Hiro's POV
Plink!
Plink!
Plink plink!
THONK!
I clap the pillow tight around my ears, trying to block out the gravel pelting my bedroom window. It comes in spurts of ones and twos, separated by intervals of around five seconds.
WHUMP! A big chunk snags the windowsill.
"Sigh."
Plinkplinkplinkplinkplinkplink~ a fucking handful peppers my window like a shotgun blast. I snug the pillow tighter, occluding blood circulation. "Oh my gaaah," Tadashi squeals, sliding open the shoji screen dividing our rooms and pegging my back with one of his pillows. "Will you just go out and talk to your boyfriend already?! JEEZ!"
"He's not my boyfriend," I lie, tugging the blankets up over my head. "And that's not him outside. It's just… a really douchey sparrow. Go back to sleep."
After almost three months of dating, Miguel and I finally had our first real fight. Not about anything big, mind you. In fact, it was about something so laughably not big, something so profoundly dorky and stupid that I'm embarrassed we argued at all. Even more so now that we haven't spoken in two days. Two full days! Two long-ass goddamn days without my best friend and occasional love pillow!
Another handful of gravel peppers the window. Three more sobakawa pillows hit my back.
"GAH! FINE!"
I get up with a flourish, not bothering to turn on the light as I make a fussy little dance of getting dressed. Once my sweatpants are finally on the right way and I'm stepped into the backs of Tadashi's giant shoes, I knock the first five notes of "Shave and a Haircut" on the window pane and stumble my way out the bedroom door and down the stairs.
"Your boyfriend's outside," Aunt Cass calls from her armchair, sipping a glass of red wine.
"HE'S NOT MY BOYFRIEND!" I lie again as I fish around in the hall closet for anyone's coat. Nothing. Okay, fuck it then. I throw open the door, immediately regretting my hubris as an arctic wind scalds my flesh.
"Bb-Bb-bbbb-bbbb-fffff!" clatter my teeth as I trudge over crunchy, dew-slicked grass. My breath fogs white before me as I round the alleyway running beside our brownstone, minding the rocks and rough terrain.
Miguel's lanky silhouette rests against a tree in the backyard garden. His oversized jacket looks thick and toasty warm.
"Hey."
I pause, moving to casually slip my hands in my pockets, only to realize that I have no pockets to slip them in. "Hey."
With introductions out of the way, neither of us knows what to say. Miguel rolls a pebble around with the toe of his hiking boot. I grind a twig into two smaller twigs beneath the heel of my brother's shoe.
"Aren't you freezing?"
"No," I lie.
Miguel nods, staring at his feet. A vacuum of icy wind settles between us.
I try to suppress a shiver, but I can feel myself chilling to the bone. Miguel watches me. A smirk plays across his lips.
"Y'know… this whole makin' up stuff would probably go a lot smoother if you came over here and got in my jacket."
My eyes go wide as he unzips his oversized coat, holding the flaps open, revealing a thin torso cloaked in warm-looking long johns. I shiver, making no move to join him in Jacket Town. Despite missing him terribly, I'm still not ready to forgive him. But then I notice that I can't feel my fingers, so I hurriedly slink over to join him in Jacket Town.
"Theeeere we are." he chuckles as I wrap my frozen limbs around his scalding-hot torso. He quickly shutters the flaps around me, zipping it up over my back. I'm suddenly encased in the fleece's velvety warmth.
"Better?"
I nod into his chest. Miguel is about half a head taller than me, so my face is half-in, half-out of the jacket's collar. His arms withdraw into his sleeves, tucking beneath me, holding me close.
Miguel leans into Jacket Town and kisses me on the top of my head. "I'm sorry we fought."
I'm too busy enjoying his body heat and the smell of his chest to give anything but a noncommittal "Mmph."
"Even though I maintain that Master of the Flying Guillotine is by far the greatest kung-fu movie of all time, I completely respect that some people… namely you… think that The One-Armed Swordsman has a more compelling rags-to-riches narrative."
By this point I have a boner. From all the heat and proximity. There's no way he can't feel it.
"...even though…" he continues, tracing his fingers down the bumps of my spine. "...the fight choreography in The One-Armed Swordsman looks like a high school play and the production values look like spoiled mayonnaise on hot garbage… still… I'm sorry for fighting."
I kiss his chest.
"... and for you being wrong."
I bite his chest.
"Ouch!" he seethes. "Bad puppy."
Oh god. I love him.
This wasn't a new realization. I'd known for a few months. Still, I can feel a stone settling in my gullet. Because it means that we're nearing a point of no return. Pretty soon we won't be able to just be friends anymore.
"Mmmmggphhhfufhhh."
"What's that?" He pulls the zipper down a bit, freeing my head.
I crane my neck to look up at him. "You, uuh… you wanna come inside? Like… for the night?"
He has such pretty eyes. Brown, almond-shaped, and oh-so pretty.
"KISS HIM, YOU FOOL!"
My eyes go wide. "Tadashi, if you don't stop ear hustling I swear to god I'll be hiding your tools all over the house tomorrow!"
Tadashi chuckles and disappears beyond the overhead window frame. I sigh, resting my forehead on Miguel's chest.
"He's right, y'know."
I groan, wriggling around and fingering the back of the zipper down. "Uh-huh. C'mon loverboy."
Gathering up his hand in mine, I lead Miguel through the biting cold, over the crunchy grass, sidestepping us through the obstacles with ease.
"Aunt Cass," I call out at the doorway. "Me… Miguel… some lame excuse… sleepover…"
"Yep. Late-night study session. Got it." She nods, not looking up from her book. "I'll call his parents."
"Thanks."
"Buenos noches señorita."
"Hi Miguel. Don't throw rocks at the window, honey. You're family. Just knock next time."
"Yes ma'am."
Up the stairs. Fumbling out of coats and jeans and anything else not PG-13. Kicking the oversized shoes over towards Tadashi pretending to be asleep on the other side of the open shoji screen.
"Can your Aunt Cass, like, adopt me?" Miguel asks as we slip under the blankets and arrange ourselves against one another.
"Mmn… no," I purr, resting my head on his chest. "Because then this would technically be incest."
"I'm totally fine with that."
"Ew."
His arms, so long and spindly, encircle my back. My feet press down against his, our toes curling together. I allow myself a pervy 5-second inhale of his shirt. Mmmn… cute latino boy.
I yawn, listening to the gentle lub-thub of his heartbeat. Calloused fingers reach up, stroking a lock of hair behind my ear.
"Hiro?" he whispers softly.
"Mn?"
"I have something I need to tell you."
"W-what is it?" I ask, suddenly more awake.
"Yeah, what is it?" Tadashi whispers excitedly.
"Tadashi, I sweartogod…"
My brother makes a shield with his blanket, blocking all the pillows I return to him. Miguel chuckles, stroking the back of his finger over my flushed cheek. "Well… maybe tomorrow then. We'll make a date of it." He presses a light, impossibly delicate kiss to my forehead. "G'night Hiro."
"G'night Miguel."
He drifts off to sleep within minutes. I stay awake in the dark watching the rise and fall of his chest, listening to the gentle in and out of his breathing with a stomach full of butterflies and a heart heavy with words needing to be said.
