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Inohara isn't expecting the knock on his front door at 9:30 that evening, especially not after the day he had, but he tells his grandmother to stay seated while he answers the door. He has a feeling he knows who it is anyways. Haibara is on his front step, smile as cheerful as always and hands shoved into the pocket of his overly large hoodie- the bright yellow one he stole from Inohara.


“Hey. Sorry it's so late, but I was wondering if I could use your TV?” He pulls the video camera out of the front pocket and gives it a little wave. “I wanted to go over the game footage, but you know how Mako is when she has friends over.”


And sure, Inohara knows it's an excuse. He knows no one would bother Jirou today, not after today's game. He steps aside anyways, because Haibara isn't one to say he needs comfort so easily. The way Haibara's smile turns strained as he ducks his head to pass under Inohara's arm makes the goalies heart clenches as he locks up behind the teen.


Haibara won't be leaving tonight.


It could have been a normal visit with the way Haibara casually kicks his shoes off in the entryway before strolling into the living room like he belongs there. He greets Aika like usual, and smiles as the elderly woman converses with him as casual as always. Inohara knows better, though. He knows Haibara Jirou. The red rimmed eyes and slightly trembling hands are a dead giveaway.


Aika excuses herself fairly quickly, understanding the unspoken need for privacy, with a gentle reminder to turn off the lights when they go to bed. Inohara makes tea as Haibara connects the camcorder to the small television in the living room. By the time Inohara returns with two streaming mugs of tea, the footage is already queued up to the steady start of the game. Inohara flips the switch on the wall, leaving only the glow of the television to illuminate the small dining room before sitting on the tatami.


Haibara watches the tape with extreme focus and concentration, his back to Inohara who sits at the table with the steadily growing cold tea. Inohara watches the tape some, but he mostly watches Haibara; the tense line of his shoulders, the rigid line of his back.


He wishes Haibara would just be honest with his feelings.


Inohara gets up during half time to dump out the tea that neither of them drank and rinse the cups. When he returns, the second half has begun and Haibara's shoulders are shaking. Inohara sighs softly as he pads his way over to kneel beside his boyfriend and grab the remote.


Don't.” Haibara says quietly. Inohara swallows, throat tight, as he looks at the smaller man; nose rubbed red, tears streaking his pink cheeks, but eyes never leaving the screen. Inohara hates that Haibara does this to himself, but he can't bring himself to change it, not when he looks like that.


So he sets the remote down and moves to sit behind his small boyfriend. His arms wrap tightly around the lithe waste and his nose gets buried in the soft brown hair as he watches the recording as well. Haibara's shoulders relax minutely and he shifts his weight to recline against Inohara's broad chest as his fingers clench the forearms wrapped around him like a lifeline.


They watch it all the way to the end.


Inohara holds him for a long while afterwards, even when Haibara's shoulders have stopped shaking. He doesn't let go until Haibara shifts and mumbles “It's late.” into the still night.


There's a spare futon in Inohara's closet, but he never pulls it out. Haibara fits perfectly in the empty space between his warm body and the wall. By the time he's done brushing his teeth, the smaller man has already taken one of Inohara's overly large shirts from the drawer and is crawling into the large bed. They don't bother turning any lights on; the moonlight through the curtain is more than enough for Inohara to find his way to the bed and into the smaller teens waiting arms.


Haibara curls into a ball, head nestled against Inohara's broad chest, and exhales shakily. “We lost.”


“We did.” Inohara's voice is low, quiet. He runs his fingers through soft brown hair. “We lost. But we won't lose next time.” He rumbles.


Haibara doesn't respond, but that's okay. Inohara knows his boyfriend better than he knows himself.




Morning comes too soon, and with the dawn, the sunlight slips through the edge of the curtain and directly onto Inohara's closed eyelids. He squints awake, glaring at the curtain, before rolling over carefully to look at Haibara.


The teen is still asleep on his stomach, head pillowed on one arm as the other holds an edge of Inohara's pillow. His eyes look puffy, even as he's relaxed in sleep, and Inohara smiles at the small trail of drool staining the pillowcase beneath him. He runs nimble fingers over the teen's cheek, smile growing as Haibara's lashes flutter and open to reveal sleepy brown eyes.


“You're drooling all over my pillow.” Inohara says softly. It takes a moment for the words to register and Haibara's soft expression melts away as his eyebrows crinkle and he sleepily bats at the hand cupping his cheek.


“Screw you- I don't drool.” He mumbles before tugging the comforter higher and rolling away from Inohara's soft laughter.


Inohara stretches before climbing out of bed and then stretches again. He bends down to press a soft kiss to Haibara's temple, earning a soft hum, before grabbing a change clothes and heading for a shower.


Haibara Jirou will be just fine. Inohara will make sure if it.