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Rui’s home was lonely, Tsukasa knew that much. Inside his garage, however, there was a life present unlike anything Tsukasa has ever known. In there lay bolts and knobs upon more bolts and knobs, drafted scripts upon even more drafted scripts sprawled across the floor, and low hums of technology and machinery that coursed through his entire body with a shiver. This life, he knew, was uniquely Rui’s. He knows this, because he knows him. He knows him when the balmy, humid air of the summer afternoon clinged to their skin stubbornly on the school rooftop as they sat together, knees touching. He knows him when Rui makes the extra effort to make their audience happy by handing out hand made animal balloons after each show as Tsukasa watches from the sidelines. He knows him when he makes the effort of buying Rui’s favorite candy every time he visits the convenience store; but he doesn't think he’s ever known him as he knows him now—when between the delicate melody of the reverberant birds, and the soft hum of Rui’s computer, they sat together, Rui’s lips upon his. When the rustling of clothing, the rigorous pounding of their chests, the heaving of their lungs, were just discernible enough over the soft rustling of the wind and leaves, Autumn in full swing, just outside Rui’s garage. He has never known Rui like this. He wants to know him more, just like this. So he doesn’t stop kissing him. Instead, Tsukaasa pulls him in closer.
Rui’s fingers tugged on tufts of gold with a soft hum, his lips flowing against Tsukasa’s own with a delicate elegance it made Tsukasa feel weak, a deliberate eagerness noticeable in his every action. Every tug, every touch, every movement, his every everything, it was all intense, and Tsukasa matched it. When he proclaimed he’d match Rui at his 12,000% effort all those months ago, he meant this too. He meant it when his fingers drew small constellations on Rui’s cheek, when his own lips kissed him back with an equally deep longing and vigor, when his free hand slid up Rui’s chest and trailed back down his arm feverishly. Because, selfishly, vehemently, he felt he needed this, deserved this. Tsukasa never took himself to be a particularly possessive person, and yet here he was. Kissing his best friend, his boyfriend, senseless, with an odd surge of pride in his chest. Because it was Tsukasa to chase him down on the rooftop all those months ago, Tsukasa who refused to lose him as a director when they had their fallout; it was Tsukasa who wanted Rui to never hold back, to trust him with everything he had, because Tsukasa knew he trusted him first, trusted him more than anything he’d ever had. Tsukasa reaches for Rui’s nape, tugging on his purple strands, Rui hums in response, never once faltering in the rhythm of his lips. “Trust…”
At this, Tsukasa’s kisses became all the more vehement, all the more passionate, he felt Rui tremble before him. If was like a dam had broke, where now his every movement conveyed what he had been too afraid to say; what he’d been too afraid to say when they were just friends, and even now during the infancy of their relationship, what he felt he couldn’t say. It made Tsukasa tremble. “Rui, Rui, Rui, Rui.”
As Tsukasa moved to crawl onto Rui’s lap, however, a loud thunk echoed within the walls of Rui’s chamber. Reluctantly, startledly, they separated, the thumping of their heartbeats the only proof of their now shattered intimacy. A book had slid off Rui’s lap, “The Wonders of Chemistry: By Charles Alexander”, the one they used in their shared chemistry class. Dazed, Tsukasa blinks once. Then twice. Then thrice. How did they get here?
It takes Tenma Tsukasa, world future star, self proclaimed jack of all trades, a generous 15 seconds to regain some semblance of composure. Chemistry. Right. They had a Chemistry exam soon, and they were studying. Admittedly, not much studying was being done, though, Tsukasa recalls. Not when Tsukasa was so…distracted. Having his boyfriend in glasses very smartly explaining complex theorems and equations to him was not good for his heart, not when his vision was zeroed in on the curvature of his lips, the slope of his nose bridge, and his ears trained on catching that unique soft lilt of his voice seemingly only reserved for him. Could you blame him? Rui looked really good in glasses, especially when his voice was soft and low, his vocabulary purposefully easier and his word’s gentle as to make sure to guide Tsukasa exactly as he needed to be. (“You’d make an exceptional teacher, Rui!”, “Thank you. I’ve been told as such, but, rest assured, Tsukasa-kun, my heart is set on directing.” , “Well then, that’s good, too. Because you’re my director!” ) Then, Tsukasa wanted to kiss him. So he did.
At that, Tsukasa’s gaze fixed itself back on Rui. Rui soon followed, and his eyes locked with Tsukasa’s own, revealing a beautiful meshing of pale amber and brilliant teal so captivating Tsukasa wasn’t sure how they hadn't caused his demise yet. “He’s beautiful.” He always was. However, bathed in the soft luminescence of the afternoon’s aurora, his lips swollen and pupils blown impossibly wide, pale hazel serving as mere rims around the dark black of his pupils, Tsukasa believed he looked especially ethereal.
Then, there it was again, that push and pull of his heartbeat, the rush of euphoria he feels from head to toe, reserved only for Rui (for when he smiled, he laughed, teased Tsukasa a little too much), he wanted to kiss him again. Maybe he needed it. Needed it because he’d just gotten so close, because his senses were still overcome with Rui— his scent, his touch, his sound, “Rui, Rui, Rui, Rui”. “Chemistry work be damned”, but as Tsukasa leaned in to kiss him once more, Rui began to move, bending over to reach for their fallen chemistry book with a slight tremor, his ears flushed a cool pink. He stood up and placed it on his desk. Tsukasa bit his bottom lip with impatience.
Unable to face Tsukasa directly, Rui eventually found his way back to his couch. He gingerly took a seat next to him, but was now a considerable distance away from where he had sat before. Tsukasa saw him shake.
Tsukasa took initiative and closed the gap between them, prudently raising his hand to brush Rui’s bangs from his face, revealing the most endearingly timid expression he’d ever seen. His gaze fixed on Rui’s lips instinctively, still slightly swollen and glossed with saliva, his saliva, and it made Tsukasa flush.
“Can I?” He whispered, his gaze unmoving, his thumb shakingly grazing Rui’s bottom lip. He felt Rui shiver.
He felt Rui nod before met him halfway, his fingers twitching as his hand moved to hold Tsukasa’s own, just above his cheekbone. The kiss was short-lived and chaste, though just as tender as their last, and done with such calculated carefulness on Tsukasa’s part you’d believe he thought Rui was made of glass, something breakable.
As Tsukasa hesitantly withdrew from Rui’s warmth, Rui began to face away— a silent retreat— opting to instead observe the outside world from his tiny garage window. Tsukasa frowned. He can feel somethinf was wrong, “But what?”. He pressed his forehead against the other’s temple—he wanted to make out the low whispers and hums that resided within Rui’s genius, to hear his cogs and gears turn, to decode its inner morse code, to discern what it was that made Rui want to flee, to want to shake. “Are you scared? Scared of me? Scared of us?”
Tsukasa lets out a trembling sigh, “Are you scared?”, he whispers. It didn’t make logical sense as to why he was whispering, Rui’s place was barren after all, the only exception being them two, so it wasn’t like anyone could overhear them. Yet, he supposed he didn’t want to risk disrupting their tranquility, the delicate in-between of emotional and physical intimacy. This was Tsukasa’s first, Rui was his first, his best friend and trusted director, and he didn’t want to risk disrepair. His hands cradled Rui’s cheeks, guiding his face towards his own, their foreheads meeting in one swift motion. “Rui, it’s ok”, he whispered.
Tsukasa peppers light kisses on Rui’s face. One right on that slight bump on his nose bridge for every time he turned away and his profile faced him, one on the mole right on his eyelid for every time he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, look at him, and one on his forehead for every time he overthought, for every time he underestimated Tsukasa’s love. Each kiss was deliberate, containing one unadorned message: forgiveness. Forgiveness for what Tsukasa believes to be Rui’s distrust, for his insecurity, “ I forgive you. I trust you.”
Rui lets out a breathy laugh, “Tsukasa kun, I can’t-I don’t—“ But Rui’s smile is short lived, now replaced with a wavering frown. Tsukasa caresses Rui’s cheek. He nods patiently, waiting for Rui on the other side, willing to stretch his body to its limit to bridge the two of them together. If it was for Rui, if it was for them, he was willing. If it was for Rui, it would be worthwhile. He wanted to see him smile.
There was an excruciatingly long pause, but Tsukasa didn’t waver, he shouldn’t and he wouldn’t.
“Tsukasa-kun, I’m scared.” It was shaky, wary, and so very raw he felt a shudder course through Rui’s body as he said it. There was a dampness on Rui’s waterline, and Tsukasa panicked, but as Rui blinked, there were no tears. Though crystalline teardrops clung to his thick lashes, and his face was contorted with great affliction, there was hope. His eyes shined with hope. Hope for the both of them, that they will be ok, they’ll continue to be ok. He was just scared.
“I’m scared, because…because I’m not sure I know what I’m doing. I don't want to ruin this, ruin us, and…h-have you leave.” Tsukasa’s heart ached. He felt the insecurity, the raw angst in his tone, and it was something Tsukasa could not bear witness to.
But then, there came that bitter, metallic taste that came with despondence, with anger. He felt frustrated. Frustrated not at Rui, but at the prospect of being undermined, the sheer amount of his own feelings being underestimated, the unadorned devotion he had for Rui, like his emotions were something he could completely dissipate on command (only Tsukasa knows how impossible that would be)—like his actions up to this point had been for naught. His heart stung with anger, with pity, and with disappointment. He couldn’t understand, he didn’t understand, how after everything, after their initial fallout, their petty fights, the miscommunication, how it was he still doubted Tsukasa’s capability to love him. Was this not enough? Is he not enough? How could he be enough?
Fustration, anger, resentment, Tsukasa was familiar with them. Fustration when he couldn’t grasp a role as easily as he wanted, when Saki was in and out of the hospital, the state of her health always an unpredictable storm. Anger, resentment, ugly things that almost tore his biggest dream apart. His acting dreams, and his dreams of having people like WonderlandsxShowtime by his side. He’s almost lost Rui to these things, so he won’t let them get in the way again. “I want to know you.”
“ Rui…” He began, it was shaky, and it was uncertain, but he continued, “I don’t understand…I mean, it’s just, really, Rui? You’d think I’d leave? After everything, you’d think I’d do that. I don’t understand, help me understand.” He wanted so badly to just understand.
Tsukasa was never adept in the field of empathy, in understanding how people outside himself functioned, it was somewhat of a stunted skill of his, his struggle at being at equilibrium with his own emotions withholding his potential. He ran an impossible relay race—-him versus his own inner conflict, where he was always just one step behind as it fled from his grasp. So how was it he was supposed to discern others when he was at odds with his own self? He saw things the way he saw them, and was unable to think in a lens outside of his own. So when Rui said what he said, he saw it as a breach in trust, one he believed they worked so hard to establish, and it was hard for him to conceal his exasperation.
Rui shook his head, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”
“I didn’t ask for an apology, I don't need one! It’s ok, I just need to understand, please, Rui.” He interrupted him with assertive gentleness. He cupped Rui’s hands with his own, his thumb instinctively drawing small circles on the other’s pale palm, and he didn’t miss the way Rui’s fingers twitched beneath his own. This was his best attempt at concealing his own inner turmoil, this was about Rui afterall, and he wanted—he needed, to hear from him. With a tremble, Rui sighed.
“Ok, I’ll help you, Tsukasa.” His hold on Rui wavers.
But he trusts him, he trusts him the way he hopes Rui does him. His hold on Rui tightens once more, he’ll wait, and he’ll have faith. Have faith that every insecurity Tsukasa feels is nothing more than just that, insecurity, that he can trust Rui the same he has throughout the course of their friendship. Rui squeezes back.
“I'm scared that I’ll…that I’ll mess up, somehow, and have you realize something about me you won’t like and that I’ll drive you away. It’s not that I don’t believe in you, it’s that I don’t believe in myself.” His eyes were downcast, and his breath shook with uncertainty. Tsukasa squeezed Rui’s palm. “Is that all?”, “Yes, it’s just insecurity.”
“Rui... I understand, but..” His lips curl inward in a slight purse. “That’s exactly it…you still don’t trust me”, he left that part unsaid, his lips formed into a straight line. Rui nods patiently, and he straightens up, reaching his hand towards Tsukasa’s face to push some of his hair behind his ear “I’m listening”. Tsukasa melts, and he takes Rui’s hand in his once more, never quite being able to fight the fluttering in his chest as he feels Rui’s rough skin against his. “Are you mad at me?” Rui asks sweetly, a small sad smile flickering across his face.
“Rui…” Tsukasa croaked. He raised Rui’s hand up to his lips, and trailed feverish kisses across his fingers, his palm, and his wrist; he didn’t want Rui to think Tsukasa saw him as less than in any capacity. “Forgive me…” They’re past that, way past that.
“It’s ok, Tsukasa-kun, I just want to understand, is that ok?” Rui raised his hands to cradle Tsukasa’s face, his calloused fingers rough against Tsukasa’s skin. Tsukasa could barely help the way his body instinctively bent and arched into Rui’s touch—a deeply ingrained phototropism, identical to the way a starved dandelion would bend and stretch towards sunlight. Tsukasa nodded, and with a sigh, he began:
“I love you Rui, it’s a truth I’ve tried to battle in the past, something I believed should’ve disappeared simply because I didn’t understand how to navigate it.” His head dropped with every word he spoke, ashamed that this was his truth. He continues, “And now that I have you, now that we can be like this, and I don’t have to hide anymore…” Tsukasa bites his lip as he searches for the proper eloquence. “Having you believe you’d drive me away, it feels cruel. It’s cruel to you, to me. To me because, Rui, everything I do is deliberate, I do what I do because I love you. What else can I do for you to understand that? Were my actions not clear enough? Was I not enough? I understand your past, how that’s affected you, but I’m not your past, Rui. Have I not made that clear? I’m not leaving, please believe me.” Tsukasa was sure he was shaking, the pure, unadulterated, tender truth of his confession setting his every nerve alight. He heard the melodic sound of Rui’s gasp, he felt the way his fingers twitched on his cheek, and as he raised his head to face Rui eye-to-eye, Tsukasa couldn’t continue to hold back.
“Can I show you?” His hands snaked up Rui’s chest and reached the nape of his neck, tugging him downwards with a delicate slowness. “Can I make myself clear to you?”
“Please.” There was a strong yearning in his tone, and how could Tsukasa deny him?
And then it happened. Rui’s lips enveloped his own in one swift motion, his lips impossibly smooth against his own, and it was as if the floor beneath them shattered.
This kiss was so much more certain, so very different from their first, and it was like Tsukasa’s world view had changed. His world spun, he couldn’t tell you if the world was flat or three-dimensional, if the sky shined a deep sea-blue or a vivid crimson. Though, quite frankly, he didn’t care. He didn’t care what it was that happened outside Rui’s homely garage, what it was that occurred to those other than himself and Rui. He wouldn’t care if the world’s orbital had paused, wouldn’t care if the Earth’s gravitational pull was turned off (he couldn’t feel where he was anyway, so it wouldn’t matter, the euphoria he felt was enough to make him feel as if he had reached heaven). He wouldn’t care at all.
Tsukasa’s fingers traced the sculpture of the other's profile, his skin was unconvincingly smooth, and the sharpness of his jawline made him shudder. All the while his lips, sleek and cool, languid and poised, slotted against Tsukasa’s own perfectly. And like a parched traveler, Tsukasa savored its crisp sweetness, his tongue grazing Rui’s lips here and there. His teeth nipped atop the other's bottom lip, receiving a soft whine from Rui in response. He wanted to see him, see his expression, how it was he looked under the sheer intensity of Tsukasa’s feelings, bathed in the afternoon light and in Tsukasa’s devotion.
Reluctantly, Tsukasa separated from Rui, and Rui’s head drooped to rest on his shoulder. Tsukasa brushed his fingers through Rui’s thick layers, he hummed. “Are you still scared? Was that ok?” He felt Rui shudder as he let out a breathless laugh, still winded from the exertion of his and Tsukasa’s kiss. Rui’s arm snaked around Tsukasa’s waist, pulling Tsukasa in impossibly close.
“Of course it’s ok. I trust you. I love you. I’m sorry I made you think otherwise.”
“I trust you.”
“I love you”
Tsukasa felt his pulse quicken, his veins hot with the influx in blood flow, and he laughed. He laughed, and laughed, and kissed Rui all over as he did, his head in his hands making a perfect fit like it was molded to be in his hold. It's beautiful, really, to trust. To trust as if you were breathing because you like someone—no, because you love someone. But it isn’t easy, trust, love, intimacy, it's all so fragile isn’t it? But it's beautiful. It's beautiful how easily someone can crush you in an instant, to take the intimacy you two share for granted and hurt you where they know it’ll hurt most, and it’s beautiful because they don’t. It's beautiful because they love you too and because they're intimate back. And Rui is beautiful, especially like this, with his head in Tsukasa’s palms, his own hands resting on Tsukasa’s in turn, as he laughs—a beautiful melodic thing— Tsukasa can’t get enough of it all. They’re laughing so hard it's ridiculous.
He knows this won't be easy. Rui can hurt him. He really can. But Tsukasa will trust that he won’t, Tsukasa will love him through it all, love him as easily as he breathes. Trust him like a life line. “Because, Rui…”
“I love you, too.”