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Mink presses his fingers to Aoba’s cheek, checking his temperature. He was still much too warm. Aoba had fainted two days ago after sleeping in the cold like an idiot, and since only stirred when Mink shook him awake for a bowl of warm soup or some herbal tea. This is the first time Mink catches Aoba’s eyelashes fluttering of their own accord, and before he can pull back, Aoba’s hand presses against his own. His expression is half-dazed, as he blinks and stares at him. His lips finally form words, and a tired voice comes out, “Mink…”
"Sleep," he says. It’s more of a command than a suggestion, but Aoba shakes his head slowly regardless.
"I forgot… you never told me," Aoba rasps, then swallows in an effort to rid the dryness in his throat, "why you touched me like this before."
It had only been a month ago, so Mink has no difficulty recalling it. That day, he’d finally accepted that Aoba wasn’t going to turn back and go home without seeing him. This far out in the woods, it wouldn’t be too long before Aoba stumbled upon his cabin, so Mink had finally decided to reveal himself. Aoba was likely chasing after him in search of closure, and surely had things to say to the man who had caused him so much pain.
Of all the things Mink could have possibly imagined Aoba wanting to tell him, there was nothing remotely close to “I wanted to see you,” spoken on the brink of tears, filled with relief and joy. He doesn’t think Aoba is talented enough to hide his emotions, but at that moment, Mink can’t believe he’s telling the truth.
There is something different about Aoba, Mink had thought at the time, something strange in his eyes… or perhaps just the sheen of unshed tears refracting golden sunlight. Mink takes him inside.
Aoba quietly drinks his coffee, passing slight looks at him. The suspicious and incredulous part of Mink stares back just as intently, whispering that the only reason Aoba would want to see him is to take the life he’d managed to breathe back into him. How did Aoba put it— he’s alive, so he could die. And what an ironic way to go.
Mink presses his lips together, pushing down that thought for now. Aoba couldn’t do something like that, no matter how much he wanted to. Even if it was someone like him. That had to mean Aoba was just here to talk to him. Mink just hopes that he’ll go home afterward.
The curtains are shut, but the flicker of the fire does something strange to Aoba’s face. For an instant, Mink remembers the other Aoba he’d met. That makes more sense. That Aoba had so easily rejected his attempt at domination, and maybe it was Aoba's unabashed desire that was hunting him instead— but then that brief shadow is gone, and it’s all Aoba, naive, innocent and ridiculous. Mink finds his passing relief vanishes with it.
But twice fooled, Mink had known that it wasn’t just his nerves. He couldn’t accept that it was just a trick of light. He moves forward, pressing his hand to Aoba’s cheek to hold him still and draw all his attention to him. Aoba’s eyes fly up to meet his, locking with his gaze.
They’re different.
He remembers Aoba’s eyes distinctly, the way they lightened when he used his power, how they changed when he grew angry or upset. These eyes were almost darker in comparison, not in color, but in the way his pupils seemed to be a dark, inky black that no outside light could touch. Mink had pulled away quickly, before he could stare too long into that abyss.
Mink hadn’t wanted to think about what it meant— Aoba’s decisions, his words, the change in his eyes between then and now. He’s sure it’s Aoba here, the real Aoba, but now, that knowledge is even harder to accept. Mink had tried hard in a last ditch effort to avoid Aoba, treating him unkindly and ignoring him in the hopes that he would give up and finally turn away, but that had failed, too.
Aoba wasn’t giving up. It was Mink’s turn to submit.
"Mink…?" Aoba says, touching his face lightly to draw him out of his memories. His eyes are filled with concern, along with that ever present darkness and desperation Mink can't ignore. This time, he meets them without turning away. He wouldn’t from now on; he'd already made his decision.
"I wanted a good look," he says finally.
"…at me?" Aoba looks shocked at first, then starts to laugh quietly, a stupid smile spreading over his lips. Mink pulls his hand away.
"Rest now," he murmurs. Aoba obeys, leaning back into his pillow as his lids fall down over those eyes. Mink can finally exhale the breath he’d been holding.
He should have known it the day he’d heard the rumors of the blue-haired boy from Japan searching for him (and maybe he did), but Aoba isn’t right. It’s entirely his fault— Aoba had lost something amidst the mental and physical torture Mink had put him through. To be completely honest, Mink doesn't exactly regret harming him. He can't blame himself for doing everything in his power to finally get his revenge, even if it came to hurting others.
What he truly regrets are the few moments of kindness he’d given Aoba during those days of anguish. Mink remembers what it was like being in the depths of despair, but he had forgotten how easy it was to hope, to cling to any tiny thread of possibility. Anything to pull yourself out of it.
Like an idiot, Mink had given him something to cling to. Aoba had obsessed over the meanings in his every word, each mysterious act of half-assed pity, all in the hopes of finding some deeper meaning. In the end, he’d convinced himself that they all added up to Mink caring about him in some way.
If Mink had done it the way he was supposed to, Aoba would have never come up with such a ridiculous notion. He’d never have chased after the man who hurt him like a lovesick puppy eager for more abuse. Yes, Aoba would have been in pain and taken a long time to heal— but he had people who cared deeply about him in Midorijima. He would have been broken, but not beyond repair.
That was not how things had happened in reality. Mink had spoiled those plans with a few sympathetic impulses and gentle touches he should have simply suppressed.
When he looked into Aoba’s eyes these days, it was all he could see. That there was something missing inside him. Aoba had been broken into pieces as he’d intended, but due to Mink's foolishness, one of those pieces had gone astray. Now Aoba was trying to fill that emptiness with a hopeless, desperate love.
So what else can he do?
Mink tells him he can stay. He touches him gently when Aoba asks. He eats the food he makes. When Aoba asks him what he is to him, as Mink deftly braids the feathers and ornaments into his long hair, he pauses for a long moment.
"You’re something precious," he decides on. The one way to atone for his lack of resolve.
Aoba loves him somehow, but Mink isn’t confused about whether or not it’s real anymore. If it could do something to make him whole again, Mink could only nurture it, and hope it became big enough to fill the void in Aoba’s heart.
Truthfully, Mink had been at a loss when he first returned to his homeland after planning to die. He feels slightly guilty for the way Aoba gives him a purpose again.
And every night, Mink looks over Aoba’s sleeping face, presses his hands together and prays: Before my soul departs to join you, at the very least, let me fix this child.