Archive of Our Own ^beta

i.

“Y’know, we took Doppo fishing the other day.” Sweep, sweep. “It was his first time!”

“Is that so?”

“Yeppers! He’s def not a pro like me or Doc, though.” Sweep, sweep. “But he did catch this really tiny carp!”

“I see.”

Where once silence filled Gentaro’s apartment, Hifumi’s babbling now bounced off the walls—accompanied by a sizzling of the pan, the sweeping of the broom, or his footsteps pattering to and fro as he did the laundry. Ever since Hifumi had caught him in a disheveled mess, home disarrayed due to his upcoming deadline, he’d practically taken over his household chores. As much as Gentaro insisted that he could take care of himself, though, Hifumi was far more persistent.

Always the caretaker but never the one being taken care of, settling into this routine had taken a while. Indeed, Gentaro had tried to tidy his place up himself, but Hifumi had stolen the broom from him whilst prattling on and on with an “Oh my God, you’re just as bad as Doppo!” and a “Y’know what they say: clean spaces make a clean mind, or something like that!” Wondering whether he’d gotten himself a boyfriend or a maid, Gentaro had to admit that it was a nice change of pace from Dice and Ramuda merely lounging about on the floor.

“You won’t believe what happened next though.” Sweep, sweep. “Doppo knocked Doc over and he drowned!”

“Oh?”

“Yeah! So guess what Doppo did?!”

“Hmm?”

“Guess what he did!”

“Mhm.”

“Gen-chan, guess.”

“Hm.”

“Guess.”

“Mm.”

The sweeping stopped. “You’re not listening!”

“Not at all,” Gentaro lied easily. “I’m busy with my manuscript, so I haven’t heard a single word you’ve said.”

“So mean, Gen-chan!” Hifumi gave him a light kick to the back. “I listen to everything you say!”

Unamused, Gentaro looked at him. “You could’ve fooled me with the way you nearly ran yourself dry the other day.”

Whether Hifumi and Dice’s newfound friendship was a blessing or a curse, he’d yet to decide; what with one being too eager to bet and one having too much to bet, both of them lacking any common sense. Being as carefree as they were, that entailed Dice dragging Hifumi into one of his gambling trips, which of course meant that Gentaro was the one to rescue them from their predicament. He’d walked through many a shady gambling den to fear the circumstances, but Gentaro had developed a terrible headache when he spotted Hifumi right beside Dice—all smiles and sunshine despite the glowers of the bouncers.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Hifumi said, as if the yakuza hadn’t been involved. “Half of it was Dice’s money!”

Gentaro rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dice’s money—by which you mean the money that I lent to him.”

“Okay, yeah, but. You got us out of there!”

“By a hair’s breadth, that’s to say.”

Whining, Hifumi plopped down behind him and the broom fell to the floor with a clack. Arms encircling Gentaro’s waist, Hifumi buried his face into his back. His pout seeped through the cloth of his yukata, breath hot against his skin. Silence had fallen over without Hifumi’s voice to fill the air. Strange was it to think that this bout of quiet had been the norm; before he knew it, Gentaro had grown used to the liveliness that Hifumi brought into his home. These puerile fits of Hifumi’s never lasted long though, and soon enough, his chattering would brighten up the place once more.

Setting his pen down, Gentaro reached back to thread his fingers through Hifumi’s hair. “Did Doppo-san have a breakdown?”

Hifumi lifted his head. “Huh?”

“After Dr. Jinguji drowned, did he cry? It sounds like he must have been under a lot of stress.”

“Gen-chan…!” Hifumi gasped. “You were listening.”

An admittance rolled ready onto his tongue: “I love you, why wouldn’t I?”—but Gentaro kept it to himself for he was one to maintain an act. Instead, he smiled while Hifumi couldn’t see him and said, “I might have caught pieces here and there.”

Hifumi’s arms tightening around him, Gentaro laid against Hifumi’s chest as he settled into his lap. Embrace steady, he felt the sharp intake of breath against his back—the same one Hifumi always made before speaking—and made sure to listen carefully. Though he was a storyteller, Gentaro enjoyed being the audience as well.

“It was totes crazy! Y’know he can’t like swim, right? But he just dived in! So…”

ii.

As the gray clouds covering the sky made way for the sun, so did the people emerge from their dwellings and fill the streets of Shibuya. With a large brew of jasmine green milk tea and a dozen macarons of assorted flavors, sitting by the window at his usual cafe presented the perfect opportunity for people watching. At least, it would’ve been if not for his sopping wet clothes, an equally wet writer’s journal, and a boyfriend who wore a pout that put Ramuda to shame.

“I’m sorry! Super-duper totally sorry!”

Gentaro hardly spared Hifumi a glance. He hadn’t even touched what Hifumi had ordered for him either. “Yes, I heard you quite well the first one hundred or so times.”

“But you’re still upset!”

“Me? Upset? Preposterous,” he said, irritation hidden underneath his fair cadence. “I’ve dedicated myself to the path of enlightenment years ago and have only practiced zen since then.”

Naturally did the rainy season bring about thunderstorms; the showers leaving their mark in the ditches and crevices littered along the ground. Suffice to say that left a deep puddle in the streets—the very same one that they’d tumbled into when Hifumi greeted him with an embrace (a tackle, really, was more like it). Wet clothes would dry, a waterlogged phone could be replaced, but the same couldn’t be said of a notebook full of fleeting bouts of inspiration and scenes that couldn’t be captured twice.

“Gen-chan…” Concern giving way to annoyance, Hifumi threw him a pitiable glare. “You’re sooo not cute when you’re mad!” Rubbing the space between Gentaro’s brows, he jeered, “Look at those lines on your face, you’re all wrinkly!”

“Well, forgive me if I’d rather be a hideous beast than a reckless fool.” Gentaro swatted his hand away. “Have you no awareness of your surroundings? I thought you were twenty-nine years old, not nine.”

“Maybe you’d have better balance if you weren’t wearing all those layers in the middle of summer!”

A stalemate, Gentaro refusing to entertain any more of Hifumi’s childish arguments. Heaving a sigh, he aired out his notebook. While an inane part of him prayed that it could be salvaged, the words blurred beyond comprehension and the ink stains bleeding through the pages told him otherwise; months of noting observations and collecting information all ruined within seconds. Such as it was, Gentaro could only hope that none of what he lost held the key to solving the plot hole of his current work in progress.

“Gen-chan.” Hifumi tugged at his sleeve. When he ignored him, his grip lingered on his arm. “Gen-chan… I’m sorry.”

“A broken record sounds less repetitive than you—”

“I mean it!”

Loud and Hifumi went hand-in-hand, but this outburst managed to catch Gentaro’s attention. Head snapping towards him, Hifumi looked back with a serious edge that rarely came from this side of him.

“Like, I know how important that journal is to you! I messed up all your drafts and ideas big time! Sure, like, ‘sorry’ doesn’t cut it and buying a new one won’t fix it, but I’ll do anything to make it up to you!” A sigh unlike himself left his lips as his shoulders slumped. Guilt crossed his features, a sight that was few and far between. “I just…! Really, really, really hate seeing you upset.”

Eyes running over his sorry state, Gentaro considered him. Blunt as he was, Hifumi’s cheerful demeanor made nearly everything he said seem dismissive and senseless. Though frustrating on occasion, his caring nature shone through where it mattered; after all, his affections were in his actions—in the way he spoiled him, in the way he looked after him. For all his gripes, Gentaro couldn’t deny that Hifumi meant well—even if his words might come off otherwise—and his kind heart had been what he’d fallen for in the first place. True, his writer’s journal was irreparable, but above all, Hifumi was irreplaceable.

A concession wavered on his tongue: “You’re lucky I love you”—but Gentaro swallowed it down for he still had his pride. Instead, he brought a hand to his chin and prodded, “Anything, you say? Does that include plucking the stars out of the night sky?”

“Yep!”

“How about capturing sunlight in a bottle?”

“Yep!”

“Would you go so far as to cook natto for every meal?”

Hifumi blanched. Face scrunching up, he gave a hesitant nod. “…Yep!”

“My, that’s certainly some dedication.” Humming, Gentaro feigned astonishment. “If that’s the case, then mayhaps I’ll consider forgiving you.”

“Gen-chan…!”

On cue, there was Hifumi’s sunny smile. Arms wide open, he hopped forward in his seat, but Gentaro stopped him in his tracks. Pressing a palm to Hifumi’s chest, he nudged him away.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” At Hifumi’s pout, Gentaro hid his smirk behind a sip of his tea. “No one ever said you could embrace me yet.”

“Gen-chaaan.”

iii.

Charming and amorous, that suit jacket of Hifumi’s had a tendency to turn things more passionate than necessary. Case in point: a goodbye kiss lasting far too long to be considered simple. Whether or not he’d say he enjoyed it, Gentaro always found himself melting into Hifumi’s touch, clinging to his embrace, and yearning for his warmth. If Matenrou’s pack leader was the temple that housed the gods, then Izanami was the deity whom he worshiped. But as all followers knew that their god was not solely theirs, so too did he have to accept that Hifumi was not his alone. Come sunset, the mistresses of the night called for him and ever the perfect host, Hifumi answered their siren song.

Breaking apart, Gentaro had to wonder if this was the sorrow that Orihime and Hikoboshi suffered during their yearly parting or the jealousy that Hera faced whenever Zeus left her for another paramour. Entwined as their fates were, they were not lovers from myths of yore but two adults with their own lives to live; each of them with their own duties to attend to. Reality was indeed the cruelest mistress of them all, but Gentaro could do no more than bend to her will as he cursed her divine decree.

“Hifumi,” he said, his name slipping out without a thought. Underneath Hifumi’s golden gaze, he found that “speak first, think later” habit of his rubbing off on him.

Tucking locks of hair behind his ear, Hifumi caressed his cheek. Regardless of how often he held him, Hifumi’s tender touch made him weak to his knees. “Yes, Gentaro-kun?”

A request laid at the tip of his tongue: “Stay with me, I love you”—but Gentaro bit it back for he was not one to give in to selfish desires. Instead, he smoothed out the lapels of Hifumi’s suit and chided him, “You’re going to be late for work.”

Tantalizing, Hifumi’s arms tightened around his waist. Gentaro fought the urge to return the gesture. “What’s a few minutes late if it means I get to spend more time with you?”

“Mistaken me for another one of your so-called kittens, have you?” Gentaro fixed him with an unimpressed look. “Save those lines for your clients.”

“These lines are reserved for you and only you, Gentaro-kun~” Hifumi’s sultry cadence sang sweet nothings that he adored to hear, accompanied by the alluring grin that he fell for.

Feigning a sigh, Gentaro rolled his eyes. “Why, how fortunate I am to be so spoiled by Shinjuku’s number one host.”

“Certainly, my darling princess~” Hifumi ran a thumb along his cheek, saying, “It’s my duty to love you, after all.”

“And it’s that same duty to love all the women who admire you, is it not?” Clasping his hand over Hifumi’s, Gentaro slid it off his face after a moment’s hesitation. Already, he missed his affections. “We wouldn’t want you going out of business at your prime, now, would we?”

“A small price to pay if it means staying at your side~”

“Good grief, there’s no shame to go with that silver tongue of yours.” Seeing Hifumi’s smolder growing, Gentaro broke free from his grasp before he could say anything else. He pushed him off and opened the door, their time together drawing to a close. “Come along now, I’m sure the ladies are dying to see you.”

The setting sun painting his figure in fiery hues, Hifumi placed a kiss upon his knuckles—the picture of a perfect prince right out of a fairy tale. What he’d give to be the maiden that he was meant to sweep off her feet.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, my love.”

Breathless, Gentaro stole his hand back. He cradled it beneath his sleeves, thumb running over the spot that Hifumi had kissed. “Yes, until tomorrow.”

Allowing himself this indulgence, Gentaro leaned in for another kiss and of course, Hifumi was always one to oblige. With a chaste peck on the lips, Hifumi stepped into the twilight and the neon lights of Kabukicho whisked him away.

Though the summer evenings were as humid as the days, a chill ran through as he watched Hifumi leave. Loneliness was a feeling that Gentaro should’ve known all too well by now—a feeling that followed him through the passing of his parents, to the day his dearest friend fell into his deep slumber, to the moments he parted with his posse—but as Hifumi’s back grew smaller and smaller, he learned how freezing the nights could be without the sun to light the sky. Setting those thoughts aside, he returned to his manuscript. Quiet nights meant a chance to be productive, to be distracted from the bitter cold, as deafening as the silence was.

If he happened to stumble upon one of Hifumi’s spare suit jackets, however, Gentaro supposed it couldn’t be helped if he draped it around his own shoulders. Anyways, Hifumi wouldn’t need it until tomorrow night.

iv.

Bursting ball of energy as he was, even someone as bright as Hifumi needed his rest. With his days busy with cooking, cleaning, and chores and his nights packed with women, alcohol, and parties, surely, he needed a breather in between his duties. But, Gentaro found, this sun refused to set.

He learned this soon after moving in together, when he’d awoken to an empty space beside him and the sounds of a sizzling pan. Ever the curious creature, he padded towards the kitchen to find Hifumi cooking. Dressed in his lounge wear and flittering about, it was as if he hadn’t spent the whole night partying away.

“I didn’t realize you were home already,” he’d told him.

“I got back ‘bout an hour ago!” was Hifumi’s peppy reply. A glance at the clock showed it to be seven o’ clock on the dot.

“Did you sleep at all?”

Hifumi hummed as he whisked the eggs. “I took a nap!”

“That must have been a rather quick nap.”

“A power nap!” He flashed him a grin. “Besides, I gotta make breakfast for you. And drop off lunch for Doppo and Doc. And—”

He’d cut Hifumi off right there, herding him towards the bedroom as he insisted that he was “totes fine!” and that his skincare routine “takes care of everything!” Persistent Hifumi might be, but Gentaro’s words were his most powerful weapon. With promises to handle his morning chores, he’d managed to coax him to bed. A few more tasks added to his daily routine were hardly a burden in exchange for Hifumi’s health; anyhow, it wasn’t much different from his own solitary lifestyle. And, truthfully, he enjoyed the sight of Hifumi so serene.

That was, until a sob broke that scene.

Leaving the broom behind, Gentaro hurried over to their bedroom to find Hifumi as he’d left him—lying still on his side with a pillow clutched in his arms. Counting the seconds, neither a peep nor twitch came from Hifumi. Gentaro lingered by the door a moment longer, looking out for any further disturbances. All seemed well. Brushing the noise off as clamor from the streets below, he set off to return to the cleaning when a whimper reached his ears.

Whipping back around, Hifumi trembled. As indecipherable murmurs tumbled out of lips, his face contorted in pain—the same distressed expression he made when trapped in a crowd of women without his suit jacket to protect him.

Gentaro rushed to his side, shaking him. “Hifumi?”

Hifumi curled in on himself and buried his head into his pillow; veins bulging at how hard he clenched it. Tremors racked throughout his body, a sheen of sweat dripping down his face.

“No, stop!” Though muffled, the strain in his cry hit heavily. His knuckles whitened as he grasped the sheets for reprieve. “It hurts!”

“Hifumi…” Gentaro backed off quickly, fearing that any more shaking would worsen his terrors.

“I’m sorry…” He quivered, the small sound of his weeping unfitting him. “I’ll be good…”

How terribly Gentaro’s chest ached as Hifumi’s convulsions grew worse; how powerless he felt watching him suffer. Even so, another approach to waking him came to mind. He’d had his fair share of nightmares—of abandonment, of being left behind, of his loved ones moving on without him—but for all the bad dreams he bore, there was someone to fend them off. Though many seasons have come and passed since his youth, he still clearly remembered the sweet voice that warded off his fears and the gentle caress that grounded him. Recalling his precious mother’s presence, Gentaro sat beside Hifumi.

“There’s no one who’ll harm you,” he said softly, threading his fingers through his hair. “You’re safe here, Hifumi.”

Touch tender, he continued whispering reassurances into his ears until his breaths slowed to a steady rhythm; kept lulling soothing words until he stopped trembling. Though his nightmares no longer tormented him, Gentaro remained at Hifumi’s side—cradling him tightly to keep any more terrors at bay. He’d long lost track of time since he kept guard, but the light from outside continued to filter in and with it, brought a new day ahead.

Lifting his head, Hifumi’s eyes fluttered open to reveal golden irises stained with red. On his face, wet trails smeared his cheeks. “Gen-chan…?”

Gingerly, Gentaro wiped his tears. “Yes?”

“Good—Good morning…!” Try as he might to hang onto his cheer, his voice cracked with fear.

“Good morning, Hifumi.” Gentaro shifted closer towards him, his embrace steady. “How are you feeling?”

“M-Me? I’m fine!” His pillow fell to his lap as he sat up, a damp spot in the place he’d buried his face in. “Why do you ask?”

Gentaro frowned. “It appeared to me that you were having a nightmare.”

“Psh, really?” Laugh strained, Hifumi waved him off. “I—I can’t even remember what I was dreaming about!”

One needn’t be a serial liar to parse that fib out. For a man who wore his heart on his sleeve, perhaps someone like Hifumi had things to hide from the world—and especially himself. Gentaro of all people knew how to mask his fragility, to conceal himself behind pretty words, but between the two of them, a lie of this sort didn’t suit Hifumi at all. A shaky smile didn’t belong on his face, nor should he choke out a laugh; never should his shine dull and not once should his radiance flicker.

A reassurance nearly spilled from his lips: “I love you and I’m here for you”—but Gentaro decided against it for mere sympathy could only go so far. Instead, he squeezed Hifumi’s hands and asked, “Have I ever told you the story of the immortal girl?”

Sniffling, Hifumi shook his head. “…Nope, I don’t think so.”

“Let’s change that now, shall we?” In reply, Hifumi entwined their fingers and leaned into his side. Holding him close, Gentaro began in a sagely timbre. “For a girl so full of life, she could barely sleep a wink. She felt as though someone was always watching her, her dreams plagued with terrible scenes…”

Within the mid-morning’s light, the two of them wove the story of the immortal girl and her quest for peace together; Gentaro guiding the narrative as Hifumi piped in to add his touch to the tale. While he might not have much to offer, Gentaro had his imagination and his words—two gifts that brought joy to his dearest friend’s dreary days, solace to his posse as they looked to the future, and hopefully, reprieve to his beloved from his haunted memories. It was the least he could do, after all, in return for everything he’d done for him.

v.

Hell, as Gentaro imagined it, was not red flames and fiery gallows; rather, hell was built of white walls and drenched in the scent of antiseptic. Hell did not roar and rage, but instead echoed with footsteps treading the immaculately clean floors. Hell was labeled “404,” a room loaded with one too many cables and wires to sustain the soul trapped within it.

And for that soul, Gentaro would go through hell and back as much as necessary.

“This is it.”

From behind, Hifumi clung onto him like a lifeline. “A-Are they g-gone…?”

“Yes,” Gentaro said, squeezing his hand. “Fret not, there aren’t any women around here.”

Hesitantly picking up his head, Hifumi’s death grip loosened. Like the flip of a switch, he returned to his perky self. “Phew! Gen-chan, you should’ve warned me ‘bout them! I would’ve brought my jacket.”

“Believe me, your suit jacket is the last thing that you need,” he retorted, dreading the thought of Hifumi flirting with all the female nurses. More gently, he continued, “Besides, I’m here for you, aren’t I?”

Though his affections oft served as a comfort, the peck on the cheek that Hifumi gave him did little to quell his nerves as he gripped the door handle. Shibuya Central Hospital was far from a sanctuary, but nonetheless, it was the place that he shared with his dearest friend and his dearest friend alone; wary was he that he’d barely breached the matter with Dice and Ramuda. To bring someone else was to break their carefully crafted asylum—even if it was someone whom he considered close.

Still, his fingers had worked faster than his head when he’d invited Hifumi and with Atsushi mere meters away, there was no turning back now. Calming himself, he swung the door open to see Atsushi lying in bed whilst adorned with numerous lines; the sight equal part disappointing and equal part relieving.

“Hello, Atsushi.” Taking his dutiful place at his side, Gentaro set his bag down. A teasing lilt to his tone, he said, “My sincerest apologies for being so late today. I would’ve been here earlier if not for a certain someone.”

Beside him, Hifumi poked Atsushi. The heart monitor tittered. Hifumi’s lips puckered.

“Gen-chan, he’s sleeping.”

“Ah, don’t you hear him speaking?” Gentaro asked, placing a hand on Atsushi’s heart monitor. Underneath his palm, it hummed. “He’s quite the chatterbox, much like yourself.”

Watching Hifumi draw closer towards Atsushi, Gentaro schooled his face into a neutral expression. Though he had little doubt that Hifumi wouldn’t accept Atsushi—this façade where Atsushi was still awake—that didn’t stop the seeds of doubt from taking place; the curse of having an overactive imagination. Would he mock him for living in a delusion? Taunt him for being caught up in the past? Force him to move on? As he counted Atsushi’s heartbeats, he waited for Hifumi’s reaction. Only God knew the relief that washed over when Hifumi’s mouth dropped into an “O” shape.

“Ooh, I see! It’s just like Dopponese!” He nodded before turning to him, head tilted. “Um, who is he, anyways?”

One obstacle down, another one to go.

Though Hifumi of all people knew well the role of being one’s best friend’s keeper, to bare this burden that he’d kept to himself seemed impossible—a duty long buried deep and arduous to excavate, so much so that he wasn’t sure if he could find the words for an introduction, let alone lead into it with a lie. But where all else failed, keeping it simple was best. Despite his enigmatic air, Gentaro was but a humble man with no wish other than to see those he cherished get along.

Finding his courage, he grabbed a hold of Hifumi’s hand—warm as always. Steeling himself, he clasped Atsushi’s—coldness replacing warmth. He took a deep breath. And then, Gentaro spoke.

“Atsushi, this is my beau…” He ran a thumb over Hifumi’s knuckles, his presence keeping him grounded. “Izanami Hifumi.”

A beep of approval; Atsushi’s lips, Gentaro imagined, curling up in amusement. With all the grievances he’d poured out about Hifumi to his unconscious form, no doubt he’d tease him endlessly for falling for his rival. Call him cruel, but he was a tad thankful that he couldn’t speak this instance.

“Hifumi…” Trying to keep his voice as even as possible, he clutched onto Atsushi. “This is my best friend, Sugiyama Atsushi.”

Hifumi glanced between the two of them, cowlick bobbing along. A pair of golden suns, his eyes darted back and forth as it all sank in. Once it clicked, he gasped. Breaking into a grin, Hifumi bounced Atsushi’s other hand up and down.

“Hiya, Atsucchi, nice to meet you! You can call me ‘Hifumin’!”

“‘Atsucchi’?” Gentaro raised a brow, lips quirking up. “Don’t you think you’re acting overly familiar there?”

“No biggie, any friend of yours is a friend of mine. Besides, he likes it!” He looked over at Atsushi with a glimmering gaze. “Isn’t that right, Atsucchi?”

Gentaro blinked, heart swelling. Though one to play along with his flow, he hadn’t expected Hifumi to go this far with his fantasies. What he’d done in a past life to be blessed with such a kind soul, he didn’t know, but he was grateful all the same. For once, this hospital room didn’t feel so cold with the sun’s light filtering in.

An endearment bubbled up to his lips: “Love of mine, aren’t you a special one”—but Gentaro stayed silent for he couldn’t get so sentimental in front of those important to him. Instead, he listened carefully for Atsushi’s reply and teased, “Hm, it’s a bit too cute for his liking.”

“Whatever, he’ll get used to it!” Before he could say anything else, Hifumi shook his shoulder. “Gen-chan, why didn’t you tell me we were visiting your friend? I would’ve made lunch!”

“There’s no need to worry.” Smiling, Gentaro brought out a box of Atsushi’s favorite strawberries from his bag. “We can share these.”

o.

Like clockwork, a pair of arms wrapping around his waist woke him up and a face nuzzling into his back shook the sleep out of him—a wake-up call that Gentaro had come to look forward to; no other way he’d want to start the day. As the sun began to rise, so too did the morning’s beginning bring Hifumi back to him once more.

“I’m home!” Hifumi said, his voice as chipper as ever despite a whole’s night worth of women, drinks, and parties. At the very least, he no longer dived straight into the household chores upon his return.

Gentaro laced their fingers together as he settled into Hifumi’s hold. “Welcome back.”

Leaving it at that, a lull fell over. As tempted as he was to ask him about his night, he knew that would prompt him to delve into work story after work story after work story. Endearing Hifumi’s enthusiasm might be, but Gentaro much preferred him to get his well-deserved rest than chatter endlessly. Besides, there would be no shortage of his ramblings later in the day.

One of his few indulgences, he listened as Hifumi’s breaths evened out; felt the beat of his chest slow to a steady pulse. Ever so carefully, Gentaro shifted around to catch a rare glimpse of Hifumi at rest.

Tucking stray strands of gold and lime behind his ear, he delighted in how soft his locks felt when free of hairspray. The visage of a handsome prince, somehow his face remained clear and flawless without makeup. Replacing his citrus cologne and the smell of champagne, a fresh scent filled his senses. For a while longer, Gentaro could forget that he was Izanami Hifumi, Shinjuku’s number one host and Matenrou’s MC GIGOLO, and simply know him as Hifumi, his beloved.

Being with a man as cheerful and lively as Hifumi, only could he appreciate how far they’d come in quiet moments like these. To think that once he’d rather be strangling him with his own hands, but now he felt safest within his arms. From Hifumi’s insults, to their rivalry, to a victory that should’ve been his, his grudges hardly stung anymore. How far his deeply rooted resentment seemed, his spite mere embers flickering dead; a whole season’s animosity but a lifetime away. Certainly, their relationship had received criticism and scrutiny from friends and foes and fans alike, but for all the rumors and gossip about the nature of their relationship, the truth was as straightforward as it could be—whether it be his bubbly spirit or his beguiling charms or even his vulnerable side, Hifumi made him happy and that was all Gentaro needed.

A confession escaped his lips: “I love you, Hifumi”—spoken so softly that it sounded barely audible. Only during these spells of stillness would Gentaro allow himself to acknowledge such adoration, most of all to the light of his life himself.

Champagne gold eyes snapped open. Gentaro’s breath hitched.

Much too energetic at this hour, Hifumi grabbed hold of him. “What was that, Gen-chan?!”

Gentaro shifted back. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“Doesn’t matter!” Hifumi shook him, buzzing in excitement. “Say that again!”

“Say what again?”

“‘I love you, Hifumi.’” Too loud and too pitchy to match his tone, Gentaro might have laughed at his imitation if not for the embarrassment creeping up. “Like that!”

Rolling onto his back, Gentaro stared at the ceiling as if it could cool the warmth in his cheeks. “I’ve no recollection of saying such a thing.”

Hifumi pouted. “But you just said it!”

“Have you had too much to drink last night? You’re imagining things.” Patting him, Gentaro said, “Come now, get some rest.”

This instance, Hifumi opted for silence rather than retorts—funny, coming from a man who spoke nonstop. But the sun never hid behind the clouds for long, and like so, Hifumi’s mood brightened within seconds. Not daring to leave any space open between them, he enveloped him in an embrace. Though Gentaro refused to look at him just yet, of course he had not a single complaint.

“I love you, too, Gen-chan!” Cupping his face, Hifumi kissed his cheek.

Heart aflutter, Gentaro fixed him with a look much too soft to be considered a glare. “Go to sleep, Hifumi.”

He giggled. “Sure thing!”

As Hifumi pressed closer still against him, Gentaro heaved a sigh—though he’d be lying if he denied the small smile on his lips. One beat, two beats, three beats, four; he finally melted into Hifumi’s touch. Turning about, Gentaro buried his face in the crook of Hifumi’s neck and wrapped his arms around his torso. Underneath the duvet, their feet tangled together. Chest to chest, he found bliss in the way Hifumi’s heart beat at the same rhythm as his.

Yes, though indeed he was hard-pressed to admit it, that didn’t change the fact that Gentaro loved Hifumi.