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Tsurugi had long since grown used to not spending his breaks alone. More precisely, he'd grown accustomed to Teruya seeking him out and insisting they spend their time together.
He'd been resistant at first, naturally. He had a schedule, one he had been sticking to since the Foundation had formed. As the chairman he needed to keep everything, including himself, in order. It would be irresponsible to abandon discipline and stray from his routine.
He'd said as much, but Teruya hadn't been convinced. If anything, the other man looked amused, mouth curving and eyebrows twitching in an obvious attempt to hold back laughter.
“Come on.” He'd urged, hand gently clasping Tsurugi's arm. “One day won't kill you, right?”
And for some foolish reason, Tsurugi hadn't shut him down. He didn't even pull away, allowing the warmth of Teruya’s palm to seep through his uniform. After waging a small war inside his head, he sighed. “One day.” He assented.
To nobody's shock but his own, this did not stop after only a single day. But for reasons unbeknownst to him, he didn't have a problem with that.
He should have, every fiber of him knew that. Letting himself be swept up by small corruptions like this would only invite such negligence to spread. Soon enough, he would be compromising all his values, and the Foundation would crumble as a result.
But… He didn't feel corrupt. When Teruya cracked open his office door, beaming at the sight of him. Or when Teruya took hold of his wrist, guiding him to wherever they were going to spend their breaks. It wasn't the cold, hollow sensation of failure or the crushing weight of yet another mistake on his shoulders.
On the contrary, the other's presence made him feel light, burdens of the past gone from his mind for their brief time together. At the sound of Teruya’s voice, it was as if he could breathe easier.
He quickly found himself looking forward to Teruya's visits. Before, his lunch break had been nothing but an obligation; he needed to stop what he'd been doing to fuel himself, to keep himself functioning, so he could work efficiently.
Now, he often would set his work aside several minutes early and wait. Sometimes his eyes would even wander to the clock, counting down to when Teruya was meant to arrive.
This was out of simple courtesy, of course. He didn't want to waste the time of a coworker.
The activities they did together varied. A lot of the time, they would only sit and talk. Occasionally in the break room, other times in one of their offices.
Teruya did most of the talking, truthfully. At first it had seemed like nervous chatter, as if he wasn't sure how to break the ice and was desperate to fill the silence. This swiftly turned into passionate rambling about a variety of topics.
Tsurugi didn't see the significance of… Any of it, really. Why did Teruya want him to hear about his latest sewing projects, or want to share what he and Mekaru had done together recently? It was all so pointless, so frivolous.
And yet, Tsurugi felt no desire to make it stop.
If it were anyone else, he wouldn't have hesitated to shut it down and demand a more productive topic. But something about the way Teruya spoke, full of enthusiasm and genuine happiness, made it feel significant. Like hearing about it meant something.
He contributed little to these discussions, mostly just staring intently at Teruya to show that he was listening.
The other didn't seem bothered by this. Sure, sometimes he would ask Tsurugi questions like how'd your night go? and done anything interesting lately? but he didn't seem offended or disappointed at the short, often blunt answers he would receive.
He didn't understand why Teruya was interested in such things. He was the head of the Kisaragi Foundation and he lived according to the principles required for that job, surely this was common knowledge. It couldn't have been the most fun or engaging thing to hear about.
But if it bothered Teruya, then he was very good at hiding it. He seemed happy to get any answer from Tsurugi.
That caused something in Tsurugi's chest to twist, for some reason. When was the last time someone had been glad to speak with him? Had listened to him so openly, without boredom or criticism?
There was no reason to dwell on that, though. Nothing but a fleeting, unidentified emotion. It would go numb soon, just like all the others.
Still… He found that he didn't mind it, while it lasted. It, and the dull ache behind his ribs that had nothing to do with his worsening health and everything to do with the way Teruya smiled at him, or occasionally laughed at his words even when he had no idea what was so funny.
The laughter never felt mean-spirited, either. Even though it caused hot pricks of embarrassment to climb up his neck, at no point did he believe Teruya was mocking him.
Another activity the other was fond of was cloud gazing.
It was such a juvenile thing. Utterly ridiculous.
Tsurugi actually grew to enjoy it quite a bit.
Sometimes they would sit by one of the windows, while other times Teruya would insist on dragging him outside.
In the latter case, they would settle in a nearby field, lying in the grass as they looked up at the sky.
Tsurugi was often struck by how much the environment had improved. And so quickly, too. When they had first joined the fight against despair, it was truly awful. Hardly even livable. The skies had been a sickening red, filled with so much smoke and smog that breathing without at least a mask of some sort was dangerous.
Now, however? A natural blue, with clouds that were actually visible, and wind that didn't carry the stench of burning and death.
That wasn't to say that it was entirely clear. The color of the sky was still pale, missing the bright vibrant hues it should have had.
There was always more work to be done, they would never be truly finished. But surely it wasn't wrong to take pride in the progress they'd made so far.
That's what Teruya had said, at least, when Tsurugi first pointed it out. And as stupid as that should have been, the notion of being proud when the world was still in such a perilous state, he didn't find it as asinine when coming from Teruya's mouth.
The vegetation had also seen significant improvement. For one, it was green now instead of a sickly brown. And it was growing far more than before; trees with thick, heavy branches. Some even bearing fruit.
The grass was no exception, blades standing straight and strong. There were even flowers blooming in some places. Most of them were mere weeds, but still…
Of course, the improved greenery didn't make the ground miraculously comfortable to lie on. It was still hard and rough against his back, frequently leaving him sore later.
Like many things, this was easy to endure for his colleague.
Teruya would settle close to him as they lowered themselves, too close if you asked him. Their shoulders would brush, and stray green hairs would often tickle his neck or cheek.
His face would heat up, heart stuttering, but he wouldn't say anything. If Teruya was content like this, there was no reason to disturb him…
From there, Teruya would gleefully point out clouds he found pretty, sometimes excitedly nudging Tsurugi and physically pointing up at them.
He would describe the shapes he saw in them, too. “That one looks like a rabbit, don't you think?” He would chirp. Or “That one looks kinda like a shrimp.”
Tsurugi, for the life of him, could never see what Teruya apparently did. To him, they all looked the same; like big, white, formless things slowly floating along. Whether they were puffy or wispy, this didn't change.
Which made it rather nerve-wracking when Teruya would turn to him and ask what he saw. With such wide, sparkling eyes too, like Tsurugi's input on this was something important.
The first time that question had been leveled at him, Tsurugi froze. He looked between his colleague and the sky, urging his brain to see something, anything that would allow him to contribute to the conversation.
It didn't work, obviously.
Part of him was tempted to make something up, something that would amuse Teruya or make him happy. But he'd never been good at lying, and doing so even over something so inconsequential felt… Wrong. Deceptive.
So he had no choice but to tell the truth. A bead of sweat broke out on his forehead, sliding to the grass below him. His heart pounded in his ears. He sucked in a breath before muttering “I see.. a cloud.”
It sounded pathetic even to himself, so he was certain that Teruya would be terribly disappointed.
He needed to stop being so sure that things would go awry, apparently.
Rather than disappointment or annoyance, Teruya's grin wobbled and twitched for a moment before a snicker sneaked its way out of his throat. He tried to hold it back for all of two seconds before breaking.
He tossed his head back, hand going to his hair as he cackled. His eyes closed, squeezed shut with the force of his mirth. His mouth stretched wide, completely unabashed with his far too loud laughter.
The few seconds it took for him to quiet down felt like an eternity. And even then, he wasn't entirely done. He was still giggling, sounding utterly breathless and giddy. He rolled slightly to the side, pressing himself closer to Tsurugi, burying his face in his boss’s shoulder.
When he finally calmed down, he wiped at his eyes and looked up at Tsurugi, expression still completely delighted. “Yeah? A cloud, huh?” He said, obviously holding himself back from laughing more.
Tsurugi's cheeks were no doubt redder than his eyes at this point. “It's not that funny.” He mumbled, reaching up to pull his hat over his face… Only to remember that he had left it in his office, not wanting to get grass or dirt on it, or for it to get in the way.
He settled for crossing his arms over his chest, looking away.
Instead of continuing to laugh, Teruya suddenly turned serious. With a worried look, he propped himself up a little and gazed down at Tsurugi. “Kinjo, hey… You know I'm not laughing at you, right?”
Tsurugi didn't answer, but after a moment he let his eyes go back to Teruya.
“Seriously, I'd never.” He assured again. “It's just surprising how straightforward you are sometimes, you know? Catches me off guard.”
That… Made sense. Even as a child, he'd been aware that his serious, blunt way of speaking to others wasn't the norm. He hadn't cared at all back then. If anything, being different from others had been a point of pride. It was proof that he was better than the simple national people.
At some point recently, during he and Teruya's interactions, it had become something he began to worry about. Not being liked felt intimidating now, the opinion of someone else actually mattered.
The knowledge that Teruya wasn't looking down on him or getting tired of him was enough to get the tension to begin easing from his shoulders.
Teruya must have noticed this, because his lips curved back into a smile. Then, somewhat nervously, he spoke. “It's.. kinda cute actually, if I'm being honest.” He chuckled again, bashful as his face flushed slightly.
And just like that, the tension returned tenfold. Tsurugi's eyebrows shot up, eyes wide. “Cute?” He repeated, completely baffled. No way he'd heard that right.
Now it was Teruya's turn to look away, a flustered laugh bubbling out of him. “Yeah! Same way a puppy that doesn't know how to walk straight is cute.” He explained, rubbing the back of his neck.
Tsurugi's eyebrows raised even higher. He opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out except for a strangled wheeze. Despite the breeze ruffling their hair, it suddenly felt way too hot.
Teruya didn't seem to be faring much better. The small flush from earlier was now spread all the way down to his neck. “A-Anyway!” He said far louder than necessary. “Enough of that! Let's get back to what we were doing before we run out of time.”
He flopped back down, but instead of landing on the ground, his head rested squarely on Tsurugi's chest.
This must not have been on purpose, because he went so still that he almost ceased breathing. If his face were visible, his eyes would undoubtedly be wide as saucers.
Tsurugi was in a similar state for a while, unsure what to do. But after several seconds, something in him broke. A few quiet, breathy chuckles left him. They wavered in the air, making it clear how unused to laughter and glee he was, but that didn't change how good it felt. His chest was full to bursting, ribs threatening to crack from the amount of joy filling him.
He moved a shaky, unsure arm down and draped it around Teruya.
That got the other man to relax. He sighed, snuggling closer and listening to Tsurugi's rapid heartbeat.
They didn't get any more cloud gazing done that day.