Work Text:
it’s quiet. and late, later than rui should be awake, probably, if he wants to function properly the next day. probably, if he doesn’t want nene eyeing him like his eyebags are the most horrific thing in existence.
in the chill of the night, and the slow comfort in mindlessly continuing with his work, it calls for him to take the easy option and simply put, keep working at the project on hand. rui’s hands seem to move on their own, hazily testing the controls of a new panel as if it’s what he’s been doing all his life. physically, he feels cold, not quite used to the autumn wind settling into his room, with his eyes hanging heavy, feeling as though they could close right about now—
he swallows.
rui stares down at his cluttered work table, searching for a misplaced screwdriver, only to end up with his eyes wandering over to the guest sleeping on his sofa. this guest, rui stares at as he’s momentarily distracted, like moth to flame, has his cardigan draped over him while he sleeps. it’s the closest thing to a blanket he could find when he wanted to keep tsukasa warm, with the distant sound of light snoring now more apparent than anything else in the room.
except, he’s too busy watching him to care for what he had been searching for in the first place. even when sleeping his expression seems to be focused, his eyes shut and pointing downward, while the rest of his body is randomly sprawled across the sofa without a care in the world. in the moonlight, he looks like he could be a god, a god that graced him with his presence. and oddly mesmerising he was, a thought rui never thought he’d have about someone else.
it’s been a long night, and everything about the said guest feels like it’s suspended in free fall.
tsukasa looked at him earlier, curved his lips in that soft smile, the kind when he’s more enamoured than annoyed with him, and rui’s brain has been going at full-speed ever since.
his screwdriver, rui suddenly recalls. he needed his screwdriver to seal the rest of the acrylic in. indeed, his screwdriver is somewhere on the ground, clumsy hands fumbling around the darkness to hopefully grasp at it somewhere. it takes him two attempts and worse posture than before to finally pick it up.
he’s working this late into the night on a school day, all while under the light of a single lamp, because he needs a breather. it’s too cold, yet hot, and filled with thoughts, but most of all, he’s busy feeling his heart beating too hard for his body.
therefore, he’s taking a breather by tinkering, keeping his hands busy.
it’s not exactly working out in his favour, the only success he finds being causing his eyelids to be droopier by the second, and it’s definitely not working when the sofa creaks, with tsukasa making a slow turn as he stirs under his cardigan. rui momentarily stops breathing. trust him to use the nearest available piece of clothing for a blanket rather than actually getting up to find one.
he’s quiet, but tsukasa’s eyes slowly open anyway.
“rui..?” is the first word he utters. rui inhales swiftly.
the air in his lungs feels painful, but it remains a choice, and not just because he’s suddenly terrified of what he might possibly say if he opens his mouth.
tsukasa takes it for what it is, which is rui’s sharp intake of air as a way of acknowledging him, then decides to also take it as an invitation to smile at him.
rui feels his stomach turn. rui also feels as if he’s soaring. “..tsukasa-kun?”
his voice is dragged out, slow. “you’re still awake?”
rui is possibly in over his head with this one.
“i had a dream about you,” tsukasa says after a moment of silence, which doesn’t exactly help the situation, because what does he even say to that? rui’s never said anything so bare, and here tsukasa was, telling this to him, smiling at him, all so freely. in his room, on his sofa, under his cardigan. say something, something in him motions. every inch of his body aches for him to do.
his throat is uncomfortably dry.
“i couldn’t sleep,” rui admits, replies to the other part of tsukasa’s sleep-fogged words, praying his expression doesn’t give anything away. he can’t possibly think straight under these conditions. tsukasa nods.
rui looks back over to his control panel, then realising he’s literally screwed on the wrong acrylic, but it’s like tsukasa is a missile, incoming from behind, and every inch of him is still tensed, waiting for him to strike.
“you and i were in the dream,” tsukasa states.
effectively, it’s critical hit.
he breathes in, long and low, then says, “together?” with his voice is more hoarse than he’d like, shakily tremulous and out of control.
this guest who has no respect for rui’s well-being, just makes a quiet noise, something between a croon and a lilt, but then he rises, loosely grasping onto his makeshift blanket, and does the unthinkable.
he sits. places himself on the empty stool right next to rui. watches him patiently, openly, unabashedly. too close and too much, staring right at him without any regard for his health.
all of a sudden, his control panel seems very intriguing. he stares at his handiwork, holds out for a second, then another, but folds at the third. he sneaks a sidelong glance at tsukasa, and he’s thrown in chaos again. he can’t look away. not when tsukasa’s eyes are still fixed on him; soft and patient, just focused entirely on him, with his head tilted to the side from the drowsiness of recently waking up.
rui sucks in a breath, and tsukasa feels even closer, somehow.
and rui is still searching his face, anything in his expression, trying to find some sort of key to the answer that is tsukasa’s slow blinking, or just a clue as to why he’s making his heart work overtime, that it’s not just him that feels this foolish.
but there’s only silence, along with the thumping of rui’s heart roaring in his head. all he gets is wide eyes staring right back, looking at him the way he looks at him all the time, like they’ve both done something sneaky that no one else can find out about.
and he’s just — waiting. looking at rui like he would wait for him forever, even though that can’t possibly be true, because in all of his grace, even he must have his limits.
tsukasa shifts, and rui angles himself subconsciously to match. tsukasa, for his part, looks quietly pleased. perhaps about the doze off again, but content.
“your thoughts are so loud, rui,” tsukasa frowns. there’s is a space between them that rui can define as the absence of touch; he’s so aware of tsukasa’s presence, his skin prickling with this electrifying warmth, that if he could not see the small distance between them, he wouldn’t believe it had been there at all.
they’re so close tsukasa’s breath tickles the bridge of his nose.
“tsukasa-kun can’t hear my thoughts,” he retorts, feeling exposed. he doesn’t dwell on that for too long, doesn’t think about anything at all in order to not short-circuit, but focuses on tsukasa’s face instead, how the moonlight spills over each ridge and feature.
“maybe i can,” he says cryptically. then nods, a slow dip of his head.
tsukasa’s stare is always unflinching. it’s the way tsukasa always looks at him, no matter the circumstance. he never hides behind excuses, and he never backs down first. neither does rui, usually, but there are some thoughts easier to quell when bathed in rationale.
“what was the dream about?”
tsukasa nods again, humming lowly as he formulates his sentence. “i was taller than you,” he says rather smugly, as well as someone half-awake could. “and i could see the top of your head.”
“how much taller?” rui replies on instinct, trying not to lose his mind.
“just a little,” he says after a moment, his eyes closing groggily. tsukasa’s lips are pulled back into a small smile, and his eyes are bright, barely concealing the fondness behind them. even if he were trying to hide it, it’s the quality that stands out the most in his expression. he’s probably not even trying to hide it.
rui can’t stop staring at him. he’s so close. his face is so close. unbearably close, almost inviting.
“i dream about you too,” he mutters, his remaining rationality now gone. the rest of his words die in his throat when tsukasa’s expression morphs into shock.
“..seriously?” tsukasa asks, blinking out of his sleepy stupor. he sounds, in all honesty, almost exactly the same as he always did, but rui knows him well enough now to detect the glint of pure, genuine surprise in his voice, the way it blends with a touch of sleepiness. rui’s breath hitches.
already knowing the answer, tsukasa smiles, in a manner so warm and unexpected that it makes rui’s neck feel hot. “that makes the both of us then.”
they stay like this, rui steadying his breathing and working while tsukasa watches with amiable eyes. and eventually, when rui is able to sneak in another glance, tsukasa’s eyes have fallen shut, eyelids twitching as he slips into a deep sleep once more. loose locks of hair fall over his face from the motion, while tsukasa still holds onto the blue cardigan with his right hand like a lifeline. his mouth has opened slightly, and soft puffs of sound escape him as his chest rises and falls in a gentle rhythm. rui’s expression softens.
intent on sending tsukasa to sleep, he gently sets his project back down.
with little struggle, he’s able to return him to the same sleeping quarters. and with the view of tsukasa fast asleep, protected and comfortable in his room, it is somehow far more captivating than any sight could ever hope to be.