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Rantaro blows on his tea and watches ripples spread out across the surface of the dark brown, clear liquid. The tea is so shiny that he can see his face reflected in it. But as he stares into the disturbed image of his own green eyes, all the steam rising from the drink makes his face warmer than he likes, and anyway, he doesn’t really like thinking about how tired he is, and it’s easier to avoid the fact when he isn’t actively looking at himself. Hissing out a breath and placing his mug on the table in front of him, Rantaro averts his gaze and leans back in his chair.
He brewed the tea himself, and it smells good- though it’s worth noting that he had to resort to using a tea bag because it’s far too early in the morning for him to feel comfortable doing anything fancy, and anyway, he doesn’t mind tea bags. In fact, he likes how quick and simple they are to use. Oh, it’s nice when his friend Kirumi brews several pots of her own, gourmet tea… really, it takes him back to when he was younger, and it just serves to remind him of how thoughtful she is. But for a quiet moment like this, Rantaro isn’t looking for anything particularly fancy.
Despite the steam still rising from the mug, he’s pretty sure his drink is rapidly cooling the longer the moment drags on. He’d already have snuck a couple sips early on, because Rantaro does enjoy tea enough to brave a burnt tongue in order to avoid waiting, but at the moment he’s having a difficult time thinking straight for long enough to focus on his drink. His mind keeps wandering and threatening to shut down again.
Not that he’s particularly surprised that he’s so lethargic. It’s three in the morning, and he had been sleeping just forty five minutes ago, according to the clock on the wall in the dining hall. In fact, he shouldn’t even be in the dining hall right now. The dining hall is off-limits to students for another five hours. But ever since Kokichi broke the locks on the doors, people have been sort of coming and going as they please. Rantaro knows it stresses out the faculty and he hates to be a bother, but on a night like tonight… being in his room, trapped inside where he’s surrounded by walls and it’s hot and stuffy and there isn’t a window and there are only so many times that he can kick his chair into the wall and Kirumi can sneak in to tidy it back up for him when he’s on one of his travels before he starts to feel guilty about making more work for her… it’s only going to make things astronomically worse.
So Rantaro is here, instead, watching his tea get cold because actually, he doesn’t even want to drink it all that much, but earlier, when he had just woken up, he looked up how to deal with it, and one of the suggestions was drinking tea, so he-
“Ah, Rantaro, I didn’t think I’d find you awake at this hour.” Shuichi’s voice is hushed, and really, it sounds as though he’s trying not to startle the other boy, but regardless, Rantaro jumps and his hand bumps his mug, causing some of the warm liquid to slosh over the edge. It splashes onto the table but the mug doesn’t fall onto its side. Chuckling sheepishly at his mistake, the adventurer turns around and makes eye contact with his classmate. (The classmate in question is currently watching him with wide, guilty eyes, presumably feeling bad about having surprised him.)
“Oops, you caught me breaking a school rule.” Rantaro jokes, smiling wryly. He meets Shuichi’s grey eyes but glances back at his right sleeve, which caught some of the tea and is now dripping. Idly, he begins to wring out the article of clothing over the table while he continues to speak. “Guess I’m in trouble now, huh?”
Shuichi shakes his head, blowing a couple strands of black hair out of his eyes as he strides over to the next table over. Somebody, likely Kirumi, has left out a basket of washcloths. The Ultimate Detective selects one of the cloths with great delicacy and then trots back over to Rantaro’s side, where he folds the towel in half and begins to gently sop up the spill. “No.” Despite being focused on his task, Shuichi’s tone is firm. “I actually got up to grab a snack or something and bring it back to my room. I’ve been up working on homework.” He hesitates. “Uh, may I ask…? What’s got you awake?”
Well, the truth doesn’t feel like a very viable option here. Rantaro shrugs. “I wanted a cup of tea.” As though to prove his point, he grabs his mug and tips the remaining liquid into his mouth. Even though the tea that spilled wasn’t hot enough to cause any damage, it still burns the roof of his mouth when he takes a huge gulp of it. When he’s finished the cup, he puts it down, and looks back at the detective.
“Sleepless night?” Shuichi asks lightly, eyes flickering up from the table to meet Rantaro’s.
The taller boy feels himself frowning but nods anyway, trying to rearrange his mouth into a smile. (It’s a lot easier to put on the expression when he’s more awake, apparently.) “Something like that.” It’s not technically a fib on Rantaro’s part, by any stretch, but the words still taste bitter in his mouth. Still, he’s not about to elaborate.
Thankfully, Shuichi doesn’t ask. He folds the washcloth into fourths and then holds out a hand, his gaze expectant. It takes Rantaro a moment to understand what the detective wants, but when he does, he slowly holds out his right arm, feeling his smile freeze on his face. Shuichi doesn’t seem to notice, and simply begins to work at draining the tea from Rantaro’s sleeve.
It’s a painstakingly slow process, because if the brunette wants to be thorough about this, he’ll have to spend a bit of time finding all the remaining dry parts of the towel and then pressing them against the parts of Rantaro’s sleeve that have fallen victim to the spilled tea. Really, it’s far more work than he should be putting into any of this, especially so early in the morning, but when Shuichi is focused like this, it’s difficult to argue with him.
There’s something about the way his brow furrows and his gaze hones in on one thing in particular that makes it almost compelling to watch him as he is working. Rantaro is especially… erm, intrigued, by the way that Shuichi chews his lower lip, almost as though he isn’t aware he’s doing it. They’re standing about two feet away from each other, and there shouldn’t be anything intimate about what’s happening, but it’s silent in the dining hall aside from the sound of fabric brushing against more fabric, and every once in a while Shuichi’s fingers will graze Rantaro’s wrist, and the latter will find himself nearly having heart palpitations.
He blames it on the fact that he’s so tired. Rantaro’s always been off his guard when he’s been sleep deprived. Things that wouldn’t mean anything to him after a full night’s rest mean a lot more to him right now. He shakes his head, trying to clear the thoughts from his mind. Just as he starts to try to focus his attention elsewhere, though, Shuichi finishes, retracting his hands and smiling gently.
“Uhm, your sleeve is still a little damp, but that’s the best I can do.” He unfolds the washcloth and shakes it out a little, flinching when a couple droplets of tea splash in his face. (Rantaro isn’t sure what Shuichi thought would happen, but it’s still pretty endearing anyway so he doesn’t have very much to say about it.) “Anyway, is something wrong?”
“Huh?” Usually Rantaro is more articulate, but as mentioned previously… his thoughts are kind of muddled. And, in his defense, the question was pretty out of the blue. In an attempt to redeem himself, he processes the question and responds before Shuichi can repeat what he said. “Oh, everything’s fine, but I appreciate the concern, Shuichi.” When the detective’s eyes begin to narrow, Rantaro continues hurriedly. “I mean it! I’m okay. Nothing to worry about.”
“Hm.” Shuichi doesn’t press, but he purses his lips, like he’s unhappy, and sits down at the table. Rantaro doesn’t like seeing the pouty expression on his classmate’s face, and while logically he knows that the other boy is probably only doing this to get him to spill (because he only came to the dining hall, after all, intending to grab a snack and then return to his room, so any moves that make it seem like he’s going to stay in here are probably spur-of-the-moment on his part) the moody silence still makes him uncomfortable.
And he doesn’t want to talk about it, because there’s not a lot to talk about and Rantaro is fine and anything he could talk about would probably just be more of a burden for Shuichi to take on. Shuichi spends a lot of time trying to figure out how to cater to his classmates’ needs and make them feel safer in their classroom. He barely spends any time talking about himself. Rantaro doesn’t want to add to that. Especially not by talking about his own problems.
Even so... Rantaro sighs and sits down next to him, staring at his empty mug. “Just a small nightmare, that’s all.”
Grey eyes flicker to meet his and Rantaro almost immediately regrets saying anything, at all, period. It’s not like Shuichi’s gaze is particularly sympathetic, or even anything on the long list of responses that just make things feel even worse, but the fact that he’s attentive is making Rantaro’s chest seize up for an entirely different reason than earlier. He isn’t necessarily prone to panic attacks, but they happen sometimes, and one happened about fifty minutes ago according to that clock that’s telling him it’s 3:05AM, and he isn’t really in the mood to have another one in front of Shuichi.
“It wasn’t that bad,” Rantaro’s tongue feels heavy, like lead, as he starts to try to dumb down the words that have just left his mouth. “And I woke up before it got-” how could he even say this without inciting further worry from Shuichi? “-uh, worse, so- not a big deal. Really, I just couldn’t go to sleep, so I figured I’d get some tea and unwind.”
Shuichi hums. “Do you want to talk about it? The nightmare, I mean?”
The Ultimate Adventurer feels his throat closing up and making it difficult for him to swallow. “No. No, I don’t.” His voice shakes but he really doesn’t because talking about it means thinking about it and Rantaro really just doesn’t want to think about it. Thankfully, thankfully, Shuichi just nods and takes the words at face value, averting his gaze and leaning forward to rest his chin on the table.
It isn’t as though they haven’t had a couple sensitive conversations in the past. Shuichi is the only person at their school who knows about what happened with Rantaro’s sisters- aside from Mukuro Ikusaba, one of their upperclassmen, and her finding out was more incidental than much else, and anyway, she isn’t in their class so really she doesn’t even count. And when Shuichi’s mom died, that was a conversation that they had but ultimately Kaito and Kaede and Maki found out about it and they helped in their own ways too- Kaede by understanding, Kaito with his usual style of pep talk, Maki by offering to kill Shuichi’s father- so that wasn’t really even Rantaro helping or connecting with the detective aside from getting him to let out some of that emotion initially.
Even so, Rantaro doesn’t like thinking about things that make him upset. There isn’t some deep psychological reason for this (at least, Rantaro doesn’t think so) it just makes him upset thinking about those things so he doesn’t like thinking about them. He doesn’t like being upset. He tries to avoid it, when possible. It just makes everything so unnecessarily complicated when other people find out, because they have these weird ideas that he should talk about his feelings and honestly he’s tried it before and it just works out better for everyone involved if he refrains.
It doesn’t look like Shuichi is planning on leaving though, that’s worth noting. Rantaro wouldn’t mind the company, except that the weight of their conversation from a few moments ago is still hanging on his shoulders and there’s also a lump steadily building in his throat that he’s trying really hard to ignore. Maybe he should try to strike up a conversation. If he distracts himself, he’ll probably feel better. And maybe Shuichi will humour him- after all, why else would he just stay here? Rantaro swallows thickly.
“Hey,” he clears his throat, and is grateful to hear in his own voice that some of the huskiness from the lump that was forming earlier has diminished. “What homework assignment kept you up so late?”
Before answering, Shuichi sits up, stretching his arms above his head and squeezing his eyes shut in a yawn. “Just…” he speaks between yawns. “...the reading assignment from… a couple days ago.” He cracks open one eye a sliver and then opens both of them fully, lowering his arms. “Oh, but you weren’t in class then, huh…? Well, we were assigned a passage to finish as homework and I never had a spare moment to get around to doing it until tonight, so I figured I would get it all done. It took a little longer than I expected, though.” The detective chuckles.
“You probably don’t have to finish it.” Rantaro points out, furrowing his brow. He’d only come back to Tokyo the other day, and he doesn’t spend a lot of his time as a student at Hope’s Peak actually doing the schoolwork, but he has a pretty good understanding of how things work around here. “As long as you do well on your practicals, the homework isn’t a very big priority.”
“Ah, you’re right about that.” Shuichi looks away, smiling slightly and chewing his bottom lip (which is par for the course to Rantaro by now). “But it’s more the principle of doing the schoolwork that appeals to me than the academic success that might accompany it. Besides, I guess I have some talent when it comes to detective work, but I’m not the best. This might not be what I decide to do when I’ve finished high school. And if that’s the case, I want to have at least some learning to draw upon when pursuing other careers.”
Despite the uncertainty with which Shuichi verbalises his thought process, there is something remarkably sage to his tone, and Rantaro finds himself appreciative. He leans forward and rests his chin on his hand, half thinking and half dozing. “After high school, hm…?” He mumbles, feeling his lips carve into a frown. He hasn’t put a lot of thought into where he’ll be after high school. The answer is pretty obvious, but…
“Y-Yeah. I don’t know. We’re still in our first year, so there’s not a lot of point in thinking about it.” Scratching the back of his head, Shuichi offers an apologetic smile. “Still, it’s interesting for me to consider other possibilities…” he seems to hesitate. “You’ll be looking for your sisters still, right?”
He says it casually, and Rantaro doesn’t feel pressured, but for some reason the observation makes him feel off balance. There’s been so little time for him to think about the long-term. He’s not entirely sure where he’s going to be when high school is over. Of course he hopes he’ll have found his sisters by then, but the way his search is going right now, and the way he feels at this moment in particular, he… it feels inconceivable.
Swallowing hard, Rantaro barely notices the pinpricks in the corners of his eyes until a few tears escape down his face. Their presence is unexpected, and for a moment he just finds himself staring down at the table where the tears landed. The wood table is still a little moist from the tea earlier, but his tears are far more striking against the mahogany surface of the table. In the reflection on the water, he can see his face. Immediately, he tears away his gaze, wiping at his eyes.
“Sorry,” and he curses his voice for cracking when the word leaves his mouth. “I don’t even know why I-” his hand doing pretty badly at catching all of the moisture. “I can’t stop.”
Shuichi reaches over and grasps Rantaro’s wrist, pulling it away from his face. There’s nothing hostile in the gesture, and the detective’s expression is pretty impassive overall, but for some reason with his face uncovered he feels insecure. His other hand tangles in the fabric of his shirt to keep from trying to cover his face again. “It’s okay,” Shuichi murmurs, and his voice is so soft, and his expression is nothing but warm, and Rantaro just- he feels so tired.
And he’s okay, he’s fine, he doesn’t want to talk about it, he can handle it, but- but even so, he-
Rantaro chokes on a sob as it leaves his lips and Shuichi drags him into his arms, wrapping him in a tight embrace. He’s just stressed, that’s all, he’s not losing control on the situation and honestly he’s alright but Shuichi’s arms are warm and he smells good, like books and a little bit of cinnamon, and Rantaro clutches at the back of the detective’s shirt with both hands, burying his face in the other boy’s shoulder.
Eventually his shoulders cease their trembling and his sobs fall silent, leaving space only for the occasional hiccup or sniffle. Rantaro knows that eventually he’ll have to pull out of the hug and look Shuichi in the eyes again but he doesn’t want to because he’s comfortable and safe and now that he’s out of tears, he’s exhausted, and sleep feels so tempting right now. It doesn’t really help his case that Shuichi is stroking his hair and maybe it’s childish but the action is soothing. It’s probably not a very good idea to fall asleep like this, wrapped up in his friend’s arms, but Rantaro can’t remember the last time he felt so secure, and anyway, he-
His thoughts come to a crashing halt when he slips into unconsciousness, his breaths evening out and his hold on Shuichi’s shirt relaxing until his hands drop. He’s barely in his own seat anymore, almost sharing the other chair with the detective, but he’s not awake to notice, and Shuichi doesn’t mind.
And if Shuichi presses a chaste kiss to the crown of Rantaro’s head before resuming combing out the knots in his hair with his fingers, then, well, that’s nobody’s business but his.