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Yatora isn’t sure when Koi-chan has become someone who he can run to for comfort. Has it always been that way and he just didn’t notice? Was it a gradual occurrence? Was it triggered by the fact that he had finally found a way to be honest and to communicate his feelings? Well, the fact is that he’s aware of it now, and with the knowledge of its existence comes the alertness of being cautious to not take it for granted.
Alertness of being cautious and actual cautiousness are two different things though.
Sometimes he thinks that he’s too reliant on Koi-chan, that he’s taking too much yet giving so little, that he’s acting like a spoiled prick and a selfish brat, but Koi-chan only shows him a gentle smile and pats his head forgivingly each time he suggests talking about it.
Koi-chan indulges him to be the small boy he wants to be, and with a 19 centimeter or a 7 inch difference in height, Koi-chan can effectively make him feel like one when he holds him inside his sturdy arms against his warm chest. Yatora, always making the best out of it, snuggles into him like a sea star, taking all the possible spaces available to cling onto him, like a commensal organism that would die without warmth from its host.
The man can be doing anything, anything, and if Yatora sees an opportunity, he would stick himself close to him without a second thought—he would be climbing on his back when he’s cooking, reaching for a hand he’s not using while he’s eating, putting his sole flat against his thighs when they’re on the opposite ends of the couch, and Koi-chan simply lets him.
He also lets Yatora talk about stupid things; may it be whatever happeend to him that day, or petty complaints about his university life, or even art jargon. He said he liked listening to him talk, so they would lie on bed together with Koi-chan petting his hair or rubbing circles on his aching lower back due to being hunched over canvases all day while he blabbers on.
Basically, he’s Koi-chan’s domesticated animal who’s greedy for attention when he decides that he wants it. Koi-chan would listen attentively then; he would nod and hum to let Yatora know he’s giving him his full focus. Yatora loves these moments, but what he loves the most about it is the sensation of feeling Koi-chan’s chest rumble from a giggle when Yatora says something funny, so he tries to be humorous all the time. He’s not always successful, but even his failures make Koi-chan chuckle, so he counts those as a win too.
But there are also times when Yatora would feel like absolute shit, and he would need Koi-chan to hold him tight when he’s crying—tight enough in a way that it hurts, but just the way Yatora likes it. Koi-chan would let Yatora be ugly, sobbing all over his shirt and smearing gross snot on his skin. To calm him down, no matter how long it takes, he would start kissing his hands, his wrist, his hair, his forehead, his temples, his eyes, his nose—
He always falls asleep before Koi-chan, and when he wakes up, he would still be enveloped in Koi-chan’s warmth like he was before passing out, but his face would already be wiped clean of tear stains and nasal fluids. Koi-chan is always awake before he is too, and the giant cinnamon roll would be greeting him good morning no matter what time it is.
One day though, Yatora wakes up to an empty bed, the other side already cold to touch. He blinks himself awake, unfamiliar with such a situation without Koi-chan against him when he rouses by then. After a yawn accompanied by a satisfying stretch, he finally notices the sweet smell wafting in the air. In a daze, he stands on his two unsteady bare feet and groggily trods outside of the bedroom, letting his nose lead the way.
What he finds at the end of the fragrant map he followed out of instinct is Koi-chan wearing only blue sweatpants, and a blue apron with an adorable, big brown bear printed at the center (wherever center is in one’s imagination).
Koi-chan greets him good morning with a delighting smile, as it is his priority, then he says he was surprised to see Yatora up.
Yatora quickly fixes his eyes at the wall clock. He squints to read it without the aid of his lenses, and he finds that it’s an early 6 o’clock of a Saturday morning.
He is then asked to sit, and so he does, and it turns out that Koi-chan was already out of bed a little more than three hours ago to make him chocolate chip cookies. He gets served a plate of said cookies (with a pretty brown color from caramelization on them which Yatora is already attempting to color match inside his head), as well as a tall glass of warm milk.
“Here’s your breakfast, baby.” Koi-chan says nonchalantly before pinching Yatora’s puffy cheek, cupping it with his large palm after, and planting a tender kiss on the corner of his eye.
A heavy pause washes over Yatora as Koi-chan walks off to place the dishes in the sink.
And Yatora is burning.
He feels his face heat up, and he doesn’t want to know just how red his face is at that moment. He tries to take a breath, because he apparently forgot for the last five seconds, but then he clumsily chokes on his own tongue. He gasps for air, then he downs half of his milk, gulping the thick, white liquid down his throat. That thought makes him almost cough the drink out of his nose.
There are now blaring sounds from the mental alarms embedded onto the creases of his brain inside his skull, and he hears Koi-chan make a low chuckling sound with it, which, by the way, is not helping his case.
Furthermore, Koi-chan stands close to him again, which is normal between them now, but then he wipes the milk off yatora’s top lip with his thumb, stations it at the center of his lower lip, angles his jaw upwards so he can have a good look at his disoriented blushy face and says, “Yatora, you’re adorable.”
Then he smiles—not a teasing smirk which Yatora had expected—but a satisfied smile, and walks away all cool like it was nothing.
Yatora, on the other hand, is dying.
(But he puts his death on hiatus to snap a photo of the cookies and the half filled glass of milk so he can draw it later, and to stuff himself with it. After that, he proceeds to pass away on the couch while Koi-chan takes a shower for work.)
Monday at school, Yatora looks through his gallery to check for a screenshot about his research on a project, then he sees the picture he took of the cookies. The image right next to it looked like the same thing, but it was his oil painting. He opens it up, and he feels content of how well he incorporated a blue hue to be one of its main components.
He must have been smiling at it like an idiot because Yotasuke’s voice and presence comes in and pops his bubble to say, “What’s with the creepy smile?”
Yatora jumps in surprise, and Yotasuke sees it as an opportunity to stare at his phone screen too. Then he freezes in anticipation of a reaction.
Hell, it was nerve-wracking to have a genius looking at your painting for four whole seconds (he counted) in complete silence. Yatora was about to say something just to provoke a response from Yotasuke, but then he notices a faint color in his cheeks before he reluctantly comments, “It’s warm.”
Yatora brightens and perks up, the pride he’s feeling is not only for his drawing getting complimented, but for everything about Koi-chan as a whole.
Excitedly, with his heart thumping inside his chest, Yatora spreads his lips wide into a cheerful smile and chirps, “It’s so warm, right? ♡”
bonus:
yotasuke: *accidentally swipes to the next photo and finds a sketch of milk stained lips, a thumb wiping the milk off, and a tongue licking the thumb*
yotasuke: *disgusted and appalled* oh… *facial expression crumples* this is…
yatora: *panics, and hastily snatches his phone away*