clingy ibimiyas for speedosujis HAPPY BIRTHDAY FRIEND
word count: 829
Ibitani’s always been open in his affections, for as long as Machimiya’s known him. It was never really something he thought about, because that’s how it always was; he and Ibi, matching grins, arms thrown around each other in all their pictures. It’d been like that from the start, ever since Machimiya found his new next door neighbor standing in a mud puddle, looking for worms. They’d just clicked together, like two little puzzle pieces, and he never put any more thought into it, until one of his senpai in the cycling club had pointed it out.
“It’s weird, you know.”
“No, I don’t. What the hell are you talking about.”
“He’s always clinging! You’ve both been in the club for less than a month, and I’ve never seen you two separated. It’s like you’re attached at the hip.”
“He’s my best friend,” Machimiya had said, like that explained it, because it did. Best friends were supposed to be close, and it was final in his mind. His senpai had given him a bit of a strange look, but Machimiya didn’t put any more thought into it. Ibitani had smiled at him from his locker, and they’d bumped shoulders before heading out of the clubroom for practice.
It didn’t come back into his mind until after he’d been humiliated by Hakone, hiding himself away in his room the day after, until Ibitani came running up his stairs straight after school. He didn’t even knock, just turned the handle and poked his head around the corner.
It was too hot to hide himself underneath all his blankets, so he was just curled up over his comforter, thumbing through his phone and pretending his eyes weren’t all puffy from crying. He heard the sound of Ibitan’s book bag hitting the floor, and the sound of the door closing, but he refused to turn around, keeping his back to the door and swallowing the lump in his throat.
But Ibitani knew him too well, knew exactly how to cut straight to his heart, and the second he felt the bed dip, and Ibitani’s warm weight pressing behind him, his eyes had welled up with traitorous tears.
“Miya…”
“Don’t,” he’d said, but his voice came out rough, ready to split down the middle if Ibitani pushed him to open himself up anymore. He doesn’t, just squeezes closer around Machimiya’s back and burrows his face into the side of Machimiya’s neck. He remembers, then, the remark from his senpai last year, how weird he thought it was.
Was it weird?
It didn’t feel weird. Even with Ibitani pressed against his back, ankle hooked over Machimiya’s, one of his long, white hands fisting the front of Machimiya’s t shirt, it didn’t feel weird. It felt normal, habitual, like Ibitani belonged there, always within reach.
Best friends were supposed to be close.
Weren’t they?
Ibitani stayed until Machimiya’s mother gets home from work, and then slipped down the stairs to help her with dinner. Before he left, he swiped his thumb over Machimiya’s cheek, his hand resting there until Machimiya had looked up at him and stared at his dark eyes, which were, for the first time, unreadable.
He notices it, after that afternoon, the weight of Ibitani’s affections, all the touches and the grins, how often he tilts his head in close to Machimiya’s when they’re talking. It’s not bad; nothing associated with Ibitani could ever be bad, but it makes him wonder how many other people notice, too, and how many of them think like his old senpai.
“Ibi.”
“Hmm.”
“Has anyone ever said anything to you about...us?”
“‘Us’ like, how?”
“Like, us being...too close.”
He realizes the irony of his phrasing, considering Ibitani’s draped over his back, waiting for him to finish his paper.
“I don’t know why anyone would say that.”
“Come on, I’m asking seriously.”
“I’m answering seriously.”
“You are not-”
“I am. It’s nobody’s business but yours and mine, so why would you care what they think.”
Ibitani’s right, of course. He’s always right.
“Besides,” he says, sliding off of Machimiya’s back, “I thought you liked being close-”
“I do-”
“-’cause we’d have to stop doing this if you cared about what other people think.”
Ibitani’s smile is a little bit vicious, when he slips his way onto Machimiya’s lap, running his fingers lightly over Machimiya’s shirt, where the bruises burn on his chest. The touch makes him hiss, and Ibitani’s smile brighten, before he leans forward to kiss Machimiya’s mouth.
This, this he’s definitely okay with. It almost mutes his mind, the touch of Ibitani’s lips, the shifting of his thighs underneath Machimiya’s hands, except for one persistent little thought.
“I don’t think best friends do this kind of stuff,” he says, even as he’s leaning towards Ibitani’s mouth again, breath caught between the two of them.
“So? When did you ever play by the rules?”
Machimiya smiles, matching grins between the two of them, like always.
