulder. Homare startles slightly, but not enough to shake him off. In fact, Homare finds himself leaning into Guy rather than away from him.
“I want to kiss Tasuku,” Homare bemoans, “but he’ll surely be mad at me for interrupting him!”
Guy nods seriously. “I see… I’d like to find a solution for you, then. Would you like to kiss me instead? I know I’m no replacement for Takato, but I do care about your want for physical affection.”
That’s the nicest thing Homare has heard in forever. He feels like he’s about to burst into tears and/or poetry. Probably the latter, but he should try to hold it in. “Though that would be lovely, Perhaps there’s another solution for us? We could sneak up on him and kiss him on both his cheeks. Surely, that will snap him out of rolebuilding.”
“I see,” Guy says with a straight face. “We can ambush him.”
There’s a sigh from across the room. “I can hear you two, you know.” Tasuku’s face is red when he turns around. “Arisugawa, Guy, if you want to kiss me, you don’t have to worry about my roles. This is self practice, anyway.”
Homare claps his hands. Warmth blooms in his chet. “Oh, excellent!” He bounds over to Tasuku, taking his face in his hands, and pecks him on the lips.
Tasuku’s eyes are so soft, and so purple. He’s smiling, not like the way his character smiles, but a rather Tasuku look.
“Aha!” Homare twirls around, letting go of Tasuku’s cheeks. “I have the perfect poem! Simply wonderful! A dancing look in your eyes, fog and glitter, oh how my heart bursts for you, my dearest, the sky stretches above as your lips—!”
Guy kisses Homare on his cheek. Homare freezes, stammering out the rest of the poem ungracefully. Guy, too, is smiling in a very Guy way, which Homare could make tens of thousands of poems about. His lips surve gently, and Homare feels his face flush red while Guy looks at him like that.
What control these men have over Homare’s heart, even when Tasuku tells him, “Serves you right for wanting to sneak up on me.”