Author's note: Kuronuki. Fluff. Not canonically accurate, and semi-cannon personalities. Enjoy.
Colours stretched off the dark walls. The sky danced within itself, pinks and blues playing together to make a purple; swirls of yellow and red reaching high and exploding in a vibrant orange. The chameleon water—reflecting the sky it reaches to—licks at the sun, as the fire of the sun warms the water as its reflection rises and cools the lapping liquid.
The vibrant, golden rays reached to windows and shone through them, seeping through every crack, wishing to be seen, to be felt, to be cherished.
The colourful graphics splayed onto the walls, mingling with the warm rays. The colours played along their faces, creating a clashing golden and harsh white hue on his black skin. His eyes are glued to the screen, but his shoulders are at ease.
Originally, they hung out to do school work, a project for English. The teacher is a native English speaker, and rather strict. She follows the curriculum, but while all the other students are focusing heavily on their grammar, she makes everyone speak and read English literature. Currently, they're reading 'Wuthering Heights' by Emily Brontë. Some English classic.
Honenuki's long legs stretched across Kuroiro's lap. His lean, muscular forearms pressing into the sturdy shins of the pale legs. The soft sound of gunfire and fake radio dialogue filled the room.
It's just them in the empty house, Kuroiro's parents had left to go to the supermarket. They're making white cream soup for dinner, Honenuki's favourite.
Honenuki's scrolling through Instagram™. The colours flash along the planes of his face. The screen is dark but so is the room. The silent videos get sorted through based off his interest. His thumb outstretches on the side of his phone after finding a good video to watch.
It's a cat video, Monoma sends him so many its rewired his feed. It's the same video he was sent literally a week ago. The cat spins around in a circle, jumps into a box and tries to do a zigzag in the box. Cats are so weird. No wonder Monoma likes them so much. He might as well be one.
His eyes flick back and forth from the little rectangular screen to the vibrant TV sitting on the stand. Finally, they rest on Kuroiro. They trace the contour of his face, his high cheekbones, his white, bushy angular brows, the stubborn relax of his jaw, his sturdy set nose with a jut at the top near his eyebrows. They furrow together in concentration. His tongue wets his lips every time he concentrates on something for long periods of time. Those onyx eyes darting from point to point on the screen as enemies attack his character.
Kuroiro died suddenly. A huff left his throat as his spine threw itself into the back of the couch. A small smile twitched at Honenuki's lips.
"Again?"
"Every time I get to this level! I just can't get past those stupid zombies."
"Honestly just get better."
"I hate you so much."
Honenuki's laughter filled the air like the warm sunlight setting beyond the sea, splaying colours of emotion through Kuroiro's chest as a grin tugged at his lips. His hand held the back of Honenuki's head and his cracked lips met Honenuki's forehead.
A warm flush played along the blond's cheeks. He looked away shyly and covered the lower half of his face.
"You're embarrassing."
"But you're so cute when embarrassed."
Honenuki hit the platinum blond with a couch pillow. Making the other yelp and laugh. He grabbed Honenuki's wrist and kissed his teeth. The blond pushed him away, both hands pressing on the taller's face. Honenuki's head tucked away in his shoulder. His knees tried to pull up to his chest, but they only moved as far as Kuroiro's thighs would allow. Pulling him closer in the end.
A soft chuckle rumbled in the taller's chest as his arm snaked around the other's waist, pulling him closer. The soft pale hands fell away from his face, one wrapping around his own hand.
The contrast between their hands almost reminds him of the yin-yang. His black hand clasps in Honenuki's pale hand. His dry lips press another kiss to Honenuki's hairline. The blond rested his head on Kuroiro's collar bone, pressing his teeth there to mimic a kiss.
Silence filled the space between them. The game over screen still displayed on the T.V. Casting a white glow over both of them. Honenuki speaks first, his voice soft and content. His shoulder's relaxed as he leans into the taller.
"Do you like my socks? I think they're cute. The frilly trim reminds me of Komi's mushroom hat, don't you think?"
Kuroiro looked down and chuckled. The socks in question is a pair of pale orange, ruffle, crew cut socks adorned with red and pink strawberries on them. His hand rested on Honeuki's ankle. Honeuki's head raised from his collar bone to meet the other's gaze. His phone lying on his stomach.
"They're adorable. Just like someone else I know."
A smirk played on Kuroiro's lips as he leaned in, his fingers trailing up from Honenuki's ankle to the top of his knee.
His fingers slid around his knee and thigh. Pressing into the soft flesh with such stark gentleness. A complete contrast to the strong muscles flexing in his arm. The muscles that could hold him gently without hurting him or making him feel fragile.
He leaned in almost for a fleeting kiss before settling his forehead against Honenuki's. The blond's hands clasped his wrist behind Kuroiro's white hair. The free hand, carding through the snowy puff ball on the other's head.
Kuroiro rubbed his fingers over Honenuki's thigh before creeping back down to his ankle. A mischievous grin on his face.
"I could so easily tickle you right now."
Honenuki raised a brow, "But you're not going to."
His tone left no room for argument; his eyes practically screamed 'test me and see what happens'.
The white haired man jut his bottom lip out. Pouting like a child as his fingers creeped down Honenuki's leg like a spider.
"No."
His fingers kept creeping.
"Shahai. Don't."
Kuroiro huffed and slapped his hand on Honenuki's ankle. The slap wasn't hard at all. The pressure of presence rested on his ankle, but he abided and stopped. The clipped tone was all he needed to hear to know he's serious.
A blossom of pride swelled in his chest as he looked down at this marvellous man next to him. Love needing an escape exited through the peppered kisses on Honenuki's face. Making him laugh and fall back on the couch. Well, more so guided back on the couch. Kuroiro wouldn't let him fall.
The blond kicked his feet as Kuroiro hovered over him. His affectionate assault halting. The action replaced by a tender pressure to his forehead. Kuroiro looked down at him and smiled. Honenuki's cheeks flushing that lovely baby pink shade.
"You've grown so much, and you've come so far, Juuzou."
His voice becoming a whisper, affirmation for only Honenuki's ears. Affirmation even the shadows cannot listen to: "I'm so proud of you."
Tears welled up in Honeuki's eyes as Kuroiro swung his feet up on the couch. His controller and Honenuki's phone forgotten, as they lie next to each other. Honenuki's warm, happy tears flee from his eyes soaking into Kuroiro's shirt. His hand carding through the other's hair as he holds him to his chest.
Honenuki nuzzled into the other's neck, sighing softly. Any remnants of tears drying on his flushed cheeks. If Honeuki could smile. He'd have the biggest grin on his face. He truly scored with such an incredible partner as Kuroiro. He could never choose another. But why would he need to. He has all he wants and needs right here in his arms. And that will always be enough for him.
