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The show on TV hounds away with laughter and applause from participants and audience alike while Niki has his face pressed against his palm. He has no idea what they’re on about anymore—His thoughts have long flown away elsewhere, more concerned with things like what he’ll be cooking for dinner tomorrow. Tonight it’s just him, since he and Rinne had a fight, and so Rinne had stomped off, presumably to cool his head with pachinko. Typical.
Recounting their spat is unproductive and so he doesn’t, but in trying to not do so he ends up doing exactly what he’s avoiding, and his brows furrow as his nose scrunches up. He probably could’ve worded some things better, but one thing he’s sure of: He’s still in the right.
But a sudden ringing and vibrating in his pocket yanks him out of his thoughts—thank God—and he takes it out to see an unexpected name flashing on his screen. Normally, it’d be a day before Rinne would even consider talking to him.
He wonders if he should even answer, but his thumb’s already swiped to take the call before he can decide.
“What?” He coldly speaks.
There is silence, and chatter in the background.
“…I’m hanging up—“
“Niki.”
His heart skips a beat. He hates that his heart skipped a beat from hearing his name.
“I love you, and I’m sorry.”
And he hates how it skips again.
“I love you. I love you so much. I’m an asshole. I’m a fuckin’ asshole and I love you, know that.”
Okay, this is getting weird now. He wasn’t about to like, jump off a building or something, right? “Where are you?”
“Not important.”
“It’s very important?!”
A brief period of silence, and Rinne finally answers. “Fiine, at a bar… The one about a block down the parlor.”
Niki stands up and starts running around grabbing his phone, house keys, and a jacket. Of course, of course Rinne would only say all that when he’s drunk. “God, how much have you had to drink?”
“Hahah, I got dared to do shots, how am I supposed to say no?” The smugness in his voice is thick, and Niki rolls his eyes.
“Well good to know you’d only ever apologize if you got a few shots in you.” His hurt must’ve been obvious in saying that sentence, because not a snarky comment can be heard from the other line. “I’ll be there in a sec. Just wait.“
“Niki—“
Beep.
He doesn’t even wanna hear it. He can say what he has to say when he gets there, and hopefully he’s a bit more sober by then.
When he gets there, he finds Rinne leaning against one of the beams outside the bar, scrolling idly through his phone as if none of what just happened earlier had actually happened. That fiery red hair is unmistakable, and it makes him easy to spot, especially under a street lamp’s light. He makes his way over, and he places his hands on his hips. “Let’s go.”
Rinne shoves his hands into his pockets along with his phone. “Ya actually came.”
“Well, duh. I’m not letting you stumble back.”
He hears a snort from Rinne’s direction. “Alright, sure… Let’s go then.”
They begin their trek back, and silence fills the air between them up until about halfway when it becomes too thick to stand. Niki decides to be the first to say something. “Well, you seem to be walking fine…”
“I said I did a few shots, didn’t say I squeezed the whole fuckin’ place dry.”
Right, he figures. But something feels off, Niki thinks to himself. A few audible sniffs come from his direction, and he stops. “Hold on,” he turns to Rinne “you didn’t even drink at all, did you?”
“Huh?” Rinne cocks a brow. “What’re ya on about?”
“You know, if you did shots, the smell would still linger a bit even now.” Niki gives his nose a few taps, and the look on Rinne’s face says it all. Damn bloodhound, he’s probably thinking.
“…Huh! How’d I forget about that damn nose of yours. Alright well good job detective, now let’s go home! It’s freezing out, I wanna take a hot shower.”
He goes on to continue walking, but he stops when he feels something latch onto his arm.
“Wait, Rinne-kun.” Niki says, eyes lowering to the ground. Why does Rinne always do this? Why can’t he just say his feelings honestly? Why does he always have to complicate things like saying sorry, or saying how much he loved him? Why the mixed messages?
But then again, Niki’s no better.
“I’m… Sorry.” He finally manages to say. “I mean, you were being a jerk, but I said some things—And I didn’t mean them. I was just mad, and annoyed, and you just piss me off so much sometimes! But still…”
He furrows his brows. “Sorry.”
He hears nothing but Rinne’s steady breathing, and Rinne scratches his head. He shrugs off Niki’s hand to wrap an arm around the younger man. “All’s forgiven, but I’m hungry right now. You can just make me dinner as a proper apology, yeah~?”
“Ugh, fine.” Niki groans, though he makes no effort to shove him off. The weight around his shoulder is, for once, welcome. “What do you want?”
“Well obviously,” Rinne laughs, “anything that won’t be needing a rice cooker.”
“Oh haha, very funny. ”
“What? I’m gonna replace it, I promise.” He flicks Niki’s forehead, a grin on his face. “But holy hell, didn’t know that breaking a rice cooker would be all that it’d take to make you spit out some colorful language. Don’t think I’d mind hearing it again actually.”
“I said I was sorry!” Niki whines.
“Okay~ And your ‘stupid, butter-fingered dipshit’ is waiting on dinner ♪”
Niki feels his cheeks grow warm. “You’re… The worst.”