A/N: Requested from someone on Tumblr. This just ended up being sort of... musings about their relationship.
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Akari isn't one to take risks. His calculating mind won't allow it, and for that matter, neither will Circus. At times, he thinks it would be worth it, just once, just long enough to break through that wall between him and Hirato. If he were able to, he could finally run his fingers through Hirato's dark hair, slip the glasses off his nose, feel Hirato's lips pressed—
No. He won't admit to those thoughts, not even to himself. To say that there's something between the two of them aside from loathing… That would take strength he doesn't possess. He doubts Hirato can even feel the tension when they're together, so Akari contents himself with putting the thoughts at the back of his mind and pretending he isn't mesmerized by Hirato's every move when they're together.
Akari will keep his mouth shut, indefinitely if he can. It's that look that Hirato gives him, that god damn look. Eye contact shouldn't be something that makes the doctor turn away like a bashful young school girl. But when Hirato looks at him like that, it makes his breath catch in his throat, and it drains him of all of his willpower to stay still and not kiss the other man.
So instead, he turns away.
When their eyes meet, Hirato can feel it too.
For him, feelings of love—or at the very least, affection—for anyone are foreign. He's used to people falling for him. He is incredibly charming and handsome, after all, and he knows it. He's capable of winning over nearly every woman's and the occasional man's heart, and he does so without a second thought. It's fun; that's all. He's never blind to their intentions, as there are telltale signs of love. Always, especially with the young women, the scene plays out in the same way.
Hirato will put on a polite, gentlemanly face. During the duration of the courtship, if it can be called that, he will occasionally drop the mask enough to show a gentler side, usually still full of false emotions. The girl in question will be touched by the softer side, and she'll see it as a gift given only to her. Now is when Hirato will start granting the woman careless touches, a brush of fingers here, a close whisper there. She'll blush at the contact, sometimes fleeing in shyness, sometimes staying in boldness. Either way, it will take only a little while longer before she finds an excuse to call Hirato in to speak with him in private, wearing either an expression of determination or fearful apprehension.
After the confession, the game is done.
Hirato blames that on why he feels so different around Akari. The other man hardly exhibits any signs of falling in love with him, and he reacts in much less predictable ways than most other people. Yet there's an undeniable spark between them, an electric current that only serves to confuse him. If the situation were a bit different, Hirato would approach Akari about it. He would play him like a puppet, like he does with all of the others, until finally cutting the strings that hold him up and keep them connected.
Why he doesn't is a mystery. He's had no qualms about it before, and surely Akari isn't so different that Hirato can't work any of his tricks on him.
He does try sometimes, fixing Akari with a stare that he knows can melt women on the spot. Glasses pushed down just a little, gentle eyes gazing over the rims, the smile on his face secretive. But when he exchanges this glance with Akari, he finds that he is the one who has a difficult time resisting the urge to say something akin to a confession. Those words are ones he refuses to ever let escape from his mouth.
So he satisfies himself with teasing instead. "Why are you so shy, Akari-san?"
It isn't quite the same. But until one of them is able to make the first move, it's good enough.