Chapter 1: Chapter 1.
Chapter Text
The rain had already stopped, but the smell still clung to the pavement. It’s the end of summer, and like how he’d usually spent it with his family, nothing should’ve changed.
Yuuta stood under the covered porch of their family’s countryside home, the chimes swinging at every wind passing by between them. Toge sat on the steps just below him, arms loosely wrapped around his knees, damp sneakers muddying the concrete.
They hadn’t spoken in ten minutes but just the sound of crickets and the occasional tap of water dripping from the roof.
Then Toge turned, looking at where Yuuta was.
His purple eyes—soft, innocent, and vulnerable.
Then, his hands moved.
I like you.
The boy, nine years younger than him, smiled—nervous, shy, and tried to speak too.
“I… like… you.” His voice was soft, halting and unpolished from disuse, but earnest.
Yuuta’s expression changed—something subtle, maybe disbelief or maybe fear.
“I—I can’t.”
Toge's smile faltered.
“You are my brother’s best friend.”
He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t sound cruel. But the words landed heavy.
Toge blinked. His eyes flicked to Yuuta’s mouth, reading every word like the fine print on a bottle of poison—syllables strung together like corrosive chemicals, lethal warnings disguised as language. Each shape of his lips felt like it could blister, burn, or kill him.
He was so good at reading lips—but for once, he wished he couldn’t.
“I’m sorry.”
The boy, who already looked small, even curled himself into the fabric of his jeans.
The porch light buzzed faintly.
A cicada cried somewhere in the dark.
Or maybe it was the soft, trembling heart of a twenty one year old—yearning quietly for a man nine years older, and impossibly out of reach.
Yuuta never dreamed of something grand. All he ever wanted was to make his parents proud—to prove he was worth something.
As soon as he came in, his eyes saw the house was a mess of footsteps and voices.
He could hear several doors slammed and shoes scraped against their shining marble tiles. And somewhere upstairs, his mother shouted for the car. Then, his eyes drifted down in the main hall, two maids ran past each other with towels, water bottles, and a medical bag—one of them dropped something but didn’t stop to pick it up.
Yuuta stood in the middle of it all, a letter in his hand.
Congratulations!
You have been accepted into—
His university admission letter.
Yuuta turned just in time to see his father carrying Daichi down the stairs—his younger brother, arms curled, fingers digging into his shirt, sobbing like something invisible was strangling him.
His little brother’s face was red, mouth open in a soundless cry, and eyes filled with terror.
“Get the car!” their mother yelled. “He’s not breathing properly—move!”
It’s happening again. He thought their family had been able to get away from it—from the past, the accident and the trauma that it brought into scratching their perfect family.
A blur passed Yuuta, almost knocking the paper from his fingers.
He looked to the side. One of the older maids, Kuroi, had stopped near him. She was the only calm face in the storm.
Her eyes flicked to the letter. “Is that what I think it is?”
Yuuta opened his mouth, then closed it again. He just nodded.
Kuroi smiled gently. “I’m proud of you.”
But Yuuta’s eyes were still locked on the path his parents together with his brother walked through. They were gone now, only the faint sound of engines could be heard.
“He’ll be fine, right?”
Kuroi tapped his shoulders. “He will. They will take care of him.” Then she warmly added, “Come on, I’ll prepare your dinner. We could have some cakes too.”
Yuuta didn’t reply.
The letter crumpled slightly in his hand as he realized the house was quiet, empty but he’s used to it by now.
It happened one winter afternoon when Yuuta was fifteen and Daichi was only six. The family had taken a rare vacation to the countryside, hoping the change of scenery would be good for everyone—especially Daichi, who had wanted to build his own snowman.
Yuuta had been asked to watch over him.
It wasn’t anything new. He enjoyed taking care of his brother.
Their parents were out—shopping or maybe having their own intimate dinner in town and the maid had gone to clean the house a bit.
For a moment, it was just the two of them, playing by the frozen lake behind their vacation home.
Daichi had been laughing and clearly enjoying the crystal clear water in the river. Yuuta remembered that clearly—the sound of his little brother's giggle echoing off the trees.
And then—
A crack.
So small. Barely a sound and noticeable at all.
The ice beneath Daichi gave out before Yuuta could reach him.
The boy fell through, swallowed instantly by the frigid water. It wasn't deep, but the shock—the cold—was enough to send him into a panic. He was just six. He didn’t know what to do to keep himself afloat in the midst of it. Yuuta dropped to his knees, reaching, calling, tearing his hands open on the jagged ice trying to find his brother’s arms.
If it weren’t for one of the caretakers—he would’ve lost his brother.
Daichi survived.
But something in him didn’t return.
He didn’t speak again. Not even to cry.
The doctor said it was selective mutism triggered by trauma. But Yuuta didn’t care what it was called. All he could remember was the moment he had looked away—just for a second—and his brother disappeared into the ice. He almost lost him.
And for the first time, in years, Yuuta felt that if it came down to it, his parents would have saved Daichi instead of him
They never outright blamed Yuuta, but he could feel it. In their eyes, and in the way his name was no longer said with warmth for a few weeks after that incident. In how Daichi was always passed gently from hand to hand, while Yuuta was left on the periphery, too old to break but too young to carry guilt like that alone.
From then on, Yuuta stopped asking for anything.
He decided his life would belong to his brother—
even if it meant, giving him everything.
Daichi didn’t suffer any injuries. He didn't lose any limbs or bones but that day, it felt like he lost the will to use his voice. After some consultation, it was advised that his little brother— six —should try taking speech therapy.
Every afternoon, a woman would sit across from him with picture cards, her voice was soft, gentle in a way it’s soothing and her patience was endless.
But the sessions never reached Daichi. He’d stare at the floor, tug at his sleeves and when asked to repeat a word, his lips would press tighter.
To Yuuta, it was like taking a bullet right through his face. It felt like that accident hurt Daichi far deeper than it seems.
Did he lose all his faith to his brother that day? That no matter how many times he’d call for him—he would never be saved? Is that why after it, he never wants to speak again? To use his voice?
“Sometimes,” the doctor said, “We have to change the medium, not just the method. If Daichi does not wish to speak, then perhaps we can still give him a language.”
Three days a week, the family car would leave the driveway, carrying Daichi and one of their parents to a small community center an hour away. It wasn’t a hundred percent, but they would never want to miss a chance of it.
Daichi began taking sign language classes.
It took almost a month to see a difference. It wasn’t huge but to his parents it was everything they wished for and Yuuta too, deep down, he prayed for it more than anyone else.
When they got home, Daichi’s hands moved more than before, not speaking but shaping a word through his fingers and conveying its meanings through his movements. And slowly, so slowly, something in his eyes softened.
Yuuta noticed how quickly his parents adjusted. Books about sign language appeared on the coffee table, scribbled practice notes on the kitchen counter and their workers even began carrying flashcards in their aprons and eager to keep in their mind every time they’d learned a new sign.
“Everyone he interacts with should try to communicate this way.”
It worked. After three months, Daichi was signing phrases, sentences, with a smile on his face.
Yuuta learned too, of course, he had to.
But it was never about himself. It was about making sure Daichi never felt the kind of silence he had once left him in.
At twenty nine, Yuuta is already making a name in the advertising company that he works at.
He had graduated at the top of his class, breaking records in his final year with project scores that professors still used as examples for their students. His internship at one of the most competitive advertising firms in the city had ended with an offer letter on his desk before the term was over—a job he accepted without hesitation.
In the years since, he had risen quickly. He was only twenty seven when he got the position—a general manager—still young but he made sure the people around him would never have a chance to use it against him. His colleagues admire him, his relentless hours and the way his decisions in everything were always calculated and with clarity. They called him a workaholic but they also listened when he spoke.
The elevator doors opened to the twenty-third floor, and Yuuta adjusted his glasses as he stepped into the familiar hallway to his office. His secretary, Nobara, was already waiting, a tablet in her hands and her same old uptight smile on her face.
“Morning,” She greeted, dryly, “You’ve got a meeting with the design team, two contract signings before lunch and a video call with the Singapore investors at three.”
They passed by a row of cubicles where a few people called out polite greetings for him. Yuuta nodded back, but his mind was already mapping the hours ahead.
“And the papers?”
Nobara answers, “Already on your desk.”
And before Yuuta could even reach his large frame door. “And one more thing,” Nobara added, “The new batch of interns will have orientation today. Do you want to stop by and greet them?”
Yuuta glanced at her. “Do I have to?”
“Most of them are from your alma mater.”
A faint curiosity lit in his head. “I’ll drop by later.”
The morning meeting with their design team ran long with all the revisions they need to do for their proposals. A lot of big projects lining up this year. He left one conference room only to step into another for contract signings, smiles for the photographs, polite nods to the legal department, and the scratch of pens against thick paper.
When he finally stepped back into his office, Nobara’s voice followed him in from the doorway. “The orientation starts at twenty.”
He nodded, straightened his tie, and made his way down.
When Yuuta stepped off the elevator, the lobby outside the conference hall was already fillef with fresh faces. He couldn’t help but to remember he used to be in that place.
A neat line of interns waited with their name tags, some talking nervously, others staring straight ahead like they were bracing for an exam.
He barely glanced at them—until one head caught his eye. The silver hair and the way the nape curved into the collar.
The heat of summer flashed in his mind. A wooden pier. The countless summers they’ve spent together all because he was a dear friend to his brother.
Then the sound of rain, heavy, pounding. Cicadas, loud and striking.
A heart beat.
A smile that hadn’t reached the eyes.
Toge met Daichi at the community center where they learned sign language together. They were children, both six.
Yuuta remembered the first time Daichi had signed his name, hands moving with clumsy excitement. A friend he’d signed after, grinning so wide Yuuta thought it might split his cheeks. Toge had been partially deaf—able to speak faintly, able to hear faintly but he wanted to learn sign language for his parents and that was enough for Daichi to adore him instantly.
And for their parents to welcome him into the house like he was a missing piece they hadn’t known they needed.
And Yuuta too, learned to cherish him, because he was just like a kid, just like his brother, trying to learn a language to break down the walls that separates him from his parents.
“Toge?”
He didn’t mean to say it aloud, but the name slipped out, just loud enough for the nearest people to hear. The trainer paused mid sentence, and a few interns looked at him.
Toge looked over his shoulder, and their eyes met. No surprise across his face—only recognition, and familiarity painted in his eyes.
Nobara chimes in. “You know each other?”
Yuuta opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Toge nodded once, slow.
The trainer, Maki, clapped her hands together. “Good. You’ll be assigned under his team, Toge.”
Yuuta felt the pull in his chest—like the summer heat had followed him here.
He sank into his couch, letting his tie hang loose around his neck. The city lights outside his apartment bled into the dimness of his room. Yuuta had forgotten that Toge enrolled in his alma mater. A strange choice, considering Daichi had never even considered it. His brother had chosen arts—canvas, paint, and sculpture over lectures and marketing strategies.
He sighed.
Yuuta had a gut feeling about Toge. That somewhere along the way, the boy had started holding on to him in way beyond the boundary. It was in the way Toge’s gaze stayed a second too long during summer breaks—the only time they could spend altogether in their vacation home for weeks.
Even the way Toge would light up—not at the room, not at the group but at him specifically.
But Yuuta never dwelled on it. It was just silly affection. He knew the boy was still young. It’d pass soon enough. He’s aware that people outgrow their childhood attachments—he’d seen it happen with friends, cousins, even Daichi.
Toge would get busy. He’d meet new people in the university, maybe travel, maybe fall for someone at his age.
Yuuta didn’t want to be the kind of man who encouraged something he had no intention of returning. And for years, he prayed for it to fade quietly.
But Toge surprised him.
A confession was just a confession. The words didn’t change him much—especially when Yuuta had long since decided not to accept them.
But what did stay in his mind now was how Toge seemed to be pulling further into his own world.
The next morning, Nobara was already at his desk, flipping through her tablet. “I made a few lists of what he can do for his internship.”
Yuuta nodded. “Okay. But there’s also a few things you should keep in mind about Toge.”
She looked up, pen ready.
“He can’t speak fully—it wears him out if he tries too much,” Yuuta said. “But he can hear, just faintly, so don’t bother raising your voice. It’s not about the volume.”
Nobara made a note. “Alright.”
“He reads lips,” Yuuta continued. “So you can talk to him normally, just slower than you would with most people. And let him choose how to communicate. Sometimes he’ll type on his phone, sometimes he’ll write it down. Don’t rush him.”
“Got it,” she said, scribbling again. “Anything else?”
“Nobara, just be patient with him, okay?” He sighed. “He’s not like the others.”
“Are you sure he’s just a family friend?”
Yuuta didn’t even look up from his monitor. “I’ve got a Zoom meeting in five minutes.”
And that was the end of it.
Yuuta pushed the glass door to his office, the silence of the floor greeted him. Most desks were empty, and the overhead lights dimmed but one cubicle seemed to catch his attention.
Toge sat there, his posture straight, blinking—his long eyelashes glow as his eyes fixed on the monitor. He didn’t look up when Yuuta closed the door behind him, not even at the faint click of the latch.
So he passed by, his steps heavier than they should’ve been. It was past eight. Whatever Nobara had handed Toge to work on should’ve been wrapped up hours ago. Then again—Yuuta remembered his own days as an intern, when impossible deadlines and endless revisions kept him glued to his desk long after everyone else had gone home.
He reached the elevator, thumb was hovering over the button and before he could press it, his feet betrayed him—turning, moving, and crossing the marble floor until the distance between the elevator and Toge’s desk vanished in a blink.
He gently tapped the corner of the desk.
Toge startled slightly, before he glanced up. His expression softened as he gave a polite bow in greeting.
Yuuta signed, Shouldn’t you go home?
Toge followed the shape of the words, then turned to glance at the tiny digital clock on the side of his monitor. His brows lifted faintly—surprised at the time. He signed back, I’m not finished yet.
Yuuta spoke this time, “Let’s go. I’ll take you home.”
Toge hesitated, shifting in his chair and fingers twitching toward another protest.
“Leave it. It’s getting late.” Yuuta said, not unkindly, but with enough finality to cut off refusal. “Come down with me.”
They rode in silence. The faint hum of the elevator filled the narrow space. Toge stood beside him, holding the strap of his shoulder bag and gaze fixed forward.
Yuuta’s own reflection stared back from the mirrored panel, but his thoughts were elsewhere—years back, to a night on the porch when Daichi had leaned over, smirking, and said he likes someone.
Not in the way you like a friend, but the way you keep them in your head, in your chest, until you can’t tell the difference between habit and want.
It wasn’t a new thought. It had been there for years. And now, standing next to Toge, Yuuta could almost hear Daichi’s voice again.
I like Toge.
Chapter 2: Chapter 2.
Summary:
“If you change your mind, just tell me,” Yuuta said. “Anything you want, it’s fine. I’m not being your boss right now but—”
He was cut off.
“Can’t you at least try dating me?”
Notes:
Hi.
There will be flashbacks coming in some chapters.
Also, may we enjoy the journey because this is slow burn.Have fun watching Yuuta go through it.
See you next week. 🫶
Chapter Text
Yuuta’s suitcase lay open on the bed, his clothes folded in neat stacks. His desk had already been cleared of files and things related to his university life.
A soft knock against his door. Daichi leaned in, one hand resting on the frame. “All packed?”
It had been years since Yuuta first heard that voice again—his little brother’s. He returned to speech therapy after the sign language classes that had given him another way to speak. But even then, Daichi had asked their parents to let Toge attend the same sessions. It was as if sharing the struggle made it bearable for a kid.
Yuuta was on the side, watching them grow and seeing his little brother slowly falling in love to the sound of his own voice again. The incident at the lake, on that snowy afternoon, was never spoken of—not even in passing.
“Almost done.”
Daichi stepped inside, perching on the edge of the bed. “I just can’t wrap my head around why you decided to move out. Our house is huge. You’ve got everything here.”
“I’m in my late twenties, Dai. I can’t just stay under the roof with my parents all my life.”
Yuuta decided to move out when he got his job. It wasn’t hard to get his parent’s approval. It seems like they had expected it, even earlier than he had planned for it.
But moving out may have been also a way to put a few more walls and distance to something he could barely admit to himself.
“Uh, whatever. At least you will still be with us during summer. Your girlfriend’s not too bossy, huh?”
Yuuta laughed. “She’s not because she doesn’t exist.”
Daichi booed him. His little brother always teased him about his non-existent girlfriend. That, the reason he moved out was that his cringey ass fell in love with a girl his age. Cliche drama, but it’s been used for years.
“This summer’s gonna be fun.”
“You’re looking forward to it,” Yuuta said, half-amused.
“Of course. But I think Toge’s even more excited than I am.”
Every year, without fail, the family would escape to the villa. The place had everything: a pool that caught the sun just right, a stretch of private beach, jet skis, and old canoes stacked by the dock.
And, like every year since they were children, Toge would be there too.
Their mom busied herself in the kitchen as soon as they arrived in the villa. Their father had already taken command of the grill outside, a drink in hand as the coals hissed under the first drops of fat.
Then, came the sound of an engine. Yuuta knew it was one of their family cars. The one Toge usually rode in.
Daichi was off his side in a heartbeat, sneakers kicking up sand as he bolted toward the driveway. Yuuta turned and catched the exact moment his little brother slowed to a stop, hands planted on his hips, grinning wide.
The car door opened. Toge stepped out, pausing to bow slightly in thanks to the driver before closing the door. The late sun caught the pale strands of his hair, making him look almost out of place against the warm orange sky.
And then—before Daichi could even close the gap—Toge’s eyes found Yuuta’s.
It was brief. It was nothing but just a look. But Yuuta felt it root him to the spot, his chest tightens with something else, something entirely he wasn’t sure about.
It felt like Toge was no longer the kid he watched grow together with his brother.
Toge finally shifted his gaze, walking the rest of the way to Daichi. His friend clapped a hand on his shoulder, offering to take his bag. Toge let him—then slipped free almost immediately, and darted toward Yuuta in a sudden rush.
Yuuta barely had time to brace before Toge’s arms were around him.
It wasn’t the first time. This happens every summer. A greeting, a warm hug, a familiarity between them. Yuuta treated him like an addition to their family.
But this time, as Toge’s head pressed just under his chin, his soft breathing coming close to him, Yuuta felt aware—like the moment had edges now, sharper than before.
His mother’s voice snapped him out, cheerful, “Boys! Food’s ready!”
Daichi reappeared on the porch a moment later, having dropped Toge’s bag off in the guest room. He tapped Toge’s shoulder and signed, Come on. Let’s eat.
Yuuta was still planted where Toge had left him, the ghost of that embrace stayed in his arms. It wasn’t the first hug. It wasn’t anything new. And yet it felt like he was the only one standing here trying to make sense of it. Everyone else had seen it—his parents, Daichi—and no one had reacted. Just Yuuta, stuck with this while the world moved on.
Toge took the seat across from Yuuta, with Daichi next to him. While their mother settled at Yuuta’s side, already ladling soup into bowls.
The talk started light—Daichi sharing his preparations for his upcoming gallery exhibit, his hands moving easily in sign, his voice slipping in here and there.
“That’s great. It’s going smoothly, my son.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Toge signs, he’s really doing his best.
The table was lively, filled with stories from last summer, jokes that had been told before but somehow got funnier with time. The sign language wove into their chatter without a hitch and everyone kept pace until a phrase moved too fast for their parents to follow.
“Mom,” Yuuta came in naturally, “Toge’s saying your mango salad’s better than last year’s.”
Daichi laughed, but also agreed. Toge’s smile faltered just a fraction, and a worry in his eyes as if he thought he’d been too blunt—but he didn’t mean any harm and they all knew it.
I’m sorry, Ma’am. What I mean is—
“It’s Mom, Toge, not Ma’am.”
This was how summers usually went—lively, easy, as if they’d all been made to sit at the same table, in the same sunlight, year after year.
Yuuta then noticed the platter of steamed crab set down near his mother. Without thinking, he reached for it, breaking off a portion and setting it on Toge’s plate. Not a word, not a glance—it was simply instinct, the way you move to turn on a light in the dark.
Toge looked up, his purple eyes meeting Yuuta’s, and in a voice small and soft, he murmured, “Thanks.”
He knew it was his favorite.
And it all comes naturally.
Yuuta sat under the shade of the umbrella, the heat from the sand still seeping up through the chair.
Out on the shore, Daichi and Toge were half buried in their latest project—building a lopsided wall of wet sand around their father, who lay grinning in defeat, his arms sticking out like a stranded castaway.
“Why don’t you go play with them?” his mother said as she lowered herself into the chair beside him, brushing stray sand from her skirt.
“I’m too old for that,” Yuuta said, leaning back and folding his arms.
“But apparently too young to get married?”
He groaned softly. “Not this again.”
It wasn’t new. For the past years, his parents had been nudging him—sometimes gently, sometimes not so gently toward the idea of settling down. They even went as far as arranging blind dates under the guise of casual dinners, family gatherings that somehow always included their friends’ daughters.
She’s your age.
I think you might be compatible with each other.
She graduated with a degree.
“Look, it’s just not on my mind right now,” he said, eyes fixed on the shore.
“Yuuta,” his mother began, “we weren’t perfect, but we tried to raise you both and give you the life you deserved. I admit we were harsh with you back then.”
He glanced at her briefly, but said nothing. It had been years—over a decade since those days—and he’d long since made his peace with it. The memories had dulled, they no longer hurt him.
“Daichi got over it too.” she went on. “Look how he can play with oceans, pools and whatever happened back then he’s forgotten about it already. You don’t have to keep blaming yourself for it.”
“Thanks, Mom. I appreciate it.”
His mother hummed, “So, if you’re still worried about him, you don’t have to be. He’s grown. And he has Toge now. It’s like he’s found another brother.”
Something in Yuuta’s expression twitched—small, almost nothing, but enough for him to feel it. A ripple under the surface, one he didn’t quite understand.
He nodded once, maybe too quickly, and turned his gaze back to the ocean.
Toge’s world began in silence. His mother was mute, his father was deaf—their conversations made of gestures, touches, glances. It was hereditary, but unlike many who grew up in quiet, Toge loved noise. He collected it in small ways: music from an old radio, the sound of rain on the roof, the pop of fireworks in summer. He learned to play the piano, watched films with subtitles but listened to the swell of their soundtracks, and kept a shelf lined with cassette tapes.
The community center had been his bridge to all of it. They gave him space, tools, and teachers who didn’t mind repeating themselves. He was small then, wide-eyed, with a heart that wanted to understand every noise the world could only offer to him. Yuuta hadn’t even thought twice before stepping in to help too.
A light was still on in the sala as Yuuta came down the stairs. He made for the kitchen first, filling a glass of water, before turning and spotting Toge sitting at a couch, laptop on his lap and big gray headphones—the one he had gifted him on his birthday sat over his ears.
Yuuta stepped closer and tapped the edge of the table.
Toge’s eyes fell to his hand first, then rose slowly, calmly. He slipped the headphones off, and the faint trace of music bled into the air.
Yuuta signs, Why are you still awake?
Toge signs back, I can’t sleep. He set the laptop aside and gave Yuuta a space on the couch. His purple eyes looked soft, but also awake, like he never thought of getting a wink of sleep.
Yuuta took a seat next to him. “You were watching?”
Toge shakes his head, and briefly glances at his laptop before he answers, I was doing my letter for internship.
Yuuta knew Toge studied hard—he’d seen it in the way the boy always tucked himself in corners with his books. Still, it had surprised him the day Toge came for advice about university. Not just any university—but his alma mater. Yuuta had thought for sure he’d follow Daichi into art school but he didn’t.
Maybe he had been wrong to think Toge couldn’t decide for himself. And it only dawned on him that day that they weren’t those kids playing barefoot outside anymore.
Do you want me to help you? Yuuta signed.
Toge’s eyes lit up. Would you?
It was such a simple look—bright, expectant—but Yuuta found himself caught on the fine edges of it. Toge was pretty, his soft platinum hair, his lavender eyes, gentle and enticing, and also his determination that sharpened his soft features.
“You can always ask me to help,” Yuuta said. “I’d never decline.”
In his mind, it was easy to reason why—this was his way of giving something back. For the way Toge helped pull Daichi out of the shadow he’d been in for so long.
Yuuta took the laptop, setting it on top of a pillow across his lap. Toge shifted closer to him without hesitation, their arms brushing and shoulders pressing together. It didn’t feel wrong but just warm, familiar, like it had always been this way.
“Have you decided which company?”
Toge leaned in, whispered, “Secret.”
Yuuta huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Cheeky.”
Toge inched even nearer, until his chin rested lightly on Yuuta’s shoulder. And Yuuta—without thinking, without knowing why—lowered that shoulder just enough to let him stay there. He kept his breathing so careful, as though moving too much might break whatever this was.
That night, Yuuta never did learn where Toge would send his letter. But he found an answer to a question he’d never realized was waiting for him.
There were several projects for advertisements and photoshoots stacked on his desk. Yuuta had long been called a workaholic—not just because he stayed in the office late, but because he checked every angle, every line, every cost, making sure it was truly worth the company’s time and money.
Yuuta sat behind his desk, glasses low on the bridge of his nose, his blue eyes reading the latest proposals for a sports advertising campaign that he barely registered the knock on his door.
“Come in,” he called, not looking up—expecting Nobara to stride in with her usual brisk energy.
Instead, a cup of coffee landed quietly on his desk. Then grey slacks and black leather pointed shoes. Nothing Nobara would ever be caught dead wearing.
Yuuta looked up—and there was Toge. He was dressed neatly, a white shirt tucked in, tie straight, and soft striking platinum hair. He smelled faintly of something fresh and sweet.
It had been two weeks since Toge started his internship here. Two weeks of occasional glances from across the open floor of Nobara stopping by to tell him how his family friend was doing so well. He didn’t need to know but Yuuta finds himself listening and almost looking forward to the news of it everyday.
Is that for me? Yuuta signed, raising his eyebrow.
Toge nodded, before he signed back, Who else?
Yuuta slid off his glasses, “That’s not part of your job here.”
“I finished my task,” Toge said, then he continued with his signs, I asked Nobara if there was anything else I could do. But if you don’t like it, I’ll take it back. His hands moved slower this time, and pout forming without him meaning to.
Yuuta looked at him—longer than he should have. The small downturn of Toge’s lips, the subtle drop in his shoulders tugged the strings in Yuuta’s heart. And that he didn’t exactly want his effort to go to waste.
Although, at the back of his mind, he knew this was one of Nobara’s ways tricking him behind his back.
“Just leave it here then.”
The rain had been nonstop pouring for an hour, falling against the roof of the building and pooling in the parking lot. Yuuta maneuvered his car out of his space, wipers swiping in smoothly when he caught sight of a lone figure near the entrance.
Toge stood there, hands slightly outstretched, watching the raindrops land in his palms as if measuring each one. There was no umbrella, no rush—but just the look of fascination.
Yuuta didn’t think about it. His hands turned the wheel, guiding the car toward him. He didn’t honk, but just lowered the window and signed, Get in.
Toge was surprised, gave him a polite bow then shook his head as he signed back, The rain will pass soon.
Yuuta opened his door and stepped out, not caring as the rain seeped through his hair and shirt in seconds. He spoke slowly, his words clear enough for Toge to read, “We’ll get both soaked if you don’t get in.”
The look on Yuuta’s face—he wasn’t bluffing. He’d stand there all night if he had to. And so realizing that, Toge hurriedly made his way to the passenger side.
Once they were both inside, Yuuta shut the door and, without looking over, said, “Seatbelt.”
Toge clicked it into place, then leaned over without warning, a blue handkerchief in his hand. He began patting at Yuuta’s damp hair, wiping the drops from his neck carefully and gently.
“Sorry,” he murmured, just loud enough for Yuuta to catch.
Eyes still on the road, Yuuta replied, “I wouldn’t die from it.” He sighed, before he added, “But next time, it would help me if you weren’t being stubborn.”
When he glanced sideways, he added a small smile—just enough so Toge wouldn’t feel bad.
Toge was always kind, soft, gentle like a stray cat that lingered at the edge of your porch—not demanding, just waiting, trusting you little by little.
“Go wipe yourself too,”
Toge gave a quick nod and settled back into his seat.
At the next red light, he stole a quick glance. Toge was still dabbing at his hair, lashes low, flushed cheeks. Something about the image—the way the streetlight framed his face, the droplets still clinging to his skin—made Yuuta’s chest tighten for reasons he didn’t want to name.
The light turned green. Yuuta cleared his throat, almost too quickly. “We can grab something warm to eat on the way.”
He could see at his periphery that Toge had declined, shaking his head.
“You’re not hungry?”
Toge replies this time, “It’s late.”
There were still thirty minutes left to drive. Yuuta wasn’t hungry either, but the thought of a warm soup or hot chocolate right now—maybe it would help a little after being out in the rain. But maybe Toge just wanted to hurry home and this enclosed space wasn’t something he wanted tonight.
“If you change your mind, just tell me,” Yuuta said. “Anything you want, it’s fine. I’m not being your boss right now but—”
He was cut off.
“Can’t you at least try dating me?”
Seven words.
It was rare for Toge to use his voice in long sentences. Usually, his words were short, small, direct—chosen carefully because speaking often scratched his throat. It hurt him, like needles poking deep under his skin, Toge once said.
Yuuta sat frozen, the weight of those seven words hanging in between them. For two seconds, three, maybe even five, he couldn’t breathe. His mind scrambled for a response, but his heart pounded too loud, drowning out any calm thought. He even wished, silently, that he hadn’t heard it so clearly. He wished those words hadn’t existed between them like a deep wound.
When he finally found his strength, “I told you I can’t.”
“Just because I’m Daichi’s friend? I don’t understand. What does being Daichi’s friend have to do with anything?”
“Toge, stop it,” Yuuta said, “I know it’s hurting your throat.”
“Do I have to stop.being friends with Daichi?”Toge pressed on, “Stop hanging out and being close to your family?”
“You know you shouldn’t be using your voice so much. It would hurt you—”
“It’s not my throat that’s hurting right now,” Toge answered sharply.
“You’ll find someone else.”
Toge sighed, “I can’t just like someone else. I like y—”
Yuuta turned off the highway, steering onto a quieter road where the sound of rushing cars faded away. He stopped the car, heart heavy, and turned to face the boy sitting beside him.
He signed slowly, eyes locked on Toge’s, Stop this.
Toge’s hands trembled as he signed back. Why?
Yuuta’s eyes never left Toge. The word echoed in his mind, stirring memories he hadn’t allowed himself to fully face.
He saw flashes of their childhood—the way Daichi’s eyes would light up whenever he talked about Toge, how earnestly and admiringly he’d describe his friend—the boy with soft silver hair and a stubborn smile, the boy who had helped pull Daichi back from silence.
He saw it, everything, all of it. He was there when it all happened. And he remembers every bit of it.
Toge’s hands moved again, How can you say you can’t if you haven’t even tried yet?
Yuuta blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “What?”
“Try dating me at least for a month. You’re only saying this because you think I’m still the same kid you met—”
Yuuta sighed, the frustration and helplessness mixing in his chest. “Toge, please just use your hands. Give me signs. I can read you. I understand you.”
But Toge was stubborn, “That’s the thing. I make you understand me,” tapping his chest, he continued, “But you never let me understand you.”
Yuuta’s jaw tightened. He’d always prided himself on keeping things neat—lines drawn, boundaries clear. But staring at Toge now, with those unflinching purple eyes and that stubborn tilt to his chin, he felt the ground shift under him.
“Just four weeks.”
Yuuta turned his gaze to the windshield as if the streaks of rain could answer for him. “No.”
“Then, just three? After that, I’ll stop. I won’t bother you anymore.”
Yuuta’s hand came up, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. He didn’t like the word stop. It carried an ending he wasn’t ready to name. Toge had been around for as long as he could remember, woven into the fabric of his family like a familiar old quilt—something warm, always there, always part of the picture. He didn’t think about what it would mean to lose that, to lose him, until the possibility sat right here in the passenger seat, looking at him with damp hair and an expression he couldn’t bear.
He treasured his family, so much even if it meant sacrificing his own wants. That’s why Daichi mattered in this—because his little brother’s trust wasn’t something you gambled with.
And hurting Toge wasn’t something he could stomach either.
The idea of being the one to put that look of disappointment on his face—it felt wrong in a way he couldn’t put into words.
He told himself it was better to keep things where they were—safer. But as he sat there, rain falling down and drowning out the sounds of his heart, he realized that maybe the real fear wasn’t just hurting Daichi or Toge.
“Two,” Yuuta said, “Just two weeks.”
Maybe it was losing something he never thought he wanted until now.
Chapter 3: Chapter 3.
Summary:
Yuuta knew he would never have something real with Toge, not in the way the boy might want, not in the way he sometimes feared he himself might want.
Notes:
hello.
tags will be updated as we go on hehe.
if yuuta is confusing you now there’s more to come like i always say, we go through it all together <3see you!
Chapter Text
Monday came. And nothing really changed much.
Or maybe that was because Yuuta had spent a whole day with meetings—an especially long one today with investors. His head still buzzed with numbers and questions they’d thrown at him. He’d smiled through it all, but by the time he was behind the wheel, ferrying Toge home, all he wanted was this kind of silence.
He spent the whole weekend thinking about what they had decided that day. He was going to take it back—he was sure.
Toge cleared his throat. “Can I have your number?”
Yuuta glanced sideways. The words were simple but oddly heavy. It hit him then—despite everything, despite the summers they’d spent together as kids, they’d never had that kind of personal connection. So how could Toge like him?
How could he claim that so easily?
Toge’s voice came again, softer, hoarse enough that Yuuta almost winced hearing it. “But if you don’t want—”
“Save your voice,” Yuuta says, “I know it’s hurting right now.”
He pulled over and reached back without looking. He took a small paper bag from the seat behind and placed it on Toge’s lap.
Then, Yuuta stretched his hand, “I’ll save my number to your phone.”
It wasn’t just the rasp in Toge’s voice—it was the memory of how he’d once described it: like needles scraping deep inside, tearing at his throat. The way he’d swallowed between words as if forcing them out. Yuuta didn’t want to hear that again, and didn't want to let him get hurt for something as trivial as exchanging numbers.
When Toge finally peeked into the bag, his brows lifted slightly—inside was a bottle of cough syrup.
Toge’s hands moved, Thank you.
Yuuta only nodded, eyes alreadyon the road because he wasn’t sure what might slip onto his face if he looked too long.
“Drink it and get some rest.”
But Toge tapped his forearm to get his attention, Can I call you?
And contrary to how his fingers looked so determined, Toge’is cheeks were touched with a faint, uneven flush, the kind that made his pale skin stand out even more.
How could Toge like him? He’d never given him anything to hold on to—not really. All they’d had was summer spent together and yet, here he was, sitting with those lavender eyes watching him and expecting him to accept his every affection.
Before he could think better of it, Yuuta’s hand moved, fingers sinking into the warmth of Toge’s hair. He ruffled it gently, signing with his free hand, Don’t be stubborn. Just get some rest and we’ll talk tomorrow.
Toge’s mouth parted, like he might rebut—
“I’m trying to be the caring partner here. So listen to me, will you?” Yuuta said, the words slipping out before his brain caught up.
It felt strange. Foreign on his tongue. But somehow, it didn’t repulse him. If anything, there was a small part of him that didn’t want to take it back.
Tuesday morning, Yuuta’s phone buzzed before he’d even put his tie on.
Strawberry, red bean, or cream?
He stared at the message, still half-asleep, trying to make sense of it. No greeting. No context.
Red bean.
The reply came fast—like Toge had been holding his phone all morning just for this.
Okay! See you in the office.
They hadn’t set any rules for this two-week arrangement. No discussions about morning rides or lunch breaks or how often they should talk. But Yuuta guessed from the message that Toge didn’t want him picking him up today.
Maybe he preferred keeping the mornings to himself.
When Yuuta arrived at the office, the first thing he did was glance toward Toge’s cubicle. He was surprised to see it empty.
But before he could even ask, Nobara spoke without looking up from her screen. “All interns are in a meeting right now.”
Yuuta gave a small nod, feigning indifference as he walked toward his office door. But there was a relief curling in his chest—that he hadn’t made the wrong call this morning.
Or
maybe it would’ve been better if he’d picked Toge up anyway. Just to make sure. Just to see him in early minutes before the day got loud. It wasn’t about worrying, he told himself—it would simply be the more considerate choice. The responsible choice. That way, he wouldn’t have to rely on stray texts or hope Toge was fine on his own.
He pressed his lips together, almost as if saying it in his head made it truer.
Yuuta sighed heavily and almost alarmed Nobara.
“Is there something wrong, sir?”
He shakes his hand, and even waved his hand as dismissal. Yuuta then twists the doorknob to his office. He loosened his tie and set his bag down, when he noticed something.
There, on the corner of his desk, was a small paper bag.
Inside was a neatly wrapped red bean sandwich. And a sticky note, written in neat handwriting that looked almost too careful.
Good morning, handsome!
It was Toge’s handwriting.
Wednesday came with another strange text from Toge.
Grilled chicken, pasta, or fish fillet?
Yuuta stared at the message for a moment before slipping his phone into his pocket without replying. Instead, he grabbed a pen and ripped off a sticky note he hadn’t tried using and stepped out of his office.
When he reached Toge’s desk, he set down a folded note in front of him and walked off without a word.
Come down, after me. Let’s eat together.
They ended up in a small, quiet restaurant about twenty minutes away from the office.
Toge, sitting across from him, signed, So which one do you want?
“You’re still thinking about that?” Yuuta glanced at the menu. “Quit sending me strange texts like that, just ask me to eat lunch with you.”
But you might be busy. Toge smiled, small, shy but, fingers kept moving then, I was worried you’d starve.
Yuuta scoffed, leaning back. “Thanks but I’m not gonna let my partner who is still in university buy me lunch.” He lifts his hand, getting the attention of the server. “I appreciate the thought, though.”
Toge chuckled, softly, You look like the type who skips meals when busy.
“That’s rich, coming from someone who once survived on cup ramen for a week.”
Toge’s jaw dropped, How did you—that was for research! he signed.
“On what? How fast can you ruin your health?”
Toge rolled his eyes but the corners of his mouth twitched upward. I’m perfectly fine!
Yuuta smiled at him before he glanced up when the server approached. “One grilled chicken for me, teriyaki sauce, and one side vegetables.” He paused, then looked toward Toge. “And for him, chicken katsu curry. Extra spicy. Iced tea, less ice please.”
The server scribbled, gave a polite nod, and left.
Toge signed, That’s impressive. You knew what I’d order
“I knew what you were going to get the second you opened the menu. That’s the only spicy dish they have.”
Yuuta had barely touched his own plate when he noticed it—Toge eating at that same pace he’d always had. Small bites, slow chews, pausing just long enough to sip his drink between them.
It was the same as when they were younger—how Toge always saved the best bite for last, how he would push away stray grains of rice toward the middle of the bowl before eating them. A habit Yuuta had teased him about once, but secretly found neat—actually, adorable.
Thne, he realized he was watching more closely than he meant to. The way Toge’s fingers curled around his spoon was the same, the way his gaze would flick up briefly between bites like he was checking if Yuuta was still there.
And somehow, those small habits made Yuuta feel like he’d been paying attention to Toge far more than he ever realized.
“You’re staring,” Toge whispered.
Yuuta smiled. “You eat like a chipmunk.”
Toge looked briefly at his plate before he signed, That’s not a compliment, isn’t it?
Yuuta chuckled. “Depends on how you’ll take it.”
Before Toge could respond to that, Yuuta reached forward, his thumb brushing at the corner of Toge’s mouth. A curry sauce came away on his skin, and he wiped it neatly on a napkin without thinking.
Toge a bit surprised, but still got the bold blood in him, Just say you find me cute.
For a moment, Yuuta simply stared, his hands rested on his lap. The words stayed between them like something he wasn’t sure he should touch. And yet, as he looked at Toge—those bright, clear amethyst eyes framed by lashes too long for someone so stubborn, with the faint flush warming his cheeks—Yuuta couldn’t help but think Maybe cute isn’t even enough for him.
“I do,” he said at last.
Yuuta realized he was more aware of Toge in the office than he had any right to be.
It’s Thursday and Nobara happened to catch him in the act.
“You’ve been walking around five times already.” She said dryly, “You wanna mop the floor or what? All interns were called back to their schools for a day of reporting.”
Ah, made sense, Yuuta thought, as he hadn’t happened to catch someone in his periphery moving in that certain cubicle.
If Nobara hadn’t said anything, Yuuta wouldn’t have known. Toge hadn’t mentioned it—not in person, not over text. All Yuuta had gotten was a simple Good morning hours ago, which he’d replied to in kind. And that had been it.
He could’ve asked where he was. He could’ve checked in but he decided not to.
And maybe that was why, by evening, his phone remained quiet, and he convinced himself he had no reason to be bothered by it. If Toge wasn’t reaching out, then why should he? He told himself this again and again, yet the thought of him felt like a song stuck in the back of his mind—persistent, irritating, and impossible to fully shake off.
Hours later, with his hair still damp from the shower, Yuuta tried to recall what exactly had happened that day at work. He couldn’t. The details slipped from him too easily. But when his phone rang, he moved faster than he meant to.
His heart jumped—not because of who it was, he told himself—but because the sound startled him.
That was all.
Can we FaceTime?
It was Toge.
Before Yuuta could even type out a reply, the screen lit up with an incoming FaceTime request.
The call connected, and Toge’s face appeared—only for his eyes to widen and his head to snap to the side. You didn’t tell me you were showering! He signed quickly with one hand.
Yuuta chuckled, with damp hair dripping against his temples, the grey robe loose over his shoulders and chest. “You called before I could reply.”
Toge kept his gaze stubbornly fixed somewhere off-screen, raising a single hand again. But you picked it up!
Yuuta grabbed a shirt still laughing under his breath. “Hold on.”
A moment later, he lay down on his bed, propped up on one forearm, the phone tilted so that his smirk was impossible to miss. Toge, meanwhile, still wasn’t looking at him directly.
“I didn’t know you want to see me showering.”
That got Toge to look up—flustered, cheeks red, but his glare trying hard to mask it. You should’ve told me you were done changing!
Yuuta only laughed again, taking in how Toge’s hair was neatly brushed, and how the shirt he was wearing had a tiny onigiri pattern printed across the chest. He then used his free hand to sign, Why did you want to FaceTime?
It’s only been a day since they’d last spoken in person, but for some reason, it felt longer. Maybe it was that he’s getting used to this—Toge’s presence, his warmth, his affection that he hadn’t thought would be this close to him. Without thinking, Yuuta’s eyes traced the line of Toge’s eyebrows, the slope of his nose, down to where his lips pressed together in thought.
Then—
Because I want to see your face, Toge signed.
Yuuta blinked, realizing then that it wasn’t just him—that somewhere between yesterday and this call, Toge also had been looking for him.
The streets toward Toge’s neighborhood had become second nature by now—the curve past the park, the long stretch under the pale orange streetlights, and the turn where the asphalt dipped just slightly.
At first, Yuuta hadn’t thought much of this two-week request.
But by Friday evening, it felt like there was a ticking time bomb inside his chest. He wondered what would happen after this? What about when these rides would stop, when there would be no Toge in the passenger seat, no exchanged messages and calls, what then?
Yuuta knew he would never have something real with Toge, not in the way the boy might want, not in the way he sometimes feared he himself might want.
And yet, the idea of losing this—
a tap on his forearm pulled him out of his head.
It was green light. Yuuta glanced over, and Toge was already signing, Tomorrow we’ll have our presentation.
I know, Yuuta replied through his hand, It’s being held in the conference hall, right?
Toge looked at him, Will you be there?
The light turned red this time. “Well, all employees aren’t required to come on Saturday,” He flicked his eyes toward Toge, before he continued, “Do you want me to come?”
He kept driving, thinking about the silence it followed. Then Yuuta heard faint taps against something else.
A robotic voice from Toge’s phone said, Not really. But I’d like to ask for a prize if I get a high score.
“Sure,” Yuuta said, lips still curved. “What is it?”
It wasn’t anything new for him to play along. Back then, when Daichi and Toge would sit at his place to study, Yuuta would set his gaming consoles as prizes—whoever scored highest on the quizzes got the strongest character in the game.
Their afternoons used to be that silly, no thought about the world or how much their thumbs hurt from pressing buttons too long.
From Toge’s phone came a flat voice agakn, Can I request two?
Yuuta nodded, still smiling. “As long as you think I could give it to you.”
This time, it wasn’t the phone. It was Toge’s real voice—soft and earnest, “You’re the only one who can.”
“Yeah?” Yuuta replied, the corner of his mouth tugging upward again. He could still see it—how Toge’s face would brighten whenever he beat Daichi, grinning like he’d just won something that mattered more than a lottery ticket.
Then the phone’s voice returned, emotionless but clear, Let’s go on a date on Sunday and you’d call me an endearment.
Yuuta stood with his arms crossed at the back of the conference hall. His pale blue eyes glued on the stage, when a distinctly grumpy noise came from his left.
“Ms. Kugisaki,” he said without looking over, “you weren’t required to come.”
“Oh, please.” Nobara rolled her eyes, already striding up beside him in her clicking heels. “How do you think I’d react if I woke up to my boss calling me at eight in the morning, asking which conference hall they’re holding the advertisement presentation in? You think I could just answer you and go back to sleep?”
Yuuta’s mouth curled into a laugh, still facing the front. “Let’s count this as your overtime.”
Nobara tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Sometimes you are my favorite boss.”
At the front, the trainer was explaining the rules. The interns, split into teams, were lined up in rows. Each group had been given an everyday item to advertise—some clutched props, others had presentation boards or devices for demos. They would pitch their product, explain their target platform, and convince the audience why theirs was the best.
“Actually, this isn’t so bad at all.”
Yuuta nodded. “I heard Maki just broke up with her ex. It’s your chance.”
Nobara scoffed. “I couldn’t be freed from the shackles of being housemates mates even after we graduated. That’s worse, you know?”
Is it?
It did sound familiar though—being close enough to someone that you couldn’t quite pull away, not even when you told yourself you should. The kind of bond that made you hesitate, that kept you tethered even when you weren’t sure where the line between friendship and something more had been crossed.
But he’s a family to me, Yuuta thought.
Nobara’s voice brought his senses back. “Were you saying something?”
Yuuta shook his head, trying to get rid of his thoughts too. “Can you check the catering I placed just this morning? It’s for the interns.”
“Alright. I shall do my overtime duties, then.”
As soon as Nobara left, Yuuta’s gaze came back on the stage. Toge walked alongside his teammates, his posture calm with the faintest tilt to his head as he carried a folded poster under one arm.
They welcomed Toge’s team with applause. Yuuta still arms crossed, slowly coming closer to some of the seats but still keeping his presence unknowwn to everyone.
Toge’s team’s prop was an absurdly large roll of toilet paper—sat on the presentation table like it was the guest of honor.
Yuuta felt a slight jump in his heart, like an anticipation or maybe he wondered how Toge must’ve felt right now? Is he thinking about the prize he wanted after this?
But the murmur from the audience caught his attention instead.
“Bet he won’t even say a word. Boring.”
“Good luck making that sound exciting.”
Toge didn’t flinch. He set down the folded poster he’d been carrying, opened it and began his part—signing smoothly while his teammate voiced the actions. They had clearly rehearsed this; the words matched the gestures almost perfectly. Toge even managed a wry smile when the other intern delivered a corny tagline about “softness worth fighting for.”
Yuuta told himself he was only watching to make sure all the teams got a fair shot. That it was just coincidence his gaze kept locking onto the easy tilt of Toge’s head, the way his hands moved with confidence.
Still, when another snicker through the back row—sharp, ugly, too aware—Yuuta’s grip on his forearms tightened.
“It figures they’d give that one to the deaf guy.”
“And that’s how you’d skip an advertisement.”
Toge could read lips. He’s always close to accuracy when it comes to it. He might’ve missed the tone of the words, but the syllables and their meanings—Toge would know them.
Yuuta’s jaw tightened. His eyes stayed fixed on the stage, but his mouth already betrayed him. “Not all advertisements need to be loud with sound.”
Several heads turned, and gasped. But the one he was looking intently and directly was Toge—only him and his stunning purple eyes.
Yuuta lifted his hand and continued, “Some of the best ads don’t rely on noise at all but only on visuals.” He said the words and signing them towards Toge. “But that doesn’t make them less appealing. Sometimes it makes them stronger. You remember them because of what you see, not what you hear.”
The whispers had stopped, but that didn’t change the fact that it reached Toge. Yuuta could tell by the slight twitch in his fingers, the way his gaze fixed on the floor before forcing itself back up.
He hated that look.
Toge was good at pretending things didn’t get to him. The boy could take a blow without flinching, but that didn’t mean it didn’t bruise.
“Besides, some people only notice what’s worth their attention when it’s quiet enough for them to actually pay attention.”
Yuuta twirled his car keys between his fingers as they crossed the short stretch to the parking lot. Toge’s team got the highest score. The presentation ended with Maki, their trainer, leaving some encouraging words if they wanted to pursue this industry.
In his periphery, he saw Toge’s hand moved beside him. Is that okay we left before we finish lunch?
“What else do you want to eat? We can just grab something on our way.”
Toge shook his head, slowing his steps. What I mean was, aren't we being rude to them?
Yuuta’s laugh came quick but shallow. He unlocked the car and swung the passenger door open. Toge, they were rude to you at first.
Before Yuuta could sign the rest, Toge’s fingers caught his wrist, stopping him and instead told him. They didn’t mean it and they said sorry.
Yuuta stared at him, just for a beat too long. Toge didn’t seem to notice, still holding the door like nothing in the world was wrong. He really was kind by nature—Yuuta had known that for years.
And maybe that’s why it scared him. Because if he ever hurt Toge—whether he meant to or not—he had a feeling it would stay with him longer than it should.
“Get inside the car. I’ll take you home.”
Yuuta started the engine, glancing at Toge out of the corner of his eye. “You looked so confident on the stage earlier.”
He didn’t get a reply, and instead, Toge reached over and smacked his forearm—not hard, but enough to make him chuckle.
“Hey! I’m complimenting you!”
Toge only raised his hand, fingers beginning to form a sign. It almost looked like he was panicking or running out of time.
But Yuuta had just begun steering into the main road. “Baby, I’m turning the car, I can’t read your signs—give me a second.”
In his periphery, he noticed Toge’s hand falter, then drop back into his lap. Then, silence, but just the sound of the breeze and their breathing.
By the time Yuuta straightened the wheel, curiosity got the better of him. “What were you saying?”
But he didn’t need an answer. The fraction of a second it took to see Toge was enough. From the tip of his ears to the slope of his neck, he was red—soft, warm, and completely unable to hide it.
Yuuta’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. He didn’t know why the sight settled so deeply in his chest, but it did.
“I’m keeping my promise.” He says, still driving, but attention was divided between his heart and rationality. “So, what kind of date do you want to have tomorrow?”
Sunday. The afternoon unfolded in shades of baby blue. Toge wore a loose cotton shirt in the color of clear skies, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and paired with soft cream shorts that showed the lean line of his legs.
The sunlight reflecting on the aquarium’s glass dome painted him in watery light, the kind that made Toge look like he belonged there like a goddess of the ocean.
Yuuta walked half a step behind, not because the crowds made it hard to keep up, but because watching Toge was its own kind of magic. The way his mauve eyes softened, mouth parting slightly as a manta ray glided past—it was like seeing him fall in love with the world in its small and quiet moments.
Toge leaned closer to the glass, both hands planted against it and completelt oblivious to the tiny kid who had toddled up beside him, equally enchanted.
And from somewhere nearby, a woman’s voice called, “Uiui, baby, don’t wander too far.”
Yuuta smiled, leaned in and whispered, “My baby can’t wander too much either.”
Toge turned to him with a small frown, raising his hands. I’m not a kid?!
“But you wanted me to call you baby,” Yuuta murmured, tilting his head.
“That’s not what I—” Toge began, using his voice this time, but he didn’t get far. Yuuta reached out, ruffling his soft platinum hair before he could finish.
“Come on,” he said gently, the corners of his lips curling. “Let’s go to the next hall.”
They roamed around, at their own pace. They drifted from one glowing hall to the next, clearly having the time of their lives. Toge’s face lit up seeing how jellyfish pulsed like living lanterns, across the glass. Yuuta trailed beside him, never straying far, but his attention caught less by the creatures in the water than by the way Toge’s eyes followed them.
They stopped for small breaks—a paper cup of ice cream shared between them, a bench where they sat side by side watching stingrays glide above. Toge’s legs swung lazily, the hem of his pale shorts brushing against his knees, while Yuuta rested his arm along the back of the bench, close enough to feel the warmth between them.
They walked without hurry, without a care in the world. Yuuta carried the small paper bag of souvenirs, while Toge held the last of their drinks, sipping slowly.
It wasn’t loud or dazzling, but there was a magic to it—like they were the only people in the world.
Yuuta couldn’t wipe off the smile on his face, remembering how Toge pouted when he couldn’t feed the penguin, and the way his eyes widened at the drifting jellyfish.
He carried all these images and Toge’s soft laugh all the way back to his apartment. But the moment he opened the door, it was like a tide pulling back, and stealing all the warmth with it.
Daichi was there, sitting on the sofa, a remote in his hand. It was like he didn’t mind waiting a long time. He had his usual boyish smile.
Then the warmth in Yuuta’s chest vanished, replaced by guilt.
“You were on a date, huh?” Daichi said, looking at him from up to toe. “Who’s the lucky girl?”
The question hit him like a slap.
A moment of truth.
He’d fucked up.
He’d let himself forget, even for a day, that this was all temporary. That whatever existed between Toge and him would never be real.
That he didn’t have the right to even want it.
Chapter 4: Chapter 4.
Summary:
His little brother—nine years younger, the boy Yuuta had held moments after he first cried into the world was suddenly sitting next to him grinning like his cheeks might split into two.
“Can you bring Toge with you?”
Notes:
Here’s my favorite chapter.
And this is dedicated to Issa hope you had the happiest birthday!One chapter left for this book!
Chapter Text
Yuuta and Daichi had never been the type of brothers who fought. There were no slammed doors, no screaming. Maybe it was the nine-year gap, or maybe it was that Yuuta had stepped into the role of a caring brother because looking after Daichi was something that came as naturally as breathing.
He never once doubted the bond they shared.
“Who’s the lucky girl?” Daichi asked, his voice filled with curiosity that didn’t match the weight it dropped on his older brother’s chest.
Yuuta didn’t answer. Instead, he set his keys and a bag of souvenirs down on the kitchen counter, grabbed a glass from the cabinet, and poured himself water. The coolness of it did little to wash away the tightness in his throat.
“How long have you been here?” he asked, keeping his tone light. “You didn’t tell me you were coming.”
“Well, I would’ve if you’d changed your passcode,” Daichi said with a grin. “But you didn’t, so I got in. So, who’s the lucky girl?”
Yuuta shook his head, walking over to where Daichi sat. And without a word, he plucked the remote from his little brother’s hand and switched the TV to a Formula 1 race. “It wasn’t a date.”
What a total crap.
He knew he sounded like a jerk for denying it. Especially when the image of Toge’s face—clear, lovely, in the dim blue light of the aquarium was still so sharp in his mind. The way his smile lit up the entire hall and the way his eyes softened when he leaned closer to the glass—it was unfair, Yuuta thought, for someone to look like that dashing without even trying.
Daichi looked like he wanted to press further, but after a moment, he gave in with a shrug. “Okay. Just make sure you don’t knock her up before a wedding, okay?”
Yuuta choked on his water and set the glass down a little too hard. “The hell you were saying?”
Daichi laughed, leaning back against the sofa like he’d just scored a point. “I was just kidding. Anyway, I came because I have a favor to ask.”
The sound of cars in a Formula one race filled the room—loud, wild, and chaotic —exactly like Yuuta’s heart. Because he knew that no matter what was his brother’s favor, he would never be able to say no.
That was how it had always been; the bond between them ran too deep for any room of hesitation.
“Yeah?”
Daichi scooted closer, “So I’m wrapping up my preparations for my exhibit. It’ll happen soon—”
“Don’t beat around the bush. Just tell me, Dai.”
His little brother—nine years younger, the boy Yuuta had held moments after he first cried into the world was suddenly sitting next to him grinning like his cheeks might split into two.
“Can you bring Toge with you?” Daichi said, the same boy who once cried over losing a tooth, not knowing it would grow back. “I’m planning to confess on that day.”
Two days have passed. Yuuta wasn’t sure if the days blurred past him a whole lot faster or it was him who had been chasing the days so they’d flip quickly on the calendar.
Fewer replies. Shorter words. Avoiding someone’s eyes that he justified as busyness. He’d walk past Toge's cubicle, either holding a damn work file or looking at his watch as though he wanted to see which is quicker—his breathing or the hands of a clock.
That had been his routine for the past two days. Yuuta told himself it was easier this way—that if he kept some distance now, the hurt would be softer later.
But by Wednesday, the space between them had already thinned into something fragile.
That afternoon, his phone lit up.
Are you doing overtime again tonight?
Yuuta stared at the message.
He didn’t want to give Toge hope—not for something that could never bloom. And yet, his chest ached at the thought of what he was holding back.
Daichi’s face flashed in his mind, earnest and completely fallen. Yuuta knew then, with a certainty that tasted bitter, that Toge would be happy with his brother.
Yes.
Toge replied.
Okay. I’ll be on my way then.
Then another.
Don’t forget to take some rest. And don’t skip meals.
He flipped his phone, avoiding eye contact on the screen. Daichi would treat Toge like he was the most important person in his life. Yuuta was sure of it. And Toge will feel how great his brother’s love is.
They will be happy together—
and Yuuta’s role is to make sure that will happen.
On Thursday, two meetings occupied his morning schedule. It was already past lunch time when Yuuta returned to his office. The first thing he noticed was the neatly wrapped lunch box sitting on his desk.
A small note rested on top of it.
Eat this, handsome!
He stood there for a moment, not reaching for it. The clock on the wall ticked faintly in the background, but in his head, time felt like mocking him, cruel.
Their two-week agreement was nearing its end, and he knew—painfully—that he’d been treating Toge unfairly.
But what else could he do?
The only purpose of his existence—Yuuta had always thought was to be the best brother to Daichi. To be the source of his strength when life demanded too much of him. To be the hand, the one who would step in when the world felt too sharp for him. It was a promise he had never spoken out loud but had been keeping since the day Daichi was born.
And but that promise felt tangled now.
He should want Daichi to have everything—love, happiness, someone who looked at him the way Toge smiled when he was amused, or proud. That was the natural order, wasn’t it? The instinct of an older brother—you give until there’s nothing left of you, because that’s what family means.
So why was his chest so heavy? Why did the idea of stepping aside feel less like generosity and more like tearing something from himself? Why did his heart resist when his mind was telling him it was the right thing?
Friday night, Yuuta was still buried under a mountain of paperwork—a self-imposed punishment to keep himself busy. He rarely goes out of his office so Nobara would check on him from time to time just to make sure he was still breathing and not trying to jump out of the building.
By the time he finally clocked out, it was close to nine in the evening.
When he picked up his phone and lit the screen, Toge’s name appeared. Three messages.
I’m going home.
Actually, no.
Can you stop avoiding me? Please?
They stopped eating lunch together. He stopped driving him home to his neighborhood. The silly flavor picking questions doesn’t exist anymore. Yuuta knew it was his fault but seeing Toge begging for it—makes him bleed.
He didn’t pack his things, didn’t grab his bag—just bolted. Yuuta nearly sent the elevator down to the ground in a rush.
The last message wasn’t short. Its timestamp was two hours ago, each message spaced five minutes apart—as if Toge had hesitated before sending.
Can you stop avoiding me? Please? Can we talk this out? I’ll be waiting at the park near the building. No matter how long.
It had been two hours. Half of him told himself Toge couldn’t possibly still be there. The other half—the reckless, selfish part—needed to know. How far could Toge’s heart reach for him?
Yuuta ran, chasing his breath, feeling the cold air mixed with his sweat. His heart pounded inside his chest—loud, wild and chaotic. It almost sounded like it would come out of his ears.
And then when he saw him everything just stopped.
Sitting on a swinging chair in the park, lit faintly by the glow of a streetlamp, Toge waited. He looks cold, abandoned, like a stray cat.
“What the hell.”
Yuuta whispered to himself because something inside him had collapsed.
He closed the distance between them so fast that Toge startled at the sudden sound of footsteps on gravel. Their eyes met in the dim park just as Yuuta slipped off his long-sleeved suit jacket and draped it over Toge’s shoulders.
The look on Toge’s face—shock, as though two hours of waiting had taught him not to expect anything—but it changed in a blink. Toge suddenly looks happy and Yuuta feels a sudden pull in his feet, like the ground wanting to eat him for being a jerk.
Yuuta knelt in front of him, his hands moving almost before he could think. Why are you still here?
Toge’s lips curved into a small, pained smile—still unfairly beautiful in the cold night. I knew you’d come.
“What if I didn’t? How long would you have—” He stopped himself, the words too sharp in his throat, and stood abruptly. Yuuta turned away and dragged a hand through his hair, frustrated at himself.
This was his fault.
All of it.
He’d been the one avoiding Toge, letting silence speak where his hands should have. He’d been the one breaking the promis he’d made that day to him—
And yet here Toge was. He waited.
And Yuuta hated himself for wanting to be the person Toge was waiting for, when he had already decided he couldn’t be.
He chose to be a brother.
He chose Daichi’s happiness.
Yuuta didn’t need anything.
And yet, when he felt cold fingers curled into the fabric of his sleeves his heart made a noise.
Yuuta turned—and the sight hit him like a punch. Toge’s nose and cheeks were flushed red, the kind of raw color that only came from sitting in the cold too long.
For two hours, he was here all for him.
The thought clawed at Yuuta’s chest. Two hours of waiting, for someone who had been doing nothing but pushing him away.
He should have gone home. He should be furious.
But instead, Toge just raised his hands and signed, Are you done with work?
It hurt more than anger ever could because even after being left out here, Toge’s first thought was still about him.
Yuuta’s hand lifted before he could stop himself, brushing the side of Toge’s chilled cheek. Just for a second. Just to feel the proof that he was here, real and breathing in front of him.
And still, that second was enough to tangle his heart further.
Hebdidn’t know what to do with the weight of Toge’s feelings—how they burned stubbornly and knocked on the walls he built. How they made him want to throw away every reason he had to keep his distance.
Toge’s hands moved again, Are you done avoiding me?
“I wasn’t—” Yuuta replies, letting go of Toge's cheeks. “I was just busy.”
Toge signed without missing a beat, But you were still supposed to be mine until Sunday.
Shit. Yuuta’s chest tightened. Because god, that sounded good. Too good. He shouldn’t like being claimed like that. He shouldn’t want it to echo in his head the way it did. But he couldn’t lie to his own heart—there was sweetness in it, the kind that made him forget all the boundaries he set for himself.
It was dangerous.
And then there was the way Toge was looking at him—eyes so earnest, open, and vulnerable. Yuuta realized just how much he’d deprived himself of these past few days.
“Is there anything you want to do this weekend?”
Toge smiled instantly. Can we go to the beach?
If Yuuta had known how different things would be after that trip, maybe he wouldn’t have agreed so easily.
The sun was high when they arrived, the scent of salt and sound of waves greeted them. They also didn’t miss the smell of grilled seafood drifting from the restaurants lining the shore.
By the time they sat down for a late lunch, the table was crowded with steaming platters—grilled fish, bowls of garlic rice, and a mound of freshly boiled shrimp, still wearing their shells.
Without thinking, Yuuta reached for the plate between them, fingers deftly peeling the shrimp one by one. He set each cleaned piece on Toge’s plate before touching his own.
Toge watched for a moment, then signed, I can peel for myself.
Yuuta smirked. “And let you eat with the shell still on it? Did you forget you almost choked on one?”
It was an old memory—one from a summer years ago. Toge, maybe fourteen back then, had been too impatient to peel the shrimp and paid the price for it, coughing until Yuuta had to hand him a glass of water, scolding all the while.
Toge shook his head now, a faint smile at his lips. He then whispered, “You still remember that.”
“Of course.” Yuuta replied without thinking, “I never forget, Toge.”
He smiled as he peeled the last shrimp, placing it gently on Toge’s plate. When he finally looked up, he found Toge watching him—not idly, but with an expression that felt almost like he’d been waiting for him to meet his gaze.
There was something in those purple eyes—a kind of yearning Yuuta didn’t know how to face.
And he told himself it wasn’t so strange to remember small things like that. After all, every summer he could remember had Toge in it.
The beach stretched wide and golden under the sun. The sound of waves crashing echoes around and mingling with the laughter of children chasing each other along the shoreline.
Toge signed next to him, We’re lucky the weather is nice.
Yuuta hummed in response. He kept his hands on his pockets as he listened to the sound of waves. They were so calm, not a care about the world, always certain, and confident—unlike him.
“Is there anything else you want to do?”
Toge stopped in front of him, walking backward with a soft grin at his lips.
“Be careful on your steps,” Yuuta warned, glancing past him to make sure no one would bump into him.
Then without hesitation, Can you hold my hand please? Toge then stretched his.
Yuuta’s heart stuttered, then raced, and he almost laughed at himself for it. It was just a hand. Just Toge. He had done this before—walking side by side with Daichi and Toge when they were younger, each of their small hands curled trustingly in his.
It shouldn’t mean anything.
Toge’s hand was still the same—so small, fitting so neatly into his palm it felt like it belonged there. His skin was soft, almost delicate, and the warmth that pressed into Yuuta’s hand traveled all the way up his arm.
He shouldn’t let it mean anything.
Toge smiled then, so wide his eyes squinted as he tilted his face toward the sky. Yuuta watched him quietly, wondering when something as simple as holding hands had started to feel dangerous.
They walked slowly until they caught somewhere down the boardwalk, a pianist was playing—a kind of song that seemed to spill into the ocean and dissolve into the waves.
Toge slowed to a stop when they neared the stage, his eyes drawn toward the source of the music.
“Do you want to play?”
He used to be very obsessed with it. He even said that his favorite part in Okkotsu’s mansion was the music room. There was something about seeing Toge falling so unconditionally to the faint noise he could hear.
Toge looked toward the small stage, then back to Yuuta. No. I want to walk with you.
Yuuta blinked, caught off guard. It was such a simple answer, and yet it landed deep—another thing he shouldn’t let himself hold onto. He knew he shouldn’t be feeling so much, shouldn’t be letting the warmth in Toge’s eyes feed something in his own chest. If anything, he should be the one to pull Toge out of this, to keep him from falling deeper. Not drag him down with him.
“But I’d be there,” Yuuta said. “I’ll watch you.”
Toge signed back, smiling, You always do. And I always make sure not to mess up, ’cause I know you’re watching.
Yuuta pressed his lips together, swallowing the words that rose in his throat. He couldn’t keep this going—he can’t let this moment live, he can’t let himself enjoy the way Toge looked at him like he wass someone worth holding on to.
This love wasn’t his to keep.
If he let this go on, he’d only make the fall worse for Toge.
“Let’s go to our room.”
The room was bright, the kind of place built for slow mornings and salt-kissed evenings. Two beds sat side by side, each with its own nightstand. The far wall was made of glass, opening to a balcony where they could see the ocean. There was also a door connecting to the soft sand of the beach. Off to the side, there was a compact kitchen, a small living area, and two separate showers tucked neatly at the back.
Toge’s eyes followed the line of the shore, a faint smile at his lips.
“I’m gonna shower,” Yuuta said, grabbing a change of clothes before slipping into one of the bathrooms.
The sound of water filled the space, a loud hiss that dulled the thoughts in his head but didn’t fully silence it. He couldn’t and that’s the problem. He was reasoning out to himself that he’s just fulfilling his promise to Toge. Even when it meant that tomorrow, by Sunday things might completely change between them.
Would things return to what they were before?
The thought should’ve brought him comfort, but instead, it tightened something in his chest. He’s filled with fear and worry because he couldn’t promise not to hurt Toge—no matter how hard he tried.
But—
what else could he do?
When Yuuta stepped out of the shower, the room was empty. Toge’s things were still there, but the faint sound of water from the other bathroom told him where he’d gone.
In the meantime, Yuuta grabbed a towel, drying his hair as he reached for his phone on the counter.
It buzzed in his hand—Daichi.
He answered before thinking, only to immediately wish he hadn’t.
“You’re with Toge, right?”
Yuuta frowned. “How did you know?”
“Well, he told me,” Daichi replied. “But that’s fine—you can tell him you got his ticket for my exhibit so he can come.”
He could almost imagine the face of his brother—smiling big and blushing cheeks.
Yuuta rubbed the back of his neck, still damp. “Actually, he can just—why do I have to—” Then, he stopped mid-sentence, realizing where his tone was going.
“You don’t want to go to my exhibit?”
“That’s not—” Yuuta let out a long sigh, “My bad. I’ll keep my word.”
“I know you would.” And just like that, Daichi hung up.
Yuuta set the phone down harder than he meant to. His frustration prickled under his skin, but it wasn’t just irritation—it was something else. Why didn’t Daichi ask why they were together? Why didn’t he question it? Did he just assume he’d never look at Toge the way he does? Did everyone expect him to keep some kind of invisible line, as though it had never once crossed his mind to step over it?
But—
what if they were wrong?
The bathroom door clicked open, and Toge stepped out, hair damp, and immediately hugged and curled himself more on the robe he was wearing.
Another call came in. “I’ll step out for a second.” Yuuta says, averting his eyes, because he wasn’t sure what kind of expression he was wearing—only that he didn’t want Toge to see it.
Because he couldn’t quite understand why his emotions had turned so sour after Daichi’s earlier call. Why did his brother so casually just accept he was with the very person he intended to confess to? Shouldn’t Daichi ask more? That, why was it nine in the evening and Yuuta and Toge were still together—in a far-off beach town, of all places?
“Why did you call?”
Maki laughed, mockingly. “Wow. Why are you so grumpy? I knew you couldn’t possibly be sleeping right now.”
Yuuta pressed his fingers to his temple. “What is it, Maki?”
“Well,” she hummed, “bad news and good news. Which one do you want first?”
He stepped outside, the night air biting at his skin. The sand was soft, deceptively gentle, while the waves crashed roughly that almost mirrored his thoughts.
“If you’re calling at this time, they’re both bad news.”
Maki laughed again. “Okay, first—the investors in Europe approved the budget proposal. That’s one. Second, they want to start the project soon. Third—well, they’re flying now and you need to get your ass here as early as you can tomorrow to greet them—”
“I can’t.”
Maki scoffed. “Don’t be silly. You don’t know how to joke.”
Yuuta’s gaze drifted toward the dark stretch of ocean, “I really can’t. I’m somewhere far right now.”
“How far?” Maki teased. “Like the end of the world?”
He sighed.
The European advertisement campaign for the upcoming Olympic hosting is one of the company’s biggest projects this year. And it wasn’t something to take lightly. He knew what was at stake: a massive budget, a high-profile exposure, the kind of project that would open doors for more opportunities.
“I’m at a beach,” he admitted.
“I’m not telling you to swim,” Maki replied flatly. “I’m telling you to leave now—”
Her words grated against him, tightening something in his chest. If he left tonight, he’d lose this. He’d lose the one trip, the last thread of the agreement, the promise he’d made to Toge.
And what about Toge? Was he just supposed to break it again and pretend it didn’t matter?
“And why are you on a beach in the middle of our busiest season? I didn’t know you’d be this reckless.”
Yuuta’s temper snapped. “You think I’d pick to be at the beach right now if I could—”
He caught something in his periphery. He turned, mid-breath, and there was Toge—kneeling in the sand, setting a mat down carefully. A bag of chips and two cans of beer sat beside him, the boy’s hair still faintly damp.
His heart raced—not from Maki’s nagging, but from the worry that Toge might have heard every word.
“Then why did you go to the beach?” Maki pressed. “What, were you kidnapped or forced?”
He turned his back to the shore and walked a few steps farther from where Toge was sitting. “I can’t come tomorrow, okay? They’ll have to wait until Monday. Even Nobara wouldn’t be happy to show up at the office on Sun—”
“Well, I can convince her for you. She’s actually awake right now, watching her favorite show on our living room—”
“That’s not the point, Maki—”
Maki sighed. “You know how demanding they are. You’ve experienced it the first hand we had to revise the proposals. The higher ups wanted to pamper them so bad they wouldn’t even think they could do this with another company—”
She kept on and on but Yuuta’s eyes were glued to where Toge was. He was squatting low to reach the sand and write whatever he wanted. It was just like back then, when they used to play together in the ocean. Toge would write his dreams but they were small—like getting As to his exam, more gummy bears, or less expensive toys.
“Are you still there?”
Yuuta snapped, closing his eyes briefly. “Yeah. But it won’t change my mind—”
Then, suddenly, in the corner of his eyes, something moved.
Toge had wandered closer to the shore, letting the waves lap at his bare feet. His hair caught the wind, his small frame outlined against the sea, and for a moment Yuuta felt his chest tighten. He drifted toward him almost unconsciously, each step drawn by some pull stronger than reason.
“What is it something on a beach right now that you couldn’t leave for a second—”
Well, this.
The moment he has right now.
Yuuta couldn’t look away. He couldn’t leave him.
His hand twitched with the urge to reach out, to hold Toge by the wrist, the shoulder, anywhere, just to be sure he stayed right here. He wanted to protect him, keep him safe, but the truth was uglier than that—he doesn't need to.
Or maybe he does—
As soon as he blinked, he saw Toge in the water—his body in the ocean.
It happened in a breath.
Yuuta’s phone slipped from his fingers, Maki’s voice muffled against the sand. His legs moved before thought could form, pounding over the shore toward the spot where Toge plunged into the ocean.
The sea looked calm, but Yuuta knew better. It was never safe at night—the way a wave could take you and not give you back.
His chest tightened—not from the sprint, but from the memory.
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