The conversation with Nishimoto Tamotsu lingers in Kin's mind long after the detective disappears down the street. It follows him like a shadow.
At first he walks normally, the same relaxed stride he had maintained when speaking to the man. But with every step away from that street corner, the carefully constructed calm begins to fray. His pace quickens then quickens again.
Soon the walk has turned into something close to a hurried march, his shoes striking the pavement harder than usual as he moves through the late afternoon streets. His breathing grows uneven, shallow and quick, though whether it comes from the pace or the emotions boiling beneath his skin would be difficult for anyone watching to tell. Not that anyone is watching closely. Kin keeps his head lowered as he walks.
If someone were to see his face right now—really see it—he is certain they would recoil. Even he doesn't quite understand what expression he is wearing at the moment, only that something dark and twisted has taken root behind his eyes. The detective's voice echoes in his memory.
"You know something about that boy?"
The thought makes his jaw tighten. That man had looked at him as if he were searching for something hidden beneath the surface. As if he might actually take Sute away. Kin's fingers curl slightly at his sides.
His Sute.
His perfect Blue.
The idea of anyone trying to separate them sends a violent surge of anger through him so sudden it almost makes his vision blur.
'He would have to disappear first.'
The thought passes through his mind so coldly that even Kin himself barely registers it before pushing it away. He walks faster.
By the time he reaches his street, his breath is coming harsh and rapid, his pulse hammering in his ears. When his house finally appears at the end of the sidewalk, relief floods through him so intensely it almost feels painful but most of all, it's safe.
He reaches the door and immediately begins unlocking it but the routine he normally performs with quiet precision now comes out rough and hurried. The keys scrape harshly against the metal as he shoves them into the first lock, twisting too quickly and catching the mechanism halfway.
"Damn it—"
He jerks the key back out and tries again, more forcefully this time.
One lock opens.
Then another.
His movements grow increasingly frantic as he works through the row of deadbolts and latches he installed himself. One of them sticks as it often does, requiring a small jiggle to loosen it, but in his agitation he forgets and yanks at it repeatedly until the metal finally gives way with a sharp click. Finally the last lock opens.
Kin pushes the door open hard enough that it slams against the wall as he steps inside. He spins immediately and slams it shut again. The sound echoes through the house then, one by one, he begins locking everything again. Each bolt slides into place with sharp, decisive clicks.
Once.
Twice.
He checks them again.
And again.
As if he could somehow seal the outside world away completely.
…
On the couch across the room, Sute had stopped watching television the moment the first violent noise echoed through the house. He had never heard Kin enter like that before.
The sudden crash of the door sends fear rushing through him before he can stop it. For a terrifying moment his mind jumps to the worst possibilities.
'The police? Or worse, is it—my parents.'
Without thinking, Sute ducks down behind the armrest of the couch, pulling the blanket over his head as if it might hide him from whatever is entering the house. He curls in tightly beneath the fabric, holding his breath while peeking cautiously over the edge of the couch. The noise of locks echoes through the room. First a slam of the door opening then footsteps before it shuts again. After, there's heavy breathing.
Only when he finally gathers the courage to look over, he sees Kin standing at the door and only then does the tension inside Sute's chest release. He exhales slowly and lowers the blanket but the relief quickly turns into confusion because the person standing there does not look like the Kin he knows.
The man leaning against the door appears tense and shaken, his breathing rough, his shoulders rising and falling as if he had just run miles. Sweat glistens faintly along his temples, and the expression on his face—
He couldn't tell with Kin's back facing him but Sute still hesitates.
'Scary.'
The word forms quietly in his mind before he can stop it.
'But that can't be right. Kin isn't scary. Kin is the one who saved me. My protector. My… savior. Maybe I'm just misunderstanding.'
Slowly, cautiously, Sute pushes himself up from the couch and begins walking toward him. Kin's back is turned as he finishes checking the final lock, his body leaning heavily against the door as if using it for support. His mind continues spiraling with images of detectives, police searches, strangers asking questions—
'What if someone finds the house? What if that detective returns? What if—'
Before the thoughts can descend fully into madness, something warm touches his back, a small hand. Kin reacts instantly. He turns sharply, and in the same motion his arms wrap around Sute, pulling him into a tight embrace so sudden that Sute barely has time to gasp.
Kin buries his face against the side of Sute's neck. The warmth, the scent, the simple presence of him. The effect is immediate but the momentum of the sudden movement sends both of them off balance. They tumble backward together.
Kin still has enough presence of mind to twist his body at the last second, pulling Sute with him so that when they hit the floor, Kin lands underneath while Sute collapses on top of him instead. The impact knocks the air from Kin's lungs briefly.
For a moment neither of them moves. Kin's arms remain wrapped tightly around Sute's small frame, holding him against his chest as if he might disappear if he lets go. His breathing slowly begins to steady and in the quiet that follows, the house once again feels sealed off from the rest of the world.
For a few seconds, neither of them moves. Kin lies on his back against the floorboards, arms still wrapped tightly around Sute as if he had caught something fragile mid-fall and refused to release it again. His breathing, which had been wild and uneven only moments earlier, slowly begins to steady against the quiet warmth of Sute's body.
Sute, however, does not understand what has just happened. All he knows is that Kin had come home different—tense, frightening in a way he had never seen before—and that something inside him had seemed dangerously close to breaking and Sute only knows one thing that reliably fixes that. Slowly, hesitantly, he lifts his hands.
They are still trembling slightly when he brings them to Kin's face, cupping his cheeks carefully. Kin's skin feels warmer than usual beneath his palms, the curve of his jaw fuller and stronger compared to the sharp bones of Sute's own face.
Sute leans forward just enough to see him clearly then he looks into Kin's eyes. Deep black. Dark like an endless well with no visible bottom.
Sute's own eyes shimmer as he watches him, filled with quiet concern and unshed tears. The icy blue that Kin loves most is softened by something gentler now—something warmer, almost luminous, like pale light reflecting off water. Kin notices the change immediately.
It is a color he hasn't seen before. Not the brilliant shining blue of Sute's excitement. Not the dull gray-blue that appears when sadness creeps in. This one is softer. A fragile shade of blue touched with worry.
It makes Kin uncomfortable in a strange way. Not unpleasant, just unfamiliar. Somewhere in his mind he finds himself wishing that color would brighten, lighten somehow—but he doesn't know how to make that happen. Still, the effect is undeniable.
The chaos inside his head begins to quiet. The storm of thoughts about detectives and danger and losing Sute slowly dissolves beneath that steady gaze. His breathing steadies and his shoulders loosen. His expression softens until it resembles the calm, composed version of himself that most people see every day.
Sute isn't sure if it's working. He studies Kin carefully, searching for signs. To be certain, he leans closer. And closer. Until the world around Kin becomes nothing but blue.
He feels as if he might drown in those eyes if he stares any longer. Then—
Beeeeep.
The sound cuts through the room sharply. Both of them flinch and because they are already so close—mere inches apart—the sudden movement sends them forward just enough that their lips brush together.
The contact is feather-light. So brief it could almost be imagined yet in that suspended moment it somehow stretches far longer than it should.
Sute is the first to react. He jerks backward immediately, startled like a cat that has been touched unexpectedly from behind. His entire body recoils away from Kin, scrambling clumsily across the floor as his face turns a bright, panicked red.
"I—I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
He stammers breathlessly. His words tumble out in a frantic rush as he tries to explain what he had been doing, what he meant, how it was an accident—but the explanation collapses beneath his own panic. He can barely form a sentence. His thoughts spiral instantly toward the worst conclusion.
'Kin must be angry. I've done something wrong. He's gonna hate me. He's gonna hit me.'
The old fear rushes back with brutal speed. Sute's breathing becomes shallow and rapid, his chest rising and falling in desperate gasps. His hands fly up to cover his mouth as if he could physically push the panic back down, but the effort only makes the situation worse. His eyes widen until the pupils shrink into tiny pinpoints. The world begins to blur around the edges.
Between each frantic breath he keeps apologizing, though the words are muffled behind his hands. In his desperation to stop the sound of his own breathing he presses his palms harder against his mouth, accidentally cutting off the air he desperately needs. The result only feeds the spiral further.
By the time Kin fully processes what is happening, Sute is already slipping into the familiar edge of dissociation. Kin moves immediately. He reaches forward and pulls Sute back into his arms before the panic can deepen further. This time the embrace is gentle, careful.
He wraps his arms around Sute's thin frame and draws him close, pressing him lightly against his chest as he speaks softly against his hair.
"It's alright…"
Kin murmurs quietly.
"You didn't do anything wrong."
One hand moves up to Sute's head, fingers threading gently through the long black strands. He pets him slowly. The way he has learned Sute likes best then he begins rocking him slightly, the movement small and steady, like calming a frightened child.
"It's okay…"
He repeats. He doesn't rush it, he simply holds him and lets the panic burn itself out.
Sute clings tightly to the front of Kin's shirt, his shaking breaths gradually softening as tears slip quietly down his cheeks. The sharp gasps eventually fade into hiccupping breaths, each one a little steadier than the last.
It takes several minutes but slowly, the storm passes and in the quiet that follows, Sute remains curled against Kin's chest, still holding onto him as if letting go might bring the panic back again.
For a while after the panic fades, neither of them moves.
They remain on the floor by the door, still half tangled together from the fall. Kin's long arms are wrapped around Sute almost protectively, his larger frame curved around the smaller boy like a shield. The quiet inside the house settles again, thick and private, as though the four walls themselves have closed around them to keep the outside world away.
Eventually the silence is broken by a low, unmistakable sound. Sute's stomach growls.
The noise is loud enough that both of them freeze for a second before realizing what it is. The tension that had clung stubbornly to the room suddenly loosens, the moment oddly grounding in its normalcy.
Sute's face flushed as he sniffles and wipes harshly at his eyes with the back of his hand. Kin immediately catches his wrist.
"Hey…"
He says gently, stopping him.
"Don't do that."
He pushes himself up, lifting Sute easily with him as he stands. Carrying him the short distance to the couch, he sets him down carefully before reaching for a box of tissues from the table.
Sute sits quietly while Kin wipes away the last of the tears from his cheeks. Neither of them speaks about what had just happened. Neither of them even acknowledges it.
Without discussing it, they both return to the roles that have quietly formed between them—Sute the boy who refuses rescue, and Kin the one determined to keep him safe.
It is Sute who breaks the silence first. His voice suddenly perks up with excitement.
"I did the dryer!"
He says quickly, almost proudly.
"Just like you told me!"
Kin pauses.
"The beep earlier?"
Sute continues eagerly.
"That was because it finished."
Kin smiles faintly and rubs Sute's head.
"You did?"
He says.
"Good job…"
The praise makes Sute sit a little straighter.
"I'm proud of you."
Kin adds then he stands and stretches slightly.
"I'll make us a snack before dinner…"
He says.
"Go grab your boxers from the dryer."
Sute's cheeks flush immediately at the mention of them, but he nods and stands up anyway. He walks over to the small dryer tucked beside the washing machine and opens it, reaching inside to rummage through the warm clothes.
Kin watches him for a moment before heading into the kitchen. He grabs a cutting board and begins slicing fruit into small pieces, arranging them on a plate. Apples, oranges, and a few strawberries he had left from earlier in the week.
As he works, a realization hits him. He never went to the store today. Kin pauses with the knife in his hand.
Lately, ever since Sute came into his life, his routines have started slipping. Normally he is meticulous about things—shopping schedules, work hours, school responsibilities. Everything is carefully balanced but now…
His thoughts rarely move far beyond one thing.
Getting home.
Seeing those bright blue eyes.
Just being in the same room with Sute.
Kin exhales quietly. If he takes another job like he's planning, things will become even more complicated. School, two jobs, maintaining his image at school, and still finding time to be here with Sute.
He knows he needs to do it. For Sute's sake. Still, the thought weighs on him. He sighs softly and sets the knife down. Just then a small sound comes from the kitchen doorway.
A soft whimper. Kin turns. Sute stands in the archway.
The small sized middle-school shirt Kin had given him hangs slightly too short, revealing the curve of his stomach where the fabric stops. Below it, Sute is wearing only his boxers—but something about them looks… wrong.
Kin squints slightly.
'They look smaller than before. Much smaller.'
Sute fidgets awkwardly, tugging at the waistband.
"I… I tried to do it right…"
He says quietly.
"But they feel tighter now."
Kin blinks then it clicks. He must have used the wrong dryer setting. Some fabrics shrink under high heat, especially older ones. Kin presses his fingers briefly against his forehead.
"Ah, shit."
He mutters. Sute sniffles again, clearly worried he's done something wrong.
"I'm sorry…"
He says.
"I thought I followed everything you said…"
Kin turns away so quickly that the movement is almost jerky, one hand flying up toward his face while the other grips the kitchen counter hard enough for his knuckles to pale. The warmth running beneath his nose confirms it before he even needs to check, and for one deeply humiliating second he can only stand there in silence, willing his body to behave normally.
Of all the things to happen today, this somehow feels like the most ridiculous.
Behind him, Sute is still standing at the edge of the kitchen, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot with the ruined dignity of someone who genuinely tried very hard to complete an important task and somehow failed anyway. His voice comes out small and wavering.
"I really did follow what you said…"
He murmurs, fingers still tugging uselessly at the waistband.
"I didn't mean to… shrink them."
Kin squeezes his eyes shut, breathes once through his mouth, then reaches blindly for a paper towel from the roll near the sink and presses it to his nose.
"It's fine…"
He says, though his voice comes out tighter than intended.
"It's not your fault. I probably used the wrong setting."
That is, in fact, exactly what happened, and the realization only makes him feel more absurdly responsible. He should have known the fabric might react differently. He should have checked. He should have remembered that not everything can simply be thrown into the dryer without consequence.
He lowers his hand just enough to make sure the bleeding is slowing, then risks a glance back.
That turns out to be a mistake.
Sute is standing there in the old blue shirt that barely reaches his middle, exposing the soft pale plane of his stomach, and those too-small boxers now cling awkwardly to narrow hips and long, thin thighs in a way that is entirely innocent and therefore somehow much worse. His expression, meanwhile, is so sincerely distressed that it keeps the scene from becoming laughable.
Or from becoming something else.
Kin immediately looks away again.
"Don't pull at them…"
He says quickly, perhaps a little too quickly.
"You'll stretch the elastic unevenly."
Sute freezes at once, hands lifting away as though he has been caught doing something terribly wrong.
"Sorry."
"You don't need to apologize for my mistake."
Kin utters, still pressing the tissue to his nose.
That soft, automatic apology makes something in his chest pinch. He takes another slow breath, waits until he is sure he is not actively embarrassing himself further, and then straightens.
When he turns this time, his expression is far more composed. Not perfect, not entirely, but close enough to pass.
"We'll fix it."
He says.
Sute looks at him uncertainly.
"How?"
Kin glances toward the bedroom, already thinking through options. There are only so many old clothes he has left that might fit. The shorts from middle school are serviceable, if a little small, and the shirts can be made to work. Underwear, however…
His mind stalls there.
Then, reluctantly, he lands on the least bad solution available.
"For tonight…"
He says carefully,
"You can just wear the shorts without them again. And tomorrow I'll buy you new ones."
Sute blinks.
"Buy… me underwear?"
The way he repeats it—like the concept itself feels too intimate, too extravagant, too embarrassing to say plainly—makes Kin want to sigh and laugh at the same time.
"Yeah…"
He says, softer now.
"That's a normal thing to buy. It shouldn't look too suspicious."
Sute's ears turn pink almost immediately.
"I didn't mean you had to spend money on me…"
He says in a rush.
"I can just— I can keep wearing these. They're tight, but not unbearable. I'm used to things being—"
"No!"
Kin says. The word comes out more firmly than he intended, and both of them go still for a second. Kin reins himself in.
"No…"
He repeats, gentler this time.
"You're not wearing things that hurt if I can help it."
Sute looks down. That answer, simple as it is, seems to settle somewhere deep inside him. He doesn't argue again. He only nods, still pink-cheeked, and gives the waistband one last uncertain glance as if mourning the loss of the only thing that had finally been his again.
Kin clears his throat and forces his attention back to the fruit he had been cutting. Kin quickly shakes his head.
"I'm sorry I messed up."
"No, you did it right…"
He assures him.
"That one's my mistake. Uh, here, take a seat first…"
Sute nods and quickly steps back into the living room and takes his seat on the couch, pulling the blanket over to cover his legs and waist. By the time he sits down and gets settled, Kin has finished arranging the fruit plate.
He slides it toward Sute.
"Eat, I'm sure you're hungry since I see you didn't take anything for lunch."
He says. Sute looks at the plate with pretty colored fruits he'd never seen up close before then shyly glances at Kin.
"I-I wasn't sure I was allowed."
"It's okay. I forgot to stop by the store. We'll figure something out for dinner."
Sute smiles softly and picks up a piece of fruit, the warmth of the house slowly settling around them again as the tension from earlier fades into something quieter and familiar.
"Go ahead, I made this snack for us."
He says, carefully ordinary.
"Come, eat up."
Sute obeys, leaning over to reach, the blanket slips down slightly and reveals a peek at his boxers and pale skin his cropped shirt can't hide. Feeling Kin's stare, Sute looks away with very obvious embarrassment, and Kin pointedly does not watch too closely as he sits beside him. Instead, he brings over the plate of cut fruit closer to Sute and a glass of water, setting them down on the coffee table with as much normalcy as he can manufacture.
Sute reaches for a slice of apple, then hesitates.
"Kin-san?"
"Hm?"
"Were you really proud of me?"
He asks quietly.
"For doing the dryer. Before the boxers."
Kin looks at him then, fully.
At the uncertainty in his face. At the faint redness still lingering around his eyes from crying. At the way he clearly needs the answer.
And just like that, the absurd tension of the last few minutes loosens.
"Yes…"
Kin says.
"I was. I still am…"
Sute's gaze flickers up.
"You listened carefully. You remembered the steps. You did it without me standing over you…"
Kin reaches out and smooths a hand over his hair, gentler than before.
"That was good."
The change in Sute is immediate and subtle all at once. His shoulders lower. The tightness in his mouth eases. And in his eyes, that familiar blue begins to brighten—not the dazzling, sparkling brilliance of pure excitement, but something steadier and warmer, touched with relief.
Kin watches it happen and feels his own thoughts settle in response.
'There it is. His calm is my reward.'
Sute takes a bite of fruit and chews quietly, then glances down at himself and blushes all over again.
"…I still feel silly."
He admits. This time Kin does laugh, softly and without mockery.
"That's because you do look a little ridiculous."
He says. Sute looks scandalized for half a second before noticing the warmth in Kin's face and voice. Then, unexpectedly, a tiny laugh escapes him too.
The sound is light. Small but real and it changes the room. For a little while after that, they sit together on the couch in the familiar hush of the house, sharing fruit and not speaking of detectives, spirals, accidental kisses, or the world outside. Kin's mind still churns beneath the quiet, worrying over money and schedules and dinner and what he has forgotten yet again. But for now, Sute is here, alive and safe and blue-eyed beside him, and the evening folds around them like something almost peaceful.
Still, the problem remains.
Dinner for tonight. Shopping for new clothes. The job flyer crumpled in his school bag.
Kin glances toward the blocked window behind its nailed curtain and then back at Sute, who is carefully eating orange slices now, trying not to drip juice on the borrowed shirt.
'I'll have to take that job…'
The thought lands heavily.
'But not yet.'
For one more moment, he lets himself sit there and watch Sute exist within the small world he has made for him, knowing full well that the outside world is already pressing at the seams.