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Sae has sensitive ears.
They’ve bothered him since he was a kid.
One might think it hard to be bothered by something you’ve always known, and Sae couldn’t imagine a world without it–yet it somehow managed to be infuriatingly distracting every time. Even now. Any sound he heard, amplified. Each noise ringing and ringing and ringing long after it had faded for everyone else, making home in his ears and chest. The feeling of something sinking into bones, an unsettling you couldn't escape more than curl into.
The whole thing was, naturally, incredibly inconvenient. And especially hard to articulate when you’re young.
Instead, Sae was apparently a fussy child. Quiet–scarily, though never for lack of something to say–until he’d been at a park too long, or walked by a rowdy group at recess. Then he was loud. Sae was never loud otherwise. Not until he was clasping his hands over his ears and babbling to hide the noise. It hurt, it always did, and his parents never really understood the impulse but it made perfect sense to Itoshi Sae, even then.
It always felt better to be the cause of his own agony. And so the yelling soothed nearly as much as it hurt.
To say it had gotten easier as he aged would be a lie. It was certainly more manageable–which is practically the same thing because Sae prides himself on personal improvement when it comes to anything that benefits his performance–so he counts it. And avoids it. And so it never really comes up.
Anything can be trained away if you work hard enough, accept it as reality, and Sae had long ago decided the easiest response to any noise, despite how grating it was on his ears, was usually indifference. A steady expression. A sigh. Letting the discomfort fade away without comment, with time.
Bunny Iglesias is, as always when it comes to Itoshi Sae, the exception. In more ways than one.
“You’re humming too loud.” Sae sighs, approximately ten minutes after the thought first struck him–which was a personal best. At least eight have been spent thinking about saying it, but it’s fine. It’s true.
Perhaps the cause of the noise is the enclosed space, a sleek interior Bunny had surely paid a pretty penny for. Perhaps the way the engine fades into a dull roar from the cracked-open part of Bunny’s window. Maybe it’s the fact that Sae is running off far too little sleep and everything has been grating on him this past week.
Or maybe it’s none of those things, and Bunny is just insufferably loud all on his own.
Maybe all of the above.
Either way, the soothing baritone of Bunny’s voice seemed to have shifted into discomfort at some point in tonight’s late-night drive, prickling the back of Sae’s mind just enough to sting. He traces the detailing on his side door idly as he speaks–something to busy his hands so they don’t instinctively press over his ears.
Whatever melody had been rumbling in Bunny’s throat quickly catches at the tone of Sae’s voice. Maybe the inflection. He cuts off mid-note, a record unplugged just before the bridge. The man in question doesn't even turn his gaze from the road ahead as he does, though the immediate silence after feels awfully intentional.
Just the hum of the motor again. The rushing waves that fly by his window in shades of blue.
Sae nearly regrets speaking. For demanding, in his own sort of way. Bunny’s silence was always loud, too, in a way that might be far worse. He suddenly feels foolish for forgetting it.
“Really?” Bunny finally responds after a moment too long, mock hurt dripping off the word. Still, he’s definitely quieter, thumb soothing over leather. “Sae, I thought you liked my singing.”
Ah, and there’s why Sae never feels too bad.
“I’ve never said that.” He sighs, stranglely and horrifyingly relieved.
“It’s been implied.”
The subsequent biting response dies on his tongue. Sae’s gaze flickers to the dashboard. Then back to Bunny’s face. Sae has not endured years of Bunny Iglesias without learning when he’s being walked into a situation solely for Bunny’s amusement, and the feeling washes over him now–whatever is left of his defenses making a last warning. He reassesses.
He imagines Bunny’s next response.
Surely something about how Bunny practically sings for him in bed, how his voice is only for Sae, just as Sae’s is for him. It would be predictably vulgar while still somehow managing to be romantic. Something melodramatic. Possessive.
Unfortunately, Sae finds all these possibilities mildly endearing. Yet another unfortunate consequence of falling too far into Bunny’s orbit.
Still, he can only tolerate so much and so the stare Sae levels at Bunny in response hopefully says ‘please do not try me on this’. His skin fucking itches with discomfort. His ears burn.
Correction–he hopes it says that and that Bunny listens.
Neither feels particularly likely.
“Well I have to keep myself awake somehow.” Bunny protests halfheartedly.
The radio had started getting fuzzy about an hour back, higher frequency just a degree over bearable for over half of it. Pitch always made the ringing worse. Turns it into something sharper.
Obviously Sae hadn't mentioned any of this–hadn't even turned his head when the words had started fading. No, Bunny had turned the radio off without comment, sliding over to press the dial down with a huff and attempting off-key renditions of Sae’s favorite songs instead. His pitch was nearly as bad.
At least the scenery is nice.
And Bunny too, Sae supposes silently. He looks good when he’s dressed down. Still in the hoodie he slid on when they got home, pulled up and ruffling his hair, fidgeting with the cuffs every now and then to reveal his wrists, scarred fingers tracing the hem. The fading sun highlights it well. The nerves.
It’s all almost enough to make Sae softer. Maybe even kinder.
Whatever.
“And my presence hasn’t been a good enough motive to do so?” Sae murmurs, flat because he hates the warm fuzzy feeling creeping up on him now. He’s usually far more upfront about his wants–the obvious gesture gifted to him in all this–but when it’s Bunny, when it’s tonight, it’s different. Sae wants Bunny to work for it–whatever it is here–solely because he knows Bunny will meet him wherever he asks. So if Sae decides to blatantly fish for affection then, well, it’s fine. Just for now.
“Aw cariño, of course it is.” Bunny says in easy response, all whispered promises and pouted lips. It’s clear Bunny adores it. They both do.
As if to further confirm this, his hand slides across the distance, tangling in Sae’s.
It's a practiced routine; Sae motions to pull away, like he wants to be the one to adjust their hands, to set it right. Naturally Bunny tugs back just as quick, all brute force and Sae, after a moment of consideration, gives. He always gives. They both do, just a little, and their fingers tangle together, weaving and overlapping over callused skin.
Immediately, the dull buzz under his skin quiets. Not enough to fully ease the pain–though it’s definitely lessened, become bearable in the silence–but something in between.
Pushing it further, always further until he meets resistance, Bunny leans his weight on the center console, shoulder brushing against Sae’s. He smiles. “You always are. Enough, that is. Perhaps even more so if you decide to spread your kindness and start talking to me again." He lilts with a soft squeeze of Sae’s hand.
Sae winces on instinct, though he doesn't mind the gesture. He doesn’t even really mind the teasing, because Bunny always teases. It’s just–this whole trip was strange. And the cause was even stranger.
The ringing in his ears has been louder than usual these days. That feeling in his chest, too. The weird one–pushing on Sae’s ribs just enough to constrict his lungs, to make the cramped cobblestone streets towards his home feel far more compressed than usual.
Nothing could really be done about it. Obviously. Just something that happened when nights got longer, when petty team drama and shitty interviews started monopolizing his waking hours. When it all means he spends less time on the field.
Practice stays the same. His routine never falters in the little ways he could control–it never did with Sae. At least then the bigger things were easier. He thought he was keeping it all to himself perfectly fine.
He was.
But then Bunny appears at his apartment a week after it all started, a duffle bag in one hand and car keys in the other and a promise to make good on those ‘plans they’d been talking about for a while’ tonight. And, even though it was fucking weird, and strange, and awfully inconsiderate of Sae’s time–all of which Sae made sure to say–he’d gone. Of course he did. Not that Bunny wasn’t one for spontaneous dates, but this was a step farther than normal. Even for him.
And so maybe Sae was a little curious. And a bit more desperate than he preferred to let on.
“Just thinking.” Sae defends half-heartedly, because he hates thinking about all of that more than he hates being honest about it.
“Alright.” Bunny agrees easily. Always easy, when Sae is getting finicky. “Care to share?”
Not particularly.
“Glad you turned off the radio.” He offers, like he’s trying to be nice but intentionally failing.
Sae isn't dumb. He knows Bunny knows. That he’s actually greatful, and that his head hurts and he isn't really sure what he would like to be doing right now, but that he doesn't mind this at all. Just like Bunny knows everything else, even the shitty parts. Not through Sae’s own volition–mostly, though he’s trying–but mostly because Bunny is stupidly, freakishly observant when it comes to most Sae-related behaviors. It would feel good if it wasn't so humiliating.
(Okay. It still feels good. Even then.)
“Is my voice so enticing?”
Yes, Sae thinks immediately. It’s rough. It scrapes against his senses like the nails Bunny likes to trail across Sae’s back. There’s something lilting about it, especially when they’re alone under night and early morning sun. Its’s – well, Sae likes it. He does. Not that Bunny deserves the ego boost.
There’s a shuffle as Sae leans against the seat, deciding against answering because of the last point. He lets his hand, still caught in his companions, rest closer, near Bunny’s cheek in some sort of compromise. An offer. It’s supposed to be casual, like he’d just been trying to get more comfortable while indulging in Bunny’s whims. His fingers flex halfheartedly.
Almost instantly, Bunny’s lips are on him, a call just as quickly answered. They start soft, brushing over the pulse-point of Sae’s wrist, reverent. He pulls it closer, pulls Sae closer.
Idly, like he just enjoys the feeling.
“Hardly. But it could be worse.” Sae manages.
Bunny smiles at that, a barely-there thing that Sae feels more than sees. It’s unnerving, he considers as the silence stretches on a moment too long when his companion turns to focus on the road. Sae used to love the quiet. Missed it, even, when his everyday had been Bunny’s loud presence in his home, or his texts, or anywhere and everywhere because Bunny was all-encompassing and deafening.
Quiet meant comfortable. Sae liked comfortable when it came to things like that. Something he didn't want to work for.
Then the quiet had somehow begun to hurt, too. Something instinctual in its agony, hot and chilled and everywhere. When it arrived back in his life not suddenly, but slowly. Creeped up on him until the quiet wasn't the kind he remembered so fondly.
Sae decides, if he were to take control of the situation in a way that mattered, he should hold the silence himself. And so he speaks.
“Hey. Didn't say you could stop.” Sae bites with a nudge of his shoulder. He lets Bunny decide whether he means the kissing or singing.
Luckily–like Bunny can read him, because he can, and gives anyways–he chooses both.
A kiss that quickly turns into a bite snaps against Sae’s skin; something sudden and sharp and present at the base of Sae’s palm before those same lips pick up a hummed melody again, sharp and flat and not flowing more than being dragged along but one Sae listens to anyway.
“You’re antsy tonight.” Bunny observes against his knuckles–far more cheery now. Sae’s hand stings, just a little. He wonders if it’ll leave a mark.
“Not at all.”
“It’s okay that you are.” Bunny says, nearly dragging Sae across the center console now as he uses both hands to turn onto an unpaved road, unwilling to let go. Always taking last minute turns. “I find it cute.”
“Anyone would be antsy when you kidnap them in the middle of the night.”
A dangerous over-exaggeration for a plan that had been in the works for a good while, but Bunny usually lets Sae indulge in dramatics when he’s stressed and so he figures he can get away with it.
“And yet you came willingly. Are you perhaps excited?”
Sae–well, he isn’t sure. He hates the uncertainty of his own emotions.
“Still can't believe you’re letting me take you tonight.” Bunny smiles, for once unable to hide the genuine joy that flickers in his eyes at the thought. He seems eager to admit this, like he wants Sae in on the happiness too. Like he wants to direct Sae into a feeling.
It’s a generous enough transition, even if neither party will own up to it. Sae takes it in both hands.
“You’ve been bringing it up for months. Of course I’d have to say yes eventually.”
And then, because if Bunny is bringing it up a second time it means he’s poking around for something Sae has yet to give, the midfielder huffs.
The truth comes out no less firm. Just a bit quieter. “Whatever makes you happy, too. Makes my life easier.”
Bunny quickly untangles their hands enough to let his grip shift. Clearly he’s pleased by the admission, the silent give-and-take.
Fingers brushes over Sae’s wrist again, soft and bony. They trail up his arm, skin covered by Bunny’s oversized hoodie he’d left at Sae’s very intentionally last year until Sae stopped pretending he wanted to give it back. Sae isn't entirely sure where Bunny’s hand is going until those same fingers tighten around Sae’s chin and tug. He doesn't even have time to fight the pull because just as quickly, Bunny’s chapped lips press against his cheek.
It’s fleeting. Dry. Just a pressure against his skin and then nothing. Both hands are already back on the wheel by the time Sae can manage a response–half grumble, half sigh.
Dumbass didn't even let him kiss him back.
“It’s beautiful out there.” Bunny affirms, rapping a knuckle against the window, the blur of trees and coast that pass them by. He’s glowing now–no nervous fidgeting or murmuring. “You’ll love it. Promise.”
“Mhm,” Sae agrees noncommittally, brushing his fingers across where Bunny’s lips had just been. Hopefully it comes off as brushing it off. It’s a bit too gentle for that.
“I mean it,” Bunny says casually–but not gently, nothing careful about it–as he lets the car shift. “It’ll be just like home.”
Sae is doubtful. But it’s said with something so close to tenderness that he can't manage to argue against it.
Sae’s hometown was never empty per-se, but it was quiet. The type of tourists that came out weren't often the type for fun or adventure. Mostly old people–retired, ready to spend all day sunbathing or resting on the waves. Sae used to take Rin out on the milder days, early–because Rin hated the heat, such a sensitive little thing–and follow the shoreline, picking up shells as they went.
Then, Sae concedes silently, it was usually empty.
Sae elects to look out the window instead of articulating any of that, hand on his cheek. This time, Bunny allows it. Something about focusing on the road, probably. Sae isn’t entirely sure where they’re going. Somewhere outside the city. Somewhere Bunny’s been before. Allegedly, somewhere dark.
And it seems, at least, that the last point is true because Sae can barely spot any artificial light out here now. If he squints, there’s a few scattered houselights in the distance, calling someone home.
Bunny has started humming again by the time he pulls over, later enough that the sun has long ago dipped beyond the trees, now only lit by the sliver of moon. It's quieter the second time around.
The first thought that strikes Sae when he opens the car door is that it’s fucking freezing. Sae hates the cold. Still, it’s not enough to stop him from getting out (without Bunny’s help, though he does squeeze his hand in silent notice of the offer) and observing.
They’re a few hours out from Madrid. Outskirts of some town Bunny says fondly, the name comfortable on his lips. It’s a story Sae is curious about–one he kind of hopes he can pull out of Bunny, when they get to the hotel tonight.
Tugging his jacket tighter across his shoulders, Sae settles into it, letting his body adjust slow. He observes the scenery–sparse, sea salt sticking in the air like a second skin, dewy against the patches of grass–and waits. Bunny is smiling.
Gravel crunches under his feet as the taller man starts towards a marked path, facing the stretch of tree and field. Passively, Sae wonders if there’s a story behind that part too. If Bunny’s been here before with other people. If someone had shown him this same path, this same road, with just as much care.
“Come on,” Bunny gestures, once he notices there’s no one following behind. “Gotta go a bit farther if you want the best views.”
Sae’s feet stay frozen to the ground. It’s ridiculous, really. Something tugs at his chest, at the buzzing in his ear. If Bunny wants him to see the stars tonight–to see the quiet, to feel comforted or whatever–then Sae decides suddenly and violently that it’ll be on his own terms again.
“Right here will be fine.”
Bunny pauses. He watches as Sae shuffles around in the backseat for their stuff. Sae isn’t sure why he’s acting so belligerent. He just suddenly can’t find it in himself to go any farther. Bunny leans closer when Sae spreads out a blanket on the car hood–Bunny’s, because hell if he was getting his sheets dirty. Bunny watches him clamber up.
It’s not like Sae is worried. Bunny is indulgent when he wants to be, and this whole plan tonight is a clear attempt at it. He likes giving Sae what he wants on his own terms. This is something close to that.
He’s settling into his spot, pulling his hood up to combat the wind. Silently, suddenly, Bunny seems to make some sort of decision in his head because some tension bleeds from his shoulders.
“Well alright.” He shrugs, grin getting wider and crossing the previous distance in a few long strides. “If my love so insists.”
“I do.”
Corded, lanky limbs press into Sae’s space before he can brace himself as Bunny tries to fit himself into the scene. Behind Sae, hands braced behind and splaying his legs out just enough to fit the midfielder in between.
Strangely, Bunny likes to make himself small when they’re like this. Barely enough to dwarf Sae, to fold around him like a cocoon or a missing puzzle piece. It feels all-encompassing, like he wants every one of Sae’s senses to blend with his, totally and completely. He’s smiling. Sae can feel it.
“Be quiet.” Sae grumbles as he moves in closer. Chest to back. At the very least, Bunny’s unreasonably large frame is good for warmth.
Here, Bunny would usually insert a whiny comment about how he’s nothing more than a heater to Sae, because he’s dramatic. And needy. Instead, he digs his chin into Sae’s shoulder, brief. Watching.
“I wasn't even speaking.” He protests.
“You were thinking. It was loud.” Sae bites back, feeling the tension fade as his eyes adjust. A distant ocean breeze bats against his cheek. “So don't.”
“Of course, mi cariño.” Bunny quips in mock-agreement. He nips at the nape of Sae’s neck in response, too, like an asshole. Probably just to tease. Or to leave another mark. It’s always two-fold with Bunny.
Sae isn't really adverse to Bunny’s tactile affections, never actually, but even he notices how present they've been tonight. Maybe that means something. It usually does.
It really is different out here, Sae considers lightly as Bunny fusses somewhere behind. Madrid is crowded. Bright. Even when he walks home at night, through the dimly-lit streets, there's rarely any stars.
Here everything is sharper, even in the dark. In comparison, it makes all the sounds softer. The rush of the ocean a few meters ahead lulls rather than grates. Bunny’s breath, steady and usually staccato, stabbing, rolls over Sae like a breeze.
The hotel will be open all night. They can take their time.
And so he does. Sae traces the shadows of the hills. He traces the stars. He tries to pick up any constellations, but they seem different from every other time Sae’s seen them. Tilted, or gone entirely, or something even worse. And so Sae decides, for the sake of his sanity, that it isn’t the same sky at all. That, somehow, it’s all entirely new. Just for them. Just for tonight.
“So?” Bunny asks finally, once Sae has spent so long in the silence he nearly forgot the sound of Bunny’s voice, shifting his weight and letting his hand brush over Sae’s. “Remind you of anything?”
Fleetingly, Sae considers lying.
Watching from the corner of his vision, he can tell that Bunny is assessing– peering at him like he’s holding the rest of the stars in his eyes. It’s so clear that he wants. That he wants so desperately for Sae to be the one to say yes, to feel something familiar in this chill and darkness and feel content. More importantly, Bunny wants to have been the one to do it. To pull something old out of someone so steady, so rooted. To give Sae something intangible.
Looking out onto the horizon, Sae tries to glimpse the view obstructed by trees. Between it, the ocean glints in the moonlight. Above it, the stars. And the two of them, somewhere in the middle.
Nothing about this is familiar. Not in the way Bunny needs. Sae thinks it’s for the best.
“No.” Sae says distantly, tracing the night sky’s path with his eyes–all the way across the moon until they fall onto Bunny’s. It’s so quiet. “Not at all.”