Work Text:
i. the first time i remember you, you are blond and you dont love me back
In this life, his name is Levi Ackerman, and the very moment he lays his eyes on Erwin Smith, he had wanted the Commander's head served on a silver platter. His presence alone radiated this aura that didn't sit well with Levi.
He absolutely loathed to admit, but Erwin is one of the few people in the world who could make him feel weak, vulnerable, and exposed. Erwin knows what actions, what words, and what expressions to use to make Levi submit to him completely. He made Levi Ackerman crumble. It was safe to say that the Commander has this excessive talent of persuasion.
Erwin was powerful, and Levi was frightened —hell, he was terrified— of that, but at the same time, he found it admiring.
The Lance Corporal simply wanted to carry on with the rest of his miserable life serving the man who had torn him away from his ways in the Underground City, even if that man was the very reason he had lost two of the most important people in his life.
(In his nightmares, he can still hear Farlan's and Isobel's screams.)
But that was a long time ago, and Levi had sealed off his bitter memories of the past in a secluded part of his mind. What mattered was this golden-haired man in front of him, who shone too blindingly bright for dark and melancholic Levi to handle.
Today was like any other day, but there was a disruption in Levi's daily routine. Normally, he would've finished his breakfast and was to be summoned afterwards to the Commander's office for the day's agenda. But, now, he found himself in the medical wing, struggling to keep his expression stoic, as he eyed the wounded Commander on the comfiest hospital bed the medics could offer him. When the doctors leave, Levi remains by his superior's side.
He momentarily flicks his gaze to Erwin. He was pulling the thin covers closer to his chest, trying to gather some warmth. It was winter, now, and Levi had another reason to hate the cold weather.
The cold weather brought about blizzard upon blizzard of snow, and in the snow-coated lands outside of the walls was where Levi had witnessed the Commander's blood pooling around his unconscious body.
Levi had never been fazed with the sight of blood, but when Erwin had leaped in front of Levi to protect him from getting trampled to death by a fifteen meter class titan, it made him never want to go outside those walls for good.
Erwin was hurt because of him. He nearly died because of him.
"Sir, I love you," Levi says with the monotone he would normally use to respond to Erwin whenever the Commander summons him.
Erwin eyes Levi with confusion, which then turned into amusement. His cut up lips curled into a beautiful smile. "I love you, too, Levi!"
But Levi knows Erwin doesn't mean it in the way Levi wants him to.
ii. the next time, you are brunet, and you do.
Izaya recognizes Shizuo before he could even see him.
As the local delinquent in Raira Academy, he would be seen loitering in the halls, skipping his classes. (If he didn't have any business with the yakuza for that day.) But, just when classes have resumed after the summer, he hears his voice amongst the loud chattering in the hallway.
That voice made flashes of gigantic humanoid creatures, blue and white feathered wings, and golden hair with a bright smile appear in his mind.
Izaya had lived a handful of lives, but his memory would never forget the sound of his voice.
So, he confronts Heiwajima Shizuo head on after school that day. His hair was an ugly blond (unlike Erwin's beautiful gold), and he had a permanent you-wanna-fight? expression on his face. Shizuo was significantly different from cheery Erwin Smith, but he was unmistakably the same man that Izaya had loved.
"Whadd'ya want?" He grumbles.
Izaya sends him a signature condescending smile. "I wanted to get to know you, Shizu-chan!"
Izaya narrowly evades the punch that Shizuo had thrown.
"Are ya crazy or somethin'? Quit botherin' me," he replies, before pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his blazer pocket. He places a stick in between his teeth, but before Shizuo could light it up, Izaya had snatched it and thrown it on the ground.
A hand grabbed Izaya's shirt collar so roughly, he thought his clothes would rip.
"You're really try'na pick a fight, aren't ya?"
Then, Izaya produces a switchblade from his pocket and points it at Shizuo's neck. "Maybe I am, Shizu-chan~"
But now, nine years later, looking back at how Izaya had found Shizuo in this life, he couldn't believe they'd almost killed each other right off the bat. Not when Izaya is safely tucked in Shizuo's arms as the latter slumbered peacefully.
Slowly, he carefully ran a hand through Shizuo's silky chestnut tufts. Izaya was glad he didn't bleach his hair in that ugly shade of blond anymore.
But Shizuo, being Shizuo, was immediately roused by that simple action. Droopy eyes stared at him in a haze of drowsiness.
"Somethin' wrong?" Shizuo asks with a low voice, as he yawned.
Izaya shakes his head, and snuggles deeper into Shizuo's chest. Shizuo sighs, and kisses the crown of Izaya's head.
"Go back to sleep."
iii. after a while I give up trying to guess if the colour of your hair means anything
This time, that man's name is Shintarō, and his hair is a luscious green. Seijūrō was about to laugh at him for having to be bestowed with that hue for a hair color, but that was until he was reminded of the façade he had to maintain, in front of everyone around him.
In this life, he was given the name Akashi Seijūrō, and he was born into an elite family that had a high social standing in society. As the heir of the Akashi Enterprises, he was forced to grow up in a strict environment, where he needed to be the perfect son. And effortlessly, he managed to meet his parents' —rather, his father's— standards.
Seijūrō didn't mind. He'd lived harsher lives before. But his mother in this life had made everything bearable. Seijūrō's mother had taught him everything that was lovely in this universe. She'd given him love, care, and most of all, basketball.
Basketball was one of the few things that had seduced his heart in all the lives he's lived. He had immediately felt a connection with the sport. So, when his mother had passed away, and his father threatened to take basketball away from him, as well, that was when Seijūrō had begun to change.
In middle school, he went to Teikō, which was the most prestigious basketball school he could find. He was a prodigy, and prodigies deserved an environment that they could see as a challenge.
Unbeknownst to him, six other prodigies have enrolled in the same year as him and joined the basketball team, at the same time period, in the same plane of reality. Referring to his knowledge through the variety of lives he has lived, the possibility of seven prodigies gathering in the same place at the same time was near to none. That was what piqued his interests in this very basketball team.
Of course, with his natural leadership, Ryōta, Shintarō, Daiki, Tetsuya, Atsushi, and Satsuki had immediately submitted to him in no time.
But the person that shone more brightly than the others was Shintarō. His accurate shoots were impressive, Seijūrō admits, but that wasn't what made the scarlet-haired boy interested in him.
The mere sight of him, and the sound of his voice made Seijūrō weak. In the depths of his heart, it felt as if a tight coil was unfurled. For the first time in a long time, he had felt at ease.
"And that's why you should always keep your lucky items with you, nanodayo."
Seijūrō was snapped out of his trance. He was walking home with Shintarō, and his companion was explaining something about that horoscope show he always tunes in to. Seijūrō was inadvertent the whole time.
"Akashi," Shintarō suddenly stops walking. "Are you alright? You seem a bit out of it today, nanodayo."
Seijūrō freezes his strides, and looks back at Shintarō, and the sight that greets his ruby eyes was unfair, he thinks.
In all his lifetimes, this man who has went by many names, just like him, would always be unjustly beautiful. But now, they were standing on a pathway by the riverbank, and the way the glaring sunset made him shine even more was just unfair.
Seijūrō had sometimes wanted to be free of this man with the ever-sultry voice, but whenever he encounters him, he becomes split open and vulnerable. He lets this man completely into his life, regardless of whether or not he'll love him like Seijūrō loves him.
No matter what he did, no matter who they where, no matter where they are, Seijūrō would always love this man.
"Yes. Everything is fine, Shintarō."
iv. because even when you don't exist, i'm still in love with you.
In this life, his hair was as black as obsidian, and his love for baseball set a fire in his heart that couldn't be quelled by any worldly force. But not even that glorious sport could replace that man's aching absence in his life.
His name was Sanada Shunpei, and his unmatched talent and looks gave him more credit than he deserved. Being Yakushi's ace had its perks, it seems.
He's met a lot of interesting people in this life —namely, that catcher Miyuki from Seidō, Narumiya from Inashiro, and of course, all of his teammates and coach from Yakushi— but none of them, absolutely none of them, would even begin to hold a candle to that man.
When he's fifty years into this life, he accepts that he wouldn't ever encounter that man. He doesn't exist in this universe, it seems. The thought fills Sanada with a numbing sadness that he's grown so familiar to, but at the same time, doesn't want to feel.
This wasn't the first life he's lived without that man, but every time it happens, it's like a fresh wound all over again.
After, he phones Raichi, who was still as energetic as ever even at their age, to hit his pitches. Somehow, baseball is the only form of salvation he has in this universe.
v. i remember most fondly those lifetimes where we get to grow up together, when you share your secrets and sorrows and hiding places with me.
He is a god of calamity, and that man is a regalia. They've spent centuries together, and Yato feels a little too warm, and a little too comfortable when Daikoku takes care of him after he nearly lost his life to Bishamon for the millionth time.
"I'm going to stop coming here," Yato croaks out, as he tries sitting upright, which utterly backfired, since the very deep wound on his stomach, that got pierced all the way to his lower back, threatened to reopen. He hissed in pain, and immediately lied back down.
Daikoku grunts before cleaning up after the mess of salves, and herbal medicine on the wooden floor. "As if you can do that. You always come running back to us, you filthy good-for-nothing."
Yato manages to laugh without writhing in pain. "Daikoku, I joke a lot, but this time I'm quite serious. Bishamon has become more vicious in the past few decades, and I'm afraid she might go after you and Kofuku, seeing that you two are a weakness of mine-"
Daikoku looks up at him, and narrows his eyes. "What do you mean by weakness?"
"Ah..." Yato trails off, and he fights the urge to slap himself for letting that one bit slip. Daikoku wasn't supposed to know that.
Yato has lived for countless centuries as a minor god barely maintaining his existence from the very few wishes he receives here and there from the very few humans who acknowledge his presence in this world. And, so far, the only people who have witnessed him at his worst are probably Bishamon (since she's mostly the main source of his hardship), Kofuku, and Daikoku (since they're the ones that help him out no matter how shitty of a deity he is.)
Naturally, when he encounters Daikoku in this universe, Yato recognizes him right away, but he's never made any advances towards him, because Daikoku was never his to love in this life. Daikoku was a dead soul turned into a regalia by the Godess of Poverty, Kofuku. He was Kofuku's, and Yato respected that, as a fellow deity.
But that doesn't mean he doesn't love Daikoku all the same.
"Daikoku," Yato calls out as Daikoku sits by the god's futon. He hums in acknowledgement.
"Am I troubling you and Kofuku too much? Because if I am, I'm seriously going to take a hike. Also, my absence here wouldn't attract Bishamon, so she can't harm you two. And-"
The brunet regalia had jabbed Yato on his side, causing an excruciating pain to jolt across his nerves. "Are you seriously that big of an idiot? I didn't want to have to say this, but you're our comrade, Yato. We've all been together for as long as I can remember. And 'sides, my lady likes you. It wouldn't be pretty if Kofuku was sad, and you know that."
Yato could only stare at Daikoku with confused eyes.
Peculiarly, a faint blush was visible on Daikoku's cheeks. "Wh-what are you looking at me like that for?"
The god's lips were pulled back into a sneer. "Daikoku, will you miss me when I'm gone?"
That earned Yato another jab to the side.
Undoubtedly, Yato's heart had fluttered with that man's words. Even if Daikoku wasn't his to love, Yato was glad he could maintain this platonic relationship with him. Being close to that man was more than enough.
This life lasts longer than the others, and Yato is glad it does.
vi. when we meet as adults, you're always much more discerning. i don't blame you.
Hirato is a full twelve years older than Gareki, but that doesn't stop him from loving the second ship's captain all the same.The first time he encounters Hirato, Gareki was inexplicably annoyed. He had immediately dubbed him as shitty four-eyes. But when Gareki listened closer, Hirato had the same voice of the man he'd loved in countless lifetimes before. But this time, Gareki purposely fights against his age-long feelings.
In every life he's lived, he's never the same person, and he's had a variety of personalities. So far, his personality as Gareki was the only one to refuse the call of that man's voice. But the longer he stays on the second ship with Circus and Hirato, the more his feelings for him grow.
"Gareki, Hirato requests your presence in his office. Baa," one of the sheep informs him, as it nudged his leg.
With a sigh, Gareki tossed the magazine he was previously reading into Yogi's face, and proceeded to walk with the sheep. ("Gareki-kun, what was that for????)
As he walked in the puzzling hallways toward Hirato's office, he asked the sheep, "What does he want this time?"
"It was something regarding your stay at Kuronomei, since you're still considered as a missing person in the circus course, baa."
When they reached Hirato's office, he muttered a quick thanks to the sheep, before entering inside. Hirato was seated comfortably on his revolving office chair in front of his desk with a suspicious smile on his face.
"Good afternoon, Gareki," Hirato begins.
Gareki closes the door behind him before proceeding to sit across from Hirato.
"The sheep told me you wanted to discuss something about Kuronomei to me."
Hirato chuckles, and produces a neatly folded piece of paper from his coat. He hands it to Gareki. "Ah, well. That was really just a lie. I've summoned you here for other purposes."
Gareki narrows his eyes at the second ship's captain before unfolding the paper Hirato had given him, and written on there with the neatest handwriting he's ever seen were a list of names he thought he'd never encounter ever again.
Erwin
Shizuo
Shintarō
Daikoku
"Say, Gareki," Hirato's voice had snapped him out of his trance, "are you familiar with any of these names?"
"Yes, why?" Gareki was definitely glaring at him now. How could he have known these names? None of the versions of that man had any recollection of his past lives, unlike how Gareki does. That never happened, not even once.
The ever-present condescending smile graced Hirato's lips. "And what do they mean to you?"
That look on Hirato's face assures Gareki that the older male knows damn well what they mean to him.
"Oh, I don't know. What do you think they mean to me?" He asks, with heavy sarcasm dripping in his tone.
Hirato laughs. "I don't remember you being this stingy."
Immediately, Gareki's fist clutched Hirato's shirt collar as he leered over him, their faces a hair's width apart.
"Are you telling me that all this time, you remember me? All this time I've been trying to hide the fact that I've loved you in multiple lives already. Then you only just begin to speak up?" That god damned smile never left the captain's lips, even when Gareki looked as if he was more than ready to murder him right this moment.
"Pardon me, but I only recall my previous reincarnations in this life, Gareki. I don't know why it's like that, but I thought I ought to tell you," he speaks softly.
Gareki could feel tears prick the edge of his eyes. All this time in this life, Hirato knew. All this time when Gareki wanted nothing more than to be in his arms once again, Hirato fucking knew. And he only decided to tell him all of this today. This man was brutally cruel.
But Gareki loves him, nonetheless.
vii. yet, always, you forgive me. as if you understand what's going on, and you're making up for all the lifetimes in which one of us doesn't exist.
His name is Hiroshi, he realizes. And that man's is Daisuke. Hiroshi realizes this when he watches over Daisuke living in a world that was beautiful and magical. In this world, he was called Sinbad, the King of Sindria, and he has suffered greatly to get to where he is right now.
Sinbad's eyes were molten gold. His hair was a vibrant purple, and Hiroshi wanted nothing more than to card his fingers through the King's long hair. Despite his desire and longing to be with Daisuke, Hiroshi knew that, in this life, his only purpose was to watch.
He watched Sinbad lose his father to the Parthevian Empire. He watched him lose his mother after a while, as well. He watched how he bravely conquered the dungeon that a thousand men had failed to come out of alive. He watched him gain allies and friends from all over this realm. He watched him slowly rise into power, as he built his country on solid foundations. He watched him become King, and everything else from there on out until Sinbad's last breath.
Even with everything he's seen, Hiroshi is grateful that in this life, Daisuke doesn't love someone that isn't him, and that he even mutters about Hiroshi in his dreams sometimes.
vii. and the ones where we just, barely, never meet
Hiroshi goes by Takeda, in this life, and he was very much busy planning practice matches for the beloved volleyball team he takes pride in. In fact, his thoughts are so occupied with how he'll manage to persuade old man Nekomata into another match, Hiroshi nearly misses Daisuke's voice as he walked right past him in the middle of a crowded sidewalk.
But Hiroshi had heard it. Daisuke's voice was something engraved in Hiroshi's mind. Be it a scream, a laugh, a cry, or a whisper, Hiroshi would be able to recognize his voice a million lifetimes away.
Hiroshi whips his head behind him in a desperate attempt to search for Daisuke, but the voice is gone, and he was lost in the middle of a sea of strangers.
ix. i hate those. i prefer the ones in which you kill me.
They're living as the infamous Heiwajima Shizuo and Orihara Izaya once more, but this time, Shizu-chan doesn't love him like he did, and his wit and aim are sharper. This time, Izaya wasn't able to dodge the street pole that was hurdled at him with inhuman strength. This time, Shizu-chan doesn't think twice about killing Izaya.
x. but when all's said and done, i'd rather surrender to you in other ways.
This was weird. Definitely weird.
Hiroshi has been graced by the features of Akashi Seijuro once more, living the same life he always has been. But in this one, Midorima doesn't exist, and Momoi, as a boy, took his place in the Generation of Miracles.
He feels that he'll never see Daisuke in this life, but that assumption was proven wrong when he went to one of the prestigious balls his father always required him to attend. It was summer vacation for him, and he ought to be whipping his teammates in Rakuzan to shape, but his father had forced him to go to London with him to attend the Fantom Company's 120th Founding Anniversary.
So now, here he was by the punch table, wearing a crisp white suit with a red tie. Akashi was used to mingling with people he barely even knew during these social gatherings. There were a couple of girls his age trying to flirt with him, too. He looked absolutely bored out of his mind.
"Akashi-san?" Someone called out from behind him.
Hiroshi almost dropped his drink. Wide-eyed, he came to stare at the person calling his attention. It couldn't possibly be....
A butler with raven black hair and hypnotising eyes stared back at him with a smile. A small envelope was in clutched in his gloved hand, and he handed it to Hiroshi. "My lord wishes to see you."
It's Daisuke. It's definitely him, and Hiroshi had to muster up enough self restraint not to kiss him right there. He had been very distraught when he learned that Midorima Shintaro didn't exist in this life. He thought he'd had to suffer yet another lifetime without him.
But he managed to regain his composure, and accepted the envelope from Daisuke. He opened the envelope curiously, and saw that it was a rather lengthy letter from Christopher Phantomhive, himself.
"I have been serving the Phantomhives for decades, Akashi-san. And rarely do they call upon their guests of honour for a visit in their quarters. You must be really special then." There was a condescending feeling to Daisuke's voice. Something that rather unnerved Hiroshi, but hey this was Daisuke. How unnerving can one butler be?
But he had said that he had been working for the Phantomhives for decades, but he only looked no younger than 28 years old. Nonetheless, Hiroshi stuffed the letter in his coat pocket and stared at Daisuke with acknowledgement, just like how Akashi normally does with opponents he deems worthy on the court. "May I know of your name?" he asks.
"It's Sebastian, Akashi-san." This time, the smile on his face was definitely sinister. Dread immediately crawled up in Hiroshi's throat. Never had Daisuke radiated such a foul vibe.
But this was still Daisuke, and if he was about to sacrifice Hiroshi to the devil, he wouldn't mind. So with that, he says, "Lead the way, Sebastian."
xi. even though each time, i know i'll see you again, i always wonder, is this the last time? is that really you?
In this life, Hiroshi was born clueless of his many many lives. He lived normally in the peaceful province of Hokkaido, working in a family restaurant called Wagnaria. He knows his name is Hiroshi, but everyone kept calling him Souma Hiroomi, so he just went with it. Hiroshi and Hiroomi aren't too far off, anyway. He was content with his quiet provincial life. Never really dreaming of making it in Tokyo, like most boys his age would. Although, the occasional flashbacks to memories he didn't know he had, and the stupid attraction to Satou-san was definitely bugging him.
Satou-san had been a little strange during their first meeting, though. He was just trying to start up a conversation with him, but then Satou-san shot Hiroshi a look as if he'd seen a ghost. And he had called him, "....Hiroshi?"
Hiroshi craned his head in confusion. This was the first time someone had addressed him as Hiroshi. "Pardon?"
"Ah," He suddenly looked sullen. "You don't remember me, do you?"
"Hm? Were you like a childhood friend or something?" Hiroshi inquired. "And it's not Hiroshi, Satou-san. It's Hiroomi."
Satou-san laughed. "Never mind. It's nothing," He says dismissively, and Hiroshi knows that's the end of their conversation. He doesn't try to reach out to him again after that.
xii. and what if you're already perfectly happy without me?
"You're what?" Mephisto asks bluntly.
"I'm marrying Kirigakure in five months, Mephisto," Auguste says, a little flustered.
There's a painful sensation spreading across Mephisto's chest, and he refuses to think that it's because he's hurt. Demons can't feel emotions right?
Nonetheless, a playful smirk curls across his lips. "Come to think of it, weren't you two rivals or something way back? And why are you telling me this, hm?"
The blond exorcist sighs. "Well, that was years ago, and I just... love her now. I don't know exactly why I told you though, but I think I felt the need to?"
Your soul's memories are acting up, idiot, Mephisto thinks bitterly.
"Oh well, Auguste-san, I better be the best man," Mephisto winks jokingly.
"I was actually thinking that too. I really do not know why but my instincts are telling me to involve you as much as possible in our wedding. So, would you mind being my best man, Mephisto?"
Mephisto contemplates on this for a while. Auguste —Daisuke— is inviting him —Hiroshi— to be the best man in his wedding. In this life, Daisuke is marrying someone amazing; someone that's breathtakingly beautiful like Kirigakure Shura; someone that isn't Hiroshi.
"Sure," he almost chokes.
xiii. a h, but I don't blame you; i'll never burn as brilliantly as you.
There was one lifetime where Hiroshi and Daisuke both retained their soul's memories. Of course, this has happened a lot of times already, but this one somehow stood out to Hiroshi. When both of them were done with the initial part of their...friendship, Daisuke had asked him something Hiroshi never thought he'd bother asking.
"What do you do in lives like these?"
Hiroshi shot him a confused stare. "Lives like what?"
Daisuke stared at him with plain, brown eyes. "Lives where we're nobody. Lives where there's a bigger picture somewhere, but we're just not part of it."
"You mean lives where we're both like nameless supporting characters in one huge series?" Hiroshi laughed.
Daisuke's expression remained stale. "I don't see how this is funny."
Hiroshi bit back a sigh. "Well, I do what I was created to do."
"And that is?"
Hiroshi stared at Daisuke with his own set of plain brown eyes. "Finding you."
He expected Daisuke to laugh or at least joke about what Hiroshi said. But instead, he pulled him into a tight embrace.
"Thank you," he murmured.
"What for?"
"For always trying to find me, even when in some lifetimes I don't even exist." Daisuke's voice cracked a little with every word.
Hiroshi smiled and pulled away. "What do you do, then? When I'm the one who doesn't exist."
"Live my life like something is missing and can never be filled, of course."
Hiroshi smacked his arm, and Daisuke shot him a look. "What? It's not like you haven't tried living in solitude in some of your lives."
"I was made for you, I'm sure of that," Hiroshi says. "But that doesn't necessarily mean that you were made for me, too."
"What do you mean?"
"Daisuke, I've lived lives where you end up loving other people who aren't me. Sure, there are lives where you come back to me, but I know that you aren't always mine to love. Being able to live multiple lives forever taught me that."
For once, Daisuke looked sullen. "Haven't you tried loving anyone else.... but me?"
Hiroshi couldn't stop the scoff that left his lips. "You think I haven't?"
Daisuke looked genuinely hurt, and Hiroshi may have felt a little conscious about that. "Look," he began. "I've already resigned myself to this fate, Daisuke. It's not entirely out of my line of favor anyway. I love you, and I will always love you."
Before Hiroshi could even blink, Daisuke had pressed his lips against Hiroshi's. It was an innocent, chaste kiss. Something Hiroshi couldn't imagine Sebastian Michaelis could ever have given him.
"I don't deserve you. You're amazing," Daisuke murmurs.
Another smile tugged at Hiroshi's lips. "Not as amazing as you always were."
xiv. it's only fair that i should be the one to chase you across ten, twenty-five, a hundred lifetimes
He can't count anymore. Hiroshi can't remember how many lives he's lived with or without Daisuke in it. Although, in this one, he doesn't exist yet again. He feels like there's a void within him that can't be filled, once more. But this is the first time he's desperate. He's tried shifting his object of affection to other people more than once, but this time, he was..... a bit successful.
"Takashi," called out Taki, his sort-of girlfriend now.
"What?"
"I'm going home now. You gonna walk me?" Taki looked at him a bit expectantly.
He just shot her a sad smile. "Maybe not today."
Her shoulders visibly hunched, but she nodded anyway and walked away.
He ought to have walked her home, though. The youkai were getting pretty restless recently, but Hiroshi couldn't have been bothered. He managed to invest himself in Taki, that was true, but a bigger part of him still remained with Daisuke.
He clutched at his chest, as if that would ease the age-long ache he's always felt.
"Someday, we'll be eternally happy," he promised to himself.
xv. until i find the one where you'll return to me
This one was his favorite life —the life where Hiroshi wakes up as Hiroshi, and Daisuke is Daisuke. In this life, they're best friends. In this life, it doesn't seem artificial anymore. In this life, everything is colorful, beautiful and so real. Ironically so, they use their own voices to make a career out of them, and the salary Hiroshi gets doesn't give him enough room to complain.
He had just finished up recording for a new series with his team, when there was a knock on the studio door. One of his co-workers opened it.
And standing there was Daisuke, wearing a bartender's outfit, with a plastic bag in hand.
"Are you seriously trying to be Shizuo?" Hiroshi teased.
"In fact I am," he smiled and gave the plastic bag to Hiroshi. He snuck a peek inside and saw a black fur trimmed jacket inside. He snorted.
"Don't tell me you forgot about the Durarara event in Akiba," Daisuke raised an eyebrow at him. "The chief executives were wondering where the hell you were. Mamoru-kun was getting a bit restless himself, too."
Hiroshi took out the jacket from the plastic bag and tried it on. He went in front of a mirror to see how he looked. Since he already had a black shirt and dark jeans on, all that seemed to be missing was a touch of eyeliner.
"Come on," Daisuke urged.
Hiroshi said a quick goodbye to his co-workers before he let Daisuke drag him by the arm to the studio hallways. "You really rock the Izaya look, Hiroshi," he suddenly said.
Hiroshi rolled his eyes. "Well, you look terrible in a bartender suit."
Daisuke abruptly stopped and kissed him in the middle of a hallway, where a lot of people could've seen, but Hiroshi doesn't care. This was the first life where Hiroshi had felt utterly whole, no longer living in fear that he's fated to lose Daisuke again.
"But you love me," Daisuke said with a crude smile on his lips.
Hiroshi laughed. "That, I do."