Chapter Text
morning seeped slowly into the room, pale sunlight filtering through the thin curtains and spilling across the tatami. yuma stirred with a low groan, burying his face deeper into the futon as if he could block out the world.
his body ached in places he didn’t even want to name, his lips were still swollen and his throat felt like it had been overworked from too much… well. he refused to think about it.
for a long while, he just lay there, listening. the faint rustle of paper. the soft clink of ceramic. the quiet rhythm of another presence moving calmly nearby.
then it hit him.
he wasn’t alone.
yuma cracked one bleary eye open and sure enough, there was jo, sitting cross-legged by the low table, sipping tea like this was the most ordinary morning in the world.
his hair was mussed from sleep, his collarbone peeked out from the loose neck of his shirt and there was a faint mark on his jaw, one that yuma instantly knew was his doing.
heat shot straight to his face.
yuma snapped the blanket up over his head with a strangled noise. “don’t look at me.”
jo didn’t even glance his way. “i wasn’t.”
“you’re lying,” came yuma’s muffled protest. “i can feel it.”
silence. then the quiet sip of tea. “you’re loud in the morning.”
“loud?!” yuma flung the blanket off, hair sticking up like he’d been electrocuted. “you’re the one who—who—” he cut himself off, sputtering, because there was no way he was saying it out loud. not when his body was already screaming the evidence.
jo’s lips curved, faint and unreadable. “hm.”
yuma sat cross-legged on the futon, clutching a pillow like a shield. his cheeks were already burning, though he tried desperately to look composed. “so, um… i’m just gonna say it. i can’t show up to class like this.”
jo, kneeling by the low table, lifted his tea calmly. “like what?”
yuma’s eyes narrowed. “don’t play dumb. you know what.”
jo sipped, unbothered. “hm. maybe.”
“‘maybe’?! jo—” yuma stood halfway, then sat back down, gripping the pillow tighter. “my neck looks like it went through a war zone and that’s just what i can see!”
jo finally set his cup down, gaze steady. “then don’t check the rest.”
yuma blinked. “what’s that supposed to mean?”
jo leaned an elbow on the table, lips curving slightly. “i marked you everywhere. chest. thighs. places only i’d know. if you looked under your pants right now…” he trailed off deliberately, watching yuma squirm, “you’d find proof.”
his neck flushed crimson, and he threw a hand over his face. “you’re actually trying to kill me, aren’t you?”
jo’s chuckle was quiet, almost fond. “you weren’t complaining last night.”
yuma peeked at him, voice cracking. “t-that’s not the point! i wasn’t thinking straight! you, you were—” his words tangled, dying off when the memory hit, heat flooding his entire face. “you actually… jo, you—”
jo’s voice dropped, low but steady. “i took care of you. every part of you.” his eyes softened, no smirk this time.
“because i wanted you to feel good. because i wanted you to know how much i...” he stopped, searching for the word. “wanted you.”
yuma’s breath caught. he clutched the pillow tighter, whispering without meaning to, “…you’re insane.”
“only for you,” jo said simply.
the silence stretched. yuma buried half his face into the pillow, muffling his voice. “…and now you expect me to just walk around like normal? people are going to notice.”
“they won’t.” jo reached forward, tugging lightly at the edge of yuma’s shirt. “i was careful. i covered what matters.”
yuma pulled back, eyes wide. “you planned this?!”
jo gave the faintest shrug. “i knew you’d panic.”
“panic?! i’m traumatized!” yuma groaned, tossing himself back onto the futon dramatically. “if i survive this week without an existential meltdown, it’ll be a miracle.”
he tilted his head, studying yuma’s flushed face. “and here you are, choosing me anyway.”
yuma exhaled shakily. “why do you make it sound like I’m yours already?”
jo’s hand lingered against his temple, tender. “because you are and i’m not letting go again.”
yuma’s heart thudded hard enough he thought jo might hear it. he swallowed, voice softer now. “you really mean that?”
“every word.”
the words hung between them, fragile and heavy. yuma’s chest tightened, but this time it wasn’t panic. it was something else, something grounding.
he cleared his throat, trying to lighten it. “so… what, you think i owe you now?”
jo’s lips curved faintly. “maybe. you could return the favor next time.”
yuma bolted upright, almost bumping into him. “w–why would you even say that?!”
jo chuckled, low and unhurried. “funny, your eyes don’t look like they hate it.”
yuma spluttered, looking anywhere but at him. “i hate you.”
jo leaned closer, his breath brushing yuma’s ear. “liar.”
yuma froze, then let out a long, shaky sigh. “fine. maybe i don’t hate you. happy?”
jo pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “not happy. more like… grateful.”
yuma blinked, caught off guard. “grateful?”
jo nodded slowly. “for you. for last night. for this morning. for the fact that even after the curse, we’re still here.”
yuma whispered, almost to himself, “i still don’t know if i deserve this.”
jo leaned closer, eyes soft. “neither do i. but i want it anyway.”
the words hit hard like they always did when jo chose to say something real. yuma felt himself soften, the panic bleeding away into something warm. he set the pillow aside, his hand reaching almost without thinking, brushing against jo’s.
quietly, he whispered, “...i love you, you idiot.”
jo’s hand turned, lacing their fingers together. his answer came just as soft. “i love you too.”
they sat there for a long moment, just holding each other’s gaze. then jo pulled him closer, arms circling around yuma in a steady embrace. yuma went willingly, resting his cheek against jo’s shoulder, sighing into the quiet.
jo’s voice was low, steady. “this time, no more forgetting.”
yuma tightened his hold, whispering back, “deal.”
-
later that morning, the two of them finally pulled themselves together enough to step outside. yuma tugged his cap low over his head, muttering about “damage control” and “never forgiving jo for this,” while jo just walked beside him in quiet ease, hands tucked in his pockets.
the path toward the shrine was the same as it had always been. stone steps worn smooth, moss clinging to the edges, cicadas humming in the distance but it felt different now, heavier somehow, like every step was retracing the path that had brought them here.
yuma glanced sideways, breaking the silence. “so, this is where it all started, huh?”
jo hummed. “and ended.”
“ended?” yuma frowned.
jo’s gaze flicked toward him, steady. “the curse. the forgetting. it stopped here.”
yuma pressed his lips together, his chest tugging. “…and began with us, too.”
when they reached the shrine, the old lady was already there, sweeping the stone courtyard. she looked up as they approached, her eyes crinkling at the corners and yuma swore her gaze lingered on their joined hands longer than it should have.
“ah,” she said softly, almost like she’d been expecting them. “you came back.”
yuma fumbled, tugging his cap lower. “uh, yeah. we… thought we should.”
jo bowed slightly, polite. “thank you. for everything.”
the old lady chuckled, leaning on her broom. “don’t thank me, boys. i only watch over the shrine. the rest…” her gaze sharpened, fond but knowing. “the rest was yours to decide.”
yuma blinked, caught off guard. “ours?”
“mm.” her eyes softened. “love cursed you. love saved you. seems fitting, don’t you think?”
jo’s fingers squeezed around yuma’s, grounding him before he could stumble for an answer. yuma exhaled slowly, realizing for once he didn’t need to say anything clever.
her voice was soft, but it carried through the shrine courtyard. “fate may cut the string, memory may scatter like fallen leaves… yet the heart never truly forgets its home. no curse, no distance, no fear can keep two souls apart when they’re meant to walk the same path.”
they stood there for a moment, the cicadas filling the silence, before yuma finally tugged on jo’s sleeve. “come on. before she starts reading my future or something.”
jo glanced at him, lips curving the slightest bit. “you’d hate that.”
“exactly,” yuma muttered, but he didn’t let go of jo’s hand as they walked back down the steps together.
love, when tested, does not vanish with time or curses. it lingers, stubborn, carving its way through pain, through fear, through forgetfulness. when it is found again, when two souls choose once more to return to each other, no curse in the world can stand against it.
ultimately, memory may fail. fate may waver. yet love remembers. always.
because in the end, love is not perfection nor certainty, but the choice to reach for each other, again and again, even when the world tries to pull you apart. and really, what could be more powerful than that?
- end.