Chapter Text
The rain starts about two stops after Kunimi joins Kindaichi on the bus to Aobajousai High School. It isn’t supposed to let up for a couple of days, so Kunimi makes a point to stay near Kindaichi, whose height advantage is perfect for umbrella-bearing.
They huddle together as they make the half-mile trek from the station to the school, shivering as the wind buffets and chills their soggy trouser cuffs. Kindaichi’s club jacket is draped over Kunimi’s shoulders, but even then, the latter shakes as the cold seeps into his very bones.
He knows Kindaichi is cold, too, but after spending over five years together as best friends, Kunimi knows Kindaichi will never take back the jacket until they’re safely inside the warm building because that’s just the kind of guy he is.
The day crawls by as the rain relentlessly pounds on the windows. Kunimi only picks at his bento at lunch before opting to nap instead of eat. After all, they’ve been retired from the volleyball team for months now, the club’s future now firmly in the hands of the first and second years, so he doesn’t exactly need the extra energy.
As he dozes, Kunimi is vaguely aware of someone sitting in the desk behind him, and the jacket hanging off the back of his own chair being pulled over his slumped form. He smiles into the stack of textbooks he’s using for a pillow.
“There’s a typhoon advisory,” Kindaichi says softly.
It’s an old habit for them. Kindaichi joins Kunimi for lunch and does most of the talking while Kunimi listens. And this time, Kindaichi fills Kunimi in on the weather forecast for the next few days, noting the handful of bus stops that tend to close during flooding situations. One of them is Kunimi’s usual stop, which makes him stir and murmur, “Huh?”
Sleep fogged eyes catch Kindaichi’s wry smile. “I thought that would wake you up.” His cheeks redden just a little. “I was thinking . . . maybe you could just come to my place for the weekend. It’s on higher ground, and I’m sure your parents won’t mind.”
Kunimi considers the offer. Kindaichi is right about the bus stops, of course, and if Kunimi were to walk from the nearest stop that won’t close to his house, it would be over three kilometers in the heavy rain.
He shudders at the very thought.
Sliding his phone out of his pocket, Kunimi texts his mother and asks if it’s all right for him to take Kindaichi up on his offer. He gets a quick affirmative and a promise that his dad will drop of a bag of necessities for the weekend.
“Mom said okay,” Kunimi offers, and his chest tightens just a little at Kindaichi’s broad smile. “I’ll spring for pizza.”
Kindaichi’s eyes widen, and so does his grin. Kunimi will never get tired of how much Kindaichi loves simple pleasures, his joy almost child-like in its sincerity.
With a hum of contentment, Kunimi pushes his unfinished bento towards Kindaichi and settles back down on his makeshift sleep space. “You wanna finish? I’m not in the mood for food.”
Kunimi doesn’t need to see it to know the battle that is waging inside Kindaichi right now. Refusal. Curiosity. Open the bento. Close it. Start to refuse. Open it again. Shrug. Start eating. The click of chopsticks concludes the usual ritual, and Kunimi tunes out for the rest of the lunch, not stirring until the warning bell shoos Kindaichi back to his own classroom and the rest of the students in 3-5 back to their assigned seats.
After the final bell, Kunimi waits outside his classroom door, knowing Kindaichi will be by to collect him soon. They walk together to the bus stop, Kunimi once again wearing both their jackets as they huddle together under Kindaichi’s umbrella.
The bus is warm from the press of bodies, and it’s a relief to Kunimi as he burrows into Kindaichi’s side as the other boy talkstalkstalks about this and that. Kunimi listens with his eyes closed. More weather, homework, the volleyball team, how to keep busy for the weekend. The last one makes Kunimi smile into Kindaichi’s shoulder, because he’s sure his friend doesn’t even know that he could easily spend three days just like this.
They leave the bus in relative silence, and Kunimi is glad the walk to the apartment Kindaichi shares with his mother is only a block. However, by the time they have the building in their sights, they’re both running to get out of the relentless rain.
Inside, Kindaichi’s place looks just like Kunimi remembers — small and sparse, but filled with all the right things to make it a home. Pictures of Kindaichi at all ages litter the walls, from a wobbling toddler to the team photo they had received at the beginning of the school year.
Kindaichi disappears into the kitchen, reemerging ten minutes later with two steaming mugs of tea. From his spot under the already-running kotatsu, Kunimi gratefully accepts as Kindaichi slides underneath next to him with their backs against the couch and shoulders firmly pressed together.
“Thank you,” Kunimi says quietly, letting the heat of the cup seep into his skin. As he says it, he feels Kindaichi lean in just a little bit closer as he murmurs, “You’re welcome.”
They sit like this, staring past the old television set that isn’t even on, in an unusual silence. Well, unusual for Kindaichi. He’s not filling the empty spaces with inane dialogue, which in itself makes Kunimi swivel his head to the side to look at his friend.
Kindaichi is worrying his bottom lip with his teeth as he gazes off into something in his imagination far more interesting than the patch of wall he’s really looking at. A frown tugs at Kunimi’s mouth. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Kindaichi rasps, which gives Kunimi more of an answer than his words.
Not sure why Kindaichi is in an off mood, Kunimi wordlessly drags their school bags and pulls out their textbooks. He knows Kindaichi has calculus and physics homework, and Kunimi has both of those plus English.
In under an hour, Kunimi is finished with his assignments quickly enough to help Kindaichi through the final scraps of his physics work. He knows Kindaichi will never ask for help, but the way Kindaichi chews on the end of his pencil tells Kunimi otherwise.
They finish just in time to catch the last of the daylight creeping into the windows. Of course, it’s still raining, but the sound is gentle against the thick concrete walls of the building. Kunimi feels his eyelids drooping as the gentle hum of rain colludes with the warmth of the kotatsu and the firm, comfortable presence next to him to make him sleepy.
Kindaichi chuckles beside him. “Don’t fall asleep now, or you’ll be up all night.”
“No I won’t,” Kunimi murmurs as he slips himself under Kindaichi’s arm. “I could sleep forever when it rains.”
The arm tightens around Kunimi, and he can almost feel Kindaichi smile. “We could just head to bed if you want to sleep.”
It doesn’t escape Kunimi that Kindaichi says ‘we’ and not ‘you.’ The idea that Kindaichi doesn’t want to be awake without him tugs at something in Kunimi’s chest. The decision isn’t hard to make. “Yada,” he grumbles as he wraps his arms around Kindaichi’s waist. “Warm.”
Kunimi feels Kindaichi stiffen at his touch, but it rapidly dissipates as his arm tucks Kunimi just a little bit closer. Engulfed in warmth and comfort, Kunimi quickly drifts off to sleep.
He awakens a little while later to the sound of a knock on the door. Suddenly, the cocoon of heat built up whooshes away as Kindaichi stands up and answers it. Soon, Kindaichi returns and sets a pizza box on top of the kotatsu.
“Thought you might be hungry,” Kindaichi offers. “You didn’t finish your lunch.
In reply, Kunimi’s stomach protests its lack of contents, and he smiles sheepishly at Kindaichi. “Thank you.”
Kunimi doesn’t realize how hungry he is until he polishes off the cheese-only half of the entire pizza while Kindaichi is still only two slices in to the pepperoni and pineapple other side. He contemplates snagging a slice of Kindaichi’s, but the idea of fruit on a pizza appalls him enough to abstain.
While Kindaichi continues to eat, Kunimi flicks on the television, knowing but not caring that Friday night programming isn’t the best. He finds some random sports anime, knowing it’s what Kindaichi would end up watching, and settles back into his friend’s warmth.
Sometime after ten, Kindaichi's mother, Shuuko, wearily treads through the door and gives Kunimi a watery smile. "Hello, Akira-kun."
"How are you, Kindaichi-san?" Kunimi pats Kindaichi's snoozing form draped on his shoulder and gives her a twitch of the lips. "Pardon the intrusion."
She sighs. "I'm good. Just tired."
Kunimi pops open the pizza box and notices two slices remaining. "Yuutarou saved you a couple pieces."
Kneeling next to her son, Shuuko kisses Kindaichi on the forehead and grabs the pizza box. "Such a sweet boy."
For a moment, Kunimi recalls the selfish moment when he had contemplated eating the last of the pizza, and he looks away from Shuuko. “Do you have a couple of pillows? We can stay out here if you want to take the room.”
Shuuko shakes her head. “Oh, no, Akira-kun. I couldn’t make you boys sleep on the floor. I’ll be fine on the sofa.”
Eyes directing towards Kindaichi, who is still hanging off of his shoulder, Kunimi gives her a wry smile. “I don’t want to wake him up, and the floor is fine with me. Thank you for the offer, though, Kindaichi-san.”
Kunimi knows their living situation is a sore spot for both Kindaichi and his mother, with one bedroom between the two of them, with Kindaichi often sleeping on the sofa. It had taken Kindaichi nearly three years to invite Kunimi over just to hang out after school, and he doesn’t extend the offer very often.
But Kunimi has never cared about the humility of the Kindaichi abode. The strong bond between Kindaichi and his mother is worth more than the nicest apartment in Sendai, and Kunimi is glad Kindaichi has someone in his life that loves him like he deserves.
Without further protest, Shuuko appears with two pillows. “Thank you,” Kunimi says after she yawns loudly. “Good night, Kindaichi-san.”
“Good night, Akira-kun.”
Kunimi eases a pillow behind Kindaichi and lightly shakes his shoulder. “Lay back.” Kindaichi grumbles something Kunimi can’t quite piece together, but he does as he’s told, pulling the kotatsu’s thick blanket edge up to his chin.
However, before Kunimi settles into his own pillow, he takes a moment to look at Kindaichi. Tall, weedy Kindaichi is so small huddled under the covers, with his absurd hairdo the only remnant of his usual stature. With a soundless chortle, Kunimi runs his fingers through the stiff locks until they fall freely around Kindaichi’s sleep-softened face.
“Good night, Yuutarou,” Kunimi whispers as he tucks in for the night.