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Training sessions without Maki always feel a little… unbalanced, in a way Kaito has trouble qualifying with words.
When both she and Shuichi are there, Kaito feels comfortable. He rambles, tells stories that are and aren't true. Maki snarks at him for embellishing his childhood exploits (just a little, he insists!), and Shuichi occasionally remarks on Kaito's slow pacing, and Kaito brushes both of them off as sassy sidekicks. It's easy. Familiar. Normal.
When Maki's gone, as she is tonight, something changes. When it's just him and Shuichi, laid out in the grass next to him, the energy turns heavier. The silence becomes something Kaito feels like he needs to fill, rather than something naturally filled by his loud, chatty presence. He tells his same stories, his same encouraging platitudes, but it feels like he's maintaining the veneer of normalcy rather than actually acting naturally. A kind of anticipation holds his mind taut, like he's waiting for something. He wants something from his time with Shuichi that he doesn't want from his time with Shuichi and Maki, that much he can tell, but he doesn't know what it is.
What he does know is that things weren't always this way. He and Shuichi had trained alone together for almost a month before Maki got roped in, and things hadn't felt so strange then. What changed? Was it himself? Was it Shuichi, with his slowly-building confidence, his growing ability to read Kaito like a book at the most inconvenient times? Or was it something that had been there all along, building up pressure, until it was impossible to ignore any longer?
Well, whatever the reason, something's different now. Kaito certainly had never sat and stared at Shuichi after he'd finished a brutal set of sit-ups before, the way he's doing right now.
Shuichi's panting, propped up on his elbows, head lolled back like his body's given up on supporting it. Sweat drips down his temple; Kaito's eyes follow as it trickles along the inlets of his neck and disappears past the open collar of his white shirt. Kaito swallows.
Shuichi shifts his weight to his other arm and tries to tuck a piece of hair, clumped with liquid and dangling by his eyes, behind his ear. The motion is clumsy, though, and most of the hair falls back where it started. His arm flops lifelessly by his side, and he doesn't try again.
"God," Shuichi groans. Yeah, Kaito distantly agrees. He reaches forward without thinking.
The moment Kaito's fingertips brush against Shuichi's forehead, he feels two things: the soft, sweat-slick heat of his best friend's skin and a terrible lance of regret piercing through his chest. But he can't stop now; he has to act like what he's doing is normal. Slowly, deliberately, his hand sweeps Shuichi's loose bangs back. He's more careful than Shuichi was; his eyes narrow thoughtfully as he concentrates on tucking the lock of hair precisely behind Shuichi's ear. This time, it stays.
He pretends he's not hyper-aware of every second of skin-to-skin contact that the motion brings—the backs of his fingernails brushing feather-soft against Shuichi's skin, the pads of his fingers caressing the shell of his ear as he pushes the hair into place. The way Shuichi shivers when Kaito touches his ear, even though it's a sweltering day. The evidence of that is plain on Kaito's hand as he pulls away: sweat. Shuichi's sweat. It's a weird thing to focus on, a gross thing to focus on, a thing he shouldn't even have to focus on at all because he shouldn't have done this.
This… shouldn't feel so intimate. So exciting. They're just two guys working out. Of course Shuichi's face is going to be flushed, of course his hair's going to get messed up, of course he's going to sweat. There's nothing weird or wrong about any of that—not unless Kaito makes it weird. What the hell's gotten into him, anyway?
Shuichi stares at Kaito the instant he's touched, out of the corner of his eye, like he's afraid something will happen if he turns his head. He doesn't look away, even when Kaito finishes. He's startled, alert, yet oddly docile too, like he's… waiting. Waiting to see what Kaito will do next. Kaito thinks he could lean forward right now, and Shuichi wouldn't pull away. He'd just keep looking at him with those wide pupils and slightly open mouth, nervous but trusting, so trusting, and—
"Man, your hair's gotten way too long," Kaito forces out, with a low chuckle. He plants his hand firmly on the ground and wipes it against the grass. "You need a haircut."
Shuichi blinks, and the spell breaks. His mouth shuts and his eyes return to normal, although the flush on his face remains.
"Ah… yeah," he admits, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He turns his head and looks away. "I've been busy, and I haven't gotten around to it..."
"I know your detective work's important, but you gotta take care of yourself first, bro," Kaito declares. "Self-care doesn't just mean doing things that make you feel good. It's doing things your future self will thank you for!"
"Ah, umm. Yeah," Shuichi mumbles.
Kaito's rambling. He's filling the silence unnaturally to distract himself from the back of Shuichi's neck, pale and shiny with exertion. He tries not to think about the way his shorter hairs curl up around the nape of his neck from the thick humidity, tries not to wonder if he could reach and straighten them out between his fingers. Really, really tries not to imagine Shuichi shivering in that same, anticipating way if Kaito were to brush his fingers against the back of his neck, right over the protruding bump where his spine begins.
Get it together, Luminary, he thinks, swallowing hard. Shuichi trusts him. He trusts him enough to be alone with Kaito like this, to let Kaito run him through this training. If he doesn't freak out when Kaito does something weird, that's not permission. It's trust. He trusts Kaito to never take it too far and do something he can't ever take back.
Every second he looks at Shuichi, another thing he wouldn't be able to take back pops into his brain, unbidden, each one more terrifying than the last. All the possibilities radiate outward and burn him up like a second sun in his chest. He has to look away.
"Maki Roll's not here, so let's just call it early today," Kaito decides. He stands up, opting to tie his jacket around his waist rather than putting it on. It's just too damn hot out.
"Sure," Shuichi says, and he stands up quickly, like he's in a hurry to leave. Kaito doesn't really have the will to ask about it. "I'll, umm, see you tomorrow?"
Kaito looks at Shuichi, and finds Shuichi is looking back at him. Despite everything, despite Kaito's thoughts, despite what Kaito just did, Shuichi's smiling. His amber eyes are bright and unguarded, and his smile is sheepish but genuine, so genuine. He's smiling at Kaito like he really doesn't mind what just happened. He's smiling at Kaito like he'd forgive Kaito if he did it again. He's smiling at Kaito like he… trusts him.
Shuichi trusts him, and the feeling of it sticks to Kaito's insides like gum.
"Sure thing," Kaito croaks, throat cotton-dry. "Same time tomorrow, sidekick."