Archive of Our Own

1     

One thing, and perhaps the only thing that Sanemi likes about Mondays, is that he gets to sleep in. It's not even "like", really—the definition is closer to "tolerance".     

He hates being forced to be both an early bird and a night owl by school and his job, resulting in a wildly skewed, disastrous sleep routine that constantly has his body on edge.   

Sanemi finally gets a chance to alleviate that chronic red eye today, since he doesn’t have class until 3 pm, and no one goes to a bar on a Monday morning unless they are schizophrenic and have lost all sense of time, or if they have their clock set a whole day ahead.  

Yeah, no way today's not Monday. Sanemi can easily recall the things he did the day before, such as going to work and Tengen bidding him goodbye with a 'see you on Tuesday', which most likely meant that it wasn't Tuesday yet, and if it wasn't Tuesday yet, then Sanemi had nothing to worry about.   

But Sanemi's monologuing awfully a lot for someone asleep.   

He rolls his tongue around in his mouth once he realizes he has been mumbling about for the past few minutes. His mouth is terribly dry.   

Now back to his thoughts—what was he talking about? Something about work and Mondays?  

Today is Monday...right?     

Sanemi's eyes shot open; his left eyelid is still pinned shut by the pillowcase as he wakes up with a start. He lifts his heavy head off the pillow, the center of his shoulders and neck aching as Sanemi realizes that he wasn't sleeping on top of a pillow in the first place. Strange.  

Sanemi turns his head around like an owl when he frantically searches for the glimmer of light shining through his frosted window to give him any indicator of what time of day it was.  

Judging by how he needed to squint his eyes due to the light, the sun was probably at its peak—long rays of white and yellow beaming from the muddy glass.   

Worst of all, it had to be midday at least, so whatever class he was supposed to go to had to be over already.   

Sanemi swears under his breath and hoists himself up, the sheets that were skinned from his bed from the night before cascading off his sore and overworked body. The tender skin of his back burns from an injury he can't quite remember getting.     

He frantically gropes around for his phone while chanting prayers in his head, begging for it to be Monday. Hell, he'll give up his firstborn child if needed. Sanemi needs that full attendance even if his life depends on it, and he’s not about to let some post-hookup-unclarity stop him.  

Sanemi lifts the pillow behind him, still warm from where his body was pressed against a few seconds prior. He cranes his neck forward to investigate the nightstand, but he honestly can’t see squat without his glasses right now.      

“Where’s my fucking...” Sanemi swears with a whisper, lifting and dropping the collage of sheets, blankets, and clothes tangled around his body.      

“Can you stop moving around?” The voice next to him snaps as the sheets draped underneath Sanemi’s knees are tugged away, leaving him bare and nearly falling off his own bed. “I’m trying to sleep.”     

“You—” Sanemi’s voice is hoarse and impatient. “What day is it?”     

Giyuu doesn’t answer, the array of blankets and pillows towering over his body, subsequently blocking out all traces of Sanemi’s voice.      

“Giyuu.” Sanemi shakes the cocoon beside him. “Giyuu. Giyuu, get up. What day is it?”     

Giyuu groans, curling deeper into his burrow. “March 21st or something,” he finally murmured after Sanemi’s pestering.      

“Yeah, I know, but what day of the week is it?”     

Giyuu finally peels the blanket away from his head, snapping it off in one fluid motion; his eyes still glued shut and clearly agitated. The top of his hair protrudes outward in messy loops, a large cowlick sprouting from his bangs.   

“Monday? I don’t know. I want to sleep now, please. I’m tired.”     

Sanemi sighs in relief. “Great.” He runs a hand through his hair; now fully awake from the jousting he caused himself. His head aches just a smidge, and each and every one of his limbs feels heavy in a way his deep breaths can't mitigate. “I need a smoke.”     

The mattress squeaks when Sanemi swings his legs off the bed, his bare feet touching the icy floorboards. He bends down low in search for his underwear, the stratches between his shoulder blades stretching across his skin as he tries to navigate towards the jungle of textiles on the ground. After searching for a while, Sanemi gives up, realising he probably shouldn't be wearing the same boxers for two days in a row anyway.      

He grabs a fresh pair from his drawer and decides to pick up Giyuu’s clothes, along with his own, from the night before. He sets it on the edge of the bed.   

Sanemi stands up straight, looking at the mound of clothes before craning over to fold Giyuu's top properly.   

Giyuu might freak after his head has been cleared. Despite knowing him for such a short amount of time, Sanemi knows that if Giyuu even sees even a speck of dust on his clothes, he'll maul Sanemi apart with his teeth.   

From the other heap of clothes (from the past week, not from the day before), Sanemi settles on one of his old shirts and slides it on his back. He finally swipes his pack of cigarettes from his nightstand and a gold lighter, before walking out of his humble bedroom.     

It is much warmer now when Sanemi steps outside onto his humble balcony. It had hardly enough room for one, hence Sanemi’s calf touching the cold plant pot as he shimmied to the edge, where he had left a homemade ashtray on the thick railing. The singular plant he had stuffed into an old ceramic jar, which the past tenants had left behind, was still shrivelled; some of its fallen leaves had drifted onto the concrete floor.      

Cupping a hand towards the butt, Sanemi sets the cigarette aflame just as a small gust of wind kisses in his direction. Sanemi closes his eyes when he takes the first puff, opening them once he exhales, a cloud of white emerging from his mouth.      

“You’re addicted, aren’t you?” Giyuu says bluntly, the intrusion of his voice behind him sending a jolt down his spine.      

Sanemi spins around, careful not to trip over anything in such a tight space. “You scared me, goddamnit.” He scowled, knitting his eyebrows together.     

Giyuu’s face is deadpan when he looks at him with still sleepy eyes. “I personally don’t think I’m that scary. You should get your eyes checked or go to a shrink, because I don’t think that's normal.”     

Sanemi scoffed loudly, annoyed with Giyuu’s sarcasm. “Oh, shut up.” He takes a draw on his cigarette, lungs feeling warm with the smoke. After a moment, he exhales, feeling Giyuu’s eyes still fixated on his back. “Weren’t you just whining about going to sleep a few minutes ago? What are you doing here?”       

“Well, it was cold. I can’t sleep if it's cold,” he admits.      

“Yeah, I’ll join you after this one, doll.”     

Sanemi can feel Giyuu roll his eyes at the pet name, but he doesn't make any further complaints or move his body.  

He inhales through the cigarette again, Giyuu's unwavering presence lingering around like a ghost as he stands there, dead in his tracks.     

Sanemi stands still for a few seconds, waiting for Giyuu to go back to bed, but he doesn't budge.    

"What are you still doing there?" Sanemi questions, shaking off the ashes into the ashtray with a tap of his finger, some of it flies away with the wind.  

"I'm waiting for you to finish," Giyuu says matter-of-factly. "When do you think you will be done?"     

Sanemi only finishes his smoke halfway before he smothers it out against the porcelain dish, most of his headache having subsided. It’s not enough to make him satisfied, but it calms down the ache in his entire body.   

"Now, since you're so damn eager."    

Sanemi decides to leave his lighter and pack outside, since he might come back later anyway. He carefully navigates away from his porch and back into the apartment, with Giyuu watching him closely. Sanemi finds it endearing, almost, seeing Giyuu waddling around with his blanket draped around him, with his hair messy and smeared mascara around his eyes.   

"I think sleep will do you better than nicotine," Giyuu remarks, curling his body inward to shield himself from the gust that Sanemi brings.   

"Yeah, yeah." Sanemi turns around, ushering Giyuu back into bed. "Come on."     

Giyuu doesn't smile, but he has some sort of urgency in his shuffle—like a pep in his step as he walks towards the bed. He plunges himself back into the little cocoon he had made with Sanemi's blankets and sheets, leaving Sanemi’s side completely bare.      

His hair fans out like ink as he rests his head on two stacked pillows. Giyuu pats the space next to him, encouraging Sanemi to join him.      

The bed creaks with his weight as Sanemi plops down parallel to Giyuu, lying on the bare mattress.      

Sanemi shivers, just a little, when he tries to make himself comfortable on his side, but is left disappointed. The raw mattress was way too scratchy, and Sanemi admits that it may be a little bit chilly. He frowns.   

"Stop hogging all the blankets—and why are you sleeping with the damn fitted sheet? This is my bed for heaven's sake."      

Sanemi tries to pull a layer of cotton off Giyuu, but his grip is like iron.      

"I'm cold." Giyuu tugs fast and hard, dismantling the blanket from Sanemi's grasp.     

Sanemi scowls, turning away from Giyuu while huddling his own arms around himself. "Yeah. You are cold. Your heart is like ice." He curls up one of his elbows to rest his head on, shutting his eyes.      

Giyuu doesn't make any noise, but Sanemi can hear him huffing into the nape of his neck as he curls himself deeper into the bed.      

"Fine,” Giyuu protested.  

Sanemi pops open one eye.     

"Just this once," Giyuu scoffed, annoyingly. He shuffles behind Sanemi's ear as he offers a small corner of the blanket.      

The bed creaks as Sanemi rolls himself around, meeting Giyuu's deep blue eyes. The same eyes widen in shock when Sanemi shoves himself underneath his small offering, the motion pressing both of their bodies close to each other.      

"I think both of us can be warm now, thank you." Sanemi wraps his arm around Giyuu's torso as he breathes into his chest.      

Giyuu stays silent and closes his eyes, but recuperates by holding Sanemi with his arm too.      

2     

Giyuu’s eyelids begin to droop as the red plastic cup in his hands gets heavy. He’s always been a lightweight when it comes to alcohol, only a few sips of Soju, and he’s getting tipsy. Giyuu groans, leaning his head on Sanemi’s shoulder, the sound of his hair brushing up against his shirt filling his ears.      

Sanemi’s grip on Giyuu’s leg tightens as he takes the cup from Giyuu’s grasp, already threatening to tip over. He sets it onto the scratched coffee table, on top of the vast array of magazines, as the music around them rumbles on.     

“Didn’t know you were such a lightweight, Tomioka,” Sanemi says into his ear, voice drowned out by the party ambience.      

“I’m not.” Giyuu’s voice is muffled with exhaustion and his squished left cheek. “I didn’t eat before I came.”     

“Well, you should. Next time.”      

Giyuu wishes that were an invitation, but he quickly brushes that thought away with the fluttering of his eyelids.  

Sanemi finishes his own drink in a few gulps before setting it down until it joins Giyuu’s abandoned cup.     

“You still want it? I don’t know if I should watch it over or not. If you don’t want it, I’ll drink it for you.”      

His voice comes out fuzzy in Giyuu’s ear, like a slurry of sounds with meanings Giyuu can barely decipher. But Giyuu can feel it as clear as day when Sanemi curls a thumb underneath the grid of his fishnets. He nuzzles into the sensation of Sanemi's fingerpads, all while breathing in Sanemi's sharp yet calming aroma.   

“Don’t want it," Giyuu mumbles, shutting his eyes. "Knock yourself out.”     

Sanemi wasted no time before downing Giyuu’s Soju, his Adam’s apple dipping in his throat. He sighs and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before stacking their two cups together, one on top of the other, over the uneven mound of magazines.     

Giyuu looks up at Sanemi, his face isn’t even red yet despite how many drinks he has already had. He traces his scar with his eyes, basking in the long strands of his eyelashes, his gentle lilac eyes, and the hint of ice pick acne scars adorning his cheekbones. Sanemi’s beautiful and handsome features are sharp around the edges, but they feel warm. It makes Giyuu feel mellow when he looks at Sanemi.   

Giyuu is so deep in thought that he doesn’t notice those lilac eyes blinking back at him.      

“Watcha thinking behind those pretty eyes of yours?” Sanemi’s voice is sweet and playful, with a hint of sultriness.      

Sanemi’s arm is now wrapped around his shoulders, hand resting right at the patch of skin near his tailbone, their thighs completely pressed together. Giyuu can’t remember when they first got this close.      

“Nothin’,” Giyuu mutters, voice like sticky syrup but not quite slurred yet.      

Sanemi hums back, leaning into Giyuu this time, until their heads are touching. His right hand drifts lower and lower until it reaches the edge of Giyuu’s shorts. He gently strokes the patch of skin there, exposed from how Giyuu’s sprawled sideways on the couch. Without looking, Sanemi smooths out his shorts and tucks them beneath him before resting a hand on his hip.      

His eyes flicker downwards, at Giyuu's lips, before hovering up again.   

“You mind?” Sanemi asks.   

The rest of the world is pushed into the background when Sanemi combs his other hand through his hair. He looks like Giyuu in the eye before hovering over his lips and cupping the side of his face.     

Giyuu feels dizzy. “I don’t mind at all.”     

Sanemi pushes both of them forward, both meeting in the middle. The first kiss is exploratory and chaste, a small peck to serve as a warm-up. The next kiss is deeper and longer, as Sanemi tilts both of them to slot their mouths together better, sucking between the seam of their lips.   

Giyuu doesn’t know when the third kiss turns into the fourth or the fifth, or if it even changes at all, because the next kiss comes savagely, a desperate hunger for something deeper—something beyond just teeth and tongue and flesh.      

He sighs longingly inside the void of Sanemi's mouth, breathing in the breath Sanemi exhales into his lungs as he nibbles at his lip. He's so warm and fuzzy inside. It feels good.      

He didn't know how much time had passed when they finally pulled away. It must have been one song—or maybe two—Giyuu had no idea. He's panting into Sanemi's chest when the warmth in his throat dissipates. Giyuu doesn't see it, but it feels it. He can feel how Sanemi is looking at him with such longing and charm.      

"Let's go home," Giyuu's voice feels eager yet magnetized. "Let's go home, Shinazugawa."     

3     

Sanemi smells him before he sees him—craning his head up and squinting at the large dangling lights of his lecture hall.    

"Tomioka?" Sanemi squeaks, shielding his eye with the palm of his hand.   

His eyes were way too dry from the lack of sleep and were threatening to water if he looked at the ceiling any longer. Sanemi had chosen a bad time to quit—he really didn't want to feel this miserable on top of work, his family, and everything else.     

"I didn't know you were also in this class," Giyuu says cooly, taking the seat on Sanemi's left, the fold-up seat creaking as he plops down.     

He's dressed casually today, in a dark shirt and sweatpants, like when they first met. Giyuu offers a small smile—the sweet one that turns downwards at the edges. He also looks really, really tired.     

"I usually just sit in the back and take my notes." Sanemi rubs his eyes and shuffles his notebook around on the tiny pull-out desk provided by the equally small chair. He tucks his stray leg closer to himself to give Giyuu more space, but he finds himself missing the close contact. "I didn't know you were in this class either," Sanemi finally says.   

Giyuu shrugs, dragging his canvas satchel onto his lap so he can pull out his materials. "Well, not exactly," he begins, blue eyes still cast downward, there's light bruising underneath his eye bags. "I'm actually the TA."    

Sanemi freezes. "What?"    

"The teaching assistant. I help the professor teach." He talks even more slowly. "As an assistant."    

"No, I understand what you mean." Giyuu looks at him blankly. "You know what, I should have expected this." Under his breath and slightly quieter, Sanemi mutters. "It's always the quiet ones."    

Giyuu continues fetching things out of his bag as if he actually needed to study the content. He plucks out a purple pen and clicks it a few times. "I sometimes forget you're still an undergrad."    

"Yeah, yeah."     

"There's a part of my contract where it says I can't date students," Giyuu says out of the blue, eyes tracing the front of the room, as the professor arrives. "I could get in trouble."    

Sanemi's mind short-circuits, thrown into a state of shock. Of course, no wonder Tomioka didn't like him like that.   

"And that would be—” Sanemi says quickly, “—very bad. Very strange."    

Giyuu nods his head slowly but with vigour, as if he couldn't agree more.    

Sanemi sighs. It probably wasn't the time to get into a relationship anyway, and not with a random guy he hooked up with on a random day for a random number of times.   

The projector hanging above the two of them finally whirs on, the noise echoing through the hall, as Sanemi finally directs his attention to the lecture, chewing on his lip.   

Sanemi finds himself focusing more and more on the corner of the room, where a random potted plant was, rather than the scent of Giyuu’s laundry and soap starting to spill into his nose and down his throat.   

He tries to swallow back the feeling, but it doesn’t help. It, in fact, made it worse as he was soon fighting the images he tried so hard to ingrain into and then out of his retinae as the professor talked about history. Yes, history of the book. Impressionist movement. Yes.  

Suddenly, Giyuu moves. He must be going to the bathroom, Sanemi thinks, please go to the bathroom, but in his peripheral vision, only his hoodie-clad arm moves. Giyuu shifts again in his seat, pulling the sleeve back from his right hand before enlacing his fingers into Sanemi’s empty palm.   

Both of their hands were well hidden and out of view from under the tiny desks—barely covered by Giyuu’s baggy hoodie and Sanemi’s large notebook.  

Sanemi freezes like a deer in headlights as Giyuu squeezes just a little bit—to test the waters—all while looking straight ahead.   

“T-Tomioka,” Sanemi whispers. “What are you doing?”  

“Pay attention,” Giyuu purrs. “I’m helping you pay attention.”  

He knew exactly how to get underneath Sanemi’s skin. Giyuu was not trying to help him pay attention.  

“You’re not helping me pay attention,” Sanemi seethes with emphasis, as his palm starts to grow hot and sticky.  

Giyuu shifts his grip until both of their hands are resting on his leg. He looked calm and engrossed with whatever the professor was saying, all while Sanemi was losing his mind.  

Time ticks by, and by the end of it, Sanemi was feeling more lightheaded than before. He can hardly notice the reminder of the students filing out of the hall, but once Giyuu removes his hand, he feels like he just got plunged into a cold bath.   

Sanemi sits there dumbfounded as Giyuu backs up his bag like it was just another day for him.   

“I helped you take some notes since you forgot,” Giyuu murmured before throwing his backpack over his shoulder. “I need to talk to the professor now. See you soon.”   

And with that, he files out of the narrow rows of seats and down the slope to the front of the lecture hall, taking his scent with him.   

Sanemi, with dry eyes and now a dry throat, looks down at his paper. On the very left-most corner of the sheet was Giyuu’s handwriting in purple pen. His lines were messy, and his loops were large and graceful.  

It takes a while for Sanemi to process the words.   

The contract doesn’t matter since we’re already together. See you at your place tonight at 7? I’ll bring dinner.  

4    

Giyuu was leaning against the door of Sanemi’s car, his knees locked, boasting his long legs. He looks up at the growing moon as he crosses one leg over the other, engrossed in thought, before turning back to the pearl-lit screen of his phone.   

He’s clad in a dark blue suit, with a lighter shade serving as his undershirt. His midnight hair is pulled back into a slick ponytail with hair gel flattening out his usually messy bangs.      

Giyuu prods at his phone while Sanemi walks closer.     

“Giyuu?” Sanemi asks, getting a strange feeling of deja vu. “What are you doing here?”     

Giyuu’s eyes light up as he looks up from his phone, the rest of his face unable to catch up with the bright expression currently pasted on his eyes.      

“Shinazugawa.” His voice is clear and stern. Sanemi almost feels like he’s being interviewed by Giyuu rather than casually approached by him.  

“Why are you all dressed up?” Sanemi asks.     

Giyuu shrugged nonchalantly. “I just finished my master’s dissertation.”     

Sanemi raises his eyebrows, his voice urgent. His heart skips in the cavity of his chest. “How was it?"    

“Yeah, it went well.” Giyuu stands up straight again and stretches his back. “I guess I have a master’s degree now.” He murmured matter-of-factly with little to no enthusiasm.      

Sanemi, on the other hand, is ecstatic.      

“Giyuu! That’s great!” Sanemi gently pulls him into a hug, resting his palms on his hips to where they barely touch the tweed of his slacks. “I don’t know why you aren’t jumping up and down right now. I’m so happy for you. I hope you are too. ”      

Giyuu stiffens up awkwardly, his own hands hovering around Sanemi’s back, unsure of where to put them.     

“Well, I am happy. That’s why I’m here.” Giyuu mumbled in his ear.  “We are going out to celebrate, right?”     

“Yup. Wherever you want, I’ll take you.”     

Sanemi expects Giyuu to drive him to his favourite diner or his favourite bar and steakhouse. But instead, he chooses none of those things.  

“Okay, great.” Giyuu pulls away from the hug first to look at Sanemi in the eyes. “I want to go to your place.”     

“M-my apartment?” Sanemi feels a sudden wave of embarrassment wash over him, insecure about his humble home as if Giyuu hadn't already been there countless times.   

“Yeah.” Giyuu shrugged. “I’m craving your cooking, and I’m tired. I just want to unwind a little.”     

Sanemi swats away the thoughts lingering in front of his eyes and shoos them away.      

“Okay then. Get in the car.” Sanemi walks over to the passenger seat and pops open the door.     

Giyuu doesn’t even hesitate when he follows Sanemi and plops down into the seat and crosses the seat belt over his chest.      

Giyuu must have been tired all day because he didn't complain about the music on the radio. Sanemi shuts it off, just in case. He didn't want Giyuu to get overstimulated after all that hard work.     

Giyuu's voice is low and slurred. "Why did you turn off the music?"      

"I'm sorry, were you listening?" Sanemi dials the volume back on, just a little bit. "Sorry, thought that you might have wanted to rest your ears."     

Giyuu only hums and rests his head on the window, his eyelids fluttering closed.      

Sanemi glances at him carefully, quietly tapping his pointer finger on the leather steering wheel as he slows down at the red. "Doing alright, Giyuu?"     

"Mhm."      

"I think I still have some salmon in the freezer, would you like that?"     

"Mhm."      

Sanemi decides not to pester him anymore, a small spark of unease lighting in his chest. 

Carefully, Sanemi pulls into the parking lot of his apartment, trying to tense and relax his body in different ways as if it would make the car drive smoothly. He parks in his usual spot, and the soft pop song humming on the radio comes to a stop.      

Giyuu doesn't stir from his seat.  

“Are you sure you’re okay, sweetheart?” Sanemi asks. He comes around to the side of the vehicle to open the door for Giyuu. “You’re kind of quiet today.”  

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just tired.”  

“Okay then. Let’s eat quickly and then head to bed.”  

Once they’re finally inside and perched in Sanemi’s apartment, Sanemi helps Giyuu take his clothes off and runs a bath—as hot as possible, just how Giyuu likes it. Sanemi hovers around until Giyuu's settled and satisfied with the amount of bubbles in the tub, before Sanemi changes into his own pyjamas and leaves the tiny bathroom for the kitchen. 

He throws the frozen salmon into a pot, along with some tofu and veggies, and finally some miso paste and seasonings once the water begins to simmer.   

On the side, Sanemi makes some coleslaw with the leftover cabbage not used in the soup and makes some rice in his well-loved rice cooker to eat with a variety of side dishes already prepared and stored in the fridge.   

Over half an hour passes when Sanemi finishes. Just about when he decided to check on Giyuu, he showed up in the kitchen barefoot with sopping wet hair, who had climbed out of the bath himself. Strings of jet black hang over his face as he readjusts the grip on the towel wrapped around his body.  

“Do you have any clothes?” Giyuu asks, eyes gliding over to the stove where Sanemi started to plate the ready dishes.  

“Yeah. Everything in my wardrobe and drawers is clean. You might have to look in the closet for my old stuff; they might fit you better.”  

Giyuu leaves without another word, the pit-patting of his feet tapering down the corridor. Sanemi quickly divides the food into bowls, piling the blue porcelain rice bowl up high with rice for Giyuu, one piece of many parts of Sanemi’s apartment that he had claimed from staying here for so long.   

Sanemi sets down the matching pair of chopsticks on the side, since the bowl was too packed to rest them on top. Next, he fills Giyuu’s cup—from the same set as his bowl and chopsticks—with hot tea.   

Giyuu shows up for the second time dressed in Sanemi’s clothes, his pick being a regular white tee that Sanemi wore under his shirts and basketball shorts that were adjustable at the waist.   

“Smells good,” Giyuu grumbles as he shuffles towards his seat, popping down to examine his meal.   

“Eat up, doll. I have plenty more on the stove.” Sanemi sits directly across from Giyuu on the small square table built for only two people. He slides the small side dishes closer to Giyuu as he plucks at them with his chopsticks.   

Giyuu eats so fast that Sanemi is worried that he might choke. Giyuu swallows down his entire meal before pausing even once, the grayish complexion on his face dissipating as he washes everything down with some ginger tea.   

“You said you had more food on the stove?” Giyuu asks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.  

“Uh—yeah. Knock yourself out.”  

Giyuu stands up from his seat.  

“Do you need help?” Sanemi offers. 

Giyuu shakes his head no to the offer and disappears into the small kitchen with his bowls.   

Sanemi huffs into his chest as he resumes his own meal, scarfing down a bite of salmon with some rice. He feels pleased with Giyuu's palate. He had always had a large appetite; Sanemi knew that his own mother would enjoy having him over.   

Giyuu comes back a few seconds later, his hands cupped over his refills, working on them right away the second he sits down.  

Sanemi finishes the rest of his meal at the same time Giyuu finishes his second, fully satisfied this time.   

“Thank you for the meal,” Giyuu says, looking at the table with downcast eyes. His voice sounds tired, even slightly pained. 

Sanemi frowns, Giyuu's exhaustion stirring up feelings of unease in Sanemi's stomach.  

It was normal for Giyuu to be enthusiastic and aloof on the outside, but today he just seemed out of it—like it was more than just his body and mind that were tired.  

Sanemi puts his bowl down, honing in on Giyuu's unblinking eyes as he stares forward. 

"Why don't you sit down?" Sanemi asks, Giyuu's eyes flashing upwards. "I'll take care of the dishes, you go rest." 

It takes a lot of convincing and coaxing to get Giyuu to sit on the couch as Sanemi cleans up the dishes, his attention zoned in on some kind of cartoon on Sanemi’s tiny television.   

“Can you see alright?” Sanemi calls from the kitchen, unable to see Giyuu through the walls.   

Giyuu responds with a quiet “yes” a few seconds later. 

Sanemi finishes the rest of the dishes in silence, drying them off carefully with a kitchen towel and setting them back into the upper cabinets. Giyuu's set of dishes is cautiously stacked on top of each other next to Sanemi's.  

When Sanemi leaves the kitchen, Giyuu is still sprawled out on the couch, resting his head on a hand as the flashing lights of the TV rebound off his face.  

Sanemi takes a deep breath, taking a seat next to Giyuu's outstretched legs. “Giyuu, do you want to talk?”  

“About what?” Giyuu replies bluntly.   

“I feel like something’s bothering you.” Sanemi watches Giyuu's body language closely before curling him closer with an arm. “I’m here to listen. Whenever. Wherever.”  

He doesn’t respond, but leans his head against Sanemi’s shoulder to express that he understands, closing his eyes in the process.   

Sanemi plants a small kiss on the center of Giyuu’s head, his hair still damp from the water and lingering with the scent of Sanemi’s shampoo. He lets him fall asleep against his shoulder and in his arm just like that—letting the TV murmur on in front of them as Giyuu finally started to snore.   

Sanemi rests his head onto Giyuu’s too and falls asleep to the familiar scent and the familiar breaths.   

5    

"I think this place is haunted," Giyuu mutters dryly, resting his hands on his hips.     

Sanemi swallows, but the lump in his throat doesn't dissipate. "Don't say that," he mumbles as nonchalantly as he can. "Don't jinx it."     

"Don't jinx it," Giyuu repeats, mockingly but without any real spite. "Now, give me the keys."      

He stretches a bare hand out to Sanemi.      

Sanemi sighs as a gust of wind approaches them from behind the home. He shudders suddenly and hard as the air seems to seep through his bones. Sanemi's legs don't seem to want to move any closer to that ominous paint-chipped door. Hell—he didn't even want to walk past this gate.  

Giyuu clears his throat and gives Sanemi a look of impatience, his hand still outstretched. Sanemi sighs and juggles with the keys he had just slipped from his pocket and finally hands them to Giyuu reluctantly.      

He has a bad feeling. He has such a bad feeling.     

Giyuu curls his fingers around the metal chain and key as he starts hopping up the steps of the estate in front of them.      

"Ghosts aren't real," Giyuu clicks his tongue as he inserts the key into the keyhole. "Probably."     

Sanemi shudders again as he hovers behind Giyuu's dark silhouette.   

The door creaks loudly when Giyuu opens it. Sanemi's got to be hearing things because it's not possible for inanimate objects to sound like they are in pain. This can't be right.      

The house was pitch dark when they entered. Nothing too much out of the ordinary.  

Most houses don't come furnished with lamps or illuminated with lights. Probably to save energy and money, or something. Sanemi swallows.     

Giyuu slips off his shoes and steps into the house. The floorboards whine and weep.      

"It's a little dark in here." Giyuu turns around and crosses his arms when he sees that Sanemi is still lingering outside, clinging to the little light there is. "Don't be scared. You have a flashlight on your phone, right?"     

Sanemi fumbles with his phone sheepishly.      

"Turn it on," Giyuu commands.      

"Can't you try to turn on the lights?" Asked Sanemi, suddenly aware that it was even possible. "This place gives me the heebie jeebies," he mutters under his breath while crossing his arms across his chest.     

"Come on," Giyuu groaned, with more annoyance this time. "It is really not that bad. It's close to both of our jobs, and it's affordable with a lot of space. I think having some bad vibes is a good trade-off." Both shuffle around in the dark, in what looks like the kitchen. "Ah, here's the switch."     

With one swift motion, Sanemi hears the light being switched on, but the light doesn't follow. Giyuu gets impatient, swiping across the nub multiple times before giving up and sighing.   

"That's strange, the landlord said that the power was on."    

Sanemi shudders, this time getting caught by Giyuu. He had always had crazy good night vision.     

With a shaky voice, Sanemi croaks. “Giyuu, where are you?”  

“I’m right here, Sanemi.”   

Sanemi can vaguely see Giyuu shuffling around in the dark.  

“Keep talking to me. I can’t see, godamnit.”  

“I’m right here.”  

Sanemi extends a hand into the empty void towards the sound of Giyuu’s voice, shuffling slowly so he doesn't bump into anything.  

“Fuck. I swear it has gotten darker since we came.” Sanemi huffed.  

Giyuu responds matter-of-factly, his voice warbled due to the distance. “Probably because we’re walking deeper into the house.”  

“How the fuck do you sound so far away? Stop walking, for heaven’s sake.” Sanemi swears as his own breath hits him with cold puffs. “Fuck. Just don’t move, got it?”  

“But I haven’t been moving,” Giyuu says from behind. "Aren't you right next to me?"  

“What?” Sanemi whips his head around, stretching his hand out to feel for the smooth fabric of Giyuu’s clothes, but he digs his fingers into something else entirely.   

It was a mistake. A big, big mistake.   

What Sanemi grabbed wasn’t Giyuu.    

He curls his fingers around it, just to be sure, as the wetness spreads across each and every one of his fingers, leaving them sticky and cold.   

Sanemi feels his mouth run dry, and his blood turns into ice.   

“What the fuck.”   

One pair of glowing eyes stares right back at him.  

“Sanemi, what’s wrong?” Giyuu asked from behind.   

“Oh fuck no.” Sanemi retracts his hand like he’s been burned, and scrambles behind him—to where he hopes was Giyuu’s voice. “Giyuu! Giyuu! Where the fuck are you?”  

He knows he’s getting warmer when he smells the fruity scent of Giyuu’s shampoo, he doesn’t hesitate before grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him towards where he hopes is the exit.   

Through the crack of the door was a tiny beam of light, a glowing rod stretching up and down in the darkness.   

Giyuu hobbles after him but doesn’t question him until Sanemi flings open the door, blinding both of them with the sun.   

He pushes Giyuu out first, before following after, slamming the front door with a slam so hard he hears the entire home groan in protest.   

“What was that for?” Giyuu scowled as Sanemi released his grip of Giyuu’s wrist. Sanemi gasps for air as he rests both of his hands on his knees, catching his breath. “You’re freaking me out.”  

“I saw—” Sanemi sucks in a mouthful of air. “Something. I felt—something.”  

“I think you’re just being paranoid. I was literally right there beside you, and I didn’t see a damn thing.” Giyuu crosses his arms across his chest, looking at Sanemi as if he were deluded. “I didn’t think you would actually be that scar—”  

He freezes as his skin goes pale.   

Sanemi lifts his head from the squat to see Giyuu holding out his arm as far away as possible, all while alternating between Sanemi’s hands and his own wrist.   

There was a small print of red where Sanemi had grabbed on. To his own horror, Sanemi’s own hands were covered in a crimson, viscous liquid. It seeped into his nails and stuck his fingers together like glue.   

“Holy shit.”  

Giyuu licks at his wrist experimentally, his eyes lighting up. “I think you ruined the landlord's gift.”  

Sanemi brings his own hands up to his face and gives them a light sniff. The smell of frosting fills his lungs as Giyuu continues to nibble on his wrist.  

“Giyuu, that’s disgusting—look—you don’t even know what that is. You really shouldn’t be eating that—”   

Giyuu silences him with a judgmental look.   

Sanemi sighs. If only he could rub his tired temples with his hands without turning himself into a roach trap.  

“You’re so silly,” Giyuu teases, walking up to Sanemi with the intent to lick his hands. He brings it up to his face and gently nips at the side of his wrist before getting shoved away by Sanemi.   

“Giyuu. Stop it. That’s really gross.”  

“It’s just frosting. I can’t believe—”   

Giyuu freezes, blue eyes blown wide.   

“What?”  

Sanemi traces Giyuu’s eyes that are looking behind him in the direction of the house; his hands go cold as he holds onto Sanemi.  

Right through the crack of the door were two floating glowing eyes, the whites bloodshot, nearly painting the entire eye blood red.  

Sanemi squeaks, his body seizing up as his skin shrink-wrapped with goosebumps. Giyuu tenses up right next to him as well, swearing under his breath.  

“We've got to go.” Giyuu finally mumbles, grabbing Sanemi’s wrist and dragging him towards the car. “Come on!”  

Giyuu swings open the door with such vigor that Sanemi thinks he is going to tear it off with his bare hands. He shoves Sanemi into the passenger seat as he sprints his way to the other side.  

Sanemi knows it’s serious if Giyuu offers to drive.  

Giyuu barely provides enough time for Sanemi to buckle up before he’s speeding out of the driveway, allowing Sanemi to catch a final glimpse of the house.   

From the door that was cracked open, Sanemi could see a hint of something. He swallows nervously as the thing watches them leave, as Giyuu starts to drive back to Sanemi's apartment.  

“We are not going back there.” Giyuu clutches the wheel as the house disappears into the distance.  

Sanemi leans into the leather of the seat, allowing his head to rest limply on his neck. “Finally, something we can agree on.”  

+1    

"Are you going to help me or not?" Sanemi snapped, his hands feeling very sore and tired as he stopped to pluck out his third splinter of the day. He winces as he squeezes it out from underneath his calluses. His palm stings a little, but no blood comes out. Sanemi carefully smooths his thumb over the small wound before resting his hands at his hips.    

Giyuu is sprawled out on Sanemi's bed, pawing at his 3DS. "I can't believe you still haven't proposed to me. I might as well do it myself at this point," he frowns, poking at the little screen.  

Sanemi nudges Giyuu's foot, only for it to rebound and hit him back in the hand. "Get off the bed."  

Giyuu doesn't budge. Proposal?  

Sanemi freezes. "What?" He gasps after he processes what Giyuu had just said.     

"I mean in the game," Giyuu adds.   

The little knot within Sanemi's stomach twists, feeling somewhat disappointed.   

Giyuu rolls himself back onto his stomach, holding his upper half up with his elbows as he idly taps on the screen with the tip of his nail.     

Sanemi shakes off the feeling broiling in his chest and turns his attention back to the bed.  

"Come on," Sanemi coaxes. "I need you to get off the bed, please," he emphasised.     

Giyuu doesn't stir or even respond to Sanemi's pleas.     

"You're the one who wanted a bed frame for god's sake, and you won't even let me set it up?"    

"I can't believe you don't like strudel—"    

Sanemi wraps his hands around Giyuu's ankles and drags him off the bed and onto the floor, the length of his spine and legs molding to the sharp corners of the mattress like a cat's.   

Giyuu howls in protest.     

"Stop it," Giyuu says once he's flat against the ground. "The floor is hard and cold."    

"Suck it up, sweetheart." Sanemi bites, stern but still with a hint of playfulness. Giyuu rolls his eyes and turns himself over onto his back again, hair framing his head as he raises the screen to his eyes.     

Without the large paper weight in the way, Sanemi tugs the mattress away from the wall. Thankfully, it drags smoothly against the wood floors instead of scratching the wood planks, easing some of the tension in Sanemi’s shoulders.   

He doubts he and Giyuu will be moving out soon, delaying whatever fines Sanemi's crazy landlord would impose on them, but it's just one less thing to worry about until it actually happens.  

"I'm cold," Giyuu complains.   

Sanemi wipes a small bead of sweat off his brow. "It's just for a little bit," he huffs in between breaths.     

He makes sure that all the screws are intact before carefully moving the large wood frame towards the edge of the room, to make it easier for him to slide the mattress on—all while avoiding Giyuu's spot on the floor.     

On a sharp inhale, Sanemi pulls the mattress onto the frame. He sighs once he sees that it's just the right size and also seems to be holding up really well.     

At first, Giyuu tried convincing Sanemi to let him purchase a king-sized bed since he was tired of Sanemi “intruding on his personal space” when he was sleeping, so to speak. But after a half-hour lecture (or debate, according to Giyuu), he was finally convinced when Sanemi argued that his room just wasn’t big enough. Besides, Sanemi knew that neither of them really cared if they had to spoon during the night on the full-sized mattress.  

Now with the new frame, the space seems even tighter than it was. Sanemi has to be careful of the countless number of obstacles around him, including the wall, other furniture, and Giyuu still sprawled out on the floor.   

The second Sanemi lifts his hands away from the mattress, he works faster than he has ever before, barely having enough time to slide the bed back into the corner before Giyuu launches himself onto it, the wood planks holding the mattress up as the coils creaking underneath his weight. The entire bed skids across the floor with Giyuu’s headive, putting Sanemi’s floors and walls at risk.  

Sanemi sucks in a breath as Giyuu tests the new frame, bouncing gently on his knees. "Watch the wall," he warned, walking up to where the head of the frame meets the cream paint. Thankfully, it hasn't been scratched yet—but Giyuu's stunt did move the bed closer to the wall than where he originally set it.  

Giyuu rolls himself back into the blankets, already immersed in his game. "Wall's fine." He pulls the screen away from his face to smirk at Sanemi, pulling the covers up to his neck. "It's you who needs to be more careful. After all, you tend to get passionate and all."    

Sanemi scoffs at the taunt but comes around to the side of the bed to sit on it, which was now more comfortable since his legs are at a right angle rather than squatting. The bedroom adds more texture and liveliness to his room, as opposed to the simple living space, which he labelled before. There seems to be more life everywhere.  

"I can't believe you seriously wanted to move in. This place is so shabby." Sanemi stretches his neck to get rid of the knots that have accumulated from being up and about all day. “Who knew we would be moving in together, and at my tiny apartment no less.”  

"That's why we're fixing it up." Giyuu goaded.     

"We?" Sanemi scoffed playfully.     

"I was the one who went to the store for everything. And packed all my boxes."    

"Okay? But who brought those into the apartment and set them up?"    

"You," Giyuu admitted. "And that's what I said before. I said we. We are fixing it up."    

Sanemi grins—unrestrained and unhinged, revealing the sharp tooth at the side of his mouth. Giyuu freezes when he sees his taunting gaze.   

“Okay.” Sanemi clicks his tongue. “You win. You can’t ever win against a brat, anyway.”  

Giyuu doesn’t seem to buy Sanemi's defeat, eyes lasered onto him as the music from his game drones on.   

“Why are you looking at me like that, sweetheart?” Sanemi questions, swinging his legs onto the bed and turning towards Giyuu, resting his head on the heel of his hand.   

“Because you’re thinking about doing something stupid.”  

Sanemi glides closer, his knee brushing past the silky skin of Giyuu’s thigh. “Like what?”  

Giyuu rolls his eyes, and for the first time in minutes, he sets his game down to wrap his arms around Sanemi’s neck.   

He presses a soft and chaste kiss to Sanemi’s lips, sealing his eyes shut as his gentle exhale brushes up against his nose. Sanemi reciprocates by sinking his arms across Giyuu’s shoulders and pressing him closer.   

“I can finally wake up with you every morning,” Sanemi whispers gently as Giyuu looks up at him with glassy eyes. “Would you like that, 'yuu?”  

Giyuu’s voice is slurred and syrupy as he pulls Sanemi into another kiss. “Mhm.”  

Sanemi kisses Giyuu deeper this time, as deeply as he lets him, allowing Giyuu to set the pace and intensity as he sucked on his lips. Neither of them notices Sanemi's slow manoeuver on top of Giyuu’s body, his knees sinking deeper into the bed as the plush mattress forces them together.   

Giyuu seals the kiss with a slow and controlled exhale from his nose, slowly drawing away as the small string of saliva vanishes into the air.   

Sanemi pulls himself backwards to admire the view.   

Giyuu is exceptionally handsome and also beautiful—especially so with his hair loose next to his shoulders and with dark, voidless eyes swallowing him whole. The sight makes Sanemi's head spin and his heart hammer in the cavities of his chest.  

“Giyuu…” Sanemi’s voice trails off as Giyuu looks up at him with a blank smirk; the corners of his mouth upturned just a little. “You’re so…”  

“I’m so what?” Giyuu asks. The jolly music from his game plays on.  

Sanemi gives in, lowering himself down until Giyuu until he’s close enough to swallow him whole. His nose touches Giyuu’s as he buries his lips on Giyuu’s, nipping at the soft and supple skin of his bottom lip. He can feel Giyuu’s eyelashes flutter shut against his own, as he loosens his own mouth to let Sanemi deeper and deeper, until he’s licking into the plushness of Giyuu’s mouth.    

Giyuu sighs, more desperate than sensual as he claws his fingers into Sanemi’s scalp. Their kisses grow quicker and messier as they try to claim every inch of each other with just their mouths.   

“‘Nemi,” Giyuu gasped through broken breaths as he pulled away with both hands resting on Sanemi’s neck. His pupils are glossy and dilated as he looks at him with swollen and wet lips. “I need you. I need all of you. Tell me you’re mine.” He whispers warmly. “Tell me you’re mine.”  

“I’m yours.” Sanemi leans into Giyuu, chasing his skin with his lips as he kisses down from his neck to his collarbone, where his clothes aren’t restricting him. “I’m yours, and you’re mine.”  

“Mhm.”  

Sanemi plants a kiss on the patch of skin between both of Giyuu’s eyes. He wrinkles his nose as Sanemi digs his nose into Giyuu’s forehead. For the third time, he leans back down, kissing along the length of Giyuu’s neck, who nudges into the touch.   

Against the shell of Giyuu’s ear, Sanemi whispers as gently and sweetly, knowing that words themselves wouldn’t be enough.   

“Welcome home.”