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Izumi Sena always turns on the television when he gets home. Ritsu thinks it’s an frankly excessive waste of electricity, and has told his partner as such in passing, but he never really presses it.
For one, Ritsu would never go into an argument he knew he couldn’t win, and he knows his hour long baths are probably equally as bad for the environment and their utility bills, so that's a no-go. Secondly, and perhaps a bit more selfishly, it makes his life a lot easier.
News is the most common, which Ritsu will (rightfully) poke fun at Sena for, because it really is such an old man thing to watch.
Most nights Sena will accompany Ritsu on the couch, sliding into his side in such an easy way that Ritsu’s body melds into his and immediately forgets he hasn’t been there this whole time. Cuddling is the best like this, too, because Ritsu can tuck his head into Sena’s chest while his partner half heartedly watches - often pulling out his phone and answering emails or texts with one hand as the other wraps around him a bit too tight to be anything but possessive, body pressed to his.
Ritsu doesn’t particularly mind the lack of direct attention, because Sena always makes up for it in the little ways - the subconscious hand stroking up and down his back, the occasional kiss to the crown of his head he denies every time. Normally, the news announcer even has a relaxing voice, monotone and calming, which makes falling asleep much easier. When it’s combined with the slow rise-and-fall of Sena’a chest on his cheek, he can’t be blamed if he’s out in record time. In the grand scheme of things, Ritsu really can’t complain.
Movies meant Sena was going to fall asleep with him on the couch, sit-coms were for boring work days - Ritsu had an extensive mental list as to what Sena’s television choice meant for the rest of their evening.
It’s an easy indicator. He’s found Sean’s television choices are usually more honest than his words. Oftentimes, the silver haired model doesn’t even watch whatever he’s put on, turning it on and doing chores or cooking dinner, if Ritsu’s claws don’t sink into him first. He’s quickly come to understand his partner mostly likes to keep it in the background, white noise for someone who grew up in an eerily quiet house. Ritsu can relate to that well enough.
Today, the door opens, closes. Shoes get placed by the door, and Ritsu picks up the sounds of keys being tossed into the small bowl on the counter. His footsteps are more muffled now with only socks on, but Ritsu’s well attuned to the sounds of Izumi Sena.
Ritsu waits, splayed out on their bed, not going through the trouble of getting up just yet. He, of course, has spent years perfecting the formula of when to go slinking after his partner. Minimizing time not spent comfortably under the sheets, or in Sena’s arms, Ritsu glances with mild interest to their bedroom door.
Silence. That’s no good.
It’s alarming enough to get Ritsu to slide off their bed, padding towards the door to listen a little closer. Not one to jump to conclusions, he rationalizes there’s a variety of reasons for this change in routine. Perhaps he’s starting dinner early - a quick glance towards the open window tells him Sena did come home later than usual, so maybe he’s just hungry.
Even so, there’s always some accompanying sound (Sena isn’t that good of a cook when he’s upset, so often clattering of pans, curses when he touches the hot stove, all perfect reasons for Ritsu to coo over him and take over), and now there’s nothing .
“Secchan," Ritsu calls, all soft and whiney in the exact tone he knew his partner both loves and despises in the same breath. He didn't often try to make sense of Sena Izumi’s reasoning for the sake of his own sanity, just know it well enough to use it to his advantage.
Silence.
Irritated, Ritsu swipes an arm out to grab the nearest heavy item within reach, and finds his fingers wrapping around his piano binder, heavy with compositions and method notes. He hefts it in his hand for a moment, considers it, remembers it’s hard plastic (and therefore won't break) and unceremoniously drops it on the floor with a loud thud. Pausing for just long enough to be convincing, he calls again, this time false-hesitance dripping from his partner's name. Immediately, he hears the usual tread of his Sena’s footsteps. Too easy.
Before he can decide whether he wants to pretend to get light headed or something of the sort, the door is open and Sena is staring straight at him, eyes narrowed. Hm, he forgot to account for Sena’s freakishly long legs. A miscalculation on his part, but he wasn't Knights strategist for nothing.
"Kuma-kun?" Sena asks, hand still on the door handle and somehow willing to give Ritsu the benefit of doubt despite his partner's hand still open right over the mass of papers.
The deer-in-headlights look he gives Sena is partly true, after all, so he plays off that, curling his lip into a half-hearted smile that he hopes passes off as embarrassment.
“Ah, sorry, I thought I could put it away on my own.”
“You can’t put away your own books?” Sena asks incredulously, but not in a way that tells Ritsu that he’s been caught - more concerned. Never showing his hand too early, especially with Sena, who often needs very little push to convince himself of something, Ritsu can only nod.
The silver haired model tsk’s as he bends down to pick up the scattered papers, and Ritsu is all too happy to kneel down with him, looking up with a grin. In any other scenario he would liken this to a cute high-school first meeting in a movie, and make a joke about Sena being the smart jock that helps him on his first day of class, but he supposes it’ll have to wait. How unfortunate.
“Have you been having a flare up?” Ritsu truly doesn't even need to lie when Sena can jump to whatever conclusions he likes, always such a mother hen. Concern tenses his partner's shoulders, and Ritsu would feel guilty, but there will be time for that later. “If you are, you need to tell me these things, you know? I’m not psychic.”
He can barely pick out Sena’s half hearted grumbles afterwards, his face pointedly down and picking up stray papers. Ritsu notes the careful way he shuffles them, unfolding creases and tucking them back into the folder with an unusual softness.
“It’s my fault, Secchan. Just a little tired.” His hand darts out, aiming for wrist and wrapping around the limb easily, ignoring the immediate sound of discontent. Enough of a shock to make Sena drop his hold, his blue eyes glance up and bore into Ritsu’s. Frustration was easy for Sena, a well-worn coat, so he expects this.
“I really should tell you though, shouldn’t I? If something was bothering me?” Sena isn’t occupied enough to miss the implications dripping from Ritsu’s questioning, and he seems to bristle.
Papers flutter to the ground, but Ritsu makes little note of it as he uses his hold on Sena’s wrist to stand, bringing his partner up with him.
“Whatever you’re on about -” There’s a warning in Sena’s tone, but Ritsu hasn't made it this far in their relationship without knowing when to push and when to back off. He continues like he hasn’t heard anything.
“Mm, but it seems I didn't give you a chance. That’s unfair of me.” Not sounding particularly bothered by that fact, Ritsu pushes on. “I’ll ask first. Did Seechan have a good day today?”
The glare he gets in return could turn his blood to ice, and he can feel the tension in his grip, but he doesn’t make any move to run away. Ritsu can work with that. Perhaps it’s not the greatest idea, to ask so directly, but catching Sena now is really for the best. He can work himself up in all sorts of nasty ways if left unattended with his feelings.
“I just got home and you’re already poking your nose in my business. You really have no shame.” This non-answer is typical. He’s always been a bad liar. Ritsu can practically feel the boiling of emotion under his skin, and a pang of sympathy shoots through him, poignant and sharp as his eyes pick up on the red under his partner’s eyes.
Sena Izumi has always been a bit of a crybaby, and while Ritsu finds the trait endlessly endearing, he knows Sena’s distaste for having it pointed out. Pointedly ignoring it, though this close, he can’t be sure Sena didn’t catch the flicker of recognition, Ritsu seems undisturbed by the lashing out.
“Isn’t that what a doting wife is supposed to do?” Grip softens, Ritsu letting his free hand make its way to the small of Sena’s back, a small attempt at contact. The touch is fleeting - as soon as his palm slides across the cotton of his shirt, Sena jolts like he’s been shocked. Before Ritsu can even fully process where he’s gone wrong, he’s pulled away, the silver haired model turning to pick up the binder still on the floor with a pointedly clipped pace.
He tucks the pages in, gentle even in his anger, and with this view of his back Ritsu can see the tension in his sloped shoulders. “It was a shitty day. But I’m sure you already know that.” With his back turned, it feels somehow easier, like this is a confession he could make to the air before he could admit it to the boy a few feet behind him.
“Secchan’s easy to read.” Ritsu admits softly, learning from previous mistakes and making no move to bridge the distance between the pair, not yet. He can admire him from afar, like this, watch the way he soothes himself, the soft rise and fall of his chest. Dating a model is far from easy, and someone as high maintenance as Sena even more so, but Ritsu can’t seem to find any complaints in the extra work when he’s treated to such a view every night.
With a sigh that’s far too labored to be anything but a sigh of defeat, he watches as Sena makes his way to the small shelf they’ve put together for Ritsu’s composition materials. It’s as spotlessly clean as the rest of their room, but Sena still makes a fuss about reorganizing it, clearly just to give himself a minute more to compose himself. Deft fingers slide books up that weren’t falling, wipe off non-existent dust from notebooks, and Ritsu can only observe with an oddly warm feeling in his chest at the gestures.
Sena’s moods are as fickle as the changing winds, and though he can do little to hide his softness his words can sting in equal measure. Ritsu can do nothing but brace for impact when he turns around and sees the swirling emotions flickering across icy blue eyes.
Ritsu Sakuma does not scramble - he is composed and always one step ahead, but it’s hard to fight the instinct to immediately cave and beg Sena to tell him what’s wrong, how he can help. It’s a compulsion that used to make him blanch, so raw and real in a way that felt unnatural for him. To love so honestly.
Besides, Sena wouldn't respond well to that anyways, so he tampers it down with an easy smile, intentionally keeping his fangs out of sight. “You look extra pretty today.”
It’s an incredibly safe bet, something Sena always preens over, even when he acts like he doesn't. An easy segue into a harder conversation, because his earlier plans didn't work out well.
Immediately, he can tell this is the exact wrong thing to say. Whatever semblance of openness Sena had managed to scrape together is gone in a flash, face immediately closed off, the force of it jarring and unnatural. Shocked, Ritsu debates how he could possibly have such a bad success rate today, genuinely thrown off guard by his response, when Sena answers, voice hesitant in its anger. “Whatever. You’re just saying that.”
And he is, but only because it’s true - Ritsu wouldn't lie in such a blatant way anyways, but anyone with eyes would see how stunning his partner is, so it’s hardly worth addressing.
“Not at all, Secchan. You’re pretty.” He makes his point clear by doing a blatant once-over of his partner's form, a predator sizing up his prey. “Really pretty. You don't think so?”
“Stop it.”
It’s easy to sink his fangs into a target once he’s found it, and Sena’s painful honestly will always point him in the right direction. The furrow in his brow tells him enough, but the guidance is still appreciated.
Casting a myriad of colors across the room, the sunset paints Sena’s face in a pink hue, soft in contrast with his tense demeanor. Always looking for a fight, and normally he can find it in Ritsu, he’s being oddly subdued today. Ritsu can tell the sympathy throws him off, makes him uncomfortable, but no more uncomfortable than he seemed to be before.
Sena’s anger is a quick fuse, fast acting and gone nearly as quick. There’s been no boiling over, no explosion, so Ritsu’s quickly determined whatever this is today, it isn’t anger.
His beckoning hand and lidded eyes is a siren call, and one Sena is perpetually helpless against. Warmth envelops him, the press of sweater against his cheek strangely soothing, enough so that he doesn’t even pester Ritsu about keeping the apartment so cold that he has need of the extra layer.
Nuzzling closer, Ritsu knows he gives good hugs (at the very least, Sena-approved hugs). His partner may never admit it, but the way he presses closer on instinct confirms enough. As does the many, many times he’s woken up to Sena having slotted himself between Ritsu’s arms, pillow or stuffed animal previously in his hold thrown to the other side of the room. The memory makes his cheeks warm, a surge of affection for the man in his arms.
It makes it that much easier to lean closer and murmur into his ear. "If you don't believe in yourself, it's okay to rely on me for a minute until you do, you know. It passes. Secchan is alwaysss fickle like that, even with his feelings."
Waiting for a rebuttal, a huffed comment or arms pushing him away, Ritsu finds himself genuinely surprised when he doesn’t receive an answer. It was a bit of a raw confession - nothing like the polished words he likes to croon, perfectly crafted. In response, nails dig into the soft fabric of Ritsu’s sweater, but he pays it little mind, glancing at whatever bits of Sena he can see from this angle.
Deciding whether he should push the issue is another problem entirely, but he decides to give him this small mercy for now. It’s easy enough to put the pieces together now, so Ritsu feels at ease enough to let some things remain unsaid. Sena’s insecurities are always hot to the touch, so regardless of whatever has caused this flareup, he has no desire to get burnt. Luckily, cooling down Sena Izumi is one of his specialties, tightening his grip around the younger, just the right amount of pressure around his waist.
Aside from soothing, the hug isn’t entirely pure in intention. Keeping his arms locked securely under his partner, it takes very little effort for Ritsu to loop his leg around the back of Sena’s and tug. Taking out the back of his knee with a firm nudge, he can feel it buckle under the surprise push.
As planned, Sena falls forwards with Ritsu, flat onto their bed, and the wicked grin Ritsu gives in response would be oddly charming if it wasn’t infuriating. The puff of air he lets out on impact is horribly unattractive, and the scowl he levels at him is entirely uncensored, no regard for angles or wrinkles, all instinct. Ritsu so effortlessly bringing out such a raw side of him is equal parts natural and terrifying. By the way the vampire looks at him, it’s easy to see he knows this too, always attuned to his thoughts with an eerie accuracy.
“Kuma-kun…” Sena grumbles in warning, pressing himself up enough on his elbows to meet the gaze of his partner, happily tucked under him. Ritsu’s arms don’t let up, firm around his waist and keeping most of Sena’s torso pressed to his, and the way his hair splays out on the sheets underneath him is so disheveled and charming that Sena almost forgets to be mad.
“You seriously have such bad manners. It’s like you were raised in a barn.”
“Mmm, but you like this kinda stuff. So spoiled. Should I even help you change into your pajamas?” Hands slide under the soft of his shirt, and Sena considers the reality that he may never grow used to the shock of cold that his touch provides every time. He bats the offending limb away, almost falling flat on Ritsu with the balance the position requires with only one arm.
“I look like a mess, Kuma-kun. Quit it.” Half-hearted, Ritsu finds it almost amusing to watch how the fight seeps out of Sena like air from a balloon. Maybe his hugs do have some sort of magical properties that transform his stubborn partner into a puddle in his hold. That, or he’s just an incredibly attentive boyfriend, and Sena feels safe enough around him to express that through his actions. Ritsu tells himself it's most likely both.
“I don’t care what Secchan thinks he looks like. He’s going to be handsome to me forever.” Modeling is quite the demanding career. Ritsu won’t pretend to understand it, or the pressure it puts his partner under, especially when Sena seems so determined to stay closed-lipped about it. Regardless, he can understand enough about his partner to know when it’s getting to him, when he can feel the unsteady rise and fall of staggered breaths pressed to his chest.
"Don't you think I'll look good with grey hair, when we’re old? I'll be matching with my Secchan." Pianists fingers slide up and into the roots of Sena’s silver curls, punctuating the statement. Secretly, he likes to think about it. Forever doesn’t feel nearly as long anymore. In fact, it seems far too short, far too little time to spend being with Sena Izumi.
When he tilts his head back, he can see the last rays of sunset have already faded, the room no longer lit by the soft hues of pink and orange. Soft pressure from Sena on top of him is like a weighted blanket, though Ritsu thinks he much prefers this version, infinitely more handsome, and Sena seems to have even less complaints. Glancing down at Ritsu, the younger of the pair is sure his face is unbearably open, fondness seeping from each pore and speaking to him through each accidental brush of his hand against black stands. Sena clears his throat in a painfully obvious way, trying to slide on his usual impassive tone.
“We really should get up. If we still want to watch something.”
That had been Ritsu’s original intention (such a creature of habit, he looks forward to it far more than he’d like to admit), but this is a comfort Sena doesn’t allow himself to indulge in often. Still, it’s a nice olive branch, a promise that he would be okay. Fingers card through his hair again, ruffling curls and resisting the very tempting idea of flipping their positions and keeping Sena trapped under him for the rest of the night. Still, he lets them stay like this, knowing his partner secretly prefers it because he would most certainly complain if he didn’t.
Grip tightening momentarily on the silky strands, Ritsu pushes Sena head forward enough to nudge it onto his shoulder again. Feeling the way he immediately curls into it brings out a smile so genuine, Ritsu’s happy it’s hidden from view. “Mmm, let’s just watch a movie tomorrow night. My pick this time. Secchan’s tastes are so old school.”
Almost immediately he can tell the soft tone slipped into his voice, betraying his earlier plans, because he can just as quickly feel a matching smile press into his shoulder in response.
Sena held it close. This was the feeling he would hold onto, grip tight like the anger he clutched like a vice, wielded like a weapon and always pointed to kill. Holding onto this felt a lot softer. Silky like the strands of Ritsu’s hair against his cheek, soft as the voice he heard before he fell asleep. Something he liked to think he could hold onto for a long time.