Chapter Text
“If you keep staring like that, I might start believing you’re capable of feeling attraction.”
You don’t actually, of course. As far as you can tell Chishiya Shuntaro can’t feel anything except the occasional irritation, rare satisfaction or oft shown boredom.
Not that you know him well. You doubt anyone does. The only reason you’re in his room is because of the group project you have to finish together.
You’re often paired up for those. Suspiciously often, given that Chishiya once let it slip you’re one of the very few he tolerates working with.
You don’t mind, even if he might be using his family’s name or something else to make it happen without asking you. He’s a good partner for these. An acquired taste, yes, but you don’t mind the occasional mocking comment. They only happen when you did do something badly or wrong, and, in your opinion, they’re so much better than the preconceived assumptions and downtalking you deal with from some of the other men in your class. Nor do you have to worry about him crossing boundaries.
Like you said, you doubt he can feel attraction. But he has been staring at you often for the past quarter hour, instead of working diligently on his part of the project like he would usually do.
You glance at him when he doesn’t respond. He’a still unashamedly staring at you, chin leaning on the palm of his hand.
Still, you’re sure it’s not attraction. While you can feel the intensity of his eyes on you, they look not too dissimilar from when he’s working on a particularly tough assignment.
Or when he’s calculating the minimal required attendance for a social gathering.
“Chishiya.” You sigh. “Either tell me or work on the project. You’re distracting me.”
“I’m just wondering.” His voice is a low, teasing drawl. “Whether you’d make a good girlfriend.”
That is what causes you to pull away completely from your textbook. For a moment, a wave of heat overwhelms you, but you push it down quickly.
He can’t be serious, can he?
You look at him. He is attractive, you suppose, with his long blond hair, the mole beneath his eye, his oft-worn cheshire smile. But above all, he’s the smartest person you know. You value intelligence.
Don’t.
There’s no way Chishiya is serious. And even if he is, you’d want a boyfriend capable of caring about you. Not one likely treating you as an experiment.
He’s just teasing you. That’s all.
“I wouldn’t be.” You scoff. “I’d be touching you all the time. You’d hate that.”
“That would be a negative.” Chishiya agrees, yet he doesn’t stop his staring, seemingly content to fall into silence again.
You’re sure he’s messing with you. You debate waiting for him to elaborate, but it’s Chishiya. He’d easily win a waiting competition. You desperately want to know the context.
So you don’t bother attempting to wait him out. “Why would you even want a girlfriend?”
“My parents seem to think I should be busy finding a fiancée.” He tells you. “I have no interest in doing so. Still, their attempts at matchmaking are a waste of time and can get… grating.” There’s genuine annoyance in his voice.
Oh. That actually makes sense. Of course he wasn’t actually asking you. He just wants to use your name to pretend. “I thought you didn’t speak with your parents?”
“I don’t generally, no.” The teasing is completely gone from his voice now. “But my presence is expected with them at certain events. The women they introduce me to are tiring.”
“You can tell them my name.” You dismiss as you return to your textbook. “I don’t care.”
You don’t even get to finish reading a single sentence as he says your name in that tone that means you’ve gotten something wrong. At least he’s left the mockery out of it this time. “I don’t just need your name.” Is he asking you to..? “I’d need a little more than that.”
You snicker. “Right. Do you want me to meet your parents? I’m sure they’d love me.” From the little information you have, they sound a bit… traditional.
Just as traditional as your own parents, who’d have seen you become a housewife. They’d disowned you when you choose to study for a field they’d considered solely for men instead. You still remember their pleas to at least consider becoming a nurse over a doctor.
“I consider that a positive.” You’re highly aware of how Chishiya is still intently watching you. “They’d accept you, even if they would’ve preferred someone else. You wouldn’t have to meet them often. They only require my presence at some events roughly every two months.”
You still. You can read between the lines. How long precisely does he want you to pretend to be his girlfriend?
You finally turn completely to face him. “What exactly are you proposing?”
Chishiya still isn’t changing his posture, still doing that arrogant lean on his hand. “For you to be my girlfriend ~♪”
He wants something from you. Why is he still playing with you? “For how long, exactly?”
He shrugs. “Indefinitive.”
Indefinitive. “And why would I go along with that?” You don’t mind him using your name as a shield. But to interact with people like your parents again? For someone who couldn’t care less about your discomfort?
Chishiya doesn’t even pretend that this is anything it is not. “A free two-week vacation to Europe next month. Including necessities and amenities.” Oh? That does sound good. But he means with his family, doesn’t he? And you intended to work during that break. While your grandmother helps you pay for your studies against your family’s will or knowledge, you’re still a medical student in Tokyo. You need that money.
“I’ll give you the salary you would’ve earned on top.” Chishiya likely senses your hesitation.
“You want me to go on vacation with you, as your girlfriend.” You check. “With your family, who’ll spend the duration hiding insults behind gilded words. You’ll pay me, sure. I’d do that. But Indefinitive?”
“Correct.” He finally lifts his head from his hand. “As for indefinitive, will my guest bedroom do?”
That catches you by surprise. “Your guest bedroom?”
“I’m well aware of the hours you work to keep up with rent.” He tells you. While he has never complained about it, you’ve seen the irritation in his eyes whenever he’s tried to fit working on the projects together into his schedule, just to be halted again and again by your working hours. “If you agree to this, indefinitively, you can have my guest room. No rent. The only cost would be the utilities you use.”
You gape at him. No rent? In one of the higher-end neighbourhoods of Tokyo? You could work a lot less hours. Hours you can spend on your studies, with your friends, or just on yourself.
All for the price of pretending to be Chishiya Shuntaro’s girlfriend.
You can’t say no. It’d be downright idiotic to say no. Even if he is exactly who your parents would’ve wanted for you. And yes, you’re aware that this is conveniently something that would sell the relationship even better. That it furthens Chishiya’s goal. But that doesn’t change- No rent.
Chishiya seems to know he’s won you over, leaning his chin on his hand again with that smug smirk of his, and for a spiteful moment you feel the urge to reject him just for the sake of it.
You don’t, of course. You swallow your pride away. You don’t want him to change his mind. “Fine. Yes. I can pretend to be your girlfriend. Indefinitely. But I want a paper contract for the living agreement.”
You really wish you could get that smug look off his face as he lifts his textbook to slide the papers beneath it towards you.
A rental agreement. Except you won’t have to pay rent, just the utilities. And, the reason you’d insisted on a contract, he’ll have to give you an eviction notice a month in advance, following Tokyo’s laws.
You read over it. And again. But truly, it’s frighteningly simple. No room for loopholes, no room for anything nefarious.
You sign your name on the bottom of the page, and Chishiya’s hand brushes against yours as he takes the paper back, signing his own name in clean, lazy strokes.
But you do want to be spiteful. Just a little bit. So you copy his earlier posture, put up a sweet smile, and say: “So Shuntaro, any rules?”
He actually stiffens for a moment at the sound of his given name, and that reaction makes it worth it. He glances at you without moving his head. “Only use that name when we’re around my parents.” He tells you, an odd note in his voice. It’s gone when the two of you start to lay down some ground rules.
When you accepted his proposition, you hadn’t expected him to take you shopping for clothes on his card. But you understand why. You’re going on a vacation with his parents, and while your family name is enough for them to overlook what they consider less desirable traits, you do have to meet the minimal barrier to come across a certain way for them to accept you, and to stop bothering Chishiya.
Luckily, it’s Chishiya who you’re pretending with. He doesn’t care what clothes you choose, as long as they’re expensive enough for his parents and look put together. He even encourages going for comfortable clothes, as he does spitefully like the idea of doing the bare minimum to please his parents. Besides, you wouldn’t look off in them next to Chishiya, who is often seen in hooded jackets and sweatpants.
He does offer critique in that dry voice of his, but for once keeps the mocking out of it. You like the way his attention is on you, as he slowly appraises each outfit, bored as ever but still taking a moment to look you over. You like most that it doesn’t feel objectifying. Even when he has you trying bikinis, his eyes don’t linger on inappropriate places.
Even with his comment on comfortable clothes, you make sure to get a variety of options. Chishiya is paying anyway, and there’s a different standard of clothing is expected of women than for men. More of the pieces are white than you would’ve chosen without him, but you tell him that matching isn’t a bad idea.
It doesn’t have anything to do with the way his gaze would linger just the slightest longer whenever you tried on something white. So he can appreciate some things.
As expected, you hate the vacation.
That’s not entirely fair. The vacation itself is beautiful. But you hate Chishiya’s parents.
That, you expected. You’d mentally prepared yourself to have to deal with two people like them again for two weeks, all while keeping up a smile they could interpret as sweet.
What you hadn’t expected was how Chishiya would change.
You know him as sarcastic. He often has commentary on a lot of things, and doesn’t shy away from telling you those.
But in his parents' presence? He’s completely silent.
You hadn’t expected to hate his silence. You, acting the perfect girlfriend with no rent repeating in the back of your head, try to keep up polite conversation with his parents, but you quickly find out what’s likely at least one reason Chishiya doesn’t bother.
His parents’ don’t bother either.
The responses you get are short, dismissive. When they do talk, you wonder if they think you’re too stupid to catch the hidden insults. You’re not.
You’re surprised to find yourself more focussed on worrying about Chishiya than the old, familiar, hated feeling of being pushed into someone you’re not.
So you make sure to take him to the Louvre the moment you get him away from his parents when you arrive in Paris. He’d mentioned the museum beforehand, apparently having been there before as a kid, casual as ever to show how much he doesn’t care, but he’d mentioned it anyway. You know Chishiya well enough to know that that means something.
And it works. He actually talks again. Even if that normal note of amusement is still missing, he surprises you by knowing what he’s talking about as he guides you past painting after painting. You never expected him to know anything about art.
Maybe you’ve been wrong about him, haven’t you? You watch his face as he looks up at the Mona Lisa, your lower back still tingling where he’d put his hand to prevent you from walking past the long line like you’d intended once you saw it.
He’s actually moved by it.
“There’s a theory that she was actually da Vinci in disguise.” His voice feels genuine as he tells you. “That he just wanted to be seen.”
Does Chishiya want to be seen, too?
You resolve to try a little bit harder from now on, instead of simply assuming he does not care at all.
“He’s being seen now.” You tell him, your gaze still on him instead of the painting.
That finally makes his eyes move from the painting to yours. “He’s been dead for centuries. It doesn’t matter to him now.”
You were trying to be sweet. Leave it to Chishiya to be pedantic. “Maybe I wasn’t talking about him.”
Chishiya’s eyes narrow. For a long second, he says nothing at all. Then he tears his eyes away from you, back at the painting, and his voice is ice cold as he says: “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
Too late. However short, he has let you see past his walls. You feel yourself eager for more.
You’d known you’d have to share a bed weeks ago, but neither of you mind. You’re doctors in training. Bodies are bodies.
This night however, it feels different.
To you. Chishiya is laying on his back, sleeping peacefully, the sleep making his face serene in a way it’s never when he’s awake.
You’re on your side, watching him, wondering. Before all of this started, you’d truly assumed there was something wrong with him. Maybe there still is. But he’s clearly capable of deeper emotions than you’d thought, given his reaction to his parents’ proximity. To the Mona Lisa.
So where does that leave you?
When talking about the conditions of this relationship, you’d talked about not dating anyone else, no one-night stands and to keep up the pretence even at school where his parents have connections who’d tell them if you’d go around claiming you were single.
He hadn’t once brought up feelings.
You hadn’t either. Why would you have? You’d been certain he couldn’t get them, and that’d assured you you wouldn’t be stupid enough to fall for him either.
When you’d asked him why you, you’d seen his answer as proving your point. “You’re tolerable.”
It could be that that’s it. That you’re just tolerable in a world he finds most people grating. That that’s why he searches you out.
Because that’s it, isn’t it? He does search you out.
You still don’t have proof he’s the reason why you’re always paired up together, but you just know. You know he has no qualms with a tad of manipulation to bend situations to his will. Especially as a few months back, you’d been assigned with someone else. Only for a day later for your teacher to approach you, tell you that there’d been a change, and that your partner was changed to Chishiya.
He always sits alone during breaks, and you’ve seen him turn people away multiple times. But he’s never turned you away. Before you pretended to date him, you’d only sometimes sit with him when you wanted to discuss something about whatever project you were working on. You’d assumed that was the reason.
It might still be. You might definitely be overthinking this.
But he’s letting you live with him. Sure, it’s great for the optics that you’re actually together and serious about it, but still. You’ve noticed this past month that having his private space does matter to him. That he does need some private time daily. Yet he’d willingly suggested you’d be an indefinite intrusion to that. Surely there could’ve been other ways to convince you to pretend to be his girlfriend?
He wants to be seen.
You want to try.
Carefully, beneath the blanket, you place your hand over his. The skin contact is pleasant, and you feel yourself relaxing. His face doesn’t give a sign of waking up.
If he does, you’ll claim you must’ve done so in your sleep. You feel content as you finally let sleep take you.
It’s with disappointment that you wake up to a cold hand, even if Chishiya is still in bed with you.
You really do hate his parents. The rest of the vacation is spent in their proximity, and Chishiya is clearly worse off for it. You are too. Their high-up attitude and expected traditions just remind you too much of your own parents.
You stood up against your own parents. You wish you could stand up against Chishiya’s.
No rent, you remind yourself. And you find yourself wanting to be here for Chishiya. It should be his choice to stand up against them, you’d likely only make it worse. Besides, you are deceiving them. That helps you spitefully keep up the act. So you sweetly call him Shuntaro, remain polite to his parents and make sure to keep your mouth closed with all the insults you want to shoot back at them.
Still, sometimes you get close. But whenever that happens, Chishiya moves his hand to your knee beneath the table, or your lower back or arm if you’re standing.
It calms you down each time, as you take a deep breath and remind yourself that you’re not alone, even if that’s likely not the message Chishiya intends. It’s just for two weeks, you remind yourself. You remember the hours of extra time you’ve had this last month, and will continue to have indefinitely.
Still, once you’re on the taxi home, away from his parents, you tell him in a voice that leaves no room for arguments: “I won’t be joining you on vacation with them again.”
“There won’t be any need.” Chishiya reacts after a moment in a tired voice. “They believe we’re together now. I wasn’t aware you’d have such trouble with them.”
“Of course you weren’t. I don’t talk about my issues, and you don’t ask.” You’re not in the mood to go into it now, after these two weeks and a long day of traveling.
Chishiya, either sensing that or just not caring, remains silent.
You’re glad when he quickly reverses to his old self the following days, even if his walls don’t get as low as when he stood in front of the Mona Lisa.
Things don’t really change that much between the two of you. Sure, you dine together, sure, you play the occasional boardgame together (always initiated by you). You even manage once to get him to watch a single episode of a medical show, badly hiding your mirth at his clear annoyance of the medical inaccuracies.
But he doesn’t let you close. His boyfriend label does seem to be solely performative, as he only acts on it in public, standing closer to you, sometimes resting his hand on whatever body part of yours is convenient.
You find yourself enjoying it when he touches you, however clinical. But maybe you’re just touch starved.
Roughly seven months after the vacation, you’re curled up on the couch beneath a blanket when Chishiya drops a ring on the novel you’re reading.
It’s clearly an expensive ring, the band exactly in your style, with a small stone. Is that a diamond?
Wait.
Chishiya is already halfway across the room when you stop him. “Chishiya! Did you just drop an engagement ring in my lap?”
He just turns his head around, clearly amused. “Yes.”
You grab your bookmark so you can put your book aside, and sit up, your heart pounding in your chest. “You can’t just drop an engagement ring on me and not elaborate.”
He walks back to the couch, leaning against the back of it. “It’s an engagement ring. I thought it was quite clear.”
He has to be joking. Except you know him well enough to know he isn’t. “I agreed to being your girlfriend.” You remind him. “Not marriage.”
The expression on his face is so smug, and you feel the urge to remove it. Your first instinct is to kiss it away, but you quickly squash that thought. Even if the look on his face would be so worth it.
“I’m not asking you to marry me. I’m just… changing our status.” You’re about to open your mouth again, when he continues. “Is being a fiancée truly so different from being a girlfriend? We’d only need to plan the marriage after we’ve gained our doctorates, and by then you can stage whatever dramatic break-up you’ve been planning.”
He does know you well. You have sometimes daydreamed about how you’d break up with him, amusing yourself with making it ridiculous. But the daydreams always had a bitter undertone. Even with the distance between you two, you enjoy this. Living with him. Those precious few touches in public. Being able to ask for his opinion. Him.
But still, the engagement ring came out of nowhere. You have a feeling why. “Are your parents pressuring you?”
“Hmm.” He confirms, and you’ve learned him well enough to recognise that miniscule stiffening in his smirk.
“You know I dislike your parents.” You sigh, holding the ring up to properly look at it.
It is beautiful. Very beautiful. Exactly your taste. You try it on. It fits perfectly. You hold your hand in front of you, admiring how it looks on you.
Damn it.
“I get to keep the ring.” You barter.
“Naturally.” There’s that air of satisfaction that he often has when he knows he’s gotten what he wanted. And really, he’s right, isn’t he? What is the difference between pretending to be his girlfriend or his fiancée?
Your parents will love this.
Your smile falls, and immediately Chishiya’s eyes narrow.
Chishiya is a competent future doctor from an old family. Exactly the kind of man they’d hoped to sell you off to.
You wouldn’t actually marry him. You remind yourself. They’d hate the break-up, especially if you make it public.
You shouldn’t keep your parents’ wishes in mind when living your life. “I want a public break-up.” You murmur, quieter than you intended.
Chishiya stays silent for a moment, his eyes still narrow, before simply nodding. “Okay.”
He doesn’t say anything else, but he does sit down on the opposite end of the couch instead of heading to his room like he did earlier. And that evening he silently orders your favourite food, even including that one drink you like so much.
You were right. Your parents love the news. You notice Chishiya is acting off when he returns home from the rare dinner with his parents, his cold eyes immediately finding your figure.
You assume it’s the coldness that always hangs around him when he has to deal with his parents, except he, his voice carefully nonchalant, tells you: “Your parents were present.”
You freeze.
“I’m expected to bring you back in line.” His voice sounds far off.
How… you cut them off. They disinherited you. They shouldn’t… You weren’t supposed to have to deal with them anymore.
You flinch when someone places their hand on your shoulder. It takes you a moment to recognise it as Chishiya’s.
It’s the first time he’s initiated touch in private. Normally, you’d be elated.
“Don’t be like that.” His voice is low, and there is something in his eyes you don’t recognise. “I called them pathetic.”
You blink, repeating his words in your head to make sure you understood them correctly. “You… called my parents pathetic? In front of your own?”
Chishiya, who has always been a shadow of himself whenever he’s in his parents’ presence, nods. “I did. They are quite pathetic. Their daughter is doing quite well in a study considered highly competitive by many, yet they seem to insist on a ridiculous notion of molding you small.”
He called your parents pathetic. In front of his own. A soft smile graces your lips. Then you imagine what their faces must’ve looked like and a chuckle escapes your mouth. You lean your forehead down against his shoulder, ignoring how that makes him stiffen. But he doesn’t push you away.
Isn’t that, this, proof that he does care?
“Thank you.” You tell him softly. And, miraculously, he unstiffens.
Beep- beep- beep-
The sound is irritating you as it tries to disturb your slumber. But it’s oddly familiar, nagging at the clinical corner in your head.
Beep- beep- beep-
A heartbeat monitor. The recognition startles you further into awareness, but your body still feels off. Sluggish. An effect you know too well from your time shadowing doctors, observing drugged up patients.
You’re in a hospital.
There’s a dull ache coming from your shoulder and abdomen. That’s…
What happened?
Is Chishiya alright?
It takes a bit for you to manage to open your eyes, but you shut them close immediately as a reflex to the harsh hospital lights.
Within moments, something is pressed against your neck, at your pulsepoint. This time you manage to keep your eyes open.
The silhouette slowly comes into focus, until you can see Chishiya standing over you, and you realise he’s feeling your pulse, as if the heartbeat monitor doesn’t do so for him.
“You’re an absolute idiot.” But against his harsh words, you can see actual concern in his eyes. Relief, too.
Maybe it’s the drugs you know you must be on that are making you focus on the wrong priority. But you don’t think about what could’ve happened, or about whatever injuries you must have. You’re just happy to finally have undeniable proof that he cares.
The next time you remember waking up, Chishiya’s there again. You watch as he idly reads through the newspaper, before attempting his name.
It comes more out like a soft croak, but it grabs his attention immediately. He doesn’t even finish his paragraph the way he normally would as he lays the newspaper aside.
You try his name again. This time, it comes out somewhat audible.
“Yes. I’m indeed here.” You’re glad to hear the sarcasm in his voice. That means you can’t be off too badly, right?
“Are you alright?” You manage to get the words out, although they’re still quiet.
“Idiot.” His eyes narrow. “You’re hospitalised and your concern is on me? I’m clearly fine.”
Good. Now that you know he’s alright, you ask: “What’s my condition?”
To your surprise, he doesn’t go into your medical details. “You should be alright. All your vitals point towards a steady recovery.”
“Chishiya Shuntaro.” You scold.
“You can get the specifics once you can reach your file at the end of your bed.” Chishiya tells you mercilessly. “You’re the patient now.”
“At least tell me what happened.”
He cocks his head, an odd look in his eyes. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
What is the last thing you remember?
You’d been on your commute to the hospital with Chishiya. And then… what?
Fireworks.
And a distinct feeling of loneliness.
“Fireworks.” Chishiya muses. “I suppose that’s a logical way for a brain to comprehend the trauma of a meteorite. But I can assure you you weren’t alone.”
That… that doesn’t feel right, does it?
“But-”
You’re sharply cut off by Chishiya using your given name. “You idiotically pushed me out of the way of falling debris, and managed to get yourself pierced by rebar in the process. I didn’t have any of the equipment with me I needed to treat that. You’re lucky your heart only stopped when the emergency services arrived. What were you thinking?”
Oh.
Your heart stopped? When he was trying to keep you alive?
“I’m glad I did.” You smile at him. “You’re unhurt, and you said I should be fine.”
“63 seconds.” Chishiya tells you, scolding as he stretches out the syllables. “It’s too early to tell whether that will have lasting consequences. Don’t do that again.”
That’s a long time. Yet you frown. “I missed you.”
Chishiya looks contemplative. “When?”
One of the advantages of being engaged to Chishiya is that, due to who his parents are, you’re being cared for by the hospital’s top doctors, even with how the hospital is overflowing.
Chishiya is with you a lot, ignoring visiting hours by using his parents’ names. You like how he keeps a hawk’s eye on you. You have this giddy smile on your face when, the first time you’re allowed out of your bed to make for the cafetaria, he takes his hand in yours, keeping his fingers firmly on your wrist to keep track of your pulse.
There’s a deck of cards laying one of the tables, and Chishiya picks it up, intending to entertain the both of you. But as he deals the cards and you look at your hand, you freeze.
Queen of Diamonds. You remember a puzzle, and you remember debilitating pain as you choose to be shot.
You don’t realise that you’re trembling, your breath coming in quick gasps, until Chishiya is in front of you, signaling a nearby nurse as he looks you over.
The second, lethal, shot hadn’t been voluntary, and that memory is so much worse.
But that wasn’t what happened, was it? It was a meteorite. You were hit by debris when you pushed Chishiya out of the way.
Yet that’s not what you remember.
When you tell Chishiya, he makes you get a brain scan. It’s not that he doesn’t believe you, you can tell he does, but he’s been overly cautious with you ever since your hospitalisation. Which you love, even if you have to remind him you’re just as far in your medical studies as he is.
The brain scan doesn’t reveal anything abnormal.
You’re released earlier from the hospital than either you or Chishiya would like, but it was inevitable with how overwhelming their current load is.
Chishiya makes you sit down on the couch the moment you get home, checking your vitals as if the ride home would’ve been enough to set you back. You don’t mind. You like how he fusses over you. You like the inevitable touches that come with checking your vitals.
You like how, that evening, he follows you into your bedroom. When you lift your eyebrows at him, he meets your eyes calmly. “I’m not letting you out of sight. I’m keeping you close enough that I can check your pulse regularly.”
He joins you in your bed shamelessly. You’re pondering how you can make this a permanent change.
You listen as Chishiya’s breathing slowly evens out, before sneaking your hand onto his again. You acted too soon, as he shifts his head to look at you with an amused smirk on his face, but instead of pulling away, he moves closer, pressing himself against your side and wrapping his arm around you, carefully avoiding your wounds, so his hand can rest on the pulsepoint of your neck.
He might not let you move your body, but you can still shift your head so the lower half of your face is buried into his hair. “I really did miss you.”
This time, Chishiya only reacts with your name. Your given name. “Sleep well.”
When you wake up in the morning, he’s still in the same position.
The following days, Chishiya initiates touch often. It’s always the same touches, his fingers lingering on your neck, your wrist or the inside of your elbow so he can feel a few beats of your heart.
As he initiates touch, even if it’s just to feel your vitals, you reason he might let you as well.
When he’s indulging you by watching the medical show you’re fond of, especially with his added commentary, you, hopefully nonchalantly, lean against him. When you don’t get an immediate reaction, you rest your head on his shoulder.
He doesn’t push you away. Instead, his hand finds yours, his thumb pressing on your wrist.
You barely pay attention to the rest of the episode, too busy enjoying how he feels against you. You do still listen to his scathing words, but you could swear that they’ve grown softer.
You initiate touch more often after that. He’s yet to push you away.
Something else that delights you is that he’s started to use your given name, even more when you call him Shuntaro in a normal voice that doesn’t betray the pounding of your heart, and he doesn’t correct you.
You’re over the moon. You’re over the moon that he keeps sleeping in your bed each night, you’re over the moon that casual touch and given names have become a thing between the two of you. You’re over the moon that he’s acting like he’s actually your fiancé.
Even the nightmares or the bouts of lingering pain don’t distract from that.
A week after you’ve been released from the hospital, you’re reading on the couch with your head on Chishiya’s lap, his hand resting on the nape of your neck.
What’s new is that he’s slowly rubbing his thumb in circles on your skin, leaving you content, but somewhat wary as to what he’s buttering you up for.
His tone is nonchalant as he starts to talk. “My parents want to move the wedding closer after the recent events. They suggested the coming spring.”
You freeze. The wedding. Right.
You were supposed to stage a public break-up once wedding planning started, weren’t you?
You don’t want to. You really, really, don’t want to. Chishiya, Shuntaro, has finally opened up. He’s finally letting you see him. You love living with him. You love this. You love him.
You look up at his face, only to find it frustratingly neutral as he looks down at you, not stopping the tantalising slow strokes of his thumb.
“I was thinking we should elope instead.” He muses. “I’m not particularly interested in the theatrics of a wedding, nor am I concerned about entertaining either of our families.”
Eloping. Oh.
He doesn’t want to lose you either.
Your voice has a slight tremor as you answer. “Eloping sounds good, but I do want a honeymoon. Just the two of us.”
“Not while you’re still healing.” His answer is immediate. “A vacation is too strenuous for you right now. We can take one next summer.”
A gentle smile graces your lips, and you bring up your hand to cup his cheek, reverently dancing your fingers across his skin. He leans into your touch. “So we’re not following the plan?” You need to ask.
“Tch.” He clicks his tongue. “Obviously not. That plan is ridiculous. I told you I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
Your smile widens, and finally his blank expression breaks as his eyes soften. “I thought you were right, back then, when you told me I was incapable of feeling attraction. But you’ve proven both of us wrong. You’re enthralling.”
His parents are furious that you eloped, but you’re so glad it seems that Chishiya doesn’t care. Even more when he starts to ignore their summons. You don’t know how yours feel about it, and you don’t attempt to find out. Your grandmother is delighted for you, and that’s all that matters.
You’re preoccupied by the wave of happiness that overwhelms you each time you’re reminded of the ring on your finger.
Chishiya is happy too. He doesn’t show it as clearly as you do, but you catch him watching you with that soft look on his face often. You tease him about staring at you, but really, you love it.
He stills when you call him your family, but his following expression is the softest you’ve seen it yet.
You mean it. The ring on your fingers prove it. There’s this warm feeling of homecoming whenever you’re around him. Just how you’ve always imagined family should feel like.