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He hates the cold.
No, he loathes it like one does their archnemesis. At this point the weather might as well be. The whole season really.
It bites at the marrow of his bones and makes him feel brittle. His movements slow and stiff as if they could crack and fall apart under too much force. The weather makes him feel more tired than ever with exhaustion settling heavily around him, as if a blanket which is frankly ironic. The frigid air howling into his ears from the sheer speed of the wind makes him shudder. All of it –and he means all – is infuriating. At once at the sight of the burden on his body, he grumbles loudly to himself and furrows his brows. Perhaps it's a showcase of the amount of loathing he holds for it that his eyes appear to be shadowed over. It would please him more than realistically knowing that the sun is simply setting, another thing to dislike as it steals all remaining warmth. As if his mere dissatisfaction by deepening the crease in his forehead would dissuade the stormy wind from its, well duh, stormy weather or at least ease the chills. He doesn't care one bit.
No use, as in the next moment there is a familiar tingle in his nose and before he can suppress it he lets out a sneeze.
“Freaking cold.” Sakura says with a sniff, his mood growing even more sour.
There is a temptation to throw a middle finger up in the air if that didn't mean that Kotoha would run outside her café and tear him into one. And drag him by the ear. Sakura really likes his ears to stay unharmed. He settles on glaring up at the sky instead and swearing up a storm –hah – inside his mind.
It is then that an arm sneaks over his shoulder and presses against his neck. The contact of freezing cold on his exposed skin sends a bolt of lightning down his spine. Immediately he screeches in defiance, yet can't help the automatic response of his whole body shaking violently and crumbling slightly into himself. He is crouched when he becomes aware again, blinking away the surprise with his head more awake than ever now and shifts his glance slowly upwards. Of course, who else.
“Suo!” Sakura grumbles threateningly, although that attempt is futile with the display the other just witnessed.
At the sight of Sakura’s squinted eyes and his snarling mouth, Suo is reminded of a bristling kitten that has been startled. It is an utterly amusing comparison in his imagination and comes close to what he actually witnessed. It covers him in a sense of security and like an itch it urges him further on to tease poor Sakura.
It's just so easy.
Suo’s mouth twitches into that familiar thin lipped there-but-not-really smile that is hidden enough that he can still deny any claims of his taunts. Too often has it been dubbed the mischievous fox smile. To tip the scale further he scrunches his eye shut and tilts his head in that particular angle that gives people a slight uncanny valley effect.
Sakura bites back any further words that lay heavy on his tongue and after heat crawls up his cheeks, he furiously claps them with his hands and snaps back up to full height. Straightening his back he avoids any possible eye contact with Suo and sets into motion. There is a low chuckle from behind as Suo has opened his eye once more and watches on how Sakura appears stiff as a board. At the sound Sakura scoffs and picks up his speed, although the rigidity remains consistent in his body. This time around it is not the weather's fault. Casually Suo puts his arms behind his head and with a far more leisurely pace he saunters after his friend without a care.
Once in a while Sakura will throw a look over his shoulder only to appear more and more frustrated whenever he is greeted with the sheer innocent smile of Suo, Sakura walking faster to escape with limitations because of his situation and yet Suo keeping easy pace with him. The cycle of that repeats with Suo never tiring – physically but also his mirth.
In the end his temper gets the best of Sakura as it flares up inside his chest. Bracing the relentless storm the fire is rather temporary, but not for the reason one thinks.
Sakura suddenly spins around in his heels and throws a middle finger in the direction of Suo as if it's the greatest insult perceivable. Though it actually does Suo throw off, merely because it's so laughable and comes as a surprise. He had already wondered how much longer Sakura would last. Briefly there is a triumphant glee in Sakura's eyes when he recognises it in Suo too. They soften his features that have twisted into a furious grimace just for his eyes to widen in horror.
“SAKURA!” Bellows the voice of Kotoha down the street.
The spilling of groceries on the cobblestone ground and the rapid sound of approaching footsteps fill Sakura's ears. There is the faint sound of Hiragi that calls after her as he tries to rescue the left behind food. Kotoha shows no care for it, instead her eyes are determined while locking gazes with Sakura and starting into a full-on sprint.
Like a bloodhound finding its prey, she sniffed Sakura out.
With a gaping mouth Sakura searches for help in Suo, but the boy shrugs his shoulders and wisely steps out of Kotoha's way before she can run him over in her fury. Sakura squints his eyes at Suo and if he could he would send him more rude hand gestures, but he's in deep enough shit already as it is. The betrayed look does not even earn an apologetic smile or make that traitor wince. With a gasp he snaps out of his frozen trance and Sakura moves to escape after realising just how close Kotoha has come, however he is too late and Kotoha's hand suddenly takes grasp of the back of his hoodie. Not prepared for the dirty move and him having had gone into top speed, he gags at the pressure around his throat and all air leaves his lungs. It is enough to make him stumble. Despite his wheezing then he gets mercilessly pulled back until face to face with Kotoha.
Oh, he is so dead.
“Wait, wait, Suo is-” Sakura hastily says while pointing at his friend who-
Wait a minute…
Is he seriously trying to be slick and leave?!
Kotoha doesn't even concern herself with Suo as she tightens her grip on Sakura and pulls him down on eye level. Automatically an embarrassing squeak passes his lips, but thankfully Suo sneaking away brings one good thing with it. With a scrunched up nose Kotoha forcefully taps against Sakura’s chest to bring his attention back to her.
“Now, listen here you little shit. And you better listen good.” Kotoha says deliberately slow, the anger seething behind her eyes and as if to emphasize her words she takes hold of one of his ears.
“Kotoha, no-” Sakura whines, uncaring how pathetic he might sound if only so his ear doesn't feel sore later.
Not even listening to him as she can't be bothered, she rudely interrupts Sakura with a booming:” Kotoha, yes!”
Helpless to her wrath he winces.
And then…her whole spiel begins.
Down the street Hiragi stands with multiple bags of groceries in his hands, sighing deeply and staring up at the sky. He shakes his head in sympathy as Kotoha’s voice grows in volume and unconsciously must yank at his ears, guessing from the complaints the boy lets out. Slowly he closes his eyes and thinks back to when he had been the victim of her tantrums, although not as much as Umemiya was –something about stupidity really does it, this is a self callout too – and he debates how many pills he has left to warden off his stomach issues.
The begging of Sakura and apologies unheard to Kotoha's ears travel down with the wind towards Hiragi.
He tenses up and shifts in place, the bags weighing heavier than before in his grip. Once more he sighs. This time around in defeat. Hiragi sets down the shopping bags as he settles for a long berate happening in front of his eyes and slips a hand into his pockets. There he finds the familiar case of his pills already tempting him, the urge ever growing as his stomach begins to uncomfortably twist when the two keep on going. Despite his best attempt to blend them out there is no use to it. Hiragi runs a hand through his hair in an attempt to soothe his nerves even when he knows better than that.
Just like he knows he shouldn't take the pills so regularly, harmless as they might seem. They are such an easy solution, such a quick fix. He could be done with it now and they would ease his burden. Albeit they can't dampen the noise in his rapid thoughts, they at least make it more bearable. But at times he wonders if it's too easy and if all the pills just lead him down a road of being too susceptible to medication.
It always starts with something harmless doesn't it? And then before you know it…
The case crinkles in protest under the strength of his grip. Immediately he opens his fist to assess the damage, but it's too late and the pills spill out from the plastic package. His heartbeat speeds up as he realises how many are left and he swallows heavily. Hiragi throws his head back to distract himself from the truth which is practically glaring him down. It takes all his willpower to carelessly shove the few remaining pills back into his pocket without giving in to the urge.
Better to visit the pharmacy again it seems.
Unaware he groans in tune with Sakura at that moment.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Sakura is beyond feeling cold now.
He itches all over from skin that went past prickling caused by the cold and now an annoyance, with the soreness –not only the ears – in his body leaving him scrubbed raw from top to bottom. With stilted, tense legs he kicks off his shoes and doesn't look back towards where they land. Later on he will regret that as he hollers down the hallway into what black hole his shoes have vanished into this time around. And instead of helping by coming into the hallway too to have a second pair of eyes the same way the call would be answered until the tension built up between them.
In a way he yearns for that tension now. Maybe that's why he does it on purpose, he knows he does. There is a fluttering in his stomach from the expectation. His imagination is running wild already. To have the cord between the two snap. He wants to be pushed against the wall and have that body towering over him as he ravishes Sakura. To feel Sugishita so all encompassing all around him. In him. Let his whole world only revolve around Sugishita and force him to only see Sakura. Far too often Sugishita didn't pay him enough attention.
It's Sugishita's own fault for indulging Sakura after he was taught that he only deserves the best.
Now he's turned into a selfish brat as he likes to call him.
Sometimes people assume the term is too harsh. Too much of an insult. They say that Sugishita should be softer on him. Be more loving. During these talks Sakura will play the poor, doomed lover when Sugishita is close by just to let the tension rise. Bystanders will pity him and offer advice, all the while he will cover up a smile only Sugishita can see. Little do they know how Sugishita groans it into his ear when he's pushing into Sakura from behind or how he whispers it like devotion afterwards when he thinks Sakura to be asleep already. He never quite is. Always so needy for more not much later, yet Sugishita hasn't called him out on the obvious play for now. The way he moans around the syllables as Sakura pleases him with his mouth is all worth it.
Sakura would never want anyone else to hear that. He's selfish like that. It's only meant for his ears, all his. So, let them talk and wonder why they are still together. He will not let them know. Will not divulge his greatest treasure. Although this is not something he will ever admit out loud just like it's the case for many other phrases.
How the words ‘I love you’ have been replaced by the word in their own secret code.
As Sakura makes his way to the stairs he walks past the living room, waving distractedly at Sugishita's grandparents and pulling up the edge of his hoodie to hide his face when Kumiko gives one of her sunny smiles. Shintaro in that moment peaks over the newspaper he's been reading with skewed glasses on his face, momentarily blinking as he watches Sakura grow red as a tomato and lets out a low chuckle. There is a knowing twinkle in those eyes, although Sakura does not why that is the case.
“Come, Sakura-chan,” Kumiko starts excitedly at his presence and motions with her hand. “You are right on time. I baked a pie today for the occasion. It's your favourite.”
Sakura awkwardly coughs into his elbow as he is assaulted with the overflowing love from Kumiko and something he frankly still needs to come to terms with. She is the opposite of cold and as much as Sakura should love that, it also scares him so badly. It is still bizarre for him how readily they accepted him as if the place at the table is one that always belonged to him. Using terms of endearment instead of throwing insults, listening to the words he says without even meaning to and keeping them locked away in their minds to later on give him something he lacked in his earlier life. Noticing how Sakura grows restless and overwhelmed –the twitching of fingers, the shifting of feet in place as if ready to bolt down the hallway any minute now– from the attention, Shintaro puts the newspaper down on the table and clicks his tongue.
“Every day is an occasion it seems.”
Shintaro quips and cracks a smile as he shrugs his shoulders when Kumiko sends him a venomous glare. Exaggerating his groan he twists his smile into one of pain and puts a hand over his heart. Too used to the dramatics of her husband she merely rolls her eyes.
“I don't see you complaining about that whenever I make them.” She retorts with a raised eyebrow.
With a played up serious face that don't match his smile lines, Shintaro nods and says in a no-nonsense tone:“ Of course, how could I refuse the food my dedicated and talented wife gives me? Only a fool would do that.”
Pointedly Kumiko stares at his belly before looking back up into his eyes. There is a twitching of her mouth as if she's fighting back the urge to break out into laughter before schooling her face back into seriousness. With a rag still in hand she puts them on her hips and taps her food on the floor.
She ribs back at him as she sasses Shintaro:“ Oh I see that, dear. My eyes aren't bad yet.”
As this whole bit plays out in front of his eyes and with their attention elsewhere, Sakura takes advantage of the diversion and after some back and forth he strides up the stairs. Down the hall, then a turn left and then he stands in front of the partially open door. It is so ingrained into him by now that he would find his way blindly. He is driven by instinct. Always something inside him needing to be at Sugishita's side to quell this desire inside himself.
But today, the urge Sakura comes with isn't of the usual nature.
He doesn't need the pleasure.
He needs to feel warmth. To thaw open until his heart will beat again, spill out over the bed Sugishita is laying on. Let it pour and pour and-...
(You get the gist. )
Sakura needs to be held in those big, strong arms. The same ones he once foolishly feared, but he masked by throwing temper tantrums and starting fights. Someone so effortlessly strong and tall. He used to be envious and it only fueled the desperation inside him. It took a long while, but he learned and with it he discovered that something deep inside just wanted to be protected.
Sugishita…oh, Sugishita. Once past the tough exterior it's so clear to see. He offers his heart so freely, all of him. He yearns, he loves and most importantly he offers shelter from the cold.
Sakura is still anxious about affection –maybe it will never come freely to him, not the ease of which Nirei or Umemiya holds– and he second guesses himself a lot, yet it is that knowing of a part Sugishita only shows towards him that makes him more confident than with anyone else.
He is barely aware of crossing the threshold without bothering to knock. Sakura knows he laughs lightly when Sugishita startles from his dozing when he suddenly stands next to the bed. It is one of the rare moments when Sugishita's hair is out of its usual ponytail and the strands flowing freely over the pillow. His boyfriend –his – is in an oversized hoodie, which is actually a matching pair to Sakura's that he is currently wearing. For a moment he thinks back to that look in Shintaro’s eyes he had and his cheeks redden from knowing that the adults were aware and found it…adorable?
Unaware of that dilemma, Sugishita in his usual manner roughly complains:“ Oi, what- hey you brat!”
Not able to stand that thought and needing to hide immediately, Sakura does the next best thing he can. He dives down onto the bed however, with the covers being under Sugishita's and the weight too great there is only one option left. Striking fast before the other can wriggle out under Sakura’s grip, he lifts up the hems of the hoodie and as gracefully as possible he slithers under it. Even with the bigger than normal size this turns out to be quite the difficult achievement however. He wriggles and rubs against Sugishita, which earns him guttural groans and grunts that he only hears in their most intimate moments. With a goal in mind he does not pay attention to that though until at last he is high enough to lay his head in the crook of Sugishita’s neck. Only his hair sticks out of the fabric and his eyes peaking up. Not quite content enough yet his legs wrap around the waist to the best of his abilities with their position. Thighs rub against the muscle mass of Sugishita's abs and they flutter under his skin. Simultaneously his hands glide effortlessly over the heated skin down Sugishita’s side and then to that patch of hair at the belly –a path he's grown accustomed to.
“Ugh, Sakura, you are ice cold!”
He presses his lips over Sugishita's heart, partly an apology and partly to suppress the laughter in the back of his throat. Whenever Sakura teases Sugishita in this manner it is like Suo has taken over the reins. Sugishita curses slightly as the continuous wandering of the icy hands sends bolts of lightning down his spine. With every new touch and kiss the skin ripples under Sakura. Screwing his eyes tightly shut Sugishita needs to breathe deeply through his nose to keep a sense of control over himself. Unconsciously his arms have hovered for a while now at his side as he is indecisive on how to hold Sakura. Were he not under the hoodie and out of reach he'd lay them on that snatched waist and press them more firmly against one another. Just at the thought of feeling those hips under his hands he groans.
“You brat.” Sugishita grinds through his teeth and one of his arms falls over his eyes. “You are so merciless.”
The other spreads out over the fabric and it soon enough turns out that it isn't quite good enough of a cover for Sakura. Turns out he's still susceptible to touch. Sugishita grins the moment his hand finds that arch of Sakura's bottom and with Sakura practically blind and none the wiser he can do nothing to stop Sugishita. Taking a good hold he squeezes. The reaction is instantaneous. Though not quite the one he expects. Yes, Sakura lets out a surprised mewl at the sudden pressure on his behind –instinctively pressing into the touch– before the vexation fully sets in after the brief pleasure and he retaliates. There is little glee that Sugishita can hold onto over the reaction when the hands that have been dangerous for him previously already, now ghost over his most vulnerable parts and his body begins to tingle. The scrape of blunt nails set his nerve endings on fire before he can help it. His sides spasm, the air gets pressed out of his lungs and he is practically thrashing in the way that the laughter wrecks his body.
Still, the hold on Sakura to keep him securely on his chest despite the tickling attack never falters.
It feels like an eternity of to