Archive of Our Own ^beta

Ida rests the broom against the wall, and takes in the apartment for a second time.

He mentally pats himself on the shoulder, filled with the feeling of a job done. Granted, there wasn’t much to clean – the apartment is a small, one-room studio, and it’s bare except for a few home appliances that already came with the place. Most of his things and some packages will be delivered on the following day. For now, then, he only has with him a backpack, a suitcase, and the futon he hung on the balcony to air and to take in a rest of sun.

A knock brings his attention to the door. Before he can answer, the door opens and Aoki’s head pops inside, tilting to the side in an endearing way, a smile stretched on his lips.

“You done, Ida?” Aoki doesn’t wait for a reply and invites himself in, looking around, eyes full of light and body moving with excitement.

Seeing Aoki like this makes Ida smile.

At least one week earlier, Aoki had been wavering between anticipation and anxiety, with everything and everyone they would leave behind in Saitama, and with all there was to look forward to in Kyoto – living on their own, and the university, whose classes would begin in a few days. On the shinkansen ride, already missing his family and their friends, Aoki had cried during the whole trip, to the point Ida worried his eyes would melt with tears. Ida held his hand all the way to Kyoto, hoping the gesture would comfort Aoki, even if a little.

They got off the train, and the building where they would live from now on was easy to find. The landlady gave them their keys, and also kindly lent the brooms to them.

Ida didn’t notice he was staring at Aoki until his boyfriend made a face and sighed, saying he was feeling okay now, Ida didn’t have to worry, and shouldn’t you go clean your apartment, Aoki said, pushing Ida on the back. Ida laughed, relenting, okay, okay, I’ll go.

Ida takes Aoki in now, his relaxed posture, the featherlight weight of his steps. His eyes are still a little puffed, though, but they soften with the smile Aoki directs at him.

“Hum, well done,” Aoki teases, once he finishes observing the place, shifting his gaze to Ida. The smile still plays at the corner of his mouth, and he pats Ida on the head.

Chuckling, Ida returns the gesture, fingers threading through Aoki’s fluff hair. “Well done too, Aoki,” he echoes, assuming Aoki is here because he already finished cleaning his own apartment.

“Let me give you a tour around my place,” Aoki says jokingly. Ida shakes his head and smiles, because Aoki says this as if their apartments aren’t exactly the same, two neighbor units in the same building, with only a wall of distance between them.

To be honest, it bothered Ida they couldn’t find an apartment big enough for both of them, in time, since so many students managed to rent first the bigger ones next to the university. The next best thing then was that at least they would live near each other, and still somehow close to the school.

Once he takes his futon indoors, Ida lets Aoki guide them to the next door, and finds a mirror to his own apartment. Aoki shows him the kitchen counter and the small oven beside the genkan; the short fridge that marks the end of the kitchen space and the beginning of the single room; the balcony, with a washing machine pushed to the left corner.

“It’s so different from my place,” Ida says, which earns him a punch on his arm, softened by the lack of strength applied to it, and by Aoki’s smile – that, in turn, makes Ida’s eyes shine with quiet, fond mirth.

Aoki brings them again near the fridge. It turns out that actually Aoki had finished cleaning before Ida, and had gone to the convenience store, in order to grab some food and drinks for them.

Using Aoki’s bag as an improvised table, they throw a towel over it and have instant noodles, karagee and onigiri. Maybe it’s the hunger or the tiredness from the trip, or maybe it’s just the fact he’s sharing a meal with Aoki – but it feels like the most delicious food he had in weeks.

In the middle of a mouthful of noodles, Aoki laughs, and ends up almost choking on his food. Ida gives him some pats on his back and holds to him a bottle of water, while Aoki regains his breath.

“What was that?” Ida asks, eyeing his boyfriend with curiosity, after Aoki reassures him that he’s alright.

“No, It’s just…” Aoki says, his voice still breathy from the almost choking and the laughter, “This is our first meal here, in this place. And we’re eating konbini food, over my bag. It’s a bit ridiculous, isn’t it?” He laughs again, but it’s short-lived. Perhaps it’s the way the light hits him, but Aoki seems paler than usual, and Ida sees the moment the self-doubt creeps in. “Ah, maybe we should have had something better. Or go somewhere nice, we just moved in, after all! Sorry, Ida, I wasn’t thinking and–”

Ida caresses the top of Aoki’s head, who immediately grows quiet, and blinks at him.

“This is good,” Ida simply says, because it is what it is. His hand slides through strands of dark brown hair, and stops on Aoki’s cheek, cradling it. “We can eat konbini food, or something more elaborate, I don’t mind. I like eating with you.”

Aoki’s eyes get dangerously liquid again.

“Idaaaaaa,” he bawls, pushing their impromptu table to the side and tackling Ida onto the floor.

A tingle of worry lingers in the back of Ida’s mind (Aoki cried so much that day already, after all, and he worries for the well-being of Aoki’s eyes), but he also knows those are happy tears. He relents into the hug, then, and wraps his arms around Aoki.

The truth is, he wouldn’t mind living in a place too small for the both of them, eating unhealthy food, tangled with each other like this. Just living with this person in his arms would be enough.

Ida doesn’t say this aloud. He had already said it, once, back on the day of the graduation ceremony at high school. It wasn’t by their choice they couldn’t live together, but since that happened, Aoki said he wanted to take the opportunity to challenge himself, to see if he could look after himself, and also to prepare his heart – so Ida promised he would work hard, too.

Aoki waited for him (patiently, and for so long), while Ida was figuring out what was love, and whether he was in love with Aoki or not. Now, it is Ida’s turn to wait for Aoki.

Besides, it’s also true he’s looking forward to living as neighbors. The packages will arrive on the following day; there are still household essentials and furniture to buy. Ida wonders with what else and with which memories they will fill their own and new places.

And he knows this moment, here, right now, is one of them.

-

It’s been a while since a silence shared with Aoki was this awkward.

Even Ida, slow and dense as people usually claim him to be, could tell. Next to him, he hears Aoki shifting on his futon, which is as fluff and cozy as you could get, but Aoki still doesn’t look comfortable at all.

“I can go back to my place,” Ida offers, “it’s alright.”

It’s okay if Aoki changed his mind. Not that he doesn’t want to sleep next to Aoki – because he very much wants to –, but Aoki’s comfort always came first for him.

“No,” Aoki says, fast, shifting on his side so he’s facing Ida. His hand rests in the middle of the space between them, close, but still not quite touching Ida. It’s placed right at the crack where the two futons laid out on the ground meet, pushed against each other. “Stay, please.”

These two words pull at Ida’s heartstrings, in the same way similar words did almost one hour earlier, when Ida bid Aoki good night and was about to leave, and Aoki said he had bought a spare futon.

“Sorry,” Aoki says. “I know it’s not like we haven’t slept together before. Or like we haven’t had s—” he stumbles on his words, bashful and blushing, and suddenly Ida feels his cheeks get warmer, too. After some seconds, Aoki recovers a little, “B-But we did that once and it’s not like we had many opportunities later, living under our parent’s roof and all the work we had to move out– but that was not what I was thinking of when I invited you oh my god maybe it sounded like that, but that wasn’t it, I mean, not that I don’t want to have sex with you, because I do, but today I don’t feel like– I just wanted to stay a little more with you —” Aoki buries half of his face on the pillow and groans, frustrated with himself, “oh my god, I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

Ida places his hand above Aoki’s, which lays still between them. His thumb draws soft circles on the back of Aoki’s hand, and the other boy gazes at him, shy and uncertain. Ida also holds his gaze as he says, “I feel the same. I’m nervous too. But we don’t have to do anything if any of us don’t want to,” he reassures.

“I know,” Aoki murmurs, adjusting his hand so he can give a squeeze to Ida’s.

Ida nods and, “So, are you going to join any club?”

Aoki chews on his lip, trying to hide his smile, and doesn’t comment on Ida’s not-so-subtle change of subject. Another squeeze to his hand, and then words and recalling the first day in university come easily. Many clubs and senpais throwing advertising flyers at the hands of the first years. The smell of coffee coming from the university cafeteria. The way cherry blossom petals covered the campus in soft pink.

Ida nods, and adds – the size of the campus, and how it stretched on and on. The way that, even if they got to know the university before, on a tour visit, it still felt fresh and new. The small vegetable garden, hidden behind the Agronomy department building.

“Ah,” Ida remembers. A smile finds its way into his face, and he’s about to get into another very subtle change of subject.

Or a return of subject, to be more exact.

“Actually,” Ida confesses, “I bought a spare futon too.”

Except it’s not a spare one, the same way he knows the other futon Aoki bought isn’t either. When he was at the appliance store buying sheets and other things, he naturally grabbed a futon, even if he already had one, thinking of Aoki.

“Really,” Aoki says, a bit timid, and entirely adorable. “Well, I should test your spare futon later. To check if it’s comfortable, you know.”

“I appreciate the help,” Ida nods, trying to be serious, and failing at it.

They talk a little more, about nothing at all, eyelids getting heavier as the minutes pass. The futon is soft underneath them, and the blankets and their words drape over them with a comfortable, warm weight. Aoki lets out a contagious yawn, and Ida finds himself yawning, too. Sleep finds them like this; turned to each other, holding hands.

When the morning comes and Ida wakes up, wrapped in warmth, he finds out they had moved in their sleep. Somehow, they ended up lying mainly on one futon, and their legs spread on the other. Aoki nestles his head on Ida’s chest, and his bedhead tickles Ida’s face, making his lips curl into a smile.

He could stay like this forever.

A moment later, he remembers he can’t, when the alarm rings and he sees what time it is.

“Aoki,” Ida calls, urgent, shaking him by the shoulders. “We’re gonna be late.”

That, combined with the urgency in Ida’s voice, makes Aoki finally stir and open his eyes. “Good morning,” Aoki says, sleepy and dreamy, eyes half-open and a little red on the cheeks – a bit like the sun rising at the beginning of the day.

Ida can’t help but kiss him. Flushed, Aoki protests that neither of them brushed their teeth, but it’s a weak objection, because he kisses Ida back, and his hands tangle at Ida’s worn-out T-shirt. They kiss, slowly, like they want to imprint into their minds the shape, the taste of each other’s lips. Slowly, they kiss, as if they have all the time in the world.

When they part, by some miracle Ida remembers to show his phone screen to Aoki, who scrunches up his face, and then Ida has to resist the urge to kiss his frown away. Aoki squints his eyes and puts his hand above Ida’s to take a better look at the phone in his boyfriend’s hands, showing what time is it, and he lets outs an eloquent, “oh shit.”

The morning is a mess. Aoki changes into fresh clothes and grabs his things, in hurry, while Ida goes to his apartment to do the same. When they meet at their doorways, Aoki pushes a slice of toast to Ida. They rush to the university, toast in their mouths, in what Aoki called a “classic shoujo manga move”.

Despite all the obstacles and dropping their toasts on the way (and then searching for a trashcan to throw away said slices), they manage to arrive at the campus with a few minutes to spare. They look at each other, sweat on their foreheads, silly smiles spread on their mouths.

It’s a stupid, wonderful morning.

-

Aoki does test Ida’s (not spare) futon, some days later.

“Approved,” Aoki mumbles, nuzzling at Ida’s collarbone.

Laughter blooms from Ida’s chest, shaking them both. “Really,” Ida says, skeptical, the word soft on his mouth. Aoki’s head is resting on Ida’s chest, and his leg and arms are draped over Ida’s body, like Aoki’s a giant koala and he, Ida, a dakimakura. Aoki’s barely touching the other futon.

“Yeah,” Aoki replies, a grin crossing his face, “very warm.”

In a swift move, Ida flips them both, and now he’s hovering above Aoki, supporting himself on his hands and knees, placed between Aoki’s long legs. Under him, Aoki lands softly on the futon, eyes wide and lips parted with surprise.

“Now you’re testing my futon,” Ida states, amused. He watches with fascination as the flush spreads across Aoki’s neck and face.

“You’re just teasing me,” Aoki complains, between a whine and a pout.

Ida chuckles. “I am,” he confirms, and leans down to brush a kiss on Aoki’s mouth. He intends to be a playful peck at first, but then Aoki winds his arms around his neck, pulling him closer so he can bring their mouths together again, making a helpless noise against his lips, and Ida forgets everything else.

He presses Aoki against the futon and deepens the kiss, heart pounding, head dizzy. Aoki’s mouth is addictive, and it’s impossible not to kiss him, again and again. They end up grinding against each other, and a heavy gasp escapes from their mouths, a shudder running through their bodies. Ida clutches tightly at the fabric of the futon. Too much, he thinks, and also, not enough.

Cold fingers slip under his shirt, and Ida shivers once more. His hand is fast and steady, though, as he takes Aoki’s hand and keeps it pressed against his skin, before Aoki could take it back. He forces himself to break away from Aoki’s mouth then – so he can look at his face, be sure they both want this. He finds shy and shining eyes looking back at him, hair disheveled, face pink, lips swollen and bruised and kissed.

Aoki is beautiful, the best thing that ever happened to Ida.

“Do you,” he starts, and he’s surprised at how hoarse his voice sounds. He swallows tickly, and tries again, “do you want to do this?”

With his free hand, Aoki reaches out, cradling Ida’s cheek. The pad of his thumb runs across his face, caresses Ida’s lower lip.

“I do,” Aoki replies, voice as shaky as Ida’s. “I want this,” he continues, his hand then on Ida’s hair, beckoning him, “I want—”

Ida’s already leaning downwards, and he catches Aoki’s last word with his lips:

“—you.”

-

Most of the time, they sleep together – at Aoki’s place, sometimes at Ida’s. Fewer times, they spend the night alone, each one in their own apartment.

Ida entertains the idea of buying a bed, but soon he decides not to. Not for now, at least. Maybe if they decide to move in together. When they live in a bigger place. Their apartments are simply too small for a bed that could fit the two of them.

There’s a good thing about their small places, though: they have to put their futons pressed against each other, not an inch apart. But Ida knows, even if it weren’t the case, that they still would do this anyway, and that thought makes a smile come to his face, unbidden.

And then, with the intimacy, the discoveries come.

“You were snoring yesterday,” Aoki tells him, one day.

“Sorry,” he says, rubbing his neck. “Was it hard to sleep?”

Aoki shakes his head. He places a hand on Ida’s arm, thumb caressing his skin absentmindedly. “I wonder if it was because you’re too tired. Since we’re having exams and everything.”

“Maybe,” Ida murmurs, arm wrapping around Aoki’s waist, snuggling closer to him. Aoki’s hands are cold – but here, on the hollow of his neck, Ida finds a warm spot. He sighs a little, and feels the press of Aoki’s lips against the shell of his ear.

And then, on another day, Ida comments, “Sometimes you talk when you’re sleeping.”

Aoki almost lets a cup slip out of his hand. He catches it just in time and places the cup safely in the cabinet.

“Oh my god,” he whines, like it’s the end of the world. Cute, Ida thinks, and Aoki asks, “What did I say?”

Ida shrugs, smiling. “Just nonsense. You were mumbling something, but they weren’t words, not exactly.”

The look Aoki wears on his face tells him Aoki doesn’t know if this is less embarrassing or not. They’re done with the dishes now, so Ida doesn’t see any danger in helping Aoki with his silent question.

“Sometimes,” Ida adds, “you also say my name while you’re sleeping.”

The innuendo isn’t lost on Aoki. But before he could react, Ida sprints, laughing, and Aoki chases after him at the apartment. Ida doesn’t make it far.

Aoki catches him on the balcony.

-

Three knocks on the door. Ida leaves his tea and textbooks at the small table and doesn’t even bother to check who’s it through the magic eye; he turns the keys and opens the door to Aoki, who has the screwed-up face of someone who had woken up only a few minutes ago. Ida checks the clock hanging on the wall. 11:00 AM, and it’s really about the time Aoki usually wakes up – on the days they don’t have any classes, Aoki sleeps in, not being a morning person.

“Please tell me you have real food,” Aoki says, a note of despair in his voice.

Ida makes a non-compromising hum in the back of his throat, because he’s almost sure he basically has some snacks in the cabinet, and his fridge is occupied by a water bottle and some Pocaris at the moment. But he gives a step back to make space for Aoki, in a silent invitation. Aoki goes to the fridge in a straight line and opens it, only to close it soon, letting out a deep sigh and confirming Ida’s prediction.

“I don’t have anything at home either,” Aoki mumbles. Ida’s about to suggest a takeout, but then Aoki turns to him, his face solemn and dramatic, as if their lives depend on this (maybe they do). “We can’t live like this. We need to do groceries.”

So they go. Not to the konbini this time, but to the closest supermarket, a twenty-minute walk from their two-floor building. Aoki goes to the meat section, while Ida remembers he has run out of fabric softener and goes the other way first. He grabs the product his family used back at Saitama, the fragrance-free one, since Mametarou doesn’t like flowery scents. Mametarou doesn’t live with him anymore, but Ida has always been a creature of habit and doesn’t see any reason to change the fabric softener he uses.

As he walks through the aisles, he puts more things inside of his basket – soap, shoyu, coffee. He stops in front of the noodles shelf for a second or two, before he decides to add somen to his basket. By the time he meets Aoki at the drinks section, he’s already buying more than he expected.

Aoki pushes three sets of meat into his hands. “It’s on sale, and it’s three per person,” he explains.

“What will we do with so much meat?” Ida asks, but he already is putting the meat into his basket anyway.

Aoki’s eyes glint and he leans in, lips filled with a smile. “How do you feel about sukiyaki?”

Ida’s smile is answer enough. Sukiyaki it is, then.

“You know, I was looking for you before,” Aoki comments, as they get into the line after taking some drinks. “I went to the hygiene section too, but we missed each other.”

“I see,” Ida says, and gazes at Aoki’s basket with more attention, curious to see what else his boyfriend is buying.

And he’s utterly unprepared for the sudden rush of affection that runs through him at the sight.

Because, between Aoki’s groceries, there’s the unscented fabric softener.

Some months ago, before they had moved to Kyoto, Ida had shared with Aoki the new discovery about Mametarou’s dislike for flowery scents, and Aoki ended up changing the fabric softener he used. Not that it was necessary; but Aoki liked petting Mametarou and decided to switch the type of fabric softener he used.

Mametarou lives miles away from them now, though, and Aoki doesn’t have to do this anymore - and he never have to, to begin with. Besides, Aoki has always liked flowery fragrances, and they suit him. But Aoki chose to do it anyway, and Ida couldn’t help but smile at Mametarou snuggling up at Aoki’s sweater.

That said, probably Aoki’s current choice of fabric softener doesn’t have any deeper meaning – perhaps Aoki just grabbed it in an automatic gesture, and that was it. And yet, irrationally, it makes something warm and fond settle inside of Ida’s chest.

(Is this what love feels like too?)

Ida rests his head on the slope of Aoki’s shoulder.

Aoki leans into the touch. “Hum? What is it?”

“Nothing,” Ida says. Everything, he thinks.

He inhales deeply, and breaths in the clean perfume of fabric softener, and Aoki’s scent – an aroma he never knew how to describe, but that he knows by heart, by being close to Aoki, by all the times Aoki borrowed one of Ida’s hoodies and (sometimes) returned them.

Everything, he thinks again.

“Ida,” Aoki calls, and Ida looks up at him. Aoki is furrowing his brow, and he whisper-shouts, “Am I – am I smelling bad? That’s why you’re sniffing me?”

Ida blinks.

Seconds later, he bursts into laughter.

-

Toyoda sends a picture to Ida, with the caption Mametarou is missing you a lot.

In the photo, Mametarou is a fluff curled ball of fur, resting next to a white pillow, on Ida’s old bed.

Ida immediately hits the call button.

When Toyoda picks up, Ida says, lips curving upwards, “That was dirty pool.”

Laughter on the other side of the line. Toyoda’s voice is serene as ever, as if he hadn’t stabbed Ida in the heart with Mametarou’s picture.

Ida pauses, and bites back a chuckle. Aoki’s dramatic tendency is rubbing off on him, a little bit.

“Hi to you too, Kousuke,” Toyoda says.

“Hey, Shun,” Ida greets. He finds a shade under a sakura tree, in a corner next to the Chemistry department, and sits down on the grass. “Did you pass by my home, then?”

“Yeah, Mom asked me to take some stuff to your mother.”

He nods, “I see.” He plays with a fistful of grass between his fingers as he asks, “Ne, Shun. Was Mametarou really that sad?”

“Ah, Kousuke… I won’t lie to you, but he was a little bit down. Your mother is taking good care of him though, you don’t have to worry.”

A pang of guilty tugs at Ida’s heart. “Yeah, I know.” His mom loves Mametarou, as much as he loves Mametarou. “And my mom? Is she okay?”

“What about your mom? Something happened?”

Ida shakes his head, even though Toyoda can’t see it. “No, nothing happened,” he reassures. “I worry a little bit, that’s all. Dad’s always away in some expedition in Antarctica, New Zealand, or someplace far away... So now it’s just her and Mametarou.” He leans back, finding support on the tree trunk. “When we talk on the phone and I ask, she just says she’s doing fine.”

Toyoda hums. “She looked okay,” he replies, in a thoughtful tone. “Well, maybe she’s dealing with the feeling of an empty nest, but that’s how things go. My mom is dealing with it too, I think. It’s just that I’m living a bit closer, so I still see my mom relatively often. But I don’t think you have to worry too much, Kousuke.”

“Alright,” Ida says. The guilty is still there, but he does feel a little better after talking with his friend. “Thanks, Shun.”

“No problem. And how is everything going on there?”

He smiles, and they talk. About being Aoki’s neighbor and Shuuei university, about Toyoda’s college, and how things were going with Mai. About Toyoda seeing some people from the volleyball club the past week, and how their friends were doing.

It’s strange. The two of them have never been the type of talking too much on the phone. But even more strange is the fact Ida doesn’t see Toyoda on a daily basis anymore. He has known Toyoda for almost his whole life, and had grown used to his presence every day.

They hang up, Toyoda promising to make a visit when he’s less busy with college. Aoki still has more classes through the afternoon, while Ida’s finished sooner, since a professor canceled his class at the last hour.

Leaving the campus, he heads in the direction of their apartments. But as soon as he gets closer to the building, he decides to take a walk around the neighborhood instead, a restless energy compelling him to keep going.

He has always liked going on walks; he used to go around the streets with Daifuku, and then Mametarou. In Kyoto, he has kept that habit, and so far he has discovered a second-hand bookstore, a small restaurant where the cook makes any dishes as long he has the ingredients, a coffee shop that sells a colorful sandwich (to where he took Aoki a couple of times), the karaoke their friends at university wanted to see how it was like and took Aoki and Ida to, among other places – the city becoming familiar to him, little by little.

But today, he isn’t paying attention to his surroundings. He lets his feet take him, distracted, until his phone trembles in the pocket of his jeans, vibrating like a small heart. Aoki, the screen shows.

“Ida,” Aoki says, voice cheerful, “The classes just finished! I’m going to grab gyudon for dinner, what do you think?”

His lips pull up in a small smile.

“That’s a good idea,” Ida answers, after a beat.

“Alright, I’ll get that for us and– eh? Where are you?” Aoki asks, curiosity in his tone, as he seems to catch the sounds on Ida’s side of the call.

“A walk,” Ida replies. It’s then he looks around at last, surprised to see where he is. “Oh. I didn’t notice I was close to the university again.”

“Since you’re close by, we can have dinner somewhere on the way back!”

The cheerfulness in Aoki’s tone makes the corners of his lips lift a little more. He tells Aoki where he is, and then waits about seven minutes before Aoki finds him.

His hand gravitates easily, naturally, to Aoki’s, enlacing their fingers. “Hi,” Ida says.

“Hi,” Aoki says back, squeezing his hand. But then Aoki takes a look at his face, and worry crosses his features. “Something happened?”

“No?” Ida says, because it didn’t, but he too can tell he isn’t feeling himself.

Aoki hums, and bumps their shoulders, as they walk again. “How was your day, then?”

Ida tells him and shows Mametarou’s picture, talks about Toyoda. Aoki coos at Mametarou’s photo (“He’s so cute!”), nods at what Ida says, and as he listens to Ida, his expression softens.

“Ida, aren’t you feeling lonely?” Aoki asks, gently. “Missing Saitama?” He looks forward, and says, “Because I am.”

For an instant, time stills, and something sharp tugs at Ida’s chest. It was his idea, after all, to study at Kyoto. Maybe Aoki didn’t want to be here. He opens his mouth, a question about to be asked when Aoki says:

“But I like it here,” he breathes, eyes bright. “Maybe I’m just greedy. Like, I want to be here, with you, and I want to grow and see what I can do… but I also want to be there, and see my parents, and Hashimoto-san, and Akkun, and Mametarou–” Aoki stops, and scratches his cheek. His smile is sheepish as he says, with a chuckle, “Ugh, I don’t know if what I’m saying makes sense.”

It does, Ida thinks, because—

“Oh.”

Oh.

Is this what is this strange ache he’s been carrying all day?

It’s not like he hasn’t missed his family and friends until now. At first, it was there, but then they had just left Saitama and there was this unfamiliar city, the university, the excitement of living by Aoki’s side, and he didn’t notice how that longing has been evolving. He’s been happy in Kyoto, in a way it still feels like a dream, a small miracle; but perhaps the problem is that he loves their hometown, too. There it is, a kind of growing pain in his chest, his heart stretching on itself, trying to hold on to each point where the people he cherishes live.

His steps come to a halt. Ida turns to Aoki, wide-eyed. Aoki has always been like this, helping him to find a name for the things he didn’t know how to call, making him see things clearer, making him understand whatever he felt – be it loneliness, or longing.

Or love.

His world was broader, bigger, because of Aoki.

Ida cups Aoki’s cheeks with his hands. “You’re amazing, Aoki.”

His boyfriend’s face grows hotter in an instant. “W-what’s this, all of sudden?”

“You make me understand things I didn’t fully understand before,” Ida explains, pressing his forehead against Aoki’s. His heart swells at the way Aoki exhales, breath brushing his face, at how warm his cheeks feel under his palms. He presses a chaste kiss to Aoki’s cheek and draws back, so he can look at his eyes again. “I’m feeling a bit better now,” he says. “I wonder if it’s because you’re with me.”

Aoki immediately takes his hand to his heart, dropping out of Ida’s hold and to his knees. Ida follows, crouching and worried, fingers digging on Aoki’s shoulders. “Oi, Aoki, are you okay?”

The few things Ida can make out of Aoki’s mumbling are ‘my heart’, ‘cute’, and ‘dying’, before Aoki raises his head, face burning, saying he’s totally, 100% fine. Ida doesn’t buy it, but he helps Aoki to his feet and keeps holding his hand, just to make sure.

“What I was trying to say before is… I miss everyone too,” Aoki says after a while, when he recovers, on their walk to the gyudon restaurant. His hand is finally getting warmer, being protected by the heat of Ida’s hand. Aoki leans further into his space, and their arms touch everywhere now, from fingers to shoulders. He gives Ida a small smile and says, soft and close, “We can be lonely together.”

-

Resting his arms on the balcony railing, Ida looks ahead without taking in the view, languid, basking in the afternoon sun. It isn’t quiet – his washing machine, sitting in the corner of his balcony, rumbles with a load of laundry, and some neighbor’s voice filters out of an open window, singing slightly off-tune an old love song.

It isn’t quiet; but it’s peaceful.

He likes it here.

Not everything went as they wanted to, but, so far and somehow, everything went right. He and Aoki had worked hard, and they managed to pass the university entrance exams. They couldn’t find a place to live together as they previously planned, though, and Aoki laughed good-naturedly at his face, kissing his pout away. The future was unfolding before them, and the next step was to let their parents know about their relationship.

On the day of graduation, Aoki asked Ida to come with him, to officially introduce him as his boyfriend. On the following day, it was Aoki’s turn, at Ida’s house. They both thought that their parents suspected something, but their families have never said anything. Aoki’s parents liked Ida, and Ida’s mother always invited Aoki for dinner, so there was no reason to be afraid, in theory. And yet, when it was time to come out to them, only then did it hit him – Ida thought he had understood Aoki’s fears, but then he finally could understand the depth of it. What if, he wondered. What if, what if.

But their parents smiled gently, like they knew all along. Like they were waiting for a long time, for Ida and Aoki to tell them. Aoki cried, but he was smiling too, at the same time. Ida could feel his heart unclenching, full, filled with emotions he didn’t even know how to identify – so he anchored himself on the hold of Aoki’s hand, which was squeezing his. Later, when Ida and Mametarou came back from walking Aoki home, Ida found his mother in the living room, knitting a sweater.

“You didn’t seem surprised,” he said, as he leaned on the threshold of the room, watching her working at her craft.

She glanced up at him, eyes crinkling.

“It was the way you looked at him, Kousuke,” she replied, a smile also in her voice. “And how Aoki-san looked at you.” Putting her hands on her waist and with a playful frown on her face, she asked, “Besides, of course I would notice. Who raised you, hum?”

Ida chuckled, shaking his head. “It was you, mom,” he answered, and his mother gave him a satisfied, amused nod.

She raised her hand to wave him to her side. He followed her gesture, sitting on the zabuton. Giving a soft pat on his knee, she said, “Kousuke, soon you’ll be going to Kyoto… I want you to promise me one thing: if there’s any problem, please call me. And, no matter what happens, this will be always your home. Remember that, okay?”

“I will,” he said, the words catching in his throat. “Thanks, mom.”

And here he is, Ida thinks, as he leans his head on his crossed arms, eyes closed, under the warming sun.

“Hey,” a voice calls, “don’t fall asleep there, Ida.”

A smile spreads through his mouth before he even opens his eyes. When Ida does, he’s not surprised to see Aoki standing on the other, neighbor balcony. He’s hanging his laundry, putting the clips on the last shirt, the clothesline full. On Aoki’s hand, though, there’s still a drying rack left, all of its clips holding on boxers and socks.

“You can give that to me,” Ida says, gesturing to the drying hack. “I can hang it here. There’s plenty of space.”

Aoki walks to the farthest right of his balcony, careful not to bump on their plants, while Ida also steps closer until he stands by the left corner of his own veranda. Aoki doesn’t immediately give the drying rack, though. “Are you sure? You’re doing your laundry.”

Ida nods. “It’s fine, mine is not much.”

With that, Aoki finally hands him the drying rack. Just some centimeters separate their balconies, and it’s relatively easy to pass the rack to each other.

“You got it?”

“Yeah.”

Ida takes the rack, and heads to his washing machine, hanging the rack above it. When he turns, Aoki’s still on the same spot on his balcony. He reaches his hand out to Ida, much in the same gesture from moments before, and it’s easy for Ida to close that distance, to curl his fingers around Aoki’s.

“Thank you,” Aoki says, lips tilting up with tenderness.

Their neighbor’s voice keeps drifting from the floor below. He’s apparently put the same song on a loop, the Kansai-ben making the music more specific and, for that, sweeter. Yappa sukiyanen, the verse repeats, over and over, I really do love you, I really do love you.

“You looked thoughtful before,” Aoki says, as his thumb runs back and forth on the back of Ida’s hand. “What were you thinking about?”

It takes a little while for Ida to gather his thoughts.

“…That we’re lucky,” Ida says. Lucky they met their friends, he thinks, and lucky for having the family they have. Lucky they met each other. He smiles at Aoki. “And I was thinking about what my mom said. To call if there’s any problem... And that my parents’ house would always be my home.”

Aoki nods, as a soft smile surfaces on his face. “My mom said something like that, too.”

Ida nods back, feeling his smile grow.

After a few more seconds of silence, Ida confesses, “The thing is… when I think of home now, it isn’t my family’s house that comes first to my mind anymore.” He feels the weight of Aoki’s stare, attentive, and continues, “In a way, it will always be my home. But when I think of home now,” he says, as he meets Aoki’s gaze, “I think of here.”

Wrapped in sunlight, Aoki’s eyes seem brighter.

It takes Ida’s breath away.

“I-Ida,” Aoki calls, his voice somewhat strained. “Please, come here,” he asks, tugging Ida by their joined hands over the edge of their balconies.

And Ida follows Aoki’s touch, never letting go of that hand, until he’s leaning on the left side railing of his balcony. Aoki climbs the short step of his own balcony, bending against the railing, so he can better reach Ida.

“Careful,” Ida says, his grip on Aoki’s hand tighter, stronger. Aoki is gripping the metal railing with his free hand and the gap between their balconies is short – but Ida prefers to be sure.

“Don’t worry, I got this,” Aoki reassures him, fondness dripping from his voice. “And you’ve got me, Ida. You’ve always got me.”

His heart throttles in his throat at Aoki’s words. His fingers tighten around Aoki’s hand, and before Ida can say, I do, I’ve got you, Aoki leans forward, until there is no distance left between them.

Their mouths slide together, like they have so many times – and yet, Ida never wants this kiss to end, he doesn’t want to let go of Aoki.

So when Aoki draws away, Ida finds himself leaning further in his direction, chasing after his lips. Aoki laughs a little, a wonderful sound dropping out of his mouth, and he presses a quick peck to Ida’s mouth.

“I have something for you,” Aoki says, lips curving upwards with a promise, “wait here!”

He goes, and Ida’s gaze trails after him, until Aoki disappears inside of his apartment. Ida can hear his steps and him shuffling through his things, and he tilts his head, trying to pick a clue of what’s up with his ear, curious.

Carrying a smile on his mouth and something hidden by his curled fingers, Aoki comes back. He motions for Ida’s hand again, and presses something to his palm. And it’s—

—a key. Ida stares at it. Blinks, and looks at it again.

Then he stares at Aoki.

“Where does it go?”

“Idaaaaa,” Aoki whines, his expression torn between fondness and exasperation. “D-don’t make me say it!” But Ida frowns his brows, still not understanding, and Aoki’s blush deepens. “…I-it’s for my apartment! I just thought, since you’re always coming and going from my place, it would be more practical, you know, for you to have a copy—"

Ah, Ida thinks. His fingers close around the key, as if to protect it, and warmth rises from his chest to his cheeks.

“Thank you,” he says. “I will make a copy of my keys for you too.”

It had slipped his mind – he really should have thought of this sooner.

But it’s alright, he thinks, admiring the key in his hand. I’ll do it now.

“Y-you don’t have to, only because I gave you a copy of mine. It’s okay.”

He raises his gaze to Aoki again. “I want to,” he says, earnest, and something in his voice and in his gaze manages to convince Aoki, because he nods, trying to hide his face with his hand.

An idea passes by Ida’s mind. He already can feel his lips twitching. “Aoki, is your door locked?”

Aoki drops his arm and blinks, visibly confused, but answers him. “Hum, yes?”

“Good,” Ida says. “Can you wait for me in the genkan?”

“Eh? Why?”

“Please,” he says, smiling. Despite his initial hesitation, Ida sees Aoki entering his apartment again, at the same time as Ida also goes inside his place.

He heads to his door, and imagines Aoki in the other apartment, moving as if in a parallel line to him, movements mirrored. Soon, he’s outside, and in front of Aoki’s place. The key turns in the door lock.

He pushes it open and finds Aoki standing in the genkan, looking back at him.

“I just wanted to use the key right now,” Ida explains, a grin tugging at the curve of his mouth.

Aoki puts his arms around Ida’s neck.

“You’re ridiculous,” Aoki says, cheeks red from a chuckle, and pulls Ida in for one more kiss.

-

Carrying two plastic bags full of groceries, Ida heads to his building, the keys to his and Aoki’s apartments dangling in his chest pocket with each step.

He made a copy of the key to his apartment, too, and gave it to Aoki. It was a simple thing, but it felt important – even if Aoki didn’t visit his apartment that much in the end, because Ida himself was more at Aoki’s than at his own place these days.

But Aoki cradled that small key, fingers carefully closing around it, and pressed his hands to his mouth, barely concealing a shy, precious smile.

One day, maybe, they will have a key to the same place. Somewhere that it isn’t only Ida’s, or only Aoki’s – but of the two of them.

Sometimes Aoki cages Ida between his arms and the railing of his balcony, or Ida puts his hands around Aoki’s waist, pressing him against the kitchen counter – and Ida finds himself wanting to ask what Aoki thinks of moving in together now, of looking for a place that could fit the two of them. He always catches himself in time, remembering what Aoki had told him before they moved to Kyoto, and presses a kiss to his ear, instead of a question, because he wants to respect Aoki’s pace, wants to keep his word.

I’m too greedy, Ida thinks, with a slightly self-deprecating smile. His feet stop by the gate of his building, and he looks up, not to gaze at the moon, or the stars above him – but to look at the yellow-lit balcony window of Aoki’s apartment. Memories of mundane, somehow miraculous days flood his mind, and his smile grows warm. You’ve given me so much already.

I’ll wait for you, he promises again, in his heart. Just like you did for me.

-

Later, Ida will wonder why Aida has always been a type of catalyst for them.

It begins like this – the intercom being pressed in the early morning, them laying on the bed, curled together, Aoki’s back pressed to Ida’s chest. Ida wakes up first, and he puts a hand on Aoki’s shoulder, in an attempt to wake him up. They spent last night at Aoki’s apartment and, in the just-woke-up Ida’s head, it makes more sense that Aoki is the one who gets the door.

“Aoki,” he calls, but his boyfriend doesn’t react. “Aoki. The intercom is ringing.”

The answer Ida receives is a mumbled, “I don’t wanna know… I’m sleeping,” before Aoki steals completely the blanket from Ida and covers himself like a burrito, leaving only his head exposed.

It’s a nostalgic view. Ida remembers Aoki wrapping himself in the curtains of his old bedroom, the sunlight hitting him from behind, his head poking out of his hiding place.

Ida smiles; some things simply don’t change.

Chuckling at Aoki’s sleepy frown, Ida leans in, dropping a kiss on his hair, before getting up and getting to the door.

“Yes?” Ida says, as he opens it.

“It’s been a while—”

Aida and Hashimoto seem as surprised to see Ida as he is to see them.

“Huh?” Aida asks. “This is Aoki’s place, right?”

Hearing hurried steps behind him, Ida turns in time to see Aoki, wide-eyed and with bed hair, but excited to see their friends again, standing by his side.

“That surprised me!” Aoki says, gasping with both delight and confusion. “You guys were coming next weekend, right?”

Ida nods, because he remembers when Aoki told him about the visit, and how he was eager to see Aida and Hashimoto once more. And then, on the weekend after that, Toyoda would come, too.

Aida checks his phone, and then scratches the back of his neck, giving an awkward laugh. “Wah, my bad! I got the date wrong.”

“Hayato-kun!” Hashimoto says, in reproach. She turns to them, apologetic. “I’m so sorry, Aoki-kun, Ida-kun!”

There’s no problem, and they had no plans for this weekend until now – they’re about to reassure Hashimoto that, when Aida teases, “But rather than that, you guys get along well, huh.”

Aoki immediately turns pink.

“No, no! About that, we watched a super scary movie yesterday, that’s why we’re both here!”

Yes, they watched a movie, Ida thinks. But it was a rom-com – and, in the middle of it, they got too busy with each other to pay attention to anything else. The movie was entirely forgotten, playing on Aoki’s laptop.

To Ida’s despair, Aoki turns to him for help to keep up with the lie. “Right, Ida? It’s not something to feel guilty about!”

The thing is, Ida’s aware he is a terrible liar. He tries this time though, for Aoki’s sake. “Tha—” he begins, but he can’t meet their friends’ eyes, “—That’s right.”

Hashimoto and Aida don’t even bat a lash at the lie. “I’m rooting for your happiness,” Hashimoto says, giggling.

“Why don’t you just live together already?” Aida says, with a simple smile, unintentionally voicing Ida’s deepest wish out loud. He says it, in a such easy, untroubled way, and it makes Ida’s gaze lifts to Aida at those words, surprised.

And then, as always, as gravity, his eyes search for Aoki. He finds Aoki staring back at him, something soft on the other boy’s gaze, lips parted, like the words are about to leave his mouth, and rest on Ida’s ears.

“We’re right here,” Aida coughs, and he gives a grin to Hashimoto. “These two are as mushy as always, ne, Mio-chan?”

Hashimoto looks at them like she understands exactly what Aoki wanted to say, a kind smile laying on her mouth.

But the moment is broken, the tension between them unfurls now. Time passes by once more, and Aoki and Ida avert their gaze somewhere else, their cheeks heating, hearts beating fast. But a hand squeezes his, bringing Ida back to that moment for a last, lingering instant. He meets Aoki’s eyes again, the grip on his hand a bit tighter, and Ida understands – later, they will come back to that topic, to that moment, and talk about it. He squeezes Aoki’s hand back, nodding, and only then Aoki steps out of their bubble, going back to their friends.

“Alright! Ida, you go to your place and take a shower, while I serve tea and some snacks for Hashimoto-san and, after that, it’s my turn!” Aoki talks fast, “And then, we will go out! You two came here, so I think it would be good to do some sightseeing. What do you all think?”

They agree with Aoki’s plan, except for Aida, who raises a hand, pointing it to himself and having a single objection:

“While we wait, I’ll have tea and snacks too, right? Why did you say only ‘Hashimoto-san’?”

Aoki snorts, making one of his amazing, over-the-top faces (Ida can’t get enough of them). Ida wonders if Aoki’s pettiness is retaliation for Aida’s earlier teasing. “No snacks for you, Akkun,” Aoki says, narrowing his eyes.

As Ida goes back to his apartment, he hears Aida’s grumble of indignation, followed by Aoki’s and Hashimoto’s laughter, and Ida’s lip quirk at the sound. It’s like time didn’t pass at all – like they’re all at high school again, in the same class.

Time is funny; mysterious, even. Sometimes, time simply stops, like it doesn’t exist; other times, it’s gone in a blink of an eye. And sometimes, just sometimes, it can be those two things at once: sightseeing in Kyoto with Aida and Hashimoto, sharing talk and laughter, like they used to do at school – but when Ida notices, a whole day passed, and then the next morning too. Aida and Hashimoto wave their hands at the train station, and another promise is made: next time, Aida offers, Ida and Aoki have to know his apartment in Tokyo.

Hashimoto and Aida passed the night at Ida’s place, and the following morning at Aoki’s. Now, their friends are going back home, but trails of their presence are still at Aoki’s apartment – the dishes from the breakfast, the cards at the table, the souvenir their friends gave them, from Tokyo and Saitama.

“It was so much fun,” Aoki says, walking through his place. And even looking at his back, Ida hears the other’s smile, as well as the tingle of loneliness, since their friends left.

With a plastic bottle at hand, Aoki goes to the balcony. Leaning on the wall, from the threshold of the veranda, Ida watches him, as Aoki crouches to water their plants, humming a melody, the sun caressing his brown hair. One of Ida’s old hoodies holds on to Aoki’s body loosely, a bit too big for Aoki, and he looks comfortable and tender wearing it.

Once the plastic bottle is placed next to the pots, Aoki gets up, eyes flickering to Ida. The air between them is still, and neither of them speaks, and there is it – the conversation they had to pause before coming back, now that they’re alone.

“Ida,” Aoki begins, “About what Akkun said…”

His lips close, unsure how to continue. Aoki lowers his gaze, like he’s trying to gather the words, and Ida waits. But the silence stretches. Aoki seems to have a hard time, and while his heart aches a little, Ida understands.

“You don’t have to worry, Aoki. I mean it. I want to live together with you– but we can follow our own pace. Like we always did.”

Aoki snaps his head in his direction, fast. “Eh?”

Ida blinks. “Huh?”

“No, it’s just—” Blush blooms on Aoki’s cheeks. He bites his lower lip, before releasing it again, along with words, “I thought we were already – I mean, this might be silly of me, and I know what I said before, but I thought– I-I thought we kinda were already living together.” His hand grasps the hoodie. “Like, we sleep together every night, and we begin the day together too, we share meals, and take turns doing groceries, and dishes, and cooking, and we’re trying not to kill our plants... Your apartment is more a storage room, or a study room by now, and I thought—”

Ida tackles Aoki in a hug. Aoki yelps with surprise and stumbles a little, giving some steps backward with the impact of that hug, but he recovers his balance, hands moving along Ida’s back.

“I—” Ida tries, but the sound leaves his mouth strangled, choked with emotion. He feels – blind, and stupid, and a bit more in love. This is really like them, isn’t it? They dated before Ida knew if he was in love with Aoki, they ate chocolate bars instead of cakes at the Illumination Festival, and, before Ida noticed, living side by side became living together. His chest shakes with a chuckle, with his heart beating harder. “You’re right, Aoki.”

The arms around him draw them even closer, and Ida doesn’t know how long they stand like this, inside of a hug.

And then, hands push at his chest slightly, and Aoki’s face comes into his view again.

“A-Anyway, what I wanted to say was…” Aoki says, looking at his eyes, his blush deeper than before. “Our places are too small, so I’ve been looking at some apartment ads. Searching for somewhere a bit bigger.” He pauses. Ida nods, and Aoki takes it as a cue to continue, “But… like, where would you like to live? Is it okay, even if we have to commute to university by train? I don’t know if we’ll find somewhere available so close to the school, and I really want a place with a balcony, I want to keep our plants, and maybe even add more, you know, and flowers would be nice, too—” Aoki stops himself, a bit breathless from how fast he talked. He looks self-conscious when his gaze shifts from Ida’s eyes and lands somewhere on his cheeks, as he asks, “W-What do you think?”

Ida smiles. This is what he thinks:

He would make a garden out of a balcony for Aoki.

“We can live anywhere,” Ida answers, “I just want to be with you.”

Fascinated, he watches as Aoki makes a face – eyes getting moist, nose scrunching up, lips pursing. Ida has never known anyone so expressive before. All and any of the faces Aoki makes are so exaggerated, so endearing; it’s almost a pity when Aoki buries his face into the crook of Ida’s neck, wrapping him in another hug.

“Idaaaaaaaaaa,” Aoki wails against his neck, the sound reverberating through his body, tickling his skin, to the point of laughter. He feels Aoki’s pout, but Ida holds him tighter and soon Aoki joins him, their voices tangling up, their laughter echoing from the balcony and streaming through the open glass door, spreading through Aoki’s apartment – filling everywhere, and everything, with its sound.

-

The real estate agent has shown them two apartments so far. They also have been looking at rental ads, and have asked their friends if they have heard anything. They still haven’t found a new place, but a friend of a friend, a senpai from their university, will study abroad for a year and plans to move out of his apartment by the end of the summer vacation. They talk to him on the phone, making plans to take a look there the next week.

So, for now, they still live in those two small, neighbor studio apartments. Ida knows he’ll miss that place, when they move out to somewhere else.

It’s Ida who spots Aoki first, on his phone and sitting on a bench, in front of the Agronomy department building, under the shade of a sakura tree. As if sensing his gaze, Aoki looks up, and then at Ida. Aoki’s face immediately lightens up, a smile reaching his eyes. He waves at Ida, walks in his direction – and Ida walks a bit faster, so he can be with Aoki sooner. They meet halfway.

“Let’s go home,” Aoki says, beaming at him.

Ida takes his hand, and thinks:

I’m already at home.