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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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.