Undone, unlocked
Undone, unlocked
Yabu/Yaotome (Hey! Say! JUMP)
AU, fluff, 2500 words, PG
A/N: For Christmas, h-itoshi said she wanted "something with Hikaru". Before I knew it, I had written a not so Christmassy bunch of fluff, but a bunch of fluff nevertheless. Merry Christmas ♪
The first time Yabu sees him, he doesn't exactly see him. He kind of bumps into his chair at a coffee shop, walking backwards into it as he's getting in line to pick up his order at the counter. When he turns around to apologize all he sees is an awkward smile, fluffy hair and warm brown eyes, and although their quick exchange of “I'm sorry” and “it's fine” only takes a couple of seconds, Yabu finds a curiosity inside himself when he turns back just in time to hear his order being called out.
It's not that this guy is much different from the other ones in this area; judging by the papers in front of him he's there for the same purpose as Yabu. To study. One of the largest universities in Tokyo has its main campus a short walk from there, and despite the fact that Yabu has never seen this one before, they could definitely both be going to exactly that university. A closer look as he walks by and Yabu confirms it; the logo printed on his clear file is the same as the one on Yabu's own bag.
He fits the image of their university, anyway. Probably an art student, Yabu thinks as he sits down at a table seat from which he can clearly see him. It's of course accidental, he's not trying to creep, he's telling himself. This seat just happened to be one of the few ones that isn't occupied, and he just happens to be procrastinating homework by people-watching, and the guy he bumped into just happens to be the most convenient one to watch.
The hand of this guy is constantly moving, looks like he's sketching something rather than taking notes, even though he has what looks like a heavy textbook placed on the table in front of himself. Whatever, definitely art student, Yabu assumes, but continues to look at him, although except for that one hand, he's barely moving at all. Instead of his movements he studies his looks; his hair is thick, blond, carefully bleached because it doesn't look the slightest damaged; it shifts smoothly when the young man moves his head, when he hooks some loose bangs behind his ear.
Yabu takes a sip of his coffee, lets the taste spread in his mouth as he moves his eyes to the simple knitted shirt he's wearing; a white one with blue knitted into the wide collar of it. He can't see it from here, but he thinks it's wide enough that his collarbones must be visible and for a reason he can't figure out himself, wishes that it is. That's when he starts questioning his own sanity (and priorities), and it seems like the guy does too, because for a split second their eyes meet and Yabu looks away immediately, cheeks burning with shame.
From then on he focuses on his assignments, because maybe people-watching isn't the ultimate thing to do when you're a literature student and have about a thousand of books to read in the last three weeks of the semester. It's a pain, really, since the book the whole class has been assigned is the slowest one so far, and it's also really not his kind of book, but he promises himself that if he finishes two chapters and the blond guy is still there, he'll tell him sorry for staring and make up an excuse to ask for his name.
Of course, by the time Yabu looks up from his book he's gone, replaced by an office worker passed out on that same table.
-
It's just a couple days later in clas and Yabu is still lost in the most boring book of the year, when he gets tapped on the shoulder. Without bothering to look up he waves his hand to tell whoever it is that it's fine, as he assumes they're asking if the seat beside him is empty, but then he glances to the side and almost drops his book in surprise.
Warm brown eyes and a smile less awkward than last time meet him, and he fear that the guy is going to call him creepy for staring; his mind makes him recall the taste of the coffee he had been drinking and it distracts him just enough to not start panicking.
“Hey,” the blond says, in a comfortable tone that also puts Yabu a little to ease, “I'm Hikaru.” Is that it?
“I'm, err, I'm Yabu,” he stutters, realizes later that this guy, Hikaru, introduced himself with his given name. “Hikaru...?”
“Yaotome,” Hikaru fills in, “Yaotome Hikaru. But call me Hikaru, I prefer it that way.”
“I'm...” Yabu can't find the words he wants, doesn't know if he wants to apologize for the coffee shop thing, if he wants to ask what an art student is doing in a literature course, or if he should just shut up and go back to his stupid book.
“You were staring at me.” Hikaru sounds amused. “In the coffee shop.” As if that wasn't obvious enough.
“Sorry.” The word tumbles out of Yabu's mouth and he doesn't try to stop it. It's appropriate.
“Hmm. It's fine, but I want you to tell me what you were thinking.”
“What?”
Hikaru smirks. “You were people-watching, weren't you? Did you make up a story about me? Or what were you thinking about? I've never had the chance to ask a stranger what their first impression of me was.”
Yabu doesn't know what to say, where to start. This guy is being super friendly with him within minutes of their first actual meeting, and while it feels odd, he can't deny that he kind of likes it.
“I was just...” He takes a deep breath before he continues. “I liked your hair. I still do.” Why, why, why, now he sounds even more creepy. “I mean, it's stylish. Must have taken quite long to get it that light.”
“Yeah,” Hikaru admits, with that slightly awkward smile again, “it did. But it was worth it.”
“Totally.” Yabu wants to punch himself in the face because now he sounds like the biggest creep on earth, probably. “And... I thought you were an art student. You were sketching.”
“Oh, is that why you looked so surprised?” Not really, but Yabu shuts himself up this time. “Yeah, I tend to sketch when I procrastinate. You should try it.” He winks, and Yabu is about one hundred percents positive that his cheeks are turning a darker shade of pink by every second that passes. “Nothing more?”
“You had a nice shirt on? It looked super cosy. Sorry, I'm kind of boring.”
Hikaru laughs at that. “No, I don't think so. Or maybe I just don't think so because that book,” he points at the book Yabu is holding on to for dear life (which he hadn't realized until now), “is the most boring thing ever created and we are currently being forced to read it.”
Then class starts and they spend the entire time bonding over how fantastically unexciting their assigned book is, how amazing it is that their professor is so enthusiastic about it, and when said professor finally ends for today, Yabu finds himself with a new contact in his phone and a new friend to have lunch with.
-
He's not sure how it happens, but from then on, they stick together. They're seated next to each other during the three courses a week that they have in common, unless Hikaru is late and has to sit wherever there's an empty chair. Just the fact that they had three courses a week together and still didn't recognize each other had shocked Yabu, but only until he realized that he's always sitting closer to the teacher and Hikaru, because he has that tendency to show up late, ends up in the back rows. Also, it's a large class, but if Yabu had seen that hair before, he would have known. At least he likes to think so.
They go to their coffee shop (or at least that's what Yabu secretly calls it) during breaks, or when they need to study but want an environment change. They read together in either of their rooms, both living in dorms but only a couple train stations from each other, write their reviews and analyzes with the other's help, and Yabu likes it. Hikaru is fun, he's nice, makes a lot of stupid jokes but he likes that part of him too, but most of all, it's comfortable.
And It's never awkward when they sit there in silence, both busy with their books. It doesn't matter if one of them puts their book down and gets up, it's okay to keep reading and not pay attention. They learn to read each other's body language in shorter time than Yabu has ever experienced before, and before they know it themselves, the people taking the same courses as them have started calling them inseparable.
Which of course isn't entirely true, but Yabu likes the way it sounds.
-
Once Yabu realizes that what he feels when Hikaru cuddles up against him in the couch on weekend nights isn't just friendship, he's confused. Because it's not quicker heartbeats, no sparks of excitement, no nervousness. It's what he has usually never felt until months into a relationship. Comfort, calmness, just being together without doing anything in particular, and enjoying that time more than he would with a friend, or with his family. And when Hikaru isn't there, he misses him more, not so much that it hurts but enough that he feels somewhat relieved when they reunite.
It also scares him. Not a lot, because he doesn't feel like he has to make a move, doesn't have to be romantic with Hikaru. He wants to, but Hikaru spends more time with him than anyone else, and that's enough. Yabu only fears the day that it will no longer be enough, and he'll have to admit his feelings to Hikaru.
Because now that he thinks about it, he realizes that there's a lot of things that he likes about Hikaru, that others do as well but he only appreciates more because it's Hikaru. Like how he hugs him when they meet, holds on a little longer then jokes about him being “the girl in the relationship” at which their classmates would laugh. How he asks Yabu to style the back of his hair because he can't see it and Yabu does it well enough, how he closes his eyes and enjoys being styled. How he, when they pass out in Yabu's bed while watching TV, in his sleep cuddles close but doesn't cling, and when they wake up, how he doesn't make a big deal out of his accidental use of Yabu's arm for pillow. Like that's how it's meant to be. And Yabu lets himself and his feelings be pulled in with it, learns that the smell of Hikaru's shampoo means cuddling and the food of the family restaurant they frequent means stupid jokes and comfortable laughter, and suddenly the apartment he's been living in on his own for two years suddenly feels very empty when he's alone. But he doesn't tell Hikaru, afraid of what it could lead to.
So when his dorm mates throw a party and they're both there (because “if Yabu's invited it means Hikaru is coming as well”, they say), Yabu denies everything that means they could be a couple. The dorm mates know, of course, that they aren't dating, but the friends of those dorm mates can't help but ask when Hikaru is leaning heavily onto Yabu's shoulder, Yabu with one arm wrapped around his waist.
“No,” he says for probably the hundredth time, “we're not dating. Right, Hikaru?”
“Nope,” and the smile on Hikaru's drunk face looks stupid and absolutely adorable, “but Yabu would make a perfect boyfriend.” The friends just laugh and accept their status of not in a relationship, leaves them to get more drinks with a smart comment about how Yabu will never get a partner if Hikaru keeps clinging to him like that.
Which Yabu is completely fine with, he just doesn't say so.
But then, all of a sudden, Hikaru tells him that he wants to go out, with exactly that choice of words, and for one moment, Yabu is perplexed. Then Hikaru pulls on his arm and it sinks in that he only meant out onto the balcony, and he relaxes, follows him through the kitchen door.
“Feels good,” he sighs happily into the cool air, draws a deep breath and Yabu just watches him smile towards the sky. “Come.” Again he tugs on Yabu, this time on the arm of his shirt and Yabu lets himself be pulled in close.
They stand with their backs leaning against the railing; Yabu doesn't care that it's probably dirty because Hikaru is quiet again, head against his shoulder while he plays with the liquid left in his beer can. It shifts back and forth with a sound so low Yabu is sure he's not actually hearing it, rather imagining it, but he takes his attention off it in favor of wrapping an arm around Hikaru's shoulders rather than back to his waist.
“People look stupid when they're drunk,” Hikaru states, like it's a fact out of nowhere, but Yabu understands that he's talking about the people inside, two of them chasing each other around the kitchen, another one trying to seduce a forth that's clearly more interested in her drink than in his unsteady hands. “But I guess you would know, people-watcher.”
“You make that sound creepier than it is,” he retorts, contrasts his words with pulling Hikaru closer, buries his nose in that fluffy, blond hair (that he helped bleaching last time it had grown out too much), draws a deep breath and prepares to blame the alcohol for being extra cuddly. But the accusation never comes.
“I don't mind you being a little creepy.” Hikaru turns his head to the side and Yabu reacts perhaps a little too slow, but there's nothing off-put visible on Hikaru's face. “I like you anyway.”
Yabu's brain freezes at that, doesn't know what to say or do, if it's okay to take that as a confession, if he can let his own feelings out or if he should make those words go away by joking about it. It feels like minutes pass before either of them move again, and it's Hikaru that saves him. He turns again, not just his head but his entire body, although he doesn't shake Yabu's arm away from his shoulders; only leans closer, bodies pressing together, and then he brushes warm lips against Yabu's cooling cheek.
“Be honest,” he whispers, and it's a miracle that Yabu hears his words over the screaming from inside the kitchen, but then again, Yabu considers it all a miracle when he acts on his instincts and Hikaru kisses him back wholeheartedly.
Yabu/Yaotome (Hey! Say! JUMP)
AU, fluff, 2500 words, PG
A/N: For Christmas, h-itoshi said she wanted "something with Hikaru". Before I knew it, I had written a not so Christmassy bunch of fluff, but a bunch of fluff nevertheless. Merry Christmas ♪
The first time Yabu sees him, he doesn't exactly see him. He kind of bumps into his chair at a coffee shop, walking backwards into it as he's getting in line to pick up his order at the counter. When he turns around to apologize all he sees is an awkward smile, fluffy hair and warm brown eyes, and although their quick exchange of “I'm sorry” and “it's fine” only takes a couple of seconds, Yabu finds a curiosity inside himself when he turns back just in time to hear his order being called out.
It's not that this guy is much different from the other ones in this area; judging by the papers in front of him he's there for the same purpose as Yabu. To study. One of the largest universities in Tokyo has its main campus a short walk from there, and despite the fact that Yabu has never seen this one before, they could definitely both be going to exactly that university. A closer look as he walks by and Yabu confirms it; the logo printed on his clear file is the same as the one on Yabu's own bag.
He fits the image of their university, anyway. Probably an art student, Yabu thinks as he sits down at a table seat from which he can clearly see him. It's of course accidental, he's not trying to creep, he's telling himself. This seat just happened to be one of the few ones that isn't occupied, and he just happens to be procrastinating homework by people-watching, and the guy he bumped into just happens to be the most convenient one to watch.
The hand of this guy is constantly moving, looks like he's sketching something rather than taking notes, even though he has what looks like a heavy textbook placed on the table in front of himself. Whatever, definitely art student, Yabu assumes, but continues to look at him, although except for that one hand, he's barely moving at all. Instead of his movements he studies his looks; his hair is thick, blond, carefully bleached because it doesn't look the slightest damaged; it shifts smoothly when the young man moves his head, when he hooks some loose bangs behind his ear.
Yabu takes a sip of his coffee, lets the taste spread in his mouth as he moves his eyes to the simple knitted shirt he's wearing; a white one with blue knitted into the wide collar of it. He can't see it from here, but he thinks it's wide enough that his collarbones must be visible and for a reason he can't figure out himself, wishes that it is. That's when he starts questioning his own sanity (and priorities), and it seems like the guy does too, because for a split second their eyes meet and Yabu looks away immediately, cheeks burning with shame.
From then on he focuses on his assignments, because maybe people-watching isn't the ultimate thing to do when you're a literature student and have about a thousand of books to read in the last three weeks of the semester. It's a pain, really, since the book the whole class has been assigned is the slowest one so far, and it's also really not his kind of book, but he promises himself that if he finishes two chapters and the blond guy is still there, he'll tell him sorry for staring and make up an excuse to ask for his name.
Of course, by the time Yabu looks up from his book he's gone, replaced by an office worker passed out on that same table.
-
It's just a couple days later in clas and Yabu is still lost in the most boring book of the year, when he gets tapped on the shoulder. Without bothering to look up he waves his hand to tell whoever it is that it's fine, as he assumes they're asking if the seat beside him is empty, but then he glances to the side and almost drops his book in surprise.
Warm brown eyes and a smile less awkward than last time meet him, and he fear that the guy is going to call him creepy for staring; his mind makes him recall the taste of the coffee he had been drinking and it distracts him just enough to not start panicking.
“Hey,” the blond says, in a comfortable tone that also puts Yabu a little to ease, “I'm Hikaru.” Is that it?
“I'm, err, I'm Yabu,” he stutters, realizes later that this guy, Hikaru, introduced himself with his given name. “Hikaru...?”
“Yaotome,” Hikaru fills in, “Yaotome Hikaru. But call me Hikaru, I prefer it that way.”
“I'm...” Yabu can't find the words he wants, doesn't know if he wants to apologize for the coffee shop thing, if he wants to ask what an art student is doing in a literature course, or if he should just shut up and go back to his stupid book.
“You were staring at me.” Hikaru sounds amused. “In the coffee shop.” As if that wasn't obvious enough.
“Sorry.” The word tumbles out of Yabu's mouth and he doesn't try to stop it. It's appropriate.
“Hmm. It's fine, but I want you to tell me what you were thinking.”
“What?”
Hikaru smirks. “You were people-watching, weren't you? Did you make up a story about me? Or what were you thinking about? I've never had the chance to ask a stranger what their first impression of me was.”
Yabu doesn't know what to say, where to start. This guy is being super friendly with him within minutes of their first actual meeting, and while it feels odd, he can't deny that he kind of likes it.
“I was just...” He takes a deep breath before he continues. “I liked your hair. I still do.” Why, why, why, now he sounds even more creepy. “I mean, it's stylish. Must have taken quite long to get it that light.”
“Yeah,” Hikaru admits, with that slightly awkward smile again, “it did. But it was worth it.”
“Totally.” Yabu wants to punch himself in the face because now he sounds like the biggest creep on earth, probably. “And... I thought you were an art student. You were sketching.”
“Oh, is that why you looked so surprised?” Not really, but Yabu shuts himself up this time. “Yeah, I tend to sketch when I procrastinate. You should try it.” He winks, and Yabu is about one hundred percents positive that his cheeks are turning a darker shade of pink by every second that passes. “Nothing more?”
“You had a nice shirt on? It looked super cosy. Sorry, I'm kind of boring.”
Hikaru laughs at that. “No, I don't think so. Or maybe I just don't think so because that book,” he points at the book Yabu is holding on to for dear life (which he hadn't realized until now), “is the most boring thing ever created and we are currently being forced to read it.”
Then class starts and they spend the entire time bonding over how fantastically unexciting their assigned book is, how amazing it is that their professor is so enthusiastic about it, and when said professor finally ends for today, Yabu finds himself with a new contact in his phone and a new friend to have lunch with.
-
He's not sure how it happens, but from then on, they stick together. They're seated next to each other during the three courses a week that they have in common, unless Hikaru is late and has to sit wherever there's an empty chair. Just the fact that they had three courses a week together and still didn't recognize each other had shocked Yabu, but only until he realized that he's always sitting closer to the teacher and Hikaru, because he has that tendency to show up late, ends up in the back rows. Also, it's a large class, but if Yabu had seen that hair before, he would have known. At least he likes to think so.
They go to their coffee shop (or at least that's what Yabu secretly calls it) during breaks, or when they need to study but want an environment change. They read together in either of their rooms, both living in dorms but only a couple train stations from each other, write their reviews and analyzes with the other's help, and Yabu likes it. Hikaru is fun, he's nice, makes a lot of stupid jokes but he likes that part of him too, but most of all, it's comfortable.
And It's never awkward when they sit there in silence, both busy with their books. It doesn't matter if one of them puts their book down and gets up, it's okay to keep reading and not pay attention. They learn to read each other's body language in shorter time than Yabu has ever experienced before, and before they know it themselves, the people taking the same courses as them have started calling them inseparable.
Which of course isn't entirely true, but Yabu likes the way it sounds.
-
Once Yabu realizes that what he feels when Hikaru cuddles up against him in the couch on weekend nights isn't just friendship, he's confused. Because it's not quicker heartbeats, no sparks of excitement, no nervousness. It's what he has usually never felt until months into a relationship. Comfort, calmness, just being together without doing anything in particular, and enjoying that time more than he would with a friend, or with his family. And when Hikaru isn't there, he misses him more, not so much that it hurts but enough that he feels somewhat relieved when they reunite.
It also scares him. Not a lot, because he doesn't feel like he has to make a move, doesn't have to be romantic with Hikaru. He wants to, but Hikaru spends more time with him than anyone else, and that's enough. Yabu only fears the day that it will no longer be enough, and he'll have to admit his feelings to Hikaru.
Because now that he thinks about it, he realizes that there's a lot of things that he likes about Hikaru, that others do as well but he only appreciates more because it's Hikaru. Like how he hugs him when they meet, holds on a little longer then jokes about him being “the girl in the relationship” at which their classmates would laugh. How he asks Yabu to style the back of his hair because he can't see it and Yabu does it well enough, how he closes his eyes and enjoys being styled. How he, when they pass out in Yabu's bed while watching TV, in his sleep cuddles close but doesn't cling, and when they wake up, how he doesn't make a big deal out of his accidental use of Yabu's arm for pillow. Like that's how it's meant to be. And Yabu lets himself and his feelings be pulled in with it, learns that the smell of Hikaru's shampoo means cuddling and the food of the family restaurant they frequent means stupid jokes and comfortable laughter, and suddenly the apartment he's been living in on his own for two years suddenly feels very empty when he's alone. But he doesn't tell Hikaru, afraid of what it could lead to.
So when his dorm mates throw a party and they're both there (because “if Yabu's invited it means Hikaru is coming as well”, they say), Yabu denies everything that means they could be a couple. The dorm mates know, of course, that they aren't dating, but the friends of those dorm mates can't help but ask when Hikaru is leaning heavily onto Yabu's shoulder, Yabu with one arm wrapped around his waist.
“No,” he says for probably the hundredth time, “we're not dating. Right, Hikaru?”
“Nope,” and the smile on Hikaru's drunk face looks stupid and absolutely adorable, “but Yabu would make a perfect boyfriend.” The friends just laugh and accept their status of not in a relationship, leaves them to get more drinks with a smart comment about how Yabu will never get a partner if Hikaru keeps clinging to him like that.
Which Yabu is completely fine with, he just doesn't say so.
But then, all of a sudden, Hikaru tells him that he wants to go out, with exactly that choice of words, and for one moment, Yabu is perplexed. Then Hikaru pulls on his arm and it sinks in that he only meant out onto the balcony, and he relaxes, follows him through the kitchen door.
“Feels good,” he sighs happily into the cool air, draws a deep breath and Yabu just watches him smile towards the sky. “Come.” Again he tugs on Yabu, this time on the arm of his shirt and Yabu lets himself be pulled in close.
They stand with their backs leaning against the railing; Yabu doesn't care that it's probably dirty because Hikaru is quiet again, head against his shoulder while he plays with the liquid left in his beer can. It shifts back and forth with a sound so low Yabu is sure he's not actually hearing it, rather imagining it, but he takes his attention off it in favor of wrapping an arm around Hikaru's shoulders rather than back to his waist.
“People look stupid when they're drunk,” Hikaru states, like it's a fact out of nowhere, but Yabu understands that he's talking about the people inside, two of them chasing each other around the kitchen, another one trying to seduce a forth that's clearly more interested in her drink than in his unsteady hands. “But I guess you would know, people-watcher.”
“You make that sound creepier than it is,” he retorts, contrasts his words with pulling Hikaru closer, buries his nose in that fluffy, blond hair (that he helped bleaching last time it had grown out too much), draws a deep breath and prepares to blame the alcohol for being extra cuddly. But the accusation never comes.
“I don't mind you being a little creepy.” Hikaru turns his head to the side and Yabu reacts perhaps a little too slow, but there's nothing off-put visible on Hikaru's face. “I like you anyway.”
Yabu's brain freezes at that, doesn't know what to say or do, if it's okay to take that as a confession, if he can let his own feelings out or if he should make those words go away by joking about it. It feels like minutes pass before either of them move again, and it's Hikaru that saves him. He turns again, not just his head but his entire body, although he doesn't shake Yabu's arm away from his shoulders; only leans closer, bodies pressing together, and then he brushes warm lips against Yabu's cooling cheek.
“Be honest,” he whispers, and it's a miracle that Yabu hears his words over the screaming from inside the kitchen, but then again, Yabu considers it all a miracle when he acts on his instincts and Hikaru kisses him back wholeheartedly.