Chapter Text
Aren watched the curtains dance as a breeze flowed lazily through Shun’s open bedroom window. He rested his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and releasing it in a drawn-out, probably overdramatic sigh.
“What’s up?” Shun laughed, airy and light like the warm draft that filtered through the room.
“Tired,” Aren supplied after he gathered the energy to open his mouth. It came out muffled, his cheek pressed defeatedly into the table in front of them. He yawned loudly and stretched for a more convincing display. A display that, cruelly, went ignored.
He sighed again, mindlessly tracing the faint grooves in the table, listening to the quiet hum of someone's running car and the occasional sound of a creaking door hinge somewhere in the house. He listened to the scratching of Shun’s pencil and the dulled, rhythmic thud of his foot against the thick carpet, wondering how long he would let Aren lie there until he nudged him to get back to work.
Not nearly long enough, he thought, as Shun started tugging at something underneath his head.
“Aren,” Shun started. “Can you sit up for a sec? I need that,” he said distantly, without looking up. He tugged again on the thick textbook Aren was currently using as a pillow. He had a feeling Shun just wanted to be annoying, because he didn’t so much as glance at it after Aren relented and handed it over.
“Why don’t we take a break? We’ve been doing homework forever.” Aren stretched and pouted obnoxiously, just to be annoying right back.
“It hasn’t been forever,” Shun replied offhandedly, undisturbed by Aren’s moping, and continued his work without another word, although Aren thought he noticed a slight grin.
Shun could be pretty damn stubborn when he wanted to be. Aren would have admired it if he hadn’t been aware that it practically guaranteed getting Shun into trouble. He’d seen it before, the danger of not knowing when to quit. In any case, Aren had learned to tell when his friend's defiance was just for show or when he genuinely didn’t plan to back down.
He also came to learn that Shun hated studying just as much as he did, although Shun hid it better. And actually got his work done. But that was hardly relevant. Anyway, he knew Shun wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer, especially if Aren bribed him with a trip to the convenience store.
He continued to neglect his homework, deciding instead to tap his pencil to the beat of a song that had been stuck in his head. He thought about suggesting it. Taking a walk to the convenience store. He needed to stretch his legs anyway. They were starting to go numb, his joints stiff. He thought about that idly before deciding to drop it. It was going to be dark soon, and Shun’s mom didn’t like her son going out past sunset.
How long had he been here, anyway? He should probably be getting home soon. His parents were going to be out late tonight, so he’d have to make himself something for dinner if he couldn’t scrounge up some leftovers. And he’d have to deal with the mess he’d been ignoring in the garage. Aren crashed his bike again, though thankfully not as bad as the first time. It didn’t take long to repair, but, in his haste to get back on the road, he’d left the garage in pretty bad shape.
He didn’t want to think about all that right now. He mostly wanted to take a nap, preferably somewhere his neck wasn’t strained at an awkward angle like it currently was. He glanced at Shun’s bed with a sense of something close to longing. It looked much more comfortable than a wooden table.
The evening sun was beginning to cast a soft orange glow through the window, bathing the whole room in its gentle warmth. Aren glanced at his friend, whose eyes were fixed on some math equation or English structure practice or something equally as uninteresting. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he was chewing on the end of his pencil, something Aren noticed him do during every test they had ever taken. He wondered if Shun even realized he was doing it.
He felt himself start to get lost. Something in him knew that the longer he stared, the harder it would be to tear his eyes away. Sometimes, Aren could admit, he was the idiot who didn’t know when to quit.
Eventually, when the strange feeling in his chest became almost unbearable, he went back to looking out the window.
Aren rubbed his sore neck and let out yet another deep sigh. This finally prompted Shun to look up from his oh-so-important homework and face his defeated study buddy.
“How much have you done?” Shun inquired, a little more annoyed this time, but still relatively passive. He dropped his pencil and let it roll across the table as he leaned in to inspect Aren’s worksheets.
Aren sat up a little straighter.
“Almost the whole booklet,” he grinned, proudly presenting his completed work. It’s way more than he would normally have done. Aren from even a year ago would probably laugh at the idea of homework or (god forbid) studying. But he’d been working hard to change those habits. To grow.
“Great work.” A small smile tugged at his friend’s lips, and Aren felt that strange feeling resurface. He pushed it aside.
“Does that mean we can take a break?” Aren suggested hopefully. Maybe Shun was feeling merciful.
“Looks like you’ve been taking a break,” Shun said dryly. Aren clicked his tongue and looked out the window, chin resting on a loose fist. Shun laughed lightly before continuing.
“You said almost the whole booklet.” Aren knew where this was going. Shun hummed and gestured for Aren to hand over the stack of papers.
Aren watched Shun flip through his work quickly, checking the completed questions. His eyes flicked over the pages for a moment longer before humming again and circling something.
“Finish this, and we can call it quits,” Shun said resolutely.
Aren looked at the question he was referring to. The very last one listed on the crumpled sheets, and the very one Aren had been working hard to avoid.
Aren groaned and rested his head on the low table again, a quiet thump declaring his defeat. “We’re never leaving this place,” he mumbled.
Shun hummed with amusement and leaned further over the table, nudging Aren’s arm away so he could get a better look at the incorrect solution Aren had half erased.
Aren tilted his head up to gauge his reaction but suddenly froze, realizing how close their faces had become. Distractingly close. Aren seemed to forget how to breathe or develop a half-complete thought. He couldn’t think about anything other than the cloud of blue hair that was suddenly right in his face. He forced himself to focus on the paper and not whatever shampoo Shun had used today. Which was hard, because it actually smelled really good. Something citrusy maybe? Aren never really paid attention to stuff like that.
“You forgot to factor here,” Shun murmured, barely audible if not for how short the distance was between them. He tapped his pencil on the error. “That’s why you’re having trouble getting the right answer.”
Aren willed himself to focus. Even after Shun pointed out his mistake, he didn’t quite understand, his mind still a little fuzzy. He must not have been there when they learned this at school. Or maybe his brain had finally quit on him. Tossed anything that wasn’t Shun’s eyes or soft hair or gentle voice or…
“Can you show me how to do it again? I, uh–I don’t think I was there for that,” Aren managed to ask, swallowing thickly.
“Yeah, of course, Aren. You catch on quick, so don’t worry.”
He tried not to think too hard about the tone he used. The way Shun said his name, gentle, like he had all the patience and time in the world to be re-teaching Aren something he should have just learned himself. He also didn’t think too hard about how if it were someone else, Nendo maybe, Shun would probably call him an idiot and tell him to figure it out himself (before giving in and helping anyway). Aren didn’t think too hard about why Shun seemed to be treating him differently. Or why it made him feel the way it did.
He didn’t know when or how, but they had somehow gotten closer. The proximity combined with Shun’s gentle smile left Aren feeling like his brain would never function the same again. Permanent brain damage caused by sudden and unexpected proximity. That must be a thing.
When they were this close, Aren realized he could see the faint freckles painting Shun’s cheeks; hell, he could count them if he really tried. He felt the urge to reach out and trace them with his thumb, connecting them like constellations. Were they always there? He had never really noticed. Maybe he needed to start paying closer attention.
Man, they really were so close. Seriously, when did they get so close? And why? Was Shun leaning in, or was that him? Aren didn’t think you needed to share the same breath as another person to complete a math question, but he couldn’t find it in himself to pull away. For some reason that he wouldn’t think too hard about, his gaze drifted to Shun’s lips. They looked chapped, red, strangely inviting. Aren would barely have to move to-
Before Aren could process exactly where that thought was going, a door closed particularly loudly in the room next to them. Shun seemed to snap out of something and drew back, though only slightly. Enough that they could both see the paper again.
Right, the paper. Homework. Shun began to re-explain the question, and Aren glued his eyes to the sheet resolutely.
What the hell was that? Pull yourself together.
Concentrating on what the other boy was saying took more effort than Aren would like to admit. He wouldn’t think too hard about that either.