This playful, slow realization oneshot is all about Harua being effortlessly cool, Yuma being totally oblivious, and the moment where everything finally clicks. 

*****

"What are you doing?"

"What do you think I'm doing?"

*****

Harua was good at reading between the lines.

Yuma, on the other hand, wasn't.

Which made their friendship a very frustrating experience.

Because Harua could see things Yuma couldn't—or maybe, things Yuma refused to see.

And one of those things was this.

The way Yuma always looked for him first in a crowded room.
The way his jokes always seemed a little brighter when Harua was laughing.
The way his teasing lingered just a second longer, like he was waiting for Harua to say something back.

And maybe, most of all—

The way Yuma never seemed to notice what it meant.

It happened on an ordinary day, at an ordinary café, with nothing particularly special about it.

They were sitting by the window, sharing a plate of fries, when Yuma leaned over, nudging Harua's arm.

"Harua," he sighed dramatically. "If I was dying, would you carry me to safety?"

Harua didn't even look up from his drink. "Depends."

Yuma gasped. "DEPENDS?!"

Harua took a slow sip. "How heavy are we talking?"

Yuma smacked his arm. "I knew you didn't love me."

Harua hummed. "I never said that."

Yuma froze.

For the first time in a long time, he actually had nothing to say.

Harua finally glanced at him, watching as realization slowly dawned on Yuma's face.

And then—Harua smirked.

Yuma panicked. "Wait. Wait. What did you mean by that?"

Harua shrugged. "Dunno. What do you think I meant?"

Yuma blinked rapidly. "Harua, this is not the time for your cryptic nonsense."

Harua just smiled. "Then figure it out."

And that was the moment Yuma realized he was in trouble.

Because suddenly, he started noticing things.

The way Harua looked at him—soft, amused, like he was waiting for something.
The way Harua always sat next to him, even when there were other seats open.
The way he never pushed, never teased first, but always responded just enough to leave Yuma wanting more.

And the worst part?

Harua knew.

He knew Yuma had no idea what to do with this information.

Which was exactly why he was enjoying himself.

A week later, Yuma had had enough.

He cornered Harua outside the dorms, gripping his sleeve like he had something very serious to say.

Harua raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"

"Yes," Yuma huffed. "I've been thinking."

Harua grinned. "Dangerous."

Yuma glared. "Shut up. I've been thinking about what you said."

Harua tilted his head. "Which part?"

Yuma's eyes narrowed. "The part where you said you never said you didn't love me."

Harua smiled, slow, knowing. "And?"

Yuma inhaled sharply.

Then—he exhaled just as fast, burying his face in his hands. "I HATE YOU."

Harua laughed.

And just like that, Yuma finally understood what he had been missing all along.

Yuma was not the type to let things go.

Harua had spent weeks—months, maybe—messing with him. Dropping vague comments, acting like he knew some great secret, and watching with the most infuriatingly calm expression as Yuma scrambled to figure it out.

And now that Yuma had figured it out?

It was payback time.

The dorm was quiet that evening, most of the members either in their rooms or on their phones.

Harua was sitting on the couch, reading something on his tablet, looking as unbothered as ever.

Which was perfect.

Yuma casually walked over and sat beside him. Too close.

Harua didn't react.

Yet.

Yuma smiled. Time to strike.

Yuma sighed, leaning his head against Harua's shoulder.

Harua finally looked at him. "What are you doing?"

Yuma tilted his head, blinking up at him innocently. "What? I can't be affectionate?"

Harua narrowed his eyes. Suspicious.

Yuma wasn't usually like this.

Sure, he was playful, but this?

This was intentional.

Yuma smiled, resting a hand on Harua's knee.

Harua froze.

Nicholas, who had been walking past, stopped mid-step. "Wait. Wait. WAIT. WHAT IS HAPPENING."

Harua finally spoke, voice slower than usual. "Yuma... what are you doing?"

Yuma smirked. "What do you think I'm doing?"

Harua's eyes narrowed further.

Nicholas whispered. "Oh my god. He's using Harua's own line against him."

Harua recovered quickly, setting his tablet down and leveling Yuma with a calm stare.

"Cute," he murmured. "But you're not good at this."

Yuma gasped. "Excuse me?"

"You're trying too hard," Harua said simply. "You're flustering yourself more than me."

Yuma scoffed. "Oh, really?"

Then, before he could second-guess himself, Yuma grabbed Harua's hand and laced their fingers together.

Harua blinked.

Nicholas dropped his phone.

Jo, who had walked in just in time to witness this, nearly choked on his drink.

Taki screamed from the kitchen. "DID YUMA JUST—?!"

Harua, for the first time in forever, looked caught off guard.

And Yuma?

Yuma grinned.

"Still think I'm bad at this?"

Harua exhaled, clearly suppressing a smile.

Then, finally—he gave in.

"Okay," Harua admitted. "You win."

Yuma beamed. "I knew it."

Harua chuckled, shaking his head. "But next time?"

He turned to look at Yuma, eyes warm, expression unreadable.

"I won't let you win so easily."

Yuma froze.

Harua smirked.

Nicholas screamed.

And just like that, the game continued.