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A strange, very strange feeling overcame the poor upperclassman during his math exam.
Tsukasa was genuinely trying to focus, but his thoughts had refused to cooperate since morning. First, he’d mused about dinner plans, then grudgingly solved a few problems before drifting off again—this time about an upcoming show. After forcing himself back to the equations… now utterly bizarre ideas invaded his mind.
All examinees had been seated in one classroom, and damn whoever placed Rui directly in front of Tsukasa. To his own bewilderment, the class rep found himself fixated on his friend’s back. Probably boredom and lack of concentration—no other logical explanation came to mind—but he suddenly wanted to poke Rui, tug at his hair like he was some grade-school girl. He craved attention, conversation. This urge to touch him, to make him turn around, grew stronger each minute. His second answer sheet remained blank as Tsukasa clenched his pencil aggressively. He began imagining tickling Rui’s back, making him arch and giggle in that familiar way, then turn and—for some reason—pull Tsukasa into a hug. And Tsukasa thought… that would feel incredibly warm. Calm. Nice. Maybe pulling an all-nighter to cram formulas hadn’t been wise.
The pencil snapped, too loud for the silent room, severing his thoughts. Dozens of heads turned toward him, including Rui’s—amber eyes glinting with amusement. Ignoring everyone else, Tsukasa met his gaze: briefly puzzled, then blooming with that trademark teasing spark. The audacious chuckle he’d been mentally replaying now rang in his ears. The moment passed, leaving only that violet nape in view again. His heart fluttered oddly at even that scrap of attention.
Damn, pull yourself together.
Tsukasa ruffled his already wild hair, pinched his forearm, and tried refocusing on things far more important than Rui’s back. The questions slowly made sense, but he still understood nothing. Who knew how much time remained? Fine. Reread the prompt. Underline key points. Recall the formulas—
A crumpled paper ball landed on his desk. Tsukasa glanced around but caught no one slacking off.
"Stuck on which problem? :3"
The silly face at the end felt taunting. Sender identified. Shooting a fleeting look forward, Tsukasa scribbled back:
"All of them. Only solved 1, 3, 5, 6, and 8—and even those might be wrong :("
He tapped the eraser-end of his broken pencil against the desk. Rui’s hand slipped back discreetly, fingers twitching. Had he already finished? How humiliating. Swallowing his pride for his transcript, Tsukasa passed the note.
He watched Rui’s head tilt as he read. Was he amused? Disappointed? Smug? His shoulders didn’t shake like they usually did when laughing. The scratch of graphite followed—Rui was writing. Forever.
Finally, a neatly folded sheet appeared:
"Poor Tsukasa-kun, did all-night studying leave you sleep-deprived? ~
2) z = 2t + 1
2t = z -1
t = 0.5z -0.5
z min = 0 + 1= 1
z max = 2 + 1 = 3
F (x) =P(z<x)
...."
---
Tsukasa left the classroom humming, utterly confident in his score. May whoever seated Rui in front of him have a fantastic week!
His academic savior was already in the hallway, discussing the exam with classmates, looking insufferably smart as usual. Spotting Tsukasa, Rui immediately called out:
“Well, Tsukasa-kun? Quite the challenging test, no?” That mocking lilt again. Whatever. The week had been awful, and failing math would’ve crushed Tsukasa’s morale till semester’s end—Rui had no idea how huge a favor he’d done. Too elated to care about teasing, Tsukasa nearly lunged for a hug. Hell, he wanted to. But he had an image to maintain. The class rep couldn’t embarrass himself in public—especially not in front of other classes.
“It was difficult, but I believe I succeeded!” Tsukasa declared, avoiding Rui’s grin. "Not that I’d ever doubt you.” Obviously.
He’d thank him properly tomorrow—with a homemade bento, no vegetables.
---
After that day, the strange thoughts— always about Rui—came more frequently.
During the junior class’s cultural festival performance, Rui sat before him again. The concert was dull as ever, but Tsukasa had rallied their class to attend. Now, though, he barely noticed the stage. His gaze stuck to Rui’s neck—longer than he’d realized—and the faint moles under vibrant hair. Two, four… six. He nearly reached to count them, leaning closer before stopping himself. They weren’t even that close, but Tsukasa caught a whiff of apple candy—sweet, nostalgic, like childhood summers. He wanted to bury his nose in that soft skin, those strands, and—
“Tsukasa?” Emu’s voice sliced through his daze.
“Huh? Yeah…?”
“You’ve been spacing out. Staring forever.”
He flushed. “I—just had an idea! Imagine if they tweaked the choreography—”
“You weren’t even watching!” Emu cackled, then hushed under a teacher’s glare.
“I agree with Tsukasa,” Rui interjected, making him jolt. “Better crowd interaction would’ve helped.”
Tsukasa hummed sagely—See?—but his skin prickled under a certain stare.
---
This was becoming too abnormal.
Just Rui’s voice, his smirks, made Tsukasa smile. Over weeks, he’d cataloged his friend’s quirks: beauty marks, how his hair stuck up differently each day, perpetually rolled-up sleeves, loose tie. He’d memorized Rui’s knuckle-cracking, how his Adam’s apple bobbed when nervous… or laughing too hard.
And somehow, these details suddenly mattered. The urge to touch his hair, fingers, neck grew. The craving for hugs doubled. Tsukasa couldn’t recall their last embrace—maybe after that train conversation a year (or a month?) ago. An eternity either way. He was starving.
He’d always known touch stabilized him—hugs from his sister or female friends helped. But this hunger, specifically for Rui’s touch, was maddening. He’d brush against him “accidentally,” invent excuses (“You’ve got a feather…”), but it wasn’t enough. Deep talks required time and energy he lacked.
A dead end. With girls, it was easy—they initiated. But with a guy? Tsukasa was sure his odd behavior hadn’t gone unnoticed. Maybe start hugging him casually, like with the girls? No, too weird at school. Though why couldn’t close friends do that?
Still, it felt… shameful.
He spent weeks agonizing, even considered asking Nene for advice. Once, when Rui turned away, Tsukasa’s face twisted so pathetically she noticed—her raised brows mixing surprise and distaste. Had she guessed? But a star shouldn’t need help! Asking felt too embarrassing.
---
Then Rui fell sick, vanishing for two weeks. Tsukasa thought he’d die.
Gloomy and listless, he barely functioned. They texted occasionally, but it didn’t help. He missed Rui viscerally—conversations with Nene, An, or Mizuki felt hollow. With Rui, everything was different. Special. He finally admitted it: their bond was irreplaceable. With Rui, he shed the “perfect class rep” act. With Rui, he talked about himself. With Rui, he was happy even without touch.
But with it? Better.
These epiphanies struck during lunch with Nene and An. He nearly howled, itching to sprint home and hug Rui, hear his laughter. I can’t take this anymore. The bell rang; Tsukasa, usually chatty, stayed silent. The girls exchanged worried glances.
Nene approached him later, but he brushed her off: “Just a rough patch.” Strangely, the thought she knew soothed him.
---
Days passed. Tsukasa trudged to school, apathetic. Rehearsals without Rui felt pointless, classes dull, work endless. Texts from Rui were his only lifeline.
Ding. The name haunting his thoughts lit up his screen.
“Tsukasa-kun, running late? On a Monday?”
“What? How’d you know?”
“Just got discharged. I’m here, but you’re not :(”
Discharged! Tsukasa’s face lit up. His dread vanished.
“On my way! 🏃♂️”
Spotting violet hair in the crowd, Tsukasa yelled Rui’s name—decorum be damned.
Rui turned, feigning confusion like some shoujo protagonist. Time froze. Heart, body, mind—everything stalled as Tsukasa realized how much he’d missed that stupid face.
Ditching all restraint, he barreled through the crowd and tackled Rui. Too enthusiastically, he hooked an arm around his neck, dragging him down to ruffle his hair—like Kaito or his dad would.
Rui yelped. “Tsukasa!—Ow!—Good to see you too—Let go—Please—”
“No way. School’s boring without you. Rehearsals lack your ideas.”
Rui finally wriggled free, but his smile reached his eyes. Warmth. Tsukasa exhaled shakily.
“Tsukasa-kun, did you miss me that much?”
They stared. Tsukasa surrendered, grabbing Rui’s waist, pulling him close—friendly-like.
“Of course!..”
Apple candy enveloped him. He buried his face in Rui’s chest, grip tightening. God, this is heaven. He’d stay forever…
Rui exhaled roughly. “I missed you too… but you’re crushing me.”
Tsukasa loosened slightly but didn’t detach. Rui’s hands—long, strong—settled on his shoulders, fingertips cold through his shirt. Tsukasa melted.
The bell rang. Students scattered. Tsukasa didn’t move. Neither did Rui—if anything, his hold tightened. Not enough. Not enough.
Rui nudged him away, blinking at Tsukasa’s flushed, dazed expression. Adorable… and unlike him. Tsukasa’s half-lidded eyes, crumpled cardigan, and clingy fingers screamed need.
Not enough.
Rui’s panic flashed. Cheeks reddened. Tsukasa jolted—God, I look desperate. He stepped back, shaking his head.
“Sorry! Just—missed you. Hugs are warm, like blankets, and I’m sleep-deprived.”
Rui’s voice wavered. “S’okay. I get it.” His smirk faltered.
Tsukasa frowned. “You sure you’re recovered? You’re flushed, warm, hands icy, voice weird.”
Amber eyes darted. “Fine! Just surprised. We’re late.”
As Rui turned, Tsukasa grabbed his wrist. “Wait. Let’s stay. I’ve got Japanese first—new concepts to discuss.”
Rui laughed nervously. “Since when do you skip?”
“I’ll say I got nauseous. You too—I’ll cover you.”
His grip tightened. Rui hesitated, then peeked through his lashes—a look Tsukasa had never seen.
“Honestly? I’d love that.”
---
Contact grew, but the hunger worsened. Tsukasa knew there was no going back. Rui never pushed him away—sometimes even initiated. It thrilled him (not like that—just more). More talks, more hugs. Then… kisses.
Once the idea struck, it consumed him. Tsukasa hid his burning face each time. The worst was thinking it around Rui.
The first time: post-show, holding hands for bows. Rui’s amber eyes glittered under stage lights, lips glistening as he licked them, breathless. Tsukasa tore his gaze away, panicking.
Everywhere—school, streets, rehearsals—he caught himself staring. Rui’s neck mole, his fingers, his lips. Shameful.
One evening on Kamiyama’s roof, Rui paused mid-sentence about candy balloons, tweaking Tsukasa’s burning ear.
“You’re distracted. What’s so fascinating about me lately?”
Ice water dumped over Tsukasa. He stiffened. Rui just smiled.
“Scared? You’re funny these days.”
Tsukasa looked down. “Laugh all you want. I’ve been losing my mind for months."
Silence. To speak or not? Suffer forever or regret lost friendship?
Rui leaned closer, cupping Tsukasa’s face. His thumbs brushed Tsukasa’s cheeks, tucking a strand behind his ear.
“You’re adorable. I can’t take this. Forgive me.”
Before Tsukasa processed it, Rui’s lips were on his—soft, fleeting. Tsukasa gripped his shoulders, stunned. He was supposed to initiate!
Rui pulled back, terrified. “You hated it? I’m sorry—I thought—God, I’m stupid—Don’t leave—”
“Rui…”
Tsukasa surged forward, kissing him—chaste, then hungry, yanking him closer. Rui gasped, fingers tangling in blond hair. Tsukasa broke away to pepper kisses everywhere—cheeks, nose, forehead, neck moles (finally). Quick, desperate. His hand pinned Rui’s waist, the other braced against the rooftop. No escape.
Rui giggled into the kiss. Tsukasa smiled too—they must look ridiculous.
Nuzzling Rui’s neck, legs tangled, Tsukasa muttered: “I’ll devour you someday. Quit those apple perfumes.”
“Never.”
They smiled, soft and tender, pouring every unspoken feeling into one last kiss.
Someday, they’d find the words.