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They’re not really dating, because that would require the kind of conversation that neither of them are willing to have. They’re simply 'something' to each other, that’s all. 'Something' is easy, 'something' is uncomplicated - despite how it sounds. They don’t need to put a label on it and muddy the waters and handcuff themselves to each other.
Though there is something to be said about Niragi and restraints.
So they might not be dating, but they’re certainly doing parts of a relationship - the hooking-up part of it especially - the rest they can get away with calling 'friendship'. Just platonic. The texting, the jokes, the invites and hang-outs just the two of them. All platonic, never mind what it all ends up leading to, no one else needed to know.
Karube’s got the night off, Niragi’s shift is over for the day, which means they have the night to themselves. No distractions, and hopefully no interruptions. Karube flicks his phone to 'do not disturb' just to be sure. Arisu has a godawful talent for texting or calling at just the wrong moment and Karube’s since learnt better.
He puts his phone away into his pocket and knocks.
When Niragi answers, Karube’s a little surprised. It’s not often that he sees Niragi so dressed-down. The guy usually looks so put together in his outfits, even when he’s off work; hair tidy, tight pants belted, button-up shirts - somewhat gaudy that they were, though Karube can’t much talk on that front, at least Niragi kept to the monochrome. Today though, Niragi’s dressed more casually. A tee, slightly too large and looking soft from frequent wear, and loose dark sweatpants that Karube can tell sit low on his thin hips from the way they hang. His hair is loose, slightly ruffled.
He’s wearing his glasses too. Karube’s gaze flicks across his face, the pink burns over one side and his damaged eye. He’d told Karube once that he’d been lucky to not go completely blind, but his eye has gone permanently cloudy, his once ink-dark iris now a pale bluish-grey. If Karube’s honest, he thinks it’s striking, it certainly doesn’t diminish how pretty he is.
Niragi’s got a glass in hand. Ice water, though from the bulge in his cheek, it seems like he’s more just eating the ice than drinking the water. He pulls the door wider open to let Karube inside.
“What took you so long?” Niragi grouses, crunching a cube between his teeth.
Impatient as ever, Karube thinks with a smirk as he swings the door closed behind him. He kicks his boots off, nudging them aside, messy beside Niragi’s neatly-lined-up shoes.
“Did we have an appointment that I’m late for?” he jokes, flashing a smile.
Niragi fixes him with a less-than-amused look. He takes a sip from his glass, sucking in another ice cube and pushing it into his cheek pocket. To anyone else, that narrowed-eyed glower might be slightly intimidating, but Karube finds it rather cute. The bulge in his cheek from the ice cube certainly doesn’t help the intimidation factor.
He shrugs his jacket off, hanging it up beside one of Niragi’s. He’s barely a step out of the entrance when a cool hand wraps around his wrist. Niragi’s put his cup aside and he drags Karube along towards his room. So, no preamble then, no will-they-won’t-they when they both know they will. Well, Karube’s not going to complain. Call him pent up, but he’s eager for some fun.
Niragi’s room is tidy like the rest of his apartment. Neatly decorated, matched dark woods for his bed frame and display shelf and bedside tables, expensive soft sheets and blankets on his bed, and all the little touches that Karube would tease are a little dorky but make it purely Niragi.
Karube’s own room looks like an utter mess in comparison, with mismatched furniture, most of it cheaper or secondhand, and his colourful choices in decor. It’s inarguably, maybe stereotypically, 'a guy’s room'.
As he’s dragged into the room, Karube reaches out, tracing his fingertips down the line of Niragi’s spine. He twitches slightly under the touch. Niragi drops his wrist, then twists to slide his hand up the side of Karube’s neck, yanking him into a fast kiss. Karube reaches out, his fingers curling into the soft fabric of Niragi’s shirt. Grinning, a small chuckle escapes him, muffled against Niragi’s lips.
“Your mouth is cold,” he mumbles.
Niragi says nothing and just kisses him again. His tongue presses and Karube can feel the ice-chilled ball of his piercing.
Karube’s hands shift, slipping under the hem of Niragi’s shirt, brushing at the waistband of his pants as he fits his grip over his hips. Niragi, his hand still on Karube’s neck, starts to move back towards the bed, pulling Karube along with him. They collapse onto the mattress, shuffling against the slightly-rumpled, slept-in sheets.
Straddling over Niragi, Karube keeps kissing him. Their mouths slot together, as natural and familiar as anything, but Karube can’t help but notice something seems off with Niragi. He can’t quite put his finger on it. It’s something in the way he’s so quiet, less handsy than usual. Karube is used to Niragi being more reactive, to grabbing hands and dragging nails and biting teeth, to moans in his ear and whines and his name murmured.
Now though, Niragi is quieter, his hands are lazy and more limp than grabby, just lying over Karube’s sides, flat against his back. There’s a slight twitch in his fingers. Karube can feel one of his hands curl into a fist, his slender fingers pushed into his palm, a slight shakiness in the tightness of his grip.
Karube tries to shake it off. Surely he’s overthinking it, getting too much in his head about it. Niragi’s probably just tired, he sure as hell works harder than Karube does and he doesn’t get nearly enough sleep from what Karube can tell. His hands slip down Niragi’s slim sides, sliding underneath his shirt and palming over him. He can feel the burn scars. Niragi twitches, his stomach dipping away from his touch.
Okay. Strange. But maybe it’s just his burns. He’s always been uncomfortable with people looking at them or touching them, maybe it’s just one of those days and Karube should avoid them as best he can. That’s no problem. He can do that, like he did when they first started hooking up.
Pulling his hands back, he leans his arms onto the mattress, his fingertips just brushing along the edges of him. Niragi’s non-fisted hand pulls at Karube’s shirt, fingers shakily curling into the fabric. Karube helps, breaking the kiss to shift back and pulls his shirt off, tossing it aside.
As Karube leans back into kiss over Niragi’s unscarred cheek and down over his jaw, Niragi’s flattens a hand against his side and Karube feels the familiar coolness but also a slight clamminess. Pressing kisses to the side of Niragi’s neck, Karube notices the tightness of Niragi’s jaw, his teeth clenched, a twitch in his lips. He pauses.
Okay, enough’s enough.
He pulls back, leaning over Niragi, a frown pulling down the corners of his mouth.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
Niragi looks up at him. He loosens his jaw and his tongue flicks across his lips quickly. His gaze shifts slightly away. His fingers twitch where they lay against Karube’s waist.
“I’m fine,” he replies dismissively, his tone clipped.
Karube’s frown deepens.
“You’re not. You’re … tense. Is something wrong?”
Had he done something? Did Niragi not want this anymore? If that was so, why had he called him around?
“What do you care? It’s not like we’re dating.”
And that stings Karube more than Niragi likely knows - and more than Karube’s willing to admit aloud.
Huffing a breath, Karube moves further back and slips off Niragi to sit on the open space on the bed. Niragi frowns, pushing onto his elbows, turning back to look at him. Avoiding his confused gaze, Karube glances around, finding where his shirt was hanging half-off the bed. He plucks it up and pulls it back off, fitting it back into place.
“What are you —” Niragi starts.
“Well I’m not going to fuck you if you’re going to be acting all weird and tense. If I wanted to screw someone so unresponsive, I’d get a sex doll,” Karube cuts him off, replying plainly, picking his necklace out of the neckline of his shirt. “If you didn’t want to hook up, you could’ve just said that, you know?”
Niragi’s mouth twitches, frowning.
“That’s not …” Niragi sighs, slumping back against the mattress. He looks towards the ceiling, and something flickers unreadably across his expression as he adjusts his glasses. Swallowing, he shoves his glasses up into his hairline and drags his hands over his face. His voice is quiet and tight when he continues, “It’s my fucking head. My brain still thinks I’m burning. I asked you to come over as a … distraction, I guess. Something to get my mind off it.”
Karube frowns. He leans his arms onto his legs.
“So it’s like … what? Phantom limb pain?” he asks.
Niragi snorts quietly, half a laugh.
“Phantom limb is for amputation. I’ve got … it’s neuropathic. Fucking nerve damage. Nobody tells you when you get hit by a meteor that you’re gonna end up still feeling like you’re burning for months after.” His hands tense and stretch, and he chews his bottom lip.
“Didn’t they give you anything for it?”
“Yeah, but I’m out. I need to go back to my doctor.”
Karube’s frown deepens again. Niragi works too hard, and at the cost of his own health so it seems.
“Does anything else help? Painkillers?”
Niragi shakes his head slightly, pauses, “Lidocaine cream helps a little.”
“You have any?”
Another head shake of 'no'.
“Used it all. It’s been …” Niragi’s hands twitch again, “Worse lately.”
Karube hums quietly. Okay. This wasn’t how he planned his night going, but it’s fine, he’ll just need to adjust on the fly.
“I don’t think you need a distraction, Niragi, I think you need a break,” he says finally. Niragi glances at him. “Have you taken any days off since going back to work?” The way Niragi’s eyes flick away tells him everything, so Karube doesn’t push further. “Are you hungry? Let me go pick something up, we can just hang out.”
Niragi massages his thumb across his burnt knuckles. It’s a mild comfort against the burning feeling. He sighs quietly, his mouth twisting. There’s a twitch across his expression, close to annoyance.
“You don’t have to look after me, Karube. I’m not some goddamn charity case.”
Somehow Karube knew he was going to say that.
“Clearly not,” he shoots back, “A charity case would be less difficult when offered help.”
He could just brush it off, say he doesn’t mind, argue that it’s no big deal, but none of it sounds right to say. To Karube, it just comes easily, it’s like taking care of Arisu and Chota whenever they’d get sick or overworked and weren’t taking care of themselves. But Niragi doesn’t like to be pitied or babied, and Karube knows that too.
“Let’s get curry,” he adds instead before Niragi can get a retort in.
Karube goes out to get dinner. As he waits for the meals to arrive, he leans back near the counter and pulls his phone out, tapping open a browser to search up ‘nerve damage’ and ‘neuropathic’. From what he quickly skim-reads, there’s not much he can really do to help Niragi. Most of it comes down to medication, nearly all stuff that would need a prescription. There’s some notes about relaxation and activity pacing, though Karube doubts he’d be able to convince Niragi to try meditation.
It starts to make sense though. There are days where Karube’s noticed Niragi’s a little sharper-edge, more quick to snap and lash out at the people around him for minor things he’d normally just roll his eyes at and shrug off, meaner than he’d usually be. He mentally kicks himself for not noticing Niragi was in pain earlier. Maybe there was nothing he could really do to help, but he could’ve been there for him, reacted with understanding and not just snapped back at him, giving back as mean as Niragi dealt out.
Since he’s unsure of what kinds of medications Niragi is on, but there’s warnings against alcohol, so Karube decides against beer for the night. It’s probably for the best anyway. He files it away in his head, realising he’ll have to remember it for nights when they hang out with the rest of the group. On his way back to Niragi’s, he swings into a convenience store, grabbing a couple bottles of green tea. From what he knows, it’s got some decent health properties. It might help, even if only a little.
Hooking the plastic bag straps into the crook of his elbow, he lets himself into Niragi’s apartment, nudging the door shut behind him with his heel. Again, he kicks his shoes off and shrugs off his jacket.
Walking through the apartment, he nabs some utensils from the kitchen then heads back to the lounge room where Niragi’s setting up a movie, remote in hand as he thumbs through titles. He’s taken up the glass of ice water again, a cube already sucked into the pocket of his burn-scarred cheek. Karube sets the bags down on the coffee table and dumps himself onto the couch, kicking his legs out as he gets comfortable.
He leans his head back on the couch, turning to look at Niragi.
“How you feeling?” he asks.
Niragi shrugs loosely, “It’s a flare up. Fucking hurts, but if I’m lucky, it’ll be over by tomorrow.”
“And if you’re unlucky?”
Niragi’s mouth twitches a little. Karube frowns. Not good then. How long could a flare up last if it didn’t fade after a few hours? Days? Weeks? He’d been lucky to get away with no lasting pains from his meteor injuries, just scars. Niragi clearly hadn’t been dealt the same hand.
Karube redirects himself, hoping to try and get Niragi’s mind off it. Touching him seems off the table now since he’d seemed so uncomfortable earlier, so Karube hopes this is good enough of a distraction. He sits up and starts to unpack the bags, sliding over Niragi’s meal, one of the sets of utensils, and one of the green tea bottles towards him.
“So what are we watching?” he asks.
“Zombie movie.”
Karube chuckles. Should’ve seen that coming. If he had to guess, Niragi’s choices usually came down to action, horror, or sci-fi; the real toss-up is if it’s going to be animated or not. Karube used to it. Between Niragi and Arisu, he’s watched all manner of stuff that wouldn’t be his usual pick. So long as it’s not too brainy, he can usually find enjoyment in any genre.
Niragi hits play then scoops up his curry, sitting back against the couch. In his periphery, Karube watches him shift, seeming slightly uncomfortable where his back touches the couch. He doesn’t have that many burns on his back, but there’s some that wrap over the side of his ribs and onto his shoulder blade, so Karube supposes it must be them that are aching.
They sit and eat, casually quiet, their eyes on the screen. Soon enough, the takeaway bowls go discarded on the table. Karube sips down the last of his tea, then twists the lid back on, setting it on the table and relaxing back into the couch cushions. He swings his arm up to lay on the back of the couch. If he stretched his fingers out just a little, he could reach Niragi’s shoulder. Even if it’s on his unburnt side, he still doesn’t touch him, just in case.
A zombie on the screen gets its head blown into an explosion of blood.
“Cool shotgun,” Karube muses, impressed, “This dude’s a pretty good shot for a shut-in manga artist.”
Niragi shifts across the couch, settling in closer to him. His legs are crossed up onto the couch, so his knee bumps against the side of Karube’s thigh. He rolls his mostly-empty tea bottle in his hands, rubbing the moulded plastic against his scarred palms.
“I bet I’d be a better shot than you,” Niragi asserts, challenging.
Karube smirks, chuckling.
“Maybe, but I bet I could kill more zombies than you.”
Niragi snorts.
“Bullshit. Me with a gun versus you with what? Your hands?”
“I’ll have you know Arisu thinks I could kill zombies with one punch,” he jokes.
Niragi rolls his eyes, “He would think that. Kiss-ass.”
The insult is unsurprising. Usually Karube would respond with an elbow in the side or quick swat for the rudeness, but with Niragi’s particular sensitivity tonight, he doesn’t want to risk hitting him somewhere it actually hurts. So instead, he shoots him a quick glare and brings his hand up off the couch, giving Niragi’s ear a tug, briefly thumbing at the helix piercing.
Niragi bats his hand away, but then leans into his side. He drops his head against Karube’s shoulder. Carefully, Karube shifts to loops his arm around him, letting his hand hang loosely, keeping a cautious eye to see if Niragi flinches or squirms. When he doesn’t, Karube relaxes a bit.
Niragi shuffles in a bit close, tucking against him. It hasn’t gone unnoticed by Karube that Niragi’s wearing his hair loose. Adjusting his arm, Karube lifts his hand and traces his fingers along the side of Niragi’s head, running through the long strands. It’s soft, and Karube can just make out the scent of Niragi’s shampoo. He must’ve showered before Karube came over.
For a moment, his mind wanders away. Had that been an attempt at trying to relieve the pain? Was the ice water also some kind of tactic? Trying to shock his senses? If he has no meds left over, he supposes Niragi’s been forced to try and find alternatives. He wonders if he’d found any success, but he doesn’t ask for fear of breaking Niragi’s distraction and pulling the pain back into the forefront.
There’s still about a half-hour left of the movie, but Karube feels Niragi start to sag against him. His head tilts, leaning more and more against Karube until his unburnt cheek is mushed against him. Karube can tell he’s starting to doze off, heavy blinking, his breathing slower. He continues to run his fingers through the side of Niragi’s hair. It’ll be easier to guide a sleepier Niragi into his bed, to keep him unaware of the dinner mess on the coffee table that he’ll insist on tidying before going to bed.
Karube lets a few more quiet minutes pass, curling a strand of long dark hair around his finger. When he’s sure Niragi is more asleep, he leans closer, his hand landing on his shoulder to gently shake him.
“Hey, it’s late, let’s go to bed,” he murmurs.
Niragi’s face scrunches, a wrinkle between his brows. His eyes flutter open, heavy-lidded and slow blinking. Before he can wake up too much, Karube helps him up from the couch, ushering him towards his bedroom door and away from the mess of the coffee table. Niragi rubs his fingers against the edge of the scar on his cheek, yawning quietly.
Karube’s been in Niragi’s room enough to know the layout, so he doesn’t flick on the main overhead light instead waiting until he’s stepped around to the side of the bed to click on the bedside table’s lamp. He pulls the covers back and guides Niragi into bed, laid on his unscarred side.
As he moves to straighten back up, Niragi’s hand brushes his wrist.
“Are you leaving?” Niragi asks quietly, his head lifting to meet Karube’s gaze.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be back soon, okay?”
Niragi nods shortly, relaxing back against the pillow, his eyes closing. Karube just looks at him for a moment. He’s got some colour back in his skin, less of that worrying pallor, though his eyes are still darkly under-circled. It looks like he’s in need of a good night’s sleep. Stepping quietly back, he clicks the lamp off and leaves the room, closing the door to a slivered gap.
After ruffling a hand through his hair, he gets to work.
It’s a little bit like cleaning up the bar at the end of the night. He clicks the television off, gathers all the rubbish from dinner into one of the plastic bags and tosses it out, quietly clinks the utensils into the kitchen sink, and wipes the coffee table down. Satisfied that it’s tidy enough to pass Niragi’s scrutiny, he goes to check that the door is locked, then starts to turn off the lights, casting the apartment into darkness.
As he makes his way back to Niragi’s room, he’s thankful for his more casual style of dressing. It’s easy to shuck his belt and jeans off and just sleep in his boxers and tee with no discomfort of buttons or tightness. He twists his ring off, unhooks the clasp of his chain bracelet, and stows both accessories away into his jeans pocket, setting them and his belt away as he climbs into the open side of the bed.
Niragi rolls over, then groans quietly.
“Switch sides with me,” he mumbles.
“What?”
Niragi grabs at his shirt, pulling at him, “Switch sides.”
Karube huffs a quiet laugh, but does as asked. He hops back up, rounding the bed to the other side as Niragi shuffles across the mattress. His eyes are still half-closed as he lifts the covers up for Karube to slide back into the bed. Karube lays back down. The spot is warm where Niragi had been laying. The bed smells like Niragi, his soap, his shampoo, his sweat. His gaze sets on Niragi’s dark silhouette, and he hears Niragi yawn.
Before Karube can say anything, a snappy teasing comment about one side of the bed being better than the other, Niragi reaches out and pushes at his shoulder, forcing him to roll over and face the other way from him. There’s a moment of confusion, but then Niragi tucks up against his back, throwing an arm over his waist. Karube understands then.
If he’d stayed on the other side of the bed, Niragi would’ve had to lay on his burnt side to cuddle up against him. If Karube was the big spoon, then he’d be putting pressure on the burns. This way, Niragi can decide what’s comfortable for him and move away if he gets uncomfortable.
Karube reaches his hand down to touch Niragi’s wrist, his fingers sliding over the curve of his wrist. Niragi’s hand flexes then flattens against Karube’s shirt, his fingers curling loosely into the fabric.
“Thank you for tonight,” Niragi murmurs, barely loud enough to be heard.
Karube smiles lightly. It’s rare to get a 'thank you' out of Niragi. His fingertips brush over the points of Niragi’s knuckles.
“Hey, anytime. You can just pay me back by buying me dinner next time.”
“Sounds like a date.”
Karube’s smile twitches wider.
“Well you said it, not me.”
Niragi shuffles in closer, Karube can feel his warm breath against his nape.
“Then just tell me when you’re free.”
Karube huffs a quiet laugh.
“When I’m free? You’re the one that always busy working.”
“Then I’ll pick, so you’d better not blow me off.”
“You tell me when and I’ll be there.”
Niragi hums, satisfied, then goes quiet as sleep starts to creep back in.
As Niragi falls asleep, Karube keeps running his fingers along his wrist and hand, lazily tracing patterns. He’s not really that tired, he’d been expecting to be worn out from sex, but that hadn’t happened. It hadn’t been a bad night though, he likes hanging out with Niragi. He still thinks Niragi and Arisu could really get along if they just hung out a bit more but he hasn’t had any success in that yet.
That’s something to think about as he tries to fall asleep, at least.
When Karube wakes up, he’s surprised to find himself alone.
Still sleepily blinking, he rolls over, his hand fumbling across to the other side of the bed, assuming Niragi had just rolled away from him. Instead, he finds nothing, his hand patting over the sheets. That side of the bed is cooler, as if no one’s been lying there for a while. His brows scrunch and he forces his eyes open, looking around. The bed’s empty. He’s definitely alone.
Sitting up, he rubs a hand over his face, yawning as he fully wakes up. He looks around the room. Niragi’s nowhere in sight. A frown pulls to his mouth. Swinging his legs off the mattress, he gets up and fixes the covers back into place.
Padding his way out of the room, he glances around, then his ear is met by a sound from the kitchen. Karube crosses the apartment to it, pausing in the doorway. A smile pulls to his mouth at what he finds.
Niragi’s cooking.
His hair is tied loosely back, gathered into a knotted bun at the nape of his neck. Karube remembers him once complaining that his hair had been burnt off by the meteor and it had been taking ages for it to regrow. It had left Karube wondering how long his hair used to be. He’s still dressed as he was the night before, comfortable and casual.
Seeming to notice he’s being watched, Niragi glances back over his shoulder, meeting Karube’s gaze.
“So you’re finally awake,” he muses in greeting, “You want a coffee?”
Karube’s smile pulls a little wider.
“Are you making me breakfast? You trying to woo me or something, Niragi?” he teases, stepping closer to squeeze a hand over Niragi’s hip.
Niragi rolls his eyes at the tone of his voice.
“It’s just breakfast, don’t go popping a boner over it.”
He turns and pushes two bowls into Karube’s hands; one with miso soup, the other with rice, a shiny yellow egg yolk sitting on the top and splashed with soy sauce. His stomach rumbles quietly. With that, Niragi shoos him out of the kitchen towards the small squared dining table. Karube chuckles, going to go sit down.
Niragi comes to join him a few minutes later, precariously balancing his own bowls on one hand, two mugs in his other. Karube is quick to take the mugs so Niragi can set his bowls down before he drops one. Niragi sits and Karube slides one of the mugs over to him before taking a sip of coffee. It’s hot and delicious, Niragi sure knows his coffee.
“Are you feeling any better this morning?” he asks, stabbing at the egg yolk with his chopsticks.
“Less like I’m burning, you mean?” Niragi replies, though his tone is more flat than scathing as he reaches for his mug. Karube shoots him a look, so he continues with a small shrug, “It’s not as bad as yesterday. Still not great but … it’s tolerable.”
“No way I can convince you take the day off, is there?”
Niragi smirks lightly, shaking his head, “No chance. I’ve got a lot of work to do. I’m already falling behind due to my hands.” Sipping his coffee, he notices a concerned frown downturn Karube’s mouth. “Don’t pull that face, I’ve got a doctor’s appointment next week for a check-up and a refill on my pills.”
“Are you going to be okay until then?” Karube asks, stirring the yolk and sauce through his rice.
“If I don’t have another flare up, sure.”
They fall quiet as they eat. It’s peaceful. The sunlight is soft and pale as it comes through the windows, the curtains pinned back. Niragi’s expression is soft and calm, shorter strands of his hair that have escaped his hair tie falling around his face. There’s a part of Karube’s that’s surprised to not have been woken up and shooed out of the apartment with Niragi insisting he needed to get to work. They spent nights together, but rarely mornings, rarely like this. It’s nice, Karube thinks.
Niragi kicks at Karube’s ankle under the table, then smirks when he jumps a little, broken from his thoughts.
“Send me your schedule. When’s your next day off?” he asks.
Karube blinks at him, a little confused, and Niragi huffs a short laugh.
“I’ve got a dinner I owe you, right?”
A grin flashes to Karube’s face. With the late hour and the sleepiness, he’d thought Niragi would’ve forgotten and had been willing to let it go, it’s not like he felt 'owed' for just hanging out - but he also wasn’t going to turn him down. A free meal and a night with Niragi? How could he decline?
“You name a time and place and I’ll be there. The bar’ll manage without me for a night,” he replies. Niragi kicks him under the table. “Hey! Ow.”
“Stop blowing off your job.”
“If I was going to get fired, it would’ve happened already.”
“Quit pushing your luck, you used up enough of your life’s worth not dying from that meteor.”
Karube rolls his eyes a little, amused.
“Fine, have it your way, I’ll text you later,” he responds.
“Good.”
Karube ends up in the kitchen once they’ve finished eating. He’s redressed in his clothes from yesterday and stands at the sink, washing up their dishes and cups and what Niragi had used to cook breakfast. With Niragi having cooked, it seems only fair that Karube do the clean up, especially since it’s clear he’s cut into Niragi’s usual routine and there’d been a brief moment of panic as he realised the time.
Now Niragi’s in his room, hurriedly getting ready for work.
As Karube’s setting the last bowl aside to dry and steps out of the kitchen, Niragi leaves his room, tying his hair back. There’s the typical Niragi aesthetic that Karube is used to. The patterned button-up and tight pants; his hair tidy and neat, not a strand out of place; he’s traded out his glasses for a contact lens in his undamaged eye. He gathers up his laptop and phone, stuffing the laptop into his bag that he hikes onto his shoulder and his phone into his pocket.
Karube shoves his feet into his boots before moving aside to let Niragi’s sit and pull his own shoes on. He grabs his jacket from the hook, putting it on, then palming over each of his pockets as he checks he’s got everything and not going to accidentally forget something in Niragi’s apartment.
Niragi seems to be running on some kind of autopilot. Fixing the collar of his shirt and a loose strand of hair as he checks himself in the entryway hanging mirror, pulling his bag on, his keys fitted into the palm of his hand. He’s got one hand on the door handle, the other reaching out to pull Karube into a quick kiss, all without seeming to realise the uncharacteristic domesticity of what he’s doing.
Karube just puffs a short laugh, ignoring the slight flutter in his chest, letting Niragi pull back and then usher him out the door. Still seeming to not realise what he’d done, Niragi closes and locks the door, tucking his keys into his pocket as he starts to head off, his pace quick.
“Don’t forget to text me,” he calls back to Karube as he leaves.
Karube just smiles, throwing up a hand to wave a goodbye as Niragi hurries away. As he starts making his own way downstairs to head home, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. Pulling it out, he swipes his thumb across the screen to unlock it, pulling up the new text. It’s from Arisu.
'i need a break from studying. are you free today?'
Well, he hasn’t got work until that night.
'sure. gimme a couple hours. meet up for lunch?'
Arisu quickly shoots him back a thumbs up. Smiling and tucking his phone back away, he rolls his head from side to side, exhaling as he starts walking down the street. That’s the new plan then, but before meeting up with Arisu, he’s got to get home and have a shower, and then check his schedule so he can text Niragi.
But with the sun warm in his face, it’s shaping up to be a nice day.