Daichi heard the handle turning and took out one of his earphones. He was gifted with the sight of Akira fresh out of practice, still flushed and shining with a sheen of sweat. Well, if Daichi could voice just one complaint about basketball, it would be that the clothes were far too baggy. Imagine the crowd the Little Bears would summon if their shirts were a little tighter. 

"The boss isn't home yet," Daichi said. 

Akira's face lit up. "Do you think tutoring will be cancelled then?"

"Not a chance. I hear your test yesterday didn't go so well." Daichi felt a bit sorry about raising it when he saw Akira's expression. "But it takes time for the results to show, so Surya can't complain much."

"I beg to differ." Akira delicately lowered himself to the ground in front of Daichi, wincing. "I've now been banned from the couch."

Daichi shrugged. "There are worse crimes." And Akira really did fall asleep every time he was on it.

"Tell that to my poor butt. And the rest of me."

"Right, I don't think I've ever seen you so stiff."

Akira easily dismissed that with: "Basketball can be a rough sport."

"Hm? That so?" Daichi rolled fully onto his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows to peer down at Akira. "I think it's being rougher than usual."

Today, Akira was strangely wearing a short-sleeved turtleneck under his baggy match shirt. He also moved like he was walking on nails. Now, Daichi knew a thing or two about having some serious injuries or heavy bruises, but Akira wouldn't admit to anything. 

"Music?" Daichi offered one of his earphones. 

Akira was still reaching for it when Surya entered the dorm, kicking off his shoes and dropping a weighted stack of textbooks on the table. 

He instantly snapped, "I don't think so. We're going over yesterday's test."

"Can I cry first?"

"As if there's time for that," Daichi laughed, rolling lazily onto his back and returning his earphone to its rightful place so that he could drown out the sound of Surya tormenting Akira. 

It was true that Akira saw the worst of Surya. His mentor was a perfectionist who cared deeply about how others perceived him. Unfortunately, the rare few who peeked passed that beautifully calm façade were caught by Surya, and had to suffer that split-personality. It was ridiculous how everyone fell all over him when they had no idea how relentless and obsessive he could be about the oddest things. 

After an hour, Daichi lowered the volume of his music to hear Akira complain, "You're always on your phone."

"Yeah? You're always on my nerves." Surya leaned over to see his progress. "Only the second one is correct. And you need to work on your legibility. It took me ages to decipher which test belonged to you. There should be a space between your name and surname."

"Don't tell me how to write my name."

"Well, if you were better at it, I wouldn't have to."

Akira fell to his side on the floor, covering his ears. "My brain is melting."

Surya started to snap something, but Daichi nudged him with a foot, and he relented. "Fine. Let's eat."

Akira jumped to his feet and fled for the kitchen. 

"I'm not sitting next to someone who came straight from practice!" Surya yelled. 

"You've been sitting next to me," came Akira's grumble, even as he trudged to the shower. 

"I'm also doing laundry tonight, so leave what you want washed outside the door."

Once they heard the water running, Surya rose to put Akira's sweaty clothes in the washing machine with the rest of their laundry. Then he returned to where he'd been sitting on the floor, though Daichi had graciously dropped a cushion for him. The instant he was within reach, Daichi got his arms around him, dropping his chin onto his shoulder. 

He coaxed, "Honey, what's got you so wound up?"

Surya tipped his head back until it rested on Daichi. "Who, you mean? The baby."

"What about him?"

Surya felt his eyebrows knot. "The cut lips. The limping. Not all of that is from basketball."

"I've been noticing that, too." Daichi kissed the side of Surya's head. "Do you think it's from work?"

Daichi had asked Akira about it, and he'd said sometimes he works part-time at a car service shop, which rewards him with scratches and grease up to his elbows, but Daichi had never heard of any car service working at night.

As Daichi kept peppering little kisses along Surya's neck, Surya turned to him, and he obliged by lightly catching Surya's mouth with his. He felt Surya's cold palm cradling his cheek, and Surya's smile against his lips, and he thought there was no greater strength than this. His fingers went for that shirt, slipping beneath the collar. 

Until, of course, the water turned off and Akira called from inside, "I forgot my bag."

Surya abruptly leant forward, nearly dragging Daichi off the couch, and he pulled Akira's bag out from under the little table. Then he hesitated before shoving it back under. 

"Where did you forget it?" he called back. 

Daichi propped his head up in his open palm, bemused. 

"I think, maybe the front door?" 

"I can't see it."

Daichi contributed, "You can just use one of our towels."

There was an embarrassed silence, then the sound of the shower curtain moving. The bathroom door creaked as Akira very predictably searched for his dirty clothes. When he realised they'd already been snatched by Surya, he braved appearing in the doorway of the bedroom with a towel wrapped over his shoulders, which he clutched shut over his chest. 

He was still wearing those cycling shorts; the ones he always wore under the baggier basketball shorts. They curved over his thighs and hips, and it took considerable effort on Daichi's part not to watch the shifting of muscles there.

"What, do you shower with those on?" Daichi asked. 

Akira scowled at him. "Maybe I do."

He went toward the door in search of his bag and was still there when someone knocked.