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The first time Shou had visited the Kageyama household he hadn’t even needed to double-check which street number their house was on. Saturated in psychic energy, it had become a beacon as obvious to anyone with more than a tenuous grasp of their ability as if it had been dressed in neon lights. Heavy and dense, the elder brother’s presence had seeped through every floorboard into the foundation of the building, leaving it spiritually impenetrable and impossible to miss.
The second time Shou had visited he’d known better what to look for. Ritsu’s psychic energy, once easily missed, had started to stand out against the broader tapestry of his brother’s as soon as he’d learnt to recognise it. It reminded Shou of one of those optical illusions where the pattern changes depending on what colour you’re focusing on; ice-sharp and snow-crisp, Ritsu had carved out his own spaces in the Kageyama household.
So he can tell it’s Ritsu who’s approaching seconds after he’s pressed the doorbell. And when he opens the door, eyes soft but not quite smiling, Shou thinks about how the way that makes him feel is something he’s known almost as long as he’s known the texture and taste of Ritsu’s aura.
“You’re early,” Ritsu says and raises an eyebrow. Shou shrugs.
“I arrived at the station early so I decided to take an earlier train.”
“You skipped your last class today.”
“Well, yes,” he says and grins, “I wanted to come early.”
I couldn’t wait to see you, he doesn’t say. Judging by how Ritsu looks to the side, grips the handle just a little tighter and decidedly does not flush he doesn’t need to. For a brief moment he imagines what it would be like to just—take a step forward and press his lips against Ritsu’s now that he has (at least implicit) permission to do so, but then Ritsu steps aside to let him in and the moment passes.
Not that his passing fancy would ever have been realised anyway; Shou isn’t prepared to risk ruining their budding relationship by kissing Ritsu on the doorstep where both family and neighbours can see them. At least not before he’s ready.
He does take particular care to brush against Ritsu on the way in and enjoys the notion that he could hear his breath catch ever so slightly.
-
Shou had confessed his feelings for Ritsu at if not the absolute worst time possible then at one that was a very strong candidate for the title.
Not that he’d planned it that way. There had, at one point, been some vague plan to do it properly, at a time and place that wouldn’t make it too awkward for either of them if Ritsu reacted in a way Shou deemed less than ideal. After almost two years of-- not actively hiding his feelings but certainly not admitting them either he really wasn’t prepared to ruin their friendship if it was in any way preventable. But as the train had pulled into the station and Ritsu turned to say good bye before going back to Seasoning City like he had a hundred times before it had just slipped out somehow.
Shou doesn’t actually remember what he’d said word for word, but he does remember the way Ritsu’s eyes had widened slightly, the way his lips had parted in surprise only for his brow to furrow and his mouth to snap shut a split second later.
“But the train is here,” he’d said and meant: are you serious?
“Uh, yeah,” Shou had said. “You better hurry.”
He had heard the steel dripping into Ritsu’s voice when he’d responded, but it still hadn’t been able to cover up the way his voice had cracked in barely suppressed panic.
“You can’t—why are you telling me this now?”
Because he’d been thinking about telling him for a long time now; because Ritsu had been laughing when the light struck a certain way, because the train was slowing down and because he already knew how separation would feel.
“I wanted you to know,” he’d said without making eye contact, which was the simplest way of putting it.
Ritsu had just looked at him while the train had crept closer and closer before stopping, a shuttered expression that had told Shou he was only quiet because if he opened his mouth he would start screaming.
“I don’t—“ he’d settled on as passengers had poured out of the train, momentarily drowning out their conversation.
“Hurry up or you’ll miss the train,” Shou had yelled a little too excitably, pushing Ritsu towards the rapidly petering stream of people; Ritsu had looked at him like he’d grown a second head, but when he’d stumbled against the lower step onto the train some part of him had either snapped or resigned itself to its fate as he’d practically run inside to find his seat.
Usually Shou would stay on the platform and wave until the train has moved out of sight. This time he’d turned to the stairs and left filled with a strange sort of calm in the face of uncertainty.
-
Little about Ritsu’s room has changed since they first got to know one another; it’s still neat and orderly, everything in its right and proper place. The books on the bookshelf are organised according to topic and Ritsu’s journal rests on the right side of the desk as it always has. There are still schedules and memos pinned to the noticeboard above the desk but now they’ve been joined by various kinds of memorabilia as well; a silly doodle that Shou had drawn when they were thirteen that makes him cringe every time he looks (but secretly he’s too happy it had amused Ritsu to demand that he actually take it down); a jellyfish-shaped keychain Ritsu had won in some arcade game a lazy afternoon that summer; a postcard from Hanazawa sent on a ski trip in Hokkaido. Other people’s lives that had slowly trickled in.
“Did you fly all the way here again?” Ritsu asks as he closes the door. “It’s already December.”
“Only from the subway station,” Shou replies, “and you know that doesn’t matter.”
Psychic insulation: very handy in winter time.
“Doesn’t seem like it would be worth the effort at this time of the year though.”
It had been a strange feeling to make small talk and greet Ritsu’s parents on the way upstairs. Shou has always felt that if there’s something his and Ritsu’s friendship is it’s natural, ordained rather than by design; now despite himself Shou feels almost nervous. It’s the first time they’re actually seeing each other in Ritsu’s home since they got together and that brings complications to a kind of relationship that is already largely unknown territory.
Ritsu walks further into the room in a deceptively casual manner. He’s wearing the same kind of comfortable long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants as he always does when loitering around at home.
“So.”
Shou remains standing, awkwardly hovering by the bed.
“Yeah.”
He can tell that Ritsu is about to say something but Shou still can’t help it; before Ritsu gets a chance to get a word in he’s stepping forward. He’s slightly annoyed to note he has to stand on his toes to reach, but at least Ritsu doesn’t pull away when he kisses him on the lips, only starts slightly. When Ritsu kisses him back, dry and chaste, his lips tingle and his heart swells with happiness until it feels too big for his chest, the overwhelming realisation that this is really happening, Ritsu really likes him back—
It only lasts for a couple of seconds. When he pulls back Ritsu looks slightly dazed, eyes flickering to the side as if he’s not sure where to look. Shou’s heart is beating so hard his skin feels like paper, too thin and too tight at the same time.
“Sorry,” he says, perhaps a bit too flippantly. “I’ve been thinking about doing that all the way here.”
“Uh,” Ritsu replies, “It’s nice to see you too.”
Grinning, Shou’s knees give way and he practically falls down onto the bed, patting the spot next to him for Ritsu to join him. Ritsu smiles and sits down, bouncing slightly as Shou picks the first topic that pops into his head when he thinks about his day.
And just like that everything is like it has always been between them, except maybe slightly better.
-
After the ill-timed confession Shou hadn’t heard from Ritsu until late in the evening. When he finally had he’d practically been in bed already, lovingly teasing Momo-chan in her cage when there’d been a loud buzz from his bedside table. He had practically to the other side of the room to grab the phone, its screen still lit when he’d picked it up.
The message had been from Ritsu – almost no one else texts him and certainly not at this hour – and much like him it had been curt and to the point.
>Your timing is the absolute worst.
Shou always replies fast, mostly because he always writes back exactly what he’s thinking. It did occur to him at the time that “hehe ;p” might read as flippant or dismissive, but at this point he didn’t really think he could mess this up any more than he already had.
>Did you mean it?
He’d rolled his eyes at that. Ritsu knows that Shou means everything he says and doesn’t usually second-guess him, so he’d just typed a short “yeah”.
>Ok. I need time to think about that.
>I still want to be friends with you.
Shou had rolled over onto his back, some of the tension that’d gathered in his gut immediately dissipating. He’d even felt quietly hopeful; not only did Ritsu still want to be friends, which is the most important part, but he needed time to think about what Shou had told him. Which wasn’t a definitive yes, but it certainly implied that the possibility was there… right? Or was he supposed to interpret it as Ritsu rejecting him, but wanting to stay friends regardless?
The phone had buzzed again while he’d still been typing a response.
>I’m still angry though.
Shou had laughed, a welcome feeling of lightness settling in his chest. They were going to be okay, probably. Deleting his reply in progress, he’d told Ritsu to sleep it off.
-
Having dinner with you former friend, now secret boyfriend’s family is so familiar that it comes out on the other side as utterly bizarre to Shou. Mostly it’s the knowledge that even perfectly innocent things – like wrestling on the sofa or trying to steal food from Ritsu’s plate when he isn’t paying attention – might suddenly seem inappropriate because he’s in love with Ritsu and Ritsu feels the same way.
Still, Shou is used to keeping secrets, even if he’s not so used at keeping himself. It’s easy to fall back into routine when you know the way of things; Shou answers the same questions about school as always; everyone looks politely or genuinely interested as always (except for Mob, whose expression is mostly neutral - as always); Ritsu’s dad makes the same bad puns as always and Shou insists on doing his own dishes as always, because at some point he’d figured that would make a good impression and now he can’t let go of it.
At one point during dinner Ritsu’s foot brushes against his; a quiet anchor that reminds him why he’s even bothering in the first place.
-
>Can I call?
Shou had stopped in his tracks in the middle of the street when he’d heard the familiar buzzing of his phone, ignoring the girl that had almost bumped into him as well as her swearing. His heart skipping a beat had made the outside world feel largely irrelevant at the moment.
>going home. call u soon? 10min tops.
After a quick glance left and right Shou had disappeared behind a tree—not that it made a huge difference. It was more about plausible deniability if someone were to see him leave the ground; once he’s in the air he’s too fast for anyone to take notice of even if he isn’t going to the extra effort of bending light around him. Or at least that’s what he always tells himself.
Shou had been back in his room in less than five minutes, thrown his bag to the other side of the room and fumbled with his phone before even shrugging off his gakuran. He’d congratulated himself on keeping the bedroom window slightly open in case of emergency; an old habit he doesn’t usually like dwelling on.
“You finished early today,” he’d remarked when Ritsu had picked up the phone halfway through the first signal. As nice as it would have been to think Ritsu would’ve contacted him first thing as he came home he’d known that’s unlikely—he would at the very least have finished his homework first.
“Our teacher got sick,” he’d said – Shou had practically heard him shrug, “and no business with the student council. I went straight back home.”
“Huh,” Shou had replied, stretching the syllable out. But there’d been no point in beating around the bush. “So what did you want to tell me?”
It had been quiet for a moment, and then there’d been a self-deprecating snort on the other end of the line.
“I should’ve just kept texting,” Ritsu had said. “It would’ve been easier.”
Shou had wanted to respond with something smartass to that, maybe something that would’ve made it sound like he wasn’t hanging on to Ritsu’s every word, but didn’t get the opportunity.
“Suzuki, I like you. That’s all I wanted to say.”
And all Shou had been able to do was fall backward, head thumping against the pillow and letting the torrent of happiness that set his body alight from the inside rush through him.
“Suzuki?”
“You’re finally gonna have to start calling me by my given name if we’re gonna be dating,” he’d said and ignored the way his voice had cracked ever so slightly at the end.
There had been a million questions he’d wanted to ask at that moment – how long has Ritsu known he likes guys, how long has he known he likes Shou in particular, has he had crushes before, has he ever kissed anyone – but he hadn’t really been able to pick one out of fear that they would all spill out.
Ritsu had just laughed, audibly relieved.
“I guess so,” he’d replied, “If that’s what you want.”
“Uh, yeah? I’m pretty sure that’s what people who like each other do.”
It had been quiet for a couple of seconds before Ritsu had responded.
“I suppose I’m expecting it to be… more difficult than that.”
Shou had sighed. It was a very Ritsu thing to do, to worry about the complications of a relationship before there even was a relationship to worry about.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not going to change things that much.”
-
If they feel up to it after-dinner entertainment at the Kageyama household usually involves video games, a movie or, if they’re being really adventurous, an ancient board game borrowed from Mob’s closet. This particular evening Shou had insisted on the latter because it allowed them to stay in Ritsu’s room.
Unlike a lot of megalomaniacs hell-bent on world domination in movies, Suzuki Touichirou had never held a particular fascination with chess nor chosen to impart any knowledge of it on to his son. It doesn’t surprise Shou at all to find out that Ritsu was apparently good enough at it to compete in tournaments in primary school.
“I’m bored,” he declares ten minutes into the game.
“You made me explain all the rules and you don’t even want to finish the first game? You were the one who suggested we do this.”
“Well,” Shou says cheekily, “I really just wanted to be alone with you.”
Ritsu looks at him for a moment, the corner of his mouth making an apostrophe. With a sigh and a curt wave he moves the pieces off the board back into the glass jar they were kept in, black and white doomed to an eternally unfinished battle.
“I see,” he says. “Let’s be alone together then.”
The mildly condescending remark makes it much easier for Shou to act on the impulse he’s been holding back all day. With brisk determination he scoots forward, plants both palms on the floor in front of him and leans in. Ritsu looks carefully neutral in a way that implies he’s trying very hard to cover up what he might be feeling at the moment.
Without fuss Shou leans in and brushes his lips against Ritsu’s for the second time that day. This time Ritsu doesn’t startle; he just frowns when Shou pulls back like he’s trying to figure out what could have possibly motivated this sudden display of affection.
“Tell me if you want to stop,” he says before diving in again with no resistance.
At first he simply presses his mouth against Ritsu’s, too overwhelmed with the novelty of it all to think much about subtlety or technique; all he knows is that he’s kissing Ritsu and he wants to take full advantage of that. After a moment he realises he has no idea how to kiss someone properly and pulls back slightly to recalculate, pulse racing. When he does Ritsu looks like he’s studying him, dark eyes roaming and lips pulled into a thin line of concentration, all of which makes sense when he leans forward and kisses Shou back, lighter this time.
Ritsu’s lips are feather-light on his, but in a way that’s much better, at least for now; Shou lets him trace the outline of his mouth, learn the shape of his lips so thoroughly it leaves them tingling and wanting for more. It’s still awkward—Ritsu hesitates, their noses brush against each other and sometimes their faces aren’t aligned quite right, but it’s still painfully new and amazing. When Ritsu places a hand on his shoulder, so light at first as to be almost hesitant, Shou goes for his own bold move and lets his tongue slide against Ritsu’s lower lip.
The sound he makes isn’t really what Shou would describe as exciting – actually it sounds more like a barely suppressed yelp – but he doesn’t pull away which Shou decides to interpret as encouraging and plunges his tongue into Ritsu’s mouth with little ceremony. It’s not particularly sexy, or even elegant to be honest; Ritsu’s tongue tastes like curry and Shou isn’t even sure what to do with his now that he got it in, but then there’s the way Ritsu’s hand squeezes his shoulder a little tighter and the slight hitch in his breath—
--and then there’s three knocks on the door that shocks them almost as badly as an electric wire would have. Ritsu jumps back impressively far considering he’s sitting on the floor, but Shou’s powers send him at least two meter into the room on pure reflex.
Mob opens the door without waiting for permission.
“Nii-san!”
“Ritsu, Suzuki-kun—ah,” he says, looking from Ritsu to Shou and taking in their expressions and the considerable space between them, “Did I interrupt something?”
Ritsu, whose face is rapidly turning from sheet-white into an interesting shade of red, doesn’t respond. Mob just nods.
“Sorry. I was just going to tell you that Mum is making popcorn in case you want some,” he says solemnly before closing the door and disappearing as suddenly as he came.
Shou lets out a gust of nervous laughter while Ritsu breathes a sigh of relief before they simultaneously decide to race the other down the stairs.
-
>Are you still visiting next weekend?
yeh why
>We haven’t talked about our families… or. How to say this. How to act in front of them?
>It’s too early for me to tell them.
i get it. itll b fine, well hang out like we always do
>What about in public?
what abt it
>I don’t know. It’s a bit early to tell
yah i understand
bit surprised tho
not like you to care much abt what others think
>Apart from my family… honestly it’s more that it feels like it would be a nuisance
>To have people point and stare in the streets or having to listen to gossip in school because someone saw us
>But I guess that’s pretty much unavoidable, when we’re both guys
hmm yeah ://
itll work out
theres plenty of time to think abt it
-
When Shou wakes up it’s still dark outside, the stars nothing but pinpricks in the cold December sky.
Even with the heavy blanket of the futon he’s shivering, the chilled air seeping into his lungs like it’s trying to make a nest of him. When he fails to fall back asleep again even after curling into a ball and pulling the blanket over his head Shou stands up in frustration. With the blanket pulled around him like a thick and luxurious mantle he pads over the floor of Ritsu’s room, grateful for the grassy green carpet that covers it, and looks out the window.
Outside the night time suburb is a blur of grey and muted yellows, the streetlights doing their best to outshine the stars. From the sky a billion whirling snowflakes are hurling towards the ground only to melt on impact, like tiny white birds lost in a storming sea of concrete.
With the blanket trailing behind him as he pads over to Ritsu’s bed, white as a wedding gown, Shou’s sleep-addled brain mulls over the day that had passed. All the strange and new so closely interwoven with the old and familiar. And Ritsu, always Ritsu, now sleeping peacefully in a bed, looking warm and toasty…
Shou considers pulling the blanket tight around him and falling onto Ritsu’s bed with Ritsu on it, like some kind of attack burrito – it wouldn’t be the first time he’d done that, actually – but apart from the risk of Ritsu having a very loud reaction to being crushed in his sleep even in jest (not all crushing Shou has engaged in has been) he wonders if Ritsu would take it badly now that they’re actually together. Two guys play-tussling in bed was quite different from your boyfriend forcing his way under your blanket, right? Even with honourable (or at least only heat-leeching) intent. They haven’t changed, but the context has.
The more he thinks about it, Shou finds it hard to keep track of what has changed and what hasn’t, what’s only in his head and what actually matters. If any of it does. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to think so much about it if they didn’t have to hide it for now. The idea irks him.
He’s still really, really cold though. And Shou has always prided himself on his good instincts.
So when Ritsu grumbles in sleepy protest as Shou tries to nudge him closer to the wall, having exchanged the attack burrito for a more insidious way of infiltrating foreign territory, he only mumbles something about snow and Ritsu’s cold-ass floor. Ritsu groans but does wiggle closer to the wall to allow Shou to snuggle up next to him. When he’s comfortable Ritsu turns around, throws an arm over his chest and buries his face in Shou’s neck in a way that reminds him of small and furry things.
Shou falls asleep lulled by the sound of Ritsu, his lungs breathing and blood beating, thinking about cold days and colder nights to come.