++++

Of course Kurosaki-kun knows: the darkness can only hide the physical form, not the emotions that may be lurking within.

And of course Tsuzuki-san does not know: because he is as desperately in love with Kurosaki-kun as he has been with all of his old partners, but this is the first one that has ever really loved or wanted him back. And in many ways this brightly, wonderfully, desperately hopeful Tsuzuki-san is the most intimate thing Tatsumi has ever seen.

He comes into the break room to see if he can find one or the other of them and finds both; instinctively he steps back and the shadows welcome him easily. Certainly his entrance isn't noticed: Kurosaki-kun is standing with his hands fisted in Tsuzuki-san's shirt, kissing Tsuzuki-san very much like he's making a point in an argument.

For his part, Tsuzuki-san has settled his hands on Kurosaki-kun's narrow hips, where they fit comfortably well. He isn't clinging, or pressing in, or any number of small desperately hopeful (and sadly endearing) habits: he's relaxed and smiling, he looks like he couldn't be happier. He says something in a low voice, too soft for anyone in the doorway to hear, and for just a moment Kurosaki-kun's eyes flash sideways and meet Tatsumi's own. He doesn't look terribly surprised.

Tatsumi isn't surprised either, though his knuckles are white on the files he brought with him.

Kurosaki-kun does not apologize, but there is a quiet gratitude there, an I accept this gift before he turns back to Tsuzuki-san.

"Hisoka?" Tsuzuki-san blinks. He cocks his head.

And -- it is not the first time Kurosaki-kun has smiled, but the expression is still rare and gentle, and Tsuzuki-san immediately lights up in response to it, almost glowing, and then he throws his arms around Kurosaki-kun, nuzzling his cheek to the boy's shoulder. Though Kurosaki-kun protests and grumbles, he slides his fingers into Tsuzuki-san's hair, and Tatsumi doesn't stay to watch the rest.

The work can wait; he's seen enough.