It's towards the end of the second week that Furuya sleeps over in Haru's room.

They've been getting used to each other's habits by the day—Haru will always be in the bathtub for hours in the mornings and Furuya lowers temperature of the central heating in the flat so much one day that Haru thought the heater was broken. Both of them have rather busy schedules even if school term hasn't even started; full days at the pool or field means that both of them come home late, but ever since the first time Haru had eyed the fish he had in the fridge when Furuya hadn't returned back one day and decided to cook an extra portion, Furuya had begun to repay the favour by filling up the bathtub with hot water if he arrived back first. However they haven't interacted much besides nods and quiet 'thank you's, which is why it is a little surprising when Haru knocks on Furuya's door on this particular Friday night.

It's still weird to be in Tokyo where Makoto doesn't live near him—sure he can call Makoto and they do have late night chats, but Haru misses the ease where he can just go over to Makoto's place when he's bored to play with the twins and/or video games. Especially on a Friday night where he can sleep in the next day. It's too early to turn in to bed and Makoto is back in Iwatobi spending the last two weeks with his family before he returns to Tokyo to start the academic term; after a bit of shuffling through the games he currently has on his PSIII, he decides to pull in another player.

"Did I wake you?" Haru asks when Furuya opens his door, glancing at the baseball in Furuya's other hand.

Furuya shakes his head in reply.

"Do you want to play video games?"

"…I don't know many," Furuya replies, and Haru takes it as a not a 'no'.

Haru cocks his head and Furuya follows him to his room, looking hesitant about touching anything until Haru gestures for him to sit wherever he likes. Furuya looks impressed by the flat screen tv and the game console he has—gratitude goes to his parents who bought them for him as a college gift. Haru grabs a console and pushes it to Furuya before pulling some of his blankets to huddle underneath, because the heating is much lower than he would normally set it as.

"Sorry," Furuya mumbles when he notices. "I…can turn it back—"

"It's fine," Haru dismisses it, eyes flat on the screen. "It's getting warmer soon."

He finally decides on Mario Kart, seeing as it's one of the most popular games, but one look at Furuya's face tells him that the other has never played it before. He vaguely wonders why that is, but decides not to ask.

"Press X to accelerate," he explains, leaning over to point the right buttons out. "The arrows to go which direction you want. If you get a power up, press the triangle to use it."

"Power up?"

"It…helps to you beat the other players," Haru says. "You'll see."

Furuya nods. Haru brings them up to the start screen, and lets Furuya mull over his character choices, of which the other settles on Toad. There isn't a smile on Furuya's face, but Haru feels like Furuya is mildly excited about playing, perhaps the competitive spirit that comes with all sportsmen. When the first race finishes and the number 8th place flashes boldly on Furuya's side of the screen compared to Haru's 1st place, Haru glances over and sees Furuya glowering darkly.

"I will not lose," Furuya mutters.

Stubborn, Haru thinks, but he is also very guilty of the same virtue or vice, and so he chooses another track for them to play.

And another.

And another.

And another.

Furuya has overslept a few times, this is nothing unusual, but this time Miyuki can't even get through Furuya's phone, and it's been an hour since he's first rang the doorbell for the apartment. He should've gotten Nanase's number as well, seeing as this is a scenario that he should've accounted for—but then again, if Nanase is out then there's no help for that either. God, Toru, wake up already, Miyuki groans, shuffling in the cold. He's going to make Furuya pay for making him wait like this. He futilely rings the doorbell again—one last time, before he gives up and goes to the cafeteria to wait or something, when someone clears his throat from behind him curiously.

"Can I help you?" the person asks, voice quiet in a way that reminds Miyuki of Furuya.

Miyuki pauses, a déjà vu feeling sinking into his skin. Though, other than the voice, there is nothing about appearances from this person that looks like Furuya—or Nanase, for that matter—light brown, or nearly blond, hair, brown eyes, gentle smile.

"…Are you the third flatmate of this apartment?"

The other person glances at the number 211 on the door. "Yes. I'm moving in today."

"My, um, junior," Miyuki starts. "He's not responding to my calls. If you have the key, can you…?" he gestures to the door.

The other's eyes light up in understanding and fishes out the key from his pocket. Miyuki sighs in relief when the door opens—though, a few seconds later he realises that the inside isn't as warm as he thought it would be—he sighs, knowing full well who is at fault. Miyuki nods in gratitude for the help and heads towards Furuya's room first, not bothering to knock before opening the door.

Miyuki bites down the call of Furuya's name on his tongue when he realises it's empty.

Furuya's phone sits innocently on the table, and Miyuki scowls. No wonder. The flat is empty everywhere else too—kitchen, bathroom, the third empty bedroom. Huh. Miyuki tries the only closed door.

"Nanase?" he calls, and knocks louder when there isn't any response. "Nanase, are you in?"

Miyuki is about to turn heel when the door cracks open, revealing the swimmer with a thick blanket pooled around his frame, with squinting eyes. "…Yes?"

"Do you know where—…" Miyuki begins, but he falters off when he spots a lump curled up on the bed inside, dark hair known to belong to his pitcher.

"We were playing video games," Haru says when the other notices the line of sight, holding the door open wider. "He didn't want to stop until he won."

Miyuki glances at Haru. "Let me guess—he didn't," he smirks slightly.

"No," Haru agrees.

"I see," Miyuki says. "Thanks for keeping him company. He can be quite the loner, being so quiet and all."

"…Not really," Haru replies, and Miyuki internally pauses. "I'll go take a bath," Haru continues when there is a lapse of silence.

"Hey, your third flatmate just arrived. He's outside waiting for his things," Miyuki calls after him, though he isn't sure if the swimmer will acknowledge that into his exceedingly long bath times, as Furuya relates to him.

Speaking of whom, the pitcher is dead asleep on someone else's bed, and Miyuki lets the flames of irrational jealousy burn for a bit before squashing them down. Mostly.

"Toru," He prods the other with a finger to the cheek. "Wake up."

Furuya shifts and curls up even further, mumbling something indecipherable.

"Toru," Miyuki murmurs, close to his ear. "You've got some nerve to keep me waiting for an hour," he says darkly. "In the cold."

Furuya sits up abruptly, eyes wide. "Miyuki-senpai," he breathes. "I'm," he pauses, taking in his surroundings. "I'm sorry. I—"

Miyuki smiles, shark-like. "Get up."

Furuya obeys, stumbling after Miyuki sleepily back to his own room. He sits himself on his bed and can't resist lying down despite the annoyed protest that Miyuki huffs at him—his eyes feel so strained and dead from staring at the screen for so many hours. He can't really remember when they actually went to sleep. If, they went to sleep.

"If you're going to sleep, I'm going home," Miyuki mutters sourly, but before he stands up to leave, Furuya catches him by the wrist, looking at him imploringly.

"Miyuki-senpai, don't leave…"

Miyuki presses his lips together, still miffed about—well, the waiting and the circumstances of the wait—and Furuya pushes himself up drowsily, arms curling around Miyuki's waist and leaning his head in the crook of the other's neck. He feels Miyuki freeze for a moment before exhaling under his weight, a hand coming back to rest on the back of his head.

"Make it up to me," Miyuki says eventually, and Furuya nods very faintly, eyes slipping close. "…Oi, don't fall back asleep so fast!"

Suna watches Miyuki disappear inside the apartment like a seasoned visitor curiously. The other had said 'third' flatmate, which implies that he's the last one to move in—though, he had thought that he was moving in relatively early, seeing that it's still mid-March, unless his other two flatmates are sport athletes. A cold gust of wind blows by and Suna thinks about the blanket that Yamato and Takeo had given him a couple of years ago for his birthday. He's packed it with his things, which he unfortunately won't get until the delivery van comes. After a bit more slow pacing outside, he decides to enter the flat to wait instead.

It's clean and rather modern, except for the tatami flooring and low table with cushions in the living room. There's only one open bedroom door that Suna assumes it's his—nothing fancy, but nothing to complain about either. He eventually sits himself at the low table to wait since there's nothing else to do, and busies himself with replying a text Takeo had sent him earlier.

Whilst he's smiling at the picture Takeo had sent of him and Yamato at the entrance of Hakuto University, the bathroom door opens, letting out a stream of hot steam that Suna unconsciously relaxes into; the apartment is a lot colder than it should be, come to think of it.

A short black haired male with large towel hung over his frame blinks at him, water gently dripping to the floor with every second that he stands there. Suna nearly looks away in politeness, then he realises that the other is wearing swimsuit jammers on his legs.

"Hello," Suna nods, and his—presumably—flatmate nods back. "Sunakawa Makoto. Pleased to meet you."

Something flashes in the other's eyes at the mention of his first name, but Suna lets it slide.

"Nanase Haruka," Haru says in reply. "Likewise."

Silence lapses after their introduction. Haru eyes the newcomer, while Suna looks back at the other without so much a word. Suna doesn't feel any hostility behind the other's stare, but instead a silent sort of curiosity.

"Ah, there was someone else who came in earlier…"

"That's Miyuki-san," Haru answers, cocking his head lightly to the middle bedroom door. "He's Satoru's senior."

"I see."

Suna blinks when Haru abruptly sneezes in their second lapse of silence. "You should change up," he says, and Haru looks down at himself and nods.

Haru disappears for less than a minute into his room and comes out fully dressed, making his way to the kitchen and carrying out a pot of tea and two ceramic mugs with him. Suna thanks him quietly for the hospitality as Haru shuffles to sit next to him, not saying anything much in particular.

"You don't have to keep me company," Suna says after ten minutes between them of just sipping hot tea.

"It's fine," Haru replies, staring at his tea before flicking his gaze to Suna. "Are you cold?"

Suna, who has been rubbing his hands together under the table, pauses. "…A little," he admits.

"Satoru doesn't like the heat," Haru says in some way of explanation, and he gets up to walk towards the corridor of their front door. He comes back a few seconds later. "I turned the temperature up so it should feel better."

"Thank you."

Despite the rather stoic personality—not that Suna can say much for himself in that aspect either—his flatmate seems like a considerate person, someone he'd probably be able to get along with, though in terms of speaking, they aren't doing very much. Suna wonders if he should attempt conversation or let it be seeing as both of them don't seem very inclined to talk. He, does, however, notice the way Haru stares at his cup of tea, and the gentle traces the other's finger on the table top, like he's sketching the outline of it.

"Nanase-san," he begins. "What do you study?"

"Art," Haru answers, eyes darting up. "…'Haru' is fine," he says after a moment. "It's only fair for all of us."

Suna pauses on that last sentence, but he figures he'll understand that in time. "Then, 'Suna', for me."

Haru nods, taking another sip of his tea. "Are you hungry?" he asks.

"I'm okay."

"I'm cooking mackerel," Haru continues, with a certain sort of dead set gleam in his eyes. "It's good for you."

Suna agrees because well, it is, and Haru stands up this time to disappear into the kitchen. There isn't time to dwell much on what the other is really doing because Suna's phone vibrates, signalling a call from the delivery van. For the next half an hour he directs the delivery employees to carry his things in, and leaves a fair gratuity tip because he knows full well how heavy some of his boxes are, being filled with just books.

"Suna."

Suna glances at the low table where Haru is already halfway into his grilled mackerel and rice combination, and sees that there is another portion set out for him. He had initially planned to go to the cafeteria once his things were delivered, but he can't refuse a meal that has been cooked for him. He takes his seat and thanks the other quietly.

"You didn't have to."

"It's good for you," Haru repeats, swallowing another mouthful of rice.

Suna looks at the grilled fish, light charring in the right areas. He murmurs a thanks for the food and picks a portion to put into his mouth. It's soft and sweet and salted delicately.

"It's good," he says, fully meaning it.

Haru's eyes glimmer in pride.

Miyuki wakes, only because his phone is vibrating in his back pocket so much that his ass feels itchy. He groans, trying to turn over to his side but a strong arm hold around his waist prevents him from doing so. Eventually he gives up, hand fumbling into his pocket to fish out his phone. He can't see very well without his glasses—he vaguely wonders where he had placed them before succumbing to this particular afternoon nap—but he has a rough guess on who is calling him like a frantic housewife.

"What do you want," he mutters, voice rough from sleep, the moment he presses the answer button.

"Kazuya—!"

Miyuki winces and holds the phone away from his ear the second Mei's obnoxious voice yells loud enough to be heard at least beyond their closed door.

"You always do this, having fun with your boy toy while I'm starving here—"

"Mei, shut up for a moment," Miyuki orders, blinking his eyes to get his brain awake.

"What, were you having sex?" Mei snorts without a hint of remorse. "If you don't get back here I'm going to turn on the stove and—"

"Don't you fucking dare," Miyuki hisses. "Just. Stay put. I'll be back."

"You better damn well—"

Miyuki ends the call before the other can finish his sentence. He groans under his breath and squints to look at the time on his phone. "Shit, I didn't realise it's this late," he mutters, because Mei is going to rub that in when he gets back.

He tries to sit up, but Furuya's arm around his waist is unforgiving. "Toru," he sighs, prodding at the arm. "I know you're awake. I need to go, or the spoilt princess is going to give me hell over the next week."

Furuya mumbles something too soft to hear near his neck, the arm curling even tighter.

"Satoru," Miyuki begins, impatient, and Furuya obeys.

As Miyuki picks his glasses off the floor, Furuya sits up slowly and tucks his legs underneath him.

"Miyuki-senpai…are you angry?"

Miyuki pauses, rubbing the sleep in his eyes away while his back is turned towards Furuya. He isn't exactly angry—but he did think that they'd be doing other things then sleep the entire afternoon away, even if that's Furuya's favourite past time. They don't really have time during the weekdays, and he thought that maybe they could play catch today considering Furuya, as a newcomer, isn't assigned to be battery with him as of yet. He'd never thought he'd miss catching Furuya's pitches—but he has to keep that a secret, who knows what Furuya might do if the other realises this.

"I'm not mad," Miyuki says, but Furuya looks guilty, gaze flickered to his hands. Miyuki smirks lightly. "But you'll make it up to me anyway, right?"

Miyuki honestly has no idea why he ever expects Furuya to blush at his words, because Furuya is much more likely to do things like reaching for his hand and staring straight into his eyes, with a flat reply of "…I can make it up to you tonight. Will you stay?"

How can you always say things like this, Miyuki wonders with frustration curling up his belly when Furuya leans forwards and cups his jaw to kiss him sweetly. Heat involuntarily pools at the bridge of his nose, especially with the gentle way Furuya handles his neck, sighing into his mouth and slowly playing their tongues together lovingly. Miyuki exhales, giving in to the show of affection, one hand pulling at the bottom of Furuya's shirt to tug him closer. He kisses back a little bit deeper, rougher, and hungrier, until he pulls back for air with a string of saliva connecting between their lips.

He licks it away. "…Not that easy," he murmurs, eyes glinting. "I want a full day."

Furuya's cheeks are flushed as he nods, though he still looks unhappy when Miyuki extracts himself away and adjusts his hair.

"I'll see you at Monday practice. Don't be late," Miyuki warns when his hand is on the doorknob. "By the way, you should say hi to the new flatmate you completely ignored today."

Furuya blinks, as if suddenly remembering that. "Miyuki-senpai—"

"You'll be fine," Miyuki smiles, a little less teasing and more encouraging this time. "Just be yourself."

The pitcher gives a slow nod.

Furuya shuffles his feet outside the third bedroom doorway, though the door is swung wide open. He isn't really sure how to step in and break the ice. He peeks in silently first, seeing a blond kneeling on the floor with half opened boxes around him shifting things out of it. He spots Haru in a far corner next to an open box picking out books and placing them into a neat stack by his side. He must've stood a little too close, because the blond looks up and gives him a curious stare.

"Hello."

Furuya nods, padding forward to kneel on the floor in front of his new flatmate. "Furuya Satoru," he says, bowing slightly.

"Sunakawa Makoto," the other bows back politely.

Suna eyes him for a moment before subtly glancing over towards the third occupant in the room. Haru ignores them, apparently absorbed into one of the covers of his books. They look astonishingly similar like except the height, which is a coincidence he can't really shake off, though Haru seems to have no qualms being in his presence, while Furuya looks at him like he's not entirely sure why he's here.

"…Can you help me with those books?" Suna asks, gaze towards the half-unpacked box on his left.

The air around Furuya brightens, though no smile comes across the face. Suna watches Furuya for a bit, the gentle and earnest way the other carries the books out, though a little clumsy with the heavy ones, and also Haru who is still looking at the book cover—it's a picture of a waterfall?—intently. He leaves them with his books while he sorts his clothes into the closet. When he's done, Haru is flicking through that same book he was fascinated with earlier with his knees up, while Furuya is gazing at one particular page of an encyclopaedia—not entirely sure why he packed that to be honest—with animals and annotations on it printed large.

"You can borrow those if you like," Suna says, and both of them look up before giving a small nod.

Suna hides a smile.