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Kei moves in on a Monday. He’s managed that incalculable feat of arranging his schedule for zero classes, practices, obligations or deadlines on the first day of the week, an accomplishment that had earned him a wistful, awe-struck silence from Yamaguchi that was as much a reward as the actual break. It had taken quite a bit of finagling, and his Wednesdays are frankly horrific now as a result, but it had been a good call, he decides. This provides Kei with an unobstructed window of time to act all on his own, without even Yamaguchi’s well-intentioned presence hovering nearby.
So then it’s easy for Kei to take the spare key from under the fake rock in the miniscule and pathetic flower bed out front and spend a few leisurely hours transferring his worldly possessions into Yamaguchi’s second story flat. He doesn’t have much, honestly, having arranged for most of his items to be sent back to Miyagi for storage at his parent’s place until he needs them again. His life at the moment consists of what Yamaguchi calls the 3 P’s - presentations, papers, and practice. Material objects are unnecessary clutter in this small space, and anyway Kei has adjusted nicely to the nest of Yamaguchi’s creature comforts. It’s a small enough price to pay.
Once Kei is finished putting his necessary objects into the closet and the two far right dresser drawers, he tidies up a bit. Yamaguchi isn’t a slob, but he can be a bit careless with things so it’s up to Kei to put away the dishes in the drying rack and to fold up the spare couch blanket and put away the miscellany of daily Yamaguchi life. Kei rather likes the mundanity of small scale cleaning- it’s minimal effort with maximum result.
It has been a most productive day so far, and Kei’s steps are lively as he locks up and heads down to the corner store for supplies. It’s a quick trip because Kei has come prepared with a list, in and out. The potatoes, he notes, are unexpectedly on sale. Yet another fortuitous sign. Kei unlocks the door and sets out the items he needs to make dinner. He hesitates.
The spare key sits in the little dish by the door.
Technically, Kei won’t need it again tonight. By the time dinner is ready, Yamaguchi will be home. Etiquette dictates that the key goes back to its poorly concealed hiding spot.
But who will be using the key now, if not Kei? A fake rock is no place for a spare key in the city. What if it gets picked up or thrown away? And this isn’t sleepy Miyagi. It could be dangerous. Kei’s just being a good boyfriend, if he keeps it himself. Resolved, Kei slips the key into his pocket and begins dinner prep.
An hour or so later, Kei hears the familiar rattling of the front door. He turns down the audiobook on notable paleoartists of the 19th century and tilts his head to better hear Yamaguchi stepping clumsily into the foyer, toeing off his shoes carelessly.
“Tsukki, is that you?” Yamaguchi calls. “Ooh, that smells good! Are you cooking?”
Kei waits and Yamaguchi, not really expecting an answer, pokes his head into the kitchen first, like a puppy following its nose. Cute, Kei notes dispassionately. Yamaguchi is always cute, though.
“Nikujaga? What is all this?” Yamaguchi’s face threatens to break into a sunny grin as he peeks over Kei’s shoulder into the pot on the stove.
“Surprise,” Kei says, deadpan.
“Wow.” Yamaguchi’s expression dazzles. “It’s your only free day, you didn’t have to… I mean…” Unable to explain himself further, he tilts up into Kei’s space, giving him a kiss as artless as it is affectionate.
“Good surprise?” Kei asks.
“The best.” Yamaguchi steps back. “Ah, I’m super gross though. I went to the gym at lunch and barely got a rinse in, and you know I hate how I smell after riding the subway at peak.” His nose wrinkles. Kei would like to kiss it, but he’s also starting to feel- just a bit, just a tiny bit queasy. Nerves and nikujaga.
“Then you’d better shower,” Kei suggests, stepping back toward the stove and giving the pot another stir. “I still need to finish the miso soup anyway.”
“You really went all out!” Yamaguchi practically bounces in place. “Thanks, Tsukki.” His smile is so full of warmth and heart and Yamaguchi that Kei has to physically turn his shoulders away to break eye contact.
“Don’t thank me,” he mutters, a little stiffly.
Yamaguchi just laughs, too used to Kei’s hot-and-cold to be bothered. Kei begins dicing the enoki mushrooms and eggplant for the soup while the dashi stock bubbles merrily on the burner. The rice cooker dings right on time.
He pauses when he hears the shower cut on, muffled behind the bathroom door. He thinks about their toothbrushes side by side- red and green. Kei adds the vegetables into the stock and tastes the broth. Consideringly, he adds another quarter teaspoon of dashi granules.
The shower cuts off and padding footsteps move back into the bedroom. When Kei stirs the nikujaga for the last time, cutting off the burner, he notes dimly that his palms are sweaty.
A long silence ensues, somewhere between two minutes and twenty years.
“...Tsukki?” Yamaguchi’s voice calls from the bedroom.
“Yes?” Kei answers calmly.
“Did you…” Yamaguchi’s voice breaks off, an octave or so too high. Not the best reaction, all things considered. Kei adds the miso last, stirring the soup until it comes together in a familiar, cloudy haze. Yamaguchi tries again, his voice much too low this time.
“Did you… move into my apartment today?”
Kei turns the last burner off, putting the lids on top to keep everything nice and warm. He wipes his sweaty palms against his pants, then walks back to the bedroom where Yamaguchi is sitting on the bed in nothing but a towel, staring, stunned, into his closet where Kei’s clothes now live side by side with his own.
“Surprise,” Kei deadpans.
“Tsukki.” There’s a lot to unpack, in that word. Kei leans against the doorframe.
“Good surprise?” Kei asks, looking at the closet too. There’s a lot of Yamaguchi on the bed, and it wouldn’t do to get distracted.
“Surprise surprised! Shock, Tsukki! I’m- this- you-” Yamaguchi sputters, right hand coming up to gesture at Kei, the closet, the world, maybe, then dropping back to the bed.
“Ah,” Kei says, when it seems like Yamaguchi wants him to respond.
“Moving in together is a big step! Co-habitation, it’s- that’s, you know it means something!”
“It means we live together,” Kei says, deliberately misunderstanding. Yamaguchi growl-snorts, like he does when Kei is being insufferable.
“We’ve been dating for a month! We haven’t even had-” here, Yamaguchi’s voice drops, “we haven’t even had sex yet.”
“Do you want to have sex?” Kei asks. “Is that important?”
“I- yes, I- I do. Want that. But it’s not why we’re dating so if you don’t want to, or if you wanted to wait-” Yamaguchi stops midword, eyes narrowing. Damn. He’s too smart to derail after all. “Tsukki! We are not talking about sex right now!”
Kei frowns at the closet. It had been worth a shot, anyway. He takes a breath. “Do you not want to live together?”
“Of course I want to live with you!” Kei starts at that, turning back to look at Yamaguchi with wide eyes. Yamaguchi has his hands balled into the bed spread, staring Kei down. In the little towel, it’s sort of doing it for him, actually. Kei looks away again, feeling his face flush.
“Oh,” he says, subdued.
“Oh” Yamaguchi repeats, a little mocking. “I used to cry when I had to leave after sleepovers, Tsukki. It’s hardly a secret.”
“You were twelve,” Kei argues.
“And I was precocious for my age, so what? You know how I feel about you.” Yamaguchi’s voice softens. “I want to see you all the time. I walked in today and saw you here, making dinner, and I saw your stupid toothbrush in the bathroom and your clothes in my closet and I want it. And you did that on purpose too, you ass.”
“So what’s the problem?” Kei asks, trying to sound indifferent. “You’re fine with it, I’m fine with it.”
“The problem, Tsukki, is that you’re actually a crazy person. Which I knew but somehow forgot- along with how completely repressed you are about the most basic things. I blame the past month of holding hands and being a normal couple. I was distracted.”
Kei scowls.
“Don’t give me that,” Yamaguchi scolds. “Normal people ask. They talk about their feelings and when they want to take the next step. Like how I asked if you wanted to kiss me or if you wanted the last piece of pizza because those two faces are really hard to tell apart, actually. And maybe I was projecting.”
“What does talking about it do?” Kei asks. “How does it help, having uncomfortable conversations?”
“It helps, you nutball, because then you know for sure that everyone’s on the same page instead of guessing. Then you wouldn’t be crossing your arms like that-” Kei uncrosses his arms stiffly, “-or sweating through your shirt. Seriously, Tsukki, my kitchen doesn’t get that hot-” Kei pulls at his damp collar awkwardly. “Look at you. Even though you did everything according to plan and even though you know me better than anyone else in the world, some part of you is saying that I’m going to tell you to leave. And you’re scared.”
Kei’s hands come up to rub at his face.
“Aw, come on.” Yamaguchi’s voice is gentle. “Don’t cry, hey. Come here.”
Kei shuffles over blindly until Yamaguchi can reach over and catch his arm, tugging him to sit down on the bed. Yamaguchi holds his hand and puts his head on Kei’s shoulder and just waits until Kei can get himself together. It doesn’t take long.
“What now?” Kei asks, gratified to find that his voice is more or less even again.
Yamaguchi hums thoughtfully. “Did you have something you wanted to talk to me about?”
Kei closes his eyes. “I want to move in with you.” His voice is very small.
“It’s a little fast,” Yamaguchi says. “And I worry you might get sick of me.”
“I moved my Mondays around so I’d have free time. So we would have some space.” Kei mumbles.
“You put a lot of thought into it.” Yamaguchi’s voice is approving. “I like the idea of coming home to you. I only have the one bedroom, though.”
Kei swallows. He chances a glance over at Yamaguchi in the little towel. Yamaguchi is looking up at him slyly.
“We could probably make that work, right Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asks, fake-casual.
“Shut up, Yamaguchi.” Kei flushes.
Yamaguchi leans over, planting a quick kiss to Kei’s cheek. “Make me,” he says cheerfully. Kei risks another glance over.
...it really is a tiny towel.
“Dinner,” Kei says, but he sounds uncertain even to himself.
“It’ll keep,” Yamaguchi says confidently. “Okaerinasai, Tsukki.” He grins, eyebrow delicately arched.
“Tadaima,” Kei murmurs, and reaches for the towel.
~~