Work Text:
Izumi’s new room is on the first floor of the dorm, right next to Ritsu’s.
It might be a coincidence, for all he knows; it could have been the only 2–person room available. The fact that, out of all his school acquaintances, the two members of Valkyrie, Ritsu and he are the only ones still living in the Starmony Dorm, could also be a coincidence. Izumi just wanted a new room and Shu agreed it’d be convenient if they stayed roommates—since they get along well enough—and that way Izumi would only have to share the room half of the time. It’s a win-win situation.
Living in the room next to Ritsu’s has few perks and lots of disadvantages. For instance, he has to get up extra early now and drag his sleepy self next door, just to make sure Ritsu is awake in time.
He’s heard this used to be Maa-kun’s job, because Mao is Ritsu’s childhood friend and his most special person. Now it’s become Mika’s duty, but when Mika’s out of town, Izumi is supposed to replace him.
This is so annoying. Ritsu and Izumi are closer now, but not that close.
And he hates the way his heart flutters when he looms over Ritsu’s bed, putting his hands on the sleeping boy’s shoulders to wake him up. He’s not exactly gentle—Izumi wouldn’t want to be soft, he’d only make such an effort if he had to wake Makoto up—but not brutal either.
“Come on, wake up, Kuma-kun, we have work today,” Izumi grumbles, repressing his own yawn for fear of being dragged under the blanket because shut up, you want to sleep too, Secchan.
His unitmate grouches, rises a weak arm to grab Izumi’s wrist and pry him away from his shoulders, before he gives up because it’s too bothersome.
Ritsu’s eyes flutter open. His unfocused, sulky stare softens when he looks up and recognizes Izumi. He always does that shit—looking fondly at his partner when he first wakes up, when he should be too sleepy to fake fondness.
“Hello, Secchan. I was dreaming of you.”
It must be a lie. It has to be; Ritsu knows Izumi doesn’t like it when he says such things.
Izumi withdraws his hands in a quick gesture, as if he was burned. “Seriously, why are you so annoying in the morning?”
“Why are you waking me up in the morning, in the first place? You know I’m nocturnal.” Despite his retort, Ritsu slowly pushes back his blankets and stretches. “You look like you could use some extra sleep, too. Have you even looked at yourself in a mirror? Your dark circles show even under the make-up.”
Izumi resists the urge to grab Ritsu’s pillow and choke him—maybe that way he’d shut up.
Ritsu always acts that way in the morning. It’s been a couple of years since they both became members of Knights, and by now the so-called vampire is used to having a normal sleep schedule—he properly sleeps at night, and he manages to stay awake a good part of the day, even if he still has to take a couple of naps from time to time. Still, he hates being woken up. Mika claims he has no problem with Ritsu in the morning, but Izumi isn’t entirely convinced that the guy is trustworthy—he might be a little too masochistic to mind Ritsu’s manners.
“Shut up, Kuma-kun. Get out of bed now or I’ll do it for you.”
Ritsu rolls his eyes but complies. His bed hair falls right in front of his eyes; he looks messy, lazy, yet somehow cute. “Don’t be mean, Secchan. Tsukipi’s gonna show us our new song, right? Even I wouldn’t miss that out.”
Their new song—a song written for Izumi, that’s all he knows about it. “Good. Then see you in the kitchen in ten minutes.”
“Oh, you’re making breakfast too, Secchan?”
“Not for you,” Izumi replies—his turn to lie. He only eats a salad in the morning, so if he makes toasts it’s definitely not for himself.
Ritsu is aware of that fact, and despite the denial, he offers another warm smile—the kind that haunts Izumi for hours, every single time.
Izumi hates this new routine so much. He dislikes having to wake Ritsu up and take care of him because Ritsu loves to be spoiled by him. He dislikes the way Ritsu looks at him, with mostly fondness, but also (when he thinks Izumi isn’t looking in his direction) with something akin to sadness.
It drives Izumi crazy, but there’s nothing he can do about it.
Deep down, he craves Ritsu’s affectionate stares way more than he wants to admit.
☽
It’s only been a month since Izumi moved back to Japan.
The decision has been both difficult and easy.
Difficult because he had to say farewell to many coworkers who became his friends, because he had to stop a modelling career he took years to build—but he’s satisfied with the point he’s reached, so he has few regrets.
It was also easy because Leo left Florence first, to move in with his boyfriend Tsukasa. At first, Izumi had welcomed the news with a bit of relief; although he liked Leo, living with him was exhausting. Izumi had even been relieved, because he could finally live at his pace, without worrying about Leo forgetting to close the door or leaving his phone on his bed or getting lost on the way to his job. Rooming with Leo was chaotic—pleasant, too—but it wasn’t really something Izumi desired in the long run.
Still. Izumi didn’t like being the only one who lived so far away. It made him feel left out.
And, to be brutally honest, Leo’s absence left a hole in his heart—an empty space he cannot fill on his own.
Without Leo, old wounds started to ache again.
☽
“I’m very honoured to finally let you listen to Leo-san’s new song celebrating Sena-senpai’s return!” Tsukasa announces, oddly proud of a song he hasn’t composed himself. He’s probably already heard it since he lives in the same flat as Leo; for the rest of them, though, it’ll be their first time listening to the song.
Izumi almost feels a little jealous. Leo never let him listen to his creations first, nor did he let him introduce his new works the way Tsukasa does. Well, he’s probably gotten more songs from Leo than Tsukasa did, so it’s not like he’s to be pitied.
Tsukasa presses the button and the song starts playing.
He attentively listens to Leo’s new song.
There's something different about it, although Izumi can't quite put his finger on what feels different. Perhaps something in the rhythm, which is a little more subdued than usual? Somehow, he finds it hard to believe this was written by Leo. It feels like cautious writing, not something you’d write just because you’re inspired.
When the music stops, Leo breaks the almost religious silence by clapping vigorously. “Soooo, what do you think? It really sounds like Sena, right?”
“What sounds like Sena?” asks Izumi in a cautious tone.
Leo waves his arms as he explains: “You see, the way it goes up, and then it goes up down, and then it goes boom! It's like when you try to keep your cool when I do something you don't like! And then you really explode like that!”
Izumi glares at him. “... Leo-kun, you better shut up.”
“See! That’s exactlywhat I’m saying!”
Arashi laughs. “He's not entirely wrong, Izumi-chan. And I think this song is very elegant, so that, too, suits you.”
Bless Arashi. She’s annoying half of the time, but sometimes she has her good parts. This is why he’s still friends with her. Well, he can’t deny that the song fits him—it was clearly written by someone who knew him well. Not that he’s surprised; Leo has been by his side for a long time, now.
“So, Sena-senpai, I wanted to ask you to write the lyrics this time,” Tsukasa requests.
Izumi frowns. “Huh? Why should I write them myself? I thought this song was a gift for me.”
Tsukasa casts a glance in Ritsu’s direction, almost begging his strategist to explain things in his place. However, Ritsu looks away, so Tsukasa sighs. “Please do it. That’s your king’s order.”
Izumi gets up and looms over Tsukasa. “... Fine, if it’s my bratty king’s wish, guess I can give it a try.” And he pinches the younger cheeks’ as payback.
“Ouch, Sena-senpai, it hurts!”
“Learn how to ask politely first.”
He hears Leo and Arashi laugh at the rebuttal. Well, there was no point fighting it. This was obviously something Tsukasa and Ritsu discussed beforehand, and even if Ritsu refused to explain things himself—for it was the king’s job—Izumi doesn’t think he could win against him if the other is the opponent.
If Ritsu had been the one to ask him to write the lyrics, he would’ve yielded right away.
☽
Izumi thought he could write lyrics in one day. All he has to do is to sit at his desk, listen to the melody on loop, and he’ll just find the perfect lyrics, right? Anyone can do it.
Well, turns out things are not as easy as it seems.
For some reason, none of the lyrics he can come up with feels right. They’re too basic, or too corny, or just not fitting. Izumi wanted to write about himself and his own life experiences, at first, since this song is his, however putting his feelings into words is an arduous task, and none of the sentences he can come up with sounds good anyway.
He tried to write about Knights’ history then, but once again it doesn't fit the song. The story he’d tell would be full of battles and wounds and deaths, but he can’t exactly write about a bloody past.
And then, there’s the last option—the one he doesn’t want to indulge in, especially when he knows he’ll have to sing these lyrics.
Well, nobody expected him to write the lyrics in only two days, and for now they have other songs they can work on, so he definitely has all the time he needs.
And Izumi gets used to being full time in Japan, falling into a new routine before he even realises—preparing breakfast for Ritsu, going to his solo jobs and rehearsals, thinking about the lyrics in his free time. He’s busy. He likes being busy.
He doesn’t like jumping when Ritsu opens his door without a warning and tells him, “Hey, Secchan, let’s get out tonight.”
“We have work tomorrow,” Izumi retorts.
“Doesn’t matter, let’s just grab food and eat out. Or we can cook here in the kitchen if you prefer. I don’t mind.”
Another con of living next to Ritsu’s room: when Mika can’t cook food for him, Izumi is next on the list.
“I can make a salad if you want,” Izumi suggests, “with tomatoes.” He knows Ritsu likes red food. Probably because it reminds him of blood—he still likes to play the vampire, after all.
“Sure.” And Ritsu smiles, with the smile that always makes Izumi’s heart skip a beat—grateful, utterly happy.
It doesn’t take Izumi more than ten minutes to make his salad with the promised tomatoes. He’s almost surprised that Ritsu doesn’t complain about his choice of dinner; it’s a quite simple meal, but Ritsu just says it’s super tasty, Secchan . The compliment colours his cheeks pink, even though he doesn’t need to be reminded that he’s a good cook. Even now, praise feels special when it comes from Ritsu. He doesn’t know why—or rather, he knows and chooses to pretend he doesn’t.
Ritsu hums as he clears the table after their meal. “Can I ask you something, Secchan?”
“Sure.”
“Tsukipi’s song. What do you think about it?”
Izumi looks up. Ritsu is leaning over the sink, cleaning the dishes. He has his back turned to him, but even so, Izumi can tell there’s something weird in his behaviour. Ritsu isn’t one to look away when he speaks about work-related topics.
Izumi sighs. “Didn’t I say I liked it?”
“No, you didn’t.” Of course Ritsu would notice something like that. Well, Izumi did agree that the song sounded like him—even if the way Leo presented it was quite offensive. “So I was wondering. Did you really like it, or were you just trying to be polite?”
“Kuma-kun. Do I look like someone who’d lie about that kind of stuff?”
Izumi feels irritated, but it’s nothing compared to the annoyance he hears in Ritsu’s next words. “I don’t know. You’re not always sincere when it comes to the things you like, Secchan.”
Izumi opens his mouth to protest—and then remembers the night when everything changed for him.
Ah , he thinks, I sure said nothing that night. Although he wants to correct one thing: it wasn’t entirely his fault. In fact, Ritsu is the one who was the most insincere. That’s why Izumi kept quiet, in the end. Even if it hurt more than a break-up.
“I like the song a lot. I can tell it was written with me in mind and I appreciate it. Not that I’ll tell Leo-kun, though. He’d be so annoying about it.”
Ritsu turns his head towards Izumi. There’s a small, soft smile on his lips—it looks like a hint of relief. “That’s good, then. I like the song too.”
Izumi has a gut feeling, suddenly—that Ritsu isn’t telling everything. He dislikes the feeling; he thought they were getting closer, lately. Enough, at least, to not hide what they’re thinking.
They take one step forward, and two steps back, lately.
☽
Another thing Izumi dislikes: the way Tsukasa and Leo can’t help but flirt as soon as they’re in the same room, completely ignoring the fact that they have an audience, and that audience might be bothered by their public displays of affection.
Izumi finds it very annoying, and even more so once he understands that they don’t even do it on purpose. This is just how they act around each other, now. When Izumi snaps, they always say they were doing nothing wrong, he’s just single and bitter and can’t accept that others might be happier than him.
Well, it’s not my fault if the guy I like almost confessed and then went back on his words, you know. The memory is still fresh in his mind, even though it’s been years. It makes things harder on him, though.
He can’t stand Leo praising Tsukasa again and again, shouting that his boyfriend is the best partner he could ask for in the world—it might be true, for all Izumi knows, but it hurts nonetheless, because he couldn’t be the best when he had the opportunity to stand by Leo’s side.
He can’t stand Tsukasa looking fondly at Leo, giving him music scores when Leo wants to compose, talking to Leo while he does with the certitude that Leo will pay him attention and answer.
And he can’t stand the way Ritsu observes them—with melancholy in the eye, as if he was truly envious of what they had. It angers Izumi. Envying people in love is one of the few things Izumi can’t tolerate from him.
☽
Living in the room next to Ritsu’s comes with few perks, and many disadvantages.
But Izumi really enjoys the fact that they can go home together after work. They never really had the opportunity to do so before: their houses were in opposite directions, and after graduation Izumi left for Italy. Then, even when they could go home together, it wasn’t just the two of them, but all of Knights—and it was different from sitting at the back of the car in silence, casting shy glances at each other, and entering the hall of the dorms together without having uttered a single word during the whole ride.
Izumi stifles a yawn. He’s tired. Today has been exhausting, yet Ritsu looks strangely energised. Even if he has a proper sleep schedule now, he’s still more lively in the evening—as if the sun setting had an effect on his energy levels regardless of what he did during the day. Maybe he isa kind of vampire, after all.
“Good night, Secchan,” Ritsu whispers, breaking the silence in a low voice—it’s already past midnight and others could be bothered by the sound of their voices.
Izumi opens his mouth to wish him the same—and stops himself. It’s nighttime, and every time Izumi is around Ritsu with only the moonlight as witness, he can’t help but think.
About that night; about the way Ritsu backed down so fast Izumi didn’t even have the time to react, and left the boy who had feelings for him alone in the middle of the street, head full of questions, still trying to process what Ritsu had just done.
“Wait, Kuma-kun,” he calls out, and Ritsu turns his head to him, surprised.
Izumi gulps. The way Ritsu looks at him right now is just… so guarded. As if he knew what Izumi had in mind—and maybe he, too, was still thinking about this night from time to time, maybe he too was stuck in the past, unable to find a way to clear things between the two of them.
“It’s still early, right?” A quick glance at the clock on the wall says it’s 1 am. Early, for a vampire’s standards, maybe. “You’re not going to sleep, Kuma-kun, right?”
Ritsu scowls. “And what if I don’t?”
Izumi takes a breath. “I won’t sleep either. We could… stay together for a while, perhaps?”
He hates the hesitation in his voice; hates it even more when he sees Ritsu’s expression soften, melting into his horrible fond, relieved smile.
“Oh? Is Secchan that lonely without me?” Ritsu is clearly teasing him, yet it doesn’t feel like he’s poking fun at him. “Of course, I can keep you company, we vampires love staying awake at night—”
Ah, he’s really annoying. “Nevermind, I don’t want to be with you anymore,” Izumi cuts him off. “Go to bed, I’ll go moon viewing on my own.”
Somehow, Ritsu’s smile widens even more. “Come on, Secchan, I’ll make us some tea.”
“As if it was enough to convince me.”
Ritsu smirks. “I think it is.”
Of course it’s enough. Izumi has to yield, what else is he supposed to do? Ritsu never offers to make tea.
The kitchen is, as expected, completely empty at this hour. Ritsu only turns one of the spotlights, so the kitchen is bathed in a subdued, intimate light. The vampire opens the cupboards and grabs two cups. He turns the kettle on, and then points to the window of the kitchen.
“Have you noticed you can see the moon quite well from here?”
Izumi walks up to the window. Ritsu is right; through the pane, the moon stands out clearly on the dark canvas of the night sky. It looks stunning, beautiful; almost as beautiful as the boy standing next to him—and suddenly Izumi’s throat feels dry.
Now that he thinks about it, he still doesn’t know why he decided to text Ritsu that night.
It was a decision he took on the spot—or rather an impulse, a sudden need to see a certain someone, immediately, even though it was already past midnight and he was supposed to get up three hours later. A decision he’s always regretted; not his biggest mistake, admittedly, but a mistake nonetheless. He no longer tries to convince himself that he thought of Ritsu first because nobody else would be awake at night; his heart tells him it’s a lie. He wanted the company of a nocturnal person, for sure, but he mostly craved Ritsu’s.
And it wasn’t that surprising that Ritsu accepted his invitation, even if it was quite out-of-character for Izumi. Ritsu used to roam the night like a ghost, or a vampire, in short like a creature that didn’t belong to humanity, and he was always excited to have someone to share this time with him—even if it was ephemeral, and he’d still be all alone the next night.
Now, Izumi is starting to regret asking Ritsu to stay awake with him—he’s way too aware of Ritsu’s presence next to him, and even the moon seems common compared to the so-called vampire.
“Yes,” he says, his eyes on Ritsu, “it’s truly a beautiful sight.”
Ritsu seems to notice his gaze because he turns his head and completes: “But of course, you’re the most beautiful around.”
Izumi knows he’s only teasing him—again. But he’d like to know, for once, if Ritsu thinks what he just said—if there’s a part of him that flutters when he stares at Izumi, a part of him that thinks, he’s so beautiful I want to keep looking at him until I die.
(This is what Izumi thinks, sometimes, when he looks at Ritsu.)
“Well, you’re quite beautiful yourself.”
Ritsu’s eyes widen. He clearly wasn’t expecting the compliment. Thankfully, before he could become even more insufferable, the kettle tings, telling them the water is ready.
“Alright, Secchan, what kind of tea do you want to drink? I don’t know if you’ve already tried Shinonon’s blend but it’s really tasty, and perfect to keep you awake the whole night.”
Somehow, Izumi feels disappointed by this change of topic. So you’re running away, again.
Is he really surprised, though? It’s not like he has the courage to address the issue either. He, too, feels more comfortable that way—when he knows there’s something, but none of them are willing to put a word on whatever it is, and they just enjoy the quietness of the night together, as friends who refuse to get too close, for fear of burning themselves.
I will be here for you,this is what Ritsu promised, that night. In the end, it was nothing but an empty promise; he’s been here all the time, but he’s never been as available as Izumi wished. And Izumi doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do to close the gap; to convince Ritsu that he wants more than beautiful words and moon-viewing sessions. He craves more; he desires all of Ritsu, the good and bad, the teasing and the reassurance, the pining and the loving.
“Whatever you want to drink. I’m not picky.”
Well, Izumi too chooses to run away.
☽
In his dreams, Izumi sometimes imagines how it’d be, if Ritsu had chosen to confront him.
If Ritsu hadn’t just told him to have fun in Italy; if he’d explain why he was behaving that way. If he hadn’t meant it as a sort of farewell, but as a beginning.
He dreams of holding Ritsu in his arms, gently, as if the other would break if he held him too tight. Dreams of waking up next to the other man, drowning himself in the sight before him—he’s seen Ritsu asleep so many times before, and he’s so pretty, most people are unpretty and unkept when they sleep but not Ritsu, Ritsu is just gorgeous. Dreams of whispering all the secrets he’s hiding in his heart—how long he’s been in love with Ritsu, or why it’s different from all the crushes he’s had before.
Izumi has started to enjoy nighttime for a variety of reasons. It’s Ritsu’s time, first of all; and it’s also the only time he can indulge in his fantasies, thinking about all the things he could have, if only he had tried harder.
☽
Leo’s relationship with Tsukasa seems… almost perfect, on the outside.
Izumi has never seen anyone be so patient with Leo before—except maybe Ritsu, sometimes, but Ritsu has always kept his distance with the rest of the world, and lately he seems to stay on his own even more. And he can tell Tsukasa is rather patient with Leo, as he tries to accommodate to his boyfriend’s antics in a way Izumi wouldn’t—even now, he’s still carrying sheets with him, just so Leo can compose songs whenever he wants; and Leo listens to his wishes in return; and everything seems to be disgustingly perfect.
Yet Leo knocks on Izumi’s door one evening, looking distressed and nervous, and Izumi has no choice but to let him in.
It reminds Izumi of old times, when the two of them were sharing a flat together. Leo would sometimes lie on Izumi’s bed, complain about his day, beg for small gestures of reassurance. Izumi wasn’t always listening. Tonight, though, he is.
Even if it means sitting on his bed with a guy who may or may not be his ex as he talks about his current boyfriend. And Izumi doesn’t know what’s worse—seeing them flirt all the time, or hearing Leo complain about a guy he cares so much the words he utters sound alien.
At least Shu only returns from France tomorrow, so they have the room for them alone this evening.
“He’s always on my back,” Leo sighs—and Izumi wants to empathise, but he can’t pretend he doesn’t understand Tsukasa, because he knows he used to be like that. “You see, he used to be okay with me forgetting my phone all the time, but lately he’s just snapping at me as soon as he gets home. Telling me it’s really time for me to become more responsible… but I don’t forget my phone on purpose! So in return I yell at him too, and he gets super angry!”
Izumi has always imagined the Suou-Tsukinaga household as a peaceful, cheesy home. Well, chaotically peaceful, at least; he figured Tsukasa would just smile and let all his grudges go, accepting everything from Leo. This is how he behaves in public, after all; he sighs and accepts that Leo is Leo, and there’s no changing him, so Tsukasa tries to adapt. Perhaps the real Tsukasa is a little different from what Izumi thought. Perhaps he’s a little similar to Izumi, in unexpected ways.
(Izumi distractedly remembers that time Tsukasa kidnapped his own relative. That time, they were the same.)
“So? That’s what you ran away from home like a kid?” Izumi asks, trying his best to sound as neutral as possible. A difficult feat, though, considering how much he believes he understands Tsukasa.
“I’m not a kid!” Leo protests, which is exactly what a kid would say by the way, but Izumi keeps his mouth shut. “I just wanted a break!”
“So you go to your ex and ask if you can sleep in his bed,” Izumi points out. Ha, this is giving him a headache. Yes, they’re still friends, they didn’t break up because they wanted to get rid of the other, however sometimes Izumi wishes Leo was a little more self-conscious of the situation. They have a history.
“It’s all good, Sena! I love Suou, and you love Rittsu, right?”
Izumi resists the urge to strangle Leo, because how dare he assume Izumi’s feelings. “I don’t.” The denial tastes bitter on his tongue.
Leo stares at him, mouth agape. Then, seriously, he retorts: “You’re such a tsundere, Sena. This is why I got a new boyfriend before you, Sena.”
Izumi grabs his pillow and throws it at Leo. “Alright, if you don’t shut up you’re spending the night out. I don’t care.”
“Wait, wait! I’m sorry Sena! I won’t say a thing, pinky promise! But I still think you should talk to Rittsu. I think he has things to say, if you want to listen.”
Izumi grumbles. As if Ritsu would ever say anything if you don’t force him out of his shell. “I’ll deal with Kuma-kun later. Now that you’re here, help me with the lyrics, Leo-kun. You’re the one who wrote the song, right? You can tell me what you had in mind when you composed the melody.”
“Nope, I can’t!” Izumi expected this rebuttal. “I was just feeling inspired, that’s all!”
So annoying. Sometimes, Izumi wonders why he had feelings for Leo, at some point in his life.
Still, Leo does offer his help with the lyrics, as a thanks for letting him stay. Or at least, he tries to help; his ideas just don’t fit what Izumi wants, and when Leo says white, Izumi says black. The lyrics progress nonetheless; and when Tsukasa calls Leo late at night, begging him to please come home so we can talk properly, Izumi is convinced that he’ll manage to finish them tomorrow.
☽
The lyrics speak of love.
Of a love that might not be unrequited, for Izumi never had the confirmation that he wasn’tloved. He writes about the specific feeling of uncertainty, when you no longer manage to read the signals even though they should be clear to you—but you’ve lost the ability to decipher them, and now everything is confusing, meaningless.
Of a confusion that could be cleared if only they’d talk—but it’s not something Izumi believes he can do unless he gets the right push, the reason that’d force him to clear the air and confess first.
He should confess. He’ll do it, perhaps, once he’s done with the lyrics. Once he presents them to Knights, it will always be easier for him to say, these words are for you, Kuma-kun.
☽
The next evening, the clock reads almost midnight when Izumi stretches and announces, “Alright, I think I’m done with my lyrics.”
Working late at night doesn’t bother his roommate; Shu too tends to do occasional all-nighters, and he’s currently working on his own unit’s next performance. Something grandiose, for sure; Izumi is always impressed by the amount of work Shu is able to finish in only a few hours.
Shu looks up from his own computer. “Is that so? Would you mind if I read what you wrote?”
“Are you going to criticise every single line?” Izumi asks—he knows Shu well enough to know this is something he can do, and he needs to brace himself if that's the case.
However, Shu shrugs. “If your lyrics are bad enough that I have to go to such length, I won’t bother. I don’t have the time for that.”
Izumi can’t deny he’s relieved to hear such a thing. “Sure, come here.”
Shu walks up to Izumi’s desk and Izumi hands him his sheet and headphones. Shu takes them and gestures to him to start the music.
Shu’s face doesn’t really let out anything as he listens to the melody while reading the lyrics, although Izumi notices his eyes widen slightly. It’s a beautiful song, Izumi thinks, the kind of song that resonates with your soul and refuses to leave your heart once you’ve listened to it properly. At least, that’s how it is for him. There’s something special in the music, he’d say.
Once he’s done listening, Shu puts down the headphones. “Your lyrics aren’t bad at all. They complement Rei’s little brother’s music fairly well, if you ask me.”
Izumi frowns at the mistake. “This song was written by Leo-kun.”
Shu shakes his head. “What are you saying? Kagehira saw his roommate spend days on this song. If you properly listen to the music, you’ll notice it sounds a little like Rei’s music.”
Izumi’s heart misses a beat.
He’s… not as surprised as he should be, though. He was thinking the song didn’t sound like Leo’s usual work, to be honest. Besides, Leo is perfectly able to trick others if he wants to, and Izumi is aware he’s an easy target—Leo knows him too intimately, he knows how to lie to him. Now that Shu says it, though, it’s clear to him that this song sounds way more like Ritsu—even if Izumi’s never heard anything his unitmate has written before. It’s just a gut feeling. An unfounded certainty, but a certainty nonetheless.
“Sena, did you perhaps not know who the composer was?”
“... Sorry, Itsuki, there’s something I need to do. Right now.”
Shu opens his mouth to protest, then notices Izumi’s expression and closes it again. He watches Izumi head to the door in silence, and he only speaks up when Izumi pushes it open. “Don’t involve Kagehira or you’ll have to answer to me.”
“Don’t worry, I only have business with his roommate.”
Izumi leaves his room as quietly as possible and gently knocks on the other door. Or at least, he tries to; it’s hard for him to stay calm when he feels like his blood is boiling in his veins.
Of course, Mika is the one who opens; the lazy bastard would never get up himself to open the door.
“Sena-senp—”
“Move over,” Izumi retorts, paying him little attention as he enters the room.
As he thought, Ritsu is comfortably lying in his bed, surrounded by so many pillows Izumi wonders how he can sleep that way.
“Kuma-kun. Get up. Right now.”
Ritsu casts him an annoyed glance, unbothered by Izumi's obvious and justified anger. “Why?”
“We need to talk.”
“We are talking just fine right now, though?” Ritsu retorts, sounding quite irritated. “You should go to bed too, Secchan. You have dark circles under the eyes again, do you need me to sing a lullaby?”
Izumi tries not to punch him. “Maybe if you weren’t such an asshole, I wouldn't have to lose my sleep over this. Now, come. We're bothering your roommate.”
Ritsu sighs, but he seems to understand he can’t run away from this, because he finally leaves the comfortable nest of his bed. "Fine. If you insist, we’ll talk. Mikarin, don’t worry about him. Secchan’s always grumpy, but he means no harm. I’ll be back soon."
Mika shyly nods as he watches them leave the room together. He’s most likely scared right now, but Izumi can’t find it in himself to feel sorry for him.
Right now, the only thing that matters is Ritsu. This insufferable, awful man who thinks he can play with his unitmate’s feelings as he wishes.
Izumi leads them outside so that their conversation won’t bother anyone. He’s not sure he can keep his voice low. “So, tell me, Kuma-kun. When did you plan to reveal that you were the one who wrote our new song?”
Ritsu’s annoyed stare shifts into a more subdued one when he realises what Izumi wants to talk about. “So you found out. Well, congrats, Secchan, I thought it would take you more time~”
“More time?” Izumi clicks his tongue. “Are you kidding me? Why didn't you tell me in the first place?”
Do you not trust me enough to tell me the truth? is what he wants to ask; but he’s a coward, so he keeps this one question to himself, refusing to reveal more of his insecurities. He thinks Ritsu already reads him too well; he doesn’t want to give him more leverage.
“Well, it doesn’t matter,” Ritsu bites back, surprisingly aggressive for someone who’s in the wrong. “It’s your song, not mine.”
“You still lied,” Izumi counters. “Because it matters to you.”
Izumi doesn't understand Ritsu.
He's never truly understood the other boy, not since that night and all the questions it raised. There’s one thing he finds clear, though: Ritsu loves to run away from him. Loves to give something to Izumi, and then take it back, or pretend he never offered anything.
Ritsu sighs. “You know, Secchan, Tsukipi was really mad at me when I told him I wanted him to pretend the song was his. He was so happy because I was finally writing a song for Knights. He thought I was rejecting my own work, but really, I just want this song to be yours and yours alone.” He chuckles. “Look at how you’re overreacting now that you know I composed it. It matters to you too. I wasn’t sure you’d accept the song if you knew it was a gift from me.”
His words should fuel Izumi’s anger. For some reason, though, his fury deflates. Izumi feels so empty, so tired right now.
“Why are you always like this, Kuma-kun?” he whispers. Claiming they’re friends, but not acting like proper friends would. Lying, and pretending there’s nothing deep between them.
“Like what?” Ritsu asks—hesitantly, as if he knew how dangerous the question is, but he can’t avoid it now.
They really can’t avoid this talk anymore.
“Like that night,” Izumi explains, “when you kissed me.”
He sees Ritsu’s lazy smile freeze.
Or maybe it's time that is freezing, for all he knows; the whole world seems to have stopped moving, even the boy standing in front of him, and the only things reminding him that he’s still alive are the beats drumming against his chest, as if his heart wanted to leave the cage of his torso.
He more or less experienced the same kind of feeling that night, when he met with Ritsu under the full moon.
The sky was dark and luminous at the same time.
It reminded Izumi of how it felt to stand on a stage—between the light of the stage and the darkness of the audience, as if you were standing at the threshold between two different worlds. This is how the night felt to him: it was the last night of his life as a high schooler, and the first night of his adult life. In a few hours, he’d take a plane and leave the country for who knows how long. For now, though, he was still surrounded with familiar things—the city he’s always lived in, the same sky he’s always lived under, and the boy waiting for him by the swings.
Ritsu was clad in black, and it was almost hard to see him in the dark. His eyes were glowing red; it was, perhaps, a mere optical illusion, for they had to catch a source of light Izumi wasn’t aware of; it still was a little scary. He couldn’t help but think about all the times Ritsu had claimed to be a vampire, had joked about wanting to drink Izumi’s blood, and suddenly the threat felt real.
“So you really came, Secchan,” Ritsu welcomed him with these words, and even his tone sounded a little different from usual. It was deeper, more vibrant—and Izumi tried his best not to recoil.
“I’m the one who told you to meet me,” he pointed out. Well, he couldn’t exactly blame Ritsu for his surprise; he himself still couldn’t fathom why he wasn’t in his bed right now, peacefully sleeping—nothing about his own behaviour made sense right now.
He just knew he wanted to see Ritsu.
Ritsu got up from the swing he was sitting on, and it became clear, to Izumi, that the way he moved his body was different from usual. He no longer was this lethargic, lazy boy who dragged his feet as he walked; his gestures were swift, effortless. Ritsu grabbed Izumi’s hand so fast Izumi barely registered what was happening until he felt the cold contact of Ritsu’s skin against his palms.
He quickly shook the other’s hand away. “What are you doing, Kuma-kun?”
“You seem stressed, Secchan,” Ritsu explains, unbothered by the rejection. “I can feel the blood rushing through your veins, your heart is racing.”
Wow, that was really creepy. However, he couldn’t deny that his heart was beating fast; the short touch had set him on fire, and now he knew he wouldn’t close his eyes for the rest of night, even if he wanted to.
“Let’s walk,” he decided to cut the conversation short.
An evasive response seemed to be the safest way out, and it kind of worked; for a while, they just walked in silence.
Despite Ritsu being right next to him—a fact that was enough to set him on edge—and the prospect of his departure, Izumi felt himself calming down. The night stroll was effective; he kind of got it, now, why Ritsu liked this moment of the day the most.
“So leaving Japan stresses you out, huh,” Ritsu finally broke the silence.
He wasn’t wrong, but there was something more to it. Izumi could tell. Admitting it out loud, though, didn’t feel fitting. Even though he said he wanted the two of them to open up to the other, to be more honest, more demanding; even though he said he wanted to close the distance between them—which meant letting Ritsu see his most vulnerable parts.
There was, after all, only one secret Izumi had to keep from him.
Admittedly, the most important one.
“I mean, this time, it’ll be for real,” Izumi explained.
“And you have to leave your loved ones behind,” Ritsu completed. He always did that kind of thing; guessed what Izumi was thinking, anticipated what he’d do. It made Izumi feel like Ritsu was always watching him closely, trying his best to understand what Izumi hid behind his facade.
He was right on the money. Despite everything, Izumi was a man full of love. His friends all knew that; they also knew not to expect any form of verbal affection from him. He didn't dislike telling them he cared about them. Rather, he lost the ability to do it, sealing his true feelings and all the words that come with them under the heaviest lock.
“At least I’ll be with Leo-kun,” Izumi remarked; he was still surprised by how easy it was, for him, to call Leo that way again, as if he never used another nickname. “He’ll be a handful, but he’ll keep me busy, I guess.”
Ritsu nodded. "And we’ll be here for you when you return.” Then, hesitantly, he added: “ I will be here for you.”
He was probably meaning ‘because I’m your friend’. The admission was recent, but it was still better than treating Ritsu like a mere acquaintance— because he really wasn’t. Of course, Izumi couldn’t tell him about the true extent of his feelings, but claiming they were friends was no lie.
Right now, Ritsu no longer seemed like a monster of the night. He was just a cute, more energetic boy, with dazzling smiles and beautiful eyes. Izumi never noticed how subdued his daylight expressions were; Ritsu was just more like himself in the dead of night, and it made Izumi’s heart scream.
“Kuma-kun, are you really okay with me leaving?” he asked out of the blue.
It wasn’t a question he thought he’d ever let out. This was his life, after all, he was free to do what he wanted. Ritsu didn’t have a say in his decision. After all, it wasn’t incompatible with his position in Knights, and it was the best for him.
But he never considered Ritsu’s opinion, or what would be the best for Ritsu, so now he wanted to know.
Ritsu looked away. “I think I am.”
You think?Izumi wanted to ask.
He didn’t have the time to, though.
Everything went so, so fast.
Ritsu swooped on him like a bird of prey. Before Izumi knew it, the other’s hands laid on his cheeks. They felt less cold than usual, which was surprising, considering the night was rather chilly; the warmth coming from Ritsu's palms was pleasant, even reassuring. Izumi knew he should have felt alert, worried; his brain was freezing, though, or perhaps it was time that was freezing. Either way, he did nothing to prevent what would happen.
His downfall.
The feeling of Ritsu’s lips against his. The chastest kiss Izumi ever thought he'd receive from him, or from anyone.
It was a light, unsatisfying touch; yet unforgettable, and Izumi knew, as it was happening, that he was utterly doomed.
Ritsu broke the kiss so fast Izumi didn’t have the time to reciprocate, and took a few steps back, as if trying to make sure Izumi wouldn’t hold him back. “Have fun with Tsukipi~ in Italy, Secchan.”
It sounded like a farewell. Izumi was terrorized.
“Like that night when you kissed me.”
Catching Ritsu off guard is an almost impossible feat. Izumi has tried—many times—to surprise him; to act in a way that would make his eyes widen and his mouth gape. In the end, he only managed to do it once, when he opened his heart to all of his unitmates on stage and told Ritsu he wanted them to be friends.
This is exactly what is happening right now; Ritsu stares at him, looking completely lost.
Ritsu finally turns his head away—running away, again. “Are you sure this wasn’t aaaaall in your imagination, Secchan?”
Izumi doesn’t waver. “No. This isn’t something I can forget, Kuma-kun.”
He’s never forgotten. Not once during the past years, not even when he felt attracted to Leo again—feeling like, now that they were living together, they could perhaps fix an old relationship, give themselves a second chance. Not even when he observed Ritsu’s clingy behaviour towards his precious childhood friend, still calling him his ‘husband’ even though Mao was clearly in a relationship with someone else. The kiss had stayed in a corner of his mind all this time, a reminder of something he couldn’t have, of unrequited feelings he couldn’t push away.
He thought he could get over Ritsu; he tried his best to get over him.
And each time, when he thought that maybe, this time he could stay beside the other man as nothing more than a partner and a friend, Ritsu had to do something—anything, including writing him a whole song for him—that brought Izumi’s heart back to him, without fail.
Ritsu chuckles. “But you were in love with Yuukun. That didn’t count.”
“I wasn’t anymore.” Izumi feels brave, suddenly. He doesn’t know where he finds his courage; people love to call him a tsundere, which he finds quite annoying, but he’s always the one who takes the plunge when one needs to be honest. “I was in love with you. I still am, Kuma-kun.”
Ritsu’s eyes widen.
For someone who’s so observant, someone who can read Izumi like an open book, knowing exactly whenever Izumi needs praise or reassurance, he can be dense.
“I—” Ritsu closes his mouth as quickly as he opened it. His fingers nervously play with a stray lock of hair in his neck. “I didn’t compose a song because I love you—”
“And you didn’t kiss me because you loved me. I get it. I still like you, Kuma-kun.” How does he manage to act so brave? To pretend his heart isn’t trying to jump out his chest?
Ritsu looks like he’s about to cry.
It sounded like a farewell. Izumi can tell Ritsu never expected any reply from him. That’s why everything is so scary for him, right now. There’s no way someone like Ritsu could handle a long-distance relationship. So he must have tried to repress his feelings, again and again—just like Izumi did. But his feelings, too, never disappeared, and now he doesn’t know what to do anymore.
“Ha, this is so annoying. Here, Kuma-kun.” Izumi snatches Ritsu’s hand and keeps it in his. Ritsu’s palm is eerily cold. He’s always been a cold guy, Izumi remembers—pathetically chasing after the warmth, craving the light he’s always been deprived of. “If you really need more time to give me your answer, I guess I don’t mind waiting. But not that much. It’s been years, you know, I’m losing my patience.”
Finally, Ritsu looks him in the eye.
Izumi remembers the boy he used to think was a weirdo, one who spent his time sleeping during the day and making creepy jokes about blood drinking. And it’s weird, for him, to tell himself that he fell in love with that boy—and then all the new versions of Ritsu, the boy who organised a duel all on his own because he hated fights more than anything else; the boy who at long last managed to reconcile with his brother, even if he still finds Rei annoying and pushy; the boy who ended up spending more and more time with Izumi whenever he was back from Italy, as a friend, as a partner. It’s weird, but it happened; and Izumi might have loved other people before, but right now it’s Ritsu, it’s been Ritsu for way too long.
The Ritsu who looks him in the eye seems a lot confident now—although Izumi knows it’s all a facade.
“If you still want me, Secchan, then…” Ritsu intertwines his fingers with Izumi’s. His voice dies down, but it’s fine.
This is all Izumi needs, right now.
The night sky is cloudy; it’s probably going to rain soon. Izumi can feel it in the air; a storm might be coming. It doesn’t matter, though. No matter what life throws at them, as long as Ritsu is willing to stay by his side, then he can overcome any obstacle. Now, that’s one thing he’s never doubted.
They stay together for a long while, refusing to move or say anything; Izumi watching Ritsu, and Ritsu watching Izumi, as if they were seeing the other for real, for the very first time. And perhaps they are; for once Izumi isn’t looking at Ritsu and thinking, he’ll never be mine.
“Oh, and I’m still mad about the song,” Izumi breaks the silence after what felt like hours—not that he cares about the passing of time, he wants to stay with Ritsu for as long as his body allows him. “You owe me a lot since you lied to me, Kuma-kun.”
Ritsu laughs. “Of course, Secchan. I promise I’ll make you the happiest man on earth, in return.”
Izumi believes him.
His happiness has always been linked to Ritsu, after all.
☽
Living in the room next to Ritsu’s has few perks and lots of disadvantages.
One of the perks, though, is the possibility to see his now boyfriend almost whenever he wants during his free time—all he has to do is to get up from his chair or his bed, walk a few steps and knock next door. Most of the time, Mika is still the one who opens the door for him; but Ritsu tries to do it himself, sometimes, when he feels in a good enough mood.
This is enough for Izumi—Ritsu is trying. They’re both trying.
Another perk is the agreement they made with their respective roommates, who now let them alone in Izumi’s room some nights; if Shu is in Japan, he spends the night with Mika. Ritsu and Izumi rarely sleep when they’re together. They spend a good part of the night sitting in front of the window, trying to name each constellation (a game Ritsu is good at), telling how beautiful the moon is tonight, and Ritsu teases Izumi about his skin and how ugly it’ll be if he refuses to sleep. Izumi no longer has jetlag, but he’s learnt to appreciate the quality of a night spent with a man he loves, just like Ritsu’s learnt how to live in the day.
They go to bed without a word—it feels like an evidence, as if they suddenly both felt it was the right moment for them to sleep—and later Izumi wakes up first, with Ritsu snuggled against him.
If his arms are embracing the other, it’s completely accidental. After all, Sena Izumi isn’t in love with Sakuma Ritsu. He’s completely, utterly smitten with him, to the point that he doesn’t want to experience the feeling of waking up in an empty bed anymore.
The lyrics still lie on his desk, unread by anyone but Shu. Izumi has yet to find the courage to show them to Knights, let alone Ritsu. It’s fine. He now has all the time he needs to express his feelings for Ritsu—and he doesn’t need words anymore.