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Their beginning was tumultuous; Yamato won’t deny that.
Not that he really regrets any of it, entirely—if they hadn’t gone through it, even just a little bit, then they would never know each other at all, and that is something he would actively regret. But, maybe, if he could go back and redo everything, he might handle things a little differently. He isn’t sure how differently, nor how differently it would be, but he might do it. Might.
Currently, though, things are calm. As calm as anyone like Sakura can be, anyway. He’s more than okay with that much.
Furin High’s newest, yet quickly most endeared-to, freshman has finally started letting Yamato into his house—a long battle cresting over two months since their war on the school that Yamato had whined his impatience over incessantly, but never directly doing anything that actually crossed that boundary—and as part of their promise for continued peace, he’s been using the permission as much as he possibly can. Sakura still gripes sometimes (“Don’t just come over randomly, you asshole, I’ve got shit to do!” and threats of “I’m gonna put a lock on that damn door if I come home just to find you here again, I swear—”) but it’s all of small importance, in the grand scheme of things. The only time Yamato came close to getting kicked out was when he tried to push a little too hard (stupid of him to do, really, but how could he resist?) and spend the night, but otherwise, they’ve been getting on fine. Swimmingly, even, when he really thinks about it.
Mostly, they just spend time in Sakura’s room, with Yamato just talking about whatever while Sakura himself interjects whenever he thinks to; there’s been no one day between them where they haven’t talked for hours on end. Sometimes, though, they leave his apartment to go and spar—Yamato likes to refer to these particular times as dates, just to rile Sakura up even more before they get into it—but, overwhelmingly, they just...hang out, really. ‘course, not that he’s complaining (because any time spent with Sakura at all was time more than well-spent; worth everything in gold), it’s just that Yamato can’t say he actually expected things to pan out this way.
Still, he muses, joyful, it’s cute. Poor little Sakura-kun; starved of company for too long, so he’s seekin’ it out everywhere and with anyone. A weaker man wouldn’t know what to do with himself~
(Really, though, Yamato’s more than happy to provide it; that’s half of why he swore to keep his hands off Furin if they just got to talk every now and again in the first place, after all! The rest was just—conventional. Bits and pieces falling into place, in a way.)
Anyhow. Yamato’s point was that he doesn’t hate just hanging around Sakura’s place; rinky-dink as it is (if he thought he’d get an answer without also being permanently thrown out of his life, Yamato would ask Sakura what his background was that made this hovel better than it), so long as Sakura is in the place in some way, Yamato will never even come close to hating it. Especially when it offers moments like the one they’re in now: Yamato lying on the ground next to the futon (“Your ass is not getting in my bed, don’t even think about it.”) while Sakura kneels beside him looking thoughtful.
While Sakura kneels beside him running his fingers all over his arms.
“If I’d’ve known you were gonna stare at me all day, I’d have worn a better outfit, yanno.” Honestly, he feels underdressed for this! All he’s got on is a pair of sweats and a wife beater! If Sakura wanted to ogle him, at least let him know beforehand so he can show off!
Wholly unimpressed (or maybe just too oblivious) with his flirting, Sakura just gives him a plain glance; “Shuddup,” is all he says before his mismatched eyes (Beautiful, gold and dark silver like that; ahh, what a great thing it is that you were born the way you are, Sakura.) flick back down to his body. Another thing he doesn’t mind too much, but honestly, what could be so interesting?
(He knows already, because of course he knows already; it isn’t just his arms that are intriguing. His shoulders, his neck, his back—the entirety of his upper torso, really—it’s all littered with tattoos, and Sakura has seen them enough times by now that Yamato had no choice but to notice that the interest. The ink he’s got etched into his skin all over is clearly something he finds appealing, but the particulars of that appeal is still something Yamato has yet to figure out; beyond, of course, this newfound want to touch them. While his outfit was pure coincidence, it seems he’ll be figuring things out well before he ever even considered asking directly.)
“Do these mean anything?” A little surprisingly, though, Sakura speaks up again after a moment; Yamato hangs on his every word. “Like—like that one on your shoulder, I mean.”
...well, well.
You’re really just too charming, Sakura~
“Hmm—they could.” Yamato muses thoughtfully. “But I’m not too sure~”
“You—hey, don’t play dumb with me, smartass!”
Yamato can’t help but to laugh, full of heart, as Sakura clicks his tongue and shoves at his shoulder outta irritation; but come on now, what’s there not to laugh about? He just makes it way too easy! Though it’s Yamato’s own fault as it is; they do all have meaning, in one way or another, but it’ll take way too long to get into all of them. A lot of them boil down to I thought they’d look great as it is, anyway.
Whatever; Yamato just reaches out and pats at Sakura’s own shoulder, the touch firm but not lasting (because he’ll be faster to smack’im away if it does). “Sorry, sorry, it’s just no biggie; don’t worry about it, eh? Isn’t it good enough that they’re interesting to look at?”
Sakura looks a little disbelieving—honestly kinda looks like he wants to smack Yamato, which he genuinely wouldn’t mind—but he only clicks his teeth and drops his gaze back down. Yamato let’s them go, bringing his own hand back behind his head so he can rest on it, as hesitant fingers start running over his skin again.
If Yamato closes his eyes and allows his mind to run wild, he could almost call the touch reverent.
(Maybe in the future, an optimistic part of him hopes. He has always been a romantic.)
“I like’em.” Sakura announces after a little while, making Yamato open his eyes to peer up at him. There’s that pretty red spread across his face as he says it, as his mismatched eyes duck and drop away from him.
“They suit ya, I mean. Make ya...make ya interestin’.”
And, by the gods, how Yamato’s heart could burst. He can’t tell Sakura that without risking flustering him too badly, though, so all he does is laugh—full-bellied and good-naturedly.
“Who knew Sakura-kun was so good at flirting~?” He teases, anyway, because he can’t resist everything he wants to do. “Colour me surprised that you’re inexperienced with romance, ‘cause that was just waaay too smooth~”
His laughter only gets louder, too, as Sakura does smack him on the arm this time, a cry of rejection coming outta him immediately. As hard as he hits aside—Yamato’s excited about the bruise that he’s sure to leave the apartment with!—he doesn’t so much as even get annoyed. How could he, when Sakura’s face is doing what Yamato loves about it best: Getting redder by the minute? Too cute, Sakura, you’re just too cute—!
Like this, Yamato thinks, his and Sakura’s future doesn’t have to be like their beginning.
Their future might even turn out alright.