In the diffused light of your shuttered room, he moves lyrically through your belongings, running his fingers over your watch, flipping through the titles of your books. He scowls at a manga, you can't remember what one it is, but it's a shoujo manga, one of your sisters.

Gakuto only likes manga about sports, racing, and killing machines. It's his protection. His false persona, worn like a slicker to protect against the rain. He wears his arrogance to protect against the things that hurt.

Or the things he think will hurt.

You're waiting to tell him.

The summer is not only hot, but humid. You keep the shutters closed and lounge in the warmth of your shadowed room.

You played tennis earlier when the sun was still low in the horizon, the promise of it's heat still to come. You only stopped when the pavement of the courts shimmered and the shrill cry of the cicada beat an endless vibration through your head.

On the shaded veranda of your house he rests against you, sweaty and hot on your shoulder, breath still pumping. Strands of red hair stick to your neck and drag wetly across your skin when he moves away.

You're waiting to tell him that you already know.

By the time you leave the matsuri, Gakuto is gripping your arm to steady his steps. He's happy tonight and you feel it to. With Gakuto you feel things more closely. He sits tight against your emotional skin, curled around you, inside the barrier that separates and dulls the emotions of the outside world.

His yukata is moss green with grey stripes. You bought it for him, but told him that it belonged to you, that it didn't fit anymore. You wear your blue and white yukata from the year before.

The watermelon is cool and refreshing, you wash it down with Asahi, more than one. You watch Gakuto rub his sleeve over the watermelon juice that runs over his chin and down his neck. You reach out to swipe away the last remains, your fingers momentarily making a connection between you.

He laughs.

You hold the lantern for him. Your hand is steady. His hand shakes, trying to light the long match. His mood falters, as he sets the obon down. The obon is meant to lead the spirits home, but Gakuto hasn't been home for more than a week. 'We should take it with us,' you say. 'To the festival.'

He has lit the lantern for his little sister Kaori.

You walk on the edges of the crowd, Kaori's lantern swinging between you. Some people give you strange looks, others smile. Maybe they understand. You stop at almost every stall. Even the stalls crowded by small children.

Especially those stalls.

At the edge of the river he grabs your hand. You hold it tight as he releases the lantern on the waters. You watch as Kaori joins the other obon on their journey back to the spirit world.

The beer flows freely during the fireworks and as the crowd scatters in the early hours of the morning, Gakuto leans heavily against you. 'I think she had a good time,' he whispers.

You agree.

You wrote your wish on washi flecked with red. You pinned it to the inside of your sleeve. At the end of the festival you release the wish from your sleeve and hang it on the bamboo tree. The twig has pierced the kanji for love.

'What did you wish for?' he asks as you drag his enquiring glance away from the tree.

You're waiting to tell him your wish.

Your yukata lies abandoned on the tatami mat, tumbled with Gakuto's. It's too hot, even for yukata's. He hangs over the end of your bed flipping through the shoujo manga from your dresser. You admire the line of his uncovered back, spine drawing a valley from the nape of his neck to the waistband of his shorts. At random intervals his leg kicks up and he scratches the back of his knee with his foot.

You hold your book loosely in your hands, but you're not reading anymore than Gakuto is. You've been waiting.

Finally, Gakuto is waiting too.

Gakuto sits up and leans against the wall. 'Can I stay here?' he asks.

He has been staying with you for over a week. You nod.

He frowns perceptibly. 'Don't your parents notice?'

'Yes, they notice,' you reply.

'They don't mind?'

Your smile falters, 'they don't care.'

Gakuto nods slowly.

'They're smothering me. I feel like I can't breathe,' he whispers moving closer to you on the bed. 'The house is filled with emotion, I can't escape it… your house it's—'

'Empty,' you finish.

He shakes his head. 'I wasn't going to say empty. Is that how it feels?'

You have been waiting to tell him.

'Not when you're here,' you whisper.

The mattress shifts under you, his skin brushes along yours. He sits across from you, positions mirrored, knees kissing. 'Yuushi,' he whispers. 'Can I stay here?' You nod dumbly.

'No, Yuushi.' His hand wraps around your upper arm and pulls, you are moving with him as he lies back onto the bed, your body following, pressing him down until you lie chest to chest, your leg pressed between his. You shiver as his lips brush across your neck. 'Can I stay… here.'

You are melting. The ache that has held your bodies apart eases, as if it was unnatural to be held apart. You can feel him hard against your thigh, you hesitate to press against him, to give into desire. To show so such a basic emotion.

He pushes up against you, hips colliding. Gakuto is unabashed by his need. 'I want to feel something good,' he murmurs, wrapping his arms around you, his palms firebrands upon your back.

You want to feel something good.

You touch your fingers to the crown of his head. Red hair slightly damp. You love his hair. He closes his eyes as your fingertips run over the delicate skin of his eyelids. You linger on his lips, his breath gentle on your hand.

You touch your lips to his. His body tightens beneath you. His mouth parts beneath yours and you sink into him, hands tangled into his hair.

His lips trail along your neck, his hands over your stomach. 'Yuushi,' he pauses to kiss your chest. 'I've been waiting for you.'

It's strange.

All this time, you were waiting for him.