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“hey rui,” tsukasa’s voice breaks rui from his trance one evening.
“mhm,” rui does not dignify him with a proper response, busy at his desk. there’s a tense beat of silence, and in his peripheral vision he sees him pick up his screwdriver another time, tightening a nail on in a swift motion. rui’s lips purse in focus, away in his own world.
“do you like the sun or the moon more?”
his question rings out in the silence, though rui’s gaze does not break from where it’s focused. he places his screwdriver down.
“..like the sun or the moon more?” rui echoes, feeling around for another metal piece.
he repeats the question back to himself, savoring it on his tongue, as if it would help him come to a conclusion. “i guess i’d say the sun,” he eventually mumbles, barely loud enough for him to hear, staring at the tsukasa’s reflection through the glass.
“do you think you’re more like the sun?” tsukasa continues to ask, absent-minded.
the question perplexes rui, temporarily snapping him out from his train of thought. ”perhaps.”
a palpable silence grows between them, the words settling as gently as dust. tsukasa hears the sound of rui’s screwdriver begin to clink against the metal again, the sound accompanied by rui’s faint humming in the background. the star’s breath catches in his throat before he speaks.
“well, i think you’re more like the sun.”
rui finally turns to stare at him. a beat passes, then another. such few words, but immeasurably such few-worded thoughts that, for some unbeknownst reason, he has chosen to share with rui.
“..you think so?” he mutters, raising a hand to his face and rubbing his eye. he never has an issue keeping up with tsukasa, really, but — the toll of the setting sun must be getting to both of them, that would be all.
tsukasa stares back at him, the typical sharpness of his eyes dulled into something more welcoming, gentler. “why would i lie?”
“i didn’t think you’d think of me that way,” rui falters, but doesn’t tilt his head away from tsukasa’s gaze. his voice comes out a bit strained than he’d like.
the boy on his floor nods, very seriously. “i think they’re symbolic of resilience. and life.”
rui considers, for a moment, looking down at his work table. he almost chose to dumbfoundedly gape at him instead — what is was he even thinking? he had to think of something appropriate to say, especially if tsukasa chose to sneak up on him with a thought so endearing — though he doubts that he would ever say something as sudden as this again—
neither of them say a word. it is not until two hours later and another of awkward rehearsing when the two of them finally wrap up; rui a bit too far gone to linger on the way tsukasa grins at him as he sees him on his way out.
tsukasa was most likely tired, rui shuts the door mindlessly. there was nothing more to it.
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“rui, i told you to bring an umbrella!” is the first sentence tsukasa hisses when rui finally reaches to his house, his brows knitting in visible concern while his eyes flicker all over his drenched condition in the doorway. tsukasa’s invitation to come over was yet another unexpected one, to say the least. “did you even register my messages?”
he chuckles softly, waving a dismissive hand as he steps past tsukasa and dries himself off on his carpet awkwardly. tsukasa casts an apprehensive glance around the now, equally drenched carpet.
he isn’t sure if it is what he was expecting or not. rui has always been the sort to not trouble others, he supposes. even if it meant wringing his jacket at his porch, crouched and earnest. “i’ll be alright,” rui offers at tsukasa’s deadly glare, wringing his clothes a little faster. “it’s just water, after all. i got caught up in the rain.”
“you look like a wet cat,” tsukasa’s scowls as he leans in closer.
“..i’m sure i’ll dry off soon.”
“nonsense, you’ll catch a cold! i’ll wash it,” tsukasa declares, cutting off rui’s excuses. the star’s tone is one of finality, leaving no room for argument as he rushes off to the bathroom for supplies.
“hold on, tsukasa-kun, there’s no need for such drast—”
“i’ll wash your hair,” he says from the distance, the sound of running water drowning his voice out. “you’ll fall sick if you don’t! i cannot let you miss practices.”
“you want to wash my hair?” rui’s eyebrow rises, the incredulity apparent in his voice.
tsukasa nods resolutely, his expression dead serious, although rui not present to see. “come, i’ve already started the water.” he felt more and more absurd with every step he took, rui thinks absently on the walk of shame to his bathroom.
once arrived, tsukasa wordlessly points at the half-filled sink.
“i lie down?” rui questions, now feeling odd. this entire situation is odd.
“go rinse your hair in the water first,” he points, then turns back to the cabinet. rui watches as he rummages through his cabinet, a look of pure concentration on his face. the cabinet is stocked with an alarming amount of hair care products, he begins to stare, while tsukasa grabs a few bottles and sets them on the sink counter, followed by two towels. he drapes one on the edge beside the rest of the products, and the other over rui’s clothed, although damp, shoulders.
he finally sinks his hair into the basin, and silence takes over the room— nothing but the sound of the running water serving as their company. it is comfortable, rui muses silently. the water is warm, and he cannot remember a time he has experienced a silence so kind.
tsukasa’s hands are in rui’s hair, lathering the suds slowly. his motions are gentle. so gentle, it almost pains him. it is with such caution, such care, in a way that the force never gets too little or too much. he lingers over rui’s temples, quietly chiding at him for not bringing an umbrella while he suppresses a foolish smile.
there is a delicacy that comes along with tsukasa’s actions. a subtle delicacy, of course, but there is a surprising amount of precision that comes along with anything he does, now including hair washing.
when he is satisfied with his work, tsukasa meticulously wraps the towel around rui’s hair, his movements deliberate and methodical. with more ignited precision, he ensures that each strand is carefully attended to before he begins the process of drying it with the towel, accompanied by the same gentleness he held prior.
weighted silence hangs in the air for a moment after he has finished, a silence that carries unspoken gratitude in its midst. “i can dry my hair myself,” rui makes eye contact with tsukasa, his voice breaking through the quiet, pushing past the underlying tension between them.
“..i’m perfectly capable of drying hair,” the words come after a brief pause of his hands, but there's such hesitance in his tone it would be impossible for someone with rui’s caliber to miss. rui knows there’s the hair dryer that sat in the very cabinet below the sink, that it’s a blatant lie, yet he still chooses to believe it wholeheartedly.
tsukasa avoids his gaze, his eyes fixed on some indistinct point in the room. “you’ve ought to take care of yourself better,” he sighs. rui smiles sheepishly.
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rui arrives to lunch half an hour late on a friday afternoon, unconcerned. having been caught up in stern a warning by the teacher for yet again running off after causing undefined trouble.
“you’re late,” nene states the obvious from beside him, her expression indifferent.
“i was busy,” he lies, voice tinged with mischief. nene’s eyes scan over him, taking in his relatively disheveled appearance. it’s obvious to the both of them she most likely knew the truth, however settling on letting the matter rest.
“i’m sure you were,” she had came to her own conclusions, it seemed to him. rui didn’t mind, silently unboxing his lunch next to her half-finished one. there’s a moment of silence as the two go back to eating, until emu perks up. “where’s tsukasa-kun?”
“..huh?”
“tsukasa-kun!” she says, as if that explained anything to him. he had already left the classroom by the time their classes ended.
“what happened?” rui frowns for a moment.
emu gapes at him. “he was looking for you, rui-kun! he was worried you got into some trouble!”
he stills. tsukasa was worried for him?
the girl is looking at him in bewilderment, waiting for him to say something. this clearly wasn’t something he had anticipated, having tsukasa go off looking for him. “thank you, i’ll go look for him now,” rui waves her off absentmindedly, but he’s already halfway down the stairs before he even finishes his sentence, emu calling out a response from a distance.
there is a shift when they finally meet outside their classroom. on any other occasion, it would be nothing out of the ordinary to find his best friend there, but considering emu’s words from before, he finds it hard to now; especially when he’s made him worry.
“where were you?” is what tsukasa offers when they lock eyes, the question sounding more like a threat than an inquiry. his eyes are earnest, clouded with worry.
something lingers in the air — rui can feel his piercing eyes on him. a silence that carries immeasurable weight, stirring in its ingredients of unspoken thoughts and emotions. tsukasa glances at the half eaten sandwich in his hands.
“..you’d better finish your lunch before class starts,” his previous emotion subsides into relief, his lack of words betraying the underlying bed of concern that had developed with his sudden disappearance.
rui stares down at his lunch, the words unable to form. “let’s head back to the rooftop.”
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things come to a head when tsukasa takes a fall.
“are you alright?” rui rushes over as soon as he realises, voice laced with concern as he runs to get a better look at the injury. it was a reckless fall, his skin paling in comparison to the red scrape in his knee.
“i can handle it myself,” tsukasa looks away in response, lips pulled into a tight frown. “i’m sure it won’t affect me that badly.”
rui bites back a frustrated sigh. “you’re bleeding, that’s far from a small problem.” leaning forward, he lightly dabbed ointment at the side of the damage, wincing more than tsukasa himself as he did so.
“it doesn’t hurt, rui!” tsukasa’s protests fell to a mere mumble as rui only shook his head in response, beginning to tend to the scrape running across his knee.
looking back at his face, he silently realised that the room had grown oddly quiet. straightening awkwardly, he cleared his throat, and desperately hoped to break the silence. “have you done this before?”
he suddenly starts to regret the harshness of his previous protests. tsukasa didn’t think he had ever seen the inventor’s eyes go so soft. after a pause, he nodded, the motion barely visible, too focused on dressing the wound properly. he worked in silence, albeit a more comfortable silence than before. he had quickly cleaned the exposed skin and disinfected it with great care.
rui finishes his work off with a bandage. “done. please take a break from any strenuous activities today.” immediately, tsukasa splutters. “we have practice today, rui!”
he took a sharp breath, attempting to keep his composure calm. “..is it so terrible to not want to see you hurt?”
for the first time, they’re talking about something as raw as this — it was a little jarring to hear rui’s voice sound so gentle; so soft. like he wasn’t asking tsukasa to rest as a troupe mate, but as someone who found himself caring about him over something as simple as a scrape.
tsukasa watches him steadily, and he’s able to sense rui’s vulnerable change in tone. it had shifted so abruptly, tsukasa found himself unsure of how to proceed.
and so he stares. so often a time that he would be the one fussing over rui’s lack of concern toward his own well-being that it felt odd to be on the other side of the coin. almost unnaturally so.
finally, he softens, relaxes, and he returns that same kind of vulnerability.
“..thank you, rui.”