Work Text:
The new apartment wasn’t bad. It had space, 2
bedrooms (2!!! in this economy!!!), 1 bathroom, open kitchen and living. Not bad.
Settling in hadn’t been hard either. Eita had helped him move furniture and in turn, Shirabu had given him the spare key. This would be both his best and worst decision he ever made.
On the bright side, he was never really alone since Eita would visit often, usually bringing groceries or food. It slowly went from Shirabu’s apartment to Shirabu and Eita’s apartment.
On the downside… Eita’s visits were spontaneous. He would disappear for a week then come back like nothing ever happened and vice versa. There was no set schedule. He would just appear and disappear sometimes.
Some of these times being extremely inconvenient.
1
It’s 1 am and Shirabu’s mind refuses to shut down and go to fucking bed. The rain drops pattering against his window had been soothing at first, then escalated to sound like his apartment was getting shot at by slingshots which honestly did not help his case at all.
He decided to make something to eat (because that solves all late night problems).
Shirabu’s feet padded softly across the cold wooden floor, guiding him to the kitchen. He was just about to grab a slice of bread until the sound of struggling with a lock echoed through the hallway.
Was this a home invasion?? Usually it makes a lot of noise when picking locks right?
He grabbed a frying pan (the knife would do too much damage. Besides he could accidentally kill them by stabbing in a vital area. Shirabu was not interested in going to prison for murder) and kept his eyes focused on the entrance to his home.
The door opened to reveal a tall figure with fussed hair and… a guitar case?
“EITA???”
The said man looks up with a strained sheepish laugh.
“Hey Kenjiro, I lost my keys so I’m just gonna stay here for now- WHY DO YOU HAVE A FRYING PAN??”
“Maybe because someone forgot to tell me they were coming over at the most random time?”
“I- I always do this, why are you surprised?”
Shirabu can feel the irritation beneath his skin. How hard would it be to hide a body?
“You do this a lot when its not 1 am in the goddamn morning, Semi-san”
Shirabu shot him a glare colder than the hardwood floor as Semi shivers at the use of his last name.
“Kenjiro, please don’t be mad, I promise I won’t come in randomly at late hours of the night.”
“...”
“Kenjiro.”
“Semi-san.”
Semi shuddered again.
“Kenjiro!”
“Fine, Eita, but seriously stop doing this. One day I’m gonna start threatening you with homicide and another day I’ll go through with it.”
Shirabu fixed him with a cold smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes
The other responded with a mock salute.
Why was he in love with this absolute dork?
(To make up for it, Eita was stuck doing housework for the week.)
2
Boom.
The slap of paper against Shirabu’s wooden coffee table was not foreign in this household.
Random assessments, bills, note taking and whatever the fuck else include paper and pen.
However the reasons this time around were much more intense.
“Uno, you sly, cheating, bastard.”
Shirabu looked up from his own hand of colorful cards and cursed Taichi and his luck with this round. He had a long history of wins (unlike Taichi says, he did NOT cheat. Everyone was just easy to beat.), with his legacy starting in Shiratorizawa, after beating Tendou 3 times in a row (he can’t say much after that, it was mostly 50/50), Shirabu was NOT willing to lose against Kawanishi Taichi of all people.
He looked down again at the 4 colors staring back at him from the newly placed card.
“Color?”
“Blue.”
Taichi grinned smugly, clearly proud of himself for having less than 5 cards.
Oh, you sweet, sweet, summer child.
“You fool. You absolute buffoon. You truly believe you’ve won? Don’t make me laugh.”
The realization hit far too late for him. He was about to have his ass handed right back. The look of pure fear and terror was a rare expression for the man but getting to see him realise he’d been played was worth the near loss.
Shirabu pulled from his own cards, a blue, that came in the form of a plus 2.
Taichi drew from the deck.
Another plus 2.
Taichi drew again.
Plus 4.
Taichi stared in horror as his hand increased steadily once more, all the while Shirabu’s hand decreased until Taichi, once again, had 9 cards and Shirabu had 2.
Taichi was only slightly hesitant when he asked the color.
“Red.”
A bright red skip revealed itself.
“Uno, fucker.”
Shirabu put down his last card signalling Taichi’s 5th loss of tonight alone.
Describing his laughter as maniacal would be a grave understatement
“You’d need at least 10 more years of experience to even come close to beating me you imbecile-”
“I almost won-?”
“Silence, you feeble-minded egg. You shall never experience a victory over me, so go grovel in your patheticness fool.”
Apparently playing Uno with the intensity of war has a way of making you ignore your surroundings, because why else wouldn’t Shirabu have heard the click of the lock. Or the creak of the door. Or even the sound of footsteps, slowly increasing in volume.
At least not until Shirabu looked to the hallway to find Eita, doubled over, basically rolling on the floor in laughter.
“BWSHSAHHAH ITS A FUCKING- ITS A FUCKING GAME OF UNO?? WHY IS- WHY IS IT SO SERIOUS????”
He looked over to his boyfriend with the most serious face possible and said.
“Eita, it’s Uno. Why wouldn’t it be intense?”
They both held (gay) eye contact for about 20 seconds before Taichi enlightened everyone of his existence
“Do I have to leave before you traumatise me again…? Or-?”
“Shut the fuck up Taichi.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Soon the door closed behind a hurried pace.
3
Shirabu is probably dead. If not, near dead.
His computer screen glares in front of him while a stack of worksheets piled up next to his notes look suspiciously unstable. There are currently 4 pdfs open that he needs to study, none of which he has even touched. Going back and forth for more coffee took up too much time, so Shirabu said ‘fuck it’ and brought the whole pot, but that too has long run dry. There were too many reasons he could be having a headache, but he decides to blame the lack of caffeine.
What the fuck do these words even mean.
He thinks to himself for the umpteenth time today.
Shirabu slams his head on the desk out of frustration and tiredness of the absolute bullshit that is medicine and the human fucking body. He makes an incomprehensible gurgle before the stack of worksheets joins him and falls on his head. He groans again at the thought of picking up the pages he placed in order.
The screaming match he has with the unsuspecting floor was uncalled for especially when the front door closed gently behind footsteps.
“Heyyy Shirabubuuu~ how’s the love of my life doin-”
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA FUCK MY STUPID FUCKING CHUNGUS LIFE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”
“Lovely. As much as I love you dear, please refrain from getting a noise complaint.”
Shirabu ends up (unwillingly) shutting up and next to Eita as they cuddle on the couch as he runs his fingers through Shirabu’s hair, the motion giving him more comfort than he’d felt in weeks.
“So, are you gonna tell me what’s wrong? Or do I have to guess?”
Both of them look over to the mess that is their coffee table.
The stack of worksheets is sprawled everywhere, half of it taking a bath in spilled coffee, there is a collection of cup noodles in the farthest corner of the wooden table and a computer that begs for a charger. What a hard guess that would be.
“I don’t think it’d be that hard to guess.”
Shirabu deadpans
“Yeah… I can see that…”
Shirabu wanted to cry. Genuinely start full on sobbing. What the fuck was medical shit. What the fuck was studying. What the fuck was life.
Eita only held him closer.
“It’s gonna be ok Kenjiro. You’re gonna get through this. You’re gonna persevere like the stubbornly amazing bastard you are. I’ll help you through it ok?”
If Shirabu wasn’t close to bawling before, he sure as hell was now.
“Thanks, Eita…”
“Anything for you Kenjiro.”
4
It was actually a surprisingly peaceful night for Shirabu.
The load of homework had lifted, giving him more time to breathe. The day had treated him well.
So why did he have a bad feeling, stuck so deep in his heart he can’t ignore it?
Since he had more time, he decided to make himself a proper dinner instead of resorting straight to his usual cup noodles. Nothing too fancy, just katsu curry. He was just cutting up the pork when a knock so hesitant and silent echoed through to the kitchen, so quiet he almost missed it.
Shirabu cracks open the door slightly.
“Eita…?”
And there the man stands, but not the confident and carefree air he always carries around him. Here, he looks smaller, dimmed. Here, he looks vulnerable.
“Hi Kenjiro…”
“What’s up?”
Shirabu had to prod carefully here. Eita wasn’t someone who liked being open.
“It makes me feel… weak. I don’t like that.” He had said once. But every now and then, when the weight was too heavy for him to carry on his own, he would always choose to confide in Shirabu. In turn, Shirabu would create a safe place to share.
“... nevermind… it’s stupid.”
Ah. It’ll take time today.
“You don’t have to tell me now. I’m just making dinner, actually, so you can tell me after we eat, or during, or whenever you want.”
Eita just nods sadly (awww. Why is he cute when he’s sad too) and claims a spot on the counter.
Shirabu continues cutting the katsu into strips and just gets onto the second one before Eita slides off the counter and becomes a warm presence behind him.
“Bad day?”
Shirabu asks even though there’s no need to.
Eita just nods.
They both move like that through the kitchen. Tangled in each other in some sort of mutual agreement.
Let me stay for a bit.
I won’t leave you.
The words don’t need to be expressed. They just know.
As they eat, Shirabu fills the silence with regular conversation. How his day was, what he saw, anything interesting, because Eita is someone who takes comfort in normalcy. When faced with confrontation he will choose to run instead. About halfway through explaining the stupidity of his classmates (they were told SEVERAL TIMES, ‘NO, YOU CANNOT TEST THE SCALPEL ON YOURSELF’. They did anyways) Eita decided that he did want to share.
“I had an argument… with my bandmates.”
“Mhm”
“They were having an off day so when I tried to help they kinda… uh yelled.”
“Go on…”
“Said ‘shut the fuck up mr perfect, you're only here because you have a nice face’.”
“Well what the fuck?”
“Yeah, then I got mad because I worked for that. I yelled back and it kind of… escalated from there. Then… he started dissing you and here I know I fucked up because I may or may not have punched them.”
Eita looked away, unwilling to meet Shirabu’s gaze.
“Oh.”
“Ok, fuck, you disagree with my decision fuck, fuck, fuck-”
He was pacing around the room, clearly trying to stop himself from spiralling.
“Eita, breathe.”
“And I know! I know it was a fucked up decision to just- but when you disagree it means I’ve fucked up big time. And now we’re going to argue because I’ll fight for my view and- FUCK. I’m gonna fuck everything up. Again. Fuck-”
His attempt to calm himself down was not working in the slightest. Eita was subconsciously avoiding where Shirabu stood and trying to make himself smaller somehow. He was spiraling. Shirabu had to ground him somehow.
He tangled his hands in Eita’s to stop him from ripping his hair out.
“Eita. Listen.”
The man shakily stopped to look at him as Shirabu pulled their hands closer to himself.
“I’m not going to argue. I don’t agree with what you did- BUT. but, I do see your point. You worked hard for your place there and if they don’t acknowledge that, then fuck them and their opinion. I will never argue with you when you don’t need more shit. I will never leave you alone like this. You might’ve fucked up but how many times have you fucked up before?”
“Too many, that’s the thing Kenjiro-!”
“And how many times have you sorted it out?”
“...that’s irrelevant.”
“It’s not. It proves that you can fix this. You have not gone to the point of no return. You. Will. Be. Okay. Because I believe in you. You are not completely fucked.”
Honestly, comfort had never been Shirabu’s specialty. Empathy was hard when you hadn’t been in the situation yourself. But what he could do was try and help bounce back. It was the closest he could offer and he hoped it was enough.
Eita looked at least a little less self-destructive and more hopeful before asking;
“Can I stay here for a while…?”
Shirabu pulled him closer into a tight hug.
“Anytime, Eita.”
They stayed like that. Two lovers in the middle of a cramped apartment living room, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s embrace, holding on like the other would slip away if they let go.
5
Shirabu dragged himself up to the third floor of his apartment building and sighed.
His class had dragged on longer than he expected to and on top of that the 2000 essay they were assigned was due by the end of the week (it was WEDNESDAY for God’s sake). Once again Shirabu thought to himself, what the fuck is university.
The key rattled in the lock as it unlocked Shirabu’s (small, messy) utopia. Home base. Whatever else it was called.
He put aside his shoes only to notice an extra pair. Eita?
He hadn’t mentioned he was coming over today, but honestly when does he ever? Furthermore, Shirabu kept him waiting until, what, 10 pm? Damn, holy dedication.
Wow, way to go, me.
Shut the fuck up I need to be more positive.
He moved through the apartment with familiarity to find Eita on the couch.
“Oh, Ei-”
Shirabu stopped himself when he realised that his lover was already fast asleep, breathing steady, relaxed.
With his band slowly getting more known, they had more offers to perform at places. While this was good for them, it also meant they were working a lot harder. He couldn’t remember the last time Eita got a full night of sleep, not practicing. Shirabu had no right to take it away from him.
He went and grabbed a spare blanket and wrapped it around the other to at least make his rest a little more comfy. The couch shifted under both of their weight combined as they fell asleep together on a cheap-ass couch.
When the morning light filtered through, they would find themselves tangled in some sort of contraption consisting of them and the blanket. How did they get into this position? No one knew but neither could say they minded all that much.
“Did I fall asleep? Sorry.”
“Eita shut the fuck up. You’re the one who needs more sleep.”
“Okay, okayyy”
They both tried shifting out but ended up even more tangled. Seriously what was wrong with this fucking blanket? Shirabu decided to fill the gap in conversation in the meantime.
“Sorry for making you wait all night.”
“It’s ok. Shit happens.”
“Also, seriously, stop breaking in without notice. I'm gonna actually crack your head open with a frying pan on accident. How am I supposed to deal with your murder?”
Eita (very awkwardly) maneuvered himself to face Shirabu.
“It’s ok as long as it’s you.”
Romantic music was supposed to be playing but instead it was;
“IT’S NOT. I’M NOT GONNA KILL YOU AND GO “oh yeah, eita would be cool with this so it’s ok” IT’S NOT.”
“THEN DON’T FUCKING KILL ME?”
“THEN DON’T FUCKING BREAK IN RANDOMLY.”
“OKAY.”
“OKAY.”
After the two fell silent they held eye contact for 4 seconds.
“I’m hungry.”
“Me too.”
“Let’s get up.”
“Okay.”
They did not. Both opted to lie down for 5 more minutes until Shirabu kneed Eita in the stomach, causing them both to fall off the couch.
+1
It was once again, deep in the late confines of night and Shirabu could not sleep. Again. He seriously needed to fix his sleep schedule.
Distantly, he heard the rattle of a lock and he sat up straight. Footsteps moved through the apartment, careful, wary.
I swear to God this bitch better not be breaking in without warning again.
He grabbed the pan from the kitchen and stomped into the living room, slapping the lights on. He was thoroughly pissed.
“I FUCKING TOLD YOU THAT I WOULD SMASH YOUR FUCKING SKULL OPEN. I AM NOT HAVING IT TODAY. GET THE FUCK OUT YOU PIECE OF SHIT. DON’T FUCKING TRY ME-”
The man who turned around was surprised! And also was not in fact, Semi Eita. It was some random middle-aged man. What.
Oh! A robber. Wait…
The robber, clearly startled by Shirabu’s loud entrance, knew that he was busted and tried to look for a way out. They had no weapons, seemingly choosing to travel without one and now they were at the disadvantage
“WHAT THE FUCK. YOU BITCH.”
Without thinking, Shirabu threw the pan at him which the robber (thankfully) dodged and started trying to run. Too fucking late. Shirabu grabbed the spare blanket from the couch where it had stayed since Eita’s last visit and tightly wrapped the other to prevent them from leaving.
“Not on my fucking watch.”
The pathetic man resorted to screaming.
In that same moment the actual Semi Eita walked in.
“Hey so uh, I know I was supposed to let you know beforehand but my phone died! And I may or may not have lost keys again so um- WHAT THE FUCK”
Eita had walked in on a random dude passed out on the floor, bound in a blanket with a sack of random shit from the living room. One could understand his reaction.
“Some guy broke in. Call the police for me please?”
“What. the fuck?”
“Yes, I said what I said. Please call the police so we can get this guy out.”
“Okaaaay then…”
The police came and picked up the stranger now looking like a sad wet cat that was just kicked. Ha.
Shirabu leaned into Eita’s side and looked him dead in the eye while saying;
“This will be you if you keep randomly appearing.”
Eita shivered at the cold tone.
“Yes sir”
“But I’m tired as fuck so you’re safe for now.”
Eita leaned back into Shirabu.
“Thank fuck.”