Work Text:
The gentle rustle of keys rouses him from his sleep.
He lifts his head in a slow, careful manner, feeling a slight ache pulsate on his right temple—it’s what he gets for falling asleep on a hard surface.
He's been doing that a lot, lately. Working in front of the computer until he simply passes out. He… doesn't really know when he's supposed to go to bed, and he has a lot of work to catch up on.
Ikeda’s used to doing traditional paintings, but he figures that if he has to make money off random commissions on the internet, digital art is more convenient. So he's been working his ass off at it, yet there are so many techniques that just don't translate well into the screen canvas.
The progress has been slower than he'd like as a result.
He's already earned a little, though, because he's just good at what he does. With better practice and tools—perhaps a better computer altogether—, he should be able to get a steady income out of this.
Maybe he won't make a living out of it like he used to. That's annoying, but fine!
It only needs to be enough for Tei to be able to drop one of his jobs. Preferably the one that makes him get home at wee hours of the morning.
(The one that woke Ikeda up just now. The awful one.)
Trying to rub the sleep off his face, Ikeda gets up and heads for the door.
There Tei is, in all his god-knows-what-hour-it-is-Ikeda-didn’t-check glory. He looks like he wants someone to put him out of his misery while he takes off his coat, moving slower than a turtle.
“You’re ridiculous.”
Tei jerks his head to the side, startled by the unexpected sound of Ikeda’s voice.
But then relief immediately settles in his gaze as soon as his eyes meet Ikeda’s, the emotion overthrowing his exhaustion with ease, and Ikeda tries not to think of the way his stomach twists when he sees that expression.
“Oh, Hey. Sorry, did I wake you up?”
“I was barely sleeping anyway,” he mumbles, squinting at Tei as he continues to stand on the doorway, like a massive idiot. “God, you're so useless, how is a stupid coat giving you this much trouble?”
He yanks on the sleeve to pull the cloth off him and drops it on the nearest chair, without any care for the creases on the fabric. It's not as if he's making it look much worse than it already is, honestly.
“Where the fuck were you, the zoo?” Ikeda clicks his tongue. “This coat looks like someone used it as a wipe cleaner. Iron it or whatever, seriously, how did they even let you walk in like—”
He feels a weight land on top of his head, which cuts him in half.
The words don't touch me—the immediate, knee-jerk reaction—are followed by the thought of it's Tei, and he forces himself to take a deep breath, to hold down his instinctive disgust at it.
He can do that much. He thinks he has to do this much.
When there's no voiced complaint, Tei relaxes further against him, resting his chin on his hair. His arms drape loosely around Ikeda’s small frame, pulling him to his chest.
Always carefully. Quietly. As if he's handling something important, or an animal that might jump out anytime. (Ikeda doesn't know which one he is.)
He's clung to Tei for so long that it doesn't feel weird anymore, when they do something like this. Or maybe a little weird, or—maybe a lot weird, actually. Ikeda still doesn't like hugs much.
But there’s the slight tremble of Tei’s hands, digging into his back, and Ikeda knows he can't pull away. He's not allowed, by no one other than himself.
At least Tei's warm. Ikeda doesn't mind that. Ikeda likes that Tei is warm and that he's here.
Heating is too expensive. This shitty apartment always feels cold without him in it.
“Sorry,” Tei says, his tone a trembling whisper in the quiet of the room. “S-Sorry. I just…”
“You missed me so badly you couldn't keep your hands off me. Seriously, why do you have to act like some kinda whore?”
It speaks volumes that Ikeda can still find it in himself to joke about the situation. His voice doesn't even crack.
But Tei doesn't rise to the bait, he simply nods, the slight tilt of his head making Ikeda suddenly feel too small under him.
He's acting a little strange. He must've had a bad day with something that set him off.
Like his newest match on the dating app standing him up, or a customer throwing hot coffee on his face, or someone hitting on him while he's at work (he hates it when that happens) or…
“I know what you're thinking,” Tei calls him out with a huff. “Fuck off, nothing happened.”
That sounds a bit more like his usual self.
“I’m gonna start to think you actually missed me,” Ikeda mutters.
“Can you just—stop talking?”
It's an usual plea of Tei’s. Too bad it never works.
“I’m not hearing a no,” Ikeda insists.
“...”
Tei pulls back suddenly and Ikeda quickly braces himself for whatever his reaction might be.
In hindsight, teasing him when he's had a bad day is not a good idea, so he deserves whatever comes his way. That's how they work by now. He closes his eyes and waits.
He freezes soon after. Because what comes is unexpected.
The hand brushing his jaw is unexpected.
…The gentle, quivering touch against his lips is unexpected.
He stares up at Tei, gaze wide in confusion.
He's met with a pair of glassy eyes, the corners holding hints of tears, and Ikeda finds that his usual snarky comebacks are having troubles making it past his throat.
Tei’s only cried this badly in front of him once before. When he thought that Ikeda was dead, that Yaitabashi had really hurt him and the injuries had done him in.
There's nothing like that happening now. That's what makes it so confusing.
“It’s so stupid. You're gonna think it's stupid,” Tei starts to ramble, “But some girl at work was talking about a missing person documentary she saw, a-and I just… I don't fucking know. I got stressed out for no reason. I couldn't stop thinking that if it happened to you, you—I—... G-God…”
Tei trails off as he breaks into a choked sob.
It is stupid, Ikeda wants to reply.
He tries not to think about how many times he's dreamed that his father finds this place and drags him back to the room where he's lived for seventeen years. He always claws on the wooden floor, digging his fingers until he draws blood, and it's still not enough to fight off his father’s strength.
Sometimes he begs to just be killed instead, his pleas falling on deaf ears. Sometimes he curses the rabbit, for giving him the chance to stay with Tei, when he probably knew it would be ripped away from him.
It's not exactly—comforting, to know Tei is scared of the same thing, but it's something that he can understand.
He tries to get that across by grabbing Tei’s hands, the other clutching them back too tightly.
A good person would say something nice here. He sucks at that, so he doesn't. He doesn't want Tei to feel worse, so he keeps quiet, period.
He doesn't address the kiss either. He finds he can't be bothered to. Maybe Tei just wanted something of him to hold onto, a solid proof that he's here.
Ikeda can't hold such a basic need against him.
Thus, silence follows, and the two simply let it stay. It's necessary.
“You know, I spent the day drawing,” Ikeda says, eventually, when the touch of Tei's clammy palms is starting to be too much. “Your computer’s kinda shit, though. I should get something else. Like, I dunno. An Ipad.”
“Those are expensive,” Tei replies, taking no offence about the insult towards his barely functional work laptop. “Maybe I can save up for one, though. If you… want.”
“I’ll get the funds for it,” Ikeda shrugs. “I work slow, but I've been getting comissions consistently. So we can get one when I have more money.”
When. It's a small promise for the future. A hope that things will hold up for a while longer, despite the incessant fear clawing at their hearts.
The way he is now, that's all he can give Tei. Promises that might not hold.
Other than his shitty cooking and some physical closeness, or whatever the fuck it is that Tei wants from him.
Tei never seems sure of what he wants, truth be told. He might just want Ikeda to exist.
It's much harder than living by complying with someone else’s orders, but Ikeda's been trying.
“Can you show me what you were working on? And then we go to bed,” Tei offers, squeezing his hand lightly.
“Tomorrow. I’m not turning that shit back on, it takes forever to boot up.”
“Okay. Okay, sure,” Tei says, his lips curling into an uneasy smile. “I have some time before work, so… yeah. Tomorrow. Sure.”
“Come onnn,” Ikeda grumbles, not willing to entertain whatever new bullshit has crossed Tei’s head. “Bed. Now.”
“Okay, now you're the one that sounded like a whore, just so you know,” Tei mutters under his breath.
Tei really is tired today. He’d never make such a comment if he was watching himself, like he always does when he’s with other people.
Ikeda’s the exception. Tei can let his guard down around him. The two of them can let out their terrible, raw, unfiltered thoughts to each other, and they’ll bounce back from it like they always do.
The remark still bugs Ikeda, though. Obviously.
“I—wh—you’re the one that kissed me!” he protests in indignation. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Tei lets out a tired laugh.
The sound is more relieving than Ikeda cares to admit. The tasteless joke was worth tanking, if it can get him to smile like this.
“Honestly, I’d be too drained to do anything tonight… I just want to sleep.”
“That’s the first normal thing you've said since you came here. I’m so proud of you,” Ikeda coos, the sarcasm practically dripping from his voice.
It's his way of trying to brush over Tei's breakdown. From the way Tei rolls his eyes, Ikeda thinks it works a little.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he says, dragging Ikeda towards their shared bedroom.
At times like this, Ikeda feels like there's still a pair of cuffs holding them together, the invisible chains eternally binding.
That's why he's simply compelled to follow Tei wherever he goes.
He doesn't really believe in supernatural stuff like that, of course. It doesn't exist at all.
But it's a poetic thought, and he needs those to be inspired to draw at all. Especially now that he's making things from scratch, rather than forging pre-existing art. It's harder than it looks.
He wonders what Tei will think about the art he was working on.
It's a picture of a rat and a cat, like that one popular cartoon, tied to each other with a red string of fate that neither can pull off.
…Ikeda finds that he likes it quite a bit.