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They probably shouldn’t have played again, but they did love games, and that one had left quite an impact. Stuck in their chests, shadowed their steps, haunted their thoughts.
It was a relief to just let it happen again, eventually.
Maki grinned at Fuma across the circle. “How about it, Fuma-hyung?”
Fuma glared at him, more out of habit than anything, and pursed his mouth.
However intimidating Fuma could be when he tried, Maki had never once actually been afraid of him. And besides, Fuma didn’t even mean it this time. So he just waited, grinning, eyes crinkling at the edges with a bright little challenge.
Fuma sighed heavily. “I can’t lie, I’m not sure about this one.”
That was disappointing, but it was enough of a no that he immediately backed down. “Aw,” he said, “better not, then. Something else?”
A silence dragged on strangely long. Fuma was doing the thing where he stared baldly at people without blinking until they started to squirm.
Maki didn’t squirm, but it was unusually hard to bear up against it today for some reason. Fuma was really thinking.
“Just a hug?” Maki suggested.
“Stand up,” Fuma said, doing the same himself.
That wasn’t an answer, or even a hint. But Maki stood up and met him halfway. He was a little taller than Fuma now, and might even be a little heavier thanks to that, since Fuma had helped him build a whole lot of muscle over the years. He was younger, but not smaller or weaker anymore. So he was able to hold his ground when Fuma came right up to him, stare even more intense from barely two dozen centimetres away.
“H-Hug?” Maki repeated, holding his arms up to welcome it, increasingly discomfited and uncertain.
“What do you want to do?” Fuma asked quietly. “Be honest.”
“Kiss you,” Maki said instantly. “But I won’t, because you’re not sure. So. Hug?”
A few more beats of considering silence, painful now. He hadn’t expected this much hesitation. He didn’t know what it meant. Why wasn’t Fuma just hugging him and calling it a day, if he was uncomfortable with the idea of anything else?
Fuma broke eye contact, finally, to look around at the rest of the room and read everyone else’s faces. Maki followed suit, curious.
K seemed calm, relaxed, interested to see what happened but not terribly apprehensive or concerned. Nico was visibly divided between uncertainty and cheering Maki on in getting something he wanted. EJ did look concerned, but softly, not on the brink of interfering. Like Maki, unsure of what was going on in Fuma’s head. Yuma was hungry and hopeful. Jo, a little anxious about the uncertain atmosphere but waiting to see how they’d resolve it. Harua’s eyes were very sharp, hard to read; Maki knew him very well, though, and was pretty sure that he was evaluating Fuma’s limits for future reference. And Taki, too, looked hopeful, though in a much sweeter way than Yuma, just wanting them to be close in whatever way was best for them.
There was no actual resistance from the room. Nobody’s face saying Stop, just let it go, you shouldn’t.
Fuma let out a short huff through his nose and grabbed the back of Maki’s neck.
Maki knew it for the permission it was and his heart squeezed hard with lovely pain. His beautiful, powerful, dependable, bighearted Fuma-hyung, letting him come closer, letting him in. It was a downright honour.
So Maki gave it as much weight and respect as he could when he closed the distance and met Fuma halfway again. His hands slid along Fuma’s ribs, feeling the corded lats, the years of effort and determination that had gone into forging a body he could love and rely on.
Decision made, Fuma committed and gave as good as he got. Surprisingly inexperienced, but he brought all the unhesitating courage and hunger to improve that he had for the stage to it, and got the hang of it very quickly.
Despite himself, Maki melted a little bit, losing some of the self-control he rarely had to work very hard to maintain. The grip Fuma had on the back of his neck was strong and unrelenting, and he had no desire whatsoever to fight it.
There were a couple of delighted whoops from around them, not all that loud but clear enough. Yuma, obviously. Taki too, he thought. Maybe a third, quietest of all, he couldn’t quite make out. K? Harua? Jo? It didn’t matter, really. The atmosphere of the room had palpably shifted to relief and warmth.
Maki let the last second linger, savouring the trust he’d been given, the physical density of the person he loved who stood in his arms.
Then he let Fuma go and smiled from the deepest place in his soul he could reach. “Thanks, Fuma-hyung,” he said.
Fuma scowled again, but didn’t mean this one either, and he was a little flushed and somehow softened around the edges. “Go sit down,” he said. “Go on, sit.”
Maki grinned and did as he was told.
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