089 » i know this like the back of my hand

[nayamashii]

[anyway, putting all the stuff with sato and the other guys aside for a moment — ignoring the fact that nothing mizuki said afterward made any sense whatsoever — akari still has a shower to take, and a dinner to make, and a lover to curl up with at the end of the day. so all's well on that front, really. so he's ignoring the texts and calls from his friends. he'll deal with tomorrow tomorrow.

akari hasn't become a master chef overnight, but from what he's gleaned by looking at the contents of mizuki's fridge, he's guessing that he's the first person to make the man home-cooked meals in some time. it's not like mizuki didn't own a frying pan, or never used his stove at all — clearly he owned whatever utensils that a bachelor would need to make a meal at home on occasion — but the life of a salaryman is a busy one, an exhausting one that often makes buying a hot meal at the convenience store seem like the most logical path of least resistance, and if mizuki moved out of his parents' house during college (that would explain why he said the bar manager helped him out a lot, wouldn't it?), maybe he hasn't had real home cooking in a long time.

maybe he figured he'd have a wife to do that kind of thing.

so akari makes the man nikujaga. it's one of those warm, filling, meat-and-potatoes dishes that he liked from his own mom before she turned cold — which, you know, whatever, he probably deserved it — and the comforting smell of it makes mizuki's modest apartment seem more like a home. and maybe it's not that great, really — maybe it's a little unevenly seasoned, and the meat is a little burnt in places — but it's homemade, and it's piping hot, and it doesn't need to be microwaved, and isn't that what matters, really?

akari is sly, in any case, and he knows he shouldn't overstep his bounds. mizuki had some kind of work emergency he needed to look into from his laptop, so akari peeks over his shoulder from the doorway of the kitchen, making absolutely sure that his boyfriend (it's still odd to think of him as a boyfriend) isn't on his cellphone or a conference call before he chirps with uncharacteristically girlish charm:]

Honey... Dinner's ready!

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[wakamiya]

[ The apartment hasn't been the same in months now — which isn't a bad thing. Before, Mizuki would come home to quiet rooms, and go about the rest of his evening without giving it much thought, and part of that routine was making do with quick meals that didn't need a lot of preparation or cleaning up between overtime commitments to handle. Since Akari moved in, the evening's sounds have changed, just enough to point out his presence in the background, nothing disruptive. There's the shower running, and footsteps crossing the floor. In the kitchen, the fridge door opens and closes. Quieter, something sizzles away on the stove.

None of it is a bad thing. Akari, maybe because he worries about getting in the way, is in fact a model roommate.

When he calls out to Mizuki, his cheerful announcement doesn't interrupt anything; Mizuki's fingers have finished typing out the final line of an email to send. One last tap takes care of it. Mizuki glances up, eyes lingering on Akari, who seems to have recovered after the conversation with his friends. The boy is a different person again, and Mizuki studies him a moment too long, as if transfixed.

Then, shutting his laptop, he gets to his feet to step closer. ]

It smells good.

[ It smells inviting — the scent of Akari's cooking fills the apartment, something warm and cozy about it. It doesn't matter if it's not perfect. ]

You're in a better mood, too.

[ Akari looks like he's having fun, at least, happy where he is right now. ]

[nayamashii]

[ Perhaps the truly transfixing thing about Akari is how mercurial he is. One moment, he's plastered on his perfect Boyfriend Smile™; the next, that smile has transformed into a scowl. He can't be too angry, though, when Mizuki's electrifying height is hovering over his own, peering over his shoulder at the gently steaming potatoes in the pot beyond. The man's proximity is intoxicating. Does he even realize the kind of effect he has on Akari? ]

I wasn't in a bad mood.

[ ...so says the young man who left a restaurant by slamming both hands on the table and leaving in a huff. ]

They were just being embarrassing and annoying. And rude!

[ Dutifully, he ladles out two bowlfuls of meat and potatoes and shirataki noodles for the both of them, muttering darkly under his breath all the while. ]

I haven't even asked you some of those questions yet...

[wakamiya]

[ As Akari portions out their dinner, Mizuki draws back a little, giving him some room to move around in the small space that makes up the kitchen, but his gaze rests on the boy, thoughtful, watching Akari's expression darken. It's true — it's not exactly a bad mood. It's probably more accurate to describe this side of Akari as flustered, put on the spot and uncomfortable with it.

It's a regular teenager's understandable reaction, isn't it? ]

Mm... Did you want to be the one to ask them?

[ Mizuki asks his own question after another moment's pause, holding out his hands to help set the table once the bowls are filled.

Akari knows that his friends didn't mean any harm, and that nobody walked away offended today, he thinks. It's not something that the boy needs to hear from someone else. Tomorrow, they'll all catch up at school, where they can talk in peace. ]

[nayamashii]

I wasn't even gonna ask. But I deserve to know the answers before they do, don't I?

[ Akari sets their singular low table for dinner deftly enough, two matched sets of bowls and chopsticks for him and Mizuki alike, but when he settles cross-legged into his usual position, he doesn't touch his food. Instead, he props his cheek up on his arm, staring at Mizuki with innocent wide eyes and a soft, youthful face. Perhaps he just intends to watch Mizuki eat.

Do you really like me? his eyes ask. You've never told me why. ]

You're not the type of guy who says things like "I love you," though.

[wakamiya]

[ The food is sure to taste as good as it smells, but Mizuki doesn't pick up his bowl and chopsticks straightaway, either, meeting Akari's intent stare across the handful of centimeters of table between them. His own hands, lowered again, lie loosely folded near the table's edge for the moment. That's where they stay, that is, until he lifts his right hand, bringing it close to Akari's head, brushing down a stray lock of hair with his thumb, almost absently.

A second passes, and that hand returns to its former position. ]

Maybe I'm not.

[ And maybe that has nothing to do with their age difference, just like Akari holds back in some ways, even though he acts bold in others. ]

But I don't mind answering, if you wanted to know.

[nayamashii]

[ah. mizuki's touch, the weight of his fingers tingling pleasantly against akari's scalp — all of it, all of it makes akari crave more of the man, even though the nikujaga on the table is already promising to sate his bottomless appetite.

akari's a convincing liar most of the time, but even he can't hide the hopeful glint in his eyes, the too-pure sparkle as he greedily tracks mizuki's every moment, keen as a cat. one can almost imagine the twitch of his ears, the impatient flick of a tail against the floorboards. he picks up his chopsticks, but he's still looking at mizuki from the crook of his elbow.]

...I want to know.

[he's really not a tsundere by any means, but seriously, the words this is even more embarrassing! are practically steaming out of his ears. but he does want to know...]

[wakamiya]

[ Abruptly, Mizuki thinks of Tachibana's cat. It's the way Akari is watching him, peering up at him so expectantly — the boy doesn't have furry ears or a fluffy tail, but in his gaze, there's something that Mizuki supposes Tachibana sees whenever his kitten is hungry. Or when it wants to play?

It makes Mizuki's expression soften. It makes it hard not to reach out and touch Akari's hair again, like petting a cat.

He reaches for his chopsticks instead, holding them lightly, and repeats himself as Akari radiates fresh embarrassment. ]

So it's fine. Which questions are you asking me?

[nayamashii]

[a little puff of strangled breath escapes akari's lungs as he half-exhales in mingled embarrassment and surprise. it's a good thing he hasn't touched his bowl yet; he might have choked on a stray bit of noodle.]

You're gonna make me say it — ?!

[this sort of thing should go without saying! after a moment, however, akari recomposes himself, sitting up properly at the table as he glares at mizuki like... well, exactly like an affronted cat.]

Fine. What do you even like about me?

[as always, he's nothing if not flexible. one of his hands finally reaches for his chopsticks, unconsciously mirroring mizuki's actions. there's a familiarity, now, to the way he scowls, every bit as familiar as the way his pajamas are always folded and waiting for him whenever he gets out of the shower, the way his toothbrush leans in mizuki's tellingly unpopulated bathroom toothbrush holder.]

I know I'm cute, but it's not like you couldn't find someone who'd be cuter.

[wakamiya]

[ Surprise crosses Mizuki's features, too. Akari's question isn't the same as asking for a list of qualities — it sounds closer to doubting that Mizuki could find anything to like about him. He really meant it, then, admitting to wanting a straightforward answer in spite of his doubts. There was a reason why he looked at Mizuki the way he did.

First, Mizuki's eyes flick to Akari's bowl, only for the span of another second. ]

We shouldn't let your cooking get cold.

[ They just happened to meet that day, not that long ago, and Mizuki wasn't the one searching, but at some point, Akari's visits became normal, and Akari staying here started to feel right. Forever might be less joking than it was supposed to be, at first — that's not a problem, as long as Akari has found the place he wanted. ]

Well, it's not about comparing cuteness... [ Looking up, chopsticks nearing his own bowl, Mizuki continues: ] Or that there aren't other things to like. To be honest, it's more surprising that you like it here.

[nayamashii]

[again, akari's response to his lover's chiding is a little huff — maybe he likes his food a little cold, mizuki, ever thought about that? — but the older man isn't wrong, so he starts poking at his meal as he tries to put into words what it is he likes about mizuki's bachelor pad so much.]

For one thing, my parents aren't here to accuse me of turning my little brother gay.

[no, no — he's deflecting again. mizuki's been trying to stop him from doing that. he knows he's done something wrong; the briefest flicker of bashfulness crosses akari's expression before it steels over again and he puts a bit of potato in his mouth.]

And... you're nice. I... like sharing the bed.

[no, well, he shouldn't answer like that, either. it's not about the bed. it's not about the size of the living space (admittedly cramped), or the bathroom (only a shower, no tub), or the solitary low table around which they take their meals (half the size of the dining table in akari's parents' home). in every way besides company, mizuki's modest apartment is a downgrade from akari's home, and yet he'd rather be here than any other place in the world.

why is it so hard to be honest? it'd be easier to pull teeth.]

...You don't ask too many questions... and you give me space to do my work. And you listen when I tell you things.

[...well, that makes it sound like he thinks mizuki is a dog.]

[wakamiya]

[ For a few moments, Mizuki is quiet, simply studying Akari, listening. Little by little, the boy admits something that clicks into place, and this time, he doesn't cover it up as kidding around. Akari feels safe here, Mizuki realizes. It can't be the only place in the world where that's possible, but it is where Akari happens to be.

It's a place that he won't lose.

Despite encouraging Akari to eat, Mizuki hasn't followed suit himself yet — with his free hand, he reaches back out, laying his palm atop Akari's head. Fingers shifting there, he tousles the boy's hair lightly, and undoes stroking it smoother before. ]

I thought that maybe I remind you of your friend.

[ Sato, he means — they look alike, a little. ]

[nayamashii]

Sato?

[akari doesn't quite stutter, but he replies so quickly that there almost seems to be a slight edge of guilt to his voice. why did you answer sato first? something in him demands crossly, and the answers come in a deluge: why not? and well, it wasn't going to be hase or mikami, was it? and anyway, you know why!

his skin pulls taut over his knuckles when his fingers curl closer to his palm.]

I —

[fuck. they do look alike, just a little. the same sandy gold-brown hair. the same fine, clear-eyed gaze. but it's not about that. it's never been about that. truth be told, akari hadn't even really noticed the coincidental resemblance until mizuki pointed it out just now.]

I've never thought that. [up until now, which is the same thing, maybe.] You're too — he's too...

[it's not really that one is kinder than the other. so what is the difference, then? in no way would akari ever mistake mizuki for sato, but it's, there's just something about...]

Well, he's an idiot, honestly. [that's why he's dating mikami.] You're much sharper.