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The air in the classroom felt lighter that day, buzzing softly with the warmth of an early spring afternoon. Touya was leaning lazily against his desk, spinning a pencil between his fingers, his attention drifting between the teacher’s muffled lecture and the boy seated a few rows ahead of him—Tenko.
Tenko wasn’t doing anything particularly remarkable. He never did. Yet Touya found himself watching him more than he cared to admit. He liked the way Tenko furrowed his brows when concentrating, how his lips would press together slightly when he thought too hard, or how the sunlight kissed his silver hair like it had some special favor for him.
Then it happened. Tenko turned around, glancing nervously back at Touya. Their eyes met for a split second, and Tenko’s cheeks flushed, his gaze darting down like he was caught in the act of something forbidden. Touya smirked.
Cute.
After class ended, Touya lingered near the doorway, pretending to scroll through his phone. He didn’t miss the way Tenko hesitated by his desk, seemingly debating whether to come over or not. Eventually, Tenko steeled himself, clutching his notebook tightly as he walked up to Touya.
"What's up, bug?" Touya teased casually, leaning against the frame.
Tenko didn’t speak. Instead, he raised his hands. Slowly, I can do this, hesitantly, he signed something. Three small motions, each one deliberate and heartfelt.
Touya blinked. His smirk faltered.
“What was that?” he asked, the words half-laughing but entirely confused.
Tenko froze, the blood draining from his face. He didn’t respond. His hands lowered shakily before he spun on his heel and bolted out the door, leaving Touya standing there, more bewildered than he’d ever been in his life.
The memory of Tenko’s expression burned itself into Touya’s mind—those wide, shimmering eyes, the way his hands trembled just slightly. He had looked so vulnerable, so painfully sincere.
And Touya had no idea what it meant.
That night, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. The way Tenko’s lips quivered when he ran. The soft curve of his hands forming shapes that seemed to hang in the air.
“Ugh, this is driving me nuts,” Touya muttered, flipping open his laptop. He typed in, “basic sign language phrases,” his fingers clumsy with urgency.
As soon as he recognized the motions Tenko had made, his heart slammed against his ribcage. The three words stared back at him from the screen.
"I love you."
The entire night after discovering what Tenko’s hand signs meant, Touya couldn’t settle. His chest felt heavy, his mind replaying the scene over and over like a stuck tape.
He leaned back in his chair, staring at the dim light of his laptop screen. The phrase “I love you” in blocky text glared back at him, and he rubbed the back of his neck, his jaw tightening.
“That little brat,” Touya muttered, though his voice held no venom. If anything, it was soft, tinged with disbelief and… something else entirely.
He closed the laptop but didn’t move from his desk. His fingers tapped absently against the wooden surface as flashes of Tenko’s expression—those soft, nervous eyes, the blush painting his cheeks—kept surfacing in his mind.
And when Tenko ran, looking so hurt, so embarrassed, Touya’s heart twisted. How long had Tenko felt this way? How much courage had it taken him to confess, even in a way Touya might not have understood?
He groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “What the hell is wrong with me?”
The answer hit him hard. It wasn’t just guilt eating away at him; it was the realization that Tenko’s feelings weren’t one-sided.
I’m such an idiot.
The next morning, Touya woke up earlier than usual. He barely touched breakfast, his nerves twisting in ways they hadn’t in years. His usual swagger felt off-kilter, like he was walking on uneven ground, the image of Tenko’s trembling hands and flushed cheeks haunting him.
By lunchtime, he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to see Tenko. He searched everywhere—the classroom, the cafeteria, even the library—but it wasn’t until he reached the rooftop that he finally found him.
Tenko was curled up against the railing, his knees drawn to his chest, his face half-hidden by his arms. The sight hit Touya like a punch to the gut. Tenko looked so small, so fragile, like he’d been carrying a weight far too heavy for someone his size.
Without thinking, Touya walked over, his boots scuffing against the cement. He sat down beside Tenko, close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed but not so close as to startle him.
Tenko peeked up from his arms, his silver hair falling messily over his face. When he saw Touya, his lips parted in a tiny gasp, but he quickly looked away, his fingers fidgeting nervously in his lap.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The wind played with the edges of their clothes, carrying with it the distant sounds of students laughing somewhere below.
“Hey,” Touya said finally, his voice soft but steady.
Tenko didn’t respond. He didn’t have his hearing aids on, but Touya knew that wasn’t the only reason.
“You wanna show me what you did yesterday?” Touya asked, nudging Tenko’s knee lightly with his own. “That thing with your hands?”
Tenko froze. His shoulders tensed, and he looked away further, his cheeks turning pink. He shook his head quickly, pulling his knees tighter against his chest.
“C’mon,” Touya coaxed, his tone almost teasing. “Just once. For me.”
Tenko hesitated, his fingers twitching slightly, but eventually, he peeked at Touya from behind his hair. His expression was shy, almost timid, but there was a glimmer of something else in his eyes—something hopeful.
With visible reluctance, Tenko raised his hands and slowly repeated the motions:
"I. Love. You."
The world seemed to stop. Touya’s breath hitched, and his chest tightened so much it physically hurt. Seeing those words again, this time knowing their full meaning, made his heart stumble over itself.
Tenko’s hands trembled slightly as he finished the motion, and he quickly dropped them, his face turning bright red. He didn’t run this time, but he did curl up further, as though trying to make himself smaller.
“Oh,” Touya whispered, his voice barely audible.
Tenko’s lips wobbled, and for a terrifying moment, Touya thought he might cry. Instead, Tenko mumbled something under his breath—probably an apology—but Touya couldn’t hear it.
He didn’t need to.
Before Tenko could retreat any further, Touya reached out, his hand warm and firm as it gently grabbed Tenko’s. Tenko froze, his wide eyes snapping up to meet Touya’s.
Touya didn’t say anything at first. He simply laced their fingers together, holding Tenko’s hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Then, with his free hand, he raised it clumsily and mirrored the same motions Tenko had shown him.
"I. Love. You. Too."
Tenko’s mouth fell open in shock. His red eyes shimmered, his lips parting as if to say something, but no sound came out.
Touya chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “Baby,” he said, his tone full of affection, “you don’t have to run away from me, you know?”
Tenko’s face turned a brilliant shade of pink. He ducked his head, his bangs falling over his eyes, but the small, shy smile that curled his lips was impossible to miss.
Without thinking, he leaned forward, resting his forehead against Touya’s shoulder.
Touya felt his heart melt. He wrapped an arm around Tenko, pulling him closer until their bodies were pressed together. “That’s my boy,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Tenko’s head.
Beneath the warm spring sun, the two of them stayed there, cocooned in each other’s presence, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.