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Hakase does not think he will ever get used to those squinty eyes— not any more than he’s so far managed to, anyway. Something is very unsettling about them, even if they look kind, and even if they give the face of the man wearing them a sleepy and gentle sort of quality. He is, however, absolutely certain he is singular in this opinion as he stares at Minakami across from him. Far from reassuring, somehow that only serves to make it worse.
Tamamori talks to him in a bold way much different than the way he talks to Hakase. They are in their own little realm; they bounce back and forth in a way that makes the words technically understandable, but they leave an outsider with the sense that truly, they’ve missed something in the interaction. He refers to his squinty eyes as something he is so used to it might even hurt, talks jokingly about how he can tell when the man blinks when such a thing is simply completely lost on Hakase and, somehow, that makes him even more nervous. Why was he now having to think about Minakami’s blinking? That was such a horrible thing to be conscious of when trying to have tea with the man.
His other frames of reference that would definitely cause him less grief weren’t much better either. Kawase was Kawase, and Hanazawa got flustered around him— and not even in the way Hakase did. Hanazawa was trying hard to rekindle a small bond that had certainly been there, and had simply atrophied while put on pause, while Hakase was trying to not collapse while building a bridge he had most definitely tried burning with way more kerosene than strictly necessary. There’s a world of difference between trying to indulge in your love of books with someone much more into it than you are, and trying to apologize for a months-long deep (maybe petty near the end there) resentment.
This was the worst. Why couldn’t there just be a set manual for how to deal with these things? How awful.
“Is something wrong, Hikawa-san?” Minakami offered, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“Ah… uh. No! Sorry if I was being weird.” He attempted his best polite smile. It was not convincing in the least.
“It’s not weird at all, just…” Minakami gestured at his hand. “You had a gloomy expression on your face, too.”
It was then when Hakase was made painfully aware that he had been shaking his wrist in such a way where it was almost as though he was trying to get it to come off clean from its socket— the same way he did when he was very excited or very anxious or simply very idle. It wasn’t like he had been fully unaware before, but it had been shoved to such a backwards space in his mind that he didn’t have to worry about it, and now that it was uncomfortably brought to the front he felt he had to stop.
Stopping felt bad, though. He switched to bouncing his leg uncertainly, but that didn’t feel good either. He tried flicking his wrist again, but that proved unpleasant now that it had been stopped. On top of that, it baffled him that the other man had even been able to tell he was doing anything at all. Surely that wasn’t possible with his eyes mostly closed— no matter how naturally squinty they supposedly are, and that was equal parts fascinating as it was frustrating for him. It simply wasn’t helping at all. He groaned, and muttered a ‘sorry’ again.
“It’s nothing to feel sorry about.” Minakami smiled, and that was just too reassuring of him. Who gave him the right?!
“Sorry.” He ended up apologizing again instinctually. “I haven’t been a very good host, have I? I’ve just been nothing but anxious all evening.”
Between the previous spilled tea, the tripping up the stairs, and the stress nosebleed, anxious was probably a mild way of putting it. His only solace had been that Minakami hadn’t seemed to actually mind any of it— whether that be because his head was somewhere else entirely for things that weren’t direct conversation, or whether it was because he was just able to look that kind, he wasn’t about to start guessing at it.
Minakami put a hand up to his chest in gesture. “It’s fine, I’ve been anxious myself as well.” He had probably been referring to his heartbeat— not that he could reach over and feel it, anyway.
“I can’t blame you, haha… I haven’t exactly been the kindest in interacting, I don’t think.” It wasn’t an apology and it wasn’t meant as one. Hakase didn’t actually feel all that bad about it, but it wasn’t like he was going to outwardly admit that anytime soon.
“Mn.” Minakami nodded in agreement. He didn’t add anything afterwards.
That was a little awkward. “Uhm… Ah. How have you and Kawase-kun been?”
“We’ve been well.” Minakami hummed. “Actually, we may have to tell the madam soon.”
“Hm?”
“Has Tamamori never spoken of her?”
“No, uh. He has.” He had completely neglected to actually, but for the purposes of conversation, Hakase knew anyway.
“Well, I hope he hasn’t given you a bad impression.” He sighed. “It’s not like I think she’ll be bigoted or anything… I’m sure she’ll be fine with it. It’s just nervousness— what if she turns out to be a meddler?”
“You can always just not tell her.” Hakase suggested.
“True enough, but there’s only so many times you can sleep over at your friend’s house before things get questionable.”
“Is that so?”
“I mean— you and Tamamori ended up almost married, right?” Minakami said, and Hakase felt himself grow red up to the tips of his ears before he waved himself off and continued speaking. “Though, it’s not the same situation there at all. Living together made you two realize your feelings— this is just more of me and Kawase’s existing relationship being visible.”
Hakase hummed lightly. “If you ask me, it’s nice to be able to tell the person who is taking care of you about your beloved. If the worst thing that comes from it is some pestering, it can’t be something bad.”
“You’re right, it’s not bad. It’s… it’s something I shouldn’t agonize about.”
He nodded. “Have you ever trusted her with anything else?”
Minakami tilted his head slightly, as if to avert his gaze. “Well, not directly. It was one thing.”
“Did she meddle?”
“She meddled.” Minakami nodded back. “Only slightly. I got a book to borrow out of the exchange.”
“That’s something valuable to gain— I take it that you liked it.”
“I did. Two Virgins in the Attic, it was a good read.”
“It is a very good book, isn’t it?” Hakase agreed.
After Minakami made a small affirmative noise in response, it left them in somewhat of a comfortable silence. Or… comfortable, if you ignored the gnawing sense that something was going unsaid— that something was being danced around in an elaborate waltz. It made the more profound silence tucked beneath it more noticeable, the kind of stillness that was a painful reminder of how empty the rest of the mansion was. It was only him— only him, and recently Tamamori, and in front of him right now it was Minakami, and they were silent. They were waltzing, careful and practiced and polite steps; so as to not anger, so as to not provoke, so as to not touch subjects that are too close to that knot tied at just about the center of everything. Awkward when unacknowledged— but if it had the possibility of being painful when spoken, then the awkwardness was worth bearing, wasn’t it?
Hakase put his foot down and stopped both of them.
“You used to like Tamamori-kun, right?” His voice carried almost as a whisper, but the words weren’t meek and neither was their tone.
Minakami’s eyes opened to stare at him, wide and surprised. His eyelids had given way to eyes that suited him, everything down to his irises looked somewhat soft in intention, though they threatened to sharpen just as naturally. Hakase thought they were lovely, in a way.
“Or… maybe you still do, somewhat. I wouldn’t know anything about that.” He continued, and when he kept talking after, his own words surprised him as well. “I-I mean… it shouldn’t matter to me anymore, really. You said it yourself— I’m his wife, just a little. You might end up Kawase-kun’s husband. What kind of a disservice would I be doing Tamamori-kun by sitting here and pretending that him having been loved by someone else is a bad thing? It’s— it’s nice. He deserves that love, I think.”
Minakami looked mildly discomforted, though it didn’t last. His gaze shifted once, and with a strange sort of finality, he didn’t look back at his host. “He does, doesn’t he?”
“Mhm.”
“Say though, Hikawa-san… you’re still upset with me, aren’t you?” He asked.
Hakase brought a hand up to his eyepatch, pressing down on it gently. “In all honesty? Yes, a little.”
His response got a hearty bit of laughter out of his companion, who stifled it with a hand to his mouth. It was an earnest response. Even when Hakase remembered himself telling Hanazawa that he liked him “fine enough”, it was only enough; feelings that lived like that didn’t die quickly, after all, nor did they die easily. He hoped, however, that that earnestness didn’t lend his earlier words any air of hollowness. They were words he wanted to believe in himself.
“If it’s of any worth, Hikawa-san,” Minakami smiled, “I’m glad.”
Hakase made a confused noise. “You’re glad?”
“I’m glad it’s you. Thank you for taking care of Tamamori, and for making him happy as well. It’s quite nice to see him like that.”
Upon hearing that, Hakase felt something in his chest lock up like a joint would. He smiled back amiably and nodded. “It’s nothing to thank me for, I should be making sure my boyfriend is happy no matter what.”
“A good mindset to have.” Minakami said. “I… ah. I hope it’s not too rude if I just leave after all that— looking at the time, I have to get going.”
“Not rude in the slightest.” Hakase stood up, straightening out his clothes out of habit and looking back at his guest. “I’ll walk you out. It was a pleasure having you over.”
“Mhm, it was a pleasure being here.” Minakami followed soon after.
The walk to the front door wasn’t agonizing, which is to say it was good. No rush, leisurely steps, but also no talking. The house was, indeed, silent again, but no longer in that fakely comfortable way. The heaviness of emotions had come and gone, not fully dealt with, but no longer as looming as they had been previously. It gave time so that they might be dealt with later and at their own pace. Their footsteps were enough to fill in the gaps for now.
The front door opened with ease, and Hakase gave a warm little bow. “I hope the rest of your day treats you well.”
“Likewise.” Minakami told him. “I look forward to seeing you again.”
“Right. Again.” The words sounded more like self-assurance than affirmation. Nothing had been broken.
After that, Minakami gave a wave and he left, off to do whatever he may need to do. Hakase hadn’t asked, and he didn’t particularly care.
If, when he closed the door, he felt that thing in his chest unlock and fell right to his knees with a loud and heavy thud, that was between him and the carpet. Come to think of it, so was the noise that came out of him— something between a shriek and some other completely strangled thing that went on for far too long. Nobody else had to be privy to those things, no one at all.
At least he was proud of himself for keeping that in until his company had left.