Work Text:
It starts innocently enough, insofar as anything Tomoe Hiyori does can be considered innocent.
“Jun-kun! I’m thirsty, get me a bottle of water!”
For close to two hours, they’ve been practising together in one of the ES training rooms, and now that Hiyori has declared practice officially over, he flops down on the floor on his back. Even tired, Hiyori is a graceful sprawl of limbs, his hair damp with sweat and his mouth open around soft pants. The soundproof room is otherwise quiet, and Jun bends over to rest his hands on his knees to gather his own breath. When he looks up through damp bangs after a few seconds, the sight of Hiyori lying there with his eyes closed makes Jun’s stomach flip, and a warm tingling sensation spreads through his body the longer he stares at Hiyori.
Reactions like that have been happening to Jun more and more lately whenever he’s around Hiyori. It feels nice, even if right now, it makes his hands feel even sweatier than they already are. He wipes them on his sweatpants.
Hiyori opens his eyes, and his expression turns impatient. “Jun-kuuuuun! Are you even listening to me? What bad weather…”
“Oh, right.” Jun shakes himself as he stands up straight. It’s too late to come up with a witty retort now, so even though the mini-fridge is literally five steps away and Hiyori could have easily gotten up himself to grab that bottle of water, Jun does it for him.
In the grand scheme of things, it’s barely an inconvenience. And if Jun is honest with himself, it’s really not even that. It’s nice to be the person that Hiyori relies on, even if his manners could be better.
Jun hands Hiyori the bottle, and Hiyori uses Jun’s outstretched arm to pull himself upright. His wet hair curls adorably in front of his ears, and Jun finds himself enthralled, staring for far longer than is socially acceptable.
Hiyori thankfully doesn’t notice as he opens the bottle with a satisfied sigh, gulping down the water eagerly as Jun follows the way his throat moves as he swallows.
“Ah, thank you, Jun-kun.”
Jun pauses. He blinks, gaze snapping up to Hiyori’s face. Hiyori doesn’t usually say thank you. Usually he takes whatever Jun does for granted.
Hiyori finishes his water, and hands Jun the empty bottle.
“Jun-kun did good today.”
Before Jun can process any of those words—Hiyori’s thank you or the sudden praise—Hiyori has turned around to grab a towel and run it over his face, leaving Jun to stare with his mouth open, just blinking and listening to the rapid thud of his traitorous heart. His cheeks flood with heat, and a warmth settles in his stomach that has nothing to do with their strenuous training session. Is this the power of a compliment? It’s nice.
Jun smiles at the back of Hiyori’s head, clutching the empty water bottle to his chest.
Jun brushes Hiyori’s thank-you off as a one-off occurrence. Hiyori was probably tired from their training session, and it was just a slip of the tongue or something. Hiyori has been ordering Jun around since the moment they met, and Jun can’t remember ever getting a thank you in return for his troubles. And even the times that Hiyori praised him genuinely—not merely as a ploy to get Jun to do things for him—can be counted on two hands.
So Hiyori thanking him and praising him in the same breath can surely be considered a miracle. Or maybe Hiyori is getting sick? Jun makes a mental note to check for a fever next time he sees him.
But the longer Jun thinks about it, the more he realises that Hiyori has been giving him more smiles lately whenever Jun completes any of his whimsical requests. And sure, smiles aren’t the same as spoken thank you’s, but they still send a funny heat through Jun’s veins, a tingle across his skin, and leave Jun with a mental image to keep playing over and over again in his head—especially when he lies in bed at night, exhausted, but with enough energy left to think of Hiyori with a slightly giddy smile until he falls asleep.
It’s not long until something similar happens again. Hiyori drags Jun out of a video game session with Makoto, claiming it’s long past due for a shopping trip because he hasn’t gotten any new shirts in “Two weeks. Two weeks, Jun-kun!!”
Hiyori is dressed up all nicely. He’s wearing white tailored trousers and a soft-looking black crew-neck sweater, a black leather handbag slung over his shoulder. He smells really nice, too, a blend of flowers and something more smoky. Jun’s throat goes so dry that he has to swallow repeatedly.
“Ohii-san…”
“Come, Jun-kun, we don’t have all day!”
Jun barely has time to apologise to Makoto over his shoulder—at least Makoto is smiling at him, and not looking disappointed—before Hiyori grabs his hand and leads him towards the elevators.
“Ohii-san, I was in the middle of something…”
Hiyori gives him a bright smile, eyebrows raised. “You were paying attention to someone who isn’t me. So whatever it was that you were doing—”
“Playing video games with—”
Hiyori continues cheerfully as if he hasn’t heard Jun, “it clearly wasn’t important!”
And so Jun walks by Hiyori’s side, arms occasionally brushing, on their way to the shopping district. It’s early afternoon, so other than a few hurried businessmen in suits and a few older ladies walking at an easy pace, the streets are mostly empty. They’ve barely been underway for five minutes before Hiyori groans exaggeratedly, turns, and slumps forward into Jun’s shoulder.
“What…” Jun’s heartbeat jumps into his throat. “Ohii-san?”
Hiyori lets out a pitiful whine. “Carry my bag for me, Jun-kun, it’s too heavy.”
Hiyori lets his handbag slide off his shoulder, and in a move that’s almost impressive for how little Hiyori works out, thrusts the bag into Jun’s free hand, while continuing to lean on Jun’s shoulder.
“The one time your muscles actually come in useful!” Hiyori exclaims brightly.
Jun groans a little as he instinctively takes the bag. It really is heavy.
“Why did you bring such a heavy bag when you knew you wouldn’t be able to carry it? What’s even in it, how much stuff could you possibly need to bring on a shopping trip anyway?”
Now relieved of his bag, Hiyori brightens and stands up straight again. Jun’s shoulder instantly feels colder, and he frowns a little at the loss of warmth.
“Well, Jun-kun, you never know what you might need! It’s good to be prepared for anything.”
“That’s not really an answer…”
Curious, Jun zips open the bag. At first glance, there’s an umbrella, a wallet, a large bottle of hand cream, a book on—quiches?
“Why are you even carrying a book on quiches…”
“Hush,” Hiyori says, zipping the bag shut and hanging it over Jun’s shoulder. “Just do what I tell you.”
Jun huffs, but experience has taught him there’s little point in arguing with Hiyori when he gets like this, and so he hoists Hiyori’s bag over his shoulder properly and starts walking again.
“Ah, Jun-kun is so obedient, mmm,” Hiyori exclaims brightly, wrapping both of his arms around Jun’s free arm. It’s a little awkward to walk like this, but the warmth flooding into Jun again stops him from complaining. “Good boy, good boy!”
“I’m not a dog,” Jun says reflectively, scowling as he tries to suppress the heat that rushes to his face.
“I know, I know,” Hiyori says. “You’re a hyena, aren’t you? Are hyenas obedient? They must be, since you are being very good right now. Thank you, Jun-kun, that’s good weather.”
There it is again, a thank you and the praise.
Jun is too flustered to reply. If both his hands hadn’t been occupied, he would’ve buried his face in them. It’s a little ridiculous how easily Hiyori is able to make him blush and falter. Why is that? How does Hiyori always manage to disarm him with just a few words? It doesn’t make any sense, no one else has that kind of power over him. Ibara and Nagisa don’t, so what is it about Hiyori that—
It’s only when Jun realises that Hiyori has been quiet for more than a full minute—which must be some sort of record—that he snaps out of his daze. He looks sideways to find Hiyori studying his face intently, his eyebrows scrunched together in a way that is not adorable and does not make Jun’s heart flutter.
Jun feels self-conscious again under the scrutiny. “What now?”
“Mmm,” Hiyori hums softly under his breath. “Interesting.”
“What’s interesting?”
“Nothing!” Hiyori says. “Come on, we’re almost at the shopping district.”
Later that afternoon, Hiyori is sitting on his bed sorting through four bags full of new clothes, smiling and looking so radiant that Jun is having trouble looking away from him.
Hiyori doesn’t seem to mind, meeting his gaze every now and then with this sort of knowing little smirk that drives Jun insane. Hiyori just keeps looking at him, and Jun is always the first one to look away, his cheeks blazing as he gazes down at the book in his lap.
When they got back from their shopping trip, Hiyori had thrust the quiche cookbook from his handbag into Jun’s hands, declaring that since Jun was the best cook he knew and he was craving a home-made quiche, he would bestow upon Jun the honour of being allowed to make a quiche for him.
Jun sat down on the stool next to Hiyori’s bed, and he has been leafing aimlessly through the book, distracted by the little gasps of pleasure Hiyori lets out as he runs his hands over some fabric or other, or the way his eyes sparkle beautifully even in the harsh and sterile glow from the dorm room’s fluorescent lamps.
“How’s the recipe searching going, Jun-kun?” Hiyori asks, voice syrupy-sweet.
Jun, who was completely lost in thought, jerks his head up. At Hiyori’s bright smile, he looks down again.
“Why don’t you just make it yourself…” Jun mutters, as he stares unseeingly at a recipe for a roasted red pepper and goat cheese quiche.
“Because you’re just so good at cooking, Jun-kun! And since we’ve established you’re my obedient little hyena, the honour falls to you.”
Jun frowns. “We haven’t established anything, you just said that and I didn’t consent to any of it.”
From one of the beds behind Jun, Amagi Rinne snorts out a laugh, and if Jun wasn’t blushing before, he’s full-on burning up now. He’d forgotten they weren’t alone.
Rinne gets up from his bed, stretches his arms over his head, and saunters towards the door.
“I think this is my cue to leave, all this flirting is making me hungry, so I’m gonna find Niki.” Without looking back, Rinne gives a wave over his shoulder. “See you later, lovebirds.”
“Huh…” Jun blinks as the door falls shut behind Rinne.
Jun’s next exhale shudders out of him as he turns his gaze back towards Hiyori. He expects Hiyori to say something to keep their conversation going. Something about shopping or quiches or something light to brush off the implications in Rinne’s parting greeting.
But Hiyori quickly holds up a maroon-coloured sweater, hiding his face behind it. He’s not fast enough to prevent Jun from seeing that Hiyori is blushing too, and that fact alone makes Jun’s heart beat triple time.
Lovebirds…
The word echoes around Jun’s mind, only instead of fading away like a real echo would, the word just repeats itself over and over in Rinne’s teasing voice. Lovebirds, lovebirds, lovebirds. They aren’t, of course, they could never be because Hiyori is so far out of Jun’s league Jun might as well be longing for the moon to hug in bed at night. But the fantasy of it, the illusion that Hiyori is blushing not just because he’s embarrassed, but because he wants it to be true, too, is so wonderful that Jun can’t help but smile at the idea.
Rinne was probably just teasing, Jun reasons. He didn’t really mean it looked like they were flirting, because they weren’t. Were they?
Sure, Hiyori monopolises ninety percent of Jun’s free time, and Jun thinks about Hiyori every night before he falls asleep, and he dreams sometimes about Hiyori holding his hand and smiling at him and then he’ll wake up feeling all content and happy, and Hiyori apparently says thank you to him now, and—
Oh.
Jun buries his face in the cookbook.
Well, this complicates matters.
Jun stands hurriedly, and he’s halfway to the door before he realises that just leaving would be rude, so he turns back to Hiyori, who has dropped the sweater to look at Jun.
“I’m uh, gonna make one of these,” Jun says, nodding towards the book in his hands, hoping that it doesn’t look like he’s fleeing the room. It’s just that the amount of butterflies suddenly invading his stomach means he can’t sit still anymore. It’s overwhelming. The way Hiyori looks at him, partway between shyness and longing, is also overwhelming.
“I’m sure I can find enough leftover veggies in the kitchen to make the roasted pepper one, and we have some goat cheese leftover from last weekend, so I can probably improvise…” Jun trails off, aware that he’s rambling. Hiyori is still looking at him, his head slightly tilted, and his lips pursed. His hands are fidgeting with the sweater.
“I’ll come with you,” Hiyori says, his voice pitched slightly too high.
Jun nods.
Then, as if someone flipped a switch, Hiyori seems back to normal. He jumps off his bed and slings an arm around Jun’s shoulder.
“See?” Hiyori says. “I told you you were good and obedient.”
Jun’s stomach squirms warmly, and his blush lasts well until after the quiche has been placed in the oven.
Later, when they’re done eating, Hiyori makes such a show of praising Jun’s quiche and cooking abilities that Jun eventually puts his hand over Hiyori’s mouth. There are other people around in the kitchen area, and somehow that makes Hiyori’s praise ten times more embarrassing.
“Okay, okay, I get it,” Jun mumbles, feeling hot all the way to his ears. “What’s gotten into you, Ohii-san…”
Hiyori gives him that confusing little smirk again, which isn’t really an answer, but it makes Jun smile in return. The fact that he feels more embarrassed by Hiyori’s praise in public is balanced out by the fact that he also feels proud that Hiyori likes his cooking so much. Slowly, Jun takes his hand away from Hiyori’s mouth.
“Good boy, Jun-kun!”
“Ohii-san…” Jun mutters, and this time he just buries his own face in his hands. As flustered as he feels, there’s also a very real, very acute pleasure when Hiyori praises him, one that Jun secretly just wants to bask in. He smiles into the palms of his hands.
Rinne’s words—flirting, lovebirds—keep resurfacing in Jun’s brain at the most inconvenient times.
One time, they’re in the back of a car being driven back towards ES after a photoshoot for a magazine, and Jun sees some fluff in Hiyori’s hair. Without thinking about it, he leans over to brush it away. Hiyori closes his eyes for a second, his face relaxing as he leans into Jun’s touch. When he opens them again, he gives Jun a smile so blinding that Jun freezes like a deer caught in the headlights. Only a deer caught in the headlights probably never felt as pleasantly fuzzy as Jun does right now.
“Thank you, Jun-kun,” Hiyori says. And then, softer, “Feels nice.”
Jun’s breath hitches in his chest, and his hand is still in Hiyori’s hair, only now it’s just sort of carding through it without any real purpose. It feels too nice to stop. Hiyori hums softly and closes his eyes again, which Jun takes as an invitation to continue.
That’s how Jun spends the rest of the car ride smiling stupidly, caressing Hiyori’s hair, and watching the way that the sunlight streaming into the car plays across Hiyori’s face.
Isn’t this what lovers do? Jun thinks with his heart beating a staccato rhythm against his ribcage, his chest feeling too small for all the things that he’s feeling. Nervousness and delight and tension and softness all at once. The repetitive movement of his hand helps, as it calms most of the tingling in his nerves.
When the car stops in front of ES, Jun gives a wistful sigh, his fingers lingering for just a second longer before he reluctantly drops his hand back into his lap. He startles when this time, Hiyori leans over, cupping Jun’s face in his hands. Jun watches him with wide eyes, a little guarded, but Hiyori just rests their foreheads together quietly. It’s a moment of peace before they enter the whirlwind that is the ES building.
“You did a good job today, Jun-kun, with the photoshoot,” Hiyori says, and he sounds so achingly soft and sincere that Jun doesn’t even feel embarrassed at the way his cheeks flush this time.
Flirting, lovebirds.
Jun might be a little dense sometimes, and he’s nowhere near as smart as Hiyori, but he’s not completely unobservant. He’s noticed that lately, Hiyori touches him more and more. Sometimes it’s a mere brush to the inside of his wrist, sometimes it’s an arm draped around his shoulder, a head tipped forward to lean against Jun. Now, it’s their foreheads resting together, Jun’s eyes wide, and Hiyori’s crinkling at the corners. Jun feels breathless, flushed, alive, in the way that Hiyori makes him feel so effortlessly.
Only Hiyori.
Hiyori’s attention is like water being given freely to a plant dying of thirst, or an extravagant meal to a traveller who’s spent months—years—roaming in search of a place to call home. Hiyori’s love is always bright and it feels endless, and Jun knows he’ll never feel thirsty or hungry again as long as Hiyori lets him stay by his side.
“You too, Ohii-san,” Jun eventually whispers. “You did good too.”
Hiyori turns away to exit the car, but not before Jun sees him blush, too.
Jun has gotten used to Hiyori’s newfound eagerness to praise Jun at every available opportunity. He’s even mostly gotten used to the butterflies in his stomach, although he will probably never get used to the way his cheeks heat up every single time. Sometimes he thinks Hiyori does it on purpose, to make Jun speechless or flustered around Ibara and Nagisa, or just because Hiyori likes looking at his burning cheeks.
It’s the worst during Eden practice sessions. Hiyori praises him when he gets the hip thrusting movements right in one try, and Ibara sighs and rolls his eyes towards the ceiling, while Nagisa just watches Jun and Hiyori with a tranquil smile.
Jun feels a strange sort of urge to apologise, which is stupid, because all of this is Hiyori’s fault.
But despite the awkwardness and the embarrassment when other people are around, Jun can’t deny that he likes it. He enjoys the sparks of pleasure in his gut, the way the praise is often accompanied by a brush to his cheeks or a head rub.
“Can we please focus on the choreography, Your Highness,” Ibara all but hisses, but Hiyori just shrugs.
“Jun-kun responds well to positive reinforcement.”
“Be that as it may, we only have this training room for thirty more minutes, and we have five more songs to go through.”
“I don’t mind,” Nagisa says. “It’s lively. I like it.”
“I’m always lively!” Hiyori says, bouncing over to take Nagisa’s hand. “But I’m glad that, instead of this viper here, I can always count on you being on my side.”
Jun hears Ibara count to ten under his breath.
After their training session, when Ibara has left for a meeting, Hiyori is showing Nagisa videos of Mary on his phone.
Distractedly, he says, “Jun-kun, hand me my towel.”
But when Jun does, Hiyori doesn’t even acknowledge him, laughing at something or other that Mary does in one of the many videos of her that are on his phone. His head is really close to Nagisa’s.
Disappointed, and a little upset with himself for even being disappointed in the first place, Jun turns away, burying his face in his own towel.
“Good job, Jun-kun,” Jun whispers to himself. But it’s not the same as when Hiyori says it.
Jun tries not to be disappointed. It’s stupid. Hiyori doesn’t owe him anything, least of all any praise that just makes Jun self-conscious and red-faced. But Jun’s got the evening off and too much time to think, and that’s never a good combination for him.
Kohaku is away on an overnight trip with the rest of Crazy:B, so Jun has his dorm room to himself. He picks up the magazine lying on the coffee table, the one with his and Hiyori’s photoshoot. He stares at the cover, at Hiyori smiling brightly at the camera, and before Jun realises what he’s doing, he’s tracing the contours of Hiyori’s hair with a finger, stomach flip-flopping in the same way as when Hiyori praises him.
I want him to praise me again…
This isn’t helping. Jun sighs deeply as he gets up to put the magazine away in one of the magazine files next to the television. Next, he tries reading manga, lying on the couch, but he can’t focus on that either. His mind is filled with images of Hiyori leaning over Nagisa’s shoulder to laugh at videos together.
With a frustrated sigh, he throws his manga onto the coffee table and whips out his phone. There’s a message from Makoto asking when he’s next free and if he wants to go to the arcade together. That at least makes Jun smile, and he replies saying he’s got this Sunday off and he’d love to go.
But then he’s reminded of the last time he saw Makoto, and how that ended with an impromptu shopping trip with Hiyori, and then he’s just thinking about Hiyori again.
Maybe it was stupid to think, or even to fantasise, about Hiyori flirting with him. He realises now that that’s not what was happening. Jun needs to stop dreaming about what is obviously never going to happen and push his feelings down to what they were before: gratefulness, duty, respect and humility. He can repay Hiyori by working hard. He doesn’t need any praise, and he definitely doesn’t need Hiyori flirting with him.
He doesn’t.
With his heart pounding with frustration over the way he’s thinking in circles, and how somehow every thought comes back to Hiyori, Jun opens the Mario Kart app on his phone. Maybe this at least will be able to take his mind off everything.
It works, at least for a little bit. He’s done three races—and won two of them—and any thoughts of Hiyori are pushed all the way to the back of his mind, when there’s a loud, rapid series of knocks on his dorm room door. Jun fumbles with his phone, driving his kart into the abyss before he can pause the game.
The tapping starts again, persistent knocking without a pause.
Impatient. That can only be one of two people: Ibara or Hiyori. Jun hopes it’s the former because he doesn’t know if he can handle the latter right now.
With his phone in his left hand, Jun unlocks and opens the door.
“Jun-kun! You should know it’s bad weather to make me wait.”
Jun blinks, caught between elation at seeing Hiyori again, and frustration at, well, seeing Hiyori again. “You literally waited for like six seconds.”
Hiyori nods fervently. “That’s five seconds too long, Jun-kun! As my soulmate, you should know the very moment I arrive at your doorstep, so you can be ready to welcome me with a big smile.”
“Uhm,” Jun says, taking a step to the side as Hiyori forces his way inside the room. “I’m not sure that’s how it works.”
“Sure it does. You just need a little more practice,” Hiyori says.
He looks around, likely trying to spot if there’s anyone else in the room or if Jun was alone. When he seems satisfied that they’re alone, Hiyori directs his attention back to Jun, and Jun can’t help himself. Pinned in place by piercing amethyst eyes, he blushes.
“It’s okay, though,” Hiyori says brightly. “I forgive you.”
“Uh, okay?” Jun says, thoroughly bewildered. He already lost track of the conversation, which happens sometimes with Hiyori.
“What were you doing?” Hiyori asks.
Jun shrugs. “Playing Mario Kart.”
“Ohhhh,” Hiyori says, leaning closer. “I wanna watch. I always love watching you play video games.”
Since when? Jun wants to ask, but he swallows the words. “Is that why you’re here?” Jun winces a little at how the words come out—with just a hint of an accusatory tone.
Hiyori raises an eyebrow. “I’m here because I’m bored.” Hiyori deflates, just a little bit. He continues, his voice softer. “And also, I like spending time with you.”
“Oh,” Jun says eloquently. His chest fills with a familiar warmth. Ducking his head a little, he scuffs one of his socks against the wooden floor. “Uh, me too.”
“Your couch is so uncomfortable though,” Hiyori says with a little whine in his voice. “Let’s play on your bed.”
“Oh, okay,” Jun says, and he quickly heads for the bed before Hiyori can see his blush.
Jun lies on his stomach with his phone in both hands, and Hiyori drapes himself across Jun’s back, one leg slung over Jun’s waist, and hangs over his shoulder to watch the screen. Every time Jun drifts his kart through a corner and picks up speed, or when he passes one of the other karts, Hiyori cheers loudly in his ear.
It’s not making Jun play any better—he’d never say it out loud, but Hiyori is heavier than he looks—but it’s nevertheless encouraging to have Hiyori shout “go go go” in his ear as Jun manoeuvres his kart across the track.
After ten races—three of which Jun loses because Hiyori yelling in his ear is really distracting—Jun puts his phone on the bedside cabinet and buries his face in his pillow. He smiles.
“That was fun,” Hiyori echoes Jun’s private thoughts. “Good job, Jun-kun.”
Ah.
There it is.
It’s amazing how Jun responds to Hiyori’s praise—heat rises to his face and the smile that he’s hiding in the pillow widens. Pavlov’s dogs must pale in comparison. Any thoughts of Hiyori with Nagisa and videos of Bloody Mary are forgotten. As long as Hiyori keeps praising Jun whenever they’re alone, that’s all that Jun really wants.
Hiyori half-slides off of Jun, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, Jun feels a hand slide into his hair, gently combing through the tangles. Any remaining tension bleeds out of Jun’s shoulders, and he has to bite back an actual moan over how nice Hiyori’s fingers feel as they scratch gently against his scalp.
“You like it, don’t you?” Hiyori’s voice comes out softly, as if from far away. “When I tell you you did good?”
Jun feels like he’s gently being submerged underwater, floating between colourful coral reefs and massive schools of fish. Everything feels subdued. The sensation is foreign but relaxing, and Jun just lets himself drift. Nothing else matters but Hiyori and this moment together. Hiyori’s hand keeps moving slowly, and Jun is vaguely aware of Hiyori tucked firmly against his side, his floral sweet scent with that underlying whisper of musk, his hushed breathing, the heat of his body.
“Good boy,” Hiyori whispers close to his ear, and this time Jun, too relaxed to stop it, does moan, soft and shaky, an overwhelming wave of relief and comfort cresting through him.
Hiyori chuckles, but Jun can’t find it in himself to feel embarrassed, not when he’s feeling so calm and peaceful, letting himself get carried by the ocean currents.
“Don’t stop,” Jun whispers, the words coming out so hoarse that he barely recognises his own voice. He’s surprised to feel dampness against the pillow, tears spiking his lashes. He doesn’t even know why he’s crying, or even really what he’s asking for. That doesn’t seem to deter Hiyori, at least.
“I mean it,” Hiyori says softly. “You’re amazing, Jun-kun. You always work so hard, and I know I give you a hard time sometimes, but you always do the right thing anyway. I know— I know your parents didn’t tell you enough, and I know maybe I say it to tease you sometimes too…”
“S’okay” Jun says, his words slurred. “I like it when you tease me.”
It’s easier to talk, to say these kinds of truths, when he’s not looking at Hiyori.
Hiyori chuckles, and Jun feels something warm press against his temple for a split second. “You are good, Jun. You’re good to me, and you’re good to Eden. You’re a good friend, you’re a good cook, you’re a good idol, and you’re good at Mario Kart.”
Jun laughs, the sound coming out wet and almost like a sob. Hearing Hiyori praise him like that, so genuinely and sweetly, makes him feel so seen. It’s like Hiyori pulled him under a mountain of blankets when it’s snowing outside, enveloping him in his warmth and safety.
“Ohii-san…” Jun doesn’t know what else to say, overwhelmed and raw with vulnerability. He feels like he should say something to Hiyori in return, but the words elude him. There’s just one thought inside of him, more powerful than the haze in his brain and Hiyori’s overwhelming presence.
I love you. I love you so, so much, and I wish I could tell you, I wish you felt the same.
Jun turns his head to look at Hiyori, and they’re mere centimetres apart, their heads resting on the same pillow. Hiyori’s hand shifts from Jun’s hair to brush over his damp cheek. He’s smiling at Jun, bright and comforting. As if in slow motion, Jun feels like he’s resurfacing from the ocean, the waves that crashed over him leaving him both drained and invigorated.
It’s only then that he realises what this looks like, what Hiyori just said to him. But before he can freak out, he realises that Hiyori doesn’t show any signs of being uncomfortable or being weirded out. He’s still smiling, still stroking Jun’s cheek and there’s so much warmth in his eyes that Jun feels like crying all over again. He doesn’t though, he closes his eyes for a second and inhales deeply.
Maybe…
He feels more composed when he next meets Hiyori’s eyes. That is, until Hiyori leans in, and kisses Jun’s forehead. The touch is soft and featherlight, and yet Jun’s eyes widen, his heartbeat thudding like a drum in his ears. Satisfied that Jun isn’t pulling away, Hiyori leans in again, for more kisses, his eyebrows, his temples—Jun realises only now that that soft touch from earlier was Hiyori kissing him—his cheeks, his nose.
And then Hiyori hesitates, lips lingering on the skin of Jun’s jaw.
This is it, Jun thinks, insofar as he’s still able to string multiple words together as thoughts. Ohii-san… He wonders if Hiyori is nervous too, if Hiyori has fantasised about this as often as Jun has.
Hiyori pulls back for a second, meeting Jun’s eyes. Jun nods, his eyes sliding closed as Hiyori leans in once more.
Their first kiss tastes like Jun’s dried tears and Hiyori’s strawberry chapstick. Jun has no idea what he’s doing, and the angle of them lying down makes it a little more awkward, but then Hiyori’s hands are on his cheeks, tilting his head just so, and then their lips slide together a little more, and they catch together, and oh, pleasure sparks in Jun’s core, hot and delicious. He chases the feeling, pressing their mouths together with a little more pressure, a slow shudder running through him from head to toe as he follows Hiyori’s lead, opening his lips just the barest amount when he feels Hiyori’s tongue press against them. That makes their lips line up even better, and something deep inside of Jun shudders with a sense of rightness.
Hiyori’s breath is hot and damp against Jun’s lips, the press of his lips soft and gentle, and Jun’s every nerve feels sensitive in a way he’s never felt before. Hiyori’s panting softly, too, they both are, and for this one perfect moment, Jun feels perfectly in sync with Hiyori.
It feels like an eternity of kissing and breathing together until Hiyori pulls away, and Jun slowly peels his eyes open, his body slack and his muscles lethargic.
“I love you,” Jun says, just like that.
And Hiyori, who is always bright, lights up in a way Jun has never seen before. It’s all the answer that Jun needs because it’s so real.
“Jun-kun,” Hiyori exclaims, moving forward to nuzzle underneath Jun’s chin, lips pressing tiny kisses to Jun’s pulse point, uttering unintelligible murmurs that vibrate against Jun’s skin. His hair tickles.
Jun wraps his arms around Hiyori’s shoulders and laughs.
Lovebirds, Jun giddily recalls Rinne’s words.
“Jun-kun,” Hiyori mutters between kisses, and Jun feels so light that he might float away if Hiyori wasn’t holding onto him. “My good Jun-kun.”
That’s right, Jun thinks. I am.
That’s who I want to be.