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“What do you love about me?” he asks one day.
He doesn’t look up from his book, though, and for a moment, Leo swears he’s imagined the question. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened.
Well, imagined or not, the answer is instantaneous, an explosion of sound and emotion at the back of his mind that spreads wider, then wider still, until he can practically hear it roaring in his ears. A pen. He needs a pen.
Thankfully, there’s one already in his hand, but a new problem presents itself as he blinks down at the piece of score paper before him to find that two thirds of it are already marked with ink. Ah, that’s no good. He flips it over, growling in frustration to find that side full too, and then rifles through the mess of sheets on the table before him until he finds one that’s completely blank.
In the distance, someone is calling what must be his name. However, rather than pulling him back to reality, it only pushes him further into the trance-like state he enters when sensations like this overtake him.
The voice doesn’t prod, though, doesn’t continue to poke at him. There’s only a sigh, and a hand that begins stroking his hair in a patient, practiced motion, just light enough that it doesn’t distract him from his work.
No, if anything, it improves his focus. It’s repetitive, soothing. Under any other circumstances, he’d hate to be touched while he’s engrossed in something so important. To distract him from urgently chasing and capturing even one note would be a crime. But this touch does not hinder, it helps. Like a metronome, it keeps him steady and guides is own hand and pen along the paper to preserve the masterpiece that’s unfolding before him.
Eventually, bit by bit, the sense of urgency that’s seized him begins to settle, fading into comfortable silence. His pen strokes down to draw the tail of the last note, and that’s it. It’s done. Perfect. Leo feels his body sag a little, the tension leaving him in a heaved sigh of relief. And, as always, the hand is still there, smoothing out his hair in a constant, reassuring way that makes him want to turn to nuzzle his cheek into it, so he does.
“Finished?” someone asks.
“Mm,” he hums, tilting his chin to press a kiss to the warm palm. Then another. The world around him is slowly starting to piece itself back together. Each detail comes to him slowly, but easily. His name is Leo Tsukinaga, he’s sitting on the floor, in the apartment he shares with his… Knight? Friend? No, his partner. His lover, who this song is about , of course , and before this, he was…
It takes a moment, but then he remembers it—A statement. Maybe a question? He isn’t sure—and jerks suddenly, whipping around to look at his muse. “Oh! Did you say something?”
Confusion pulls at Tsukasa’s features for a moment before he smiles a little, clearly amused, though there’s light annoyance there, too. Leo can tell. It’s in the set of his jaw. “So you did hear me, hm?”
“Not quite. Sorry,” he says, in a way they both know means he isn’t really sorry. He never is. Not for things like this, anyway. “How long ago was that?”
He checks his watch.
“About forty minutes.”
“Whoops.” Leo can’t help but laugh, both at himself and at Tsukasa, who looks about ready to punch him. But again, he isn’t sorry. It’s impossible to be, when Tsukasa’s brow furrows and he pouts in that endearing way, and it’s obvious that he isn’t actually angry, because he wouldn’t be here otherwise. “Ah, repeat it to me. I’m here this time—back on Earth, promise!”
It takes time for him to reply, allowing Leo to watch in delight as his expression shifts into something more flustered, more bashful. A warm rosy color creeps across his cheeks, over his nose, to the tips of his ears, and his teeth worry at his lip for a second before he finally speaks.
“I said--or asked, rather… what it is that you…” Tsukasa swallows, voice dropping to a murmur. He averts his eyes. “What it is that you love about me?”
Oh. Right, that question.
Leo begins to mull it over. ‘That’s easy’ is on the tip of his tongue--the song he’s just written is still fresh in his mind--but when he really thinks about it, how to explain it in language others understand, he realizes it's not easy at all. Transcribing is always the hardest part.
He spares a glance at the sheets of paper on the table, covered in ink that’s likely still drying, then makes a displeased noise as he clambers onto the couch to settle himself in Tsukasa’s lap.
“You ask difficult questions. Do I have to say it? Why don’t I just play it for you?”
It would be so much easier, because then he could feel the extent of it, just how whole, how big, how powerful this feeling his, could feel just how much he loves him. And besides…
“We have a piano now,” he adds as an afterthought. They’d moved it in not even a week ago, and it would be a waste to let it collect dust.
Tsukasa isn’t convinced, apparently. He puffs his cheeks out, annoyed, and just a little petulant. But his eyes are warm when he reaches up to tuck a lock of wild, fiery orange hair behind Leo’s ear.
“You kept me waiting. The least you can do is humor me.”
“That’s a tall order, and you know it. I’m not you, after all! Suou has a pretty mouth that says pretty words. You should be the one praising me, don’t you think?”
“No. I spoil you enough as it is. You should return the favor for once.”
Knowing he isn’t winning this argument, Leo groans, and decides to admit defeat. He plucks the book from Tsukasa’s hand and sets it aside before he makes himself comfortable, stretching himself out and resting his chin on Tsukasa’s chest to gaze up at him with a smile.
“Says the most spoiled brat of them all. You’re such a handful, you know that?”
Tsukasa clearly takes that as a victory, if the smug look on his face is any indication. He lightly runs a hand up and down Leo’s back as some sort of acknowledgement—and certainly not as an apology, though it’s a loving gesture all the same.
“Mhm. Go on, then. I’m listening.”
Leo resists the urge to glance at the scores again. Words, not notes , he reminds himself. It’s hard, but he’ll have to try.
“Hm… What I love about Suou…”
Trailing off, he considers the question carefully, once more. It isn’t something he should have to consider carefully, but again, he’s never been good with language when it matters most. And this does, he’s sure. A few years have made Tsukasa Suou taller, his back straighter, filled every inch of him with confidence, but there’s still an insecure boy hiding beneath it all.
He’s here, right in front of him, in those violet eyes. He’s not making his presence overtly known, but he is there, staring expectantly—almost pleadingly—searching for praise. For a moment, Leo thinks he hears the ring of an old nickname, clear enough that his heart clenches. That particular memory is sharp enough to cut through the hop-skip-jump of the melody playing in the back of his mind, and then the first score is a sentence, and the second is another. He grins.
“I guess one thing is… You’re big.”
Tsukasa blinks, clearly confused. Okay, not a great start, but he takes it in stride and tries again.
“Not you—your presence I mean! Well, you too, I guess. You’re taller than you used to be, which isn’t fair, by the way. Who said you could go and do that? It’s lonely down here.” Leo has half a mind to stretch forward and nip at his nose. “Ah, but… I love that. It fits— like your body’s big enough to fit you inside it. It didn’t used to be, but I loved that too. It was funny, like… Like you were always so bossy for someone so small, you know? A little dog who thinks he’s huge and yaps at everything.”
Tsukasa’s eyes narrow.
“Like you’re one to---“
He does bite him, then, growling as he does so.
“D’you wanna listen or not, Yappy?”
“You just bit my nose,” he replies, looking surprised, offended and the slightest bit scandalized. It’s an expression he hasn’t worn for a while, but it’s one of Leo’s favorites. Well, if Suou wants him to talk , then—
“If you don’t shut up, I’ll bite more than your n—“
He’s interrupted by a cough that he’d swear was fake if he wasn’t so sure Tsukasa just choked on his own saliva. “Fine,” he snaps. “Fine. Continue.”
“The biting?”
“No. Before that, obviously. You were answering my question.”
“Hm… Is that so? I’m not so sure I remember.” He’s only half-teasing, because it’s true that his thoughts are beginning to scatter, marching along to a completely different tune, too mosso for the romantic ballad he should be spinning. “Where was I?”
“You were comparing me to a dog,” Tsukasa reminds with a huff. “A small, irritating one.”
Right. Leo hums, smiles, and brings a hand up to trace shapes over the fabric of his shirt with his finger. “Well it works, doesn’t it? Dogs are loyal. You’re loyal, too. And that’s something else I love.”
Whether the heat in his face is due to that comment, or simply lingering from the argument just before, he isn’t sure. Either way, it’s cute. But while Tsukasa looks a touch flustered, he still doesn’t appear to be swooning yet, and that just won’t do, so Leo goes on.
“What else? You’re… playful, sometimes. And brave. Some dogs are stubborn, which you definitely are. You’re needy! Like, you’re always nipping at my heels, like a naggy puppy. Oh, and you like treats! And… you’re… cuddly?”
“Do you honestly expect me to take this as a compliment?” Tsukasa asks with a quirk of his brow, clearly still unimpressed and in no way satisfied with that answer, even if he is beginning to look a little amused.
“Of course! I prefer cats, but… If it makes you feel any better, you’d be a cute, fancy dog. Like those little ones with the puffy white fur! They’re, um… They’re called…”
“… A Bijon Frise?” he asks, pronouncing the strange name perfectly, though as far as Leo can tell, it doesn’t quite sound like English.
“Yeah! Yeah, that! A… dijon frise!”
If Tsukasa has something to say about that, he keeps it to himself, but even after years of learning to control what expressions he lets show, it’s clear he’s holding back a laugh. A charmer he may be, sure, but Leo has always been able to see through that polite, poised exterior. And what he sees is a spoiled, stuffy, beautiful brat, laughing at his mishap, so now it’s his turn to be “offended.’”
“Even when you’re not yapping, you do a bad job of making me want to keep flattering you, you know! If you’re going to just laugh at me for my pronunciation, then maybe I’ll run away to America or England or whatever, and never come back! I bet they’ll teach me the language better, and be nicer about it.”
There’s a pout on his face, an expression that makes it appear as if he’s about to retort, but it fades. Tsukasa says nothing, leaving his teasing words to hang in the air. And at first, it feels like a victory. Leo revels in it until the silence starts to feel uncomfortable, stretching on too long, and then longer still. His smile falters.
Something's off. It’s subtle, but the air shifts in that moment. He may be oblivious at times, but he can see it in the little things: the twitch of Tsukasa’s mouth, the feeling of an arm tightening around his waist, and the way that chuckle he loves to hear finally greets his ears, but it sounds too quiet.
Leo’s hand stops its idle movement as anxiety begins to creep up his spine. He hadn’t meant it, he wants to say, but is it wrong to say that out loud? Is it wrong to stay quiet? Guilt is something he knows all too well, easy to recognize, though that doesn’t make it any less unpleasant as it starts to settle—heavy like a rock—in his stomach. Then, just as his worries are carrying him away, past the point of no return--
“You’ll come back.”
It’s said so softly, just loud enough to detect the warmth in his tone. Tsukasa’s voice is steady. Fond. He sounds so assured, as if he’s certain that those words could only be the absolute truth.
And he’s right, Leo knows.
Of course, he’s right.
Just like that, the tension is gone, slipping away as if it had never come at all. It’s easy when he nuzzles his face into Tsukasa’s shoulder and threads their fingers together, squeezing tightly. They fit perfectly, designed like a lock and key, and he thinks to himself, “if I was given these hands to make music, then their second purpose is this.”
“I guess I’d have to. You’d just hunt me down if I didn’t, right? I’d never get away from a stubborn pest like you, even if I went to the other side of the world, or—or another planet, even... ‘Search and destroy’, was it?”
Tsukasa presses a kiss to his forehead. It’s firm, like a promise.
“Something like that, yes.”
Leo shifts, craning his neck to return the favor—a promise of his own.
“I love that about you, too.”