#starry.writes

The light of the blue morning seeps in through the window, startling your body awake.

You mewl into the pillow, body curling inwards towards your only source of warmth. Sae ruffles the sheets in turn, his body responding to yours in sync, wrapping around you underneath the coolness of the blankets.

He hasn’t opened his eyes yet. Doesn’t really need to, though. He could find you by touch or sound or smell alone.

"S'too cold...," you whine into his neck, nose pressing itself into the crook of his shoulder as you clutch your arms tighter around you, trying to keep the bites of frost at bay.

"Mmm...," Sae breathes into your hair, auburn strands melting into yours. “You’re the one who keeps turning down the ac before bed…”

You huff and only nuzzle closer, all but melting into him and he feels himself at rest.

(at peace)

"We need to get up soon anyway,” his body, knowing the time through routine — unlike yours — feels the ticking of the day start and he starts to shift closer to the edge of the bed.

"No," you declare, burying yourself impossibly further into his chest, legs curling and pressing themselves to the back of his calves. He lets out a small hiss when you do, but only moves to pull you closer after a moment of adjustment, forearms caging you into him.

He indulges you quite often, not a vice nor a weakness. But something else, something in between your sighs and your fingertips, that he hasn’t quite caught yet.

Eyes still shut, his lips trail across your forehead by memory, knowing where to start and where to end. Where to continue with the practice of a thousand lifetimes. The room holds its breath in a sigh, almost kind in its slow stretch of dawn.

Sae finally opens his eyes, searching for yours, knowing they wouldn’t be open to meet him yet — he seeks them out anyway. His gaze glides over your hair, spooled across the pillow. Your arms, tucked inside the cavity of his chest. Your breath, puffing slowly into the air in tandem with his heart. The purse of your mouth, there even in your sleep-filled trance, snags his attention, and the tips of his lips curl just a bit.

In this state, you look like nothing more than a defenseless little thing, fur fluffed and eyes shut tight to ward off the rest of the world.

“I know you’re thinking of something mean right now. Stop it,” you grumble. Actions unbefitting of your words as you shuffle and twist until you and him are one. Arms looped tightly around his waist, you pull him closer. If you couldn’t physically bury yourself into his skin, you’d make damn sure you’d get as close to it as possible.

“I haven’t even said anything yet,” lips still twitching as he moves his arm from out of your grasp, ignoring your weak protests, to reach for the blanket and pulling it up. He tucks it around you again, folding in the corners with a care he’d learned when he became an older brother. 

(and then relearned when he met you)

“Didn’t need to,” words lacking any real bite as you happily sigh, shimmying further under the covers, going so low as to where only your eyelids and the tip of your nose can be seen.

Sae knows he has to get up soon, his morning run waits for him on the sidewalk — patiently and inevitably. But, strangely enough, he can’t make himself leave the curl of your embrace. Enticingly soft and warm, meant to be basked in.

“A dangerous little thing,” he muses as he breathes in your scent, a combination of pomegranate and roses, overflowing from your late-night shower. It’s seeped into the bed like honey into a comb, invades his being like the call of a siren, lulling him to stay.

“Dangerous indeed,” he thinks with a flutter of his lashes, sinking into it. 

(into you)

The sound of your breathing lulls him to the brink of sleep again, head shifting to warmer things than the cold surrounding your shared cocoon —

Until the sound of his alarm goes off.

You groan comedically, and Sae can’t help the huff of amusement that escapes him.

“No,” you bite out as he moves to get up. Arm latching onto his, curling it to your chest.  “You’re not allowed to leave me.” Indignantly, you rub your face against it, hoping it’ll convince him to come back to you.

“You’re going to complain about being hungry soon,” he says with a press of his lips against the apple of your cheek, the other smushed against the arm he let you clutch.

“I don’t complain,” you peek out from where you were rubbing your nose into the fabric of his shirt, your glare finding him in all your — albeit weak — intimidation.

It’s cute, Sae thinks, the way your words and your actions contradict themselves. Endearing even, as you can never help it, no matter how hard you try to hide. 

He meets your glare, pleading with his own, and feels his stubborn chest loosen. Maybe from the tenseness of the upcoming day, maybe from leaving you even for a moment.

He relents.

"Mmm...," humming, he settles back down in your arms, "five more minutes."

(he knows that you'll need anywhere from five more minutes to thirty, at least.)

You let out a satisfied sound, pushing your legs even further between his. They've warmed up quite a bit by now, but you have no intention of moving them anywhere. And he has no intention of letting you.

-

"I'm getting up now," Sae says with finality — for the tenth time.

(his resolve quivers again when you blearily blink up at him, mouth falling into a small pout.)

"No, you're not," huffing, you try your best to weigh him down with your body over his.

"Is 'no' the only word you can say today," countering — not a question but a statement — as he gently tugs himself away from your hold. His body immediately feels colder. And not because of the frigid air.

You grumble and watch him walk into the bathroom, the light he turns on an annoying sting against your pride, your loss of getting him to stay a bitter defeat. Hiding underneath the covers in retaliation, you listen to him. You can't see him, not with your eyes, but you know exactly what he's doing. The way he brushes his teeth first. The way he moves his bangs back with the water he splashes on his face. The way he puts on his set of bracelets, matching with yours, before anything else. You know it all by sound. It soothes you into a daze, hearing him in the darkness of the covers.

Turning off the light, Sae walks back through the door and moves to kneel at the edge of the bed. Fingers brushing the wisps of hair peeking out from beneath the blankets, he searches until he finds the top of your head.

You make a small sound and nuzzle into it, and he smiles, hidden from view.

His hand drifts down to stroke the curve of your cheek, your face finally open for him to see as the sheets fall in their defenses. "I'll be back soon."

You blink at him, your face still draped with sleep, but your eyes have become clear as you gaze back at him. Taking him in. Tears line your lashes and you sniff; the sudden change of brightness irritating your eyes, causing them to water.

He watches you in turn, unbearably soft and feels his heart squeeze. Catches the first and last drops of dew on his fingertips before they can streak your face.

The pout still clings to your lips, and he kisses you. You taste like honeysuckle nectar — he goes in for another sip. You lean into his lips by instinct, your mouth thrumming awake. The first breath of the morning fills both your lungs.

You whine when he finally pulls away, lips chasing, but even then, he leaves soft pecks as he goes, placating.

“I’ll be back in a little bit. And then we can have breakfast,” he says before standing up, turning to leave, but a tug makes him pause.

You open your mouth. And then close it. The words don't come out, leashed by the inevitable fading of sleep. The blanket of it no longer secure enough for you to say what you want.

“… come back soon,” you mumble instead, quietly. Your eyes drift away, and you suddenly feel shy. Like you’re barren beneath the light shining through ocean glass.

(he hears your words anyway)

"... I will." He suddenly pinches your nose, and you gripe in protest, "but you better be awake and out of bed by then." Sae huffs before leaving you in bed, the sight of your indignant face and the sound of your grumbles behind him a fond tape for him to replay for his run.

(he thinks he'll take the shorter route today)

-

"You're still in bed," Sae deadpans, watching you innocently blink at him from underneath the blanket thrown over your head. A makeshift shield — against him or the cold. 

Maybe both.

"I'm up, aren't I?" You chirp from your comfy — warm — spot on the bed. 

(you think you'd quite like to stay here, yes.)

Sae stares at you unimpressed. You just grin coyly. 

(you had made the stellar move of wrapping yourself so tightly in bankets that it would take him a while to untangle you. 

the perfect opening to drag him back to bed.)

He steps forward, and your cheshire grin grows a little wider — not going unnoticed by him — and he narrows his eyes. But, before you can blink, he effortlessly scoops you up, blankets and all, in his arms, ripping you away from your haven.

"S-sae!" You squeak, the abrupt change making you dizzy.

(your new haven making you flush; dizziness worsened)

He wordlessly marches to the bathroom and gently places you on the counter, tugging the sheets off your head and body. Looking at your face and the warmth of your cheeks makes him want to bite them.

Instead, he hands you your toothbrush. "Brush," he orders.

You squint at it, the taste of leftover toothpaste in your mouth a nasty wall.

"Or I could just brush for you..." he drawls, moving to reach for the tube.

"N-no, I got it," you protest, snatching it from his hands. You huff as you hop down and turn towards the sink, cheeks still warm as you stubbornly keep your eyes from meeting his through the mirror.

Sae leans against the wall and crosses his arms, taking you in through the reflection. The way your shirt slides over your shoulder — one of his — revealing a corner of you. It makes him want to trace his hand over it. Skim his fingertips along the skin until they know its dips and ridges like the way one knows the slope of their own hands.

Like he knows the way yours have a mole in the corner of your palm and your wrist.

The way he knows how his face shifts when you smile at him. And the way your face shifts when you're trying to remember something.

The face you're making right now, in fact. Your eyes stare at him through the glass, not at him, but rather at where he stands.

"Here," he murmurs, handing you the face towel. You smile in thanks, sleep still clinging to your face like a child's blanket.

And that, the soft affection glittering in your eyes like pools of gold, is what makes him finally break and move to wrap his arms around you. They were empty for far too long without their keeper.

(the urge to hold you by his discretion, teething at his hands the entire time during his run. 

it made him take three steps more every time his foot hit the ground.)

You sigh at the contact — like this, you forget to be irritated at him, your earlier gripe seeping away from your muscles. It's hard to hold onto for too long when he gets like this. Like he can’t bear to let you go once he has you in his arms.

"Breakfast?" You turn your head to the side, catching his bangs with the curl of your hand, gently sifting your fingers through them.

"... in a second," Sae says as he tightens his arms around you and finds his nose running alongside your jaw.

You giggle at the change in roles, not unexpected, but amusing nonetheless. "Alright, five more minutes," you tease, hand cupping the side of his face and angling his all too willing lips over to yours.

-

Sae watches you swing your feet on your spot from the counter. Wrapped up in a blue star-speckled blanket — one that you insisted on bringing from your bedroom — and debating whether he needs whipped cream or not.

He remembers the first time he made you breakfast. Something simple, eggs and toast with orange juice, which was all he could make himself at the time, and the way your face flickered for a brief second before eating it with gusto.

He had let it go at first. Until you insisted on making breakfast instead whenever you saw him reach for the carton of eggs, pattering over to his side and tugging it away from his grasp with a sweet smile. 

It took him a bit to pull it out of you, but you'd finally caved after days of making you the same breakfast. He'd been nice enough to try out making different things too, grilled fish, miso soup, cereal even, and so on. Your nose always twitched whenever the meal had eggs involved, but he wanted to be sure, so —

"... alright! I hate eggs, okay!?" Finally relenting with a pitiful groan after the seventh day of omelets, a staring contest between the plate and him ending in your defeat as he watched you expectantly.

"Why didn't you just say that?" He’d asked with a raised brow. So he was correct, obviously, but being right wasn’t why he'd started this little experiment.

You had slouched in your chair and crossed your arms. "... you went out of your way to make them for me... and I didn't want you to think I didn't appreciate it..." You chewed on your lip and looked up at him, unwarranted guilt swimming in your eyes.

He sighed through his nose and turned the chair towards him, ignoring your yelp. Leaning in close and staying face-to-face, making sure you could see what he was about to say. 

"It doesn't mean anything to me if you don't actually like it,” he stated, staring at you, making sure you heard what he was saying.

"..." Your eyes moved away again, mouth thinned, the gaze holding you in place too taut for you to keep looking, but he grabbed your chin, turning your face back to him.

"Next time, just tell me what you want. Okay?"

"... okay."

And now here he is, making chocolate chip pancakes. A treat he usually reserved for his cheat days, and even then, only to share with you. But the way you'd tugged at his shirt and gazed at him when he'd asked what you wanted to eat, a sheepish smile on your face — a feeble effort to try and say what you want, expecting it to fail anyway — made him grab the mix box from the cabinet while you were busy hopping on the counter.

(you don't want things. or rather, you don’t let yourself want. it had taken you a ridiculous amount of time just to ask him for a kiss; in the beginning.

and he noticed. watched the way you sealed away your desires the second you realized you had them and opened your mouth to voice them. tucking them away from sight.

but he saw them. saw you.

and he eased them out of you, catching the bits and pieces before you shoved them into a chest and locked them away. inching the rope out slowly, tugging them free.)

You sit and watch him make your favorite breakfast. Watch him hesitate to add a few more chips before glancing over his shoulder, and grabbing a handful anyway. You watch the way he moves, practiced and sure and steady. And the things in between that, the hesitation and thoughts, and the twitch of a finger or two.

The kitchen lights were off, sunlight from the windows more than enough for your eyes to see. The beams shone through, collecting dust in their wake. They dance along his back as he moves from one spot to another, flipping the pan and cutting the strawberries. The pancakes were lopsided, and the strawberries were cut unevenly; you could tell from your perch. And yet, you would've eaten them even if they were burnt or cut into itty-bitty pieces.

He was plating them when you finally mustered up the courage to let the words out against the picture of his back. A loophole, but you think you deserve credit for it anyway.

"Sae? Can you come here?" Asked like a question — hoping — even when you should know by now that he will always come at your call.

Sae takes his time, moves to grab a towel and wipe his hands first. And then he places them beside your hips, trapping you into your counter seat.

"Hmm?" He asked, already knowing. Knowing in the way you looked at him, like he was your sun. Eyes casting him under a ray of light.

(it takes his breath away.

the sun only looks at the moon in wonder because it can't see itself.)

You grasp the sleeves of his jacket, tugging him close.

(again and again. because you let your hands do what your words cannot.)

"..."

You look up at him, longing, soft. He doesn't think he's ever seen a sight that calls to him more. One that compares to the stars.

He leans in and kisses you. Kisses you like the breath between you two is the only one you'll ever have. Hands grabbing his shoulders, you let them slide up to cradle his face. Into his hair, as he steps between your legs and lays his hands around the curve of your waist.

You pull back after a moment and gently knock against his forehead, ruby bangs hanging between your skin and his.

(you like them like this. down when at home. a sight only you get to see. 

something akin to a secret for your eyes only. for you to keep.)

He leans forward again, nose brushing against yours, eyes glimmering with mirth. "Am i going to have to kiss it out of you?"

(i love you)

Your mouth waxes into a smile, brighter than stardust. "I wouldn't be opposed to it."

(i love you)

And so he does — draw those three words out of you.

(i love you)

Again and again. With each sweet press of lips to lips. With each flutter of lashes as you pull back, before diving back in for air. 

(i love you)

Sae breathes those words against your lips that morning. And every morning after.

any and all likes/reblogs/replies are appreciated!!! <3

The back of your eyes throb and burn as tears rush to the surface, your lips part to call out his name- "Don't talk yet-" Bucky but its too late.

A violent cough rips from your dry, irritated throat, sending your body forward. His warm presence disappears for a moment and then a warm hand holds your chin. You feel the coolness of a glass being pressed to your lips and steady yourself, tilting your head back, allowing Bucky to help you drink.

A series of 'slow down's falls on deaf ears as you hungrily chug down the glass of water like a man starved, forgetting to breathe. Your muscles constrict and you choke, coughing violently once again. A rough hand comes down to slap your back repeatedly, muttering under their breathe, "God damn doll, give me a break".

The harsh whacks die down to soothing circular motions as you manage to catch your breath. The shock from your two coughing fits seems to do the trick because you're suddenly wide awake and alert. Your heart is threatening to burst from your chest as you heave, taking in deep breathes to calm yourself.

Bucky grins, eyes crinkling as he regards you with the shake of his head. The tiredness in his eyes seems to fade as he takes you in, healthy and moving. His vibranium hand comes to rest on your own, the cool metal shocks your heated skin, doing a perfect job neutralising your nerves.

"Well, looks who's back from the dead" Your head shoots up at the new voice in the room.

Tony stands leaning against the doorway, eyebrows raised curiously "Congrats on surviving that blast, kid." He strolls in, walking up to you, eyeing you behind his Hermes shades. "You've spared us all a great deal of torture," He gestures to Bucky who's sitting on the opposite side of your bed. "This one refused to shut up about you. He kept going on and on about-” Tony cuts himself short feeling Bucky’s eyes burn holes into his head and returns the gesture.

You look between the two, confusion littering your mind at the exchange. You head hurts too much too care that as you suddenly recall what happened. That’s right, you were almost blown out of existence. No wonder you felt like you’ve been by a freight train.

“Well,” Tony turns his attention back to you, giving you a once over. “Glad to have you back in one piece. We were all worried sick.” He tuts, side-eyeing Bucky with an amused smirk but it’s gone in a flash. There’s something odd about the way he punctuates the end of his sentence but its flies over your head as you’re caught up in trying to piece together what happened last night.

Bucky gently cups your cheek, pulling you from your thoughts. As if reading your mind, he solemnly says, “You’ve been out cold for almost two weeks, Doll” mouth drawing into a thin line. Your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets; a noise of disbelief leaves your throat.

“What?!” You squeak out, cringing at the hoarseness in your voice.

“Yeah- we had to put you in a medically induced coma.” Tony chimes in casually, pulling a chair beside you and making himself comfortable. “We had to rush you into surgery immediately. Your spine was severely damaged, if whatever hit your back was an inch closer to the right, you would have been paralysed.” You stared at Tony, jaw dropped. This was too much to process all that once- and it didn’t end there. “Luckily, we managed to save the nerves and tissue from dying. You will have to be careful not to strain yourself for the next few weeks, minimum. ” Tony shoots you a knowing look, like a father warning their child when they know they’re about to do something they shouldn’t.

Protest bubbles in your throat but Tony’s quick to cut you off with the click of his tongue. He pulls off his glasses and you inhale sharply. He’s eyes are tired, sunken in and your chest tightens, eyes falling to your lap. This really took a toll on him-. You sneak a glance at Bucky, who wasn’t fairing any better, - everyone.

Tony raises his hand, pointing at you, “Now you need to be careful. These next few weeks are critical, one misstep and you can easily end up in that wheelchair. You understand me?” You gulped, rubbing your throat and nodded in reply. 

“Good.” Tony said lightly, patting your thigh. “I have to run now- Barnes will explain the need-to-know details about your treatment. ” Tony says, standing up. "I’ll see you later, alright sweetheart?” Tony’s index finger came under your chin, urging you to look up at him. Your eyes meet and he shoots you a reassuring smile and a wink. Tony waves his hand as he walks away, leaving you alone with Bucky.

You hear Tony’s receding steps as he dulls into an echo before disappearing all together. Silence envelopes you and Bucky. You haven’t looked up at him since earlier. Instead, you’re focused on twiddling your thumbs as you try to make sense of everything. Your head feels like a dam ready to burst at any moment. Bucky quietly watches you from the sidelines, his hand still in yours, thumb soothingly rubbing the back of your hand. Your eyes flicker to his hand, slowly travelling up his arm. Your brows crease with confusion but you shake your head before finally meeting his patient gaze. You look away, unable to hide the guilt and defeat on your face. Bucky looks so worn out. However he's quick to draw your attention back to him with his other hand.

“Hey…..” He calls out softly, offering you a small smile. “You’re gonna be okay,” He presses a kiss to your hand. “Stark knows what he’s doing- as much as I don’t want to admit it.” He grumbles the latter part under his breath which earns a giggle from you. His eyes brighten and he squeezes your hand.

“Look, there’s a small plate placed in your spine- its one of Stark’s new AI tech things. It’s going to keep everything intact and help speed up the healing process. You’ll be fine in no time! As long as you don’t strain or injure yourself again.” You nod along as he speaks. Your head falls. Your throat burns as you fight to hold back tears from welling up in your eyes. “Oh, sweet girl.” Bucky coos, coming up to wipe the tears slipping down your cheeks. “I don’t know what he was being so dramatic for, scaring you like that.” Bucky tsks. “You’re going to be fine, completely fine with that implant in. I promise you- Hey,” He leans down, head resting in your lap so he can peer up at with a smile. “When have I never lied to you?”

“…..Never.” You manage to mumble out, wiping your eyes.

“Exactly.” He hums. “You’re going to be good as new in no time, you’ll see.” He taps your nose and grins when you smile. That always did the trick.

His eyes shift to your left arm and that’s when you notice the silver wristband. You fingers brush along the smooth edges of the band. Despite being thick, its so light on your wrist that you hadn’t noticed it until now. It has a small screen that lights up upon contact, showing your vitals and other information. Though, what’s odd about it is that it doesn’t seem to have a clasp to remove it. You wordlessly turn to Bucky for answers. His fingers run over it and he seems lost in thought for a moment. “This will have to stay on...indefinity, its to monitor your spine and vitals…. ‘s to make sure you’re okay.” He says, tucking your hair behind your ear.

You shift in your place, unsure of what to make of everything but nevertheless thank Bucky. Leaning into his touch, your eyes flutter shut, breathing a sigh of relief. You knew that everything will be alright as long as you had Bucky by your side. Your body allows you some repose as you relax into Bucky’s embrace. You received some answers and that was enough for now. Your body demanded rest and urged you to give in as you felt your grip slipping from Bucky’s. Bucky gently lays you back, making sure you're in a comfortable position before tucking you in nicely.

You felt the slight tickle of his stubble against your forehead as he kissed you. He whispered something under his breath, sounding determined but his words evaded you as you drifted off.

The summer breeze caresses your cheeks like a longing goodbye. The smell of barbecue lingers in the air as the rest of the student body celebrates below. You watch them all from the railing, eyes unfocused, but your ears bottling up every sound you could catch.

The rooftop door creeks open and you hang your head with a sigh — but your lips still twitch up.

“Ya know if ya wanted some space, ya coulda just told me instead of hiding away every time I tried to wave you over,” Karasu says as he comes up behind you and leans forward, eyes on the strung up lights, but you know he's feeling the air for your thoughts.

(you clutch them a just little closer)

You hum and take a swig of your soda, the bubbles scraping the sides of your throat as they go down.

The two of you let the silence blanket, one intent on saying nothing at all and the other trying to grasp at anything to say.

Karasu turns to look at you and watches the way the darkening sky paints your face with shadows. Knowing the way your brow furrows and lips purse by memory even without the light. 

He chews on his lips, turning over the words like marbles in his head. He opens his mouth, but before he can say anything—

“You know what’d be crazy?” You blurt out 

“I'm all ears,” he says, watching your lips wrap around the bottle for another sip.

“What if we ran away together. Just you and me.” You breathe into the chilly air, forcing yourself to look at the purple sky and not the blue eyes taking you apart to your right.

“Where do ya wanna go?” 

(an olive branch)

“Somewhere warm. But not like, summer warm. Somewhere with a lot of trees too. Maybe a couple of convenience stores down the road.” 

(you reach for it)

The silence lapses again — this time with the swelling of words unsaid and kept tucked between teeth.

He bites first.

“Ya been avoiding me for weeks,” he says as he turns around and moves to lean his back against the cold metal.

You exhale and finally turn to look at him. White collared shirt untucked and tie loose, sleeves rolled up and forearms resting against the bars, he's already staring back at you, gaze steady. 

He’s filled out the uniform well you muse, remembering how you teased him about it back in your first year. Clumsy and unsure but grinning, excited for what lay ahead. When you two were still on equal footing and running side by side.

(not anymore—at some point, he’d started soaring on ahead. and left you panting on the ground, watching him get farther and farther away)

You think you hate your best friend a little

(for soaring to where you couldn’t reach him — for leaving you behind)

“Yeah well, we’ve both been busy. I’ve been packing for university and you’ve been training for the literal world cup,” you can't help but let a little scoff slip out and you cringe, knowing you sound bitter (knowing he won’t understand why).

He wrinkles his nose, the same way he did when you told him which university you’d picked.

-

“But that's so far from here. Couldn’t ya’ve picked a closer one?” He’d said back then.

“Just felt like starting fresh,” you’d shrugged, your heart snagging over the way he sounded upset; like he wanted to keep you close.

“Besides,” you’d moved to slump beside him on the bed, shoulders brushing. “You can still visit me whenever,” you’d grinned in reassurance, feeling the snag dig deeper as he had pretended to huff.

-

He feels irked with the way you look so disinterested, and yet your voice still betrays you; he latches on. 

“And what, that mean ya can’t walk home with me after practice anymore? Or eat with me durin lunch? Or text me back without leaving me on delivered for hours?” He snapped, immediately feeling his stomach drop when you flinched, but he didn't apologize. 

It frustrated him, the way you didn’t say anything and turned back to the laughter in the courtyard. When had the two of you started talking to each other in riddles or saying nothing at all?

(why hadn’t he noticed sooner?)

He's startled out of his thoughts when you start speaking again.

“Just…… didn’t wanna burden you when you’re supposed to be focused on the future,” you mutter, glancing at him and immediately skittering away from the way he watched you. Like you held something he so desperately wanted.

(like he always did, though you had yet to notice until now)

“What burden are ya talkin about?” He asks, racking his brain to think of anything that would make you feel that way. 

A bolt of anger shoots through you and you snap. “You’re going places Tabi. You’re gonna be this big hotshot football player traveling all over the world after we graduate. You don't need anything holding you back,” you retort, feeling the thorns prick at the corner of your eyes. 

You quickly turn back to the music drifting up from the party, trying to focus on anything other than whatever face he might be making right now. “And I'm….. just going to be here. Figuring out university and work…… and everything else.”

(by yourself)

His heart starts to feel sore, but he stays quiet, patiently waiting for you to collect your words. 

“It's….. I’m not really gonna be adding anything to your new life anymore,” you finish, the hollow feeling in your chest that you’d been pushing down for weeks finally out of your body and into the air. 

(you won’t need me anymore is what you really meant to say)

A beat passes before he lets out a snort. And then a laugh and you whip your head to glare at him properly (watching the way his lips pull back just far enough to reveal teeth and the way his mole jumps up higher on his face).

“And what made ya think ya could decide that all on ya own? That ya weren’t gonna be a part of it?” He says it so simply, like he didn’t just blow into your ears words that you’d been longing to hear. Mouth settling into the teasing tilt you knew all too well. 

He was closer now, and you turned your head away again, teeth clenched and irritated at the stupid look on his face. Like now he had you all figured out. 

You thought you’d gotten good at tucking away those bits of yourself. The bits where you longed for something that could never be yours. Had folded them up like old photos and placed them in albums meant to be looked at years later with bitter fondness. 

But this was Karasu, who knew you better than anyone else did. Always had after that first look you’d shared at the back of the class and stifled giggles at the teacher's funny socks tugged over the hems.

“.......you’re being annoying Tabi,” you say as the irritation melts away and you chuck your soda in the trashcan across the rooftop; his laugh always tended to do that to you, one way or another (infuriatingly enough).

“And you’re talking to me again,” he says grinning at the way your mouth twisted into a sulk. He catches your gaze with a tilt of his head and the sudden softness you see in his eyes surprises you. Makes you with him stay this time.

“What’re you so scared of,” he whispers after making sure he has you, elbow brushing against your arm. 

And oh that's dangerous you think, glancing down at his lips. 

Really dangerous; you swallow and stare up at him. 

“Just gonna miss you is all,” your voice coming out thick (you hate it).

“I ain’t going anywhere though,” he says, watching the way your lashes flutter while staring at him; his heart running in his chest.

(he likes the way he can see the stars dancing in your eyes)

(prettier than the ones cluttering the sky, he thinks)

“But you are.” And this time your voice cracks. You curse the way your emotions were scattering open tonight when you’d done such a good job of packing them away. 

Something changes on his face and you don't think your heart can take it, not now. Not before the two of you go from this to strangers who maybe smile at each other from across the aisle and say nothing more before silently passing by. 

(You don’t think you could ever handle giving him that kind of smile)

His hands twitch and he wants so badly to pull you into his chest, to stamp out whatever ridiculous thoughts were clouding your head. But he keeps them where they are, tense with want—with need.

His nose brushes against yours and you suck in a breath, chest tight and face flushing. When did he get so close?

You want to ask him what he's doing, to warn him to stop, but you can't seem to make your lips move—maybe you don’t want him to.

“Mmmm, but I’m not. and if I was, you’d be coming with me.” He grins and you want to smack him. 

(you want to kiss him)

“Yeah? And what makes you so sure of that?” You whisper into the space, or lack thereof, between your lips.

“Because. I know ya,” he stops drifting away in your eyes and looks at you, all of you. And you want to stay here forever. Stay here, where he looks at you like that (he has, always).

“And……. because I’m asking ya now.”

He waits, wants so badly to move but he doesn’t, not until you give him your answer. 

“Yes,” you say, lips parting, and that’s all he needs before he crashes his lips against yours.

Your hands clutch his shirt in your fists and his hands finally grasp your waist, bringing your body to him. His lips are soft (from the chapstick he always stole from you) and he tastes like vanilla cake.

You break away for air and stare at him; eyes sparkling and he has to try his hardest not to dive into you again, your breaths coming out in puffs. 

The fireworks go off and cheers rise up to the roof as everyone watches the colors paint the sky. You tuck yourself into his arms like the spot’s always been yours and he holds you close like that's what his arms were made to do as you admire the flashing sparks.

“You know you’re stuck with me now right?” You tell him cheekily, smile so wide your cheeks ache. He chuckles and his eyes crinkle as he leans down to rest his forehead against yours, blissful. “It’s the other way ‘round doll. Ya ain’t getting rid of me till the end of time,” he says smugly, eyes bright. 

You snort before you feel his smirk ghost over your lips for another kiss, your heart soaring higher than you ever thought possible, now beating side by side with his, no matter what the future held. 

Kaiser watches you stare at the piece on the wall, notebook clutched in hand and eyes pinning the abstract mural in the grasp of your gaze. Your head tilts as if looking for something more than the lines and material in front of you.

It's cute, he thinks. The way you try to find meaning in things, regardless of whether they might be there or not. His eyes catch at the way your shirt rides up a bit as you stand on your toes, looking for another angle. 

“Mihya... do y’think if I stand back further I’ll find something new?” You say as you shuffle off to the side, eyes still tacked onto the artwork.

“I think...” He takes his hands out of his pockets and strides close, “that you should move back a bit.” His hands grasp your waist and you jump a little, the press of his fingers skimming just underneath the fabric of your top.

“W-we’re in public,” you immediately hiss, but still allow him to guide you to the bench he was standing by a moment ago.

He simply hums a response and tugs down the edge of the shirt, palms resting on top of the waistline of your jeans. “Relax. I’m not doing anything. See anything different now?”

Turning your head back to the artwork, you’re startled to finally notice the crowd of people moving into the spot you were just monopolizing and feel a bit of heat crawl up your face. You were so absorbed in your own viewing that you hadn’t even noticed the awkward visitors around you trying to get a closer look themselves. 

“I could always lift you up, you know.” Kaiser interrupts your plummeting embarrassment and snickers at your immediate squawk of protest.

You try to shuffle away from his grasp a bit, but his hands flex and refuse to budge (as they often do when they have their hold on you).

Sighing, you crane your neck to the side once more, mind funneling back into the focus that so rarely found you willingly. 

When Kaiser had first suggested the trip, you’d raised a brow. Sure, it was the off-season and you’d had a few break days saved up from work, but truthfully, nothing came to mind for him to prompt this so out of the blue. 

You’d always loved the idea of traveling. To explore and see the world with your own two eyes and all that it has to offer. The art, culture, and architecture of a number of countries called to you. And your bookmark bar was continuously being filled with articles and videos of all the places you had dreamed of once visiting.

The call of something more had always tugged you along. From daydreaming about jungles in your school years to wistfully looking up plane tickets in your university days to even now. Watching videos of vloggers and their adventures during your lunch breaks. 

Maybe it was childish, but the thought of finding pieces of yourself in places you’d never set foot on made you feel hopeful for things you didn’t know if the future held for you or not.

And then you met Kaiser.

Kaiser whose love, once he fell, seeped through the cracks of his glass armour. You’d stared at the ichor dripping from your fingers in awe and a wisp of fear. To own something so shattered required the utmost care. Care you didn’t know if you had the ability to let resurface. 

But it did. Hesitantly. Quietly. Softly. It bloomed.

And Kaiser in turn clutched it like the first gift he’d ever received. Never to be found anywhere else.

So inevitably — it was only expected really, you later realized — when you started gushing about all the places you’d love to go to one day to Kaiser, his thoughtful nodding resulted in your first ever trip outside the country. 

Nevermind that he didn’t ask if you could even go of course. You remember chewing him out as you scrambled to call out of work (after nearly toppling him a hug when the surprise had passed over you).

So trips like these weren’t out of the ordinary anymore.

(You’d refused to go on any trips at all ever if he didn’t at least tell you beforehand. Excluding big surprises of course. Which was a bit you kept to yourself, but Kaiser heard it anyway and smirked at your apprehensive face.)

But you still think it was a bit sudden. Call it a gut feeling. Or rather, your attunement towards Kaiser's feelings, specifically.

“Okay. I think I’m done.” Your arms drop, the ache of holding up your notebook and pen nipping at your muscles. 

(He’d laughed the first time when you’d excitedly pulled out the comically large spiral bound notebook from your bag and you’d flushed to your ears. The smile that rippled across your face and your twinkling eyes however, didn’t cease as you defended yourself. 

The pen in your hand always felt better than fingers on keys for things like this, you’d argued, huffing before turning away and missing the way his eyes twinkled at your antics.)

Your eyes catch his again before you move towards the exit of the room and you find that he's already looking at you.

(he always is)

To any passerby, the term ‘apple of his eye’ doesn’t begin to compare to how he looks at you. You still have a hard time even beginning to acknowledge it on the rare occasions you happened to catch it. 

Some things are meant to be left unspoken you think — unless they burst into nothingness — and you believe it's selfish anyways. The way you never want him to stop looking at you like that.

But every time you did catch it; it was akin to the first taste of an apple's crunch. Sweet and hard and heady. You are by no means a saint either. Far from it actually. So, you allow yourself to hold his gaze for a moment. Let it wash over you for a cusp of a second.

And only just that. Before you turn away with your heart thrumming a little faster and brushing by his arm, fingers loosely hooking onto his, forcibly staring straight ahead as you collect yourself from the aftermath of his tsunami-gaze.

You’d always been told you had an expressive face. And with Kaiser that was practically a death sentence, depending on how you looked at it.

He doesn’t squeeze your hand, but you feel him shift closer with each step taken towards the next room. Until your shoulders are brushing side by side and you can smell his cologne invading your senses.

It takes everything in you not to lean over and bury your nose in his arm right then and there. Unfortunately, normalcy is something that ran from you whenever you were with him.

Another thing that didn’t escape him.

“Do you want to check out the other exhibit on your list next?” Leaning down close to your ear. “I think they won't close for another hour or so.”

His scent overwhelms your nose like the smell of an intoxicating flower; you can barely restrain your shudder. Your eyes flutter and you miss the wickedly pleased grin on his face.

Because as much Kaiser loved letting you flourish in your own bubble, your own area of expertise. Thought it was a stunning thing to watch you dive into the things that made your eyes shine like stars and your face brighten like the moon. 

(Selfishly, he wonders if this is how you feel watching him on the field.)

He loved settling into your orbit even more. 

(Notice him, he thinks.

See him. Keep your eyes on him.

Always. 

His child-keeper heart whispers.)

He patiently waits for you to collect yourself. Can’t be too forward all the time, lest he makes you shyly skitter away at every instance. 

“I-i mean we can if you want to?” You manage to get out. “Is there anything you want to see?”

Kaiser — surprisingly enough, if you didn’t know him well — had his own sense of appreciation for the arts. Where you were driven by the urge to understand by observing; consuming piece by piece so you could find its center, its meaning. He was drawn forward by finding its purpose; picking it apart with his eyes and mind to understand its origins. In a way, you both were similar in that regard. Searching for things others might have missed or looked over. A hidden beauty or a cracked flaw, if you will.

You turn your head to face him, apology coating your words. You’d been so absorbed in seeing all the pieces you’d written down that you’d forgotten to ask if there was anything he’d wanted to see too.

He straightens again and resumes his stride. “No, I’m good. Let's head in before they close.” 

“You sure?” Your mouth settled into a purse, feet digging in. Eyes still glimmering with doubt and guilt. He brings his other arm up and squishes your cheeks. “I’m sure,” he drawls, smile tickling the edge of his lips at your whine.

The truth was. He’d missed you. He might be in the middle of the off-season right now, but that didn’t mean you had work off. It was easier when you were both busy at the same time; that way he could at least keep himself occupied and away from the gnawing in his chest. 

Your presence had very quickly become a constant in his life. The feeling of his chest caving in when you were gone from his side for too long even more so a fastly established thing.

The acknowledgement of both those truths were barely kept at bay with his teeth. So, instead, he’d noted your recent youtube video searches and booked two plane tickets for after your earliest long weekend. 

And he feels sated now. Watching the way your steps quicken just a bit when the archway to the next exhibit come into view and the way your eyes immediately started to look around in wonder and awe at the walls.

“Oh my gosh look, they have a souvenir shop!” You squeal as quietly as you could and drag him over to the side of the grand room where aisles of books, figurines, and clothing lined the corner. You quickly let go of his hand and wander off to take a look at everything and he trails behind after you.

“Didn’t we already get postcards and stamps from the stand yesterday?” He asks amused, watching the way you walk between row after row, your head barely reaching the top of the shelves as you make your circle around the store. 

“Yeah, but those are staples. I needed them for my travel journal.” You wave him off. “I wanna see if they have something unique here y’know?” You say as you set down your notebook and pen to pick up a wide illustration book and open it to flip through the pages.

Kaiser comes to stand by you and picks up the briefly abandoned notebook and pen, tucking it away in your bag that he was already carrying. You had a bad habit of forgetting these if they left your hands and your line of sight. And this particular journal held all your carefully hand-written notes about all the places you’d been to so far.

“I don’t know… I just like being able to capture my thoughts and feelings in the moment when I’m in all these places. Pictures are great, but they can only do so much y’know?” Is what you’d said when he’d asked why you bothered 

(The question only really prompted because of the cramps your hand would get with all the writing you did making his brows pinch.

Though he can’t complain too much… it gave him another excuse to coddle you as he pleased.)

You finish flipping through the book and put it down, eyes drifting to the wall full of dangling jewelry. Making your way over, you gaze at the wide selection and cross your arms, hips tilted to the side.

Before gasping and letting your hand reach over to gently snag two pairs of whatever your gaze had landed upon and carefully turn them over in your palms.

“Mihya… ohhhh we have to get these.” Turning to him, you lift up your little treasures to show him.

He leans in close and cradles your hand to get a closer look. The two bracelets sitting in your hands were sterling silver. Smooth stones the color of deep blue embedded in between the two bands. 

“They look pretty,” Kaiser hums out. “Try one on first.”

He shifts your bag to his other arms and clutches your wrist in his hand, fingers circling it completely. Fastening it on, he trails his hand up to your forearm and moves it away from your shadows and lifts it up towards the lights raining from the ceiling.

Through it all, his fingers remain gentle on your skin. Their touch on your wrist and arm firm, but tuned with care one uses to handle the most delicate glass.

Your heartbeat picks up a bit at the treatment and you can’t help but feel like melting. It's moments like these that make you feel like your feet aren’t touching the ground anymore. 

Kaiser makes a sound of contentment and lets go. “Is that all you wanted to buy?”

(More of a question of formality. He knew when you wanted something by the way your eyes lit up and your fingers traced over it longingly. His hand already reaching to drop it in the cart or basket at his side while flippantly ignoring your protests and requests to put it back.)

“Yeah, I think that's it…,” you say, turning your wrist over and over under the light, admiring the jewels glinting prettily. You whip your head up and grin impishly, “now your turn.”

He raises a brow as you carefully take his wrist in your hand and gently clip on the other set of jewels. 

“Now we match!” You look up at him and smile, teeth peeking out. It makes him want to kiss you.

And he does. Because when does Kaiser ever deny himself something when it is already his?

Your surprise is quickly swallowed and you lean into him, pliant and easy and soft. He breathes you in and you give, tides pushing and pulling against each other. Not in the way of roughness and anger and tension. But as natural as the reason they exist. To give and take and give and take. For as long as the moon decides to cast its lofty beams onto the sea.

You pull away and the unbridled happiness on your face consumes him.

You take his hand into yours. “Let's go?” 

He hooks his thumb over the space between your thumb and index finger. “... yeah, lets go.”

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