I find comfort beneath the stars

He didn't wait for Masato's reply, brushing past him into his home and making a beeline for the nearest available seat.

"You don't think I'm a bad boyfriend, do you," was the question he led off with, which didn't bode well for Masato.

"I'm considerate. I remember birthdays, holidays, class schedules, days off. I take him out a few nights a month, and not to the same places every time. But I remember what places he likes, too. The only reason I haven't introduced him to my parents is I'm worried about his nerves. They're going to love him. He's wonderful.

I'm not a bad boyfriend. There's absolutely no reason for him to keep bringing up something that happened years ago. I don't know what more I can do to prove myself to him."

Saito finally looked up at Masato, his gray eyes wide with something that almost resembled fear.

"Do you have anything to drink?"

Masato only had the time to open his mouth in order to sigh before Saito dashed inside as if he was followed by Beryl herself (and just in case, he checked the corridor before closing the door behind them). The plan was to complain about boundaries and how he had his own plans for the evening - but that thought died the moment he met Saito’s eyes. Shit. This was the serious type of talk. Had to be a supportive friend, right. Totally not a challenge. Had years of practice in this life, after all. Right (no). Not awkward at all. He walked to the kitchen to bring back four cans of beer and sat down in the couch. “First of all I never dated you, so how would I know.” he joked in an attempt to make Saito look less... whatever he looked like right now, “But you’re a -- good guy. And if there’s something he has yet to forgive, well... can you do anything about it? If you already talked about it, then that’s on him.”

Masato, who was fresh out of the shower and lived very much alone, didn’t even flinch when he was greeted with a voice in his living room; at this point Saito probably had a key or something because he graduated from sitting outside his door for hours from waiting him inside his flat in a couple of months. (Maybe he got it from his grandmother. That woman would give anything to anyone pretending to be her troublesome, grandson’s friend.) Sigh. He lifted up his ponytail entirely to uncover his back and show Saito the whole thing. Not that it was big anyway, thin blue lines of ink just between his shoulders blades, usually always covered by layers of clothes and brown waves. Then it disappeared under a towel.

Oh shit, and he thought his little comments would go over everyone’s head. He was the rude one, right? That was his role to play.