Work Text:
The crumpled map belonging to Nagi Seishiro lay spread across the hood of a once-vivid red jeep—its color dulled and stained by time, to the point that it was hard to tell what shade it had originally been. Dust clung to the metal surface, and faint scratches traced the years the vehicle had survived.
Seishiro lifted a hand to scratch his head in irritation, fingers tangling in his hair as he flipped the map back and forth, smoothing it out, folding it again, as if sheer determination might somehow make the paper cooperate. He squinted, traced invisible routes with his finger, even turned the map upside down—yet no matter how long he stared, it only grew more useless by the second.
“…This makes no sense, …This thing is completely useless,” he muttered, squinting at the paper like it had personally betrayed him.
He traced a route with his finger. Paused. Then flipped the map upside down. Again
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing made sense.
And that was when he noticed it.
The sound.
Laughter.
As frustration built in his chest, Seishiro’s eyes shifted away from the map—and landed on the real problem.
Itoshi Rin stood beside the jeep, arms crossed loosely over his chest, leaning against the car door like this was the most entertaining situation he’d been in all day. His shoulders shook as he laughed openly, not even trying to hide it.
Seishiro felt something snap.
“What are you laughing at?” he demanded.
Rin didn’t answer right away, still trying—and failing—to suppress his laughter. Seishiro clicked his tongue and jabbed a finger toward the map.
“I told you,” Seishiro continued, jabbing a finger angrily at the map, “we should’ve turned left at that gas station!”
That, however, did absolutely nothing to make Rin take things seriously. He straightened up just enough to look at Seishiro, then shook his head lightly and tilting his head with an innocent look that fooled absolutely no one.
“Hey,” he said lightly, “I have a perfectly reasonable explanation.”
Seishiro crossed his arms. “Oh, really? I’d love to hear it.”
“There were only two gas stations left,” Rin replied calmly.
“And?” Seishiro pressed.
“The first one was the entrance to town,” Rin went on, counting it off on his fingers, “and the second one—”
Seishiro paused, scowling. Rin continued, a grin tugging at his lips.
“—led us straight into the forest...”
“And now,” Rin added, sweeping his arm toward the empty dirt road stretching endlessly ahead, and the dense trees pressing in from both sides, “we’re officially lost. Right here.”
Seishiro turned slowly, scanning the surroundings. No cars. No signs. Just the quiet rustle of leaves and the hum of insects somewhere deep in the trees.
He let out a long breath.
“…We really are,” Seishiro admitted, shoulders sagging in defeat.
He rubbed the back of his neck, then glanced back at Rin, who was still smiling like this was all part of the plan.
“You’re enjoying this way too much,” Seishiro accused.
Rin shrugged. “It’s kind of exciting.”
“Being lost?”
“Being lost with you,” Rin corrected, his tone casual—but his eyes warm.
Seishiro froze for half a second.
Then he clicked his tongue and stepped closer, reaching out to grab Rin’s hand.
“…It’d be worse,” Seishiro said quietly, fingers tightening around Rin’s,
“if you weren’t here.”
Rin blinked, surprised—then looked down at their joined hands, his laughter softening into something gentler.
They didn’t know where they were.
The jeep didn’t have enough fuel to keep going.
What was supposed to be a spontaneous, carefree trip had turned into something strange and messy.
But Seishiro knew one thing for certain.
Rin wouldn’t leave him alone out here.
Rin squeezed his hand back, just a little.
“Well,” he said lightly, “guess we’ll make this a memory anyway.”
Seishiro snorted. “…Only you would say that.”
But he didn’t let go.
And somehow, standing there together on an empty road, being lost didn’t feel so bad at all.
In the end, they left the jeep behind and set off on foot, wandering without any real direction—half hoping they might run into someone kind enough to offer them a place to stay, or at least enough fuel to get the car moving again.
The path ahead could barely be called a road. It was more like a suggestion of one—uneven, fading in and out beneath their feet. Rin and Seishiro pushed through patches of wildflowers that brushed against their jeans, petals tickling their legs as they passed. They crossed a narrow stream, hopping from stone to stone, somehow turning it into a completely pointless competition over who could make it across without slipping.
Seishiro jumped first, landing clumsily and nearly slipping.
“Careful,” Rin said, reaching out instinctively.
“Hey—don’t distract me,” Seishiro shot back, grabbing Rin’s wrist anyway, using it far more than necessary to steady himself. “If I fall, that’s on you.”
Rin snorted. “Sure it is.”
They followed a sound drifting through the trees—maybe birds, maybe laughter, maybe just their imaginations filling in the quiet. Neither of them felt the need to question it.
“This doesn’t feel like a trip anymore,” Seishiro said, glancing around, tone half-complaining, half-amused.
“It feels like we’re on the run.”
Rin walked closer, their arms brushing now, close enough that Seishiro could feel the warmth through his sleeve.
“You’re the one who said you wanted to get away,” Rin replied lightly.
“Yeah, but not this far away,” Seishiro said, then added with a grin, “You always drag me into trouble.”
Rin hummed. “But you're following me, anyway.”
“What?”
“Nothing”
Rin watched him, eyes warm, clearly entertained.
“You know, in this kind of situation,” he said, voice gentle and amused.
“I had to admit it—it’s kind of fun.”
Seishiro looked back at him, eyebrow raised. “Fun?”
“Yeah,” Rin continued, stepping closer, water rippling around his ankles.
“Doing something like this once in a while. Forgetting maps. Forgetting schedules. Forgetting plans.”
He paused, smiling. “Just… this.”
Seishiro laughed and slipped his shoes off, stepping straight into the stream with a sharp gasp. “Cold—! Oh wow, that’s cold!”
Rin stepped in after him, slower, watching Seishiro’s reaction with obvious amusement.
“You could’ve warned me,” Seishiro said, splashing water with his foot.
“I did,” Rin replied calmly. “You never listen.”
“Oh, you're dead,” Seishiro scoffed and kicked water at him.
Rin retaliated immediately.
Within seconds, they were splashing each other, laughing too hard to care about getting wet. Seishiro slipped slightly, arms windmilling—and Rin grabbed him without thinking, one hand firm around Seishiro’s waist, the other bracing his arm.
For a moment, they froze.
Too close.
Seishiro looked up, breathless, eyes bright.
“…You didn’t let go.”
Rin didn’t.
“Didn’t want to.”
Seishiro grinned, cheeks flushed—not just from the cold—and leaned in just a fraction more before stepping back with a playful shove.
“Don’t get sentimental on me now.”
Rin laughed and splashed him again.
They kept walking like that—too close, shoulders knocking, hands brushing, fingers catching at sleeves. Seishiro’s laughter rang through the trees, loud and unrestrained, and every time Rin heard it, something warm settled deeper in his chest.
Maybe—
Just maybe—
Getting lost wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
After walking for what felt like forever without encountering a single soul, the sun finally began to sink low in the sky, slipping slowly toward the horizon. The light softened, painting everything in warm shades of gold and amber, as if the world itself was winding down for the day. Just as dusk settled in, they found it—an old barn standing alone in the field, abandoned, weathered, and clearly forgotten by time.
Rin moved first, circling the structure with careful steps, eyes sharp despite the fading light. He checked the shadows, the corners, the quiet around them. Only when he was certain there were no people—or anything dangerous—nearby did he straighten and lift a hand, motioning Seishiro over.
They worked together without needing to say much. Using the old blankets they had taken from the jeep, they tied them between wooden beams that creaked softly under the strain, the wood worn thin with age. It wasn’t sturdy. It wasn’t neat. But it was theirs—something they had made together, even in the middle of nowhere.
They shared the packaged food and the last of their drinking water, sitting close enough that their knees brushed, shoulders leaning just slightly into one another. When they finally lay down side by side, the barn roof above them was full of tiny openings, through which fireflies drifted and blinked softly, their light flickering like distant stars.
Time passed in comfortable silence.
Then Rin shifted.
Seishiro turned his head to watch as Rin reached out, fingers gentle as he plucked a single dandelion from the grass. He rolled the thin stem slowly between his fingers, thoughtful, unhurried—like he wasn’t in any rush for the moment to end.
“Here, make a wish,” Rin said, holding it out to him, a wide, quiet smile softening his features.
Seishiro hesitated.
He had never been someone who wished for much. Never asked the world for more than it gave. Right now, the only thing he wanted—truly wanted—was to stay like this, close enough to feel Rin’s presence beside him, close enough to keep seeing that gentle expression on his face for as long as he could.
“…Okay,” Seishiro whispered.
He closed his eyes.
After a moment, he lifted the dandelion and blew softly. The white fluff scattered into the air, drifting upward like tiny parachutes, disappearing into the dim glow of the barn and the fading light outside.
Rin watched them go before turning back to Seishiro, curiosity clear in his voice.
“What did you wish for?”
Seishiro laughed quietly, warmth curling in his chest, and shook his head.
“If I tell you,” he said softly,
“then it won’t come true.”
Looking back to before they ever agreed to come on this trip together—
could it even be called a trip?
There had been no destination, no plan, no careful preparation.
They hadn’t marked anything on a map or decided where they would end up.
They simply drove forward, trusting the road to carry them somewhere—anywhere.
It didn’t have to be a city.
It didn’t have to be a main road.
It didn’t even have to exist on a map.
As long as it was just the two of them, that was enough.
It had begun on an ordinary night, quiet in a way that made thoughts feel louder than usual. No long explanations. No promises about tomorrow. Just a short invitation, offered like a secret meant only for one person.
“Let’s go,” Rin said, turning the car keys in his hand.
“Go where?” Seishiro asked.
Seishiro didn’t hesitate.
“Anywhere,” he replied,
“as long as it’s just you and me.”
And so they went.
They drove without urgency, letting time stretch and soften around them. Wherever the night caught up to them, they stopped. Some nights were spent in small roadside hotels with flickering lights and thin walls. Other evenings found them wandering into quiet bars, where unfamiliar music drifted through the air and local dishes tasted like places they might never return to.
They danced.
They talked to strangers whose names they wouldn’t remember.
They laughed over moments that existed only once—and would never come back the same way again.
Along the way, they ran through parks like children—
children who hadn’t yet learned how heavy the cost of growing up could be,
children who still believed that joy didn’t need permission.
Rin taught Seishiro how to shout into the wind,
how to let his voice scatter and disappear into open space without fear of being heard—or judged.
Seishiro, in return, taught Rin how to hold on to happiness,
how to capture fleeting moments through the lens of his favorite camera,
how to preserve proof that they had been real.
And every time Rin met Seishiro’s gaze,
it felt as though the entire world paused—
as if everything else stepped back, just long enough to let them exist.
Seishiro wanted to stay here forever.
In this in-between place.
On this road that asked for nothing and promised nothing.
And somehow—
quietly, unmistakably—
he felt that Rin wanted the same thing too.
Seishiro could feel Rin’s gaze resting on him—steady, warm, unmistakable—even without turning to look.
Just knowing it was there was enough to make Seishiro’s lips curve into a small, contented smile.
He shifted closer without really thinking about it, their shoulders nearly brushing as he searched the grass beside them. After a moment, he spotted another dandelion and carefully plucked it, brushing away a bit of dirt before holding it out toward Rin.
Rin blinked, clearly caught off guard. His eyes moved from Seishiro’s face to the fragile flower, then back again, hesitation flickering across his expression as he didn’t take it right away.
Seishiro tilted his head and nodded gently, urging him on.
“You should make a wish too.”
Rin stilled. For a heartbeat, he seemed to consider it—then he shook his head lightly, a quiet smile touching his lips.
“There’s no need.”
Seishiro frowned just a little, curiosity bright in his eyes.
“Why not?”
Rin didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he turned fully toward Seishiro, closing the small distance between them. His gaze softened as it lingered—on Seishiro’s smile, on the warmth in his eyes, on the way he always seemed so present in moments like this. The world felt hushed, as though everything else had stepped back to give them space.
Finally, Rin spoke, his voice low and gentle.
“Because what I want…”
He reached out, brushing his fingers lightly against Seishiro’s hand—just enough to feel the warmth there.
“…is already right here.”
They stayed like that, lying side by side, still gazing up at the same wide sky.
Tonight, the moon hung bright and full, stars scattered like delicate sparks—
as if the universe itself had arranged a small, silent celebration just for them.
Rin had never imagined his life entwined with anyone else’s.
He had always walked forward alone, choosing his own path, never asking anyone to stay,
never believing he needed to be chosen in return.
Until Seishiro.
Seishiro never demanded space in his life—
never questioned the choices others might call reckless or strange.
He simply stayed.
He listened.
He understood Rin in a way that didn’t require explanation.
A life Rin once believed was complete on its own
had quietly, irrevocably, become unimaginable without the warmth of the white-haired boy beside him.
“I really like how you look at me. And you always look at me like that.” Seishiro asked softly,
his eyes still tracing constellations across the sky.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m your whole world,” Seishiro murmured.
“Like I’m the only thing you can see.
Like I’m something you can’t live without.”
“Rin …”
Seishiro turned toward him then.
Even wrapped in darkness, his face seemed to glow—soft, open, real.
“Do you remember when you told me,” Seishiro continued gently,
“That you love your brother, your parents—but not the same way you love me?”
“Mmm,” Rin hummed, a quiet smile in his voice.
“Do you still feel that way?” Seishiro asked.
Rin paused, as if giving the question the respect it deserved.
Then he leaned closer and pressed a tender kiss to the tip of Seishiro’s nose.
“Of course,” he said softly.
“It’s still like that.”
He lingered there, forehead touching Seishiro’s.
“…Maybe even more than that now.”
Seishiro laughed first—and Rin followed—
until their laughter tangled together, breathless and bright,
as though the world beyond the old barn had simply faded away.
No deadlines waiting.
No cities pulling them apart.
No signals lost or routes to follow.
Just this.
Rin’s arms wrapped around Seishiro, instinctive and sure,
drawing him closer, holding him there—
not out of fear, but certainty.
Tight.
A silent promise settling deep in his chest:
this is where I stay.
They lay there together, lost in a place without a name—
yet somehow certain it had been made for them alone.
And as the stars continued to shimmer overhead,
Rin whispered, barely louder than a breath,
“I understand now.”
“Home isn’t a city.”
“It isn’t four walls.”
“It isn’t a bed.”
He pressed a gentle kiss to Seishiro’s forehead.
“For me… home is you, Seishiro.”
Seishiro smiled, tucking his face against Rin’s chest,
listening to the steady rhythm of his heart—
and murmured back, just as softly,
“Then my home is anywhere you are, Rin.”