Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Why the fuck do I have to study now?”

Akito’s voice echoed a little too loudly in the dorm room. He flopped backward onto the rug, one arm over his eyes, the other still loosely clutching a mechanical pencil—one he was using just to fidget with for the past half hour.

Toya, sitting cross-legged across from him, didn’t even look up at first. He was carefully lining up his notes, textbook, and tablet in a way that suggested he’d done this ritual a thousand times already. “Because finals are in about a week, more or less.” he said calmly. “And you said you didn’t want to pull an all-nighter again.”

“I say a lot of things,” Akito muttered. “Doesn’t mean they should be used against me.”

Toya finally glanced up, lips twitching faintly. “You were very convincing.”

The room was small but lived-in, the kind of dorm room that had stopped feeling temporary sometime around mid-semester. Two desks pushed against opposite walls, beds an interesting contrast of neatly made (despite having many plushies co-occupying the bed) and an utter mess, laundry basket in the corner that Akito swore he’d deal with tomorrow. They’d cleared the center space just enough to sit on the rug together, textbooks and loose papers spread out in a messy circle between them.

At first, studying together had been more about proximity than productivity. They’d each brought their own work—Akito with his sociology notes and half (give or take)-written reports due in about a week, Toya with marine biology diagrams and data tables—working in parallel, occasionally stealing glances at what the other was doing.

That had lasted about a good forty minutes.

Toya had been the one to break the silence, looking over from his tablet. “How are you doing in statistics?”

Akito had frozen, pen hovering mid-scribble. “…Define ‘doing’.”

Toya’s eyes narrowed just slightly. “Akito.”

“I’m passing,” Akito said quickly. “Technically.”

Toya leaned back, studying him in a way that made Akito deeply uncomfortable—despite him being the sociology major here, the one who usually studies people. “What did you get on the midterm again?”

Akito looked away, avoiding his partner’s unimpressed gaze. “That’s not relevant to who I am as a person.”

There had been a pause. Then Toya had quietly sighed and reached for his statistics textbook.

Which was how they’d ended up here.

Now, Toya sat a little closer, his notes open to a neatly highlighted page. Akito had reluctantly pushed himself upright, legs crossed, shoulders slumped in defeat.

“I don’t get why I need this,” Akito said, gesturing vaguely at the pages. “I’m not crunching fish numbers or whatever. I’m analyzing society.”

“Society uses numbers,” Toya replied. “A lot. Arguably far more difficult than ‘fish numbers’, so I hope you do study this well.”

“Yeah, well, society sucks.”

“That may be true,” Toya said evenly, “but it will still ask you to interpret data.”

Akito groaned and dropped his forehead onto his knees. “I hate this class.”

“I know.”

“And the professor talks like we already know everything.”

“I know.”

“And the formulas all look the same.”

“I know.”

Akito lifted his head, squinting at Toya. “You’re enjoying this.”

Toya blinked. “I wouldn’t say enjoying.”

“You totally are.”

A small smile betrayed him. “Maybe a little.”

Akito scoffed. “Traitor.”

“Well, I do look forward to our study sessions.” Toya said, looking over to Akito’s (very) unfinished notes. “We have been doing this since 2nd year of middle school, which would be about… 6 years by now.”

Akito flushed slightly pink, looking away. “Shut up—” he said, with basically no real bite behind it.

Toya ignored that, tapping the page with his pen. “Okay. Let’s start simple. What part are you stuck on?”

Akito hesitated, then sighed. “Standard deviation. I know what it’s supposed to mean. I just… lose it halfway through the calculation.”

“Alright,” Toya said. He shifted closer, turning the book so they could both see. Their knees bumped lightly, neither of them moving away. “Think of it like this.”

As Toya explained, his voice took on that familiar focused cadence—the one Akito remembered from old study sessions, back when they had been learning the exact same things for every subject, and not just the rare ‘sharing the same course because both our majors require it’ they had only had once before this. 

He really needed to thank whatever god gave him Toya as a partner again, because he knew damn well he wasn’t getting through neither middle school nor high school without him, and apparently add college onto that list too. He broke the process down step by step, patient, precise, pausing whenever Akito frowned or made a noise of protest.

Akito listened despite himself. He always did.

“So,” Toya finished, glancing up, “what does the standard deviation tell you?”

Akito stared at the numbers for a long moment. “…How spread out the data is.”

Toya smiled. “Exactly.”

Akito felt a ridiculous surge of pride. “Okay, but don’t get cocky. I still hate it.”

“That’s fine,” Toya said. “You don’t have to like it.”

They worked through another example. Then another. Akito complained the entire time, but he didn’t pull away, didn’t flop back onto the rug again. His handwriting even started to look marginally less aggressive.

Outside, the late afternoon light faded into evening, the dorm hallway growing quieter as people settled into their own near-finals-induced isolation. Inside their room, the air felt dense with concentration, broken only by the scratch of mechanical pencils and the occasional frustrated sigh from a certain ginger.

Half an hour later, Akito leaned back, stretching his arms over his head. “Okay. I hate to admit this, but that made more sense.”

Toya glanced at him. “You don’t have to admit it.”

“No, I do,” Akito said. “I need you to know how fucking cooked I would have been if you didn’t remind me and helped.” He glanced at Toya’s open notebook, eyes narrowing. “Wait. Why do you even need this class? You’re literally swimming with fish.”

“It’s required for my program,” Toya said. “Data analysis is important in marine biology.”

Akito stared at him. “So we’re both suffering because university said so.”

“Yes.”

“…Kind of messed up.”

Toya hummed in agreement.

Akito groaned again, but he leaned forward, pulling the textbook closer. “Fine. But you gotta be a bit more patient with me.”

“I thought I already was?” Toya asked, narrowing his eyes at Akito.

Akito froze for half a second, then scoffed, ears warm. “Yeah, yeah. Keep talking. What’s next?”

Toya pointed to the page, ‘serious tutor mode’ fully engaged again. Outside, the sky darkened completely, the dorm lights flicking on one by one—but neither of them noticed. They had numbers to survive first.

Akito woke before the alarm.

He always did.

The room was still dark, the digital clock on his desk glowing an accusing 05:12 A.M., and for a brief, stupid moment he considered rolling over and trying to steal another hour. His body didn’t of course—did not even try to cooperate. Sleep came late and left early, like it had better things to do than stick around for him to get a decent 8 hours of rest.

He checked the time again, still five in the morning—the ass crack of dawn. He slept at sometime past midnight, so probably five hours, give or take. 

(If any of his social media accounts say he was online at 2 A.M…. he’s going to pretend it didn’t)

“Figures,” he muttered under his breath, sitting up carefully so the mattress wouldn’t creak too loudly.

The dorm room was quiet. No footsteps in the hallway, no distant voices, just the soft hum of the air conditioner and the slow, even breathing coming from the other bed. Which of course—Akito glanced over to automatically.

Toya was sprawled on his back, one arm flung above his head, bi-colored hair mussed against the pillow. His face was relaxed in sleep, all of his (handsome) sharp edges softened. Akito paused longer than he meant to, watching the rise and fall of his chest.

Idiot, he thought fondly.

He swung his legs off the bed and moved on instinct, grabbing his towel and clothes. The bathroom light flicked on with a muted click, harsh against the early morning darkness. Akito winced and squinted, splashing cold water on his face to shock himself fully awake. He brushed his teeth quickly.

He rinsed his face again, dried off, and changed into clothes that lived permanently in the “for running” category: lightweight athletic shorts, one of his many hoodies, and one of his many pairs of sports shoes. 

When he stepped back into the room, the air felt cooler—the effects of cold water. He moved softly, grabbing his phone, smart watch, and earbuds from the bedside table, but his steps slowed as he passed Toya’s bed.

He stopped.

Akito stood there for a second, hovering like he was deciding whether or not to cross the “invisible line” (the middle of the room in which most roommates draw a line between to mark their sides. Akito and Toya didn’t do it though). Then he leaned down, carefully, and pressed a gentle kiss to Toya’s cheek.

Toya stirred just barely, a quiet sound escaping him, but he didn’t wake up.

“I’m gonna go for my run,” Akito whispered, “I’ll be back soon.”

He knew Toya couldn’t hear him. Or maybe he could, in that half-dreaming way where words sank in without waking you. Akito still liked saying it. Always had.

Suddenly, a memory of An’s teasing voice echoed in his head uninvited—something about them acting like a married couple before they’d even realized it, about how weirdly domestic they were without trying. Akito had flipped her off at the time, but standing there now, he couldn’t exactly argue with it. Like, at all.

He straightened, grabbed his keys, and slipped out of the room.

The dorm hallway was dim and empty, lights set low for the early hours. Akito closed the door quietly behind him and headed for the stairs. Outside, the air hit him cool and fresh, the sky just beginning to lighten as the sun rose.

He popped his earbuds in as he started moving, a familiar playlist of songs (MORE MORE JUMP’s 10th Single—though he wouldn’t want to admit it) flooding his ears. His body fell into stride easily, feet hitting the pavement in a pattern he’d repeated countless times before. Running wasn’t something he thought about anymore. It was just something he did on a daily basis.

The campus at dawn was a different place.

Buildings that buzzed with noise and people during the day now stood quietly, windows dark and walkways around them empty. The trees lining the paths rustled softly in the breeze. Akito ran past them, lungs burning pleasantly, muscles warming as the sleep finally worked its way out of his system.

He liked this time of day. Liked how the world felt without everyone around. No expectations. No conversations. Maybe it was his sociology major-addled brain talking, he couldn’t look at groups of people without thinking about the patterns and all that shit.

He took the long route, looping past the fields and toward the edge of campus where the road dipped slightly and the scenery opened up a bit. The sky was a soft gradient now, pale blue bleeding into gold near the horizon. The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, but it was close.

Akito slowed as he reached a familiar overlook, breath heavy but controlled. He came here often, especially on days when his head felt too full. The view wasn’t anything spectacular—just a stretch of road, some distant buildings, the tops of trees.

He rested his hands on his knees, chest rising and falling, eyes tracking the slow change in the sky. Somewhere behind him, birds started to wake up.

For a moment, his thoughts wandered back to the night before. The textbooks on the floor. Toya’s patient voice explaining statistics like it was the most natural thing in the world. The way he’d looked at Akito when he finally got something right, like that alone made the effort worth it.

Akito scoffed quietly at himself and started running again. He wondered vaguely how Toya was doing now—

The thought settled warm in his chest. 

Akito checked his watch as he slowed to a walk near the dorm entrance, sweat cooling on his skin. Three kilometers (or 1.86 miles in freedom units). The screen blinked cheerfully at him, the words outlined with a vivid pink color. 

“Show off,” he muttered, flicking the display dark with his thumb.

The watch sat snug around his wrist. He hadn’t asked for it—hadn’t even hinted at wanting a smart watch. Toya had just shown up one day with it, said something about tracking runs more accurately, about heart rate and pacing and how it might help Akito avoid overdoing it. 

Akito had argued about how expensive it was and how Toya didn’t need to spoil him before accepting it. Because of course he had—how could he possibly deny being spoiled by his partner.

Goddammit. Maybe he was gay as fuck. So what?

He pushed the thought away and headed inside.

The dorm was more awake now than it had been when he’d left, but only barely. A couple of doors opened and closed quietly. Someone shuffled past in slippers, hair sticking up in all directions. Akito took the stairs two at a time, the familiar burn in his calves, and unlocked their door.

The room was dim, curtains still drawn. Cool air of the blessed aircon greeted him, carrying the faint scent of detergent and something warm and familiar that was unmistakably Toya. Akito closed the door softly behind him and stood there for a moment, catching his breath, listening.

Toya hadn’t moved.

He was still sprawled in bed, face turned toward the wall now, hair falling into his eyes. The blanket was kicked down around his waist.

Akito shook his head fondly.

“It’s six in the morning,” he mumbled to no one in particular. 

Toya’s earliest class wasn’t until nine-thirty. Marine bio lectures that ran long and slow, apparently. Akito’s, on the other hand, started at eight on the dot—sociological theory at eight in the morning. Akito had picked it anyway, back when registering early times felt like a good idea.

Good god. Why had he done that?

He rolled his shoulders, then grabbed a change of clothes and padded into the bathroom. The light flicked on, bright and unkind. Akito winced again, peeling off his hoodie and sweat-damp shirt and tossing it into the laundry basket. He stepped into the shower and twisted the knob, hissing softly when the water came out cold before warming.

It was a quick shower. Just enough to wash the sweat off, shampoo his hair, rinse, done. Efficient enough. He scrubbed his face clean, letting the water beat against the back of his neck, and exhaled slowly.

Running always helped, even if it didn’t fix the sleep thing. It burned off the restless energy, quieted the noise in his head just enough to make the day manageable. He knew Toya worried sometimes—about the hours, the way Akito pushed himself—but this was one thing he refused to give up.

He shut off the water and dried off quickly, pulling on clean clothes. Sweats, a soft shirt, hoodie draped over his arm. He glanced at the mirror on his way out, raking a hand through his still-damp hair.

Good enough.

Back in the bedroom, Toya still hadn’t stirred. Akito moved around quietly, packing his bag for the day, slipping his notebook and pens inside. He checked his phone—6:24 A.M.—and grimaced.

Plenty of time. Unfortunately.

He glanced over at Toya again, feeling that familiar tug in his chest. Something soft. Dangerously, dangerously soft.

Akito crossed the room and sat on the edge of Toya’s bed, careful not to jostle it too much. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, just watching for a second.

As if in response, Toya shifted, brow furrowing slightly. He made a soft, incoherent sound, turning his face toward Akito now. His eyes stayed closed, lashes fluttering, but his hand moved, fingers brushing against the blanket—and then against Akito’s thigh.

Akito froze.

Toya’s fingers curled loosely, gripping fabric like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he was anchoring himself without even waking up.

Akito swallowed, heat creeping up his neck. He stayed still, afraid to pull away, afraid to wake him. His heart beat a little faster for no good reason.

“…Aki?” Toya mumbled, voice rough with sleep.

“Yeah,” Akito whispered automatically. “It’s me.”

Toya didn’t open his eyes. His grip tightened just a little, thumb pressing absentmindedly into Akito’s sweatpants. “You’re back early.”

“Ran three kilometers,” Akito said quietly. “Then showered.”

“Mmh.” Toya shifted again, face scrunching slightly. “Good.”

Akito snorted. “You didn’t even wake up.”

He sat there, letting Toya’s hand rest against him, grounding and warm. After a few seconds, Toya’s breathing evened out again, grip loosening as he drifted fully back to sleep.

Carefully, gently, Akito lifted Toya’s hand and tucked it back under the blanket. He stood slowly, resisting the urge to lean down again, and grabbed his bag.

At the door, he paused, glancing back one last time.

Toya slept on, unaware, sunlight just beginning to creep around the edges of the curtains.

“See you later,” Akito murmured, barely audible, and slipped out of the room. He could probably camp out at the cafe nearby until like… 20 minutes before his class actually starts.

Akito staggered out of his Sociological Theory class. The lecture hall doors shut behind him with a dull thud, and he stood there for a second too long, backpack heavy on one shoulder, brain buzzing in that awful way that meant he’d technically been awake and listening but absorbed close to nothing. 

The coffee he got didn’t even help (maybe it was the fact it was more milk and sugar than coffee but eh). He dragged a hand down his face, yawned without even trying to hide it, and started the walk back to the dorms on autopilot.

By the time he got back to their room, the place was empty and quiet. Toya was in his Marine Ecology class right now, probably sitting straight-backed and focused, already highlighting things Akito wouldn’t come close to understanding. 

Akito kicked off his shoes, dropped his bag by the door, and flopped down onto the rug in the middle of the room like his bones had given up. For a minute he just lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the faint noise of campus outside.

He forced himself up eventually, because he knew he should. Final report. The thought alone made his head ache. 

He sat at his desk, opened his laptop, and stared at the document he’d left half-written two nights before. Title at the top, name and student number neatly filled in. Below that, a paragraph that trailed off mid-sentence like it had simply lost the will to live. 

The cursor blinked at him, patient yet not at the same time. Akito cracked his knuckles, bounced his knee, and jus stared at the screen. 

Okay. Fine. Just start. One sentence. That was all he had to do.

Nothing came. 

He leaned back in his chair, then forward again. He shifted sideways, then sat cross-legged, then propped one foot up on the chair. The cursor kept blinking. 

He groaned under his breath and scrubbed at his hair, making it stick up even worse than usual. His leg bounced faster. He checked the clock. 10:15—he’d officially been sitting here for over half an hour doing absolutely nothing.

“Come on,” he muttered to himself, fingers hovering uselessly over the keyboard. His eyes drifted away from the screen, landed on the edge of his desk, and then—unfortunately—on the small stack of manga tucked half-behind his textbooks. He stared at them for a second, then looked back at the laptop. Then back at the manga.

Shit.

He grabbed one almost without thinking, flipping it open and telling himself he’d just read a page or two to calm down. That was a lie, but he told it anyway. 

He slouched in his chair, knee still bouncing, eyes skimming panels he’d already read twice. Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. He closed the manga and went back to looking at his report, scrolling up and down doing virtually nothing to add onto his progress.

He barely registered the time, only vaguely aware of the guilt pooling in his chest as the clock ticked forward. By the time he snapped out of it, it was almost eleven.

Akito froze. Toya would be back soon, the thought made his chest tighten in that familiar, stupid way. He could already picture it: Toya coming in all calm and collected, asking how the report was going, offering help without judgment. And Akito would have to admit he’d done nothing. Again. The idea made him itch.

He shut his laptop, shoving it back in his bag, then stood up abruptly. Sitting still wasn’t happening. His skin felt too tight, his thoughts too loud. 

He paced the room once, then twice, then stopped at Toya’s desk. He grabbed a sticky note, uncapped a pen, and hesitated for half a second before writing.

“brb will meet you at the cafe yeah? love ya”

He paused, grimaced, then added a couple of quick doodles without thinking—nothing much, just a chibi version of the two of them eating together at a table and a little heart smushed between them. He stared at it, face warming. Shit, Akito stop it—that’s gay as fuck. 

He stuck the note on Toya’s desk anyway, right where he’d see it, and didn’t let himself overthink it.

His phone was already in his hand by the time he turned away.

He tapped the familiar music app, clicking on ‘Ready Steady’, and the world cracked open in a flash of light. Color flooded his vision—and then he was standing in the Street SEKAI.

Akito exhaled, shoulders dropping.

He didn’t go to Crase Cafe. Didn’t feel like it. Instead, he ducked down a narrow side alley, the noise of the street fading as the space closed in around him. He leaned back against the wall, pulled up his playlist, and queued Vivid BAD SQUAD’s next set. The opening beat hit, familiar and grounding, and Akito pushed off the wall without thinking.

He moved on instinct, body remembering what his brain couldn’t hold onto lately. Footwork first, then sharper movements, hands slicing through the air. He mouthed lyrics under his breath, breath syncing with the rhythm. 

He ran the set again, then again, adjusting timing, tightening movements. Sweat gathered at his temples, but it didn’t weigh him down.

An hour slipped by without him noticing.

When he finally checked the time, his stomach dropped. “Shit,” he hissed, pausing the track. He straightened, heart still racing, and took a second to breathe before tapping out and pausing ‘Ready Steady’. 

He reappeared in the dorm room. Akito glanced down at himself, and winced. He wasn’t soaked like he would’ve been after an hour of practice outside, but he definitely wasn’t presentable. Thank god for SEKAI being merciful like that. He changed his shirt quickly, ran a hand through his hair, and grabbed his bag. 

He checked the clock again. Just barely enough time.

The walk to the cafe felt calmer, he felt a little less antsy after burning off some energy. Akito spotted Toya almost immediately through the window, sitting at their usual table with a book open, posture relaxed but focused. Of course he was already there.

Akito pushed the door open, bell chiming softly, and headed over. Toya looked up at the sound, eyes softening when they met Akito’s. Akito felt that stupid warmth bloom in his chest again and shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets like that would help.

“Hey,” he said, trying to sound casual.

“Hey. You’re early.” Toya’s smile turned fond in that way that always made Akito feel seen and called out at the same time. “Did you get any work done?”

Akito glanced away, then back, shrugging. “Uh. Sort of. Mentally. Probably.”

Toya hummed like he already knew the answer but didn’t press—but Akito did just barely catch the frown. He slid a cup across the table instead. “I ordered you something.”

Akito blinked, then took it, fingers brushing Toya’s for a split second. “...Thanks,” he said. 

…It was just the way he liked it.

“So, whatcha eatin’ today?” Akito asked, trying to distract Toya away from possibly calling him cute after taking a sip.

Toya thought for a moment. “Probably just a beef bowl. How about you Akito?”

“Yeah, me too I guess.”

They had statistics after this. Well, at 2 P.M., and right now it was barely half past 12. They still had some time to hit up the campus arcade before that. Numbers and formulas and the kind of focus Akito could barely fake on his own. But for now, they had this—a little pocket of quiet before the next thing hit.

Akito leaned back in his chair, finally still and let himself breathe for a moment.

Statistics ended the way it always did for Akito: with his brain feeling like it had been wrung out and Toya looking unfairly composed, already packing his notes neatly away. Akito slumped over the desk for a second after the room started clearing out, cheek pressed against the cool surface, letting out a long groan.

“I hate numbers,” he muttered.

“They’re not that bad,” Toya said, which was an objectively evil thing to say. He slid his notebook into his bag and nudged Akito gently with his knee. “You did better today.”

“That’s because you basically carried me,” Akito replied, lifting his head just enough to glare. “Don’t get used to it.”

Toya smiled like he already had. A long, long time ago.

By the time they reached WEEKEND GARAGE, the sun was starting to go down. The door creaked open, and the familiar room greeted them. Kohane was already inside, sitting cross-legged on the floor with her bag beside her, scrolling through her phone. An leaned against the wall nearby, arms crossed as she yawned.

“Yo,” An said, pushing herself upright. “You’re late.”

Akito scoffed. “We’re, like, five minutes late.”

“Late is late,” she shot back, but there was a grin tugging at her mouth. Her eyes flicked between them. “Stats kick your asses?”

Akito dropped his bag with a thud. “Don’t even talk to me about it.”

Kohane laughed softly, standing up and brushing off her jacket. “I thought you looked tired when you came in, Akito-kun.”

“Koha, y’should know by now this is my default state,” Akito said. He rolled his shoulders, starting to loosen up. 

“Ah yes, the bad dog’s resting bitch face~” An teased.

Akito snapped his head towards her, scoffing. “The fuck did you say?”

“What about you two? How were classes?” Toya asked, walking closer towards Kohane. Leave it to the two of them to diffuse the near argument between their partners.

Kohane brightened a little at the question, hands clasping together in front of her. “Um, my herpetology lab went pretty well today. We were looking at habitat simulations, and my professor let me stay after to ask questions. It was really interesting!”

An laughed. “She spent ten minutes info-dumping at me right after.”

Kohane flushed. “S-sorry An-chan—”

“What—! Nononoo Kohaneee—” An said quickly, waving it off. “I like hearing about it! Way better than my marketing lecture.” She made a face. “Business majors should get hazard pay for how boring some of those classes are.”

Toya set his bag down and started stretching methodically, listening with that quiet attentiveness he always had. “You seemed busy lately,” he said to An. “Group projects?”

“Unfortunately,” An replied. “Group projects and presentations. Everyone thinks business is easy until they actually have to talk in front of people who know what they’re doing.”

Akito hummed, half-listening as he leaned forward into a stretch, hands braced on his knees. The tension from sitting through stats class slowly bled out of him. 

They warmed up together without much prompting, muscle memory guiding them into place. Akito rolled his neck, shook out his arms, bounced lightly on his heels. Toya moved beside him, precise and fluid, already focused. Kohane mirrored An’s movements, careful but determined, eyes bright with concentration.

“Alright,” An said after a few minutes, clapping her hands once. “Let’s start with Nisemono Ningen no. 40—places everyone!”

Akito barely thought as he moved. His body knew this. The frustration from earlier—the unfinished report, the numbers, the restlessness—burned away with every beat. He locked eyes with Toya, the familiar spark of challenge flaring between them, and grinned when he smiled back. This was where they thrived. 

By the time the song ended, Akito was breathing hard, sweat cooling on his skin. He laughed, exhilarated, hands on his hips. 

They took a short break, water bottles passed around, before queuing up Yoidore Shirazu. When that song finished, there was a beat of silence before An let out a satisfied breath. “Yeah,” she said. “That one felt good.”

Kohane nodded, cheeks flushed. “I think our timing was better this run.”

Akito dropped down to sit on the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Way better than my morning, that’s for sure.”

Toya sat beside him without hesitation, shoulder brushing his. “You always feel better after practice.”

Akito glanced at him, lips twitching. “Yeah. Guess that’s you guys’ fault too, somehow.”

Toya didn’t deny it.

They lingered a little longer, running through smaller sections, laughing when someone messed up, fixing details without pressure. The sky outside darkened gradually, the room lit now by overhead lights and shared energy. Eventually, An checked the time and groaned.

“We should probably call it a day,” she said. “I’ve got an early thing tomorrow.”

Kohane agreed, gathering her things. “Me too. But… this was fun!”

“It always is,” Akito said. He stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder, and felt that pleasant exhaustion settle into his muscles.

Finals were still coming. Reports were still unfinished. But for now, he had this—music, friends, and Toya walking just close enough that their hands brushed every so often.

The air outside was cooler than Akito expected. Practice had wrung him out in a different way than usual—not bad, not good, just loud and full and lingering in his bones. His shoulders ached, voice still humming faintly in his chest like it hadn’t quite powered down yet.

He walked beside Toya, their steps naturally falling into sync as they headed back toward the dorms. Their bags knocked lightly against their hips with each step. Akito adjusted the strap on his shoulder and exhaled, long and tired.

“That run-through went better than I expected,” he said. “At least for Yoidore Shirazu.”

Toya nodded. “Your timing was more stable today. Especially during the second chorus.”

Akito snorted. “You say that like I didn’t almost come in late twice.”

“You didn’t,” Toya said calmly. “You corrected yourself.”

Akito glanced at him, lips twitching despite himself. “You’re way too generous.”

Before Toya could respond, a familiar voice cut across the sidewalk.

“Yo—Shinonome, Aoyagi!”

Akito looked up and groaned. “Oh no.”

Two guys were approaching from the opposite direction, both around their age, both unmistakably exhausted in the very specific way Economics majors always seemed to be. One of them lifted a hand in an exaggerated wave, the other already grinning like he’d found an opportunity.

“You heading back now?” the first one asked, slowing to a stop in front of them.

“Yeah,” Akito replied casually—almost slipping into his 'nice-guy' persona which would have made Toya very unimpressed. “You guys—?”

“Finally!” the second guy said, stretching his arms over his head. “We were just talking about how badly we need a drink.”

Akito felt it coming a second before it happened.

“Actually,” the first guy added, eyes lighting up, “why don’t you two come with us? There’s a place near the station doing discounts for students!”

Akito barked out a laugh. “Dude, I can’t go.”

The two exchanged a look. “Why not?”

Akito pointed at himself with his finger. “I’m still nineteen.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then realization hit.

“Oh shit,” one of them said, eyes widening. “You’re right. November, right?”

Akito nodded. "Unfortunately."

And lucky for Akito, it was July. Yippee.

“Damn,” the other guy said, clicking his tongue. “Sorry, Shinonome. That’s on us.”

“It happens way too often,” Akito said dryly.

The first guy turned to Toya almost immediately, like the solution had been right there all along. “What about you, Aoyagi? You’re twenty, right? You could come with us.”

Toya blinked, surprised to be addressed so directly. He hesitated just a moment before shaking his head. “No, thank you,” he said politely. “I don’t exactly enjoy drinking.”

Both of them stared at him.

“What!?”

Toya’s expression didn’t change. “I don’t like the feeling.”

The second guy laughed. “Seriously? Not even a little?”

Toya shook his head again. “Besides,” he added, “I wouldn’t like to be drunk right before finals week.”

That earned a collective groan.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” one of them said. “I’m pretending finals aren’t near.”

“Well,” the other sighed, clapping his hands together, “guess neither of you are going, then.”

“Guess not,” Akito said.

“See you around,” the first guy said, already turning away. “Good luck surviving finals!”

“You too,” Toya replied.

They waved as the two disappeared down the street, their voices already drifting back into animated complaints about exams and professors. Akito watched them go, then let his shoulders relax.

“…I kinda want to drink anyway,” he admitted.

Toya hummed. “I figured.”

“It’s not fair,” Akito said. “Everyone else gets to blow off steam and I have to go home and stare at my laptop.”

“You could blow off steam in other ways,” Toya said.

Akito eyed him. “You’re not slick.”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” Toya said, lips curving just slightly.

They resumed walking, the streetlights flickering on one by one as the sky deepened toward evening. The dorm building loomed in the distance, familiar and oddly comforting. They reached their door, and Toya unlocked the door.

Akito shoved his hands into his pockets. He bumped Toya’s shoulder lightly as they stepped inside. “Hey.”

Toya looked at him. “Yes?”

“…Thanks for not ditching me to go drink.”

Toya didn’t hesitate. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Akito looked away quickly, ears burning, and walked into the room while muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Idiot.”

Toya just smiled and followed him inside.

Akito took a quick shower after Toya, barely lingering under the water, just enough to rinse off the sweat and shake the last bits of adrenaline from practice out of his system. He changed into an old T-shirt and shorts, hair still damp when he padded back into the bedroom.

Toya had already set up at his desk, laptop open, notes spread neatly beside it. Akito dropped into his own chair with a sigh and forced himself to open his report again. 

The document stared back at him like it always did, unfinished and unforgiving. He typed a sentence. Deleted it. Typed another. This one survived, barely. His leg bounced under the desk, rhythm restless and familiar.

Time passed in uneven chunks. Toya worked quietly, the soft sound of typing steady and controlled, while Akito’s progress came in fits and starts. He’d get a paragraph down, feel briefly victorious, then stall out completely, staring at the screen like it had personally wronged him. At some point he checked the clock and swore under his breath. It was later than he thought.

By the time his eyes started burning and his shoulders ached, Akito leaned back and rubbed his face with both hands. “I’m calling it,” he said, voice muffled. “I’m done. Brain’s fried.”

Toya looked over, concern flickering across his face. “You worked for a while.”

“Debatable,” Akito replied, standing up and stretching his arms over his head. “I’m gonna sleep before I pass out sitting upright like an idiot.”

He shut his laptop with a decisive click and turned toward the bed—then paused. Toya’s screen had changed. The notes were gone, replaced by a familiar dark interface loading in, purple accents unmistakable.

Akito blinked, then walked closer. “Hey,” he said, peering over Toya’s shoulder. “You streaming tonight?”

Toya glanced up at him, a little surprised, then nodded. “Mhm. Just for a bit.”

Akito hummed, watching as Toya adjusted settings with practiced ease. “Didn’t think you’d do it this late.”

“I wasn’t sure,” Toya admitted. He hesitated, then added, “I can keep my camera off and stay quiet if you’re going to sleep. I don’t want to wake you.”

Akito snorted softly. “Mhm. Thanks, man.”

He leaned down without really thinking about it and pressed a quick kiss to Toya’s cheek. It was brief and absentminded—like muscle memory had taken over.

Toya froze for half a second, then chuckled, warmth creeping into his voice. “You still call me ‘man’ and then kiss me. It’s funny, Akito.”

Akito straightened immediately, face warming. “Shut up,” he muttered, lips pulling into a pout despite himself.

Toya turned in his chair, reaching out and tugging Akito closer by the hem of his shirt. Before Akito could protest, Toya leaned in and kissed him back, slower this time, deliberate. It lingered just long enough to make Akito’s chest feel tight in a way that had nothing to do with exhaustion.

“There,” Toya said quietly when he pulled away. “Good night.”

Akito huffed, trying (and failing) to look annoyed. “Night.”

He crawled into bed, pulling the blanket up around himself. The mattress dipped slightly as he settled in. He rolled onto his side, facing away from the desk, eyes closing almost immediately.

Behind him, Toya put on his headphones and started the stream, voice low and calm as he greeted viewers. Akito barely registered it. The sound faded into background noise, comforting rather than distracting. His body sank into the mattress, muscles heavy from the day.

He let himself drift, consciously ignoring the dull anxiety trying to claw its way back into his thoughts. The report could wait. Finals could wait. Just for tonight.

He fell asleep pretending—very successfully—that nothing was due in a few days and that everything was completely fine.

Akito woke up before his alarm again.

The sky outside was still dark. He lay there for a second, staring at the ceiling, already tired despite having just opened his eyes. Five hours of sleep if he was lucky—his favorite. His body felt heavy, but his brain was already buzzing, thoughts tripping over each other before the day had even started.

He slipped out of bed quietly, careful not to wake Toya. The routine came automatically now—bathroom light on low, cold water on his face, teeth brushed with half-lidded focus. He pulled on his running clothes, stretched just enough to avoid injury, and paused by the bed.

Toya was curled on his side, hair a mess against the pillow, breathing slow and even. Akito softened without meaning to. He leaned down, pressed a light kiss to Toya’s cheek, murmured that he was heading out, that he’d be back soon. Toya didn’t stir. Akito straightened, earbuds already in, and slipped out.

He ran on autopilot, feet hitting the ground in steady rhythm, letting the movement burn off the restlessness clinging to him. He tried not to think about deadlines. About reports. About the way his chest tightened and his head lost focus every time he opened that damn document.

When he got back, showered, changed, and headed to his early class, he was already running on fumes. The lecture blurred together—words spoken at him rather than to him, ideas he knew he should care about sliding right off. He took notes anyway, handwriting messy but somewhat legible, because not doing so would make it way worse later (and he'd be a bigger burden to Toya).

By the time he got back to the dorm, the relief hit him all at once.

Thursday. Only one class.

Past Akito, for once, had done him a solid.

He dropped his bag and let himself sprawl on the rug for a minute, staring at the ceiling with a breathless laugh. “Thank you,” he mumbled to no one in particular. Then he sat up, grabbed his laptop, and settled at his desk.

Toya was there too today, seated at his own desk with a cup of black coffee beside him. He smiled when he noticed his partner. “How was class?”

“Hell,” Akito said automatically. “But it’s over.”

“Only one today,” Toya said, pleased. “You planned it well.”

“Don’t say that out loud,” Akito replied. “You’ll jinx it.”

They worked on their reports for a while. Or, well—Toya worked. Akito stared at his screen, typed a sentence, deleted it, tried again. He bounced his leg. Shifted in his chair. Opened a tab, closed it. Opened it again. 

Time passed anyway.

Eventually, Toya turned his chair around to face him fully. “Akito,” he said. “When are you planning to finish your report?”

Akito didn’t look up, but his shoulders tensed. “Soon.”

Toya didn’t look convinced. “You’ve been saying that.” He waited.

“…Soon,” Akito repeated, more defensive now, fingers tapping against the desk. “I’ve got time.” he shrugged, eyes still glued to the screen. “I know my deadline.”

“Akito.”

Akito’s jaw tightened. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “What.”

Toya studied him, eyes thoughtful, worried. “You’ve been saying that for days.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Akito said quickly. “It’ll be fine. I’ll finish it.”

“I’m not questioning that,” Toya said carefully. “I’m worried.”

That word made something twist in Akito’s chest. “You don’t need to be.”

Toya frowned. “I do, actually. I’ve watched you sit here for days barely getting anything done.”

“I’m doing it,” Akito snapped, finally turning to look at him. “Just because it doesn’t look like how you do things doesn’t mean I’m not.”

Toya inhaled sharply. “That’s not what I meant. I just—if you want help, I can—”

“I said I don’t need help!”

Toya’s brow furrowed. “Akito.”

Akito finally looked at him, irritation flaring hot and fast. “I told you I’ve got it. I can do this on my own,” he insisted. “I always have.”

“And you don’t have to anymore,” Toya replied, voice firmer now. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You don’t need to carry everything by yourself.”

“You make it sound so easy.” Akito scoffed. He stood up abruptly, chair scraping loudly against the floor. “Why are you pushing this so hard?”

“Because I care,” Toya said, frustration finally bleeding through. “Because I hate watching you tear yourself apart over this when I could help.”

“I didn’t ask you to!”

“No,” Toya shot back, then stopped himself, lowering his voice. “But I’m offering. I always do. And you keep shutting me out.”

Akito clenched his fists. “Maybe because I don’t want to be some project you think you have to manage.”

Toya’s eyes widened slightly. “That’s not what this is.”

“Isn’t it?” Akito scoffed. “You schedule everything perfectly, you finish things early, you help me study, you check in on my work—what, am I just another thing on your list? You’re not even the same major as me and I keep having to ask for your help for basic shit!”

“That’s not true,” Toya said sharply now. “I do those things because I want to, because I care about you.”

“Yeah?” Akito shot back. “Or because you like feeling needed?”

Toya flinched. “Akito—”

“I didn’t ask to be babysat,” Akito continued, heart pounding, the panic spiraling out of control. “I’m not a child. I’m not some fucking burden you have to take responsibility for.”

“That’s not how I see you,” Toya said, voice strained. “I’ve never seen you that way.”

“Bullshit,” Akito snapped. “Then why do you keep hovering? Why can’t you just trust me to handle my own shit?”

“I do trust you,” Toya said. “I just don’t want you to suffer alone. I asked you to rely on me before and you didn’t listen to me.”

There it was again. That softness. That concern. It made something inside Akito crack.

“God, just stop,” he said loudly. “I don’t need you to come and keep saving me.”

“I’m not trying to save you,” Toya replied, hurt creeping unmistakably into his tone. “I just want to stand with you.”

Akito laughed again, bitter. “Then stop acting like I’d fall apart without you.”

Toya went still.

“…Is that what you think?” he asked quietly.

Akito didn’t stop himself in time. “Honestly? You act like if you’re not here holding my hand, I’d be a complete fucking failure!”

Toya stared at him. “That’s… that’s not true.”

“You sure ‘bout that?” Akito pressed, voice rising. “Because it really feels like you think you’re the only reason I get through anything.”

“That’s not what I think,” Toya said, voice trembling now despite his effort to keep it calm. “And it hurts that you’d believe that about me.”

Something vicious and terrified surged up in Akito’s chest. He felt cornered, exposed, every insecurity clawing its way out.

“Maybe that’s because you like being the responsible one,” he said coldly. “The capable one. Makes you feel so much better, right? Being with someone like me?”

The moment the words left his mouth, he knew.

Toya’s face went white.

For a split second, raw horror flickered across his expression—hurt so visible it made Akito’s stomach drop straight through the floor and the feeling of an anvil crushing his heart. Then Toya’s face closed off completely, all warmth vanishing behind something distant and unreadable.

Akito’s heart stuttered.

“Toya, I didn’t—”

Toya turned away.

He gathered his tablet with careful, precise movements, slid it into his bag. His hands didn’t shake, but his shoulders were rigid, like he was holding himself together by force alone.

“I’m going to the library,” Toya said quietly.

He didn’t look at Akito when he said it.

“Toya, wait— wait!” Akito stepped forward, panic flooding in too late.

Toya paused at the door, just for a fraction of a second. “I need space,” he said, voice flat.

Then he left.

The door clicked shut, the sound echoing far too loud in the sudden silence.

Akito stood there, frozen, his own words replaying in his head. His chest felt hollow, like something had been violently ripped out. His hands trembled as he dragged them through his hair.

“…Shit.”

What the fuck had he done?

Akito sat back down at his desk like gravity had suddenly doubled.

The chair felt wrong. The room felt wrong. Everything felt off by a fraction, like the world had tilted when Toya walked out and never bothered to tilt back. The air was too still, thick in his lungs, pressing against his ribs every time he tried to breathe normally.

He stared at his laptop.

The report was still open. The same unfinished document. The same blinking cursor.

Enter data set. Analyze results. Discuss implications.

He knew what he was supposed to do. He knew how. He’d done this kind of thing before. Not well, not easily, but he’d survived it. He put his hands on the keyboard anyway, fingers hovering, knuckles white.

Nothing happened.

His leg started bouncing immediately, faster than before, heel thudding softly against the floor. He clenched his jaw, tried to focus on the numbers he’d pulled up earlier, tried to remember what Toya had helped explain about organizing the data in a way that made sense.

Toya.

The thought hit him like a punch to the face.

His chest tightened sharply, breath catching halfway in. His fingers curled involuntarily, nails digging into his palms. He squeezed his eyes shut, just for a second, like that might stop the images replaying in his head.

Toya’s face. The shock. The hurt. The way it closed off.

“Fuck,” Akito mumbled, voice breaking on the word.

His vision blurred, heat rushing behind his eyes. He scrubbed at his eyes hard with the heel of his hands, angry at himself. 

Don’t. Not now. 

He forced a shaky breath in through his nose, out through his mouth.

Inhale for 4… hold for 7… exhale for 8… repeat.

I̴n̷h̷a̶l̴e̴ ̴f̶o̴r̷ ̸4̶…̵ ̸h̶o̸l̴d̵ ̵f̵o̸r̴ ̶7̸…̵ ̴e̷x̵h̶a̴l̵e̷ ̴f̶o̴r̸ ̵8̴…̴ ̸r̵e̸p̷e̸a̷t̶.̶

I̴̜̽n̵͕̓ḧ̵̞å̴̫l̶̫̅e̴͍̍ ̶̯̚f̵͕̓ǒ̷̹r̸̮̓ ̶͔̒4̴̬̾…̴̟̋ ̷͓̇ḥ̴͌o̴͈͝l̴͓̓d̸̪̓ ̷̞̑f̴̠͝ô̶̩r̶̮͠ ̷̫͒7̵̫̚…̵̥͝ ̴̤̀ë̸̯x̸̺̀h̷̻͆á̵̱l̸̛͚ẹ̶̅ ̶͇̽f̴͇̃ò̶̦ř̵̨ ̵̪̾8̴̧̃…̵̘̀ ̷̣̌ṙ̸͕e̶̩̐p̷̨̄ĕ̸͓a̷̫̿t̷̫̚.̶̹̎

I̷̬̻͘͝ǹ̴̮h̶̲̩͑͂ȁ̸͍͚ḷ̸̫̇ë̵͉́ ̶̞͂͑f̶͔͘͜ö̴̯̹́r̶̘͒ ̷̣̊4̷̦͑…̶̞͠ ̸̡̾̂h̵̻̃o̸̝̾l̴̤̍͝ḓ̵̙̚ ̶͕̄f̴͈̑̎ȍ̸̥r̷̡̼͒ ̵̯̍̐7̸̳̹̾…̵̦̻̚ ̴̰̣̄e̵̲̼͂x̵͇̹̽͝h̴͖̋ă̷̜l̴̨̜͗é̷͓̉ ̴̹̘̆̔f̴̪̺̐̇o̶͙͛͝ṛ̷̀͜ ̷̄͗ͅ8̵̯͝…̶̨͋ ̶̭̻͗r̷̜͎̀ė̶̡͕p̴̗̯̓̌ȩ̵̏̇͜a̷͕̺̾ẗ̴́͛͜.̸̨͎̍

I̴̧̧̛͓͌̍n̷̛̺̺̈ḥ̸̙̿̚̚a̷̫͆͝l̶̘͓͋̍ȩ̵̘͈̄͘ ̶̬͍̆͠ͅf̶̥͓̥̆̃̄o̶̲̘̘͗̾̈r̵̩͐ ̵͕̞̰̽͌̈́4̷̻̒͐…̷̝̂ ̴̡̟͋̀͑h̵̟̦͙́͐ö̷̥̪͜l̵͈͘͝d̸̰͚͎͑̆ ̶̭̣̅̊̋f̷͈͕̽́͗͜o̸̩͚̓̈́̌r̸̞͐͌ ̸̢̭̇̽7̶̨͕̠͐̄…̷͕̹̆̕ ̶̡̨̻̇́e̴̳̔x̴̠̂͝ḣ̷͎̰̈́a̷͎̳̬͘l̶̢̔́ȩ̵͙́̊͠ ̶̤͇͎͊̃̌f̵̛̟͔̞͘͠o̷̹͊r̸̺̲͎̐̋ ̸͚̰̄ͅ8̴̗̕…̶̞̤̞͛ ̴̪̬͍́̆r̶̤̆ḙ̵́̕̚ṕ̶̞̒e̵̩̺̖̅̒a̵͈̞̋t̴̢̪̣͂͂̽.̴̞̓͠

İ̷̘͆̈́n̷͕͇̉̚̕͠h̷̭͎͑̀͗̀̕ả̷͓͓̳͆l̵̝̔͒̔̀̽e̶͖̥̗̖͂ ̶̛̘͍̯̒̂͊ͅf̷̹̉͛̉̏̕ǒ̸̭̲̹̬̮̈̉̎r̶͖̀͊̄̕ ̴͔̜́4̸̨̝̲͂͆…̸̨̳̘͎̈̈́̅̈ ̵̤͖̙̪̬͠h̴̢̛̞o̸̘̟̾̔̾͠ͅl̴̥̖͖̿̓̉̕d̷̀̈́̊͜͝ ̴̩̰͍̤̗̈f̴̦͚̋̚̕̕͝ȍ̴͕͈̰̋̓͛r̶̢̯̓̌̀ ̴̢̡̥̹̩̀͒̑̃̌7̴̗̩̤̑̀͘…̵̜̳͇̙̱͗ ̶̝͈̪͉͗̌e̶͍̅̒̿̃x̴̡̀̅̓̚͝ḩ̶̊͛͊a̸̼͇͓͂̀̽͛̊͜l̵̰̬͎̉͐͆̏e̶̪̯̭̩̋̆̚͜ ̷̨̬̍̿̚f̸̤̠͓̖̺͂͛͒̚ö̷̘̞̹̤̟́r̵̫̭̍̍̒̾̕ ̷͙̗͙͖͋͆̿͝͝8̴̨̺͓͙͕͑̓͝…̸͙̳͍̲͇̑ ̵͓̘͎̦́͌͂̕r̴̾̀͛̒͘ͅe̸̙̝̺̾͜ṗ̷̹̐̒e̵͚̻̽͋̆a̸̢͉̬̔̆̅̈́t̵͚͚͆͐̿̀.̴̭͕̼͈̉

I̶̮̺̙̅̒͌n̸̟̯̭̘̹̈́h̶̛̺̳̙̤̭̏̓͗̈́̃ȃ̸̖̩͎̫̓̔̄̇̽l̶̰̩̺̺̫̙̈͜e̶̬̮̥͎̭̻͊͗͗̿̕ͅ ̵̨̘͍̟̻̗͔͒̍͊̑̈́͛͘f̴͖͐͗͗̑͆̕o̵̤̗͖͛ͅr̷̝̙̪̬̪̀̽͋͜ ̶̞̣̞͉͎̯̞̉̈̊͝4̶̫̯̃͒̐̑̚̚…̵̯̙̝͖̦͑͂̔̔̌̇ ̵̯͖̹̒́ḧ̸̭̜́̆̽͝o̸̻̯̦̲̠̥͉̒̾̈́͒̉l̶̝̱̭̻̒̀̍͝d̶̠̫̜̭̊ ̸̱͓̼̥̄̈̌ͅf̶̫͂̔̓̀ő̵͎̰̤̱̝̿͊̚͝ṙ̴̙͂̉͜ ̸̛͔͇̭̩̊̍̔̓͊̽ͅ7̸̗̝̩̝̥̼̔…̸̨̘̩̝̝̻͊̄̓̂̈́̑̑ͅ ̸̛͉͕̦̅̈́̒̈̓͂e̶̛̯̮̔̓͛̚͠x̴̙͓̲̦̳̠̓͋̂͗̀ḫ̶̼͔̒ͅā̸͔͙͍̮̪̪̇̇͊l̴̫̠̞̗̮͇̳̃̔̌͊è̶̖͚̎̾͘ ̵̖̺͙́͛͑͆̚f̸̛̟̆͋̄̐̃ò̷̱͚͇̣̺̻r̶̭̤̪͔̜̣̹͐͋̍̇̉͝ ̵̖̿̇͛̽͗̐8̵̩̠̼̇̇́̾…̴̛͓͚̦̖͋̑̓̕ ̷̛͍̳͉̝̞͚̆̈́̇̈́̕͜r̷̹̫̟̟̒e̷̢̖̜͛́͐̓̌p̸̙͍̰̻̞̦̾̀̔̂́͗͜e̵̢͈̲͒͑̕͝ā̵͈͓̙̮̖͈͆̾̈́̋t̷͇̝̯̳̮͘.̸̙͇̰͉͕͍̩͆͑̈́̈́̈́̕

Į̷̝̖̹̱͛̽͛͐̓̌ṋ̵̻̾͐̆̋̔̕͜h̴͎̩͆̓̍̌͊̕a̶̘̘͍̻̖̬̿̏̀͌l̶͔͇͍̣̺̻̙͗e̷͕̠͕͜͝͝ ̶̙̞̇͂ḟ̷̢̧̡̗̫̙͇̲͜ǒ̸̜̹̱͍̲͓̔̈́ͅr̸̥͛ ̷̻̯̓̅̾̀4̶̛̯̖̜̇̉͂̿͝͝…̸̦̦̾͑̽̄̔̏͝͠ ̷̛͈̮̺͍̥̩̗̀̽͆̓h̶̨̧͎̞̬͓͛̽̌́̃̄͑̅͜͠o̷̫͊̔͑̒̆͒̈́̑̕l̸̳̣̜͆̆̓̋̏̓́̈̓d̷̡̡̤̀͛̽̚ ̸̺͖̠͔̻̖̫̽̿̆̅̌͛̾f̵̨͔̦̻̠̯̹̈́́̾̑̒̕ō̵̡̡̙̣͌̒͊͜͝r̶͙̱̻̟̰͙̯̘̹̓̎̄͆͋ ̴̡̢̦̊̾7̷̯̘͔̺͍͕̉̏͌̈͆̔̚̕̕…̷̨̰̣̌͠ ̴̢̮̥̹͈͛̃͌ę̴̲͕̠̕x̶̨͚̠̠͎̘͈̪̣͐́̈͌̽̔͑̕͘ḫ̶̣̤̱͖̘͌͒͛́̂̚å̴̢̡̱̝̲̥̱͚̱͋̄̈́̒͠ļ̸̡̦̜͍̮̻͙͍͂̅̈́̆̌͐ȩ̶̲͓̺̜͚̈́ ̶̙̎͑̿͑̊̽̚f̴̨̛̠̖̞̈̓͂͊̊͠͝ó̷̧̟͉̗̗͙̗̜͈͑̂̽̇r̶͇͈̬͚̬̬̩̰̓ ̸̧͓͕̰͖̻̩̳͂̔̌̑̒8̸̭̯̖͂͐͂͗̉̊̀̃…̷̖̜̌̅̒͐ ̴̛̣̭͉̟̱̫̭͍̇̿̽̓́̒̇͐͜r̶̢̨̢̖̫̙̱͆͑̔̇̾̚̕ͅè̸̠̹̦̪̯̇̿͛p̶̯̪͔͉͖̼̜̪̍̑̃͗͆̏̚e̸̡̡̤̼̹͉̼̬̹̎̒̽͠ȁ̴͍͕̰͙̆̓̌̒͘͠t̵͈͖̝͖̬͔̒̈́́͘̕͠.̶͎̳̩͎͙̟̭̃̄̎̏͐

Ī̷̲̂̆͆̈́̍̌̑̊͜͝ñ̸̘̯̾̑̏̀h̸͇̫̝̲̫̓̀̑͑a̷̛̪̞̱̺̫̟̮̘͙̅̿͌͛̂̌͒̒͘͘l̸̨͈̳͖̲̝̫̟̄̌̎̏̎̈́́̋̃͜ȩ̴̤͇̜̘̲̼̩̺̺̽͆̈́͋̓̈́̿̒̃͘͜͝ ̸̦̰͓̖̭͇̟̿͆͒́̾͛͊͛̀͝f̷̡̡̲̩͚͖̬̼͚̙̯͉̂͛̍̊̀͝͝o̷̡̨̘͍̝̜̟̳̳͍͉͋͐̈́̈́̿̈͑̎͘͝r̴̜͈̀̽́̋̍̈́̀̀̿ ̵̨̪̰̦̙̬̯̝͆̾̔̀̄͂̃͜͝͝͝ͅ4̵̡͚̜͎̝̠̻̬͕̅͑̀͗̋̉̽̑̅̆͒…̸̛̼͍͚̈̈͑̊̿͆̃̈́̚ ̷̢̨̲̜̖͖̳̪͉͕̰̦̌̓̐̂̈́͂͛̒͛͑͝h̶̛̖̼̻̎͑̈́͋͑̾̓̑͒̈́̕ỏ̷̗̐̿̐̓l̸̨͕̳̣̭̦͂͌̓̃̽͝ḋ̸̢͕̲̬̥̪͠ ̶̨̨̧͎̭̮̞̖̅̂̃͆̊̏̆̽̇͂͆̓f̸̜̘̞̟̘͉̫͕̜̚o̵̢̢͇̲̹͈̳̤̜̠͇̓̓͜ṟ̸̭̯̭̲̙̓͠͝ ̷̧̛̛̜͎̘͍̺̘̎͐͌̒́̉̂̂͝7̵͍͉͋̐̔͊̽̃̑̐̾̕͠…̴̺̩̉͐ ̶̦̩̗̭͉̮̖̯̄̿̇͆͋̋̽͛̋́̽͘ͅͅe̶͍̐́̌̈́͝x̶̡̪̻͖̻̋h̴̻̹̩̦̭̘̩̹̗̩͋́̆ͅͅa̶̹̬̭̯̜͕͇͕̍̈̿́̎̐͌̔̅̕̕͜͜ͅͅl̷̨̡̹̜̠̥̦̻̠̩̹̈́̊̈̆̒͐͛̎̋͘͠͝e̷̙̦͒́͐͑ ̷͚͓̮̮͕̔̅̎̊̍̑̒̆̕f̶̬̿̇͆́̄̕̚̕ŏ̴͈̯̤̤͕̞̩̯̮͎̍̍̈́̍̏̏͗̑͘r̷̨̝͇̤̪̫͍̪̜̟͗̊̄̈́̐͒̚ ̸̤̯̯͕͚̓̂͋̈́͐͆̑̑̏8̴̨̨̘͔̙̮̼̻̝̺̠̟͐̓̈́͝…̶̙̙͓͎̮̌͋̄̇͆̄͑̈́ ̷̨̫̫̳̋͗̀͒͒̌͘͘ṙ̶͖̯͕̀̾̾͋̋e̵̢̞̿͆̈́̿͗̈́̒̕p̵̘͛͒̒͌͛ĕ̴̡̧̮͕͈̤͔̙̾̆̓̒̀̂̈́a̸̡̜̻͛̊̄̓͆̃͊̊ť̵̡̨͚͇̝͖̰̦̝̹͇́̈́̊̋̊̆͌̈́͜͠.̴̻͕͔̫͉͈͚̓̇̃̓̐̇̔̽͊̄

It didn’t help.

The antsiness came back full force, crawling under his skin, setting every nerve on edge. He stood up suddenly, chair scraping loudly, and paced the room once, twice, hands dragging through his hair. His thoughts raced, tangled and loud, overlapping until none of them made sense.

Why did you say that?

Why couldn’t you just accept help?

Why do you always do this?!

He stopped in the middle of the room, chest heaving. The pressure behind his eyes intensified, tears spilling over despite his best effort to hold them back. He wiped them away angrily, swiping at his cheeks like he could erase the evidence.

Get it together.

You don’t have time for this.

His breathing started to feel wrong—too shallow, too fast. No matter how much air he pulled in, it didn’t feel like enough. His chest ached, tight and burning, heart hammering so hard it made him dizzy.

“I’m fine,” he muttered aloud, voice shaking. “I’m fine. I just—”

The room seemed to close in on him, walls pressing closer, the ceiling too low. His hands trembled as he tried to steady himself against the desk. His stomach churned, nausea creeping up his throat.

It was stupid. He knew it was. He’d argued with people before. All the time, even. He fought strangers without a second thought—customers at work who snapped at him, people who looked down on him, people who deserved it. 

Even Kohane—well. Kohane was… a hamster. You could technically hurt her—but never would, because who the hell wants to be known as the guy who punches hamsters? Besides, she was too kind. 

He went head-to-head with An all the time like it was breathing. They’d argue and bicker and fight—but all in their own way of showing their friendship, acting like siblings.

He and Ena practically communicated through insults. They had fought often in middle school and still bicker often to this day but that’s basically their love language.

But Toya—

Akito’s breath hitched hard.

He DESPISED arguing with Toya.

It wasn’t just that he hated conflict. He didn’t. He could handle conflict just fine. It was Toya specifically. The idea of being the source of that hurt, of being the reason Toya’s voice went quiet and distant, made something inside Akito panic on a level he couldn’t rationalize away.

When Toya pulled away, it wasn’t loud. 

It was terrifying.

Akito slid down against the side of his bed, knees pulled to his chest, arms wrapped tight around himself like he could physically keep himself from falling apart. His breathing grew more erratic, each inhale coming with a sharp hitch, each exhale trembling.

What if he leaves?

The thought crashed into him fully formed, brutal and unforgiving.

What if that was it?

What if he finally pushed too far?

What if Toya got tired of this—of him?

What if Toya left him again—but for good this time?

His heart pounded harder, faster, like it was trying to escape his ribcage. His vision tunneled, edges darkening. He gasped, fingers clawing at his shirt as if it was too tight, as if it was the thing suffocating him.

“I didn’t mean it,” he whispered, words tumbling out between breaths. “I didn’t mean it, I didn’t—fuck, I didn’t mean it.”

But he had said it. And Toya had heard it. And no amount of regret could rewind time.

The anxiety surged, sharp and overwhelming. Thoughts spiraled faster, crueler.

He’s going to realize you’re not worth the effort.

He’s going to realize he’s always the one holding things together.

He’s going to leave because you’re too much.

Akito squeezed his eyes shut, tears spilling and soaking into his sleeves. His body shook, shoulders trembling uncontrollably. He hated this—hated feeling like this, hated how dependent he was, how much of his stability felt tied to one person.

He hated needing Toya this much.

But the thought of not having him—

He hated being dependent.

His chest constricted painfully, breath coming in sharp, broken gasps. His fingers went numb. He pressed his forehead against his knees, rocking slightly without realizing it, trying to ground himself in anything solid.

He was supposed to be doing his report.

He was supposed to be independent. Capable. Someone who didn’t fall apart the second things got hard. Someone who didn’t panic at the idea of being alone.

But right now, all he could think about was Toya’s unreadable expression, the way he hadn’t looked back.

Akito let out a gasping sob, hands fisting in his hair. “Please don’t leave,” he said to the empty room. “Please.”

Akito stayed curled on the floor, shaking, breath stuttering, trapped between the weight of his own expectations and the suffocating fear that he’d just shattered the one thing that made it all bearable.

Akito didn’t really remember the hours between late morning and three in the afternoon.

They existed in a strange, hollow blur—time passing without him actually being present for it. At some point, the tears dried on his face. At some point, his breathing evened out. At some point, he found himself sitting on the floor staring at the wall, eyes unfocused, thoughts distant and muffled, like everything was happening several layers away from him.

He hadn’t touched his report.

When his phone buzzed with a reminder for practice, it startled him so badly he flinched. The screen lit up in his hands, the time glaring back at him. 15:02.

“Oh,” he muttered hoarsely.

He pushed himself up, movements sluggish, limbs heavy like they didn’t quite belong to him. His head felt stuffed with cotton, pressure lingering behind his eyes. He splashed water on his face, tied his shoes with hands that still shook a little. He looked at himself in the mirror once—eyes dull, skin pale—and looked away immediately.

Get it together, he told himself. You can handle practice.

That was a lie. He lied to himself just now.

The walk to the practice space felt longer than usual. Every step felt like effort, like he was wading through something thick and invisible. By the time he reached the room, Kohane and An were already there, chatting quietly. Toya stood off to the side, adjusting the settings on their speaker.

Today, Toya didn’t look at him.

Akito felt it immediately, a sharp and sinking feeling. Toya responded when spoken to, nodded when addressed, but never once met Akito’s eyes. It was worse than yelling would have been. Worse than anger.

The girls noticed. Because of course they would.

She flicked her gaze between them, brow furrowing. “Uh… you two good?” she asked. “You look like someone kicked your puppy.”

“We’re fine,” Toya replied, a little too quickly.

Akito scoffed under his breath. “Yeah. Totally fine.”

An raised an eyebrow at the tone. Kohane shifted closer, concern written plainly across her face. “Akito-kun, Toya-kun, did something happen…?”

Akito rolled his shoulders, irritation prickling under his skin. “Can we just start already?”

An shot him a look but didn’t push. “Alright. Warm up.”

They did, but the energy was wrong. Akito felt disconnected from his body, movements half a beat behind. Toya kept his distance, voice neutral when giving cues, professional to a fault. 

Kohane tried to smile at Akito encouragingly, but he barely noticed. An cracked a few jokes and teases, trying to drag him into the rhythm, but Akito snapped back sharper than necessary, words edged with bite.

“Okay,” An said eventually, hands on her hips. “Let’s run it.”

The music started.

And almost immediately, Akito missed his cue.

He stumbled in late, voice cracking, rhythm off. He cursed under his breath and tried to recover, but it only got worse. His timing slipped. He forgot lines he knew by heart. At one point, the music carried on and he didn’t sing at all, staring blankly ahead until Kohane gently nudged him.

“Akito-kun…” 

“Right—” he snapped, forcing himself back in.

They made it through the song in pieces, disjointed and messy. When it ended, the silence was unbearable.

“Let’s take five!” An said. 

Akito dropped onto the floor heavily, elbows braced on his knees, head hanging low. His heart was racing too fast, breath coming shallow. He could feel sweat cooling on his skin, a chill creeping in despite the warmth of the room.

Kohane approached carefully, kneeling a short distance away. “Akito-kun… are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said automatically, not looking up.

“You don’t seem—”

“I said I’m fine.”

The edge in his voice made Kohane flinch. She backed off immediately, worry deepening. An frowned, exchanging a look with Toya, who stood rigid near the wall, jaw tight.

When they started again, it didn’t improve.

Akito’s vision swam. The room felt too bright, too loud. The beat thudded against his skull, each pulse sending a spike of dizziness through him. His chest felt tight, like he couldn’t get enough air no matter how deeply he breathed. His limbs felt weak, coordination slipping through his fingers.

He tried to push through it.

Then the floor rushed up to meet him.

One second he was standing, the next his knees buckled without warning. He barely had time to register the sudden drop in his stomach before everything tilted violently sideways. The sound cut out. His ears rang. He hit the floor hard, the impact jarring enough to knock the breath from his lungs.

“Akito!” Toya yelled, moving automatically to rush over beside him.

An swore loudly, already rushing forward. “Hey—hey, shit—”

Toya was at Akito’s side in an instant, hands hovering uncertainly before carefully lifting Akito up. Akito was conscious—barely concious—but his vision was blurred, lights streaking across his field of view. His chest heaved, breath coming fast and uneven.

“Akito,” Toya said, voice tight, guilt threading through every syllable. “Hey. Can you hear me?”

Akito nodded weakly, throat too tight to speak. His head spun when he tried to move.

“I think he needs to lie down,” Kohane said. “We should get him back to the dorm.”

“I can help carry him,” An offered immediately, already moving to Akito’s other side.

Toya shook his head. “It’s okay,” he said, more firmly than he felt. “I’ve got him.”

He slid an arm carefully under Akito’s shoulders, helping him sit up just enough to shift his weight. Akito sagged immediately, all the tension draining out of him at once. Without meaning to, he leaned heavily into Toya, forehead pressing weakly against his shoulder.

Toya stiffened for half a second—then tightened his grip.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, almost to himself, adjusting so Akito’s arm draped over his shoulder securely. “I’ve got you.”

Akito barely registered being lifted. His head lolled against Toya’s shoulder, body limp, exhaustion crashing over him like a wave. He felt small, unbearably so, and shame burned low in his chest even through the haze.

An opened the door for them, expression serious now. “Text us when you get him back, 'kay?”

Kohane nodded along to An. “Stay safe Toya-kun!”

Toya nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

As they stepped out into the hallway, Akito’s fingers curled weakly into the fabric of Toya’s jacket, instinctive, desperate. Toya felt it—and his chest tightened painfully.

The world came back in pieces.

First there was motion, a steady sway that made his stomach lurch, then the dull ache in his head, the kind that felt like cotton stuffed behind his eyes. Akito blinked, lashes sticking together, and the ceiling he expected didn’t appear. Instead there was the sky—dusk.

He made a small sound before he could stop himself, something between a breath and a whine.

The sway paused.

“Akito,” Toya said softly, close, too close to be anyone else. “You’re awake.”

Akito’s tongue felt thick. He swallowed, throat dry, and tried to piece together what he was seeing. His body was warm on one side and strangely weightless on the other.

“…Where—” His voice cracked immediately, embarrassingly weak. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Where are we? Practice—”

“You collapsed during practice,” Toya said. His tone was careful even, like he was afraid any wrong inflection would somehow make them argue again. “So we’re going home now.”

“Oh.” Akito let his head fall back against Toya’s shoulder without really meaning to. He was draped over him, one arm slung awkwardly, feet barely brushing the ground when Toya shifted his grip. The realization hit a second later, sharp with shame. “Shit—sorry, I—”

“It’s fine,” Toya said immediately. His hold tightened just a fraction, grounding, solid. “Don’t worry about it.”

They walked in silence for a few steps. Akito’s thoughts felt like they were moving through syrup, slow and sticky, but the memory crept back anyway. Practice. Missed cues. An’s worried frown. Kohane hovering like she wanted to do something but didn’t know how. And Toya—Toya not looking at him at all.

The guilt swelled until it was choking him.

“I’m sorry,” Akito said again, barely above a whisper. This time it wasn’t about his weight or collapsing or ruining practice. It was about everything.

Toya stopped.

Not abruptly, but enough that Akito’s feet settled properly on the ground, his balance wobbling before Toya steadied him again. Akito kept his gaze on the pavement, afraid of what he’d see if he looked up.

“Huh?” Toya said. He sounded genuinely startled.

Akito’s fingers curled into the fabric of Toya’s jacket, knuckles whitening. His chest felt tight, like there was a band cinched around his ribs (more specifically his binder, but he’s not going to bring up his overbinding at a time like this). “I’m sorry,” he repeated, quieter somehow. “For earlier. For—everything.”

There was a long pause. 

Toya exhaled. “Akito,” he said. “You really scared us back there.”

“I know,” Akito said quickly. “I didn’t mean to, I just—my head was messed up and I couldn’t focus and then you weren’t talking to me and—” He cut himself off, biting his lip hard enough to taste iron. “That’s not your fault. I’m not trying to blame you.”

Toya adjusted his grip, guiding Akito forward again. They started walking, slower now. “I wasn’t trying to give you the silent treatment,” Toya said after a moment. “I just… didn’t trust myself to talk without making it worse.”

Akito huffed a weak, humorless laugh. “Guess that worked out great for both of us.”

Toya actually let out a small sound at that, something almost like a laugh, but it died quickly. “Earlier,” he started, “when I offered to help, and you told me to stop… I understand why you’re frustrated. I do. But some of the things you said—”

“I know.” Akito squeezed his eyes shut. The words came rushing out before he could stop them. “I didn’t mean them. I mean, I said them, so I guess I did, but—I didn’t mean them like that. I was just… I felt cornered. And scared. And I hate that you see me like this.”

“Like what?” Toya asked.

Akito hesitated. The answer felt ugly. “Like I can’t handle my own shit,” he muttered. 

Toya stopped again, this time fully, and turned just enough that Akito had no choice but to look at him. Toya’s expression wasn’t angry. It was worse. It was open, and wounded, and earnest in a way that made Akito’s chest ache.

“I don’t see you that way,” Toya said.

Akito laughed, sharp and disbelieving. “Bullshit. I’m just so fucking useless without you and I—”

Toya’s brows knit together, and for a second there was something almost like a pout there (an expression almost like a >:( ). “Don’t say that about my precious partner,” he said. “I won’t allow it.”

Despite everything, a weak laugh slipped out of Akito. It startled him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m serious,” Toya insisted. “You’re not useless. You’re not a burden. And you’re definitely not someone I ‘have to take care of.’ I help because I want to.”

“That’s kind of the problem.”

Toya blinked. “...What do you mean?”

Akito looked away again, the words scraping out of him like they were catching on something sharp. “I know you want to help. And I like that you care. I really do. I don’t think I’d be getting through any of this without you, honestly.” His voice wobbled, and he hated it. “But sometimes it feels like you’re hovering. Like you don’t trust me to stand on my own. And every time I screw up, it just proves you right.”

Toya went quiet. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, stripped of its usual composure. “I’m not trying to prove anything,” he said. “I’m going to be honest… I’m sort of overcompensating.”

Akito frowned. “For what?”

Toya’s grip tightened. “For not noticing,” he admitted. “Back then. In middle school and early in high school. You were struggling, and I was so focused on running away from my own problems that I didn’t see how bad it was for you. Or maybe I did, and I didn’t know how to help.” He swallowed. “I don’t want to miss it again.”

Akito’s chest ached at that. He hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected Toya to admit it out loud. “You don’t have to make up for it,” he said softly. “You didn’t fail me. I was the one who hid my issues away from you after all.”

“I feel like I did,” Toya said, just as softly. “And because we’re partners—I wanted you to rely on me. I want to be someone you can lean on without feeling ashamed.”

Akito let out a shaky breath. “I do rely on you,” he said. “Probably more than I should. That’s what scares me.”

Toya tilted his head, studying him. “Why?”

“Because if I get too used to it,” Akito said, “then what happens if you get tired of me? Or decide I’m just too much work? I don’t want to be someone you have to add to your list of worries.”

Toya’s eyes widened, and for a moment he looked almost offended. “Is that really what you think?”

Akito shrugged weakly. “It’s what my brain tells me when I mess up.”

Toya exhaled, long and slow, like he was steadying himself. Then he leaned in just enough that Akito could feel his warmth, solid and real. “Akito,” he said firmly, “I’m not going anywhere. Helping you isn’t a chore. And relying on someone doesn’t make you incapable.”

Akito’s vision blurred again, but this time he didn’t wipe the tears away immediately. “I’m trying,” he whispered. “I really am. I just hate feeling like this. Like I’m failing at everything all at once.”

“I know,” Toya said. His thumb pressed gently into Akito’s shoulder, grounding. “And you don’t have to go through it alone. But… I can try to give you more space. If that’s what you need.”

Akito nodded, slow. “And I’ll try not to snap at you when I’m scared,” he said. “Deal?”

Toya’s lips curved into a small smile. “Deal.”

They started walking again, the dorms coming into view. Akito leaned more comfortably into Toya’s side this time, not fighting the support. 

By the time they got back to the dorm, Akito’s legs felt like they were filled with sand. A heavy, bone-deep exhaustion that made even standing upright feel like an optional task that the body was just not programmed to do. Toya unlocked the door one-handed, steadying Akito with the other, and guided him inside with quiet efficiency.

“Akito, I know what we just talked about but—do you mind if I take care of you right now?” Toya said gently, nudging him toward the edge of the bed.

Akito hummed in response, before sitting down—slumping forward with a groan, elbows braced on his knees. His heartbeat had finally slowed, but the ache lingered everywhere—shoulders, calves, lower back, everywhere.

Toya set Akito’s bag down and turned to him. “I’ll run a bath for you,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

Akito blinked up at him. “Toya… you really don’t have to—”

“I want to, if you’d let me,” Toya said, already heading toward the bathroom. Akito sighed, before nodding (trying to act non-chalant). “Just give me a minute.”

Akito didn’t argue. As much as he said he hated being hovered over, he does like when Toya took care of him. There’s a difference between being babied and being pampered okay?! Akito was no different from others, he does love being pampered by his drop-dead gorgeous boyfrie— wait, we’re getting off topic.

He leaned back on his hands and stared at the ceiling, listening to the sound of the faucet turning on, the hollow echo of the tub filling. 

It felt surreal sometimes, how normal this all was. Good dorm. Private bathroom per room. A bathtub big enough to actually soak in. He still wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up accepted to a university as good and funded as this, how any of this had worked out.

Toya came back a moment later. “The water's warming up. Can you stand?”

“Yeah,” Akito said, though it came out less confident than he’d meant.

Toya offered a hand anyway, and Akito took it without comment. He wobbled a bit as he stood, knees protesting, and Toya steadied him immediately, hand firm at his elbow.

They made it into the bathroom together. Steam was already starting to fog the mirror, the air warm and faintly scented from whatever bath soap Toya had added. Akito stood awkwardly near the sink, suddenly hyper-aware of himself—specifically of how tired and wrung-out he felt.

Toya reached for the hem of Akito’s jacket, then paused. “May I?”

Akito nodded. “Yeah.”

Toya helped him peel it off, then the hoodie underneath, careful and unhurried. Akito avoided his gaze as his shirt followed, then hesitated, fingers curling at the hem of his binder. 

“Don’t look,” he muttered.

“Okay,” Toya said immediately, and turned away without a second thought.

Akito exhaled shakily and finished undressing, setting the binder aside. The vulnerability lingered for a moment, then eased when he realized Toya hadn’t moved an inch. When he was done, he cleared his throat.

“You can turn around.”

Toya did, eyes settling respectfully on Akito’s face instead of anywhere else. “Bath’s ready.”

Akito stepped into the tub with a hiss as the warmth wrapped around his calves, then his thighs, then finally his hips. He sank down slowly, shoulders slumping as the water covered him, heat seeping into muscles that had been clenched for hours.

“Oh my god,” he breathed. “This is…”

Toya smiled softly. “Good?”

“Way too good,” Akito said, head tipping back against the edge of the tub. His eyes fluttered shut. “I might actually melt in here… in a good way.”

“I’ll keep an eye on you,” Toya said. “Just in case.”

Akito cracked one eye open and smirked. “Whatcha waiting for? Get in here.”

Toya blinked, then chuckled. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Akito said. “You look just as tired as I feel.”

Toya didn’t argue. He turned back to the sink to change, and Akito deliberately focused on the water rippling around his knees instead of staring at Toya’s exposed chest and overthinking it. A moment later, Toya stepped into the tub behind him, settling carefully so the water didn’t slosh over the edge.

Akito instinctively leaned back until his shoulders rested against Toya’s chest. Toya froze for a moment, then relaxed, arms coming up to rest loosely around Akito without trapping him.

“Comfortable?” Toya asked.

“Mm,” Akito hummed. “Very.”

They sat like that for a while, quiet except for the faint sound of water shifting. Akito’s breathing slowed, his body finally unclenching. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed this.

Toya reached for the shampoo and poured some into his palm. “I’m going to wash your hair, okay?”

Akito nodded. “Go ahead.”

Gentle fingers worked through his hair massaging his scalp in slow circles. Akito let out a sound that was embarrassingly close to a purr (which of course—did wonders for Toya’s cat-loving inner child).

“Wow,” Akito murmured. “You’ve been holding out on me. Mhm… this feels nice.”

Toya laughed quietly. “You just never sit still long enough.”

“That’s slander,” Akito said, though his voice was already drifting. The tension melted out of his neck, his shoulders, everything. He could feel Toya’s thumbs press just enough to ease the lingering ache at the base of his skull.

“You okay?” Toya asked after a moment.

“Yeah,” Akito said. “I am now.”

The sincerity in his own voice surprised him. He shifted slightly, water lapping at the tub’s edge, and Toya adjusted with him seamlessly.

They took their time, rinsing, reapplying soap or shampoo when needed. Akito returned the favor, clumsily at first, then more confidently, fingers threading through Toya’s hair with the same care.

“This is nice,” Akito said quietly.

Toya hummed in agreement. “It is.”

By the time the bath had settled into a quiet, steamy calm, Akito felt like he’d been peeled apart and put back together correctly. The water lapped gently against the sides of the tub, heat seeping deep into muscles that had been screaming at him all week. He leaned back against Toya’s chest, eyes half-lidded, letting the warmth do most of the work for him.

Toya finished rinsing the last of the shampoo from Akito’s hair, fingers lingering just long enough to smooth it back from his forehead. He reached for the showerhead to rinse his own hands, then paused, watching Akito blink slowly like a cat that had been left in a sunbeam too long.

“You’ve been really restless lately,” Toya said—not accusatory, just observant. “Can I ask you something?”

Akito hummed in response. “M’kay.”

“Did you take your Concerta today?”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Akito’s eyes snapped open.

“…Oh.”

Toya raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Akito stared at the tiled wall in front of him as something clicked violently into place. The past week replayed in his head all at once—being unable to sit still, bouncing his leg through lectures, staring at his laptop for hours without writing a word, the constant buzzing under his skin like he was about to crawl out of it.

“Oh,” he repeated, louder this time. “Oh my god.”

Toya’s lips twitched. “You forgot, didn’t you.”

Akito groaned and slid down a little in the tub until the water was just below his chin. “I—okay, listen. I turned off my alarm during one of my surveys so it wouldn’t distract me while I interview and survey people. And then I just… never turned it back on.”

Toya stared at him for a moment.

“…Akito.”

“I know, I know,” Akito said quickly. “I’m an idiot.”

Toya let out a quiet laugh despite himself, shoulders shaking slightly behind Akito. “How long has it been?”

Akito counted silently, then winced. “Uh. A week. Maybe a little more.”

“That explains a lot,” Toya said, amusement softening into fond concern. “You forgot you had ADHD.”

“Do not say it like that,” Akito protested, face heating instantly. “That sounds so stupid.”

“It’s kind of cute,” Toya said.

Akito whipped his head around so fast water sloshed over the edge of the tub. “Do not call me cute.”

Toya laughed outright now. “You are sitting in a bathtub pouting at me because you forgot to take your meds.”

“I am not pouting.”

“You are, Aki.”

Akito splashed water in his direction. Toya dodged it easily.

“…Okay,” Akito admitted, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah. That probably explains why I’ve been so damn antsy. And why I couldn’t focus on my report at all.”

Toya nodded. “We’ll set your alarm again later,” he said. “Just—don’t take it tonight. It’ll mess with your sleep.”

Akito blinked. “Right. Yeah. Good point.”

He paused, then snorted. “God, it’s kind of insane that you remembered before I did.”

Toya shrugged. “I pay attention.”

Akito glanced back at him, expression softening into something complicated. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “You really do.”

They dissolved into laughter again, quieter this time, the kind that lingered in the chest. Akito leaned back fully, letting his head rest against Toya’s shoulder.

“…What would I even do without you,” he muttered. “This is so confusing.”

Toya tilted his head slightly. “What is?”

“Everything,” Akito said. “My boundaries. My brain. Needing help but also hating that I need it. Wanting to be independent but also—” He gestured vaguely with one hand. “This.”

Toya listened without interrupting, then spoke gently. “It’s okay to be confused about that,” he said. “I understand what you meant earlier. Wanting space doesn’t mean you don’t want support. We’ll figure out where the line is together.”

Akito stared at him for a long second, eyes wide.

“…Toya,” he said slowly, “marry me.”

Toya choked on a laugh. “What?”

“You’re such a—” Akito waved his hands helplessly. “You’re such a husband! God. It’s so unfair.”

They both burst out laughing again, loud enough that Akito had to grip the edge of the tub to steady himself. 

Eventually, the water cooled and the laughter faded into something drowsy. Toya helped Akito out of the tub, wrapping him in a towel and steering him toward the bedroom before he could wander off.

“I have to work on my report,” Akito mumbled weakly, blinking at the bed like it was a trap.

“No,” Toya said simply, guiding him down anyway. “You’re sleeping.”

“I can’t skip—”

“You can,” Toya said, firm but gentle. “You’ve gone to every class this semester. One day won’t hurt your attendance.”

Toya was proud—very, very proud that Akito did start attending his classes more. Because back in their first year, he had skipped a lot more often. And it clearly showed on Toya’s face

Akito paused. “…You’re proud of me, aren’t you.”

“Very.”

That was enough to do him in. Akito let himself be tucked in, blankets pulled up to his shoulders. Toya climbed in beside him—the bed was just barely big enough for two if they tried hard enough. Akito instinctively curled back into him, and Toya wrapped an arm around his waist, spooning him close.

Sleep dragged at Akito fast, heavy and warm. He was halfway gone when Toya pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Goodnight, Aki,” Toya murmured. “I love you.”

Akito hummed something unintelligible in response, already slipping into sleep.

Toya shifted carefully, about to sit up, when his phone buzzed quietly on the nightstand. He glanced at the screen.

Stream reminder.

He looked back at Akito, breathing slow and even, face relaxed and peaceful in a way Toya didn’t get to see often enough.

…His viewers would survive a day without him.

Toya turned the phone face-down and settled back in, adjusting the blankets and holding Akito just a little closer. When it got late enough, he carefully detangled himself and moved to his own bed, watching until he was sure Akito stayed asleep.