Work Text:
Introduction
Tabito senses rather than hears his boyfriend's approach.
"I'm gonna go take a nap."
Lounging on Tabito’s thigh, Churro raises his head, making a cat-noise in greeting to his owner. Tabito fixes some punctuation on his econ report, not looking up. “A’ight.”
No movement. Eita doesn't leave.
Tabito glances up from the laptop, finding his boyfriend still standing there. His expression is placid, nothing out of the ordinary in the casual slouch of his stance. “I gotta go run an errand but I should be back by the time ya wake up.”
“Cool, cool.” Eita says, and then pauses. “What do you want for dinner?”
Tabito hums. “Dealer's choice. It's yer turn ta cook.”
“It's my turn for laundry too. I'll do it tomorrow before work. You don't have class until the evening, anyway.”
He still doesn't leave. He's just staring at Tabito silently, green eyes holding him in a deadlock like he’s trying to impress his thoughts into Tabito’s brain through sheer force of eye contact– Oh.
Tabito reaches up, snagging Eita by the chin. Pulling him down, he presses a kiss to his lips, quick and easy.
“There. Better, ya big baby?” He teases, playing it off by grabbing him by the nose and shaking it before pulling away. “Sleep tight.”
His boyfriend blinks, slow and disorientated. He hovers over Tabito for a moment longer, so still Tabito wonders if he’s waiting for another one. And then Eita straightens up.
“Okay. Bye.”
Shuffling off to his room, the light catches on the dark green headphones swinging from his fingertips, and Churro makes a mewp sound, hopping off Tabito’s lap to follow. The door creaks closed. And Tabito finds himself still staring at it afterwards.
Lately, Eita has been acting– well, not strange, because that would imply that he's not always operating a little funky compared to normal people. But… strange for him at least.
It's been a lot of stuff like this, hovering, announcing things before he does them, waiting for Tabito’s response. Standing a little closer, looking at a little longer. Typically he’s more than content to give Tabito his space, doing his own thing somewhere across the couch or across the apartment. He drinks his energy drinks and plays his games, receptive to the attention Tabito gives him but hardly needy or high-matience about it, otherwise completely content to sit in the corner and just exist. The boyfriend equivalent of a house plant. Tabito'd be lying if he said he didn't find this turn of events kind of cute. Thrilling, even, like becoming the favorite of the neighborhood stray when it starts hanging out on your porch even after you've fed it.
It’s mushy, and sentimental, and completely out of character for him. For both of them. Eita for initiating, and Tabito for getting so much out of indulging it. They've been together six months now, and it ain't like he didn't expect them to kiss and be sweet on each other, but he hadn't expected this.
Or rather. He hadn't really known what to expect.
For a long time, he kept letting himself get tangled up in that; Tabito doesn’t make a habit of putting himself out there without the certainty that things will go his way, or as close to certainty as he can manage most days. He had impulses long before he met Eita, sure, but they were thoughts and feelings he trained out of himself from showing since the time he was a kid. That lifelong desire for control, keeping his shiny little rocks in their perfect little circle, all so he could stand tall and preen and crow about how capable he was.
Eita ain’t a shiny rock. Or even something you could contain in a circle, the way his long limbs are always spreading, hanging off the furniture, all the thoughts and feelings and impulses running around his head heeded without a second’s self-consciousness, up and gone in all the time it takes you to blink. But Tabito likes him despite that– because of that.
Ain’t a bad thing, he reckons, turning back to his report with a little smile on his face.
Tabito’s long since decided to stop trying to reason why or interrogate away this like. It’s stuck around this long, through thick and thin. He don’t think it’s going away anytime soon.
Suppose he’ll just have to see how these little behaviors develop from here.
Methodology
Toya
Tabi
14:04
[Attached image]
14:06
In the grander scheme of things, opening a picture message from Eita ain't the riskiest thing Tabito has ever done on the clock. Not by a long shot.
Normally, it's just a picture of Churro. Something weird he saw at the station. A pretty flower or cool bug he’d think Tabito would like. Whatever Eita was eating for lunch. Silly shit. Tabito does generally try to keep his private life private, but he ain't fucked up about someone seeing anything like that.
But like most things that have to do with the mixed chaos bag that is Otoya Eita, damn, he should have accounted for the opposite.
The first thing he sees is skin. So much skin. It's a selfie. It's Tabito’s very hot and very home alone boyfriend taking a selfie with the hem of an old jersey between his teeth, the slim line of his body angled half-away from the camera so that the arch of his ribcage and the subtle curve of his hip meet in a dip that's definitely bad for Tabito’s continued employment and also possibly his health. The overhead light is casting shadows in the lean definition of his abdomen. There are nipples. Tabito’s pretty sure he's not wearing pants. The dots at the bottom of the chat are dotting, and Tabito finds himself holding onto a breath, clutching tight to his phone–
Toya
does this lok like a spider bite 2 u
14:08
Every train of thought abruptly and spectacularly derails in a glorious, fiery instant.
Tabito runs a hand down his face, glaring at the characters on his screen, the accompanying reaction sticker that of an Ultraman screaming really throwing him for a loop.
And here he was, just minding his own business. Thinking about the three papers he owes by the end of the week, all of today and tomorrow’s reading he planned to do on his lunch break so he could stay ahead of the curve. Making some money to live in a house and feed himself and his garbage panda of a boyfriend. And then said boyfriend goes and does this and yeah, he'd gotten so distracted by the chest and stomach and hips of, ya know, the guy he likes, he hadn't even noticed the small red bump in the corner of the frame.
Are you for real right now
14:09
Toya
what u mean
this is a spider bite rite like I'm not crazy
14:09
Oh you're something alright.
Yes, that's a spider bite.
14:10
Toya
🤙🤙🤙 thanks babe
14:11
Should I be concerned? About you more than usual, that is.
14:12
Toya
oh nah
im good
just itchy
14:12
Tabito scoffs at the screen, pinching the bridge of his nose. Nearly got him sporting a chub in public, and the best he can give him is, ‘I’m good, just itchy?’
I can't believe you got ass out just because ya got bit by a spider.
Thought I was gonna have to give ya a talking to about sending nudes while I'm at work but you're just being a dumbass like usual.
14:15
Toya
can't it be both
did it work
14:16
u wanna come home and lovingly tend to my wound and then lovingly rail me so bad rn don't you
14:17
Of course that's when Yukimiya picks the moment to glance over Tabito's shoulder.
“Glad to see the honeymoon phase is still going strong,” His manager says kindly, with a consolatory pat to the shoulder. “But can you not do it on the clock? I need to be able to look you both in the face next time we all work together.”
Tabito waves him off, twisting away to hide his rapidly heating face. “A'ight. Yup. Won't be a problem.”
“Thanks. I value your friendship, Karasu.”
“Ain't gotta rub it in, Yukki.”
Yukki laughs in that prim, goodnatured way of his that lets Tabito know he won’t be letting him live this down anytime soon. Prolly will even get Eita in on it with him. He groans. Only thing Eita likes laughing at more than his own jokes is Tabito, after all.
Muttering about needing a cigarette, Tabito ducks into the back, taking a moment in the employee restroom to collect himself. Looking in the mirror, he gets an idea, and positions himself just so, readjusting to get the angle right. He snaps a quick pic and sends it to Eita before turning his phone on silent and returning to the front.
Later when he goes on break proper, he finds a string of laughing emojis in response to the photo: a selfie of Tabito through the mirror, back arched, flipping him off.
Self preservation– it’s instinct at its finest. It’s why Tabito chose to major in business over psychology, why he took that incredibly convenient job at the 11-Seven in Shibuya station a year ago despite the reservations he’d had about both the job and the staff. It worked out in the end, seeing as Tabito ended up liking the convenience store more than he ever expected and could still indulge in the compulsion to pick apart the human experience in his free time, but the animal inclination to prioritize survival of the self above all else is something Tabito definitely subscribes to.
And yet here he is, caught in a crisis of such today.
The thing is, one of Tabito’s favorite things about psychology is how weird it is. They’ll study just about anything to see how people react to it– for instance, all the psychological backing on the effects of colors. Blue especially.
Generally regarded as the world’s favorite color, its influence has been noted on the human body both cognitively and affectively, research suggesting that exposure to the color blue can lower blood pressure, heart rate, and alleviate feelings of anxiety. There was even a handy study done in Japan about adding blue lights to certain train stations between 2000 and 2010, and found an 84% decrease in suicides in those 71 stations.
And that’s all well and good, but in this muted pocket of air and quiet between the curved bays looking out into the aquariums on either side of the space, whether the cool blue light filtering from the Indian Sea tank is actively heightening or reducing Tabito’s anxiety remains to be seen.
Spending his one day off this week at the Tokyo Life Sea Park was nowhere near the top of the list of things Tabito wanted to do. In actuality, it was closer to the depths of hell than anywhere near the list, period. But when Yukki had a date flake out on him last minute and offered them the tickets, Tabito would've had to have been blind to miss the way Eita's eyes lit up. What's a man supposed to do?
They’d pulled some strings and got Bachira to swap his morning shift for Eita’s afternoon one, and Tabito’d picked him up at the Shibuya station 11-Seven about an hour ago. And now they were here, Eita having the time of his life standing as close as physically possible to the glass of every single exhibit while Tabito did a very excellent job of keeping the kombucha and korean corndogs they had for lunch inside his body, thank you very much. Being around this much water would usually have Tabito breaking out in stress hives, but the tall, thick glass separating him and all of it is doing most of the work of keeping his nerves (and epidermis) in check. If he don't think about how they're technically several meters underwater right now, that is.
"Duh-dun."
A low sound catches Tabito’s ear in the dark. He turns. Across the room he spots Eita, or rather, Eita's body and Eita's phone, lifted to cover his face.
Then Eita’s body, taking a step closer.
"Duh-dun.”
Tabito raises an eyebrow.
“Yeah?”
"Duh-dun.”
He takes another step. Tabito chuckles, mouth starting to twist up.
Eita’s phone quivers with the shake of his shoulders. "Duh-dun. Duh-dun.”
Two more sliding steps. And then he breaks out in a full sprint across the floor.
“Duh-dun-duh-dun-duh-dun-duh-duh-duh–”
In a blink, he’s right there. Dipping like going in for a feint, Eita sneaks under his half-hearted guard, and braced for impact and a bruise or two, Tabito lets it happen.
Quick as a killer, he strikes. Lips press into the corner of Tabito’s mouth, firm and warm.
“Secret ninja technique,” Eita murmurs when he lets up, hovering just above the skin there. “Shark attack.”
Eita’s warm breath and cool voice makes Tabito want to shiver, all hot and cold at once. His heart’s thrashing something wicked and it’s taking everything within him to keep it from showing on his face. "Hey… Someone coulda saw that." Tabito manages to get out into the thin space that separates them.
Eita doesn't step back, just tips his head side to side, eyes never leaving Tabito’s. "I checked,” he says, like a liar. “There's no one around."
"What about them?"
Eita's gaze follows as Tabito nods to the tank. A dozen glistening eyes watch back as a school of angelfish opens and closes their mouths just on the other side of the glass, a small, scandalized audience.
He snorts and leans back in, an arm sneaking around Tabito's waist to squeeze.
"Wanna give them a show?"
"Let's not." Tabito says mildly, making the smart, respectable choice of tucking his own hands away into the pocket of his coat. "Gettin' arrested would ruin my plans fer later."
Eita’s eyebrows rise, and he plants his pointy little chin right in the middle of Tabito's sternum. "Oh? What kinda plans?"
"Boyfriend plans."
"Lucky guy."
"He sure is."
His boyfriend pokes him in the stomach. Tabito does it back to him. He does it again, so Tabito does it too, back and forth until Eita goes for a throat chop, and Tabito ends it with a sharp jab to the stomach.
He wheezes, slipping from Tabito’s arms with all the flair of a wet noodle. Tabito collects him up and smacks him on the back for good measure, Eita grumbling all the while.
Despite the promise of ‘swift shinobi vengeance’, he does behave the rest of the day. Through the penguins and the touch tanks, the marine tube, and everything in between. Tabito still keeps his distance from the glass, but follows Eita dutifully as he flits about enjoying himself, tracking each little tilt of the head, every slight crinkle or downturn of his mouth.
It was one of the first things that’d drawn him to Eita, back then. How little his affectations changed; it’d taken Tabito a while to learn how to read him, how disgust thinned his already narrow gaze, and delight took the form of relaxed eyelids and lowered brows. Even now, he still finds himself looking for the tells he got used to from analyzing other people. But as ever, Eita remains his own anomaly, never behaving quite how anyone expects. And Tabito is content to watch him, near and afar.
As open hours draw to a close, Eita zeros in on the gift shop on their way out, not even bothering to glance back to see if Tabito was behind when he books it. It’s filled with all the predictable staples, plushies and snow globes, hats and shirts and bags, Tabito perusing leisurely a few steps behind Eita as he makes appraising sounds at the various merch.
It's the wall of keychains and phone charms at the back that ultimately catches Eita’s eye. He digs through them at length like a connoisseur, offering his choice selections up to Tabito: a brown, shiny-eyed penguin chick (Yukimiya-coded), a sailfish (“Looks just like you, man– got the hair and everything!”), a hammerhead shark poised to attack (because they’re sick).
And finally, retrieved from low down on the rack–
“Reminds me of ya, a little bit,” Tabito snickers, shaking the matching glitter-filled blobfish charms around. “A real dumb looking lil’ sucker.”
Eita laughs so hard he stumbles into a display of overpriced tumblers. They clatter to the floor in a noisy jumble of neutral tones and obnoxious ombre, and somewhere nearby a kid starts to cry.
The guy at the checkout counter whips his head around, and if looks could kill, Tabito and Eita’d both be shark chum. But as Eita slaps a hand over his mouth and gives him a sorry little salute, Tabito catches the way he bites onto the bar of his tongue piercing to keep from laughing again.
Somehow they manage to get out of it none the worse for wear and two keychains richer. Eita tosses one over his shoulder at Tabito as they exit the shop. He catches it easily enough, and he can’t quite tell if the way Eita’s mouth quirks means he’d wanted Tabito to get caught off guard and fumble or not.
They head to the station, and while they wait on the platform for their train, Tabito watches Eita flip through their day, stopping on a selfie they took mimicking a wall of seaweed in one of the tanks. Eita’s going for it full stop, of fucking course, green goober he is, but in the one on Eita’s phone Tabito’s just kind of standing there with his knees and elbows out, more drowned-and-broken-stick than anything seaweed-y.
Certain it didn’t look that weird from his perspective, Tabito goes to find his own photo, and he sees out of the corner of his eye as Eita pulls his Instagram up and… stops.
He pauses long enough, uncharacteristically enough, that it draws his gaze back over Eita’s shoulder.
Tabito’s never been one much for social media, only doing enough to keep up appearances, but Eita was, and Tabito didn't mind that he posted pics from their dates to his story. Eita wasn’t dumb. He doesn't post their faces, and almost never posts any actual pictures of Tabito at all, just a sleeve or the hem of a coat if he happened to get caught in a shot. Even now, the pictures under his thumb are just of the snacks they ate at the cafe, the shadows of sharks on the marine tube floor, moon jellies suspended in their bioluminescent void. A side-by-side of the matching keychains, dangling from their fingers.
Tabito leans in and knocks their shoulders together. “What? Somethin’ the matter?” He keeps his tone light, smirking, “Is it yer ugly mug, or mine?”
Eita blinks, and then shrugs. “Nah. It's nothing. I just don't think I wanna post anything.” He clicks off the phone, shoving it into his jeans with a dramatic sigh. “Guess no one else gets to know how scared you were to hold a starfish.”
“It ain't nobody else's business,” Tabito grumbles. He thinks of the photos he took today as well, of the matching charm dangling on the keyring clipped to his bag. Neither of them are big on public displays of affection– or at least, he'd thought they weren't. It just wasn't smart. Self-preservation, and all that.
… Damn. What’s he even trying to prove? He went to an aquarium for this guy. And the first time Tabito kissed him was at work, for crying out loud. Self-preservation took a vacation whenever Eita was concerned, and Tabito paid for the plane ticket every damn time.
"Well, ya know, fine by me,” He says and leans away, settling a casual distance apart. “I'd rather keep ya all to myself, anyways.“
Eita doesn't snicker or tease the way Tabito expects him to. He's strangely quiet as the train pulls in. Still, Tabito feels his eyes on him as they enter, feels the cold, slim fingers that brush his own as they settle together on the handrail, side by side.
And when the train departs, tucked in the cover of Tabito's coat, he tangles them together. Where they stay the whole ride back to Eita's apartment.
"You know, the last time I lost my virginity was when I was fourteen."
Eita’s voice reaches him across the bed in a low, sleepy crawl. It prods at the edges of his doze, and slowly, Tabito’s eyes slip back open.
It’s dark in his room, the hazy glow of streetlamps from behind the blinds giving vague shape to his bookshelf, his desk, and to the owner of the voice laying a short distance away.
Eita was already here when he’d gotten home from his closing shift. He’d found him sitting on the kitchen counter, the way Tabito told him not to do a thousand times before, scrolling a cat Reddit. It’d been a surprise. He hadn't told him ahead of time, and it annoyed Tabito to have to deal with it when all he wanted was to go to bed.
But the spat they had was short. They ate leftovers from the last time Tabito cooked and then showered together, and afterwards when he’d grabbed the remote Eita had taken it out of Tabito’s hand, fitting his own fingers within and pulling him to the bedroom instead.
His boyfriend now lounges, a long pale shape, all limbs and edges, just out of reach. He looks like a slash of paint, bright against the dark canvas of Tabito’s room, and he can’t find it in himself to really be that bothered anymore. Not when they both smell like Tabito’s bodywash, and Eita’s whispering to him like–
"The last time.." Tabito echoes, brows furrowing. But then he gets it. He snorts. "Pfft. Yeah? Didn’t know ya still considered yerself ta be a virgin until three months ago.”
Eita shrugs the bare line of a shoulder, shadows filling the hollows of his collarbone. “Didn’t know being an ass virgin was gonna be something to worry about until three months ago.” He deadpans.
“My bad.” Tabito grins, and takes the smack to the stomach Eita hits him with just like that. But as Eita retracts, call it instinct or habit, the urge to pick compels him. Eita’s normally an open book– and he already put it out there.
“Fourteen though.” He muses. “Fourteen was a little young, don'tcha think?"
Eita shrugs again, gaze shifting away to the tangled sheets between them.
"Hey. Something on yer mind?" Tabito asks, reaching out to brush his hand down his arm.
His skin is hot to the touch, slightly sticky. Eita’s quiet for a long moment, the rise and fall of his ribs steady. Tabito thumbs at the strong vein that threads his forearm, all the way down his wrist, through the tendons in his fingers. He doesn’t rebuff, only lays there, allowing himself to be touched by light and Tabito’s sheets and Tabito’s skin, so Tabito figures he can give him all the time he needs since it probably ain’t anything too bad.
"Sometimes I worry this might just be about sex."
Tabito's first instinct is a familiar one. To freeze– or flee. To flinch violently away and perhaps through the nearest door or window, forever. It’s only through years of practice that he tamps down on the panic, on the sudden rush of self-consciousness, and keeps his hand there on Eita’s body, betraying nothing as he continues to stroke his arm. There’s an order of operations here. Letting his feelings get ahead of him ain’t gonna do either of them any favors.
He focuses on the facts. "Eita. I have half my shit at yer place. You have half yer shit at mine. I stay with yer cat when ya work late. We’re goin’ home ta see my parents at the end of this semester. If ya wanted something different yer a little late on callin' it."
Eita’s brow pitches down, a rare sign of annoyance. "No. That's not what I meant.”
"Then what did ya mean? That ya were worried I was only interested in sex?" He cocks his head, suddenly seeing the whole conversation in a new light. "Or that you thought you were?"
"... Me, I guess." He admits, another lopsided shrug bunching his shoulders. "Cuz, you know. Sex is good. Kissing, good. Eating the food you cook me, good."
And then his chin dips down, tucking into the crook of his arm. "Me in relationships? Not very good."
Tabito’s eyes narrow, things starting to line up now. “Is this about earlier tonight? Or did something happen, Eita?”
He shakes his head easily. “No. And no, at least, nothing comes to mind.” And then he sighs, flopping over into his back to stare up at Tabito’s ceiling.
“I guess I was just… thinking about what happens when I lose interest in stuff. Like, when everything stops being new and exciting. I used to just go with the flow and not care, but. It still hasn’t happened yet. And I was really happy when I realized that, and I came over right away but then I was thinking about it, and what if it’s just because the sex is awesome, and I didn't watch any gay porn while I was trying to figure out my feelings for you, so–”
Tabito reaches over him, snatching up his phone from the bedside table. Eita startles, cutting off with his mouth still open, wide-eyed.
"Hey, I was having a moment here-"
"Gimme a sec, I'm checking somethin'."
"Eita." Tabito says, turning his phone around to show him. "It's June."
"So?'
"We got together in December."
“Yeah?”
“When was the last time ya had a relationship last this long?”
"...Oh."
"Yeah," Tabito emphasizes, tucking his phone away. He gives him a meaningful look, "And we only lasted this long because ya put in the work ta make it. Besides, it ain't like we're blowing each other's backs out seven days a week."
"Yeah, cuz it's more like three." Eita cuts in, eyebrows up and mouth frowning.
"Mah point," Tabito continues, after flicking him on the forehead, "Is yer capable of more than ya think you are. And ya like being with me, I reckon. So give yerself a little credit, a'ight? Ya know when I have complaints, ya hear 'em."
"Yeah. Okay." Eita takes a deep breath, running his hands over his face. But he does seem more assured now. "Thanks."
"Yer welcome. Now get back over here."
Eita’s up in an instant, moving with that ninja quickness even now as he launches himself across the bed and belly flops down right there into Tabito’s arms. The hair at the back of his head is all matted up with sweat, and Tabito holds him close, nosing against his temple, and tries not to shake under the weight of his own relief.
Should’ve figured a conversation like this was bound to happen at some point. You don’t date a (hopefully) reformed fuckboy without a few hiccups of the fucking variety. And it scares him shitless every day, thinking that he might've been wrong, that he'd invested all this time and energy, broke his own heart over nothing. He'd have no one to blame except himself, because why didn't he see this coming?
"I know I was the guy who made ya realize ya like guys an' all, but," Tabito runs his fingers through those bleached strands, watching white and green slide and fall from his hand. He thinks of the day Eita confessed to him, months after Tabito had the first time, the day that turned all of this from Tabito’s wishful thinking into something tangible, real. "It's the same fer me too. It's all pretty new to me. I'm figuring it out as we go, just like you."
"Tabi..."
He lifts Eita’s head from his shoulder, tilting it up in the low light to take his inventory: that pointy chin and nose, narrow eyes, short lashes. Bleach-dry hair and monotone voice, the ease of which he lets himself be held, even now, the openness he has for the world. All the little parts that made up his whole, all the little things that made Tabito fall for him in the first place.
"So ya can trust me a little more, okay? Ya can tell me what yer feeling or thinking or worryin' about anytime."
Eita’s eyes hold onto him, throat bobbing as he swallows.
"You too." He says, eyes flickering closed as he leans back into him, breathing deep against Tabito’s skin. "Always. I always wanna talk to you.”
Findings
Tabito has a love/hate relationship with his boyfriend’s mouth. On one hand, it says some of the stupidest shit ever known to man. And on the other, it’s really nice to kiss.
Right now Eita’s mouth tastes like the energy drink he chugged for breakfast and Tabito, sucker that he is, couldn't care less that it tastes like he's making out with the inside of a radiator as those sly lips move against his own, battery acid tongue and all. They’ve both got the whole day off, and with his boyfriend in his lap and all his assignments already submitted for the week, Tabito’s not about to waste a second of it policing what Eita puts in his mouth so long as Tabito gets to be there too.
That being said, they aren't going anywhere fast– ain't really going anywhere at all with the way Eita seems content to just stay here, legs thrown over the side of the couch and back against Tabito’s chest, the long sprawl of a content cat. He plays rounds of Genshin between bouts of kisses with Tabito’s chin hooked over his shoulder, telling him about the new characters and about the ones he mains.
Tabito pays attention so he can learn the rules, pointing out his favorite wack-ass colorful hairstyles among them, and when Eita wins he tells him he did a good job. Eita makes an appreciative noise, giving him a heartfelt, “Thanks, man,” and then sets his phone down to resume tipping Tabito’s opinion of his mouth in the more favorable direction once more.
“Tabi…” Eita murmurs later in that breathy, affected voice he gets after being kissed real good for a while. Another point in Eita’s mouth’s favor: it has his voice, which, yeah, does all the stupid-shit-saying, but Tabito had the embarrassing revelation many months earlier that he likes his voice even when he’s saying stupid things so this is just the hill he dies on, then.
The warmth leaves his lips as Eita pulls back, just enough for their noses to touch.
“I want to dye my hair.”
Tabito’s eyes drift open. At the end of his nose, Eita stares back at him intently.
"Like, right now?"
He nods, as serious as Tabito has ever seen him. "Right now, right now."
"A'ight." Tabito shrugs, easing back so he can look at him properly. "That's fine."
Eita tips his head down, giving Tabito a slow cat-like blink. "I have to go home then."
He sounds disappointed about this for some reason. Which– one of the few things he does still keep at his own apartment is his hair dye kit, Tabito supposes.
Tabito opens his mouth. "Ya can do it here."
Eita straightens in his lap, eyes all wide, and though Tabito just blurted it out without thinking, he’s suddenly glad he did. "Are you sure? It can get pretty messy."
"I said it's fine, didn't I?" Tabito tells him, giving a quick ruffle to his white hair– which he supposes ain’t about to white much longer. "Whattya need? I'll Eita-proof the bathroom if'n ya wanna go run and get yer stuff."
Eita, obnoxious little opportunist he is, doesn’t need much more convincing. He takes off with a promise to text when he’s on the way back, leaving Tabito to face down his bathroom with a roll of tape and some plastic sheeting from the superintendent’s office.
As he works, a familiar itch starts up in his chest. It’s solidified into a tight fist by the time he’s got the floor covered, digging something mean into his throat, like choking on a stone, and his hands are only shaking a little, but it’s enough to notice. The craving for a cigarette is a fairly constant, if not seriously annoying, one, but at least Tabito’s had lots of practice telling himself no.
He’s been trying to quit nearly two years now, ostensibly for soccer- and health-related reasons, but the truth was Tabito was just damned embarrassed of needing something as mediocre as that to keep himself even. It’s true that loads of people in Japan still smoked, compared to a lot of other countries, so at least he don't stick out but–
But.
Tabito sighs, and goes to the kitchen to get a roll of paper towels.
Which he then drops. Twice. In all of the time it takes to walk between his kitchen and bathroom.
He sighs again, and resigns himself to the smoke break.
Why he’s feeling so nervy all of a sudden, he don’t have a clue. But the fresh air on the fire escape and the nicotine in the cigs do their job, and he’s chilled out enough after the second smoke to go in and finish what he started, tucking the last of the bathroom things he didn’t want dyed a new color away when the front door unlocks.
The bag is bigger than Tabito thought it would be. Eita starts to unload on the counter, some stuff Tabito recognizes and a lot of stuff he don’t, shooting a curious glance back at Tabito when he catches him hovering. Feeling embarrassed for some reason, Tabito just gives him a quick nod and makes himself scarce.
He comes back though– can't help it. Doesn’t try to linger, but Tabito passes by more than he can make up excuses to go in his room, glancing over so much it’d put even his own past lovesick ass to shame. To his credit Eita goes about his task easily, moving comfortably within the space like he ain’t being watched like a World Cup match. Though he'd covered the floor in plastic, Eita’d taken it a step further by draping towels on every flat surface, a bottle of rubbing alcohol within easy reach on the sink as an extra precaution. Nothing is plugged in or left open when not in use, stashed tidily out of the way to avoid causing a mess.
As he works, he rolls the barbell of his tongue piercing across his lips, trapping it between his teeth and clicking it a few times before repeating the whole motion over again. It’s something Tabito has started to notice Eita does when he’s focused. Sometimes he’ll hear it from the other room when Eita tackles a hard level in a game or gets wrapped up watching an intense soccer match, tapping it to the beat from his headphones when he does chores. It’s the kind of thing that would have driven Tabito crazy before, he thinks, grating on his nerves and keeping him even more on edge than he already usually is. But he worked alongside it for months before they even got together, that buzzing, erratic energy, the velocity in the shifts between absolute, unreal stillness and incessant fidgeting.
It’s almost a comfort now, if Tabito’s honest with himself. The little signs that he’s close, that they occupy the same space. And ain’t that a thought.
Sharing ain’t ever been his strong suit. Can’t help it, being particular and all, and he’s never particularly enjoyed having people in his space, not now and not when he’d lived at home with his folks. There was something revealing about letting others see the way you lived that Tabito found awfully uncomfortable, probably a case of his chronic over-thinking but it’s not like knowing that made him feel any better.
Inviting Eita over that night all those months ago– when the trains had been suspended because of an accident and they’d been closing together– had been totally out of character for him. But Tabito’d already confessed to him at that point, had put his heart and cards on the table. And besides, he’d figured out pretty early on that Eita wasn’t the type of person he had to pretend for, didn’t need to analyze constantly to keep up with. What you saw was what you got with him. And Tabito had figured he could try doing the same.
A clatter comes from the sink, drawing Tabito from his thoughts. Eita sets the shavers on the counter, reaching to grab the hairdryer on the other side of the sink.
Bits of hair cascade through the air as he runs it over his head, pushing the hair this way and that with his free hand. He shoves the hairdryer up his shirt, briefly in each ear, and directly in his face for good measure.
"Okay,” Eita says when he’s done, all mussed and casual and entirely too cool for a guy that just hairdryed himself in the face. He points to his head. “Run your hands through it."
Coming up behind him, Tabito lifts his hands to cup either side of his skull. He trails fingers up through the undercut, shorter and sharper than before.
"So?" Eita prompts, green eyes watching Tabito closely through the mirror.
"So, what?"
"You like it? The length and everything." He combs his fingers through his own bangs, proffering the short razor with his other hand. "I can shorten or thin it out more, it did grow in a little weird last time…"
Tabito peers around Eita's hands, meeting his gaze through the mirror. "It's fine. It's whatever ya want after all."
"But I want you to like it too. You're gonna be having your hands up in it. And finding the stray hair everywhere."
Tabito snickers, casting a glance about the room and yeah, all the stray hair he’ll probably be finding for the next few weeks. And then he shrugs, thumbing the dip at the base of his skull where Eita’s head conjoins with his spine. "I like whatever ya do. Don't matter ta me. I just like ya."
Eita’s arms drop, and Tabito can see him in the mirror unimpeded again. He’s looking at himself dead-on, and the barest downturn of his placid expression tells Tabito he’s considering something very intently. After a moment, Tabito leans the sides of their heads together. His boyfriend’s thin, slight smile slips from the dark and onto his face.
"I'm thinking blue." Eita says finally.
Discussion
“Karasu! Over here!”
The impulse to roll his eyes is aggressive. Their group would stick out like a sore thumb even without Bachira’s over-enthusiastic waving from the seat closest to the door.
Shouts of Irasshaimase! assault Tabito from multiple directions as he makes his way back, the dense haze of cigarette smoke filling the room mingling with the homey smell of spicy food. “Glad you could make it!” Himizu greets him, reaching over the table for a fist bump. Beside him, Kiyora nods at Tabito, throwing up one of those hand signs he and Eita do, and Shidou shouts an enthusiastic and entirely too loud “Crow-chan!” from the other side of Eita.
Eita, who toasts him with a frothy mug of beer, nodding to the open cushion next to him where another mug sits waiting. The bright ultramarine blue of his hair stands out against the worn yellows and beiges of the izakaya, the back shaved ultra short, the top kept long and split evenly to frame his face.
“Gentlemen,” Tabito addresses them all economically, reaching for his beer. Under the table he feels as Eita squeezes his knee covertly with his free hand, meeting Tabito’s gaze with a sly glance, and it feels like a full swarm of butterflies got let loose in Tabito’s chest. The new hair color really does play well with his pale skin and green eyes, shiny as a marble, and yeah, it’s been a few days since Eita did it but seeing him keeps triggering Tabito’s compulsion to pick up pretty things with his mouth.
Eita had called him from work that afternoon. Bachira had been chattering on in the background so Tabito knew they were up to something, and that something turned out to be a night out with the boys. Tabito, having just sat down without plans to move until this blank word document was chipped into a masterpiece of Business Communications, wished Eita the best and was about to hang up when:
“You wanna come?”
Eita’s boys consist of the various friends he’s accumulated from soccer, work, the half-semester he completed of Uni before dropping out, or in the case of Shidou Ryuusei, a roommate situation that lasted for all of two and half days before Eita’s girl took him back, but they ended up hitting it off so good in that time they became friends anyways. Tabito likes them all, truth be told. They’re all a little off, just like Eita, and operate on his level in a way Tabito sometimes struggles to.
And, if nothing else, it’s as good an excuse as any to turn his brain off.
Tabito settled in and no longer the epicenter of conversation, the chatter resumes, and he’s allowed to sit back and observe. Himizu and Bachira have their heads bent over a menu, debating appetizers for the table, and Kiyora taps away at a rhythm game on his phone, interjecting here and there as Shidou and Eita continue discussing the various experiences they’ve had with breaking and entering.
(Twice for Shidou, once because of a restraining order and the second out of curiosity; seven times for Eita, mostly sneaking into his girlfriends’ bedrooms in high school. Zero for Kiyora, though he’s considered it more than once.)
“Be our tie-breaker, Kiyora.” Himizu calls out suddenly over the noise.
“Korroke.”
“Good choice!”
“Hah?! You better be getting some meat too, Snake-chan!” Shidou cuts in abruptly. “Kushiyaki! Yakitori! None of that rabbit shit.”
“Is potato a vegetable?” Eita wonders aloud.
“Already got you covered, dude!”
Tabito tucks his grin into his beer. Never a dull moment around here.
“So,” Himizu starts sometime later, once the orders are in and the menus are down. He cocks an eyebrow at Eita, leaning his chin into a hand to eye him up shrewdly. “Your new girl keeps you busy, Toya? Too busy to see your bros?”
Eita shrugs, easy can be, unaffected by the scrutiny. They’re sitting close enough Tabito can feel his body heat, even more so with the subtle way he shifts his weight to lean in Tabito’s direction. “Something like that.”
“Whipped.” Shidou coughs viciously into his arm.
“Let you get your tongue pierced and then straight-up collared you, dawg.” Himizu shakes his head like a disapproving parent. “That’s how they get you.”
“Not that it’s a bad thing.” Kiyora inputs with a shrug. “Just a less fun thing.”
“That is such a lie.” Bachira snickers, grabbing another handful of nuts from the bowl at the center of the table. “He’s still super fun at work. The only thing that’s changed is Toya’s just more responsible now!”
Shidou elbows Eita in the ribs with a sharp grin. “This new chick must’ve really straightened you out if someone is calling you responsible.”
Eita smirks, and knocks back the last of his beer. “Oh yeah, straightened me out, for sure.”
The snort is out of Tabito before he can stop it. Everyone’s attention snaps to him, the tension thick as the smoke in the air all of a sudden.
Himizu’s eyes narrow, and he flashes Tabito one of his snake-thin grins, sitting up straight. “And what would you know about Toya’s new girl?” His eyebrows jump up. “Holy shit, have you met her?”
“Toya won’t let any of us meet her.” Kiyora adds with a flat look over the rim of his glass at Eita.
“Toya barely tells us anything about her!” Shidou chimes in, slamming a fist on the floor. “He just posts pictures from their dates sometimes, and even that he’s been slacking on lately!”
Bachira’s eyes dart back and forth between Eita and Tabito, saying nothing but clearly trying to keep from laughing.
“Oh yeah, Tabito knows her real well.” Eita drawls with a mischievous look in his eyes.
Tabito keeps very still, reminding himself to remain relaxed. This ain’t nothing. He’ll play along. They had the conversation about who they were ready to tell three months in, and it consists of their parents for logistical reasons and not a single soul more. No friends, no coworkers.
(Yukki and Bachira were collateral damage from them getting together. They didn’t count.)
Shidou reaches behind Eita to jostle Tabito’s shoulder, fake whispering over Eita’s head, “Was it a workplace romance? Did he hook up with a chick on the clock again?”
“That was one time!” Eita protests over the jeers from the rest of the table, Himizu the loudest when he shouts back, “Like that means anything when it comes to you!”
“That’s how he lost the last job before this one.” Kiyora informs Tabito and Bachira with a solemn shake of his head.
Eita scowls at his friends, throwing complimentary nuts at each offending member of the table.
“Yeah, I met them at work.” He continues once the peanut gallery has settled down. “About a year ago...” He adds, trailing off.
They’re hanging onto his every word. Tabito is looking in Eita’s direction too because he has to to keep up the ruse, not that his mind is really taking in all that much right now with how his anxiety is starting to raise hell up there. He’s not that drunk. Tabito’s seen Eita drunk and this ain’t it. So, how far was the idiot gonna take this?
Eita points at him.
“It’s Tabito.”
The table’s gone quiet. Tabito doesn’t know if you could hear a pin drop because the only thing his ears can perceive is the rush of blood filling up his head.
He said it with zero fanfare. Expression placid and shoulders slouched. All that build up and he just– says it.
And then Shidou dissolves into a fit of cackling, banging his fist on the table.
“No shit?” Kiyora asks, eyes wide and darting between the two of them.
Briefly, intensely, Tabito considers lying. Brushing it off, spinning it around like another one of Eita’s lame jokes. Self-preservation. He’s got enough of it for the both of them. Eita would thank him later if this all went sideways.
But.
“Yeah. It’s me.” Tabito tells them instead, because he ain’t a coward.
“Well, no wonder you shaped up so fast, man!” Himizu snickers, reaching over to ruffle Eita’s hair affectionately. “If anyone was gonna get you to clean up your act, it was gonna be Karasu.”
“For real.” Kiyora agrees, a flicker of something like appreciation in those cold blue eyes of his.
“You two have always given off ‘Freaky Old Married Couple’ vibes,” Shidou snickers, smacking Eita on the back. “Emphasis on the ‘Freaky’~”
“Guys, guys, look!” Bachira pipes up suddenly, cutting in with his phone in the air. “I just found that video again, the one I told you about, here, see–”
And just as quickly as they got here, the conversation moves on. Himizu and Kiyora crowd around Bachira’s phone, and Shidou flags down the server for another round.
Just like that. Tabito lets out a breath– his heart’s still pounding something wicked. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Eita’s hand moving under the table. He tenses, half expecting to be touched again, but it’s only three fingers going up, pointer and thumb forming a loose circle. Their gazes meet, Eita’s eyebrows raised in a question. Was that okay?
Tabito takes a moment to consider. Truthfully, it wasn’t like he was ashamed– or even all that embarrassed really. Not of himself, and not of Eita. It was that going around and announcing stuff like that wasn’t his style. Making a big deal. Especially if he just wasn’t ready for it.
But Eita hadn’t done that. He’d just said it. Matter of fact. No big deal.
He nods.
Eita’s expression doesn’t change, but the slight lowering of his lashes tells Tabito he’s happy.
Well, shit.
Not too long later the second round is delivered, along with their food, and another after that. After the third Tabito responsibly switches to oolong tea in preparation for the impending paper that still awaits him at home, but Eita and his boys are having a good time, and Tabito doesn’t blame them when they keep going. The more they drink the more likely everyone is to start sharing outlandish, embarrassing shit of their own, after all.
Before he knows it’s pushing eleven, and everyone taking a turn at Project Sekai on Kiyora’s phone has become a tipsy Words with Friends tournament, and Tabito remembers he does have to sleep at some point before his morning class tomorrow.
Resigned as ever to being the responsible one, Tabito sits up, downing the last swallow of his tea. “A’ight, it’s been real fun, guys, but I got a hot date with’a term paper ta get ta.”
“Aw, really?” Bachira sulks, hitting him with the puppy dog eyes from across the table.
Eita looks up, surprised. “Oh, yeah, you did mention that earlier.” He chugs the rest of his beer before fishing around for his wallet. “Guess we gotta call it here, guys. Gotta get the esteemed scholar Crow-chan home so he can continue to be smarter than everyone else.”
Shidou boos, and Himizu and Kiyora exchange a glance.
Himizu’s lips pull up. “We’re actually gonna hit up one of the clubs down the street. Was just about to ask if you wanted to come, dude.” He nods to Karasu. “Both of you.”
“Thanks, but it’s cool, we're heading out–”
“Ya can go, if ya want, Eita.” Tabito says.
His head whips around, eyes widening in surprise. “For real?”
“Yeah. I gotta finish this paper, but ain’t no reason fer ya ta miss out.” Tabito shrugs. Eita blinks at him several times, and then he nods.
“Yeah. Okay.”
“Hell yeah, man.” Himizu smacks him on the shoulder, split tongue pressed between his teeth.
The check gets divvyed up, Eita putting down his card for the both of them. Tabito collects his stuff while they sign the checks, getting up to say his goodbyes.
And then Eita surprises him by getting up too.
“Lemme me walk him out real quick, and then we can go.”
Eita follows him out onto the sidewalk, the late night surprisingly balmy for June. There’s even a breeze as they move away from the door for privacy, and after fighting off the craving for nearly three hours, Tabito shakes a smoke out of its pack, lighting up and taking a deep drag. He’s gonna need it to get through this assignment, but the buzz was worth it, even for the headache it’ll become later.
And then, right on cue–
“You sure you’re cool with this?”
Tabito takes another drag, and glances down at his boyfriend. “Yeah. Ya ain’t given me a reason not ta trust ya, so as long as ya think you’ll be good, I don’t see why ya won’t be.” He tilts his head, giving him a cool look, ”Unless ya don’t trust yerself going out like that.”
Eita is quiet for several moments as he thinks, eyes drifting upwards. It’s not the first time Tabito’s thought it, but Shibuya’s lights love him. A grocery store sign or an arcade’s neon gleam or even just the passing streetlights, random bulbs of gold or blue or white. The izakaya radiates a kind of dull orange that probably wasn’t always orange and still he glows beneath it. Eita had been dying his hair since middle school, and it’s no wonder he’s spent the better part of his life experimenting with color. It all suits him.
And then he shakes his head.
“Nah. I think I’ll be fine.”
Tabito holds back a chuckle. He really wasn’t that worried. But the obvious effort Eita made in considering it pleases him all the same.
“Good.” He pops the cigarette from his mouth, pulling Eita over for a quick kiss on the temple. “I’ll go spend the night with Churro then. And we’ll see ya in the morning.”
Eita’s cool hands brush Tabito’s stomach, and then his boyfriend exhales, the hum he makes against Tabito’s throat happy. “Okay. Thanks, Tabi.”
The trip to Eita’s apartment is quiet. At the sound of his key, Churro greets him belly-up at the door, and Tabito spends some time with him to procrastinate a little longer before cracking open his laptop. A text arrives around one and delivers a blurry selfie of Eita and all the boys crowded around a margarita the approximate size of a kiddy pool.
Sometime later Tabito lays down, and sometime after that the front door opens. The shower cranks on, and when Tabito glances at the clock it says two. Not too long after that, the wet press of hair hits the back of his neck, the bed creaking as a lanky body lays down and wraps arms around his middle, and then Tabito's slipping off again.
The next time he wakes, they're facing each other, and Churro has settled in the gap between Eita's shoulder and pillow. He’s cleaning his belly, one long limb of indeterminate origin in the air as their eyes meet over it.
“They gave me tequila shots and tried to grill me.” Eita says by way of greeting.
Tabito winces. “Yeah? How bad was it?”
“Not bad. They were just curious how it all went down.” He shrugs, pushing his bangs away to rub his eyes. “I swear though, I wasn’t, like, planning on doing that last night. You know– outing us. It just felt how the conversation was flowing, and I didn’t think anyone would be a dick about it or anything, so I just said it.” Green eyes peek between pale fingers, softened in the early morning light. “I was right. Everyone really likes you, man.”
A lump forms in Tabito’s throat. That’s really all it took, huh? “A’ight then.” Rolling over, he snatches Eita up in a headlock he’s too sleepy to avoid. “Considering ya were the one who outed us, I’m glad I don’t gotta be the one ta clean up the mess.”
Eita struggles weakly against it, but Tabito's got him beat on muscle and persistence any day of the week. “Ugh, Tabitooooo…”
“I forgive ya though. Still love ya.”
From within the headlock, his boyfriend makes a fussy sound. Churro makes an equally fussy sound getting squished between them, quick to extricate himself the moment Tabito lets up. That’s all it takes for Eita to make his escape too, wiggling free to roll off the bed and to the floor. Tabito snickers when he pops back up, blue hair sticking up every which way.
Eita clobbers him with a pillow.
“Oh, Shidou said he calls dibs on you if we ever break up.” Eita tells him later while he’s getting dressed. Tabito had barred his entry back into bed– idiot gone to sleep last night with wet hair and no shirt.
Tabito sighs, enjoying the view of his boyfriend’s lean back muscles as he shrugs on a t-shirt. “Good thing we ain’t ever breaking up then.”
Conclusion
"You're home."
Eita’s sleep-graveled voice alerts Tabito to his waking– and sends his heart skipping a beat for good measure too.
"Yeah. Got in 'bout an hour ago." He rolls on his side, mouth curling up as Eita emerges from his blanket cocoon. "Looked so cute I didn't wanna disturb ya."
Eita sits up, long limbs unfolding with a yawn. He is indeed quite cute as he blinks sleepily against the late afternoon light, making little noises not unlike Churro as he stretches. Tabito can’t resist the urge to reach out and pet him a little, running a hand through his hair, the dark, sleek strands slipping through his fingers. It hadn't stayed blue for long. Eita had gotten a wild red and black whim about a week ago, and who was Tabito to stop him? Besides, the thick fringe and split dye suits him, reminding Tabito of something Eita’s gacha game characters would have.
The end of July brought final exams and a redundancy of other uni-related commitments, so they hadn’t really spent much time together the last few weeks. It was a lot of good morning and good night texts, gifts of employee-discounted energy drinks and quick kisses stolen in the breakroom. The necessary evils of building a financially secure future and all, but laying here with his boyfriend on the other side, every second was worth it to get back to this.
And Eita is giving him the eyes now, so Tabito knows that he must be feeling the same.
Tabito’s fingers trail down from Eita's hair, along his neck, tightening his hold. And Eita's body follows easily as Tabito takes him by the nape, pulling him in.
The kiss is everything Tabito’s been missing. Close, tender, lingering, the press of Eita’s hands against his back making him shiver, just a bit of tongue and the cool brush of its piercing, achingly sweet and teasing. His lips are chapped but his skin is warm from sleep, and Tabito strokes down the sides of his face with his thumbs, taking him all in. And then Eita’s tongue dips deeper, and heat slides down Tabito's spine, so hot and fast, it kicks a little gasp out of him.
He tries to catch his breath but Eita just hangs on, other arm sliding around Tabito’s waist to pull him closer.
He succeeds in plastering them together from the knees up. "Yeah?" Tabito chuckles when he finally manages to breathe. Looks down at their entwined bodies, well and truly caught.
Eita’s hands tighten in his shirt, rubbing their cheeks together. "Yeah."
"Gotta admit. I never expected ya to be the clingy type."
"I haven’t seen you in forever, man." He mutters, eyes closed, so warm as he breathes against Tabito. "Let me have this."
“I was just teasin’...” Tabito starts, trailing off and thinking for a moment. “Ya know, from a psychological perspective, sudden clinginess in a relationship usually has somethin’ ta do with insecurity an’ anxiety. Feelin’ like ya might be abandoned or replaced.“
He presses his fingers to the base of Eita’s spine, kneading there at the small of his back. A soft moan comes from Eita’s throat, and he arches back into the touch like a cat.
“There’s this thing called Attachment Theory that has ta do with how ya were socialized as a kid and if ya felt safe enough with yer caregivers to be secure is more environments. It theorizes these bonds influence someone’s personality and their ability ta form relationships throughout life, but ‘specially as an adult. Got something yer trying to work through in that regard, maybe?”
Eita groans again, moving to kiss up Tabito’s neck. "You're so sexy when you talk psych stuff."
"Oh, yeah?" Tabito teases, thumbing his free hand over Eita’s hip and jostling him a little. "Turns ya on when I talk about trauma and attachment types–"
And then he grins, utterly delighted. "Oh. Ya weren't kidding, were ya?"
"You worked me up, okay." Eita bites back, voice low, full of that husk that makes Tabito's skin prickle.
"Ya woke up like that, more like it." Tabito smirks, hand slipping around Eita’s side to rock their bodies together."Was half-grinding on me as ya were nappin'. Dreamin' something good?"
"Shut it. Didn't even know you were here."
"Well. I'm here now."
Eita’s eyes flicker. He presses closer, fingers curling tighter. Lips return to Tabito’s skin, trailing and nuzzling all down Tabito's cheek, over his neck to his shoulder and back up, tasting him, inhaling him. And, heat flaring every place he touches, Tabito can’t do a thing but melt under such enthusiastic affection. When Eita rolls him on his back, Tabito opens for him, arms and belly and throat as Eita clambors up his body, legs parting around Tabito's hips and chests warm and flush against each other.
The next time they break, it feels like Eita needs it too. It’s August and Tabito is pretty damn sure it’s hotter in here than it’s been all summer. "...You wanna?" He asks against Eita’s panting mouth.
"What?"
He snickers. "Wanna fuck?"
His eyelashes flutter, eyes snapping to focus. "Oh shit. Yeah. Didn’t think about that." Eita groans again, forcing himself up. "How you wanna–"
"C'mere," Tabito tells him, crooking a finger. "I'll take one for the team, this time."
He rolls over, twisting to reach into the bedside table.
"Tabi..."
When Eita doesn’t continue, he glances back over his shoulder. "Yeah?"
Eita is looking at him intently. Mussed hair and dark, unwavering eyes, but there’s gears turning up in that pretty little head of his. He's thinking about something real hard.
And then Eita swallows, and shakes his head. "Nothing. Sorry."
Arms take him from behind, and Eita presses Tabito down on his side. He kisses him on the mouth once, the hand once, his throat twice. And then Tabito loses count when Eita pulls off his clothes to kiss the rest of him too.
Later, late afternoon has become early evening when Tabito wakes, long shadows on the ceiling and the lazy circling of the standing fan in the corner filling the space with white noise. He rolls to the edge of the mattress and Eita makes an unhappy noise, hands grabbing out in protest. Tabito assures he’s not going anywhere, and Eita mumbles a Rad and is out like a light once more. Tabito roots around on the floor for his jeans, retrieving his pack of smokes before slinking back into bed.
Halfway through the cigarette, Eita stirs again, eyes scrunched and nose wrinkling.
"Hey. Sorry. I'll open a window." Tabito says, starting to move.
Eita smacks at him blindly, eyes still closed. "Nah."
"Alright then."
Tabito eases back down and Eita reattaches himself like the world’s cuddliest suckerfish. Offering him the cig, Eita accepts it, taking a few puffs. He melts into a languid curl to Tabito's side, blowing smoke rings at the ceiling. Eita doesn’t really smoke, but he sometimes will if Tabito starts one. Call it mediocre but it still gets Tabito’s heart all in a flutter, watching the filter that was just in his mouth pass over Eita’s lips too.
“I can hear your heartbeat.” Eita tells him after a while, forehead pressed to the braid of Tabito’s ribcage.
“Yeah? What’s it up to?”
“Thumping. Circulating blood and oxygen and shit.”
Tabito snorts, choking on the next inhale of smoke. The arms around him tighten.
“Have I ever told you how I got Churro?”
Tabito blinks, a little taken aback. “No. I don't think so.”
Eita hums, drumming his fingers lazily along Tabito’s stomach. “It was about two years ago. The girl I was seeing at the time had a friend trying to rehome a kitten. When she asked to bring him here, I didn't really care one way or another, so she did.”
He pauses while Tabito takes a pull off the cigarette, eyes fixed on the draw of his diaphragm.
“We broke up not long after that. And when she left, she just left him with me. I'd never had a pet before, and I had no clue what to do with this tiny little guy, but. He didn't have anyone else. Everyone else had let him down, and I didn't want to either.”
I looked up everything I could find on taking care of kittens. It wasn't pretty, but somehow we made it. It sounds crazy, but I think having a cat reminded me that, like, I have feelings and shit. That I am capable of loving something.”
“Was that something ya worried about?”
He shrugs. “Sometimes. I dunno if you've noticed, but I don’t really think about relationships like a normal person.”
Tabito smirks, and blows a smoke ring at him. “Oh, I've noticed.”
Eita grumbles, waving a half-hearted hand in his direction. “I didn't think it was a big deal. Getting attached was kind of a drag. And I used to be fine with that,” Quickly, he adds,“I'm not like that anymore. Or at least, I'm not as bad.”
“Fer sure.”
Eita's head tips back, green eyes finding Tabito’s through the mess of red and black. "...I think this is what I wanted that one time."
"What time?"
"That day I said I was gonna take a nap. And you kissed me before sending me off."
Tabito feels his eyebrows shoot up. "I'm surprised ya remember that." He's even not poking fun; he's genuinely surprised. He'd forgotten about that until just now himself.
"I didn't know what I wanted at the time, so I just stood there, but I think I wanted you to come lay down with me." "Not even, like, for sex or anything. I just wanted you to lay in bed with me."
"Huh. Is that right?"
"Yeah."
"So, ya like it like this? Being attached?”
He shrugs again, easy as anything. "I just like you."
It's the same thing Tabito’d told him before. And while Tabito deals with the emotional repercussions of that, Eita continues.
"I like waking up to you."
And then he gets an elbow underneath him, flipping over on his stomach and leaning up to put himself directly in Tabito’s face.
"We should just move in together already." Eita tells him.
Tabito's breath catches. And then catches again, so fast he goes lightheaded. Is that something he actually wants? Is this something Tabito can be good at– actually sharing an entire space, not just the bits and pieces of hanging out or staying the night, helping with chores and catsitting?
He struggles to swallow around the heart that’s suddenly launched itself headlong into his throat. Yes. He wants it. He wants it so bad it scares him.
Tabito valiantly tries to temper his expectations. "Ya ready for that step? Can't just go off an’ do yer own thing whenever ya feel like it when it's the two of us in the same boat, ya know.” He cups Eita’s chin between his hands, running thumbs up the fine planes of his face. “...We can wait. Think this through. I want us both to be sure.”
Eita holds his gaze, steady and sure. “You planning on jumping ship on me?”
The first time he'd met Otoya Eita, Tabito had formed two opinions of him immediately. The first, that he had an inconveniently nice voice. And the second, that there wasn't a single thought going on behind those eyes. If he went back and told the him of then that he’d be wanting to move in with that guy, trusting Eita with this and more, the Tabito of a year ago woulda wrung him by the damn neck.
But he’s not the Tabito of last year anymore. The person he is now has changed every step of the way right alongside Eita. And he’s so much happier for it.
“Probably not.” He grins. “Unless ya do it first.”
“Then it'll be fine. I'm not worried.” Eita nods, like that settles the matter. And then nods again, eyebrows drawing up mischievously. "Besides, I wanna up that back-blowing-out quota like crazy. Gonna need you ready to put in some serious hours."
Tabito scoffs, because if he doesn't he'll blush, and somehow that's too much on top of everything right now. "Ya kiss her mother with that mouth?"
And Eita just grins, all toothy and smug, because he knows all of Tabito's tricks at this point anyway.
"Nah, but my boyfriend sure seems to like it."