The morning after felt… strange.
Not strange in a bad way. Not even in an awkward way. Just new. Untested. Tender.
Takara Minami woke slowly to the sound of Kayo Tsukishiro's steady breathing beside him. The room was cold, the sun not yet fully up, and the dorm heater clicked rhythmically in the background. Takara blinked blearily and realized—he hadn't moved much in the night.
Which meant he had spent the entire night sleeping right next to Kayo.
A part of him wanted to squeal into a pillow. Another part was terrified to move in case he broke whatever spell they were under.
Kayo stirred slightly, shifting under the covers. His eyes fluttered open, dark lashes catching the first slivers of dawn.
"Morning," Takara whispered.
Kayo blinked. "You're still here."
Takara propped his head on his elbow, smiling. "Where else would I be?"
There was a pause. Kayo gave him a soft, sleep-roughened, "No idea. I just wasn't sure if last night was real."
Takara hesitated, his heart skipping. "It was. Is."
Kayo's gaze held his, warm but unsure. "So… what now?"
Takara thought about that. "We eat breakfast. You complain about how sweet my cereal is. I roll my eyes. You read while I talk your ear off. Same as always."
"But with… this," Kayo added.
Takara reached over, brushing a finger down the bridge of his nose. "Yeah. With this." He paused. "Is that okay?"
Kayo nodded, slow but certain. "Yeah."
Breakfast was a quiet affair. Comfortable. Companionable.
Kayo sat across from Takara, spooning miso soup into his mouth while Takara balanced a banana between bites of cereal and talking about the upcoming school festival.
"They're doing a haunted house again this year," Takara said. "Third-years always run it. I heard they made people cry last time."
Kayo raised an eyebrow. "That sounds like your dream job."
"Actually, I wanted to do the booth next to it—the 'Fortune Telling' one. Dress up like a dramatic mystic and predict doomed romances."
Kayo smirked. "Let me guess. 'You'll fall in love with someone who makes you furious and steals your bedspace.'"
Takara grinned. "Am I wrong?"
"No," Kayo admitted, hiding his smile behind a sip of tea.
But as the day went on, things felt… different at school.
Not in the way they had earlier that week, when whispers and curiosity followed them like a shadow. No—this was subtler. A change in tone.
More than one person smiled at them. A few nodded. A couple of classmates even said, "You guys are cute," like it was a casual compliment.
Takara wasn't used to it. Not this kind of attention.
By the time they were walking back to the dorms, dusk already creeping in, he found himself unusually quiet.
"You okay?" Kayo asked as they walked past the bike racks.
Takara glanced at him. "Yeah. Just… thinking."
Kayo waited.
Takara kicked a pebble. "Isn't it weird how people act like they know us now? Just because we're together?"
Kayo considered. "I think people see what they want to see."
"Like we're some kind of… trope."
Kayo stopped walking. "Are we not?"
Takara snorted. "Rude."
But Kayo stepped closer, their shoulders brushing. "Let them think what they want. We're not here to be digestible."
Takara raised an eyebrow. "Big word."
Kayo bumped him lightly. "You're rubbing off on me."
Takara looked up at him. "And what do you think we are?"
Kayo didn't hesitate. "Real."
That word landed in Takara's chest like an anchor and a lifeline at once.
Later that night, Takara sprawled across his bed, sketchbook open in front of him. Kayo was stretched out on his side of the room, reading, earbuds in but one always left dangling—just in case.
Takara had started sketching without really planning to. His pencil danced across the page in soft arcs and bold strokes, chasing something intangible.
Without thinking, he drew Kayo. Again.
Not stiff or posed like usual. But alive. Sitting cross-legged, hair messy from sleep, hoodie hanging off one shoulder. The real Kayo—quiet but thoughtful, slightly guarded, intensely focused.
He looked up halfway through. Kayo was still reading, but his eyes flicked over occasionally, catching Takara in the act.
"You're doing it again," Kayo murmured.
"Doing what?"
"Drawing me."
Takara grinned. "Can't help it. You've got the perfect 'brooding-with-depth' look."
Kayo rolled his eyes. "You make me sound like a cliché."
"You are a cliché."
"And you're chaos incarnate."
"I prefer 'radiant agent of disorder,' thank you very much."
Kayo smirked. "You're ridiculous."
"And you like it."
"I do."
The words slipped out so naturally that neither of them flinched.
But Takara still stilled.
Kayo looked up, serious now. "Is that… too much?"
Takara set his sketchpad down. "No. I'm just not used to hearing it like that."
Kayo stood, walked over, and sat beside him. "Then get used to it."
Takara looked at him, heart thudding. "Say it again."
"I like you."
Takara leaned forward. "One more time."
Kayo reached up and touched his cheek. "I like you, Minami Takara. You're messy, loud, emotional—and I like all of it."
Takara's throat went tight.
"I like you too, Tsukishiro Kayo," he said, voice quiet. "Even when you're a snarky bookworm who gives me heart palpitations."
"That's not medically ideal."
"And yet… here we are."
They didn't kiss that night.
But when Takara turned off the light and slid into bed, he whispered across the room, "Goodnight, Kayo."
A beat passed.
Then came the reply: "Goodnight… boyfriend."
Takara covered his face with his pillow and groaned dramatically. "You're gonna kill me with that voice."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"No. Just… say it again tomorrow, okay?"
"I will."