Archive of Our Own ^beta

They do not think alike at all. Being on the same wavelength isn’t important after all, not when he’s too still and the other fidgets a bit too much.

Urie Kuki freezes in time and place, and the world follows him hot on his heels: anyone could tell he’s thinking ill of them, when his glance sprints sideways and the music comes bursting out of the headphones enough to be heard from others. He may purse his lips, you could hear a faint hm reverberating somewhere between his throat and chest, and that would be the telltale sign: he’s making fun of you and he enjoys it (if you can spot his cheekbone rising slowly as he turns away).
Mutsuki Tooru is a completely different brand of over-thinker: both hands curl up in a tight fist, pulling along any clothing they find on their way; his forehead wrinkles up out of the blue, he averts his eyes, all thin lips and rigid shoulders. He’s thinking, mostly about himself, no flattery on the horizon: he would never think ill of someone, not when black and white are in plain view and someone else already picked which side to support.
Admittedly, there are a lot of questions to ask and the amount of answers is indirectly proportional to them, but there’s one question mark in particular that shoulders all the weight: how could two people like that meet halfway? What happens?
Well, there’s a hug. And lots of blood involved.

An month after the Auction Raid, Mutsuki digs the invernal pajamas out of the closet and opts for curling up at the exact centre of the mattress. They all sleep together during holidays and festivities, because Sasaki says that’ll help strengthen their bonds, so it must be true if sensei says so (it really isn’t because Sasaki is a complete fool) - look at their thought patterns all jumbled up, what an oxymoron! - anyway, Fate decided that Mutsuki and Urie would sleep side by side, between Shirazu and Saiko.
Laughter, grumbling and fidgeting ensue.
The night of the 9th December, Mutsuki is half-asleep, belly up and hands clenched right below his navel: he lets some soft grunts escape, from time to time, not to wake up the others. It really is painful, this time around, much less painful than useless. Really, Mutsuki never asked for it. It sucks so much.
It’s almost 5 a.m. when Urie sneezes, Mutsuki blurts out a soft “bless you” that, no surprises here, goes unnoticed: then the blanket is all tangled up when Urie rolls on his side and slides a hand on Mutsuki’s stomach and before he can cry out his fingers stop before they brush his ribs.
(Hard to remember that Urie knows a bit more than the others, he can’t help it.)
“Better?” he growls, not quite as demanding as he wants to be. Mutsuki bats his eyelashes at the ceiling a few times, before opening his mouth with a soft pop.
“…I can stand it.”
Urie stays silent for a few minutes, freezing hand never leaving Mutsuki’s stomach. There are goosebumps on his arms but he doesn’t mind that much.
“Thank yo-”
“You better take some medications for this,” he interrupts, curtly. “How are you going to explain this to Sasaki if you’re not feeling well when you’re required?”
Mutsuki never answers immediately: there are times in which he feels it’s necessary, but can’t do it anyway, and no amount of training can overcome his biggest fear (”maybe you just need a level-up, Mucchan!”, says Saiko, and Mutsuki appreciates her own special way to give an uncommonly heartfelt advice), and there are times in which he doesn’t want to do it because he needs to think. This is one of those moments.
The correct answer comes to him like the funniest solution to a mind-boggling trick.
“You never noticed until the Auction… so I’ll just keep doing what I always did.”
Urie’s hand is completely still, but he’s not thinking like he usually does. He’s listening.
“…you have a point.”
“…”
“Does it hurt that much?”
Mutsuki can hear, somewhere between the echoes in Urie’s throat and the short puffs of air that burst out of his chapped lips, the faint curiosity of someone who never had to face these issues up close. It’s cute, he thinks, and might blush a little in the dark room filled with Shirazu’s snoring and Saiko’s constant shifting.
“At first it does, yes… but it’s different for everyone.”
There are tears in his eyes, as his knees rise and brush against each other, and he realises only when he feels one of them slowly roll down on the side. It’s like several punches in the gut. If only Urie’s hand were warmer…
“…it hurts a lot now.”
“I figured.”
Urie’s hand slides off, gently. (It was kind of warm, after all.)

When Mutsuki wakes up he quickly looks to the opposite side - Urie’s back is close to his arm - and hopes that everyone is still sleeping because they can’t absolutely see them that close, it would be so embarrassing and he’d never hear the end of it, especially from Shirazu, and it might be funny but it really isn’t because it’s not what he wants and obviously not what Urie meant to do it just happened-
“My back is all sweaty. Gross.”
Mutsuki notices that Urie’s biting his lower lip and quickly darts to the bathroom.
He hopes that Saiko laughed in her sleep, oh, he really does.

For starting out so rough and distant, they sure come closer fast.