i.

He'll wonder later how they got here tonight, spread out under the stars with souls laid bare. Hotsuma knows that fights with Shuusei are always meaningless, more about an explosion of tension than any particular issue. But he gets a thrill from the tussle all the same, relishing his ability to always come out on top; to know that finding Shuusei pinned beneath him is a constant in this life, since the day Master Rou began training them. Except sometimes, in the aftermath, Hotsuma wonders if he hasn't been too rough - if tomorrow there won't be bruises blossoming across Shuusei's skin, further proof of how Hotsuma always imprints his touch in the most violent of ways.

Here and now, the balcony is hard beneath his knees and Shuusei must feel the evening chill along his entire back, sprawled out as he is beneath Hotsuma on the concrete. But neither of them move, except for when Shuusei leans up and cups a hand around Hotsuma's cheek, a silent affirmation, I'm all right.

Absently, Hotsuma leans into the touch; closes his eyes and kisses the thin skin on the underside of Shuusei's wrist. Hotsuma isn't good with words but he's lived enough lifetimes to appreciate these quiet moments. There's poetry here, in the soft crease of Shuusei's eyes, visible under the brush of side swept bangs. And Hotsuma marvels at how tightly wound their souls are, that each kiss feels like a communion - words unnecessary when so much can be conveyed through actions alone.

"Hotsuma."

The rasp in Shuusei's normally schooled voice sends a shiver down Hotsuma's spine. He kisses his way along the veins of Shuusei's forearm, eyes fluttering open when Shuusei shifts beneath him. And here, with the tables turned, it'd be easy to act a tease - to draw things out until Shuusei couldn't bear it. Except when he meets Shuusei's gaze, Hotsuma is the one struck by the intensity there - cheeks flushing hot and sending him down into the safety of Shuusei's shoulder, where he can hide from the gravity of things between them.

Shuusei's fingers find him anyway, directing Hotsuma by his chin until their mouths meet again. "You shouldn't start what you don't intend to finish," murmurs Shuusei, tone foreboding. Hotsuma ignores the warning and tries to sink deeper into the kiss, craving any contact Shuusei is willing to give. But Shuusei pushes him off with a light hand, mouth quirked into an amused smile.

"I'm still angry with you," he says, but the words lack any of their previous bite. The conflict, whatever it was, has already fled from Hotsuma's mind; senses muddled and heart thundering in his chest.

Shuusei contemplates him for a minute, hand coming up again to rest along the curve of Hotsuma's jaw. "If you're good," Shuusei says finally, "I'll let you sleep in my room tonight." Hotsuma makes a face, prepared to point out how juvenile that deal is, but Shuusei raises an eyebrow and asks, "Isn't that what you want?"

And well, maybe it is.

"You won't kick me out?" Hotsuma questions, incredulous. "Even if I steal the sheets?"

"Even if you steal the sheets," Shuusei repeats with a solemn nod.

Hotsuma hums thoughtfully. "Even if I snore?"

"Even if you snore."

"Even if I-"

Shuusei frowns, voice growing sharp. "Hotsuma."

Knowing he's pushed enough, Hotsuma grins and leans in to steal a final kiss. "One and only, remember?" He quips as they part, pushing himself up off the ground. And he can't help the cheeky tone as he saunters off toward the bath with a wave, calling, "You're stuck with me, Shuusei!"

When he glances back, Shuusei is watching him with a look so undeniably fond that Hotsuma knows all is forgiven.