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The steam in the communal shower room carried the scents of menthol soap and wet concrete, contrasting with the toxic grime they had been washing off for the past twenty minutes. As the last few members of the squad drifted out toward the dorms, water dripped from pipes overhead, echoing in the tiled space and leaving a quiet lull in the room.
Rudo stood near the sinks with a damp towel slung around his neck. Without his usual Cleaner uniform and arm bandages, he looked small, though years of survival had built lean muscle across his shoulders. His spiky white hair was flattened by the moisture; water droplets clung to the black tips, running down his forehead and just bypassing the fresh adhesive patch over his temple.
A few feet away, Follo pulled on a clean, loose shirt. His hair was damp and hung in messy, dark layers over the collar. Steam caught the golden hue of his eyes as he shook out a clean towel; a faint, lingering tiredness pulled at the corners of his mouth.
Rudo glanced over, his red eyes tracking the lines of Follo's shoulders and torso before Follo could look away. Despite his often hesitant and almost fragile posture, Follo had the clear, functional physique of a trained fighter, a testament to every grueling step of his journey from Supporter to Giver.
"You know, you're actually in really good shape," Rudo blurted out, his voice completely devoid of filter. He crossed his arms over his bare chest and tilted his head, looking slightly frustrated. "Follo has a nice body. I'm jealous."
Follo froze, dropping the edge of his shirt as his brain stalled completely. His eyes widened, his golden irises shrinking in shock. A deep crimson flush suddenly crept up from his collarbone, instantly painting his ears and cheeks bright red.
"Ha?! Eh..." Follo stuttered, his voice cracking slightly in the empty, echoing room. He instinctively gripped the back of his neck, his fingers twitching as his heart hammered against his ribs. He looked everywhere but at Rudo, utterly derailed by the unexpected praise. "I mean... thanks..."
Rudo blinked, completely oblivious to the emotional tailspin he had just caused. He walked over to his bench and picked up his discarded gloves to inspect the seams. "What are you getting all weird for? I'm just saying. You work hard."
"I'm not being weird," Follo mumbled, hastily pulling his shirt down to cover himself. The heat in his face refused to die down, though. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his usual casual demeanor, but his mind kept racing over the sincerity in Rudo's eyes. "You can't just say stuff like that out of nowhere."
"Whatever," Rudo grumbled, tossing the shower items into his locker and sliding his indoor shoes on. "Let's just go get food."
Rudo walked with a quick, impatient stride. A damp towel was still draped around his neck, and his unbadaged forearms looked pale under the dim, flickering overhead bulbs. Eager to reach the cafeteria before the kitchen closed, he was totally unaware of the tension he had left in his wake.
Behind him, the main door swung open with a loud groan. Follo dashed out into the hallway, his jacket half-zipped over his clean shirt and his unlaced shoes dragging against the floor. His dark, damp mullet was a messy tangle around his face, and his golden eyes were wide with sudden, desperate focus. He couldn't let this moment slip away into ordinary, awkward silence.
"Hey! Wait up!" Follo called out, his voice echoing slightly in the narrow corridor.
He lunged forward, closing the distance between them in a couple of seconds with his longer stride. His fingers shot out and wrapped firmly around Rudo’s left wrist, the skin beneath his palm was slightly damp from the shower and cool to the touch, yet vibrant with life.
Rudo stopped dead in his tracks and spun around with a sharp tug. His vivid red eyes flared with surprise, and his jaw tightened automatically at the sudden, unexpected physical contact. “What the hell, Follo? You almost tripped over your own feet. Let go."
Instead of pulling away, Follo held on, tightening his grip just enough to keep Rudo from walking off. His chest heaved as he took a shallow breath; his cheeks still burned with embarrassment, but he kept his gaze locked on Rudo's face. The lingering sense of inferiority that usually weighed him down was completely pushed aside by a raw, urgent sincerity.
"I'm not letting go… yet," Follo muttered, his voice dropping to an intense, low register that made Rudo's ears twitch. He stepped closer, minimizing the distance between them until Rudo could smell the faint mint on his breath. "You can't just say something like that and walk away like it's nothing."
The younger boy blinked, his defensive posture faltering slightly as he looked into the intense golden eyes of Follo. "Say what? I just said you're in shape. It's not a big deal."
"It's… a big deal to me," Follo countered, his voice softening into a quiet confession. He looked down at Rudo's wrist for a moment before forcing himself to look back up, his expression was entirely unguarded. "You said you were jealous, but you don't understand. You have a great body, too, Rudo. Seriously. I think you look amazing."
Rudo’s breath caught in his throat. A sudden, bright flush colored his cheeks as he tried to pull his wrist back. His movements lacked force, though.
"Actually, it's not just that," Follo continued. His words tumbled out in a rush of honest, informal desperation before he lost his nerve. "I like everything about you… the way you fight, the way you never give up, everything. So don't act like I'm the only one who notices things."
Rudo stared at him, his mouth opening slightly, but no sound came out. His usual fierce, impulsive temper had completely evaporated, replaced by an intense, overwhelming shyness that made him want to hide. His feet shifted uncomfortably, and his fingers twitched inside Follo's grasp. He was completely overwhelmed by the unexpected warmth of the confession.
Finally, Rudo stared at him, his heart doing an uncomfortable, frantic flip against his ribs. They had crossed the line from being just casual teammates a long time ago, entering a realm where every lingering glance and quiet moment held a significance they had never quite articulated. But hearing it out loud like this, raw and completely stripped of Follo's usual self-doubt, made it impossible to ignore.
He felt completely exposed under that intense, golden gaze; his face burned so hot that he was certain Follo could feel the heat radiating off him. His brain scrambled for a shield, resorting to the only defense mechanism he knew, deflecting with a joke to keep from melting on the spot.
A shaky, defensive grin tugged at the corner of Rudo's mouth, though his red eyes remained wide and slightly overwhelmed.
"Oh, so you've just been lying to me this whole time?" Rudo broke the silence, his voice louder than intended as he tried to mask his racing pulse with informal bravado. He dramatically tapped his bare chest with his free hand, right over his ribs where his heart was drumming furiously. "Weren't you always bragging about how you only try to look cool for girls? Last time I checked, there's absolutely nothing going on here."
Follo blinked, caught completely off guard by the sudden shift in tone. His grip on Rudo's wrist loosened slightly as his fingers slid against the damp skin of the younger boy.
"That's...that's totally different… idiot," Follo stammered. His face turned an even deeper shade of crimson, and his eyes tracked the movement of Rudo's hand against his chest involuntarily. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure while his heart hammered relentlessly. "I wasn't lying about that. But you're just...you're Rudo. It doesn't matter."
"Yeah, well, you're making it sound weird," Rudo muttered. His playful facade cracked just enough to reveal his genuine vulnerability. He looked down at their hands, his thumb lightly brushing the fabric of Follo's unzipped jacket. The defensive walls he usually kept up against the world felt useless right now. "Don't say things that mess with my head right before dinner."
Follo let out a breath that was half sigh, half laugh. The tension in his shoulders finally started to dissipate. He didn't completely let go of Rudo's wrist, instead letting his fingers slide down to loosely grip Rudo's hand, his thumb pressing gently into the palm. "I'm serious, though. I meant what I said."
Rudo squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, feeling a strange, sweet ache in his chest that he didn't know how to handle. He gently pulled his hand back, turned his back to Follo, and tried to hide the massive blush that had overtaken his face. This time, however, he didn't walk away.
"Fine. Whatever," Rudo grumbled, his voice dropping to an embarrassed mumble. He started walking toward the cafeteria at a slower, more deliberate pace. "Just hurry up and lace your shoes. You're going to trip and ruin the mood completely."
Follo bit his lower lip, a nervous gesture that revealed the storm of anxiety and affection battling inside him. He took a sharp breath, locking his golden eyes completely onto Rudo's face with a raw, trembling sincerity that made any further deflection impossible.
“I'm not done yet. Listen to people until the end” Follo murmured, his voice dropping into a shaky, quiet register that seemed to rob the hallway of its remaining air. He stepped even closer, disregarding personal space, and the words spilled out in a desperate, unfiltered rush. “You want to know what I notice? I notice your eyes. They're huge and the exact color of rubies. They look right through people. Your skin is so pale and soft, even after everything we go through out there."
Rudo's jaw went slack, his chest tightening and his breath catching in his throat. He tried to pull his hand back, but his muscles felt heavy and paralyzed by Follo's intense gaze.
"Follo, stop it—" Rudo choked out, his face turned an intense, burning crimson.
"No, I'm telling you," Follo pressed on, his thumb rubbing small, frantic circles against Rudo's palm. The words tumbled out now, driven by a deep-seated need to finally be heard. "I like your lips. I like your hair and how soft it is, even when it's full of dust. And your hands... I know you hate them. I know you think they're ruined and imperfect because of the scars and dirt, but I love them. I love everything about them."
The volume of affection was overwhelming for a system that had spent a lifetime learning to expect blows instead of praise. His vision swam slightly under the flickering overhead bulb and his chest heaved as he began to hyperventilate, the air catching in his throat in small, shallow gasps. He couldn't look away, completely captivated by the quiet, fierce devotion of the boy standing in front of him.
For a moment, he thought he might collapse right there on the stained floor. His fingers trembled violently within Follo's loose grip. He had to break the tension before it consumed him completely.
With an explosive jerk, Rudo yanked his hand free and ripped himself out of Follo's space. He spun around and slammed his back against the opposite wall, shoving his hands deep into his pockets to hide how badly they were shaking. His face was a violent shade of crimson extending all the way to the tips of his ears and beneath the collar of his shirt.
"Shut up! Just shut the hell up, you total moron!" Rudo barked, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of his panic. He kept his eyes locked on the lower edge of a rusty pipe running along the floor, utterly refusing to make direct contact with those intense golden eyes. "Are you trying to kill me or something? Stop saying stupid things out of nowhere!"
Follo blinked, his hands suspended in midair where Rudo's warmth had just been. The raw intensity in his expression softened slightly as a hint of his usual anxious worry crept back into his posture when he saw just how deeply his confession had rattled the younger boy. "Rudo, I didn't mean to—"
"I don't care what you meant!" Rudo cut him off loudly. His jaw clenched as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He kicked the heel of his shoes against the concrete wall, deflecting his embarrassment with an aggressive pout. "I'm starving, okay? My stomach is literally turning itself inside out because of you. If we don't get food right now, I'm going to pass out, and it'll be your fault!"
Why does he have to be like this? It's so irritating! It makes his chest ache.
Follo stared at him for a moment, watching the way Rudo's spiky white hair vibrated with defensive energy. A slow, genuine smile broke through his initial anxiety. The normality of Rudo's stubborn reaction acted as a relief valve for the heavy atmosphere. A soft, quiet laugh escaped his lips, and the tension left his shoulders completely.
"All right, all right, I get it," Follo said. His voice returned to its casual, easygoing rhythm as he bent down and quickly tied his shoelaces into a rough knot. He stood up, shook out his dark hair, and adjusted his jacket over his shirt. "Can't have the great hero starving to death in a hallway. Let's go get some food before you bite my head off."
"I'm not joking. I'm actually going to die," Rudo grumbled. The frantic pace of his breathing was finally slowing down. He turned and marched down the corridor toward the cafeteria at a punishing pace, his shoulders hunched high to hide his burning cheeks. He deliberately kept his footsteps loud enough for Follo to follow right behind him.