Atsushi can't stop thinking about En touching him.

It's been lurking in the back of his head since the forest, like the weight of the other boy's touch is burnt in a painless brand under his skin, tingling with self-consciousness even through meeting with the rest of the club and making their way back to the shared room. He didn't say anything, contented himself with lying over one of the middle futons and setting his glasses aside, but even when the clarity of his vision gone it wasn't hard to identify En moving towards the bed alongside him, the futons crammed so close together he has to step over Atsushi to get there.

The other beds are filled as quickly as theirs, and with as little discussion, Ryuu and Io mirroring the older boys while Yumoto and the wombat take the ones at the end, closest to the door. It's a tight fit, with the wooden shape of their advisor barely fitting within the lines of the futon assigned to him and Yumoto's pleas for the wombat to join him in his futon echoing in the enclosed space. But Atsushi is too distracted to be irritated, his heart stuttering unreasonably fast in his chest, and when Io gets up to turn the light off it only spikes his adrenaline higher. The room is full of bodies, the sound of breathing and the half-formed protest of Ryuu as Io nearly trips over him, but all Atsushi can pay attention to is the still shape under the blankets next to him and the steady weight of En's breathing against his shoulder.

He doesn't move. He's still and speechless for minutes, in fact, through Io's restless movements and Ryuu's loud-hissed complaints, through Io fumbling to his feet and making his way to the door with Ryuu on his heels, even through Yumoto's last attempt at persuading the wombat to join him. Atsushi is still even when Yumoto mumbles "G'night," to the room at large, quiet while the younger boy's breathing goes soft and steady with unconsciousness. He waits, and he waits, and he waits, until when he finally turns over to face En and speaks he's hardly expecting an answer.

"En-chan." Soft, deliberately gentle so as not to wake anyone already asleep. "Are you awake?"

He's expecting silence in response. But the shadowed form of the other boy turns, rolls over to face him, and when En opens his eyes he is so close Atsushi can see the dark of their color without need for his glasses.

"What is it, Atsushi?" En sounds bored, the words soft in consideration of the setting but lacking the irritation they might carry on someone else's tongue.

Atsushi can't make out the ocean-blue of En's eyes in the dark; they are just shadowed, weighted into darkness deeper than the gold of his hair. He still stares into them when he swallows, and takes a breath, and whispers "Why did you say that?"

En blinks, his lashes shifting against his cheek like moth wings. "What are you talking about?"

He sounds unaware, still so calm someone else would believe his assumed lack of awareness. But Atsushi knows him, knows him better than anyone does, and when he smiles it's shaky with certainty even before he speaks.

"You know what. When we were in the forest before. When you-"

"Oh," and that was too fast, hurried as En cuts him off. "That."

"Yeah." Atsushi's throat is going tight, his heartbeat fluttering desperately in his chest though he's not entirely sure why. "That."

En stares at him for a moment. Atsushi can feel the moment drawing taut with anticipation, expectation for something he's not quite sure of collecting around them like the fragments of moonlight creeping through the window. En's gaze slides away from his eyes, drags across his hair and down against his jaw like a touch, and Atsushi is so caught in tracking its motion he doesn't see the motion of the other's hand until he's pushed the blanket aside and is reaching out into Atsushi's personal space.

It isn't a big deal. Atsushi has never cared, before, about En touching him, any more than En has cared about Atsushi reaching for his sleeve or grabbing at his elbow. But suddenly it is a big deal, Atsushi can't breathe as En reaches for him, and then fingers fit against his waist and his heart is flailing against his chest, his inhales coming so loud he is more than half-expecting someone to wake from the sound.

"You do have a nice waist," En is saying, but Atsushi can barely hear him over the desperate thud of his pulse in his throat. His hands are shaking, he realizes, fluttering in the air like leaves in the wind, floating out to land in En's hair before he's thought. The strands are silky under his fingertips, as soft and smooth as they have ever been, but En's hand is hot at his side, flaming heat into Atsushi's skin until he wouldn't be surprised if his yukata burst into flame.

"Shit," En says, faint into the darkness, and Atsushi arches himself in against the other boy, and presses their mouths together.

En tastes like water, tastes clean and cool and faintly sweet, his lips fitting against Atsushi's as easily as if they have done this regularly for years. Atsushi can't think, for the moment, why they haven't, not when his heart is pounding and all his body is relaxing like he's finally come home. The hand at his waist slides around, fingers fitting into the small of his back, and Atsushi is arching closer before En urges him in, tangling his fingers at the long strands against the other's neck as the sheets catch unconsidered between them. Atsushi is licking against En's mouth, begging for more without any sort of rational thought going into it, and En is parting his lips, sighing against Atsushi's cheek as they press against each other, close as they can get with their clothes and sheets in the way. En is warm, he's radiant with heat, and Atsushi is whimpering into his mouth and licking in farther, pulling En closer as he moves, and En is groaning faint in the back of his throat, shifting to fit their legs together without pulling away. Atsushi can feel En straight through the layers of fabric, the hard resistance telltale for interest without any words, and he's just realizing that he's not panicked by this, not even really surprised, that he's rapidly going hard against En's hip too when there's a sigh behind them, so startlingly loud they both freeze as they are.

There's the sound of movement, Yumoto rolling over on his futon, and Atsushi doesn't move, doesn't think, doesn't breathe until the sound of the younger boy's sleep-steady breathing has resumed. He can feel the cold of panic in his blood give way to relief, his adrenaline-stilled breathing gusting in his lungs, and he's pulling away as En moves back too, the both of them extricating themselves as silently as they can manage without any discussion at all.

"We should sleep," Atsushi says as En's hand slides off his hip, leaves him unreasonably chill with the loss.

"Yeah." En is leaning back, retreating to his own futon, and it's not very far away but it feels like an infinity, the worse when he rolls over without saying anything else. Atsushi blinks at the line of his shoulders, unreasonably irked for a moment; then he rolls away too, stares unseeing at the rest of the room while he waits for the pace of his breathing to slow enough to allow him to sleep.

He's almost achieved it when there's a touch at his hip, the whisper of fingertips against the sheet. He doesn't turn around, just takes a breath, and slides a hand free of the blanket so he can let his arm drop behind him as an offering. There's a pause, a hesitation into which he can almost fit the sound of nearly-a-laugh from over his shoulder; then there are fingers at his, motion careful as En fits his hand against Atsushi's.

The warmth of the contact isn't enough to make up for their interrupted kiss. But Atsushi is smiling into the darkness, the pressure of En's fingers on his soothing enough to steady his breathing, and when he shuts his eyes he doesn't have to reach before sleep overtakes him.