Chapter Text
໒꒱ ⋆𐙚 ̊. •ᴗ• ᝰ.ᐟ ྀིྀི
By the time second year of college settled into its familiar rhythm, everyone had stopped questioning why Sakuya and Ryo were almost never seen apart.
It wasn't unusual to find them occupying the same corner of the library every Tuesday afternoon, one silently highlighting lecture notes while the other absentmindedly leaned against his shoulder. It wasn't unusual for one of them to appear at the cafeteria carrying two trays despite only one person having stood in line. It wasn't unusual for Ryo to disappear for ten minutes only to return with Sakuya beside him, as though he'd wandered off simply to retrieve his favourite person.
Their friends often joked that separating them should qualify as a laboratory experiment.
“They've been gone for twenty minutes.”
Yujin didn't even look up from his phone as he spoke. The café outside campus buzzed with the usual evening crowd—students pretending to study while actually gossiping over iced coffees that melted faster than assignments were completed.
“They went to buy napkins,” Jaehee replied.
“They're probably still buying napkins.”
“They're probably arguing over which napkins are softer.”
Riku snorted into his drink.
“Or Ryo got distracted by something shiny.”
Yushi folded another page of the novel he'd been reading.
“Or Sakuya noticed Ryo skipped lunch again.”
Sion, the oldest among them and therefore the one who had unofficially adopted everyone into his care, smiled knowingly.
“The second option.”
As if summoned, Ryo walked through the café doors with the brightest smile imaginable, one hand firmly wrapped around Sakuya's wrist while the other carried exactly one packet of napkins.
“See?” Yushi said.
Sakuya sighed.
“He forgot his wallet.”
“I did not.”
“You left it in your room.”
“I remembered eventually.”
“I walked back to get it.”
“I would've remembered before paying.”
“You were already at the cashier.”
“I would've figured something out.”
“You would've asked me.”
“I always ask you.”
“You do.”
Ryo grinned without the slightest hint of embarrassment before dropping into the empty seat beside Yujin, immediately leaning sideways until half his body rested against Sakuya's.
The group watched this happen with expressions ranging from amusement to complete acceptance.
Riku finally broke the silence.
“I genuinely don't think either of you knows what personal space means anymore.”
“I do,” Sakuya answered.
“No, you don't.”
“I respect personal space.”
“You literally adjusted Ryo's hoodie string while saying that.”
Only then did Sakuya notice his fingers still smoothing the twisted drawstring near Ryo's collar. He quietly let go.
“...Habit.”
Ryo laughed so hard he nearly spilled his drink.
“I didn't even notice.”
“Exactly.”
Everyone else laughed too.
Because that was Sakuya.
He wasn't loud, he wasn't particularly expressive, he wasn't the type to throw dramatic surprises or write lengthy love letters.
Instead—
Ryo's coffee was always sweetened exactly the way he liked without having to ask. Sakuya remembered which notebook Ryo used for each subject because Ryo never did. If rain was forecast, an umbrella somehow appeared in Ryo's backpack before he even checked the weather.
Extra tissues, phone charger, medicine for headaches, replacement pens, protein bars because Ryo skipped breakfast more often than anyone should. His assignments were printed because the printer in Ryo's dorm building was always mysteriously “broken.”
Every tiny inconvenience vanished before Ryo ever noticed it existed.
Most people never saw those things. Ryo did. He noticed every single one. Which was exactly why he couldn't stop smiling whenever Sakuya quietly fixed another problem before it reached him.
“You know,” Yujin said one afternoon while watching Sakuya carefully remove a loose thread from Ryo's sleeve, “if I didn't know you two were dating, I'd think Sakuya was your personal assistant.”
“I'm not.”
“I know.”
“My boyfriend,” Ryo corrected proudly.
Sakuya looked away.
“...Yes.”
“And the cutest one.”
“...Ryo.”
“What?”
“People are listening.”
“So?”
“So, stop.”
“You don't actually want me to stop.”
“I do.”
“You don't.”
“I...”
Ryo leaned closer until their shoulders touched.
“You smiled.”
“I didn't.”
“You did.”
“I absolutely did not.”
“You smile differently.”
“I don't.”
“You smile with your eyes.”
Sakuya sighed the sigh of someone who knew resistance was futile.
“...Eat your lunch.”
“See?”
“What?”
“Acts of service.”
“I'm reminding you to eat.”
“Exactly.”
The conversation ended with Ryo happily accepting another peeled orange slice from Sakuya.
Everyone else collectively pretended they weren't witnessing domesticity disguised as college life.
If Sakuya loved quietly, Ryo loved loudly.
There wasn't a hallway on campus where he wouldn't wave enthusiastically after spotting Sakuya from fifty meters away. There wasn't a lecture where he didn't instinctively search for Sakuya the moment class ended. He hugged without warning and held hands whenever possible, rested his chin on Sakuya's shoulder while reading notes.
Stole hoodies, borrowed jackets, curled beside him during movie nights until their friends complained there wasn't enough room on the couch.
Physical affection came as naturally to Ryo as breathing. He never questioned it. He simply loved being close.
“Sakuya.”
“Hm?”
“Come here.”
“I'm already here.”
“Closer.”
“...”
“Closer.”
“We're sitting together.”
“Not close enough.”
Sakuya inched his chair exactly three centimetres.
Ryo stared.
“...Really?”
“You said closer.”
“I meant cuddle.”
“We're in the library.”
“So?”
“So.”
Ryo dramatically slumped across the table.
“You don't love me.”
Without looking up from his textbook, Sakuya quietly reached over and slid a chocolate milk toward him.
“I bought your favourite.”
Ryo immediately brightened.
“You love me.”
“I do.”
“I knew it.”
“...Study.”
Five minutes later Ryo had somehow managed to rest his head on Sakuya's shoulder anyway.
—
Their relationship wasn't perfect.
No one's was.
Ryo sometimes forgot plans because he was impulsive.
Sakuya sometimes forgot to communicate because he assumed actions spoke clearly enough.
Yet somehow those differences usually balanced each other.
Usually.
Because love languages only worked when both people remembered to translate.
And somewhere between midterm season, club activities, group projects, and part-time jobs...
The translations slowly became harder.
It started so quietly that neither of them realized it was happening. Second-year coursework was considerably heavier than their first year.
Assignments overlapped, presentations seemed endless, laboratory reports appeared every week. Sakuya had also begun helping one of his professors with research, something he'd accepted because it looked impressive on future internship applications.
So, his evenings disappeared, followed by his weekends and then Sleep became optional.
Ryo noticed first.
“You've been awake since six.”
“I know.”
“You slept four hours.”
“I'm fine.”
“You skipped breakfast.”
“I'll eat later.”
“You said that yesterday.”
“I'll remember today.”
“You won't.”
“I will.”
“You won't.”
“I...”
Sakuya paused.
“...Probably not.”
Ryo sighed before opening the convenience store bag he'd been carrying.
“I bought sandwiches.”
“You didn't have to.”
“I know.”
He smiled.
“But you would've forgotten.”
Sakuya accepted the food quietly.
“...Thank you.”
Ryo watched him eat with visible satisfaction.
Because this—
This was normal.
This was how they took care of each other.
Except the days became busier.
Sakuya started replying to messages later. Sometimes hours later. And sometimes only with short responses.
“Busy.”
“Sorry.”
“Later?”
“Working.”
To everyone else, those texts seemed perfectly reasonable.
To Ryo...
They felt different.
Not because Sakuya was ignoring him but because Sakuya had always found time before.
Somehow.
Even during exams. Even during finals.
Now he looked tired every single day. His smiles came less often. Dark circles settled beneath his eyes. Yet every morning—
Ryo still found coffee waiting outside his lecture room.
His notes were organized, his forgotten calculator mysteriously appeared before accounting class, his favourite strawberry yogurt sat inside his locker with a tiny sticky note.
Eat ♡
—S
Nothing had actually stopped.
Sakuya was still taking care of him.
He simply wasn't...
There.
“You've been staring at your phone.”
Yujin sat beside him on the campus lawn.
“Hm?”
“You've checked your messages twelve times.”
“I have not.”
“Fourteen.”
“...”
“He still hasn't replied?”
“He read it.”
“When?”
“An hour ago.”
“What did you send?”
“'Want to eat dinner together?'“
Yujin nodded slowly.
“Maybe he's working.”
“I know.”
“So?”
“I know he's working.”
“But?”
Ryo hugged his knees.
“...I miss him.”
Yujin looked toward the engineering building where lights still glowed inside despite sunset painting the campus gold.
“I think he misses you too.”
“It doesn't feel like it.”
“That's because you're measuring love differently.”
Ryo frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“You want attention.”
“...”
“He shows attention by doing things.”
“...”
“So, you keep waiting for hugs.”
“And?”
“He's leaving snacks in your locker.”
Ryo lowered his head.
“...That's not the same.”
“No.”
Yujin admitted softly.
“It's not.”
Three days later was Friday. Their entire friend group planned dinner after classes. For once, everyone managed to finish early.
Everyone except Sakuya.
“I'm sorry.”
His voice came through Ryo's phone, quieter than usual.
“The professor wants revisions.”
“You'll be late?”
“I don't think I can come.”
“Oh.”
“I really tried.”
“I know.”
“I'm sorry.”
“It's okay.”
“I'll make it up to you.”
“You don't have to.”
“...Ryo.”
“Hm?”
“Are you upset?”
“No.”
He lied.
“...I'm okay.”
Sakuya hesitated.
“...Alright.”
The call ended after another apology. Ryo stared at the blank screen for several seconds.
It wasn't one cancelled dinner. It wasn't even about dinner. It was the fifth plan in two weeks.
The third movie night, two lunches, one walk home and now dinner.
Always for understandable reasons. Always because of work. Always because Sakuya apologized.
Which somehow made it harder to complain.
Because how could he be angry at someone working so hard?
Still...
Understanding something didn't make it hurt less.
—
“You've barely eaten.”
Jaehee gently nudged another piece of fried chicken toward Ryo.
“I'm not hungry.”
“Liar.”
“I'm serious.”
Sion quietly exchanged a glance with Yushi. Neither spoke. It was just everyone knew but no one wanted to say it first.
Finally, Riku sighed.
“He's burning himself out.”
“I know.”
“And you're lonely.”
“...”
“It's okay to admit that.”
Ryo stared down at his untouched rice.
“I know he's trying.”
“We know.”
“He still remembers everything.”
“That he does.”
“He bought medicine yesterday because I sneezed.”
“…...”
“He washed my hoodie because I forgot.”
“We know Ryo-chan.”
“He...”
His voice became smaller.
“...He hasn't hugged me in a week.”
Silence settled over the table.
Not uncomfortable but just heavy. Because suddenly everyone understood.
It had never been about forgotten meals or cancelled plans. It wasn't even about time. It was about presence. Sakuya's hands were still taking care of Ryo. His heart never stopped. But his exhaustion had quietly stolen all the little moments in between.
The conversations, the laughter, the lingering hugs, the idle walks across campus, the moments that couldn't be packed inside a lunchbox or written on a sticky note. And for someone whose entire world was built around closeness, those absences echoed louder than words.
None of them realized then that Sakuya, sitting alone under the harsh fluorescent lights of the research lab with three empty coffee cups beside him, was thinking almost the exact same thing.
Because while Ryo believed he was being forgotten...
Sakuya believed he was failing as a boyfriend.
And neither of them had found the courage to say it aloud.
That silence, quiet and almost invisible, would become the first real crack their relationship had ever known.
໒꒱ ⋆𐙚 ̊. •ᴗ• ᝰ.ᐟ ྀིྀི