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ferbynni · 3 years ago

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08:57AM | HAITANI RINDOU

Rindou feels lame. Lame and silly and quite sick with himself in fact. He feels lame when he deliberately leaves his tie slightly askew just so you can pull him back at the front door to fix it, clicking your tongue affectionately and muttering about how forgetful he is under your breath. And he’ll smile warmly, hoping that blush that seems to betray him at every opportunity is somehow hidden by the soft strands of lilac hair framing his face, hoping that since you’re looking down, you can’t see the way his throat bobs up and down in tandem with his racing heartbeat, and hoping that you’ll trail your hands down his chest when you’re done and smile brightly at him.

Rindou feels lame when he wakes early, horribly and catastrophically early, just to watch the dappled sunlight pour through the window, leak through the blinds and fall in shafts on your sleeping form. When he hears the songbirds just outside and leans over to wrap an arm around your torso, burying his nose in your hair, curling around you, slotting against your body like he belongs there. Your hair will fall back around the shell of your ear and Rindou will press a feather light kiss to the nape of your neck, light enough to keep you asleep, your eyelids fluttering.

Rindou feels lame, extremely lame in fact, when he scours the baking aisle at the supermarket, a list in one rough and calloused hand, a basket in the other, surveying the shelves for the right icing he knows you like, dropping the lemons into the basket with a thunk. He bakes the cake, fails four times, and the fifth attempt is only barely passable and yet the time spent doesn’t feel wasted. Why would it? Your birthday is a special occasion and yes he could just as easily order something extravagant, have something made that costs more than a week's wages had it been anyone but him but he doesn’t. The morning spent cleaning up after his own messy endeavour is worth it when he sees the smile on your face that evening, your eyes crinkling at the corners.

‘Did you make this Rin?’ you say, using your spoon to scoop up the clotted cream and icing pooling on your plate.

‘That obvious huh?’ Rindou waits expectantly, the candles flickering, casting shadows on the wall, your silhouettes painted on the wallpaper as you sit around the small breakfast bar in your kitchen. Rindou wishes he could give you something better than this makeshift candlelit dinner at night, when both of you are exhausted and your limbs are heavy with fatigue, eyelids drooping, but fighting to stay open just to clutch onto those extra moments of staying awake for each other.

‘No actually. I love it, Rin.’ You beam up at him and even though it's late, even though his body and mind feel like two pools of sludge, his heartbeat still thumps loud against his ribcage. Funny how you can make him feel like this after five years of marriage. He skips out on telling you how many times he attempted it. He does have some pride after all.

It’s perhaps a small moment, but the significance of it is not lost on either of you. He knows it bothers you that he works so much, that he's hardly here to give you the attention you deserve, that some nights are spent alone, shifting a hand across the cold side of the bed, the place where he should be, where the linen is uncrinkled. He knows you don't complain about it, about the long hours, the unpredictable and dangerous lifestyle but that it worries you all the same. He sees it when he drops his jacket on the sofa after a hard day, and you frown as you run a tentative finger over the cut of his cheekbones and his lips which are parted and pink and slightly dry with dehydration. You click your tongue and shrug him out of his clothes and pretend not to see the smudges of red on the white shirts. You’ll trail your hand over the bare expanse of his chest, his stomach, even further, and Rindou’s head will fall against your shoulder at the brush of your cold hands on his hot skin.

Rindou feels especially lame when he catches himself daydreaming during a meeting, staring at you as you fuss in the foyer just outside, bouncing your baby on your leg as you chat animatedly with the receptionist, your cute sundress flaring at the waist and Rindou thinks about trailing his hands along your arms, your thighs, dipping them against the curve at the small of your back, pulling you close to him and marveling at how you and him just seem to fit like puzzle pieces. Mikey suddenly sounds very far away, his voice a warbled drone thrumming underwater and Ran kicks Rindou under the table when he sees his Brother becoming just that little bit distant. A craning of his neck around his chair tells him exactly why and he follows Rindou’s line of vision till he sees you laughing with your head thrown back, exposing the smooth column of your throat to the light.

‘Oi!’ Ran hisses under his breath and kicks Rindou under the table.

‘What do you want?’ Rindou’s stare snaps in two as he turns to glare as his Brother.

‘Pay attention!’

‘I am! What’s your problem?!’

‘No you’re not,’ Ran says through gritted teeth, stamping on Rindou’s foot. Not enough to hurt of course, just enough to get the point across. ‘I can see you staring at Y/N!’

‘Leave me alone!’ Rindou says sourly, ashamed at having been caught not only by Ran but by Mikey when he looks up to see his boss raising an eyebrow at him over his sheaf of papers.

'Something wrong?' Mikey asks and Sanzu only snickers at Rindou's flushed cheeks.

'No Boss,' Rindou says and pulls his chair closer to the table, choosing to ignore Takeomi's smirk in the process. 'Continue.'

Rindou feels very lame, embarrassingly lame, as he slots his lips against yours, dropping his head to the dip in your chin to press a feather light kiss on the indentation in the middle. You’re dancing in your cramped apartment kitchen at 2AM and even though you can still hear the raucous laughter of party-goers outside, the clank and thud of your neighbour ‘s bed hitting the wall as he moving in his sleep, the only thing you have the energy to focus on is Rindou's heartbeat under your cheek. His hands are on your hips, skimming the skin between your pajama bottoms and the oversized shirt you stole from him and he closes his eyes briefly when he feels your hot breath kiss the curve of his collarbones. Both of you are clad in loose pajama’s, hair messy, eyes droopy with fatigue and yet neither of you feel the need to move or sleep and disturb this blanket of peace.

You lean up, press your lips to the column of his throat, his tattoo bobbing up and then down. The air is permeated by loud silence, and you sway, not all together in time to Chopin's nocturne op.9 no.2, playing from the speaker. His hair tickles your nose every time he bends to press his lips to the crown of your head and it's so tender and soft, so full of love and unspoken understanding, the air heavy with the weight of the years between you, and yet you feel just right, closer to peace than you ever have.

‘I love you,’ you whisper against his chest, your eyes brimming with tears, and you hope your baby sleeping in the next room doesn’t wake with the gentle melodic timbre of song drifting through the wall. ‘I love you so much.’

If your heart could physically burst, it would.

He smiles, a warm genuine smile and the dimples set in his cheeks are two crescent moons as he holds you just that little bit tighter. His mouth finds yours again, and the soft and hesitant brush of his lips, the small and playful bite as he pulls gently, tells you all you need to know in response. You love him, he loves you, that’s all there is to it, nothing more to be said. That you are together despite the obstacles (and there have been many), is a testament to the same love, the same unwavering devotion and If there was ever a couple who withstood every test of time, it would be you. Perfectly fitted puzzle pieces, the sun and moon borrowing light from each other.

So yes Rindou feels a little lame. But the lamest thing is, is that he doesn’t quite feel lame at all.

A/N: Please read this while you listen to chopin's nocturne op.9 no.2 that is my only request. I had so much fun writing this, but then again I always do when writing for Rindou. I hope you all like it, it's a little shorter than what I usually write. Would anyone be interested in me opening a ko-fi? would anyone actually commission me? I'm considering the idea. Let me know, and as always likes and reblogs appreciated. Happy 5 months again my moonlight.

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