Work Text:
“Why,” Kyousuke spits out, his voice uncharacteristically cheerless, “is it so hot?”
They're walking down into town together, their footsteps treading a path they've walked dozens of times before now. It's mid-afternoon, the sun is hanging resplendently in the sky, and it is boiling.
“No, it's not really that hot,” Riki says, and Kyousuke ignores him, because it definitely is. His clothes are sticking to him in impossibly uncomfortable ways, even though his jacket's already discarded, draped loosely over his arm as he walks. It's meant to be May. “It's meant to be May,” he complains emphatically. “Not even late May! It's the middle of May! It's mid-May, Riki!”
“You really aren't good with the heat, are you,” Riki says dryly, and then his mouth twitches a little. “Remember – remember that one year when Masato broke that electric fan you had in your room -”
“We don't talk about that,” Kyousuke says darkly, and Riki laughs at that, an honest, genuine sound.
“I've never seen you so mad,” he recalls, the memory curving his mouth into a smile. “I seriously thought Masato was going to die that day.”
“I thought I was going to die that day,” Kyousuke retorts seriously, and Riki snorts. “It was a bleak time for me, oka – oh, hey, we're here!”
“I feel as though the walk here gets shorter every time,” Riki says, stretching lightly.
“That's youth,” Kyousuke responds sagely, and Riki shoots him one of his patent 'that makes literally no sense' looks before asking, “So what are you here for, anyway?”
“Manga.”
“...are you trying to tell me you've read through all those piles of volumes in your room?”
“Indeed.”
There's a pause, then, as Riki stares at him. “Do you even sleep?”
“No time for that. The life of a manga connoisseur such as myself is a busy one, Riki,” he answers wisely, as Riki follows him into the bookstore.
“I think that's definitely too fancy of a title for you...”
As Kyousuke thumbs through the store's offerings, his fingers smoothly flicking through the pages, he thinks, quietly, that these are the moments he would keep with him forever, if he could. He loves everyone – every single one of his friends, loves them with an intensity that hurts his heart a little sometimes, but – ultimately, days like these are what is most important to him. His gaze flickers over to Riki, who stands at a nearby stand with a pensive expression, eyes skimming over the shelves, and a small smile forms on his face. As he stands, quietly observing the subtle shifts in Riki's face, a thought occurs to him.
“Hey,” he says, and for a moment his voice cracks a little. “Why'd you – I mean, you didn't have to let me drag you here, you know?”
Riki looks up then, his face a little surprised. “No, you didn't drag me here or anything, I mean, I like bei- u-um, I dunno, it gave me something to do?”
This, right here, in this tiny bookshop with the dust in the air caught in the summer light as it streams through the window – this isn't quite the moment. Kyousuke's eyes linger on the faint, almost imperceptible blush on Riki's cheeks for one bewildered second too long, and something stirs in the back of his mind, but this isn't the moment. Not yet.
“I see,” Kyousuke replies, his voice soft around his smile. “That's good.”
After Kyousuke decides on a series (“No, Riki, it's a tale of mystery, and drama, and suspense, enveloped in a touchingly sentimental romantic plot to warm even the stoniest of hearts -” “So, it's another one of your shoujo romances...”), they go to a nearby cafe and talk idly as the sun slowly shifts downwards to touch the horizon. When Kyousuke passes him a napkin, their hands collide for a fraction of a second and Riki makes a strange, uncharacteristic noise, like something hitches in his throat, and Kyousuke's eyebrows raise briefly, but that's still not it.
“Guess we should get going,” Kyousuke murmurs eventually, taking note of the way the streets outside are gradually emptying.
“Yeah,” Riki agrees, pushing his chair back from the table. “Don't want it to get too dark.”
As they leave the shop, the evening air hits Kyousuke like a ton of bricks, and he shivers through gritted teeth. “Not so hot anymore, is it,” Riki grins at him, and Kyousuke shoots him a look as he hurriedly shrugs on his jacket again.
“It definitely was before,” he grumbles, and Riki gives a brief laugh. For a moment, they stand still like that, Kyousuke turning away from Riki slightly as he takes in the sunset's hues as they bleed through the sky. It would be nice, he thinks idly, not for the first time that day, if every day could be like this.
He turns to Riki then, to say something – to thank him for coming with him, to say anything – but he barely manages to open his mouth before he freezes in place. Because Riki is looking at him with the strangest expression Kyousuke's ever seen on his face. His lips are parted slightly and his gaze seems simultaneously distant and incredibly intense, like he's not just looking at Kyousuke but right through him, and it's warm and wonderful and absolutely terrifying.
“...Hello,” Kyousuke says after a few seconds, almost warily, and the moment shatters like ice. Riki jumps like he's been startled, and for few seconds his eyes dart around in a display of haphazard nervousness.
“S-Sorry,” he stutters finally, giving a sheepish laugh. “I zoned out for a second, aha... Sh-Shall we go?”
And this is it. It's vague and intangible, and when he tries to grasp it it slips through his fingers like water, but here, as he stands still watching the sunset catch the side of Riki's awkward, hesitant expression, Kyousuke begins to feel like something isn't going the way it should be.
“Sure,” he says, and his smile is soft. “Let's go back.”
If there's one thing he never gets tired of, it's teasing Riki. Sure, Rin's given some pretty phenomenal reactions in her time (even if most of them involve physical injury), but Riki. Riki's the best. He's always shown his emotions on his face, a trait which seems to be enhanced tenfold when he's embarrassed, and Kyousuke doesn't think it's weird to think he's adorable when he's flustered. That's definitely not weird. It's an objective fact. And, you know, it's pretty much his duty to share the joy that is embarrassed Riki with the world.
So, when he looks him dead in the eye and says, with a tone of practised seriousness, “I love you the most, Riki,”it's only partially self-indulgent.
Maybe.
Well, whatever it is, it certainly doesn't prepare him for what comes next. He's ready for Riki to break out into his usual stammering, and Masato will tease him about the blush on his face, and Riki will laugh it off, and the night will go on. This is what is meant to happen.
Instead, Riki stares at him, going so still Kyousuke almost thinks he's stopped breathing, and the silence that falls is thick as fog. It's about this point that Kyousuke starts thinking no, wait, stop, but it's too late to do anything now, and instead he just stares back at Riki as he looks at him with – oh, God, it's that look from before. He knows at this point he should crack a joke, start laughing, do anything, but he can't escape the look in Riki's eyes. It's honestly undefinable, and his gaze screams out a cacophony of a hundred different feelings, and just when he thinks things can't get much worse, Rikiblushes. That in itself is nothing out of the ordinary, seeing as Riki blushes at the drop of a hat, but it's never like this, sweeping over his entire face, and by this point Kyousuke is pretty sure his own face is on fire. He feels like his entire body is on fire. Riki's never had a reaction like this, overwhelming and visceral, and one part of Kyousuke's mind wants to dig deeper underneath it, probe at its workings, whilst the other part is just going shit shit shit shit shit.
“Um,” Kyousuke says eloquently, after what seems like a lifetime, and in a perfect world that would be enough to stop Riki from looking at him like that, but it doesn't work. He doesn't remember the last time he's been so desperately lost for ideas. His gaze flickers towards the other two people in the room in a desperate cry for help, but Masato is just staring at them, and Kengo – Kengo is definitely pretending this isn't happening. Damn you, Miyazawa, Kyousuke thinks hysterically.
“...You guys,” Masato says then, in his usual suspicious tone of voice, and Kyousuke almost kisses him. At the sound of his voice Riki jumps, and stares around the room for a bit with a surprised expression, almost as if he forgot there were other people in the room. (Kyousuke can't decide if that would've been better or not. Probably not.)
“...Uh,” Riki says. Kyousuke seconds that notion.
The silence ticks on for a few moments, and it's lighter now but still awkward. Just when Kyousuke is on the verge of feigning a spontaneous medical emergency to break the atmosphere, Riki announces loudly, “Well, time for bed,” which is so ridiculous that Kyousuke nearly bursts out laughing.
“It's 9 o'clo-"
“Time for bed,” Riki repeats forcefully, giving Masato a death glare which Kyousuke would hate to be on the receiving end of. He suddenly realizes this is a very ideal cue to leave. Clambering unsteadily to his feet, he tries to say “Good night,” only somehow the last syllable dissolves into a hysterical laugh. Kengo shoots him a look like he's lost it, and as he hurriedly escapes the room, he thinks he probably has.
Well, shit.
It isn't like he's never thought about it.
In fact, if he's being truthful (which he finds he isn't, lately), he's thought about it quite a lot. More than he'd like to admit. More than he ever will admit, if anyone asks – and they do, sometimes, with raised eyebrows and a tone lying in limbo between teasing and genuine curiosity, but he's become pretty accomplished at shaking the subject off. But yeah, he's thought about it before now. Once or twice. A few times. About twenty times a day.
...To say he's in over his head would be an understatement.
It's a terrible, selfish thing, and sometimes he feels sick just for feeling it. Sometimes it makes him feel sick for other reasons, like when he watches Riki wind his hand into Rin's, and an awful, toxic concoction of happiness and jealousy erupts in the pit of his stomach. Sometimes he buries his head in his hands and has to physically fight the urge to scream, because it isn't fair, because this situation is already painful enough without this –
but the heart of the matter is that, somewhere along the line, he fell in love with Naoe Riki.
Sometimes he wonders why he even bothers denying it, because it's been inescapable for years now. He remembers the summer he turned fifteen, the night air thick with promise, the light from the fireworks throwing iridescence across Riki's face, the slow dawning at the bottom of his heart. And even before that there was more; months of words tangling in his throat, the sensation of a hand in his own, the weight of Riki's shoulder against his, warm and comforting and permanent.
But he says nothing, as there's no room for him to think about himself anymore.
Not in this world.
(Or so he's always thought.)
This, though – this is ridiculous. At first he thought he was just imagining things, but then Rin corners him one day as he's walking to the cafeteria, demanding to know what he's done to Riki, and if Rin's noticed it then things must be getting bad.
That's the thing, though; he hasn't done anything. Nothing he's never done before, at least. But Riki – Riki can barely even look at him, and when he does it's for about five seconds at a time before he starts blushing and looks away. He's even started coming up with excuses to leave, except they're really, really bad. Yesterday he claimed he had to wash the classroom windows. Kyousuke had hardly even had time to process how little sense that made before Riki had vanished. He has absolutely no idea what to do. He can't even talk to Riki about it because he can't even open his mouth before he vanishes into thin air.
Which brings him to where he is now – sat on a bench in the school courtyard wallowing in self-pity.
“You look troubled, young man,” a voice says out of nowhere, and he nearly jumps about a foot in the air. If Kurugaya can disappear as suddenly as she arrives, well, she's probably where Riki's learnt his newfound vanishing act from.
“You don't say,” he mutters in response, and she laughs, settling down on the bench next to him.
“Is this about Riki-kun?” she asks, and he makes a non-committal noise in response. “I see. Love troubles?”
He doesn't know how to respond to that, because to agree wouldn't really be true, and to deny it would be... what, exactly? To be honest, Kyousuke has absolutely no idea what's even going on, but he can't even be bothered to defend himself to Kurugaya. She's smart. She probably figured it out months ago. So instead he says, in a tone that sounds absolutely pathetically miserable even to his own ears, “He won't talk to me.”
He half expects her to laugh at him, then (hell, he'd probably laugh at himself), but instead she nods wisely. “I see. Have you tried going into his room whilst he sleeps and ty -”
“I think that would definitely have the opposite effect,” he interjects irritably, and her brusque laughter rings out again. But then a moment later her face softens slightly, and she smiles, staring off into the distance.
“You mean a lot to him,” she says quietly, and the serious tone of her voice makes Kyousuke turn to look at her. “Whatever's going on with you two – it's nothing you won't be able to sort out, if you talk to him seriously.”
For a moment he can't speak, struck by the warmth of her voice and the feeling in his heart. “...Yeah.” He swallows. “Yeah. Thanks, Kurugaya.”
“Hm. You can talk to me any time, young man. No matter your interests.”
“...Uh. Yeah, sure.”
He goes to Riki's room that evening, at a time when he knows Masato's out. When Riki opens the door and sees him his face seems to start shifting into a smile, but it gets stuck halfway and instead he just looks up at him with a really bizarre expression. Good start.
He opens his mouth to say 'Can we talk?' but instead what comes out is, “Come for a walk with me.”
Riki hesitates, and for one terrible second Kyousuke thinks he's going to refuse, but then he gives a real smile, small and soft, and Kyousuke's heart flutters uncomfortably. Shit. “Alright,” he says.
It's only a few minutes after they've left the dorm that Kyousuke realizes that he has no idea where he's intending to go. But Riki's still smiling quietly alongside him, and although the silence isn't entirely comfortable, it's better than anything he's experienced the past few days. They spend a few more moments like that before a breeze comes shifting through the trees, and Kyousuke shivers.
“It's cold,” he mutters, and Riki gives him a look of dry amusement.
“You're never happy,” he quips, and Kyousuke jokingly glares at him.
“I'm a sensitive man.”
Riki laughs at that then, and the sound warms Kyousuke's heart. He sits down on a bench, gesturing for Riki to sit next to him and feeling an odd sense of satisfaction when Riki comes close enough so that their shoulders brush slightly. He complained about being cold, but he feels oddly warm, and a part of him just wants to sit here like this for the rest of the evening, not saying a word, but he knows that's not what he has to do.
“Are you going to tell me what's bothering you?” he asks, and he doesn't look at Riki as he says it.
He almost thinks Riki's going to feign ignorance, say there's nothing bothering him at all, but then he chuckles slightly. “I,” he begins, and then stops. Kyousuke waits patiently, still not looking at him.
“I like you.”
He says it so quietly that for a moment Kyousuke doesn't believe he's heard him correctly. He turns to look at him incredulously, and there's a small blush on Riki's face but he's smiling, and he looks somewhat bashful and... something else Kyousuke can't put his finger on. It's an unceremonious declaration, incongruous with the exaggerated reactions he's been showing him the past few days – but in away, Kyousuke thinks, that's typical of Riki. On the surface he seems predictable, but Kyousuke always finds that Riki throws him for a loop at the strangest of times. He's far more resolute than he seems, and the thought makes him a bit choked up.
Kyousuke realizes then that he hasn't said anything in response, and Riki seems to realize it at the exact same time. He gives a laugh that sounds a little forced around the edges, and his expression becomes a bit more unsure. “Sorry, I know it's – really weird – you don't have to say anything, or anything, I just – wanted you to know, I guess.” He breathes, and his hands are shaking ever so slightly, and he's not looking at Kyousuke. Kyousuke desperately wants to speak, but the silence between them is woven from years of words unsaid and the feeling of skin brushing skin and quelled emotions, and he can't find the strength to break it. Riki stands up then, legs wobbling slightly, and speaks into the fabric of his scarf. “Uh. I'll, uh, go back then. Sorry.”
Kyousuke knows what the right thing to do is. He knows that this is not what is meant to happen and he knows that it will not lead anywhere good. This is not what Riki needs – his own needs be damned – and he knows this, but against the resolute rationality of his brain, something inside him whispers, slow and soft and almost imperceptibly quiet, this will not happen again.
He swallows the thought down, and it slides sticky and persistent down the sides of his throat. He tries to clear it, to say the words that will break his own heart just another fraction of an inch, but then he glances up and whatever he was going to say dissipates into the evening air when he sees the look on Riki's face. His shoulders are shaking slightly, and his expression is devastating, and his eyes are trembling as if he's going to start crying, and -
this will not happen again.
So he wades through the depths of his logical thoughts, pushes past the part of his brain that is screaming for him to stop, and he draws Riki into his arms as he presses his lips gently against the top of his head.
“Me too,” he breathes out, and the words form in the evening air like white smoke, despairingly transient.
He'd be lying if he said he had any idea what he was doing.
He'd also be lying if he claimed he hadn't dreamt about something like this happening, but even in his most embarrassing daydreams things didn't go like this. With a wince, he remembers the time he came up with his Grand Impeccable Master Plan a couple of years ago which basically came down to him sending Riki really bad anonymous poetry. He wonders if he ever actually wrote any and prays he didn't.
“Ah, the follies of youth,” he murmurs wistfully under his breath, and Riki looks at him with raised eyebrows. “What?”
They're sat on Kyousuke's bed, Riki leaning comfortably against his shoulder with his eyes closed as Kyousuke revels in his warmth. At the very least, it's reassuring that Riki doesn't seem to be entirely sure what he's doing, either. As he thinks this, he turns his head and nearly flinches back when he finds Riki staring at him very intensely. “W-What?” he croaks out.
Riki blinks. “Can I kiss you?”
Kyousuke momentarily forgets how to speak. He gapes at Riki for what feels like a lifetime before he manages to say, “What.”
“Y-You don't want to?” Riki falters, and his tone is dejected but Kyousuke can tell he's fighting back a grin. You little shit.
“No, of – of course I do,” he breathes, and his heart feels like it's going to burst out of his chest. Riki inches forward, but then hesitates at the last moment, and Kyousuke's left staring at his face (which is impossibly close) with no choice but to bridge the gap himself. Okay. Okay. Stay cool, Natsume. You got this. Despite being painfully aware that he, in fact, very much does not have this, Kyousuke takes a breath and pushes himself forward to meet Riki's lips.
His first thought is that of warmth. Not just in the sensation of Riki's mouth against his own, but in the feeling that bubbles up inside him, seeping into every inch of his body; a comforting heat that he wants to stay by forever. He raises a hand and then realizes he has no idea what he's doing with it, so he decides to rest it gently on Riki's cheek, softly tracing a thumb over his skin. When they pull apart after what seems like a lifetime, Kyousuke thinks he's going to have a heart attack on the spot from how fast his chest is beating. Riki looks almost dazed, his eyes lingering dreamily on Kyousuke's lips like he's in a trance, and, yep, Kyousuke is definitely going to have a heart attack. He's having one right now.
Okay. Compose yourself. You can do this. “We-”
“Again.”
Fuck. He's definitely underestimated him. “Wh-”
“Again,” Riki repeats with a kind of quiet forcefulness, and Kyousuke is definitely in too deep.
“You're impossible,” he murmurs, but he can't hide the smile on his face, and when he kisses Riki again, this time he brings his hands up to tangle his fingers gently in his hair. Riki sighs into his mouth, and shit, his face feels like there's actual steam rising off it. He shouldn't be having such an exteme reaction to this, but Riki's fingertips brush the skin of his waist as he gently places his hands there, and it feels like an electric current. Kyousuke accidentally nips at Riki's lower lip as he shifts slighty, and he curses mentally, but then Riki makes a noise that Kyousuke is pretty sure is illegal in at least ten countries, and kind of presses up against him a little, and when did it get so hot in here? He feels like every part of him is on fire, but it's a fire he doesn't want to escape from, and in this moment he feels like he'd be happy to let it consume him.
When they part, Riki buries his head in Kyousuke's neck, hiding his face.
“Now you're embarrassed?” Kyousuke asks incredulously, but when Riki makes a small flustered groan in response, Kyousuke laughs, circling his arms around him. They stay like that for a while, Kyousuke's face pressed affectionately against the top of Riki's head.
“I like you, Riki,” he says quietly, and he feels Riki's lips curve into a smile.
The next evening, Kyousuke decides to go on a walk with Riki, because it's charming and romantic and spontaneous and, okay, to be honest, he just wants to spend time with him. The others have spent the day making comments about how the two of them seem to have perked up considerably, but Kyousuke would be shocked if they didn't. He's been trying to keep it in, but it keeps bursting out of him uncontrollably; every time he so much looks at Riki his heart feels like it's about to sprout wings and soar out of his chest, and wow, it's nice to know the terrible aspiring teenage poet inside of him hasn't quite died yet.
But when he knocks on the door to Riki's room, it's Masato's face that greets him when it opens.
“Oh, hey,” he greets after a moment. “Where's Riki?”
“Hm? Ah, he ain't here right now. I think he's looking for you, actually. Dunno where he is, though,” Masato muses, and Kyousuke's mouth twists a little.
“Ah, well. Thanks, Masato,” he says, and he's about to turn to leave when something in Masato's expression stops him in his tracks.
“Say,” Masato begins, and he looks – not quite nervous, but somewhat hesitant. “You – I hope you know what you're doing.”
There's no harshness in his tone; rather, it's soft and quiet, like he doesn't want to say the words at all. There's no judgement – Kyousuke knows Masato would never be like that – but it's just a small, inescapable reminder of what he's desperately been trying to ignore.
Don't forget.
“I,” Kyousuke says, and his throat feels dry all of a sudden. “Yeah. ...Yeah. Thanks, Masato.”
Masato smiles sadly and nods, and Kyousuke feels a mix of frustration (why are you so perceptive at times like these) and affection rise up. “I'll see you around,” he says, and waves a hand as he leaves, not looking back.
He finds Riki eventually, and when he sees Kyousuke his eyes light up and he smiles in a way that makes something ache deep inside him. They walk through a nearby park under the warm, artificial light of the streetlamps with their fingers intertwined, and time marches on mercilessly.
“Hey,” Kyousuke says quietly, later that night as Riki sits with his back resting against Kyousuke's chest. “Why'd you confess to me?”
“What kind of question is that?” Riki asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“I mean,” Kyousuke starts, “I never really – thought you liked me in that way, until recently, so. What brought it on?”
There's a pause, then, and the room is silent save for the gentle sound of their breathing. “I never thought you liked me, either,” Riki answers gently. “But then – I don't know, I kept getting these weird feelings, like maybe you – did, a bit, and then I acted really weird, and then I just – went for it, I guess,” he explains, voice trailing off into a slight laugh.
There's a beat, and then Riki says, “I've liked you for a very long time.”
Kyousuke has to stop himself from making a strangled noise, then, because that's both the best and worst thing he could've possibly heard. It would've been easier to think that Riki just began to like him recently, to know that this will never come round again, but this – knowing that it's been building up for a long time – it makes him think of sad things, painful things he doesn't want to think about, like the future they could have together if – if things were different.
He feels like he's going to burst, and he holds Riki a little tighter. The thought blooms inside of him, then, its edges jabbing at his heart as it rises, and it is clear and honest and it hurts: I don't want to die.
It's not something he allows himself to think about, because there's no time for him to think about himself. But this entire situation is all due to him thinking about himself, being unrepentantly selfish for the first time since this world blinked into existence, and now it's staring him in the face. He's going to die. He's going to die in a world where Riki has feelings for him and he's going to die in a world where Riki will have to live without him.
Tears prick dangerously at the corner of his eyes, and he swallows around the lump in his throat. He can't cry here.
“Hey,” Riki says, voice wavering slightly. “Are you okay?”
Kyousuke takes a moment to breathe, focusing on the feeling of Riki against him. “Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay.”
When he thinks about it, this was inevitable. He knew from the moment this began, as he sat on that bench with Riki saying 'I like you' as if it was the most natural thing in the world, that this would not end well. But he ignored it, drowned out the alarm bells screaming in his head, swallowed down the knowledge that this was the wrong path to take.
It isn't fair.
He's spent so long trying to not think things like that, because he knows he shouldn't think of himself, but goddamnit, he's tired. He's so tired. He's tired of living with this weight on his chest, with everything that he sees morphing into a glaring reminder that all of this is ephemeral, with what he knows biting at the edges of his heart every time he wakes up. And, possibly most of all, he's tired of himself. Because when it comes down to it he's lucky. Because there are so many people in this world who would do anything for one more hour with the people they've lost, and here he is, with potentially eternity to spend here, and -
Shit. He tries not to think like that, because he knows that it's a dangerous line of thought. The knowledge that he could stay here forever if he wanted is always just out of sight, a blurred shape at the edge of his vision, forever present no matter how much he tries to ignore it. He knows that it's wrong, that he has to face the future – that they have to face the future -
but God, he doesn't want to.
He looks up from where he's sitting, on the edge of his bed with his face resting desperately in his hands. The clock stares back at him as if challenging him.
May 29th. The cut-off point. There's meant to be nothing after this.
He laughs, bitter and cold.
When he hears the footsteps approaching, he doesn't want to acknowledge them. He wants to stand here forever, thinking about what could be. He doesn't want to face the truth, but then Riki says, breathless but firm, “Kyousuke.”
A few seconds tick by before he turns around. Riki is standing there, crouched over slightly as he catches his breath, and he looks so small and vulnerable that it hurts. Kyousuke doesn't say anything, merely stands and looks at him, the smile on his face not quite reaching his eyes.
“Do you know what's going on?” Riki manages to ask eventually, straightening up and staring him in the eye.
A pause. “What do you mean?” Kyousuke asks, and he's surprised at how steady his own voice comes.
“My clock's stopped,” Riki says, and he sounds so painfully lost. “At 11:59. All of them – all of them have. I can't – find anyone else.”
“So you came to find me,” Kyousuke says quietly.
“Yeah,” Riki says instantly, and he smiles. “You're always here, after all,” and he couldn't have said anything more painful. Kyousuke wants to turn away, but there's nowhere to turn, and instead he steps forward and pulls Riki into his arms.
“H-Hey,” Riki stutters, concern ringing in his voice. “What's wrong?”
For a moment Kyousuke can't find the strength to speak. “If,” he begins, and every word feels like a dagger in his throat. “If I disappeared, what would you do?”
Riki stills against him. “What?”
“What would you do?”
He laughs into his chest, but the sound is nervous. “Y-You're acting a little weird. You're not going anywhere, are you?”
Kyousuke's breath comes out white in the evening air. “Tell me if you could live without me,” he says, and he tries not to think about how he has to force himself to add the word 'if'.
It's a while before Riki replies, and when he does his voice is unnervingly serious. “I – I think – I don't know,” he answers honestly. “That'd be – really hard, but. I'd try my best.” He swallows loudly, as if asserting himself. “Yeah. I'd try – to live without you.”
Kyousuke pulls back for a moment to study his expression, confused and lost, but ultimately resolute. He's so small and so brave, and Kyousuke wants to stay with him forever.
Riki laughs again, and it feels jarring. “But – hey, you're not going away or anything, right?”
The words make Kyousuke want to cry, and he can't answer. So instead, he pulls Riki in close again and says, “I love you.” He trembles as he says it, and he nearly laughs. “I love you.” Oh God. “I'm sorry – I didn't want to – I wasn't ready to say goodbye, because – this isn't meant to happen. It's not going to happen. Ever again.
“Kyousu-,” Riki begins, but Kyousuke shakes his head.
“Thank you,” he says. “I'm glad I had this. Just this once.”
The first and final tear falls from his eye, and the world unravels and rewinds.