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Tsukasa’s touch is a hesitant one.
His hand is careful as it curls around Ritsu’s shoulder, reluctance pitching his tone as he mumbles something about it being time for practice. It's the touch of someone not used to holding others or being held, the touch of the heir to a prestigious family who don't particularly believe in crossing physical borders.
In a way, Ritsu finds it cute despite his hatred towards being disturbed -- it speaks volumes of Tsukasa’s inexperience, not only in the case of being an idol, but also towards working with Ritsu and Knights in general. It's clear that the younger boy is trying to assert himself in some way, even if the way he just slightly shakes Ritsu’s shoulder is hardly effective, clear that he wants to make some sort of difference on this clump of selfish individuals.
Ritsu hates it, hates others initiating touch towards him rather than him being the initiator, but Tsukasa is so careful that it hardly even feels like he's being touched in the first place. In a way, it makes him want to laugh and tease, but in another it makes him want to uncharacteristically protect, makes him wonder if this is what lures Mao to take care of others so.
Much like how he extends his own hand towards Ritsu, Tsukasa’s response towards Ritsu’s hands reaching towards him is nothing short of hesitant as well. A stifled “Ritsu-senpai...!” springs forth from his underclassman’s lips as he's unceremoniously tugged into Ritsu’s make-shift bed and awaiting embrace, slim body stiffening in his grasp.
Hesitant as he may be, it's actually quite clear that this sort of contact isn't something Tsukasa particularly dislikes. He squirms a little, sure, whining a bit more about them supposedly delaying their practice, but beyond that Ritsu notes that he makes very little efforts to escape.
It's a bit sad, Ritsu thinks. Tsukasa is just a boy, a greenhorn in all meanings of the word, yet already so accustomed to slipping into the status quo. Personally, Ritsu believes that a boy like him needs to be touched this way, needs to be able to melt into his upperclassman’s embrace without worrying or stressing over the consequences, needs this stifling affection to be able to think highly of himself and his abilities.
But even if Ritsu is driven to protect this absolute novice, he himself is also but a boy. He himself wants to be spoiled rather than be the one spoiling, so when Arashi’s complaints about him needing to free their precious youngest child sound not too far from his ear, Ritsu does so, confident in Arashi’s ability to dote and spoil in the ways he himself finds difficult.
★ ★ ★
Arashi’s touch is akin to one of an older sister.
Ritsu would never admit as such, wouldn't even think to tell Arashi that his flitting about him is anything short of stifling, but privately he finds that he has become oddly accustomed to it. There's something assuring about the way Arashi’s arm loops around his own, dragging him towards what Arashi believes to be Knights’ new future, cheerfully chiding to pick up his pace lest he be left behind once more.
He doesn't want to be left behind. He doesn't want to lose Arashi’s effeminate way of touching him, doesn't want to lose Knights, doesn't want to lose these precious comrades. He doesn't say as such, of course, because in some ways he is just as dishonest with his feelings as Izumi is, instead grumbling something about how he doesn't want to be left behind by Maa~kun, and allows his eyes to fall closed as Arashi only knowingly giggles in reply.
When Ritsu touches Arashi, the younger boy is lenient. Not once does Arashi try to shove him away, never protests beyond a flippant forewarning of “Ritsu-chan, you'll crease my clothes, hm?” Rather, his arms curl around Ritsu in return, holding him upright in the case that he drifts off to the point of losing strength in his legs. Arashi is patient, surprisingly conscious of what others need even if he tends to seem self-absorbed, surprisingly considerate of Ritsu’s need for both physical and familial support.
Arashi’s pace is not one Ritsu thinks he would willingly fall into step with, so it admittedly throws him off-guard when instead Arashi slows to match Ritsu’s own. Of course, Arashi does not merely submit to Ritsu’s touch, doesn't surrender himself fully as Anzu or Mao do, but offers an arm to him nonetheless, gaze tender despite his teasing scolding as Ritsu melts against him.
In some ways, Mao and Arashi are a lot alike, Ritsu thinks. Perhaps Arashi’s affections are much more suffocating in comparison, but Ritsu finds that their desire to dote upon and spoil the people around them are undeniably similar. Perhaps, he muses silently, the difference in their ways of expressing such a desire is merely the difference between having a brother as opposed to having a sister.
★ ★ ★
Leo’s touch feels like fire.
Everything about Leo is brilliant, the embodiment of an everlasting flare, and to be touched by him is akin to being touched by the sun. Ah, yes, Ritsu has most certainly thought the same of Mao’s touch, but whereas Mao is warm and life-giving, Leo literally feels like fire, a blazing symbol of charisma and the very peak of humanity’s potential.
It's not as though Leo touches any of them particularly often, as he pulls them by words and song far more than he does physically, but each time he does, Ritsu thinks that he is at risk of melting away. In most circumstances, he knows he would hate such a fiery hot being, but something about Leo’s smoldering touch magnetizes him rather than drives him away. Back when Knights had only been made of three, Leo flinging his arms around their shoulders after a concert had seemed to almost burn, though privately Ritsu believes that if there's anyway he would like to go out, it'd be trailing along the scorching path their beloved king set for them.
He uncharacteristically misses that heat during Leo’s absence, and when their king returns and the light has long since faded from his eyes, his touch still seems to scald Ritsu’s skin, and he finds himself relieved.
The ache in his heart brought by Leo’s absence is not so easily soothed over, however. Even now, he knows Leo does not intend to stay, knows that he plans on disappearing the next time either Ritsu or Izumi take their eyes off of him for even a second. So he takes what he can get now -- leaning into that warmth despite the risk of being burnt, a content hum falling past his lips as Leo’s too-hot fingers idly card through his dark strands.
Ritsu isn't like Izumi or Tsukasa. Even after losing this awe-inspiring star once, he doesn't have the will or strength to hold Leo back from disappearing again. He's far too passive for that, has always been that way, yet he still selfishly hopes that maybe laying across Leo like this -- much more like the king’s pet than his knight -- will keep Leo and his warmth from being able to squirm away just yet.
★ ★ ★
Izumi’s touch is one of a partner.
The way he touches Ritsu is hardly ceremonious, most often times being a jab to his side or a sharp tug at his arm, sometimes even a yank to his hair if he steps particularly out of line. To the untrained eye, it seems even cruel, and he doesn't need Mao to say anything to know that his childhood friend doesn't quite know what to make of their relationship.
But Izumi’s touch is never harmful.
At first, yes, it annoyed Ritsu to bits, stung his scalp every time Izumi thought it was a suitable time to pull at his soft strands, but they were only freshmen then. They were strangers, brought together only by the common interest of following Leo, merely two knights following the same king. Perhaps Izumi would say the same now, but Ritsu knows better. There are a lot of things about Izumi that he understands best, several aspects of the younger boy that he understands better than Izumi himself.
They are no longer strangers, after all. He and Izumi are partners now, comrades united by the same cause rather than just acquaintances walking beside each other to reach it individually -- or rather, perhaps they were united by losing the figurehead of that same ideal. Either way, Izumi’s grip is never quite as firm anymore, any tugs at Ritsu more a reminder than a punishment. They've fallen into step together, a comfortable rhythm, and even as Arashi jokingly notes that “Ritsu-chan must be a masochist,” Izumi’s touch hardly stings at all.
Ritsu doesn't kiss Izumi until he knows he's ready, until he's certain that Izumi will make no effort to push Ritsu away. He doesn't, just as Ritsu expected, lips pliant even despite any inhibitions he may still be desperately clinging onto. Even as he experimentally nips at Izumi’s bottom lip, he isn't shoved to the side. He's used to be being pushed away, of course -- used to Izumi not taking kindly to small bite marks scarring his skin and used to Izumi shying away from any excessive amount of physical contact -- but in this circumstance he's glad that isn't the case.
They don't need each other, and even if their bond is valuable Ritsu has no doubt that they would be able to exist without the other. Izumi is not Mao, Ritsu is not Leo, and neither will ever be the other's sun. But as they choose to walk alongside each other regardless, Ritsu thinks that maybe they're both most suited for the night, anyways.
★ ★ ★
Anzu’s touch guides him.
Of course, as Yumenosaki’s sole producer, it is her job and intent to do so. She guides everyone in this way, fingertips just lightly pressing against each of their shoulders as she pushes them towards the very height of their potential. Her touch is light, careful, but in time it grows more bold despite its maternal softness, grows stronger just as Anzu herself does as she grows more certain of her place in this once war-torn school. She's a girl who tends to see so much more than others, a girl who wishes to understand everyone she meets to the very best of her abilities, and it is because of this that Ritsu allows himself to fall into her gentle hands despite the minimal time they've known each other for.
Even when she doesn't touch him physically, Anzu’s words lead Ritsu in a way that is both much like Leo’s and also something entirely different. Whereas Leo is blindingly charismatic, a light Ritsu doesn't particularly want to hide away from, he finds that Anzu is much like the comfort of the dark. Despite her lack of presence, he's almost always aware of her standing just behind him, murmurs of encouragement and hand-sewn masterpieces curling around him like blankets.
She grounds him, Ritsu thinks, and even though the way she shyly pinches the end of his blazer is nothing short of featherlight, it keeps him rooted all the same. He wasn't aware that was anything he could ever want, wasn't aware that he'd ever want to walk alongside anyone beneath the blazing sun unless it were Maa~kun, but Anzu leads him to surprise even himself. He himself is someone who watches with the eye of an attentive falcon, but anyone else treating him the same way is unfamiliar in a way that he doesn't think he dislikes.
Ritsu wonders if that is why she succumbs to his touch so easily, wonders if she only lowers her guard around him to tempt him into doing the same. If that is the case, well, he doesn't really have any qualms about it. She is, after all, truly one of the best pillows, and if it means he has to be intimately studied and analyzed in order to earn the privilege of leaning against her, Ritsu thinks it is a small price to pay.
Anzu means him no harm -- he's skeptical that she has meant anyone harm in her life, for that matter -- so her pensive gaze is far from something Ritsu thinks he ought to shy away from. He clings onto her like a baby does its mother, and allows her to guide him just like a mother would for her child.
★ ★ ★
Mao’s touch is familiar.
There is no fear nor boundaries in the way Mao hefts him onto his back, only a comfortable understanding of one another. It's the kind of understanding that years and years and years of growing alongside each other has brought them, the kind of understanding Ritsu knows he’s hardly likely to find in anyone else. When Mao touches him, Ritsu melts into his hands so naturally, his dislike towards other people touching him be damned. Mao isn't just another person, of course; he's Maa~kun, his oldest friend, the only one he'll ever admit to thinking of as family.
Mao doesn't hold back with him -- spoils him aplenty, sure, but never holds back. That's a new aspect of Mao, a new aspect of this strong-faced boy who no longer shies away from leaving his hair undone, but Ritsu doesn't hate it. It frightened him at first, frightened him terribly, but as he rests his head against Mao’s shoulder and listens for the telltale thrum of the younger boy’s blood, he privately thinks that he prefers it this way. He prefers the Mao who has the strength to tell him “no”, prefers the Mao who has the strength to follow his dreams, prefers the Mao who seeks to guide people who are as cowardly as he himself was once.
It's true that this Mao isn't the same as the boy he's looked after and loved since childhood, but his touch is never any less familiar, his understanding of Ritsu never anything less, so he can't really bring himself to mind.
Of course, it's that same understanding that drives Mao to let himself be touched rather than touch, those same years of growing accustomed to one another that drive Mao to let Ritsu slump against him with little more than minimal complaints. Mao is accepting, constantly so, accepting of Ritsu’s affections and accepting of all his flaws.
Even when he pushes Mao just a bit too far, even when he litters the younger boy’s neck with kisses as though it is the most natural thing in the world, Mao remains constant, everlasting. Ritsu knows now that he is far from a presence Ritsu realistically has to fear losing, knows now that unless he were to physically bare his fangs and drive Mao away that he would never willingly leave him.
Mao is special, irreplaceable, and even as Ritsu begins to seek out the touch of others, he finds that Mao’s warmth is always there for him to fall back upon.
★ ★ ★
Rei’s touch is too familiar.
It is disgusting, suffocating, sickeningly sweet despite Ritsu’s aversion towards him, and Ritsu hates it. It isn't the touch of someone who understands him better than anyone else -- no, that would always be Mao’s role -- but it is the touch of someone who knows him more than any other person he has met in this lifetime. With Rei, there's no hiding himself, no hiding what he is or what he has done, no hiding what he hates or loves no matter how hard he tries. While Mao’s understanding of him is a comfort, Rei’s is chilling, frightening, a reminder of the fact that someone he once trusted more than anyone had betrayed him in a way he would have never even dreamed of.
But in some ways, he craves his brother’s touch. In some ways, he does still trust Rei as much as he does Mao, does still idolize him as he has since the moment he was born. In some ways, he wants to hand himself over to his brother’s stifling affection, wants to be taken care of and spoiled not only by the family he has forged through friendship, but also by the family linked to him by blood. His hand presses firmly against Rei’s chest, pushing him back as he makes efforts to squirm away, but in the deepest crevices of his heart, he thinks that he is sick of running.
Ritsu doesn't touch Rei. He wants to, sort of, wants to be able to pull him closer rather than push him further, but he doesn't. He can't. He won't. That being said, he finds that standing on-stage beside Rei is almost the same, and in those few opportunities he allows himself to reap it for all its worth. He doesn't want to grow too close again, knowing that one day Rei will have to leave once more, knowing that one day Rei truly will be out of reach.
But when that day comes, Ritsu hopes that maybe he will be able to extend his arms towards his foolish brother and give him a hug of farewell.