Work Text:
It’s been twenty-four days since they started dating, and Sakura didn’t expect himself to be the kind of guy who’d count the days so precisely—yet here he is, at dawn on the twenty-fourth day, being woken up by the rustle of a futon that doesn’t belong to him, and the first thought that crosses his mind is, it’s the twenty-fourth day already.
Through his half-closed eyelids, he sees the silhouette of another guy (his boyfriend, his mind supplies, and his heartbeat picks up, chasing the last shreds of sleep that kept him bound to his futon), sitting so close to him Sakura could touch his knee if he extended his hands. And Sakura sits up, too, because there’s something relaxing about watching his boyfriend’s morning routine, even if he’s nothing but a mere spectator.
It’s not the first time Suou sleeps at Sakura’s, but the second already; so he knows what to expect, by now, knows how not to feel bothered because someone else is inside his private space— a place he hasn’t let anyone in since he was old enough to protect this boundary.
There aren’t any curtains on Sakura’s window, although he plans to buy them at some point, if he saves enough money. The hearty light of the daybreak sun is starting to fill the room with warm pinks and balmy oranges, to melt into the red of Suou’s hair. Haloed by this morning light, Suou begins to move, and Sakura’s eyes keep track of each gesture.
Suou feels like a conductor, and his body is his instrument. He plays a silent melody when he stretches his leg, when he twists his wrist, when he rolls his head. He keeps his free eye closed, as though ignoring Sakura, yet Sakura is pretty sure that he’s aware of him. And when the sky starts to brighten, Suou stops moving altogether. His face looks peaceful, relaxed—and it sends a shiver down Sakura’s spine, just like it did the first time he watched Suou meditate.
There was a time when Sakura thought that Suou wasn’t as kind as he seemed, as if he was hiding his true nature, a rotten dream or an unhinged secret. Now, though, he’s not that sure. He can’t say he understands all of Suou—nor does he understand all of his own feelings, and it’s not like Suou has ever shown him what’s behind this eyepatch that he keeps even during his sleep. But Sakura believes there is something genuine in this moment, and in all the moments they’re spending together too.
After all, as soon as Suou is done meditating and opens his eye, his face softens into that same expression that Sakura has now learnt means love—a gentle smile, a tender gaze.
“Good morning, Sakura-kun,” Suou greets him, a mellow whisper that doesn’t seem to break the silence—rather it fills it, and this more than anything is what eases Sakura’s mind.
It’s been twenty-four days already and Sakura is starting to get used to it.
“Good morning, Suou.”
✿
At lunch on the twenty-sixth day, Suou finally asks: “Where do you want to go for our first date, Sakura-kun?”
And Sakura is grateful that the rooftop is theirs alone right now, theirs and Tsubakino’s who came there as soon as the bell rang. Not that he minds their presence; Tsubakino is one of the few people allowed to witness how Sakura’s love life fares, because they’re so open about their own feelings for a certain school leader that it’s pretty clear they aren’t going to judge him. It still took Sakura more than two weeks before he could call Suou his boyfriend in front of them. Names and titles are hard to say out loud, after all, and the admission was so horribly embarrassing he felt a hard lump in his stomach as he said it. (And Suou was beaming, which was even more mortifying, yet strangely pleasant, and Sakura discovered that day how good it felt when Suou was happy around him.)
“Huh?” is Sakura’s eloquent reply, and he sees Tsubakino chuckle at his reaction. He tries his best to ignore it, but he’s pretty sure his ears and cheeks are betraying his emotions right now. He blushes easily, as Suou once said, and he doesn’t know how not to wear his heart on his sleeve.
“Wait, you guys didn’t have your first date? Even though you already slept together?” Tsubaki sounds a little surprised, and Suou lets out a sigh.
“Well, we didn’t respect proper dating etiquette,” he says, all so serious that Sakura starts to sweat.
“There’s an etiquette?” How was he supposed to know about it, anyway? Suou is his first boyfriend—and Sakura is pretty sure this is also Suou’s first relationship. And here’s the difference between the two. They may be both new at dating, but Suou knows so much more about everything else, and it sometimes feels like a whole ocean is separating them, and Sakura is watching Suou from afar, from the other side of the world, knowing full well that a whole lifetime won’t be enough for him to catch up even if he learns how to swim.
“There isn’t,” Tsubakino reveals, and Sakura’s heart skips a beat. “He’s just messing with you.”
Sakura can see the mischievous glimpse in Suou’s eye, the sign that he’s having fun at Sakura’s expense. He looks away as fast as possible, knowing that he can’t save his dignity and all three of them know that he fell for it again.
Suou chuckles. “You’re really a cute person, Sakura-kun.”
Sakura’s face feels even hotter now. He’s easily embarrassed, but it’s worse with Suou. He feels like a piece of his heart is torn away each time he fails to behave like a normal person in front of him—in front of everyone, in fact, but with Suou it feels even more painful. That’s love, is what Tsubakino told him when he first let his guard down around them, and he refused to believe them at first, but here he is: trying his best to be proud of who he is, yet hating that he can’t be a cooler boyfriend for Suou.
“It’s just that couples rarely go to each other’s houses before going on a proper date.” Tsubakino thankfully comes to his rescue by redirecting the conversation and Sakura is grateful. “But you do you, guys. I know I’d rather have Ume take me out to dinner before I let him in my room. It’d be much more exciting, that way.”
Sakura feels like he’s missing a part of the conversation here, judging from the way Suou nods enthusiastically. He doesn’t really see the difference. This isn’t the only thing he understands: even now, he doesn’t know why it feels better to eat lunch on the rooftop, with nothing but the sky over their head, why the feeling of someone else’s fingers over his skin is different than the feeling of his own, or why he likes Suou in a special way when there are so many other guys he admires. Umemiya, of course, strong and reliable, a goal as much as a role model; Kaji, so full of flaws yet always trying to do his best for those he cares about; and Tsubakino, so unabashedly themself, filled with more confidence than Sakura ever wishes to gain.
And there are all the other guys, too—Sakura could list every single person he’s interacted with ever since he came to this school, even Nirei who’s not a fighter, even Sugishita who almost never talks to him if he can avoid it.
“We could eat out tonight,” Suou suggests. “To a place we never went to before.”
The question is for him as much as it is for Tsubakino. Sakura absentmindedly nods, casting a glance at their elder. They sigh, as if saying, what would you do without me, and they start listing a bunch of places. All the names are familiar and Sakura’s breath stops for a second at the realisation, the air being pushed out of his lungs when he understands that he’s familiar with this town now. He doesn’t just know the people that live there, he knows about the stores, the restaurants, the parks and the houses; and if he closes his eyes, he remembers the way the light dims at sundown, remembers the warmth of the asphalt in summer, and how his shadow looks like on the ground when he patrols after school.
He knows Makochi more intimately than he thought possible—while Suou is still shrouded in shadow, a mystery Sakura has yet to entirely crack.
“What do you prefer, Sakura-kun?” Suou’s question snaps him out of his reverie.
Sakura didn’t listen, but it still doesn’t change his answer. “Whatever you prefer, Suou.”
Suou stares at him for a second, his smile thick with storm and heartbreak. And for a split second, it feels as though the ground slips away beneath Sakura’s feet; unease crawls up his chest, fills his lungs, clenches its icy fingers round his heart.
But the feeling vanishes as soon as it appears when Suou nods: “Let’s go with Chinese food, then.”
And Sakura breathes again—it’s fine if he’s undecided. It’s fine if he doesn’t know yet what he likes to eat besides omurice. Blank canvases are meant to be painted all over, and Sakura wonders how Suou will colour his life—how they all will, how they all already have.
Tsubakino looks at the boyfriends with a tender gaze, but this time Sakura doesn’t blush.
✿
There’s a question Sakura wants to ask again—perhaps one of the very first questions he wanted to ask Suou, long before his mind started wondering why Suou fell for him. It’s a question that shouldn’t be in his head anymore: it should’ve left with his dream of becoming Furin’s top just for the sake of it, just to prove himself.
But it comes back to him on the twenty-ninth day after school and patrol, when they’re both going home together. Admittedly, Sakura’s flat isn’t that far from school, and wherever Suou’s home is, he’s pretty sure that it’s not in this direction. Going home together, in their language, means that they’ll walk around for a while, taking as many detours as possible, trying to find the quiet parts of the town, the places where nobody else will look their way. Before coming to Makochi, Sakura wasn’t aware that words could have so many hidden meanings. He only knew of those thrown with hatred, the ones that broke through his skin and filled his veins with venom.
And yet, when he says, “Hey, Suou, when will you fight me?”, he gives these words a brand new meaning—something akin to love, something to hold on to when you’re lost, a feeling that makes his heart race and the sun shine brighter in the sky.
He sees his boyfriend’s shoulders tense, a detail he wouldn’t have noticed before. But he’s changed, he’s begun to see things he wouldn’t have paid attention to before. In the past, he would’ve expected this reaction, he wouldn’t have seen it—and that makes all the difference, because he can tell the smile on Suou’s face when he turns to reply is genuine, albeit a little cautious.
“That again? Are you so eager to see me covered in blood and bruises?”
Sakura refuses to think about it—no one comes out from a fight unscathed, at least not from a serious one, and what Sakura is asking for is a real dogfight, fist against fist, until one of them reach their limits. He doesn’t think about whether it’s a good thing or not: it just is.
“No, I just—” And Sakura closes his mouth for a second. Even now, he’s still not good at explaining himself; up till now, his fists have done all the work for him. But he has to tell Suou, so he tries: “I want to know who you are.”
And Suou blinks, staring back with the same steady smile, the same patience Sakura isn’t sure he deserves. “And you believe you’ll know who I am if you fight me?”
“I mean. Fights are a form of conversation, right?” He feels almost embarrassed for repeating Umemiya’s words, but it’s a lot easier for him to borrow them rather than invent them on his own. “So why don’t you want to fight?”
For a second, the silence that settles between them is heavy.
Sakura wants to break it with his knuckles. But he now knows there are things that can’t be fought. The insults, the judgmental stares, the disdain can be punched out; the feelings, not quite.
“Because I’m no match for you.” Suou’s voice feels like the wind: it carries the storm with it. He sounds genuine, though, and Sakura feels relief—yet tinted with anger, because he doesn’t get it.
“Huh? So what, you’d rather cry quits than try it out?”
“I’m not talking about skills, you know.” And Sakura can’t deny it: he’s seen Suou fight. He knows how formidable an opponent he’d be. Difficult to beat, although not impossible. “I wouldn’t be defeated by you if it was the only thing that mattered. I’m talking about the heart.”
And then, as if to prove a point, Suou surges in his direction.
Sakura’s first reaction is to parry—and then his eyes catch Suou’s, and he lets his arms fall back. Whatever Suou is trying to do, he’s not fighting Sakura. He won’t hurt him, not now, not never. So Sakura gets it.
Suou won’t hurt him, but not because he’s in love with Sakura. Even before the blooming of his feelings, it would’ve been impossible for him.
So Sakura lets himself be manhandled. Suou makes him lose his balance and Sakura grabs Suou’s uniform vest out of instinct. His back hits the ground with more gentleness than in a real brawl, almost as if landing on a mattress. In the blink of an eye, he feels Suou’s hands on his wrists, Suou’s legs on his, sealing Sakura there with his body.
There’s something dark on Suou’s face at this very moment, but even then, Sakura doesn’t feel in danger.
They lie for a couple of seconds, looking each other straight in the eye.
And Suou gets up, freeing Sakura, offering him a helping hand to stand up—that Sakura only takes because he doesn’t have anything to prove, he’s won this fight.
“That was weak,” Sakura comments, and Suou laughs, lighthearted.
“Told you so. Sakura-kun, aren’t you hungry? Let’s go back to the main street and buy something to eat.”
Suou diverts the conversation. Sakura lets him do so. He has his answer, even if it’s not the one he wanted to hear.
There’s another question he’d like to ask, now, but he knows it’s too early for him to let it out. He’ll have to wait for a long while, wait until they’re both comfortable enough to completely expose the hidden pathways of their heart, comfortable enough for Suou to reveal what he hides behind his eyepatch, for Sakura to reveal that, in his whole life, he’s never loved anyone as much as he loves Suou.
What, exactly, is Suou seeing in Sakura, for him to believe that he can never reach him no matter how hard he tries?
✿
Suou confessed during a moonless night.
Sakura doesn’t remember everything about that night, but that he does. It happened under a dark, full-of-clouds sky, and a waft of wind was carrying the scent of flowers, and the air was too chilly for his uniform alone. It happened as Sakura was shivering, arms crossed against his chest, walking in step with Suou, as Sakura was lost in thoughts—trying to ignore the sense of urgency he was constantly feeling around Suou, the almost-panic he knew, deep down, was characteristic of what his friends called his romance sensor.
So in a way, the confession was no surprise, and even if the Sakura of the time didn’t know that saying that the moon is beautiful is a confession of its own—and these were words by Suou so many times over the past months, words falling on deaf ears yet repeated without a fail, to the point that Sakura believed that Suou had a genuine interest in the moon—his racing heart was enough of a clue for him to expect the outcome.
And it’s probably because Suou understood that Sakura would be aware of the tension between them that he asked, out of the blue: “Say, Sakura-kun, do you have a crush on someone?”
The question broke the quietude of the night, and Sakura trembled even more. He couldn’t feel the cold anymore; his whole body was warming up at an alarming rate, and a single thought crossed his mind. Fight. Sakura was unable to run away, he wasn’t one to lie either. He could elude a question, but not lie, not under the scrutiny of Suou’s gaze, watching him with a glimpse of curiosity in the eye.
“I dunno,” he replied. He couldn’t be sure. It took him time to understand what friendship was, he couldn’t be sure of his own feelings. What was romantic love, anyway? What made someone so special you’d want to spend the rest of your life by their side? What was so enticing about kisses?
How could he know, when a few months ago he didn’t even know how warm another human body is?
“Well, I do,” Suou retorted, and Sakura’s breath caught in his throat.
He knew before Suou could put it into words; he could’ve whispered them along.
“It’s you, Sakura-kun. You’re the one who stole my heart.”
A shadow loomed over Suou’s face. He was, perhaps, expecting a rejection, and Sakura found him brave for trying. He remained calm, though, and his smile didn’t falter. He was like a lighthouse in the midst of a storm, a beacon of light in the obscurity of the night, steadfast and confident. Sakura didn’t know why he was the one shuddering, why he was the one who took a step back, his eyes wide, his mouth agape—why he was the most afraid of the two, with tears pricking the corner of his eyes yet refusing to cry.
He wasn’t one to run away, so he forced himself not to look away.
“Of course, I’m not expecting you to reciprocate my feelings,” Suou continued, and Sakura, his breath taken away, could only let him talk, even though these words didn’t feel pleasant to hear. “I just believe it’d be cruel to make you believe that I see you as a friend, so I wanted to let you know.”
Sakura finally remembered how to properly breathe and, after a long exhalation, he asked: “How do you see me, then?”
“Oh, let’s see…” Suou’s eye darkened. For a split second, Sakura was mesmerised by the sight. Beauty was a concept that eluded him; he could more or less understand it now. He could see the beauty of the setting sun (described in the novels and poems they have to read for their literature classes, and Sakura might not be good at studying but he does open the books at times, and he reads these words that are supposed to be beautiful, and he knows that they describe beautiful things too), he could see the beauty of an afternoon spent on the rooftop with your friends, with the wind in your ears and the warm caress of the sun on your neck.
Yet at this very moment, he thought, what a beautiful boy—as though he couldn’t think anything else of the boy standing in front of him.
“I see you as a splendid soul. You’ve been hurt in the past, but when you smile, your face warms up and my heart skips a beat. You’re so genuine, you don’t try to hide who you are. And you’re kind. That’s why I was drawn to you from the very start. You were strong and lonely, but you still couldn’t stand when someone got hurt.”
The more Suou talked, the more Sakura felt himself melting. He wasn’t used to receiving so many compliments, his ramparts could not withstand such an onslaught; each thing listed by Suou, whispered with fondness, hit him in the guts harder than a fist.
All Sakura could do was look at Suou with wide eyes, half hoping that the other would stop right there, because it was too much, he couldn’t handle all of these words.
“Well, I guess I see you as someone special,” was Suou’s conclusion, and he stared at Sakura, unabashed.
And all Sakura could do was stare, his lips sealed under the weight of his emotions. The earth stopped spinning for a second, his heart stopped beating, his fists forgot how to fight.
Suou walked away. Sakura grabbed his wrist.
He let it go right away, unable to understand why he did such a thing, and he considered pretending it was nothing. But Suo’s stare pinned him down, and suddenly Sakura couldn’t ignore it anymore. There was something laying dormant in his heart, something he wasn’t aware of until that very moment, and he had to put it into words now.
“Maybe you’re… special, too.” His voice sounded foreign, yet he knew these were his own words, true to his feelings. “Now what?”
Suou’s stillness broke at this very moment. His lips quivered. “Would you like to try dating, then?”
Dating. Something Sakura always believed wasn’t for him. People didn’t like him, they couldn’t stand the sight of his white hair and golden eye, couldn’t bear his short temper and tendency to hit first. It was already a miracle that he’d managed to make any friends at all.
So, a lover? He’d been so sure that it’d be easier to walk on the moon. He hadn’t even dreamt of it.
But there was Suou, standing in front of him with his heart in his hands, and Sakura wanted to take it, even if he didn’t know how to do the same without ripping it out of his ribcage. He wanted to cherish this heart, even if his hands were covered in blood and didn’t know how to care—all they could do was punch and hit, but maybe they could learn how to love.
“Okay,” he replied, ignoring the part of him that was scared out of his mind, “let’s date, Suou.”
✿
“Congratulations on your first-month anniversary, Sakura. I still can’t believe you got yourself a boyfriend.”
From anyone else, it’d sound accusatory and Sakura would get up to punch the lights out of them. Yet Kotoha’s voice is nothing but soft, and her gaze feels like a veil covering him. Her company is relaxing, and this is why he likes going to Café Pothos for breakfast early in the morning (so early that none of her other regulars are there, and they bathe in the quietness of the empty café together). She’s his age but she feels a lot older, like the elder sister Sakura never had. She’s the exception, for she stands in between two worlds: she’s no member of Bofurin but she’s always orbiting around them, a satellite offering her quiet support in the form of soft advice and omurice; and she belongs to the town, too, an inhabitant of Makochi like any other and yet she was the first who had a face and a name.
She’s a haven, a place to run aground when he can no longer face up to the tides of life.
“... Thanks,” he mutters, less uncomfortable than he used to be yet still not entirely at ease. His face is flushed. She’s good at making him blush, and the worst is that she doesn’t even do it on purpose.
“Look at you. A couple of months with us, and you feel like a different boy already.” She doesn’t look at him, too busy cleaning dishes to do anything but talk, and Sakura is grateful for that. “Do you have any special plans to celebrate?”
“Nope. Maybe we’ll go to my place after patrol.”
“That sounds nice.”
Silence falls around, comfortable.
After a while, Kotoha finally breaks it: “I never asked you, what do you like about Suou?”
Sakura doesn’t want to reply and he knows she won’t pry if he refuses to. But, as she says, he’s changed. He wants to become someone who can talk about his feelings confidently. Who can say he’s lonely when he is. Who doesn’t hide how empty he is inside. Who speaks of his love, even if he’s no poet.
He may not know what Suou likes about him, even though Suou has tried to explain. But he knows what he likes about Suou. Not why, but what—and that’s more than enough.
There are so, so many things. Suou’s strong, first—he’s not sure if strength is considered attractive by normal people, but it sure is to him. Suou’s as collected as a breeze, as graceful as a flower. He’s beautiful, too, although Sakura isn’t sure it’s because he’s in love with Suou—but he’s seen enough girls and boys whose eyes widen when they lay their eyes on Suou, so maybe it’s just an unalterable truth after all.
Suou’s a good teacher: look at Nirei, now able to protect himself during a fight and to offer some assistance. Suou’s a good friend: look at their classmates who all rely on him. Suou’s a good strategist: look at Sakura, who often lets him in charge of their formation because that’s his role in their class, Sakura is the heart and Suou is the head.
And Sakura loves the way Suou hugs him. Love how his lips feel when they linger in the hollow of his neck, how his fingers feel when they caress his hair, black and white alike, in a way nobody touched him before.
But if there’s one thing he has to say about Suou, it’d be this one, the one thing that also made Suou fall for Sakura:
“I guess I like him because he’s kind.”