Happy For House Help | A Genmui Fanfic

Netflix & Chill

Muichiro stood casually against the kitchen counter, arms folded, patiently observing Genya as he dried his hands with a cloth. He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head in an attempt to catch Genya's attention, but the taller man seemed engrossed in his task. After organizing the kitchen and preparing Kafo's food in the microwave, Muichiro couldn't help but feel that there were still many gaps in their relationship, and he was determined to bridge them. He knew nothing of this man.

"Hey," He said, gently tugging on Genya's sleeve.

Genya turned slowly to face Muichiro, his eyes briefly glancing at the broom. With a silent hum, he proceeded to stuff the broom to the side of the fridge. He clasped his hands together, proud of the hard work the two had endured together. He raised his eyebrows, stuffing his hands into his pockets before facing the smaller one once again. There was an air of nonchalance he exuded that struck Muichiro as oddly smooth — as if he had earphones plugged in that never seemed to exist.

Muichiro was taken aback by Genya's composure and felt a desire to reciprocate the same ease, even if how he imagined himself doing it made him feel slightly foolish. It crossed his mind a few times and probably brushed his hair along the way. Or, maybe that was just the subtle breeze coming from the window behind the silhouette of his thoughts. It didn't matter anyway.

"I, um... right — we have Netflix," He stated, pointing a finger outside of the kitchen wherever that was.

Genya furrowed his eyebrows, leaving the smaller one momentarily speechless, mouth slightly agape. Muichiro hummed, looking away and bringing his arm back to where it belonged on his body, resettling it. He subtly bit his bottom lip in thought of what to say next. Whatever was necessary in this awkward situation. He figured that such encounters might become commonplace.

"Care to watch a movie with me?" He outright asked.

He clutched an arm around his torso as it propped up the elbow of his other arm, which hand brushed a piece of hair behind his ear nervously.

"Ahh, umm," Genya hesitated, his gaze softening as he attempted to decipher the words Muichiro ensued.

"It just — it seemed like you've been very distant with our TV," Muichiro admitted, noticing. "You know you can use it,"

Genya's mouth unfolded as he slowly nodded along to the poem he wasn't quite yet understanding. Of course, it was evident what Muichiro was proposing, but the why remained elusive enough. Except, "why" wasn't much of a question Genya of all people was willing to ask. As much as the words pushed open the entrance of his lips, the subject still remained hidden and unable to be brought up. It didn't really matter, after all. It was just a movie.

He didn't want to push answers out of a guy he only had just met. The truth is, the opulence of the surroundings he never found to be typical overwhelmed him. Knowing his place in a house practically made of gold, it was hard for him to create physical contact with anything of any value. That just so happened to include Muichiro and his significance in the lavish abode.

"I really shouldn't have aske-,"

"So... Netflix and chill?" Genya joked, stuffing his hands into his pockets as his gaze took on a mischievous glint.

Muichiro's eyes went wide in response to the suggestive query. He subtly parted his lips in confusion, slightly shaking his head and clearly taken aback.

"A — wha..." He knitted his eyebrows, folding his lips together. "No..."

It went silent as Genya received the guilt he was bestowed from Muichiro's obliviousness. The air between them grew tense, and the atmosphere became charged with unspoken words. Beneath it all, nobody was laughing, and Genya was eventually aware of how questionable he granted the situation. Staring at the smaller one before him, he finally noticed his mistake.

The ring on his finger was finally evident, and so were the events from that very morning. This wasn't somebody he could tease — nobody he could flirt with, or one which words could hint limelight. Whether the situation proved prominent or not, it definitely proved impactful in replacement. For now, Genya knew how he was meant to act in the abode of someone far more advantaged than him. No, not Muichiro, but instead, the apparent happenings of Kafo. He had to respect boundaries.

"Genya, I'm — I am mar-,"

"Right, yeah, no, of course," He sputtered, turning away with the scratch of his head. "It's my bad," He whispered.

Muichiro clenched his teeth, a hint of apprehension replacing any semblance of a smile.

"Umm,"

He slowly spun the ring on his left hand with the tilt of his head, looking away to fix his eyes on the marble of the counter beside him. There was much to say, but nothing left in his vocabulary to volunteer. The words bounced back and forth from the entrance of his throat and gradually lingered. Or perhaps, waited their turns as every letter fought existence. Muichiro had faced his first sign of confusion. He was finally at a loss for words.

"I guess we could watch a movie," Genya offered tentatively.

It was difficult for anything to ensue from him to begin with, but now it was more of a challenge. Some challenge he was bound to complete last in comparison to the others past behind him. A suggestion would suffice.

"Yeah, that would be nice," Muichiro agreed with a nod, clasping his hands together in front of him.

In no time, the two were seated comfortably on the couch of the living room, scrolling through countless amounts of movies. They argued over what to watch, either having already watched or simply uninterested. Smiles began to emerge, smiles neither of them had experienced in a while. Finally, in those lasting moments, they truly believed that they knew each other, perhaps from a past life. The choice of the movie no longer mattered.

Their laughs filled up the room as well as what was left of the reassuring physical contact they "accidently" had every now and then. It was about time Muichiro took the chance to rebel. At least it was physical touch that makeup didn't have to water away, hidden and polished in foundation.

Oh, but it was just once. It didn't have to happen again as long as Muichiro would behave, Kafo had promised. Everything about keeping the promise didn't matter to Muichiro; as long as it was made, because he loved him. He loved him a ton. Something a red herring couldn't tarnish. A love so envious a singular swan couldn't dare to spurn.

Said love represented by a singular bruise that would impact him for life.

Word Count: 1140