Chapter Text
By and large, Toya was content.
He never voiced such a sentiment to his team, true as it was. Thanks to An's and Akito's relentless, endless drive, they were more likely to misconstrue his feelings as hesitance, and that couldn't be further from the truth. Nothing could shake him from their glittering shared goal, his life's ambition on a neon pedestal to chase through the darkest nights.
No, Toya was content with his life, which was a very new experience. He woke up with goals he wanted to achieve and people to meet and dreams to pursue. Honestly, it felt like he'd been granted a second chance by the grace of music itself.
So, yes, Toya was more or less situated in his new routine. He went to school on weekdays, did a shift at the library, then headed off to sing with his team, either in the park or in the SEKAI. He went home, finished his homework, and worked on whatever project would best bolster their next performance. Weekends were for performing at venues or practicing from dawn to dusk, with the occasional distraction here and there when one of them was too busy to practice or otherwise needed a break. As much as Toya pushed himself out of his comfort zone, the stability of a routine balanced him out.
...but he wasn't totally content.
It didn't escape Toya that he and his team were growing up differently from the rest of their peers. Most of the friends he'd made in homeroom, Mizuki excluded, focused on sports or grades or extracurriculars, and certainly never all three at once. Music demanded the very best of oneself, and even Toya sometimes wavered under the weight of his daily load.
That wasn't what bothered him, though. After so many years of blindly stumbling along on his father's whims, it felt good to hold such a powerful motivation within himself.
Toya's discontent was much less... tangible.
He listened. In his homeroom, out on Rad Street, in WEEKEND GARAGE, when other young artists exchanged stories. So many of them made time for dates. So many of them planned to meet up over the weekend, eagerly chattering about a new restaurant they'd found, or how they and their significant other had plans for a vacation.
And it was almost ironic, Toya thought. A few years ago, he wouldn't have paid them any mind. What did he care about the romantic affairs of others, let alone people in his homeroom?
Too much, it seemed.
He picked at the edge of his notebook, and anxiety sloshed around his gut. Class was over, and Toya had been given the day off from the library. God, he almost wished he had a shift as an excuse. He'd spent the previous evening skimming through one of the few cheesy romance novels on his shelf, searching for innocuous options for- well. Hanging out, he'd dubbed it. He certainly had it easy, rather than cold-calling after a crush he barely knew, but when it was someone so close...
Toya dug his nails into the pages. His hands shook worse than they ever had getting up on stage.
It would be fine. And he'd keep telling himself that until he'd gotten this absurd urge to say something out of his system. He'd spent months already keeping his tongue in check; maybe he just needed a respite from the silence. Or something.
Oh, this was such a terrible idea.
Toya jumped when they were dismissed, and he winced, ignoring the curious glances of his classmates. Mizuki actually narrowed her eyes at him, so he packed his bag and fled as fast as humanely possible. Somewhere beyond this surge of people was the boy who'd crashed into him like a meteor and permanently altered the trajectory of his life. His dreams, his days, his connection to music. Everything.
He'd tried, once or twice, to determine when his admiration for his partner had taken on a rose-colored tinge. He'd never figured it out. Akito was too much of an enigma – and always had been, from the very first time he'd flashed Toya a sharp grin and told him to follow. Toya had been following ever since. He'd do it forever, really.
Toya shook himself roughly. Today wasn't that serious. He and Akito had hung out plenty of times, and the arcade owner, Fuyuki-san, had gotten used to seeing Willow and Cloud meandering through the rows of machines. This wouldn't be any different.
And he'd just keep telling himself that.
Outside, he cut through the throngs of milling people, searching for a head of fire-orange hair. Toya spotted Rui first – and promptly went the other direction, because he didn't have time for a conversation like that – then people he'd met in one school event or other, and then: success. Akito leaned against a low wall, absently scrolling through his phone.
“Akito,” Toya called, and immediately winced. Of all the times for his voice to give out on him.
Thankfully, his partner either didn't notice or didn't care and shot Toya a small smile. “Hey,” he returned, once Toya had finally battled his way through the crowd. “Ready to go?”
Toya nodded, lest his voice betray him again. Akito headed for the gates, and Toya stuck close to his side, following in the wake of the silent presence Akito commanded. Sometimes, Toya wondered if Akito knew that he broke the flow of people like a rock in the ocean or if it was an unconscious habit from years of navigating Rad Street by his lonesome.
“Did you see Shiraishi's text?” Akito asked, and Toya hesitated. His partner huffed a laugh. “She's goin' to pick up Azusawa from her school. Somethin' about a surprise.”
And here was the opening – An was going to be late. All Toya had to do was spit it out.
“Toya?”
He flinched, jolted from his spiral of nerves. They'd stopped beside a towering tree, shaded by its branches, and Akito watched him with open concern.
“You alright?” his partner pressed.
“Fine,” Toya promised, then hurriedly backtracked. “I-”
How did everyone else make it look so easy? Why were the words sticking in his throat? He'd already spent so long learning how to understand his emotions and get them out of his head; why was this giving him so much trouble?
Stupid question. He already knew why. He just couldn't admit it to himself because that would make the ball of emotions lodged in his chest real.
This wasn't something simple, like talking about his passions or experience with classical music or even his process for songwriting. This was months of wrestling with himself, years more of figuring out how to have a best friend. Toya had been alone for so much of his life, isolated and caged. The boy standing before him had freed him. His and Akito's friendship was one of extremes – the most peaceful Toya had ever felt with another soul and his greatest challenger, perpetually pushing him to improve and outdo himself. His best friend and the one person he couldn't risk losing, no matter what he felt or wanted.
No matter the ache in his chest that'd become his constant companion.
And somehow, that settled him. All at once, Toya's anxiousness evaporated, leaving behind nothing but the calm he always sank into before a show. He inhaled for five, exhaled for seven, and finally met Akito's gaze.
“I'm not feeling great,” he murmured, which was entirely true. “I don't... want to sing today.”
As soon as it was out, he realized how absolutely absurd it sounded. Toya closed his eyes briefly, mentally chiding himself. Even if he'd had the nerve to follow through and convince Akito to skip practice, that'd been the worst possible way to go about it.
“Okay,” Akito said, and Toya blinked, startled. His best friend wasn't looking at him. Akito had pulled his phone from his pocket and held it to his ear, all his weight rested on his left hip. After a few seconds, he straightened. “Shiraishi. Toya's feelin' sick, so I'm gonna take him home. Start practice without me.”
Akito hung up and cast Toya a look still tinged with worry. “So,” he continued, faking nonchalance, “where d'you wanna go?”
“What?” Toya asked, lost.
“You don't beg outta practice unless you really need it.”
“I-”
Always looking out for him.
“Thank you,” Toya murmured, and Akito's expression softened at the edges. “I've been curious about that new smoothie place. Could we go there?”
“That's not on the way to your house,” Akito noted, amusement creeping through his voice, and Toya fought a flush. “Alright, alright. But you're feeling okay?”
Toya considered his body's 'okay.' “Not great,” he settled on.
Akito worked his jaw, eyes flicking back and forth across Toya's face. “I'll pay,” he decided.
“Akito,” Toya protested, but his partner was already striding off down the street.
“It's the least I can do if you're feelin' shitty, right?”
You're already doing enough, Toya thought, as out of his depth as he always felt when Akito was so earnestly generous, but by the time he caught up, Akito had reached the next crossing, and the traffic flying by defeated any hopes of a semi-private conversation. Then they were hurrying across the street, and Akito innocently mentioned an upcoming live show he'd heard about, and Toya gave up, somewhat desperately ignoring the flicker of warmth burning in his heart.
This whole situation had been completely turned on its head, but... it all worked out, didn't it? Akito was none the wiser to his feelings, and Toya got his outing. They were partners hanging out, just not... partners.
And that was fine. It'd always be enough.
The smoothie shop was as neon as most new places in Shibuya were, but Toya still happily absorbed the atmosphere. Akito squinted through the bright lights, so, in the end, Toya ordered for both of them, and they left with smoothies in hand. Toya ventured a cautious sip – delicious.
“Not bad,” Akito admitted as they loitered at the next red light. “Hm. Good aftertaste.” He licked his lips, then glanced at Toya. “Is there somewhere else you want to go?”
Toya offered a hesitant smile. “Can we go to the arcade?”
Akito rolled his eyes, but a smile turned the corners of his mouth. “Sure. You're lucky Shiraishi doesn't know where it is.”
Toya wanted to protest that he hadn't intentionally kept its whereabouts from her, but he was, in fact, lucky, that they wouldn't run into the other half of their team while out and about. He kept his mouth shut and stuck close to Akito as pedestrians flowed across the street.
As always, Fuyuki-san lit up when they entered. “Good to see you, boys!” she called, tickets spilling from the bucket she held, and Toya waved in return. “Kusanagi-chan is in the back if you're looking for her!”
“Thank you,” Toya called back and led Akito into the arcade. The walkways were familiar by now; each machine, old or new, brought a flood of memories of solo sessions late into the evening or afternoons just like this, where he and Akito wandered around until a game caught his partner's eye. Toya had never expected that he would someday coax Akito into enjoying video games, but he certainly wasn't going to complain.
Nene was, as expected, set up at a Puyo Puyo machine and expertly dropping massive chains, her eyes darting back and forth and back. She glanced up at their approach, and the faintest hint of excitement touched her face.
“Hello,” she murmured.
“Don't stop for us,” Toya urged.
Nene's fingers picked up speed. “Okay. Tell me if you want a spot.”
“I will.”
She returned to her run as if she'd never been disrupted, and Toya dipped his chin, as impressed as always with Nene's skill. When turned back to Akito, because he was, in fact, not here to beat high scores, Akito watched him with a lopsided smile.
“I think I missed half of that conversation,” his partner noted.
“Sorry,” Toya started, but Akito gently tugged him away.
“Don't worry about it. What do you wanna play?”
In the end, they completed a few lazy circuits of the arcade, hopping onto a machine here or there whenever Akito pointed one out or as Toya felt an itch. By the time Kusanagi caught his eye and nodded goodbye, the knotted core of anxiety in Toya's chest had unwound enough for him to wave goodbye. Akito said nothing, but he was smiling when Toya returned to their game.
Toya had once assumed it would be stifling to spend every day with someone, let alone three other someones. But he'd gotten lucky. Sometimes at practice, they tuned out and harmonized without acknowledging each other, and that was fine. Sometimes, when they got dinner after big shows, Akito would say, “Nah, I'm goin' home. Have fun.” It was all fine. It was good, even, to have constants in his life. People that would be there no matter how bad of a day he had.
Especially you, Toya thought, glancing at Akito. His best friend was busy with his turn, jamming the controls every which way, but Toya could only see the gleam in Akito's golden eyes.
Finally, they circled all the way back around to the claw machines. The sun had long since set, and Toya tamped down a flare of guilt when he thought the mound of homework awaiting him (and Akito) at home. Then again, he couldn't be that guilty when his partner still lingered by his side.
As if hearing his thoughts, Akito suddenly glanced up from his phone. “No,” he ordered. “I'm not bringin' anything home.”
“It'll be small,” Toya tried, and Akito threw him a flat look.
“Dude. Ena's gonna run out of room.”
But it wasn't for Ena this time. That was the only reason Toya broke Akito's gaze and darted to the counter, purchasing just one attempt from Fuyuki-san and hurrying past his partner before Akito's drawn-out sigh could distract him from his mission. Toya only wanted one small thing, and it would take all his dexterity to obtain: a simple leather bracelet with sunrise stitching.
Akito had been getting into bracelets recently, probably in accordance with some fashion trend Toya was oblivious to. Though Akito didn't wear them every day, Toya still tracked the bands and beads and other adornments his partner preferred, and this one would suit him, he thought. He hoped.
Toya easily snatched the bracelet from its hook, dropped it into the chute, and held out his offering wordlessly. Akito stared at him. Then he huffed that exasperated yet fond laugh and slipped the bracelet over his knuckles. Toya couldn't help but watch as the band settled against the dip of his best friend's wrist.
“Yeah, yeah,” Akito muttered. “If you say so.”
They headed out of the arcade side by side, Akito still fiddling with his bracelet. Toya felt like he should thank Akito, somehow – for extending a hand back then, for guiding him toward a new life, for being his partner. Maybe just for being a friend.
All Toya could force around the ball in his throat was, “Goodnight, Akito.”
His partner's eyes crinkled. “Night. I'll see you tomorrow.”
––––––
The only problem was, Toya hadn't expected to like doing “normal” things. He'd assumed that one outing with Akito would ease the ache and allow him to fall back into place, back into the harmony Vivid BAD SQUAD needed to function.
Instead, the ache demanded more. He wanted more normal things. Moments outside of practices, being the audience instead of the performer. The four of them occasionally went out together, but it was usually to a music festival or a shop to look for new tracks or inspiration. An and Kohane were the ones who did weekend outings.
Toya knew it was a bad idea the second it popped into his head. An was sharp, keener than she let on. If he asked, she'd know.
But she was safer than asking Akito again without prelude, and the prospect of Akito turning him down convinced Toya to arrive early at the SEKAI and warm up outside the cafe. Meiko caught his gaze, but, to his relief, the older woman said nothing. She did offer him a coffee, though, and Toya took it with a grateful nod.
“I appreciate it.”
“Anytime,” Meiko said and cupped her hands over his. “I'm here if you need it, Toya.”
“I know. Thank you.”
It'd be so much simpler to talk to Meiko and release his feelings like a lantern etched with prayers no one would ever see. Toya knew that. But on the off-chance Rin or Len overhead – or even Luka, really – they'd run to Akito, and then- Toya hurriedly quashed that train of thought. He sipped his coffee, ignoring his trembling hands, and waited for the eerie calm of performance to wash over him.
Finally, sparks glittered in the middle of the street, and An emerged from a collection of radiant pink and blue shards. Her hair swooped around her like it had a mind of its own, and her jacket, pristine white with blue accents, danced around her slim form. Toya often thought she looked like Miku, a figure so bright and powerful that they didn't seem fully human at times.
But An was also human to a fault, so Toya exhaled the last of his hesitance.
“Hello, Shiraishi,” he greeted, and An flounced up to him with a grin.
“Kohane's still on her way. I think Honami-chan wanted to talk to her about something, so-” An trailed off, tilted her head. “Hey, are you still feeling sick? You look kinda pale.”
Toya offered a faint smile – more observant than she let on. “I'm alright. How was your weekend? You mentioned you and Azusawa had plans.”
An lit up. “You remembered! Yeah, we went to this adorable little shop Kohane found! We didn't really have the budget to go shopping, but it was still a lot of fun to look around and make outfits for each other. Oh, there was this amazing jacket... Kohane looked so good! I'm so angry that I couldn't buy it for her!”
Toya considered the possibility. Akito was by far the most fashionable between them, but he'd brought up some grievances at his job recently, so now probably wasn't the time to surround him with even more clothes.
“Anything else?” Toya asked haltingly, and begged An not to catch on.
An blinked. “I mean, we grabbed lunch before we went home, but she slept over at my house, so not really. Why?”
He was so, so thankful that she didn't sound judgmental or suspicious in the slightest. Then Toya realized he was staring blankly at her, and he fumbled for an excuse. God, this was exactly the eventuality he hadn't planned for. Nothing was coming to him. Nothing except the truth he couldn't spill.
And then, An's face changed. “Oh, you want to do something with Akito, right?”
That was... one way of putting it, and certainly better than his options. Toya nodded jerkily, and An's expression did a thing he noticed now and then. It wasn't an unfriendly look, or a mean one, or even unlike An. Toya just didn't understand what it meant. He had the sudden urge to ask, but An beat him to it, continuing as if she hadn't stopped.
“We went to that festival! Y'know, the one in the park?”
Toya's unspoken question withered away, and he considered that, too – then tilted his head. “Is that the one we all went to? You went again?”
An flushed. “Y-yeah! We didn't have time to check out all the arts and crafts, and Kohane really wanted to look for some artwork for her bedroom.”
Toya wouldn't mind art for his bedroom, come to think of it. And he'd noticed Akito eyeing some wind chimes that they'd ultimately passed up for the sake of time, hurrying home with the threat of the next day's classes looming over their heads.
“Thank you,” Toya said, though he wasn't quite sure what he was thanking her for. An nodded – and he wasn't sure why.
On Friday, practice was canceled because Kohane had an imperative exam coming up, and Ken called An back to WEEKEND GARAGE for some emergency with the coffee machines. Toya decided it was his lucky break. Still, the library demanded a chunk of his weekend, and if he sprinted around the displays with a little less grace than usual, no one pointed it out.
Finally, he emerged from the shelves and found Akito loitering near a display, absently thumbing through a book.
“Akito,” Toya called, and he couldn't help a slightly giddy smile.
His partner glanced up, and a softer smile touched the corner of his mouth. “Hey. I'm not working today. Do you wanna head to the SEKAI?”
Now or never. The festival would be gone next weekend.
“Is it okay if we go somewhere else?” Toya blurted. He was suddenly grateful he was still holding his clipboard; it gave his hands a task. He was so unreasonably nervous, and he shouldn't be, because he and Akito did stuff like this all the time.
...but Akito didn't know what he was actually asking, and that made all the difference.
To his relief, his partner's golden eyes lit up with a spark of interest. “Where?”
“That festival we went to last week. Azusawa said she found some art for her bedroom, and I was curious.”
For a split second, the worst-case scenarios shot through Toya's mind. Akito would probably turn him down, maybe even get irritated with him for skipping practice again, and he'd accept it, because this was abnormal. But the shorter boy only shrugged and set the book back on the display, exactly where he'd picked it up. Toya could've hugged him for that alone.
“Sure. Are you almost done?”
“Yes,” Toya said, a little breathlessly. Then he caught himself and tried again. “Yes. Just a second.”
Toya grabbed his bag, told Nureki-san that he was leaving, and left with Akito. They'd just escaped the school gates when Toya remembered why his bag was so heavy and that he couldn't afford to lose this project and spend another two days redoing it from memory.
“I'm sorry,” he said, and Akito cast him a curious look. “Can we meet at the festival? I have to drop this off at home.”
Toya sheepishly lifted his bag, and Akito chuckled. “And you were the one who suggested this. Yeah, that's fine. I want to change, anyway. See you there.”
“I'll text you,” Toya returned, and headed home.
He didn't put more effort into his outfit than usual. He didn't.
But he also didn't pull on jeans and call it a day, and that was damning enough.
Toya's heart leaped in tiny little flutters as he wandered the festival's lanes. There were plenty of distractions, though; artistry hung from stall corners and was strewn across colorful cloths. All the musicians had performed the previous week, so there was nothing to draw away from the craftsmanship on display.
He pulled out his phone, sent Akito a quick text, and began poking around the jewelry. He'd gotten his lobes pierced a few months back (nothing as fancy as Akito's, not yet) and scrunched his nose at the assembly before him. What would look good? The silver dangles were eye-catching, but maybe a little too much so. Toya wouldn't mind getting little rings like Akito, either, but their styles were starkly different.
“Oh, those studs are nice.”
Toya glanced over. He willed his heart not to flap, but it did, because he'd never been able to control it. Akito had dressed just a little nicer, too, the rapidly setting sun catching his hair in brilliant highlights.
His partner looked up, and it all but punched Toya out of his stupor. Focus on the conversation, and the earrings, and the normal, normal outing he and Akito were having. It didn't mean what he wanted it to mean, and that was okay.
“I like them,” Toya agreed, and thank god his voice came out steady. “Do you think they'd suit me?”
Akito snorted. “Dude, you could pull off anything. Hold them up.”
Toya obliged. Akito scrutinized them, then turned back to the array of jewelry.
“They're too big. Try these.”
Not five minutes later, Toya fell in love with a pair Akito presented, and he was even more convinced by his partner's pleased grin. Toya bought them on the spot, and they set out into the festival shoulder to shoulder, still chatting about jewelry and how Toya could accessorize without derailing his outfits.
He really had planned to buy some art. He had been brainstorming ways to liven up the dark walls of his room. But as they walked, flitting from one stall to the next, Toya's main mission slipped into a side quest. Instead, they pointed out handicrafts and stopped to admire the ones that caught their eye. Akito bought a new lamp, a modern creation with a hand-carved stone base, and Toya caved and got a little bird to sit beside his computer. The canvases were on the other side of the festival, but he couldn't bring himself to go any faster.
Only once the sun had set did Toya decide that they should probably do something about dinner. He'd dragged Akito out, so he thought it was only fair to tell his partner to get whatever he wanted, and he'd cover it later. Akito returned with two steaming bowls, wrapped chopsticks wedged between slender fingers, and he flashed an eager grin.
“There's mini cheesecakes. We're splitting one.”
They inhaled their bowls and bought a mini cheesecake, and somehow, Toya ended up across a picnic bench from Akito, digging his fork into the fluffy dessert. His best friend's cheeks were flushed with delight, and the sight made Toya's heart do a few more flap-flap-flaps. This alone was worth the trip.
His phone buzzed, and he checked it.
An: did you ask akito to go to the festival with you?
Ooh. Toya didn't like that phrasing. He turned off his phone without responding, but he noticed the time as he tucked it back into his pocket.
“It's almost 9,” he announced, and Akito glanced up. “Do we need to leave soon?”
Akito wrinkled his nose and swallowed his mouthful. “Why?”
“Don't you work in the morning?”
Akito's face softened – as if touched that Toya remembered – and he huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I do. But you didn't get your art yet. I'm not going home until you find one you like.”
Oh, the tug of temptation pulled hard on Toya's chest. They could stay out all evening, wandering the stalls without a thought for tomorrow. It tempted him so badly that it hurt like a wound. With a jolt, Toya realized that selfishness held his heart hostage, begging him to keep this night alive for a few more hours. He was having fun. It wasn't the same as singing, or being with his team, or with friends at school – it was the type of fun he only felt with Akito in these rare, precious moments when it was just the two of them.
Toya closed his eyes until the unsteady twanging of his heart settled into its normal cadence.
“We should head to that side of the festival, then,” he suggested and refused to let himself feel disappointed. Akito needed more sleep than most, lest his relentless schedule get him sick.
They finished the cheesecake, and Toya selected a beautiful field of golden flowers. He told himself that he had no idea why it called to him, and as long as he didn't admit it to himself, it couldn't hurt him. Akito grinned as he struggled with the unwieldy canvas, and eventually, his partner piped up.
“I can take your figure thing and give it to you tomorrow.”
“Please,” Toya said, relieved, and handed the little bird over.
As they headed for the gates, Toya coached himself through saying goodbye. He wouldn't hesitate; he wouldn't linger; he wouldn't make excuses for why they could stay longer when he was already hefting a canvas around. They lived in opposite directions, at least, which made it that much easier to cast Akito a smile and murmur,
“Thank you for coming with me.”
Akito seemed frozen for a beat, gazing at Toya, his hands tucked in his jacket pockets. Then he grinned, and it was a burning, radiant thing.
“Yeah, whenever,” he said, and Toya wanted so badly to take it as a promise. “Night, Toya.”
“Goodnight.”
They parted at the gates. It still made him ache, but it wasn't as bad with the memory of Akito's grin lighting his path all the way home.
Toya hung the field of golden flowers right above his bed. He couldn't stop looking at it.
––––––
Of the three of them, Akihide and Natsume had always been his father's favorites. Toya knew why, of course – both were as talented as their father, whipped into shape by their years of training and released into the world as successors to the Aoyagi name. But Akihide had always been the golden boy of the family. The first of Harumichi's sons, the prodigy, the famed violinist who went and affirmed his father's legacy.
Toya usually went months without seeing Akihide and Natsume. Natsume was studying abroad, and Akihide had garnered enough prestige to travel with any orchestra of his choice and perform around the world.
Then Toya turned the corner and saw a familiar car in the driveway, and his heart plunged into his gut.
His father had been getting terse with him again – something about his newly pierced ears, maybe? – and though Akihide had never curled his lip, Toya was closer to Natsume. He was more at ease with his older brother's casual grins and easygoing nature, even if it was because he hadn't deemed Toya worthy of his competition. Akihide was too much like their father. Too ready to strike him down.
Toya couldn't see him right now. Couldn't deal with snippy, aggressive conversations and the feeling of being so unbearably isolated in his own house.
When he blinked again, he was down the street, safe from any prying eyes, clutching his bags to his chest and heaving too-fast, shallow breaths. Toya knew it was a stupid idea. He knew he was tired and hungry, and his blinding headache from a few too many hours of intensive study wasn't helping. But instinct was stronger than reason, so he pulled out his phone and called his best friend.
It picked up on the second ring. “Hey. What's up?”
They'd never done this before. But Mizuki had mentioned that she, Ena, and some other friends were taking a weekend vacation, and he was desperate.
“Can I come over?” Toya asked. He couldn't disguise the waver in his voice.
Akito was silent. Then: “Yeah, sure. Ena's not here, so-”
“I know,” Toya blurted, then bit his lip.
“Huh? How'd you- oh. Akiyama. Well, my parents are off on some business thing, so come over whenever you want. I'll make dinner.”
Toya deflated. “Thank you, Akito,” he murmured, and his partner huffed.
“Don't sound like that. You're always welcome, even if I don't know why you'd want to be here.”
Toya laughed softly, because he'd go anywhere as long as Akito was there. “I'll be there as soon as I can.”
“Yeah, I'm sending you the address. Text me if you stop on the way.”
The call ended.
No chance he'd make a detour. Toya's head pounded harder with every passing second, so he spun on his heel and marched away from his house. He was still lugging around all his books, and his uniform protested the reckless treatment, but he didn't care. Anything to get to Akito as soon as possible.
He hurried through the city via Akito's directions, only slowing his brisk walk when the lights mandated it, and to his relief, he made it to the suburbs in what had to be record time.
The squat house wasn't what Toya had expected, but, in retrospect, he supposed that Akito's house could've been anything. It looked nice from the outside, two stories situated halfway up a green hill, and it probably had a good view. It was certainly more expensive than the nearby strip of apartments, and Toya wondered, not for the first time, what it was that Akito's parents did. He shook the thought aside and headed to the door.
Did he ring the doorbell? Did he knock?
God. He was overthinking a knock. Toya was the first to admit that he tended to get caught up in his thoughts, his feelings lodging in his throat and sticking there, but even he could recognize when he was being ridiculous. He shook himself once more – this was just Akito's house – and knocked twice.
“Yeah, it's open!”
Toya pushed inside, stepping out of his shoes and glancing around. The living room was small, connected to a kitchen that was already filled with frankly delicious smells, and a staircase led up to the second floor. Toya poked his head around the entryway divider and found Akito expertly supervising several pans. The shorter boy glanced over his shoulder, and his blank expression melted into a welcoming smile.
“Hey,” he said, jerking his chin at the stairs. “My room's upstairs. Dump your stuff anywhere.” Akito paused, then frowned. “Dude, are you still in your uniform?”
Toya nodded. It was all he could manage. He felt off-balance like this, as if he was invading Akito's space – or as if his partner was invading his, knocking him off-kilter.
Akito examined him a moment longer, then waved a hand. “You're gonna hafta to deal with your slacks, but I've got some sweaters that might fit you. They're in the closet, uh- right side, by the door.”
“Thank you,” Toya murmured again, and meant it, then retreated to the safety of the stairs. Away from Akito and his rumpled hair, like he'd mussed it and didn't care to fix it now that he was at home, and the home-cooked meal on the stove. Toya pleaded with his aching heart not to feel warm.
It didn't listen. It never had.
There were only two open doors, and one led to the bathroom, so that saved Toya the trouble of skulking around other people's rooms. Akito's room was... nice. Bigger than he expected, almost the same size as his. The curtains were open, allowing sunset light to flood the space. The bed was shoved against the far wall, its comforter thrown haphazardly into place, and the desk was littered with open notebooks – probably homework Akito had been slogging through before Toya's impromptu visit. He'd feel bad if not for the fact that this meant his partner would eat.
A sprawling beanbag was tossed to one side – admittedly unexpected and out-of-place – and a walk-in closet was open by the door, so Toya dropped his things onto the beanbag and hesitantly approached the closet.
It felt invasive to poke through Akito's clothes. He was so particular, and Toya feared that he'd disturb an invisible balance with his inexperienced hands. To his relief, the oversized sweaters were exactly where Akito had said. Toya slipped into a crimson one without much thought. Yeah, it fit. That made this easier.
Toya snagged his notes and tromped back downstairs. Akito was still meticulously tending to his pans, but he broke out in a broad grin when Toya sat at the table.
“It suits you. I should dress you up more.”
“I wouldn't mind,” Toya admitted. Akito huffed a laugh and returned to his cooking. Toya moved a placemat aside, spreading his many books around him, but after a moment, he felt a gaze weighing heavy on his skin. He glanced up. Akito watched him curiously. “I still have homework tonight,” Toya said by way of apology. “I didn't...”
He had no idea where to begin, but Akito only lifted a shoulder.
“Don't worry about it. So do I. But you hafta do it later 'cause I'm servin'.”
Oh. Right. Toya quickly rearranged the placemats and fumbled for a place for his books. In the end, he stretched over the couch and left them there. He straightened just as Akito delivered two bowls of ramen, and his partner grinned, dropping into the chair beside him.
“You coulda just put 'em on a chair. It's just you and me.”
“I know,” Toya protested, but he didn't know how to finish that sentence without admitting that he felt a little out of place, even with no one else around. He was tempted to take the silence as awkward, too.
Then all the meals they'd had together spilled through his mind, wordless yet companionable silences as they leaned against each other and scrolled through their phones after a long show. In the blink of an eye, the silence became a warm familiarity. Akito burned beside him, as always, and that was all they needed. Though the table was big enough to navigate without jostling each other, Toya didn't mind when their elbows bumped.
“It's good,” he noted, halfway through his bowl.
Akito offered a lopsided smile. “I'm glad. I had to throw something together from what we had.”
That pit of guilt he'd been trying to ignore lurched in Toya's gut once again. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“I didn't mean it like that,” Akito sighed, but it was worry stringing through his voice, not annoyance. “What happened?”
Toya picked at his nails. He tried not to talk about his brothers – tried not to think about them. Dealing with his father and all the disagreements they still had wore on his mental health enough. Akihide and Natsume were everything expected of them as Aoyagis. Even if they'd never been as critical as their father, Toya still considered them to be walking reminders of his divergence. They'd never cared about him, anyway, the baby brother back home. Or they would've visited more than twice a year.
“If you-”
“It's my brother,” Toya blurted. Akito's frown deepened, so Toya pressed on. The confession clawed at his throat; he had to get it out. “We're not close. He's 28.”
“Shit,” Akito hissed.
“He's a lot like our father. In a lot of ways.”
Akito tapped his chopsticks against his bowl with a pensive scowl. “He's classically trained?”
Toya nodded. “A violinist. I don't think he'd like my earrings any more than my father does.”
“Of course your dad's gettin' pissy,” Akito scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “Stuffy bastard.” Toya couldn't help but throw his partner a scandalized look, and Akito waved a hand. “Alright, my bad. Well, I was gonna ask if you were sleeping over, but I guess that's the answer. I think I have an extra toothbrush. I'll have to look for it.”
“A toothbrush?” Toya repeated slowly.
“Unless you wanna go out with morning breath.”
Toya hadn't even thought of that. But, yeah, it was a Thursday, and he needed to brush his teeth tonight and tomorrow morning. He'd never had a sleepover before, not even with Tsukasa and Saki. The thought brought a jolt of childish glee to his heart, and he smiled. Always looking out for him.
“Thank you,” Toya echoed, quieter.
“Yeah, yeah,” Akito muttered, with that soft tone he only ever used when they were alone. It made Toya smile ever wider, and his partner stood with a snort, jostling his elbow. “You can stop sayin' that now. I wouldn't have invited you if I didn't want you here. Finish eating, and I'll clean up.”
“I can-” Akito threw him a look, and Toya slowly lowered himself back into his chair. “Okay.”
By the time the sun dropped below the horizon, Toya had polished off his meal – “It was delicious,” he praised while passing over his empty bowl, and a pleased flush touched Akito's cheeks – and they headed upstairs together. Akito collapsed into his chair, blowing out a long breath as he stared at the many notebooks spread across his desk.
“What do you have left?” Toya asked and sank into the beanbag. It was comfortable, if a bit mushy.
“Everything,” Akito sighed, knuckling his eyes. “Sorry. I can't hang out.”
“It's fine. I'm interrupting.”
Akito looked like he wanted to say something, but he swiveled without a word, so Toya reluctantly returned to the math problems he'd skipped. At some point, Akito put on music, and Toya tracked the smooth instrumentals with half an ear. Eventually, he finished the equations and moved on to the classics material that'd been giving An and Akito hell. Toya debated asking if Akito wanted to study together, but his partner was hunched over the desk, so he decided, best not.
Finally, Toya tore off the last page, tucked it into his folder, and slipped his books back into his bag. Done for a few precious hours. Toya examined Akito's room again, and this time, he picked out details. Two different RAD WEEKEND posters adorned the walls. Fashion magazines were piled on the bedside table, along with what looked like a textbook. A box of neatly ordered CDs sat next to the beanbag, along with a player, and Toya flicked through it. Ken's music, a few recommendations from An and Kohane, artists Toya recognized by name alone, and-
The hard copies of Toya's demo songs. His heart fluttered.
“That's why you wanted these?” Toya's runaway mouth asked.
“Huh?”
He held up the CD, and Akito perked up. His partner looked between his remaining work and the CDs, then made a noise in the back of his throat and stood, waving a commanding hand. Toya obediently scooted aside. Akito flopped beside him and plucked the CD from his fingers.
“You're the one who got me into physical copies again,” Akito chided, his gaze fixed on the spotless disk. “You were right. There's something different 'bout it.”
“The final versions were better,” Toya said weakly. He didn't even know what he was trying to ask, but Akito only shrugged.
“Yeah, you improved them a lot. This one is still your work.”
They fell silent, looking at the disk. Sleepiness suddenly plucked at Toya's mind, as if Akito's very presence was lulling him into the deep slumber he usually only achieved after a long practice. He felt his partner stir at his side, and Toya tried to blink himself awake, tried to listen. His brain refused to respond.
A quiet huff of laughter drifted against his cheek, and a hand gently smoothed his hair.
“I'll wake you up later.”
Thank you, Toya wanted to say yet again, and it was for everything. Everything.
He couldn't get it out around those feelings he still hid deep, deep down.
True to his word, Akito did wake him up – at 11 pm, with his hair a mess and his eyes just as sleep-heavy as Toya's felt. It took a few minutes for Toya to realize that Akito had knocked out with him, and that made his chest warm as if a fire crackled between his ribs.
Somehow, they managed to stumble into the bathroom, find Toya a toothbrush, and make it back to Akito's room before sleep claimed them. Toya watched Akito's silhouette hit the bed while he curled up In the beanbag, and then he was asleep again. His partner was with him. Why wouldn't he rest while he had the chance?
Toya next roused to Akito's muffled curses. He blinked, then dragged his bleary gaze to the still-open curtains and the gray sky beyond, loopy and relaxed in a way he'd never felt before. The mess of emotions burgeoned when Akito sat up, sighed, and ruffled his hair. He caught Toya's gaze, and his face split with a sleepy smile.
“You look comfy.”
I am, Toya thought. I don't want to move. “What time is it?” he managed.
Akito scowled and ruffled his hair more aggressively. “7:18.”
“Oh. We're going to miss first period.”
“Shiraishi's never gonna let me forget this,” Akito seethed, but he didn't seem any more eager to get up and start the day. As if hearing the thought, Akito glanced at him, and Toya struggled not to get lost in the swirling gold of his partner's eyes. “Your teacher would forgive you for showin' up late once, right?”
Toya mulled over the possibility. “I think so.”
Akito flashed him a grin that made something in his gut tighten. “Let's hope you're right.”
By some miracle, they made it to second period – even though Toya had taken a bath so he didn't look totally disheveled, apologizing for wasting water the whole way, and Akito had cooked them breakfast. They meandered to campus, debating which live shows to fit into their weekend schedule, and by the time they reached Kamiyama, Toya's heart was once again begging him not to let this moment slip through his fingers. It was completely unreasonable, of course; they had to get to class.
But when Akito took the stairs at a casual amble, Toya followed suit without complaint. Anything to make this last.
“See you at lunch,” Akito called as they parted ways in the hall, and Toya dipped his chin.
“See you.”
It was entirely unreasonable. As far-fetched as the romance novels he'd staunchly avoided since this started. If he hadn't been the one living it, Toya would've chuckled at such a cheesy plot. But with every single one of those novels as his witness, Toya swore that he wasn't faking a thing.
He didn't just want to do normal, fun things. He never had. He wanted to do normal, fun things with Akito.
At lunch, his partner stuck closer than usual. Toya only noticed when he went to retrieve his notebook from his bag and almost rammed into Akito, who'd slung an arm over the back of his chair. The shorter boy reared back in surprise, then offered a sheepish grin.
“Sorry.”
Toya shook his head. “It's fine.”
Akito replaced his arm after Toya had settled. He felt so, so warm.
––––––
Their dinners after live shows comprised some of Toya's favorite moments. His friends became stars, still aglow from their performance, and tonight was no exception. He ate slowly, savoring his team's chatter – An and Akito bickering over who'd gotten the crowd more riled up during the opening song, Kohane giggling at An's side. Toya still felt adrenaline coursing through his veins, and it amped up a few more electrifying arcs when Akito slung an arm around his shoulders and tugged him close.
“And you were fuckin' amazing!” his partner crowed.
“You're biased!” An shouted, jabbing an accusatory finger at Akito, and there was something in the way that they glared at each other that made Toya feel like he'd missed a step. But it was gone in a heartbeat, lost in their renewed bickering. He turned to Kohane, who already watched him, and offered a warm smile.
“You looked confident,” he praised.
Kohane's cheeks took on a happy flush. “So did you,” she returned softly. “I liked your improvised intro to Crazy. I wasn't expecting it, but it worked really well.”
“I'm glad. I wanted to see if it would enhance Akito's entrance."
“You always do,” Akito said, a momentary blip in his meaningless argument with An. Toya noticed, then, that Akito still had an arm around his shoulders, and for a split second, the world froze in place. Just like the spotlights that immortalized them on stage.
There was... no chance that Akito felt the same way about him, right? Maybe, just maybe, his partner had read between the lines and was trying to tell him something in return?
Toya closed his eyes. No. Akito wasn't the indirect type. When he had an opinion, he voiced it, and if he knew, he would say something.
That was okay. Toya had this, and that was enough. So he opened his eyes, leaned a little more into Akito's side, and beamed.