that was the first thing you noticed. the second was that giyuu was sitting on the engawa with his back against a pillar, staring out at the garden like it held all the answers to the universe. his haori was loose, half-falling off one shoulder, and his hair—usually so neat—was slightly mussed, like he'd been running his hands through it.
there was a bottle of sake beside him. half-empty.
you'd been given the same room to recover in, both of you injured from the same mission, both of you too stubborn to stay at the butterfly estate for longer than necessary. the wisteria house was neutral ground. quiet. peaceful.
you hadn't expected to find him like this.
"giyuu?" you said, stepping onto the engawa. "are you—"
he turned his head.
and oh.
his cheeks were pink. not the usual pale flush of exertion or embarrassment—this was a soft, warm pink that spread all the way to the tips of his ears. his eyes were slightly unfocused, and when he looked at you, he blinked slowly, like he was trying to process your existence.
"oh," he said. "it's you."
"yeah. it's me." you sat down beside him, close enough to see the way his pupils were a little too wide. "how much did you drink?"
"not that much."
"giyuu."
"…maybe that much."
you sighed, but you couldn't help the small smile tugging at your lips. this was new. you'd seen giyuu tired, injured, frustrated, cold. you'd never seen him like this—soft and loose-limbed and warm.
"you should probably stop," you said gently.
"probably," he agreed. but he didn't move. he just kept looking at you, like you were something interesting he hadn't noticed before.
"what?" you asked.
"you have a nice face," he said.
you blinked. "what?"
"a nice face." he said it so matter-of-factly, like he was commenting on the weather. "i've always thought so. i just never said it."
your heart did something strange in your chest. "you—you've never said that before."
"i know." he frowned, like he was disappointed in himself. "i don't say a lot of things."
"you really don't."
"i should say more things." he turned to face you fully, and the movement made him sway slightly. you reached out instinctively, your hand landing on his arm to steady him. "you're always saying things. good things. kind things. you patched me up and you didn't even complain when i was difficult."
"you weren't difficult."
"i was. i always am." he looked down at your hand on his arm, then back up at your face. "you're still here anyway."
"of course i'm here. we're recovering together."
"no." he shook his head, and the motion was so earnest, so oddly vulnerable, that it made your breath catch. "i mean—you're always here. you stay. even when i don't say anything. even when i'm—" he gestured vaguely at himself, "—like this."
"like what?"
"quiet. boring. bad at—" he paused, searching for the word, "—people."
"you're not boring."
"i am."
"you're not," you said firmly. "you're just—you're careful. there's a difference."
he stared at you for a long moment. then, very softly, he said, "you're nice to me."
"of course i'm nice to you. you're—" you stopped. swallowed. "you're my friend."
"friend," he repeated, and there was something almost sad in his voice. "right."
the silence stretched between you, filled with the sound of wind through the wisteria and the distant chirping of crickets. giyuu's hand was still under yours, warm and solid, and you couldn't bring yourself to let go.
"giyuu," you said quietly, "what did you mean by that? when you said 'friend' like that?"
he didn't answer right away. he seemed to be thinking, his brow furrowed in that way it always did when he was trying to find the right words.
"i don't want to be just your friend," he finally said.
your heart stopped.
"what?"
"i want—" he paused, and you could see him fighting through the fog of alcohol, trying to be clear. "i want to be more. i think about you when you're not there. i think about your hands. your voice. the way you smile at me even when i don't deserve it." he looked at you, and his eyes were so honest, so open, that it hurt. "i've wanted that for a long time. i just didn't know how to say it."
you couldn't breathe.
"giyuu—"
"you don't have to say anything," he said quickly, and now there was a hint of panic in his voice, like he was already regretting it. "i know i'm—i'm not good at this. i'm not good at any of this. and the sake is making me say things i shouldn't—"
"giyuu."
"—and i don't want to make you uncomfortable, so you can just forget i said anything—"
"giyuu."
he stopped.
you reached up and cupped his face in your hands. his skin was warm, and he went very, very still, like he was afraid to move and break whatever this was.
"i like you too," you said softly. "i've liked you for a long time. i just didn't think you'd ever—"
"really?"
"really."
he stared at you. then, slowly, a smile spread across his face—not his usual tight, careful smile, but something real and open and almost disbelieving. it made him look younger. softer.
"you're not joking?" he asked.
"i'm not joking."
"you're sure?"
"i'm sure, giyuu."
he let out a breath, and some of the tension bled out of his shoulders. and then, before you could say anything else, he leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours.
"okay," he murmured. "good. that's—that's good."
you laughed, soft and a little breathless. "yeah. it is."
his hand found yours, fingers intertwining. his eyes were closed, and his breathing was slow and even, and you realized with a start that he was falling asleep.
"giyuu?"
"mm?"
"you're falling asleep."
"i know." he shifted closer, his head dropping to your shoulder. "you're warm."
"you're drunk."
"maybe." he nuzzled into your neck, and you could feel his smile against your skin. "still warm."
you wrapped your arm around him, pulling him closer. the wisteria swayed gently above you, and the night was quiet and still, and giyuu tomioka was asleep on your shoulder with his hand in yours and the softest expression on his face.
you pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
"you're really cute when you're tipsy," you murmured.
