Archive of Our Own

It’s not there’s anything wrong with Akagi, necessarily. Gin just never expected that—of all people he’d wake up next to—it would be him.

“Holy fucking shit.”

Gin jerks upright. Light drifts in through the curtain. Their apartment has always been on the colder side, so when the blankets fall away, Gin’s skin erupts in a fit of goosebumps. The room is familiar; Gin has walked by and through it a countless number of times. His bedroom shares a wall with this room, which begs the question why he even ended up here. Except it’s not really a question, not when someone stirs beside him.

His mind stumbles through a series of possible scenarios, but the facts are both apparent and alarming when Gin sees a pile of clothes at the foot of the bed.

His jeans. His shirt. And his boxers, right next to a pair of boxer briefs that are definitely not his. 

Gin looks at the nest of hair splayed out on the pillow, at the bare shoulder peeking from beneath the covers. He looks back down at his torso, at the fact that he’s ass-naked in bed, and tries not to scream. 

“Akagi.”

Akagi doesn't respond, but he stirs again, pulling the sheets tighter around him.

“Hey. Wake up.”

“Hm?” 

“Wake up.”

“‘M sleeping,” Akagi mumbles. Gin yanks at the blankets, tugging until Akagi groans. 

“Get the fuck up, Akagi. This is serious.”

Something in Gin’s voice must give it away, because Akagi cracks open an eye as he rubs sleep away from the other with his hand. He blinks at Gin’s face, and his eyes trail down Gin’s chest, then to the blankets Gin clutches to his body. 

Gin isn’t sure how he expected Akagi to respond, but he definitely didn't expect a nonchalant, “Good morning.”

“I think, uh…” Gin’s voice falters. He doesn’t know why he’s bothering to articulate the situation to Akagi with tact. There’s no way around it. “We…”

“Didja see my shirt?” Akagi yawns as he tosses one arm up, face buried in the crook of his elbow. His voice is coarser than usual. “I dunno where mine is.”

The memories creep in one by one, starting with how Gin single-handedly removed Akagi’s shirt last night before tossing it to the side. Followed quickly by Akagi’s pants hitting the ground. His face grows red. “Uh. Check the side of your bed? Maybe it’s stuck there?”

Akagi blindly fumbles around for it, snaking his hand into the gap between the mattress and the wall. “Got it.”

“Do you…” As soon as the beginning of the sentence leaves Gin’s mouth, he realizes that he has no idea how it’ll end. He’s never been big on the whole one-night-stand thing, let alone a one-night-stand with a roommate he’s been living with for over a year. 

“Hm?” Akagi yawns again before sitting up. His hair sticks up in the back, and Gin wants to bury his face in the mattress when he sees a faint, splotchy mark right under his jaw. The hickey disappears momentarily as Akagi slips on his shirt, only to appear again when Akagi’s head pokes through. “You good, Gin?”

“I think we...y’know.”

Akagi squints, still bleary-eyed, first at Gin, then at the clothes on the floor. “Yeah.”

“So, um—I guess we—”

“Slept together?” Akagi supplies. It’s unfair how casual he can be about this. Cool and level-headed and unbothered, which are three things that Gin definitely is not. 

“Yeah. That.”

“Well. Yeah. That happened.”

“That happened,” Gin echoes. 

Akagi nods. His face is neutral. He spaces out a bit, and Gin guesses that Akagi is still rebooting his brain from sleep. Gin could use a reboot, too. His mind comes up short when it stretches for an explanation about how he managed to end up here in the first place. 

He’d been tired, arriving home late from a study group session. His mind was spinning with formulas and word problems and as he dropped his bag on the kitchen table, the only sound he heard was the television set in the living room. Gin knew, even before turning the corner, that it had to be Akagi. 

And it was Akagi. Akagi Michinari, the only third-year Gin lives with. They'd gotten to know each other through a club, and he really hit it off with Gin, Osamu, and Kosaku. They invited him to join a four-bedroom apartment, and quickly became a family-away-from-family. 

Akagi had a bag of matcha-flavored Pocky nestled next to him as he watched a ship get blown up onscreen. He offered Gin the pack, scooted over, and asked, “Want some?”

Gin had accepted and settled onto the opposite end of the couch. He chewed on the Pocky stick and watched the movie in silence. Once he was finished with his share, he wanted another, and proceeded to snatch Akagi’s packet from his fingertips. 

Akagi pounced to steal it back, pinning Gin to the sofa and refusing to give up even after Gin stubbornly held onto it. Somewhere along the scuffle, lips met mouth which met again and again. At one point, they migrated to Akagi’s room, but the details are fuzzy. He’d been so tired that he could barely keep his eyes open, reflexively responding to Akagi guiding him with gentle but firm fingers.

And now, Gin is here, with shards of last night clinging to the circles under his eyes, to the clothes crumpled in a pile on the ground, and to the boy right beside him. 

“Huh.” Akagi smacks his lips and scrunches his eyebrows in amusement. He looks surprisingly relaxed despite the pressing matter at hand, which Gin would admire if he weren’t too busy being distressed. “Wouldja look at that?”

Gin reaches down to snatch up his underwear. He’s careful to make sure that the blankets stay securely in place as he wiggles it on. “We are not telling Osamu and Kosaku about this.”

“Okay?” 

Gin can envision it now: an endless wave of comments and texts making fun of them for having no one but each other. This has been an ongoing joke ever since Kosaku and Osamu have started dating their respective significant others. There’s a reason why Gin wasn’t surprised to see Akagi alone up at night when he got home. 

“I dunno why it'd be any of their business anyway,” Akagi says as Gin slips out from under the bedsheets and into his clothes. “They’re too busy being in la la land over their new relationships or whatever, so it’s not like they’d care.”

“Just—don’t tell them, okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Akagi pauses. His large brown eyes peer curiously at Gin, who’s scrambling to pull on his shirt.

Gin stills as he smooths out the wrinkled fabric across his torso and he narrows his eyes at Akagi. “What?”

“Don't panic.”

“I ain’t panicking.”

“Gin, I know you. I know when you’re panicking. You always look like you’re staring death in the face.” Akagi makes a poor imitation of the concentrated and focused expression Gin often wears. Gin’s blood pressure drops, but only a little. “Just relax.”

“I am relaxed,” Gin snaps. 

“It’s no big deal.” Akagi climbs out of bed, and Gin pointedly looks away, face flushing as Akagi shuffles to pull on his clothes. Akagi really has no shame. He could streak across campus and not give a fuck. Gin keeps his eyes fixed on his toes. “I had fun. You had fun.” Is that what this is? Fun? “Don’t worry about it too much.”

“Right.” Except how the hell is he supposed to not worry about it when his lips are still tender from kissing and Akagi’s mouth looks that pink and soft?

Akagi, now fully dressed in his pajamas, stretches and rubs at his back as he ambles out his bedroom door. “Well. I enjoyed myself. Hope you did, too. I mean, it seemed like you did. Based on...” Akagi gives a vague wave.

Gin’s face becomes impossibly hot as he trails after Akagi out of the room. “Um.”

“If you wanna do it again, you know where I live.” Akagi twists and gives him a broad smile and a congratulatory thumbs up before disappearing in the bathroom, leaving Gin in the empty hallway. 

What. The. Fuck.

Gin goes into his room and closes the door behind him. He changes into a comfortable pair of sweatpants and swallows the aforementioned panic rising in his throat. Fun, Akagi had called it. No big deal. 

Except it is. For a couple of reasons. First of all, he and Akagi aren’t just roommates. They’re friends. Maybe even best friends, now that Kosaku and Osamu aren’t around to hang out as much anymore. Second—this is Akagi. Again, not Gin’s worst decision ever, but there are probably people he’d be better suited for. 

Gin shakes his head. He’s officially lost it. 

Ginjima Hitoshi is known for his diplomatic reasoning and mediating skills and for doing things by the book and always trying to step on the least number of toes as possible. Sure, he can be a little impulsive when stress hits him, but for the most part, he’s responsible. 

The responsible part of his personality seems to have flown out of the window. Gin has broken the fundamental rule number one in university: never sleep with your roommate. There’s nothing he can do to undo this, so Gin should let this incident fall out of his mind and into obscurity until he forgets it completely. 

But as he settles into his bed to catch up on sleep lost from the night before, Gin is consumed by one distinct thought, highlighted by the unshakeable memory of Akagi’s tongue pressed against his: it was fun. And, if given the chance, he’d do it one more time.

And maybe even more. 

Unlike most of his friend group, Gin prefers to keep things private. The only person more private than him is Osamu, but Osamu’s brother is Atsumu, which automatically negates any sense of privacy Osamu wishes to have. So his options, right now, are limited. Either he suffers in silence about the unusual turn of events, or he tells Osamu, and by proxy, everyone else he’s friends with.

So Gin keeps it to himself. It’s not a big deal, like Akagi said. People have sex all the time. There’s nothing special about it, and Gin shakes himself out of his funk as he settles into his first lecture. There’s no physical evidence that he and Akagi spent the night together—save for the hickey nestled in the shadows of Akagi’s neck—so he can pretend nothing happened.

That proves easier said than done when Gin gets home from a long day of classes, only to find Akagi at his usual place on the couch. 

“Hey,” Akagi says. This time, he has a packet of chocolate covered Pocky. “Want one?”

“Where are Osamu and Kosaku?” Gin asks. He hesitates for a fraction of a second as he pulls out a stick from the crumpled bag. 

Akagi shrugs. He’s not watching a movie today. Instead, he has a thick and worn textbook on his lap, laptop precariously perched on the armrest of the couch. A half-eaten Pocky stick juts out of the corner of his mouth. “Wherever they usually are.”

“I see.” Gin doesn’t make a move to sit down, even though part of him wants to. He eats the stick while trying to ignore the warmth rising from his chest to his forehead. Akagi tilts his head, lifting a finger to push the rest of the Pocky stick into his mouth. He chews carefully and swallows.

“What is it?” Akagi asks.

What is it?

“I just—well.” 

Gin isn’t sure what kind of answer he’s looking for. Mostly because he’s not even sure what question he’s asking. He shuffles over to the couch and drops his bag onto the cushions, pointedly avoiding eye contact. “Um.”

“You good?”

“I wanted to—uh, are we good?”

“Us?”

“Yeah.”

Akagi licks at the corner of his lips, where the smallest bit of chocolate has gathered. Gin sees the flash of pink of his tongue poking out and thinks he might die. “We’re good.”

“Uh-huh.”

Akagi pauses. “Are you doing okay? You look like you’re freaking, Gin. It makes me feel like I should be freaking even though there’s nothing to freak about.”

Gin should want to reassure Akagi that things are normal between them, that it’s no big deal, and that anything that happened last night will stay in the past and nowhere else. Sooner or later, they’ll reminisce and laugh about it. It’ll be a story they’ll be able to share with friends over drinks, and the mortifying regret will wash away as time passes.

But Akagi purses his lips and looks up at Gin with wide eyes that look more inviting than anything else Gin has seen in his life, all he can hear is a repeat of Akagi’s words, over and over again.

If you wanna do it again, he’d said with that cheeky, easygoing grin of his, you know where I live.

“Uh.”

“Yes?”

“Are you busy right now?”

Akagi looks down at his textbook, then up at Gin, then back down. He closes the cover slowly before eyeing Gin with both curiosity and concern. “Not really.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m not studying or anything. Just getting ahead on course reading. Nothing too important.”

“Cool.”

Akagi closes his laptop. He puts his textbook and laptop on the floor next to the couch, along with the open Pocky bag at the top, and he pats the empty cushion next to him. Gin resists taking it, only for a second, and he makes sure to put a safe twenty centimeters between himself and Akagi.

It’s not just the emotional aftermath that hits him. It’s the memories that surface in pieces, like the tips of icebergs peeking above the waves. His mind only lets him see it one flash at a time: Akagi’s eyes glowing down at him, Akagi’s fingers gripping at the fleshiest part of his hips, Akagi’s chin nestled against his shoulder. It’s disorienting to see his roommate—and friend—in that light, and, furthermore, right now, it’s distracting. 

Akagi breaks the silence between them. “Is there something you wanna say to me, Gin?”

“Um.”

“You can just come out and say it, you know. I know you’re overthinking. But it’s just me.” Gin is devastated to see the warmth when Akagi offers a tentative smile at him, reassuring as usual.

He does that a lot. Akagi, despite his laid back demeanor, is incredibly sharp. It’s something of a crutch that Gin has come to depend on when his thoughts get the better of him and he struggles to find his way out. “Didja mean what you said?” Gin blurts before he has a chance to second guess what he’s doing. “About the...second round.”

Akagi’s eyes widen, almost imperceptible. He keeps a level voice. “I always mean what I say.”

“Oh.”

One thought slices through his brain: this is a bad idea.

It’s followed by a second thought that is as irresponsible as it is loud: yeah, and?

Before Gin can think himself into oblivion again, Akagi reaches over. He hesitates, just for a brief moment, then his hand snakes around Gin’s neck and he tugs, not too hard, so if Gin wants to resist, he can.

But Gin finds himself not wanting to resist. So he doesn’t.

That’s how he finds himself making out with Akagi on the couch once more. Ever since Osamu started dating Suna and Kosaku started dating Mai, there’s been a sense of emptiness that crowds their apartment. But right now, with Akagi running his hands up Gin’s sides, with Gin shimmying out of his pants in a way that’s neither sexy nor attractive, that emptiness is something that Gin is thankful for.

This is a very bad idea. And maybe Gin is a bit impulsive right now, but he doesn’t care. He’s a stressed university student, Akagi’s ready and willing, and if they’re going to make bad decisions, it might as well be together.

Akagi pulls back abruptly, mid-kiss. One hand is on Gin’s hip and the other one strokes down the center of Gin’s chest. His mouth glistens under the apartment lights, and Gin is bewildered at the fine sheen of spit gathered there. The startling realization that it’s his spit stabs him in the gut. 

“Don’t freak out,” Akagi says. Before Gin can protest that, no, he is not ‘freaking out’, Akagi hauls him onto his lap and presses his lips against Gin’s neck, and all protests bubbling off Gin’s tongue die as he exhales a shaky breath.

“This is the only other time,” Gin says, cursing when Akagi’s teeth graze his skin. “I ain’t asking again.”

When Akagi hums in acknowledgement, Gin feels it, and it isn’t long until one thing leads to another which leads to Akagi pushing Gin off of him and all but dragging him back into Akagi’s room, same as last night. The fuzziness of yesterday’s sleep-deprived memories implode with startling clarity when Akagi shoves him onto the mattress with a firm palm against his chest.

Gin knows it’s not unusual for university students to be bored and lonely and horny and stressed, and that a common remedy is searching for someone to roll around in bed with, even if it’s just for a night. But later, when he slumps to his side, chest heaving, he has the self-awareness to know that this isn’t just some one-time-only, let’s-blow-off-steam thing.

Right as he opens his mouth, Akagi mutters, “Not asking again, huh?”

Gin stumbles through defensive squawks. Akagi merely rolls his eyes and pulls Gin towards him and presses kisses against his mouth. It’s disorienting and it yanks him away from his statements of denial, but Gin is surprised to find that he doesn’t mind being pulled along for the ride.

In fact, he likes it so much that when Akagi says, “I don’t mind if this is a regular thing. Do you?” Gin nods in response.

If rule number one of university is never sleep with your roommate, then rule number two must be: never be friends with benefits with your roommate. And Gin, in true irresponsible fashion, has violated both in the span of forty-eight hours. 

When he wakes up the next morning in Akagi’s bed again, one new development separates this morning from yesterday. Yesterday there’d been a ‘maybe next time’. Today, there’s a ‘definitely next time’.

Gin swallows. He slips out of the bed as Akagi continues to snore, picks up his clothes, and regrets his train of thought from the past two days—except not really.

It’s a lazy Sunday morning when Gin stumbles out of his bedroom to find Osamu cooking in the kitchen.

“G’morning, Gin.” Osamu lifts a hand briefly before returning his fingertips to the handle of the pan as he stirs at eggs with a pair of chopsticks.

“Morning,” Gin mutters, and he yawns as he checks to make sure the coffee machine is warmed up. Which it is—although Osamu and Kosaku aren’t the biggest coffee drinkers, Osamu makes sure to turn it on every morning. He’s the first one to get up, anyway, and Gin owes him for making sure it’s ready for Gin every single morning. He and Akagi are the only two coffee drinkers in the apartment, aside from Sakusa, who drops in every so often when Atsumu comes to bother his brother.

Gin notices a familiar head of thick, dark hair that lies on the kitchen table. “Morning, Suna.”

“Hey.” Suna picks his head up slowly. Fatigue stains the corners of his eyes, which are the slightest bit pink. 

“You sleep well? You look like you were up late last night.”

Osamu snorts. “Are you kidding me? This asshole thought it’d be a good idea to start a marathon of Terrace House starting at midnight last night.”

“I’ve been waiting for the new season to drop,” Suna mumbles, but the resolution in his words falls flat. He yawns and blinks as he stares at Gin with the same intensity as a vulture.

Gin opens the fridge and bends down to pull out a carton of milk and an apple, pointedly ignoring the stares Suna gives him.

He likes Suna. He really does. He’s a bit peculiar and a little untrustworthy, but he’s a good guy. He’s a perfect match for Osamu, who’s as honest and genuine as you can get. But Suna catches things Osamu misses, and right now, Gin is sure that Suna will catch the fact that Akagi is hiding out in Gin’s bedroom.

That was the one boundary Gin and Akagi agreed to when they both accepted the terms and conditions that come with being friends with benefits: both would make an effort to hide it as much as possible from their roommates. Things could get very awkward very fast, and Gin would like to avoid that as much as possible.

“Hey, Ginjima-kun.” 

Gin stiffens as he busies himself with making coffee. “Hm?”

“Where’ve you been lately? I feel like I haven’t seen you around.”

“Prolly cuz you’re too busy sucking face with my roommate.”

Osamu lets out a strangled, “Hey. Rin and I ain’t just sucking face all the time, y’know.”

Gin snorts. “I’m sure you’re sucking plenty of other things, too.”

“Gin!”

Gin shrugs. He watches as a steady stream of drip coffee pours out. Suna’s eyes don’t leave his back for a second, and he really, really wishes Suna and Osamu had stayed at Suna’s place last night. Mostly because it would give him peace of mind in the morning. But also because Akagi is camped out in his room, waiting for Suna and Osamu to leave.

If Suna notices anything—and Gin is sure that he does—he doesn’t say it, but that doesn’t make his stares any less unnerving.

Gin’s phone buzzes. It’s a text from Akagi, who’s still naked under his covers: can you bring me a piece of toast.

Gin rolls his eyes.

“Hey, Samu. Can you pass me the bread?”

Gin pops two slices of bread into the toaster and taps his fingers against the counter. Osamu is busy garnishing a way-too-fancy breakfast for lame college students, gently tapping seasoned nori over generous portions of steaming white rice. The smell of garlic and soy sauce fills the kitchen, and Gin reasons that if he had a significant other waiting at the table, he’d cook extravagantly, too. Akagi is significant, but he’s not Gin’s other, so he’ll have to settle for cheap bread and jam that's starting to go a little crusty around the edges of the jar. 

Osamu is so preoccupied with cooking that he doesn’t notice there are two mugs next to a plate that Gin uses to place carefully sliced pieces of apple onto. 

Suna notices, though. Of course he does. Gin hadn’t even known him that well until late last semester, when Atsumu showed up one day demanding extra servings of curry that Osamu had made and Suna tagged along for free food. He doesn’t have a problem with Suna. Not really. He was definitely a little cautious of him at first, because he’s seen the kind of shit-stirring Suna causes for no other reason than ‘why not.’

But around Osamu, Suna behaves—mostly. He’s too busy being whipped for Osamu, anyway.

The toast pops out, and Gin spreads jelly onto them before placing it beside the sliced up apple. He somehow manages to carry the plate and two mugs of coffee out of the kitchen.

“Enjoy your breakfast,” Suna comments, and Gin hates the smug, know-it-all tone it takes on. He knows he’ll have to answer to Suna sooner or later. He’d much prefer it if it were later rather than sooner, but knowing Suna, that won’t be possible.

He’s grateful Suna hasn’t said anything. It could effectively burst the small haven he and Akagi have created, where their sort-of-complicated arrangement could materialize into an actually-complicated arrangement.

Gin shoulders his door open and kicks it shut, careful not to spill any of the coffee or the plate of breakfast snacks. “Suna’s a problem,” he announces without any preamble.

Akagi rolls his eyes. He’s wearing Gin’s hoodie and sweatpants, back pressed against the wall. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. Gin tries to ignore how ridiculously attractive Akagi looks in his clothes. “Suna’s always a problem.”

“I think he knows.” Gin hands Akagi a steaming mug and passes off the plate to him, settling into a comfortable position on the mattress beside him. His knee brushes against Akagi’s thigh as he adjusts himself, propping a pillow behind the small of his back.

“About?”

“About our friends-with-benefits things.”

“It’s been, like, two months.” Akagi drinks the coffee with tentative sips. “Suna ain’t stupid. He prolly noticed after week one.”

“He hasn’t said anything, though.”

“Yeah. Cuz it’s Suna.”

Gin sighs. Akagi’s right. But Akagi conveniently forgets that Suna’s silence comes at a cost. Unfortunately, Gin isn’t quite sure what the price is, at least not yet. 

“Hey.”

Gin glances to the side. Akagi quirks his eyebrows up, mug pressed to his lips. This has become something of a tradition nowadays. Ever since the fifth time—which was also the first time Akagi crashed in Gin’s room, and he refused to leave as soon as he woke up—breakfast together has become the norm. “G’morning,” Akagi drawls.

Gin nods. He watches as Akagi scarfs down the piece of toast and stares longingly at the second slice. “You can have that.”

Akagi perks up instantly, shooting Gin a wide grin as he picks up the second slice of toast. Gin sips absentmindedly at the coffee. He considers Suna’s sharp gaze and how it cut through any bullshit other people might have been fooled by. “So you don’t think he’ll tell anyone?” Gin says. He reaches for a slice of apple and pops it in his mouth. 

Akagi purses his lips, nose scrunching as he sleepily considers the possibilities. “Nah,” he finally says. “I don’t.”

Gin nods and pulls his knees to his chest. There is another thing that he and Akagi are careful about: what happens in bed stays in bed. There are no lingering touches, no lingering kisses. Every physical contact they share now is part of the lead up or the come down and nothing else. It’s Gin, mostly, who enforces this, for the sake of his own sanity. It’s easy to box in the roommates-with-benefits situation they have going so long as it stays within the confines of late-night hours. 

Gin doesn’t have time to put together a witty response, because Akagi barrels on. “Even if he did, it wouldn’t be a big deal. So quit worrying.”

There it is again. The whole ‘big deal’ thing. It leaves Gin wondering what a ‘big deal’ even means. “Okay.”

Akagi offers a few quick pats on Gin’s shoulder for consolation and returns to scrolling on his phone. If their roommates were to walk in right now, and if they saw the two of them sitting side by side while sipping on identical mugs of coffee, they probably wouldn’t think too much of it. It’s not like sitting on a bed together crosses the line.

But as much as Gin tries to compartmentalize Akagi into one precise space in his life—namely, the bedroom—he knows that it’s not possible. Not with the way his fingertips itch to tuck themselves onto the curve of Akagi’s knee as he sits, cross-legged, right beside him.

Gin’s chest seizes as he drinks a burning gulp of coffee. This is certainly unexpected.

There’s another rule that Gin never thought he’d have to confront: if there’s a friends-with-benefits situation involved, both parties should absolutely never—under no circumstances—catch feelings.

Like the other rules, Gin has broken this one, too.

“Gin?” Akagi’s voice is softer than he has any right to be, and Gin tries not to let it pull him into another undercurrent that’s separate from one driven from physical hunger.

He takes a breath. “You’re welcome for breakfast, asshole.”

Akagi snorts a laugh and the coils in Gin’s stomach loosen. If he can keep his stupid feelings in check, then this shouldn’t be too bad. This, he knows, is easier said than done, especially when Akagi says, “Thank you,” in the quiet stillness of Gin’s room, wrapped under the blankets and tightening Gin’s hoodie around him. A stupidly gentle smile curls itself at the corner of Akagi’s lips as he lifts his coffee in acknowledgement of Gin’s kindness. “For breakfast.”

Gin can count on one hand the number of people he’s kissed. There was Yuki, in sixth grade, who he’d kissed on a dare. Kanta, first year of high school, when they’d ‘dated’ for a grand total of five weeks. Then there was Haruki, second year of high school, who had confessed to him moments before, with a box of fancy truffle chocolates. It was the first time Gin had received a White Day confession, but he can’t tell if he was more excited about the actual confession or the fact that the chocolates had ganache in them.

Then there was Rei, whom he’d dated for a semester last year, which led to an on-and-off sort-of-dating sort-of-not ordeal that convinced Gin that dating was, at the end of the day, complicated. Since Rei, he’s only kissed Akagi.

Gin can count on two fingers the number of people he’s done anything more than kissing with. Rei was one of them. Akagi is the other. 

He doesn’t consider himself a prude. Gin, in general, isn’t super picky. He doesn't have a lot of people flocking to him, anyway, so he can’t afford to be picky. But it’s not like he needs to be head over heels in love with someone to kiss them or even sleep with them. 

This is, however, the first time Gin has felt like maybe he’d been too rash in the beginning. There’s a proper way of doing things, one at a time, in the correct order. Especially when it comes to sleeping with a roommate. Feelings should precede the boinking, not the other way around, but Gin is stuck here all the same. 

“Hey, Gin.”

Gin looks up. He’s at his desk, typing away on his laptop. Kosaku stands in the doorway with a towel draped around his shoulders. “What?”

“Hello to you, too.” Kosaku flops onto Gin’s bed and buries his face in his arms. Gin doesn’t mind—it’s a welcome distraction from his essay—but he senses something is off. 

“Everything alright?”

“Mai’s birthday is coming up,” Kosaku says. His voice is muffled by the crook of his elbow. “I dunno what to get her.”

Gin nods. It’s a common pit stop to hit when first dating someone. As it is, Kosaku and his girlfriend only recently got together. Gin knows this because it was a couple of weeks before the first time he and Akagi wound up in bed. “Any ideas yet?”

“No.”

“Get her, like, a necklace, or something.”

“Gin, I can’t afford a necklace.”

“It doesn’t have to be fancy.”

In response, Kosaku huffs a groan. Gin almost feels bad for him. It’s the mundane and ordinary bullshit that comes with relationships, nothing particularly special. And yet, somehow, it manages to tie sloppy knots of persistent worry that etches themselves in the furrow of Kosaku’s brow.

“Maybe you can take notes from Kita-san,” Gin suggests, because even though their senpai is as single as they come, he has more than one functioning brain cell.

“Ugh. Ugh. God. You’re so lucky you don’t gotta deal with this shit,” Kosaku mutters.

Gin nods as he turns back to his laptop while Kosaku scrolls on his phone. He’s right. Gin has never had to deal with this stuff, and at the rate he’s going, he’ll never have to deal with it. This is a rare time where he’s thankful that he and Akagi have agreed on a low-stakes, low-pressure arrangement. The low-key nature of their roommates-with-benefits agreement is equal parts blessing and curse for various reasons. But right now, as Gin glances over at Kosaku’s pained expression, he views it as a blessing.

“You’ll figure it out,” he says. Kosaku merely purses his lips and nods and mumbles nonsensically. It’s not much, but it’s all Gin has to offer, and Kosaku takes what he can get. He swings his legs onto Gin’s bed and continues browsing on his phone, breaking the silence every once in a while to ask Gin’s opinion about various gift options. 

Gin doesn’t have much of an opinion other than, “That would be nice,” because he’s clueless with gifts, anyway, and anything else that comes with being in a legitimate relationship.

Midway through Kosaku’s gift-searching session—during which Gin writes approximately two sentences for his essay—Gin gets a text message.

It’s Akagi. Be home in twenty.

Gin sends a thumbs up and wonders how he’s going to kick Kosaku out of the room before Akagi arrives. He and Akagi were careful at first, trying not to mess around too much when their roommates were home. The only thing worse than their roommates finding out was the potential for them to accidentally walk in on them in compromising positions. 

Now, two months in, Gin is sure they’ve got it under control. He and Akagi make sure to sneak into each other’s rooms and lock doors and stay quiet so as not to cause alarm. It’s almost become something like a challenge, where Akagi will do whatever he can to make Gin break his silence. But Gin is as stubborn as he is competitive.

They’ve only ever been disturbed once, by Osamu, who banged incessantly on Akagi’s door asking if he had any toilet paper. It startled Gin so much that he bumped his forehead against the headboard of Akagi’s bed.

“Kosaku,” Gin says. He shuts his laptop, giving up on studying for the evening.

“Hm?”

“Are you done?”

“Do I look done to you? All you’ve helped me with is what not to buy.”

“That’s helpful!”

“No, it’s not!”

A knock at the door interrupts them. Akagi pokes his head in, wielding a half-eaten taiyaki. “Hey.”

“Oh. Akagi. You’re home.” Kosaku sits upright.

“Don’t act too excited to see me.” Akagi laughs as Kosaku rolls his eyes. “You look like you’re in a sour mood tonight.”

“I already told you. I dunno what to get Mai for her birthday.”

“Sorry. Can’t help you there. I hate buying gifts. Don’t remember the last time I got a decent one.”

Kosaku groans again while he stands up, scowl etched so deep that Gin is tempted to shake it out of him. “None of you single assholes are useful,” Kosaku says. “I cannot believe I’m saying this, but I’ll go ask the Miyas for advice.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea.”

“Fuck off, Akagi. It ain’t like you got any wisdom to impart on me.”

Akagi throws his head back as he laughs. Gin looks away. It can be a lot, sometimes, when Akagi wears delight in every corner of his being. He could be in class or at work or on the couch or in bed. He wears it all the same. “I’m the last person you should ask, Yuto.”

Kosaku gives one last sigh before ambling out of Gin’s room while he continues scrolling through his phone. Akagi waits in the doorway, eyebrows raised. He leans back a bit, face turning as he listens to the footsteps fade down the hallway. There’s a distinct sound of a door closing, and Akagi pauses to make sure Kosaku is out of range. He steps into Gin’s room, shuts the door behind him, and locks it.

“I thought he was never gonna leave.” Gin watches Akagi gently set the paper carton with the mushy-looking taiyaki on his desk. “He’s been here since before you even texted me.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Hm.” Akagi takes Kosaku’s place on Gin’s bed, slips his socks off, and flings them across the floor. Gin sighs, but he doesn’t say anything—it’s Akagi’s biggest flaw as a roommate. His socks can be found anywhere and everywhere. 

Gin slides in his chair after standing, pausing only to flick off the desk lamp. He joins Akagi on the mattress, barely settled by the time Akagi’s mouth is on his. Akagi is always slow to start, taking his time, almost lazy. It’s slow enough that Gin can meet him stride-for-stride. Sometimes, if he falters— especially since his mind is prone to wander—Akagi’s there to guide him back.

Even as Gin fumbled through a few firsts with Akagi, Akagi has been nothing but patient and kind, showing him the ropes. It’s hard to say if everything Gin experiences is the norm, or if it’s unique to Akagi—like how Akagi likes to spend a ridiculous amount of time making out before getting to the good stuff.

When Gin pulls away briefly to tug off his shirt, Akagi props himself up on his elbow.  His fingers trace along Gin’s thighs, stroking the hem of his shorts.

Gin catches him staring. “What?”

“Nothing”

“You’re getting all spacey.”

It’s not often he gets distracted when they’re in bed, but he has a funny, distant look on his face that tells Gin that Akagi’s head is definitely not with him.

“What is it?” Gin repeats. 

“Nothing. Just thinking about Yuto’s dilemma.” Akagi’s palm comes to rest at the junction of Gin’s jaw and neck. He presses an easy kiss on the underside of Gin’s chin. “He seems stressed.”

“He’ll figure it out.”

“Really? You think so?”

“I mean, prolly?”

Akagi sighs and clicks his tongue. He shakes his head, dark hair flopping bad and forth. He usually gels it straight up, but after messing around even a little bit, it erupts into a fit of disarray, mostly because it’s thick and long and Gin likes to run his fingers through it. Gin makes a feeble attempt at patting it back down, though it doesn’t help. “Thank fuck. I don’t gotta worry about that kinda stuff.”

A foreign sting hits Gin’s chest, but he brushes it off, both for his sake and Akagi’s. He opts for a common distraction—to kiss Akagi at the corner of his lips again. “You’re spoiling the mood, Akagi.” 

“Sorry, sorry. C’mere.”

When Akagi pulls him close, Gin’s stomach sinks the same way he melts under the steady feel of Akagi against him. It doesn’t matter if he has hidden feelings of distress threatening to surface, because they dissolve the moment he and Akagi click into place. 

It’s been two months of this, yet Gin hasn’t lost that sense of wonder every time Akagi runs his fingers through the frizzy mess of Gin’s hair, or when he tangles their legs together, or when the bare skin of their torsos press closer than anyone’s ever been. Sometimes Gin wonders if it’s too much, and he’s in too deep, because it’s one thing to have a no-strings-attached, mutually-beneficial arrangement. It’s another to be mildly offended that the other party doesn’t want more.

Gin convinces himself: he doesn’t want more. There’s a whole laundry list of reasons why it wouldn’t work, anyway. Akagi is graduating after this year. Akagi is his friend. Breakups can fuck up their friend group dynamic, as well as their roommate dynamic. Also, Gin likes getting laid on a regular basis, which is obvious considering all Akagi needs to do to initiate it is send a text to Gin with his approximate arrival back to their apartment.

But when they’re done and Akagi buries his face in Gin’s pillows, and Gin knows he should kick him out instead of letting him doze off, he finds that he doesn’t have the heart to. Because Akagi looks very comfortable, and Gin is very comfortable, with Akagi’s arms wrapped around his waist, and why the hell would anyone want to ruin that?

“G’night,” Akagi mumbles, though it’s little more than muffled gibberish that Gin can only decipher because he says it every night.

He sighs and pulls the covers to his chin. Still, this is going better than he expected. When all of this started, he figured something would go wrong by the one month mark, like their roommates walk in on them or one of them falls and cracks their skull on the floor or one of them ends it in a painful display of rejection. It’s just not what Gin knows he wants, and there are only so many ways you can say it without really saying it.

So Gin doesn’t. He says, “Good night, Akagi,” curls on his side, and indulges himself in the weight of Akagi spooning him, even if it might have disastrous consequences that bite him in the ass later.

There’s a grace period of two weeks before Suna comes around again. This time, he barges in through the front door without knocking, and the only person home is Gin. Gin sits at the table catching up on reading, but Suna ignores the book in front of him and drags one of the chairs away from the table. 

“Have you seen Osamu?” Suna asks. He’s a little breathless, and still wearing his workout clothes. Gin wrinkles his nose. He smells. He must have just come from practice.

“He said something about running to the store real quick.” 

“For what?” Suna almost sounds annoyed, which, in turn, annoys Gin. Osamu is his boyfriend, not Gin’s, so it’s not like Gin is responsible for Osamu and his whereabouts.

“I dunno.”

“Did he say when he’d be back?”

“No.”

“Ugh.” Suna slumps against the table and groans. 

“What’s wrong?” Gin asks, even though he doesn’t really want to hear about it. He’s got fifty pages of textbook reading to do, and he’s already told himself that if he doesn’t finish by midnight, he’s not allowed to spend the night in Akagi’s room. Maybe using sex as a reward isn’t a great habit, but it generally tends to work. “Did you need something?”

Suna shrugs. “Yes. I mean—not really.” He picks his head off the table and stares at Gin. “Sorry. Are you busy?”

Gin looks at his textbook, then at the large clock on the wall, then at Suna. He slips his pen in between the pages and shuts it, pulling out his phone to warn Akagi that he doesn’t have time tonight. “No. What’s up?”

“Nothing. Just had a long day. Wanted to see him, I guess.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Coach put us on this new strength training cycle that’s kicking my ass.”

Gin nods absentmindedly. He’d played volleyball in high school, so he knows the gist of Suna’s ramblings as he goes on about how exhausting sprint intervals are. Sometimes he almost wishes he’d continued on with it, like right now, when he sees—despite Suna’s bitching—the sharp gleam in Suna’s eyes as he describes the newest plays they’re trying out. Gin does very little outside of studying, so it would give him something to do.

But he knows he’s not good enough to play at a collegiate level, and, besides, he played volleyball for fun in high school. It was never about winning things and earning awards and going to the big leagues. Gin’s an ordinary person with ordinary ambitions, which—right now—includes figuring out how he’s going to get fifty pages of reading done within the next hour even with Suna distracting him.

“Suna,” Gin interrupts as Suna pauses momentarily to pull up videos of their latest scrimmage match. “Sunarin.”

Suna glances up at him. “Hm?”

“I gotta study.”

“What?”

“Study.” Gin sighs. “Y’know. That thing you do for class when you’re not in class?”

For the first time, it seems to register in Suna’s mind that Gin has a textbook out. He looks at it with surprise. “Oh.”

“You can wait in Samu’s room, if you want. Or I can just move to mine—”

“Wait. Speaking of rooms.” 

Gin blinks. “What?”

Suna pauses. “Is there a reason you and Akagi are always staying over each other’s rooms all the time?”

Gin opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.

Suna purses his lips, raises an eyebrow, and waits.

“Uh.” Gin’s first instinct is to flee the scene. His second instinct is to slam his face against the cover of his textbook. His third instinct is to blurt out, “Wadaya talking about?”

“I see him walking out of your bedroom all the time.” Suna speaks with almost infuriating nonchalance. It’s not fair that he gets to tackle this conversation while Gin sits absolutely mortified over his life decisions.

“Well, we hang out sometimes—”

“Right.” The corner of Suna’s lips twitch into a signature Suna-smirk. “You hang.”

“I mean—”

“I figured you were trying to be discreet. So don’t worry. I haven’t told anyone.”

So Gin’s assumptions were correct: Suna has figured it out. Which means that Suna is also a liability. He’s silent as he processes this confirmation. It’s not like Suna’s even around that much. Or maybe he just hasn’t noticed Suna around more. Actually, Gin probably hasn’t noticed—the past couple of months have been a whirlwind of him noticing the different facets of Akagi while simultaneously missing everything else. Gin curses under his breath. How could he have been so careless?

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Gin says, and Suna gives him another funny look, but he nods anyway. “Does Samu know?”

Suna shrugs noncommittally and resumes playing volleyball videos on his phone. He doesn’t ask for more clarification, nor does he ask for any details, and for that, Gin’s grateful.

But it’s also weird because Suna, of all people, is the first one to know. Gin doesn’t know if that says more about Suna or more about him.

By the time Osamu gets home, it’s past midnight and Gin rubs at the dryness tucked in the corner of his eyes. The ‘quick run to the store’ turned into an hour-long detour to Atsumu’s dorm. Osamu greets Gin with a wave and Suna with a quick peck on the forehead before disappearing momentarily to set his bag in his room. During that time, Gin gathers his belongings and excuses himself from the kitchen table so he can study in the silence of his room.

Suna watches him disappear, just as he had before, when Akagi was waiting for breakfast and Gin was trying not to give anything away. It’s unsettling to think that all the extra effort Gin put into keeping his and Akagi’s arrangement on the down low goes to waste.

He doesn’t know if Suna will actually say anything, but he hopes he doesn’t. Gin likes that he and Akagi share something that’s not anyone else’s business. Besides, his friends have way too many opinions, so it’s easier this way.

But when Gin heads out to the kitchen to pick up a pen he left behind, he sees Osamu sit beside Suna, a little closer than necessary. It’s close enough that their elbows touch, and this time, when Suna holds up another video on his phone, he rests his head on Osamu’s shoulder so they can view it together.

Another sting. This one wrapped in a long-forgotten ember of jealousy.

So maybe Gin is a little hyper-aware of how single he is. Which is fine. He’s used to being the third wheel. 

All in all, Gin has grown accustomed to being a second or third or fourth choice. Like the friends-with-benefits arrangement with Akagi: Gin is sure that it’s a thing of convenience to him, for no other reason than Gin is available and lives next door and has clean bedsheets and practices good hygiene.

Still—it would be nice to be someone’s first choice. Like how Suna wants to see Osamu after a long day or how Kosaku wants to find the best gift for Mai or how Atsumu constantly Googles silly jokes just to see Sakusa smile. Gin wouldn’t mind that at all.

He also wouldn’t mind picking Akagi as his first choice, either. But he has other things to do—namely, fifty pages of reading—so when Akagi texts him asking if he’s free, he reads it, sighs, and sets his phone down. Gin knows his priorities. 

Gin winds up falling asleep with his cheek pressed against the desk, drool pooling from the corner of his mouth and sticking to the corner of his notebook. The bleariness clears from his eyes, and he checks his phone to see that it’s past three in the morning. It takes a few seconds, but he realizes that there’s a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and beside him, lined up against his pencil case, is an unopened bag of Pocky.

Somehow, Atsumu managed to convince Osamu to let the Inarizaki Men’s Volleyball Team host a social gathering in their apartment. Atsumu argues that it’s because none of his teammates have an apartment. Gin knows it’s because the resident assistants in the scholarship dorms tend to be hardasses when it comes to parties. 

Although Atsumu makes it very clear that it’s not a party. In fact, when he arrives with two grocery bags of soda, chips, and liquor, he insists the event is called, ‘team bonding.’

“If it’s a team bonding,” Gin says as he watches Atsumu line careful rows of plastic cups, “then why’re you inviting me and Akagi and Kosaku?”

Atsumu sticks his tongue out. Gin still hasn’t decided which Miya twin is easier to get along with. “Because you’re hosting. It’s your apartment, so I gotta invite you.”

“I bet Aran-san toldja to invite us.”

Atsumu flips him off.

Gin settles into his couch. If it’s just the volleyball team, it should be okay. Atsumu had already promised that they were just going to be playing Mario Kart. Something ‘lowkey’, he’d said. He even promised he’d clean up after everyone and order fast food at the end of the night, although Gin has a feeling Atsumu will be the first person to pass out.

“Lemme make you a drink, Gin.”

“No.”

“You look like you could use it.”

“I always look like that.”

“Exactly.”

He sighs. In the kitchen, Sakusa is pouring out snacks and chips into bowls. Kosaku is vacuuming the hallways—Gin has no idea how Atsumu managed to convince him to do that—and Suna busies himself making a Spotify playlist.

Gin, on the other hand, does little more than sit on his ass and stare as Atsumu hefts three-liter cartons of sake from the discount aisle at the liquor store. “You really couldn’t get something a little nicer?”

“Do you do anything but complain?”

“No.”

Atsumu gives him a flat look. He pours a serving into one of the plastic cups and shoves it at Gin. “Here.”

Gin stares at it and wrinkles his nose. “Thanks.”

He sips on it, disgruntled that it’s room-temperature. It tastes a little like watered-down rubbing alcohol, which isn’t the worst taste in the world, so it’ll do. 

Akagi arrives looking exhausted from a day of classes and Gin wants to say hi to him, but it's a stupid thought that he dismisses in an instant. He sees Akagi almost everyday. There's no reason to say hi to him.

Akagi goes up to Kosaku and points out all the spots on the floor he missed, and he tells Suna the most recent crop of memes he saw that were funny. Akagi heckles Atsumu for buying the most discounted liquor, and, finally, after pouring himself a generous serving of sake, he turns and faces Gin with a broad smile. 

“Hey.” Akagi slumps into the opposite end of the couch, stretching his legs out and taking a generous gulp of sake. Unlike Gin, Akagi is alcohol-agnostic. If it has alcohol, he’ll probably drink it, regardless of the flavor or the occasion or the price range. 

“Long day?” Gin asks. He plays it cool because Akagi always plays everything cool, and Gin desperately wants to match him. He leans against the armrest of the sofa and props his head against the palm of his hand. 

“Yeah.” Akagi gives him a crooked smile and stretches his arm out, cup in hand. Gin taps the rim of his cup against it. “You?”

“Same old. Y’know.” 

“Did Yuto finally get Mai her birthday present?” Akagi lowers his voice as his eyes track over to Kosaku. “I don’t wanna ask him in case it sends him on another bender of asking me a bunch of questions about presents.”

“I dunno. He hasn’t said anything.” Gin hums. “Actually, if Kosaku isn’t saying anything, that might mean the issue is resolved now.”

“That’s a good point.”

“And he’s not constantly on his phone anymore. Like he was before.”

“Yeah.”

Gin risks a glance at Akagi, who’s leisurely leaning on the couch, one ankle resting on top of his knee, cup pressed against his lips. It covers his mouth completely, but Gin can tell from the crinkle in Akagi’s eyes that he’s smiling. 

Gin takes a gulp of sake to sedate the fluttering in his chest. “What?”

“Nothing.”

Akagi does that sometimes. He’ll give a knowing smile, making Gin feel like he missed something. It would be annoying if it weren’t so endearing. The left side of Akagi’s mouth always curls up higher, one dimple on the side of his cheek.

As Atsumu’s volleyball teammates begin to filter in, Suna turns up his playlist just loud enough that voices have to hitch up a few decibels louder, but not so loud that they’re sure to get a noise complaint. Gin reaches for more sake. He doesn’t usually drink much, but with Akagi on the couch beside him, the same place they started their whole arrangement, he’s getting a little antsy. 

As the Mario Kart tournament starts, Atsumu drags in extra chairs from the kitchen and from the bedrooms and pulls out a thick blanket so Hinata and Komori can sit on the floor. It turns out the volleyball team members have unlimited reserves of energy, because hardly anyone even sits. 

Akagi has lost interest in the video game and mindlessly sips his drink while on his phone. Bokuto’s beefy shoulders block Gin’s entire view of the screen in front, but he pretends to be paying attention in order to give himself something to do. There’s half a meter of space between Gin and Akagi, and Gin wants to narrow the gap, but paranoia sinks into his gut as he notices Suna noticing them.

Suna presses his lips tight together, trying to hide his smirk but failing to do so. Gin scowls, drinks from his cup, and sits on his free hand to force himself not to reach over and grab Akagi by the hand or the wrist or fuck knows what else. 

“Gin.”

Gin startles when a foot nudges at his knee. “Huh?”

Akagi nudges him again before righting himself on the couch cushions. He pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs. “Don’t tell me you’re falling asleep.”

“I’m not.”

“You look like you are.”

“I’m not.”

“Mhm. Liar.”

Gin sighs. He sits a bit more upright, because he is falling asleep, but he has to stay awake long enough if he wants a chance to close any gap between him and Akagi tonight, whether on the couch or somewhere else.

“Gin.”

“What?”

Akagi doesn’t say anything more, but his face glows in the dim light of the television set. His cheeks are a little pink, and he presses the right side of his face to his knee. It’s kind of unfair how attractive he looks like that. And it’s kind of unfair how it sets off the brewing affection in Gin’s chest.

“What?” Gin repeats, but Akagi merely exhales a laugh and sends another one of those sly smiles his way. Gin is the first one to break eye contact, as he usually is. He presses even closer to the arm rest and tries not to think too much about how Akagi’s bedroom eyes, apparently, aren’t limited to the bedroom.

Gin flinches at the loud whooping when Atsumu gets first place, only for Aran to admonish him for being too loud. A bowl of chips gets passed around, and Gin shakes his head when Akagi offers it to him. 

Akagi shrugs and resumes typing away at his phone.

Gin is content like this, in the cramped living room with his roommates and too many volleyball players, with the anticipation of alone time with Akagi later. That’s what he tells himself, at least, with every second that ticks by.

Gin dozes off a bit, unable to slip into a full sleep due to the ruckus of Rainbow Road, but he jerks awake when he hears Akagi yell, “What the fucking hell, Suna? What is this? You gotta be kidding me. Do you want me to kick your ass into next week?”

It’s immediately followed by a burst of laughter that makes Gin open his eyes. Akagi is no longer on the couch; in fact, he’s crossed the room and sticks his face into Suna’s personal space, which isn’t an easy feat considering how Suna towers over him.

“Huh?” Gin’s voice is lost in the chaos of Hinata screaming as he goes flying off the rails of the road, Bokuto cackling beside him.

“It’s a meme,” Suna says, which doesn’t clarify anything. Gin strains to pick up the words. “That’s the point of the group.”

“Take it down!”

“But it’s funny.”

“Not everything is about being funny.”

“What is it?” Osamu comes up behind Suna. Even across the room, Gin can see his arm lift as he presses one hand against Suna’s back.

Akagi swivels on his heels so abruptly that Gin flinches when his pissed expression faces him dead on. “Gin! Tell Suna to cut it out.”

“Cut what out, exactly?” Gin smacks his lips, which have already started to go dry from alcohol, so he stands, stretches his torso out, and heads to the kitchen to get some water.

“Look!”

Akagi furiously taps around on his phone screen, and within seconds, Gin’s phone goes off. He opens the message sent to their apartment group chat, frowns when he sees a link, and clicks it. It takes him to a familiar Facebook group—Subtle Inarizaki Things, the group devoted to university memes and shitposting—and his heart drops when he sees what it is.

It’s a link to a photo posted ten minutes ago, of Akagi and Gin on opposite sides of the sofa as they look at each other. Suna posted it along with the caption: Two bros chilling on the couch six feet apart cuz they’re not gay.

Gin’s jaw drops, but no words come out.

Osamu snorts a laugh and Suna immediately turns at the sound, a wide grin spreading across his face. Akagi’s face is screwed into a tight pout, and Gin—well, Gin is dumbfounded. He hadn’t even noticed Suna taking the photo. 

“It’s a meme, Akagi. Relax.”

“This group has, like, ten thousand people in it!”

“Yeah, and?”

“And I’m not trying to turn into the next gay meme at IU! People are gonna call me and Gin the gay sofa meme dudes!”

“There are worse things you could be known as,” Osamu says. He, of course, speaks from experience, considering the Miya twins had been viral at one point when Suna featured Atsumu in a similar group. 

Gin scrolls through the comments. They’re mostly people tagging their friends and various couch and ‘no homo’ jokes. Gin has to admit that he laughs at one of the top comments: I love you sofacking much.

It’s amusing and Gin would laugh if it were anyone else—hell, he laughed when Osamu went through the wringer of being the campus’s latest meme—but Gin almost feels a sense of betrayal that Suna would do that despite the very sensitive information he knows.

“Still—”

“Sunarin.”

Gin’s calm voice cuts through the conversation, and Osamu, Suna, and Akagi pause and look at him. 

The smirk falters from Suna’s face.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Gin lifts his chin to the hallway. “Alone.”

Suna immediately stiffens, and it would be satisfying if Gin weren’t internally panicking about the fact that the photo gives away far too much. It gives away the tenderness that Gin begrudgingly experiences every time he’s in the same room with Akagi. 

“Um.” Suna licks his lips and glances at Osamu, and Osamu glances at him. “Sure.”

Gin brushes past Akagi and heads towards the hallway of their apartment complex. He hears Suna’s footsteps behind him as he swings the door open and slips out. The moment the door closes shut, the sound from inside of his apartment is muffled, and he’s left with a perplexed Suna with his hands tucked into his pockets. Gin takes steps further away from his apartment until they reach the top of the stairwell, and he crosses his arms.

“What’s up, Gin?”

“Why’d you do that?”

“Because it was funny?”

“You know Akagi and I are…” Suna lifts an eyebrow as Gin reaches for the words. “Involved.”

Suna nods. “So?”

“So it kinda doesn’t feel right if you make a meme outta it.”

“It was just a meme.”

“But you know we’re trying to keep everything on the down low.” Gin shakes his head. In all honesty, the meme thing doesn’t bother him. He’s not mad, exactly, but he still has that sinking feeling of despair. Maybe he’s just stunned into stillness by how he and Akagi look from an outsider’s perspective. He’s sure the mortification will show up later. “Putting us in a Facebook meme page with the word ‘gay’ in the caption kinda ruins that.”

“No one’s reading into it,” Suna assures him, but any fragment of trust Gin might have had has withered. Gin frowns. He’s almost disappointed in Suna. Suna should know better than to do this. “I mean, I read into it, because I know about the whole thing. But that doesn’t mean other people will read into it.”

“Well, now you’re giving them something to read. That’s the problem.”

“You guys looked cute. I thought it was a good photo.” Suna shoots him an innocent grin. “Didn’t you think it was cute, Ginjima?”

Gin’s face flushes. He’s sure it’s the alcohol or a sudden wave of rage that washes over him. “That ain’t the point. Akagi’s pissed, too, so you’d better—”

“Yeah, I don’t think he’s pissed.” Gin frowns, but Suna merely shrugs and begins tottering back towards their apartment. Gin tries to follow, but he’s too overwhelmed by the feelings caught on camera. He doesn’t want to go back to the apartment for the rest of the night, not if he can help it. “He’s probably just as embarrassed as you, being caught making all those goo-goo eyes at each other.”

“We were not making fucking goo-goo eyes at each other.”

“Hm.” In that single hum, Suna says more than words ever could. He says: yeah, right and you’re an idiot and I can’t believe you would think that. It’s amazing, really, how Suna manages to communicate so much with vowels, sly looks, and an abhorrent posture. “If you’re not giving goo-goo eyes, then it’s not a problem, right? No one can read into it, so you have nothing to worry about.” Suna hurries his steps closer to the apartment and reaches for the doorknob. “Nice chat.”

Gin raises a hand and opens his mouth to stop him, but before he knows it, Suna slides back into the apartment and the door slams shut with a gentle thud.

The sound echoes in the otherwise empty hallway, and Gin is left alone, which allows the deafening dread to fester. His stomach clenches and his palms get clammy, and he simultaneously wants to kick something and cry. 

It’s not because the photo itself is terrible. And it’s not because the caption is terrible. It’s because there’s a grain of truth in the post: Gin sits six feet apart from Akagi when they’re not in bed together because they are not ‘gay’ on a romantic level. They sit six feet apart when they’re on the couch, when they’re at the kitchen table, when they’re anywhere around other people, because there is no crossover between their no-strings-attached arrangement and the rest of their lives outside of the bedroom.

And it doesn’t matter if Gin wants there to be crossover, because that’s just not reality.

Gin slumps against the wall and moves into a crouch, not quite sitting, but close. He props his elbows on his knees and holds his head in his hands and tells himself to keep it together. It’s not a big deal. It’s a meme. It’s a photo with some words on it and people might read into it—just a little—but that won’t change the fact that he and Akagi are just friends.

Against better judgement, Gin mumbles to himself as he pulls out his phone again to see the post again.

Suna’s right. It is a good photo. Gin zooms in on Akagi’s face, which is mostly shrouded by his knees pulled up against him. But he can see the smallest sliver of a profile, the barest glimpse of Akagi’s bright eyes, and he sighs. Things were so much easier before he started sleeping with Akagi and before he started developing feelings so strong he’s rendered defenseless against everything Akagi says and does. 

After calming himself down, Gin stands, faltering at the sudden rush of dizziness from moving too fast, and steps towards his apartment. He reaches for the doorknob and creaks the door open to step  back in.

Gin is about to round the hall to return to the living room when a conversation stops him in his tracks.

“I toldja, he ain’t ready to tell people yet. You can’t be fucking around like that.”

Akagi.

“I don’t know what he’s waiting for.” Suna, with that bored, infuriating tone of his. “It’s not like it’s breaking news.”

“Suna.”

“What? I don’t even live here and I figured it out.”

“It doesn’t matter if you figured it out. Gin isn’t the type to—”

“Oh, come on. We’ve been waiting two months, Akagi. Don’t you think it’s about time you and Gin finally tell your roommates you’re together?”

The breath leaves Gin’s lungs, because that isn’t Suna. It’s Osamu.

“Like I said, he doesn’t want you guys to know.”

And, finally, a fourth voice: “But we already know.”

Gin thinks he might throw up. It’s one thing if Suna knows, because he doesn’t live with Suna. And although Suna had told him he wouldn’t tell Osamu about it, Gin guessed that Suna would spill it to him—either accidentally or in a moment of weakness—at one point or another. But Kosaku is in on it, too?

What the fuck? Gin thinks.

The sentiment is so abrasive and alarming that Gin says a bit too loud, “What the fuck?”

The conversation comes to an abrupt halt and there’s a terse pause. The floorboards squeak under the sudden flurry of feet, and Akagi’s face is the first one to pop around the bend of the hallway.

His eyes are wide and his mouth hangs open slightly. Although the rest of Akagi’s roommates—and Suna—materialize behind him, Gin can only stare in a mix of disbelief and bewilderment at Akagi.

“Uh.” Akagi chews his lip. “Gin.”

Gin stabs the air with a finger at Osamu and Kosaku, who look as uncomfortable as they do apologetic. “You knew ? This whole time?”

Kosaku and Osamu exchange a glance. “Not...the whole time,” Osamu replies. 

“You didn’t tell me?” Gin whips his head back to Akagi. “You didn’t tell me?”

“You wanted to keep it a secret, so we respected that!” Kosaku takes a step forward and tries to place a reassuring hand on Gin’s shoulder, but Gin ducks out of the way. He doesn’t know what’s the most mortifying: the fact that his roommates found out, the fact that Akagi knows his roommates found out, or the fact that Gin has gone this long in ignorant bliss, believing that no one else besides Suna knew. “Gin, it ain’t like we were trying to play you for a fool or anything. We were waiting for you to—”

“You’re all assholes,” Gin snaps. The anger covers up his humiliation well. He doesn’t glance over his shoulder as he slams his bedroom door shut, locking it behind him and diving headfirst into his bed, all but screaming into his pillow.

A knock at his door moments later. “Gin.”

Gin picks up his head long enough to yell, “Go away, Akagi.”

“Can you open the door?”

Gin ignores him. He’s never been pissed or even annoyed at Akagi. But he kind of is right now. At the very least, he’s betrayed. 

“Gin. Please open the door.” Another round of knocks. “Please.”

It’s unfair how Gin’s heart twitches with the earnest tinge in Akagi’s voice. He waits to hear if Akagi knocks again, but he doesn’t hear anything else. Gin turns on his back and stares up—his lights are off, so there’s nothing to see, and the darkness feels extra stifling now that he’s alone. 

He sniffles. He’s not going to cry, but the surge of embarrassment and mortification chokes him. Gin takes a deep breath, then startles when an eruption of abrupt fist pounding against the wall cuts the silence in his room. 

“Gin.” Akagi draws out the syllable, and Gin curses at how the walls of his apartment are paper-thin. “Don’t be mad. Please don’t be mad.”

Gin doesn’t respond. He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Akagi has stopped banging on the wall, but he continues speaking. It’s muffled through the wall, but otherwise, Gin can hear every word he says. “I know you’re prolly pissed I didn’t tell you about Samu and Kosaku knowing. That’s on me. I shoulda toldja, and I’m sorry.” Gin’s chest tightens. “I didn’t want you to freak out, so I told ‘em to pretend they had no idea even though they knew about for some time now.” 

Akagi pauses. “I didn’t tell them; they figured it out themselves. I shoulda told you instead of leaving you in the dark. I’m sorry.”

It’s stupid how Gin let himself think he was being discreet this entire time. What startles Gin is the question of just how much he gave away. Osamu and Kosaku figured out that he and Akagi are sexually involved. But do they know about the squeeze in his chest Gin experiences every time Akagi presses his palm against his cheek? Do they know about the stolen glances Gin indulges in when Akagi is preoccupied with other conversations? Do they know about the stash of Pocky Gin shoved in his closet to refill Akagi’s cabinets when he’s running low?

“Please talk to me.” Even though he has to raise his voice to speak clearly through the wall, Akagi sounds deflated. “I dunno what I’m gonna do if you just ignore me.”

Gin doesn’t know what he’d do, either, if he ignored Akagi. But he doesn't know what to do right now, so he curls on his side and pulls his blankets up to his chin and tries to ignore how cold his bed is without Akagi beside him. 

By the time Gin wakes up, the apartment is still and silent. It's seven in the morning, and Gin feels exhausted from the wave of emotions that washed over him last night. He’d pouted for half an hour before sneaking out to brush his teeth and turning in for the night, despite the ruckus that was still going on in his living room and in his head. 

Gin shivers and clutches the blanket tighter around him. He blinks at the dryness of his eyes. 

His brain is fatigued from thinking too much. He hasn’t come up with a decision about what to do next. Gin prefers to be thoughtful and careful when he decides things, but it’s hard to do when emotions run so thick that he has trouble finding his way out. 

Gin takes a deep breath. He has a list of a million things he wants to say to Akagi and Osamu and Kosaku and Suna, but right now, all he can think about is Akagi pleading with him through the wall.

It’s early and quiet, and maybe that’s just what Gin needs to collect his thoughts and figure out his and Akagi’s next steps. 

He slides off his mattress and winces when the heels of his feet hit the cold hardwood floor. Gin drags his blanket with him and drapes it around his shoulders as he unlocks the door to his room and takes hesitant steps to the bedroom next door.

Akagi doesn’t lock the door—save for the times that Gin has slept over—so the knob twists and the door creaks open. Gin sticks his head in and sees Akagi sleeping, limbs splayed across his familiar navy blue comforter. He closes the door behind him and, after a moment of consideration, locks it.

Gin looks down at Akagi’s sleeping figure and, once again, wonders how the fuck he managed to go from roommates to no-strings-attached to whatever they are now.

He lifts Akagi’s comforter and slips underneath it, savoring the warmth of Akagi’s body heat clinging to the bedsheets.

Akagi stirs, and when Gin shifts his legs closer, Akagi jerks awake.

“Wha—Gin?” Akagi’s voice is thick and a bit scratchy, and he blinks away the sleep clinging to his eyes. “What time is it?”

“About seven?”

Akagi hisses and tugs the blanket tighter round him. “Yer feet are freezing.”

“It’s cold.”

Akagi’s lids still hang low over his eyes and rubs at them with the back of his hand. Gin sees him notice the blanket Gin dragged along with him, and if he didn’t know better, he’d think he sees Akagi’s expression soften.

“C’mere.” 

When Akagi pulls Gin towards him, Gin resists just long enough to adjust the pillow under his head. Akagi is warm, and so is his body. 

Akagi doesn’t cuddle him, necessarily. He presses his chest against Gin’s back and tangles their legs together. Gin’s throat jumps—he’d come here looking to talk about last night, not have Akagi place two warm palms in his shoulder blades, stroking small circles with his thumbs. 

“Are you still mad?” Akagi murmurs. Gin can’t see his face, but he feels his breath against the back of his neck. “Actually, don’t answer that. I shouldn’t bother asking. ‘Course you’re mad.”

“I ain’t mad.”

“Bullshit. You wouldn’t even acknowledge me last night.” A thread of tightness winds itself along the edges of Akagi’s words. “I deserved that, though.”

“I ain’t mad, Akagi. Swear it.” 

“You sure?”

“Yes.” Maybe he was mad at first, but Gin knows anger is just a distraction from the more pressing issue at hand.

“Word.” Akagi pauses, and one hand creeps up to Gin’s shoulder to slowly guide him so that he’s on his back. Gin finally looks at Akagi in the eye. Akagi gives Gin the same look he always gives him. It’s the same one Gin sees when Akagi’s about to lean in for a first kiss and the same one Gin saw last night on the couch. 

It’s the one Gin knows he’s already in too deep for, no matter how many times he tries to convince himself otherwise.

“When did Samu and Kosaku find out?”

“Um. Funny story.” Akagi clears his throat, and a flush creeps across his cheeks. “I mean. They figured it out a while back. Mostly cuz they saw me come outta your room once.”

“What? When?”

“Uh. I dunno. It must’ve been in the first month.” Gin scowls at this. He feels stupid. “They wanted to know more about it but I told ‘em we were tryna keep it private, and after a couple days they kept bothering me, so I told ‘em it was cuz you weren’t ready to talk about it.” Akagi’s eyes veer off to the side. “They’ve been giving me a hard time and pushing me to—uh—make it official.” Akagi runs his fingers through his hair as he sheepishly smiles.

“Official?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” Gin pauses. He was new to this no-strings-attached thing at first, and he still feels like a total noob most of the time, but he’s pretty certain no-strings-attached relationships don’t need anything other than sex to become ‘official.’ “Why?”

“Um. About that.” Akagi’s still not looking at him. 

Gin shifts onto his side to face him. He peers curiously at Akagi, because in a strange twist of events, Akagi is the one who fails to speak. Gin had previously thought that nothing could embarrass Akagi—laid-back, easygoing Akagi—but he supposes that he still has a thing or two to learn. 

“Akagi.”

No. Akagi doesn’t look embarrassed. 

The tight press of his lips into a thin line, the furrow between his brows— 

Akagi is nervous.

“I need you to hear me out for a second,” Akagi says in a quiet voice. 

“Um.” Gin squints. “Okay.”

“I didn’t tell them we were only hooking up or anything like that. I told them—I said we were together. I didn’t tell them we were, like, dating or anything, but I didn’t tell give ‘em the details.” Akagi’s eyes drift to the ceiling. “Mostly cuz I was trying to figure it out myself.”

Gin’s breath catches.

“I know you’re pretty comfortable what we’re doing, and I am, too. I like what we got going. But—” Akagi’s throat jumps as he swallows. “I mean, I’ve been thinking about this a lot, especially lately. And I don’t want you to feel pressured to reciprocate anything, but if you—if there’s a chance that you want—if you think you—” 

“Akagi.”

Akagi stops abruptly.

Gin’s brain short circuits a little. He feels a swell of emotion that’s too much for seven in the morning. It culminates with him finally allowing himself to extend one hand and brush Akagi’s hair out of his face with his fingertips, something he’s only ever done when they’re going at it in bed together. A sharp inhale of a breath, then finally, finally, Akagi looks at him. 

“I thought this was just a thing of convenience for you,” Gin admits. The vulnerability makes him want to clam up, but Akagi presses the crown of his head into Gin’s fingertips, encouraging him to go on. “That’s why I was comfortable with where we were at. I thought you went along with it cuz we were the only two people around.”

“Convenience?” Akagi huffs a laugh. “What about fucking your roommate that you got feelings for is convenient?”

Gin is stupid. So stupid, in fact, that he’s at a loss for words, and the only thing he can do is prop himself on his elbows, pull Akagi to him, and kiss him. 

It’s different, somehow, because Akagi doesn’t kiss him as a way to rile him up and get him ready for whatever comes next. He kisses him with slow and precise presses of his lips and moves to cup Gin’s jaw in his hands, and when he pulls back, his smile is as effortless as the one Gin all but fell in love with.

“You ain’t just convenient, you dumbass.” Akagi bumps his forehead against Gin’s. “I chose to sleep with you cuz I wanted to. And I chose to hang around you cuz I wanted to. And now I wanna date you, cuz...I dunno. Cuz I like you. And I wanna be with you.”

Gin’s chest squeezes. 

“This ain’t convenient for me, either. But I don’t care. I’d pick you first,” Gin says. “You’re my number one choice, Akagi.”

Akagi snorts, and the bright streak of laughter comes back when he replies, “I better be.” Gin rolls his eyes and pushes Akagi back and dips his head to kiss him again.

This is dangerous, Gin thinks. Because now that he’s allowed to kiss Akagi any time he wants, there’s no telling how much Gin will want to indulge. Gin doesn’t consider himself a greedy person, but around Akagi, he thinks he might be.

Right as his hands start to move of their own accord, from Akagi’s waist to his shoulders to the crown of his head, Akagi’s stomach growls. It effectively interrupts their lazy morning makeout session, and Gin peels back and rolls his eyes. Akagi shoots him an apologetic smile.

Gin breathes a laugh, pushes off the mattress, and sits up. He gazes down at Akagi, who looks back at him with one arm folded beneath his head, and he swats at Akagi’s leg with one hand while tugging at his elbow with the other. “C’mon, stupid. Let’s get you some breakfast.”

It’s no different from their morning ritual, but Gin has a moment of relief when it registers that he doesn’t have to keep his feelings to himself anymore. He can adore Akagi with all his being, and Akagi will accept it with the same ease they share bags of Pocky. 

No, it’s more than that—Akagi will choose it, just like he’s chosen Gin, and Gin has chosen him.

“Akagi.” Gin stands. He waits with crossed arms until Akagi climbs out of bed. “C’mon. Don’t you wanna eat?”

Akagi’s face splits into that wide smile of his, dimple on his cheek. He pauses to press a quick peck at the crown of Gin’s forehead before intertwining their fingers together, and for the first time, they step out of Akagi’s room hand-in-hand without fear of being seen. “Breakfast sounds perfect.”