Work Text:
1 taro milk tea with brown sugar boba
1 hot oolong tea with honey
“You’re so boring,” Kakeru said. “Who gets hot tea at a boba place?”
Yuki rolled his eyes. “I’m cold,” he said. “Why do you even care?”
Kakeru sipped his tea absently and chewed on the boba. “I don’t,” he said, mouth still full.
They were sitting on a concrete bench in the park by the boba place. Kakeru rolled the sleeves of his sweater up and stuck his knees and elbows out. He’d taken his shoes off the second they sat down and threw his bag on the ground beside them. He was always doing that: spreading out as quickly and carelessly as possible.
Yuki took the lid off of his paper cup and released the tea’s steam. He blew on the tea gently. Kakeru had goaded him into stopping for drinks on the way home. Student council had run long, and they were both hungry. Kakeru insisted that tea with boba in it was both a drink and a snack.
The park was quiet. Kakeru was sitting close to him, their knees bumping. He’d been getting closer and closer lately. At lunch he lurked around Yuki’s classroom or dragged him down the hall to the vending machines. And Yuki had been letting him. He’d been letting him in, knowing full well that there would be consequences.
“I never drink oolong, because my dad always drank it,” Kakeru said, quietly.
“Oh,” Yuki said. “Do you want me to uh...pour it out or something?”
Kakeru laughed. He doubled over and his hair flopped forward. “Dude, no. Sorry, I just thought of it. I always think of my dad whenever I see oolong. It’s weird,” he said. “I haven’t even seen him in like a year.”
“I haven’t seen my dad in three years,” Yuki said.
“Fuck, man. It’s not a contest,” Kakeru said. He looked over at Yuki with a sideways smile. Maybe Yuki could make him like oolong.
“Here,” Kakeru said, offering his tea. “Try some.”
2 wash and dry cycles
1 package of cigarettes
“You’ve really never done your own laundry, princess? ” Kakeru said. He threw a pair of basketball shorts into the washer.
“Not never , just not often,” Yuki said, avoiding eye contact.
“And you can’t fold anything for shit either,” Kakeru went on. Yuki was thankful that the laundromat was empty at this time of night.
He looked down at the pile of clothes he’d tried to fold. They were already wrinkling and his towels were in a lopsided pile. “What’s wrong with the way I did it?” Yuki said, anyway.
Kakeru rolled his eyes. “Give me that,” he said, gesturing to Yuki’s laundry basket.
Kakeru neatly refolded the towels so they sat in a stack. Then he moved on to Yuki’s shirts and sweaters, tucking each item of clothing back into the basket gently, so they all fit.
“You don’t have to—”
“Relax, I’m basically done.” Kakeru slid the basket back over to Yuki and grinned.
“Thanks,” Yuki said.
“I did my mom’s laundry when she used to work late. She used to yell at me for folding in all sloppy. I guess it’s ingrained now,” he said.
Yuki nodded. Outside the sun was setting, turning the sky into a mess of pinks and oranges. Yuki was tired. He’d had exams all week and Kakeru had only managed to drag him here because he was out of clean clothes. Yuki was wearing one of Kakeru’s t-shirts with a hole in the collar. He was wearing his socks too, a thick neon orange pair that clashed with the gray slippers Machi had gotten him for his birthday. It wasn’t a night for real shoes. It was a night for borrowed clothes and the low rumble of Kakeru’s dry cycle.
“I’m gonna go smoke while it finishes,” Kakeru said. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and ran a hand through his hair. “Do you want to come?”
“Oh, to get some fresh air?” Yuki deadpanned. “What if someone steals our clothes?”
Kakeru laughed. “Yeah, Yun, one of your crazy high school fangirls is going to bust in here and swipe your boxers,” he said.
Yuki sighed, exaggeratedly. “You know you can just say you don’t want to go outside alone.”
“Yeah, and you can just say you think I’m hot when I’m destroying my lungs,” Kakeru said. He winked at him in the over the top flirtatious way he always did, like it was a joke.
Yuki’s jaw tightened. It hadn’t felt like a joke the first time they’d kissed. Kakeru tasted like cigarettes then.
The dryer rumbled.
They hadn’t really talked about that kiss, or the times that Yuki had spent the night. What’s there to talk about? We’re just friends . The voice in the back of Yuki’s head was evasively insistent.
“I can go alone,” Kakeru said, after a beat of silence that went on too long.
“No, I’ll come with you,” Yuki said.
Kakeru blew the smoke away from Yuki, but he could still smell its bitterness. The night air was cold and the sky was bleeding now. A bar across the street pulsed with music and flashing lights. Neither of them spoke, for a moment.
“Did you eat dinner?” Kakeru asked. He took a long drag from his cigarette.
“It’s 11 pm,” Yuki said.
“That’s not an answer to my question,” Kakeru countered. “You also didn’t have any clean clothes or dishes in your apartment. I’m sensing a pattern.”
“Who are you, my mom?” Yuki said.
“No,” Kakeru said, sharply. His voice was rough from the smoke. “Excuse me for trying to keep you from starving.”
Yuki looked at him. His face was flushed from the cold and his cigarette bobbed as his fingers twitched. He had an arm wrapped tightly around his chest and his shoulders were hunched. His earlier confidence seemed to seep out of him. Yuki thought about the towels stacked in his laundry basket. He thought about the borrowed clothes he was wearing. They smelled like Kakeru’s deodorant and laundry soap.
“I haven’t eaten,” Yuki muttered.
Kakeru put out his cigarette. He looked at Yuki, eyebrows furrowed, mouth open slightly as if he was about to say something, and then sighed. He brushed some of Yuki’s hair out of his eyes and tucked it behind his ear.
“We can get something on the way back,” he said.
1 double americano with 3 pumps of hazelnut
1 large unsweetened iced tea
1 blueberry muffin
5 napkins
“Can you text him and ask what he wants?” Machi said. She pulled her wallet out of the pocket of her cardigan and Yuki was about to argue that he’d pay when she shot him a glare that ended the discussion before it began.
“I know what he wants,” Yuki said. Kakeru’s coffee order rarely changed.
Machi raised her eyebrows. She had her hair pulled up in a bun and her bangs were unkempt and falling in her eyes. She was pale and had the dark circles of a person recovering from a night of many tequila shots with her brother and his boyfriend. They’d all slept until noon, but Kakeru had put his pillow over his head and groaned that they should get coffee without him when Machi and Yuki tried to rouse him. He was still sleeping.
“So this whole thing is serious?” she said.
“My relationship is serious because I know he wants a double americano with three pumps of hazelnut?” Yuki said.
“You never knew my coffee order,” Machi said. She scanned the case of baked goods and grabbed a can of sparkling water from the cooler.
“You order something different every time,” he said.
Machi shrugged. “You could’ve read my mind or something,” she said. He laughed and then so did she.
Yuki’s headache was throbbing at his temples. He’d chugged a cup of water and taken some ibuprofen before they left, but it had yet to kick in. He seemed to have fared better than Kakeru, though that was unsurprising. He was notoriously difficult to cut off when he was drunk. Yuki had had to steal a couple of his vodka sodas and replace them with soda sans vodka near the end of the night.
The outing had been Kakeru’s idea. He’d dragged them to a slew of bars, and bought Machi enough shots that she agreed to dance. They made an odd trio: uncoordinated and singing off-key in the crowd. Kakeru moved through crowds with ease, finding them corner tables to sit at and flagging down bartenders to order quickly. He and Machi were loud when they were drunk together. They had boisterous, exaggerated arguments and laughed at each other’s jokes.
Kakeru had leaned on him while Machi called their ride. His breath was warm on Yuki’s neck. He slipped his hands in Yuki’s coat pockets.
“I’m gonna be hungover tomorrow, so you have to take care of me, okay Yun?” Kakeru said.
“Oh do I?” Yuki said.
“It’s a boyfriend requirement,” he said, stumbling over his words. Kakeru pressed his face into Yuki’s neck. “You’re warm,” he said.
“Don’t throw up in the car,” Yuki said. Kakeru had huffed and told Yuki he wasn’t being romantic enough. Yuki steadied him when their ride came, putting his hands on Kakeru’s waist. They’d made it home without incident.
Machi got a mocha with extra espresso and whipped cream. Yuki got the largest iced tea on the menu and a blueberry muffin with a handful of napkins. On the walk back to Yuki’s apartment Machi summarized the newest Mogeta special between sips of her drink. The caffeine and the ibuprofen were kicking in, and the midday sun felt good on Yuki’s face. They stopped in front of his apartment complex. Machi had to head home and change before her class.
“Tell him I’m coming to his place for movie night, hangover be damned,” Machi said.
“I’ll let him know,” Yuki said.
“I had fun last night,” Machi said.
“So did I,” Yuki said.
Kakeru was still asleep, curled up in the middle of Yuki’s mattress. When Yuki sat down Kakeru startled and his head popped up from the blankets. His hair was a mess and he had drool at the corner of his mouth.
“Coffee, muffin, napkins. Don’t get crumbs in my bed,” Yuki said, presenting each item in turn.
“What time is it?” he said. His voice was rough and groggy. He blinked and looked around the room.
“It’s 1. Machi left for class,” he said.
Kakeru picked up his coffee and took a sip. He smiled. “You remembered my order,” he said.
“I did,” he said.
“I love you,” Kakeru said.
“It’s just coffee,” Yuki said.
“I know. I just love you,” Kakeru said.
“I love you too.”
1 deconstructed bed frame
2 sets of sheets
Yuki was glad that Kakeru had too many things, because all of Yuki’s worldly possessions fit in a couple boxes and a suitcase in the trunk of Ayame’s car. He didn’t have any furniture, and had only a pitiful collection of dishes. It took multiple trips to bring all of Kakeru’s belongings to the new apartment. He had multiple boxes of manga and video games and an entire cabinet’s worth of coffee mugs. He had a lumpy couch and second hand kitchen table. He had an armchair that he slid back and forth across the living room floor, trying out different spots for it.
Neither of them had a decent mattress, though, or a bed frame, so they bought them.
“This diagram doesn’t make any sense,” Kakeru said. He had the bed frame in pieces on the floor, and was sitting cross legged before the accompanying instructions.
Yuki leaned in the doorframe. He’d been unpacking for Kakeru, with little regard for organization, and now he was tired.
“I’ll sleep on the floor if we can go to bed in the next hour,” Yuki said.
“You’re an old man,” Kakeru said. None of the bed frame’s pieces were connected and Kakeru’s phone was open to TikTok.
“I don’t think you’re trying,” Yuki said.
“It’s our first night here. I thought we were going to stay up all night,” Kakeru said. He stretched his arms over his head.
“Where are the sheets?” Yuki said.
“I got two sets. Take your pick,” Kakeru said.
“Why did you get two?” Yuki said.
“Please tell me you wash your sheets, Yun,” Kakeru said.
“Yeah, but I lay on the bed sheetless while I’m washing them.”
“Some prince you are, with no spare sheets,” Kakeru said.
When Yuki stopped to think about it, it seemed unbelievable that they were here. Yuki didn’t think another place could feel like home. His first real home had been Tohru’s making. She had made it warm and comforting. He had awkwardly, reluctantly, allowed himself to feel at home. And now he was in Kakeru’s apartment, their apartment . They were making a home together. It was a home with Kakeru’s dented rice cooker and his bong in their shared closet. It was a home where Yuki could make tea in the mornings and do his laundry in the building’s basement. It was a home with a balcony to smoke on and a TV for movie nights. It was a home that would, ostensibly, have a functional bed frame with a mattress atop it.
“You have an hour,” Yuki said. Kakeru laughed.
“Not a problem,” Kakeru said.
They slept with the mattress on the floor. Despite Kakeru’s all-nighter plans, he was out like a light the second Yuki put the sheets on. Yuki laid in the dark for a while, staring up at the ceiling and listening to Kakeru breathe. Kakeru reached out in his sleep and wrapped his arm around Yuki’s waist. Yuki closed his eyes.
He smiled. He was home.