9. Only Room for Two
Setting: Post-rehearsal night, just outside the studio, sudden downpour
Guest star: Kazuma, Hokuto
⸻
It started with a rumble of thunder.
Zin glanced out the studio lobby window as he pulled on his jacket, jaw tightening. Sheets of rain fell hard against the pavement. No warning, no drizzle — just a full Tokyo downpour.
RIKU trotted out from the hallway behind him, tugging on a beanie. “You ready to—”
He stopped. Stared at the rain.
“…Okay, what the hell.”
Zin didn’t say anything at first. Just reached into his bag and pulled out a sleek black foldable umbrella.
“Only one?” RIKU blinked.
Zin gave him a side glance. “You didn’t bring yours.”
RIKU scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “I didn’t think I’d need it. It was sunny when we left this morning.”
Zin sighed. “Of course it was.”
He opened the umbrella.
RIKU moved to grab his bag. “I’ll just wait it out for a bit—”
Zin was already walking past him, umbrella tilted just enough to cover half his shoulder.
RIKU blinked.
Zin looked over his shoulder. “You coming or not?”
RIKU grinned.
⸻
By the time they hit the first crosswalk, they were pressed shoulder-to-shoulder.
The umbrella was only big enough for one if you stood still. Not two walking, especially not two muscular men like them. And especially not when RIKU had looped his arm through Zin’s like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Zin didn’t complain.
They walked in silence.
The rain was loud, but the city had quieted under it. Streetlights reflected in the puddles. Their sneakers slapped softly against the wet pavement.
Zin’s arm was warm. His shoulder kept brushing RIKU’s. The umbrella tilted with each movement — not perfectly held, but held for both of them.
RIKU didn’t even realize he was smiling until Zin spoke.
“You’re grinning.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You are.”
RIKU bumped his hip. “You offered to share without me asking. That’s progress.”
“I just didn’t want you catching a cold.”
“So thoughtful,” RIKU teased, voice a little too soft.
Zin didn’t answer.
But his fingers — the ones loosely gripping the umbrella — shifted. He curled them slightly inward, until his pinky barely brushed RIKU’s.
RIKU’s breath caught.
He didn’t move away.
And neither did Zin.
They walked like that for another ten minutes — two people too close under too small an umbrella, pretending it meant nothing. Pretending they weren’t brushing knuckles every other step. Pretending this was just weather and timing and nothing more.
But when they reached the corner near the station, someone called out from across the street:
“Yo—!”
Both of them froze.
Kazuma and Hokuto were standing under a building awning, looking straight at them.
Kazuma waved. “Only one umbrella?”
RIKU felt Zin go still beside him.
Hokuto didn’t wave. Just raised a hand slowly, one eyebrow up, expression blank.
Zin cleared his throat. “He forgot his.”
Kazuma grinned. “So considerate of you, leader.”
Zin said nothing.
RIKU just gave a helpless smile. “We’re efficient.”
Hokuto stared. “Mmhm.”
The rain kept falling.
And the four of them stood there like nothing was happening at all.
⸻
Later that night, back at the apartment, Zin toweled his hair dry in the hallway while RIKU dug through the fridge.
“Think they know?” RIKU called out.
Zin didn’t answer right away.
Then: “I think they’re letting us think they don’t.”
RIKU smiled into the milk carton. “Guess we have to be more careful.”
Zin passed behind him. Pressed a kiss — quick, warm — behind his ear.
And whispered: “Or not.”
