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“Wanna go for a run?”
Nico’s face pokes into Yukihiko’s room, the pleasant rumble of his voice drifting inside lazily.
“No,” Yukihiko replies automatically, and it’s mostly true: he hasn’t felt the urge to run since he pressed that black sash into Nico’s hand in Odawara. But it’s also a lie because– well, because it’s Nico inviting him, and Yukihiko’s been enjoying their occasional laps around the neighborhood since the Ekiden even if he’ll never love running the way Nico does, even if he just goes to spend even more time in the warm comfort of his company.
“... But I suppose some fresh air wouldn’t hurt.”
“I’ll wait for you outside then,” Nico says with a mild, amused expression that makes Yukihiko feel like someone lit a sparkler in his chest, then slips outside.
When Yukihiko steps out into the yard a few minutes later, he freezes. Nico is doing his stretches already, and Yukihiko knows he should just join him, but the sight has him rooted to the spot: instead of his usual tracksuit, Nico is wearing a more fitted black hoodie with dark, carbon gray shorts and black running tights.
It shouldn’t be hotter than the Kansei uniform was on Nico, with how tiny those shorts always looked on him, baring his long legs for everyone to see and leaving almost nothing to the imagination, but somehow, it is. The way the dark tights hug those thick, solid thighs, showing off their enticing contours as Nico stretches a leg back behind him on the ground – it should be illegal. It’s sinful, almost indecent, even though the only skin peeking out is a tiny sliver of Nico’s ankle. There’s a zip on the back too, running halfway up Nico’s calf, and it makes Yukihiko’s eyes stick to it, to the way the muscle works under the fabric there when Nico switches positions.
It’s a chilly February afternoon, but suddenly, Yukihiko is feeling too warm. He clenches his jaw as he goes over to Nico’s side and starts stretching too – hopefully it’ll take his mind off of how much he wants to push Nico back inside and slowly peel those damn tights off him.
Still, as much as Yukihiko would rather avoid the topic, his curiosity gets the better of him after just a few quiet stretches. “So, what’s up with the tights, senpai?”
“They supposedly keep you warmer than track pants, at least these winter ones,” Nico says, and one of his hands comes up to scratch at his neck, suddenly looking uncharacteristically self-conscious as he adds, “something this tight probably isn’t really meant for my body type, but–”
“They’re fine.” They look fucking delectable.
“Yeah?” Nico grins, going back to his quad stretches. “If you think so, then they must be okay.”
There are little crinkles by his eyes when he smiles like this. Yukihiko decides to do the rest of his stretching looking resolutely ahead.
“Good to go?” Nico asks a few minutes later, already jogging in place. “I found a nice route for us.”
He leads them down cozy residential streets at a comfortable pace, among more greenery than Yukihiko would have thought possible at this time of year. He can see why Nico chose this route – Yukihiko usually doesn’t mind the monochrome whites and grays of winter, but all this living color around them feels refreshing, like something Yukihiko’s been craving without ever realizing it. Bushes and evergreens peek out at them from behind fences, and there’s even the occasional plum tree hanging over the narrow paths, the masses of pale flowers arching over them like an awning of thin clouds. It’s peaceful and quiet, and Yukihiko thinks he almost understands how Nico feels about running right now, side by side with him and breathing in the sweet scent of plum blossoms and Nico’s presence.
He feels warmth unfurling in his chest when he glances over to Nico on his left. Easy contentment is beautiful on him, making him even more handsome, more warm, even more like gentle autumn sunlight made human.
It’s been good, seeing Nico enjoy running again. He told Yukihiko he was done with competitive running after the Ekiden, but he still runs a couple times a week just for the simple enjoyment of it. He’s also made it a habit to invite Yukihiko on his laps, and even if he pretends otherwise, Yukihiko couldn’t imagine ever declining the opportunity to see him like this, to share his happiness and bask in him.
The memory of the conversation Yukihiko couldn’t help but listen in on is far away now, the echoes of the somber resignation in Nico’s voice that kept haunting him gone; now, whenever they return home from a run, Nico is tired but satisfied, his hair slightly loosened and made messy by the wind, his smiles easy and warm when they playfully jostle each other by the shoe cupboard.
He seems lighter, more carefree, and he’s all the more magnetic for it.
“What is it?”
He’s also been catching Yukihiko staring at him more and more.
“Nothing. Just wanted to check if your lungs were keeping up.”
“Hmm.” Nico gives him a lopsided smile. “Well, we’re almost there, so I think they’ll be fine.”
“There?”
“I thought you might like this place I heard about.”
Yukihiko can’t keep his curiosity from bleeding into his voice. “What place?”
It only makes Nico smile wider. “You’ll see soon enough.”
He refuses to say any more even as Yukihiko keeps needling him for an answer, taking them down along more quiet streets that finally open up to a mass of green pines unfolding in front of them. Yukihiko recognizes it as the edge of a park, one of the places locals like to go to for hanami in the spring. The park’s signature cherry trees are bare right now, but apparently, it has an abundance of plum trees too, all in full bloom, a shock of white and pink blossoms taking over the green like spilled paint as they run down one of the park’s wide paths.
It’s like a blanket of flowers is stretched out above them, the thin, overflowing branches swaying gently in the wind and filling Yukihiko’s lungs with sweetness.
“It’s pretty nice, right?” Nico asks; his voice is sweet, too. “We’re mostly here for something else, though.”
Yukihiko can tell he’s smiling over at him, can feel the warmth of his gaze on the side of his face. He risks a glance to his left.
There’s a light sheen of sweat on Nico’s temples, but his grin is playful and easy. His hair is starting to fall loose, into soft-looking wisps that bob with each stride, and against the rich strokes of vibrant color, he’s breathtaking.
Yukihiko clears his throat. “Here for what?”
“Soon, soon! So impatient,” Nico teases with a huff of a laugh, and Yukihiko wants to scream – just an exhale shouldn’t be so infuriatingly attractive. Jerk, he thinks at Nico. Absolute asshole. I like you so much.
“Come on, we’re in the home stretch.”
They do a lap around the park’s perimeter: along more curving pathways, up narrower trails surrounded by pines, by the shrine at the edge of the park and another building Yukihiko thinks is a small literary museum. Besides the occasional runner or strolling couple they pass, it’s quiet and still among the dense greenery everywhere, the only sounds coming from the trees and from Nico’s and Yukihiko’s running.
They’re just turning onto a more open plaza when Nico slows down to a comfortable walk and says, “You said you like crepes, right?”
“When did I say that?”
“Idunno, a while back? I think it was King’s birthday, remember we got pretty tipsy?”
That makes sense – Yukihiko likes to keep his sweet tooth under wraps as much as possible. That Nico would remember something so trivial, something so embarrassing, from several months ago–
Heat prickles under Yukihiko’s skin, in the tips of his ears.
“Anyway,” Nico continues, “Haiji isn’t our keeper anymore, so I figured we could indulge.” He gestures to the other side of the plaza, where a handsome little stall sits tucked against a line of plum trees. Now that they’re closer, Yukihiko can smell the rich butter and vanilla of fresh crepes mixing with the floral sweetness of the blossoms, bordering on overpoweringly sweet but still heavenly. It’s almost enough to distract him from how his heart is about ready to explode at the realization that Nico planned this route and this destination for him; it feels almost romantic, even though Yukihiko knows it's nothing but a casual, friendly gesture.
“Which one are you getting?” Nico asks once they’re at the stall looking at the menu, then points to a monstrously cream- and syrup-laden crepe. “You’ve been eyeing this one, right?”
Yukihiko refuses to admit that he’s right. He points to his second choice instead, with custard and lots of fruit – it looks really good too, and much more reasonable.
Nico gives him an amused look that obviously says he can see right through Yukihiko, but he shrugs. “All right.”
The next moment he’s already at the stall’s window and asking for two waters and two crepes, one mango and cream and one custard fruitcake.
“Hey! You don’t–”
“It’s thanks for the other night, okay?”
Yukihiko wants to protest: he didn’t even buy Nico food, just made sure he got something to eat at all – but his embarrassment and the sincere undercurrent to Nico’s easy words stop him.
He says a quiet, “Thank you,” as Nico hands him his crepe.
They take one of the empty benches in the sun, resting back under an open, cloudless sky. It feels good after their run, and Yukihiko soaks up the moment: the crisp bright of the winter sun, the fresh sweetness of his crepe, Nico’s warmth beside him, the scent of him, their comfortable quiet as they eat.
Contentment settles into him and stays snugly in his chest when Nico makes no move to get up after they’ve finished, a gentle ember heating him from the inside out. Even when Nico rests an ankle over his knee and shows off those criminal tights, drawing Yukihiko’s gaze up along his calf to a thick thigh and sending sparks of arousal through him, it’s still comfortable as they continue chatting and people-watching.
They stay for a long time before Nico finally asks, “Ready to head back?”
Yukihiko realizes it’s gotten a little chillier, the park a little emptier. It’s only now that he notices, too, that the sun is almost ready to dip below the horizon, too distracted before by Nico’s laughs, his still-loose hair, how delicate a fallen blossom looked in his big, careful hands as he played with it.
He nods.
Nico’s fingers brush his when he takes his empty bottle to throw away, a tingly sensation blooming in the spot like the coming spring.
It stays with him all the way home.