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gay
Ishigaki pulls his hand out of his pocket and his keys with it, his too eager movements and cold hands making unlocking the door difficult. He's so relieved when he finally hears the click that he doesn't immediately register the six foot figure right besides him.
He jumps, whipping his head, and just as quickly relaxes his shoulders.
It's Midousuji, masked up and in enough layers to almost hide his thin frame. More prepared for the weather than Ishigaki, but little enough to know that neither of them expected the temperature to drop the way it did. Midousuji didn't seem bothered, however.
He's leaned against the railing, his bike rested by his hip. It's not an unusual sight, Midousuji was only waiting like he was sporadically known to do when Ishigaki wasn't home on time. The two of them had been becoming increasingly close as Ishigaki was finishing his studies and Midousuji was just starting his. They both knew that some unspoken boundary had been cross lately, and Ishigaki gave up questioning Midousuji on why he would show up on his doorstep wordlessly like he did.
But tonight it was just so cold, and Ishigaki had been so late, that he couldn't help but give him a puzzled stare.
"Midousuji," Ishigaki says, tone accusatory. "It's too cold to be waiting out here like this."
You really should have called me," Ishigaki goes on, foot in the door and knowing Midousuji would soon follow, "I would have came home sooner."
He jumps, whipping his head, and just as quickly relaxes his shoulders.
It's Midousuji, masked up and in enough layers to almost hide his thin frame. More prepared for the weather than Ishigaki, but little enough to know that neither of them expected the temperature to drop the way it did. Midousuji didn't seem bothered, however.
He's leaned against the railing, his bike rested by his hip. It's not an unusual sight, Midousuji was only waiting like he was sporadically known to do when Ishigaki wasn't home on time. The two of them had been becoming increasingly close as Ishigaki was finishing his studies and Midousuji was just starting his. They both knew that some unspoken boundary had been cross lately, and Ishigaki gave up questioning Midousuji on why he would show up on his doorstep wordlessly like he did.
But tonight it was just so cold, and Ishigaki had been so late, that he couldn't help but give him a puzzled stare.
"Midousuji," Ishigaki says, tone accusatory. "It's too cold to be waiting out here like this."
You really should have called me," Ishigaki goes on, foot in the door and knowing Midousuji would soon follow, "I would have came home sooner."
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He feels fatigued, somehow, somewhere—he'd almost overworked himself to passing out, and with that kind of depletion, Midousuji always subconsciously finds himself seeking Ishigaki. He's only done it a couple of times. And here he is—again. It's too infrequent to be called a habit. So far...
His eyes widen when Ishigaki approaches—and his head tilts, gradually, ever so slightly as Ishigaki just...passes by him? Midousuji says nothing, but for a moment is almost tempted to reach out and yank his earbud out. But Ishigaki finally notices him, and Midousuji's head straightens.
"So you say," Midousuji responds with Ishigaki's fretting comment about the weather. "I'd have sooner just left," Midousuji drawls plainly, bumping his ass against the railing to straighten himself up instead of leaning against it. Midousuji points with an expectant jerk of his head gesture towards Ishigaki's door; the gesture is followed with a grand hand sweep.
"Well, then? You going to be a good southern boy and show me some hospitality?"
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"I'll show you something better," he continues. It's only a few strides before he's on the other side of his tiny apartment and inside the kitchen, rummaging through the junk drawer.
Ishigaki pauses for a moment, closing his palm around his spare keys. Their wasn't any implication in giving him these, and it wasn't premeditated- Ishigaki had just opened the drawer without a second thought.
Was he making things weird? Well, the line between what was weird and what wasn't with Midousuji was difficult to read, and even Ishigaki was unclear of his own emotions most times. Ishigaki had been mostly treating Midousuji the way he would anyone else- kindly- and although that alone was too much for Midousuji at times, it had gotten him far enough to be in his current situation.
Ishigaki looks back at Midousuji, who isn't looking at him quite yet. His pale face is speckled pink from the cold.
"Here," he says, and he returns to where Midousuji is still taking off his layers. He bumps his knuckle on Midousuji's before dropping it into his open palm, refusing to meet his eyes.
"For next time."
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Midousuji turns around distractedly to Ishigaki's vague prompting, posture stiffer than usual due to the cold, his bangs sticking wetly to his pale forehead. Though it doesn't show visibly, Midousuji already startles when he feels Ishigaki's knuckles bump his, his throat tightening, stomach flipping and heart skipping a beat. Confused reflex makes Midousuji turn his wrist, and—
Ishigaki drops a set of keys into his palm.
Eyes wide, Midousuji leans forward with a great bow in his wide back, water dripping onto the minted metal.
Keys.
Spares?
Spare keys.
To Ishigaki's place.
Any time Midousuji wants?
Midousuji lifts his head, still leaned forward with his back bent, gazing sheepishly up at Ishigaki. His mouth hangs slightly agape, unwittingly. Sometimes, Midousuji has a thousand thoughts and no way to put it into words, and he'll stand in long stretches of mutually uncomfortable silence... but right now, he has no thoughts, either.
He blinks back down at the keys, rolling them with his thumb.
His voice comes out in a deep, rumbling tone, quiet like the mist outside. "...Keys..."
good job Midousuji you did it"...Inside?"
What does this mean? What is this?? Does it mean anything? Should it feel scarier? Better?
"...Inside..."
Inside.
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Ishigaki's eyebrow's pinch together with a tilt of his head when Midousuji speaks, unblinking and patient. He hesitates to laugh, before a confused grin appears on his face and he does anyway- quiet but firm and just enough to shake his shoulders.
"Yes," he says once he realizes that's all Midousuji has to say. "Inside. Anytime you want."
His expression relaxes for a moment, head still tilted. Although Ishigaki would say he's… almost… gotten used to wide range of emotions Midousuji has to offer, this time he's left genuinely baffled by his sudden lack of articulation, silence in place of where Midousuji would normally be so quick-witted. Ishigaki couldn't have predicted there were feelings too big or too foreign for even someone like him.
Ishigaki turns and steps away, feeling overwhelmed by something himself.
"It makes sense, doesn't it?" Ishigaki continues as he steps into the hallway, trying to keep the conversation casual as he sorts through the bathroom closet, but he's not sure which one of them he's convincing. Midousuji's visit weren't often enough to warrant worrying about coming home on time every evening, and his landlord only allowed one spare key per unit, but…
"Winter is right around the corner. I don't want you waiting longer than you have to."
Ishigaki returns with two towels, and he places one on Midousuji's head, palm flat, while the other lies damp across his own shoulder- hair already ruffled and pat dried.
"Especially if you never tell me you're coming over beforehand."
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Something twists warmly inside of him—he's been aware of it, distantly. It had been so gradual, Midousuji hadn't even panicked in fear or embarrassment—he wasn't glad for it, sure, but was able to just let it passively root. So passively that Midousuji didn't notice its presence, all that often. He was content to go leisurely along this path, wherever it went. He didn't know what Ishigaki's feelings were, but wasn't even worried with it; this was satisfying enough.
But then sometimes—that stirring... It reminds Midousuji how deep the roots are. How big those feelings are. He blinks up from the keys, partially hidden by the towel. He grits his teeth, both rows of teeth exposed—he can feel the warmth of Ishigaki's hand through the towel.
Reliable gesture, as always.
Midousuji leans forward, the towel brushing his shoulders from the way he cranes his long neck forward; Midousuji's eyes narrow, his bony fingers closing slowly around the set of keys as he gives a long, slow and wicked smile, near close to Ishigaki's ears.
"How thoughtful," he says quietly, then laughs lowly, deep in the back of his throat. "Ishigaki-kun."
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So he doesn't, but he's sure there's color raised to his cheeks now. Ishigaki has trained himself to smooth out his difficult feelings with time. Even though, admittedly, it's been increasingly difficult to do so as of late. It was as if every time Ishigaki found himself comfortable enough to extend kindness, Midousuji would test that.
And how frustrating it was. If Ishigaki were a little more self aware, he'd say their push and pull had gotten addicting.
Ishigaki's expression softens, and he smiles for no one to see, deciding to take Midousuji's playfulness as a sign that he's returned to being comfortable. Ishigaki hadn't stepped outside of Midousuji's boundaries, and that was reassuring enough.
And it is. Genuinely, it is. Ishigaki has given a space that Midousuji feels safe in, and his new key has solidified that. Ishigaki knows better than to get selfish- always finding a way to recollect himself before even warmer emotions find their way into their conversations.
"Anytime," he replies softly, returning his hand to his side and stepping back.
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Midousuji minutely, just ever so slightly, leans forward—then steps forward, past Ishigaki—but he pauses as he does, resting his palm against Ishigaki's shoulder.
"I'm going to go shower to warm up."
Midousuji hasn't even used Ishigaki's shower before, and he hasn't asked if Ishigaki needs to use it first or anything...
But off he goes all the same. Midousujis eyes are wide, even as water runs over them, staring at the shower floor, leant forward with his head pressed against the shower tile as the water rolled down his back. Despite Midousuji's assertion, this shower is actually ice-cold—to stave off his burgeoning excitement. There was no way he was going to go jack off in Ishigaki's shower. It felt too weird. Or too hot. Something.
Midousuji is a bit stiff when he gets out of the shower (everywhere but where he doesn't wanna be), padding out in his towel after he's dried off—holding the towel Ishigaki gave him earlier, rather than... wearing it. Politely, he at least holds it in front of his crotch, but it's not like they haven't seen each other naked dozens of times. Sure, it'd been years, but it's not like their bodies have changed so much since then.
Midousuji glances away, hesitating, then glances back at Ishigaki. He blinks, noticing that it appears Ishigaki has set up...a kotatsu? Midousuji feels relieved, less burdened by his decision to take a cold shower when he was already under temp to an uncomfortable degree.
"I need to borrow some clothes. All of mine are wet." And cold.
Distantly, Midousuji wonders if Ishigaki's caught on to Midousuji's scheming. He'd deliberately left his clothes hanging on his bike, rather than asking Ishigaki to dry them. He'll use this borrowed set of clothing as an excuse to not go home.
His mind is made up.
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His brain buzzes. It’s not a big deal. Ishigaki has seen Midousuji naked plently of times, regardless of the fact he only just now noticed how pleasantly sharp the edges of his hip hones are. It's the same man. The same dick.
"Right."
Ishigaki lifts himself from his knees, trying to force his footing to be as casual as possible, but his legs feel stiff when he's thinking so hard about it, and the closer he gets the more he's caught analyzing how little room he has to walk between the wall and Midousuji and how stupidly small everything about his apartment is.
Ishigaki stares at the gap in the hallway and stops, mouth formed into a disgruntled line. The only option would be to slide against the wall at this point, and he knows there is no way he could go hip to dick with Midousuji and survive from it.
There's a long pause before Ishigaki eyes up at Midousuji expectantly, and suddenly they're locking eyes.
Midousuji is already staring at him, his expression impish as ever, like his toothy smile is telling him he knows something Ishigaki doesn't.
Ishigaki freezes, expression faltering, and now he can feel the way blood rushes to his face in a way he tried so hard to prevent.
Midousuji only does a weird little laugh, stepping to the side with his palms pointed flat to the other end of the hall. His eyes dart between Midousuji and the bedroom door.
He takes a hesitant step forward. Ishigaki tilts his head distrustfully, eyebrows raised and jaw slacked.
And then he slips.
Ishigaki hadn't notice that the water dripping down Midousuji's body was also forming a thin puddle beneath them. He catches himself, but the damage has been done. Ishigaki straightens himself after a back-and-forth dance of finding his footing, hands theatrically spread beside him for balance. And just as quickly as he had slipped, he sighs, posture deflating as he lies his palm over his eyes.
OKAY!!! WhATEVER I GUESS.
"The Kotatsu... is set up..." Ishigaki says plainly and quietly, sliding his hand down his face and resting it over his mouth. His other hand is placed, finally, on his bedroom door knob. He hadn't even thought of the clothes, if Midousuji is staying the night, or what he should pick out. "If you want to warm up after."
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Before the ravenousness boils over again, Ishigaki suddenly—slips, which honestly startles Midousuji, whose hands fold at their wrists by his chest as they steeple up in surprise, his eyes widening. They don't stay like that for but a second, though.
He thrusts out a strong hand, long fingers gripping Ishigaki's bicep harshly, yanking him up to correct his balance somewhat, pulling Midousuji's own shoulder down a bit in the process.
"Ah, how bad of me. Sorry for the mess," Midousuji says through a sneaky smile, tilting his head. His voice is too smooth, too low, and too warm.
"Thank you for warming me up, Ishigaki-kun."
Okay, maybe he's overdoing it. He'll pump the breaks once he gets his pajamas. It's just too fun.
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"J-just go dry off!"
It doesn’t hit that Midousuji very well plans on staying the night until he’s opened his drawer, staring blankly at his clothes as his ears still burn red. Ishigaki's skin buzzes and he almost hates how much he likes it, but he's not sure he can handle anymore of Midousuji's mischief if it lasts the whole night...
While Ishigaki was content to be friends and nothing else, now he's yearning for something entirely different that even someone as dense as himself couldn't deny. Touches would linger for longer than they needed to be by his own doing, and fantasies they he had about each other were too embarrassing to share. Ishigaki loved Midousuji’s confidence most of all, and yet Ishigaki couldn't dare to mirror it. At least, definitely not in this context. Despite all the ways he quietly fantasized declawing Midousuji and leaving him a stupid mess, Ishigaki fumbled the chances the more his feelings grew.
And then there was the pivotal question…
What if he was reading this entirely wrong?
Ishigaki grasps onto that train of thought instead, as he often does in this situation. Midousuji just knows how to get under people’s skin, he decides. Midousuji was growing more comfortable by the day, and now he’s testing Ishigaki’s boundaries.
If that was the case, Ishigaki had to set those boundaries. Midousuji wasn't fragile, that much was clear, but Ishigaki is clearly an influence, and Midousuji's world is still so small- ever growing- but still small. It's clear Ishigaki is Midousuji's safe space. He wonders, then, if offering Midousuji his spare keys was all just a subconscious ploy more than the kind gesture he thought it was.
Tired of thinking, he absentmindedly chooses a random shirt and a pair of sweatpants.
--
By the time Midousuji is dressed, Ishigaki has set the tea and has himself seated. His legs are tucked under the kotatsu, feeling only a little more recollected.
"If I'm giving you keys to my home," Ishigaki starts when he hears Midousuji come up the hallway, his arms crossed and gaze settled on the trail of steam that wavers off his tea. "There's going to be rules. And the first rule, is no..."
Ishigaki pauses, holding his words in his mouth. He knows he's setting himself up to be another end of a joke at this point, but he lets out a huff, continuing anyway. "No standing naked. In my hallway.”
His voice loses its seriousness, instead showing his own confusion, “If I give you a towel, you should use it."
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He blinks at the tea, but doesn't comment; it's what you'd expect from a boy raised in Kyoto for a guest...but still, for some reason, Midousuji likes it. He wordlessly and without expression goes to settle under the kotatsu, and finds immediate ecstasy in the relief the warmth brings; his eyes close straight down their centers as his the warmth spreads and his temperature adjusts.
Then he cracks an eye open as Ishigaki speaks. When he mentions rules, both eyes open, and Midousuji tilts his head, peering owlishly through their edges as he stares at Ishigaki. Midousuji is petulant, and far from obedient—he hates to be challenged, and Ishigaki was never an authority to him, even as a captain. Of course, all this is still true—but...the context has...ah.
Altered.
Clearly, Midousuji went a bit too far. Midousuji stares, expressionless, his gears turning. Does he push harder? Does he rescind? Even if it is Ishigaki's home, Midousuji can't simply apologize and obey like a normal person. Even though Midousuji does like when Ishigaki gets firm and stands his ground, as much as it irritates him.
Midousuji squints.
"Sure, sure," he suddenly obliges, smiling wide just as abruptly. "Your hallway. Got it. So sorry, so sorry."
He likes it a lot.
"And what of the rest of your apartment, then?"
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Playful.
Ishigaki's stomach flips at the thought, but his expression doesn't falter- only softens, just a little. How easy it is for Midousuji to let his gaurd down...
Their eyes meet when Midousuji peeks them back open, and his smile has Ishigaki wondering if it would have just been easier to just have him doze off there and never mention what happened again.
"Come on," Ishigaki starts, his voice tilted in a way he's entertained. The retaliation was expected, at least. "I know my place is small, but it's a little different from a high school locker room, isn't it?" Ishigaki was sure that although it was a bit difficult to air out at times, it at least smelled better than that.
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It’s…nice. Which Midousuji finds so unsettling. Almost as unsettling as how comfortable he feels. Sure, it took over four years to get here, and Midousuji’s walls aren’t exactly razed to rubble on the ground.
The warmth finally sinking in his bones as well as Midousuji’s extremely physically taxing day causes his head to bob a little, Midousuji’s eyes squinting closed. Which, though Midousuji isn’t thinking about it, hasn’t happened around someone who isn’t his family before. Midousuji’s like a cat, that way.
He suddenly snaps awake, snapping his head up too quick, like a toddler catching themselves. Midousuji’s just going to pretend that didn’t just happen.
“…What time is it?”
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"Oh, um." Ishigaki says, a bit delayed. He was so focused he almost missed what Midousuji had said.
He checks his phone, the lock screen showing its a little after eight. He had such a busy schedule since he had entered college- classes, studying, a part time job, training and so on- that he would normally stay up much later just to have a moment to himself. But he knows Midousuji likes to wake up early, and he wants to encourage Midousuji to listen to what his body wants, anyhow. It was unsaid if Midousuji actually planned on staying the night or not, but Ishigaki likes that these types of things don't have to be asked. Not that Midousujj would be polite enough to ask, but the assumption is still reassuring.
"It's a little late," Ishigaki says softly enough you might think he's talking to someone who was already asleep. He reaches behind him, grabbing a throw pillow from the sofa and tossing it to the side of Midousuji. He grabs one for himself too, and falls back onto it to invite him to do the same, but once his head hits the pillow, he surprises himself with how his body loses all its tension.
Although he’s loathe to admit it, he was maybe feeling just a little bit selfish right now, too. Seeing Midousuji unguarded pulled at his heartstrings so deeply he can't do anything but grasp for more. He wants to see what Midousuji looks like asleep- without passing out and looking like a total corpse.
Oh.
He... wanted to watch Midousuji sleep.
Jeez. So much for setting boundaries, then. At least this was a little different than asking Midousuji not to walk around naked...
"It's okay if you're tired," Ishigaki says, folding his arms behind his head. Hidden intentions or not, he does mean it- gifting his keys was a way to tell Midousuji he was safe here. And he's never seen Midousuji entirely relaxed before, now that he thinks about it... "You look comfortable."
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His inner clock is accurate enough to dismantle that claim. Midousuji is surprised he’s tired this early, is all—he was curious.
But he doesn’t grill Ishigaki, either. He honestly doesn’t care, but he is curious why Ishigaki would lie about such a thing. Midousuji squints suspiciously, finding that mystery is bothering him more than the dishonesty does. His back bows as his shoulders slope forward, resting his head against the surface of the kotatsu.
“A weird thing to lie about, though… How’s that even benefit you?”
Maybe Ishigaki read the time wrong…
“Suspishiigaki.”
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And just as quickly, he catches himself- lowering his voice when he does. "...Ish."
Shit. Well, it's not like his intentions were clear judging by Midousuji's reaction. At least it must have been a good enough lie for Midousuji not to escalate it into what it really was...
"I think the day just snuck up on me," he says, facing the ceiling again, and luckily he's actually tired enough for his nerves not to slip into his voice. It's not a lie, anyway. It's easy for time to slip by when you're finishing up your last year of school.
"Why does it matter, anyway? If you're tired, you should sleep."
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Which is so weirdly specific and also not real. It’s not like his mind works too fast for him to sit down and parse things, after all!
“You don’t have to tell me,” Midousuji eventually answers, and yawns. His head rocks gently sideways. How does a day sneak up on anyone? Midousuji is confident that’s never happened to him. Every day is with exhausting hyper scrutinized routine—what Ishigaki says sounds more far fetched than Peter Pan.
His heavy eyes lid, his limbs feeling heavier than sand anyway as the warmth penetrates through his bones deep.
He doesn’t mean to—he even tries to fight it, actually!
But before long, head mostly sideways against the counter of the kotatsu’s table surface, Midousuji is deeply asleep. The day didn’t sneak up on him, though; that’s not why he was this tired. It was because Ishigaki snuck up on him. Not today specifically, but over time. Like an ornery cat, Midousuji can’t recall a time he’s fallen asleep in front of someone since his last caretaker.
It’s no mistake, just as a distrustful, damaged cat may, that Midousuji allows himself to doze off.