Chapter Text
“Hayato, take it the fuck off, you’re stretching it out!” Arakita screeched. Shinkai was standing in Arakita’s bedroom, donning a black t-shirt with a number 7 on the chest. A shirt that obviously did not belong to him. The tight fabric clung to his chest, and arms, and stomach, it was just all around tight on him, and the thought of Arakita’s favorite fucking shirt being stretched out and baggy on him the next time he wore it was enough of one to make his blood boil.
“Yasutomo, you wear my shirts all the time,” Shinkai frowned, smoothing a hand down the front of the shirt that fit snugly across his pectorals.
“Yeah, and I’m a good two sizes smaller than you, dumb ass, it doesn’t work the other way around! Take the fucking shirt off,” Arakita snarled, clenching his fists at his side.
Shinkai looked down at himself in the shirt, his frown tugging on his lips even more. “I think it looks good on me,” he moped.
God, it didn’t matter how stupidly hot Shinkai looked in the too tight shirt, if that shirt got ruined, Arakita would be pissed off.
Arakita sighed heavily, now beating his fist against the side of his leg in frustration. “It’s not about how you look, you shit!”
“So you admit I look good, then?” Shinkai winked.
Arakita tried to stifle the scream that threatened to burst from his throat, “If I say yes will you take it the fuck off, please?”
“Ah, I suppose so,” Shinkai smiled.
“Yes, you look good, now take my shirt off.”
Shinkai laughed loudly. He obligingly grabbed the bottom hem of the shirt and began shifting it over his body. Arakita zoned in on the expanse of the redhead’s abdomen, until he heard a distinct ripping noise. Shinkai froze, and Arakita’s mouth dropped open.
“Wha-“ Arakita could feel his anger spiking, and his fists become claws.
“It’s fine! It’s fine!” Shinkai assured, pulling the shirt off the rest of the way and loosely shaking it out in front of him. “It was just some thread. It’s still in tact.”
Arakita marched forward and snatched the shirt out of Shinkai’s hand. “I don’t give a shit if it was just some thread! It’s thread that shouldn’t have snapped in the first place!” Arakita yelled, shaking the shirt in his hand. He brought the garment up to his face to closely inspect it, his eyes scouring the shirt to try and find the spot where Shinkai had undoubtedly destroyed it.
“I’m sorry, Yasutomo,” Shinkai spoke, rubbing his bare arms. Arakita quickly glared at him before going back to inspecting the shirt. At least the other boy had the nerve to look guilty.
He looked the shirt completely over a good three times, but couldn’t find any visible imperfections, besides the ones which already existed due to extensive wear. Arakita sighed and threw the shirt on the bed and folded his arms to his chest.
“…I apolo-“
“Don’t,” Arakita huffed, looking up at Shinkai’s mopey blue eyes. Shinkai closed his mouth into a tight frown. “…It’s fine,” Arakita sighed. “I don’t think you quite ruined it.”
Shinkai’s face washed with relief. “Oh, good.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “I suppose I am too big to wear your clothes.”
Arakita rolled his eyes, like that wasn’t immediately obvious before Shinkai had nearly ripped his shirt. He brushed past Shinkai and went straight to his dresser. He dug around in the middle drawer for a second before pulling out a light blue cotton t-shirt, the recognizable name of one of his favorite baseball teams stamped on the front. He held the shirt out for Shinkai. “Here.”
“Isn’t this one of your sleep shirts?” Shinkai asked, gingerly taking the garment from the other’s hands.
“All of my sleep shirts are a little big on me,” he mentioned. “This one’s my favorite.You can wear it, though.”
Shinkai beamed at that, quickly unfolding the t-shirt to put it on. Rather than fit him snugly like the other shirt did, this one fit perfectly. It was incredibly soft with use, and the text on the front was slightly faded, the ends of the sleeves just a bit frayed. He had seen Yasutomo in this shirt countless times when they were just lazing around, but he never wore it in public. When he looked back up, Arakita’s face was tinged with a blush that he didn’t bother trying to hide.
“That… that looks good,” he nodded. He gave an awkward shrug, “I don’t think black really suits you anyway, this is… this is better,”
Shinkai laughed and stepped toward Arakita, wrapping him up in his arms and squeezing him tightly. Arakita let out a soft yelp at the sudden hug, but quickly returned it.
“Thanks, Yasutomo,” Shinkai spoke, nearly a whisper.
Arakita just nodded into his shoulder, “If my other shirt fits me differently now, I’m breaking your goddamn leg.”