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Beat loved Saturday mornings like these, where they kept surfacing from the covers and letting themselves be taken back in, again and again. If he squinted at Neku's alarm clock, he could tell it was something past 8AM, which meant they probably had at least four hours left to go.
That was the best part of waking up so early on the weekend. He had so much time to soak in their closeness, like the early morning sun peeking in through the window, and enjoy it.
His boyfriend was the total opposite of morning person, so he'd just stay there in his cocoon of blankets as long as possible. And Beat could just curl around him. Could just hold him. And he'd like that. If he stirred enough, he'd run his fingers along Beat's back at a slow, soothing constancy. Beat would sigh and hide in him, his mind so full of Neku's body heat he could barely think. And nobody would disturb them, not on a Saturday. Not school, not homework, not an obligation, not anybody's parents, not even Rhyme!
She would text Beat some. If he was feeling awake enough, he'd peer at his phone through the fuzzy brain fog and make out a couple mean-spirited messages from her, to the likes of: “Oh, still sleeping? Guess you won't have any fresh pancakes today. Enjoy your cold fridgecakes” and “Ewwww what are you and Neku doing? The walls are thin you know.”
And she knew they weren't doing a thing. Because they were quiet as shit! Evil. There was only one word for Raimu Bito, and it was evil little sister.
Beat would get so flustered and start muttering things he hated about his sister, like her vibes and her attitude and her stupid smart brain, and Neku would wordlessly coil around him, inviting him in. Beat would set aside his phone and sidle under the covers, where they would fit together, legs entwined, arms about the other, and simply breathe in each other’s proximity. Neku's exhales would rustle his hair, heating his cheek, and Beat would lay as still as possible.
Neku kissed all sloppy on Saturday mornings. He could only half make his mouth work, and his breath was a little meh, but the pleasure was the same. And it housed itself within Beat, pulsating through him like a power source, like it was all that kept him up. And on mornings like these, it really was the only thing keeping him awake. And even then, it wasn't always enough.
Waking up again and again to the cushy press of Neku's cheek against his sent soft tremors through his body every time. He couldn't imagine how it might feel, to one day wake up against him, and then do it again, and then again and again, every day for the rest of his life. During the week, Beat's parents said they didn't like him out late, but they didn't really like anything he did, so incurring one wrath to avoid another wasn't a big deal to him. Neku's parents were nice. They were weirdly normal for being the people who raised Neku. They didn't mind when Beat crashed at their place, but it wasn't like he could make a habit out of it. He'd feel bad.
But nobody cared on Saturday. Neku's folks went to church—church!—who would've thunk?—and Neku had started going too, which was so weird but also, good for him? But that meant no sleeping in on Sundays and a groggy Neku to deal with. Though watching Neku dress up was fun. Who knew Neku owned a suit jacket? And pulled it off? He'd let Beat borrow a nice shirt that barely fit him for the one time he'd gone, and it'd just—
It felt weird. Like everyone was watching him. Judging him for being there. He didn't really know how to pray, or what to say, or if anyone was listening, or, even worse, if the guy up there was grading him for his prayers, so he hadn't gone back yet. Yet. It sat there in him. Like he would consider it, one day. With Neku here, he just might.
He really could do anything with Neku by his side. He smiled at that, tucked in the crook of Neku's shoulder.
Neku didn't always react when he kissed him, not while he was totally zonked out, but he'd stir a little sometimes and mumble something weird like “no, goodness, who let a dog in here,” like, huh? Neku didn't even own a dog. Beat wished he owned a dog. If anyone would consider it, it'd be Neku's parents, but Neku was just so miserably against animals.
Beat daydreamed as he held him, raising Neku's head to fit himself under his chin. Eventually they'd have to get up. Maybe they'd visit Wildkat Café again. Maybe Hanekoma would actually be there today. And then again, maybe not. Maybe they should just pick out a new favorite café. Why were there so many cat cafés, but no dog cafés?
And they had maid cafés. They even had maid cat cafés... They lived in a fucked-up world...
Neku mumbled something.
“Phones?”
He started talking, stopped. “Love you,” he breathed, pecked Beat's cheek. For a moment Beat was catatonic. Then the moment passed, and he grabbed his boyfriend, squeezed him close.
It was weird, being loved. Yeah, church said there was a dude upstairs in the attic or something who loved him, but this was here , and so close, and unavoidable. And it had cozy arms that were nice to lay in. Like this.
And it had a heartbeat, one that sped up against Beat's chest when he rolled over and lay on top of Neku, covering his face in kisses. Neku mewled and pulled against him, roughly fitting their mouths together, and kissed as soft and simple as breathing. Beat distractedly stroked his boyfriend's messy hair, all frumpy and out of its usual styled shape. How was he so cute? It was kind of insane.
Neku pushed against him until he tumbled down beside him. Hands freed, Neku cupped his fingers around his chin and pulled him closer. Beat sighed softly into him. God—no—Gosh, Neku.
Neku broke away just enough to whisper in the space between them, “I love you.”
Beat's face heated uncomfortably. “Y'already said that,” he mumbled.
“Oh, no. Are you taxing the number of times I get to be affectionate with you?”
He squeaked. “Ye—No?”
Neku snorted. “Look out. I don't think I can hold it back.”
“H-Hold what, yo?”
“I love you,” he said again, totally just to watch him squirm, “Daisukenojo.”
Beat's mouth fell open. “Nooooo. You just, like, undid the affection.”
Neku snorted. “Is no one allowed to use your full name?”
“My folks do,” he mumbled. “Tha's enough.”
“Okay. I'm sorry.” That was even weirder. When Neku felt bad, he apologized. Wow.
And then he took Beat in and kissed him again, long and slow.
He didn't really pull back, just fell asleep with his lips still pushed against Beat's. When Beat leaned away a little, he watched his boyfriend's face squish into the pillows, mouth hanging open. It was a hilarious scene and warranted a picture, but it'd always felt kinda bad, the thought of stealing a photo of poor defenseless Neku's goofy face, so he'd started trying to memorize them instead.
He'd lay with his head on the pillow, just a bit across from Neku's, and observe. Neku breathed more slowly, always quiet. He looked so freakin' peaceful, which hadn't seemed a Neku trait when they first met, but it turned out he could be a really serene fella. Then again, there were probably things in Beat that Neku hadn't expected either. The Game had stuffed 'em in a trash compactor and then waited to see if anyone crawled their way out. There was no time to relax. No time.
He lifted his hand and gently, gently stroked Neku's cheek. His sleepy warmth was infectious. Beat didn't think he could ever grow used to it, not after everything. He didn't even hate school so much anymore, actually tried a little, cuz his boyfriend was a study nerd and Shiki was also a nerd and Rhyme had been getting on his ass about putting more effort into school and now she had two people helping her. And against all odds, it was working?
He wondered sometimes, in the quiet, in the cozy too-good sea of warm silence, whether they might have to ever play the Game again. If they died, would they just enter it again? Would Josh let 'em live again, or would they be stuck playing as Reapers or something? He had no idea. He liked to imagine Josh was watching from the UG, keeping them from getting killed again. Stopping the bus when Beat almost walked in front of it. An invisible force pushing Neku back from an unseen mugger. Stuff like that. Neku missed him. He would speak with a pronounced heaviness in his voice when he mentioned Josh's name. Beat didn't get it. Guy was a prick. Then again, he'd only ever seen priss-kid from the other side of a battlefield, and Beat hadn't exactly done that good a job erasing them, but he was still trying to, so maybe they'd just gotten off on the wrong foot.
Saturday afternoons, Neku liked to take him to Shibuya. They'd just wander around some, hand-in-hand, blushing like little idiots, but he'd notice the way Neku was drawn to Hachiko like he had once been by CAT's mural. The way Neku would sit there and pat the statue dog's head and give himself a minute. Beat could practically feel the seconds burning in his lungs. Just a minute, just to see. Josh had yet to contact them again, but maybe he would. Maybe he was busy being Composer or whatever. Beat couldn't believe he'd almost tried to snag that role for himself. The hell was he thinking? (For Rhyme. Always for Rhyme.) Thank god—goodness—Josh'd brought her back. Thank goodness for Neku.
In his sleep, Neku would embrace him, fit his head under Beat's chin. That felt so good, to be sought after unconsciously. He didn't think anyone would ever like him like that, and yet. And yet! Made him wanna jump up and down like a maniac. He trailed kisses down Neku's dumb face and just smiled, heart slamming against his ribcage, hard enough Neku could probably feel it.
He had such a cool boyfriend, and no clue how he'd lucked out so hard. Maybe it was the hardcore trauma bonding. Sure. That was why Neku stuck around.
Either way, he held Beat so gently. Like he really loved him or something. Sighing, Beat gently pried one of his sleepy hands from around his back and kissed his boyfriend’s slender, paint-stained knuckles.
Neku hadn't shown it much in the Game, but he had a creative streak. He'd been scoping out his own alleyways for street art. Beat liked to imagine Hanekoma was out there somewhere (Neku said he was an angel) (in heaven? Was he like homies with God or) maybe on a cloud, smiling to himself, observing his protegee. Proud.
And Neku was smart as shit, obviously. One of the best kids in their grade. Like, what the fuck? Beat was probably the stupidest. Neku didn't like when he said that, though, even if it was true. He'd cup Beat's face, look at him real serious-like, and say, “Don't call yourself that. You're smart in other places, that's all.” Yeah, but where?
Beat didn't feel like thinking all depressing right now. He exhaled into Neku, inhaled his bed sheet scent. Neku rustled against him, like he'd heard Beat's thoughts, and sloppily pecked his collarbone. Beat could only chuckle. He didn't know how he'd managed it, in the end, but he was gonna do his damnedest to give Neku his everything. Man, and he thought he wouldn't date anyone, let alone a dude, let alone the goofiest dude ever. That was probably why Neku liked him so much. Cuz he tolerated Neku's goof factor.
See, Shiki had higher standards, as she should, so she'd confronted her confusing mix of jealousy and want for her best friend Eri, and now they were going out. They were super gross about it too. So it wasn’t just Neku and Beat, cuz Shiki would rope them into double dates where she'd gab about how she and Eri were straight up starting a business together, lesbians at their finest, and meanwhile Beat would suddenly find his milkshake very engrossing. She'd convinced him into letting her paint his nails one time. Black, he'd said. Compromising, she'd gone with alternating black and a sparkly, star-like midnight blue. He had no idea how to ask her to maybe do that again now that they were all chipped.
Wasn't that funny? Didn't really have any friends to speak of before the Game. He'd had Rhyme, but that was hard. He couldn't just rely on her for everything. And there was the fact that she was literally better at him when it came to every single thing. That was hard. That was too much. In some ways, he wondered if that was what had brought the both of them to the Game, the stagnation of their relationship, of their lives.
But now, Beat had friends! Neku counted as a friend. And Shiki and Eri liked him for some reason. Liked them both, which was impressive. Beat still had no idea how Shiki got through to thick-skulled Neku in the first place. Necessity, he guessed. He was lucky he and Neku were both on such equal footing during that third and final week of the Game. Made falling for Neku a hell of a lot easier. Heck. Heck of a lot. He hoped if God was out there on some cloud next to Hanekoma, looking down on them, he'd forgive Beat for cussing. He didn't mean it as an insult. It was just kind of a flavor for his way of thinking.
“Love you too,” he murmured into Neku's hair. He couldn't say it while Neku was conscious or he'd get all flustered. Choked up. It'd end up stuck in his throat. But it was the truth. Funny how they'd found each other. It was almost—it was like fate. That word made him all tingly. Fate. He'd really needed Neku in his life. Rhyme teased him about running off to Neku's whenever things got bad with his parents, but she knew as well as he did that this was a way better coping mechanism than skating around in the dark, his headspace so clouded he could barely see. He still couldn't see well when it was happening, the frustration, the fear, but he'd feel the surety of Neku's hands, smell the comforting closeness of Neku's body, and hear the slow, somber tenor of his tone.
Neku was such a good boyfriend. Made Beat feel like a shit one. But Neku had a comeback for everything. “I wouldn't be dating you if you weren't good for me, Beat.” Yeah, right. Maybe he just picked Beat in a moment of stupidity. “Really? Is that really the hill you want to die on?” But could he counter it? “Beat, you are in such a state.” Why was Neku laughing? “You idiot. I want you. Nobody else makes me feel this understood.” Then Beat would get all flustered and have to stop talking.
Neku was so good at taking care of him. He didn't even have to do anything, and he was. He let Beat stay in his room with him. Would sleep beside him, arms around him. Just being able to stay here helped the hissing thoughts in his mind recede.
Loving someone was crazy. Letting them change him. Letting him change them. Having a place to call home. A place that actually felt like Home when he said it, made his heart feel a little lighter in his chest. And he never fought Neku, not like he did with his parents. They argued sometimes, but not with malice, not with the need to reach out and stab the other, to make them bleed. Just thinking about it made him kind of desolate.
Beat had wondered if he'd always feel a little like a burden. Neku said he didn't mind, but he did so much for Beat. So much. When he brought it up to Shiki, she just said, “Keep your grades up, Beat. That's as good a way as any to thank him.” Hell, then Neku wouldn't have to rag on him about it so much, so maybe she was right.
Maybe he actually liked school, too. Maybe he could like it when it wasn't just for the sake of shutting his parents up. Maybe it could have a purpose. If he said that out loud, Rhyme would probably kill him. “Of course it has a purpose! What do you think we go to school for?” Ugh, and Sundays sucked like crazy because Sundays were “Beat, did you do any of your homework?” days.
They had no obligations right now, right here, in this soapy, sleepy in-between, washed up on a warm, bubbly shore and tangled up in a wake of blankets that needed to not be disturbed.
Eventually Neku would get up, and he'd be all cranky about feeling gross, and he'd clamber his way out of bed, but—Beat checked his phone—still at least two hours until then. He let his eyes close the rest of the way and tucked his head against Neku's neck. He loved the way his boyfriend smelled. The intimacy of his skin. The faint sudsy scent mixed in with his natural musk. He smelled like nobody else in the whole world. Like safety. This was Beat's place of comfort.
Neku's whole house was his place of comfort, though. Neku's parents were nice people. Normal people. They straight-up let him stay over after bad days, when Beat needed to channel the storm of his burgeoning hate into something other than skateboarding. (He'd already fucked up once before. If he learned from anything...)
Beat thought they'd judge him, seeing as he made questionably passable grades and had that skateboardy vibe and probably wasn't a great influence on Neku. But they never told him to leave. Never barred his way to their kid. To Beat's boyfriend. They asked him about his day and put an extra setting on the table when he was around. It was impossible to let himself be ignored and looked over. Not when they were looking directly at him.
Neku hadn't known how to explain it to him. They'd been sitting on his porch, bouncing a basketball between the two of them. Not really doing anything. Soaking in the warm breeze, watching the sun set.
“I think I'm different around you.”
Beat had startled. The ball had scattered. With a grunt, he'd forced himself up to chase after it, then wildly bounced it back to Neku. Neku scooted to the side and watched the ball bound into a corner of the porch.
They both sat back down together, not quite looking at each other.
“Yeah?” Beat barked.
Neku shrugged to himself. Beat watched him gaze up at the sky out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah. More... present. More observant.”
His boyfriend’s voice lowered, secretive. “I think you make me happier, too.”
Beat's face had burned up. He'd never had anyone say anything like that about him before. He folded his arms over his chest, mumbled, “Phones—”
“And my parents can tell, you know?” he blurted, cutting off Beat. Beat was too stunned to fight back. “They don't mind giving you attention and support. A place to rest your head and lay down some of your tension. You don't realize that I've changed.”
Beat narrowed his eyes. This was something he could refute. “I know that . Y'almost killed Shiki that one time, but you stopped. I know she changed you.”
Neku's throat bobbed. “She's not the only one,” he mumbled.
“N-Neku—”
Suddenly, his boyfriend’s head had swiveled, and he was staring straight at Beat, gaze puncturing him.
“You saved my life. I was so close—so close to freedom—and it almost didn't even matter. All that progress I'd made—and it didn't even matter to the Game. Without you, I'd...”
He drew off, his brow furrowed, etched down like a streak of black lightning.
Beat shivered, even now. He burrowed his head into Neku's warm sternum, carefully folding himself into his boyfriend. When Neku's arms fell instinctively around him, he let out a fond sigh. This was the best part of every week. It was almost like the Game, in some ways—in that they were the only two people in the whole world, non-reaper at least—but without the pressure, without the metallic fear on their tongues. He nuzzled close to Neku, cheek tracing against his shirt, and listened to the slow rhythm of his heart.
Neku's hand curled into his hair, his thumb rubbing against the nape of his neck. Maybe he was more awake than he looked. Beat kept his eyes shut, his pulse breathing in tandem to Neku's. Damn, he loved this. Darn. He loved it.
“Love you,” he whispered, before he could think about it.
Neku's arm tightened around his back. Quietly: “Love you too.” A quick, brief peck to the crown of his head.
Beat's insides heated, like he was melting, like he was wax under Neku's fingers. He let out a sharp breath and wrapped his arms securely around Neku.
His boyfriend's thumb continued to work small, methodical circles into the back of his neck.
Being cared about so much felt... good. It felt so good...
Neku made him... feel so...
He sensed himself drifting again, too contented, too secure not to. Only a brief squeeze at his heart left him clinging, afraid of release.
But he was so warm... so safe...
...and... Okay... okay...
Neku's heartbeat followed him into the darkness once more, the waves that lapped to the shore, the shore shifting under heel.
He’d be okay. Neku’s arms were around him, his breath in Beat’s hair. He’ll open his eyes again and Neku will still be here. They’ll be together. Nothing’ll separate ‘em.
Not sleep, not when his dreams are embarrassingly full of this one guy. Not death either, huh? Not even death.
Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that, but Beat knew this, no matter what—
No matter what.
Eventually, Beat would feel the gentle, rhythmic tap of Neku’s fingers on his cheek, and Neku’ll murmur, “You ready to get up?” into his hair. And Beat’ll shake himself off like a grouchy dog, and they’ll lumber up out of the covers. Neku’ll let him use his shower, and they’ll get dressed and go downstairs and eat some breakfast for lunch. And Neku’ll ask, “Wanna go to Shibuya?” And hell yeah, they’ll go to Shibuya.
And right now, now now now, always, Beat’s right beside him, and they’re breathing in tandem, their hearts beating as one pulse.