Work Text:
it’s been a long day.
the past 16 hours or so have been such a whirlwind of activities that makoto can hardly determine where some of them begin and end. as he stands in the car of his usual subway train home, all his weight supported by his arm holding the grab rail, his legs ready to give out any second now, his mind flashes back to the events of the day. a group meeting in the morning that he ended up sprinting to after oversleeping, followed by a rush of interviews, shootings and recordings with barely a moment to breathe in between, a rehearsal that stretched on for hours, a debriefing with their managers followed by the staff pulling him aside to discuss costumes and support wear ideas for the next tour, and to top it all off, kaisei insisting on going to the gym and getting a work out in. makoto doesn’t remember the last time he was this exhausted.
he’s running on fumes at the moment, mind on autopilot, that he barely registers the automated voice of the train announcement telling him what the upcoming station is. the train stops, and it takes a moment for his legs to start moving, a battle between his mind telling his body to go and his limbs screaming in protest and agony taking place. when he reaches the stairs leading out of the station (because of course the escalator would be broken today), he thinks he might actually keel over and die.
but he makes it, thank god, and trudges down the sidewalk inwardly whining, silently spewing profanities and vows of never subjecting himself to this kind of misery ever again. too busy wallowing in his own misfortune, he pays no mind to his route home. he’s walked it so many times that even if he fell asleep standing right where he is now, he figures he could probably still make it there with no problem. he lets himself fall into his own mind, getting lost in thoughts of home: of a warm bath, soft bedsheets, and the sweet, sweet release of sleep.
but while his mind is thinking one thing, it seems that his muscle memory doesn’t agree with it, preferring another. makoto stands at the entrance of an apartment building, not his own, but still one he knows all too well. it’s almost funny how completely unsurprised he is at the turn of events. reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his phone.
‘hey, i’m heading up there,’ he texts with one hand, punching in the door code with the other.
‘oh,’ is the reply he receives as he steps into the elevator, moments later being followed by, ‘that’s fine,’ and finally, ‘you have a key anyway.’
the elevator dings as it stops on the 7th floor of the building and the doors slide open to reveal the brightly lit hallway, quite literally a light at the end of the tunnel. makoto drags his feet to a familiar door, the weight of his tiredness growing heavier the closer he gets, the anticipation of finally ending his day making him antsy. by the time he gets to the door, pulling out his key to unlock it feels like one big hurdle, an arduous obstacle rather than a trivial task. but then the lock clicks, and a meow is heard on the other side of the door; even with just this, almost instantly a wave of relief washes over him.
makoto swings the door open and is greeted by mars at the entryway, who mewls loudly at the sight of him. toeing off his shoes, he bends down and reaches out a hand to the cat, who immediately nuzzles into his touch then pulls back to lick at his fingers. he makes his way down the hall into the living room, where he finds itsuki lying on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and watching a movie. makoto notes offhandedly that the hoodie itsuki’s wearing is actually one of his own. sensing movement at the corner of his eye, itsuki lowers the volume of the tv and turns his head to look at makoto.
“you look like hell,” he says plainly, the smallest of smiles on his face as he raises the corner of the blanket and pats at the empty spot next to him, beckoning makoto over.
“thanks. i feel like hell,” makoto concedes, making his way over to the couch, shedding his bag, cap, and jacket, and bits of his exhaustion in a trail along the way, like a snake leaving its skin.
he dives headfirst into itsuki’s waiting arms with all the desperation of a fish missing water, letting himself melt at his side, trusting that the way the older boy wraps his arms over his shoulders and tucks his chin over the crown of makoto’s head will help keep him together. and although he knows itsuki won’t be letting go any time soon, makoto makes it a point to wrap his arms around the other’s waist, pulling him flush against his body, just for good measure.
“you good?” itsuki murmurs, and makoto feels it more than he hears it, the vibrations from itsuki’s chest resonating throughout his entire body.
“yeah,” makoto exhales softly in reply. unlike makoto, itsuki had made the wise decision of hightailing out of the room with the bare minimum of goodbyes as soon as their manager had called an end to their meeting. judging by the way he lays completely relaxed next to him, hair damp and body warm, probably fresh from a bath, makoto suspects he’s been home for a while now. makoto snuggles in closer, pressing his face into the fabric of the hoodie. despite it being his, it smells overwhelmingly like itsuki. makoto inhales deeply and sighs, lets the scent of lavender body wash and vanilla shampoo overtake him. “god, i needed this,” he groans, and once again feels vibrations as itsuki chuckles, quiet and deep.
“do you want anything to drink? have you eaten yet?” itsuki asks, tone tender and mild, his fingers playing with the short hairs on makoto’s nape, “i think i have some leftovers in the fridge, and we can always get something delivered if you want.”
“later,” makoto says voiced muffled against itsuki’s chest, “i just want to stay like this for a little bit longer.”
and so they do.
it’s quiet, minus the sync of their breathing and the ambient noise of itsuki’s movie playing in the background. he hasn’t turned the volume back up again despite the silence between them, but makoto has a strong suspicion that he isn’t actually paying very much attention to it anyway. itsuki’s hands eventually find their way into makoto’s hair, carding through the blonde locks rhythmically, seemingly coaxing the stress out of makoto’s body with every pass. makoto responds in kind, slipping his hand underneath the hem of itsuki’s hoodie, fingers feather light running over the ridges of his spine. makoto feels itsuki shiver against him, his back arching slightly, incidentally pressing their bodies even closer together. makoto is met once more with a burst of warmth and lavender and thinks that he wouldn’t really mind laying like this forever.
“are you planning on staying the night?” itsuki asks, his fingers drawing nonsensical patterns onto makoto’s scalp.
“is it alright?” makoto mumbles timidly as he traces the same patterns into itsuki’s skin.
“i don’t see why not,” itsuki replies with a short puff of laugh, amused that the question even had to be asked. “you have some clothes here, a toothbrush too. besides,” itsuki’s hand leaves makoto’s hair, traveling down to cup at his jaw, thumb running lightly over his cheekbone. he gently lifts makoto’s face until they meet eye to eye, and makoto feels his breath catch, transfixed and rendered helpless by the light of his gaze, “when have i ever been able to say no to you?”
underneath the warm glow of itsuki’s soft smile, makoto feels a flush rise to his cheeks, then all the way up to the tips of his ears. it’s a bit unfair, he thinks. over ten years of knowing him, and itsuki still manages to have the same effect on him now as he did when they were both shy, impressionable preteens: that is to say, completely captivating. it takes every ounce of his willpower to look away from his eyes, lest he test the limits of how much further he’s able to fall. makoto wonders if itsuki even realizes what he does to him. he wonders if he should tell him.
“itsuki-san,” makoto starts, as itsuki’s fingers weave back into his hair.
“hm?” itsuki hums curiously, and even without looking, makoto knows the exact expression on his face: eyebrow raised, slight pout, eyes bright and twinkling. he’s his usual calm, all the while the chaos within makoto builds, the pace of his heart rate manifesting in erratic, nervous tapping along itsuki’s back. itsuki waits quietly, pace of his hands steady, his touch anchoring.
“i—”
i love you, is what makoto thinks of saying, and for a second he almost does. and while saying ‘i love you’ wouldn’t be wrong at all, at this very moment, it doesn’t feel right; it feels… incomplete. ‘i love you’ doesn’t explain why at the end of a long day, makoto had instinctively made his way to itsuki’s apartment over his own; doesn’t convey the level comfort and safety he had felt just by having itsuki’s quilted blanket wrapped around him and itsuki’s legs tangled with his. ‘i love you’ says a lot, but it doesn’t say what he needs it to so makoto pauses, wills the last of his weary but thankfully still functioning brain cells awake to think of something that can say all of that, saving ‘i love you’ for another day.
he looks up.
“i….. i just realized that i forgot to say ‘tadaima’,” he concludes sheepishly, voice trailing off towards the end. it’s all he can offer, but he hopes itsuki still understands.
itsuki stares at him, hand in makoto’s hair pulling away and makoto winces, missing it already. itsuki cants his head to the side, and blinks once, and it takes a second (the longest second of makoto’s life) before he suddenly breaks out into mirthful giggles. soon his hand is in makoto’s hair once more, combing through it and pushing it back, as he leans down, pressing his smile onto makoto’s forehead. warmth and lavender, itsuki on his mind and on his fingertips; makoto closes his eyes, relieved, and lets himself drift off to itsuki’s now rapid heartbeat against his ear.
“okaeri, makocchan.”