Kin lasts only a few more seconds sitting there before the thought begins to itch at him again.
Sute walking around like that even if no one else will ever see him. Even if the curtains are nailed shut and every lock on the door is secure. The image alone makes Kin restless.
Before he can talk himself out of it, he stands abruptly and walks toward the bedroom.
Sute glances up from the couch, a slice of orange halfway to his mouth, watching Kin disappear down the hallway with mild confusion but no concern. Kin has been moving quickly since he's returned, darting from task to task with the strange urgency of someone trying to keep too many plates spinning at once.
…
Inside the bedroom, Kin heads straight for the dresser.
He opens the top drawer and begins rummaging through the neatly folded shirts. Most of them are older—things he has had for years—but in another drawer he finds what he's looking for:
A soft blue shirt he bought only a few weeks ago. It's larger than the middle school clothes he's been giving Sute, loose enough that it will hang far lower on Sute's smaller body. It will probably swallow him but right now, that is exactly the point.
Kin pulls the shirt free and closes the drawer again before heading back into the living room.
Sute has just finished the last of the oranges, licking a bit of juice from his thumb when Kin suddenly appears in front of him again. The quick return startles him slightly, but the surprise quickly turns into curiosity when Kin holds out the shirt.
"This should help."
Kin says, trying to sound casual. Sute looks at the shirt, then back up at him. Kin rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.
"At least this way…"
He continues.
"You'll be more covered up. If you wear it like… well…"
He gestures vaguely downward.
"…like a dress."
The word feels strange in his mouth.
Something about the entire situation leaves him faintly embarrassed, though he can't quite identify why. Maybe it's the oddness of dressing another boy this way. Maybe it's the lingering awareness of the moment they shared on the floor earlier. Or maybe it's something deeper that he hasn't taken the time to examine yet.
Either way, the discomfort sits quietly in his chest.
"I didn't exactly plan for…"
He trails off before finishing the thought.
'...For kidnapping someone. For living with them. For the long-term reality of making space in my life for another person…'
He exhales softly.
"…Sorry you have to deal with my mess."
Sute stares at him for a moment then, to Kin's mild surprise, his expression brightens.
"Oh…"
Sute says quickly, shaking his head.
"No, it's okay."
He takes the shirt carefully from Kin's hands as though it's something valuable.
"I don't mind."
His cheeks are still faintly pink, but there's relief there too.
"I would have worn nothing if you told me to…"
He adds honestly.
"But… I do feel better being properly dressed."
Kin watches him for a moment, uncertain how to respond to that simple gratitude. Sute smiles shyly and stands up from the couch, clutching the oversized shirt to his chest.
"I'll go change."
He says then he pads toward the bathroom, disappearing inside and closing the door gently behind him.
The house falls quiet again.
Kin remains standing in the living room for a moment before slowly lowering himself back onto the couch. He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, and presses his fingers briefly against his temples.
For the first time since he came home, he finally allows himself to breathe. The events of the day move through his mind in fragments.
The posters. The detective. The accidental kiss. The panic. The laundry disaster. The job flyer still crumpled somewhere inside his bag.
And then there's dinner. His homework. The prospect of working two jobs while going to school every day and somehow balancing all of it with the quiet, fragile world he has created inside this house.
Kin lets out a slow sigh. His heart is still beating faster than usual, but the frantic edge from earlier has begun to dull.
From the bathroom he can hear faint movement—fabric rustling, the quiet shuffle of Sute changing clothes.
Kin sits there in the dimming evening light, staring at nothing in particular while his thoughts begin arranging themselves again into careful, practical plans.
First, he'd have to figure out their dinner plans. Homework can wait, if anything he can just do it during free time. Then there's that café near the school. Maybe tomorrow.
For now, though, he simply sits there in the small quiet living room, letting the silence settle around him while he prepares himself for everything that still needs to happen before the day is finished.
Kin reaches for the remote, intending to change the channel again, when he hears the soft sound of the bathroom door opening and Sute's quiet footsteps returning down the hallway. He glanced up automatically and paused.
Sute stood there wearing the shirt Kin had given him, the soft blue fabric hanging loosely from his narrow shoulders and falling just enough to brush the tops of his thighs. It covered him far better than before, but the oversized neckline slipped slightly to one side, exposing the gentle curve of his collarbone and one shoulder in a way that felt unintentionally delicate.
Kin sighed under his breath.
It seemed Sute could only manage to cover one part of himself properly at a time. If the shirt was long enough to hide his lower half, it refused to stay neatly in place around his shoulders. Still, it was better than before.
Sute padded quietly over to the couch and sat beside him again, the movement natural now, as if he had always belonged in that spot but when he looked up at the television, confusion immediately crept across his face.
The screen was black. In the center was nothing but a parental lock prompt asking for a password. Sute blinked then he stood up again and approached the television with cautious curiosity.
Kin watched in mild amusement as Sute leaned forward and tapped lightly on the screen with his fingers, the way a child might poke at a strange machine that had suddenly stopped working. Sute frowned slightly.
"Did it break?"
He asked, tapping again as if the television might respond if he tried hard enough. Kin couldn't help it, he chuckled softly.
"No, it's not broken…"
He said, leaning back against the couch.
"I just changed it to a channel that's locked."
Sute turned his head toward him, still confused.
"Locked?"
"Yeah…"
Kin said, picking up the remote again.
"That just means we can't watch that one."
He pressed a button. The screen flickered instantly, replacing the dark password prompt with a bright studio kitchen where a cheerful host was already in the middle of explaining how to prepare a particular dish.
Sute gasped softly. The sudden transformation from silent blackness to a lively cooking show caught him completely off guard.
"You fixed it!"
He exclaimed with genuine amazement. Before Kin could respond, Sute hurried back to the couch and climbed up beside him again, eyes glued to the screen as though he had just witnessed some impressive magic trick.
Kin smiled faintly at the reaction but after a moment his attention drifted away from the television entirely. Instead he watched Sute.
The bright TV lights on the screen reflected in his eyes, turning them into that familiar shimmering icy-blue Kin adored. The color deepened as Sute leaned forward slightly, completely absorbed by what the host was demonstrating.
For several long moments, Kin simply sat there watching the glow of that blue shine. The quiet in the room felt comfortable again then, reluctantly, reality returned.
'What to do about dinner?'
Kin blinked and glanced toward the kitchen.
Cooking something new tonight would take time and ingredients he didn't quite have nor did he have the energy for that after everything that had happened today. Instead he decided on something simpler.
'Ah, the leftovers. Yesterday's dinner is still in the refrigerator. Curry, miso soup and salmon. Reheating it would be quick!'
Kin stood from the couch. Sute immediately noticed the movement. The moment Kin stepped toward the kitchen, Sute scrambled off the couch and followed him with quiet determination, trailing only a step or two behind like he had done so many times already. Kin didn't comment.
By the time he reached the kitchen counter, Sute had already taken a seat at the dining table, folding his hands neatly in front of him as he watched. Not the television this time. Just Kin.
Sute kept his eyes on him as Kin began taking the containers from the refrigerator. Partly because he was beginning to understand how Kin liked being looked at but mostly because he wanted to see what Kin was doing and learn.
Kin glanced over his shoulder while stirring the reheating curry, noticing how patiently Sute sat at the table watching him with that attentive stillness that had become so familiar. There was something about the way Sute waited—quiet, obedient, eyes following every small motion—that stirred a quiet sense of satisfaction in Kin's chest. Since he was only reheating leftovers tonight and wouldn't need the stove for anything dangerous, an idea occurred to him. He turned slightly and looked at Sute.
"Do you want to try learning again?"
He asked casually.
"We're just reheating things tonight, so there's nothing sharp or hot that could hurt you."
The reaction was immediate. Sute sprang to his feet with bright enthusiasm, his eyes lighting up into that beautiful shimmering icy-blue Kin loved so much.
"Yes, please!"
He said quickly, hurrying around the table.
Before Kin could even turn fully back toward the counter, Sute had already reached him and instinctively grabbed hold of Kin's arm, wrapping both hands around his bicep and clinging to him as though proximity alone would help him absorb every lesson.
Kin chuckled softly. He didn't mind. In fact, the way Sute attached himself so naturally felt oddly comfortable.
Even with the extra weight dangling from his arm, Kin moved around the kitchen with ease. Sute was so light that it hardly affected him as he reached for plates, opened the refrigerator, and took out the containers of leftover curry, salmon, and miso soup.
"First we heat the curry slowly."
Kin explained while setting the pot on the counter. Sute leaned in close, watching with such intense concentration that Kin had to gently tap his shoulder.
"Stand up straight…"
Kin reminded him calmly.
"Don't lean too close or you'll get burned."
Sute flushed immediately.
"Oh—sorry."
He straightened quickly, though in doing so he only ended up clinging a little tighter to Kin's arm instead, his fingers tightening around the muscle there as if anchoring himself. The movement made him suddenly aware of the firm strength beneath his hands.
Kin's bicep shifted as he moved, the muscle flexing naturally while he stirred the curry and chopped additional already-boiled potatoes and carrots to add into the pot.
Sute felt it. The subtle motion beneath his palms sent an unfamiliar warmth blooming slowly through his chest, spreading outward in a way he didn't quite understand.
He told himself it must just be because Kin was healthy—strong, reliable. Someone capable. The kind of person Sute had never had before.
Kin continued explaining each step while he worked, reheating the soup, carefully flaking the salmon into portions, and stirring the vegetables into the curry so the flavors blended together again.
Every now and then he would glance down and find Sute watching him with unwavering attention. It made something quiet and satisfied settle in his chest.
By the time everything was ready, Kin had smoothly transitioned from cooking to plating the food.
"Alright, it's finished."
He said gently, setting the plates down on the table. Only then did he finally pry Sute loose from his arm and guide him to his seat. Kin set Sute down first, making sure he was comfortable before taking his own seat beside him.
They began eating together. As always, Kin found his attention drifting back to Sute's face more often than to his own food. The icy-blue brightness in Sute's eyes returned the moment he tasted the curry again, and that familiar warmth spread through Kin's chest.
Watching Sute enjoy something he had made always produced that strange, steady feeling of fullness. Yet while he ate, another thought continued circling quietly at the back of his mind.
The calculations he had made earlier at school returned again, persistent and unavoidable. If he wanted to take proper care of Sute—food, clothes, daily necessities, everything—then one job definitely wouldn't be enough. He would need another. Kin stirred the curry slowly with his spoon while thinking.
'If I leave early tomorrow morning, before school begins, I could stop by that café and ask about the position.'
'It would mean leaving the house before Sute woke up.'
The thought made him hesitate slightly.
He didn't like the idea of Sute waking up alone.
'Still…'
'Haah, it can't be helped.'
Kin glanced sideways at Sute, watching the boy eat carefully with the spoon he had been taught to hold properly only yesterday. A quiet resolve settled in Kin's chest.
They would simply go to bed earlier tonight. That way Sute could wake up rested and Kin could leave early without disturbing him. It was the most practical solution.
After dinner they moved through the familiar rhythm that had already begun to feel like a routine shared only between the two of them. Kin washed the dishes at the sink while Sute hovered nearby at first, watching with quiet interest, though after a moment something seemed to spark in his memory and he suddenly gasped softly to himself before hurrying out of the kitchen.
Kin glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Sute dart toward the living room.
A few seconds later the boy returned, clutching his journal tightly against his chest as though it were something precious he had nearly forgotten.
"Kin—Kin-san, look!"
Sute said breathlessly as he hurried back into the kitchen. His excitement was so bright that it was almost impossible to miss.
Kin finished rinsing the last plate and dried his hands before turning toward him, and Sute immediately thrust the notebook forward with both hands, his eyes already shining with anticipation.
"My writing…"
He said proudly.
"It got better."
He pointed eagerly at the page.
"I used the way you showed me with the spoon and tried it with the pen."
The way he said it—hopeful, nervous, eager for approval—reminded Kin so strongly of a child bringing home their first perfect test score that the comparison made something warm stir quietly in his chest. Kin took the journal from him with a small smile.
"Let's see."
Sute hovered beside him almost immediately, leaning close enough that their shoulders brushed as Kin opened the notebook.
At first he simply looked at the handwriting. And it was true, there was improvement. The letters were still uneven, a little wobbly in places, but compared to the jagged, nearly unreadable scribbles he had seen earlier, the difference was remarkable. The words were spaced more carefully now, the lines steadier, the characters more deliberate. Kin nodded approvingly.
"You did well."
He said. Sute lit up. Kin reached up automatically and rubbed his head, fingers combing through the now soft, loose black hair while the boy practically vibrated with happiness beside him.
While he praised him, however, Kin's eyes drifted further down the page. Curiosity nudged him forward. It wasn't exactly mistrust—though perhaps a small part of it was—but mostly it was simple curiosity about what Sute chose to write about when left alone all day.
And perhaps, buried somewhere beneath that curiosity, was the quiet question he hadn't fully allowed himself to ask.
'Does he hate it here?
Does he hate me?'
Kin's gaze moved to the top of the page. He paused immediately. Instead of a date, there were four small X's written neatly at the top.
XX/XX
Kin blinked once. It didn't take long to understand. Sute didn't know what the date was. He didn't know the month. He didn't know the day. The realization settled strangely in Kin's mind.
'That might actually be… good.'
His eyes moved down the page again. The writing itself was simple, almost childlike in tone, the sentences short and direct, but it was accompanied by little doodles scattered throughout the margins—small drawings that were clumsy but unmistakably earnest.
There was a little figure Kin assumed was meant to be Sute. Another figure with lighter hair that must have been himself. A box that looked like the television. A bowl with something inside that he quickly recognized as curry. There was even a drawing that looked suspiciously like… boxers.
Kin had to suppress a small laugh at that one. He continued reading.
The journal entry wandered through the events of Sute's day in a soft, cheerful recounting that almost made the entire day feel gentler than it actually had been.
Sute wrote about how happy he had been watching television in the morning. How delicious breakfast had been. How exciting it was to use the washing machine and the dryer. There was a whole paragraph about how proud he felt being able to press the button correctly.
Further down the page the writing shifted into a slightly shakier line as Sute described the bath, noting how scary it was when the shampoo got into his eyes—accompanied by a little doodle of a stick figure with tears streaming down its face—but the next line quickly corrected the mood.
Kin saved me like always.
The words were simple, uncomplicated and entirely sincere. Kin stopped reading for a moment. The tension he hadn't fully realized was sitting in his chest loosened quietly.
Every trace of the darker thoughts he had been bracing himself for—resentment, fear, anger—simply wasn't there. Instead the page was filled with clumsy drawings and uneven sentences describing a day Sute had apparently enjoyed.
Kin exhaled softly. When he looked up again his smile had softened. The writing was still imperfect, sometimes drifting unevenly across the page, and the tone remained undeniably childish for someone who was technically eighteen years old but somehow that only made it more endearing. Kin closed the notebook gently and handed it back.
"You did really well."
He said again, this time with a little more warmth in his voice. Sute beamed. Kin reached out once more, patting his head and rubbing his hair lightly, and each small gesture of praise seemed to make Sute happier than the last.
Standing there in the quiet kitchen, Sute watched Kin's reaction with bright, hopeful eyes, glowing every time Kin smiled as though those small moments of approval meant everything.
The rest of the evening slipped naturally into the quiet rhythm that had begun to shape their days together, a routine that felt almost practiced now despite how recently it had started. Kin guided Sute through each step the same way he always did, gently steering him from one task to the next with calm patience, first leading him toward the bathroom where they bathed together and brushed their teeth while the warm steam slowly filled the small tiled room.
Sute followed along easily, watching everything Kin did with careful attention, mimicking the way Kin held the toothbrush and rinsed the foam from his mouth, clearly trying his best to do everything correctly. When they finished, Kin wrapped a towel around his own shoulders before immediately reaching for another and draping it over Sute's head, rubbing the thick strands of long black hair with practiced care.
Even after only a few proper washes, the change in Sute's hair was striking. Kin noticed it immediately.
The once dull strands had begun to regain their natural sheen, becoming glossy and soft beneath his hands, the dark color catching the bathroom light with a healthy shine that had clearly been hidden under years of neglect. As he gently worked the towel through the length of it, Kin found himself quietly marveling at how smooth it felt between his fingers.
"Your hair's getting healthier already, that's good."
He murmured, almost to himself. Sute blinked up at him through the towel before smiling shyly, clearly pleased by the comment even if he didn't quite understand what had changed.
Once the last traces of dampness were gone, Kin guided him down the hallway toward the bedroom, the familiar routine continuing without much thought between them. They changed into their nighttime clothes there, Kin pulling on a pair of loose blue sweatpants and a soft T-shirt while Sute slipped back into his boxers and another oversized blue shirt that draped loosely over his small frame.
The contrast between them was obvious again the moment they settled onto the bed. Kin's long limbs filled most of the space while Sute seemed almost swallowed by the blankets beside him.
Before lying down fully, Kin reached to the bedside table and took two sleeping pills from the bottle resting there. He swallowed them with a quick sip of water before switching off the lamp, allowing the room to fall into the soft darkness that signaled the start of their nightly ritual.
The bed dipped slightly as they settled under the covers. As always, Kin turned onto his side to face Sute and as always, Sute understood what came next.
He shifted closer so their faces were only a short distance apart, his eyes brightening as he began recounting everything that had made him happy that day. The words came easily now, almost spilling out as he spoke about the cooking shows, the washing machine, the journal, and the dinner they had shared earlier.
With each memory, his eyes lit up brighter and brighter.
That familiar shimmering icy-blue glow returned, catching the faint light filtering in from the hallway and reflecting it back with a brilliance that Kin never seemed able to look away from.
Sute grew increasingly animated as he talked, his excitement bubbling up through his whole body. At one point he even began to wiggle slightly beneath the blankets, shifting with restless enthusiasm as he described how proud he had been when Kin praised his writing. Because the bed was so small and their bodies lay so close together, every small movement brushed them against one another.
Kin felt it. The warmth of Sute's body shifting beside him, the subtle friction of fabric against fabric, the gentle press of limbs moving in the tight space beneath the covers. Something unfamiliar stirred in his chest.
A strange sensation—warm, almost electric—spread through him in a way he didn't quite recognize, and the unfamiliarity of it made him tense slightly. For a brief moment, the feeling unsettled him.
Without quite understanding why, Kin reached forward and wrapped his arms around Sute, pulling the smaller boy closer until their bodies were pressed together more securely. The movement was instinctive, almost protective, meant partly to steady Sute's restless squirming and partly to quiet the strange unease stirring inside himself.
The effect on Sute was immediate. His entire face flushed a deep red, the color spreading down his neck and across his shoulders, though he didn't pull away. Instead he froze for a moment in surprise before slowly relaxing into the embrace but by then the sleeping pills had already begun to work their quiet effect on Kin.
The heaviness crept into his limbs quickly, dulling the edge of his thoughts and softening the tension in his body. His breathing slowed as the warmth of the blankets and the steady presence of Sute beside him pulled him toward sleep.
Within minutes his grip loosened slightly. Still holding Sute close, Kin drifted off.
Sute lay there quietly in the darkness, still warm from the sudden closeness, his face glowing with a shy redness that lingered even after Kin's breathing deepened into the slow rhythm of sleep.