Chapter Text
The past few days had been… weird. Not in a bad way. Just weird. Sabito wasn’t exactly sure when it started, but he had noticed it.
At first, he thought it was a coincidence.
He’d be training outside and, out of the corner of his eye, there’d be Giyuu. Quiet, awkward Giyuu, pretending not to look at him while actually looking at him a lot. Then Sabito would go help carry water from the stream, and somehow Giyuu would also be heading in that direction. Eating lunch? Giyuu would sneak in a little late, sit at the edge of the room, and watch him without saying a word. It was strange. A little creepy, honestly. But… kind of cute.
Sabito had brushed it off at first. Maybe Giyuu was just getting more comfortable, starting to leave his room more. That was a good thing, right? He was always hiding under his blankets like some kind of burrito. A very sad, very quiet blanket burrito. But recently… recently Giyuu had been more like a shadow. His shadow.
And he wasn’t even sneaky about it anymore.
Now, when Sabito turned around during chores or after training, Giyuu would be right there—standing silently, staring at him with the biggest, roundest puppy eyes Sabito had ever seen. It was like having a baby duck follow you around. A very quiet, very gloomy baby duck.
Sabito had tried to act normal. He really had. But every time Giyuu looked at him like that, like Sabito was the only person in the whole world who could make things better, his heart did a weird flippy thing in his chest and his face got hot. Really hot. Like he’d eaten something spicy by accident.
To make matters worse, Makomo had noticed.
She was always teasing him now.
“Awww, Sabito has a fan~!” she would sing, grinning from ear to ear. “Look, there he is again! Your little duckling!”
Sabito would groan and stomp away, grumbling under his breath, pretending it didn’t make him happy. Because it did. A lot.
Still, he noticed that Giyuu avoided Makomo like she was a wild animal. Even worse, he barely even spoke to Urokodaki-sensei. It made Sabito a little sad. He didn’t know why Giyuu was scared of them, but he understood. Sometimes people needed time. And Giyuu… Giyuu probably needed lots of it.
Also, he wasn’t sure Giyuu should meet Makomo yet. She was loud. Friendly. Sparkly. What if Giyuu liked her more? What if she stole him away?
Sabito refused to admit that possibility even to himself.
He was pacing through the house one late afternoon when he heard it—soft, careful footsteps padding behind him. He didn’t even have to look.
“Giyuu, I know it’s you,” he said, stopping in place.
The footsteps slowed, and he heard a tiny breath. Then, slowly, Giyuu stepped into view, hands gripping the edge of his yukata so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His head was tilted down, bangs covering his eyes, but Sabito could see how red his cheeks were.
He looked like he was about to burst.
“It’s okay, Giyuu,” Sabito said gently. “You can tell me. Whatever it is, I won’t laugh or anything.”
There was a pause.
Giyuu looked like he was thinking very, very hard. Then, in the quietest whisper, he mumbled:
“…Can we sleep together?”
Sabito blinked.
He blinked again.
His brain exploded with about a hundred thoughts at once, none of them appropriate. Sleep together?! Did Giyuu mean like, actually sleeping? In the same bed?? Or next to each other? Or—oh no. Oh no. Was he blushing?? His ears felt like they were on fire.
Was Giyuu asking to—? No. No! They were just kids! Not like that, obviously! But still!!
Sabito’s heart was going boom-boom-boom in his chest like it was trying to punch its way out of his ribs.
Then Giyuu lifted his head a little, and Sabito saw his eyes. They were watery and sad and full of something that looked an awful lot like fear.
“I had a nightmare last night,” Giyuu whispered, voice breaking. “And I woke up and I was all alone and I couldn’t sleep again. It was too quiet and dark and I—I got really scared. I don’t wanna be alone tonight. Can you… Can you stay with me? Like the first night I came here? I felt better then…”
A tear slid down his cheek.
Sabito felt like the world's biggest idiot.
All those silly thoughts, and meanwhile Giyuu had just been scared. Really scared. Sabito had been so busy freaking out, he hadn’t even thought about how hard it must be for him. A new place, new people, scary dreams…
Without another word, Sabito stepped closer and gently took Giyuu’s hand.
"Of course," Sabito replied instantly, his voice cracking just a little. He cleared his throat, face red as a beet. "Of course you can. I—I don’t mind."
Giyuu blinked up at him, eyes glassy and uncertain. Then, very slowly, he nodded, rubbing at his nose with his sleeve. Sabito didn't know what to do with his hands, so he grabbed Giyuu's and gave it a small tug, leading him toward his room. His heart thudded like a taiko drum in his chest, and he was pretty sure his ears were burning.
★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰ ★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆
They walked in silence, save for the soft padding of their feet and the occasional sniffle from Giyuu. Once inside, Sabito shut the door gently behind them and awkwardly patted the futon. "Um… you can have that side," he said, pointing, suddenly very interested in the floor.
Giyuu nodded and started crawling under the covers without saying anything. He curled up instantly, still holding a corner of Sabito’s sleeve like it was a lifeline. Sabito stood there a moment, heart thudding, before finally sitting down beside him and laying down with stiff, robotic movements.
The futon wasn’t very big.
There was a long silence. Sabito could feel the warmth of Giyuu next to him, hear the quiet little breaths and the way they hitched sometimes, like he was trying not to cry again.
"...Sabito?" came the tiniest whisper.
"Yeah?"
"You're warm."
Sabito felt his brain fizzle like fireworks. "Y-yeah, well, you're cold, so it's good I'm warm, right?"
"Mmhm."
Another pause. Then—
"...Sabito?"
He swallowed. "Yeah?"
"Thank you. For not laughing at me."
Sabito turned to look at him and saw Giyuu staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, clutching the blanket up to his nose.
"I would never laugh at you, dummy," he mumbled, turning onto his side so his back was facing Giyuu, partly because he didn’t want Giyuu to see his face. "You can always come to me, 'kay? Even if you have a dumb nightmare or you just wanna be a blanket burrito again. I’ll be here. So don’t look so sad all the time. Or I’ll be forced to tickle you or something."
"...You wouldn't."
"Oh, I would."
There was a beat of silence, and then—so softly he almost didn’t catch it—Giyuu giggled.
Sabito smiled into his pillow. he said softly. “I’ll stay with you.”
Giyuu’s eyes went wide. He sniffled and nodded, and then—very carefully—leaned forward and rested his forehead on Sabito’s shoulder. Sabito went stiff for a second, but then relaxed. He patted Giyuu’s back like he’d seen Urokodaki do once.
“You’re not alone anymore,” Sabito said, more to himself than anything. “Not ever again.”
They stood like that for a while. Just two small boys in a quiet room, sharing warmth and silence and the kind of unspoken promise only kids could make with so much honesty.
Sabito would stay. And Giyuu would sleep. And maybe tomorrow, things wouldn’t be so weird.
Or maybe they’d still be weird—but weird in a good way.