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"If it's a world without Shino I'd rather have it end.”
It is when he is sitting on Shino’s laps in the tiny Gundam cockpit, trying to focus on the data on the screen of his tablet before him, rather than on the heat of Shino’s bare chest he is leaning at with his shoulder, when he notices it.
He didn’t want to look, he didn’t want to know, he purposely avoided seeing this part of the other’s body every time Shino would walk around without his shirt. It is a tiny place, just in the soft dip above left collarbone, where nobody can actually look at by themselves without the help of a mirror or someone else kindly telling them what number they have written there in small figures colored just a shade darker than the rest of the skin.
It is a ridiculous place to have such an important counter on, when having it on your wrist for instance would be more convenient, but they don’t make the rules. It is easy to miss if you are not looking there on purpose, which is not too socially acceptable in the first place, not that the rebellious kids of Tekkadan give two shits about such social rules, but it is not the place and not the time to look for your soulmate while trying to survive a war they brought on themselves.
Or so Yamagi thinks. It is easier to believe in this, rather than accept that he is simply scared to know , frightened to face the possibility that the person he’s been in love with for so long, could be destined to be someone else’s soulmate.
But he is closer now to Shino than he’s ever been, grabbing for his shoulder for support, when the machine around them shakes and stumbles, the heat of the damp with sweat skin reaching his hand even through the layer of the thick white glove. Shino is not looking at him, his hands are tense on the controls, and his stare is directed in front of him, and there is a moment when the realisation, that he only needs to turn his head a bit to see Shino’s counter, hits Yamagi, and he freezes.
He’s been putting effort in not even thinking of the small numbers on Shino’s skin, and now it shouldn’t be any different, there should not be any hesitation or any decision to make, but something stirs in him, some weak hope that he’s been ignoring at most of his will for all this time, and he only registers the movement of his head, when his nose almost bumps in Shino’s collarbone with the row of zeros above it, when Gundam joltes in some sharp move under them.
Shino’s hand flies to hold him across the waist for a short moment to keep him from falling, but Yamagi barely notices the touch when he is struggling to push air down his lungs. At first he has a morbid urge to look around in an attempt to see someone else beside them, but he can’t ignore the fact that they are alone in the cockpit and another nearest person could be no less than at least several hundred steps from them.
He comes to his senses with another bump of the suit under them, and discreetly wipes a single tear from his cheek, hiding his smile in the shade of his hair, when he looks back down to his tablet.
Yamagi wants to tell Shino on several occasions, but never finds the courage. He waits, and this wait leads him to where he is standing now, with Shino’s bandage wrapped around his hand, the only thing he has left of him ― this, and the tiny counter, that counting silently the rising number of steps between them, when Shino’s Gundam is flying farther away from him. Yamagi is looking unseeingly before him, feeling the first tendrils of aching regret growing in his chest where the suffocating fear has already settled when he had to let Shino go to this mission, that could be nothing less but suicidal.
He wanted to tell him, he knows he should’ve. But he hasn’t said anything.
And then Shino dies.
Yamagi feels all air being ripped out of his lungs, and his knees buckle under the weight of inexplicable horror beginning to root in him the moment he sees the flash of the explosion in the distance. He can’t make the details from where he is standing, and he can lie to himself that it might be anything else, but he knows it is Shino’s Gundam, and it means that their plan worked.
The pain of the loss is crushing him, the sudden emptiness inside him is being filled with the countless regrets, that press on his chest and around his throat, and he struggles for breath, hearing his own inhales come like sobs, tinged with desperation.
Eugene finds him hours later, where he squeezed himself in between two pieces of some machinery, crawling into himself in the dark corner, the only thought that this world doesn’t mean anything to him if there is no Shino in it, knelling on repeat in his mind. His tears have long dried, but his eyes are stinging, and he only realises that he has been pressing his nails in the soft skin above his left collarbone, when Eugene kneels in front of him and pulls his hand away, gripping his wrist tightly.
The words ‘ He is alive’ don’t register at once in his hazed with grief mind. It takes a few moments of Eugene shaking him by his shoulders and almost manhandling him out of his hideout for Yamagi to fully come to, to realise what the other is saying.
The relief is almost as draining as the thought of the loss was, and he stumbles on his feet, smiling through another wave of tears.
~
He glues himself to Shino’s side as soon as they put him in the pod, sitting as close as the edges of the pod allow him, anxiously watching the numbers right above Shino’s collarbone, barely visible through the thick blue liquid filling the pod. His gaze is fixed on the row of zeros, and from time to time he almost instinctively jerks closer, when a number ‘1’ appears on the end, when he accidentally leans too far from the pod.
Others come and leave, some trying to pull him along with them, talking about the necessity of rest, but Yamagi just stubbornly shakes his head, not tearing his gaze from the unconscious Shino. They give up eventually; Eugene comes now and then, bringing him food, and resting his hand on Yamagi’s shoulder in a silent support.
It is the responsibility he still has before the Tekkadan that eventually pulls him from his spot and makes him leave Shino’s side. He still has work to do, and the others rely on him, so he calms himself with the thought that Shino is alive.
He visits him again in a couple of days, when he finally has some time, and is greeted by half-lidded eyes looking at him through the liquid in the pod. Shino evidently struggles to focus on Yamagi’s worried face, but when he does, his mouth tilts into a weak smile, and Yamagi blinks away a tear.
Healing takes time. It is almost two weeks when they allow Shino to finally leave the pod. Yamagi is by his side, eyes jerking from Shino’s face to the place above his collarbone, his eyes filled with happy tears. He is breathless with relief, and Shino just smiles at his failed attempts to speak, shaking his head.
He notices Yamagi looking at his soulmark and reaches his hand to Yamagi’s neck, carefully tugging the collar of his shirt down to reveal his own numbers.
Yamagi hides his face in his palms, and he can hear Shino laughing softly, happily, pulling the flustered boy into a gentle hug. Yamagi feels Shino’s lips in his hair, whispering, and he feels his cheeks burn with the surge of emotions. He raises his head, putting his hands on Shino’s chest who is smiling looking down at him, and Yamagi knows, this is the place where he belongs.