Hibari woke up as he always did, just before the sun fully brightened the room. The space beside him was empty, the blanket neatly folded. He frowned, mildly confused. Dino never woke up earlier than him—not unless there was some pressing reason.

Pulling on a robe, Hibari stepped out of the bedroom, his silent strides taking him toward the kitchen. On his way, he glanced at the living room and stopped in his tracks. There, sprawled awkwardly on the sofa, was Dino, his hair a mess and his breathing steady in deep sleep.

Hibari's brows furrowed. The sofa? He actually chose that over the bed? For some reason, it irritated him more than he expected. The sight felt like a silent statement, one Hibari couldn't quite decipher but didn't like nonetheless.

His irritation carried him into the kitchen, where he opened the fridge to pour himself some water. That's when his eyes landed on the cold mug sitting on the table—the hot chocolate he'd made for Dino the previous night. Untouched.

Something in Hibari's chest tightened, and without thinking, he grabbed the mug and poured its contents down the sink, the clatter of ceramic louder than he intended. He gripped the edges of the counter, taking a steadying breath. What the hell is his problem? Hibari thought, scowling to himself.

He abandoned his drink, his thirst forgotten, and headed back to the bedroom. As he closed the door behind him, his irritation only grew. Dino's actions didn't make sense, and the lack of explanation gnawed at Hibari more than he wanted to admit.

--

When Dino woke up, his neck ached from the awkward angle he'd slept in, and his mood was sour before he even opened his eyes fully. He sat up groggily, rubbing his face as he glanced around.

The house was quiet—too quiet. Dino stretched and made his way to the bedroom, only to find it empty. Hibari's hoodies were missing from their usual spot by the door, a clear sign he'd gone out.

Dino stood there for a moment, staring at the empty hanger. Where would he go this early? A part of him scoffed at himself for even wondering. Hibari always came and went as he pleased, no explanations offered. Dino had long since accepted it.

But something about today felt different. What if he's meeting someone? That guy from yesterday? The thought sent a flicker of jealousy through Dino's chest. He clenched his fists, shoving the idea aside.

Normally, Dino would have messaged Hibari by now. A casual, "Where are you?" or even just, "Out?" It wasn't unusual for him to check in like that, even if Hibari rarely answered directly. But today, Dino didn't bother. If Kyoya wants to be petty, then so can I, he thought, grabbing a coffee instead.

--

Elsewhere, Hibari sat in the park, the sun filtering through the trees above. His phone sat on the bench beside him, silent and untouched. He leaned back, staring at the sky, his mood sour.

He'd checked his phone more times than he cared to admit. Dino usually messaged him by now—annoying, predictable little messages asking where he was or what he was doing. It was a habit that Hibari had come to expect, even if he never said so out loud.

But today, there was nothing. No buzzing, no pop-up on his screen. And the absence grated on him. Why hasn't he asked? Is he sulking? But why? Stupid herbivore.

Frustrated, Hibari shoved his phone into his pocket and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The quiet park did little to ease his irritation. It wasn't like he wanted Dino to message him—at least, that's what he told himself. But the silence... the silence felt off.

Hibari scowled, glaring at the ground. I'll bite him to death.

--

Dino had spent the entire day at home, the silence in the house growing heavier as the hours passed. He tried to keep himself occupied, flipping through channels on the TV, but nothing really held his attention. A part of him felt lonely, but he brushed the thought aside. It's not like Kyoya is the type to brighten a room anyway, so how is this any different? he reasoned, but the logic felt hollow.

The clock ticked past 10.30 p.m., and Dino was still alone. He told himself he didn't care. Kyoya always comes and goes as he pleases. It's fine. But as the minutes crept closer to 11.00, the knot in his stomach tightened. Hibari still wasn't back.

By 11.40, Dino was pacing by the front door, his car keys in hand, ready to go look for him. Just as he reached for his jacket, he heard the faint beep of the passcode being entered, followed by the sound of the door unlocking.

Hibari stepped inside with his usual calm demeanor, his face unreadable as he shut the door behind him. He didn't say a word, and Dino stood frozen, watching him.

Both of them thought the same thing, though neither dared to voice it. Oh, really? You're just going to act like I'm invisible now?

Hibari removed his shoes and walked past Dino without sparing him a glance. He headed straight for the bedroom, his movements unhurried, as though nothing unusual had happened. Dino, still rooted in place, felt a sharp pang of irritation but swallowed it down.

--

Hibari lay on the bed, scrolling through his phone. He didn't feel particularly hungry, having eaten earlier outside, and the idea of sitting down to dinner with Dino right now wasn't appealing. He wasn't in the mood for a confrontation, and Dino's silence from earlier still grated on him.

--

Meanwhile, Dino sat at the dining table, eating the cold takeout he'd ordered hours ago. His appetite was minimal, but he needed something to keep his mind off the awkward tension hanging between them.

Both of them were acutely aware of the strained atmosphere, but neither made a move to address it. It wasn't as though either of them didn't notice the cracks forming in their relationship—they did. But facing it head-on felt impossible, like stepping into a minefield with no clear way out.

In their separate spaces, they both tried to push the thoughts away, convincing themselves that tomorrow would be different. That this unspoken gap would somehow fix itself.