Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Silver did not hurry. He never did, not when it mattered.

Dawn had barely finished thinning into morning when he found himself already awake, sitting upright on the edge of his bed in Diasomnia’s tower, hands resting loosely on his knees. The room was dim, as it always was, lit only by a faint wash of early light seeping through the tall, narrow windows. Dust particles drifted lazily in the air, moving in slow, aimless patterns that mirrored his own thoughts.

He had slept, yet he could not remember when he had drifted off. That was also not unusual. Sleep took him when it wished and released him just the same.

Still, today felt… different. Not in an alarming way. It felt more alike to anticipation, quiet and steady beneath his ribs.

His eyes flicked to the corner of his room where his sword rested against the wall. He did not need it today. That realization settled over him with a strange gentleness.

A week.

It had only been a week since Kouta Yuudai had become something more than a presence at his side, more than someone he sparred with, observed, or quietly stood near. A week since the word boyfriend had entered his life, awkwardly, almost shyly, as if it did not quite know how to fit yet.

Silver turned the word over in his mind, like the way one might test the weight of a new weapon in their palm.

Yuudai.

Even thinking his name made something low and unfamiliar stir in his chest. Not unpleasant at all.
He dressed with his usual precision. Buttoning his uniform without haste, smoothing the fabric over his shoulders, tying his hair back in its usual style. His movements were practiced, mechanical, yet his thoughts were anything but. He silently wondered what Yuudai was doing with each step done.

Probably awake. Probably already moving too fast, running on caffeine and stubborn willpower, as if the day were a battlefield he intended to conquer before breakfast. Silver could almost picture it: Yuudai pacing, talking too quickly, tapping his foot, irritation flickering across his face at something trivial. Even more likely, a group of male students probably assuming they were better than the magic-less human and getting brutally beaten for such a mistake. All with a worn wooden bat.

The comical mental image brought a faint, almost imperceptible softening to Silver’s neutral expression.

He left his room quietly, footsteps soundless against the stone floors of Diasomnia. The dorm was still mostly asleep, draped in its usual hush. Even Lilia, who so rarely rested, was silent at this hour.

Silver moved through the halls with purpose but no urgency, his mind focused on a single task. The need to ask Yuudai an important question that had been on his mind since the very day he asked the human out. A question about their plans for their first date.

The thought was simple, but it carried more weight than he imagined it would. Silver was not someone who invited people lightly. He wasn’t exactly known to fill his time with idle company. When he asked for someone’s presence, it meant something. Even if he rarely said so aloud.

As he stepped outside into the cool morning air, the sky was a pale, mist-washed gray. The grounds of Night Raven College stretched out before him, distant towers rising through the haze. The air smelled faintly of wet grass and earth.

He did not immediately head for Ramshackle or wherever he figured Yuudai might be. Instead, he walked slowly, allowing himself to think. What did he want to say? How should he say it? He replayed possibilities in his mind, each one discarded almost as soon as it formed.

“Would you like to go on a date?”
Too stiff. Too formal.

“I was thinking we could spend time together.”
Too vague.

“Meet me by the forest path.”
Too much like an order.

Silver paused beneath a tall, bare-limbed tree at the edge of the courtyard, exhaling softly through his nose. He tilted his head back, eyes tracing the faint light of the morning sky filtering through the branches. He did not need something overly elaborate. Yuudai did not respond to grand speeches. He responded to honesty, even if it flustered him. Even if it made him bristle or stumble over his words.

So Silver chose simplicity. When he finally reached Yuudai, it was not dramatic.

He found him near the main courtyard steps, exactly where he half-expected him to be, coffee in hand, shoulders tense, looking like he had already declared war on the day before it had properly begun. For a short moment, Silver simply admired.

Yuudai’s posture, the way his fingers curled around the cup, the faint crease between his brows. He looked stubborn even while standing still. It was endearing, in a way Silver was still learning how to name.

He approached without announcing himself, footsteps light enough that most would not have noticed. But Yuudai, sharp as ever, glanced up at the last second, eyes widening just slightly when they met Silver’s.

Silver stopped a respectful distance away.

There was a beat of silence. Not uncomfortable, just careful, like both of them were still adjusting to this new space between them. Silver shifted his weight, hands resting loosely at his sides, “…Yuu.”

His voice was low, steady, unhurried. He watched Yuudai blink, clearly surprised but not displeased at Silver’s uncharacteristic early rising this morning. He could see the small change in his posture, the way his shoulders eased just a fraction.

Silver took a breath.

“If you’re free,” he said quietly, gaze steady and sincere, “I’d like to spend time with you.”

No flourish. No romantic preamble. No overthinking. Just the truth, plain and simple.

For a heartbeat, Yuudai stared at him. Then, as Silver had half-expected, color crept up his cheeks, his mouth opening and closing like he was scrambling for a response and failing spectacularly. Silver felt something almost like amusement stir inside him, but he did not show it. Instead, he waited, patient as ever, letting Kouta take the moment at his own pace.

Also predictably, Yuudai did not answer right away. That, in itself, told Silver more than most words could.

He watched the minute shifts in him. The way his grip tightened briefly around his mug, the way his eyes flicked away and then back again, the way his jaw worked like he was biting back a dozen thoughts at once. The morning breeze tugged lightly at Yuudai’s hair, carrying with it the faint scent of coffee and chilly morning air. Silver still did not rush him.

He stood where he was, still, composed, his presence steady in the quiet courtyard. Around them, the campus was beginning to stir, distant footsteps echoing faintly, a laugh drifting from somewhere near Heartslabyul, the low murmur of students waking up to the day. None of it mattered much to Silver in that moment. His attention remained entirely on Yuudai.

Finally, Yuudai inhaled, slightly sharper than necessary, and Silver saw the faint flush deepen on his cheeks. His mouth opened again, and this time, words actually came out.

“Yeah, I mean,” Yuudai cut himself off, scowling faintly as if annoyed at his own stumbling. “Yeah. I’m totally free.”

The way he said it was too quick, too eager, too obviously flustered, and yet, entirely sincere. Silver’s expression did not change, but something inside him eased. “Good,” he replied steadily.

For a few seconds, they simply stood there, facing one another. It was not awkward. Not really. Just… new. Still learning the shape of this thing between them, still figuring out how close to stand, how long to hold eye contact, what the silence meant now that they were not just acquaintances, not just sparring partners, not just allies.

Boyfriends.

The word surfaced again in Silver’s mind, louder this time. He glanced briefly past Yuudai toward the edge of campus, where the mist still clung low to the trees bordering the forest. The path there was familiar to him, well-trodden, quiet, away from the bustle of their college.

A place where he could think. A place where he could simply enjoy Yuudai’s presence. His gaze returned to the human in question.

“If you don’t mind,” Silver continued, unhurried, “I was thinking of somewhere… away from the crowds.”

He did not frame it as a question, exactly, but it wasn’t a command either. It was more of an invitation extended with quiet respect, and a dash of longing.

Yuudai physically tilted his head slightly, brow furrowing. Silver could practically see the wheels turning in his mind, trying to guess, probably, what Silver meant by that. “Like, Diasomnia quiet?” Yuudai said.

Silver inclined his head, “Yes.”

Yuudai huffed softly, a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff, but there was no real annoyance in it. If anything, he looked equally delighted.

“Alright,” he said, taking another sip of his coffee, “Lead the way, Sleeping Beauty.”

Silver did not react to the nickname outwardly, though the corner of his mind noted it. It was teasing, familiar now, comfortable in a way it hadn’t been before. He turned then, beginning to walk at a slow, even pace toward the outskirts of campus.

He did not look back immediately, but he could hear Yuudai’s footsteps fall in beside him a moment later, quicker, lighter, less controlled than his own. Silver adjusted instinctively, lengthening his stride just enough to keep them moving in tandem without forcing Kouta to rush or lag behind.

The path they took was not the most direct. Silver guided them past the main courtyard and toward the quieter edges of Night Raven College, where manicured grounds slowly gave way to wilder greenery. The sounds of students faded behind them, replaced gradually by the soft rustle of leaves and the distant call of birds.

At first, Yuudai filled the silence, he always did. His voice came in bursts, comments about early classes, complaints about someone he had already run into, a sarcastic remark about Diasomnia’s “dramatic” atmosphere. Silver listened, not interrupting, not rushing him, eyes forward but attention fully attuned to every word. Every so often, he offered a small hum of acknowledgment, or a quiet “I see,” whenever Yuudai paused for breath.

They crossed from stone pathways onto dirt, the ground softer beneath their feet. The air felt cooler here, shaded by tall trees that arched overhead like silent guards. Mist lingered in patches along the forest floor, curling lazily around exposed roots. Silver slowed slightly without thinking about it. Beside him, Yuudai pace shifted to match.

The change was subtle, but significant. Less restless, less jittery. His earlier energy still simmered beneath the surface, but the environment seemed to draw some of the edge out of him.

Silver noticed. He always noticed.

They walked in companionable quiet for a stretch, the only sounds being the crunch of leaves with each step and the faint whistles of wind drifting through branches. The forest path gradually revealed itself more clearly ahead of them, opening a narrow, winding trail that cut through the trees toward a glimpse of open sky in the distance.

Silver allowed himself to glance sideways at Yuudai. His boyfriend. The word sounded steadier in his mind than on his tongue.

Yuudai’s expression had softened without him realizing it. Less tense, less braced for conflict. He was still alert, still confident in posture, but there was a calmness there that Silver had rarely seen outside of training. A good sign, he thought.

Without breaking stride, Silver shifted just a fraction closer, positioning himself instinctively between Yuudai and the thicker brush at the edge of the path. Not out of possessiveness, nor out of control. Simply out of habit and something deeper he had not yet fully put into words.

Ahead of them, the path began to curve gently toward a small clearing where the trees thinned, light spilling through in brighter shafts. Beyond that, Silver knew, lay the quieter stretch of trail that would eventually lead toward a lake.

He let the silence stretch just a little longer, let Yuudai settle into the rhythm of their steps, let the forest settle around them like a quiet cocoon. Then, softly, without looking at him, “It’s peaceful here.”

He didn’t provide much of an explanation beyond that, it was just a statement. Yuudai did not respond immediately to Silver’s comment. That, too, was something Silver had already learned how to read. It’s not as if his silence was a dismissal, it was simply Kouta taking a moment to actually feel something instead of reacting to it.

Yuudai did not stay quiet for long. As soon as the forest swallowed more of the campus behind them, his earlier restlessness seemed to rebound rather than disappear. The calmer setting did not tame him, it just redirected his energy.

He kicked lightly at a stray pebble on the path, watching it skitter ahead of them before glancing sideways at Silver. “Y’know,” Yuudai said, lifting his coffee again, “I was half-expecting you to say something like ‘meet me at dawn in the shadow of the eastern spire’ or whatever. Very Diasomnia of you.”

Silver’s gaze remained forward, but he heard the grin in Yuudai’s voice.

“I considered it.” he replied evenly.

Yuudai snorted, nearly choking on his drink. “Of course you did.”

The sound echoed faintly through the trees, bright and unapologetic. Where the forest was quiet and composed, Yuudai was alive within it, his footsteps a little louder, presence a little warmer, voice cutting cleanly through the mist. Silver did not mind. If anything, the contrast felt right.

They continued along the dirt path, leaves crunching beneath their boots. Sunlight filtered through the branches in soft, uneven patches that painted the ground in shifting gold. Somewhere nearby, a bird took off with a flutter of wings. Yuudai glanced around, clearly taking it all in.

“Wow. I’ve barely been out here before,” he said, tilting his head back to look up at the canopy. “Kinda creepy, but… nice creepy. Not like the ‘Diasomnia curse looming over my head’ creepy.”

Silver turned his head slightly at that, one brow lifting almost imperceptibly.

“This area is safe.” he said simply.

Yuudai rolled his eyes, though there was no real bite to it. “Yeah, yeah, says the guy who lives in the most ominous dorm on campus.”

He sped up a step, moving slightly ahead of Silver, then slowed again as if remembering to stay beside him. His fingers drummed against his cup in a restless rhythm.

“So,” Yuudai went on, voice lighter now, “is this your dramatic, brooding ‘alone time’ path or something? You come out here to stare moodily into the distance and think deep thoughts?”

Silver let out a very small breath through his nose, not quite a laugh, but close enough that Yuudai noticed immediately.

“Oh my god, that was almost a laugh,” Yuudai said, pointing at him accusingly. “Don’t you think I missed that!”

Silver did not rise to the bait. He simply adjusted his pace again, staying just slightly ahead of Yuudai now, out of instinct more than intention. “It’s quiet,” Silver said. “That makes thinking easier.”

Yuudai hummed, kicking another leaf out of his way. “Fair. I’d probably go insane if it was too quiet, though. My brain does not shut up.”

Silver believed him without too much thought. Yuudai was typically found trapped in some sort of crowd. Where there was noise, there was the human.

They walked deeper, the trail curving gently. The air felt cooler here, damp with lingering morning mist that clung to the ground in soft ribbons. Tall trees stood like silent guardians along the path, their roots breaking through the dirt in uneven, twisting shapes.

Yuudai’s pace grew a little uneven as he kept glancing around, distracted.

“Hey, watch your—”

Too late.

Yuudai’s boot caught on an exposed root, his balance tipping forward. His coffee sloshed dangerously, and for a split second, Silver saw the stumble before it fully happened. Without breaking stride, Silver moved.

His hand shot out, firm and steady, catching Yuudai by the forearm before he could fully fall. The motion was practiced, effortless, as natural as breathing. Yuudai jerked to a stop, heart probably racing, eyes wide.

“—oh.”

He stared at Silver’s hand on his arm, then up at his face, cheeks instantly flooding with color. Silver released him just as smoothly, stepping back into his original position like nothing unusual had occurred.

“Be careful,” he said plainly.

Yuudai let out a breath that was half-laugh, half-nervous exhale.

“Thanks, Dad,” he muttered, then immediately winced. “I mean, not. I didn’t mean it like that. Ew, that was weird. Sorry.”

Silver did not react to the slip. Internally, he filed it away as one more sign of Yuudai’s flustered tendencies. Yuudai ran a hand through his hair, clearly embarrassed but recovering quickly.

“Okay, okay, note to self: watch where I’m going instead of gawking like an idiot.”

Silver’s gaze softened just a fraction. “You’re not an idiot.”

Yuudai blinked. Once the sincere words sunk in, his face went even redder. He opened his mouth, clearly about to say something, probably something teasing or deflecting, but instead, he just took another long sip of his coffee and stared straight ahead.

They fell into a more comfortable rhythm after that. Yuudai still talked, but his voice had lost some of its earlier rapid edge. He pointed out odd-shaped trees, complained lightly about how uneven the ground was, and at one point muttered something about “fairy-tale nonsense forests.”

Silver listened to all of it, occasionally responding with short, thoughtful comments that Yuudai didn’t tease him for. Ahead of them, the trees began to thin. Light spilled more freely through the branches, glinting off the surface of water in the distance. The sound of gently lapping waves drifted faintly toward them, a lake, just beyond the next bend.

Silver slowed his pace again as they approached the clearing. Beside him, Yuudai finally seemed to notice, eyes flicking ahead.

“Oh,” he said, quieter now, some of his usual bravado softening. “There’s a lake out here?”

Silver nodded once.

They reached the edge of the path where the forest opened up, revealing a wide stretch of still water reflecting the pale morning sky. Mist hovered just above the surface like a veil, and the world felt larger, calmer, and somehow more intimate all at once. Silver stopped at the boundary between trees and open air.

He stood there for a moment, letting Yuudai take it in, letting the transition feel natural rather than forced.

The lake was quieter than the forest had been. The trees pulled back like they were giving them room, and the morning light spread thin and soft across the water. Ripples lapped lazily at the shore, slow enough that they felt almost like breathing.

Yuudai stepped forward without thinking, boots brushing the damp grass at the edge. His earlier chatter dimmed into something gentler. Not gone, just quieter, as if the place itself had asked him to lower his voice.

“Okay,” he admitted under his breath, eyes on the water, “this is actually, like, really nice.”

Silver watched him instead of the lake.

He noticed the way Yuudai’s shoulders dropped, the way his fingers loosened around his coffee cup, the way his expression shifted from sharp and restless to something open, almost unguarded. The morning breeze caught his hair, ruffling it just enough to make Silver’s hand twitch with the urge to fix it. He did not.

Yuudai turned to him suddenly, pointing out across the water like he’d just discovered a national treasure. “Do you come here a lot, or are you pulling out all the romantic stops just for me?”

Silver blinked once, “…I come here sometimes.”

Yuudai grinned, satisfied with that answer in a way that Silver didn’t fully understand, but found himself appreciating anyway.

They lingered there a little while longer, standing side by side at the water’s edge. Not touching, but close enough that Silver could feel the warmth of Yuudai’s presence beside him. Close enough that he could hear the quiet exhale Yuudai made when he finally seemed to relax. Eventually, Silver shifted.

He turned slightly, eyes scanning the tree line to the left of the lake. Hidden just beyond it, tucked into a small rise of land, was a simple wooden pavilion. It was weathered, open-sided, and wrapped gently by overhanging branches. It was not grand, and it was not dramatic. Something that suited Silver just right.

Silver took a slow step in that direction, then glanced back at Yuudai, “This way.”

Yuudai squinted suspiciously, but followed without complaint, boots crunching softly against grass and fallen leaves. As they approached, he leaned around Silver to get a better look.

“Oh,” Yuudai said, surprised. “There’s also a little gazebo thing here?”

“Pavilion,” Silver corrected automatically. Yuudai snorted.

“Yeah, sorry. Pavilion, your majesty.”

Silver ignored the light jab and climbed the few shallow steps first, testing the old wooden boards out of habit. They were sturdy. He had checked them many times before when he had come on his lonesome. He then stepped aside, allowing Yuudai to follow him up.

Inside, the space was simple. A low bench that curved along the back wall, a small stone slab that served as a table, and enough room for two people to sit without feeling cramped. Sunlight filtered through the leaves overhead in gentle, shifting patterns.

Yuudai looked around, visibly impressed.

“This is cute,” he muttered. “Secret romance spot vibes.”

Silver turned his head slightly, considering that. He did not disagree.

Without making a show of it, Silver reached into the satchel he had brought, one Yuudai had not even noticed until now. From it, he produced two thermoses and set them carefully on the stone. Yuudai’s eyebrows shot up.

“You even packed drinks?”

“Yes.”

Silver opened the first thermos, releasing a soft, herbal scent into the air, something warm, lightly floral, and faintly sweet. “For you,” Silver said, sliding it toward Yuudai.

Yuudai stared at it like it might explode.

“…You brought me tea? For our date? For me? Us?”

Silver tilted his head, “You look like you could use something that isn’t just caffeine.”

Yuudai’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. “I run on caffeine,” he admitted weakly.

Silver opened the second thermos. The richer, sharper scent of coffee filled the pavilion. Yuudai’s eyes widened. Silver slid that one toward him too.

“And this is in case you refuse the tea.”

There was a beat of stunned silence. Then Yuudai let out a startled, breathy laugh. It was bright, genuine, and completely unguarded.

“Oh my god,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face. “You are ridiculous. You know that, right? Ridiculously considerate.”

Silver slightly smiled from the words of praise. He sat down first, back straight, hands resting loosely on his knees. Yuudai hesitated only a second before dropping down beside him, close enough that their shoulders almost brushed. For a moment, Yuudai stared at both drinks like he was making a life-altering decision.

“…I’ll try the tea,” he muttered finally, picking up the thermos with exaggerated caution. Silver watched as he took a tentative sip.

Yuudai made a small, surprised noise. “That’s actually good! Never took myself as much of a tea person.”

A quiet warmth settled in Silver’s chest at that. He’s discovering new things about Yuudai every moment, it felt like.

They sat there like that, side by side, feet resting on the pavilion floor, the lake visible through the open sides, birds calling faintly in the distance. Yuudai cradled the thermos in both hands now, no longer jittery. After a few minutes, he leaned back slightly, glancing at Silver from the corner of his eye, “You didn’t have to do all this, you know. I would have been cool with staying inside, or whatever.”

Silver met his gaze, eyes genuine and without a lick of shame, “I wanted to.”

Yuudai’s face went pink immediately. He looked away, muttering something unintelligible, then took another careful sip of tea like it might save him from having to respond.

Silver let the silence sit between them. It was not heavy, not awkward, just comfortable. His attention drifted briefly to the way the sunlight caught in Yuudai’s hair, to the way his knee bounced absentmindedly even now, to the way he kept stealing glances toward the lake. Without thinking, Silver reached out and nudged the coffee thermos slightly closer to Yuudai, just in case.

Yuudai’s hand brushed Silver’s for the briefest moment, accidental or not, and both of them went still.

Silver did not pull away. Neither did Yuudai.

The moment stretched until Yuudai finally cleared his throat and shifted, breaking the spell with a sheepish grin.

“Alright, Sleeping Beauty,” he said lightly. “You’ve successfully calmed me down. Don’t get used to it.”

Silver’s lips almost curved. They sat a while longer, talking in quieter, easier tones while Yuudai complaining about early classes again, Silver responding with small nods and hums so the human would know he is still listening. Both of them sipped from their drinks, something quiet and domestic had settled naturally around them.

And when the tea began to run low and Yuudai’s energy slowly crept back to the surface, restless and bright once more, Silver could already sense what would come next.

Yuudai finished the last of his tea with a small, contemplative hum, tilting the thermos to check that it was truly empty. He set it down on the stone with exaggerated care, as if it were a sacred relic instead of a simple drink. Then, almost like a switch flipping, the restless energy returned.

Silver saw it before Yuudai even moved. The subtle shift in his posture, the way his foot began tapping against the wooden floor, the way his eyes kept flicking toward the open clearing beyond the pavilion.

Yuudai stretched his arms overhead with a groan that echoed faintly across the water.

“Okay,” he said, rolling his shoulders, “peaceful scenery is great and all, but if I sit still for one more minute I’m going to combust.”

Silver set his own thermos down calmly, “I expected as much.”

Yuudai shot him a look, half amused, half offended, “You say that like I’m predictable.”

“You are.” Silver replied without hesitation.

There was a beat. Then Yuudai laughed, sharp, bright, entirely unbothered.

“Rude. But accurate.” He hopped up from the bench, nearly forgetting the step in his eagerness, and jumped lightly down onto the grass. He turned back toward Silver, hands on his hips, grin already curling across his face.

“Since you dragged me all the way out here,” Yuudai said, “you owe me a round. Sparring. Right now.”

Silver rose slowly, unhurried, stepping down beside him. The grass was damp beneath his boots, cool with morning dew.

“I did not drag you,” he said evenly. “You agreed to come.”

Yuudai pointed at him accusingly, “You invited me in your mysterious, broody, ‘come walk with me into the mist’ way! It’s practically the same thing!”

Silver did not argue further.

Yuudai glanced around, scanning the treeline like he was already assessing the battlefield. His eyes lit up when he spotted a pile of fallen branches near the edge of the clearing, dry, brittle-looking things that had likely broken during a recent storm. He jogged over, crouching down and picking one up.

It snapped in half immediately. Yuudai stared at the two pieces in his hands. Silver watched, expression carefully neutral.

Yuudai slowly turned his head to look at him.

“…Don’t say anything.”

Silver said nothing.

Yuudai huffed, tossing the broken pieces aside and grabbing another branch nearby. It was slightly thicker, but still clearly fragile. He gave it a few experimental swings through the air, testing its weight like it was his trusty bat.

“There,” he said, satisfied. “Perfect. Fits my aesthetic.”

Silver approached the pile himself, selecting a branch of his own. He chose one that was longer and straighter, but no sturdier than Yuudai’s. Still thin enough that it would snap easily under too much force. He turned it in his hand once, then settled into a loose, balanced stance.

Yuudai’s grin widened, “Ohhh, here we go. Serious mode activated.”

Silver did not respond. He simply raised the branch slightly, holding it like a sword. Steady, controlled, and ready.

Yuudai rolled his shoulders again, then lunged forward without warning.

It was messy and predictable, in other words, very Yuudai of him. Silver stepped aside with effortless grace, the branch slicing harmlessly through empty air where he had been a second earlier. He shifted his weight, tapping Yuudai lightly on the side with the tip of his branch, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to make a point.

Yuudai whirled around immediately.

“Hey! Cheap shot!”

“You left yourself open,” Silver said calmly.

Yuudai scoffed, “Open my ass instead…” he muttered under his breath.

He came at Silver again, this time swinging lower, aiming for his legs. Silver pivoted smoothly, blocking with his branch. The impact was light, but still enough to make both sticks tremble.

Crack!

Silver’s branch split down the middle. They both froze.

Yuudai burst out laughing.

“Oh my god!” he said, doubling over slightly, “your legendary Diasomnia sword skills reduced to twigs!”

Silver looked down at his now-broken branch with faint, unimpressed interest. “Unfortunate.”

Yuudai wiped a tear from his eye, still grinning, then tossed his own branch up into the air dramatically. Only for it to snap in half mid-toss and fall uselessly at his feet.

He stared at it. Silver bit the inside of his cheek. Kouta slowly turned to him again.

“…Okay, these are way too fragile.”

Silver walked back to the pile and selected another branch, testing it with a careful bend before turning back to Yuudai.

“This one may last longer,” he said.

Yuudai picked up a new one as well, tapping it lightly against his palm like a real bat.

“Round two,” he declared. “No mercy!”

Silver did not smile, but there was a subtle spark of anticipation in his eyes now. This time, Yuudai circled him first, less reckless, and surprisingly more observant. He visibly bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, eyes sharp, branch resting casually over his shoulder.

Silver mirrored his movement, keeping his stance relaxed, breathing steady.

Yuudai struck first again, but smarter this time, feinting left before swinging right. Silver parried, branches clashing with a soft, hollow thwack. The sound echoed faintly across the lake. They moved in sync now, not perfectly, but with a rhythm that came from familiarity. From sparring partners who knew each other’s tells, even this early. Yuudai grinned mid-swing.

“You really brought me out here just to embarrass me in nature, huh!?”

Silver blocked another hit. “I brought you here because it is quiet.”

Yuudai swung again, and his branch shattered against Silver’s. He stared at the splintered pieces in his hand.

Silver’s branch, miraculously, remained intact.

Yuudai narrowed his eyes, “You definitely picked the better stick.”

Silver glanced at his branch, “It was not intentional?”

“Liar.”

Silver did not deny it.

Yuudai tossed the broken pieces aside with a dramatic sigh, then jogged back to the pile for yet another branch.

“You’re enjoying this,” he called over his shoulder.

Silver considered that for a moment. Then, quietly, “Yeah. A little.”

Yuudai whipped around so fast he nearly tripped, “YOU—” He cut himself off, pointing at Silver like he’d just been personally betrayed.

“You can’t just casually admit that! That’s unfair! Channel some inner humbleness, would ya?”

Silver shifted his grip on his branch, still perfectly composed, “You asked.”

Yuudai groaned, running a hand through his hair, then brandishing his new branch again, “Fine. Laugh it up, Sleeping Beauty. Just wait until I land a hit!”

Silver inclined his head.

“I will be ready.”

They clashed again, laughter and banter mixing with the rustle of leaves and the gentle lap of water against the shore. Branches snapped, footwork faltered, and more than once Yuudai nearly overbalanced himself in his eagerness, only for Silver to catch him by the sleeve or shoulder without missing a beat. Each time, Yuudai flushed and muttered something under his breath. Each time, Silver let him go just as smoothly.

By the time the sun climbed a little higher and the morning chill began to fade, both of them were breathing a bit heavier, Yuudai grinning wildly, Silver steadier but no less engaged.

He handed Yuudai his water without being asked. Yuudai accepted it immediately, grateful, wiping sweat from his brow with his free hand.

“Okay,” he said between breaths, “You’re annoyingly good at breaking sticks.”

Silver took a slow sip from his own bottle, “You are weirdly persistent.”

Yuudai nearly choked on his water, “That is such a polite way of saying ‘you’re stubborn.’”

“It’s accurate, though.”

Yuudai snorted, then bumped his shoulder lightly against Silver’s. They stood there for a moment, side by side again, lake shimmering ahead of them, broken branches scattered at their feet like the aftermath of a small, ridiculous battlefield.

Silver felt the quiet settle back in around them. Yuudai’s breathing evened out beside him, still smiling, still bright.

————

They did not stop right away.

Yuudai, predictably, refused to let the match end on anything resembling “a graceful note.”

The moment he caught his breath, he was already marching back toward the branch pile, water bottle still in hand, eyes bright with stubborn determination.

“One more round,” he announced, like it was a declaration of war rather than a suggestion. “You’re not getting off that easy.”

Silver watched him go, then followed at his own unhurried pace.

This time, Yuudai chose a branch that looked marginally sturdier and thicker, a little less brittle, and tested it with several experimental swings that whistled through the air. Silver selected another in silence, bending it slightly to check its strength before settling back into his stance. They fell into the rhythm again.

Less chaotic this time, more playful, less about winning, more about the back-and-forth. Branches clashed, snapped, and were replaced. Yuudai talked the entire time, teasing, taunting, laughing when he stumbled, grumbling when Silver parried him too neatly.

At one point, Yuudai swung too hard, his branch shattering in a spray of splinters that made him freeze mid-motion for what felt like the 10th time that afternoon. Silver paused as well.

Yuudai doubled over laughing, hands on his knees.

“Damnit, I looked so cool for like two seconds and then the universe said nope!”

Silver let out a quiet breath through his nose, not quite a laugh, but close enough that Yuudai caught it instantly. “You’re mocking me,” Yuudai accused, pointing dramatically.

“I am not,” Silver said evenly. Yuudai squinted at him.

“Yes, you are.”

Silver said nothing. Yuudai’s grin widened.

Eventually, the afternoon light shifted brighter, warming the clearing and chasing away the last of the mist. Sweat beaded at Yuudai’s temples, his hair a mess from running, ducking, and nearly face-planting more than once. His uniform was scuffed with dirt and grass stains along the knees and sleeves.

Silver, too, was less pristine than usual, his hair slightly loose at the nape of his neck, uniform creased, a faint smear of dirt along his forearm where he’d caught himself on the ground once while stepping around Yuudai’s reckless swing.

They both looked thoroughly used up in the best possible way.

Yuudai finally planted his feet, breathing out hard and holding up his hands in surrender.

“Alright, alright,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist. “Truce. If I keep going, I’m gonna actually collapse.”

Silver lowered his branch slowly, resting it against his shoulder, “…Agreed.”

They stood there for a moment, chest rising and falling, the only sound the gentle lap of the lake and their uneven breathing. Sunlight glinted off the water, warm now, bright, alive.

Silver handed Yuudai his water again without being asked.

Yuudai took it with a grateful groan, taking several long gulps before lowering it and letting his shoulders finally relax completely.

“Okay,” he muttered, looking out at the lake. “I get it now.”

Silver glanced at him, “Get what?”

Yuudai leaned his weight slightly against him, not enough to knock him off balance, just enough to be felt.

“Why you like it out here,” he said. “It’s quiet in a good way. Not suffocating quiet. Just… peaceful. It’s a nice change from the loud and annoying kids in the cafeteria.”

Silver did not move away. After a few minutes, he gestured lightly with his head toward the path.

“Come.”

Yuudai pushed off from him with a small huff, but fell into step beside him easily as they began the slow walk back toward campus. Their footsteps crunched softly against dirt and fallen leaves as they reentered the shaded trail.

Yuudai stretched his arms overhead again, wincing slightly, “Remind me to never spar with sticks again,” he said. “I feel like I just fought a very angry tree.”

Silver glanced at the broken branches scattered behind them, then back at Yuudai. “You did.”

Yuudai snorted. “Your humor can use a little work.”

He walked a little closer this time, bumping Silver’s shoulder lightly with his own. Silver adjusted instinctively, matching his stride, keeping him steady over the uneven ground. Every so often, Yuudai would point something out, a bird perched too close to the path, a strangely shaped root. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, Yuudai’s commentary softer now, more casual.

They reached the edge of the forest where Night Raven College’s grounds began again, the distant sounds of campus slowly filtering back into the air. Chatter, footsteps, the faint ring of a bell marking the start of classes. Silver slowed, and Yuudai did too.

They stopped at the boundary between trees and open lawn, where the quiet of the forest met the busyness of school life.

Yuudai turned to him, hair messy, uniform dirty, cheeks flushed from exertion. But his eyes were bright, relaxed, genuinely content in a way Silver had rarely seen from him.

“So,” Yuudai said, crossing his arms loosely, “what, are you gonna dramatically vanish back into your spooky dorm now?”

Silver studied him for a moment.

“Thank you.”

Yuudai blinked. “For what?”

“For coming,” Silver said simply. “For… today.”

For trusting him enough to follow him into the mist. For talking. For sparring. For sitting beside him in that little pavilion like something soft and domestic had always belonged there. He wishes he can get his tongue to work and say all of this, but it’s no use.

Yuudai stared at him for a beat, then immediately looked away, ears turning pink.

“Yeah, well,” he muttered, scuffing his shoe against the ground, “don’t make it sound all sentimental or I’m gonna combust again.”

Silver did not move closer, but he did not move away either.

A gentle breeze stirred between them, carrying the scent of water and leaves. Finally, Silver spoke again, voice low and steady, sincere in a way that always seemed to catch Yuudai off guard. “I enjoyed today. With you.”

Yuudai’s face went from pink to crimson. For a second, he looked like he might actually malfunction. Then he let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his already-messy hair.

“You’re impossible,” he slightly laughed, but there was no real frustration in it. Only warmth.

Silver inclined his head slightly. “If you want,” he added, “I can walk you back.”

Yuudai hesitated, then nodded, just once.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’d like that.”

They turned together, stepping out of the shade of the trees and back toward campus, side by side. Dirty, disheveled, tired, and unmistakably refreshed, as if the morning had given them something they didn’t even know they needed.

————

The walk back to campus passed in an easy blur of sunlight and distant voices.

Yuudai complained loudly about the dirt on his uniform the moment they reached the main lawn, inspecting his sleeves like they had personally betrayed him. Silver said nothing, but he did glance down at his own clothes and the faint smear of earth along his forearm.

They parted at the steps that led toward Ramshackle and Diasomnia, the boundary feeling less like a divide and more like a pause.

Yuudai lingered longer than necessary. Silver did not rush him.

They traded a few final words that Silver would replay later. Casual, teasing, soft around the edges in that way Kouta only ever was with him. Yuudai shoved his hands in his pockets, glanced away, then back again, and finally muttered something about needing a shower before disappearing up the path to his run-down dorm.

Silver watched him go until he was out of sight, only then did he turn toward Diasomnia.

The halls of his dorm were quiet when he returned, bathed in the usual dim, cool stillness. It felt different now, less heavy, less isolating, as if the morning had followed him back inside.

He washed his hands first, methodical as always, scrubbing away the last traces of dirt beneath his nails. He changed out of his uniform, folding it carefully despite the creases and smudges, setting it aside to be cleaned properly later. When he finally settled onto his bed, the world softened around him.

The mattress dipped beneath his weight. His hair, slightly loose from the day, brushed against his shoulders. The tall windows of his room let in a thin strip of moonlight that cut across the floor and climbed faintly up the far wall.

Silver lay still on his back, eyes open, staring up at the dark canopy above him.

His body felt pleasantly tired, muscles warm and spent in a way that came not just from sparring, but from something lighter, easier. He could still feel the echo of movement in his limbs, the rhythm of their steps on the forest path, the soft thwack of branches colliding, the brief weight of Yuudai leaning against his shoulder by the lake.

He turned his head slightly, gaze drifting to the corner of the room where his sword rested against the wall. His thoughts idly returned to earlier in the day.

Yuudai’s voice cutting through the quiet forest, bright and unapologetic. The way his grin had widened when Silver admitted, simply, that he had enjoyed sparring. The warmth of the pavilion, the faint floral scent of the tea, the accidental brush of their hands that neither of them had pulled away from. The laughter, the broken branches, the ridiculousness of it all.

Silver exhaled slowly through his nose, a quiet breath that carried more contentment than he usually allowed himself to acknowledge.

He had spent countless days like this one, walking alone through mist and trees, sitting beside still water with only his thoughts for company. He had trained in countless clearings, honed his skills in silence, perfected control and discipline.

Today had been different. Messier, much louder, and far less perfect. Better.

His mind lingered on the image of Yuudai at the edge of the forest, hair disheveled, uniform dirty, cheeks flushed, eyes bright in that unmistakable way that made Silver feel steadier just by looking at him.

Boyfriend, his mind supplied again, no hesitation this time.

The word settled comfortably.

Silver shifted slightly on the bed, folding one arm beneath his head. The quiet of his room wrapped around him, familiar and soothing, but now tinged with the memory of sunlight on water and the sound of Yuudai’s laugh echoing across the lake. He did not smile, but something gentle softened his features all the same.

As sleep finally began to tug at him once more, slow and inevitable, his last conscious thought was simple and certain.

He had enjoyed today, and being in Yuudai’s company.

And, quietly, he found himself already looking forward to the next time he would ask, just as plainly, if Yuudai was free.