Dear Past Me, Dear Future Me

"I'm home," Mamoru called out to his empty apartment as he flicked the lights in his living room on. He tossed his keys on top of the shelf by the door before slipping out of his sneakers. Today had been another uneventful day at the police box, luckily, but he was still tired all the same after his fair share of little old ladies who wanted to tell him their life stories and children who wanted him to arrest all their little buddies for not being their friends. He unzipped his hoodie to reveal a white button-down shirt, running his other hand through his messy black hair as he stepped up into the apartment. The darkened hallway greeting him usually told him that Aki hadn't come home yet. But today, it looked like there was a light on in his bedroom. Had Aki come home early today without telling him? That didn't seem like something Aki would do, though. Or was there an intruder instead?

His body was tense as he strode over to the door, pushing it open slowly, ready for any threat. He wasn't prepared for what lay on the other side, though.

A teenage boy was nervously perched on the edge of his king-sized bed, the mattress barely sinking under his slight weight. The school uniform he wore seemed strangely familiar, as did the boy's face, but Mamoru couldn't place either one. At the sound of the door opening, the boy looked up, confused round eyes focusing on Mamoru's face, studying it, as his chestnut brown hair fell around his soft cheeks.

"W-who are you...?" Mamoru managed to croak out, pressing himself against the wall of his room in confusion. This was something even his police officer training had never taught him to deal with. How often did random boys showing up in people's bedrooms happen!? His eyes roamed over the boy, hoping for any identifying features, anything that would tell him who he was, but to no avail. Mamoru had a teenage boy in his room, something that hadn't happened for several years now, and he had no idea what to do with him.

The boy opened his mouth to speak, and the soft voice that came out was very strangely familiar to Mamoru, though he still couldn't place it. "Um..." Before the boy could continue, the sound of the front door opening broke the silence and Mamoru froze.

"I'm home," a voice called out. This one, Mamoru knew. His boyfriend, Aki, was home. The sound of keys jingling and boots being taken off sent Mamoru into a panic. Any moment now, Aki would come into the room and see Mamoru alone with a teenage boy on his bed. No matter what he said or did, he was sure that he would never be able to explain this away. The boy on the bed tensed at the sudden change in atmosphere.

"Quick! Get up! Get in!" Mamoru whispered frantically as he grabbed the boy by the shoulders, not giving him a chance to respond before he threw open his closet door and began to try shoving the slim body in.

"Hey, wait--" The boy's protests went ignored in favor of Mamoru not wanting to be killed by Aki if he saw. The footsteps grew closer and closer, and Mamoru grew more and more frantic, but there was too much crammed into the closet to fit the boy in. Mamoru silently cursed his large manga collection and his tendency to buy plastic models, but kept trying to make space nonetheless, taking out boxes of things and tossing them to one side while trying to shove the boy into the space they left behind. He was so focused on this that he didn't hear the door opening, and the footsteps that suddenly stopped.

"Mamoru?" He froze at the voice that was brimming with murderous intent. "...what are you doing?" He didn't need to turn around to know who it was, but still, he turned his head slowly. Aki, his boyfriend, stood there, fierce honey brown eyes glaring as they took in the situation, soft pink lips turned down into an intense frown, soft waves of his chestnut brown hair framing his face, so terribly beautiful even when fury took over.

"I...I can explain..." Mamoru croaked weakly, his voice freezing in his throat. Belatedly, he realized his hands were still on the boy's slim shoulders, and he snatched them back, holding them up in the air much like a criminal being apprehended by the police would. Never had he felt so much like a criminal who was being framed before. He didn't enjoy it.