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It starts like this: it’s a Monday, and it’s cold. Rui’s sitting in class not really listening to whatever the teacher is talking about because he’s significantly more preoccupied with trying to find the screwdriver he could’ve sworn he put in his bag this morning. There’s an itch behind his neck and a half-dissected drone on his desk—he really needs to at least replace the screws on the back before the end of the school day so it doesn’t fall apart on the way home—carefully hidden by the textbook he’s propped up in front of it.
He’s just about to give up on the bag and frisk his own cardigan when a voice jolts him back from his thoughts, and he looks up to meet a pair of familiar eyes.
“Rui! There you are!”
It’s Tsukasa. Rui blinks, dazed—what’s he doing here?—and then his tunnel vision readjusts and he realises the period’s already ended and everyone else is getting up to leave.
Tsukasa’s out of breath, panting a little with exertion as he leans against the doorway of Rui’s classroom with one hand. He must’ve sprinted over between classes for whatever it is he seems to need him for, Rui observes, curious.
He turns in his chair to face his visitor. “Tsukasa-kun? What brings you here?”
“…Do you by chance have your gym uniform today?” Tsukasa asks.
Rui tilts his head. Tsukasa’s face is strained, as if he’s about to do something he really doesn’t want to do.
“I do, but I’m not sure I follow.”
“Can I borrow it?”
Oh?
“Oh?” Rui says, face breaking out into a smirk. “don’t tell me the great Tenma ‘I’m always perfectly organised’ Tsukasa has actually forgotten something?”
Tsukasa grits his teeth (the closest thing to an eye-roll Rui’s ever been able to get out of him. He’s working on it) and explains, “The dryer broke last night, so I couldn’t exactly bring it with me in the state it’s in.”
Rui raises an eyebrow.
“Anyway, please?” Tsukasa asks again, and Rui chuckles.
“Of course you can, I was just messing with you.” Rui feels his smirk drop to something a little softer. “You know where I keep it, right?”
“I do!” Tsukasa instantly perks up. “Thank you, Rui!” he says, and he sounds so sincere that Rui almost feels bad for teasing him.
Rui watches him dart away, shouting apologies at the hall monitors he passes for running in the corridors, before the school bell rings and Rui has to fake-focus on class again.
It turns out the screwdriver was in his cardigan after all, and he’s just fishing it out of his pocket when something catches his eye from outside the classroom’s window.
A bunch of second years filter out onto the athletics field outside, babbling loudly to each other. Rui watches them loiter around for a minute, kind of half listening to what the gym teacher is yelling to them about, before a familiar shout rings out from the other side of the pitch and one more person runs on.
Rui feels his mouth curve up into a smile.
It’s Tsukasa, sprinting to the center of the field while somehow profusely bowing and spouting apologies all the while.
Rui props his chin up with one hand, covering his smile with his fingers. He wonders if Tsukasa’s going to be all mopey at practice later because he stained his perfect no-lates record.
He’s about to turn his attention back to the drone on his desk when the class starts moving around, probably picking teams for whatever they’re playing, and Tsukasa, now at the back of the group, becomes fully visible from the classroom window.
And, oh.
Tsukasa shifts where he’s stood, the cuffs of Rui’s gym pants almost brushing the grass as he shuffles his feet. Rui’s uniform is at least two sizes too big for him, and it hangs off his frame, the hem of the jacket falling far past his waist.
It might be the most adorable thing Rui’s ever seen.
Tsukasa’s hands are barely visible past the ends of his sleeves, and he keeps playing with their cuffs, probably aching to roll them up but too conscious of leaving wrinkles to actually do so, and god does Rui want to faint at the thought.
But the thing that really does it, the thing that’s by far the most likely to give Rui heart palpitations is the name label on the left of the jacket. ‘Kamishiro,’ it reads, in Rui’s scrawled handwriting, and it takes Rui a conscious effort to tear his eyes away from Tsukasa and swallow down the heat that’s rising rapidly to his face.
It’s just a jacket, and it’s not like he hasn’t lent clothes to people before, but for some reason this time Rui’s having trouble convincing himself that this is a normal situation. The reaction he’s having definitely isn’t a normal one. He wants to look back again.
Something suddenly clatters to the floor next to Rui, and he jumps a little, startled. It’s the screwdriver. It must’ve fallen while he’d been distracted, Rui reasons as he leans down to pick it up off the floor.
He hears a sigh from the front of the room, and turns to see his history teacher staring daggers at him.
Right, Rui thinks, he has history today, doesn't he?
“Kamishiro, please at least pretend to pay attention.” she says, pointedly, before turning back to whatever she was writing.
Rui flashes her an apologetic smile and then turns his gaze back to the window. Today, it seems, there are more important things than history and drones.
The first thing Rui notices when he wakes up is that this is not where he normally sleeps. Well, he kind of sleeps everywhere—Nene actually considers it a skill that he’s able to doze off while sitting cross-legged on the floor—but he usually at least makes it to the couch most days, and this does not feel like the couch.
He blinks, trying to clear the bleariness from his eyes, and rolls over a little where he’s lying with a soft groan. He must’ve left the lights on when he passed out because Jesus is it bright in here.
“Good morning, Rui,” someone says from… above him?
Rui’s eyes snap open.
Oh, he thinks as his vision adjusts, that’s why this felt so unfamiliar.
He is on the couch, as a matter of fact, but he isn’t alone. Tsukasa’s looking down at him from where Rui’s head is resting in his lap (in his lap…!) with an expression of undisguised fondness on his face, his fingers lightly playing with the ends of Rui’s hair.
“…Good morning, Tsukasa-kun.” Rui manages.
It catches up to him then: Rui’s suggestion that they go back to his place so Tsukasa could “quality check” the new robot he’d made for their upcoming show that he’d immediately ruined by passing out on Tsukasa’s shoulder the second they’d both sat down. Rui isn’t a great host at the best of times, but this might be a new low even for him.
Tsukasa’s still wearing that expression, and it’s taking everything Rui has not to wilt under it because god he’s so beautiful and waking up to that isn’t something Rui thinks his heart will ever be able handle ever again. he really hopes he hasn’t been snoring or—god forbid—drooling while he was asleep, because the last thing he needs is for his new boyfriend to think he’s a gross sleeper on top of someone who has a tendency to randomly pass out on top of other people.
Rui clears his throat, blinking some of the remaining sleep out of his eyes. “How long was I out?”
“Only about an hour.” Tsukasa replies, hands still softly playing with Rui’s hair.
An hour. Rui kept Tsukasa there for a whole hour. He needs to apologise; Tsukasa had probably gone insane with boredom.
“It’s fine, though.” Tsukasa reads his mind. “Sleep as much as you need to. I know you’ve been pulling all-nighters trying to get that robot finished.”
Rui hums in response, conflicted. He had, but that didn’t excuse passing out on top of his guest.
“You should really take better care of yourself, you know?” Tsukasa slides his fingers further into Rui’s hair as he speaks, a tone of lecture in his voice. Almost on instinct, Rui inclines his head into the touch. “It makes me happy that you work so hard for the sake of our shows, but your health is more important than performing. We can’t put on the best show if our dear director is out of commission now, can we?”
Rui hums again, noncommittally, shifting his head closer still against Tsukasa’s hand, and Tsukasa sighs with exasperation, gaze fond.
He’s just about to let his eyes flutter back shut, lulled by the warmth of Tsukasa’s legs under his head and the feeling of his nails gently scratching his scalp when he realises that oh—
“Don’t you have to get back?” Rui asks, sitting up. He immediately misses the warmth of Tsukasa’s lap, but he’ll be damned if he lets his catnap inconvenience Tsukasa any more than it already has.
“Well, I’d love to, but,” Tsukasa nods towards the garage’s window, eyebrows furrowed. It’s raining quite hard, droplets hammering faintly against the glass.
Ah. Tsukasa’s still in his uniform, and Rui’s pretty sure he didn’t bring a coat or an umbrella with him.
“I can lend you an umbrella if you’d like.” Rui says. “Not to make you feel like I’m getting rid of you,” he adds with a smile he hopes looks sly, “but I believe you mentioned last time that you like to be back when Saki-kun comes home?”
Tsukasa nods. “I wouldn’t want to impose on you, though.”
Rui smiles. You couldn’t even if you tried.
“It’s not a problem as long as you don’t forget to give it back.” is what he says instead, his tone playful.
The two head out of the garage towards the front door, and Rui leaves Tsukasa to pack up his notes and shuffle his shoes on while he digs up his old umbrella. It’s plain, transparent, and Tsukasa doesn’t look at it judgmentally like he does with most of Rui’s possessions when he hands it over which he takes as a good sign.
Rui opens the door for him and he steps out, turning around to face Rui. “Thanks, Rui.” he says, and Rui tries not to drop dead on the spot when he flashes that signature grin of his that could put the sun to shame.
Rui’s just about to open his mouth to respond when Tsukasa shivers a little where he’s stood. Rui looks at him, scrutinising, before wordlessly leaning to the side and plucking his own scarf off the coat stand. Tsukasa’s eyes follow him, face a little perplexed until Rui reaches over to drape it over his shoulders, loosely wrapping it once around his neck, and then steps back to admire his work.
Tsukasa’s gone red.
Ah.
“Take care on your way home.” Rui says, trying not to let his sudden wave of embarrassment into his voice.
“Will do.” Tsukasa says stiffly, before turning on his heel and speed-walking away.
Once he’s out of sight, Rui closes the door, and then immediately sinks to the ground with his back against it, face burning where he’s buried it in his hands.
Oh, god.
He really should’ve thought that through, because now the image of Tsukasa wearing his—his—scarf is never, ever going to leave his head. Tsukasa, whose face was flushed the same sunset colour as the tips of his hair, whose hands were so lax with surprise that the umbrella was in danger of slipping out of them, whose pupils were blown wide as he stared at Rui.
Rui pushes his head further into his hands.
This boy is going to be the death of him.
Actually, come to think of it, he doesn’t have any proof that he hasn’t already died and everything following him passing out on Tsukasa’s shoulder isn’t just an elaborate fever dream his mind has made up to torture him—because, fuck, the only thing that’s ever made his heart flutter like it’s doing now was Tsukasa’s confession, and, honestly, he still can’t believe that really happened either.
Rui just sits there for a minute, face still in his hands, and wonders if Tsukasa’s just as embarrassed as he is. He hopes he at least came across as kind of suave but Tsukasa already knows how much of a pathetic loser he really is by now and that kind of dashes his hopes a little.
He doesn’t know how much time passes before he’s pulled back to reality by his phone buzzing. It’s a text from Tsukasa, thanking him for lending him the scarf and saying he’ll return it tomorrow.
Rui smiles as he picks up his phone and types up his reply.
> [18:56] you can keep it
It’s been a few months now since Rui and Tsukasa started living together, and Rui still isn’t really used to it.
He doesn’t think he’ll ever really get used to it either, because waking up to one Tenma Tsukasa snoring obnoxiously loudly in his arms every morning is something he could only have imagined in his wildest dreams. Even though it’s real, it still feels too good to be true. Honestly, the mere thought of sleeping beside Tsukasa in the first place would’ve probably sent highschool Rui into cardiac arrest, and even as an adult he still needs to sit down with his head in his hands and wail to Nene about it sometimes.
The alarm clock reads 9:03 when Rui finally brings himself to untangle his body from the limbs of his sleeping fiancé, slipping his pillow between Tsukasa’s arms to replace himself and tucking him back under the covers. Tsukasa’s a messy sleeper, but he somehow still manages to look endearing despite all the snoring and drooling that’s going on, legs splayed out over their bed with his hair ruffled and cheeks slightly pink. Rui can’t help his fond smile as he watches his unconscious figure.
He figures he may as well let Tsukasa have a lie-in since they’re both free until the afternoon today, and so he throws on a jacket over his pajamas and pads into their kitchen, flicking on the cooker and grabbing the remaining eggs from their fridge. Tsukasa does most of the cooking for the two of them because Rui knows he likes to be the one to take care of him, but Rui likes to return the favour at least some of the time, Tsukasa’s usual protests be damned.
He’s only just cracked the eggs into the pan when he hears the telltale thump of bare feet on the kitchen tiles.
“Rui…?” comes a voice, hoarse from sleep, and Rui turns to see Tsukasa standing at the kitchen’s entrance, blinking at him as if he’s still not quite awake enough to see yet.
“Good morning, Tsukasa.” Rui says, not even bothering to hide the new smile that takes to his face at the sight of his fiancé.
Tsukasa’s standing slightly crookedly against the wall with one hand rubbing at his eyes, clearly still half-asleep, and he’s dressed only in shorts and a very oversized t-shirt that Rui is absolutely one hundred percent sure does not belong to Tsukasa.
Tsukasa stumbles over to him, face planting against Rui’s chest into a hug. “What are you doing?”
“Is it not obvious?” Rui replies, leaning in to rest his chin on the top of Tsukasa’s head and turning away from the stove to wrap his arms around his waist. “I’m making breakfast for my wonderful star.”
Tsukasa’s ears redden a little, and he lets out an embarrassed cough. Rui’s smile widens.
“But you’re an awful cook.” Tsukasa says.
“What an accusation!” Rui replies, his tone one of mock offence. “I’ll have you know that I’m known as the Edison of the culinary world. Even Ramsay-kun acknowledges my skills.”
He thinks he feels Tsukasa smile against him at his horrible attempt at humour, and feels a new wave of fondness wash over him.
The two of them stand there for a little while, content just to be in each other’s embrace. Rui frees one of his arms to poke at the eggs—he can cook, even if he isn’t Tenma-Tsukasa-professional-chef standard, but he’ll be damned if he gives Tsukasa any more ammo to tease him with by messing this up—and brings his other hand up to gently chord through Tsukasa’s hair.
Tsukasa lets out a yawn, breath warm against Rui’s chest. He’s closed his eyes again, relaxing into the warmth of Rui’s body. Rui wouldn’t be surprised if he’d started to drift back off, which he’d be totally fine with if not for the fact that they’re standing in the middle of the kitchen, so he leans down and plants a firm kiss on Tsukasa’s forehead.
“Go back to bed, okay? I’ll bring this to you when it’s done.”
Tsukasa mumbles something reluctantly but then nods into his chest, giving Rui one last weak squeeze before breaking the embrace. Rui reaches out and rights Tsukasa’s shirt where it’s fallen off one of his shoulders, smiling slightly at the design—he was right, it’s his, that dumb ‘MORE MORE JUMP!’ shirt Mizuki had given him a few years back in an attempt to indoctrinate him into their idol obsession—before watching him trudge back to their bedroom, still very much half asleep.
Rui’s heart squeezes at the sight, something warm and fond curling in his stomach. He continues staring even after Tsukasa nudges the bedroom door closed, mind full of nothing but absolute adoration for the boy he gets to call his own; the only thing stopping him from calling up Nene right now to brag is the fact that he knows from experience that she’ll skin him if he tries to talk to her before 10 AM.
The sound of aggressive sizzling eventually wakes Rui up from his thoughts, and he turns back to the cooker only to realise that the eggs are now significantly more than well-done.
“Ah.”