Archive of Our Own ^beta

1

Akito has learned more from Toya than he has ever learned from his teachers at school. It’s hard to focus on the lectures when he’s in class and there are people all around him, which is why he prefers learning his math in the quiet of his own home, with Toya. They’d made an agreement at the beginning of the school year: Akito studies, with Toya’s help, for his exams, and Toya buys Akito cheesecake whenever he passes one. Truthfully, even cheesecake couldn’t entice him to spend practice time studying for his stupid exams, but Akito had agreed anyway because it meant Toya could spend more time away from his prison of a house.

And Toya had turned out to be a pretty good tutor in the end. He’s nice, unlike the teachers who frown at his subpar test grades or the third-year tutors in the library who can barely mask their annoyance when he's unable to grasp a certain concept. Toya isn’t amazing at math either, but he’s good, and that’s all Akito needs.

But in a truly horrible turn of events (the turn of events being the development of Akito’s crush on Toya), Akito finds that he can’t even focus on what his tutor is saying. It’s difficult to do so when there are so many better things he could be focusing on. Such as the tutor in question.

They’re sitting at his dinner table, and Toya is trying to explain Akito’s trigonometry review to him to no avail. He’s saying something about angles, but Akito can only think about the way his silver eyes are lit up and the way his voice rises and falls as he speaks and the way his impossibly soft-looking lips curl into a frown as he realizes Akito isn’t listening to him at all. Toya sets the pencil down and tilts his head. “Did you hear anything I said?”

“I—no, not really.”

“What were you thinking about, then?”

You. “Um, practicing,” he lies, trying to ignore how stupid he feels saying it. “You know.”

Toya purses his lips, not entirely convinced. He doesn’t prod, though, just slides his notebook towards Akito. “Here, look. Since you know this angle and the lengths of these two sides, you can find out the rest of the values.” He writes some sort of formula under the triangle he’s drawn and picks up his calculator right as Ena enters the kitchen. “Hi, Ena-san,” says Toya politely, turning to look at her.

“Hi, Toya,” says Ena, covering a yawn with her hand. “Are you teaching him trig?”

“Yes, I am.”

Ena laughs. “Well, good luck with that.” She turns on the faucet as Toya punches some numbers into the calculator. Akito pointedly avoids looking at Toya’s long, slender fingers—pianist’s fingers—pressing the buttons, and instead opts to study the formula on the page, strange symbols and all. Maybe he’ll just give up on trig and study for the next unit’s exam instead. Vivid BAD SQUAD has another event in a few days anyway, and their time would be better spent practicing for it.

“I’ll do this one for you,” says Toya, already writing in the notebook, “and you can do the next one. See, all you do is substitute the numbers in for the letters and do some calculations.” He pauses, then puts down the pencil. “Where is my eraser?”

“Maybe it’s on the ground.” Akito ducks his head under the table, but there’s no eraser to be found. “Actually, it’s not under here either.”

“I must have left it in my bag, then,” says Toya. “Wait a moment, I’ll go get it.”

Both siblings watch as he disappears up the stairs to Akito’s room, and Ena sets down her mug with a scoff. “You have a crush on him.”

“I do not,” Akito retorts. “Where did you get that from? And why are you even here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be in your room making art for—what was it called, Nightcord?”

“Am I not allowed to walk around in my own house?” She narrows his eyes at him. “And it’s pretty obvious from the way you were looking at him. Like he hung all the stars in the sky, or whatever.”

“Don’t say that kind of shit to me. He’s my singing partner.” And my best friend. And my closest confidante. That’s all there is to it, and all there will ever be, he thinks, because it’s the truth. No matter what he feels towards Toya, he’s not going to let those feelings interfere with everything else in his life. Besides, he’s pretty sure Toya doesn’t like him back anyway. Probably.

Ena downs the rest of her drink and wipes her mouth. “That’s what you think. And no one looks at their singing partner like that. Your feelings will catch up to you one day.”

“There are no feelings that could possibly—” Akito begins, but stops as Toya reenters the kitchen, eyebrows raised.

“What were you arguing about?” he asks.

“We were talking about Akiyama,” Akito says before Ena can speak. He turns to look at her, and he can’t help but revel in the delight that shoots through him at the look on his sister’s face.

Ena gasps, affronted. “Keep Mizuki out of your mouth. I’m done here.” She slams her mug down into the sink and stomps out of the kitchen.

Toya’s gaze slides back and forth between Akito and the stairs. “You weren’t actually talking about Akiyama, were you?”

Akito stares at him, and it takes a second for him to open his mouth. “I—well, we were—”

“Never mind,” says Toya. “Let’s get back to your review. As I said before, all you have to do is memorize these formulas for the exam…”

Akito nods along, but his mind wanders back to what Ena had said. He doesn’t truly look at Toya like that, does he? He looks at Toya like a best friend, a person he can’t imagine a life without, and yes, a person he would very much like to kiss, but Akito isn’t head over heels the way Ena thinks he is. He can easily push these feelings to the back of his mind and deal with them when he’s ready.

It’s not a big deal. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

In the meantime, Akito turns his attention to the trig review in front of him. He vaguely remembers Toya talking about formulas and substitution, and so he picks up his pencil and attempts the next problem. He’s not truly processing what Toya is saying, but he must be doing something correctly because Toya smiles at him and pats his shoulder. “You’ll do fine,” he says. “You’ll pass, and you won’t need to do a retake.”

Akito, on the other hand, does not think so, but he keeps that to himself. “Does this mean we’re done with the math review?”

“Yes,” says Toya, closing the notebook. He gathers his things and stands, prompting Akito to do the same. “I have to leave, anyway.”

“You know, you’re welcome to stay over whenever you want,” says Akito as they climb the stairs. “I’m sure Ena likes you more than she likes me.”

Toya gives him a wry smile. “As much as I’d like to do that, my father is going to throw a fit if I’m gone for too long.”

“I’d like to sock him in the face sometime,” Akito says without thinking, and that draws a soft laugh from Toya. He doesn’t reply, just kneels to pack his things, and they walk back down the stairs in silence, something Akito has been learning to get used to nowadays. Silence is what his father gives him on the days he bothers to come home; it settles like a dark cloud over them, putting Akito in a state of unease for as long as his father is there. But silence with Toya is different in some strange way. It is comfortable and it demands nothing, and when their conversations naturally lapse, Akito lets them because he knows the silence won’t be uncomfortable when it’s with Toya. Nothing, he thinks, is uncomfortable around Toya, not anymore.

Akito opens the front door and they step out onto the porch, and he’s just about to say goodbye when Toya’s phone rings. The taller boy fishes it out of his pocket and frowns at the screen. “It’s my father,” he says, and answers the call.

Akito knows it’s rude to stare at someone when they aren’t focused on you, but he does it anyway. It’s extremely difficult to not look at Toya when the fading sunlight illuminates him in a warm shade of gold, softening his normally cold silver eyes. His expression is strained but he’s still so beautiful in the dying light, and Akito wants to give him a kiss right there, partly to wipe the frown off of his face but also because he’s just so goddamn pretty.

But the call ends, and Toya looks back at Akito as the tension leaves his shoulders. He tilts his head, eyebrows raised. “You were staring at me,” says Toya. It’s a simple observation, but it leaves Akito lost for words. There’s really no way he can explain himself out of this without lying.

“Um,” says Akito stupidly, because he can’t bring himself to tell the truth. “There was a fly. In your hair. But it’s gone now.”

Toya narrows his eyes. “But you were looking at—whatever. I have to leave. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See ya, partner,” Akito replies as Toya steps off the porch with a wave, and he watches Toya’s frame grow smaller and smaller until it disappears entirely.

2

Akito doesn’t particularly enjoy going to the arcade. The lights flash too brightly around him, so glaring yet somehow unable to fully illuminate the space, he's not good at nor does he enjoy games the way Toya does, and the people—well. He isn’t the biggest fan of screaming children.

Toya knows this, of course, so on most days he goes, it’s when Akito has work or soccer club or is being dragged by Ena to some new, overpriced coffee shop. But today, apparently, is not most days, and when they stop outside the doors after their detour to a café, Akito turns to look at him. “You seem to think I’m the type to be easily swayed with bribes,” he says dryly, and Toya laughs.

“Did you not enjoy the pancakes I just bought you? If I recall, you remarked multiple times how ‘thick’ and ‘fluffy’ th—”

“Oi, that’s enough,” Akito says over him. “Let’s go in already.”

He follows Toya past the arcade games over to the row of claw machines along the wall. The taller boy walks straight up to the one on the end and turns back towards Akito. “This one’s their newest machine and I wanted to try it out. That’s why I wanted you to come—someone has to hold the plushies. Now,” he says, “which one would you like? I’ll get any of them for you.”

“Um, I don’t know,” says Akito. “Just get one that you think Ena would like.”

“No, this one’s for you,” Toya says, and…does he look embarrassed about it? “Choose one.”

Akito peers through the glass. There’s none he particularly likes, and he’s sure there are more animals buried under the top layer of plushies but he doesn’t feel like trying to look. “Why don’t you choose for me? I trust your taste in stuffed animals.”

Toya obliges, picking up an orange tabby cat from the top of the pile. He hands it to Akito, who examines it. It’s definitely a cat, he thinks, turning it over. It’s cute, he decides, and that’s it.

Akito turns his attention back to Toya, whose brows are furrowed in concentration as he expertly maneuvers the crane. He inches the claw a centimeter to the left and barely a centimeter up then lets it drop, and Toya collects his stuffed animal from the chute looking quite satisfied with his efforts.

“Here, give the cat to me,” says Toya, “and I’ll give you this.” Akito hands the cat over and accepts the plushie Toya gives to him without question. It’s a bunny, and its fur is a nice shade of azure blue. It’s cuter, if not just as cute, as the orange cat that Toya is holding, and wait, don’t they look kind of similar?

He looks at the tabby cat and then back at the rabbit he’s holding and then finally at Toya, who scratches his neck awkwardly. If he really squints, he can make out the faintest dusting of pink along Toya’s cheeks.

“You just got us matching plushies,” Akito accuses him, shaking the rabbit in his face. Imagine what An would think if she saw them right now, stupid blue and orange animals in hand. She would laugh at them for days and call them lovebirds, which Akito wouldn’t be able to stand for reasons he doesn’t want to admit to himself. He can’t possibly exit the arcade with Toya now; he knows people are going to think they’re…

“I looked at the stuffed animals in the machine and they reminded me of you,” says Toya simply. As if matching plushies is so simple.

“Toya,” Akito complains. “You can’t just do that. Everyone is going to think—” He stops before he can say the cursed phrase.

“Everyone is going to think what?”

Akito falls silent. He’s just fucked up in front of Toya, again. And this time, Toya isn’t dropping the subject—he just waits, patiently, for Akito’s nonexistent answer.

It is at this moment that everything gets worse.

“TOYA!” a very annoying and very familiar voice bellows, somewhere to their left. Akito barely has time to get out of the way before Toya is swept up into what looks like the tightest, most uncomfortable hug ever. He returns it, cat plushie and all, and when Tenma Tsukasa finally sets him down, he’s grinning. Akito notes how cute Toya is when his smiles reach his eyes, and then he decides to stop thinking about that.

“Here comes the circus troupe,” he remarks instead, and Toya shoots him a disapproving look before saying, “I didn’t expect to see you here, Tsukasa-senpai.”

“Ah, Nene wanted to try out the puyo-puyo game,” says Tsukasa, motioning to the girl who lingers behind him, hesitant to speak. “So Rui and I—” Tsukasa gestures to him now, and Akito notes that their fourth member is not here— “accompanied her for moral support.”

“I didn’t need any moral support, stupid,” the girl—Nene—mutters. “You guys just invited yourself along.”

“Puyo-puyo?” Toya inquires, raising his eyebrows. “I really enjoy that game.”

“I’m…not that good,” says Nene shyly. “I just wanted to try this machine out.”

“I can play with you, if you’d like,” says Toya, and she smiles in response. Akito watches as they walk over to the machine, leaving him alone with the more annoying half of the circus.

“So,” says Akito disinterestedly. “Where’s the final member of your…group?”

“Emu?” says Rui. “She’s still at school. She has swimming and handball practice today, I think.”

The name doesn’t ring a bell, so Akito decides to exclude this ‘Emu’ from the circus troupe for now. He’s not about to call a complete stranger mean names. “Oh,” he says instead. “That’s cool.”

Rui nods, but doesn’t answer. They lapse into silence, a rarity for both of the second-years, and Akito is about to wander over to the puyo-puyo machine when Tsukasa finally speaks. “So, how’s Toya?” he asks, his tone considerably softer from before. Akito ignores the pang of jealousy that goes through him at the gentleness, the genuine care in Tsukasa’s voice, and looks over at Toya. He’s rolled the sleeves of his denim shirt up to his elbows and is staring intently at the screen, and the sight makes Akito’s heart leap. Toya looks good, to say the least, with exposed forearms and that determined look on his face. And then Akito finds himself noticing everything else: the way his slender fingers curl around the controls, the way his hair falls across his forehead, the way he just…is. The way he speaks and sings and breathes—Akito is enthralled by all of it.

“Shinonome?” says Tsukasa, amused, and Akito looks back towards him. Beside him, Rui clearly stifles a laugh. Akito guesses this is payback for all the times he’d pranked Tsukasa. Whatever. He kind of deserves it anyway.

“Toya is fine,” Akito says, as if he hadn’t just been caught staring at his best friend in a very non-platonic way. “He’s spending less time in his house, if that’s what you’re wonderin' about.”

“Hmm,” says Tsukasa. He doesn't elaborate, and Akito’s just deciding that the last few minutes and their implications will never be mentioned again when Tsukasa continues, “What’s with those matching stuffed animals you have? Are you guys finally dating?”

It takes every ounce of resolve to not book it out of there. “We are not dating!” he bursts out perhaps a bit too loudly, because now Toya and Nene are looking at him and not the game. Akito’s stomach drops as they abandon the machine and walk back to where he stands.

Toya holds the tabby cat to his chest, frowning. “What’s going on?”

In lieu of a reply, Akito grabs Toya’s wrist and sprints out of the arcade.

(“You never run away from anything,” Toya says, a few weeks later. They’re in Akito’s room lying on his bed, Akito’s head on his chest. Toya twines his fingers in his hair. “But you ran away from Tsukasa-senpai and his friends, that day in the arcade.”

Akito doesn’t reply immediately, just puts his hand to his mouth and laughs for a long while. Whether it’s at himself, Toya, or Tsukasa, he doesn’t know. “Now,” he manages to say in between wheezes, “do you understand why I didn’t want us to be seen with those plushies?”)

3

They don’t talk about the arcade after that. Akito, being a master at suppressing his emotions, manages to have normal interactions with Toya the entire week. When he decided he was going to put his feelings for Toya on the back burner, he’d meant it.

Everything is completely normal, so normal that even An doesn’t suspect a thing at practice; it’s as if none of their awkward moments had even happened. But Ena had been right in saying that Akito’s feelings would catch up to him, because what sense of normalcy he’d had completely shatters when Toya asks to sleep over.

It begins like usual: Toya shows up on his doorstep, the light gone from his eyes, and apologizes for intruding again. Akito puts a hand on his shoulder and says he’s never intruding. Toya’s already eaten dinner, so they go upstairs and Akito unrolls the sleeping bag he keeps in his closet just for this purpose. Toya sits at the edge of the bed and Akito joins him, waiting for him to speak.

Toya doesn’t talk much on days like these, just briefly summarizes whatever he and his father had argued about this time. But today he stares at his lap in silence, and Akito can’t help but notice how he looks more dejected than usual.

“What’s happened this time?” Akito asks. “I thought you guys stopped fightin' every day.”

“We—it’s not like that,” Toya mumbles, picking at a loose thread on his jeans. “He still looks stone-faced and we still argue and it still hurts just as much. It happens less frequently now, is all.”

Damn. And Akito had thought they’d actually made up. He remembers singing with Rin and Len and Toya at Crase Café the day after Toya had made amends with his father, and he remembers the way Toya had looked genuinely relaxed for the first time in a while. And then he thinks about how Toya had to return to his house after that, only to get shouted at all over again, and his heart twists in his chest.

“Oh,” says Akito. He doesn’t quite know what to say, so he puts an arm around Toya, who leans into the touch. “I’m…I’m sorry. I genuinely thought…”

Toya gives him a small smile. “At least he’s learned to leave me alone sometimes. Nowadays he only gets confrontational when he’s in a foul mood, or when one of his musician friends asks about me. It’s better than before.”

“No it’s not,” Akito says. “If it was, you wouldn’t be here right now. ‘Better’ doesn’t mean ‘completely alright’, does it?”

“I suppose,” Toya murmurs. He lays his head on Akito’s shoulder, and it takes him a few seconds to remind himself to focus not on how warm and close he is, but on what Toya is saying. “I just falsely assumed he would start treating me like my own person, but I was proven wrong.”

“Damn,” Akito replies. “That really sucks, man. Isn’t there anything else I can do? I mean, this is out of your control now, but maybe the rest of Vivid BAD SQUAD could intervene? Or Ken?” He knows they probably won’t be able to do anything either, but it’s worth a shot.

Toya sighs in response, closing his eyes. “What you’re doing already is enough. I’m not sure I ever properly thanked you, Azusawa, and Shiraishi for everything you’ve done for me. You especially,” he adds, and there’s a strange feeling, not unwelcome, that blooms in Akito’s chest at his words. “I’m not sure if you know this or not, but you saved me too. So thank you.”

“I,” says Akito, once again speechless. How weird. He’s usually the one that speaks for their group, with his perfected customer service voice and all. “Uh, you’re welcome, partner.” I love you too, he almost adds, but the words never make it past his throat and he doesn’t feel like forcing them out. Maybe later—but not now.

Toya laughs quietly to himself, leaning down to rummage through his backpack. “When do you plan on sleeping?”

“I dunno. I was thinking about doing some of my homework tonight.”

“Akito, doing his homework?” Toya quips. It’s a relief to see him smile. “What a rare sight.”

Akito chooses to ignore what he just said. “When do you want to go to bed?”

“I’m kind of tired, so…now, I suppose.” Toya hides a yawn behind his hand, and it occurs to Akito that he must be really tired, what with fighting with his father and then having to walk all the way to his house.

“Alright,” he says. “I won’t stay up too long, then.”

“No, sleep whenever you want,” he says. “I’m just a guest in your house.”

“It’s not really my house, is it?” Akito replies, and that draws a laugh out of Toya. At least he feels better.

~

Akito doesn’t know why he decided to sleep next to Toya tonight.

He didn’t mean to end up here, but Toya must have heard Akito tossing and turning in the sleeping bag, causing a ruckus and effectively keeping him from falling asleep. He’d leaned his head off the bed to look at Akito, and Akito could just make out a frown on his face in the dark. “I know you don’t like being in the sleeping bag. Just come up here, you have a large bed anyway.”

“You’re still awake?”

“Well, I can’t sleep when you’re tossing and turning like that. Just come here,” he’d repeated, so nonchalantly, and Akito realized Toya had probably never watched those romance dramas where the love interests are forced to share one bed. He wouldn’t be acting so casual otherwise. “I’ll move over. You should sleep too.”

“No,” Akito had said. “You deserve the whole bed. And it’s kind of awkward, you know, to...” He trails off, not wanting to finish his sentence.

“Awkward?” Toya repeated, his frown evident in his voice. “You don’t have to make excuses for me. Just come up already.”

And that’s how Akito ended up laying in bed next to Toya. It’s surprisingly normal, unlike in those dramas Ena watched where the couple would be so nervous to sleep in the same bed, but then again, those shows weren’t supposed to be realistic anyway. It simply feels like how doing everything else with Toya feels; there’s no awkwardness or discomfort between them.

Akito thinks about all of this while Toya turns to face him. He doesn’t realize it until Toya has reached out, feeling for his arm. His fingers find Akito’s hand instead, and Akito looks over at him, expectant. “Um,” says Toya. He inhales, and Akito gets the sense that what Toya is about to say is not easy to get out. “I, um, I promised myself I would start relying on you guys more, after you helped me realize how to go about talking with my father. So—” he pauses to take another shaky breath— “I thought I might start with you. You’re the easiest to talk to.”

“Me?” says Akito, and he might have laughed if the atmosphere wasn’t so tense right now. “People don’t usually call me that. So why do you feel that way around me?”

“You…I don’t know. I just feel…safer around you, if that makes sense. And I know you understand me more than others might.”

Safety. Understanding. It takes Akito a moment to realize that Toya is talking about him. He’s not like Kohane or even An; he’s not quite gentle or kind enough to be called anything like this.

But Toya has chosen to confide in him anyway, so there’s that.

Toya clears his throat. “I know you asked why my father still argues with me even though I already talked to him. It’s not that simple,” he says, and Akito’s gaze flicks back to him.

Toya’s relationship with his father runs hot and cold, he says. Some days, Harumichi looks at Toya and sees his child. He asks Toya what he wants for dinner, he inquires as to how Akito is doing, he lingers at Toya’s bedside when he catches a cold. Other times, he looks at Toya and sees only a failed, defective version of himself—a puppet, if you will. Harumichi clicks his tongue at the dust gathering on Toya’s piano, he snaps at Toya to turn off that noise he’s listening to, he yells things so horrible and degrading that Toya wonders why he ever thought his father loved him. Have some class, he shouts, his voice booming through the entire house. That’s not even the worst of what he says. Are you really going to let yourself fraternize with those kinds of people?

“He hurt you,” says Akito. Their fingers brush under the comforter. “Parents aren’t supposed to do that.”

Toya knows that. And yet…he can’t quite bring himself to fully hate his father, for reasons even he doesn’t know. Harumichi wants the best for him, Toya thinks. He’s just mistaken about what “best” even is. Toya has tried, so hard, to understand his father, and yet he’ll never know why his father brings him cut fruit and then admonishes him for skipping violin practice, why he shouts at Toya like he’s just committed a crime and ten minutes later tells him that dinner is ready. The axe forgets but the tree remembers, as they say. It is a never-ending cycle of conditional love and unconditional hatred, one that Toya isn’t sure he’ll ever completely break out of.

None of them speak for a while, and it’s Akito who finally breaks the silence. “Toya,” he says, and at this point, he couldn’t care less about how physically close they are. He pulls him into a tight hug, feeling Toya press his face into his shoulder. He’s not crying but his breaths come shallowly, and so Akito holds him for as long as it takes for his breathing to slow. It takes a few minutes for Toya to fully relax, but he does and Akito releases him so they lay next to each other, arms and legs touching.

“Thank you for listening,” Toya whispers. “I just—”

“You just what?”

“Thank you for caring,” he finishes, so quietly that Akito almost doesn’t catch it.

“Caring,” Akito repeats. Another word that he doesn’t hear very often. He’s honored, really, but it’s still weird to hear Toya assign him traits that he’s not sure he’s worthy of.

“Um, yes,” Toya says, and does he sound a bit embarrassed? “You’re the first person that has ever truly understood me. The first person who could hear me tell you things like that and then not say some dumb recycled shit that makes me feel even worse. I’ve never told this stuff to anyone else, so you’re special, I guess.” He sighs. “You know Shiraishi says I should hate him, and I want it to be that easy. But you understand. I just don’t know what to think…”

“Yeah,” Akito says, thinking first of his father and then of Ena. “Yeah, I know.”

“Thank you again,” says Toya, his voice muffled in the pillow. “I really appreciate…having you in my life.”

It might as well have been a declaration of love (Whether platonic or romantic, Akito doesn’t know). They’re not like An and Kohane, who slather each other in affection; they’re both too reserved for that. So on the rare occasions that Toya voices his feelings about him, Akito knows not to fuck this moment up.

And yet his words manage to come out wrong anyway. It’s not that he’s not listening to what Toya is saying. It’s just that…it’s just that hearing Toya say things like that is so disarming. It leaves him feeling so terribly weak in the knees, as they say.

“Me too,” Akito manages to choke out. It would be a miracle if Toya didn’t notice how embarrassed he is. “I—I like having you around too.”

Toya laughs, turning around so he faces the ceiling. “I feel a bit tired, actually. Good night, Akito.”

“Good night,” he manages to mumble. He’s still reeling from the embarrassment, but even stronger is the feeling of affection that washes over him as he listens to Toya’s breaths even out. It’s strangely peaceful, seeing his partner’s sleeping form next to him, and there’s that strange ache in Akito’s chest again; the one that aches for Toya—not just to talk to him or sing with him, but for something more than that, because only seeing each other at school and practice isn’t enough anymore. He wants…he wants this, whatever it is. He wants the peace that comes with Toya’s presence, he wants the comfort of knowing that Toya will always be there for him and vice versa, of course. He wants, so badly that his chest aches with the feeling.

Akito looks over at his partner. He can just make out his hair, periwinkle on one side and ebony on the other. Akito smiles to himself in the dark.

I love you, he thinks, and this time, he's sure of it.

4

“So when do you guys want to practice next?” An chirps. They’re standing right outside of the live house, and Akito is about to fall asleep. It’s almost midnight anyway.

He’d been sacrificing sleep in order to practice for his solo events while going to school, working, and attending normal group practice with Vivid Bad Squad at the same time, and he’s starting to feel the effects. Perhaps signing up for all those solo performances hadn’t been the best idea, but something in him had told him to do it just to spite Arata Touno. He feels weak, now, but not in an I-am-very-in-love-with-you way like he feels with Toya; instead, it’s in an I-will-collapse-on-the-ground-right-now kind of way. Toya seems to notice him swaying slightly, because he takes Akito’s upper arm in a firm grip.

Neither An nor Kohane notice; Kohane only suggests that they take a day or two off and resume normal practice later. Akito suspects this is because of him and his lack of sleep, but he’s feeling too scatterbrained to talk. Toya, thankfully, speaks for him. “I agree with Azusawa. Let’s not overwork ourselves. We can resume practice on Monday, and none of us will come early or stay late this week.”

“That sounds good, Aoyagi-kun,” says Kohane, nodding her head. The motion makes her pigtails bob up and down, and for some reason, it’s all Akito can manage to focus on at the moment.

“Okay!” An says, taking Kohane’s hand. “My dad is gonna drive Kohane-chan and I home, do you guys need a ride?”

Toya looks at Akito. Akito looks back at him. “No,” says Toya. “We’ll take the subway as usual. Good night, Shiraishi. Good night, Azusawa.”

“Good night,” Akito remembers to say. Toya frowns at him but says nothing, just drags him to the subway station. Akito drifts between sleeping and waking during the ride, and he thinks he lays his head on Toya’s shoulder at one point, but he’s not completely sure until they get to their stop and Toya is gingerly lifting Akito off of him. If he wasn’t so tired, he’d be embarrassed.

Akito thinks he might have stayed half-asleep the entire walk home if they hadn’t had to climb up the stairs to the sidewalk, but the physical exertion is enough to get him fully awake, or at least awake enough to notice their surroundings. At one point, they reach the corner where they’d done a battle and lost to Arata just days before. Toya takes his arm and starts walking even faster, but Akito pulls him back.

“What is it?” Toya asks.

“I just thought of something. Um—“ he scratches his neck— “Sorry for causin' you worry this past week. I guess that wasn’t the most responsible of me.”

Toya tilts his head. “Responsible? Overworking yourself wasn’t the best thing to do, but I understand why you thought you had to. I just wish you hadn’t bottled everything up, and I know that’s what you think you should do, but you’re only hurting yourself in the process.”

Akito blinks at him. “Hurting myself?”

“Yes,” says Toya, taking Akito’s wrist. They resume their walking. “I don’t know where you learned to internalize all of your emotions, but you shouldn't do that. You’re not alone anymore.”

He’s always been aware that he’s a reserved person, but the way Toya says it…is he really that closed off? But come to think of it, he can’t recall a time when he’d shared his true feelings with anyone but Toya. Interesting.

“It was probably my dad,” Akito says finally, and Toya nods in understanding. There’s a special type of bond that arises from a mutual hatred of your parents, and that’s the bond Akito and Toya have the misfortune of having. “He was always more of an artist than a father, after all. But I don’t know how I can just unlearn something that’s been drilled into me all my life.”

“Yes,” says Toya, and he shifts his hand down so that their palms touch. Toya’s hand in his has always comforted him, and this is no different. Akito has never thought of this as a romantic gesture; the touch simply grounds him, calms him down. Hell, Toya’s presence itself is calming—just him being there is enough to relax him. “Might I say something?” Toya adds, a bit reluctantly.

“Yeah, sure.”

Toya laughs, looking away. “It feels strange to be the person saying this to others, but…it’s okay to allow yourself good things, whether they have to do with music or not. You don’t need to earn things you deserve to have unconditionally, if you know what I mean. Like, there’s no need to…prove yourself worthy of me, Shiraishi, and Azusawa. We all chose you ourselves, because we saw what you were capable of.” Toya lets go of Akito’s hand to cup his cheek. His palm is cold, but warmth spreads through Akito anyway. “I—we need you in the group, Akito. I need you.”

Akito stares back up at him in the glow of the streetlight. They’re ridiculously close together, he realizes, close enough that he’s sure Toya can individually count the freckles on his face. And he probably is, the way he’s looking anywhere but at Akito’s eyes. “Toya,” he says, his voice cracking embarrassingly. Whatever. At least they’re both embarrassed now. “Thank you,” he whispers, quieter, and it’s all he can manage to get out. There are a hundred other things lingering on his tongue—I love you, please kiss me, I want to be by your side forever—but the words can’t quite come out, and besides, Akito is content to stay in silence. There’s not much more that needs to be said, anyway, not when Toya is looking at him in a way that conveys more than any words could ever have.

Fuck, he really wants to kiss Toya right now. There’s no one there and Toya is standing so close to him and the moment seems right to do it, and that’s when it occurs to Akito.

Does he even like me back?

The thought is like a punch to his gut. He’d been so preoccupied with how much he liked Toya that he hadn’t even stopped to consider whether Toya even reciprocated his feelings. And Toya probably doesn’t. Even if he’s an irreplaceable part of the group, his qualities as a romantic partner, something he’s had zero experience with, leave much to be desired. And Akito knows he isn’t even the most attractive or nice person at Kamiyama—he’s seen too many cute or kind (or both) people at school, and he’s seen Toya looking at them in a way that he decisively does not look at Akito with. It would honestly be a miracle if Toya felt the same way about him.

He tears his gaze away from Toya and steps away from him. Somehow, their little moment under the streetlight has only served to sour Akito’s mood, and even though Toya really hasn’t done anything wrong, he just doesn’t want to see him right now. Akito grits his teeth. “Let’s—let’s go home. I’m really tired.”

“Yes,” says Toya. “You should sleep.”

Akito doesn’t answer, just waits for Toya to catch up to him. The rest of their walk is silent, but when they reach Akito’s neighborhood, Toya catches his arm before he can walk away.

He looks at Akito, something strange in his gaze. “Back there, under the streetlight,” Toya says with a grimace. He pauses, almost like he’s trying to choose his words carefully. “We—we were standing there, and then you looked troubled all of a sudden. If I…if I did anything wrong, I’m sorry.”

And Akito knows he should tell the truth. He knows it’s not right to keep secrets from the person he trusts the most, but this isn’t like any other secret. This is a secret that involves Toya himself, and he doesn’t know what he’d do if Toya caught wind of it. “It’s nothing,” he lies. “I was just really tired. Haven’t been able to…focus as much.”

Toya’s brows furrow with puzzlement. “You—”

“Good night, Toya,” Akito cuts in. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Good night,” Toya calls after him. “Just—text me. Okay?”

"Okay," Akito mumbles.

+1

Their performances have been getting better, recently, and Akito knows everyone can tell. His heartbeat hammers in his ears, the music ends with a flourish, and the crowd goes absolutely wild—wilder than he’s ever seen before. Akito can only stand there and breathe as An shouts over the noise, her voice booming from the loudspeakers: “We’re Vivid BAD SQUAD, everyone! We’ll be counting on your support!”

The strobe lights dim, and that’s their cue to get backstage. “That was just amazing,” An whisper-shouts as Akito wipes his forehead with his sleeve. “You guys, I don’t think you understand. I’ve never heard any of you sing like that. It was like we were all possessed by, like, a singing demon or something.”

“A singing demon? There’s no such thing,” says Kohane. She’s shed her baseball jacket and is now tying it around her waist. “But everyone did really well. Maybe it was because you guys both got over what was bothering you, and then the energy spread to us.”

“We did,” Toya observes, running a hand through his hair. Akito watches the black and blue strands mix together as they’re pushed off his forehead. The strobe lights from afar illuminate the moisture on his face, and it’s strangely attractive how Toya looks with sweat on his forehead and fire in his eyes, fire that could only come from pure passion and desire. “We should find a way to replicate that for every performance.”

“It was definitely from both of you working together,” Kohane remarks to Akito and Toya. “You guys seemed really in sync during your duet. I’ve never seen that kind of synergy between you before.”

“In sync,” Akito says, more to himself than to them.

“Yeah!” says An. “Kohane’s right. You did everything as we practiced, but there was something different this time. It was amazing.” She looks around for Kohane, who’s thrown her jacket on a nearby chair. “Kohane-chan! Can you come with me to get water?”

An wanders off to find water, tugging Kohane along with her, and that leaves Akito and Toya alone in the dark with too much adrenaline for the both of them to handle. Akito bounces on his toes, unable to stay still. “I didn’t know you could sing like that, dude. Your voice was so powerful on the loudspeakers. I was so shocked I nearly stopped singing.”

Toya shakes his head. He’s still breathing hard, Akito notices. His hair falls into his face and he pushes it back again. “It was you, Akito. I was responding to what you were doing...”

“Stop discrediting yourself. We just finished the best fuckin' performance of our lives,” Akito says. He shoves his hands into his pockets. “You’re the best singer I know who’s my age. You open your mouth and everyone knows it’s Aoyagi Toya singing. It’s like you command the audience when you’re onstage nowadays. You just—fuck, you were made for this.”

“I did everything with you by my side,” Toya murmurs. His pupils are dilated, Akito notices, and wait, when did they get so close? He’s staring into Toya’s eyes. The fire burns brighter than Akito’s ever seen it. “You being there. That’s the only way we—I can do anything like that.”

“Toya,” Akito breathes, and he has a thousand things to say to him, all vying for attention on the tip of his tongue, but the words never make it past his lips because Toya is leaning even closer to him and his fingers are tangling in Akito’s hair and then holy shit they are kissing. There aren’t any sparks or fireworks or anything like that; only Toya’s mouth moving against his own in the dark, and something courses through Akito’s veins then, almost like the rush that comes when they perform but not quite the same. It’s still hot, but it’s not a flame consuming him whole—it’s as if pure light is spreading through him instead, incandescent and glowing and so, so warm.

“Akito,” Toya gasps into his mouth. He pulls away and Akito immediately misses the touch. “I—”

“Don’t say it,” Akito whispers. He tugs Toya’s shirt down for another kiss, this one slightly less urgent than the last, but still just as warm. He might’ve been happy to stand backstage and kiss Toya forever, but the crowd outside roars in applause again and Akito is reminded of where they are. He breaks away, albeit reluctantly, and steps back so they’re standing at a socially acceptable distance. As if they’re just singing partners and not…not…

Akito doesn’t even want to try to dissect what they are right now. His gaze flicks back to Toya’s instead. “You,” he says, breathless. “You have no idea how long I wanted to do that.”

Toya hums as Akito reaches up to push his damp two-toned bangs off his face. “And here I was, thinking the same thing about you.”

“You what,” says Akito, his hand stilling in surprise. “You felt the same way?”

“Well, yes.” Toya grimaces. “I thought I made it clear. But you never caught on, so I had to—”

“It was definitely not clear to me,” Akito protests, and he means to continue, but the door of the live house opens and An and Kohane burst into the room.

“You guys ready to go? Or are you still having your little moment?” says An.

“Go?” says Toya at the same time Akito says, “Moment?”

“Well, of course,” An says, and Akito doesn’t know who she’s speaking to. “We left so you guys could sort out your fucking feelings or whatever. Hopefully the post-show endorphins helped. And—” she stares at Toya and then Akito, and he realizes she’s looking at his kiss-swollen lips, visible even in the dim light— “Looks like you did get everything sorted out after all. Now let’s get back out before we miss the results.”

“What was that about?” Akito asks Toya, and Toya smiles apologetically. Later, on their walk home, he explains that he’d told Kohane about his Akito-shaped predicament a couple weeks ago; the day before they’d gone to the arcade, to be exact. The matching plushies had been her idea, and according to Toya, it had worked. He’d taken it as permission to keep pushing the envelope, which was how they’d ended up in that…disaster at the street corner.

“Sorry,” says Akito. “I was just…having some doubts. I didn’t think—you know. I didn’t think you meant it like that.”

“Hmm,” says Toya, taking Akito’s hand. There’s no need, right now, for him to speak; Toya’s fingers entwining with Akito’s is enough of a response. They'll talk later, on Akito's porch. After that, Toya will lean down and kiss him goodbye and the same warmth will bloom, soft and sweet, from where their lips are pressed together. He’ll remember Toya’s words from before—we chose you, Akito, I need you—and he’ll smile into the kiss and it’ll be the best thing he’s ever felt in his sixteen years on earth.

But for now, this is enough. Holding Toya’s hand, walking home under the streetlights, it’s everything Akito could have asked for and more. He’s spent most of his life denying himself these things, telling himself that he had to work for them, and he supposes he’s not fully shed that belief yet. But now…he gets the feeling that even if he tried to refuse Toya, he’d throw himself into Akito’s arms anyway, and Akito only loves him more for it.

Toya tugs gently at his fingers, prompting Akito to look at him. “You slowed down,” he says, and even though his tone bears a question, it doesn't feel accusatory at all.

“Um, yeah,” says Akito, swallowing down the sorry that almost comes out. “I was just thinking about somethin'.”

“About what?” Toya says. A small smile tugs at his lips and Akito can’t help but look at them, wanting.

There's no point in lying. “About you,” he murmurs, and this time, he’s the one who leans up.