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It's not long before Kento learns that weekday mornings are the quietest at the bookstore; most kids are in school, most adults are at work, and for the most part, it's during those hours that Touma and Kento restock, clean, and take inventory.
Some mornings, though, when there's nothing that really needs to get done and Touma doesn't have any urgent deadlines to meet, the two of them just... read. They don't talk much, except to discuss whatever books they've picked out, but the silence isn't an unpleasant one; just being around Touma makes Kento feel more comfortable, like he's being warmed by his light.
"Kirisaki? You're familiar with his work?" Touma asks on one such morning, his eyebrows raised at Kento's choice of book.
Kento swallows hard, and nods. "...You mentioned one of his books in an interview," he explains, voice soft; he decides to not bring up the fact that he'd read said interview countless times, even before the two of them had met again, just to have a part of Touma with him.
Touma, of course, smiles, so blindingly that Kento has to look away. "So many people think his writing is off-putting —"
"To me, it's just lonely." Kento settles down on a chair and flips the book open to his favorite poem; of course, he has it memorized, having read it so many times in Touma's absence. But Touma doesn't need to know that. "A long, long night is falling. But even if I can't see a single star, if you, like the sun, are by my side, I won't be afraid. So please, stay with me," he recites, his voice soft. "I... can relate to the sentiment, is all."
Touma goes quiet, the way he does when he's writing and can't quite figure out how to get from one scene to the next; for a moment, Kento wonders if he said something wrong, if this is what'll make Touma leave —
But Touma just reaches over, resting his hand on top of Kento's and squeezing lightly. "I'm not going anywhere," Touma promises, looking at Kento with such tenderness that it's almost enough to bring tears to his eyes. "...Thank you for waiting for me. It must've been..."
He pauses. "...It must've been a long night," Touma finishes, after a moment.
Kento takes a deep breath, and somehow, he musters up the courage to squeeze Touma's hand back. "...It was," he admits. "It was, but... you came back. You're here now. That's what matters."
(Of course, Kento knows that the present moment is what's most important, and he certainly knows that there's nothing beautiful about the year he spent waiting for Touma's return; still, even now, with Touma by his side and with him, there are times when it's hard for Kento to live in the now he's waited so long for. The memories just come up, like bile in his throat, choking him and making his eyes water, his heart racing as the familiar panic and doubt and emptiness start to resurface.
And even then, Kento still tries, because right now, Touma is here. Touma is next to him, squeezing his hand, accepting a part of him that Kento didn't even know he needed accepted — that is the kind of moment that Kento wants to cling to, even if it's so, so easy to fall back into those long, long nights.)
"And even better," Touma adds, "I get to be with you while I'm here."
"You make it sound like that's some kind of reward," Kento teases, grateful for the moment of levity — of course Touma would know that's what I needed, he thinks, the corners of his own lips curling up.
"It is one," Touma agrees, sounding so honest that it almost catches Kento off-guard. "One that I wouldn't trade for anything in the world."
Kento's first instinct is to shake his head, to brush Touma's affection off, to say something about how his presence doesn't really matter, not when Touma's so wonderful and could easily be happier with someone else... but he pushes it down, with some effort. "...I wouldn't, either," he finally manages.
Touma's smile at that, even as he goes back to his own book, makes Kento's chest feel like it's glowing.