Work Text:
Mikoto is rudely awakened by the rattling of his door knob.
A glance to the glowing numbers of his alarm clock tells him that he’s slept for two hours, and can sleep for another three before he has to wake up and get ready to leave for work.
He sighs. Honestly, the most alarming part about this might be that Mikoto no longer startles when he hears someone trying to force his door open in the middle of the night.
He lies still in bed for another moment, unwilling to leave the warm safety of his blankets. The insulation in the corporate dorms is pretty bad, as he’s found out the hard way during these colder winter nights. To make matters worse, the heater hasn’t been working well recently, and Mikoto’s been too busy to send it for repairs.
The perpetrator starts to bang on his door and he hears his name being called.
“Mikoto! Heeey, Mikoto! Are you sleeping?”
A sleeping person wouldn’t answer, he thinks, gritting his teeth. And any sleeping person would have been woken by the din Tatsuru’s making.
“It’s cold out here!” The rattling becomes more insistent.
Mikoto briefly considers putting on noise cancellation earphones and going back to sleep.
If anyone deserves to freeze outside in the snow, it must be Miyazumi Tatsuru. Mikoto’s also pretty sure that his attempts at breaking and entering are illegal. At this rate, Tatsuru will wake everyone in the corporate dorms.
Hopefully someone will call the police.
Well, realistically speaking, it’s more likely that Takeda-san, the only other person from the badminton team living in the dorms, will let him in before that happens—
His phone buzzes. Mikoto reaches over the nightstand, shivering as goosebumps form along his arm.
New message. From: Takeda Koki
he’s ur partner do somethign abt it
The thumping on his door gets worse. Mikoto is tempted to throw his phone across the room.
He sighs, defeated, flinching when his toes hit the cold floor. The world spins slightly as he stands, testament to the sleep deprivation he’s sure will worsen the moment he gives in.
But when had he ever not given in to Tatsuru?
If it’s any consolation, Mikoto supposes that Tatsuru has done worse. Like when he tried to break up their pair. Or when he nearly got himself fired from the badminton team without letting anyone know.
And the door will probably give way before Tatsuru gives up. The last thing Mikoto needs is to get evicted from the dorms.
(It would also be troublesome if his partner caught a cold.)
The door is flung open the moment Mikoto unlocks it, and Mikoto has to take a step back before it hits his nose. He’s greeted by a blast of cold air and Tatsuru throwing himself over him.
The half melted snow that had piled on Tatsuru’s shoulders falls onto Mikoto as Tatsuru proceeds to squeeze him like a giant hot water bottle and bury his face into his neck.
Mikoto shudders.
It’s like being embraced by an ice block. Tatsuru smells like dried sweat and sake, and that combination is dizzying in all the wrong ways.
“You’re so warm, Mikoto!” Tatsuru exclaims brightly, with more energy than Mikoto could ever muster at four in the morning.
“Because I was under the blankets. Sleeping.” Mikoto mutters as he shoves Tatsuru off. He closes the door before the room can chill further.
Once the door is bolted, he turns to Tatsuru, who is leaning against his desk, cheeks flushed and missing his tie.
“So? Why the hell are you here?” Mikoto says harshly, even know he already knows Tatsuru’s answer.
Tatsuru has the decency to look sheepish as he raises his hands placatingly. “Uh… I forgot that I don’t live here anymore.”
There it is. That lame excuse again.
Now, on another occasion Mikoto might have believed him. Tatsuru is the type of person who gets weirdly attached to his old things and maybe he could have drunkenly wandered here in a fit of nostalgia. Except that this isn’t the first or second time Tatsuru has ‘accidentally’ forgotten his new address and ended up at Mikoto’s doorstep like a lost spirit.
“Manager Miyazumi, it’s been over a month since you moved out!”
Which means that Mikoto’s rest is being disturbed by someone who doesn’t even live in the same building anymore.
“And this is my room—it’s not even your old one!”
“Eh, well. But the last train’s gone, so—”
“Bullshit. You literally live five minutes away from here!”
Tatsuru chuckles nervously and takes a step back. A part of Mikoto wonders what kind of expression he’s wearing now. Then Tatsuru knocks over the stack of files that Mikoto had painstakingly spent the night working on, and—
Mikoto presses his palms into his eyes. The other members of their team often comment that he’s mellowed out. Mikoto’s gotten used to each of Tatsuru’s little idiosyncrasies and he’s (begrudgingly) grown fond of the man, so nowadays Tatsuru’s antics come across as more silly than irritating.
But it’s four a.m and Tatsuru is being ridiculous and Mikoto thinks he will snap if Tatsuru came just because he thought it’d be fun to crash Mikoto’s room in the wee hours of the morning.
“Sorry.” Tatsuru sobers up a little. He looks apologetic as he picks up the fallen sheets of paper and puts them back in the wrong order. “I honestly forgot that your presentation was tomorrow. Uh, I mean today.”
He sounds like he regrets coming. And he should.
But Tatsuru rarely apologizes for bothering him like this. Like he means it and isn’t just brushing him off. And while Mikoto might not admit it, he has noticed that while Tatsuru often pushes his buttons, he is rarely genuinely inconsiderate and never malicious.
So Mikoto pulls the frayed threads of his patience together.
“Take off your coat before you catch a cold.” Mikoto sighs, reaching into his closet to pull out a spare blanket.
At least with this, the worst possible outcome is eliminated.
Tatsuru looks a bit surprised at this, like he wasn’t expecting that Mikoto would let him stay. Mikoto wants to throw his hands in frustration. And maybe grab Tatsuru and shake him until he starts to make sense again.
First, Tatsuru forces his way in. Then he goes and pulls that sort of expression when Mikoto doesn’t kick him out—
Caffeine. Mikoto pulls out two mugs to make coffee. Caffeine first. Anger later.
Tatsuru looks alarmed by the hospitality.
“Are you really Mikoto?” he murmurs under his breath as he takes a steaming mug from Mikoto’s hands.
Mikoto ignores him, choosing instead to blow on the surface of his mug as he sits on the opposite end of the bed. After warming his hands, he takes a sip. It immediately puts him in a better mood.
Not Tatsuru, though. Tatsuru smiles at him when he notices his attention, but it’s not the idiotic kind that gives Mikoto butterflies.
“… What’s wrong?”
Showing concern for one’s partner when they seem troubled is simply part of what it means to play doubles.
“Huh? No, it’s nothing.” Tatsuru draws the blanket more tightly around his shoulders. It’s very unlike him, considering the brazen way he carries himself most of the time.
Mikoto wills his brain to stop feeling like cotton candy. “Seriously, just tell me. Is it your knee?”
“What? No. There’s really no problem.”
“Liar. Is someone trying to fire you again?”
Tatsuru laughs quietly. “No. Really, I’m fine.”
“Listen,” Mikoto says, and he means business. “You have a bad habit of carrying all your problems alone. Just give up and tell me already.”
That line seems oddly familiar. Amidst the fuzziness in his head, an old memory floats to the surface.
Just give up and be my partner already.
Ah, Tatsuru’s really rubbed off on him, hasn’t he?
Tatsuru’s smile widens like he was thinking the same.
“I’m OK,” Tatsuru repeats. “Well, maybe just a little drunk—Waoko’s president wouldn’t let me leave the party.”
“Don’t puke on my bed,” says Mikoto. “Did something happen with Waoko?”
Tatsuru shakes his head.
Then after a long pause, it sort of tumbles out.
“I just— I wanted to see you,” Tatsuru says, staring into his coffee. “I think I missed you. For some reason.”
That’s a strange thing to say, Mikoto thinks. Made stranger by having Tatsuru sit next to him on his bed, wrapped in his spare blankets and sipping instant coffee. Mikoto turns to the window.
It’s a world of white outside, blurry from the falling snow.
“We still see each other everyday.”
Tatsuru shrugs. “It’s not the same.”
“Of course it’s not,” Mikoto says, wondering if they’ve finally gotten to the heart of the issue. “You’ve been promoted, so we don’t work together anymore.”
In fact, they hardly see each other at the company. Tatsuru has his own office now, and he often goes on business trips, representing the company at parties and events. On the other hand, Mikoto is tasked with making the usual rounds and training their new rookie.
It would be a lie if he said that he was indifferent about the empty desk next to his—Tatsuru’s old desk—which used to be piled high with files Tatsuru never bothered to put back until Mikoto complained they were encroaching on his space.
And in the end, Mikoto had always been the one returning the files to their proper shelves anyway.
The conversation lulls, and Mikoto wonders if he should have probed a little more. But Tatsuru, for all his haphazard entrance, seems content to quietly sip at his coffee. The atmosphere is languid, which is rather uncharacteristic for them, and something feels off about not having a video of their next opponent playing on the TV.
The silence is not unwelcome, though.
Around dawn, Tatsuru stands and stretches. When Tatsuru turns to him, it’s the usual Miyazumi Tatsuru he knows, complete with an obnoxious grin and a mouthful of nonsense.
“I’ve got my fill of Mikoto today, so I’ll be able to work hard!”
“Can I get you to stop talking as if I’m some kind of petrol?”
Tatsuru just laughs, and this is— this seems like their normal.
“Are you—” Mikoto hesitates, recognizing that are you feeling better would be a tad presumptuous. It’s not really the right question either.
But Tatsuru catches on to his meaning anyway. His expression softens. “Mhm. Thanks, Mikoto.”
Mikoto looks away. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Just having you around is more than enough,” Tatsuru says lightly, reaching out to tousle his hair. “We probably won’t run into each other later. But do your best, Mikoto.”
Mikoto watches as he slips on his coat, picks up his briefcase. It all happens too quickly.
The door swings shut behind Tatsuru, and suddenly the room feels too empty. A different kind of quiet. The temperature seems to drop a few degrees, the chill coming back in full force. Mikoto rubs his arms idly, and wonders.
Is it possible to miss someone you were just looking at?
Perhaps Tatsuru truly didn’t have any complicated reason for seeking him out. Maybe it’s a natural thing—being together with someone warm just means that the room feels so much colder once they’re gone.
He wonders if this means that Tatsuru is that kind of existence for him.
He wonders if he’s that kind of existence for Tatsuru.
There might be something worth unravelling, here.
But first, he needs to freshen up and get ready. Clear away the coffee cups and ace that presentation. As for the problem with his heater…
Maybe he’ll shamelessly intrude on Tatsuru’s new apartment until it gets fixed.
Knowing Tatsuru, his room could surely use some tidying.