Heart

"Isao. Hey. Why are you less nervous than usual?"

At the moment, he brewed coffee for both of them. Youji had yet to move away from him. He would've done so had Isao showed the slightest sign of discomfort—yet he hadn't, which prompted the question. "I'm tired," he replied.

"Then sleep."

"Not that kind of tired."

"Then don't sleep?"

"Ugh. Youji, if you're actually drunk and you drove here, I'll kick you out. Seriously."

"I'm not." While Isao had a short fuse, all things considered, it wasn't often that he... that. Reacted like that. Could family history be involved in the matter? Either way, Youji had to step away after that. "I'm not," he repeated, just in case. "Promise."

"How many—"

"Two."

Now done (probably), Isao slammed a cup of coffee on the omelette rice table. The other one, he delicately placed. "This one's yours," he said. It was new, white, with tiny projector films inlaid on the ceramic. He sat opposite to Youji, holding the usual plain, red mug.

Out of all the ways in which he could've reacted, Youji tapped the rim with his finger, just to check if... something...? He hadn't seen this mug before, that was for sure. "Where did you get this?" He asked.

Isao's fuse was not only short, but weak. Gone was the scowl. He picked at the chipped, old mug with his fingers. "Just. Sit down. Drink the coffee."

"It's so cute."

"Y-you're cute."

"Why don't you want to tell me?" Youji just. Sat down. Drank the coffee. 2 A.M. coffee. 

"I'm supposed to be studying. You're. Distracting me."

Fair enough. Youji busied himself by inspecting Isao's kitchen, periodically turning back to take sips. Same old, same old: half-eaten convenience store meals, ketchup, eggs, a rotting lettuce head which Youji proceeded to thro—

"Hey! What are you—stop that!"

"It's spoiled, though," said Youji.

"So?"

"Bad." He tossed it into the trash bin anyway. Since Isao shut up after that, Youji took it upon himself to clean the disaster inside Isao's fridge. It was a better alternative to sleep. Not like he had anything to do tomorrow morning. Besides, to leave this alone would be like finding a stray kitten and not feeding it. 

Midway through, Youji looked back at Isao's direction. It'd been a while since the last pencil scribble or page turning.

Lo and behold: he played on his phone. Youji noted, "How diligent."

Isao jumped. "I'm. Just. A break."

"Sure."

"I can't concentrate with. That. You doing that. Why are you doing that?"

"It's dirty."

"It's not."

Youji pointed at the literal pile of trash he'd amassed from it. 

"That's just because you're drunk."

"One: I'm not. Two: that's a non-sequitur, even by your standards. Three: I noticed earlier that you haven't showered yet. Why don't you take care of yourself?"

Silence. 

Oh, well. Youji went back to cleaning. 

"I'll, um. I was. Going to do that. Later. I promise. Fuck. I don't know. I don't see the point. I don't. I'm. Sorry I have to comb the horse I'll be back soon promise."

Still, he didn't regret saying it. At least the place wasn't dusty. Finding a notebook inside the fridge didn't even surprise him at this point. A shoe at the cupboard. A toaster on top of the coffee table. A textbook on the floor. Something exploded at the showers, which meant Isao had fled to the shower. Good...?

...or so it would be, had Youji not found a soap bar next to the eggs, plus a wad of cash and a receipt that slid off when he placed it on the dining table. What he read upon picking it up made his heart twist. 

Youji took the soap to the bathroom, stopping at the door. "Isao? Can you hear me? I, uh. Have a delivery to make."

"...yeah."

"Can I ask why it was in the fridge?" The issue with the receipt could wait. For now.

"Huh? So that's where it was? You're talking about the soap, right? That's weird."

"Yes."

"Yes to what?"

"All of it?"

"Youji."

"Isao?"

"I didn't put it there on purpose. Just so you know."

"I imagined, yeah."

"That's why I told you I was tired earlier. That's what I'm tired about. That. I'm not like this because I want to." Isao turned the shower off. "I'll go for the soap now. Close your eyes."

Youji did. The door opened. Isao (quite probably) took the soap from Youji's hand. The door didn't close. 

"Keep your eyes closed."

Cold fingers brushed his shoulder.

"So. I just wanted to say. That. Earlier, I wanted to. Are your eyes closed? Oh, okay. Never mind."

Youji seized the cold fingers. "Go on?"

He tried to yank his hand away, but Youji held it in place. "Fuck. Okay, fine. Just don't get mad at me. It'll sound like I'm being ungrateful, but I'm not. Promise."

 "Go on..."

"What I'm saying is, you don't need to pretend anymore. It's fine. It's over. You don't have to extend your prison sentence."

Youji had to open his eyes after that. Isao stared at the floor, shivering, hair clinging to the sides of his head and forehead. "I'd ask you to elaborate," he said, "But I feel like you'll just confuse me more. Is this one of your 'do you hate me' tirades? Because I don't."

Isao looked back at him, eyes narrow. "I knew you'd open your eyes."

"I won't look down, if that's what you're worried about. Unless you want me to."

"Huh? Real—stop distracting me. Point is, you don't have to keep punishing yourself with me. Life goes on. So stop it."

While taken aback by Isao's reaction in the first half, the second made him roll his eyes. It made it easy to speak, too. He replied, "Listen, I don't know what happened to you to make you think so poorly about yourself, but like you said, life goes on, so stop it. You're fine. You're not... punishment."

"But..."

"But what? You can't live like this forever. Or are you planning to?"

Isao glanced around, distressed. 

"Answer me."

"No...?"

"Then what's your deal?"

"I... I don't..."

Youji let him go. As if on cue, Isao sneezed. He covered his mouth with the hand Youji had been holding hostage. "You know what? Whatever. You'll catch a cold. Go finish your shower. No, I don't hate you and, no, I won't leave."

"...okay."

"Okay."

An unimportant amount of time later, Isao emerged, clothed, warm. Youji had poured himself more coffee just to use the film projector mug again, though it was lukewarm by this point. Isao didn't wash his when he did the same. He sat opposite to Youji at the dining table. Neither of them spoke. 

Would he have said any of that without those two (and a half) beers? Probably not. "Isao, I'm s—"

"I'm s—oh. Go on."

"No, no, it's fine. Continue."

"Uh. I was gonna say that I'm sorry, too."

"For?"

"Exis... no." He picked on his cracked, dirty coffee mug. "For not believing you."

Youji took a sip. It was cold. "That's... I mean... same goes for me. Half the things you say make no sense to me, but that doesn't make them any less real."

That, too, wasn't something he would've said alcohol-less. 

Out of all possible reactions, laughter was not something he expected. It was short, and it was quiet, but it was there, and it was Isao's. "And you say you're not drunk," was his response.

"I'm not." And he wasn't. Chronic sleep deprivation plus slight alcohol consumption just didn't bode well for him. To salvage the situation, he added, "By the way, why didn't you just tell me you commissioned the cup?"

"The...?" As Youji gestured at the receipt, wide open near the sink, Isao trailed off, and as Isao trailed off, the blush spread to his cheeks, to his face, to his ears. "...ah."

"You left that inside the fridge as well."

"...but of course I did."

"That's fine. I'll get you something nice next time, like a... plant? What else do you like?"

Isao replied, "Kiss."

It was Youji's turn to blush, because alcohol. Also, again, he was not expecting that. Classic late night Isao? "Uh. Sure. That could work."

"But you're—"

"I'm not fucking drunk."

"You almost did last time."

Yeah, classic late night Isao. As usual, like him, his kisses were gentle, soft, insecure. That, too, was fine.