Beneath the Sun

Chapter 9

Tenzou falls asleep and doesn't wake until it's dark outside.

Iruka thinks he should take this show of trust as a compliment, that Tenzou deems his apartment to be a place safe enough for him to be vulnerable and weak, to be able to sleep undisturbed, curled on his side, burrowed into Iruka's pillows and blanket. That to be trusted is a far greater compliment than to be loved. It's a warming thought, comforting to the wanting ache that had no direction to go but inwards, a balm that Iruka hopes will be enough. Watching Tenzou sleep from across the living room, Iruka almost believes that this can be enough. That he can be happy like this, however brief their moments together may be.

Tenzou stirs awake quietly as he always does, feet silent as he pads straight for the bathroom and the door shuts with a soft click.

A part of Iruka screams that this needs to end. Yells and bangs against the prison of his ribcage that prolonging this will only make it more difficult, will only serve to hurt him.

Because the truth is, Iruka already knows this is his third love.

Iruka heard in a movie sometime last year before everything with Mizuki went to shit for the second time, that real love comes blindly. It creeps upon you silently.

And you can put up any wall you want, can wear the thickest of armors and that love will tear it all down. You'll find yourself caring about that person without trying, and worst, without realizing . They are nothing like anyone you've encountered before; you'd fall for quirks you didn't think you'd like, and sometimes, it's enough to just look into their eyes and get lost in it every single time. There is beauty in their imperfections and without you realizing it, you will stop hiding most things from them, and gradually, you'll hide nothing from them.

You would want a home with them, you'd want a life with them, even when you thought you never needed those things.

You thank the universe for them.

You truly love them.

Iruka closes his eyes when he hears Tenzou come out of the bathroom, pressing the shake of his hand down on the counter as he waits for the tea to steep. Tenzou's arms wrap around him, fingers splaying under the thin fabric of Iruka's tank top, fingers so warm on Iruka's stomach, his touch scattering goosebumps all over his body as Tenzou presses flush against Iruka's back. They stand quiet, wordless in the sound of the dripping tap, the bustling street outside, and the sound of their quiet breaths under the flashing street signs reflecting on the ceiling.

Iruka thinks this is what perfection is, how there is nothing unrestrained in the comfort of their closeness.

How it's been like this for a long, long time, now.

Iruka knows he's been lonely for a while, has never really picked up all the shattered pieces of himself since Mizuki, the wound further exacerbated with Sandaime's death and then, not long after, Naruto's departure. In a career line that surrounds him with people and friends and constant comings and goings of the village, it's almost silly that Iruka still feels so isolated and alone.

But when Tenzou holds him like this, when they stand together with no words between them, nothing but the grounding warmth and solid presence, Iruka can believe that he's whole.

Tenzou suddenly shifts with a hum of surprise, lifting his forehead from the comfortable nest of Iruka's neck, long fingers reaching out to brush on the leaves of the not as lively looking chamomile plant sitting on Iruka's kitchen's window sill.

"It started to wilt for some reason," Iruka explains. "So I moved it here where the sun isn't too warm by midday. I was going to pick up some new soil—" Iruka stops talking when he feels the chakra that thrums and course through Tenzou's body. He watches as the yellowed drooping edges on the chamomile petals and leaves disappear completely, and what sits perched on his kitchen window is now a lively chamomile plant, not a trace of rot anywhere.