HOME | DD

Description

There wasn’t really anything more unpleasant than instances where the weather abstained from reflecting the inner turmoil of your heart - nothing you could be bothered to think up, at least. Because it was satisfying, in a cumbersome way, when the sky was dark, dreary and rumbling with the onset of rain. The aroma, the sound, and the sight all built an ambience that drove home the feeling that yes, it really was all right to be upset; to be mad and devastated and disgusted. Maybe that’s why you kept a stiff upper lip, because you knew that stormy weather was nowhere to be seen. And when it was absent in such circumstances, it was an ambiguous sign that life wouldn’t stop for you to mope about. You simply had to breathe in the pain and hope that it wouldn’t dissolve you from the inside out like a poisonous gas.
After your part time job released you for the afternoon, it was almost instinct that had your feet leading you towards Bar HOMRA. You were worrying your bottom lip when you noticed the establishment was particularly stark considering the time of day. It should have been full of rambunctious laughter, from members and guests alike. But you could see the atmosphere was somber, even before you opened the door. There was chatter, but not the usual amount by any means. A few men looked up to greet you as you closed the door behind you, and you waved with a nonchalant smile. Not everyone was there, but that wasn’t unusual. But there was one specific person who was absent, and the atmosphere was all the more stifling because of it.
Anna was at the bar, as per usual, with Izumo tending to both her and Tatara with a few plates of food. It was a bit early for dinner, in your opinion. But Anna was a young girl who didn’t find it too worthwhile to stay up as late as you might, so you supposed an early meal was understandable. And Tatara being the kindhearted man he was joined her for dinner so she wouldn’t feel lonely. Whether or not she would feel lonely anyway was another matter entirely, but you knew she appreciated the sentiment regardless.
“[Name], it’s nice to see you. The usual?” Izumo asked, setting down cutlery for Anna and Tatara. You nodded, taking a seat beside Anna and putting a handful of notes and coins on the countertop. Izumo set a glass of chilled water onto the coaster before you, something for you to sip on while he concocted your mocktail.
“Has the pipsqueak made an appearance today?” You asked. You noticed Anna look up at you out of the corner of your eye, the prongs of the fork still pressed between her lips. You smiled, gently placing a hand on her back, “Not you, sweetie. Sorry to confuse you.”
She murmured quietly, almost inaudibly, and went back to eating, undeterred by your response. Tatara hummed at the interaction, chuckling at Anna’s moment of misunderstanding. You sipped on the short glass as Izumo returned from acquiring the cordials for your drink.
“Sorry to say he’s already left for the day.” Izumo answered your question, scooting the simple, fruity beverage across the bar and towards you once he had garnished the drink with a sprig of mint. You took a sip from the straw and Izumo retrieved the nearly empty glass of water.
“I wish he’d stick around for longer. He knows I can’t leave work any earlier than this, right?” You sighed, resting your cheekbone on the heel of your hand.
“I wouldn’t worry too much, [Name]. He and Fushimi have been best friends for years. It’s not going to be an instant recovery. I’m surprised Yata’s coming in at all, considering it’s only been a few days.”
“I… I know, but that’s why I’m apprehensive, y’know? Fushimi’s been his longest standing support. I can only imagine how heartbroken he must be. Those two are - were like brothers, and Fushimi wasn’t sensitive about breaking the news either. I just wish I could… I don’t know. I just want to talk to him, to see for myself that he’s all right.”
Your pearly eyes were too focussed on the chipped ice bobbing in the glass before you to observe the subtle communication between Izumo and Tatara. Your lips were pinching the straw absentmindedly when Tatara spoke up, leaning on the bar and around Anna to speak to you directly.
“If you’re so worried, there’s nothing stopping you from paying him a visit.”
Your eyebrows elevated at the comment, and the flattened straw slipped from your lips, “I don’t know about that. I’m not, you know, as close to him as you all are. Being female and his senior by a couple years… Yata takes that pretty seriously. I think showing up unannounced would be a bad idea.”
Tatara turned his head to the side, a gush of air pushing past his lips. The equestrian-like noise startled Anna, her eyes widening to stare at Tatara’s strange display of amusement in contemplation.
“I’m serious!” You insisted. “I’m the least qualified here to cheer him up. As much as I want to visit, I just can’t. I’ll probably end up inadvertently chasing him out of his own home!”
Tatara only moved his disbelief to laughter, turning even further away to mask it. A vexed huff clawed out from the back of your throat, and you slurped up the rest of your drink in remarkable haste. Izumo’s lips twitched into a smile, “[Name], I think Tatara’s words have some weight to them. If you want to go see Yata for yourself, then I think it’s best you do.”
You plucked the straw from your empty glass and grinded it between your teeth, ‘Well, if Izumo’s insisting, then going to check up on Yata is a good idea. Right? Perhaps I should get something on the way to cheer him up. Then I’d actually have an excuse to show up out of nowhere. Would some food do? Maybe a box of candy – oh! Chocolates, everybody loves chocolates. Wait, no, chocolates are romantic and lovey-dovey. Where did that come from? Yeesh, that would be a disaster. In that case, let’s go for something that doesn’t involve food. Does he have a videogame he’s been wanting to play? Who am I kidding, of course he does. Has he already tried the triple ‘A’ FPS that released last week or-?’
“Woah, [Name], you’re going to turn that straw into dust if you’re not careful.”
Tatara’s interjection yanked you from your thoughts, and you realised the straw had been pulverised to the point where it was split in two separate places. You chuckled as you stood, looking for the closest rubbish bin to throw it in.
“Right. Well, I’m sure the last thing Yata needs at the moment is me fretting over him. I’ll come back and check if he’s here on Saturday morning, or somethin’.”
You bowed your head, verbally thanking Izumo for the drink. A tiny tap on your arm stopped you just before the skin of your palm made contact with the doorknob. Anna’s crimson eyes reflected the overhanging lights as she peered up from her position closer to the ground. You humorously noted that she didn’t even seem as if she was looking at you, it was more like her pupils were focussing on a point beyond you.
“What is it, Anna?”
“He wants to see you, but doesn’t know how. Not like this.”
Your previous spell of mirth was immediately disposed of in a tub of ice. You crouched to see her better, resting your elbows on your knees to keep steady. “You mean Yata?”
“Mm.”
“But why me?”
Anna stepped closer, resting her hands on either side of your face, her eyes squinting, “It’s not for me to say.”
You sighed, taking her wrists and gently pushing her hands away, “So you think I should go, too?”
Anna gave a definitive nod, “Yes. Yata will feel better. And you will feel better as well.”
That was out of the blue. You didn’t see any reason as to why- oh. Oh.
“You cheeky little devil. You knew all along.”
Anna didn’t give much of a response to your wry accusation, merely lowering her eyes before scuttling back to her dinner. You stood back up, nodding once more to Izumo and Tatara, who had been quietly observing your encounter with Anna. Had they known, too? Possibly – probably - but it wasn’t anything you should dwell upon. You had someone to surprise with a visit.

|| - + - ||

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. The night air was prickly against your skin, and you scratched the patch underneath your right ear, your left hand preoccupied with holding the flimsy plastic bag. Yata’s apartment was on the third floor, if you remembered correctly. Unfortunately for you, that meant a lot of stairs to climb. The grocery bag was full of what you assumed would be comfort food. You didn’t usually buy junk food for anyone other than yourself, so you weren’t sure if they would be too sweet for someone like Yata. A cold block of frozen sediment settled in the pit of your stomach after reaching the intended level of the building. You wished you weren’t so finicky about it. Just knock on the door, hand over the sweets and wish him well. Then leave. Done and dusted. But there you were, settling for leaning on the railing adjacent to the front door. If you really wanted to, you could leave right there and have the food all to yourself. It would do well to ease your self-pity.
The sudden clatter of glass shattering somewhere beyond the door made you jump upright. You could hear a warped, short string of profane words quickly following the abrupt sound. You donned a bitter smile, ‘Looks like Yata’s home after all. Gah, what am I even thinking. As if my bashfulness is more important than what he’s going through. Suck it up, [Name].’
Pushing yourself up and away from the railing, you quickly rapped the back of your fist on the door. It was quiet for a time, and you knocked again, lips parting to announce your presence.
“No one’s here. Go the fuck away.” Hearing Yata’s voice so lacking was unsettling. From the sound of it, he wasn’t anywhere near the door. You could guess he hadn’t bothered to look through the peephole to see who was knocking in the first place.
“Yata, it’s [Name]. I, uh… I haven’t seen you for a few days. I thought I’d drop by and see how you were holding up.”
He didn’t answer right away. You didn’t know if he even would, and understandably so. The muscles in your neck became lax as your head tilted so you could watch the stars ever so slowly fade in and out of the sky. Your face felt unabashedly warm as thoughts of apprehension ran rampant in your mind. In a last ditch effort to tempt Homra’s vanguard out of his solitude, you mentioned your ace.
“I brought a bunch of snacks with me.” You shook the plastic bag to make a noise, “I don’t know your favourite, so I bought whatever I thought was interesting hoping you’d like at least some of them. Maybe we can watch a movie or play a game while we eat. Or I can just drop them off and go, if you prefer.”
There wasn’t any indication Yata had even heard you. Your eyelids slid shut, and the heat radiating from your skin intensified by what you thought was tenfold, at least. You were about to leave the bag by the door and make a run for the hills before the deadbolt began rattling. Slowly - as if he were frightened that moving too quickly would reveal the balcony to be empty - Yata opened the door, tired eyes watching your face give way to relief.
“Hi.” You spoke airily, almost in a whisper.
“Hey.” He was still half hidden by the door, but you could see his face clearly enough to notice the sincerity behind his greeting, if his withdrawn smile was anything to go by. “Sorry about… you know.”
“It’s fine. You didn’t know it was me.”
Yata nodded, heaving a sigh and turning to look back into the apartment. At what, you didn’t know, but he quickly returned his attention to you. “C-could you do me a favour?”
“Of course. What’s wrong?”
“I accidentally cut myself while cleaning up some glass. Trying to wrap a ba-bandage with one hand isn’t easy.”
Your brows pulled together, and you asked him to show you the injury when you had removed your shoes and placed the bag down by the inside of the entrance. Once Yata had closed and locked the door, he told you to follow him into the kitchen, but to watch your step. There was a good chance he had missed some shards, and he’d be upset if you were to step on some. A rather pathetic excuse for a first-aid kit was on the kitchen counter, an open tube of antibiotic cream and a partially bloodied bandage strewn beside it. You instructed Yata to hold out his hand, and a decent amount of cuts littered his palm, ranging from a few millimetres to centimetres. You shook your head with a chuckle, reaching for your phone to Google how to treat small cuts.
Yata didn’t seem too pleased with your laughter, “What’s so funny?”
“You are. You grabbed a handful of glass while you were still angry, didn’t you?”
Yata snorted, “Wasn’t my smartest decision today.”
You asked for permission to take his hand, and Yata begrudgingly complied. You knew it wasn’t easy for him to ask for help in most circumstances, but having to ask you in particular would make it even more difficult. Following the instructions from the webpage you had landed on, you pressed a clean dish rag from the kitchen to his palm and held it up at eyelevel.
“This’ll help stop the bleeding. Then we can put the antibiotic cream on and wrap it up.”
Yata took to resting his elbow on the counter, his joint at a ninety-degree angle to keep it elevated as per your instruction. You continued to keep the wounds under pressure until the bleeding subsided.
“Why are you here?”
You spared Yata a glance before peeling back the cloth, seeing that the cuts had finally begun to scab. Thankfully they weren’t too wide, so the pressure had done wonders to hasten the scabbing. “I was worried - I won’t say why, since we both already know – and I hadn’t seen you for a few days. Izumo and Tatara told me that you had been to the bar a few times, but not for long, so I decided I’d come and say hello. See how you’re doing and all that.”
Yata wasn’t too sure how to feel when your fingertips ghosted over his forearm, pushing so that it rested flat on the counter. You were being so tender and paying him so much attention that it was unnerving him beyond his usual unsteadiness when in the presence of a female around his age. His heart was thrumming, and his throat felt like he had eaten wads of cotton. But the unusual thing was that instead possessing the need to flee like he usually would, he felt exhilarated. Yata didn’t want to move an inch from where he was right then, with you.
“But why? I-I mean, you and me, we don’t really… I mean, I only ever see you at the bar.”
You could easily understand what he was implying, “I spend a lot of time at the bar, just like you. I know I’m no member of the gang, but I enjoy everyone’s company. So I consider you a good friend, and I care about you a whole lot.”
Once you had spread the antibiotic cream thin across his cuts, you began wrapping Yata’s hand with a clean bandage from the one he had already attempted to use. You were tempted to laugh at Yata’s desperate huff of irritation.
“But you showed up after dark with a bag of snacks. I’ve been trying to keep away from everyone, I haven’t felt up to seeing them. But I knew that if I just stayed home the whole time they’d come find me anyway! So I went to let them know I was- I’m okay, I don’t need any help. And they were okay with that. But you- you fuckin’ show up with a bag of chips and candy and- and- damn it! What’d I do wrong!?”
The second you had finished pinning the bandage, Yata snatched his hand away so he could hide with his back to you. He was hunched over, his shoulders shook, and he was utterly vulnerable. The sight wrought havoc in your chest.
“Just leave, yeah!? I don’t need you seein’ this.”
Yata’s demand was broken and weaved with hushed sobs. You shook your head. Though he couldn’t see it, you were trying to keep yourself from crying as well. Yata began to move away from you, but you were faster. You grabbed onto his shoulders, pulling yourself towards him and securely wrapping your arms around his torso, enveloping him in what you hoped was a comforting hug. You weren’t sure what else you could do.
“What Fushimi did was wrong, Yata. He didn’t tell you what he was feeling, and there’s no way of knowing exactly why he did what he did. You’re no mind reader, Yata.”
“But he was my best friend! I should have known something was wrong!”
“You can’t keep tabs on everyone. You were busy with making new friends and got caught up with life. It happens to everyone. If Fushimi really wanted to reconcile with you, he’d have tried. I don’t think you could have done anything to change his mind if he didn’t come to you first, Yata.”
To your surprise, Yata loosened your arms only to turn and bury his head in your neck so quickly you had no chance to see his face. You supposed that was why he was so hasty about it. His arms snaked around your ribcage so tightly you could feel your lungs compress the slightest bit. He cried, and you rubbed his back in circles, hoping to soothe him in some way. But you knew that Yata needed this, he needed someone to be there for him when Fushimi no longer was. That would have taken a toll on Yata, thinking that he’d been stripped of that emotional support of having someone to rely on so readily, and being the person someone else could rely on, too. And it dawned on you just how much you wanted to take that place. It took a minute or so, but Yata was able to calm himself somewhat. You gave him a tight squeeze before speaking.
“Have you had dinner yet?” Yata shook his head in reply. You continued, “I’ll whip something up with whatever’s in the fridge. Why don’t you go watch some TV in the meantime?”
Your hand slid from his back when he leant away, looking timid but feeling better all the same. You decided it was best not to watch him too long, lest he get more embarrassed than he already was, and opened the fridge to see what would aid in your cooking endeavour.
“[Name]?”
“Hmm?”
“Thanks.”
“Any time.”
He was still snivelling when you began pulling ingredients from the fridge, but you could hear the sniffling drifting away and further into the apartment. The rustling of plastic told you Yata had retrieved the plastic bag of snacks from the entrance hall and moved to the couch. The sound of the TV soon followed, and you took the chance to heave a quiet sigh. You were glad you listened to Anna’s insisting. You did feel better.
Fifteen minutes later you were serving dinner, two plates of simple curry and rice clattering to a rest on the coffee table before Yata. Once the plates were settled, you snatched the bag of sweets from Yata’s side. He drew a long exhale when you put them underneath the coffee table.
“I know. I’d be happy to have sugar for dinner, too. But that’s not the best way to lift the mood.”
“It’s sugar. Sweets make everything better.”
You pinched your lips to one side, squinting at him with a sidelong gaze, “Trust me, I’ve had my fair share of life’s letdowns. Some real food will do you good.”
“Tch, now you’re sounding like Kusanagi,” Yata said. His expression contradicted his bitter tone, and he brought the plate of food into his lap. In truth, he merely wanted to appear brash so you didn’t see through to his shaking foundation. Unfortunately for him, you were more observant than what you were often given credit for. But you took to snickering, reaching for the remote so you could access one of the city’s major news stations. Soon dinner gave way to dessert, and the news passed on to a humorous games show. Yata had taken up one end of the couch, and you the other with your backs against the armrests and the bag of sweets between you. Raucous laughter had taken hold of the apartment as the contestants failed miserably to complete utterly bizarre tasks, and Yata would yell about what they should do at the television’s screen between breaths. As if they could hear him.
“No way, no way! I can’t believe he just jumped in there!” You giggled, moving to sit up on your knees in shock.
“I’d never do that! That’s damn disgusting,” Yata guffawed.
Two programs later and the excitable atmosphere had settled into one of relaxation. A quick glance at Yata had your heart swelling. You couldn’t believe how easily it had been for him to ease into a tranquil attitude around you. Although with your eyes on him, you could also see the unfocussed digital clock on the wall. It felt as if sand had slipped unknowingly through the gaps of your fingers when you realised the time, and you nearly bolted upright.
“Woah, what the Hell got into you?” Yata had been startled with your frantic movement, sitting up to mimic your level of alertness. You ruffled a hand through your hair, shifting your weight to the edge of the couch, “It’s really late. I should go before I end up getting too tired to make the trip home.”
Yata rose from his seat as well, his teeth gnawing on his bottom lip as his mood dropped. You shuffled through the remnant candy wrappers from your previous wrapper war with Yata, pushing most of them into a group with the side of your foot as you went. Yata took the chance to look at the clock himself, and it surprised him to see it was already eight past eleven o’clock. His pupils repeatedly moved from the clock to your body shuffling towards the door. Surely it was already too late for you to go home. The thought of escorting you home briefly passed through his mind. But a better thought struck him, a sheepish smile taking hold.
“Oh, and don’t worry about sweets. They’re a present from me to you, so, yeah. Anyway, I’ll see you this weekend at the bar, hopefully?”
Yata shook his head, “Wait, wait. Just wait a sec, [Name].”
You hummed in acknowledgement, already working the laces on your shoes. The longer the pause, the slower you took to tying your shoes, and eventually you guided your attention to Yata instead. He was watching you, fumbling with the hem of his sweater and pressing his lips together in a thin line. His lips parted, then shut, and he grunted in agitation and rolled his eyes. He was thinking hard, that was easy enough to see.
“You… you don’t have to leave. The top bunk’s free so, you know…”
Slowly, your fingertips left fabric of your laces, your mouth morphing into an ‘oh’. Seeing your reaction had Yata in a tizzy, and he immediately began fretting, “That’s only- I mean, damn it. Shit. Uh, it’s not safe, bein’ a girl and walking home alone late at night so it’s okay if you want to stay here for the night.”
The first thought that came to mind was how sweet the thought was. Chivalrous even, and it didn’t seem out of place. Yata was known to think of treating women with care, in his own gruff manner. And the way his face was flushed in embarrassment, and how he couldn’t meet your gaze, it was all really, very, appealing. But- oh no. Oh no, no, no. This was dangerous. There was absolutely no way you’d be able to sleep peacefully if Yata was in the same room, not after he’d put forth the idea so earnestly. The way your throat was tightening, and how your blood was running marathons in your veins, it was all making you lightheaded.
“I…” You breathed, closing your eyes to collect yourself before attempting to speak again. “Thank you Yata, that’s kind. But I don’t want to intrude – I mean, I showed up unexpectedly in the first place - so I’ll pass.”
You gave a tense nod, finishing the knot on your shoe and standing stark straight. You said a polite goodbye, attempting to keep your emotional distance, but you didn’t even make it to the door before your wrist was caught. It was rather surprising, seeing as you’d never suspected Yata of being so forward before that very moment, but there you were, forced to turn and meet his heated gaze. ‘Sincere’ didn’t accurately describe the condensed emotions you saw slipping in and out of sight. There was no way you couldn’t see how conflicted he was when he choked out, “I really don’t mind if you stay.”
Ah. So, there wasn't really a choice in the first place, was there? You doubted Yata’s deathly tight grip was any indication of leniency. You would regret this. Surely. Staring him down, with his indignant blush and embarrassed scowl, his eyes cast to the side; there was no way you could ignore the feeling – the need – to take him by the shoulders, press yourself to him and gently scuff the skin of your lips over his. If only. You hummed, feigning thoughtfulness, “I suppose I could stay, if you really don’t mind.”
The amused lilt in your voice had Yata scoffing, but his scowl quickly lifted into a grateful smile nonetheless. His grip on your arm slackened, his palm running across the top of your hand as he let go. An involuntary shiver raked your spine, and you rubbed your arm. Yata’s keen gaze had spotted it, and you saw his eyes widen a fraction. Before you could give him a chance to think on the action, you asked, “Is if all right if I take a bath?”
“Y-Yeah, yeah. I’ve got some old clothes you can borrow.”
You nodded, thanking him while bending over to untie your shoes once more. Yata returned with a pullover sweater, shorts and towel. You gratefully accepted them when he offered them to you and moved towards the bathroom.
“This’ll be fun! Maybe we can go to the grocer down the road early in the morning and get some ingredients to make pancakes.”
Once you had closed the door to the bathroom, Yata made an effort to press his lips together. He took a deep breath, pressed a hand to his forehead, and exhaled. Impressed didn’t even begin to explain how he felt about his actions. The fact he remained relatively calm through the whole exchange, even without retracting his offer – pushing it, even! – was astounding. And you accepted! Yata’s eyes moved to the bunk bed, and how it was empty now that he was the only tenant in the apartment. Originally, the invitation to stay was surface-deep. He was lonely and upset – he didn’t want you to leave, after you had gone out of your way to keep him company. He liked it, feeling your presence in his home. And every time you moved closer to him, his heart thrummed and leapt into his throat. He really, really didn’t want you to leave. Because it was you.
Having used the shower head - instead of the tap to fill the bath – the act of getting squeaky clean was pretty quick. After scrubbing yourself dry, you pulled your underwear back on and perused the clothes Yata had handed you. Were they large? Not so much, but that was to be expected. Yata wasn’t a tall person. But once you had pulled the sweater over your head, you found it to be quite comfortable, and so were the shorts. You hung the towel up on the towel rack, far enough away from Yata’s so that it was considered polite, and exited the bathroom. Yata was lying on the bottom bed of the two when you spotted him, one leg propped sideways up on the other and flicking through what you thought was a manga novel. You trotted over to the ladder, putting one hand on it while asking, “Bedtime, then?”
Yata hummed in agreement, appearing fairly tired and disinterested. You took the book from him and placed it on the table beside the couch. The top bunk was fitted with sheets and a pillow, whereas it hadn’t been before, so you guessed Yata organised it while you were busy showering. You climbed the ladder to the top bunk with a huff, flopping onto the mattress with the springs creaking. You could hear the beep of Yata’s watch activating, and one by one the lights around the studio apartment switched off.
“G’night, [Name],” Yata mumbled. The poor guy sounded exhausted. You reciprocated the sentiment with a quiet whisper so you wouldn’t disturb his lethargy, “Sleep well.”
You folded your hands over the sheet on your stomach, staring into the blank space above as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. Your ears picked up on Yata’s breathing in the quiet. It was comforting. Living alone meant you didn’t get to share the comfort of knowing someone else slept in the same room with you. All too suddenly the lashes on your lids felt awfully heavy, and you slipped into sleep. You the next couple of hours you were left to a peaceful, dreamless sleep. Unfortunately, the sudden awakening you received wasn’t so peaceful. A metal clang, thunk and boyish yell had you jolting awake. The bunk bed rattled from side to side a bit before settling, and you sat upright when you heard Yata tutting and cursing. You leant over the side of your bed, [colour] hair falling about your face. The younger teen sat loosely cross-legged and nursing his forehead, unaware you were watching.
“Are you okay?”
You were treated to another yell, this time sounding more shocked than pained. Yata swivelled his head to look at you with fright – he must have temporarily forgotten you were sleeping the night.
“[Name]! Wha-what…. oh. Right.” He was still rubbing the crown of his head, hair dishevelled and unkempt after sleeping on it. You chuckled, seeing as he was comfortable enough to brush off your concern. “Jeez, what was that about?”
Yata sniffed, “Nothin’. Just a bad dream, don’t worry.”
You released a sound of understanding, taking a moment to think. There were a lot of things that could get Yata to react so violently – you could probably list ten off the top of your head, if you tried. But there was one thing in particular that jumped ahead of the rest to thrive in the forefront of your mind. And it had to do with where it was you were sleeping, and who should have been there instead of you.
“Well…” You thought aloud, “it just so happens I had a nightmare, too.” That was a lie. But if you were going to ease Yata into letting you comfort him, then you would need to work with some reverse psychology to succeed. You crawled to the edge of the mattress and climbed down the latter, talking all the while, “it usually happens when I don’t sleep with an extra pillow.”
You could barely make out Yata squinting in the dark, “An extra pillow…?”
“To hug. I… was going to suggest that we-“
You hadn’t even finished the sentence before Yata was backing up towards the wall and overlapping your voice with his own disagreement. “N-no way! The Hell would you even think that’d be a good idea!?”
Your heart had already been working overtime, but that overly disgruntled reply of his had brought a twinge of a stinging sensation to your chest. That wasn’t how you were expecting him to react. There was a bit of silence before Yata realised how harsh he had been. He eased himself away from the wall, “sorry, that was…”
“A silly idea, I know. Never mind, just pretend I never said anything.” Your nose scrunched up, displeased with how you had misjudged. Maybe you had overstepped your boundaries too soon, or in general. But he didn’t have to… yikes. That stinging had moved to bite at your eyes. You cleared your throat, “anyway, I’ll see you in the morning.”
“[Name], wait.”
Yata couldn’t stop playing with his fingers, his front teeth showing over his bottom lip as he gnawed at it. Then you were feeling antsy for him, “it’s okay, honestly. It was just a suggestion, don’t feel bad.”
“But, I just… I’m sorry, it didn’t come out right. Just, give me a second.”
You watched, surprised when Yata got to his knees and shuffled around the bed, straightening the sheets and tucking them in where he had pulled them out in his restless sleep. He stood beside you when he was done, refusing to grace you with his line of sight.
“Yata, really. I understand you’re uncomfortable, you don’t have to force it. I won’t take it to heart.”
“I’m not forcing it. Now get in the stupid bed,” he grumbled. His demand was accompanied with a robust point, and you pinched your lips to one side in exasperation. With a lengthy sigh, you rolled into the bed, shimmying as close to the wall as possible to give Yata some space. It was still a single mattress, so no amount of readjusting was going to put a ‘comfortable’ amount of distance between you two, but you tried. Once comfortable, you looked at Yata with your eyebrows elevated. He looked as if he was helplessly praying to some god above.
His side of the mattress gave under his weight, and you were all too aware of how slowly he was moving. You closed your eyes, tilting your head towards the wall so you wouldn’t have to watch. You hoped to high Heaven and back he couldn’t see any tint of red on your cheeks. You could certainly feel it. Your head rolled back a bit when the pillow sank down beside you, just enough so you could see Yata watching you from your peripheral vision. His shaky breath was ghosting across your neck, setting your arms alive with goosebumps. You pretended not to notice.
The sheets crinkled when he moved his arm to hover over your torso, but it stopped and wouldn’t go any further. Unsure, Yata was about to slowly withdraw. But you were sure to gently rest your hand over his forearm, guiding it around your waist as you turned away from him, imagining he would be more comfortable if you weren’t facing him. You didn’t feel his breath for a moment after that, you were only aware of how nice it felt to have Yata’s arm around you, even if it was limp. Tentatively, you pulled on Yata’s arm again, encouraging him to hold you tighter and come closer.
“I won’t break, you know.” You spoke quietly.
“You say that now.” It sounded like he was speaking through gritted teeth, and you were tempted to laugh. He really was worried he’d hurt you. How sweet, even if he was exaggerating. It took a minute or so, but ever so slowly Yata curled his arm around your waist to the point where your back was snug against his chest, feeling his heart beating erratically. His breath stopped being so broken and spaced out, his face slanting forward to press against your hair. He wasn’t being very inconspicuous when he inhaled the scent of your hair. You didn’t think he realised how you could hear him so easily, since he was that close. But the breath was slow, appreciative, and gently released with a sigh. The air escaping his throat carried a quiet rumble of his voice, an almost indecipherable moan. But you heard it, and it had you breathing a bit more rapidly. You thought Yata had finished getting comfortable after that, but then he spoke, “Your hair… smells nice. I like it.”
You didn’t know what to say other than a quiet, “thank you.” But you felt the need to share what it was he was trying to convey, so you softly squeezed his forearm.
“Yata, I’ll be here for you, when you need me. I’m not going anywhere, got it?”
Yata’s arm constricted around you, pulling so that you were no longer resting against him, but pushed flush to him. You could feel his legs curl up slightly, the skin of his shins brushing the back of your calves. There was a moment when he began to relax, and you took the chance to roll over. Yata’s chin was tilted towards his chest, and he was peering at you with curious, half-lidded eyes. You’d never seen him like that, with that one look in his eyes. You brought your left hand up and ran the pads of your fingers across his cheekbone, hoping that he would understand what you truly meant with what you said next. “I’ll be here, Misaki.”
His lips barely parted, a slow exhale of air escaping them before he brought his own hand up, taking hold of yours and clenching it tightly. You were afraid for a moment that he would have disliked you calling him by his given name, but there was no indication. Instead, Yata screwed his eyes shut and grinned, his face radiating heat when his forehead was pressed against yours. He was looking forward to sleeping in and making pancakes for lunch with you.

Description

There wasn’t really anything more unpleasant than instances where the weather abstained from reflecting the inner turmoil of your heart - nothing you could be bothered to think up, at least. Because it was satisfying, in a cumbersome way, when the sky was dark, dreary and rumbling with the onset of rain. The aroma, the sound, and the sight all built an ambience that drove home the feeling that yes, it really was all right to be upset; to be mad and devastated and disgusted. Maybe that’s why you kept a stiff upper lip, because you knew that stormy weather was nowhere to be seen. And when it was absent in such circumstances, it was an ambiguous sign that life wouldn’t stop for you to mope about. You simply had to breathe in the pain and hope that it wouldn’t dissolve you from the inside out like a poisonous gas.
After your part time job released you for the afternoon, it was almost instinct that had your feet leading you towards Bar HOMRA. You were worrying your bottom lip when you noticed the establishment was particularly stark considering the time of day. It should have been full of rambunctious laughter, from members and guests alike. But you could see the atmosphere was somber, even before you opened the door. There was chatter, but not the usual amount by any means. A few men looked up to greet you as you closed the door behind you, and you waved with a nonchalant smile. Not everyone was there, but that wasn’t unusual. But there was one specific person who was absent, and the atmosphere was all the more stifling because of it.
Anna was at the bar, as per usual, with Izumo tending to both her and Tatara with a few plates of food. It was a bit early for dinner, in your opinion. But Anna was a young girl who didn’t find it too worthwhile to stay up as late as you might, so you supposed an early meal was understandable. And Tatara being the kindhearted man he was joined her for dinner so she wouldn’t feel lonely. Whether or not she would feel lonely anyway was another matter entirely, but you knew she appreciated the sentiment regardless.
“[Name], it’s nice to see you. The usual?” Izumo asked, setting down cutlery for Anna and Tatara. You nodded, taking a seat beside Anna and putting a handful of notes and coins on the countertop. Izumo set a glass of chilled water onto the coaster before you, something for you to sip on while he concocted your mocktail.
“Has the pipsqueak made an appearance today?” You asked. You noticed Anna look up at you out of the corner of your eye, the prongs of the fork still pressed between her lips. You smiled, gently placing a hand on her back, “Not you, sweetie. Sorry to confuse you.”
She murmured quietly, almost inaudibly, and went back to eating, undeterred by your response. Tatara hummed at the interaction, chuckling at Anna’s moment of misunderstanding. You sipped on the short glass as Izumo returned from acquiring the cordials for your drink.
“Sorry to say he’s already left for the day.” Izumo answered your question, scooting the simple, fruity beverage across the bar and towards you once he had garnished the drink with a sprig of mint. You took a sip from the straw and Izumo retrieved the nearly empty glass of water.
“I wish he’d stick around for longer. He knows I can’t leave work any earlier than this, right?” You sighed, resting your cheekbone on the heel of your hand.
“I wouldn’t worry too much, [Name]. He and Fushimi have been best friends for years. It’s not going to be an instant recovery. I’m surprised Yata’s coming in at all, considering it’s only been a few days.”
“I… I know, but that’s why I’m apprehensive, y’know? Fushimi’s been his longest standing support. I can only imagine how heartbroken he must be. Those two are - were like brothers, and Fushimi wasn’t sensitive about breaking the news either. I just wish I could… I don’t know. I just want to talk to him, to see for myself that he’s all right.”
Your pearly eyes were too focussed on the chipped ice bobbing in the glass before you to observe the subtle communication between Izumo and Tatara. Your lips were pinching the straw absentmindedly when Tatara spoke up, leaning on the bar and around Anna to speak to you directly.
“If you’re so worried, there’s nothing stopping you from paying him a visit.”
Your eyebrows elevated at the comment, and the flattened straw slipped from your lips, “I don’t know about that. I’m not, you know, as close to him as you all are. Being female and his senior by a couple years… Yata takes that pretty seriously. I think showing up unannounced would be a bad idea.”
Tatara turned his head to the side, a gush of air pushing past his lips. The equestrian-like noise startled Anna, her eyes widening to stare at Tatara’s strange display of amusement in contemplation.
“I’m serious!” You insisted. “I’m the least qualified here to cheer him up. As much as I want to visit, I just can’t. I’ll probably end up inadvertently chasing him out of his own home!”
Tatara only moved his disbelief to laughter, turning even further away to mask it. A vexed huff clawed out from the back of your throat, and you slurped up the rest of your drink in remarkable haste. Izumo’s lips twitched into a smile, “[Name], I think Tatara’s words have some weight to them. If you want to go see Yata for yourself, then I think it’s best you do.”
You plucked the straw from your empty glass and grinded it between your teeth, ‘Well, if Izumo’s insisting, then going to check up on Yata is a good idea. Right? Perhaps I should get something on the way to cheer him up. Then I’d actually have an excuse to show up out of nowhere. Would some food do? Maybe a box of candy – oh! Chocolates, everybody loves chocolates. Wait, no, chocolates are romantic and lovey-dovey. Where did that come from? Yeesh, that would be a disaster. In that case, let’s go for something that doesn’t involve food. Does he have a videogame he’s been wanting to play? Who am I kidding, of course he does. Has he already tried the triple ‘A’ FPS that released last week or-?’
“Woah, [Name], you’re going to turn that straw into dust if you’re not careful.”
Tatara’s interjection yanked you from your thoughts, and you realised the straw had been pulverised to the point where it was split in two separate places. You chuckled as you stood, looking for the closest rubbish bin to throw it in.
“Right. Well, I’m sure the last thing Yata needs at the moment is me fretting over him. I’ll come back and check if he’s here on Saturday morning, or somethin’.”
You bowed your head, verbally thanking Izumo for the drink. A tiny tap on your arm stopped you just before the skin of your palm made contact with the doorknob. Anna’s crimson eyes reflected the overhanging lights as she peered up from her position closer to the ground. You humorously noted that she didn’t even seem as if she was looking at you, it was more like her pupils were focussing on a point beyond you.
“What is it, Anna?”
“He wants to see you, but doesn’t know how. Not like this.”
Your previous spell of mirth was immediately disposed of in a tub of ice. You crouched to see her better, resting your elbows on your knees to keep steady. “You mean Yata?”
“Mm.”
“But why me?”
Anna stepped closer, resting her hands on either side of your face, her eyes squinting, “It’s not for me to say.”
You sighed, taking her wrists and gently pushing her hands away, “So you think I should go, too?”
Anna gave a definitive nod, “Yes. Yata will feel better. And you will feel better as well.”
That was out of the blue. You didn’t see any reason as to why- oh. Oh.
“You cheeky little devil. You knew all along.”
Anna didn’t give much of a response to your wry accusation, merely lowering her eyes before scuttling back to her dinner. You stood back up, nodding once more to Izumo and Tatara, who had been quietly observing your encounter with Anna. Had they known, too? Possibly – probably - but it wasn’t anything you should dwell upon. You had someone to surprise with a visit.

|| - + - ||

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. The night air was prickly against your skin, and you scratched the patch underneath your right ear, your left hand preoccupied with holding the flimsy plastic bag. Yata’s apartment was on the third floor, if you remembered correctly. Unfortunately for you, that meant a lot of stairs to climb. The grocery bag was full of what you assumed would be comfort food. You didn’t usually buy junk food for anyone other than yourself, so you weren’t sure if they would be too sweet for someone like Yata. A cold block of frozen sediment settled in the pit of your stomach after reaching the intended level of the building. You wished you weren’t so finicky about it. Just knock on the door, hand over the sweets and wish him well. Then leave. Done and dusted. But there you were, settling for leaning on the railing adjacent to the front door. If you really wanted to, you could leave right there and have the food all to yourself. It would do well to ease your self-pity.
The sudden clatter of glass shattering somewhere beyond the door made you jump upright. You could hear a warped, short string of profane words quickly following the abrupt sound. You donned a bitter smile, ‘Looks like Yata’s home after all. Gah, what am I even thinking. As if my bashfulness is more important than what he’s going through. Suck it up, [Name].’
Pushing yourself up and away from the railing, you quickly rapped the back of your fist on the door. It was quiet for a time, and you knocked again, lips parting to announce your presence.
“No one’s here. Go the fuck away.” Hearing Yata’s voice so lacking was unsettling. From the sound of it, he wasn’t anywhere near the door. You could guess he hadn’t bothered to look through the peephole to see who was knocking in the first place.
“Yata, it’s [Name]. I, uh… I haven’t seen you for a few days. I thought I’d drop by and see how you were holding up.”
He didn’t answer right away. You didn’t know if he even would, and understandably so. The muscles in your neck became lax as your head tilted so you could watch the stars ever so slowly fade in and out of the sky. Your face felt unabashedly warm as thoughts of apprehension ran rampant in your mind. In a last ditch effort to tempt Homra’s vanguard out of his solitude, you mentioned your ace.
“I brought a bunch of snacks with me.” You shook the plastic bag to make a noise, “I don’t know your favourite, so I bought whatever I thought was interesting hoping you’d like at least some of them. Maybe we can watch a movie or play a game while we eat. Or I can just drop them off and go, if you prefer.”
There wasn’t any indication Yata had even heard you. Your eyelids slid shut, and the heat radiating from your skin intensified by what you thought was tenfold, at least. You were about to leave the bag by the door and make a run for the hills before the deadbolt began rattling. Slowly - as if he were frightened that moving too quickly would reveal the balcony to be empty - Yata opened the door, tired eyes watching your face give way to relief.
“Hi.” You spoke airily, almost in a whisper.
“Hey.” He was still half hidden by the door, but you could see his face clearly enough to notice the sincerity behind his greeting, if his withdrawn smile was anything to go by. “Sorry about… you know.”
“It’s fine. You didn’t know it was me.”
Yata nodded, heaving a sigh and turning to look back into the apartment. At what, you didn’t know, but he quickly returned his attention to you. “C-could you do me a favour?”
“Of course. What’s wrong?”
“I accidentally cut myself while cleaning up some glass. Trying to wrap a ba-bandage with one hand isn’t easy.”
Your brows pulled together, and you asked him to show you the injury when you had removed your shoes and placed the bag down by the inside of the entrance. Once Yata had closed and locked the door, he told you to follow him into the kitchen, but to watch your step. There was a good chance he had missed some shards, and he’d be upset if you were to step on some. A rather pathetic excuse for a first-aid kit was on the kitchen counter, an open tube of antibiotic cream and a partially bloodied bandage strewn beside it. You instructed Yata to hold out his hand, and a decent amount of cuts littered his palm, ranging from a few millimetres to centimetres. You shook your head with a chuckle, reaching for your phone to Google how to treat small cuts.
Yata didn’t seem too pleased with your laughter, “What’s so funny?”
“You are. You grabbed a handful of glass while you were still angry, didn’t you?”
Yata snorted, “Wasn’t my smartest decision today.”
You asked for permission to take his hand, and Yata begrudgingly complied. You knew it wasn’t easy for him to ask for help in most circumstances, but having to ask you in particular would make it even more difficult. Following the instructions from the webpage you had landed on, you pressed a clean dish rag from the kitchen to his palm and held it up at eyelevel.
“This’ll help stop the bleeding. Then we can put the antibiotic cream on and wrap it up.”
Yata took to resting his elbow on the counter, his joint at a ninety-degree angle to keep it elevated as per your instruction. You continued to keep the wounds under pressure until the bleeding subsided.
“Why are you here?”
You spared Yata a glance before peeling back the cloth, seeing that the cuts had finally begun to scab. Thankfully they weren’t too wide, so the pressure had done wonders to hasten the scabbing. “I was worried - I won’t say why, since we both already know – and I hadn’t seen you for a few days. Izumo and Tatara told me that you had been to the bar a few times, but not for long, so I decided I’d come and say hello. See how you’re doing and all that.”
Yata wasn’t too sure how to feel when your fingertips ghosted over his forearm, pushing so that it rested flat on the counter. You were being so tender and paying him so much attention that it was unnerving him beyond his usual unsteadiness when in the presence of a female around his age. His heart was thrumming, and his throat felt like he had eaten wads of cotton. But the unusual thing was that instead possessing the need to flee like he usually would, he felt exhilarated. Yata didn’t want to move an inch from where he was right then, with you.
“But why? I-I mean, you and me, we don’t really… I mean, I only ever see you at the bar.”
You could easily understand what he was implying, “I spend a lot of time at the bar, just like you. I know I’m no member of the gang, but I enjoy everyone’s company. So I consider you a good friend, and I care about you a whole lot.”
Once you had spread the antibiotic cream thin across his cuts, you began wrapping Yata’s hand with a clean bandage from the one he had already attempted to use. You were tempted to laugh at Yata’s desperate huff of irritation.
“But you showed up after dark with a bag of snacks. I’ve been trying to keep away from everyone, I haven’t felt up to seeing them. But I knew that if I just stayed home the whole time they’d come find me anyway! So I went to let them know I was- I’m okay, I don’t need any help. And they were okay with that. But you- you fuckin’ show up with a bag of chips and candy and- and- damn it! What’d I do wrong!?”
The second you had finished pinning the bandage, Yata snatched his hand away so he could hide with his back to you. He was hunched over, his shoulders shook, and he was utterly vulnerable. The sight wrought havoc in your chest.
“Just leave, yeah!? I don’t need you seein’ this.”
Yata’s demand was broken and weaved with hushed sobs. You shook your head. Though he couldn’t see it, you were trying to keep yourself from crying as well. Yata began to move away from you, but you were faster. You grabbed onto his shoulders, pulling yourself towards him and securely wrapping your arms around his torso, enveloping him in what you hoped was a comforting hug. You weren’t sure what else you could do.
“What Fushimi did was wrong, Yata. He didn’t tell you what he was feeling, and there’s no way of knowing exactly why he did what he did. You’re no mind reader, Yata.”
“But he was my best friend! I should have known something was wrong!”
“You can’t keep tabs on everyone. You were busy with making new friends and got caught up with life. It happens to everyone. If Fushimi really wanted to reconcile with you, he’d have tried. I don’t think you could have done anything to change his mind if he didn’t come to you first, Yata.”
To your surprise, Yata loosened your arms only to turn and bury his head in your neck so quickly you had no chance to see his face. You supposed that was why he was so hasty about it. His arms snaked around your ribcage so tightly you could feel your lungs compress the slightest bit. He cried, and you rubbed his back in circles, hoping to soothe him in some way. But you knew that Yata needed this, he needed someone to be there for him when Fushimi no longer was. That would have taken a toll on Yata, thinking that he’d been stripped of that emotional support of having someone to rely on so readily, and being the person someone else could rely on, too. And it dawned on you just how much you wanted to take that place. It took a minute or so, but Yata was able to calm himself somewhat. You gave him a tight squeeze before speaking.
“Have you had dinner yet?” Yata shook his head in reply. You continued, “I’ll whip something up with whatever’s in the fridge. Why don’t you go watch some TV in the meantime?”
Your hand slid from his back when he leant away, looking timid but feeling better all the same. You decided it was best not to watch him too long, lest he get more embarrassed than he already was, and opened the fridge to see what would aid in your cooking endeavour.
“[Name]?”
“Hmm?”
“Thanks.”
“Any time.”
He was still snivelling when you began pulling ingredients from the fridge, but you could hear the sniffling drifting away and further into the apartment. The rustling of plastic told you Yata had retrieved the plastic bag of snacks from the entrance hall and moved to the couch. The sound of the TV soon followed, and you took the chance to heave a quiet sigh. You were glad you listened to Anna’s insisting. You did feel better.
Fifteen minutes later you were serving dinner, two plates of simple curry and rice clattering to a rest on the coffee table before Yata. Once the plates were settled, you snatched the bag of sweets from Yata’s side. He drew a long exhale when you put them underneath the coffee table.
“I know. I’d be happy to have sugar for dinner, too. But that’s not the best way to lift the mood.”
“It’s sugar. Sweets make everything better.”
You pinched your lips to one side, squinting at him with a sidelong gaze, “Trust me, I’ve had my fair share of life’s letdowns. Some real food will do you good.”
“Tch, now you’re sounding like Kusanagi,” Yata said. His expression contradicted his bitter tone, and he brought the plate of food into his lap. In truth, he merely wanted to appear brash so you didn’t see through to his shaking foundation. Unfortunately for him, you were more observant than what you were often given credit for. But you took to snickering, reaching for the remote so you could access one of the city’s major news stations. Soon dinner gave way to dessert, and the news passed on to a humorous games show. Yata had taken up one end of the couch, and you the other with your backs against the armrests and the bag of sweets between you. Raucous laughter had taken hold of the apartment as the contestants failed miserably to complete utterly bizarre tasks, and Yata would yell about what they should do at the television’s screen between breaths. As if they could hear him.
“No way, no way! I can’t believe he just jumped in there!” You giggled, moving to sit up on your knees in shock.
“I’d never do that! That’s damn disgusting,” Yata guffawed.
Two programs later and the excitable atmosphere had settled into one of relaxation. A quick glance at Yata had your heart swelling. You couldn’t believe how easily it had been for him to ease into a tranquil attitude around you. Although with your eyes on him, you could also see the unfocussed digital clock on the wall. It felt as if sand had slipped unknowingly through the gaps of your fingers when you realised the time, and you nearly bolted upright.
“Woah, what the Hell got into you?” Yata had been startled with your frantic movement, sitting up to mimic your level of alertness. You ruffled a hand through your hair, shifting your weight to the edge of the couch, “It’s really late. I should go before I end up getting too tired to make the trip home.”
Yata rose from his seat as well, his teeth gnawing on his bottom lip as his mood dropped. You shuffled through the remnant candy wrappers from your previous wrapper war with Yata, pushing most of them into a group with the side of your foot as you went. Yata took the chance to look at the clock himself, and it surprised him to see it was already eight past eleven o’clock. His pupils repeatedly moved from the clock to your body shuffling towards the door. Surely it was already too late for you to go home. The thought of escorting you home briefly passed through his mind. But a better thought struck him, a sheepish smile taking hold.
“Oh, and don’t worry about sweets. They’re a present from me to you, so, yeah. Anyway, I’ll see you this weekend at the bar, hopefully?”
Yata shook his head, “Wait, wait. Just wait a sec, [Name].”
You hummed in acknowledgement, already working the laces on your shoes. The longer the pause, the slower you took to tying your shoes, and eventually you guided your attention to Yata instead. He was watching you, fumbling with the hem of his sweater and pressing his lips together in a thin line. His lips parted, then shut, and he grunted in agitation and rolled his eyes. He was thinking hard, that was easy enough to see.
“You… you don’t have to leave. The top bunk’s free so, you know…”
Slowly, your fingertips left fabric of your laces, your mouth morphing into an ‘oh’. Seeing your reaction had Yata in a tizzy, and he immediately began fretting, “That’s only- I mean, damn it. Shit. Uh, it’s not safe, bein’ a girl and walking home alone late at night so it’s okay if you want to stay here for the night.”
The first thought that came to mind was how sweet the thought was. Chivalrous even, and it didn’t seem out of place. Yata was known to think of treating women with care, in his own gruff manner. And the way his face was flushed in embarrassment, and how he couldn’t meet your gaze, it was all really, very, appealing. But- oh no. Oh no, no, no. This was dangerous. There was absolutely no way you’d be able to sleep peacefully if Yata was in the same room, not after he’d put forth the idea so earnestly. The way your throat was tightening, and how your blood was running marathons in your veins, it was all making you lightheaded.
“I…” You breathed, closing your eyes to collect yourself before attempting to speak again. “Thank you Yata, that’s kind. But I don’t want to intrude – I mean, I showed up unexpectedly in the first place - so I’ll pass.”
You gave a tense nod, finishing the knot on your shoe and standing stark straight. You said a polite goodbye, attempting to keep your emotional distance, but you didn’t even make it to the door before your wrist was caught. It was rather surprising, seeing as you’d never suspected Yata of being so forward before that very moment, but there you were, forced to turn and meet his heated gaze. ‘Sincere’ didn’t accurately describe the condensed emotions you saw slipping in and out of sight. There was no way you couldn’t see how conflicted he was when he choked out, “I really don’t mind if you stay.”
Ah. So, there wasn't really a choice in the first place, was there? You doubted Yata’s deathly tight grip was any indication of leniency. You would regret this. Surely. Staring him down, with his indignant blush and embarrassed scowl, his eyes cast to the side; there was no way you could ignore the feeling – the need – to take him by the shoulders, press yourself to him and gently scuff the skin of your lips over his. If only. You hummed, feigning thoughtfulness, “I suppose I could stay, if you really don’t mind.”
The amused lilt in your voice had Yata scoffing, but his scowl quickly lifted into a grateful smile nonetheless. His grip on your arm slackened, his palm running across the top of your hand as he let go. An involuntary shiver raked your spine, and you rubbed your arm. Yata’s keen gaze had spotted it, and you saw his eyes widen a fraction. Before you could give him a chance to think on the action, you asked, “Is if all right if I take a bath?”
“Y-Yeah, yeah. I’ve got some old clothes you can borrow.”
You nodded, thanking him while bending over to untie your shoes once more. Yata returned with a pullover sweater, shorts and towel. You gratefully accepted them when he offered them to you and moved towards the bathroom.
“This’ll be fun! Maybe we can go to the grocer down the road early in the morning and get some ingredients to make pancakes.”
Once you had closed the door to the bathroom, Yata made an effort to press his lips together. He took a deep breath, pressed a hand to his forehead, and exhaled. Impressed didn’t even begin to explain how he felt about his actions. The fact he remained relatively calm through the whole exchange, even without retracting his offer – pushing it, even! – was astounding. And you accepted! Yata’s eyes moved to the bunk bed, and how it was empty now that he was the only tenant in the apartment. Originally, the invitation to stay was surface-deep. He was lonely and upset – he didn’t want you to leave, after you had gone out of your way to keep him company. He liked it, feeling your presence in his home. And every time you moved closer to him, his heart thrummed and leapt into his throat. He really, really didn’t want you to leave. Because it was you.
Having used the shower head - instead of the tap to fill the bath – the act of getting squeaky clean was pretty quick. After scrubbing yourself dry, you pulled your underwear back on and perused the clothes Yata had handed you. Were they large? Not so much, but that was to be expected. Yata wasn’t a tall person. But once you had pulled the sweater over your head, you found it to be quite comfortable, and so were the shorts. You hung the towel up on the towel rack, far enough away from Yata’s so that it was considered polite, and exited the bathroom. Yata was lying on the bottom bed of the two when you spotted him, one leg propped sideways up on the other and flicking through what you thought was a manga novel. You trotted over to the ladder, putting one hand on it while asking, “Bedtime, then?”
Yata hummed in agreement, appearing fairly tired and disinterested. You took the book from him and placed it on the table beside the couch. The top bunk was fitted with sheets and a pillow, whereas it hadn’t been before, so you guessed Yata organised it while you were busy showering. You climbed the ladder to the top bunk with a huff, flopping onto the mattress with the springs creaking. You could hear the beep of Yata’s watch activating, and one by one the lights around the studio apartment switched off.
“G’night, [Name],” Yata mumbled. The poor guy sounded exhausted. You reciprocated the sentiment with a quiet whisper so you wouldn’t disturb his lethargy, “Sleep well.”
You folded your hands over the sheet on your stomach, staring into the blank space above as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. Your ears picked up on Yata’s breathing in the quiet. It was comforting. Living alone meant you didn’t get to share the comfort of knowing someone else slept in the same room with you. All too suddenly the lashes on your lids felt awfully heavy, and you slipped into sleep. You the next couple of hours you were left to a peaceful, dreamless sleep. Unfortunately, the sudden awakening you received wasn’t so peaceful. A metal clang, thunk and boyish yell had you jolting awake. The bunk bed rattled from side to side a bit before settling, and you sat upright when you heard Yata tutting and cursing. You leant over the side of your bed, [colour] hair falling about your face. The younger teen sat loosely cross-legged and nursing his forehead, unaware you were watching.
“Are you okay?”
You were treated to another yell, this time sounding more shocked than pained. Yata swivelled his head to look at you with fright – he must have temporarily forgotten you were sleeping the night.
“[Name]! Wha-what…. oh. Right.” He was still rubbing the crown of his head, hair dishevelled and unkempt after sleeping on it. You chuckled, seeing as he was comfortable enough to brush off your concern. “Jeez, what was that about?”
Yata sniffed, “Nothin’. Just a bad dream, don’t worry.”
You released a sound of understanding, taking a moment to think. There were a lot of things that could get Yata to react so violently – you could probably list ten off the top of your head, if you tried. But there was one thing in particular that jumped ahead of the rest to thrive in the forefront of your mind. And it had to do with where it was you were sleeping, and who should have been there instead of you.
“Well…” You thought aloud, “it just so happens I had a nightmare, too.” That was a lie. But if you were going to ease Yata into letting you comfort him, then you would need to work with some reverse psychology to succeed. You crawled to the edge of the mattress and climbed down the latter, talking all the while, “it usually happens when I don’t sleep with an extra pillow.”
You could barely make out Yata squinting in the dark, “An extra pillow…?”
“To hug. I… was going to suggest that we-“
You hadn’t even finished the sentence before Yata was backing up towards the wall and overlapping your voice with his own disagreement. “N-no way! The Hell would you even think that’d be a good idea!?”
Your heart had already been working overtime, but that overly disgruntled reply of his had brought a twinge of a stinging sensation to your chest. That wasn’t how you were expecting him to react. There was a bit of silence before Yata realised how harsh he had been. He eased himself away from the wall, “sorry, that was…”
“A silly idea, I know. Never mind, just pretend I never said anything.” Your nose scrunched up, displeased with how you had misjudged. Maybe you had overstepped your boundaries too soon, or in general. But he didn’t have to… yikes. That stinging had moved to bite at your eyes. You cleared your throat, “anyway, I’ll see you in the morning.”
“[Name], wait.”
Yata couldn’t stop playing with his fingers, his front teeth showing over his bottom lip as he gnawed at it. Then you were feeling antsy for him, “it’s okay, honestly. It was just a suggestion, don’t feel bad.”
“But, I just… I’m sorry, it didn’t come out right. Just, give me a second.”
You watched, surprised when Yata got to his knees and shuffled around the bed, straightening the sheets and tucking them in where he had pulled them out in his restless sleep. He stood beside you when he was done, refusing to grace you with his line of sight.
“Yata, really. I understand you’re uncomfortable, you don’t have to force it. I won’t take it to heart.”
“I’m not forcing it. Now get in the stupid bed,” he grumbled. His demand was accompanied with a robust point, and you pinched your lips to one side in exasperation. With a lengthy sigh, you rolled into the bed, shimmying as close to the wall as possible to give Yata some space. It was still a single mattress, so no amount of readjusting was going to put a ‘comfortable’ amount of distance between you two, but you tried. Once comfortable, you looked at Yata with your eyebrows elevated. He looked as if he was helplessly praying to some god above.
His side of the mattress gave under his weight, and you were all too aware of how slowly he was moving. You closed your eyes, tilting your head towards the wall so you wouldn’t have to watch. You hoped to high Heaven and back he couldn’t see any tint of red on your cheeks. You could certainly feel it. Your head rolled back a bit when the pillow sank down beside you, just enough so you could see Yata watching you from your peripheral vision. His shaky breath was ghosting across your neck, setting your arms alive with goosebumps. You pretended not to notice.
The sheets crinkled when he moved his arm to hover over your torso, but it stopped and wouldn’t go any further. Unsure, Yata was about to slowly withdraw. But you were sure to gently rest your hand over his forearm, guiding it around your waist as you turned away from him, imagining he would be more comfortable if you weren’t facing him. You didn’t feel his breath for a moment after that, you were only aware of how nice it felt to have Yata’s arm around you, even if it was limp. Tentatively, you pulled on Yata’s arm again, encouraging him to hold you tighter and come closer.
“I won’t break, you know.” You spoke quietly.
“You say that now.” It sounded like he was speaking through gritted teeth, and you were tempted to laugh. He really was worried he’d hurt you. How sweet, even if he was exaggerating. It took a minute or so, but ever so slowly Yata curled his arm around your waist to the point where your back was snug against his chest, feeling his heart beating erratically. His breath stopped being so broken and spaced out, his face slanting forward to press against your hair. He wasn’t being very inconspicuous when he inhaled the scent of your hair. You didn’t think he realised how you could hear him so easily, since he was that close. But the breath was slow, appreciative, and gently released with a sigh. The air escaping his throat carried a quiet rumble of his voice, an almost indecipherable moan. But you heard it, and it had you breathing a bit more rapidly. You thought Yata had finished getting comfortable after that, but then he spoke, “Your hair… smells nice. I like it.”
You didn’t know what to say other than a quiet, “thank you.” But you felt the need to share what it was he was trying to convey, so you softly squeezed his forearm.
“Yata, I’ll be here for you, when you need me. I’m not going anywhere, got it?”
Yata’s arm constricted around you, pulling so that you were no longer resting against him, but pushed flush to him. You could feel his legs curl up slightly, the skin of his shins brushing the back of your calves. There was a moment when he began to relax, and you took the chance to roll over. Yata’s chin was tilted towards his chest, and he was peering at you with curious, half-lidded eyes. You’d never seen him like that, with that one look in his eyes. You brought your left hand up and ran the pads of your fingers across his cheekbone, hoping that he would understand what you truly meant with what you said next. “I’ll be here, Misaki.”
His lips barely parted, a slow exhale of air escaping them before he brought his own hand up, taking hold of yours and clenching it tightly. You were afraid for a moment that he would have disliked you calling him by his given name, but there was no indication. Instead, Yata screwed his eyes shut and grinned, his face radiating heat when his forehead was pressed against yours. He was looking forward to sleeping in and making pancakes for lunch with you.