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It was a Saturday night and Yamato was drunk.
His eyelids were getting heavier and heavier and he was sure he was leaning way too much against Mitsuki considering their living room couch was pretty large, but he couldn’t really help it. Mitsuki’s warmth should have felt uncomfortable with how sweaty he was, and how warm it was, but the closeness felt soothing instead. Mitsuki’s sole presence felt soothing.
He wanted to be even closer to him.
“Already sleepy, old man?” Mitsuki asked, very obviously slurring his words. He was probably drunker than Yamato since he had already been a little tipsy by the time he had come back to the dorms. He had gone out with Momo, apparently, but Yamato had insisted on having some drinks with him. And Mitsuki hadn’t refused. He didn’t refuse Yamato’s invitations lately.
In any case, Yamato was so comfortable he was slowly but surely falling asleep. Now, the main issue was that he didn’t really want to fall asleep, not yet. He wanted to be with Mitsuki some more.
He had been swamped with work those previous weeks, working on a movie shooting day after day, so he had hardly been home. He hadn’t portrayed a maniac this time, miraculously. He had gotten the role of the secretly twisted second love interest, though, so of course he had to show some of his evil side, but a romantic movie was still a nice change of pace, no matter how little interest he had in romance films.
“Am I even fit to be the main love interest?” he asked, outloud, unsure of whether he would ever get casted as anything but a psychopath. Who would be interested in going out with a psychopath, even in fiction? His eyes were now fully closed.
“What?” Mitsuki’s voice sounded confused next to him.
Yamato wanted to explain his line of thought to Mitsuki, but it felt like too much of a pain, so he summarized his thoughts instead.
“Say, would you go out with me?” he asked, and leaned against Mitsuki’s shoulder, comfortably.
There was a pause. Yamato could hear Mitsuki’s breath hitch.
He waited and waited for a reply, but in the end he slowly opened his eyes when Mitsuki remained silent. He was about to repeat the question one more time, when he noticed Mitsuki was redder than before. Wide, orange-colored eyes looking right at him, his expression flustered.
“Cute”, he thought first, and then “Fuck,” second, when he noticed he hadn’t done the best job at expressing his thoughts. If anything, he had done a terrible, terrible job.
Before he could crack a joke and blame everything on his current drunkenness, though, Mitsuki averted his eyes.
That’s when Yamato noticed they were probably too close now, since he could see Mitsuki’s blush spreading to his ears and neck with unbearable clarity. And Yamato was almost a hundred percent sure that alcohol was not the reason for his blush. Not the main one, at least. He didn’t want to be hopeful, he truly didn’t, but then Mitsuki spoke.
“Y-You’re too drunk,” Mitsuki stuttered, and took another swig of beer. Yamato noticed that the hand that was grabbing the can was shaking.
He was shaking. But he still didn’t try to move away from Yamato. He stayed right where he was.
Yamato swallowed, feeling suddenly parched, even though he had been drinking beer non-stop for the last two hours.
“Mitsu,” he called, without thinking. He hadn’t meant to, but his voice came out softer than he had intended. Pleading.
Mitsuki flinched at that. He released a shaky breath, but he still didn’t look at Yamato. And Yamato realized that he wanted Mitsuki to look at him. He had always wanted Mitsuki to look at him, honestly. He wondered if Mitsuki knew that. He probably did.
Yamato slowly placed his now empty beer on the coffee table in front of them. He was feeling some sort of anticipation, the same sort of anticipation he felt before an important live performance, the sort of anticipation that made him feel dizzy even now.
He wasn’t exactly sure of what to do next, he had never really expected to do anything about his feelings after all, but he could tell tonight was different. He just knew he had to do something, anything. A voice in his head was telling him he couldn’t let this opportunity go to waste. Not when he had already wasted many, many chances before because he had been unable to be honest.
But Mitsuki already knew all there was to know about him now. He had been the first to comfort Yamato when he had finally opened up, the first to cry out of anger for him, and the first to accept even those ugly parts of him he had never wanted to accept himself. And now, Yamato couldn’t help but hope that he’d be the first to accept his feelings too. Even after all they had been through, Mitsuki had decided to be by his side, after all.
When Yamato’s gaze moved upwards, he finally found Mitsuki’s eyes looking at him again. Yamato felt relieved to see he was still blushing, still waiting for Yamato’s next move. But Yamato was undeniably drunk, so he only found himself thinking about how much he loved the color of Mitsuki’s eyes and the way they sparkled in the dim light of the living room, and he realized he was probably blushing, too. His face felt warm enough for that.
“Mitsu,” he whispered, once again, still pleading. Still yearning.
Mitsuki’s mouth opened slightly, and Yamato’s eyes were immediately drawn to his lips. And if he hadn’t known before, Yamato was sure Mitsuki could tell what his next move would be now. Still, he felt it was only fair to give a warning.
“Mitsu, I’m going to kiss you,” he said.
Mitsuki’s eyes went impossibly wide but he didn’t run away. And that was all the confirmation Yamato needed.
One hand went to Mitsuki’s cheek, delicate and fearful, but Mitsuki was still there, still next to him, so he closed his eyes. With his eyes closed, it was easy to get lost in Mitsuki, so that’s what he did. He finally closed the distance he had always wanted to close between them.
He heard a quiet gasp when their lips met, but he wasn’t sure if it had come from him or from Mitsuki. It didn’t matter either. The only thing that mattered was Mitsuki, and his soft lips and his trembling hands clutching Yamato’s shirt almost unconsciously.
Their lips were hesitant against each other, like they didn’t know what they were doing, and they probably didn’t really know, but Mitsuki was so, so warm that Yamato just wanted more. His tongue looked for Mitsuki’s, blooming need coursing through his body, and Mitsuki understood Yamato’s urgency, maybe even mirrored it. And when their tongues finally met, this time the muffled moan that could be heard had come from Mistuki’s lips. Yamato could feel his entire body reacting to that voice, and he found himself wanting to hear more of Mitsuki, wanting to feel him more. When it came to Mitsuki, he greedily wanted all he would be willing to give. And he had the feeling there was hardly anything Mitsuki wouldn’t give to him.
But he also knew now wasn’t the right time. No matter how drunk he was, he still remembered where they were. Still remembered they had time to take things slow.
He sighed as he reluctantly moved away from Mitsuki’s lips, hiding his face in his neck. He stubbornly refused to open his eyes, but he could feel Mitsuki’s erratic heartbeat and his rapid breathing next to him and he felt stupidly proud for having made Mitsuki react like that, although he knew he was in no better condition himself.
Mitsuki’s hands were still clutching his shirt, but soon enough they moved upwards, to his back, enveloping Yamato in a hug.
“I would go out with you, you know,” Mitsuki whispered, shyness and warmth mixed in his voice.
Yamato just chuckled.