#new.mail

Sakura’s cheeks heat up in that familiar way they do whenever the topic of romance arises around him. A small smile forms on your lips as he clears his throat, attempting to dispel the rosiness that’s sprawling upward from below his collar. It does little to help.

“Um,” he says.

There’s a pinch between his dark brows - a sign that he’s thinking hard about your question. A part of you wants to reach across the table to smooth the skin out with your thumb, but another part of you enjoys Sakura like this. Deep in thought over you.

“I didn’t realize I liked you like that until Suo said something,” Sakura grumbles - a quiet confession.

A bark of laughter escapes you before you can even think to contain it. The sound worsens the red hue of Sakura’s cheeks and draws fleeting looks from some of the other patrons of the restaurant you had chosen for your lunch date.

“Sorry. Sorry,” you manage to say between peals of laughter. You try and rein in your mirth, so you can speak. “Sorry, Haru,” you say placatingly. The unamused expression on his face melts into something softer and shyer when he hears the use of the nickname that only you ever call him. “Didn’t mean to laugh, but it just makes so much sense that it would be Suo who’d make you realize you like like me.”

Although you wouldn’t consider yourself particularly close with Suo, it makes perfect sense in your mind that he would help Sakura sift through his feelings for you. He seems to have that uncanny ability of knowing and seeing too much. The thought almost makes you shiver.

“Well, when did you know you liked me?” Sakura flips the question back onto you, determined to get the focus of the conversation off of him.

“Second time I met you.”

Sakura’s eyes widen considerably, and you nearly laugh again at the pure and unadulterated shock on his face.

“What?” he sputters out. The spoon that was once in his hand clatters against the surface of the plate below as Sakura tries to wrap his mind around what you have said. It’s all very amusing to watch it play out across his face. “That early?”

You make an affirming sound.

“That early,” you confirm.

His brows bunch together once more.

“When was that even?” Sakura’s face scrunches up as he rifles through his memories, trying to recall your second interaction together.

“A few days after we first met.” You start smiling before even realizing it, fondly reminiscing about the moment you began to form a crush on Sakura. “Some jackass on campus was bothering me, trying to follow me to my next class. Before I could tell him off or say anything to get him to leave me alone, you appeared out of nowhere and told him to shut the hell up. Afterwards, you walked me to my class.”

You dreamily sigh.

“I was gone for you from that point forward.”

For a moment, Sakura is rendered speechless. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, no words forming on his tongue, but he’s quick to regain his bearings.

“That’s what made you like me?”

“Mhm. You were like my knight in shining armor,” you tease. A bit more thoughtfully, you say, “I thought it was very sweet of you to do what you did, considering you barely knew me as someone other than Nirei’s friend at the time. It was easy to start crushing on you from that moment and even easier to fall for you once I started getting to know you better. I was so hopelessly gone for you, it was a bit embarrassing honestly.”

You shake your head as if you can shake away all of the embarrassing moments that occurred when you were in the depths of yearning over Sakura.

“But look where it got me.”

You beam as you look at Sakura from across the table. The light filtering through the window bathes him in a warm glow, making him look even more beautiful than usual if that’s even possible. Some days, you still can’t believe that all of your feelings for him are reciprocated.

“I got you,” you say - voice soft and so utterly and terribly in love.

Right on cue, a blush blooms on Sakura’s cheeks, which you take delight in. You hope that no matter how long you’re together for, you can continue to draw these sort of reactions out of him.

“You want to hear about all the times that made me like you more and more?” you grin.

Sakura covers his face with his hands, the tips of his ears burning.

“Please no.”

Your laughter echoes throughout the restaurant.

Your eyes linger on the bundle of green for much too long before darting across the room. Though the apartment borders on overcrowded, full of your friends milling about, playing games, and chatting with one another, you easily pick Suo out from among them all. It's as if he can feel the heat of your gaze because he’s already looking in your direction, a stupid closed-eye smile on his face. You’d give anything to make it disappear.

“So, uh.”

You quickly tear your eyes away from Suo. You got so caught up in your attempt to make Suo spontaneously combust with your mind that you very nearly forgot who you got caught under the mistletoe with. Nearly is the keyword because there’s no way you could ever forget Sakura Haruka’s presence.

Sakura is looking everywhere and anywhere but at your face. Expectedly, his cheeks are colored scarlet, a steady warmth unfurling from beneath the collar of the ugly holiday sweater that Nirei wrangled him into wearing. With its plethora of fuzzy pompoms of varying sizes and shimmery tassels, the sweater makes Sakura look silly, but he also looks so soft and cozy and unfairly cute in it, and you would say something about it if you didn't know it would make him heat up even more, and he already looks red enough as it is. Your irritation with Suo fades away as quickly as it came on.

"We don't have to do anything you don't want to, Sakura," you say, soft and gentle, quiet enough that nobody can eavesdrop on your private conversation with the steady chatter and holiday music playing in the background. Although you have thought about what it would be like to kiss Sakura a truly embarrassing amount of times, an amount that would surely get you teased for the rest of eternity if you ever confided in your friends, you would never want to make Sakura do anything he's uncomfortable with. "It's just a silly tradition."

There is a long pause, but you are patient. You know that Sakura is gathering his thoughts, thinking of what to say. You take this time to admire how pretty he looks in this lighting; the fairy lights that Tsugeura haphazardly strung around the apartment bathe Sakura in pure unadulterated warmth. Sakura is pretty in every lighting, but he looks softer right now. You mentally catalogue everything about how he looks in this moment from the fluff of his two-toned hair from running his hands through it one too many times to the gentle swing of the tassels attached to his sweater. They flicker to the bob of his throat when he swallows.

"I don't mind."

Immediately, you lift your gaze. Sakura is looking at you, holding eye-contact for the first time since you found yourselves in your current predicament. The question of whether you heard him correctly or not bubbles up your throat and sits on the tip of your tongue, but you know. You know that you did not mishear Sakura, not with the way you tend to hang onto his every word when he talks and not with the way his whole face is now aflame.

"You sure?"

You inch forward a little, not quite crowding Sakura into the corner of the apartment you're holed up in but definitely closer than before, testing the waters. All he has to do is say the word, and you'll ease up and back off, no questions asked, but your eyes drop down to Sakura's lips wondering, not for the first time and surely not for the last, what they might feel like against yours.

Sakura nods, a look of determination crossing his face. It almost makes you laugh, not at him necessarily, never at him, but because it's the same look he gets when he's about to throw himself into a fight or tackle a problem head-on. It's just so him that the corner of your lips curl into a small fond smile.

You move forward even more, fully encroaching into Sakura's personal space. Your fingers slide into his belt loops and gently tug, making him meet you halfway. He makes a surprised sound in the back of his throat, but goes regardless, following your lead. You tilt your head and lean in, closing the gap between you.

The kiss is short. Sweet. Nothing more than a quick press of the lips. And yet, you think it may be the most wonderful kiss you've ever had.

The sound of whooping and hollering erupting behind you makes you roll your eyes as you pull away from Sakura, but you can't help the wide grin that settles onto your lips. You stand slightly in front of Sakura, shielding him from the prying eyes of your friends, as you try and get them to settle down and pull their attention elsewhere like to the other bundle of mistletoe across the room.

Your friends are idiots, but they are your idiots, and maybe, you can hold off on Suo's spontaneous combustion. After all, he's the reason you and Sakura ended up under the mistletoe together.

Sakura does as you say, his cheek coming to rest against the pillow once more.

This is not the first time that you've had him try and make sense of the scribbles and doodles you seem to enjoy so much tracing into his skin, and he's sure that it will not be the last. He's not exactly sure why you like it so much, but the feeling of your gentle touch is nice. Relaxing even if it makes the short hairs on the back of his neck stand on end sometimes.

Sakura's eyes slip closed once he feels your hand on his back again.

Your finger traces a short line down his spine.

"I."

“Mhm.”

You move your finger in one smooth loopy motion. Pause. Your touch disappears for a moment before you mirror the action you've just made.

A crease forms between Sakura's brows.

"Again."

You repeat the movement - still as incomprehensible to Sakura as the first time.

"It's a shape, not a letter," you offer as a clue.

"One more time."

You repeat the motion for Sakura again, and this time, a mental image begins to form in Sakura's mind.

"A heart?"

"Mhm. The next thing will be a letter."

You drag your finger down before curving up again.

"U?" Sakura guesses. "I heart U?"

This time, it is not the pad of your fingertip that makes contact with Sakura's back, but rather, it's the familiar sensation of the plush of your lips. Sakura stiffens at the unexpectedness of the kiss.

"I love you too, Haruka."

"What?"

Sakura shifts. You loosen your hold around his midsection, allowing him to move more freely as he rolls onto his side to face you.

"What? You said I love you, so I said it back."

You attempt to feign innocence, but the crinkle by your eyes and the smile you're barely concealing give away your true intentions. Sakura's mouth opens and closes a few times as he tries to gather his thoughts to say something, anything, back to you, but a small yawn from you makes him stop.

"I'm sleepy," you mumble, stating the obvious. You're hardly able to keep your eyes open. "Turn over again. Wanna hold you."

Sakura is grateful for the darkness because you're unable to see the way that his cheeks burn. He wants to tell you that you're already holding onto him, but he knows what you mean. What you actually want. He turns onto his side again, facing the wall and away from you once more.

You snuggle closer to Sakura, tightening your arm around his middle. A drowsy kiss is pressed to his spine.

"Good night, Haruka. I love you."

"Night."

A pause.

"Love you too."

You've already drifted to sleep by the time he says it.

"Don't tell me you're afraid?"

It's an obvious provocation. One that you shouldn't rise to.

"I'm not afraid," you scoff, the words falling from your tongue almost instinctively. You childishly cross your arms, well aware of how petulant you look. "I just wasn't expecting it. Do you even an extra helmet?"

"Catch."

You barely have any time to process what Sylus has said before you're fumbling to catch the motorcycle helmet that he's tossed at you. Once you're sure that it's secure in your grasp, you look up at Sylus and shoot him a glare. "A little more of a warning would have been nice. What if I had dropped it?"

He laughs. "A little scratch won't hurt it. Besides, I could just buy another one."

You roll your eyes as you take the few steps down the sidewalk necessary to be next to Sylus. "You and your infinite amount of money," you dryly comment before looking down at the helmet in your hands. Your nerves spike slightly. "I've, uh, I've actually never been on a motorcycle before."

"Oh?"

A flicker of surprise crosses Sylus' face but it doesn't linger long.

"Really?"

The smugness in Sylus' voice squashes any and all requests for assistance you may have had.

"Really," you grumble, pulling the helmet firmly down onto your head. The helmet is awfully snug, but not uncomfortable. It's actually surprising how well it fits you.

You nearly flinch when Sylus suddenly enters into your space.

“Tilt your head back.”

The retort of Why should I lies on the tip of your tongue, but you swallow it down (for once) and do what Sylus asks of you. You lean your head back, eyes falling onto the man in front of you. Sunlight casts shadows across the planes of his face, emphasizing the sharpness of his features and setting his ruby red eyes alight. The thought that he looks handsome crosses your mind fleetingly.

You go eeriely still when his fingers skirt across the underside of your chin, pulse quickening as the rough pads of his fingertips graze the delicate skin of your throat. Carefully, Sylus buckles your helmet’s chin strap with a gentleness that’s unexpected from the fearsome leader of Onychinus.

“Can’t have you getting hurt on your first ride now, can we?”

His eyes flicker up to meet your own, causing you to avert your gaze. Sometimes, it slips your mind how intense it can be to have Sylus' attention solely on you.

"I could have done that myself," you mumble, thumbing at the strap below your chin. You tug on the thick fabric, fingers fiddling with it.

"You could have," Sylus concedes. He rubs his thumb against his forefinger in that familiar manner of his before looking at you once more. "But I wanted to do it for you. Is that so wrong?" he coos, tone teasing and grin bordering on sharp.

"You're the worst,” you sigh, brushing off the warmth laced within Sylus’ words. You chalk it up to him being his usual flirtatious self. You motion towards the motorcycle. “Who gets on first?”

Before Sylus can get a word in, you narrow your eyes at him. “And I can get on by myself.”

“So feisty,” he murmurs, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. amusement clear as day on his face. “Like this you resemble an angry chipmunk.”

You pout at that, which probably doesn’t help your case. It's not like it's your fault that the motorcycle helmet rests snugly on your head, the padding within its interior squishing your cheeks.

Sylus laughs though refrains from making any further comments. “I’ll get on first so it’s easier for you to get on after,” he says as he smoothly slips his own helmet on.

You idly stand by on the sidewalk, watching how Sylus mounts his motorbike so you can mimic him when it’s your turn to do the same. His movements are fluid as he swings his leg over the body of it and lowers himself down onto the smooth leather material of its cushion.

“Your turn,” he says, beckoning you closer by patting the seat behind him.

Although you were closely observing Sylus' movements, by the time you cross the short distance to make it to his side, you're still unsure of how exactly to get onto the motorcycle. You can't exactly steady yourself by holding onto the handlebars like Sylus did.

"Put your hand on my shoulder."

"What?" you say, startled out of your thoughts.

"How else do you plan on getting on?"

Sylus cocks his head at you, raising a brow as you try to think of an alternative. You sigh when your brain fails to produce anything. Lightly, you place your hand onto his shoulder. His customary black leather jacket is smooth beneath your touch.

"Now swing your leg over."

You use Sylus as an anchor, palm pressing into the firm muscles of his shoulder as you clamor onto the motorcycle, not nearly as graceful as him but at least you've made it on. Once you're sure that you're not at risk of somehow toppling off, the first thing you take notice of is how close you are to Sylus. Your knees rest on either side of his waist, your chest nearly pressed against the expanse of his back. You've been near Sylus before, but never like this. You scooch backwards and try to put as much space as you can between the two of you.

Sylus glances back at you. "I don't bite. No need to put so much distance between us," he says, a teasing lilt to his voice.

"Somehow, I highly doubt that," you deadpan, which draws a bark of laughter from him.

"Is that so?" Sylus' eyes darken a touch. You have no time to try and decipher what it means before he blinks and it's gone, replaced by amusement. "You might fall off if you don't hold on tight."

"I'll be fine like this," you say. You look down at the motorcycle and wrap your hands around the grab bars.

“Suit yourself.” He shrugs his shoulders before turning forward once more. The motorcycle roars to life, steadily thrumming beneath you. Sylus nudges the kickstand up with his foot. You tighten your hold on the grab bars as the motorcycle shifts slightly as Sylus prepares to pull away from the curb.

A loud squeal escapes you as the motorcycle starts moving much faster than you anticipated. Your grip around the grab bars slackens in your shock, and you press yourself closer to Sylus, arms tightly wrapping around his torso, before you can reconsider your actions.

"You really are the worst, Sylus!" you shout over the wind that rushes around you as Sylus continues picking up speed. Your heart is hammering so loud in your chest after the stunt he pulled that you're sure he can feel it with the way your chest is pressed firmly against his back.

In response, Sylus accelerates more, eliciting a shriek from you. The buildings around you start to blur together, and the wind bites into any sliver of skin you have exposed. You're going so fast that you're confident that Sylus is breaking every speed limit there is in Linkon City. But you don't dwell on that thought for long.

Your initial nerves transform into giddiness as you slowly grow more comfortable with the sensation of riding on a motorcycle. There's something surprisingly exhilarating about going at such a high speed. You poke your head from around Sylus' body, a wild grin spread onto your cheeks. His eyes flicker from the road to you for a brief moment.

“Having fun?”

You lean in closer to him to be heard over the whipping winds. “Yeah!” you say earnestly, cheeks aching from smiling.

You don't have a smart remark or a quick-witted quip at the ready like you usually do. For as much as you bicker with Sylus, you do actually enjoy his company and you appreciate him going out of his way to give you a ride, even if it's not exactly what you had envisioned.

"Thanks again for the ride Sylus."

Out of the corner of your eyes, you catch a glimpse of Sylus smiling. Not as sharp or as teasing as his usual ones. It's a little softer around the edges. Genuine.

"Anytime."

The longer you're awake, the more you remember about what landed you in the hospital bed you're currently lying in. You, Zanka, and Rudo along with a handful of supporters were sent out on a job to clean up a large trash beast terrorizing a village located on the edge of a No Man's Land. Unfortunately, the intel was slightly off, and there was definitely more than one trash beast that needed cleaning up. You can't recall exactly what happened, but you're pretty sure you got knocked out after you took your eye off the trash beast you were cleaning up for what felt like just a split second. Guess that was enough time for you to get your ass handed to you.

Since you're back at HQ in one piece, you assume that the rest of the team took care of the job. Great, Zanka's going to rub it in your face that you were knocked unconscious during the mission. You are so not looking forward to that.

Pushing that aside, you let your attention linger on Eishia. She looks at ease, scribbling away on a clipboard. The typical tension and anxiety that winds itself tight throughout her body is nowhere to be seen, which means that she definitely hasn't noticed that you're awake yet.

"Seems like I've died and gone to heaven since I'm seeing angels."

The clipboard clatters to the ground.

"You're awake!" Eishia exclaims as she quickly crosses the room to be by your side. Her hands nervously flutter about as if she's unsure of where to place them. You reach out and grab the nearest one, threading your fingers together to still her movements.

"Mhm," you hum, giving her hand a squeeze. "All thanks to you."

Eishia flusters before a deep frown settles on her lips. "I should have done more though. It's because I was unable to use my power properly that you've been out for as long as you have."

"And how long has that been?" you gently ask.

"A few hours," Eishia mournfully replies.

Oh, Eishia. You really wish she could get it through her silly head and see herself from your perspective: how lovely and incredible she truly is.

"Thanks."

"Huh?" Eishia's frown lifts, face contorting into one of confusion.

"I was able to nap for a few hours thanks to you, Eishia. And it's because of you that I'm way less banged up than I would be otherwise."

Eishia opens her mouth, presumably to refute what you've said, but you cut her off before she can do so with a dramatic sigh.

"But if you really want to make me feel better, I guess there is something you can do for me."

Eishia shuffles a little closer to your bedside, angling her head in question.

"What is it?"

"A kiss from my beautiful girlfriend will cheer me right up," you say with a cheeky smile. Eishia's entire face goes aflame. You suppress the urge to laugh or coo at how cute she is, well aware that you'd fluster her even further.

"Just kidding, you don't have to," you reassure Eishia, never wanting her to feel pressured to give into your whims, but to your surprise, she leans over and presses a quick kiss to the corner of your lips.

Eishia pointedly looks anywhere and everywhere but you. Her hat does little to conceal how the tips of her ears have gone red.

"B-Better?"

You laugh lightly, and her flush worsens. You give another squeeze to her hand before pressing a kiss of your own to the back of her knuckles.

"I'm feeling much much better now."

a sense of shame takes root in his chest. he feels like some sort of creep, feeling this way. it’s weird. he’s weird, he’s convinced. and yet, sakura can’t help but start to take note of the products you use when he’s over at your place. it’s not snooping if it’s on display right? sakura knows it’s just a flimsy argument that he's using to reassure himself, but he has to know what sort of products you’re using. he makes a mental list of the brands and scents of your shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and laundry detergent amongst other things. and when he’s at the store, he’s skittish as ever, feeling as if he’s doing something intimately wrong as he buys the same products you use for himself.

sakura thinks you won’t ever discover his shameful secret. if only.

you're at his place instead of yours for a change of pace. sakura's lounging on his dingy couch that he bought second-hand when he first moved into his apartment. he's waiting for you to finish up in the bathroom, so he can hit play on the movie you've been meaning to watch together. his head’s resting on the back of the sofa and he turns his cheek towards the hallway when he hears the bathroom door unlock, expecting you to enter his view soon enough.

you do, and sakura's stomach drops when he sees what's in your hand. it's a shampoo bottle. identical to the one you own.

"what's this?"

sakura's at a loss for words, unable to come up with a good excuse on the fly.

“it’s the same one i have.”

he feels himself teetering on that tightrope, at the verge of falling down into the abyss of loneliness once more. are you mad? are you going to leave him?

“how come you bought it?”

sakura takes a deep breath, trying to pull himself out of his spiraling thoughts. no, he shouldn’t assume the worst. all you did was ask him a question. your tone isn’t accusatory, merely inquisitive.

“i-i like the way you smell.” he says small and quiet, entirely unlike how he usually is. he chooses to let his head hang low, staring at the couch cushions rather than you. he’s afraid of what he may see if he looks your way. even if he doesn’t want to think the worst, he’s sure you’re put off by what he’s said. who wouldn’t be?

“haruka, can you look at me?” sakura stubbornly keeps his head down. tendrils of fear have taken ahold of his heart, paralyzing him. he stiffens when you gently sigh. “please?”

slowly, sakura lifts his head, bracing himself for your reaction. sakura expects disgust or distaste to be plastered across your face, but he's shocked when he's greeted with a smile, bleeding with a fondness that's so familiar to sakura it makes him ache a little.

"i'm not mad," you say as if you can read sakura's thoughts. or maybe you can just read his expression. "i'm flattered that you think i smell nice, and i honestly think it's really cute that you want to smell like me."

"really?" sakura's brows furrow, disbelieving. "you don't think it's weird? or gross?" sakura doesn't know why he's saying these things, things that could push you further from him, but he doesn't get why you don't think what he's done is strange or unusual.

sakura startles when you take a seat beside him on the couch. he didn't even notice you moving across the room.

“why would i think that?” a confused lilt to your voice. you reach out towards sakura, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear before caressing his cheek. the tips of your fingers rub against the ends of his hair. “i think it’s sweet. honestly, i really like the idea of us using the same products." your expression goes thoughtful. "it's like even when i'm not around, a part of me is still with you." a rosy hue colors sakura's cheeks. he didn't expect you to say something so embarrassing. you continue on, a growing grin on your lips. "and now whenever i sleep over, i don't have to worry about packing toiletries, i can just use what you have here!”

your laughter fills the air when sakura pulls back from you, rolling his eyes at your attempt of lightening the mood. it works though. sakura is admittedly feeling considerably better than he did just moments ago. he doesn't know how you do it. you somehow always know what to say, what he needs to hear. sakura no longer finds himself performing a balancing act on that tightrope as often as he once did in his adolescence, but from time to time, he's there again, teetering from side to side, afraid of falling. but now he realizes that fear is unfounded.

you're a safe place for him to land.