Ichimatsu was good at sneaking. Yet you could always hear him just fine.
Foot steps carefully placed to barely make a sound. The feel of the slight shift in air as he moved around your home. The ever so quiet crickle of fabric whispering. The softest of rumbles as he spoke his feelings, too afraid to speak them out any further yet they were gurgling over too much for him to contain.
You didn't understand why he felt like he needed to be quiet, for to you, he was loud and clear. A blush coloured your cheeks when you heard those three little words that meant a whole lot more than they appear. He never had said them to you upfront. He only ever uttered them like this, when he thought you couldn’t hear him. Thinking you didn’t know he was there. No, he prefered to show you his feelings instead. But it was so nice to hear, tumbling from his breath.
It had such mixture of emotion too. It oozed with awe, had a flavour of loneliness, dripped with need, a little more than a twinge of fear, all mixed in a bundle of poisonous hope. It both was aching and breathtaking.
You pretended not to hear him. You waited for him to announce his presence on his own time. You continued to run your fingers over the book, but you weren’t paying attention to what the story was about anymore. He was still for a while. Just his breathing could be heard. Probably was staring at you.
Not for the first time you wondered how his eyes looked when he was like this. Just thinking about it made you want to cradle him to your chest and instead run your fingers through his hair, memorizing the soft texture as you said your feelings loud enough for the both of you. But you had to wait until he came to you.
You let out a yawn, your grip on the book became lax enough that gravity decided it wanted a turn to read. With the loud thump you flinched mid yawn, causing you to squeal slightly.
This was enough for him to announce his presence by letting out a gravely chuckle. Turning towards the sound you finally acknowledged him with a slight huff.
“Sorry, kitten.” His steps towards you were quiet but each one pounded to match your speeding heart, “don’t pout, it teases me too much.” He was right there, right within reach yet so far away. You had to touch him. You needed to feel him. It was agonizing how he refused to get any closer.
Reaching, coming into contact with the side of his hoodie you grasped with one hand and slowly brought your other up. Careful not to accidentally hit him in the face. Your goal reached, you ran your thumb on his neck and gently pulled with your other hand guiding him towards you. Complying, he bent over, his scent reaching your nose. Excitement coursing through you as you heard his tongue wetting his lips. You whispered his name in a desperate plea, it was all that took for him to let loose.
You heard him clearly as he kissed you.
He loved you.