Sweet Side Story
The afternoon sun streamed through the apartment's floor-to-ceiling windows, casting warm, dappled light on the floor, with dust motes gently floating in the beams of light.
Yukimura leaned back on the sofa, with Yuzuru curled up in his arms, his back pressed against the warm chest, his head resting against Yukimura's chin.
The two were covered with the same knitted blanket, their fingertips occasionally touching and gently brushing against each other, conveying an unspoken intimacy.
"In the last semi-final, that backhand drop shot from the opponent was indeed a bit tricky." Yukimura's voice was deep and gentle, with a hint of a smile. "But in the end, we found a way to break it." He looked down at the person in his arms, his fingers unconsciously sliding along Yuzuru's hair.
Yuzuru hummed in agreement, turned his head and rubbed against his palm, then his eyes suddenly lit up: "So you don't like the ball hitting your feet?"
"I don't really like it." Yukimura looked at the excitement that couldn't be hidden in his eyes, and a hint of doubt appeared in his own eyes—it was just a small thing, why was he so interested in it?
"Ah~ So you also have balls you don't like." Yuzuru seemed to have discovered a new continent, his fingertips entwining with Yukimura's fingers, gently twirling them, his tone full of novelty.
Yukimura smiled helplessly and pinched his cheek with his fingertips: "I'm not a robot, I'll always have preferences."
"So you've been playing for so long and no one noticed?" Yuzuru tilted his head back, his eyelashes fluttering slightly, his curiosity piqued.
"I have no blind spots." Yukimura slightly raised his chin, his tone carrying just the right amount of confidence, yet his eyes held a gentleness.
"But you don't like those kinds of balls, do you?" Yuzuru pressed on relentlessly, gently patting the back of his hand with her little hand.
“Not liking him doesn’t mean you can’t fight back, Yu.” Yukimura lowered his head and placed a light kiss on the top of his head, his voice softening.
The lawn in the yard was neatly trimmed, and the two camphor trees were lush and cast large areas of shade.
Two rattan lounge chairs were placed side by side, with Yukimura and Hanyu lying on them. On the small table at their feet were chilled juice and sparkling water, with fine water droplets condensing on the outside of the glass jars.
Yuzuru took a sip of his lemonade, then picked up the glass of plum juice in front of Yukimura and handed it to him. Seeing Yukimura's slight frown after taking a sip, Yuzuru suddenly sat up straight: "Oichi, you're actually afraid of sour things!"
Yukimura silently put down his cup, sighing helplessly to himself—is it possible that I'm just an ordinary person with a normal sense of taste? He didn't say it aloud, but just looked up at Yuzuru, his eyes filled with a indulgent smile.
"You drank the lemonade I bought before?" Yuzuru leaned closer, his nose almost touching his cheek, his eyes full of confusion.
“That level of acidity is tolerable.” Yukimura reached out and patted his shoulder, afraid he would fall. “Plum juice is much stronger than that.”
"Are you afraid of spicy food?" Yuzuru asked, his eyes sparkling as if he were gathering some interesting information.
"It's alright." Yukimura's fingertips brushed against his earlobe, soft and warm.
"Are you afraid of wasabi?" Yuzuru persisted, asking another question.
"It's alright." Yukimura replied patiently, picking up a tissue and wiping the little bit of juice from the corner of his mouth.
"Can you endure hardship?" Yuzuru asked, resting his chin on his hand and looking at him earnestly.
Yukimura's smile deepened as he reached out and hooked his wrist, gently pulling him close. "What kind of suffering? If it's the suffering of liking Yu, I'd be happy to endure it." His tone was clearly teasing, with a slight rise in his voice at the end.
Yuzuru's cheeks flushed slightly. He withdrew his hand, lay back down on the recliner, and mumbled an "Oh."
Yukimura watched him rest with his eyes closed, his eyelashes casting soft shadows under his eyelids, his profile lines incredibly gentle.
He got up, walked to Yuzuru's recliner, leaned over and whispered, "I have some favorite foods, Yuzuru."
Yuzuru lazily opened one eye, his voice slightly nasal: "What?"
"You," Yukimura said with a smile, and before he could react, he bent down and picked him up in his arms.
Yuzuru gasped and instinctively wrapped his arms around his neck, pressing his cheek against his shoulder, and could smell the faint scent of cedar on him.
Yukimura carried him steadily into the house, heading towards the bedroom, the sunlight casting long shadows behind them.
Yukimura, wearing a beige apron, held a lump of dough in his hand. A tutorial on making dumplings was playing on the tablet in front of him. He frowned slightly, his eyes focused as if he were studying tactics on the field.
The hands that usually control the game on the court and can decide the outcome with a flick of the finger seem a bit clumsy at this moment—the left hand holds the dough, the right hand pinches the pleats, the fingers are placed a little stiffly, trying to imitate the movements in the tutorial, but the buns made are either crooked pleats or have thick skin and little filling, and the appearance is really not good.
"I'm back!"
Yuzuru's cheerful voice came from the doorway, accompanied by the soft sound of a key turning.
She changed her shoes, peeked around the living room but didn't see anyone, and followed the faint sound of water and the aroma of flour straight to the kitchen.
As soon as I opened the door, I saw Yukimura standing in front of the kitchen counter.
Yuzuru couldn't help but laugh out loud. He quietly walked over, gently hugged Yuzuru's waist from behind, pressed his cheek against Yuzuru's back, and said with a smile, "You're amazing, Oichi, you're so good at everything, from formal occasions to domestic chores!"
Yukimura felt the soft warmth on his back, paused, and looked back at him helplessly, his fingertips still covered in flour: "Stop messing around, I'm dirty."
Yuzuru nuzzled against his back, curiously peering at the steamed buns on the counter. "Wow, they've already made so many! They must taste delicious!"
Yukimura felt a slight flush rise to his ears from the praise, but continued to focus on his work.
After another half hour of work, all the dough was finally wrapped, and the buns of various shapes were placed into the steamer.
As the steam rose and the aroma of flour and fillings filled the kitchen, Yuzuru lay beside him, his eyes sparkling as he waited.
"bite--"
The steamer shut off, and Yukimura lifted the lid, releasing a wave of steam.
Although the buns were still crooked and two even had their filling spilling out, their fluffy appearance made them look like a success. Yuzuru eagerly picked one up, blew on it, and carefully took a bite. His eyes immediately lit up: "The taste is pretty good! The filling is also very fragrant. Good job, Oichi!"
Yukimura watched her eat with satisfaction, a gentle smile appearing on his lips. He picked one up and tried it himself, concluding that it wasn't a complete failure.
As night deepened, Yuzuru felt a bit hungry again. Remembering the leftover steamed buns from the afternoon, he decided to heat up a few for a late-night snack. But when he opened the food container and picked up a cooled steamed bun, he suddenly froze.
He squeezed the bun, its hard texture making him frown. He picked up another one and tapped it on the counter—"Thump! Thump!" The crisp, loud sound echoed in the kitchen.
Yuzuru stared at the pile of "hard objects" in front of him and fell silent.
"What's wrong?" Yukimura walked into the kitchen and saw him staring blankly at the steamed buns, so he asked curiously.
Yuzuru raised his head, a thoughtful expression on his face that seemed to be both amused and exasperated: "Oichi, it seems we have a lot more weapons now."
As he spoke, he picked up another steamed bun and slammed it heavily on the table, making a clear "thud".
Yukimura was taken aback at first, then realized that he had forgotten the crucial step of proofing the dough, which caused the buns to become very hard after cooling down, and he couldn't help but laugh.
Yuzuru saw his smile and smiled too. The two of them laughed together in the kitchen, their clear laughter drowning out the "thump thump" of the steamed buns being banged on the counter.
The night, like an ink-soaked velvet cloth, gently enveloped the entire city. In the apartment, only a warm yellow floor lamp was on, its soft light gently washing over the sofa.
Yukimura leaned back on the sofa, with Yuzuru resting his head on his lap. The two stared at the TV screen together, their fingertips occasionally touching unconsciously, exuding a relaxed warmth.
The TV programs switched programs like a revolving lantern, nothing particularly captivating; the only sounds in the air were the soft clicks of the remote control buttons and the steady breathing of the other passengers.
"It seems like we rarely watch movies together," Yuzuru suddenly said, his voice tinged with regret, as he poked Yukimura's knee with his fingertip.
No sooner had he finished speaking than Yu Sheng sat up abruptly, his eyes sparkling: "Why don't we go now!" He grabbed his coat from the armrest of the sofa and began to get ready quickly, leaving no room for argument.
Yukimura smiled helplessly yet indulgently, then got up and picked up the keys: "Slow down, don't rush."
The movie theater was unusually quiet late at night, and the showtimes on the screen at the ticket window were sparse. Yuzuru looked at it for a long time, and finally his face fell—at this hour, there was only one horror movie left, called "The Vengeful Spirit."
"Since we're already here, we can't just come for nothing." He bit his lower lip, as if he had made a big decision, and turned to Yukimura, saying, "Let's watch this!" With that, he quickly bought two tickets and grabbed a bucket of popcorn.
The theater was almost empty, with only a couple of people sitting in the front row.
As soon as the lights dimmed, eerie background music started playing instantly. Yuzuru instinctively moved closer to Yukimura, forgetting to eat the popcorn in his hand.
As the eerie corridor appeared on the screen and the footsteps grew closer, Yu Sheng abruptly covered his eyes, only daring to peek through his fingers, his voice trembling slightly: "A-Shi, A-Shi, is the ghost gone?"
Yukimura turned his head to look at him, a smile hidden in his eyes, but his tone was very calm: "Not yet, they're killing the old man who cleans the house."
"Ah—" Yuzuru exclaimed softly, quickly turning his face towards Yukimura and tightly gripping his arm.
But the next second, the camera suddenly cut to a gloomy forest, and a pale, distorted face suddenly came close. Yuzuru was so frightened that he trembled all over and threw himself into Yukimura's arms, burying his face completely and even breathing softly.
Yukimura naturally put his arm around him, gently patting his back to comfort him. Feeling the slight trembling of the person in his arms, the smile in his eyes faded, replaced by a hint of heartache: "Shall we go?"
"No, no!" Yuzuru shrank back in his arms, his voice muffled but with a hint of stubbornness, "Since we're already here, we have to finish watching it..."
After finally getting through the movie, Yuzuru had been practically buried in Yukimura's arms the whole time. It wasn't until he walked out of the theater and felt the night breeze that he calmed down a little, but his eyes still held a hint of fear and unease.
Back at his apartment, Yuzuru went straight to the bathroom, hoping to take a hot shower to calm himself down.
But as soon as she turned on the shower, the hot water gushed out, and the steamy air in the bathroom instantly reminded her of terrifying bathroom scenes in movies. She screamed in fright, flung open the bathroom door, and rushed out.
Yukimura was tidying up in the living room when he heard the scream and rushed over: "What's wrong? What's wrong?"
Yuzuru threw himself into his arms, hugging his waist tightly, his voice pitiful and on the verge of tears: "I'm scared... I was thinking about the bathroom scene in the movie..."
Yukimura tightened his arms around him with heartache, then leaned down and kissed the top of his head, gently comforting him, "It's alright, it's alright, it's all over now. I'll never watch horror movies again, okay?"
"Mmm..." Yuzuru nodded, burying his face in the crook of his neck, absorbing the warmth and sense of security from his body.
Yukimura felt the soft, warm body in his arms, the faint scent of his shower gel lingering in his nostrils. With such beauty before him, a sudden, restless desire stirred within him. He lowered his head and whispered in Yuzuru's ear, "Shall we shower together?"
Before Yuzuru could react, he had already turned around and carried the person into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
The warm yellow light shone on the two of them. In the misty air, Yukimura looked down at Yuzuru, who still looked a little aggrieved in his arms, and a gentle smile appeared in his eyes—it seemed nice to watch a horror movie with her once in a while.
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