Chapter Text
Narumi walked briskly through the hallways of Tachikawa Base, boots echoing sharply against the polished floor. He’d hoped that he might catch a glimpse of his boyfriend during the joint training session. Maybe just a second...or an hour. Depends. Or maybe just enough to ease the restless knot in his chest.
But he was nowhere to be found.
Not on the training grounds. Not lingering near the command rooms. Not even passing by in the corridors like he usually did.
Only for Narumi to find out that he was severely injured during a subjugation and was currently recovering in the infirmary.
Narumi didn’t remember when he started moving faster—only that his stride broke into a near run, worry bleeding openly into his expression. Of course he hadn’t replied to texts. Of course he’d gone quiet. And why the hell hadn’t his division informed him?
His chest felt tight as he stopped just outside the infirmary doors, forcing himself to inhale once, twice.His captain didn’t give him much information other than the fact that he’s already awake after how many days? Narumi barely registered the rest. His pulse was too loud in his ears.
He pushed the door open without knocking.
“00!”
The sound echoed louder than intended.
The only occupant inside nearly jumped, a slice of apple halfway to his mouth. Bandages wrapped around his head and arms, sitting cross-legged on the bed—very much alive.
His eyes widened in surprise.“Gen?” 00 blinked. “What brought you here?”
The sheer casualness of it nearly took Narumi out at the knees.
For a split second, all the tension drained from his shoulders in a dizzy rush of relief. He was fine. Annoyingly, infuriatingly fine.
Narumi exhaled, hands clenching at his sides as he walked over.“You had me worried sick, you idiot,” he said, voice rougher than he meant. “Why didn’t you tell me you got hurt?”
00 scratched the back of his head, sheepish. “It’s not that serious. See?” He lifted his bandaged arm, wiggling his fingers like proof.
Narumi stared, unimpressed. “Are you seriously trying to convince me right now?”
00’s lips twitched, a faint snicker escaping him. “Wow. You were worried.”
Narumi swore—if he wasn’t injured, he’d already be getting smacked. And honestly? Even with the injuries, he was still tempted.
He stepped closer.
Whatever teasing comment 00 had lined up died instantly as Narumi leaned in. Their faces were inches apart. 00’s breath hitched, eyes flicking down for half a second—
And then Narumi grabbed his cheeks and pinch it
“Ow—ow—ow!” 00 yelped, swatting weakly at his hands. “That hurts! I’m a patient! I could file a lawsuit, you know!”
Narumi released him with a huff. “That’s for not telling me. I can’t believe I had to hear it from your damn captain.”
There was bitterness there, but mostly fear, still lingering.
00’s expression softened immediately. The humor drained, replaced by something gentler. “I’m sorry, Gen,” he said quietly. “I didn’t want to worry you. And it really was just a scratch… well, maybe a slightly dramatic one.”
“A scratch doesn’t knock you out for days,” Narumi shot back.
00 laughed weakly, conceding. “Okay, okay. Point taken.” He hesitated, then extended his pinky, eyes earnest despite the smile. “I promise. No more hiding things from you.”
Narumi eyed the gesture, unimpressed—but he hooked his pinky anyway. “If you break that promise,” he muttered, “I’ll knock you out myself. Medical staff present or not.”
00 grinned. “Noted.”
He paused, then added lightly, “I’ll make it up to you. When I’m discharged—dinner. Somewhere nice. Your pick.”
Narumi clicked his tongue, but the tightness in his chest finally eased. “You better survive until then.”
00’s smile softened. “With you hovering like this? I don’t think I have a choice.”
XX
Narumi weaved through the cafeteria, scanning the sea of occupied tables for an empty seat. It was pointless.
Lunch hour.
Students flooded in all at once, voices overlapping, chairs scraping loudly against the floor.
He frowned. Whose brilliant idea was it to let everyone out at the same time? This was college, not high school. You’d think they’d know better.
After another lap with no luck, Narumi let out a slow sigh and gave up entirely. He adjusted his grip on his lunch box and turned back toward the exit
He’d left early for class today.
Too early. Without even a goodbye kiss
It still felt strange. Not waking up with Hoshina beside him, not feeling the familiar weight of his arm draped lazily across his waist. No sleepy murmurs, no half-awake complaints about the morning.
Just silence, and a bed that felt bigger than it should have, despite it being a single.
It hadn’t even been that long. Only a few days.
And yet his body kept reaching for him.
Narumi slowed his steps, gaze dropping to the lunch box in his hand. He’d made two out of habit—one for himself, one for Hoshina. He’d left the second on the kitchen counter before leaving, placed where Hoshina couldn’t miss it.
He hadn’t lost him. This was temporary. until Hoshina gets his shit together and they could find their way back to each other.
That was what Narumi told himself.
But when he reached their bench and found it occupied by other students, laughter spilling easily into the space that used to be theirs, something in his chest twist.
He lingered there for a moment, lunch box heavy in his hand, unsure where to go now.
XX
“Huh. That’s rare,” Ashiro murmured. The Student Council room is quiet with only two occupants filling the space. It’s not exactly weird for the members to come and use as they please, but a particular person she didn’t expect suddenly opened the door before settling his bag on the table.
Narumi glanced over. “What is?”
“You don’t usually come here alone.”
He scoffed, dropping into the chair opposite her. “I may not look like it, but I am still the vice president, okay?” The offense was exaggerated—but his eyes didn’t quite meet hers. Truth was, he’d run out of places to go
Ashiro didn’t even look up from her laptop. “For someone who was practically forced into the position, you don’t willingly step into this room unless Hoshina drags you along.” Her fingers paused. “Where is he, anyway?”
“Don’t know. Exams, probably.” Narumi shrugged.
Probably? That’s odd. Usually, they both know the whereabouts of the other, given they never separated unless it’s classes and exams. Ashiro raised an eyebrow. “Did something happen between you two?”
Narumi puffed his cheeks out, leaning back in his chair. “Maybe. I don’t know.” The sulk was obvious—but the way his leg bounced under the table gave him away.
“Narumi,” Ashiro said flatly, suspicion creeping into her tone. “What did you do?”After all, if there is something happening between them both, she could only imagine Narumi being the cause of it.
He shot her a glare. “What do you take me for? I didn’t do anything.” His frown lingered longer than necessary.
“Even I noticed he’s been off lately—but it’s not because of me…” His voice faltered, just barely. “…I tried to talk to him. He just—” He stopped, jaw tightening. “He said he wanted to handle it himself.”
Ashiro studied him. He’s not lying at least.
For a fleeting second, she felt something close to sympathy. Almost. She still barely acknowledged Narumi as her vice president, despite their term almost to it’s end
Honestly, she’d preferred Hoshina in that role. Yet somehow, she’d been content leaving him as her secretary instead.
“You’re close to Soushiro too.” Narumi said quietly. “Did he ever… mention me? Or—” his jaw tightened, “someone else?”
He looked at Ashiro with a fragile kind of hope, almost demanding if not for the slight tremble in his voice at the mention.
Ashiro paused. Someone else? The thought didn’t sit right. Hoshina wasn’t that kind of man. if anything, he was painfully devoted to this idiot in front of her.
“No,” she said at last. Then, as if remembering something, she added, “Though I did see him come here once with a stack of… strange books.”
Narumi’s brows knit together. “Books?”
“Yes.” She leaned back slightly, arms crossing. “Didn’t he tell you?”
“No.” Narumi shook his head. “He’s been secretive lately. Or rather, he’s been staying late in the library and brushing it off as revision whenever I ask.” He looked up again. “What kind of books?”
Ashiro paused, eyes narrowing—as if weighing whether this was something she should say.
“Reincarnation,” she finally replied. “Mythology. Past lives. That sort of thing.”
Narumi blinked. Once. Then let out a breath that sounded half like a laugh. “Why would our library even have that?”
Ashiro shot him a look. “That’s what you’re hung up on?”
He lifted a hand defensively. “No—okay, fine. Not the point.” His fingers curled into his sleeve. “Why would Soushiro suddenly care about reincarnation?”
Silence.
“Beats me.” Ashiro didn’t answer right away. Her gaze flicked away for a brief second before returning to him. “We talked about it once,” she said slowly. “It was fine at first. Then he went pale, almost as if he’s having a panic attack. I’m not sure what’s going on in his mind. When I asked if he was okay, he just deflected it.”
Narumi’s lips pressed into thin lines. His fingers curled slowly, then tightened as he tried to piece everything.
There was that conversation.
The break.
Narumi’s jaw clenched. His throat burned as the memory replayed itself—Soushiro’s honesty, the way his voice had trembled despite his calm expression.
There was someone in his dreams. Someone faceless yet achingly real.
A presence that lingered long after waking.
Longing. Love.
Narumi sucked in a shallow breath. His hands, moments ago restless, now lay motionless on his lap.
Reincarnation.
The word echoed, absurd and yet it slid into place far too neatly.
Don’t tell him. Don’t tell him Soushiro was searching for someone from a lifetime ago.
The thought almost earned a scoff. His lips twitched with disbelief. It was ridiculous, completely stupid. He was a college student, not a character trapped in some tragic folklore. Dreams were just dreams. half-formed nonsense the brain stitched together in sleep. They weren’t supposed to bleed into reality.
And yet—
His breath hitched.
Because he had dreamed too.
The memory surfaced unbidden. unfamiliar laughter that felt warm against his skin, the ease of loving someone whose face blurred the moment he tried to focus on it. The restlessness he feels when he's hurt, the soft flutter of remembering a smile.How he’d woken up feeling strangely full—only for that feeling to fade as consciousness returned.
And honestly, he’d been fine with that. He’d always been fine with letting dreams stay where they belonged.
Because when he opened his eyes, he had Soushiro.
But now—
Was that man real?
Was that longing not imagination, but something old—something carried forward, misplaced in time?
Narumi pressed his palm flat against his thigh, grounding himself. His shoulders sagged, the tension draining out of him. The idea frightened him—not because it was impossible, but because a part of him couldn’t fully reject it.
Because if Soushiro was searching for someone he once loved—
Narumi swallowed hard.
—then what did that make him?
And who, then, was the person waiting for him in his own dreams?
Why did they dream of different people?
A chill crept into his fingers. His bangs lowered, shadowing his eyes. He hadn’t realized how long he’d been staring at nothing until Ashiro’s chair shifted, drawing his attention back.
“Narumi,” she asked quietly, watching the way his expression had gone distant. “Are you okay?”
Narumi blinked once.
Twice.
Then he looked up, offering a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah.”
Ashiro watched him for a moment longer. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, her eyes narrowing just slightly in assessment. She caught him tensing, the way his shoulders hadn’t relaxed even after he smiled. Whatever conclusion she came to, she kept it to herself.
Instead, she reached for a thin stack of papers and slid it across the desk.
“Good,” she said evenly. “Then do me a favor and look at this.”
Narumi glanced down, then back up at her. “What is it?”
“Work,” Ashiro replied without missing a beat. “Finish it before finals end. Consider this your last task.”
He frowned as he took the stack, the weight of it settling into his hands. Even before reading a word, he could already feel it—the annoyance that comes with tasks like this. Normally he’d complain louder. Today, he didn’t.
Great, he thought. Busywork.
He dropped his gaze to the first page, scanning through it with half a mind. Candidate selection timelines. Interview slots. Names arranged neatly in rows. His eyes snagged on one name and he let out a quiet huff.
“Kikoru,” he muttered. Of course. That kid never knew when to stop charging forward. If she wanted to throw herself into student council chaos, that was her funeral.
He flipped the page.
Outing proposals.
Narumi groaned softly, leaning back in his chair. Locations. Backup locations. Lodging. Transportation. Meals. Emergency contingencies.
Why was this even necessary?
His fingers tapped once against the paper, irritation bubbling up to smother the thoughts he didn’t want resurfacing. He looked at Ashiro, only for her to offer him a small, knowing smile.
The words died in Narumi's mouth.
This—this was fine. Better than sitting alone with his head spiraling.
“I would’ve asked Hoshina to do it,” Ashiro said casually, eyes still on her screen. “But he’s busy with finals.”
The words landed heavier than they should have.
Narumi reacted before thinking. “As if I’m not taking them too?”
Ashiro finally looked at him then, unimpressed. “You’re the so-called genius. You’ll survive. You are my vice president, after all.”
There it was—that familiar tone. Half mocking. Half amuse.
Narumi scoffed, rolling his eyes as he dropped his gaze back to the papers. “Yeah, yeah. Lucky me.”
Annoyance crept in, sharp and grounding. He focused on it, welcomed it. Let it drown out the lingering ache in his chest, the thoughts he didn’t want to chase.
His eyes traced the line again, slower this time.
…Right.
Ashiro hadn’t given him this just to dump work on him.
Narumi exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening as he leaned back again, irritation settling in properly now. Whatever she was doing—it was working. And that somehow annoyed him even more.
He straightened the stack with a sharp tap against the desk.
“Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll handle it.”
He didn’t look up, but Ashiro’s gaze softened just a fraction—before she turned back to her screen.
He flipped through the proposal draft, eyes skimming until a bolded line near the top caught his attention.
Miura Beach.
His brows drew together, grip tightening on the papers just enough to crinkle the edge. “I thought we were going for a chalet,” he said. “Somewhere in the woods. That was the plan.”
Ashiro finally looked up from her laptop. “It was,” she replied easily. “Until Shinonome and Ikaruga started campaigning for a beach escape.” A faint shrug followed. “And, honestly, it’s nicer playing in the sand. Most of them agreed.”
Narumi’s gaze dropped back to the page. The word beach seemed to blur, swim slightly before snapping back into focus. “And I wasn’t told.”
Ashiro hummed, fingers already back on her keyboard. “It was in the group chat.”
He let out a quiet breath.
“You didn’t read it,” she continued, unbothered. “So I assumed Hoshina would’ve mentioned it.” A pause. “But given your current situation… probably not.”
The statement wasn’t sharp. But he felt the sting nonetheless.
Narumi’s fingers curled around the papers, knuckles whitening for a heartbeat before he forced them to loosen. He kept his eyes down, said nothing.
“You just need to do the beach proposals. The election document is just for your reference,” Ashiro went on, “you’ll finalize the proposal, submit them to Sir Isao, and oversee the coordination.”
Narumi lifted his head slowly. “And you?”
“Election process,” she replied. Then, dryly, “Unless you want my job.”
“Hard pass.” He didn’t even bother dressing it up. “Fine.”
The word came out flat. He gathered the papers into a neat stack, tucking them under his arm as he stood.
That should’ve been all it was.
Work. Another obligation.
And yet—
As he turned toward the door, something twisted quietly in his chest. It's not pain exactly. Just a strange, unsettled pull he couldn’t name, stirred by a single word on a page.
Miura Beach.
Narumi exhaled slowly, pushing the feeling down where it couldn’t reach him.
XX
The dreams stopped
They disappear all at once.
Ever since…
Ever since Narumi started sleeping alone in his room, they no longer came to him. No more fleeting warmth. No half-remembered laughter or hands intertwined with someone whose face he couldn’t see.
And yet, the longing didn’t vanish with them.
If anything, it sharpened—redirected itself entirely toward one person.
Hoshina.
Because above all else, even if the man in his dreams was someone he had once loved—someone important enough for his heart to remember without his mind’s permission—Narumi had Hoshina now. He had chosen him. He loved him. And he didn’t want to ruin that fragile, precious bliss they’d built together.
Even if it was already cracking.
A soft rustle came from beyond his door. The faint sound of movement—drawers opening, footsteps crossing the floor. Hoshina, probably just waking up. Getting ready for the day like he always did.
Narumi stayed where he was, staring at the ceiling, chest tight. Fingers curled into the sheets, gripping nothing but the memory of warmth.
He missed him.
He missed him.
And yet, he stayed still, forcing himself to respect the space Hoshina had asked for. Letting the quiet stretch on, even as every fiber of him ached to reach out, to pull him close again.
XX
“I miss him,” Narumi muttered for what had to be the fifth time in under an hour.
Hasegawa finally let out a long, suffering sigh, fingers pausing over the keyboard. “Then go to him,” he said flatly. “For god’s sake, you live in the same apartment. Same hallway. Same floor. It’s not a long-distance tragedy.”
Narumi shot him a glare. “You make it sound easy.”
“It is easy,” Hasegawa replied. “What’s hard is listening to you pine while doing absolutely nothing about it.” He glanced sideways at Narumi, eyes narrowing slightly. “So. What did you do that made him ask for a break?”
Narumi stiffened. “Why does everyone assume it’s my fault?” he snapped, then slumped back in his chair. “Do I seriously look like the type who messes things up on purpose?”
Hasegawa didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”
“Wow. Betrayal.” Narumi scowled. “You’re supposed to support me in my time of need.”
“I am supporting you,” Hasegawa said dryly. “By staying here, helping you with paperwork, and not physically dragging you to his door myself.”
Narumi huffed, fingers tapping against the desk as he stared at the screen without really seeing it. “You don’t get it,” he muttered. “It’s… complicated.”
Hasegawa leaned back in his chair. “Then uncomplicate it.”
Narumi hesitated. “It’s going to sound stupid.”
“Everything that comes out of your mouth sounds stupid,” Hasegawa said without malice. “Try me.”
Narumi narrowed his eyes in annoyance. He fell quiet for a moment, then spoke more softly. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”
Hasegawa blinked. “…No.”
“I know,” Narumi said quickly. “I think so too. But—” He faltered, then rushed on. “Hypothetically. If it were real. Maybe that’s why some people just… fit. Like they already know each other.”
Hasegawa studied him then, expression shifting from annoyance to something more measured. “You’re asking because of him,” he said.
Narumi didn’t deny it.
Hasegawa sighed again, this time slower. “I don’t believe in reincarnation,” he said. “But I do believe the brain is really good at holding onto things it doesn’t know what to do with. Guilt. Fear. Love.” He tapped the desk lightly. “Doesn’t mean it’s destiny. Doesn’t mean it’s a mistake either.”
Narumi frowned. “That’s… not very comforting.”
“It’s not supposed to be,” Hasegawa replied. “But here’s the thing.” He met Narumi’s eyes. “Whatever weird explanation you’re circling around—past lives, fate, cosmic nonsense—it doesn’t change what matters now.”
“And what’s that?”
“That you miss him,” Hasegawa said simply. “And he’s still here. Waiting for your dumbass to do something about it”
Narumi looked away.
Hasegawa grimaced suddenly. “And Y’know, if you and I were connected in a past life, I sincerely hope I wasn’t assigned to babysit you again.”
Narumi perked up just enough to pout. “Wow. You wound me.”
“Finish the paperwork,” Hasegawa said, already turning back to the screen. “Then decide whether you want to be miserable alone—or brave enough to talk.”
XX
In the end, he was miserable alone—though not by choice. Despite living in the same apartment, they barely crossed paths. Exams, group discussions, meetings piled one after another, swallowing whatever little overlap their schedules might’ve had. Hoshina had been assigned to assist Ashiro with the election, which meant he was constantly pulled elsewhere, always busy with responsibilities Narumi didn’t have the right—or the heart—to interrupt.
Narumi sighed for what felt like the hundredth time as the final proposal approval came through. He’d been buried in his own work too: Student Council duties, logistics, revisions. On top of that, his stupid junior wouldn’t stop yapping about how she’d aced her interview.
For a fleeting second, Narumi entertained the idea of rejecting her application purely out of spite.
He dismissed it just as quickly—it wasn’t in his jurisdiction, and honestly, it wasn’t worth the effort.
The last meeting before the trip dragged on longer than necessary, covering every possible detail—transportation, accommodations, emergency contacts, backup plans. Narumi was thorough to a fault, even when his mind wasn’t fully in it.
By the end of it, Shinonome was already talking excitedly about swimsuit shopping, Hasegawa shook his head at their enthusiasm, and even Miyake—of all people—looked mildly excited.
That was when it really sank in.
The trip was tomorrow.
He’d been blasting the group chat with reminders and finalized plans for weeks. He’d made sure everything was in place.
Everything… except the one thing that actually mattered.
Narumi leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling for a brief second.
This time, he wouldn’t avoid it.
he would confront him.
XX
The outing was nice.
They’d rented a private chalet near Miura Beach, tucked just far enough away that the noise didn’t carry, close enough to the ocean that they could see the blue horizon. Laughter came easily, much to Narumi’s own surprise. The sea breeze cooled sun-warmed skin. For a few precious hours, things almost felt normal.
Almost.
It didn’t take long for the others to notice the tension between the Student Council’s most infamous couple. The way they never quite stood side by side, when they're usually glued to the hips. The way Narumi’s gaze kept drifting. The way Hoshina smiled, but never towards him.
Still, no one let it dampen the mood.
Someone grabbed Narumi by the wrist and dragged him into a beach volleyball match before he could protest, sand kicking up around his ankles as laughter drowned out his half-hearted complaints. Across the beach, Hoshina disappeared into the water, looking through the shore with melancholic eyes.
It was fine.
It was fine—Narumi told himself that over and over, even as the hours slipped by and the knot in his stomach tightened with each stolen glance. Even as he laughed at the right moments, pretended he wasn’t counting how long Hoshina stayed away.
He needed an opening.
Any chance to be alone with him.
By nightfall, the smell of barbecue filled the air, smoke curling into the darkening sky as bottles were passed around freely. The chalet brightened with light and joy. Even Isao-sensei had loosened up, laughing louder than anyone expected, a bottle in hand and dignity temporarily forgotten.
Hoshina excused himself early. Just a quiet word and a polite nod.
Most of the others were half-drunk by then, voices slurring, conversations folding over one another
Narumi didn't really drink—just a few sips here and there. Not enough to make him drunk . His mind is more distracted by the leaving figure.
He told himself he’d give it a minute. Then another. Then one more.
But if he didn’t take it now, he wasn’t sure he ever would.
So he went after him.
“Where are you going?” Narumi called out, the words leaving his mouth before he’d fully committed to them.
Hoshina paused at the doorway, already slipping into his sandals. He turned just enough for the light to catch his face. “To the beach,” he answered honestly. “Just a short walk after dinner.”
“Oh.”
That was it? That was all he had? You could do better than that, Narumi Gen.
Narumi opened his mouth, unsure if he was overstepping, but before anything else could spill out, Hoshina turned back.
There was a small smile on his face.
“Wanna come?”
Narumi nodded immediately. No hesitation. No pride left to protect. He followed the moment he managed to get his shoes on, heart pounding like it might finally betray him.
The walk between them was quiet.
Or awkward.
Honestly, Narumi couldn’t tell.
Hoshina walked ahead, straight toward the stretch of sand as the waves brought upon the cold night wind into the shore. Narumi followed, hands itching to reach out.
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Hoshina said, stopping to look out at the water.
Moonlight spilled across the surface, turning the sea silver and endless.
“Yeah.” Narumi followed his line of sight, chest tight. his mouth instinctively muttered. “And it’s quiet. Almost like—”
“We’re the only people in the world,” Hoshina finished softly. “Don’t you think?”
Something twisted in Narumi’s chest. Déjà vu washed over him. The thought crossed his mind uninvited.
“Hey,” he said, forcing a pout he didn’t quite feel. “You took the words out of my mouth.”
Hoshina chuckled. “It’s almost as if I’ve heard it said before.”
Me too. Narumi swallowed the words.
Hoshina stepped forward and held out his hand. “Let’s walk a little more, shall we?”
Narumi didn’t waste a second.
The moment their hands met, warmth flooded him. Weeks of distance collapsed into that single touch, and suddenly Narumi was barely holding himself together.
He missed him.
He missed him so fucking much it hurts.
Hoshina must have felt it too, because he shifted closer, gently looping his arm around Narumi’s, resting his head against his shoulder like it was instinct, like it had always been allowed.
That was all it took.
Narumi stopped walking and pulled him into a tight embrace, burying his face into Hoshina’s shoulder, pouring every unsaid thing into the way he held on.
“I missed you,” he choked out. “You idiot. I missed you so much. Fuck—I hate you so much for this.”
Hoshina’s body tensed, but he didn’t pull away.
He felt Narumi shaking, felt the tremor in his grip, and his own arms tightened in response, drawing him closer until there was no space left between them. Until distance—past, present, imagined—had nowhere left to exist.
“I’m sorry, Gen,” Hoshina whispered, voice breaking despite himself. “I’m really sorry for putting you through this. I’m sorry for being selfish.”
His lips trembled. His eyes burned.
He didn’t know how else to make it better.
Because it was true—he had been selfish. Lost in his own confusion. Blind to the one person who had never left his side.
And holding Narumi now, feeling the weight of his longing pressed against his chest, Hoshina realized just how much damage that blindness had done.
And how badly he wanted to fix it.
Narumi pulled back—but only just enough to see him.
Hoshina’s face was tight with guilt, eyes shadowed, mouth drawn in a tight line. Honestly? Not a good look on him at all. Narumi felt something swell in his chest, the kind of love that hurt if he didn’t let it out somehow.
So he did.
His hands rose to Hoshina’s face, thumbs brushing along his cheekbones, tracing the familiar curve as if memorising it again. There was too much feeling in him—too much relief, too much fear, too much I almost lost you—and it leaked through his touch.
Then, against all better judgement, he pinched Hoshina’s cheek.
Hard.
“Ow—ow, ow, ow! That hurts, Gen!” Hoshina swatted at his hands, wincing.
Narumi didn’t let go. His grip was firm. “Come back to me and I’ll forgive you,” he said lightly, but his eyes were dead serious. “Or I’ll keep pinching. One for every time I missed you. And trust me—” his lips twitched, “—there’s a lot saved up.”
“Alright, alright!” Hoshina laughed breathlessly, trying and failing to push him away. “I promise!”
Narumi finally released the pinch but immediately cupped his face again, palms warm against cool skin. “No takebacks,” he warned. “Or I’m totally going to cry right here. In public. Loudly.”
“I get it, Gen. I’m sorry. I won’t.” Hoshina swallowed, voice softening. “I never planned to leave you. I just… had too much in my head and—”
“Ah. No.” Narumi shook his head, cutting him off. “Save the pity party for later. I don’t wanna hear it.” His gaze searched Hoshina’s, bare and honest. “I just need to know something.”
Hoshina stilled.
“You’re still mine, right?”
For a heartbeat, Hoshina’s eyes widened. Then they softened—completely, utterly in love. Like something heavy finally being set down.
“I am yours, Gen,” he said quietly. “Always. And that will never change.”
Narumi smiled, something fragile easing in his chest. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to one cheek, then the other, deliberately gentle—an apology for the pinches, a promise wrapped in warmth.
Hoshina narrowed his eyes, unimpressed, but didn’t pull away. He couldn’t. He knew this rift between them was his doing. All because of a longing he hadn’t known how to name.
Narumi took his hand once more, fingers threading together, and they began walking again. Slower now. Like neither of them wanted the moment to end. The sea air clung to their skin, waves breaking softly against the shore, over and over.
The air smelled like salt and cold water. Waves whispered against the shore, steady and endless. Familiar.
It feels nostalgic… Narumi thought.
…in a way that doesn’t make sense.
“So,” Narumi said eventually, stopping and dropping into the sand, sitting cross-legged. Hoshina joined him without hesitation. “Did you find your answer?”
Hoshina stopped looking at the horizon only long enough to shake his head as he leaned against Narumi’s shoulder once more. “No.” His voice was distant. “The dreams stopped. Ever since the day I suggested the break.” His fingers tightened around Narumi’s. “And all I ever felt after that was… you. And somehow, I understood it then.”
“Understood what?”
“I understood the longing he (I) felt back then. The one I’m feeling now.”
Narumi’s chest tightened. “Hey,” he said lightly, though his heart was pounding. “Do you really believe in reincarnation?”
Hoshina looked at him sharply. “How did you—”
“You’re not slick,” Narumi smirked. “Anyone would notice if you read weird old books instead of studying for finals.” He paused. “Does this have to do with the dreams?”
“…Yeah.” Hoshina exhaled slowly. “I think I had someone. In my past life. It wasn’t long. He died early.”
Narumi didn’t interrupt.
“The longing carried over,” Hoshina continued, voice breaking just a little. “Even now, I still feel it. The ache of losing someone so precious. And worse—” his hands shook harder, “—the fear that I’ll lose you the same way. Like I did back then.”
Narumi’s chest ached. Soushiro loved him too much. That was painfully clear.
“I remember we promised to meet again,” Hoshina whispered. “But I can’t remember his face.” He looked up, eyes shining. “And honestly, I don’t want to.”
“And why not?”
“Because I have you,” Hoshina said immediately. “I don’t want to chase a ghost. I have a life. I have you. I want to choose my happiness now.”
“Soushiro…” Narumi’s voice cracked despite himself.
“I think,” Hoshina said, glancing at the sea, “that whatever that past life was… it was tied to this place. A beach. At night. The last time we were together.” His voice softened. “Back then, we couldn’t touch. No matter how badly we wanted to.”
Narumi’s breath caught.
Cold moonlight .A voice calling his name through tears he couldn’t wipe away.
Hands reaching, never touching.
The final night.
A promise whispered into the dark: Wait for me.
His heart slammed against his ribs.
“But now,” Hoshina continued, unaware, “I want this to be a beginning. Now with you.”
Narumi stared at the sea. His heart beat steadily as that strange, twisted feeling tightened in his chest
He felt… alive.
“Gen.”
Narumi snapped back, blinking. “Yeah?”
“I missed you too.”
Narumi’s eyes softened completely. “Then don’t let me go. Not again.”
“I won’t.” Hoshina’s chest felt unbearably full. “So please… don’t leave me. I don't think I could handle it, like I did.. a lifetime ago.”
Narumi leaned in, resting his forehead against Hoshina’s. “When did I ever leave you, love? I’ve always been here.”
Hoshina smiled, like someone who knew something and was finally at peace with it.
Narumi rested his head atop Hoshina’s, fingers still intertwined, grounding them both in the present.
The sea shimmered silver under the night sky.
“Soushiro…”
“Hm?” Hoshina hummed, eyes half-lidded, clearly unwilling to disturb the fragile quiet between them.
“Kiss me.”
The words landed softly—but they detonated something in his chest all the same.
Hoshina’s heart thumped hard enough to make him dizzy as he lifted his head. Narumi did too, turning fully toward the person he loved—the person he knew, with a frightening certainty, he would probably love for the rest of this lifetime.
Their lips brushed. Just a touch at first. Careful, after weeks of no contact.
Then they leaned in, deepening the kiss slowly.
Click.
Narumi jolted.
The sensation was violent—sharp and immediate—as if something invisible had struck straight through his skull. Not pain exactly. More like a door being forced open. A lock, rusted shut for a lifetime, finally giving way.
He broke the kiss with a sharp breath, hands tightening reflexively on Hoshina’s sleeves as if anchoring himself. The world tilted. His thoughts scattered.
Images flooded in, crashing over each other in rapid succession.
Sand beneath bare feet. Moonlight on dark water. A voice calling his name—breaking apart with sobs he couldn’t wipe away.
Hands reaching, but never touching.
Narumi swayed.
His grip faltered. He tried to focus, to cling to the present—to the warmth in front of him, to the familiar weight of Hoshina’s hands—but his mind refused to let him go.
One face kept appearing.
Blurry at first. The same face that haunted his dreams. The one presence that had slipped between them, souring his heart with a feeling he never understood.
Now—slowly—it sharpened.
Narumi gasped.
Because the person who had been haunting his dreams—
The one tampering with his heart, with his relationship—
The one he could never quite see—
Was standing right in front of him.
The final pieces slammed into place. His hand felt cold as recognition finally dawned on him.
Narumi sucked in a broken breath, eyes burning as he lifted his gaze fully—and Hoshina didn’t look any better. His face had gone pale, all the color draining away as realization struck him just as hard. His hands flew to his mouth, fingers trembling.
Affection burst through Narumi’s chest. Too big. Too much. It spilled over before he could stop it.
Tears fell freely.
When he died, he hadn’t been able to touch Hoshina. He hadn’t been able to wipe away his tears. He hadn’t even been able to cry with him—because he wasn’t alive.
And yet… somehow… impossibly…
They had found each other again.
Without knowing. Without remembering. Without meaning to.
“It was you,” Hoshina whispered.
The words came out like a confession. Like a wound reopening.
A single tear slipped free—then another. And another. Until his vision blurred completely and he broke, shoulders shaking as he pressed his palm hard against his lips, trying and failing to stay silent.
Instinctively, Hoshina threw his arms around him. “It was you. It has always been you. Gen… Gen—”
His voice cracked on Narumi’s name.
Narumi returned the hug just as tight, fingers curling into the fabric at Hoshina’s back as if anchoring himself to something real. Solid. Alive. The weight of a lifetime’s separation.
He broke.
Tears streamed freely down his face, hot and unrestrained, soaking into Hoshina’s shoulder. He clutched him harder, chest heaving as every emotion he’d been denied in death came rushing back all at once.
“I’m here,” Narumi whispered brokenly. “I’m really here this time.”
Hoshina shook against him, pressing his face into Narumi’s neck, breathing him in like he needed proof.
He pulled back just enough to look at him.
Narumi’s face was wet with tears, eyes red and shining—but alive. So vividly, painfully alive. Hoshina lifted a trembling hand to his cheek, half-expecting it to pass through like it once had.
It didn’t.
Narumi leaned into the touch, warm and solid, heartbeat fluttering right beneath Hoshina’s palm.
A sound left Hoshina’s throat—half a sob, half a laugh. “You’re—” He couldn’t finish. The word here felt too fragile to say out loud.
Narumi swallowed, then cupped Hoshina’s face in both hands, thumbs brushing away the tears he’d once watched helplessly. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, voice shaking but certain. “Not this time.”
Hoshina closed the distance.
Lips pressed together, soft and trembling, a breath shared between them.
And it was real. Past and present now converged
Warmth. Narumi’s warmth—seeping into him, grounding him, undoing years of grief in a single, fragile moment.
Hoshina let out a broken sound as the kiss deepened, hands fisting into Narumi’s jacket like he was afraid the world might still steal him away again. That the only thing he could feel is the remnants of memories
Narumi kissed him back just as desperately, pouring everything into that one promise that chained their destinies on that fateful night.
“We meet again.”
XX
Y’know,” Hoshina said quietly, voice rough at the edges, as the remnants of tears now dried. “I thought I could live my life without you in it.”
He paused, fingers curling lightly into his chest, as if trying to hold something that had been breaking there for years. “But you…” His breath hitched. “You went ahead and did that.”
Narumi tilted his head, confused, a faint crease forming between his brows. “Did what?”
Hoshina didn’t answer right away. His gaze drifted back to the sea, dark and endless, the waves rolling in like memories that never truly faded. Slowly, he lifted his hand, eyes settling on his finger.
Narumi’s heart stuttered. It tugged at something buried deep—something he’d carried silently, a secret wish he’d held onto even as his life slipped away.
“Narumi Soushiro,” Hoshina whispered.
The sound of it—his name bound to Hoshina’s—hit him harder than any confession ever could. His old dream, now rekindled anew.
“I stamped the papers,” Hoshina continued, voice barely holding together as new tears started forming around the edges. “Registered it.” A faint, fragile smile curved his lips. “Y’know… it was a nice ring too.”
Narumi felt the breath leave his lungs.
Cruel. how love could exist so fully in a life where it was never meant to be lived out. If he’d been able to touch him during those forty-nine days, if he’d had a body, he would've thrown their rings away, he would've burned the paper he so foolishly filled in his happy fantasies. But he couldn't, and Narumi knew it was just a matter of time for Hoshina to find it.
He would have told him not to chain himself to a promise that could never be fulfilled.
Because Narumi had died.
And Hoshina had been left behind.
But he didn't. Because he was selfish.
Narumi stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him, holding him like he should have back then, like he’d dreamed of doing every night he hovered uselessly at his side.
“I’m sorry, Soushiro,” he murmured, voice breaking. “I’ve always… wanted to.” His grip tightened. “For years. I didn't expect…my life to end before that.”
Hoshina exhaled shakily against his shoulder, hands coming up to clutch at Narumi’s back as if grounding himself. “I don’t blame you, Gen,” he said softly. “You did what you had to do. And… I was honoured.” His voice trembled. “Truly. To love you like that.”
He pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes glassy but warm. Alive with hope instead of grief.
“But now that we’re here,” Hoshina whispered, thumb brushing over Narumi’s wrist—real, solid, there. “I want to experience it again. Properly. With you.”
Narumi smiled through the tears gathering in his eyes, relief crashing over him so hard his knees almost gave out. He pressed his forehead to Hoshina’s, breathing him in.
“I won’t take long this time,” he promised softly. “I’m not leaving. Not again.”
Hoshina let out a small, broken laugh and closed his eyes, resting fully into him.
The space between them felt suddenly fragile again, like it had back then—like if he hesitated, the moment would slip through his fingers the way everything once had. So he cupped Hoshina’s face, thumbs brushing away the last of his tears, grounding himself in the warmth of living skin.
“Kiss me,” he said softly. Not desperate this time. Certain.
Hoshina exhaled, something like a laugh caught in his breath, and leaned in.
Their lips met.
The kiss deepened slowly, and Narumi felt it then: the difference. The undeniable, aching difference.
Narumi tightened his grip. Hoshina responded instantly, fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer instead of slipping through empty air. Their kiss lingered once more, steady and alive, stitched together with quiet breaths and trembling smiles pressed into skin.
When they finally parted, their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling.
“…You feel warm,” Hoshina murmured, voice thick with emotion. “You always were. I just—” He swallowed. “I never got to say it.”
Narumi smiled, eyes stinging again. “You can say it now. We’ve got time.”
The waves rolled in and out, unchanged—just like before. But the ache that once lived in that sound was gone, replaced with something lighter. Hopeful.
Same souls. Same love.
But this time, written with hands that could finally hold each other—carving a future filled with laughter, arguments over nothing, shared mornings, and kisses that didn’t fade when the night ended.
Narumi squeezed Hoshina’s hand, grounding both of them firmly in the now.
Together, they stood—past and present overlapping gently, no longer colliding, finally moving forward as one.