Chapter Text
Chihiro isn’t the tidiest of people, but at least he keeps his living space neat enough that he could find whatever he needs within five minutes.
It’s been harder to do that ever since Akashi’s clothes had started to migrate to his side of the room—never mind that Akashi probably has more pajamas than Chihiro has any article of clothing. Chihiro would, on a daily basis, find various too-small shirts folded neatly among his, looking like they’ve always belonged. Akashi’s own side of the dresser does not seem to have suffered any damage.
You have a fucking walk-in closet bigger than my apartment in your house—he would always think as he shoves Akashi’s things away. Telling him was no use; Akashi would just smile and shrug innocently like he wasn’t the fucker who purposefully put them there.
(What’s the point when Chihiro can’t even wear his clothes?)
Which brings him to the point.
have you been going thru my side of the dresser again
(2:15 pm)
Aren’t you the one who keeps stealing my clothes?
(2:20 pm)
no………i can’t find my jersey. the rakuzan one.
(2:21 pm)
…Are you feeling particularly nostalgic today, Chihiro?
(2:24 pm)
what, no. it’s just disappeared from where i thought it was
(2:24 pm)
i keep my shit organized unlike SOMEONE
(2:25 pm)
akashi?
(2:33 pm)
…
(2:50 pm)
ur silence is complicity
(2:51 pm)
I just got out of class, Chihiro.
(3:01 pm)
By the time Akashi arrives home Chihiro has looked through both his side of the drawer, Akashi’s side, in the laundry basket, everywhere it might’ve vanished to. He’s not particularly attached to that jersey, now that high school is three years behind them—it’s simply annoying when things go missing. At least Akashi hasn’t taken to stealing his merch too, though Chihiro can’t help but be suspicious when he sees his figures turned in slightly different positions than before when he goes to bed.
(That, or this house is haunted and out to get him.)
“I’m home,” Akashi says from the foyer, closing the door behind him. “Are you there?”
“Yeah, one minute.”
He hears Akashi go into the bathroom. Well, that’s it, Chihiro thinks as he closes the dresser. At least the room is somewhat less of a mess now that he’s gone over everything and put them in the right place. I’ve somehow lost it.
The sound of running water stops. Chihiro sticks his head out of his room, opens his mouth, and freezes.
“Before you say anything,” Akashi says, smiling serenely, “You’ve forgotten you draped it over the chair last night, haven't you? I was going to put it back, but then I would've been late for class.”
“I,” Chihiro says, staring at his boyfriend, who is stark naked apart from Chihiro’s #5 jersey. Nothing Akashi just said makes any sense, but. Akashi doesn’t look half-bad in it now that he’s grown a little taller, but it’s still a smidgen too large for him. Chihiro swallows, all memories of the past day forgotten in lieu of the fabric just barely covering Akashi’s thighs. “What the hell.”
“I see you are nostalgic.”
“Fuck you, Akashi.”