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To pre-face this—Haruitsuki’s not sure why he even agreed to drinking alone in their shared dorm with Hanae in the first place.
He’s pretty sure they’re not supposed to be sneaking alcohol up into the dorms, and considering how clumsy and how bad of a liar Hanae is, Haruitsuki is extremely surprised he was even able to pull this off without anyone discovering his stash in his bag—emphasis on the extremely.
A little impressed, too—considering, once again, how he usually is, but that’s not something he’d ever admit unless someone threatened him with a good time (like… literally. He doesn’t want a good time, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean).
Maybe it’s the stress getting to him (of both their jobs, and his coursework whooping his ass in every angle possible—no one prepared him for how bad the final year could get), and he just needed one night to let loose—and it’s a damn good time too because for once, they didn’t have a job lined up where they have to rush to.
It’s good, though, because it’s been hard, what with their different schedules and all. Not having to worry about that for one night is what Haruitsuki needs.
He was going to use this time to study and get some assessments done for his education’s sake, but then Hanae somehow used his pretty words to convince him for some drinks.
And due to that, bad decisions were made and now here he is, the world around him spinning a little but not enough to make him feel unpleasant. He’s sitting next to Hanae on their couch, feeling a bit out of his mind and like his senses aren’t exactly intact.
Delirious is probably the best word to describe this, though maybe not the most accurate. He’s not sure if he likes feelings this out of touch with himself, but it’s also relaxing in a way. It all feels very contradictory.
Look—he’s drank plenty of alcohol before in the Underworld, but hasn’t had any experience with alcohol from the mundane world until now… and he’s not sure if he’d recommend it. Sure, maybe it tastes better when you’re tipsy or drunk, but still.
But he doesn’t hate it.
Far from it.
“Are you good?” Hanae asks, a soft slur to his words, fingertip touching the side of his hand.
A nervous jolt sweeps through Haruitsuki, and he tries his darndest to ignore that feeling—like he’s been doing for the past few years, ever since he started realising he has a very teensy, tiny bit of a soft spot for the other man.
That soft spot is only growing and it’s getting harder and harder to hide it, but Hanae’s so oblivious there’s no way he’d catch onto anything unless Haruitsuki tells him how he feels.
Which is never going to happen, just for the record.
Haruitsuki’s pretty sure Hanae’s drunker than he is, considering how the guy doesn’t drink much and when he does, he becomes red as a beetroot. He glances over at him and catches the red hue rising in his cheeks under the glow of the single light bulb in their living room, then his gaze drops down to their hands, where the tip of Hanae’s pinky rests gently against the outer side of his hand.
“I’m fine,” he says, voice coming out gruffer than usual. “You, on the other hand…”
“I’m fine, too,” Hanae defends himself quickly, so Haruitsuki doesn’t feel the need to lecture him. His eyes flicker over to Haruitsuki, their eyes meeting somewhere in the middle. Haruitsuki’s breath catches in his throat, getting an eyeful of Hanae’s red cheeks and plump looking lips, blue eyes glistening under the lights.
“You look drunk,” Haruitsuki says rather matter-of-factly, trying to ignore the way his stomach flips, to which Hanae scowls at, lips pulling into a pout.
“Am not,” he murmurs, hand covering Haruitsuki’s. Haruitsuki pauses, eyes falling towards their hands, with the back of Hanae’s hand being what’s mostly visible. “You’re always so mean to me,” Hanae continues, taking another sip of his drink before placing it on the coffee table in front of them.
Haruitsuki’s eyes snap back up to meeting Hanae’s. He raises a brow. “Me stating a fact is mean,” he drawls out. “Do you hear yourself?”
“That’s what I mean,” Hanae mumbles, scowling a little. “I mean, yeah, I know, I’m stupid and dense and maybe a downright dunce sometimes, and also really annoying… and act like a child. Sometimes. And I know you can barely stand me on the good days, but you’re always just so…” He trails off, as if he’s trying to find the right words to say, other hand doing swirls and circles in the air, eyes leaving Haruitsuki’s as he stares into the distance.
Haruitsuki watches in amusement as the other man tries to gather his thoughts and form a coherent sentence. Usually, he’d be quite annoyed at the meandering, but maybe the alcohol is making him little more loose than usual on this.
“Perhaps the word you’re finding is… pompous? Up one’s own ass, if that’s more your level of everyday language?”
Blinking stupidly, Hanae scratches his head with his index finger. He looks like a bumbling idiot and yet that’s what Haruitsuki finds so endearing.
This is such a problem.
“Yeah, I guess,” Hanae finally says, frowning as if he’s confused and still processing what Haruitsuki had said. “Yeah, that’s correct,” he then confirms, more to himself than to anyone else. “Pompous prick.” He looks at Haruitsuki, and the usual worried expression he’d wear on his face when he insults Haruitsuki isn’t exactly present right now.
Then again, he usually doesn’t insult Haruitsuki, full stop—especially not to his face.
Instead, he’s wearing a slow spreading grin on those stupid lips of his, and now it’s Haruitsuki’s turn to scowl a little, the thought of feeling that smile against his lips flittering through his brain. He can feel Hanae’s grip tighten around his hand, and he swallows when the other man moves closer to him. “What are you doing?” Haruitsuki questions, voice sounding a bit strained despite his tipsiness. A voice in the back of his mind is telling him to move and keep the distance between them, but he stays put and lets Hanae close in on him.
Giggling a little, Hanae cups Haruitsuki’s cheek with his hand, and God, his palm against his already warm cheek feels really… comforting.
And it’s weird, feeling this way, while his guard is all the way down to his feet just because he currently has a few drinks in his system.
He’s not doing this ever again, that’s for sure, because whatever’s happening right now is getting to his head more than it should. He’s hyperaware of the way Hanae’s leaned in, face much closer to his than before—the way his soft palm feels against his cheek; the way his blue eyes gaze at him wondrously.
“I don’t know but you look a little fuzzy around the edges,” Hanae says, trying to keep his eyes focused, then shakes his head, as if he’s interrupted his own train of thoughts and trying to get himself back on track. “Anyway, point is—I sometimes wonder if you hate me but then if you do, you wouldn’t keep me around for this long, surely?” He drags the pad of his thumb against his cheek, drawing circles on his skin.
“I don’t hate you,” Haruitsuki clarifies, trying so hard to keep his voice and breath from catching in his throat. His current inner anguish and dilemma is something he’d like to keep internalised and, you know, to himself, if possible. “I just think you’re sometimes a bit useless but that was more at the start. You’ve become a lot more… resourceful now. Less useless.”
Hanae positively beams at him, and Haruitsuki’s heart physically clenches in his chest. “That’s a high praise coming from you,” he says, tone light and teasing. “I like when you praise me.”
Out of all the ways he could have phrased that, he chose that, and the usual Hanae wouldn’t dare say something like that and if he ever had let something like that slip, his cheeks would go red and he’d apologise over and over again until Haruitsuki would tell him to please pipe down because he’s getting really aggravating.
Of course, Hanae doesn’t even seem aware that he’s said something like that, with the way he’s still sporting that smile on his lips.
Oh—this is a dangerous game they’re playing right now.
And Haruitsuki has two choices:
- He pretends he’s gonna throw up and locks himself in the bathroom.
- He can say he’s sick and needs to lie down in his bed—need an early night or whatever it may be, and hide out in there until he can feel the alcohol slowly seep out of his system.
There is a secret third option (staying and letting whatever this is unfold however way it will), but that’s the worst option.
It takes him less than five seconds to make his choice (suffice to say, it was one of the tougher five seconds of his life), which counts as pretty impulsive for someone like him.
He doesn’t like choosing the worst option, and he’s usually smarter and wiser than this, but he stays.
Against his better judgement.
“You do?” Haruitsuki murmurs. “Of course you do, everyone likes praises.”
“You know that, yet you barely give me any,” Hanae says, voice sounding a little stiff, and then he relaxes a little. “Or maybe you just do it in ways that aren’t obvious,” he says, voice dropping slightly. “It’s in the way you soften ever so slightly when you look at me.” The pad of his thumb brushes along the skin under Haruitsuki’s eye.
“The way the corner of your lips twists upwards, as if you want to smile, but then you catch yourself right before you let that rare, but pretty smile blossom on your face.” His thumb trails down the side of his face, gliding over his bottom lip. “You should smile more often. I’ve caught you smiling, but I’ve never seen you do it openly.”
The breath catches in Haruitsuki’s throat, sound resonating in his own ears; so audible, there’s no way Hanae didn’t catch it. He’s not sure if it’s because of the way Hanae’s finger feels against his bottom lip, or if it’s because he just dropped a compliment out of nowhere.
The other man pauses, then he continues speaking, pad of his thumb resting at the corner of his lips, “The way you’re so blunt, and can’t seem to ever say something even remotely nice to me. So, when you do, even just slightly, once in a blue moon, it catches me so off-guard, I end up thinking about it for days. Smiling about it for days.”
His hand falls away from Haruitsuki’s, and Haruitsuki has to stop himself from grabbing his wrist and ungracefully smacking his palm against his face to feel the same, gentle warmth against his skin again.
He needs to regain his control as soon as he can. This is not it.
“You’re so cool, calm and collected and… I can’t ever read you,” Hanae adds after momentary silence. “I don’t know how to read you half the time. I can read everyone else well, but you. And I still don’t know how to feel about that. I want to be able to read you but you don’t really let anyone in. And sometimes I feel like I’m nearly there but then it…” He trails off, shaking his head, and Haruitsuki expects him to continue.
He doesn’t.
Instead, they stare at each other, silence falling over them once again like a thick blanket.
His brain whirls a bit, flipping between two choices—then he goes fuck it, reaching out and wrapping tender fingers around Hanae’s wrist, gingerly placing his palm over his heart. Studies the way Hanae’s lips part in surprise, the sucking in of a deep breath audible to the both of them; coloured cheeks brightening even more than before.
He will blame the alcohol for controlling him tomorrow morning—for proving drunken truths are louder than sober truths.
Not always, but sometimes. But in his case, the not always is not looking good for him.
Not right now.
And now that he’s in control, he feels a bit steadier than before, yet doesn’t feel like he has the capacity to make bright choices.
This is not a good idea, he knows that much, but he hasn’t made a good choice since saying yes to Hanae’s suggestion of staying in and drinking so might as well continue that streak tonight and regret it later tomorrow morning, right?
“And you’re the opposite of me,” Haruitsuki inserts. “You have your heart on your sleeve. You’re not afraid to show people how you feel, or to say how you feel. That takes a different type of courage.”
Hanae regards him with furrowed brows, before saying in a guarded sort of way, “I have my heart on my sleeve for people to break.”
Haruitsuki’s lips presses into a thin line, jaw clenching. “Your ex didn’t know shit,” he murmurs before he could put a pause to his thoughts, heart clenching, uncomfortably this time, then continues before Hanae could speak, “and it just means you can be transparent without trying.” He’s not sure why the first person he thought about was Hanae’s ex but he’s the most recent person to leave the other man shattered.
“Which is not always a good thing,” Hanae says, tone light, tilting his head down, gaze falling to Haruitsuki’s hand over his heart. “To be honest, I don’t even know why I tried with him,” he adds. “He was good for me, yet somehow we didn’t end up working out—”
“Hanae.”
Hanae stops and looks up at him, dark blue eyes meeting his.
Surprised by the ever so slight pleading tone in his own voice—even though he was trying to be firm—Haruitsuki blinks.
That’s…
Something to replay over and over in his head for the next few months before he forces himself to move on or let the embarrassment consume him whole.
Trying to regain his composure, Haruitsuki says, words blunt but earnest; sincere, “I don’t want to hear about him. He dumped you even when things were going well. He just wasn’t the right one. Why dwell on it?”
They stare at each other for longer, and Haruitsuki’s pretty sure Hanae would have felt the way his heart skipped a beat; how his heart has been a mess this whole time his palm has been pressed again his chest.
“I’m not— that’s not what I’m doing. Plus, you were the one who brought him up, I didn’t know it was such a sensitive topic for you.”
“It’s not a sensitive topic,” Haruitsuki mumbles defensively. “You were heartbroken and I had to deal with your moping plus our jobs. Of course that would annoy me to whatever length hell stretches out for.”
Hanae chuckles at that, shaking his head. “Oh, well, you only had to deal with that for about a couple of months.”
“That’s a long time.” He pauses; thinks it through for approximately two seconds, before mumbling under his breath, “I also couldn’t stand the sight of you looking so hurt, because you being hurt somehow pained me.”
“So, you’re saying me being upset doesn’t have anything to do with your reaction every time I so much as mention my ex?”
They say it at the same time, loud question clashing against a timid statement—a confession, if you will.
“What?” Hanae questions, but something in the way he looks at Haruitsuki, the slight shift in his expression easily caught by Haruitsuki, is enough to tell him the other man has heard him.
Loud and clear.
Like a declaration of sorts.
Haruitsuki removes his fingers around Hanae’s wrist, pulling away and quickly standing up from the couch, moving to retreat to his room because he’s said too much; did too much—this wasn’t how the night was meant to go—when Hanae stops him by grabbing a hold of his hand.
“Where are you going?”
“To my room.” His voice is strained, heart palpitating against his chest, facing away from Hanae.
He’s not one to scare easily, but facing his own feelings while being inebriated apparently takes the cake and scares him a whole lot more than anything else ever could—other than losing Hanae in some way shape or form, but that’s an uncomfortable truth he’d rather not deal with on top of everything else happening right now.
It’s something he’d never admit, especially to Hanae, and will take to his grave.
“You haven’t even finished your can of drink yet,” Hanae says, voice as even as it can get.
“This was clearly a very bad idea in the first place, I don’t know why I even agreed—”
“Haruitsuki, please.”
At the pleading note in Hanae’s voice, he turns around, amber meeting dark blue.
Sober him would have probably walked away, not because he wants to be a dick—maybe way back then, that would be the case—but because he’s genuinely afraid of what Hanae has to say
But inebriated him simply stays.
“I don’t understand you,” Hanae stumbles out, standing up. He sways a bit on the spot but is able to stand his ground without Haruitsuki lending him a less than helping hand.
“No one’s asking you to.”
Hanae blatantly ignores him. “I’ve always thought it weird you didn’t take a liking to my ex. Not that I expected you to like him since you practically dislike everyone, but you… you had a greater disdain for him than anyone I’ve ever seen is probably the best way to put it. I may be dense, but I’m not as oblivious as I was seven years ago.” He exhales loudly, fingers loosening around Haruitsuki’s wrist and sliding off as he falls back onto the couch, a defeated expression crossing his face.
“And then you say shit like that and then try to, what, run away? I can’t tell if you’re being serious, or if you’re out here playing with me. Not that I think you’re capable of playing anyone like a fool, considering how emotionally constipated you are and how void of emotions you usually are, so maybe you’re just a coward?”
At this point, it’s starting to sound like he’s talking to himself. Haruitsuki’s eyes flitter down to Hanae’s hands, which are sitting in his lap, fingers interlaced and hands wringing together.
Sighing, Haruitsuki sits down again, ensuring there’s at least some space between them—but not enough space to have him craving for the closeness he can easily get if he moved just slightly closer.
At least that’s what he tries to convince himself with—that he’s close enough to fake the illusion of him not wanting more; not wanting to be closer.
That this dampens the desires he has for Hanae.
Good God, he’s never drinking anything containing even the slightest hint of alcohol from the mundane world again if he can help himself.
“You’re drunk,” Haruitsuki states, voice uncharacteristically soft (but then again, he’s been uncharacteristically soft for Hanae for a while now, which is fairly unnerving if he had to be honest). He studies Hanae, who averts eye contact at all costs.
“I’m not drunk,” Hanae mumbles.
“You’re rambling more than you usually do.”
“I’m not.”
Silence ensues, and there’s a sudden pressing question forming on the tip of Haruitsuki’s tongue which he’s too afraid to let spill out.
But also—he’s feeling a bit too loose to let the currently unvoiced question sit as a possible bitter aftertaste of regret, especially once the effect of the drinks wears off and he doesn’t have the guts to ask anymore.
Forgetting the question won’t be an option, unfortunately, even if he would like it to be.
He moves closer, their knees brushing against each other’s.
“Did you want me to feel a certain way about you and him?”
Hanae peers up, locking eyes with him, and Haruitsuki’s holding his breath, nervous for whatever Hanae has to say next.
Haruitsuki finally answers. “No, but I… I’ve always wondered if you felt a certain way about me and him.”
Okay, well—
Haruitsuki is everything but eloquent right now. And he also wouldn’t want to explain this with words even if he does technically have the capacity for it.
And neither is he tactful, apparently, letting his heart win over his lack of logic in this current moment.
“Can I kiss you?” he rushes out, voice low.
Hanae blinks. “What—”
“Please.” Haruitsuki could give less of a fuck about the desperation colouring his words and spilling into his voice; the obvious pleading tone he would never use with anyone but Hanae.
Hanae stares at him, then he gives one, stunned nod of permission.
And the next thing Haruitsuki knows, he has the palm of his hand wrapped around the nape of Hanae’s neck, and he’s pulling him in and he’s kissing him like he’s the breath of air he desperately needed to survive all this; as if he’s his life source.
And good God, he’s breathing him in, and he tastes sweet and bitter all at the same time, but it’s addictive—way more addictive than whatever the hell they’ve been drinking, and it’s a problem.
It’s a big fucking problem in the way Hanae’s hands fist at the collar of his button-down shirt—he’s not wearing his kimono on his off days—reeling him in closer, and Haruitsuki’s hand slide down from the nape of his neck to cup his jaw, other hand splaying on the small of his back.
It’s a problem in the way Hanae unclenches his fists from Haruitsuki’s shirt and instead, wraps his arms around his neck, fingers weaving through and tangling in his hair.
It’s a problem in the way Hanae tilts his head to the side for easier access; in the way Haruitsuki responds to that by gently biting down on his bottom lip, drawing a gasp from Hanae, and he uses that as a chance to deepen the kiss.
It’s a problem, in the way Haruitsuki can feel his stomach swooping dangerously low at how eager Hanae is; in the way he’s kissing him back like he needs Haruitsuki in ways neither of them can describe, with a sort of ardour he danced around but could never express properly until now—a sort of restrained ardour they’ve both danced around for a long while.
It’s all teeth and tongue and every bit about it is unrestrained.
It’s a problem, the way Haruitsuki feels so heady, and it’s made an even bigger problem when Hanae pulls him down with him, their lips separating, but their faces still only inches apart, warm, alcoholic tinged breath fanning over each other’s faces.
Haruitsuki’s eyes sweep over the other man’s visage, taking his flushed complexion in, trying to scan for any signs of discomfort; registers the way Hanae’s head is conveniently resting on the arm of the couch which gives his head an elevated tilt, but that’s pretty much all he has the chance to take in when Hanae pulls him in by the nape of his neck for another kiss, this time more gentle and less desperate.
The tension in Haruitsuki’s body melts away as he manoeuvres himself into a more comfortable position, a knee slotted between Hanae's thighs so he’s not crushing Hanae under his weight, allowing Hanae to take whatever he wants from him, guardrails non-existent by this point.
Hanae sighs against his lips as Haruitsuki slowly takes the lead, and it screws him up in the best way possible.
It’s slow and gentle and nice, and Haruitsuki wishes he’d had the guts to do this earlier because then he wouldn’t have had to spend the good past years wondering how Hanae’s lips would have felt against his. Hanae’s hand makes its way under Haruitsuki’s shirt, warm palm splayed against his skin, resting on his lower back, and the gentle touch stokes the flames felt in the pit of Haruitsuki’s stomach.
Haruitsuki hates how Hanae knows what he’s doing, but he doesn’t dislike being adored in this way, as Hanae matches his slow rhythm, separating sometimes to take a breath or to giggle against his lips before pulling him in for more.
He doesn’t dislike how it feels, knowing Hanae also wants this. He also doesn’t dislike returning the adoration, either, which is… Well, it’s something for sure.
It’s not like he doesn’t know what he’s doing—he may not have dated anyone before but he’s… done things before, with other people.
Mostly to take his mind off of the fact that Hanae was with someone else, and his bout of activities stopped the moment Haruitsuki announced in tears that him and his ex had broken up.
But that’s besides the point. No one needs to know he’s not as nonchalant as he makes himself to be, not when it comes to these damn feelings for this stupid man anyway.
His lips eventually leaves Hanae’s after however long they kiss for, trailing feather-light kisses down his jaw and neck, gently nipping at his skin and sucking on certain spots, and Hanae’s trails his hand down to grip loosely around his forearm, tightening in response when Haruitsuki hits a particularly sensitive spot behind his ear, a mixture of a moan and a gasp tumbling out of his mouth; Haruitsuki’s name breathed out from parted lips.
And oh.
That…
Haruitsuki has to pull away so he doesn’t lose even more of his composure.
It’s a bit too much right now, and he’s feeling too much.
This is not the right time to be doing anything beyond kissing.
“Fuck, Hanae,” he breathes out, as Hanae gazes up at him, pupils blown wide under the lights of their living room, his blue iris barely showing. “You…”
Hanae grins lazily up at him, hand moving to cup his jaw, tracing circles against his cheek with his thumb. Haruitsuki instinctively leans into his touch.
“Was that your way of answering my question?” Hanae asks.
“It’s definitely not a non-answer,” Haruitsuki says, revelling in the warmth of the parts of Hanae’s body which are pressed against his.
“Always so cryptic,” Hanae teases, grin softening into a tender smile, eyes drooping. “I’m sleepy.”
Haruitsuki lets out a gentle huff of air. “You’re impossible,” he murmurs, allowing affection to intertwine itself with his words, hand coming up to brush the strands of Hanae’s hair away from his face. “Go to sleep then.”
They probably should clean up and then go to their separate rooms so they can retire to their comfortable beds, but apparently nothing’s going to plan and Haruitsuki is too tired and too buzzed from the alcohol (and kissing Hanae) to care about any of that.
“Like this?” Hanae gestures at them; their positioning. He wraps his arms around Haruitsuki’s waist without waiting for an answer, cuddling against him, hand cradling the back of his head. “What a comfy blanket,” he murmurs, sleepiness etched into his words.
Haruitsuki sighs and shuffles around, adjusting their position wordlessly so he’s not lying on top of Hanae and Hanae obliges, letting him move him them around.
The couch being wide enough to accommodate two grown men is a saving grace.
“A blanket shouldn’t be crushing you.”
“But you weren’t crushing me,” Hanae whines tiredly, arms still wrapped around Haruitsuki. They tighten ever so slightly.
“Just go to sleep, you idiot,” Haruitsuki says, cautious affection leaking into his words.
At that, Hanae nuzzles his face against Haruitsuki’s neck. “I’m not an idiot,” he murmurs in denial into the crook of his neck, words muffled against Haruitsuki’s skin, breath warm against it.
And when Hanae drifts off to sleep not long after, breathing steadying, Haruitsuki finally gives in, letting his hand weave through Hanae’s soft strands.
They’ll have to talk about this tomorrow, but he’ll take what he can get for now without overthinking it for once.
Embarrassment be damned.
Haruitsuki is the one to wake up first, neck aching a little from sleeping on the couch. Hanae is still cuddled up to him, their legs somehow intertwining and staying that way through the night, arms still wrapped around his waist, lips parted slightly.
The lights are still on, and Haruitsuki takes this as a chance to take Hanae in, eyes sweeping over his countenance, much similar to last night, except he takes his time to take him in this time.
And yeah.
That pretty much solidifies how he feels about Hanae (not that it wasn’t solidified before, but he was in firm denial for the longest time).
He reaches out and with gentle fingers, brushing away a strand of stray hair which fell into Hanae’s face.
When Hanae makes a soft noise, brows furrowing slightly, Haruitsuki’s lips quirk up into an unstoppable smile; it happened before he could even catch himself.
He’s so fucking gone.
And knowing this—his feelings—isn’t a variable he can control bugs him, to say the least.
He feels a bit weird, watching Hanae sleep, but then he looks so serene and he doesn’t wanna look away, wanting to cherish the moment for a little longer.
He notices how his head isn’t killing him, which is a good start, and he remembers what happened last night and doesn’t feel embarrassed about what happened, although he does feel himself heat up when he remembers the way Hanae’s lips moved against his.
He wants that to happen again.
And… that’s a problem.
He’s not sure how long he’s been gazing at Hanae for, but he’s reaching out and cupping his jaw, drawing gentle circles on his cheek with the pad of his thumb when Hanae slowly opens his eyes.
“Hmm?” Hanae murmurs, gazing at him blearily. He lifts his hand to his face, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He lifts his head from the couch a bit, hair dishevelled on the side he’s slept on. It takes a minute or two before he speaks.
“What the hell…” He trails off. He locks eyes with Haruitsuki, who’s patiently waiting for him to come around.
Haruitsuki feels it first—the tension in Hanae’s muscles.
Then he hears it—the horrified gasp.
“Oh my God,” Hanae mumbles, unwrapping his arms around Haruitsuki and sits up immediately, with Haruitsuki’s hand falling away from his face.
Haruitsuki scowls at the loss of warmth, sitting up as well while Hanae surveys the living room, with the empty cans on the dining table. He looks as if he’s trying to piece everything together, then he slowly turns his head to look at Haruitsuki. “What happened last night?” he asks, panic straining his voice and creeping into his words.
“We drank,” Haruitsuki answers simply. “That’s how those cans got there.”
“No shit— I meant what the hell did we do after that?”
“You don’t remember?” Haruitsuki asks, voice quieting a bit. Surely he couldn’t have forgotten because he was not that drunk. Realistically, he didn’t drink that much.
“I mean…” Hanae trails off, his cheeks reddening.
So, he does remember.
“Hanae—”
“Was that a mistake on your part?”
Haruitsuki pauses, his brain processing that question for a second before he frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean… you, asking me for a kiss.” His cheeks redden as he says those words. “You…” He trails off, clearly in anguish.
“No, it wasn’t a mistake. I may have been a bit tipsy but not enough to… Do you really think someone would plead if they were about to make a mistake?” he questions, raising a brow, as if challenging him to argue.
Hanae being Hanae, takes it up, clearly still not sober enough to think properly because who in the hell would answer that as if the answer is obvious, other than him?
“Well, you can make dumb decisions when you’re drunk.”
“So, you’re saying all of that was a dumb decision?”
Hanae opens his mouth, then closes it, and Haruitsuki is faintly reminded of a fish and starts to question why he’s attracted to this blubbering mess of a human being.
After a beat of silence, Haruitsuki exhales loudly, raking his fingers through his ungroomed hair. “Look, it wasn’t… That wasn’t a mistake. I just thought actions could speak louder than words in that moment and I also really just… I wanted to kiss you.” The last part comes out softer; quieter.
That’s probably the most he’s revealed about his feelings without needing the help of alcohol.
And Hanae just looks at him without saying anything, almost as if he’s studying him, and it’s making him feel a little uneasy.
“Are you just not gonna say anything?”
“You kissed me, but you never answered my question from last night.”
Haruitsuki frowns. “The kiss—”
“—wasn’t an answer,” Hanae interrupts. “I mean. I like that you kissed me.” His cheeks warm up visibly at that, and Haruitsuki finds it just a bit endearing. But he’s going to keep that to himself. He clears his throat. “As I said, I’m not as dense as I was seven years ago. I was able to pick up what you were putting down but I want to hear you say it. And a kiss can mean a million different things.”
Oh.
“Why do you want to hear me say it so bad?”
“Because,” Hanae begins, eyes flittering away from Haruitsuki, “that’d be the confirmation I need that I wasn’t just imagining things and reading into things when there was nothing there to read into. Because then that would mean whatever the hell it is I feel for you, as confusing as it is, is reciprocated and I’m… not the only one who wants you more than a friend should.”
Well, he didn’t expect a novel length confession—an “I like you” would have probably sufficed (but then he can’t really be speaking, can he? Considering the events that transpired last night.)
Haruitsuki exhales softly. “Fine. You’re getting way more out of me right now than you ever did and ever will so don’t expect this to be a repeated occurrence.”
Hanae chuckles a little at the acknowledgement.
“Yeah, I… felt something when you were with him. It didn’t feel good. I didn’t like seeing you with him. At first, I thought he was the problem, but then it wasn’t like he was doing you wrong so that train of thought didn’t make any sense. He treated you right—so right, and you were so happy. And as much as I was glad, I just…” He trails off, an involuntary sigh leaving his lips. “It sucked is probably the least eloquent way I can put it. I mean, you deserved and continue to deserve to be that happy, so why was I feeling that way? And I think it dawned on me it felt weird because you were no longer always by my side. You were no longer a constant for me. And your attention was on someone else.”
“Was that why you were so pissy with him? And sometimes me, too. Pissier than usual, especially during some of the jobs we did.”
Haruitsuki scowls. “I wasn’t pissy. I was just… going through it or whatever people say these days.”
Hanae moves closer, and Haruitsuki doesn’t move away, though he does feel a bit surprised when Hanae cups his jaw. Whatever happened last night seems to have removed that nerve factor for him, for better or for worse.
“You’re so cute.”
“Do not ever call me that again unless you want me to fire you on the spot.”
“You won’t.” Hanae smiles brightly, and Haruitsuki has to stop himself from going fuck it and leaning in to claim his lips in another kiss, brain buffering for a good few seconds at the resurfacing urge.
“I— anyway, it took me a while to realise I wished I was the one doing all that. Does that answer your question?”
“Very much so.” Hanae pauses, a look of embarrassment replacing his previous, happier expression. “Is this a safe space to disclose I had feelings for you before I started dating my ex? I thought I was over you when I met him but then the feelings eventually came back after the break up and I just… don’t think they ever really went away.”
Haruitsuki raises both his brows.
Oh?
“I guess in hindsight I was probably repressing all of what I felt for you and maybe that was why the relationship didn’t work out. He… sensed that at one point, which is why he ended things with me.”
“Okay,” Haruitsuki murmurs, and for once, he doesn’t know what to do.
What happens after all of this? Does all of this even count as a confession? Has he revealed too much?
He must have mumbled all of that out loud, because Hanae chuckles. “I mean, whatever we just said does count as a confession. I like when you tell me things. And, um…” He trails off, shifting a bit on the spot. “Can I kiss you?”
“We’ve got morning breath,” Haruitsuki says, but he pulls Hanae in anyway by the nape of his neck, their lips meeting in the middle.
And that rush from last night comes back in full force and more, and what he thought would be a slow, gentle kiss—it certainly started out as one—turns into him kissing Hanae with all he’s got, pouring every ounce of feelings he’s felt over the past however many years into it. He’s reeling Hanae in closer, pressing their bodies together, the heat between them stirring something in the pits of his stomach he’s finding very hard to ignore.
(Morning breath clearly is not as much of a problem as he thought it would be.)
It takes Hanae pushing gently at his chest before he separates from the other man, breath coming out in short puffs. “Don’t you think we should clean this place and ourselves up before we continue whatever we were doing?” he asks, cheeks dusted in a pretty shade of red, sounding just a little breathless.
(Haruitsuki’s a bit proud of the fact that he’s the cause of that breathlessness.)
Haruitsuki wants to disagree, but it’s the most logical thing to do—plus, they’ve got the whole weekend together anyway, considering it’s a Saturday. “Yeah, we should,” he murmurs, making to get off the couch—but not before leaning in to plant a soft kiss on the corner of Hanae’s lips. “But we’re not leaving this place this whole weekend. I’ve got some… business to attend to.”
He doesn’t mean to sound that puffed out, but good fucking God, how can he not?
“If we get a job, they can wait till Monday.” Then he offers a small smile. “And maybe you can get a better read of me during our little reprieve, since you seem to really want that. Heart on my sleeve and all.”
Hanae laughs a little, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I’d love that, Itsuki.”