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The night has fallen. He’s on his bed, reading manga, and his eyes are getting tired. The letters on the pages are getting blurry and he yawns, exhausted. He snuggles beneath the blanket, with Peke J cuddled by his feet.
A light breeze comes from the window, making him shiver. Spring has come, but the cold is still present—more so at night. It’s not windy, at least.
Still, he’s got Baji’s not-so-secretly stolen sweatshirt on, warm and big on him, adoring how comfortable it is. It reminds him of its original owner, and Chifuyu feels small wearing it, protected (even though it’s just a piece of clothing).
He hadn’t been as sneaky as he’d thought while stealing it, considering Baji had asked very pointedly about it, but—no confession, no crime. Chifuyu knows by the ruffle of his hair and the amused tilt born in his lips that Baji knew, but that he also didn’t care for it.
“Is that so?”
So, all in all, Chifuyu does have Baji’s permission to have it.
Implicitly.
Very, very implicitly.
But if there’s anything Chifuyu studies, unlike the school subjects his mother wishes for him to focus on, it’s Baji’s behaviour. It’s intuitive to look for clues about what makes him happy, what worries him, what he’s excited for.
And he knows. How that day Baji turned away because he wanted to hide that grin, that blush, that Chifuyu saw either way.
Baji’s easy to read, if someone knows him well enough. If one looks at him for long enough.
And Chifuyu has looked.
He’s been looking since the beginning.
Chifuyu’s not aware of the soft smile settled on his face, until a meow coming from the end of the bed shakes him out of his thoughts. He’s even flipping the pages without reading at the thought of Baji—that’s kind of embarrassing.
Peke J’s ears twitch and he lifts his head, looking intently towards the window.
Oh. Could it be…?
His heart startles, hope blooming irredeemably, fingers fidgeting with the manga volume, eyes starting to light up.
“Oi, Fuyu!” The voice of Baji comes through, a bit far still. A shout, but not loud enough to be heard by their neighbours—or worse, their mothers. “I’m coming in.”
He turns towards the window, anticipation coursing through his veins. So, today is one of those days. In which Baji, for some reason or another—be it boredom, a nightmare, or the simple desire to see him—sneaks through and spends the night in Chifuyu’s room.
There’s a definite in the way Chifuyu loves. Leaving the window open every day, even if it’s cold. Studying on his own until he knows enough to teach. There’s a myriad of actions that declare his love, his devotion, his adoration.
Stubborn, and determined, and a bit tender; when Chifuyu loves, he does so wholly. Few are the ones his heart holds dear, and there is no one dearer to him than the boy who’s climbing down to reach his room.
He waits on the bed. Peke J’s already on the floor, tail swinging at his other owner.
The curtains move out the way, and there Baji is: hair loose, and sweats on, eyes shining bright when he spots Peke J in front of him.
“Peke J!” He greets—in a whisper, not wanting to get scolded by waking up Mrs. Matsuno—crouching down to pet him for a bit, the cat’s purring echoing all over the room. “You missed me?”
I missed you, too.
The thought is so bold it makes Chifuyu blush. He looks away for a second, before his eyes are back at the scene starring his two favourite beings in this world. Baji seems so at home inside his room, so at ease half-cuddling with their cat. Chifuyu can feel his heart grow big, too big—it aches a bit, even.
When he sees Baji shiver, his skin covered in goosebumps, he sighs. “Baji-san, now that you’re here, please close the window.”
Baji turns to look at him, smirk in place. “You think you can tell me what to do, Chi—?” He stops, smugness fading and eyes widening in surprise.
Chifuyu doesn’t understand why until he looks down at himself, the place Baji has his eyes fixated. Ah. That’s right. He’s wearing… Baji’s sweatshirt. His cheeks heat up, burning bright red, and he shifts in his bed, avoiding the piercing stare coming from his best friend.
“Chifuyu, you…”
The low voice in which he says it doesn’t scare Chifuyu, even though he jumps like a startled cat. He doesn’t move, still as a statue. Baji stands up and walks towards him, slow, Peke J behind his steps.
Once he’s by the edge of the bed, Baji crouches down, hands grabbing the sides of Chifuyu’s arms, head resting on his shoulder. He breathes in, breathes out, and Chifuyu feels those breaths tickle his neck.
“You’re so unfair.” Baji murmurs against his skin, barely audible.
Without giving him the time to react, Baji pushes them both onto the bed, hugging him uncomfortably tight, laying above him. Chifuyu’s heart is pounding loudly in his ears, Baji’s words ringing louder. He doesn’t move, confounded as his best friend nuzzles his neck, hiding his face away from him.
Baji-san, what…?
“That’s too much, idiot.” He sounds embarrassed, and that makes everything worse. “What were you thinking…?”
“I—” Chifuyu splutters, trying to organise his thoughts. “You already knew!” He accuses his best friend instead, wanting to drown himself the moment he does.
“That’s—!” Baji lifts his head, finally meeting his gaze. “That’s… It’s different, alright? Seeing it…”
Chifuyu cannot look away. Baji-san’s blushing. His face is flushed, all red, a hand in front of it in an attempt to conceal his expression. The sight is endearing. Entrancing. Seeing Baji so flustered, over him, there are no words to describe how light his heart feels.
Chifuyu knows. Baji knows, too. Even if they have yet to acknowledge it, and speak about it out loud. They know; too many lingering stares, too many unnecessary touches, too many moments in which they look at each other’s lips, too many blushes they can’t suppress. They know, of course they know.
Because there’s no one who knows Baji like Chifuyu does, and no one who knows Chifuyu like Baji does.
At this point, it’s impossible not to know.
Arms wrapping around Baji’s back, bringing him down once more, Chifuyu returns his hug. He burrows his face in those midnight strands, and embraces Baji tighter, searching for a way to kill all the butterflies flying in his stomach.
“Your heart’s beating fast,” Baji says, the teasing tone halfway back onto his voice.
But Chifuyu knows how to handle him. “Yours is, too.”
He can’t stop the grin raising the corners of his lips, elated when Baji squeezes him in return.
They stay like that for a while—it may be an eternity, seconds stretching out—unwilling to part. That is, until a strong rush of wind coming from the window shocks Peke J out of the floor and onto the bed, landing on top of Baji’s back, making both of them groan at the sudden weight and pressure upon their bodies.
Once Peke J climbs down, both lift their heads to look at each other. In less than a second, they both burst in fits of laughter.
“Baji-san…!” Chifuyu lets out in between breaths. “See! That’s why I told you to—” He laughs some more— “close the window!”
Baji’s laughing, too, even though it’s totally his fault. “Do it yourself!”
After calming down, laughter dying in their throats, Chifuyu pouts, looking at Baji with big, sparkling eyes—the exact same way he knows Baji can’t resist. “Close the window, Baji-san. It’s cold otherwise.”
A teasing glint shines in Baji’s copper irises, a faint blush accompanying it. “Even though you’ve got my sweatshirt on?”
Facing his best friend’s reticence, Chifuyu makes use of his last resort. “Please?” He asks, tilting his head, so that Baji can get a glimpse of his neckline.
See if you can deny me now, Baji-san.
He can’t. That’s the answer.
Baji’s eyes travel down, down, and up again. And he nods, standing up and doing so without a word. Chifuyu takes Baji’s sweatshirt off—no need for it when the real thing is here—and takes the chance to cover himself with the blanket, making space in his tiny bed for his best friend.
“Turn off the light, too.” A pause, when Baji stops. “Please.”
Peke J curls himself up against his feet once more, and Chifuyu smiles as he waits for Baji to lay by his side. Their cat is so cute, he could watch him do nothing for hours and not tire of it. His eyes blink when he has to get used to the sudden darkness, but it doesn’t stop him from discerning the black bob at the end of his bed.
When a hand ruffles his hair, he looks up at Baji, who’s watching him fondly.
“Well?” Chifuyu hurries him up, one eyebrow raised. “Get in.”
Baji huffs, poking his forehead with a bit of malice, a smirk shining through. “Slower, Fuyu. I’m a shy guy.”
He snorts. “Sure. Now, come on. I want to sleep.”
Baji doesn’t let him say it twice—soon enough, they’re both huddled up on his bed, which was definitely not made for two people to sleep on.
It’s fine, though. He can bear it. As long as it’s Baji who sleeps beside him.
“You took it off?” Baji’s question takes him off guard.
“Of course,” he reasons. Seeing Baji’s annoyance coming from a mile away, he amends. “You’re here, so I don’t need it.”
Chifuyu likes shoujo manga. Romance stories. He’s hopeless when the main characters fall in love and have to go through thousands of obstacles—people keeping them apart, their own issues, and misunderstandings—before finally getting together.
Yet, saying things so alike to those he reads out loud, it’s embarrassing. It’s too tender, for something that doesn’t have a voice yet.
Baji doesn’t answer, and Chifuyu doesn’t expect him to. He can feel Baji’s arms wrapping themselves around him, can feel Baji bring him closer to his chest, entangling their legs, in that comfortable position they always find themselves in when they sleep together.
It’s relaxing. Comfortable. And so, so peaceful, to be with Baji like this.
Baji, who’s usually an earthquake and a typhoon all in one, who has to restrain himself in order to fit in better and not cause troubles; who once burned down five cars because their favourite brand of yakisoba was out of stock, who punches first and asks second, who will snare him away from home to go on a trip to bumfuck nowhere just because, whose love usually feels like being in the middle of a hurricane.
Baji, who lays content by his side, as if lulled by Chifuyu’s own waters. By his wish to reach for the stars, and to do so by his side.
He caresses Baji’s cheek, soft, entranced, making eye-contact with him and leans over to leave a kiss on his forehead, gentle. Always gentle, when it comes to dealing with the Baji who seeks refuge in his room in the dead of the night.
A gulp, as Baji closes his eyes, hard, breaking their contact. “I can’t say it yet.”
His heart jumps. “I know.” It’s meant to be reassuring, because Baji might not be able to say it now, but—
“I will.” He promises in a quiet, choked voice. “I will.”
Chifuyu smiles, and closes his eyes, too. “I know.”
The darkness that pulls Baji away, that holds him back; Chifuyu can’t fight against it if Baji doesn’t let him.
And Baji, predictably, has never let him. Chifuyu wants to, so badly, he wants to ask about it. That worn look in his eyes, the weight on his back, Chifuyu wants to help erase it.
If his presence eases Baji’s conscience on the nights when sleep doesn’t come easily, then Chifuyu will content himself with that. Not forever, but. For now, this is enough.
“Goodnight, Baji-san.”
Before sleep claims him fully, Baji’s arms squeeze him tight. His voice comes out in a murmur.
“Goodnight, Fuyu.”