Kunimi hears the soft pitter-patter of rain about the same time he hears Kageyama’s barking from somewhere in the bowels of the house: Kunimi, laundry!
He shifts his eyes lazily from his phone screen and stares at the window pane in front of him, gaze idly following the fall of precipitation, droplets racing one another on the window pane. He watches as the water slides, down, down, down, feels his own eyelids begin to slide close—
"Kunimi Akira, I said, laundry!"
His eyelids snap back open and he twists his body, turns his head to wherever the voice was from, and finds Kageyama standing in front of the door. His arms are crossed, eyebrows knitted, and his navy blue eyes are narrowed into a rather impressive (and sharp) glare; clearly, it’s directed at him.
If looks could kill, Kunimi thinks he’d probably be dead a good ten times over.
…Well, not really. He was immune in middle school, and being his lover doesn’t change that fact. if Kageyama thinks he can make Kunimi move through the power of his eyes alone, he’s going to have to think again.
In lieu of an answer, Kunimi merely stares back at him. His stare is as lazy as he feels, quietly conveying the clear message do it yourself, don’t wanna.
Kageyama’s scowl only deepens. How is it even possible for someone to scowl like that? Kunimi sighs; be it fourteen, fifteen, and now at nineteen— this is the one thing that doesn’t change, even if Kageyama’s no longer a tyrant ruling over him with an iron fist.
"Oh my God, Kunimi, they’re going to be soaked! I can’t believe you, I’m still washing dishes, least you could do is help me!”
Kunimi sighs again, a slow exhale through his nose as he slowly rises from his comfy, warm spot on his (their) bed; he can feel every cell in him protest at the movement.
"Bossy." Kunimi grumbles as he swings his legs to sit over the edge of the bed.
He raises his eyes in time to see Kageyama flinch where he stands in the doorway. The movement is minute, but it doesn’t escape his eyes, and it tugs at his heartstrings a little. Too soon, he thinks as he watches navy blue eyes dart away. The sharpness of his glare softens, and not in the good, affectionate kind. Kunimi feels his heart lurch.
He gets up, less sluggish this time, and walks up to his boyfriend. He squeezes his shoulder once, placating, comforting.
"I don’t mean it like that." he murmurs, "I’ll do it, you know I will."
"No, it’s fine." Kageyama murmurs. He's not looking at Kunimi.
Suddenly, it’s not quite about laundry anymore. The atmosphere grows cold, and it’s not from the rain.
He presses his lips on Kageyama’s temple, a soft brush of lips against skin; sorry, I’m sorry, and quietly goes to gather the laundry. When he gets to the front porch, the clothes are already slightly soaked, just as Kageyama had said. He gathers them wordlessly, puts them in the laundry basket, brings it in soaked as it is.
He passes by the kitchen, hears the water running and the sounds of crockery clinking together (a little rougher and louder than it should). If Kageyama sees the soaked laundry, he makes no comment, and Kunimi quietly leaves to put the laundry in the washing room.
He walks back into the living room and finds Kageyama with one of the couch pillows held fast to his chest, his chin resting on the orange-colored cover they’d both picked out together when they first moved in their dorm. His legs are tucked close to him, and his eyes are glued fast on a television show he clearly isn’t watching.
Kunimi hovers nearby the sofa and cautiously eyes the empty space beside the couch as if it would scald him if he sat on it. He glances at Kageyama; the raven haired boy is still looking at (and not paying attention to) the television.
He moves to sit on said empty space; Kageyama still doesn’t move.
"I draped the soaked clothes over the towel rack in the bathroom. They’ll dry in a bit."
"Okay." the reply is flat.
"…Hey, I’m sorry." Kunimi begins, turning to look at Kageyama.
"Don’t mind it." Kageyama murmurs. His eyes are still fixed on the screen.
"You’re minding it." Kunimi points out, albeit without malice.
"…A little." Kageyama admits, sheepish.
"You know I don’t mean it like that."
"I know." Kageyama says, sighs. "Sorry."
Kunimi wordlessly wraps one arm around Kageyama, pulling him closer and rubs his shoulder slowly. In response, Kageyama shifts and leans on Kunimi, making himself comfortable. They proceed to spend the evening like that, huddled next to each other and watching programs that don’t actually hold their interest as Kunimi rubs soothing circles into Kageyama's shoulder. The TV is a background noise, blurring in with the soft drip-drop of the rain tapping on the windowsill, and they both soak in the ambient sounds.
It’s hard to undo years of damage, Kunimi thinks much later as he watches his boyfriend who has fallen asleep on him, but that’s okay.
He tilts his head down a little press a soft kiss into the mop of black hair.
They’ve got time to create better memories and seal the cracks, mend the hurt and for scars to heal
they’ve got all the time they need and more.