Archive of Our Own ^beta

Ritsu senses Shou before he sees him. Strangely enough, it comes from the front door rather than the windows.

He supposes it makes sense. Ritsu isn’t in his room. His homework is done, his parents are still at work, his brother is getting ramen with Reigen and Kurata. He’s allowed downstairs. Which is weird, considering he lives here, and he shouldn’t feel the need to be ‘allowed’ anywhere in his own home. 

The doorbell rings, and Ritsu wishes Shou would just break in through the window like he usually does. Shou is changing. Ritsu doesn’t know how he feels about it.

It’s rude to keep people waiting, his mind supplies. Ritsu tosses aside his nonogram and turns up the TV, the goofy sound effects of Takeshi’s Castle blaring from the living room. Deja vu blankets the hallway as he pads towards the door, a phantom smell of smoke building until it nearly crushes his lungs. Ritsu looks down at his arm, he wears a sage long sleeve instead of a yellow sweater. 

It doesn’t stop him from shaking. 

Faced with the lock, Ritsu gives it a pensive twist, expecting the door to fly open at Shou’s prying hands. Nothing comes though. No potent opia or menacing lilt. No bright green varsity jacket or spiked copper hair. The ambiguous promise of violence, the reluctant complacency, a lie threaded within a lie. Nothing at all.

Shou is there though. Small. His larger than life presence reduced to a meager ember. He stands alone on the bottom step, damp with burgeoning rain, sweaty with evening heat. He wears an aviator jacket. It’s the middle of summer. 

“Hi,” is all he says, gentle. Ritsu almost can’t hear it under the rain.

“Hi.” He shelters himself behind the door, oddly shy. Or unnerved. 

Shou rocks on his heels, his crossbody bag rocking with him. The rain continues to pour. Heavier every few seconds. His hair hadn’t grown all that much since he cut it, but it was just long enough to fall over his head wetly in dark copper tufts. Ritsu watches a lone droplet fall from the strands down to the divot of his collarbone, trailing languidly into his white t-shirt. Shou’s figure is lewdly revealed in its gauzy outline, milk-white skin lithe with soft muscles and slight curves. A sight that almost feels tangible. If he looked at Shou long enough, he’d be able to feel the gentle rise and fall of his body, feel its pertness with his gaze alone.

Warmth curls low in Ritsu’s belly. 

Shou must’ve noticed. He gives Ritsu a teasing grin. 

“You gonna keep standing there? Or are you gonna invite me inside?” 

Right. Shuffling aside, he allows Shou to saunter in, hearing a slight rumble of content in his chest. Ritsu makes himself scarce before Shou can accidentally brush against him, running upstairs like a coward and pulling a towel from the linen closet. 

“Catch,” he warns before throwing the fabric to Shou. He manages to snag it before it can drop to the floor.

Shou doesn’t ask for help, but Ritsu moves to approach him anyway. Hands find their way into the rough expanse of the towel, beginning to scrub harshly at Shou’s head. 

“Oi! I can dry myself!” He cries. Ritsu ignores him. 

I know, but just stay still and shut up. He eventually lets Shou wrestle the towel away from him. It falls to his shoulders, revealing all the sharp exasperation, and fondness a fourteen year old boy could hold. He smiles at Ritsu again, unabashed and crooked. It’s been a while since he’s seen it.  Messy. Unruly. Handsome. It drives him crazy. 

“Really? Last time I let you dry yourself, you got a cold. And all you did was whine to me over messenger,” he chides. 

Shou peels off his jacket, water seeping into the floorboards as he hangs it on the coat rack. “I let my hair air dry all the time and I don’t get sick. That was a one off incident.” 

“You’re hopeless.” Ritsu rips the towel from his shoulders and drops it into the laundry basket in the bathroom

“You nag like my mom,” Shou says, uncaring of Ritsu’s infliction. “Thanks anyway, though.”

“Whatever, don’t worry about it—!” Ritsu falters as Shou abruptly strides over and hugs him. Arms wrap around his chest firmly, his head burying itself in the crook of Ritsu’s neck. He’s warm. Too warm. And Ritsu’s last vestige of coherence disappears when Shou sighs into him. His movements are automatic, controlled and calculated, but so far removed from his own intentions. Ritsu timidly settles his own hands around Shou’s waist, hooking a chin over his shoulder. There’s still some impermeable gap between them. Maybe halted by Ritsu’s inability to relax around Shou. Their hearts don’t quite beat in tandem, their breaths don’t quite line up perfectly, but they’re close enough to be flush against one another. And it’s enough. 

Touch is easy for Shou. Practically ingrained into his very fabric. A once violent caliber, capable of coring bloody craters into people’s chests and crushing brain matter into pulpy messes against concrete walls. Dangerous. Unhinged. Cold. Eyes spiralling rings of indifference that stared people down as they died. 

But he’s trying to change. Shou is still rough, still shakes people a little too hard, still intimidates them when he thinks too deeply, but he’s trying to change. Ritsu doesn’t know how to feel about it. Especially with his uncanny nature. 

He’s always there. Like cicada cry or the moon. Invisible for most of the day, maybe appearing out of the corner of Ritsu’s eye during the night. A flitting presence in the sky or across the street that he quickly forgets thereafter. Shou often chooses to linger though. A soft beam of light that his curtains can't block out. A constant buzz that settles behind his head. Always lingering. Showing up after Student Council meetings to seek help with his algebra homework, or following him home and then leaving for weeks on end. All or nothing. 

He touches Ritsu. Sometimes softly, sometimes roughly. But he touches Ritsu. Delirious and drunk on friendship. 

And Ritsu doesn’t pull away. Only aware of Shou’s arm curled across his back, or Shou’s thighs pressed against his while they study. He doesn’t hate it, but he can’t ever enjoy it. A sensation that sends his heart into hysterics and his mind into a matted fit of bewilderment. 

Perhaps he’s just touch adverse. It would make sense considering his upbringing. His family wasn’t all that touchy to begin with. His parents never kissed or hugged him goodnight, his brother never leaned against his shoulder or pressed his forehead against Ritsu’s in greeting. There were memories of touches though. Details hazy and grainy, but comprehensible in the thick fog of early childhood. He used to share a futon with Shigeo. He used to hold his mother’s hand. He used to be tossed into the air by his father until he could hardly breathe through his laughter.

It’s strange. To be so adverse, yet yearn for it all the same. Ritsu can’t ever imagine hugging his parents or sleeping against his brother, but he wants it. Wants it more than anything. 

Is it weird to yearn? To want to understand the terrifying act of touch? To find rhythm and cadence in entangled fingers, to find secrets in someone’s palm? It feels weird to want. 

“Thanks for letting me in,” Shou says. Ritsu has a vague feeling that he isn’t referring to being let in his house. 

“Why are you here?” He winces at his own cruelty, not meaning for it to come out so harshly. He hugs Shou a little tighter before letting go. A pretty terrible apology. 

Shou remains unaffected, smiling just as brightly as before. “My mom ungrounded me and I got my allowance back. I wanted to show you what I bought.”

“What is it?”

Shou unzips his bag, rifling around until he pulls out twin packs of soft pastels. Sundry blues greet him, their pigments already staining Shou’s fingertips.

“Oh, nice. What do you plan on drawing?” Ritsu asks. 

“Blue hour. I learned about it during art class, and I had to do a project on it. There’s this lake that looks really pretty during it. I’ve been wanting to draw it.” The question is there, unspoken, but Ritsu refuses to assume its implication. 

“That sounds interesting. How far away is it?” How long will we be gone? 

“About forty-five minutes one way. Then another thirty minute walk. I’ll have to leave at around six o’clock.” At least a few hours, but not long enough for your parents or brother to notice. 

“I see. It’s still raining though. It’ll be hard to draw.” Stay here a while. We can watch shitty game shows and hang out. 

“That’s true. Mind if I crash here until the rain stops?” Ritsu smiles slightly, taking note of how Shou’s face shifts into something more dazed. 

“Sure. You can borrow some of my clothes, just bring yours downstairs so I can put them in the dryer.” 

Shou nods, and they split at the staircase, Ritsu retreating back into the living room while Shou presumably digs around in his closet. He returns just as Ritsu switches the TV to Kuwazu Girai, wearing grey sweats and a graphic tee. 

“Here, catch,” Shou says, throwing his wet clothes at Ritsu. They don’t quite make it, leaving a damp patch on the floor. 

Ritsu tosses them in the machine with a dryer sheet, mumbling under his breath. There’s still water that Shou had dripped into the hall. Sighing, Ritsu drops a spare cloth and uses his feet to haphazardly scrub at the floor. Thank god his parents are still away. Ritsu’s not even sure if Shou is even allowed in their house. They have this idea that Shou is irresponsible and a bad influence. Which is true to a fault. It’s just that Shou’s idea of responsibility is very different from his parents. They’re jumpy around him, but Ritsu doesn’t think they understand that he acts as the break in their relationship. Shou hadn’t revealed his relation to Touichirou during Claw, but Ritsu could tell his parents were still put off by his demeanour and looks. Made worse by the fact that Ritsu couldn’t really tell them how or where he met Shou. In any case, showing up out of the blue and making a mess in the house wouldn’t have helped his case. 

Once done, Ritsu wanders to the kitchen, spotting Shou digging through his kitchen cabinets. 

“What’re you doing?” Ritsu asks. 

“Looking for snacks.”

“Who said you could do that?”

“I dunno, host etiquette? If anything, you’re the one who should be providing the food.” He hops down from the counter, beginning to put away the ingredients. At least he had it within him to clean up. 

“Host etiquette only applies when time has been made in advance. You can’t just show up out of nowhere and expect me to serve you.”

Shou smirks at that. “Really? I showed up unannounced at your school festival and you still served me at that maid cafe—”

The unwelcome memory floods into Ritsu’s mind, the dress, the headband, how Shou blushed and told him it looks pretty good on you. Ritsu strides over and slaps a palm to Shou’s mouth. “Shut. Up.” 

“Okay! Okay!” Shou raises his hands in surrender. “Whatever, my point still stands. Game shows are only half as tolerable without snacks.”

Ritsu supposes he’s right. “…They should be in the cupboard across the stove.” 

“Got it. Go sit and I’ll find something. Since you’re such a shitty host.” 

A lighthearted taunt. But annoyance prickles along his arms, spurring him to give Shou a small shove. Just enough to push him off balance. It succeeds in throwing Shou into the open door of the cupboard, causing it to hit the wall with a dull thud. 

Shou pushes him back. A little harder. Ritsu has to grab the countertop to keep himself from stumbling over. 

They lock eyes, and Ritsu can hardly even blink before he’s tackled to the ground by Shou. 

They wrestled often, short tussles that usually ended with either one of them pinned to the ground and both their bodies covered in bruises. This kind of fleeting touch is easy. No ambiguous intentions or hesitant permissions. Ritsu loved it. Maybe a little more than what should be expected of a honours student, but he was not an honours student in the presence of Shou. 

Instead he could kick Shou’s legs out from under him, jab him in the sensitive gaps between his ribs, hyperextend and twist his arms behind his back in submission. Let his aura run wild, bending all the spoons in their drawers and sweeping all the newspapers off the kitchen table. Feel the push and pull of the week’s frustration and exhaustion, have it seep into every blow he delivered unto Shou. It was wrong, immature. Completely unbecoming. It drives him crazy. Shou drives him crazy. But the thrill of having Shou’s aura ride up his shirt, having him smile in defiance, having his hands everywhere, was exhilarating. 

They tumble into the kitchen table, knocking over Ritsu and Shigeo’s chairs in the process. Shou sends Ritsu into the corner of the table, leaving his spine to convulse painfully as it hits a nerve. He collapses back to the floor, Shou looming over him and lunging at him for another chance, now focusing on his chest. Ritsu drives himself out of the way just in time, Shou only manages to capture his shins. His grip is firm, but Ritsu easily outmatches him in lower body strength. Wrenching his leg out, he lands a decisive kick right into Shou’s jaw, a sickening crack following it. Shou doesn’t even yelp. 

He pushes Ritsu’s leg out of the way and pins it down, dodging his other leg and quickly scrabbling up the rest of Ritsu’s torso. Ritsu sees him rear up, knees set too narrowly to properly keep his balance, the only thing keeping him upright being the tautness of their intertwined hands. His chance is there. Ritsu tangles their legs together, using their connected hands to pull Shou’s arm across his chest and topple him to the side, his legs wound tight enough to keep Shou from squirming away. He attempts to straddle Shou’s chest, but only manages to land on his belly. Shou is relentless. Refusing Ritsu any flexibility with the rest of him, dodging or slapping away his hands at any chance he gets. A few of his hits land on Ritsu, mostly on his chest and shoulders, one barely grazing his neck. 

Shou tires quickly though, and Ritsu finally manages to pin Shou’s hands above his head. A cruel rush floods his bloodstream like adrenaline. Raw and potent. Ritsu has to bite his lip from grinning too hard. He won. He won! But as he meets Shou’s eyes, all of it gushes out of him, oozing through his shaking arms. 

Shou is shocked still beneath him, eyes wide, hair wild and mussed. His chest is surprisingly even, breath hardly ragged. He stares up at Ritsu, giving away very little. Maybe surprise. Maybe awe. Ritsu can’t tell, the blood in his heart fermenting into something dizzying. He suddenly feels very, very woozy. Like he’s sick with a fever and has had too much cough syrup. 

His limbs slacken slightly. Shou doesn’t move, and Ritsu lets himself slowly relax. Still unable to look away. 

Then Shou smirks, eyes crazed. A sharp blow lands straight onto Ritsu’s solar plexus, pain exploding across his abdomen and spindling outwards until it reaches the back of his ribs. All the air in his chest rushes out of him as he doubles over, and all he can do is allow Shou to flip him over and shove him to the ground. 

Ritsu’s head rattles against the hardwood floor, blearily blinking up to find Shou holding his arms under his knees. White sunlight pulses lazily behind him, in beat with the dull throb at the base of his skull. In the middle of it all is Shou. Gilded in the prismatic reflections of the windows, eyes glistening. He isn’t smiling, but his face refuses any sort of anger or contempt. It’s smug. To be expected.

“I win,” he says, loosening his hold. Ritsu attempts to push himself onto his elbows, only to collapse back onto the ground. The pain in his head subsides a little

“Yeah, whatever. Get off me,” he grumbles.

Shou does not get off him, instead slumping down onto Ritsu’s chest. “Such a sore loser.” 

“I'm not.”

“Yeah you are.”

“No I'm not. Get off me Shou. ” 

“Nah. You’re comfy.” 

“Will you get off if I give you food?” Ritsu tries.

“Depends. What kinda snacks you got?”

“Just chips and stuff. The usual.” 

“Hmm. Got anything else? I’m not really in the mood,” Shou asks. A hand begins to absentmindedly run up and down Ritsu’s side. Even blocked by his t-shirt, the touch still makes him squirm. 

“We have leftover curry. Though, it’s not as spicy as you usually like it.” Shou brightens up at that, pushing himself away. Ritsu breathes in properly, feeling the deep rise and fall of his chest and belly. 

“Whatever. It’s better than nothing. You got any sweets?” 

“Does cherry cake work?”

“ Definitely.”

They flip through just about every channel before landing on some obscure black and white film. A rerun poorly dubbed in Japanese. It serves more as background noise than something to watch. 

Their curry and cake goes quickly, dishes left abandoned on the coffee table as they pore over the nonogram Ritsu was working on. 

“I don’t get this at all. Just fill in three more gaps here and you’ll be able to finish it,” Shou says, tapping his pencil against the squares. 

“No I can’t, I already have the two spaces filled up here which means I need to put them somewhere else.” Ritsu erases two x’s, filling in their gaps with a few light pencil scratches. It still doesn’t make sense. 

“How does your stupid math brain even enjoy this? It just looks like trial and error to me.” 

“It’s not trial and error, it’s strategizing. I thought you were good at that?” 

Shou gives him a dirty look. “I am good at strategizing, just not with weird number puzzles. I’m better at stuff like Chess and Go and Catan.” 

“Really? I guess it makes sense that you’d like that kind of stuff.”

“Think you could beat me?”

“I’m not sure.” Another scribble, another x. “Maybe.”

“I’d whoop your ass in Go. Not even my own dad can beat me.” 

Ritsu glances over skeptically. Shou doesn’t falter, meeting his gaze head on. 

“You’re weird,” he finally says. 

“Sounds like you’re scared,” Shou retaliates, lifting an eyebrow.

“Who the hell is scared of Go?” 

“Nobody. You’re just scared that I’d be better at more things than you—”

“And that’s enough,” Ritsu interrupts, slamming the nonogram booklet closed. “Clearly we’re getting nowhere so how about we call it even?” 

Shou grins, toothy and smug. “Sounds like someone’s a sore loser.” 

“For fucks sake I’m not a sore loser!”

“Sounds like something a sore loser would say.”

Ritsu opts to say nothing, grabbing the dishes with a little more force than necessary. Using his telekinesis, he turns on the sink and squeezes a good amount of dish soap into the basin. The forks and spoons bend under his stress. 

“Come help me dry,” he calls to Shou, beginning to scrub at a plate. 

“What if I don’t want to?”

“ Shou. ”

“Not having to do the dishes should be my prize for beating your ass earlier.” 

Ritsu abruptly swivels around and stomps over to Shou, jabbing a finger right in the middle of his forehead. 

“Your prize,” he seethes. “Is me letting you stay for more than a minute, and making you dinner, and giving you dessert. So unless you want a face full of dirty dishwater, I suggest you come help me dry.” 

Shou’s expression is funny, somewhere between terror and acceptance, yet it doesn’t incite laughter from Ritsu. “Okay. Yep, for sure,” he stutters. 

Ritsu washes and Shou dries. The repetitive action soothing his nerves into a low thrum. By the time they're done, the clock on the microwave reads 5:52. 

“Wanna get out of here?” Shou suggests.

There isn’t much left for them to do. Except maybe bicker over more nonograms and watch shitty evening TV. The rain had stopped too, the sun carving out segments of concrete and power lines to illuminate in yellow light. 

“Sure. Your clothes should be done drying now.” 

“Okay I’ll change. Grab your wallet too, we gotta take the bus.” 

Ritsu nods, and they split up again, Ritsu heading upstairs and Shou heading into the laundry room. Thumbing through his wallet, he has enough for two bus fares and maybe a medium Mobdonalds pop. That is if Shou even decides to pester him for a drink. He might have to ask him for another hundred yen though, especially if they get fries…

“Ritsu! You coming or what?” Shou yells, startling him. He runs down the stairs and slips into his runners just as Shou puts on his jacket. Locking the door, they both amble out into the street, trying and failing to avoid puddles. Their walk is mostly silent, save for the occasional bark of dogs and the distant roar of freeway traffic. Shou dominates the conversation with talks about his upcoming cultural festival, a cool bird he saw, how Fukuda, Higashio, and Otsuki are renting rooms at his mom’s place. Ritsu doesn’t have much to provide beyond Student Council duties and his training regime. Shou takes an interest in it anyways. 

“What kind of exercise do you usually do?” He asks. 

“Just running and stuff like that. I hear Salt High School has some good track and field scholarships that might help pay for my university.” 

“Always thinking ahead, hm? I haven’t even thought about what high school I wanna go to.” 

Ritsu nudges him playfully. “Come to Salt High. I can keep an eye on you there.” 

“Ha! You wish! I don’t think my mom wants me going somewhere that far away though. Coriander High School is close and easy to get into, but I hear the art program is pretty underfunded.” Shou kicks a rock and watches it skitter into a puddle, disturbing the oil within it and making it shimmer. 

“What other high schools are nearby?”

“Just Caraway High and some other preparatory school. Lemongrass High? Doesn’t matter, it’s way out of my league.”

“I’m sure you could get in if you really wanted to.”

Shou chuckles, dry and humourless. “Yeah, if I wanted to. Even if I did, my grades are just average. I’ll probably just stick it out with Coriander, graduate, and head straight into trade school so I can get it done and over with.” 

They arrive at the bus stop on a quiet street. Hidden between two massive apartment complexes, the bus shelter newly renovated with thick glass and light steel. A few sprigs of grass gather around the support beams.

“I thought you wanted to be a vet though? Why do you want to go to trade school?” 

“I did, but that was before I found out the kind of grades I needed to get into a good program. Especially math and science which I’m pretty terrible at,” Shou starts. A cat jumps down from a fence and Shou beckons it over, scratching behind its ears. “I like art and woodworking though, and carpentry incorporates a little bit of both so I think that’s what I wanna do once I’m done. It’s not like I have to be a vet to enjoy taking care of animals anyways.” 

Ritsu joins him in petting the cat, getting a few orange hairs on his shorts as it curls up on the bench between them. “That sounds like a good plan. I’m not even sure what I wanna do after high school.” 

“Really? Not even a little bit?” Shou asks.

“I know I wanna head to university, maybe in law or STEM, but those are pretty broad. I’m kinda leaning towards physics though. We watched a documentary on particle accelerators the other week and it was really interesting.”

“Wait, particle accelerators are real?” 

Ritsu pauses, glancing over at Shou’s incredulous expression. 

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t they be?” 

Their bus rolls to a stop in front of them, the doors struggling to open. 

“I dunno! I thought particle accelerators were only in sci-fi movies! Like they were just some made up technology.”

“No. They’ve existed since the thirties,” Ritsu explains, dropping his change into the fare box. 

“ The thirties?! ” Shou exclaims, nearly forgetting to pay his own fare. They take a seat closer to the back, elevated and away from the rest of the commuters. 

“Yeah. That’s what I learned in the documentary at least.” 

“Wow. Okay then. Maybe you should show me sometime.” 

“I think you’d like it. There was this Soviet scientist in the documentary who actually got hit by accident in a particle accelerator.”

“ No way, ” Shou whispers, astonished. “What happened after?” 

Ritsu feels a small smile break through his facade, launching into his memory and recounting every detail he could remember about the film, his monologue carrying the silence all the way to their stop. 

They’re left a few kilometres outside Seasoning City, with nothing but cracked pavement separating them from the woodlands and dead interchange. A path of stomped out grass leads away from the lamppost holding up the bus schedule, nearly hidden under long, heavy blades. Shou starts walking down it almost immediately. 

“C’mon, keep up,” he calls. “The sun is already setting.” 

Ritsu struggles to join him, unable to get a good foothold over the uneven dirt and rocks, but the path eventually evens out into smooth mulch after a few meters. Beyond the tree line, the woods open up in a hazy grid, the spaces between them giving way to boulders and fallen logs crawling with moss. There’s little undergrowth. Save for the bundles of andromedas and blackberries that would creep close to the path. It’s still too early for them to bear fruit, their drupelets bright green against its serrated leaves. Shou lets his fingers brush against them, sometimes gripping hard and tearing off a few leaves only to toss them onto the mulch. Ritsu decidedly remains mindful of them. His brother once told him that bugs come back as vengeful spirits if they’re killed out of spite, and Ritsu doesn’t want to extend that superstition to plants, even if the thought of an evil plant spirit sounds pretty stupid. 

“You’re falling behind Ritsu! C’mon, hurry up!” Shou yells at him. So impatient, Ritsu wants to snap at him, but that would likely earn him an unwanted nickname so he clamps his mouth shut and jogs up next to Shou. He gets little more than a quick glance, a small smile. Ritsu doesn’t like these kinds of pauses. The kind that are content and that easily lead into rumination. More often than not, the focus being on Shou himself. He looks around in mild curiosity, eyes clear but mind clearly elsewhere. It’s one of his nicer expressions. One where his head tilts like a bird when he hears a new sound, where he twists his shirt and bites his lip in excitement when he has something he wants to say. 

Cute, Ritsu thinks, and is bitterly reminded as to why he hates contented silence. 

From ahead, the path begins to slope downwards, more lush with vegetation. The scent of lake water and algae accompanies it. But Shou suddenly squats down next to the edge of the path, combing through the foliage as if looking for something.

“Hey, didn’t you say we need to hurry? Why are you looking for bugs?” Ritsu asks.

Shou shoots him a petulant look. “I'm not looking for bugs, just give me a sec.” 

Ritsu feels his temple throb. “Then why are you telling me to hurry up? This was your idea after all—”

“Ah! Here it is!” Shou holds up a sprig of leaves, purple blossoms clumped together close to the stem and covered in trichomes. It’s nearly indistinguishable from the rest of undergrowth. 

“What is it?” 

“Mint. Here, have some, it’s good.” Shou tears off a few leaves and hands them to Ritsu before beginning to chew on some himself. He looks at them dubiously.

“No thanks. They’re probably covered in pesticides.”

“They aren’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“This area is public, but it’s owned by the State so there’s pretty much no regulations. They aren’t gonna send some guy all the way out here just to spray fifty kilometres of land. Besides, I’ve eaten a lot of the plants and mushrooms here and I’ve never gotten sick. Trust me, there’s no pesticides here.” 

That’s even more concerning. “You just eat random plants you come across?”

“No,” Shou blushes. “I’m not that dumb. I got this foraging book a while back and I learned which plants are safe and which plants are toxic. Like, here look—”

Shou points to some andromedas closer to a Japanese pine. “You see there? The fruits and leaves and flowers on those are poisonous, but the fiddlehead ferns growing by their base are good to eat. And when autumn arrives, and all the mushrooms start growing, there’s gonna be a ton of matsutake that you can get for free,” he says, looking at Ritsu expectantly, as if waiting for some praise. Ritsu feels his previous indignance melt away, but only a little. 

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed you didn’t know any better.” 

It isn’t praise, but it seems to be enough for Shou. He lightly raps Ritsu’s chest with the back of his hand, his content smile returning.

“I’m not all that offended. I just wish you’d trust me a little more, y’know? Now c’mon, let’s keep moving.” There isn’t much to say beyond it, so Ritsu doesn’t bother adding anything else, instead placing the leaves in his mouth and beginning to chew. Shou was right, they are pretty good. A slight tang of ginger accompanying the light sweetness of the mint. He lets the leaves run over his tongue, trying to coax more flavour out before he’s left with the taste of wilted vegetation. 

The lake appears before them, carrying a cloudy reflection of the sky above. A narrow bank straddles the shore and tree line, its purchase slippery with mud. The path abruptly ends with it. Shou pays it no mind, continuing left and into the undergrowth with little regard. Ritsu doesn’t feel like navigating the bank so he follows Shou’s path, avoiding any plants that look suspiciously like poison ivy. Their pace is consistent until Shou slows in front of a dock, its rotting wood stretching about a third into the lake. 

“We’re here. What do you think?” Shou probes. The water close to the dock is loamy and full of algae blooms, but further out the water looks clear and cold and barren. The sun had already laid itself behind the pines across the water, breathing its last light against the shadows that quiver across its surface. Ochre clouds sit carved into the sky above it, slowly cooling into heliotropic and azure shades with the burgeoning blue hour. 

Ritsu takes pace along the dock, kicking off his socks and runners and enjoying the coarse wood grain against his toes. He wanders all the way to the edge, peering into the dark water below, seaweed growing in short stalks hardly moving with his disturbance. 

“It’s very nice,” Ritsu responds, feeling a little dumb for not having anything prettier to say. “I can see why you’d want to draw it.” 

“Right? Anyways, we came at a good time. I should be able to get the rough sketch done before it officially starts. You can hang out wherever you like, I’ll be a little while.” Shou leaves to sit a few meters behind him. From his bag he pulls out a set of charcoals and an exacto knife. A small sketchbook covered in stickers follows it, its pages about the size of a postcard. Ritsu debates joining him, but last time he had snuck up on Shou while he was drawing, he had disappeared for a week. Even afterwards, it had taken another week to get Shou to clearly look at him. It was a sore spot for him, its reasoning unknown. Ritsu had a few theories, ranging from abusive tirades from his father to just simple shyness. Either way, Ritsu didn’t dare ask to look, maybe secretly hoping to have Shou reveal his sketches one day. 

Even if Ritsu can’t see what he’s drawing, he’s still allowed to watch. One thing he had come to learn was that Shou was always active. Wriggling, twirling pencils, stretching his back and shoulders constantly. The dock creaks with every slight movement, its sound blending with the chirrup of frogs and cries of loons. Shou hardly notices them, continuing to fidget with the elastic band holding his supplies together while dragging his pencil across the page.

And Ritsu watches. Watches him poke his tongue through the gap between his teeth, watches him furrow his brows in concentration, watches him get smears of charcoal all over his white t-shirt.

He feels so stupid for even caring. 

He dips his feet into the water, its surface sun warmed from the lingering afternoon. He likes this controlled portion of nature. One that isn’t sparse like inner city decorative foliage or overgrown like deserted villages or factories. There is a path back to civilization, one that he can follow if he likes. And Shou will always be there with him, ready to follow Ritsu home whenever he’s ready. 

With the rain passed and the clouds polarizing, two bright dots appear parallel to one another. Ritsu recognizes them as planets, but is unsure as to what they are. Kurata might’ve known, but she isn’t here right now. Maybe Jupiter and Saturn? They tend to conjure frequently. Enough to even be visible from the city. If he was better at star mapping, beyond being able to identify Polaris, then maybe he could’ve figured it out. 

Ritsu looks back at Shou, seeing the other boy begin to mark the page with his pastels. Roughly pressing its face into the page or using his exacto knife to scrape its edge into a powder. Its markings are blended all the same, sometimes with the heel of his palm, other times with his thumb or index finger. Blue smudges quickly join the mess on his shirt, some even getting on his cheeks, and Ritsu is struck with the sudden urge to touch. To use his own thumb and palm to wipe away the colour on Shou’s face. 

It remains as an urge. Shou’s touches were friendly, but not tender like this thought. Their tentative friendship hinges on Ritsu’s ability to hold himself back. He will not lose Shou. Even if his longing becomes unbearable. 

Blue hour slowly melts into night. Still bright enough to see the other side of the lake, but quickly darkening into a cool haze. Ritsu finds his vision obscured by atmospheric distortion, not quite able to make out the landscape’s previous sharpness, but still able to spot the edges of rocks and soft ripples of water striders. He decides to lay down, his hands resting beside him. For a moment he contemplates going to sleep, his limbs fatigued from their trek and his mind placid. Shou tends to take a while anyways, it wouldn’t be long. Yet, the thought of touch haunts him. How would Shou react? If Ritsu held his face like that? If he ran his thumbs over the smoothness of his cheek, mapping the freckles there? Breath like susurrus over his lips and eyes glowing with affection. Stop it. 

The dock groans with approaching weight, Shou’s footfalls recognizable even without his beaten up runners. Lying down, he mimics Ritsu’s position, his feet in the water and his arms on his chest. Ritsu turns his head to look at him. Shou isn’t looking back. 

“All done?” He decides to ask. 

“Yep. Might change a few details later on, but for the most part I’m happy with it.”

“I see.”

“Mhm.”

The silence stretches on. Not even the rustle of grass or polyphony of wildlife spares them. Ritsu’s knuckles drag across the dock.

“Are you really not going to say anything?”

“Hm? What is there to say?”

“I dunno. You’re always talkative.”

“I don’t feel like saying anything. Why don’t you say something?”

“I don’t know what to say. I’m not very interesting.”

“Bullshit, you’re way more interesting than you give yourself credit for. Just say what’s on your mind, I’m sure it’ll be awesome.” 

Shou says it with such confidence that Ritsu almost believes him. But saying how he would like to touch Shou’s face like he was his lover was completely out of the question.

“Nothing’s really on my mind. I kinda spent it all on the bus.”

“Seriously?” Shou laughs, clear and bright through the haze. “You’re a liar. You’re always thinking about something. Probably something stupid like homework though.”

Ritsu takes what he can get, even if it’s a lie. “You got me.” 

“That’s what I thought,” Shou says, pressing their shoulders together. Ritsu’s heart leaps into his throat when their fingers brush together, the air and the humidity suffocating his chest. 

“What about you? Is there nothing on your mind?”

“Nope. Nothing at all.”

“That makes sense.”

“Hey! What do you mean by that?”

“I think you know.”

“I think I should push you into the lake.”

“I’ll drag you under with me.”

“Like a kappa huh?” 

“Worse than a kappa.”

“Worse than a kappa hm?” Shou abruptly sits up, and Ritsu follows him, curious. Shou then wanders behind him, placing a foot square in between his shoulder blades and giving him a small push. “Prove it.”

Ritsu’s hands fly to the edge, gripping hard enough to turn his knuckles white. “Don’t you dare Shou! I’m serious!” Shou simply laughs, pushing a little harder.

“ Shou! ” Ritsu cries, clinging onto his leg.

“Okay, okay. Jeez, you overreact way too much,” he says, leaning himself against Ritsu’s back. His mouth is much too close to his ear when he whispers, “You’re so serious all the time. It’s just a little water.” 

For a moment, Ritsu kinda wishes Shou did push him in. Then at least he could feign his blush as embarrassment or anger. 

“Forgive me for not wanting to get wet,” Ritsu wavers. Shou still doesn’t move. 

“Lame. You’d totally swim if you had your bathing suit right?”

“Maybe if I had a towel. And if you’d shut up and get off me.” 

“Okay.” Shou stands and moves back towards his bag. Ritsu watches until he throws his jacket and shirt off to the side, hands then moving to unbutton his jeans. Blood fiercely rushes to his face, burning the skin of his cheeks and neck. A hand flies up to cover his peripheral. 

“What are you doing?!” He shrieks.

“Going for a swim? What’s it look like?”

“Why the hell are you going for a swim now?!”

“‘Cause I want to? Besides, you seem like you don’t really want me to bother you right now so I may as well swim until you decide you wanna go back.” Ritsu can’t get anything else out before Shou takes off in a running start and leaps from the dock, water splashing into a massive ripple and getting Ritsu’s shorts all wet.

He pops up with a gasp shortly after. “Fuck! That’s cold!” 

“You’re such an idiot! You don’t even have a towel, you’re going to get hypothermia!” Ritsu scolds.

“No I won’t. I’ve got pyrokinesis, remember? I’ll just dry myself off once I’m done.”

“And how effective is that?”

Shou grins. “Dunno. I’ve never tried it.”

“You’re ridiculous…”

“You’ll make sure I won’t get hypothermia right?”

“No. As a matter of fact I’m leaving you here.”

“ Ritsuuu…!” Shou whines, swimming up to the wood and hanging off its edge. “You don’t mean that, right?”

“I mean every word of it,” Ritsu bites.

“Oh yeah? Prove it.”

Left on the dock, all Ritsu can do is stand his ground, shoulders tense and foot bouncing. Shou stares up at him, eyes narrowing as his smirk cuts across his face, becoming more taunting by the minute. It doesn’t take long for Ritsu to lose his will. 

“What a sore loser.”

Ritsu doesn’t respond.

“Ritsu…”

He looks away. 

“Come swim with me, loser.”

“I’m not swimming with you.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“What if I’m quiet? You said you’d swim if I was quiet.”

“You’re not being quiet right now. And I doubt you’ll be able to stay quiet. There’s little incentive for me.”

Shou pretends to zip his lips, pushing himself away and paddling a bit further out. The action is beckoning. C’mon, it’ll be fun! You won’t disappoint me, right Ritsu? 

The desire is humiliating, but Shou is a boy who lets him be misguided. A boy meant to accommodate the curious and carless parts of him he had pushed away in place of responsibility. Shou is that other part of him—as sappy and sentimental as it sounds. He likes being the counterbalance, one with the power to rip Ritsu’s will apart chunk by chunk, and leave him chasing endlessly for a result leading to nothing.

They could die out here. Ritsu could jump into this lake and freeze to death. It’d be all Shou’s fault. He’d die right alongside Ritsu all because he’s an idiot and doesn’t know how to control his pyrokinesis enough to regulate their body temperatures. They have no towels, no flashlights. And even with the remaining daylight, it won’t take long for night to slink across the woods and smother the path leading them back to the road. What if they miss the bus? What if it starts raining again? Yet Shou’s main concern is whether or not Ritsu will join him. 

How does it feel? To be so careless like that? To think of nothing? Ritsu supposes it's a little untrue. Shou does think of consequences, but only for things he deems serious enough. Is hypothermia, or getting lost, or missing the bus not serious enough for him? 

Ritsu must’ve taken too long. Shou shrugs and swims away, leaving him behind. Ritsu is forced to watch him go, feeling the blood drain out of his heart and pool deep in his stomach. Dread. Maybe fear? He doesn’t want to be left behind. 

…

Fine. 

Ritsu strips down to his briefs before diving into the lake after Shou. When he surfaces a few meters away, Shou has a cheer on the tip of his lips. 

“ Don’t. Say anything. ” 

And Shou furiously nods, quickly striding over to meet him. Same carefree grin that Ritsu so desperately wants to stare at forever, but also kick right off his stupid face. 

Instead he swims, feeling the gentle glide of water over his arms and legs, silky smooth with its stillness. He dives under and relishes in the cool current that hits his face, resurfacing and pushing his bangs away to face the moon. Sometimes they dive at the same time, swimming under and over each other’s bodies, a dance disguised as a game. Shou is much more clumsy with his strokes, frantic with inexperience and fearful of diving too deep. But he orbits Ritsu regardless, a white flash of skin like scales on the belly of a fish. 

Ritsu decides to swim a little closer, tentative, but still reaching forward to calm Shou. He’s going to exhaust himself soon, even if the cold water continues to shock him into moving. Grabbing his arms, Ritsu lets his palms slide up to meet Shou’s, eventually letting their fingers entangle. 

Ritsu shrinks under the unreadable stare of Shou’s eyes, his heart pounding hotly against his chest. Bad decision. 

Shou quickly drags him towards the surface, the burn in his lungs only now apparent with the movement. He heaves with new oxygen, feeling the rush of air expand and deflate his chest, the smell of pine a warm welcome back to the world above. 

Realizing he’s still holding Shou’s hands, he rips them away before the other boy notices. 

When they regain their breath, Shou is the first to speak. “Hey, I hear there’s a big rock right in the middle of the lake that you can stand on. You wanna see if it’s there?”

I think I’d follow you across this entire forest if you’d let me. “Sure. Lead the way.” 

Ritsu doesn’t know what to expect when they start swimming towards the centre, maybe nothing at all, but Shou proves himself correct when Ritsu feels the eroded face of a massive boulder hit the soles of his feet. High enough to stand on and catch their breath. He oddly feels more relieved for Shou than himself, watching the other boy slink around, his collarbone dipping and rising with its surface. Ritsu doesn’t follow. Still reeling over holding Shou’s hands so brazenly. 

“Whatcha doing?” Shou calls from the far side. Ritsu reluctantly wades over.

“Nothing. Just watching.” 

“Yeah, watching me I bet,” he teases. 

“No I wasn’t.” He was. 

“Liar.”

“Insufferable.”

Shou sticks his tongue out at him, ending the argument with a cheap low blow. Ritsu fights the urge to splash him with a face full of water. 

“Where do you think this rock came from?” Shou muses. 

Ritsu seriously considers the question, perhaps unnecessarily. “Probably the side of the mountain. Why?”

“Boo! You’re not thinking big enough!” Shou drawls.

Irritation prickles on Ritsu’s scalp. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean your answer is boring! Doesn’t it make more sense for it to be a meteor or something?”

“A meteor,” Ritsu deadpans.

“Think about it! What if a meteor landed here a long time ago, and the crater eventually became a lake because of mountain runoff? Doesn’t it make sense?” Shou explains.

“Yeah. If there was a recording of the event. You think a meteor this big would just go undocumented?”

“Maybe it was documented. Just through lost oral history. What if it crashed here millions of years ago?” 

“You don’t think scientists would’ve done studies on it already?”

“Scientists keep that stuff a secret don’t they?”

“No, not really. There’s always documentation of meteors, regardless of when they landed. There’s tons of studies done on the meteor that killed the dinosaurs.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Shou swims a little closer, creating small vortexes with the curve of his hand. 

 “I still think it’s a meteor though.”

“You can think whatever you want.”

“God, you really do sound like my mom.”

“One of us has to be reasonable.” 

Shou splashes him at that, leading to a small war that has them both shivering and panting afterwards. Somehow, Shou manages to disappear from Ritsu’s sight, no treading of water giving his position away. Ritsu knows he’ll jump on him, arms wrapped around his neck clinging like lichen, but he’s unsure when it’ll come. 

It doesn’t take long. Shou leaps from behind, trapping Ritsu’s arms as he locks his hands across his belly. He buries his face into Ritsu’s shoulder, lips pressed into the skin. It’s unintentional, he knows, but the sensation shoots straight through his heart, leaving the heat inside to seep into his face. Shou is going to be the end of him. Something will happen, he knows it. Maybe he’ll become so dizzy that he’ll drown, or burn alive from his own blush. His guard is always too low around Shou. He could rip out Ritsu’s heart right now and all he’d do is stare dazedly until it’d stop beating in Shou’s hand. He can’t fight back. He could never fight back. Too much, too much, too much!

Shou breaks the uneasy silence. “Hey, are you uncomfortable with me touching you?” Shit, he wasn’t supposed to notice. 

“Why do you ask?” He deflects, feeling Shou frown against his shoulder. 

“You always get super tense when I touch you. If you want me to stop, I can.”

“H—how, so?” You’re not supposed to notice! 

“Like you freeze up. Your breathing gets all funny and your aura spikes. It’s kinda like that one time we were walking home together, and that one student council guy came up to you and grabbed your arm because you forgot something. You completely tensed up and didn’t relax until we got to your place.”

“O—oh… sorry.”

“I don’t want you to apologize, I just wanna know if I make you uncomfortable or not.” Shou slowly unwinds his arms with the statement, making Ritsu’s hands flinch to capture them. He stills, albeit, nervously. 

“Dude, what’s up with you? Are you okay with me touching you or not?”

“I— Yeah, I’m fine with it…” 

“Tell me the truth!” Shou snaps. 

Ritsu breaks free of his grip, escaping their position. “I don’t know, okay! I really don’t know…”

Shou falters. “That… doesn’t make much sense to me. How do you not know?”

“I just… I don’t really know how to explain it. I—I don’t always expect you to touch me. It catches me off guard, I think that’s why I tense up. But every time you stop touching me, I feel… cold. That’s the best way I can describe it. I don’t want you to stop, but I don’t want you to touch me so suddenly. Does that make sense?”

Feigning courage, Ritsu decides to look back, watching Shou bite his lip at the words. It doesn’t help to settle the cloud of anxiety swarming his mind.

“I think I get it. I had that same feeling for a while, especially while I was living with my pops,” he says. “He’d… me and pops used to fight a lot, and Serizawa would always try to comfort me after, but neither of us were really used to touching. He’d try and pat my back or my hair, but I’d always flinch away. I never really wanted him to, I felt like I never deserved it y'know? But every time his hand would leave, and he’d go away, I felt so desperate. I always wanted more.” 

It’s only a tiny glimpse, a tiny keyhole into Shou’s past, but Ritsu strains to listen. 

“Then, one day pops got really mad at Serizawa. I don’t even know what he did, but pops screamed at him for like an hour. When he was done, I found him alone in his room, curled up and crying. I didn’t really know what to do, I didn’t even know grown ups cried like that; so I tried to pat his back like he always did with me. It somehow felt a lot nicer than being touched unexpectedly.”

“What happened after that?” Ritsu asks.

“He asked if he could hug me. So I let him. And once he asked for permission, it became a lot easier. I clung onto him all night, I even slept beside him.” Shou pauses, glancing towards the shore. “I feel more comfortable initiating, that’s why I touch you all the time at least. And it’s gotten easier. People don’t need to ask all the time if they can touch me, I’m usually pretty cool with it. If I’m not, then I let them know.”

He looks back at Ritsu. “Maybe you need something like that.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno. A system? Just a way of letting me know when you’re cool with me touching you. That’s something you want right?”

That’s something you want right? 

Coherence combs through his thoughts, sewing the realization together into something clear. Tears behind his eyes threatening to spill over. The want tugging at his heart. Ritsu is not used to getting what he wants. He had prayed and cried for psychic powers, but had only acquired them by the skin of his teeth. There was so much he lost through them. Things that tore the narrative he had built for himself so quickly and violently it still left him reeling. He’s not used to a brother, he’s not used to powers, he’s not used to the feeling of being okay. This is no different. What will he lose if he says yes? Shou has already twisted so much of what he once was, into someone who lies and revels in his spontaneity. Who everyday waits for a knock at his window. What comes after that? 

“Ritsu.” Shou’s voice pulls him under, a force that rips him from one storm to the next. One that is equally as terrifying as his own. “What do you want?”

There’s nothing he can really bring himself to say. He knows what he wants, and he’ll refuse it as long as he can. He can endure it. He has always endured it. Push through. What Ritsu wants is different from Shou. Something that is only compatible in the moment. Shou is too good for him. Ritsu is not worthy of any of his time, yet refusal still probes at the bruise of stubborn hope deep within his brain.

Don’t try so hard to deny yourself happiness, Shigeo had once told him. It was after Shou visited for the first time and Ritsu tried to shut down the possibility of him coming over again. In the heat of the moment, he had told Shigeo that Shou wasn’t his friend, that he was just someone who lingered after Claw and couldn’t seem to leave him alone. His brother had looked confused then, even hurt. Do you really believe that? He asked. And for once, Ritsu couldn’t answer. 

Shou showed up the next day regardless, and Ritsu let him in without really knowing why. He let him in the next time, and the time after that. Shou always came over, and Ritsu always let him in. Through a room, through a window, through a door. Under the guise of tutelage, then a game, then to talk. Perhaps something underlying was always there. When had he started to want? 

Shou looks like he’s about to knock him upside the head. Fuck . 

“I… I want to be able to touch you too. And I want to be more comfortable with you touching me,” Ritsu says, tactlessly. Take a little. Take a little and refuse the rest. 

God, he’s weak. 

“Okay,” Shou chirps. “How do you want to do this? Want me to ask for permission?” Huh. 

“Um… yes please. Should I ask for permission too?”

“No, you don’t need to. If I don’t like it, I’ll say so.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay. Go ahead. If you want.”

Shou looks at him expectantly. Ritsu supposes he should try then. His hand moves slower than he wants it too, sluggish with uncertainty, sweat forming on his palm. He doesn’t have a clear target. Shou’s arm? Across his back? Those were considered casual, right?

Ritsu’s hand eventually drops onto Shou’s shoulder, the distance between them cemented by his stiff elbow. Shou is warm, just as he expected, and Ritsu rubs his thumb a little to feel it travel along his arm. 

“Uhm,” Ritsu mumbles, eyes wide and terrified.

Shou bursts out laughing. Ritsu can’t enjoy the sound with his flush burning up his face. He retracts his hand.

“I’m really trying my best! Quit laughing Shou!” Ritsu defends. Shou laughs harder. 

“I—No it’s okay! I’m sorry for laughing so hard,” he says between fits of giggles. “It really is okay.” 

Ritsu already has his arms crossed over his chest. “Whatever.”

“Hey, it’s all good. You wanna try again? I promise I won’t laugh this time.”

It still stings, even though Shou didn’t mean anything bad by it. Its pressure and seething far exceeding the common sense that wracks his brain. He’ll never learn this way. 

“I’ll show you,” Shou then says. “Can I have your hand?” 

Shou holds his own out. It looks soft. Covered in burn scars and calluses. A dull shine against the lines that loop and adorn his fingertips. Oddly alluring. 

“I guess,” Ritsu murmurs, gently placing his hand into Shou’s, heart stuttering eagerly when he feels Shou’s fingers curl over his own. 

“It’s not about the type of touch itself. I think it’s more about the closeness and intimacy that comes with it.” His guidance is deliberate, thumb pressed into the veins of Ritsu’s wrist as Shou leads them back to his shoulder. This touch doesn’t feel as awkward as before, but it’s still charged with something unidentifiable. 

Shou drifts closer, and Ritsu can feel the heat seep from his torso. 

“See? Just like this,” he assures. Blood roars in Ritsu’s ears over this soft contact, nerves alight at the feeling of tendons and muscle under his hands. Shou is mindlessly blasé to his intentions, viewing this as some sort of friendly touch, but Ritsu feels anything but innocent.

Even then, he lets Shou touch him back, mumbling anywhere is okay, under his breath. Fantasy carries his thoughts, ripping them up from the ground even as they stubbornly dig their heels in. Shou is gentle, nails grazing over his ribs and settling on his waist, fingers lightly prodding below his jaw and rubbing his nape. Ritsu can feel his breath quicken under him, in tune with the shift in Shou’s aura. It pools around him, thick and heavy and bubbling. Ritsu had felt it before, once when they first met and when they were fighting Claw. It had come with hostility, determination, but here there is nothing. Still, he begins trembling against his will. 

He could never fight back. If Shou‘s aura changed into something sharp, rearing up to strike him, Ritsu could never bring himself to hurt Shou. That was likely the appeal though—the fact that they would never really hurt each other. Something like play-fighting. Intentions affectionate enough to offset the pain that would come with driving his fist into his stomach or kicking his jaw. Shou would make sure it’d really hurt. Fracturing Ritsu’s ribs as he held him down, snapping the tendons in his legs and feet until he couldn't move. Adrenaline like endorphins clouding the blood in his brain. Passion like conquest over his indifference. The thought does not scare him like it should.

“Hey,” Shou whispers. “Your aura feels funny.”

“How so?” Ritsu asks.

“It keeps on swelling up. And it’s soft. It’s usually really prickly and cold. I can kinda feel your emotions this way.”

“Oh? Um, what do you feel?”

“Content mostly. Like when you’re thinking. I can feel your fear as well. And… something else.”

“Like what?” 

Shou moves his hands up Ritsu’s neck, cradling his face. “Excitement.”

Oh.

Ritsu refuses to react, and in doing so makes Shou lean forward still. Their foreheads thump together, damp hair melding together in tangled strands. The smell of spice and sugar and mint in Shou’s breath potent and dizzying enough to make Ritsu hardly register the brush of their noses.

“Hey, Ritsu?”

“Hm?”

Shou glances at his lips. “Can we kiss?” 

Ritsu knew it was coming, he wasn’t dumb, yet the question still makes him melt. 

“I—”

Shou stops. 

“I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

He wants it. He wants it so badly, but it still doesn’t feel right. What the hell is wrong with him? 

Shou smiles anyway, and Ritsu feels like crying. 

“Okay,” he presses his cheek into Ritsu’s, nosing into him like a cat. “Is this okay with you?”

Ritsu reluctantly nuzzles him back. “Mhm. Yeah this is fine.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

They stay like that for a few minutes, enjoying the warmth that their embrace holds. Touch no longer feels insurmountable. This, he can do.

“It really is pretty,” he muses towards the sky, it’s perfect blue finally fading to black. 

“Yeah,” Shou murmurs. 

Ritsu pulls away, turning towards him. “It’s getting pretty dark though.”

“Yeah.” He mourns at not being able to see Shou’s freckles anymore, taking his hand as solace instead. 

“We should probably head back.”

“That sounds good to me.”

Ritsu leads them through the darkness.

Luckily their things remain untouched when they return to the dock, the wind only stirring their shoelaces and Shou’s papers. As much as he’d like to get home, the thought of putting on his clothes while still wet isn’t very appealing.

“Now would be a good time to figure out your pyrokinesis,” Ritsu stammers, his lips surely blue. 

“Yep, just c’mere for a sec.” When he obliges, Shou holds his arms open for Ritsu to hug him. He no longer feels so reluctant, but is still light in his hold. Shou doesn’t seem to care. A steady thrum of energy glides over his skin, slowly warming up the water on his skin rather than drying him. Ritsu decides not to complain, letting himself bury his face into Shou’s neck and losing himself in his aura. 

They resign with damp hair and boxers, just so long as they’re dry enough for their clothes. It takes a little over twenty minutes, but they soon have their shirts and shorts back on and Shou’s phone as a flashlight to guide them back to the road. 

The trek back is much more eerie. They forgo the path in favour of cutting across the foliage. It’s faster this way, but every root Ritsu trips on, and every branch Shou snaps under his foot only heightens his unease until he’s practically ready to spring at the slightest misstep. Thankfully their walk doesn't take them in circles, and the highway lamp posts become visible after a few minutes. 

Moths flit around its light, the bus schedule attached to it scratched out but still legible if looked at closely. The last bus had come thirty minutes ago. 

“Guess we’re walking,” Shou notes, beginning along the road. 

Ritsu glares at him. “Are you sure I’m gonna be home before my parents?” He asks.

“Yep. Remember that gas station the bus passed? There’s a train station there that can take us back to Seasoning Central. If we make it in time, I’m sure we could catch the bus that stops near your house.”

“And how long will that take?”

“Like an hour and a half at most. Not long at all.” 

Ritsu nods once and leaves their conversation at that.

Shou walks in the middle of the road for the sake of it, the highway barren this time of night, peaceful in its worn paint and abundant potholes. Litter caught in the swale and soaked with rainwater. Shiny and ugly in the orange light of the lamp posts. They follow the faint glow of the city ahead, life promised in its artificiality, cotton bedsheets and duvets back home sounding all the more enticing if he shared them with Shou. It wouldn’t be very hard to convince him to stay over, all of Ritsu’s clothes fit him, and his mom always has spare toothbrushes, but the issue lies in being able to ask him in the first place. His bed may be a problem too, but if they held each other close enough there would be lots of room. Ritsu could make him coffee in the morning. Tons of cream and sugar because Shou can’t handle anything bitter. He doesn’t know many breakfast foods beyond rice and miso soup, but he could try tamagoyaki. A bad idea now that he thinks about it, he’d probably burn it to all hell. Shou would laugh at him but still eat it anyway. 

“Hey, where ya going? The train station is this way,” Shou calls, pointing behind the gas station. Humiliated at getting caught in his own daydream, he trails after Shou, eventually stopping on a concrete platform. It reeks of cigarette smoke. 

They’re alone, save for the flash of an LED sign indicating the arrival of the next train. Two minutes. Good timing. And true to its word, the train rolls up noisily, sparks leaping from the rail and onto the trash below. Their boarding is inconsequential, save for Shou sitting across from him instead of next to him. Ritsu feels senselessly offended, even more so when Shou plugs in his earbuds. 

“What?” He probes. 

It’s so stupid. “Why are you sitting there? Usually we sit next to each other.”

“Oh, sorry. I was gonna work on my drawing a bit. I don’t want you to see it.”

“That’s okay,” he lies. “Sorry for assuming.”

“Don’t be,” Shou dismisses, tapping his phone to start his music, the album cover of a lovers embrace bathed in grainy red showing up in the reflection of the window. Ritsu finds it hard to ignore the endearment that creeps up on him. Such a sap, he thinks. 

He doesn’t have his own music to distract himself, and the tiger beetle skittering between the seats isn’t much more entertaining than the window. At times like this Ritsu wishes he had brought his nonograms or sudoku, even though he knows he wouldn’t be able to focus on them. Something to keep his hands occupied instead of picking at his nails. The world here is too small. Confined to a few meters of hollow steel and fabric, its nucleus bright in the centre seat and yet unattainable in this space. There is nothing here for him. Not even his best friend. 

“ Next stop: Basil Station. Next stop: Basil Station.” 

Ritsu kicks his feet up to the seat next to him, ignoring the etiquette sign despite the churning in his stomach. No one else is with them. 

“You tired?” Shou quips. He doesn’t even look up from his paper. 

“Kinda.” 

“Then sleep. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

It isn’t a bad idea. He can’t think if he’s asleep. Especially not about Shou. If not, then he could at least pretend. No point in keeping up the polite theatrics. If Shou can ignore Ritsu, then Ritsu can ignore Shou. Easy. 

For a few minutes he pretends, but before long he really is asleep. Shou doesn’t move.

“Hey. Hey, wake up. Our stop is next.”

Ritsu stirs groggily, cotton-mouthed and eyes full of rheum. Shou shakes him again, making Ritsu swat his hands away until he’s able to sit up. A few people inhabit the cabin now, softly illuminated in the ozone coloured city lights and staring blankly at where the broccoli used to be. Ritsu loses his thoughts just as quickly as he wakes. 

“Hey, c’mon, I wanna be the first one out,” Shou nudges. Ritsu reluctantly stands, swaying on his feet before joining Shou near the door. Murmurs of passengers trail after him, about the foreign boy with red hair and his rude friend who took up three seats to sleep. It’s nothing really, but still distracting. Enough for when the train jolts, Ritsu trips on his feet and stumbles into Shou, accidentally trapping him against the door. 

They’re nose to nose, mere centimetres away, but Shou decides it’s a good idea to smirk and say, “Smooth. Didn’t know you were into kabedon.” 

“That wasn’t—”

“I know, I’m just messing with you.” 

His anger flares into hopeless despondency. There’s too many people around here. “Why? Why do you always feel the need to mess with me?”

“It’s fun to rile you up. You’re funny.” 

It isn’t fair. Shou is too shameless to tease properly, and Ritsu too polite to even try. Even if he wanted to, the intercom refuses to let him respond.

“Now arriving at: Seasoning Central Station. Now arriving at: Seasoning Central Station.” 

The majority of the commuters stand from their seats and crowd around the door Ritsu and Shou were at, not leaving much room for either of them to move away. Ritsu is mostly glad Shou doesn’t say anything else embarrassing, a relatively small mercy all things considered. He isn’t someone who would continue kicking him while he’s down. 

Their arrival is heralded by a cheerful tone and the doors sliding open. Both boys rush out to the smell of car exhaust and fast food, salarymen and women stepping out behind them. Not wanting to disturb the mob any longer, they follow the general crowd down the escalators and out into the street. The echo of the intercom dims quietly behind them, and both stand a bit awkwardly in the street not knowing what to do. The shopping boulevard in front of the station is packed with evening customers. Mostly teen couples and groups of college students goofing off. Over by a yakitori stand, a high school boy grabs the hand of his date, making her blush. Ritsu tries not to think about it too hard. 

“What time are your parents supposed to be back?” Shou asks. 

“They’re at a retirement party, so they said the latest they’d be back would be around midnight. Why?”

“Hm. Wanna head to MobDonalds? I’m starving.” 

No, not really. “I thought we were taking the bus?”

“I lied, there is no bus that stops by your place.”

“Why would you lie about something like that?”

“Doesn’t matter in the end, does it? Do you want MobDonalds or not?” 

You didn’t answer my question, asshole. “I guess. I'm just getting a drink though.”

“If you buy my drink I’ll get us fries.”

“Deal.”

Ritsu takes the lead this time, winding through the innards of narrow alleys until they resurface a few blocks away from a towering MobDonalds sign flickering in the skyline. Shou hurries beside him, and the image of the couple at the yakitori stand resurfaces in his mind. 

He’s right there. It’d be so easy. He’s done it twice before, so why is it any different now? Maybe that was the issue itself. It is different. 

Shou had basically confessed, the revelation really only hitting him now. Shou had confessed. Sorta. Everything was in the wrong order. Confessions were structured like everything else in his life. Broken down into certain patterns that could be labeled into steps. Usually he’d receive a letter or a tap on the shoulder asking to meet behind the school, then he’d go listen to the anxious rambling of the poor girl confessing, typical stuff of how handsome and cool and smart and athletic he was, then he’d calmly and politely turn them down, crushing them ruthlessly with a simple sorry, I don’t feel the same way. That is how it went. Maybe if he actually accepted there would be a kiss after, but Ritsu didn’t know, and will likely never know. 

Shou was all out of order. Idiot . He had asked to kiss Ritsu before confessing. Idiot! And Ritsu had wanted to kiss him back, like some stupid lovesick girl in a teen drama. It could not get worse than this. 

Wait.

Oh no. 

Ritsu had rejected Shou hadn't he. He refused the kiss after all. It was probably his way of confessing too. That’s why he’s all quiet and resigned now, likely trying to process the rejection in a respectful way. Maybe trying not to cry. Shou wasn’t one for crying though. Way beyond his character. Ritsu almost wished he would. Then he could at least explain himself. 

Oh god, what have I done? 

Ritsu doesn’t realize he’s speed-walking until Shou calls out to him, “Oi, why are you walking so fast? Wait for me!”

Why won’t he cry? Why won’t he blush? Why is it always Ritsu who’s caught off guard? “This was your idea, hurry up,” he snaps. 

Shou doesn’t say anything, but looks slightly hurt. Ritsu wants to bang his head into the nearest electrical pole.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out so harsh.”

Shou swings open the door to the MobDonalds. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it.” 

“Still, it’s not an excuse—”

“Ah, ah! I don’t wanna hear it anymore. I’m not that sensitive.” 

Ritsu frowns. Why can’t he accept the damn apology? 

“Okay,” he says instead, trailing after Shou miserably, only there to answer to his whims. 

The inside of the MobDonalds is neatly decorated with promotional posters and tidy employees, standing so still that they could pass for cardboard cutouts. The only thing missing being the trademark smiles of stock photo models. 

The dining room is just as neat, spared of any garbage or specks of dirt besides the people inhabiting it. A drunkard lays sprawled out across a table, while a couple makes out in a corner booth. Gross. 

“Hi, welcome to MobDonalds, what can I get for you?” The cashier girl says. Shou puts on a weird smile, one that Teru-san fondly nicknamed the girl charmer. It isn’t very charming at all. He had seen Teru swindle naive girls with the right words and pretty curve of his lips, but this just seems insulting. Shou’s lips stretch widely, and his eyes don’t crinkle with mirth like they should. The cashier girl is rightfully unnerved. 

“Uhm—”

“Do you guys have a laminator?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Y’know, the thing that wraps paper in plastic?” 

“I know what a laminator is, yes. I think we do? Why do you need one?”

“You see,” Shou pulls out his sketchbook from earlier. “It's my mom’s birthday tomorrow, but I forgot to laminate my drawing for her. All the stationary stores are closed, and they all open when I’m in class tomorrow.”

Ritsu tries not to let the pang of jealousy eat at him too much. She’s lucky to be able to even catch a glimpse of the sketchbook. 

The girl raises an eyebrow. “Tomorrow is Sunday.”

“I have cram school,” Shou counters without hesitating. 

“Don’t you have a frame for it?” What a weird interrogation.

“I do, but these are soft pastels. If I don’t laminate it, it’ll just smudge on the glass and ruin the drawing.” 

“I see…”

“I can pay for it if you like.”

“No, no. I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” she mutters, leaving and calling out for another employee named Chihiro. 

They wait. A SATAKE song and the wet mouthing of the couple cutting through the silence. Luckily, the cashier girl doesn’t take long, and she’s back with her superior leading the way.

The much taller woman greets them. “Hello. Kobayashi-san said you needed a laminator?” 

“Yes please. For my drawing,” Shou says. 

“Will you buy something?”

“Yep. A large fries please.”

“Okay. Give me the drawing and I’ll laminate it for you.” Ritsu can hardly believe the scene. They’re just letting him do it? 

“Here.” 

Cashier girl punches in the order. “That’ll be four hundred and eighty yen please.” Shou taps his card against the debit machine, looking imploringly at Ritsu.

“Oh, I’ll order something as well please,” he adds. 

“Okay. What can I get for you?” The screen goes blank. 

“Two medium drinks please. One coke and—what do you want?”

“A strawberry fanta.”

“A strawberry fanta please.” 

“Okay, that’ll be five hundred and twenty yen.” Ritsu makes sure to glare at Shou, who only pokes his tongue out at him. Fucking miser. Then again it’s a forty yen difference. Ritsu digs through his wallet, pulling up just enough change and lint to contend with. Cashier girl points to the pickup station where Ritsu obediently shuffles to. Shou oddly says put. 

“Aren’t you coming?” Ritsu asks. 

“I’m waiting for my drawing. Go find a seat for us.”

A tray with their drinks is placed in front of him, and Ritsu tries to ignore the offhand tone of Shou’s voice. It doesn’t work. It pricks at him all the way to the bar seat in front of the main window. He takes a long sip of his coke, its sweetness overwhelming. 

Shou takes a while. Longer than he should. The only reason Ritsu knows is because his paper straw becomes soggy within that time frame, his mouth now filled with the taste of sugary cardboard. But Shou skips over, none the wiser to his weird brooding. His tray is stuffed with napkins and a lone box of fries, two swirls of mayo and ketchup pushed off to the side. The drawing is nowhere to be seen.

“What’s with the pouting?” He greets. At this point, even Ritsu doesn’t know. Everything keeps piling up.

“It’s nothing,” Ritsu mumbles, pushing Shou’s drink towards him. 

“Spit it out. You have that weird brooding face that only comes out when something is bothering you. Is it about me not sitting next to you?” 

Ritsu flushes, matching the artificial candy pink of Shou’s drink. “No! It’s nothing like that!”

“Then what is it?” Shou takes a long, obnoxious slurp. 

The couple was still here. Same with the drunken man and employees. Obviously not listening, but Ritsu glances around to make sure, feeling kind of stupid when the cashier girl’s bubblegum pops with her disinterest. He leans forward. 

“We need to talk,” Ritsu whispers conspiratorially. Shou’s eyes don’t so much as shift with the confession. 

“About what?” Another long sip, beads of strawberry soda slurping with the motion. Ritsu wants to pull his hair out. 

“You know exactly what.” 

Shou only shrugs. “What’s the rush?” 

There’s no time, he wants to say. I need to explain myself, he wants to beg. But his mouth remains clamped shut, watching Shou double dip his fries with feigned interest. He gets ketchup all over his lower lip, and Ritsu so desperately wants to wipe it away for him, grab him by the face and demand he explain himself, demand he listen. The shift in his aura rattles a few chairs, bends the straw in his cup until it crumples. It's never enough.

A fry gets pushed into his lips, the salt stinging the dry cracks that blemish its surface. His aura abruptly falters. 

“We’ll talk about it later. Now eat, I’m not gonna be able to finish these.” Ritsu barely parts his lips, allowing the pathetic, soggy excuse of a fry run over his tongue. And maybe he wants to argue. To bring up some paltry sentence Shou muttered earlier and claim hypocrisy, but all he can really do is chew. Let the salt dry out his mouth and have another sip of cola until both run out. Double dip like Shou and pretend that it secretly doesn’t gross him out a little. Run away. Maybe that’s the right word. An image of Reigen flashes in his mind at the thought. Maybe not. 

They eat in relative silence, Shou making snide comments about passerby that has Ritsu faintly smiling. He joins in too, noting the massive chin on some poor man who was minding his own business, saying how it looked more like an ass than a chin. That particular comment has Shou cackling until he disturbs the drunkard, the slumped man snorting briefly before falling back asleep. Both boys descend into suppressed giggles, hardly finishing their fries and drinks before the manager finally decides to kick them out for being a nuisance. They scuff their shoes on the mat, Shou making sure to flip the restaurant as soon as they're out of sight. Ritsu can’t help but laugh at the pettiness of it all. 

Outside the wind had picked up significantly, leaves and buds releasing pollen that stuffs up the outer vents of the residential areas. Ritsu sneezes a few times under its onslaught, the puffiness of his eyes already apparent and nose closing up. Hopefully Shigeo has some extra nasal spray. The phantom sting of the antihistamine makes him sneeze again. 

A weight settles around his shoulders, not heavy enough to be Shou’s arm, but enough to be noticeable. Shou adjusts something on the front of Ritsu’s chest, and only then does he belatedly realize that he put his jacket around Ritsu’s shoulders. It’s soothingly soft, worn and smelling of leather conditioner. A muted note of almond and sandalwood underneath it all. Sweet. Something that makes Ritsu want to bury his face into it and breathe it in all night. 

“Thank you…” it comes out as a murmur, nearly lost to the wind.

“Don’t mention it. It’s one of my better jackets, Shimazaki gave it to me while I helped him sort through his apartment.”

Ritsu must’ve made a face, because Shou grumbles, “Jeez! Don’t look so grossed out! Shimazaki is actually pretty cool now, he’s turned over a new leaf or however the saying goes.” 

“Wait, really?” Ritsu hardly even remembers Shimazaki. His memory of the man fading alongside the bruises he inflicted, eventually being overshadowed by the presence of the broccoli. 

“Yup. He’s got a regular job and a regular apartment. Hatori is rooming with him as well, and they seem to be getting along. Still a shithead, but at least he isn’t beating up espers for fun anymore.” 

It’s hard to imagine Shimazaki as having any sort of normal job. Some grocery store uniform or trade coveralls a surreal image in his mind. Ritsu expected something more along the lines of a crisp three-piece suit. Maybe the same tight leather pants he wore to death, a cigarette between his lips as he interrogated psychic terrorists. But a regular job? Ritsu couldn’t see it at all. 

“Where does he work?” The question is out of his mouth before he can suppress it. He chalks it up to wanting to know where Shimazaki works so he can avoid the area entirely, rather than his own burning curiosity. 

“Hmm… guess. I bet you can’t.”

Irate, Ritsu grits his teeth and conjures up the first thing that comes to mind. “Dentist?”

“Nope. Shimazaki doesn’t have any university degree.”

“Okay, how about an electrician?”

“Nope. He doesn’t have a trade either.”

No training and no education. Is Shou sure that Shimazaki isn’t just a deadbeat?

“Bodyguard?”

“Eh, sorta.”

“Martial arts teacher?”

“He’s more of an office worker.”

“Salaryman?” 

“You’re getting there.”

“Bookkeeper?”

“Oh! You’re actually pretty close!” 

“Cashier?”

“Nah.”

Ritsu slumps, holding the jacket together with his hand. “Okay, I give up. What is he?”

Shou grins, eyes bright and delighted. “A bank teller.” 

Really?

“A bank teller?” 

“Yeah! Isn’t that crazy? He literally sits there all day and cashes in cheques, not even trained on the phone yet. And he’s got the most dumbass uniform I’ve ever seen on a man. This ugly black and lime green polo and khaki pants. It’s hideous, I laughed at him for a solid five minutes.” 

Ritsu almost wants to ask what bank he works at, just so he can laugh at Shimazaki too. “I never would’ve expected that.” 

“Right? Anyways, he paid me fifty-thousand yen to go through his stuff for him and he let me take that jacket. Apparently it got him “tons of bitches in college” but I didn’t believe him for a second. Based on old pictures he just looked like a freak. In any case I got some sick clothes and trinkets out of the deal so it wasn’t a complete waste of time.” 

Ritsu can see it somewhat, the vintage ripped jeans and black v-necks that most boys like Shou would kill for. Holes near the hems and bleached ends wrapped around in chains. The image is nice. It’d look good on him. 

“Whatever,” Ritsu dismisses, trying to smother his dumb heart. 

“What? You jealous?” Shou prods, that same stupid tone that he uses to try and get a rise out of Ritsu. 

“No. Just thinking about how god-awful you’d look in those leather pants.”

That earns him a shove that he takes in stride. “Ew! I’d burn those pants the first chance I’d get. I don’t even know what Shimazaki did with them.” 

“I don’t think we’d want to find out anyways,” Ritsu responds, letting the night air sooth his warm and aching cheeks. A quiet lull, one that brings a brush of hands that has Ritsu feeling emboldened enough to try. Closer than before. Though, the feeling is quickly doused when he sees his house appear from the corner. He’s out of time. 

The gate is cold when Ritsu puts his hand on it, feeling the paint peel when he rubs his thumb across it. Shou shifts awkwardly, a bit endearing if Ritsu wasn’t silently panicking. Eyes calm enough to be a temporary tether, even if his hands are worryingly clammy and throat thick with the swell of anxiety. A year of friendship and Ritsu still can’t ever seem to read his mind. Shou, a boy who wears his expressions like medals, who shows off his scar tissue like trophies, who’s every touch feels like a prize. Now slipping through his grasp, and it’s all his fault. 

“Well, thank you for walking me home. And taking me to that lake. And to MobDonalds. You didn’t have to do that.”

“True, but I wanted to. And I had fun with you. I’m really glad we went,” Shou mumbles, barely a hint of a smile from where he looks down at his shoes. Soft and stupidly fond. One that Ritsu hadn’t ever seen before. He tucks it in the darker corner of his mind, something to reflect upon later while he’s trying to sleep. 

“Yeah. Me too.” And his mind screams at him to say something. 

“Hey, uh, listen,” he stammers. Shou quirks a brow, tilts his head in that same adorable way that has Ritsu weak in the knees. Get your shit together! “I’m sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to reject you. I, I—” 

I like you. I like you so much. 

“Wait, what? Reject me? What do you mean?” Now it was Ritsu’s turn to flounder, his neck hot with shame at his own babbling. He stares at Shou for a long moment.

“I didn’t mean to reject you. At the lake. When I didn’t want to kiss you?” He tries. 

“You thought you rejected me? I thought we were already dating?” Shou says plainly. It has Ritsu blushing all the way to the tips of his ears. 

“D—dating?!”

“Yeah. You said you weren’t ready yet, I just assumed that you'd be ready eventually, and that you were still okay with dating.” 

So Ritsu had worried for nothing. Granted, it was still kinda messed up how Shou could assume they were dating without so much as a simple confession, but that revelation paled in comparison to the actual matter at hand. They were dating. Boyfriends. Ones who nearly kissed and maybe wanted to kiss in the future. The small gestures began to make sense, the jacket and the food and the walk home. There was a click, the events falling into their logical spaces. Somewhere in his mind that didn’t feel so frightening in its ambiguity. A part he could control. At the same time, nothing felt all that different. The weight having not yet settled and churned in his mind. Same old Shou. Same old Ritsu. An exchanged jacket, an unorthodox night out, but same old same old. Perhaps that was the most comforting realization. 

Still, he felt a little wrong for not being able to say, I like you. 

“Oh…”

Shou laughs at him again, quiet snickers that didn’t precede his usual boisterous cackles. Ritsu couldn’t feel the flood of humiliation in time, as Shou soon stepped forward and pressed his forehead against his, gently wrapping his fingers around Ritsu’s in a loose grip. A content sigh escapes him, and Ritsu finds himself pressing a little closer to Shou, despite his reticence, his view dimming into an unwanted tunnel vision.

“You’re really okay with dating though?” Shou questions. It felt a little silly regarding everything that had just taken place. Maybe not to Shou though, he was good at setting his own pace, moving with the flow of things. Maybe Ritsu needed to loosen his grip on the illusionary sense of order he wanted to believe he had. Fall to the impulses of whatever emotions overcame him. His reaction being something he could control.

“Yeah.” Ritsu swallows. “Yeah, I think I’m okay with that.” 

Nothing feels different, even as Shou pulls away and gives him a dopey grin. His heart continues to beat relentlessly, stomach heavy with the small act of touch that sedates him despite its insignificance. 

“Cool,” Shou mumbles.

A beat passes between them, counted by the flicker of Ritsu’s porch light. The wind swishing a few power lines that makes Ritsu startle. 

“Ah, here,” Ritsu goes to give Shou his jacket back, but he stops him before he can hand it to him. Shou shakes his head.

“Keep it for now. That way you have to come visit me soon, so you can give it back.” 

His grip on it loosens. “Okay then.”

“Oh, and before I forget,” Shou unzips his bag, producing a piece of paper and slamming it into Ritsu’s chest. “This is for you. You can’t look at it or read it until you get inside, okay?” 

The paper is laminated, and Ritsu can feel his chest seize beneath his ribs as he drags his nail across it. 

“For sure,” he says. 

“Great, uh, guess I’ll see you around.”

A light tap against his forehead is all Ritsu is afforded. Shou turns and begins walking away, his figure there and gone as he passes the first few street lamps. Ritsu watches him go with an odd ache in his chest, only cured by the urge to scream something out to him. 

“Text me when you get home!” He yells. That’s something a boyfriend would say right? Shou gives him a two-fingered salute, but does not stop and turn around. It only tamps the feeling minutely. 

His house is just as empty as he left it, the clock on the microwave reading 11:12 when he pads into the kitchen . There’s a buzzing in his pocket, a message from Shigeo arriving two hours late. 

Shige: 

hey ritsu. the job with spirits and such ran a bit late so im going to stay with hanazawa tonight. hope thats okay? i already let mom and dad know.

9:07 p.m.

Me:

For sure Shige. I was out with Shou anyway. Sleep well and have a good night. 

11:13 p.m. 

The message remains unread, and Ritsu decides to plug his phone in the kitchen and head to bed. A bath and tea sound nice, but too much effort, too much time. He trudges upstairs and is only able to halfheartedly throw on some sweats and a t-shirt before collapsing into his bed, still smelling of detergent. Shou’s jacket is there too, the patina glossy in the moonlight and aromatic with that cologne that’s been driving him crazy. Hopefully it’s Shou’s and not Shimazaki’s. 

Then there’s the issue of the drawing, still glued to his chest and heavy as lead. It’s tempting to shove it into the confines of his desk and never look at it again, maybe set it on fire so it doesn’t taunt him; but Shou would never forgive him. There was a purpose to it. The thought nearly making him hide his face in his pillow. 

Ritsu lifts it gingerly, uncovering the scene. The landscape is laid out in a vertical perspective, shapes angular and geometric in a way that reminds him of the edges of his aura. Trees slope upwards and end in thick, sharp points, colliding with the sky in rasping pencil strokes. Within the blue expanse is its sierra of colour, ranging from bright arctic shades, to low aegean hues. Plashes of violet skirt at the edges of the piece, smoothing out the blue into black. Perhaps even more striking, was the two lone white dots in the centre of the sky, similar to the planets he saw earlier. Parallel but following the same path. It was beautiful. Something that didn’t belong in Ritsu’s hands. 

He turns the page over, discovering the rough scratches of Shou’s handwriting. Kanji nearly indistinguishable from the kana, but legible nonetheless. Sweat beads on Ritsu’s temple, yet he forces himself to read. 

Dear Ritsu, 

I know I technically did this all out of order, I’m supposed to confess first and then ask to kiss, but you should know by now that I never do things by the books, even with something as sensitive as a confession. So sorry about that. And sorry that you didn’t get this letter in a pretty envelope with a heart sticker. They don’t have those on trains.

Nonetheless I’ll just say it outright. I can’t say ‘I like you.’ It isn’t accurate of my feelings. Not to say I don’t have a crush on you, I really do, it’s just I can’t ever describe how I actually feel around you. My art teacher once said that art is more than just drawing a pretty face, it’s about drawing a feeling, an emotion, or state of mind. And I have a feeling words are the same in some capacity. I could say ‘I like you’ but it wouldn’t ever be enough. And that’s why I was so scared to confess in the first place. I’m no Kafka, or Hemingway, or Woolf, so how could I ever describe it? 

But now I think I have the words, so I’ll finally say them.

You throw me out of orbit. Like how a star would if it got too close to a planet or something? You throw me completely out of orbit. I remember for the longest time, that I thought I’d circle my dad forever, just follow him around and clean up the mess he left behind because it seemed like the right thing to do, it seemed like my purpose as his son. But you came along, in that dingy ass little Claw basement and made me think about what could happen beyond my dad. Made me think that there could be other people in my life besides my parents. And what’s even worse is that you stuck around. Despite everything I did to you and your brother. Any sane person would’ve left me in an instant, but you stayed. Do you have any idea on how that affected me? How that made me think of you? I still think about it. Even after a year. 

There’s a lot of things I still need to say, but I’m running out of room, and I think you’d like to hear them come from me rather than a letter. So I’ll wait. Wait until I’m a little older and a little wiser, and then I’ll say them. But for now I’ll say this—

Thank you. For everything. For sticking around and being my first friend. For pulling me away from that explosion. For making me think about a life beyond my dad.

Thank you for throwing me out of orbit.

See you soon,

Love, 

Shou

Ritsu smiles shakily, slumped within his bed. 

Yeah.

See you soon.