Chapter Text
13 days.
13 days was all they were given before Haruchiyo’s brother returned for his final decision.
13 days spent in limbo, where Yasuhiro tried to pretend like he was certain that Haruchiyo would communicate the decision that they had agreed upon, and that they can go back to what they were doing before Takeomi arrived.
Which wasn’t much in the grand scope of things surely, but for him, every moment mattered. Every soft smile and cautious chuckle had been the sign of things changing… of Haruchiyo returning to someone much more familiar. Someone closer to who Yasuhiro still loved, and would not give up on no matter the things he did or said or how he pushed him away.
Yasuhiro was desperate. He didn’t want to go back to how things were before Haruchiyo. He didn’t want to go back to being alone in a studio apartment with nothing to look forward to except for the nightly specials at the bar that he no longer went to.
He wanted Haruchiyo to stay.
But he knew that he couldn’t force him.
So instead, he stayed with him over the next two weeks, using up the last of his paid vacation time for the year so that Haruchiyo wouldn’t leave while he was working. He stayed and pretended like everything would be fine, and like Haruchiyo still wasn’t withdrawn into his own head, doubting every decision he had ever made, but especially those over the last few months.
The morning after Takeomi arrived, Yasuhiro returned to Haruchiyo’s room. He picked up the clothes and the trinkets and the books that were strewn about the floor, sitting in the midst of the mess as he folded the shirts and jeans and other things. He made the executive decision to finally throw away the suit that Haruchiyo had stuffed under the edge of his bed as he was packing the night before. It was the last thing that Haruchiyo still had from the time before, and it was the first thing, beside the pills, that Yashiro disposed of on his own. He let Haruchiyo part with everything else naturally, and at his own pace, but Yasuhiro was tired of seeing the gaudy purple poking out from the rest of his clothes.
He justified it by saying that it probably no longer fit his friend anyway. Haruchiyo had gained a healthy amount of weight since moving in with him, and no longer looked so sickly and frail. A combination of having regular meals of healthy food instead of alcohol, and no longer stuffing his face with drugs. Haruchiyo almost looked like himself again….back when they first met. His hair was currently in that awkward growing out phase, and stuck up in weird little tufts that Haruchiyo could never seem to calm down despite the number of times he ran his fingers through his hair. But it was pretty and blonde and just like him when he was 13.
Haruchiyo sat beside him when he awoke, cross legged on the floor, knees bumping against each other as Haruchiyo rested his head on Yasuhiro’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything, not a single word, as he watched Yasuhiro’s hands work, pairing together two socks and folding them into a neat ball. He didn’t need to say anything though, because Yasuhiro was sure the words died on his tongue as soon as he saw Yasuhiro.
The questions of where did you go or why did you leave me alone ? The unspoken words were accusatory at worst, but grew from panic at best. He was sure Haruchiyo had woken up, bed cold and empty, and immediately thought the worst, and for that he was sorry.
He said as much, mumbling the words as he folded a sweater, folding the arms in over the torso. He wanted to clean up this mess before Haruchiyo woke, so that he didn’t have to clean it himself. He didn’t want Haruchiyo to come back in here,where they had argued and he had raised his voice and Haruchiyo had almost escaped.
It was a small thing anyway, to clean this mess up. Haruchiyo didn’t have very many belongings to return back to their designated homes.
Haruchiyo grumbled at the apology, telling him to shut up as he turned his face to rub against Yasuhiro’s sleeve. Snot or tears (probably both Yasuhiro thought) soaked into his sleeve before Haruchiyo returned to observing the proceedings. He reached a hand out to pick up the book Yasuhiro had set to the side, flipping it open to a marked page before setting it on his lap. He seemed so content, reading while leaning against his arm, that Yasuhiro couldn’t complain as he scooped the last pile of clothes close to him to refold.
As he finished the last pair of jeans, pressing the legs flat on the floor before flipping them over to form into a neat rectangle, Yasuhiro looked down at Haruchiyo. He held the book open with both hands, thumbs carefully placed to cover the page numbers in the corners of the pages, but none of the words. He flipped each page quietly, slowly, the small words making Yasuhiro’s eyes cross as he tried to figure out what place in the book Haruchiyo was again. So instead of the book, he focused on the details of Haruchiyo’s face, the ones he could barely see while his face was downturned.
The soft slope of his nose, the one Yasuhiro had considered kissing on more occasions than one. The furrow of his brow as the story began to frustrate him, eyebrows knitting together as he tried to make sense of the plot twist. His eyelashes, sticking out further than the apples of his cheeks, still so full and pretty and distinctive, a trait that was uniquely Haruchiyo, and only made him love him that much more.
He wished they could’ve stayed like that a bit longer, but his lower back began to ache as they sat on the hardwood floor. Rolling his shoulders to pop his spine, he roused Haruchiyo from his reading as he stood to grab the piles of folded clothes to put away. Haruchiyo watched him, pushing one stack closer to the dresser with his foot. When he was finally done, Yasuhiro held a hand out to him, picking him up from the ground and leading him into the living room.
Sitting Haruchiyo down on the couch, Yasuhiro transitioned to cleaning the kitchen and living room of their uneaten dinner before whipping up a breakfast of eggs and toast that was simple and satisfactory. Yasuhiro almost considered feeding the breakfast to Haruchiyo, as his big, pathetic green eyes watched him over the back of the couch, skittish as a cat who feared the moment when its owner would leave for the day.
When Yasuhiro finally returned to his side, setting a plate in his lap and a fork in his hand, Haruchiyo melded to his side once again. Side by side, hip to knee, he tried to remember to sit with his non-dominant arm on Haruchiyo’s side so it would matter less if it fell asleep.
Stuck to him like glue, Haruchiyo seemed to avoid being away from him for long, as if he truly worried that Yasuhiro would evaporate into thin air if he turned away for too long. That was how they spent the next two weeks, in anxious company trying to savor possibly the last few moments they would have together with the fear of the next day hanging over their heads.
Yasuhiro even worried at times that Haruchiyo would follow him into the bathroom, when the thoughts and the worries got to be too much to contain inside of his little head. Yasuhiro encouraged him to talk through it, to scream or cry or smash a few plates, as it wasn’t good for either of them for Haruchiyo to hold these things in for too long. But he never did, saving the tears for Yasuhiro’s shoulder while he slept, the terror of his living nightmares too much to push back while he was vulnerable and asleep.
Yasuhiro wondered what he was most afraid of. His brother? The other executives?
Would it be self centered to wish that Haruchiyo was fearful of losing him, and that was why he cried at night?
Probably. Because while it was probably true, it was still hard for him to wrap his mind around the concept that he could be missed so much by this man that he would cry.
He hated the thought, honestly. He didn’t want Haruchiyo to cry ever again, much less for him. If he had it his way, he would pound the thought into Haruchiyo’s head until he understood.
I will never leave you. Not until someone kills me or drags me away in handcuffs.
Though, if he said that, it would probably just make Haruchiyo cry more.
Haruchiyo didn’t want to hurt him, just as much as Yasuhiro didn’t want him to cry. They both wanted to blot the pain out of each other’s lives, but Yasuhiro knew they both had much different thoughts about how to achieve those goals.
Yasuhiro knew the way to happiness for Haruchiyo was stability and safety…and he would work himself to the bone to provide that for him.
Haruchiyo, on the other hand, thought that the absence of himself would somehow make Yasuhiro’s life better. Which, maybe, possibly could have been true years ago, had they never even met as teenagers. But now, that would never be a possibility. His life was so intertwined with Haruchiyo’s that having him leave again would leave such a gaping hole, one with torn edges and frayed threads, that he knew he would never, ever be able to return to a life that felt anywhere close to whole.
Yasuhiro was tired. Tired of running away. Tired of denying how he felt. Tired of stepping around Haruchiyo’s feelings, waiting for him to catch up and finally admit that he felt the same way.
But he would keep doing so, as long as Haruchiyo needed. He protected those he loved…and always would. Even if that meant protecting them from themselves.
So Yasuhiro let Haruchiyo follow him around their home, never more than a few steps behind him as he worked to return to some sense of normalcy, despite the pending ultimatum that was sure to drop on their heads in a few days.
It was the closeness he always wanted. Haruchiyo curled against his side on the couch. Tugging on his apron strings in the kitchen, wordlessly asking for a bite of whatever he was cooking. Sharing his blankets at night, trying to become impossibly closer, as if he wanted Yasuhiro to absorb him into himself. As if he’d be safe there, with him forever, rather than maneuvering through this cruel world all alone.
It was almost idyllic. Just what he had always dreamed of, and everything he still wanted.
Meanwhile, he knew Haruchiyo was rehearsing what he would say to his brother inside of his head, hoping that he could stand strong and that his voice wouldn’t crack.
He was wearing one of Yasuhiro’s sweaters the day that the knock on the door finally came. Around dinner time once again, almost as if he had been invited. Haruchiyo sat, back straight as a board, as he breathed in through his nose once, exhaling through gritted teeth, before inhaling again.Wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans, Haruchiyo approached the door, bracing himself as he removed the chain lock and set his hand upon the doorknob.
They had at least discussed this much. While Haruchiyo did not share what he planned to say, he whispered to Yasuhiro one night as they laid in bed, shoulder to shoulder, hands clasped over the sheets.
“When he comes back… stay nearby.”
“I will,” Yasuhiro mumbled back, squeezing Haruchiyo’s fingers to reassure him that his request would be honored.
“I’ll answer the door. And talk to him. Just, stay where I can see you. Please?”
His voice was almost begging, as if he thought that Yasuhiro wouldn’t do just that. He’d never leave him while his brother was in the house. Not even for a moment.
So he stood at the kitchen counter, fiddling with the utensils he had used for dinner, feigning as if he was cleaning them up. Just so he could still see them. So Haruchiyo could see him.
He felt his fingers instinctively grasp the wooden handle of the kitchen knife that had been used to chop onions a few minutes before as Haruchiyo opened the door, stepping back, and letting Takeomi inside.
With him, the dark sense of dread entered the apartment as well. Takeomi lifted his face, and looked from his brother to Yasuhiro, the knife hidden below the edge of the counter as a ‘just in case’ protection.
“I’m honestly surprised to see you answering the door. I thought you would have scurried off into the night again, Haruchiyo.”
Shaking his head, Haruchiyo stepped back, allowing the door to swing shut as his brother entered the apartment. Haruchiyo stood between them, his shoulders set in a bratty defiance that could only be characteristic of an older brother and younger brother’s relationship.
“So…what is your answer, Haruchiyo?”
“What will you do if I don’t go with you?” Haruchiyo’s voice wavered, the fear in his voice apparent. Yasuhiro’s heart broke for him, knowing he would be kicking himself for that later. But, hearing Haruchiyo’s response… it almost made him happy. It currently did not guarantee that he would stay, but at the very least, it meant that he was considering it.
Takeomi sighed, his shoulders sinking in defeat as he considered Haruchiyo’s question.
“I feared that would be your answer. You want to stay, don’t you?”
If rolling eyes made a sound, Yasuhiro was sure that the sound Haruchiyo just made would have been deafening.
“Well I definitely don’t want to go back to that hell hole. I don’t want anything else to do with you fuckers, unless I don’t have a choice.” The strength had returned to Haruchiyo’s voice, and Yasuhiro was almost proud of him, though he wished maybe…Haruchiyo could have chosen words that were less inflammatory.
“Of course you have a choice. If you didn’t, I wouldn’t have wasted my time giving you a chance to think it over.” Takeomi shifted on his feet, moving his weight from one leg to another, uncomfortable under his brother’s unblinking gaze. “But not returning doesn’t mean you’ll be done with me though.”
Haruchiyo’s shoulders deflated at that comment, and Yasuhiro wanted to step around the counter to grab him, pull him close and protect him. He wanted to tell him to stick to his guns, to follow his brother’s terms. It couldn’t be so bad that it would make Haruchiyo change his mind.
“There are some terms that you both must follow, if you decide to stay. I have reason to protect my own interests…and requirements to protect Bonten’s. So I feel that these terms are reasonable, given the situation you’ve put us all in.”
“ Me? The situation that I’ve put us in? Why don’t we talk about you, Takeomi-”
“Haruchiyo.” Letting his voice cut through the discussion, Yasuhiro couldn’t let Haruchiyo dig his own grave. Haruchiyo still hadn’t shared what was really going on between him and his older brother, and Yasuhiro hadn’t felt at liberty to ask. But he knew that if Haruchiyo said much more, it would be over. “Let him speak.”
Haruchiyo clicked his tongue and nodded, looking back over his shoulder at Yasuhiro before turning back towards his brother. “What are the terms , Takeomi?”
Ignoring his brother’s slight outburst, surely used to them from a lifetime together, Takeomi continued. “I will do my best to protect my knowledge of your existence from the others, and will assist in your physical relocation, should your residence become compromised. But, along with this, you, Haruchiyo, must keep a low profile as you have been for the foreseeable future. No jobs, no random outings, nothing to draw attention to yourself.”
Yasuhiro watched as Haruchiyo cocked his head to the side, questioning whether what he had just heard was real. That’s it? Surely, too good to be true.
“Okay…? And?” Haruchiyo questioned, wondering what the catch would be.
“And, if you decide to stay, just know that I will continue monitoring you and making sure you…nor you ..” Takeomi turned his gaze to Yasuhiro, before turning back towards his brother. “Are stepping out of line and compromising the organization. If you do so, I will not protect either of you. I will share your existence with the others, and let them decide what to do with you.”
Of course.
There’s the catch.
Not like Yasuhiro had expected to be able to completely sever themselves from Takeomi or Bonten. That thought was nothing more than a pipe dream. One that would never come to fruition until one or all of them were dead. Just like the tattoo branded into Haruchiyo’s arm, they would never truly be rid of them, but this was still a better outcome than he had hoped for.
“Haruchiyo,” Yasuhiro called out, knowing he wasn’t supposed to speak, but as he had already broken that rule, he wanted to make sure that his partner knew what was on his mind. “I am fine with those terms. Don’t worry about what I might think cloud your final decision.”
Haruchiyo exhaled again, surely having held in his breath while he contemplated exactly that. What would Yasuhiro think? Would he agree to those terms as well?
Yasuhiro should have told him earlier. He would agree to cut off his right arm if it meant that Haruchiyo could stay with him.
“Then… I’m staying…” Haruchiyo’s voice wavered again, much less certain of himself. He wouldn’t be truly happy with either of the options he had laid out in front of him, because it was hard for Haruchiyo to find happiness in the darkness of it all. In the uncertainty of what would happen next, now that he’s made this decision.
Tipping his head down in a nod, Takeomi looked between his brother and Yasuhiro, before looking back at his brother again. Haruchiyo stood with his shoulders back and hands balled into fists, trying to present the picture of decisiveness and power in his faded jeans and oversized sweater. He was no longer built for the world Takeomi was still entrenched in. No way he could go back and survive.
“I understand. I don’t think I’d want to leave either if I found out my old best friend was still alive after all these years…” Yasuhiro recognized a tinge of sadness and regret in the older man’s voice, but it was replaced with a cold formality and shortness when he spoke again. “Well, then I’d better go. I’ll be watching, Haruchiyo.”
Watching. Waiting. Expecting for something to go wrong. He didn’t trust his little brother, much like Haruchiyo and Yasuhiro didn’t trust him. They watched as Takeomi exited their apartment, the tension leaving the space with him, just as it came. Yasuhiro set the knife back onto the counter, almost having forgotten that he was holding it, so that he could catch Haruchiyo as he stumbled back over to the couch, collapsing on it, mentally and physically exhausted after the building tension over the last couple weeks.
Haruchiyo finally settled, his head over Yasuhiro’s heart, closing his eyes as he listened to the thump, thump, thump. Yasuhiro ran a hand down his back, the repetitive motion calming the man in his arms, slowing the pace of his own heart that had surely been beating out of his chest since the knock on the door.
Yasuhiro wanted to ask… what are you thinking? How do you feel? ..but he knew both of those questions would be met with sarcastic and sardonic responses.
How could he feel anything but relief, mixed with a bitter sense of reality that nothing would ever be “perfect” or exactly how they wanted it to be. They would never be normal. They would never be able to live exactly how they wanted to.
Always under Bonten’s thumb. Always the looming sense of dread, should they slip up and do something wrong.
It was a shock when Haruchiyo laughed. A silly little giggle, bubbling up and out of his throat. Yasuhiro lifted his head from where it had rested on the back of the couch so he could look down at the man curled up against his chest, the stress of the week finally overflowing. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he laughed, covering his mouth with his hands as he tried to decide which emotion to give attention to.
Despair at the thought of not being able to protect Yasuhiro in the future.
Or joy at the thought of being with him forever, or at least, until the fates willed them apart again.
“Never getting rid of me now, huh, Captain?” Haruchiyo joked as he caught his breath, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his sweater before staring up at Yasuhiro with a wet smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“I wouldn’t want it any other way, Haruchiyo.”
Leaning down, Yasuhiro found Haruchiyo’s overheated forehead with his lips, settling a kiss there as Haruchiyo closed his eyes with a sigh.
Maybe it was the exhilarating feeling of having cheated death once again, or the soft way his heart beat for that beautiful, exhausting face beneath his lips, but Yasuhiro couldn’t help but press a second kiss to Haruchiyo’s own. He’d been thinking about it all week. If they were going to die one day, he didn’t want to die without doing this.
But he resisted, despite having the opportunity every night. He didn’t want his affection to cloud Haruchiyo’s judgment. He wanted Haruchiyo to choose him all on his own.
And he did. Well, mostly did. Maybe his words earlier had encouraged him. Made him feel more confident.
At that moment it didn’t really matter to Yasuhiro though, because he was still alive, and Haruchiyo was still here, and really, that was all he could ask for.
The terms be damned, he had everything he wanted. Even if the cage had closed in on them, trapping them in and locking them down together, at least they were still together.
They were together, and Haruchiyo kissed him back, arms wrapping around his neck as he whispered the words that had been unspoken between them for so long, hanging between them every night like apples heavy on a tree.
“I know,” Yasuhiro whispered back, Haruchiyo finally letting his desperation show itself fully, his nails digging into Yasuhiro’s shirt, clinging there tightly as if to say “don’t let me go.”
“Haruchiyo, I know.” Yasuhiro kissed him again, trying to calm the panicked blabbering of a man who finally opened the floodgates, wanting to say every word that ever crossed his mind in the span of a minute. Yasuhiro soothed him, every ‘I know” reconfirming Haruchiyo’s feelings, and strengthening his conviction that he had finally done the right thing in staying.
“I know, I know…I’ve always loved you,too.”