Double Face's practice ends when the moon is already high, when most of the people are already tucked neatly in their bed, wandering on their own dream land. Despite the exhaustion that came after doing two sets of lessons and practices for two units, Kohaku didn't mind it at all — even enjoyed it. He felt much more alive, moving his muscles to dance and sing, like this, freedom tasted sweeter than anything else.

“Kohaku-saaaaan~ Let's go to the dorm together” Madara Mikejima came into his view waving a white helmet he once wore previously. This is actually their third week going back together, always initiated by Madara; Kohaku had never asked for it, but quoting the man himself when he was questioned why, he said because it was his duty as a mama. Kohaku only rolled his eyes at that time, he could never see Madara Mikejima as a mama; and Madara himself knew it, that he wouldn't ever be one to Kohaku. But still, Madara pushed the concept sometimes. Either slipped up because of habit or, there's something else behind that. Kohaku had a hunch it was the latter, though. But he could not quite grasp what it was.

“Mm, let's go.” Kohaku nodded. There's no harm in taking Madara's offer. (Also Kohaku doesn't really feel like going home alone at this hour. He can fend off any danger, but, after weeks sitting behind Madara Mikejima, it has become a routine he would like to keep as long as he could. God knows why.) “... Give me the helmet, aren't we going back with your ‘Baby-chan’” But Madara only laughed, instead of handing the helmet, the older one approached him without any care for his protest. Kohaku knew what Madara was going to do, and dread filled him. It was a new kind of dread that he had just learned; a quickened tempo of his heartbeat, after a jolt of his poor heart upon realizing their close distance. This dread is special, for this only happened around Madara Mikejima. Special and strange, a dread that does not run his blood cold — instead it filled him with strange, magical warmth.

Their distance is dangerously close, but Madara doesn't seem bothered by it. Instead he looked like everything about this is normal, the dread that he's feeling is normal. The helmet did not go to his hands, it went directly to his head instead. This … this is to be expected, considering his personality and all. But he felt the warmth pooled on the pit of his stomach surged to his cheeks, coloring it with bright red. This is him trying to be a mama, Kohaku reminds himself, and upon realization Kohaku both hates and — stupidly, pleased with this gesture. “There ♪ Oh, wait, it needs to be a liittle tighter ~” Why hasn't this come to an end already Kohaku's frown only went deeper than before, but Madara still grinning like an idiot while adjusting the helmet. Kohaku wondered why he wanted to punch that smile with something that's not his fist.

“Now you're all set ☆ hm Are you okay, Kohaku-san”

“—What makes you think I'm not okay .. let's just go.” He's not okay, his heart couldn't sit still from the dread, how come he could be okay But he should be, shouldn't he Madara doesn't give too much thought to it, it seems, and they got into Madara's bike like always.

(But Kohaku still couldn't find a way to calm his heart down.)

*

ES’ street is a blur of colors with them cutting through all of it. Madara kept their pace fast with the bike, not speeding, but not slow either. It’s not a pace that required him to lean on the older for support. At least that’s what Kohaku wanted to believe. The dread had worn off when they finally descended to the street, both of them ceased any small talks; for Madara knew even with his loud voice, it’s hard to converse like this. Kohaku liked quiet nights. Maybe that’s part of the reason why he didn’t mind coming home late, and battering his body for lessons. This period of time felt … nice. So nice, even with Madara’s presence. The nights with the bees are some sort of gentle chaos; Kohaku loved those too, for they are cherished mates of his despite the stupid shit they did. But nights with Madara Mikejima, with his bike, cutting through the calm street, is another thing that he held dearly as well in his heart.

Kohaku felt his hand was gripped by Madara. Returning from his reverie, Kohaku realized Madara was guiding his hand to embrace his partner’s waist. “Just in case” Shouted Madara to the night air, and Kohaku, defeated without fighting anything, hugged Madara Mikejima from the back.

Red colored his cheeks once more. To muffle his stupidly loud heartbeat, Kohaku pressed his face to Madara’s back — unsure how this would help, but it was done by instinct, and he couldn’t take it back.

No, he doesn’t want to take it back.


*

“Thank ya again for the lift, Madara-han.” This time Kohaku took the helmet off by himself, Madara was still on his bike, a smile carved on his lips with his eyes nailed on him. Kohaku handed the helmet back to Madara, coincidentally, Madara’s hand touched his skin. It was warm. “No biiiggie We live in the same dorm, after all.” Kohaku decided to say nothing about it.

“... Then I’m going in.” Madara’s stare perhaps could bore holes to his clothes, Kohaku wondered why.

“Yes, yes. Have a good night's sleep, Kohaku-san You did a good job as always today ~ Dream of me—whoops, I mean, dream well”

Kohaku chuckled alongside his loud heartbeat, “I wouldn’t dream of a dumbass.” He would, honestly. The warmth from Madara’s back still lingered on his body, if he carried it to his bed, maybe he would dream of that dumbass of his.

“Eeeh~ That kinda hurts … but yes, please do dream well, Kohaku-san. ♪”

“Hmph. I will.”