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It had been years since he and Hayato had moved into their own apartment together, and they had agreed to have two rooms set aside for his hobby — one was set aside for his yarns, fabrics and other miscellaneous model-making materials while the other was dedicated to displaying all the dioramas he had crafted over the years.
Haruka walks into his crafting room and runs his finger over a specific display case, propped up against the windowsill — the one containing the original pair of dolls he had made years ago, when they were both still students in Furin. They remained intact, mostly pristine, protected within the confines of their new home.
He remembers how much love and care Hayato and he had poured into their little bodies, since they were created. How they had both made sure to handle the dolls with the utmost care, so as to keep them intact for as long as they realistically could.
He recalled how often he found himself moving them around, picking them up, putting them down, changing their clothes, and setting them up in new arrangements. It wasn’t all that surprising that the yarn had worn down so quickly.
He had always made sure to mend any rips or tears that he could, but there was only so much he could do as they continued to wear down, the yarn stretching and fraying in certain areas. They tried to be careful with the dolls, but time truly was not on their side.
It was with a heavy heart that he and Hayato understood that they would have to let the dolls go.
The seams and stitches gradually loosened and unraveled until they reached a point where they feared the dolls would fall apart at the slightest touch.
They had both agreed, at the time, that they didn’t want to throw out the dolls. They had put their heads together and eventually made the decision to immortalize them instead in a display case — the first of many to come. When they were brainstorming the specifics, Hayato had suggested they make a display with the pair in their Furin outfits.
“That was where and how we first met. It just feels right that we make it the first display. Just a little reminder and tribute to the beginning of our life together.”
Haruka couldn’t help but agree with him.
They had worked together over the next couple of days, to make a model of Furin High School to put in the display box with the dolls.
Haruka carefully dusts off the box, before leaving the room.
His destination, the one across the hall. The room that displayed his collection of dioramas.
Haruka slowly opens the door, before stepping inside. His eyes sweep across the vast collection of carefully displayed dioramas, as well as the shelves and boxes filled with intricately crafted miniature models that he had used for his scene arrangements.
As the years passed, the collection had grown exponentially, explosively.
Haruka was aware that he had made — is still making — a positively staggering number of models and dioramas over the years, but seeing them all on display like this was truly astonishing.
A small smile blooms on his face as he rakes his eyes across the room, up the walls, over the boxes, along the shelves.
He remembers vividly, how much the miniatures had cluttered up his apartment, small as it was, at that time. Maybe it was due to the amount of effort he put into them, or the fond glances Hayato often sent their way, but Haruka became hesitant to throw them out.
Haruka remembered Hayato saying to him once,
“Sakura-kun, you barbarian! How could you throw away our cherished memories like that?! Do they mean nothing to you?”
At the time, Hayato had cried crocodile tears in an attempt to mess with him, but beneath the teasing words, Haruka could tell that the miniatures had meant as much to Hayato as they did to Haruka.
They worked together back then, to organize the miniatures into different categories. They bought display boxes and set up permanent dioramas, arranging them against one wall inside of Haruka’s tiny apartment. When he ran out of space, Hayato took some home; his house was definitely much bigger and had more storage space than Haruka’s.
Before long, the amount of boxes stacked in both of their homes had reached the ceiling.
Shaking off the memory, Haruka walks deeper into the room, to an area he had sectioned off.
To the spot where he kept the collection of Hayato-nuis and Haruka-nuis he had remade over the years. Each set becoming a representation of, an indicator of, every milestone they experienced together.
As time passed, and each set gradually became too worn and delicate to handle, Haruka had them placed in carefully crafted dioramas, to ensure that the precious moments from their relationship, from their life together, were forever preserved.
Their first date — Hayato-nui and Haruka-nui sitting across from each other in a traditional teahouse, a pot of tea and cakes between them.
Their first kiss — Hayato-nui and Haruka-nui walking side by side through festival stalls.
Haruka remembers this moment particularly well. They had decided to go to a festival that summer, since Haruka had never been to one before.
He was eating a crepe — Hayato saw him eyeing the stall and display of samples curiously and bought it for him without saying a word — and had managed to get some cream on his cheek. He hadn’t realized it at the time, too focused on the new flavors and textures in his mouth, when Hayato told him to turn his head so he could wipe it off for him.
The kiss had been completely unintentional; the moment Haruka had turned around to look at Hayato, someone had bumped into his back and he ended up stumbling forward.
Haruka lets a small smile grace his lips. The kiss had been more of their lips smashing against each others’ and a clashing of teeth than anything else, but the surprise and flush on Hayato’s face after the fact had made it all worth it.
Haruka continues his lap around the room. His eyes catch on the next pair of displays and he gently lays one hand on the top of each box, humming, as he taps his finger on the glass.
Their first trip together — a scene of the dolls in an open air hot spring, surrounded by capybaras.
Their first fight — Haruka-nui and Hayato-nui standing across from each other, broken shards from a small porcelain teapot scattered between them.
Haruka pauses, again.
He had broken one of Hayato’s teapots by accident and instead of getting angry, Hayato had tried to comfort him.
“I know you didn’t mean to break it, Sakura-kun. I know it was an accident. I’m just glad you’re okay. Stay there while I grab the broom and first aid kit. It looks like one of the shards nicked you in the cheek.”
Haruka had been having a bad week, filled with nightmares about his life before Makochi. And maybe that had been his breaking point.
He had wanted Hayato to be mad at him, to scream — to show any emotion other than the usual calmness and composure he always displayed.
He wanted to see that composed face fracture. Haruka wanted Hayato to lash out at him, to be frustrated at him for things beyond his control. Just like everyone else who had left him.
Haruka’s not proud of the things he said that day, out of insecurity. But they got through it in the end and came out stronger.
Haruka runs his fingers over a couple more boxes before stopping on one particular box.
This was the diorama preserving the first time they said “I love you.”
Nirei had barged into the classroom during lunch one day, a bright grin on his face.
“Sakura-san, Sakura-san! Did you hear?!” Nirei shouted, his eyes twinkling with excitement.
That was all he got out before he had to pause, hands on his knees, to catch his breath.
“Hear what? Is there another fight going on with another team or something?”
“Really, Sakura-san, why do you always think about fights?!”
“You got a problem with that?!”
“Calm down, Sakura-kun.” Suo interrupted, before turning his attention to Nirei, a curious look on his face. “What were you saying, Nire-kun?”
Seeing that Suo was interested in what he had to say, Nirei bounced back immediately.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket, quickly scrolled down the screen with his finger, then shoved it in Sakura’s face.
“There’s a meteor shower happening this week!”
“Ha?! What’s so interesting about some shiny rocks falling from the sky.” Sakura's tone made it clear that he was unimpressed by the news Nirei brought in.
Suo and Nirei simply just looked at him, stared, exasperated.
“Sakura-san…” Nirei started, “have you never seen a meteor shower before? They’re really beautiful!”
“You’re exaggerating. It can’t be anything that interesting,” Sakura retorted immediately.
“Then how about we go and check it out, Sakura-kun.”
Sakura and Nirei turned to look at Suo — the former with annoyance and the latter with hope.
“We can make it a date.” At this Suo leans down to whisper into Sakura’s ear, “Or do you not want to have a romantic date with me, Sakura-kun.”
Sakura’s face turned beet red at the words and the feeling of Suo’s hot breath against his sensitive earlobe. He quickly brought his hand up to protect the appendage, before looking wide-eyed at Suo, who looked like a cat who caught the canary.
“I-If you want to go watch some lights, w-we can go!” Sakura stammered out, before he turned his head away in embarrassment.
Unfortunately, this little act caused him to miss the soft, besotted smile slowly spreading across Suo's face.
Sakura tried to convince himself that his agreement to go on the trip had nothing to do with the fact that he wanted to go on a date with Suo too. Nor did it have anything to do with the fact that their friends encouraged them to go, saying that the view of the full moon reflected on the lake would have been beautiful.
Absolutely not.
Then, while he was distracted, Suo leaned in again. But this time, towards his other, unprotected ear. “It’s a date. I’ll come get you at your apartment. You don’t need to bring anything with you.”
Sakura jumped back in his seat, eyes wide in surprise, and his free hand reflexively came up to cup the other assaulted ear. But Suo just continued to smile at him, as if nothing was wrong.
“What is your answer, Sakura-kun?”
Sakura looked at Suo’s face, and could do nothing but helplessly nod.
The next few days flew by, and before long, it was the night of the meteor shower. The night of their date.
Suo had come to his apartment as promised with… a picnic basket in hand?
“Let’s go, Sakura-kun. It’s a bit far, where I want to take you.”
“Why can’t we watch this stupid thing in Makochi? This is such a hassle,” Sakura said, mildly annoyed.
He simply couldn’t understand why Suo and Nirei were making such a big deal out of nothing.
But Suo just hummed, and didn’t respond. Simply held out his hand for Sakura to take.
Sakura looked at Suo’s face, then down to his outstretched palm, with its slim fingers and pale skin, and blushed. There was a brief pause, a moment of silence, before Sakura slowly reached out to clasp Suo’s hand in his.
They walked quite far outside the town that night, even passing through a patch of forest. By the time they reached their destination, night had already fallen.
As they stepped out from the circle of trees, the first thing Sakura saw was the large lake positioned at the heart of the clearing. The moonlight shining down reflected off the lake like a mirror, made it seem as if it was glowing, and Sakura was mesmerized .
“I’m glad to see you like it, Sakura-kun. This is a place I like to come visit when I need some peace and quiet. You’re the first person I’ve taken here.” Suo’s happy voice made Sakura jolt, pull his gaze from the lake.
“Wha—?” Sakura felt a pang of shame race through him, realizing he had momentarily forgotten that Suo was there with him, too mesmerized by the sight of the lake.
It seemed like Suo knew what he was thinking, and clearly didn’t mind, as he just offered Sakura a small smile in response.
“Come help me set up our picnic,” Suo said, slightly waving the wicker basket in his hand.
Sakura nodded, and the pair began to unpack the contents of the basket; working together, they had the blanket spread out and food carefully set up in no time.
Once they were finished, they settled down on the thick blanket and cuddled up together. Feeling Suo’s arms encircling his waist, Sakura leaned back into Suo’s chest, propping the back of his head against Suo’s shoulder, before he moved his eyes to the stars above.
Unbeknownst to him, Suo’s eye had been fixed on Sakura from the moment they sat down, taking in the sight of his boyfriend, literally glowing in the moonlight.
Sakura’s eyes glimmered like priceless gems, reflecting the pale light, and Suo was helplessly enamoured, unable to tear his eye away from the sight.
The moment was broken when Suo felt Sakura squirm in the cradle of his arms.
Sakura’s eyes had been scouring the sky since the moment they sat down, looking for any hint of the meteor shower. When he found none, he quickly grew restless.
Suo, sensing his boyfriend’s restlessness, decided he needed to distract him.
A mischievous light entered Suo’s eyes as he glanced between Sakura and the lake before them.
“Let’s play, Sakura-kun!” Suo announced, before quickly rising to his feet. He then extended his hand — an offer to help Sakura up — while pointing towards the lake.
Sakura looked at him as if he lost his mind.
“It’s the middle of the night! We’re going to get sick!”
“It’s fine. I brought towels.”
Before Sakura could come up with a response, Suo had already grabbed his hand and was dragging him towards the lake.
It didn't take long before they were both in the water, soaked up to their waists.
Without missing a beat, Suo immediately started splashing him with water.
“Come on, Sakura-kun! Let’s play!”
“Why you—!” And Sakura immediately started splashing back.
What started off as a playful game quickly devolved into an all-out war, where they tried to shove each other into the water.
Sakura knew it was going to happen, but it didn’t stop him from feeling annoyed every time Suo dodged his attempts to dunk him.
He was about to try again when, in a moment of distraction, Sakura happened to catch a glimpse of his boyfriend.
His eyes went wide and his breath hitched, before disappearing entirely — as if all the air had left his lungs. Simultaneously, his arms dropped to his sides, completely limp.
Sakura was unable to look away from the vision before him.
Suo's hair and eyelashes were speckled with water droplets, which sparkled like diamonds in the moonlight. And the light reflecting off the mirror-like lake gave him an ethereal glow. His clothes, which had been loose on his body, now clung to every muscle and curve like a second skin.
As he moved, water droplets were flung from his body, sparkling and shimmering under the pale light, looking like waves of stardust dancing in the air.
The sound of laughter leaving his throat was music to Sakura’s ears. It echoed like chimes dancing in the wind, and filled the air with warmth and joy. Sakura hadn’t even realized he was smiling until he felt his cheeks ache.
But the most captivating, enrapturing, thing about the view before him was the positively radiant grin Suo had on his face.
In that instance, Suo looked ethereal , and Sakura couldn’t look away. Didn’t want to look away. Didn’t want to blink. Even when he felt his eyes burn.
“Sakura-kun?” Suo called out to him, tilting his head to the side slightly in confusion, when he noticed Sakura had stopped moving.
The slight shift drew Sakura’s eyes to the smooth, pale column of Suo’s neck. To the small droplet of water that had dripped from the tip of Suo’s hair, to land just below his ear. Sakura’s eyes followed its path down, watching as it vanished into the collar of Suo’s drenched changshan.
When Sakura didn’t respond, Suo's happy grin melted into a slight frown. His brows were knitted in confusion and concern.
And before he knew it, Sakura couldn’t help but let out a breathy “I love you.”
The sight of Suo’s shocked face, right after he said those words, made Sakura’s heart sink like a stone. Made his throat tighten so much, it felt like he could hardly swallow, let alone breathe. Made his eyes burn, with tears he was hopeful Suo wouldn’t see — would mistake for water from the lake.
It felt as though all the blood in his body had turned to ice. Along with it, all the warmth and happiness he had felt mere moments ago disappeared, fading like the wind.
Maybe it was too soon. Maybe Suo didn’t feel the same.
He needed to fix this.
Immediately.
“I-I’m… I don’t know what came over me. So i-ignore what I just said!” Sakura stammered, as he clenched his fists, frustrated at himself for being unable to keep his mouth shut. He was too hasty and now he was going to lose Suo over a stupid slip-up.
“No,” Suo’s tone was firm, brooking no argument. “I’m not going to pretend I didn’t hear that, Sakura-kun.”
Sakura felt his heart skip a beat from panic, felt all thoughts fly from his mind as an overwhelming sense of fear — fear that Suo was now angry at him for saying those words — consumed his body. Fear that Suo was going to end their relationship right then and there. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
Sakura looked down — to do anything to avoid seeing the look of disappointment, of rejection, on Suo’s face. The tremors running through his body caused the water to ripple, and Sakura let his eyes follow the gentle waves, thankful for the distraction.
At least he was, until he caught his own reflection in the water. He immediately closed his eyes; he hadn’t realized he could make that sort of face.
He could hear splashing sounds as Suo walked towards him, and couldn’t help but feel shame crawl up his spine. Despite the overwhelming urge to hold his hands over his ears and shut everything out, Sakura continued to listen as Suo drew closer with every step.
Eventually, as Suo comes to a stop in front of him, Sakura feels a lump form in his throat, making his breath hitch and his chest tighten even further.
Sakura wanted to open his mouth, to say something, anything , to salvage the situation, but the words didn't, wouldn’t , come.
The silence between the pair stretched on, and just as Sakura felt the urge to turn around and walk away — to end this before Suo could — he sensed a shift in the wind as Suo extended his arm towards him. Sakura couldn't stop himself from flinching, instinctively expecting a blow of some sort.
He heard Suo sigh, and just when Sakura thought he would back away in disappointment or rejection, he instead felt Suo’s hand cupping his face seconds later. Sakura’s eyes flew open.
Suo gently lifted Sakura's chin, raised his head, before he used the back of his index finger to wipe away the tears that streamed down his face.
“Why are you crying?” The smile on Hayato’s face was so gentle, tender, affectionate, that it made Sakura’s heart ache, made it hurt , with the realization he wouldn’t get to have this anymore.
“Is it because you’re scared I would hate you? I wouldn’t. In fact, I’ve been waiting a long time to hear those words from you, Sakura-kun,” Suo said softly, causing Sakura to jolt, freeze, as he processed the words.
Suo sighed, and leaned forward to gently knock his forehead against Sakura’s.
“So please don’t cry.”
“But—”
“After all, I love you too.”
And Suo connected their lips.
Their kiss that night tasted salty, but Sakura thought that it was the best kiss they had ever shared.
Haruka smiles softly at the memory and steps back, taking in the room in its entirety.
He remembers how much of a hassle it had been, relocating the displays from their previous homes to their new apartment once they had moved in together after graduation. Their friends teased him nonstop about how sentimental he was, and more importantly, how cute he had been.
Haruka recalls looking to Hayato for help — he really should’ve known better than to expect any.
“Mm! Sakura-kun truly is the cutest, isn’t he.”
Haruka remembers gearing up to punch his boyfriend — not that the hit would’ve landed, but a quick “Sakura-san! If you fight now, you might damage the cases!” quickly put an end to that.
As Haruka leaves the room, he can’t help but let his hand linger on the doorknob.
Haruka had caught Hayato secretly walking into that room many times. Had seen him gently run his fingers over the boxes, a pensive look on his face — as if he was reminiscing the memories associated with each display.
The first time Haruka caught him doing that, he had peeked through the gap in the door, curiosity getting the best of him. He was surprised, to say the least — he had never barred Hayato from this room, so why was he being so secretive? But as he continued to watch Hayato enter the room on numerous occasions, Haruka began to notice a pattern.
Hayato only went into the room when he was in a very specific mood.
When it seemed like Hayato was at his lowest, teetering on the edge of a cliff between sanity and madness. When it seemed like a weight had been draped over his shoulders, dragging him down. When he was simply afraid — of what, Haruka would never ask.
He’d let Hayato come to him when he was ready, and not a day sooner.
Haruka eventually came to realize that going into that room was just a ritual that Hayato did, to ground himself in the present. To reaffirm that what they had, what they were, was real.
On those days, Haruka would leave Hayato alone with his thoughts. Let him compose himself so he could show to the world, to Haruka, a version of himself that he was comfortable with. Let the physical proof of their love and life center him.
On those days, he would watch the clock — Hayato typically only spent 1-2 hours in there when he needed to collect himself — making sure to keep as quiet as possible. Haruka would then listen intently for the sound of the doorknob turning, or for Hayato’s soft footsteps, for any indication that Hayato was leaving the room.
Once an hour had passed, Haruka would walk to the kitchen and set the kettle on the stove, before turning up the heat. If Hayato needed more time, he would simply reheat the water again later.
When he heard the telltale signs of Hayato leaving that room, Haruka would bring out their tea set and prepare Hayato’s favorite blend of tea. He would portion out the leaves, the water, making sure to brew enough for the both of them.
With practiced movements, Haruka would carry the prepared tea to their living room, place the tray on the low table atop their soft carpet, before taking a seat, waiting for Hayato.
Like clockwork, Hayato would walk into the room, spot Haruka sitting on the carpet with a freshly brewed pot of tea and join him without a word. Would simply take a cup from the tray and breathe in the aroma, bring it to his lips, and quietly sip it.
Haruka would wait until Hayato finished his first cup, refill it, before taking a sip of his own slightly cooler cup. They would sit together like that, in a comfortable silence, needing nothing but each other’s company.
Haruka lets a tiny smile grace his face before he walks away, down the hall, towards where he knows Hayato will most likely be at this time of the day.
As expected, Hayato is sitting in the armchair in the living room, reading a book and drinking from the teapot on the small table set up beside him. Haruka always thought it was funny that so many people compared him to a cat, but deep down, he felt like Hayato was more cat-like than he was.
He remembered how much of a fuss Hayato had put up initially, when they were debating about the placement of that specific armchair.
Needing it to be angled just right, beside their balcony doors, to catch the sun’s rays as it rose over the horizon.
(Hayato would never tell Haruka this, but he had fought so hard over the placement of the armchair because he knew how much Haruka liked napping under the sun. And thinking about Haruka napping in what was considered his armchair stirred up something possessive within him.)
Perhaps it was because he had just been reminiscing about fond memories, but Haruka started to feel somewhat sentimental. Haruka’s smile grows wider as he quickly makes his way over to his boyfriend.
He sees Hayato look up, when he hears Haruka’s soft footsteps coming from across the hall.
“Haruka-kun?” He says, as he tilts his head to the side. The sight reminds Haruka of a curious cat, and he has to stifle the laughter threatening to escape his lips.
Haruka's eyes stray down to where Hayato’s tassel earring is now lying against his smooth neck, and feels something warm start to stir in his gut. He quickly shakes his head to rid himself of the thought. That wasn’t what he came here for.
Haruka walks until he’s right in front of the armchair, in front of Hayato. He looks down at the other male, a slight pout forming on his lips.
But Hayato doesn’t move, doesn’t so much as even twitch.
Minutes tick away, and it’s only when Haruka’s pout transforms into a frown that Hayato reacts — with an airy chuckle.
“Shut up,” Haruka grumbles, his frown fading from his face.
Hayato offers him a gentle smile and spreads his arms open.
“Come here.”
Haruka takes the invitation for what it is and crawls into Hayato’s lap, making himself at home.
He nestles his head into the crook between Hayato’s neck and shoulder, nuzzles into him.
Immediately, Hayato wraps his arms around Haruka, holding him close. The hand not holding his book comes up to comb through Haruka’s hair.
Haruka carefully adjusts himself to get more comfortable, breathing in Hayato’s scent — vanilla and bergamot today — before closing his eyes.
“Tired?”
“Mmm… Maybe just a little.”
Hayato gently massages Haruka’s scalp, lulling him further into slumber.
“Then sleep. I'll wake you up when it's time for lunch.”
“Mmkay…”
Haruka snuggles in deeper, feeling Hayato kiss both of his eyelids as he continues to run his fingers through Haruka’s hair, lightly scratching his scalp every so often.
And Haruka is gone, enveloped by the warmth of the sun and Hayato’s body heat.