Chapter Text
Mame sees, Mame worries, Mame is his best friend, after all - but he doesn't understand how to help. If only he could ger a hint, even a tiniest one, anything - for you, Sano-kun, we'd do everything and more, you know that.
But Sano-kun has an "everything's fine" attitude and a forced smile - even for Mame.
And the chill of the tiled floors and the fear of his own reflection in the dark mirror Sano keeps for himself.
"Maybe you should visit Takahashi-sensei...?"
Takahashi looks sympathetically, which only adds to the creepiness—no, have you ever seen anything like that?
You must be loved back.
"That's why... It's the only way, basically."
Mikoto just shrugs casually and pretends that none of this concerns him.
"If that's all, then I think I'll be going." And he carefully closes the medical room door behind him.
"Well, you should try it anyway!" a voice rings out behind him, and Yakubyogami smirks, as if at a joke that's not funny.
Yeah, I'd rather die.
That evening and the next, Mikoto convinces himself that it's not even a matter of stubbornness, it's just... - His internal monologue is interrupted by a heart-rending wheeze, and a bouquet is blooming in the sink.
Mikoto just knows that even if he confesses... He wonders if it was those thoughts that made him vomit again? Spitting out a pile of bitter petals, Mikoto knows - even if he confesses, Seimei will never believe that Sano-kun - his Sano-kun - worships him, a human.
Yakubyogami wipes drool with his sleeve, his hands shaking, and so does he, hoping no one will come in.
God, so what? Even he's a god - his lips tremble, but they break into a smile - even he's a god,
but he's full of the most humanly emotions.
***
Yes, Haruaki is salvation and forgiveness, but Mikoto will never admit how much he longs to be forgiven.
Yes, Haruaki is punishment, but Mikoto will never admit what he knows full well: he is suffering a well-deserved punishment.
Yes, Haruaki is hatred, but Mikoto will never admit that he hates only how much he loves.
***
Today it hurts more, today it's unbearable, today he's hugging the sink again instead of going to class. Today, again, he can't but feel anything but sick and Haruaki.
Today Haruaki has the day off.
Mikoto isn't afraid anymore, he's already "fuck it"; Mikoto isn't trying anymore, he's not pretending anymore. He just watches indifferently as the tiled floor rapidly approaches him, when in the middle of another coughing fit Mikoto loses his balance.
Somewhere on the edge of consciousness, somewhere on the cold floor, Mikoto finally closes his tired eyes. He's in the middle of a field. A flower field. White. But what about...? And...-
Someone's already shaking him, tugging him, deafening him. God, stop screaming already, Seimei.
Mikoto's unfocused gaze stubbornly stares somewhere past Haruaki, completely oblivious to what he's screaming at the top of his lungs; actually, he can't hear him anymore. Mikoto gropes for Haruaki's heart with a limp hand while his own heart stills - oh, how hard it's beating.
Can I just lie like this for a little longer, until all that's left of me is your heartbeat...
He doesn't speak, he doesn't whisper, he can't. Words simply settles like bitter salt in his hoarse, petal-torn throat.
"But..."
The bizarre thought becomes a prayer. And who should you pray to, if you are a god? Do gods pray to humans? Can I pray to you, Seimei?
Everything turns out completely idiotic - the words are whispered in fragments, without consulting reason, tangled and confusing. There's a salty taste in his mouth, but where does the salt come from? Mikoto is surprised belatedly, but remembers where it came from: Haruaki is the ocean in which Mikoto drowned and disappeared long ago.
But even so, Haruaki still understands more than he should.
Because for Haruaki love isn't easy, actually. For him, love is something about fear, something about tears, and something about Sano-kun on his lap in the school toilet.