Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s a known fact- practically a law of nature, really- that Momo loves Yuki.

Everyone knows it. As soon as the two of them introduce themselves to others, it becomes as obvious as all other known things. The sky is blue, the sun is hot, and Momo loves Yuki. Part of it’s the act, sure, the ‘married couple’ schtick that they never let up, but it’s not a joke. Momo loves Yuki, and everyone knows.

Everyone except Yuki, anyway.

Sleeping in the same bed, his and his chopsticks, bathing at the same time- Momo’s pretty certain their gimmick goes far beyond what’s actually necessary to make the bit work. If he were a smarter man, he’d cut it off there, tell Yuki they’ve taken it too far, establish boundaries that place them firmly back behind any lines they may have crossed. But Momo is selfish, more selfish than people ever seem to realize, so he says nothing. He says nothing, and things stay the same. Mornings in Yuki’s bed, afternoons on Yuki’s couch, evenings in Yuki’s arms. He’s selfish, and Yuki deserves someone selfless, someone who would say something and put a stop to this, but Momo’s far too selfish to entertain the thought of losing Re:vale again.

It’s not like Yuki’s ever said anything either. If anything, he seems even more dedicated to the bit than Momo- perhaps because for him, it doesn’t go farther than that. A bit. A game. The bickering married couple, the idiot and the straight man (and isn’t that one just ironic), the inseparable duo. Momo plays the game because he’s selfish- Yuki seems to have forgotten it’s a game entirely.

There’s a part of Momo that considers just blurting it out, spilling the truth, and it gets stronger with each passing day. When Yuki’s humming a new tune- when Yuki’s swiftly cutting vegetables, as if the blade doesn’t make his fingers tremble- when Yuki’s holding his hand in place, painting each nail with precision and not needing to look up to tell Momo to stop smiling- this part of him. It’s getting harder to ignore.

But he can’t . He can’t say anything, he can’t ruin what they have. Because- because what they have is good , and it works , and it’s fine. It has to be fine. He already risked losing Re:vale once before- he’s not about to risk it again because his heart’s decided to be stupid and fall for the one person who was always off-limits.

Yuki would be kind about it. That’s what hurts the most- the fact that he’d be kind. If Momo somehow, someway, were to say anything, he would be kind. He’d smile, but his eyebrows would pull together in the way they always did when he was a little embarrassed, a little confused. He’d tell Momo he was flattered- maybe joke about being irresistible, because damn him for knowing he looks good- but that he doesn’t feel the same. And that would be that.

But his face would begin to flush during their show, and he would start leaning away from the touches he usually falls into. He wouldn’t be able to make the same jokes without pausing, and his eyes would flicker everywhere but Momo’s face.

Yuki would be kind about it. But confessing would cost everything.

He’s not sure when they started, these feelings. There was something there before- a glimmer of a crush, one that emerged every time he stood in the crowd and watched Yuki onstage. But that was nothing compared to now- that was admiration, idolization, reaching for an unreachable star. It was safe, and it was stable, all those years ago, and there was no thinking of anything further than that.

Then Re:vale fell apart, and Momo couldn’t let go, so he begged. He begged, and he pleaded, and he cried, hoping beyond hope that Yuki would see in himself what Momo saw in him. It wasn’t about the crush, then- Yuki’s potential career was the priority. But when Yuki finally broke- when he finally agreed to Momo’s proposition- when they started living together, working together, singing together. Then, well. It became a problem.

Because Momo isn’t just selfish- he’s foolish, too. He knows this can’t go on forever, not the way he wants it to. He can’t keep expecting Yuki to overlook the glaring signs of the obvious, can’t keep pushing off the day where his heart won’t be able to take it. The clock is ticking down to change. And Momo is absolutely terrified of the day time runs out.

“You’ve been quiet,” Yuki murmurs, reminding Momo exactly where he is. “S’weird.”

“It’s night .”

“Hm…?”

Momo frowns. “I don’t talk all the time,” he says, shifting in bed to face Yuki instead of the ceiling. “And I’m talking right now, see? Talking when we should be sleeping.”

“You just,” Yuki starts, then stops. Breathes for a moment. Yuki does this sometimes when he’s tired, or drunk- both of which are true at the moment. Usually, Momo finds it a bit endearing, the way he takes a touch too much extra time to find the right words. Right now, it’s just nerve-wracking.

“Just what?” Momo asks finally, losing his patience.

“When we drink,” Yuki says. His voice is so soft Momo can barely hear it. “You usually talk more. Joke more.”

“Do I?” He does. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. I’ve got my Yuki with me, so what could be wrong?”

It’s Yuki’s turn to frown, though his is far more concerned. “You drank more, but you talked less. I feel like I should be worried.”

Momo pinches his eyes closed. Fuck. He really didn’t want to do this tonight. This was supposed to be their night- a good night. They just finished a hard work schedule with filming a new music video, and this was their night of celebration. So what if Momo drank a little more than usual, enough that Yuki made him stay over? So what if he couldn’t stop thinking about the way Yuki’s hands felt on his shoulders, or his voice in his ears, or his back against his chest? So what? He was allowed to feel just a little bit shitty. He was handling it. He just- couldn’t be loose-lipped tonight, is all.

Yuki’s still looking at him, chest against the mattress, hands curled under his chin. Fuck. Fuck .

“Just tired,” Momo says, knowing his response is far too belated to be believed. “Sorry. You really don’t need to worry about me.”

“It’s hard not to, sometimes,” Yuki says. He closes his eyes. “How can I not worry about my husband?”

It hits too close to home. “Go to sleep,” Momo says. “Clearly, I’m not the only tired one. Can’t have someone as hunky as you getting eyebags, right?”

“Mm,” Yuki hums noncommittedly. “You’d tell me though, wouldn’t you?”

“If…?”

“If something was wrong.” His hand shifts on the mattress until it finds Momo’s, and Momo sucks in a breath. “You’d tell me?”

A beat. “Yeah,” he says, and he feels Yuki’s hand squeeze once. “Yeah, I’d tell you.”

“Good,” Yuki says. His voice is thick with the promise of sleep, and the effort he’s making to stay awake is painfully clear. “I want you to tell me things. You know that, right?”

“I know.” Not this .

“Important,” he says, then yawns. “S’important. For you to know.”

“Go to sleep,” Momo says. His voice sounds faint to his own ears.

Yuki’s hand squeezes his again, light but there, and it hurts. It hurts so much . “You too,” he says, then kisses Momo’s hand lightly. “Love you.”

Yuki falls asleep.

Momo does not.

_________________

The thing is- the thing is - generally speaking, Momo would consider himself an optimist.

Or, more accurately- he has to be an optimist, because Yuki’s a pessimist, and if someone isn’t there to tell him to look on the bright side, he starts spiraling. A spiraling Yuki is a very, very bad sign, so Momo learned how to swallow his anxiety and smile even wider.

So. An optimist. Something of the sort.

The point being, Momo would consider himself an optimist, but this- this new possibility presented to him- it’s far too much to hope for. He can’t do it, can’t bring himself to dare, because he knows that too-high hopes only lead to disappointment.

But. But- what he’d done. What he’d said. Momo hadn’t imagined it. Right? He’s not prone to drunk hallucinations, that was real . He said- the thing that he said the night before.

Except- and Momo’s pacing now, dammit- it’s not like they haven’t said that sort of stuff before. They say it all the time. On TV, over text, in front of people, friends, and crowds. It’s not like it’s an uncommon phrase between the two of them- one could almost say their use of it bordered on flagrant.

But it had never been at night. It had never been in bed, holding hands, murmured in a tired voice right before sleep, never been spoken as if it weren’t a joke or for dramatic flair. It had never been so intimate, but also so carefree. Because that’s what really gets him, what really makes him wonder if he’s going insane. The way Yuki said it. He hadn’t flushed. He hadn’t whispered it, like a secret. There was no tension in his shoulders, no deep breath taken to steel for a confession.

He said it like it was nothing at all. Like it was the easiest thing in the world.

And Momo doesn’t get it. Because it’s supposed to be Yuki, isn’t it, who gets embarrassed? It’s supposed to be Yuki who struggles with feelings and words and getting the right things across at the right time. But he just said that, no warning, no hesitation, no fear but also as if there was nothing to fear. It didn’t feel like a confession, nor did it feel like an intimate exchange. It felt like- a ritual, or something. A practiced routine.

Predictably, Yuki says nothing about it the next morning (next afternoon, more like). Says nothing when Momo lets him sleep in, says nothing preparing their breakfast. It’s the same as usual, and doesn’t that make Momo question his sanity. But- no, he already went over this. It happened. He’s sure of it. But as their morning went by and still no acknowledgement, he couldn't help but let everything get to his head.

Is he overthinking things?

Momo's still pacing when Yuki comes into the room, and he half-stumbles into an awkward seated position on the bed. Yuki hovers in the doorway, seemingly unsure what to do, and only relaxes when Momo asks, "Yeah?"

He walks forward and thrusts both his hands at Momo wordlessly- in his right hand is a cup of water, in his left, two pills that are probably advil. “My hero,” Momo sighs, realizing that he sounds more hungover than he is. “My knight in shining armor. What would I do without you?”

“It’s not like you haven’t done this for me.” Ah, there it is- Yuki’s cheeks, flushed with pink, eyes perfectly pointed to the wall instead of Momo’s face. There’s the trademark Yuki bashfulness that Momo knows. “Just take them.”

“You got some too, right?” There’s a twinge of worry in his gut, which is ridiculous. Between the two of them, it’s Momo who’s self-sacrificial to a point that even he can acknowledge it’s probably an issue. Plus, it’s only water and pills- it’s not like there’s a shortage. Still, he worries. It’s what he does.

But Yuki just smiles, reaching forward to run a hand through Momo’s hair. “I got it,” he says, and as his fingers make contact, Momo flinches- slightly, almost imperceptibly. Too much. All this, just- too much. Something passes over Yuki’s face at the unintentional rejection, a flash of- disappointment, maybe? It’s gone too fast to tell. But Yuki complies, pulling away and instead tapping his fingers on the rim of Momo’s glass. “You worry a lot.”

Momo swallows down his guilt. “Yeah well, someone’s gotta look out for you,” he says, but he finds that his voice sounds wrong. Shit. He clears his throat and tries again. “At least today I know I don’t have to worry! My Yuki knows how to spend his off days, doesn’t he?” Better. More like the Momo that Yuki needs to see right now.

Yuki nods. “Sleeping,” he says solemnly, expression unyielding when Momo fakes a pout. “What did you think I would say?”

“We-” Fuck, his voice catches on the we - “We only woke up an hour or two ago!”

“Perfect time for a nap then, right?”

“You’re unbearable,” Momo sighs. He just has to keep the bit going- keep things light, friendly and joking. “You could at least play a game or something.”

Yuki hums noncommittedly, then- hesitates. He flicks his gaze downwards at Momo’s hands. “You know I don’t really play games,” he says, then, “Are you staying today?”

Momo had taken that moment to swallow the advil, and the change of topic almost makes him choke on it. “Huh?” He hadn’t thought that far ahead- hadn’t planned anything for the day beyond a generalized internal panic. “Why?”

“It’s not like it’s a weird amount of time for you to stay,” Yuki says, but he sounds reserved. He walks over to the window and opens the blinds- an excuse not to look him in the eye? Possibly, considering he doesn’t turn back once he’s let the sun stream through. “I just need to know if I can lie to you about napping today or not.”

It would be so easy to say yes, he’s staying. Momo wants to stay.

“That’s a fair point,” he says instead, taking another sip of his water. “I think I’m gonna take today to clean up my place, actually. Looks like I’m just gonna have to trust you.”  He smiles- it feels more like a crack in his face than a grin.

Yuki turns towards him, expressionless, save for the slight confused tilt of his eyebrows. “You don’t like cleaning.”

Another sip. “Ah, well,” he says, leaning forward to hold the glass between his knees. “Even I have to do things I hate, right?”

“Right,” Yuki says. He doesn’t sound like he gets it. 

He doesn’t need to get it, though. He just needs to let Momo leave.

__________________

M: Heyyyyyy Manekko-chan!!! (人*´∀｀)｡*ﾟ+

T: Momo-san, good afternoon! Is there something I can do for you?

M: In a sense!

M: So

M: Let’s say, hypothetically speaking

M: You have someone you’re really close to and care about a lot

T: Hypothetically speaking?

M: Mhm! (≧▽≦)

M: And you and this person always joke around and maybe even have a very specific, sort of niche joke between you two

T: I think I can see this hypothetical quite vividly!

M: It’s because I’m great at describing things and no other reason!! (´⊙ω⊙`)！

M: Anyway

M: Maybe one day, hypothetically, this someone did something that’s usually in the whole joke bit

M: But it didn’t seem like they were joking

M: What would you do?

T: ...

T: ...Momo-san, I might need a little more information than that…

T: Um, to this hypothetical situation, of course!

M: Ok ok

M : So

M : You and this person

M: Are very close

T: Alright ^_^

M: And you maybe

M: Like them

M: A lot

T: OH…

M: Hypothetically, of course (ʃƪ＾3＾）

M: And you and this person always make jokes

M: But then one day, they say something that should be a joke but doesn’t sound like it

M: And they act as if they never said it at all

M: And it really throws your heart for a loop! (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

T: Oh, Momo-san…

M: Remember Manekko-chan, this is all hypothetical! It’s not real! Don’t worry!

M: Anyway, what would you do in this nonexistent situation? (人 •͈ᴗ•͈)

T: Oh dear…

T: Well, hypothetically speaking, I’d probably try and talk to this someone if we’re really that close! I’m sure there’s a reason they aren’t acknowledging it, and once the air is cleared, everything should be ok!

M: Ok I see your point

M: But consider the fact that I don’t think I can do that

M: They can’t, I mean

M: Hypothetically

T: Well, hypothetically, Momo-san, while I know something like that would be hard to do, I still think it would be the best course of action! After all, these hypothetical people got so close because of good communication, right?

M: Ok

M: But

M: What if they’re scared of the answer they’ll get

T: It’s natural to be afraid, Momo-san! But I believe in you!

T: Sorry, “them” (◠‿◕)

T: The sooner “they” talk about it, the sooner everything goes back to normal, right?

M: But what if it doesn’t

T: Then…

T: Maybe things will change, but hopefully for the better! If these characters are anything like some certain friends that I know, I’m sure everything will turn out all right.

T: Momo-san?

M: Sorry! Had a mishap with my laundry (>∆<；) I probably shouldn’t text and do chores lol!!!

M: Anyway, this was fun Manekko-chan!! Thanks for participating in my little joke here (≧▽≦)

M: I’ve got to go now though!! Bye!!

T: Momo-san wait!! A-are you serious??

T: Oh well...>.<

__________________

Meetings with the Idolish7 group are always bound to be interesting. Their meeting today so far has consisted of a variety of events, such as Iori nearly going for Riku’s throat over some teasing, Mitsuki visibly withholding himself from a rampage when he realized Nagi had accidentally ruined a recipe he’d been preparing for the group, and Tamaki breakdancing on the table to try and relieve the tension. It actually almost worked, until he knocked one of the mugs over and had to clean up the stain.

By the end of the meeting, beyond all odds, everyone had seemed to calm down. He'll never understand how they manage such a thing- when he and Yuki fight, it can take time to get things back to normal.

Speaking of.

The distance Momo's been keeping is subtle, he thinks. He hopes. He's- not actually sure. Every action feels like a neon sign pointing to the obvious, but if he does nothing, it has the same effect. He's still able to do the routine- calling Yuki darling and hunk, joking about their married lives, threatening to divorce him, but it’s all part of the act.

To anyone else, it’s the same as usual. And it is- that’s the whole point. Except Momo knows Yuki as well as Yuki knows Momo, and Momo sees the way they’re dancing around each other. Or, no- that’s not it. Momo’s dancing around Yuki- Yuki’s trying to understand why.

He won’t get the answer he’s looking for, of course. If he remembers what happened, he doesn’t register it as an issue, and if he doesn’t, then it’s useless. It would be so much easier if Momo could just tell him, and yet.

And yet.

For every questioning glance Yuki shoots his way, Momo diverts the attention. For every hesitant touch Yuki places, Momo finds a way to incorporate shrugging it off into the act. For every awkward silence Yuki provides, Momo fills it with laughter.

It’s better this way. Addressing the problem is already terrifying- involving the boys of Idolish7 would only make everything worse. And, to be honest, Momo’s had his fill of his personal problems being laid bare in front of them. Better to suffer through a few days of his and Yuki’s dance than to throw his heart on the table.

Thank god he doesn’t have to worry about that anymore, though- the meeting’s ended without incident (between the two of them, anyway), and Momo couldn’t be more glad. He’s ready to go back to his apartment and recover from the hours spent under Yuki’s searching eyes.

Before Yuki can say anything, Momo stands to excuse himself, saying he needs to get back to his apartment soon, which kills any chance of Yuki inviting him over to his place. It almost works- he's almost in the clear- until he feels his arm get caught by someone's hand. 

“Ah, Momo-san,” the person says, and to his surprise, it's Yamato's face that greets him, beer in one hand, Momo’s arm in the other. “Could we have a moment?”

He opens his mouth to respond, but pauses- normally, a chat with Yamato wouldn’t make him nervous at all, but something about the glint in his eye and the tightness of his grip on Momo’s arm causes him to rethink. He swallows, then says with as much cheer as he can muster, “Of course! What's up?”

“Alone, if that's alright,” Yamato says, and, okay, Momo’s definitely nervous now. He feels ridiculous- Yamato’s a good guy, and his junior. Everything with Yuki is putting him far too on edge.

"Is something wrong?" Momo asks, and Yamato laughs, waving a dismissive hand.

"No, no," he says. "I just want to show you something real quick. I think you'll find it pretty interesting."

Momo hears Yuki sigh behind him. "Excluding me still, I see," he bemoans. "How cruel."

"If you're lucky, Momo'll tell you about it later." It's said in the usual annoyed tone he takes with Yuki, but there's something in the implication that makes Momo question it.

Nevertheless, Momo lets Yamato guide him (drag him, really) down the hallway and into his room. It looks the same as he last saw it- that is to say, plain and strangely laid out. “Memories,” he sighs, thinking of the time he and Yuki had broken in to search for his porn stash. It had yielded nothing- probably both fortunate and unfortunate, but it had caused Yuki to despair about whether or not they were old for thinking Yamato would have physical porn. Momo thought it was cute that he worried so much, and- shit, now what he’s really reminiscing about are cute Yuki moments. Very much unnecessary right now.

"You two are so weird," Yamato sighs. "Okay, sit down."

Momo obliges, reclining in the long black chair in an over-exaggerated fashion. He smiles at Yamato, who’s meandered in front of his television- he doesn’t even have a TV stand, god. "What's the thing? You know I love surprises." His knee bounces- he hopes it looks like excitement instead of revealing his nerves.

Yamato hums into his beer can. "Oh,” he says idly, “I was lying."

His knee stills. "I was afraid you'd say that," he says, straining to keep up his grin. "Is this an interrogation then? Ooh, are you trying to get revenge on Yuki for something? You can torture me, but I'll never betray him!"

"Please, just stop," Yamato sighs, clearly already exasperated. "I only wanted to ask what's up with you and Yuki-san."

Fuck.

"Nothing?" Momo responds in a carefully practiced questioning tone. "Although I guess he did knock over my soda yesterday, which I know was an accident, but I told him to be careful-"

"Do you honestly think I can't tell when Yuki-san's upset?" Yamato crosses his arms over his chest, and he raises a brow. "Come on, drop the act already."

"I thought you didn't care about how Yuki feels." Shit. That was probably a bit sharper than intended.

Yamato frowns. “I don’t like him,” he says, “that doesn’t mean I don’t care .”

A very...Yamato-esque answer. Momo folds his arms behind his head and leans back further- maybe if he acts relaxed, he’ll end up feeling it, too. “Yuki and I are fine ,” he says. “We’re good! Really! Did we look like we were in a fight to you?”

“No,” Yamato says, “but you did look like you couldn’t do your whole couple-thing right. That’s really not gonna look good on camera, Momo-san.”

“That’s-” Momo clenches his fists. “No offense Yamato, but that’s not really your business.”

“So you’re fine with your fans seeing your shitty performance because you won’t talk about whatever’s wrong?”

“ Nothing is wrong.”

“Right, and I’m a big Cocona fan.” Yamato takes a sip of his beer, then sighs. “You’re right. This isn’t my business. But something’s going on between you two, something even Yuki-san doesn’t get, and if you’re working with us soon, I’d really prefer a functioning Re:vale to one in a stalemate.” He takes another sip. “So,” he says with a swallow, “you wanna talk, or you wanna keep going like you are now?”

The indignation at the idea of a haphazard Re:vale hits hard against the desire to talk to somebody- anybody - about what he’s been dealing with. The side of him against it argues that discussing this with someone who has some sort of muddy history with Yuki is probably not the best idea. The side of him that’s tired of keeping things to himself says that perhaps someone who’s known Yuki for so long is exactly the person to talk to- Yamato said himself, he doesn’t like him, but he cares.

Momo brings his hands down to his lap and drums his fingers on his knees. “You can’t tell anybody else,” he says.

“Alright.”

“ Anybody .”

“Got it.”

“Seriously, if Yuki hears this-”

“Momo-san,” Yamato sighs. “Please, if you’re going to say something, get on with it.”

The drumming of his fingers gets faster. He’s stalling- the anxiety bubbling in his chest threatens to spill over with every passing second. It makes it hard to breathe, so Momo does what he does best when he’s being crushed- he smiles.

“Yuki said he loved me.”

Yamato is quiet for a moment, then takes a long, languid sip of his beer. When he’s finished, he says, “Okay?”

“What do you mean, okay ?”

“I mean, like-” Yamato shrugs helplessly. “Don’t you guys say that to each other all the time?” He adjusts his glasses, then makes a dissatisfied click with his tongue. “I think you say it more than he does,” he says as he wipes his glasses lens on his shirt.

“You don’t get it.” Momo can feel his smile grow brittle. “It’s all part of the act. I mean, I know he loves me- you guys love each other, Trigger loves each other, and we love each other, but he doesn’t…” Momo sucks in a breath. “He doesn’t love me.”

"And you…"

"Yeah."

Yamato opens his mouth as if to say something, but stops. He hesitates before starting again. “...Okay,” he says, pushing his glasses back on his face. “But if that bothered you, wouldn’t it suck every time he said it? Why was this different?”

“Because-” Momo struggles for the right words. He grips the fabric of his pants in his fists, if only to stop them from shaking. “Because this time it sounded real . It sounded- practiced, as if he’d said it like that a ton of times before, and he kissed my hand , Yamato. We do a lot, but we don’t do that .”

“I guess that’s sorta weird,” Yamato muses, walking over to sit on the edge of his bed instead of standing. “Are you sure that’s what he meant? I’m guessing you haven’t asked him about it.”

“No,” Momo agrees, “I can’t.”

“I mean, you can if you stop being stubborn-”

“I can’t ,” Momo clarifies, “because he doesn’t remember.”

His smile chooses now to break.

“Oh,” Yamato says. “Well, shit.”

That actually manages to get Momo to laugh, but it’s weak- he barely feels it. “I’ve gotten myself in quite a mess, huh!” he says.

It’s quiet for a moment. Yamato taps his beer can against his bed while Momo tries to focus on anything but the increasing tightness that’s cutting off his air supply. Roomba in the corner. TV without a stand. Empty beer cans on the floor. Nails painted red. Nails painted red by Yuki. Nails painted red by Yuki, palm against palm, soft smile on Yuki’s lips, lips that said the words love you -

“You should still talk to him,” Yamato announces.

That breaks him out long enough for him to breathe. “ What ?”

“I mean, he said it, right?” Yamato tilts his head matter-of-factly. “If he said it, there was probably a reason, memory or not. You should let him know what happened.”

“But,” Momo starts, barely able to get the words out, “But he was drunk. I was drunk. And we were tired. And if he doesn’t remember, that probably means it wasn’t even important, so-”

“Are you just gonna keep spouting excuses?”

Momo grits his teeth, forcing himself to grin. “Yeah, probably,” he says. “Because talking to him about it would be worthless. I just- I need to get over myself.”

Yamato leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Do you really think that’ll help?”

“I honestly have no idea!” If he just keeps laughing, just keeps smiling, then he’ll be alright. He’ll be able to breathe. “Better to wait it out than to risk Re:vale again, right? Can’t let everything go to waste from another stupid Momo move!”

The way Yamato stares at him over his glasses, level and unblinking, is suddenly just- too much. It’s all too much. He needs to get out of this room, out of this building, be anywhere but here. So he stands up, limbs unwieldy and robotic, and plasters on another grin.

“Alright, well, I think I’m gonna- head out then, if that was all,” he says. “Bye, Yamato!”

“Momo-san-”

“ Bye , Yamato!” He grabs the door just as Yamato reaches for him, but stumbles back, knees hitting against the chair when the open space reveals- “ Shit !”

-Yuki, fist raised as if about to knock. His expression is passive, but he quirks a questioning eyebrow at Momo’s outburst.

“Momo?” he asks. “I didn’t mean to surprise you, sorry. I just-” His face flushes, just faintly. “You were taking a while.”

The painful twisting in his chest turns quickly into something light, something that threatens to expand past his limits. Yuki came to check on him. Yuki was worried . “You didn’t head out before? The driver would’ve come back for me.”

“And miss a car ride with my dear Momo?” He smiles softly, taking a few steps forward to stand in front of him. “I had to make sure our mean junior here wasn’t holding you hostage.”

“I’m still in the room, y’know,” Yamato sighs. He points his beer can at Yuki accusingly. “And I never said you could come in.”

“You didn’t say I couldn’t, either,” Yuki says easily.

“Well, I’m saying it now. Out.”

“So mean,” he says. “Momo, are you done talking with him?”

“Actually-”

“Yep!” Momo shoots up from where he had stumbled. “Don’t worry though, he wasn’t trapping me! I was just about to leave when you came.” He turns to Yamato, who looks as if he’s about to object again. “Thanks for talking with me, Yamato! That was really cool!”

“Hold on- Momo, wait.” He presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose, sounding resigned. “Will you think about it? What I said?”

It’s easy to grin this time- with Yuki next to him, he’s a far better actor. “Sure, Yamato! You know I love my junior’s ideas.” To complete the bit, he gives a wink.

“...Alright,” Yamato says. He doesn’t believe him. That’s okay- all that matters now is that this is over.

They exchange their goodbyes, both with Yamato and the rest of Idolish7- most of them, anyway. Iori and Tamaki had headed back to their rooms to do their homework, but the rest of them had stayed and waited with Yuki in the communal area. It’s rather touching, in a strange way. 

The ride home is quiet. It’s been quiet most times they’re alone now, since that night, but today it feels especially so. Several times, Momo tries to think of something to say, but can’t. It’s best to keep it like this for now.

Except- minutes before they hit Momo’s apartment, it’s Yuki who starts to say something. “What was he talking about?” he asks, voice soft. He’s looking out the window, but Momo can see his silver eyes in the reflection, tracking Momo in much the same way.

“Hm?”

“Yamato-kun,” Yuki says. “He asked you to, ‘think about what he said,’ before we left.” He props up his elbow on the ledge of the car window, leaning his cheek into his hand. “What was he talking about?”

“Oh,” Momo says, then laughs. It sounds plastic, fake. “That! He was just asking me to look into roombas. That’s what he had been showing me, you know. His roomba.”

Yuki doesn’t respond. Momo swallows- his tongue feels too thick.

“If…” Yuki starts, and he turns to face Momo, hand coming down between them. “If something was wrong, you’d tell me, right?”

If something was wrong. You’d tell me?

It’s all he can do not to let his smile fall. “Of course I would, darling,” he says. “You know that.”

Yuki looks down at his hand next to Momo’s, and Momo can’t help but do the same.

Their fingers don’t touch.

_________________

Momo will not let Yamato be right about this.

If there’s anything he’s been able to pride himself on, it’s been his ability to keep his work life and his personal life separate. His fans know him as one thing, and one thing only, and that’s the loveable, excitable Momo, darling partner to Yuki, and that’s all they need to know. If he’s not careful, all that could crumble from a single slip-up. Which is exactly what he won’t let happen today.

They’re getting ready to record with Shimooka- the first time back in the studio since that night. He’s only had a day since his talk with Yamato, four since Yuki’s pseudo confession, and he couldn’t feel less ready. But he has to be ready- he can’t mess up recording because of his stupid feelings.

When they make it to center stage and the director calls for them to start, Momo makes sure to have the biggest, silliest grin he can possibly make for the camera. Shimooka introduces them, then the show, and it’s on.

“So, Yuki, Momo,” he says, expertly tilted towards the camera while still maintaining eye contact with the two of them, “I hear you’ve had a busy few weeks! How’d that go for you?”

“I was ready to drop , I was so tired!” Momo cries. “I kept telling Yuki, ‘Darling, let’s go to the spa, get a massage, take a break!’ But he absolutely refused me. So mean!”

Yuki sighs with a practiced exasperated fondness. “I only said no because we had no time,” he responds, to which Momo pouts exaggeratedly.

“You can’t lie to me!” He dramatically pokes a finger to Yuki’s chest, and manages to only barely flinch when it makes contact. “Even when I offered to give you a massage for free while we worked, you still refused!”

“That’s because a massage from you is just as relaxing as work…”

“So mean!”

The crew laughs, and Momo feels a small spark of relief. The bit is working. They’re making it through- just a few more lines, and they’re in the clear.

“Re:vale’s as close as ever, I see,” Shimooka says with a smile. “But even when you fight, it’s out of love, right?”

Almost in the clear. Just a few more lines. “Of course! I could never get too mad at my Yuki,” he croons, and winces. That last part didn’t sound as enthusiastic as normal- he needs to keep up.

Yuki closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Last time we fought, even a thousand ‘I love you’s’ wasn’t enough.”

“Well-” His voice gets stuck. He clears his throat and tries again, straining, “Well-” He can’t do this. He’s so close, and he can’t- he just can’t. He swallows, and his voice comes out too bitter, too cold. “Maybe that was the wrong thing to say, then.”

Silence.

The crew’s eyes are on him, making his skin crawl. Shimooka, for once, seems at a loss- Momo doesn’t blame him. He wouldn't know what to say, either. He doesn’t . The worst, though, is Yuki.

Yuki’s looking at him as if he’s a stranger. As if he’s been replaced with someone new and unfamiliar.

“Cut,” the director sighs, “Just- cut.” He frowns at the three of them onstage. “You started out fine, but that was just a mess. Take five, get a breather, and we’ll try again from the top.”

Momo nods, eager to get off the stage and away from the eyes of the crew. Away from Yuki.

Except- as soon as he steps down, Yuki follows. Of course. How was he so naive to think this breather would actually be one for him?

As soon as the dressing room door closes behind them, Yuki takes a calculated breath, waiting before turning to face him. “Momo, what happened out there?” he asks. “You’re not usually so...I don’t even know what to call that.”

Momo cracks a grin. “My bad!” he says lightly, putting his hands on his hips. “I got way too into character there. Won’t happen again, promise!”

Yuki frowns. “You said you’d tell me if anything ever happened.”

“And I would!”

“ Momo ,” Yuki says, raking his hands through his hair. “Please- I know you better than that.” He stalks forward, raising his hands as if to grasp Momo by the shoulders, and Momo stumbles back- his hands stop him right against the counter. Yuki pulls back immediately, stepping out of Momo’s space and curling his hands to his chest. “...You don’t let me touch you anymore.”

Momo wants to deny it, but he’s cornered himself. “It’s not you,” he mumbles.

“Please stop lying to me,” Yuki says- his voice is bordering on desperate. “Tell me what’s wrong. We can’t fix anything if you don’t tell me things.”

“You’re one to talk,” Momo mutters under his breath. A flash of hurt passes over Yuki’s face- shit. “No- sorry. I didn’t mean that. Forget it.”

“What did I do?” Yuki’s eyes are on his, but Momo can’t look at him. Can’t face him. “Momo, please. What happened?”

“You didn’t do anything ,” Momo manages to say. His jaw is so stiff it might as well be locked shut. “Just- leave it alone. It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters ,” Yuki says, eyes narrowing. “Momo. Whatever this is, if we don’t talk about it, it will impact our work. It already is. Talk to me.” He takes a step forward and carefully reaches for Momo’s hand. Momo doesn’t flinch this time, letting Yuki intertwine their fingers.

Momo can feel his wall crumbling. He looks at their hands- red and blue, overlapping. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” Yuki takes another step forward. “Momo, please. I meant it when I asked you to tell me things.” His voice lowers as his eyes drop to their hands as well. “You know I want to hear when things are wrong. You know that I love you.”

Yuki squeezes his fingers.

Momo’s wall breaks.

He tears his hand away as if the touch burns. “Stop saying that,” he begs, “stop- I can’t tell what you mean anymore.”

“What I…” Yuki mouths, gaze slowly drifting from his hanging hand to Momo’s face. “I don’t understand.”

“Of course not,” Momo mutters, then, somehow, he finds himself laughing, discordant and broken, but laughing. “Of course not! You don’t- you don’t even remember .”

“What are you talking about?” Yuki’s eyes grow wide. “Remember what?”

“You said you loved me, Yuki.”

Yuki tilts his head, confused. “I do love you,” he says. His eyebrows furrow deeply. “I don’t-”

“No,” Momo interrupts. “That night- when I stayed over. When I,” he laughs again. It sounds nothing like him. “When I stayed in your bed. You kissed my hand- did you know that? Why did you do that?”

“I-”

“And then,” Momo says, “then, you told me you loved me.”

Yuki snaps his mouth shut.

Momo sucks in a breath, trying to regain his composure- fruitless, he knows, but he has to try. “You weren’t even embarrassed,” he says quietly. “You just said it, like it was nothing. Like it meant nothing.”

“I,” Yuki says, then stops. “I don’t- I don’t remember that.” He takes a step back, then another. “Momo- I don’t-”

And this is it. The fear in his eyes, the way he can’t get away from Momo fast enough- this. This is rejection. Everything Momo’s feared over the last few days, over the past five years, is all falling into place.

Yuki loves him. But he doesn’t love him.

“Sorry,” Momo manages to say. He starts half-walking, half stumbling to the door. “Sorry, I’ll- I need to-”

“Momo-”

“I need to go.”

“ Momo -”

Yuki reaches for his arm, but Momo sidesteps out of the way as he swings the door open and staggers through. Everything is just- too much right now. Professionalism be damned, he needs to leave .

Shimooka sees him as he’s making his way to the exit of the building, and he falls in step at Momo’s side. “Momo-san,” he starts, walking quicker to match Momo’s rapidly increasing speed. “Momo-san, where are you going? The show-”

“Sick,” Momo lies, swallowing his guilt. “I need to go- please tell the director-” He can barely finish his thoughts right now. The only thing that matters is being away from here.

“But Yuki-san is-”

“I need to go,” he repeats, and his voice cracks. “Please. I really need to go.”

Something changes in the way Shimooka is looking at him- maybe Momo really does look sick, and Shimooka believes him, or maybe he sees that there’s more to what Momo is saying. Either way, Shimooka stops following and hesitates. “...I’ll let the crew know,” he says slowly.

“Thank you,” Momo replies with a sigh. He finally feels like he can breathe.

“But- Momo-san?”

“...Yeah?”

“Just-” Shimooka gestures behind him vaguely, frowning. “What should I tell Yuki-san?”

Momo turns away from Shimooka before his face can give anything else away. “Tell him…” He sucks in a breath. “Tell him he doesn’t have to worry,” he says, turning towards him with a smile. “And that I’ll be okay soon. I just need some time. And tell him...I’m sorry.”

With that, Momo is finally able to leave the building. He sees their car parked out front, knows their driver is still inside. Knows he could text him to take him home.

He stuff his hands into his pockets and walks.

_________________

In the end, he made his way to a park.

He almost walked down to the walkways in front of Zero’s arena, but caught himself at the last second- that’s where all his junior idols go when they need to think, and he really doesn’t want to run the risk of seeing them.

So instead, he walked to a park near his apartment. He didn’t want to go home, not yet. The idea of going back to his apartment- back to the suffocating space filled with memorabilia of everything he’s trying not to think about- it makes something in his stomach twist. The park is spacious, lush and inviting, promising solace from the rest of the world outside.

It would be nice if he could shut off his thoughts entirely.

He wants to focus on the park. On the chirping of the birds, the rustling of the branches, on the dry leaves beneath his feet. But every time something catches his attention, his mind manages to find a way back to everything he wants to get away from.

How could he be so stupid, he thinks, kicking a pebble on the sidewalk. How could he let this happen? He promised himself- he promised - that he wouldn’t let his feelings interfere with his work. That he’d get over it. Most importantly, that Yuki would never know.

He smiles bitterly to himself. That worked out, didn’t it. It took less than a week for him to crack- a week . That was all it took for him to potentially ruin everything.

And this could ruin everything, couldn’t it? He hadn’t confessed, not directly, but Yuki is smart. If he hadn’t figured it out before, he surely knows by now. It’s all he can do to try and stop his mind from replaying Yuki’s reaction over and over again.

Wide eyes, filled with shock and fear. Fear . That’s how badly it shook him, what Momo had said. He had been frozen in place, then stepped back as if afraid to be too close- ironic, how hard Momo had been trying to keep Yuki at bay. Now he’ll be lucky if he ever wants to see him again.

That thought makes him stop hard in his tracks.

Never see Yuki again . That’s how bad this could be. It- probably won’t be. Yuki is kind, and good, and a gentleman. But- if he was scared before, nervous at just the idea of confessing, now there’s an entirely new layer. It’s one thing to respond to a confession- it’s another thing entirely to be lied to, then find out that you forgot something in which the confessor misinterpreted horribly.

Well. Momo never really believed Yuki had meant it. He was- confused, and irritated, and agonizing for an answer, but he never let himself believe that Yuki felt the same. It’s humiliating to say now, but he had hoped. He had let himself hope. But actually believe? He’s an optimist, not an idealist.

He starts walking again, closing his eyes and breathing in the sharp, cool air. It helps to clear his head, but only a little. Even the outdoors can’t fix everything.

What if this really is the beginning of the end? All because of one drunk night Momo was unlucky enough to remember. He had drank more than usual, Yuki had said. Apparently it wasn’t enough.

He’s just- so stupid . He should’ve never let it get this far. Of course Yuki was just in the bit- of course it was just a joke. A sappy one, sure, wrapped up in genuine concern and care, but a joke. And Momo’s the idiot who couldn’t see it. He should be used to the way Yuki jokes by now, should be used to his tone, his expression. But he was drunk, and sentimental, and so caught up in how he felt that he let it influence the memory.

The memory is still so clear.

His hand was so gentle holding Momo’s, and his kiss was feather-light. And the way his eyes looked when he said it, almost shut but not quite, open just a sliver so he could make eye contact.

It was just his feelings warping what happened.

So why does it feel so genuine?

He takes another deep breath, and the bite of the air is significantly less pleasant than it had been before. In the time he’s been out walking, it’s gotten colder- slightly darker, too. Sundown.

The once welcoming park suddenly feels too vast, too lonely. He starts the walk back to his apartment- maybe he can take a night to himself, have a few drinks, give himself a hangover so bad that he’ll actually need to call in sick tomorrow. It’s a childish plan, but it’s the only thing that sounds appealing at the moment.

By the time he makes it to his complex, it’s nearing night. The drinks sound more and more appealing with each step up the stairs, which makes him realize how much his legs are starting to ache- how long was he walking for? Their shoot was in the afternoon, but he hadn’t checked the time when he left.

Maybe he should just ditch the drinks entirely and go to sleep. Except then, the hangover plan is useless. And, sure- he could just fake it. But lying about being sick just to avoid Yuki almost feels worse than the prospect of the hangover itself.

It’s the last flight of stairs, and he’s so tired. He’s so ready to just get inside, pour himself a glass of wine, and knock out. Forget about everything, forget about his mistake, his feelings, his stupid, dumb hopes, and most importantly-

-Yuki.

Yuki, who’s sitting against Momo’s front door. Yuki, who’s right here, in front of him. Yuki, who-

Yuki’s head lolls to the side lazily at the sound of Momo’s footsteps, and as soon as his eyes land on him, he freezes. “...Momo,” Yuki breathes, pushing himself into a straighter sitting position.

“What-” His voice catches. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk.”

“Well, I don’t.” He walks over to the door swiftly, stepping carefully around Yuki’s legs. “Move.”

Yuki frowns up at him. “No.”

“Yuki, please-”

“I wanted to talk,” he repeats stubbornly. “I’ve been waiting for hours. You owe me that much.”

Momo sighs, frustration welling up in his chest. “I didn’t ask you to-” He stops. “You’ve- how long?”

“Hours.” He crosses one of his legs elegantly over the other, then folds his hands on his knee. “Let me in, and we can talk.”

“Is this an ultimatum or something?” he asks, nudging Yuki’s legs with his foot. “Yuki, c’mon. I really don’t wanna do this tonight. Please, just let me go.”

Something in that request makes Yuki set his jaw, and if possible, he settles further into his seated position. It becomes painfully obvious that no matter what Momo says, Yuki will not let him go through without bringing him in too.

“Fine,” Momo announces, “then I guess we’re both stuck out here.” He sits down in front of Yuki, leaning back against the railing and propping up his knees.

“Fine by me,” Yuki says with a shrug.

“Good.”

“Alright.”

“ Okay .”

They both don’t say anything after that. What’s he supposed to say? If he tries opening his door, Yuki will just follow him inside, and there’s no way in hell he’d force him out physically. But for as stubborn as Momo is, he knows Yuki is moreso- that’s why it’s usually him who ends up apologizing first if they have a fight.

He scuffs his shoe on the ground. Yuki combs a few strands of his hair. They both don’t say anything.

Then, finally, Yuki makes a sound- a small laugh, barely a puff of air, but a laugh nonetheless.

“What,” Momo asks, but Yuki only laughs again. “What is it?”

He shakes his head, smiling. “Nothing,” he says, “it’s just- this reminds me of when you kept coming to my door and asking to partner up with you.” His eyes slide closed, and he leans his head against the door gently. “You came every day.”

When Re:vale first fell apart. When Yuki lost Banri.

When Momo first started to fall for him.

“Have I ever told you how much that meant to me?” Yuki asks, still smiling softly.

Momo swallows - it feels more like choking. “You have,” he responds.

“Can I tell you again?”

Momo shrugs. Can he handle hearing it again?

But Yuki takes the ambivalence as permission, and he says, “You saved my life, doing that. I don’t know where I’d be without you.” It hurts. Why does it have to hurt so much? “You know I love you, right?”

“Yuki,” he pleads, “please. Don’t do this.” His hands are trembling where they lay. “Why are you doing this?”

Yuki doesn’t respond. The best Momo can guess is that it’s a misguided attempt to make him feel better, a way of saying, I love you, but I don’t feel the same , something of that sort. The fact that Yuki came to him to talk at all actually does make him feel better- but this? All it does is remind Momo how much he loves him, and how much Yuki doesn’t.

The sound of Yuki clearing his throat breaks the silence. “When we moved in together, I didn’t know what to expect,” he says. He clasps his fingers together tightly. “You were a fan, and then you were a borderline stalker, and now you were my roommate. My partner.”

“Sorry,” Momo whispers. “About- the stalking.”

“That was a joke.” Yuki opens his eyes and gazes up, where the moon is probably hanging behind Momo’s head. “I wasn’t sure what to make of you. You were persistent, and kind, and so, so bright. You were everything I wasn’t.”

Indignation swells within him. “You’re kind,” he objects.

Another laugh. “I didn’t believe I was.”

“Well, you are.”

“Thank you.” Yuki’s looking at him now, silver eyes gazing softly into his. “I was never able to understand, during that first year, how I managed to get someone like you to take pity on someone like me.”

It wasn’t pity. It had never been pity. But Momo stays silent, willing for his throat not not close up, for his eyes not to burn. “Why are you doing this?” he asks again.

“That first year, I was confused,” Yuki continues, as if he hadn’t heard him. “Confused about losing Ban, about meeting you, about everything. I had never felt so out of my depth before.”

It’s all too much.

“Our second year together, I started to understand, and realize how important you were to me.”

Too much.

“Momo…”

It hurts too much. Momo loves him, and it hurts too much.

“Around our third year, I understood fully,” Yuki murmurs. “I finally realized what you meant to me, and how I felt about you.” He hesitates. His hands are restless, pointer fingers tapping against his knuckles. Silver eyes lower to the ground, and he exhales. “I hadn’t thought we’d gotten together until the fourth year, though.”

What?

Momo snaps his head up, suddenly at full attention. “The bit was hard, when I thought we were just friends,” Yuki says, “but when I thought we were dating, it had never been easier. Embarrassing, certainly, but so easy now that I wasn’t hiding anything.”

“...Yuki- wait-”

“We did the bit so often, I figured that’s why you were more shy about what you said outside of it.” He leans his cheek against the door, still not looking at Momo. “I hadn’t expected you to be shy about kissing me, but I was too embarrassed to make the first move. And, you know, we had never officially said anything, I just thought I had noticed…” He pauses, bringing a hand to his mouth in thought. “...I thought I had noticed a shift in our dynamic.”

“Yuki,” Momo says again. He feels like a broken record. “Yuki, what are you saying? What’s going on?”

Yuki finally turns to look at him. “...I realized I was wrong when you couldn’t sing,” he says quietly. “If we had been together, surely you would have known I’d never replace you.”

“I don’t understand.” He can’t understand. The information he’s being given is incompatible with everything he’s known for years. His eyes are so, so hot. “Yuki, I don’t-”

“I was stupid,” he interrupts. “I thought, if you couldn’t see how I felt for all that time, if you still felt that I would leave you, then you must not feel the same.” He goes silent again, then repeats, “I was stupid.”

There’s nothing he can say. He still can’t understand what Yuki’s saying, can’t process what he’s being told. His lip trembles, and he bites down on it hard.

Yuki pulls his legs up in a similar pose to Momo. “Every time I said that I loved you, I was telling the truth,” he says, hiding his face behind his knees. “I must have been far too drunk. I must have- forgot my resolve, maybe. Or I just didn’t care.” His hair covers the sides of his face, but Momo can see the tips of his ears- they’re beginning to flush with a bright red. “I’m so sorry, Momo.”

“You’re-” He’s- he can’t be serious. “What?”

“...I didn’t mean to hurt you like this.”

Momo lurches forward, sitting folded in front of Yuki now. “Yuki,” he urges, “Hold on. Yuki. Are you- telling me what I think you’re telling me? You’re not joking?”

He lifts his head just slightly. His face, much like his ears, is red, but his expression is one of guilt and not embarrassment. “I’m not...joking,” he agrees.

“You,” Momo says, “You’re being serious. You meant it?”

His head goes back down. “I always mean it,” he mumbles.

“Yuki- Yuki, look at me.” He waits, but when Yuki doesn’t raise his head, he reaches behind his legs and lifts his face up for him. His pupils are blown out, making his eyes look nearly black. “Yuki,” he says again. His cheeks are wet. “Yuki, I mean it too. Always.”

“You’re crying,” Yuki says, eerily calm.

Momo laughs wetly. “Yeah, guess I am. Cut me some slack, I’ve had a hard few days! I could barely tell up from down with how confused I was.”

“You’re crying .” This time, he sounds alarmed. He reaches his hands to Momo’s face, using his thumbs to brush away the wet streaks of tears. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

He shakes his head, takes one of Yuki’s hands in his. It’s so warm- mere days without Yuki’s touch, yet he feels as if he could get drunk on it. “You didn’t,” he sniffs. “I’m just- really happy, I think. And probably really overwhelmed.”

“I’m sorry,” Yuki says again. He drops his head down to his chest, hiding his face with his bangs instead of his knees. “I wish I could remember.”

“Hey, no,” Momo says, “that’s not your fault, we were both-”

“No, Momo,” Yuki insists. “If I had remembered, I could’ve stopped all this.”

His hands are still on Momo’s face, so Momo presses the one he’s holding closer. “I’m the one who didn’t say anything, I-”

“You said it sounded like it didn’t mean anything.”

“...What?”

“In the studio,” Yuki explains. “You said that it sounded like it meant nothing.”

Momo winces. He had said that, hadn’t he? “That’s not what I…”

“You need to know- Momo, you need to know.” He lifts his head up, eyes meeting Momo’s with something between determination and desperation. “I don’t remember, but I know that wasn’t true. It meant so much. Every time, it means so much.”

“Are you drunk again?”

“When would I have gotten drinks?” Yuki huffs. “I came here as soon as you left.”

For a moment, all Momo can do is stare at him. “Since I left ?” he says, incredulous.

Yuki’s face flushes all at once. “...I told you before,” he mutters, “I’ve been here for hours.”

“Shit- Yuki ,” Momo stands up with a start, opening his door before Yuki can say anything. Yuki, suddenly left without support, immediately falls backwards. “Damn it- sorry!”

“Ow,” he says flatly, looking up at Momo from the ground.

“Sorry,” Momo repeats. “It’s just- I hadn’t realized you meant that long, you must be freezing.”

He offers Yuki a hand, which he takes- gingerly at first, then firm when Momo doesn’t flinch away. When he pulls him up, instead of letting him go, he tugs him into a tight hug.

“Uh- Momo,” Yuki says, hands hanging limply at his sides. “What are you doing?”

“Warming you up,” he says into Yuki’s shoulder. “Is it working?”

He takes Yuki’s silence as a yes.

When he finally decides to let go of Yuki- though not before promising himself at least one more hug before the night’s over- he pulls him inside and borderline orders him to sit on the couch and wait for a hot drink.

“You know I’m better at making them than you, though,” Yuki says from the living room.

“Maybe I feel bad!” Momo calls back. “Maybe I want to do something nice and make hot chocolate for my darling after he decided to do something so dumb.”

He hears Yuki hum thoughtfully. “You were also gone all that time,” he says, “and I know you didn’t take the car. Where were you?”

Momo’s glad his back is turned, otherwise Yuki would definitely see how red his face is. “Out,” he says shortly.

“Out…?”

“Just- out, you know.”

He takes a quick glance over his shoulder, only to see Yuki smiling at him knowingly. “Were you also outside?” he asks, then says, “If you were just walking around in the cold, perhaps I’m not the only dumb one.”

“I- I wasn’t!”

In response to that, he hears Yuki walk up to the counter. “Hey- you’re supposed to be sitting,” he says, turning to face him. “You need to warm-”

Yuki reaches out and runs a hand through his hair, shutting him up immediately. God, he missed this- how had he gone so long without it?

He leans into the hand, but Yuki pulls away, and too late does Momo see the mischievous glint in his eyes. Pinched between his fingers is a rather large leaf. Shit. “Just out,” he echoes smugly.

“You- you-” Momo stutters, “that was just- cruel! Unfair!”

“Poor Momo,” Yuki soothes patronizingly. “Out on his feet all day, in the cold.”

Momo pointedly turns his attention to the hot chocolates. “I’m not listening to you anymore,” he says loudly.

Yuki laughs behind him, that sweet, soft laugh that he has. “Don’t worry, Momo,” he says, and while he still sounds as if he’s joking, there’s a touch of sincerity now as well. “Sit with me on the couch, I’ll keep you warm.”

The drinks now finished, Momo turns around slowly, pretending to consider. “I could ,” he begins, “Or I could just leave you out here and go to sleep…”

Yuki pouts. “You’d leave me out here all alone?”

“Mmm…” Momo taps at his chin, then hands Yuki his drink. “Nah,” he says, “I’ve been Yuki-deprived for too long. Besides, the bed’s far away, and you’re right here.”

“Who’s fault is it, exactly, that you’ve been deprived?”

“I was going through a crisis,” Momo sighs, following Yuki back to the couch. “How was I supposed to know you- well, you know?”

Yuki opens his mouth as if to object, then closes it. “I want to say it was obvious, but…” He takes a sip of his hot chocolate. “In our situation...maybe not.”

“It’s hard to separate the bit from reality sometimes,” Momo sighs. “The kissing my hand was new, though. Really threw me.”

The tips of Yuki’s ears tinge red as he takes another slow sip. “...I don’t know how I was so bold,” he says quietly.

“Aw, is Yuki embarrassed?” Momo croons, leaning heavily into his side. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t that bold. If you had kissed me, maybe then I would’ve gotten it sooner!”

He laughs for a moment before registering Yuki’s silence, then takes a moment more to let his brain catch up with what he had said.

“Um!” Momo starts, scrambling up from Yuki’s shoulder. “Not that- I mean, that probably would’ve- been really confusing and all, so-”

Yuki’s face is a violent red. “...Probably,” he says into his cup. His eyes are staunchly avoiding Momo’s.

“Definitely,” Momo agrees, nodding his head just a touch too fast. “Good- good thing you didn’t. Very confusing.”

Somehow, it’s only dawned on him just now the enormity of what’s happened tonight. Yuki confessed to him. Not only that- he confessed that he’d, for a period of time, already thought they were dating. And he didn’t say something like interested , or really like , or anything of that sort. He said love . He said that he loved Momo. Loves him now, still.

It’s not that Momo doesn’t feel the same- that’s how the whole problem started. He just- every time he tried to think of a situation where, realistically, Yuki returned his feelings, he only let himself imagine a casual, new interest, something he’d be willing to explore. Not this . He never expected feelings of an equal measure.

“...Yuki,” he says hesitantly.

Yuki blinks a few times- regaining his composure, probably. “Yes?”

“You said before that you had thought we were...dating, right?”

“I- did,” he mumbles under his breath.

Momo folds his hands together tightly in his lap. “So,” he continues, “I mean, if you thought that then, would you…” He can feel his hands beginning to tremble, and he squeezes them even tighter. “Would you want to- do that for real?”

Yuki’s cup lands on the table with a loud clink that makes Momo jump.

“Um- Yuki?”

He’s staring at Momo, still flushed ridiculously red, eyebrows raised as far as they can go. “...Momo.”

“Y-yeah?”

“I…” Yuki trails off. His gaze is unreadable. “I don’t know what to say.”

Momo’s heart sinks. “Oh,” he says, trying to push down his disappointment, “yeah, I- should’ve thought about it, that was probably too-”

“No,” Yuki clarifies, “I don’t know what to say, because I’ve never had to make something official before.”

“You- what?”

He turns away, but not fast enough to cover up the fact that he’s somehow getting even more red. “...I don’t know what to do now,” he mutters. “We hadn’t talked about it before, that’s why I…”

“Yuki,” Momo sighs, nerves evaporating into fondness, “this is the easy part. You just say yes or no.”

“...Oh.”

Momo watches as Yuki turns back to him slowly, avoiding eye contact but not hiding his endearingly flushed face. “So?” he asks. “You don’t need to answer now, if you aren’t sure, but-”

“Yes,” Yuki says quickly.

“You- yes?”

“Yes,” he repeats. “I want to.”

His face must be a mess, he’s sure, but he can’t help it. Yuki- wants this. He wants to be with him. It’s not a dream, or a bit, or a drunken mishap. It’s real. It’s real .

It takes Momo a moment to realize Yuki’s eyes are on him again, and he waits. When Yuki doesn’t say anything, he tilts his head questioningly. “Yuki?” he prompts.

His eyes go wide, and his gaze seems to snap into focus. “Sorry?” Yuki says. “I wasn’t listening, I…”

“I didn’t say anything,” Momo responds, then, “You…?”

“I got- distracted.”

“By what?”

No reply.

“Yu-uki…” He shifts closer, nudges his shoulder into him. “Distracted by what?”

“...Nothing.”

“Don’t lie, Yuki,” Momo teases. “Just because you’re a hunk doesn’t mean you get to lie.”

Yuki’s eyebrows furrow, and he taps his fingers together. “I just...wanted to ask- nevermind.”

“You’re testing my patience, Yuki,” Momo groans. He puts one of his hands over Yuki’s fidgeting ones, and squeezes lightly. “What is it?”

“It’s...embarrassing.”

“This whole night has been embarrassing.” Yuki still looks unconvinced. “Come on, Yuki. Please?”

Yuki opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again. “I wanted,” he says, “I wanted to ask…”

Red face. Wandering eyes. Biting his lip, just slightly.

Momo smiles, feeling suddenly giddy. “You’re too cute, darling,” he says, then, “Yes, you can.”

Relief flashes across Yuki’s face at the realization that Momo understood him.

Despite Yuki being the one to ask, it’s Momo who cups his face in his hands and guides him close gently. The kiss is tentative- lighter than the one on his hand had been, even- but it’s steady. Yuki may be nervous, but he’s not pulling away.

It only takes a moment for Yuki to relax, for Momo to feel his hands- one makes its way to his hip, the other, his hair. This - if he had been starved before, he’s not sure how he’ll last now that he’s had a taste of this. His fingers card through his hair where his hand hold the back of his head, and the hand on his hip him lightly with his thumb.

Momo pulls back first, relishing in the way Yuki’s lips follow. “That’s one way to warm up,” he grins.

Yuki nods, then says, “I’m making you a hot water bottle.” Before Momo can ask what that means, he finds himself being pulled into Yuki’s chest, nearly sitting on his lap.

“What happened to being embarrassed?” he asks. “You were barely able to ask for a kiss, where’d this come from?” He’s hardly complaining. Two hugs, plus a kiss. Far more than he had expected of the night.

Yuki only hums as a response, resting his chin on Momo’s head. “You’re warm,” he says simply.

“Thanks to you,” Momo says. “Hey, Yuki?”

“Mm.”

“Is it too fast if I say I love you?”

“...No.”

“Good,” he says, pressing another kiss into Yuki’s collarbone. “Because I’m saying it. I love you.”

Yuki breathes in deeply, causing Momo to rise and fall with his chest. “...I love you too,” he murmurs. “And I mean it.”

“I mean it, too. I love you.”

“You already said that.”

“Say it again for me?”

“...I love you.”

They fall asleep like that- at least, Momo does first. He figures Yuki didn’t have the heart to wake him once he passed out, and ended up staying there. The mechanics of how they fell asleep don’t matter- what matters is when Momo wakes up next morning, sunlight filtering through his window, seeing Yuki asleep under him.

Yuki’s not a morning person, Momo knows, so he takes the chance to revel in the way the sunbeams turn his hair gold, the slight part of his lips, and his arm a dead weight on Momo’s back.

There’s been many times where he’s woken up with Yuki, of course, so in practice it isn’t that different. But to Momo, it’s an entire world away from what it was before.

Fuck, he loves him. He loves Yuki.

And Yuki...

Yuki loves him too.