Summer begins its onslaught of heat early. The classroom is unbearably hot, even with the windows thrown open, while the halls are filled with stale air. Same goes for the stairways – it's almost a slog just to go down to the yard for fresh air, only to have to return way too soon into the oven that is the school building.
This is why, when the break between classes finally comes, Saguru goes to the rooftop instead. The sudden blow of hot air and blinding sunlight is a shock when he throws open the door, but now he knows that there is still a corner with enough shade to settle into, where the concrete is still cool and the wall doesn't quite pulsate with heat like in the other places.
It's almost peaceful, sitting like that. He didn't bother bringing a book, his head too drunk on heat, and his fingers too sweaty for the paper. There's only a single water bottle in his hand, half empty. The condensation is slowly dripping down on his wrist, drawing wet paths on his skin that evaporate after a blink.
He tilts his head back against the wall and closes his eyes. The Sun is an angry orange light through his eyelids, and with it, his brain draws the image of a desert until he can imagine that it's sand underneath his palm, not concrete. The heat sinks into him, into every muscle and bone, until his body feels heavy.
He's slow to notice when the light of the Sun gets obscured by something. He welcomes the relief from that burning orange, letting the black settle over him light a weightless blanket. He doesn't know how much time passes before he realizes that whatever is in front of him shouldn't be.
He opens his eyes to the sound of shifting fabric and a quiet breath. A pair of indigo eyes look back at him, all too close.
A moment passes. Then another. Saguru blinks. Indigo blinks back.
Finally, his brain decides to act. He flinches back from that gaze, eyes wide, a gasp tearing through him. And he bashes the back of his head against the wall.
The pain keeps him busy for a second or two, before he can focus on what's in front of him again. Kaito stood back up in the meantime, now his height a little imposing from up close, the golden glare of the Sun surrounding him like a halo.
Saguru is hit by a different kind of heat then. He's all too aware of the crimson flooding his cheeks, and he knows his pupils must be diluting, but he can't bring himself to hide. Can't bring himself to look away.
And Kaito watches him with a smile that's so different than what he usually shows that Saguru wishes he could burn it into his memory. It's not the first time he seen it, but each time he finds something new, and he wishes his memory would be good enough to keep every detail, just so he could return to it when he's alone.
But he knows that perfect recall is still not enough, not for Kaito and all the facets of that smile.
"I was wondering where you were," Kaito says. It's still startling to hear him like this, this quiet, warm voice that's closer to a whisper. Now that they are closer, Kaito talks like this more often, though it is still rare.
No wonder. It is, after all, a mask discarded – the voice of the class clown dropped for something softer. Saguru knows about Kaito's reluctance to show anything that's real, and recognizes the significance of glimpses like this.
Even more so when they're being showed to just him.
"I just… needed a little bit of fresh air between classes," he replies, slow to find his voice.
Kaito hums and watches him with his head tilted for a moment before he leans down again. Saguru presses against the wall, the proximity too frightening even though he yearns for it.
Something pressed against his cheek and he jumps a little.
It's another water bottle, still blessedly cold, but he's distracted by the fingertips that are just under his eye, skin soft against his.
"You slept through English class," Kaito says with a huff, amusement bright in his eyes. Saguru doesn't realize how much he missed that unique shade of blue until he could see it clearly again. It is so different from the golden haze all around him, and it draws Saguru closer, like an oasis would in the middle of a desert.
Kaito, unlike him, doesn't pull back. He doesn't lean any closer either, only stays where he is. Almost as if he's waiting for Saguru to make a move.
Kaito was always the scariest in quiet moments like this, and it's only gotten worse the closer they got to each other.
So what is he supposed to do when his own heartbeat is deafening him?
Saguru has always been better at loving from a distance. Filling his heart to bursting with adoration, and drowning in it slowly, the pain of it sweet and something to treasure. Knowing that he could never reach it, never taint it.
Now it's right in front of him, and he'd only have to reach out.
"Saguru?" Kaito asks, quiet and delicate. His name sounds so sweet on those lips, he can't believe it belongs to him. Would they taste even sweeter? Does he dare to try?
Kaito's eyes are almost taunting him to do it. That twinkle in them, the hint of a cheeky smile, but so much hotter, so much stronger…
He can either pull back or move even closer, but he has to choose. This moment might not return ever again.
He gulps. In the end, there was only one option.
And he moves.