Work Text:
“Wait, wait, don’t turn the lights off yet! I’m not done, my inspiration is still burning~♪”
Izumi freezes, hand still hovering over the switch, before he realises there’s actually someone else in the room.
“Haa?” In the far corner, an orange head bobs up and down to some unheard music, sheafs of paper scattered around him like petals. The boy is small, even smaller with the way he curls up. He has suspicious stains on his hands and markers of all colors haphazardly thrown around him. His notes are crude and colorful, and Izumi sneers at them and the mess the boy makes when he throws down another sheet.
“I’m not done yet! I just said that!” The boy’s voice is irritating as all hell, and he talks to the ground. He speaks even as his markers keep moving, scribbling furiously over his papers. “Wait, but maybe if you turn the lights off, the inspiration will flow even more~? Wahaha, never mind, then I won’t be able to see what I’m writing, but maybe it’ll still be a fun experiment☆! A new perspective on this melody. I’ve changed my mind! Turn them off, turn them off!”
His nonsense makes Izumi’s blood boil. Makes him want to stalk over and shove his head into his precious papers until he grovels for forgiveness for being so rude to him, maybe. The boy’s head whips up, squinting for a moment. “Well? Aren’t you gonna show me a beautiful night scene? I want to see it!”
“Don’t be so annoying," Izumi snaps as he stalks over, glaring down at this boy. He doesn’t even react, just goes right back to humming away heedlessly, scribbling in his corner, dropping another page of whatever he’s writing like it’s nothing. Music. He’s writing music. Izumi can see the notes written in a sharp, sure hand. “Who even are you? This is Chess’ practice room. Are you here to steal our work?"
“Tsukinaga! Leo!” His eyes are a brilliant green when they’re focused on him, and Izumi kind of hates them. “Ah, stay right there, stay there! Inspiration, it’s come, it’s come, it’s here because of you~♪”
“Are you even listening to me?” He’s not. If anything, Tsukinaga’s marker moves faster, more furiously. “Hey, I want to go home! Why are you wasting my time like this? I have important things to do, you know.”
“So do them here! Oh, oh, or take me with you!” That finally gets Tsukinaga to stop. His eyes are intense, and they sparkle and they look at Izumi like he’s something precious. Something warm wells up in his chest. Izumi’s heart might be beating in double-time. “You’re my muse~ I’m not going to ever let you go! I love you! Let’s be friends!”
“D-don’t say weird things like that when you don’t even know who I am,” Izumi says with much less vitriol than he means to. His face grows hot, and Izumi knows he’s blushing, even when he tries to cover it. Because Tsukinaga is eager and bright-eyed, because it’s just the two of them, because no one’s ever looked at him, spoken to him, with such sincerity.
“So tell me~♪” Tsukinaga hums out. His voice is a little hoarse when he speaks, and it shouldn’t be pleasing. “Or no, don’t, don’t, not yet! Let the possibilities be infinite! Let’s discover who you could be together, let me create the tale of you with all my inspiration, my fantasy, my muse~☆”
“Sena! It’s Sena!” Izumi has to shout to be heard over Tsukinaga humming something pretty and slow.. “My name is Sena. If you’re going to make me your muse, you better get it right then!” Something in Izumi’s chest feels tight when he says it.
To be someone’s muse.
Even if that someone is a strange orange boy with red marker on his cheek and a big goofy smile on his face, whose hands write fast, faster over two, three sheets at the same time.
“It’s here, it’s here, my inspiration, my muse, it’s come to me, and it’s all Se~na~” Tsukinaga sings out, a little scratchy, a little tuneless. There’s something off with the way he says Izumi’s name, but there’s no time to correct him. “Take me home with you, Sena!”
“Oi, why are you demanding crazy things like that? I can’t just take you home with no warning.”
“Then tomorrow! Take me home with you tomorrow! I want to write with you at my side! I can feel them, the masterpieces that I’m gonna write because of you!” Tsukinaga’s smile is wide. It’s mischievous and infectious. It could power the sun.
Izumi snorts, turning back to the door. “Fi~ne. I’ll take you after lessons, even though you’re so annoying. Now leave already, otherwise those annoying Chess guys are going to yell at me tomorrow for not cleaning up properly, even though they didn’t stay to help because they’re useless anyways.”
Tsukinaga leaps to his feet at that. It’s not fair that he, awkward and short and gangly, gets to hop around his ring of papers so elegantly as he rushes to get all up in Izumi’s face. “He~y, those are my unit members, please get along with them!”
“Haa? You’re in Chess too? No way,” Izumi says, leaning against the door frame. He’s too close, and he smells like flowers. He’s too close, and his eyes are too bright.
“Am so, am so!” When Tsukinaga smiles, it’s wide and sweet and soft. Izumi sort of wants to pull on his cheeks, just to see how he would react. Maybe he’d blush. "Chess is a really great unit, you know! And everyone’s really talented, and it’s gonna be really great when everyone works together and puts on a really great show that everyone’s gonna love and talk about forever and ever, and I’ll even write all the music for it! Wahaha☆!”
“Good luck getting those lazy bastards to do anything,” Izumi says. The displeasure curls through him, sneering even at the thought of their upperclassmen, breaking for every little thing and barely getting through a few songs from their Live set before they decided that it was time to go home. “They won’t even bother trying.”
“I’ll make you eat those words!” Tsukinaga shouts. He jabs Izumi in the chest, and Izumi has an errant thought that his hands are delicate and bony for a boy before the pain registers.
“Oi, we’re not that familiar, so you can’t just do that, you annoying brat!” Izumi rubs his chest, rubs at the lingering feeling of Tsukinaga’s touch. If he hears Izumi at all, he gives no sign of it, not with the way he hums as he turns away, runs back to his papers, and gathers them up indiscriminately. The pile is bigger than Izumi first imagined it to be, now that they’re all haphazardly in a stack.
“But we’re friends now, Se~na~! I love you! Even if you’re kind of mean to our senpai, but that’s okay because I’m sure you like them deep down, otherwise you wouldn’t still be here trying so hard, right?” Tsukinaga says with his too-soft smile and his arms full of paper. He scans the top couple before shoving them into Izumi’s hands, ink still drying in some places. “I wrote this for you today, and I’ve got more and more ideas, so be my muse tomorrow, too! And then the next day, and every day after that, because you make me want to write forever.” His laughter is manic and loud. It takes up as much space as the rest of him. When he laughs, it feels like the signal of something momentous.
It rings in Izumi’s ears, even as he says yes, and he thinks that this might be the day he fell a little bit in love with Tsukinaga Leo.
---
First year Izumi is an idiot, second year Izumi decides.
Because in their second year, Leo becomes a force, a whirlwind of brilliance and music that no one else in Chess can keep pace with except Izumi, who doesn’t keep up so much as run after him and try not to trip. Izumi doesn’t really understand him, how he never seems to stop or how he bounces to the next idea without so much as a thought.
“Sena, Sena! This one, look at this one too!”
Leo is always, always looking behind him, even when he could be composing symphonies and overtures and whatever else for whoever else, always looking to Izumi with his eyes shining. He shoves papers at him, sweeping, elegant songs that shouldn’t pour so easily from him, but they do , because Leo just gets to be that talented and God didn’t save any for the rest of them, apparently.
“All right, give it here already. Why are you waving it around like that? I can’t look at it if you don’t let me see it, stop being so annoying!”
They fit together. They fit together, and Izumi doesn’t want anything else except the time when it’s just the two of them, their Chess-Othello-Backgammon seniors be damned. Leo is trusting, and that makes him stupid because he doesn’t see that they don’t deserve everything that he gives them, everything except his best.
His best, he saves for Izumi.
It’s such a close thing between them. Near misses that haunt Izumi every day. He steals moments from Leo because they’re all he can catch. When Izumi nearly reaches out, sitting on Leo’s bed sharing headphones and listening to his newest piece. When Izumi has an errant thought that he could just tug the elastic out of Leo’s hair and thread his fingers through those silky, orange strands. When they’re the only two left in a practice room, and Izumi wants to push him against the mirrors and kiss him senseless, kiss him quiet . When they’re walking home, and he wants to reach between them and hold his fucking hand.
When Leo looks at him like he’s something worthy , and Izumi wants to fall to his knees for him.
Everything between them is all close and almosts and maybes that could be bridged if Izumi weren’t such a coward. Leo throws his feelings in Izumi’s face every single day: the snippet of a melody one day, a fully orchestrated symphony the next, a solo arrangement of one of Chess’ songs the day after. It’s just how they are, where Izumi prickles and Leo still gives and gives. It’s how their friendship is. It’s just how they fit together. It’s enough for Izumi.
Because it has to be.
Because if it’s not, then stumbling on Tenshouin hauling Leo in by his lapels to kiss him after Checkmate, watching Leo start and then melt against him, catching Tenshouin’s face when they pull apart, still breathing in each other’s space, when he looks right at Izumi and smirks as he tugs on Leo’s hand, and Leo--the idiot who just poured his heart out to Izumi and made his breath catch with his sincerity, who Izumi chased after to give a real answer, to be honest with him--follows Tenshouin--
If it’s not enough, that would hurt. That would really hurt. That would make his stomach drop out from under him and his world go cold. That would dig into Izumi’s chest and tear at him from the inside out. That would make him want to drag Leo away by his stupid little ponytail and kiss away the taste of Tenshouin from his stupid mouth, until the only praises he’s singing are Izumi’s again. That would make him want to see if he’s actually a dumb boy after all, chasing after his dumb crush, and maybe send Tenshouin to the hospital with a good punch to his smug fucking face.
Except he and Leo are just friends , and that doesn’t change as they grow into Knights or when the sharp smell of antiseptic seems to follow Leo around.
It does reminds him, though, that he’s not at Yumenosaki to be dragged around after pretty orange boys and their strange ways. He’s here to work and build a career for himself outside of modeling.
If he doubles down on that, throws himself into making Knights good-better-best with Leo behind him (when he wants Leo to be there, at his side, the both of them together --), then it’s for Knights’ future. For his future.
---
Calling him "Ou-sama" is a mistake. His first mistake, really, if he wants to get technical, because everything he says after just feels like one fuck-up after the next. But it's the one that clearly cuts Leo the deepest from the way his expression shutters and his voice drops low and despondent.
It's easy to go on the defensive and lash out at Leo with the bitter taste of defeat in his mouth and the sting of clearly not being enough, considering Leo is shacking up with Tenshouin of all people.
It's easy to pretend that the hurt building in his chest is from his wounded pride and nothing else.
It's easier than saying sorry, that's for fucking sure.
Until Leo stops blaming Izumi and starts blaming himself, and turns away.
Dread, Izumi finally realises, is the feeling that’s been building in his stomach. It’s like a monstrous chasm opening up in him, making his breath catch short and his heart seize. If Leo leaves, then--then they're done , but they can't be. They can't be done, not when there’s so much more Izumi needs to--wants to--say to Leo, that Leo has to hear from him because--
Because Leo can’t be done with him.
The thought strangles him, paralyses him for all of a moment before he bolts. Izumi doesn’t know where he’s running and doesn’t care who he passes. He chases after Leo. It wrests the very breath out of him when he tries to call for Leo, barely keeping sight of him as Leo sprints through the school. People gawk after them, but Izumi can’t stop to yell at them all to mind their own fucking business when he’s out of breath as it is. He’s not going to catch Leo in time, and the thought makes the air stutter in his lungs. He finally slows, just out of range of the school gates where Leo finally stops at least too.
With Tenshouin.
Fuck .
Izumi inhales sharply, even though it makes his lungs burn and nearly makes him cough. Of course it’s Tenshouin who makes Leo stop in his tracks when Izumi can’t. He can’t see Leo’s face from here or hear what he says to Tenshouin. What he can see is the way Tenshouin jerks in shock when Leo drags him down for a kiss. How his hands come up in an aborted gesture, like he doesn’t know where to put them, and how surprised, how shaken, how confused he looks when they pull apart.
The devastation across his face is very real when Leo pulls away and sprints out of the school gates. Izumi wants to scream at him, tell him to stop Leo or chase after Leo or do anything besides stare after Leo’s retreating figure. Hs fists clench. Anger flares hot in his stomach. It burns.
Tenshouin doesn’t get to look like that, like Leo is the one who hurt him, like he’s surprised by Leo running away, like he actually cared about Leo at all.
Please come back.
I shouldn’t have pushed you.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
Izumi doesn’t say it. He doesn’t say any of it. He doesn’t chase after Leo anymore. He doesn’t even follow Tenshouin. He swallows his words, swallows the scratchiness in his throat and the cough building in his chest, and turns away.
---
It starts with a sore throat, puttering around at home because he managed to convince Mama to let him stay home, just for a day, because he’s not feeling well.
It starts with an irritating tickle in the back of his throat, a feeling of fullness in his chest that he can’t name.
It starts that day, with calling Leo “ou-sama” and feeling the regret pounding in his veins when he thinks about apologizing.
It gets worse with a near-constant ache in his chest from coughing, when the flower petals start a few at a time, then more and more, until they’re a steady stream, and Izumi has to wonder how many more he has in him before he just gives up on trying to get rid of them.
It gets worse when he stops calling him “Leo-kun” altogether, and Leo just gives him that tired, resigned smile of his.
His days become routine: go to classes, go to practice, fight with Leo on every little thing until it’s just him at the end of the day, singing alone in an empty classroom. Find the time in between everything to run to the bathroom to cough and vomit into the toilet so no one else can catch you.
And when Leo doesn’t come back, when it’s just him left all alone with three brats he doesn’t trust, it feels like the flowers never stop.
---
“Would you tell him, then? If he were to come back, that is.”
Tenshouin sounds mild, as if Izumi hasn’t just coughed up what feels like a lungful of flowers. It certainly looks like it: petals crumpled and bruised and bloodied; a few leaves scattered throughout; one stubborn stem that was very irritatingly determined to claw its way out of his throat. Tenshouin’s smile is understanding as he hands over his handkerchief, and Izumi wants to rip it off his face. He settles for waving his concern away, taking a swig of water instead to try and wash the metallic taste out of his mouth.
No one asked him to be this annoying. Izumi certainly didn’t.
“Would you?” Izumi hates how his voice rasps. He’s already shitty enough at singing. It just sucks that this has to make it worse. Stupid Tenshouin with his stupid questions. “You and he were--” He motions vaguely, but Tenshouin--willfully or innocently, but Izumi is betting on the former--just smiles and tilts his head. “Together. You clearly still had something when you broke up.”
At least that finally seems to break through Tenshouin’s facade. His face drops a little, smile waning until it’s a thin sliver, eyes going distant. “I almost forgot that you were there when that happened.”
“Was he--”
“Sena-kun.” Tenshouin drops his smile, drops the placid, even tone, and it makes Izumi’s hackle’s rise. He doesn’t sound furious, but he sounds like he might be soon. “Whatever it is, I’m sure I could tell you, and I’m sure you could hate me that little bit more for it. I don’t mind playing the bad guy in whatever narrative you tell yourself, but nothing I say will give you the solace that you’re looking for. Leo--Tsukinaga-kun and I.”
Tenshouin places the chess piece in his hands back down on the board. He looks tired. He looks more exhausted than usual, and Izumi bites back his apology. Tenshouin won’t want it anyways. “Call it sentimentality. I wanted to selfishly keep what I could of him, even though I knew the kind of path he was headed down. I’m not so naive to believe I could have saved him, but I suppose...I hoped vainly that there was some part of him that I could protect, if he gave me enough of himself to me. Even like that, on the verge of breaking, I wanted anything he was willing to leave behind to remind me of our happy times together. I wanted to see him smile for me again.”
Izumi makes a noise of derision in the back of his throat. “Hope you got what you wanted, then.” He shifts uncomfortably under Tenshouin’s even gaze, challenging him until he can’t anymore. He looks away under the pretense of picking up his school bag, skin prickling with the way Tenshouin watches him like he’s searching for something and looks dissatisfied with what he finds.
“Not quite.” Tenshouin leans back. His pose is casual, disaffected, but Izumi can see the frustration building in his face. “Even when he called me his angel and wrote me symphonies, you were always still his only muse.”
---
Their studio is supposed to be empty today. Izumi may have double, triple-checked this to be certain when he ducked over for lunch. When their studio isn’t filled with idiots, it’s nice and blissful and quiet , and Izumi can hug a trashcan and retch up petals in peace.
God, if he never sees roses again in his life, he might actually be happy for once.
He manages to wobble to his feet at least, hand against the wall for support. His lungs burn with the movement, and his head aches when he tries to move it, but whatever. He’ll get through afternoon classes, and he’ll get through practice later, and he’ll keep all these disgusting flowers inside until he’s home, and--
The door cracks open.
“Ara? Izumi-chan?” Arashi lets themself in with a puzzled expression, and Izumi’s throat closes in an instant because there’s no way he can hide the flowers, no way Arashi won’t know what’s been happening.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he bites out, and if he can maybe just obscure their view of those stupid fucking flowers, he can get them to leave .
“I wanted to practice a bit on my own. Tsukasa-chan is rea~lly dreadful when he starts yelling, and he’s been wound so tight over this Judgement thing,” Arashi says with a sigh. Izumi stiffens at even the mention of Judgement (of Leo, declaring they weren’t good enough, even when he worked so hard to save and protect everything he loved, that Izumi wasn’t good enough). And damn Arashi because they notice, leering closer. “But you don’t look like you’ve been doing that. You look like you need a good talk with Onee-chan~”
“Gross, I’d rather die,” Izumi says. Even though it might not be that bad. Arashi is nosy and flighty, but they’re useful and have perspective and they’re stupidly cheesy and unrealistic about love, and that doesn’t even sound bad right now. That’s how Izumi knows he might be a little fucked. His throat scratches; he tries for gruff. “Pass.”
“Now, now, Izumi-chan, I know those are flowers there~” Arashi grins, looping an arm around Izumi’s shoulders and drags him down to sit with them against the wall. “We’ve still got plenty of time before lunch is over, and I never get to gossip enough with you like this!”
“What makes you think I’ll even tell you, huh? Why do you always have to be like this? Just leave it already and stop being so annoying!” Izumi snaps. If he could make himself smaller and make this whole conversation just go away, he would.
Sure, better Arashi than their brat Tsukasa, but maybe he should’ve known better than to stick around where any of the other Knights could have caught him. Arashi doesn’t even have the decency to look phased at his outburst. They just pat him on the arm and heave a long, put-upon sigh.
“I know it’s not great to feel like your feelings are being trampled on, but you don’t have to be so mean, Izumi-chan. I’m just trying to help.”
Their pout is all kinds of exaggerated, but it’s practically reflex when Izumi points it out. “Keep doing that and you’re going to get ugly wrinkles, cut it out.”
“I’m trying to be cute!”
“Well don’t, it’s creepy.”
“You’re just deflecting from your true feelings,” Arashi says primly, “so I’m going to let that pass without comment. And I can’t force you to share, but I’m allowed to be worried about you when we’re supposed to be comrades. You can’t possibly think I like seeing you this miserable, can you?”
Of course they don’t. Of course none of the Knights do because they’re all decent human beings who don’t get that he’s not and that he doesn’t deserve their concern when it’s his own fucking fault.
Izumi just looks away, hand pressed tight to his mouth when he can feel that horrible tightness in his chest and itchiness in his throat. If he presses hard enough, if he bites down on the flesh of his hand and squeezes his eyes shut, maybe they’ll stay down for once.
Of course he’s not that lucky either.
The flowers aren’t the worst part. The stems hurt like a bitch and feel like they get stuck in his throat for days, but they pass. It always passes. The worst part isn’t even when he can feel his chest squeeze tighter and tighter, when all his coughs turn into loud, wild things that make him shake from the effort of trying to get everything out. The absolute worst part is when he coughs hard enough to make himself sick, barely managing to fumble for the trashcan in time to dry heave a few times, spewing out petals with every retch.
Izumi spits out the last petal and then spits a few more times for good measure before he lets go and wipes at the spittle with the back of his hand. His heart beats too fast, like it’ll rattle out of his chest if he’s not careful when he moves. His hand is shaking when he drags it over his face to rake through his hair. He’s too tired to sit back against the wall and stays hunched over the trash can. He’s too tired to move.
“Yeah, guess I do,” Izumi says. Something heavy lands in his lap. He flops a hand around it before opening his eyes languidly to take it in. A water bottle. Arashi’s.
“Whenever you realise that I want you to be happy too, I’ll be here,” they say softly.
“With how this is going, maybe I won’t be.” Izumi takes a swig of water, swishing it around to wash out the taste of bile, before he goes for another drink. “I thought it was a distance thing. If he came back, it wouldn’t be so bad. Of course it would get worse.”
Arashi’s brow furrows. Izumi flicks their forehead, and they roll their eyes at him, but it smoothes out the lines on their face. “Wait, so these aren’t for your Makoto-chan, then?”
“Don’t use his name so casually.” There’s no heat behind his words; Izumi says it as a reflex, but his heart isn’t in it. He finally slumps back, leaning his head against the wall for support. “He knows. That I care about him. That I love him.”
“So it’s not for your cute glasses boy,” Arashi muses. “Well, that’s fine. I didn’t want you to kill me for talking to him about it anyways, so that’s fine!”
“Ugh, it’s bad enough dealing with it as is.” Izumi picks at a stray, electric purple petal and drops it into the trash. He picks at a few more, more to keep his busy than anything else. Plus, this way, he doesn’t have to look at Arashi and whatever lame face they’re making at him, like he’s something to be pitied. Disgusting. “If you tell anyone, I’m going to kill you, you know.”
“...but it seems like it might be kind of dangerous?” Arashi says haltingly. Another petal. “To just leave it. Doesn’t it seem like it’s gotten really bad so far?”
“Does it look like I wanted any of you worrying about it?” he hisses. Ah, that’s not pity on Arashi’s face. That’s guilt. And isn’t that something Izumi knows well at this point.
Is guilt better than pity? The thought of Arashi pitying him makes his gut roll; his blood could boil at the thought. Izumi can lash out at pity until they get that it’s a waste of their time.
But guilt. Guilt makes him stop and makes him scrub at his eyes because it’s not fair for them to care so much about someone like him who broke the only person who ever looked at him like he was something precious.
“We’re friends!” Arashi doesn’t shout as a rule, but when their voice is raised like that, it makes even Izumi wince. “I want to know that you’re okay, not that you’re trying to hurt yourself like this! I would’ve just left if I didn’t care!” Their voice wobbles, and fuck. Fuck, Izumi can’t let them actually cry, scrambling for his handkerchief to press into their hands.
“I’m not going to actually die or anything like that, jeez,” Izumi says with more conviction than he feels as he wraps an arm around their shoulders. What he can reach, anyways. “...I didn’t want to put any of this on you.”
“Learn to rely on people more, Izumi-chan. And don’t make a girl cry. I wasn’t ready, now my eyeliner is going to run.” They smile at him more wetly than he wants, dabbing at the corner of their eyes before sighing. If they’re making jokes like that, they can’t be that mad at him, then. Probably.
“I got this far without making stupid promises like that,” Izumi says finally. Slowly. His thoughts feel scattered and far-off. He sort of just wants to close his eyes and sleep through the rest of the day to conserve his voice until practice. Can’t cough up flowers when he dreams, after all. He draws a knee up to his chest, thumb rubbing idle circles in their shoulder.
Arashi makes a noise, something that might be a snort from someone less elegant than them. “Learning is a slow process, you don’t have to do it all at once.”
“Whatever, I’ll keep it in mind if it’ll make you stop crying,” he says, leaning more fully against their shoulder. They’re warm. They’re warm, and if they could just stay sitting here like this, Izumi thinks he might be happy. “You know who it is, don’t you?”
“I could guess,” they say with a little shrug. “I can’t say it makes sense to me, though.”
“Because you were a shitty first year and were too obsessed with Akiomi-sensei to see two feet in front of you,” Izumi says. It earns him an offended gasp and Arashi elbowing him a little harder than he’s expecting, but it feels. Normal, stupid teenage boy kind of things. He relaxes against Arashi’s side with a huff. “You never knew him like I did.”
“He’s certainly…”
“Stupid?”
“I was going to say different.”
“That’s being too nice to him.”
“For someone who’s filled with flowers for him, you’re very mean to him, you know that?” Izumi rolls his eyes.
“It’s not like he doesn’t deserve it most of the time,” Izumi says, “since it was the only way to get anywhere with him most of the time. He’s still…” He swallows. “He’s still brilliant. You’ll see when we do Judgement.”
“U~gh, you reminded me, I never got any practice in, and now our cute brat is going to yell at me during lessons later,” Arashi moans. They’re too heavy to be leaning into Izumi, but they do anyways, slumping against him until they’re barely holding each other up. “It’s all your fault.”
“You’re the one who sat down to talk!”
“You know, I may not know our king that well,” they say, and from this angle, Izumi can see how precise their cat-eye is, close enough to smell the fruity shampoo they prefer, “but I do know that you’re different now that he’s back. Good different, don’t say something mean to me, I can see you thinking. It’s a compliment, you’re so ready to fight me all the time, it’s so sad, Izumi~chan~”
“I don’t have to fight you if you don’t say stupid things like that,” Izumi grouses. He still doesn’t move his arm, though. “Go back to complaining about Kasa-kun already, clearly you need to vent too.”
They’re late to their afternoon classes, spending the rest of the lunch period talking like this, but Izumi can’t find it in him to be mad. His chest feels lighter than it has been in weeks.
---
"Enough, enough," Ritsu moans not even halfway through their lessons. Izumi's breath catches in his throat, but with Ritsu complaining, he can cover it up with a discreet enough cough.
Not discreet enough to distract Arashi, if the looks they throw him are anything to go by, but Tsukasa and Leo don’t notice, so it’s fine. He’s fine.
Ritsu all but flops onto the ground, drawing their attention away with the way he crawls under the kotatsu-- that damned kotatsu --that still sits in the corner of the studio. Why Izumi hasn't just roped Tsukasa into throwing out yet, he doesn't know.
Ah, no, he knows. Because if he tries right now, the kid will catch on when he starts hacking a lung up trying to move the stupid thing and will start nagging him like Arashi does. Maybe more. Pass.
"We've been going for too long… I need a break or I'm going to end up a useless puddle on the floor~" Ritsu complains. From halfway under the kotatsu.
"You say that, but you're already--! Ritsu-senpai!" Tsukasa says, and it would have more teeth behind it if Leo weren't already hauling him to the other corner.
"Inspired, Rittsu, inspired! I got a new idea, and I need Suo~ to help me with it~♪" Leo laughs, and Izumi tries not to think about how much he sounds like his old self. The tickle in his throat tells him he's failed instead.
They still have their set list to run through, not to mention learning the new material Leo shoved at him between classes earlier that day before he flounced back to wherever he hides on the days he's not in class. They have two days before their next Live, and Izumi needs this today. Needs to know that he can control the burning in his throat and that he can still make it through one damn performance without his vision blurring.
That maybe he still has a chance to give up on Leo. That things haven't gotten too bad just yet.
"Oi, Secchan. Secchan, c'mere, c'mere, I need you for something." Ritsu's voice cuts through the fog in Izumi's thoughts, and he jolts back. Arashi is watching over Leo’s shoulder, making sure he doesn't bully their youngest too much, so they don’t catch the heavy, creaky way Izumi moves as he sits down next to Ritsu.
"What?" Izumi doesn’t bother to keep the irritation out of his voice, but Ritsu isn't even bothered by it. He's losing his edge. His voice scratches when he speaks, and he feels like he's breathing fire, and every loud laugh Leo lets out makes the bile rise. "What was so important you needed to stop practice?"
Ritsu leans over. His head is a soft weight on Izumi's shoulder. He says simply, loudly, "I needed you to be my pillow."
"Haa? That's it? Actually, no. I don’t even know why I thought it would be something important. So~o annoying." Almost as annoying as the satisfied feeling in his gut that he hasn't wrecked absolutely everything that he touches. He has to sit on his free hand to stop it from petting Ritsu's hair as he closes his eyes. "Why not an actual pillow?"
"Secchan needed it more," Ritsu says quietly. So quiet that Izumi could've imagined it. "Vampires have a really good nose, you know. So we can know we're getting the best kind of blood from people."
Izumi swallows, and it hurts. He should call Ritsu out on his bullshit and tell him he’s fine. Instead, he says "And? You gonna rat me out too?"
"No, not really," Ritsu hums. He leans more of his weight onto Izumi, and he's heavy , the brat. "Secchan would get really mad at me if I tried. But I hope that you can be happy too someday, even without him if necessary."
Izumi doesn't trust his voice to respond, but Ritsu is already breathing soft and steady, so maybe he doesn't need to say anything after all.
Besides, it's not like he deserves that. Happiness. That thought, at least, helps him get through their practice and the Live a few days later.
---
Even though he's a shitty leader who can't keep his head on straight and hates logistics, Leo's still the one whose name is on all the paperwork and carries their seal. And it's their damn fault for not taking it from him when they had the chance, Izumi thinks, as he trudges around the school looking for him. Certainly that would've been easier than stopping ever flight of stairs he takes, every hallway he wanders down, catching his breath and trying to look intimidating enough no one bothers him.
Izumi finally finds him in the studio humming to himself as he scribbles to the end of a notebook he miraculously has in front of him.
It's absurd that Leo is nearly an adult, almost graduated, and he's lying on his stomach, doodling in magic marker, hair loosely pulled away from his face in his usual, messy ponytail. It's even more absurd that Izumi thinks he's just cute and Leo like this.
Dammit.
Dammit all.
How annoying, Izumi would say, if they were first years again. How annoying that Leo is getting his clothes dirty and he doesn't even care, and it won't even matter because it'll be something brilliant anyways.
How fucking annoying that Izumi thinks it's charming and makes him want to barricade them in the room so no one can interrupt Leo like this ever again, so he can just create unfettered and uninhibited and unsullied. Even if Leo would hate him for it, depriving him of his inspiration like that, when Izumi isn't his muse anymore.
"Oi, Ou-sama," he calls out instead from where he's leaned against the doorframe. That's all a pretty thought, but he doesn't have the time for that kind of thing anymore. "Need you to sign something for me."
"What is it, what is it?" Leo's pen doesn't stop. "Wait, wait--"
"Don't bother guessing," Izumi cuts in. That gets Leo's attention. Izumi doesn't have the energy for this, but he hopes he just sounds short instead of tired. "It's not a live. Just some unit paperwork. I need some time off to take care of something annoying."
Leo sits up at that, and Izumi can't--
He can't look at him for long, not when he looks at Izumi like he's looking for something, trying to find answers, maybe. Or trying to puzzle him apart. Or just trying to understand him and know why .
"It's not for long." Maybe. "Just an annoying thing I need to fix." Himself. Everything. The vines feel especially vicious when he says that, and it's hard to force the rest of his words out. "It's not like I want to leave, but I'll be back, so don't fall apart without me."
Leo doesn't look convinced, but it eases the thorns in his lungs, just a little.
"Sena," he says. Leo’s always said his name weirdly, but this time...this time, Izumi doesn’t get it. Doesn’t get him. Doesn’t know why he sounds like that, or what it means, and the thought is dizzying. That they’ve spent so much time apart and this is where they’ve arrived. Izumi never really got him, but he understood enough, and that was okay for them. That worked.
Just more signs of how badly he fucked everything up shoved in his face. Of course.
When Leo frowns, Izumi wants to kiss away the little furrow between his brows. “Sena, is it because--”
“Can you just sign already?” No. No, Izumi doesn’t want to know what Leo thinks is the cause of his hiatus. He doesn’t need to know what Leo really thinks of him. “I have to turn it into Kunugi-sensei before he leaves, and he’s waiting.”
He’s going to say no , Izumi thinks distantly as Leo’s frown deepens and he doesn’t move from his spot on the floor. And when did he start sagging so much against the door? Was he this lightheaded when he walked in?
“Fine, but I don’t like this,” Leo says imperiously as he rolls over to rifle through the bag that he has next to him somehow. Papers come flying out of it as he searches through it, and Izumi is about to call it quits and maybe give up on this whole thing and maybe pass out when Leo manages to pull the seal out.
It feels like there should be some kind of fanfare when Leo signs and stamps Izumi’s paperwork, barely glancing at it like Izumi assumed he would. That still doesn’t stop the disappointment (stupid feelings, holding over from their first year, second year, when Izumi was actually important, when Leo looked at him like he was the actual world, and Izumi hardly deserved it then, but he wanted to) from rising in his throat--or maybe it’s just another clutch of flowers.
“There.” Leo’s signature swims in and out of his vision when Izumi looks at it, but he’ll be damned before he lets Leo watch him pass out. “So now you have to come back, Sena.”
“Don’t fall apart without me”, or “You’ll all make me come back by being a mess”, or “Please don’t wait for trash like me”, or even “I’m going to miss all of you, please wait”. He could say any of those things. He wants to say them, all of them maybe.
“Yeah.”
Instead, his voice only holds for that, and Leo looks like he’s about to say something, but he stops when Izumi waves him back and turns out of the room. He doesn’t come after him, and Izumi doesn’t know if that puts him at ease or just makes him feel worse.
Izumi has asked for too many selfish things out of Leo, all for his own sake, and brought him to the brink of too far. To ask for one more thing, well. Even Izumi isn’t that cruel.
At some point, he staggered to the end of the hall, even though he doesn’t remember walking. His breath comes in short pants now. How far as he gone? Izumi tries to squint down the hall, but the shapes are fuzzy when he moves his head. His chest is tight. Too tight. The feeling doesn’t clear even as he coughs and coughs and coughs, coughing until he staggers back against the wall to stay standing.
Flower petals scatter around him, a disgustingly colorful array of spit-slick, blood-slick roses and daisies and other flowers that Izumi doesn’t recognize. The now-familiar sting of stems and leaves and thorns scratches at him until his eyes water. He retches until he can taste bile and iron, but even that doesn’t stop the flowers from spilling out.
“Sena...senpai…?”
The newbie. Tsukasa. His voice sounds far away, though. Or maybe Izumi’s senses are just fucking with him. His head feels like it’s stuffed of cotton. Everything feels far away now.
He needs to move. He needs to get out of here, but his vision swims with blackness as he tries to get his feet under him to fucking go . He’s managed this long without letting Tsukasa and Leo know about these stupid flowers. He can last a little longer until they’re gone.
But to do that, he needs to move .
His body is a heavy, traitorous thing. Izumi only manages to stagger a few more feet before it gives out completely, and he sprawls on the floor.
“Leader, Leader, help--! ”
“What is it, what is it?”
Shit.
Shit .
Izumi tries . He tries to push himself up on his weak arms, shaking under the strain. He tries to get a hand on the wall to keep himself upright, but he can’t. He can’t reach it, he’s falling, he’s--
Hands catch him, and there’s shouting again. More voices this time, but Izumi can’t pick out any of them anymore.
“Leo-kun--” Izumi tries to say, before his eyes roll back, and he passes out.
The last thing he remembers are green, green, too green eyes looking down on him.
---
“Fine. What kind of game?”
It’s just the two of them left all alone again in the Chess practice room after their useless Chess seniors begged off with even more useless excuses that made Izumi’s blood boil. Leo stayed to keep Izumi company, so he said, but he also managed to keep pace with Izumi’s choreography as they ran through their set, so maybe there’s hope for him yet. Even if he uses their practice breaks for whatever kind of game he’s made up. Leo just laughs brightly as he scrambles into an upright position from where he’s laid out on the ground, grinning his dumb, childish grin.
“It’s a question game! I get to ask one, and then you get to ask one, and then I go again! I wanna know more about you, Sena~♪” Leo says. He looks entirely too pleased with himself for having come up with something this simple. If Izumi hadn’t heard his music himself, he would seriously doubt Leo’s claims of being a “genius”.
“What happened to wanting to use your ‘inspiration’ to make up things about me, huh? Do you seriously change you mind this often?” Izumi folds his arms, leaning back. “That’s a real inconvenience to people, you know that? If you change your mind all the time and make people go along with it, they’re not going to like you that much. So annoying.”
“Yeah, but you’re not people, you’re Sena, so it’s okay!” Izumi is going to strangle him. Izumi is really going to strangle him. “Besides, you told me you didn’t like when I did that, so I’m not doing it! For you, see?”
Maybe Izumi won’t strangle him after all.
“Fine, fine! Just ask your question, then, we still have more songs we need to practice,” Izumi says. If he looks too pleased, Leo will stop listening to him when he yells at him, so he turns his face away just a little under the pretense of drinking water, but it looks like Leo doesn’t even notice, the idiot.
“Nice, nice!” Leo lays across his lap before Izumi can even protest. The noise he lets out is undignified, a sound Izumi will deny to his grave, and Leo just laughs still, looking up sunnily at Izumi like he’s not killing his legs with all his boniness. “So tell me! Why Chess? You don’t even like anyone here! Why would you join something you hate? Seems like a big waste of time, you know!”
“You’re the tiniest person I know. How the hell are you so heavy?” Izumi grouses. Pushing him off might be a good plan, but then the idiot would just hit his head and, with Izumi’s luck, get dumber. “If you get off my lap, I’ll answer you.”
“Enhh!” Leo shouts, an obnoxious imitation of a buzzer. Loud. He’s always so loud, and Izumi really, really wants to slap his hand over his mouth to make him shut up. “Wrong answer, try again! That’s not the game we’re playing, you already agreed to answer the question!”
“Ugh, fine, fine, you’re so~o annoying, you know that?” Izumi says, flicking him in the forehead and savoring the yelp that Leo lets out. He still doesn’t leave Izumi’s lap, though. Unfortunate. “My agency told me about Chess. They basically demanded I join, if they were going to let me go and be an idol. Tradition and history or something like that.”
“Aren’t they the coolest, though?” Leo’s eyes glitter like they always do when he talks about Chess. It’s pretty to the point of distracting, how green his eyes are and how young he looks when he gets excited over something and how much it draws Izumi in. “I love them! I love all of them! All of their music is so good, I wanna live in it or something! No. No, wait, nnn, I wanted another word, I meant to say another word, but I forget. I forget! Sena! Are you gonna ask something? Do you want me to make up a question for you? Ah, I’ve got one, what--”
Izumi stuffs his hand inelegantly over Leo’s mouth. It, sadly, does not make him stop talking, but it does bring his voice down to an indoor level, and Izumi can finally get a word in, at least. “I have a question, idiot, calm down already. And don’t you dare lick my hand because that’s gross , and you’re not five. If you do it, this game is over, and I’m pushing you off.”
“Fine,” Leo whines. He folds his arms, and he pouts, and Izumi has an absurd thought that he looks adorable like this, which--
Which that’s--
That’s not supposed to be something he’s thinking about Tsukinaga Leo.
Tsukinaga Leo who is still looking up at him, expecting a question, and crap . His mind is racing; he’d said that to get Leo to just shut the hell up before he launched into some crazy tirade, and he smells kind of sweet and distracting, and actually--
“Why do you always have that stupid flower disease all the time?” Izumi blurts out. There’s a stray petal stuck in Leo’s hair that he wants to pick out. Leo’s looking at him--looking through him--with his big green eyes before he closes them with a laugh, stretching out on Izumi.
Izumi is usually composed and collected. He usually has his shit together. He’s a model for Christ’s sake, and he’s got impeccable control over his expressions and how he presents himself because if he doesn’t, he wouldn’t make it far at all.
Apparently , this all goes down the drain when orange idiots who talk too much and make Izumi’s heart beat too quickly are involved.
What Izumi wouldn’t give to hit him. Seriously.
“God, just forget I asked, that was a bad question, let me come up with--”
“It’s because I love everyone, of course!” Leo says, looking far too pleased with himself when he says it. “And I love people faster than I can tell them, so that’s why there’s always flowers all the time!”
“That’s exactly my point!” Izumi leans back. The wall is killing his shoulders like this, and he’s numb in weird places, but Leo looks too comfortable right now to be moved. What is Izumi even going to do with this kid? “You’re always going around telling people that you love them! How?”
Leo’s expression scrunches up, and Izumi almost reflexively lifts a hand to smooth out his brow before he realises what he’s doing and sits on his hands instead. “Usually I just open my mouth and yell it to them, I think. Or I try to say it to their face, y’know? Sometimes people don’t like when I yell at them. Just try saying ‘I love you~!’! It works most of the time!”
“That’s so not what I meant,” Izumi says, and he’s going to die trying to make this idiot understand him, isn’t he? “You can’t actually love that many people, that’s got to be impossible or something. Just how exactly do you do that when it’s got to be annoying as hell to have all those flowers stuffed down your throat all the time, isn’t it?”
Why is that what finally gets Leo to shut up and look at him seriously? Annoying. God is he annoying as all hell. Izumi will never understand what goes on in his head.
“What’s wrong with people knowing I love them?” Leo acts like a child on his worst days, so it’s not fair that his face draws in so serious like this. Because to him, it’s just a fact . That loving people like this just is , and somehow Izumi is the weird one for not being able to. “Suffering in silence like that would just hurt more, wouldn’t it?”
“You and silent don’t even belong in the same sentence,” Izumi mutters, but Leo goes on like he doesn’t hear him or he’s ignoring him. Maybe both.
“I always feel better when I say something! And I can breathe, which I think is pre~tty important because I like breathing a lot! But that’s pretty selfish of me, isn’t it?” Leo’s face scrunches again, and Izumi’s fingers press harder into the floor because this idiot is going to give himself wrinkles before he’s thirty. “I don’t mind when they don’t love me back, though! That’s totally okay to me! Maybe better? I don’t feel so bad then, like I’m not forcing anything on them! It’s not like those flowers are all about love anyways, even!”
Leo kicks his legs out in frustration, glaring up past Izumi, and he sort of wants to fix his face when it’s like that, all unhappy. Instead, Izumi says, “Don’t move so much, or I really will push you off, you know.”
Izumi knows that he’ll ever understand Leo, considering that makes him laugh somehow. All the grimness fades from his face and his brow smoothes, and his expression melts back into something younger and less pained. “No way, Sena! Your lap is the most comfortable ev~er, and I’m never gonna leave it~☆”
“Finish your thought, idiot.”
“No way, I don’t like going back to things, you can’t make me!”
“The one about the flowers. And what they mean and all that.”
“Wahaha! You’re awful curious about them! I never would’ve expected that from you, Sena! Always a man of mystery, no one will ever know what you’re thinking! All like a fortress and stuff!” One of Leo’s hands pats him on the cheek, and he doesn’t appreciate enough that Izumi hasn’t jerked away from him yet. “Even though it’s my turn to ask questions, too! I’ll let this one slide, just because...I love you~☆”
“...so?” Izumi says, as though his heart isn’t going to flip out of his chest. Leo says that to everyone. He loves everyone. It’s not like Izumi’s special in that regard. If only his heart got that fucking memo.
“It’s all about intent and all that! And keeping things inside and stuff! Like that kind of thing hurts a lot, right? So that’s what all the flowers are! When you keep all those things you wanted to say inside instead of telling someone that needed to know it. That’s what hurts the most, isn’t it?”
---
Izumi’s head feels like it’s pounding when he wakes up.
Leo. He remembers Leo. They were talking. They were first years?
No. That was his dream. Memory. Something caught between the two.
God, his brain feels like it’s beating itself against his skull. He cracks his eyes open slowly, adjusting gradually to the dimmed lights of--the infirmary? The room glows yellow and orange and blue as the sun sets outside, and he's practically swaddled in the bed. His limbs are weak and uncoordinated when he tries to lift them to sit up.
“He’s awake, he’s--”
“Stop trying to sit up, idiot--”
“Secchan, you’re not allowed to scare us like this--”
“Shut up,” Izumi croaks. They’re loud. They’re all so loud . And he doesn’t think he’s ever heard his voice so quiet before. Tsukasa stops, hovering uncertainly at the foot of the bed before he retreats back against the wall again, fussing with his hands. Ritsu is curled up on the bed next to him, hugging a pillow in a vice grip. His eyes are brighter than Izumi's ever seen them, wary and wide.
Only Arashi moves forward. Her hands are sure as she fusses, tugging the blanket this way and that, until Izumi is excavated and she helps him sit up, propped against the wall.
And Leo. Leo is there, sitting in a bookshelf with one leg hugged to his chest and one dangling over the side. His hands--always fidgeting, always composing, always moving to the next thing--are still. He's silent. Stopped.
That makes Izumi's heart hurt more than anything else.
"I can still go find Sagami-sensei and have him look you over?" Tsukasa asks quietly. He's tentative and shy, and for all he's grown around them and as a Knights, he tiptoes and it's endearing. Gentle. "Maybe I should go do that right now."
"I'm fine," Izumi croaks. "Tired."
"But Sena-senpai--"
"You scared him!" Arashi shouts. Tsukasa flinches back. Ritsu can't look at him, clutches his pillow tighter, and Leo is still just as impassive as he was. But Arashi. Arashi is livid, eyes shiny and wet, hands fisting the thin hospital blanket covering Izumi's lap. She doesn't look at him, just pushes the sheet around this way and that until it's aesthetically rumpled around him. "You scared him, and Ou-sama, and then you scared me and Ritsu-chan, and…!"
"I'm sorry."
"No you're not!"
Arashi is a lady. As a rule, she doesn’t shout. She doesn’t have to. But here, she does. And she cries wrenching sobs, head bowed low over Izumi’s legs. His heart twists at the sight. He feels ill just watching her fall apart, but knowing that it’s because of him, because of his own stupid, selfish decisions?
That’s worse. That’s so much worse.
“You’re not sorry in the slightest! I thought I was being kind by not pushing you, but you got worse , and you still let me think everything was fine ,” her voice cracks as she speaks. A storm, like her namesake. A storm Izumi can’t defend against when he knows, he knows that he let this happen. “Why didn’t you tell me, I thought I told you to trust us more!”
“Secchan is too important for us to lose.” Ritsu speaks almost so quietly that Izumi doesn’t hear him and would never have guessed he was the one talking until he raises his voice more. “We could have helped.”
“How?” His voice is thin, raspy, and weak. He doesn’t cough when he says it, but only because he’s pretty sure he doesn’t actually have the strength to right now. Izumi apparently isn’t too tired to stop his stupid fucking mouth from running and saying the worst shit to his stupid Knights who all still waited at his bedside, though.
Ritsu ducks his head, squeezing his pillow tighter for all of a second before his head whips up. His red eyes are steely, and Izumi’s breath catches; Ritsu is mad , his brain realises distantly. “We would’ve figured something out for Secchan.”
“If it’s for Sena-senpai, it wouldn’t be a hardship,” Tsukasa says seriously. Too seriously for their newbie, but Izumi supposes he’s not really just their newbie anymore and hasn’t been for a long time.
Izumi’s eyes burn. It’s too much. It’s all too much. That they all waited for him to wake up, that they all cared enough to stay, to stand here and yell at him. Knives dig into his chest, and he hates it. God, God he hates it.
He hates all of it. Everything. That he made everyone hurt this much, all for his stupid feelings, and that he couldn’t just have made things right from the start, and that he’s here. That he could’ve just let everything go. That he didn’t want to and stubbornly clung to the pain as a perverse reminder of everything he’d done. And everything he used to mean to Leo. Letting go of these feelings, poisoning him from the inside out, would be a concession.
He can’t say it. He can’t explain it. Not to them. Not to anyone. They can’t understand that even if it hurts, it’s proof. It’s proof that Leo was a genius at one point, a shining star who lit up everything around him, even stubborn, short-sighted idiots like Izumi.
And Izumi always has been weak to anything about Leo.
Looking at Leo is an exercise in masochism, but Izumi has always been a glutton for punishing himself. He can’t stand to look at any of the rest of them and the guilt laid out clear as day on their faces. Leo, though. He sits perched on his bookshelf, stock-still and unmoving. Their king, surveying the mess his knights have wrought. The distance from the foot of his bed to Leo’s leg is only a few feet, but it stretches longer than that. There are months and months of silence between them, a yawning chasm that Izumi is too scared to try and cross.
(God, he hopes that Leo’s not about to compose a song about him dying because he can’t tell him three fucking words.)
“I want to talk to Sena,” Leo announces. He still doesn’t move. He doesn’t look at any of them, just Izumi. “If you all could leave. Or you can stay, I don’t really care, as long as I get to say everything I need to.”
Ritsu has his mouth open, ready to complain maybe, but one look at Leo, and he’s dragging a protesting Tsukasa out of the room with his weird vampire strength. He stops in the doorway, casting one last glance back at Izumi.
“Ou-sama, take care of him.” He doesn’t wait for an acknowledgement before pulling Tsukasa out the door.
Arashi looks less certain, even as she rises unsteadily to her feet, glancing between Izumi and Leo. Her king and her idiot. Her hand is warm where it squeezes Izumi’s knee. “Izumi…”
“Go already. So annoying,” he says, a poor shade of himself. The familiar phrase still makes the corner of her lips quirk up, even as she wrings her hands with nervous energy. “I’m not dying yet.”
Arashi pouts and swats at his leg, but Izumi doesn’t have the energy to push her away. Her face falls for all of a second, long enough to make Izumi’s heart ache, before she stands elegantly with her expression set. “That’s an awful thing to say. Be nicer, Izumi-chan. We’re all worried about you. I’ll be back to scold you about it later, just wait.”
Izumi waves her off with a flick of his hand. It’s all he can manage with the sensation of vines constricting around his chest, choking him, strangling him, vision graying until they finally let go and he can suck down a breath that burns the whole way down.
Leo--his king, his genius, his idol, his friend --looks uncertain. He looks fragile as he settles onto the narrow infirmary bed next to Izumi’s legs. He moves slowly, carefully, gently, lying down so he can look up at Izumi, chin in his hands, legs kicking out slowly behind him. It’s almost like their first year all over again: just Izumi and Leo, lying on a bed, maybe talking about Leo’s newest piece or Izumi’s vocal training or their next live.
Izumi lets his eyes fall shut, savoring the memories until he breathes in. His throat stings. He’s so, so fucking tired. He wants to know what Leo’s going to say and then maybe sleep and never wake up again. He wants to go back to when they were dumb first years and all they had to worry about was where they were going to rehearse because their senpai forgot to reserve a practice room.
He really wants to kiss Leo too.
“Ou-sama,” he says weakly instead. He falls back on his old, familiar patterns instead. The distance is easier on his heart than the aching, yearning desire to be close again.
(It’s not easier, though. It’s not easier when he can hear the echoes of their arguments from bygone days every time he calls Leo “Ou-sama”.)
His heart pounds, lurching in his chest. It feels fast. It feels too fast. Can he faint from his heart beating too fast?
Are these stupid fucking flowers going to get him first?
Leo studies him a beat, then two, before heaving a sigh and burying his face in Izumi’s side, arms wrapped loosely around his waist. He’s warm, just like Izumi remembered. His arms are bony, also just like Izumi remembered.
It’s all just like he remembered. Because even though it’s only a year, year and a half that they’ve been apart, it’s felt like so much longer. The tears spring unbidden. His chest aches with the weight of vines and leaves and warmth for the first time in a long, long time.
“Typical stupid Sena,” Leo mumbles into his hip, “too proud to ask for help.”
It’s hardest to hear just how badly he’s fucked up from Leo, Izumi’s decided. With the other Knights, it was maybe a given and maybe something he could still wave off, but with Leo, there’s nowhere left to hide.
“Didn’t even have me around to help,” Leo says. Izumi doesn’t know where to put his arm. He settles for laying it a bit over his shoulders. “You’re supposed to let me help.”
“I didn’t know what to say to you.” It’s a half-truth, and Leo knows it. Izumi can tell he knows from the way he tightens his arms and nudges at his side.
“Where’d Sena go? My Sena?” Leo says huffily. He doesn’t let go, though. His legs slide between Izumi’s. “He’s supposed to be really good at words. He always knows what to say.”
“Not always,” Izumi says softly. He digs his fingers into Leo’s shoulder, but it’s only fair with the way Leo has his hands clamped tight over Izumi’s hips. “He was really bad at it. He just always hoped you wouldn’t notice. You didn’t.”
Leo gnashes his teeth, and Izumi has an absurd, fleeting thought that at least he can’t bite through his clothes. “Well I’m noticing now! And you’re bad at it! You’re really bad at it, Sena!”
“Sorry for making you worry, Ou-sama,” Izumi says. The words feel strangled as he says them. He grimaces when he can feel the twisting of vines in his chest and grits his teeth against the nausea building.
“Stupid Sena,” Leo says. Izumi doesn’t know what he’s drawing, but he can feel him tracing shapes on his skin. “Always unhappy, always frowning.” He reaches some kind of decision, Izumi thinks, because he sits up in a flash, straddling Izumi’s legs and looking down at him.
The years haven’t been kind to either of them. Izumi feels stretched out and worn thin, battered from the learning and relearning he’s done in the past year. Leo wears his mania like armor, hiding all his brilliance behind absurdities and oddities, keeping himself in as much as keeping others out.
His eyes are still the same impossible green they were that first night they met.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Leo whispers, “when all you need to do is ask.”
Izumi squeezes his eyes shut and feels the vines tear at his throat with all of the things he could never say to Leo.
That Leo means the world, the moon, the sun, and the stars to him. That he pushed and pushed and pushed all for his own selfish gain. That breaking his promise to Leo, using him like everyone else used him, weighs on him more and more with every passing day.
That Leo is infuriating and airheaded and flighty, and that Izumi hates seeing him like this. That Izumi hates what he’s become, missing pieces and sharpened edges. That Izumi hates that he can’t fix it, any of it.
That he wants Leo to accept him being selfish one last time, to let Izumi keep him by his side.
He doesn’t get to.
(Not yet.)
Because Leo kisses him, interrupting the thoughts crashing around in his head, shutting them up for the first time in what feels like forever.
“Now Sena doesn’t have any excuses.”
Leo smiles his stupid smile and laughs his stupid laugh as he cups Izumi’s face and brushes at the tears that are traitorously falling down his cheeks. And he sits still. He lets Izumi trace his cheek slowly with his fingers and bask in his warmth and sweep away his tears too.
He even kisses Izumi back when he leans in, hungry and desperate and sloppy. He kisses Izumi back over and over and over, until Izumi’s lungs burn.
“Stupid Leo-kun,” Izumi manages hoarsely in between kisses. “Stupid, terrible, amazing, brilliant Leo-kun.”
Leo, who let Izumi drag him through the mud, whose kisses feel like absolution, presses their foreheads together and laughs. “I love you too, Izumi.”
---
"It sounds clear, and that's a very good sign considering how congested everything sounded before." Izumi's doctor leans away, wrapping up her stethoscope. "The cough might last for a few days, but feel free to take some cold medicine to soothe it."
"Still hurts sometimes," Izumi says gruffly. If he doesn't talk much, the scratchiness is less noticeable. He massages low on his chest, near the bottom of his ribs, when she motions for where. "Here mostly."
"Ah, yes." The one thing Izumi's always liked about her is that she never looked at him like he was a mess, just like this was a thing that happened, but that he would get better. "That might be chronic. We have no way of knowing now. There was significant inflammation through both of your lungs, but it should improve with time. Be sure not to let yourself get this bad again, and it should be better."
"...right." He bites his lip, one hand tightening in his jeans, the other pressed to where he's sore, trying to warm the area. His heart feels like it's in his throat when he manages to ask, "But I can still--I can still sing, right?"
"Oh, of course!" She smiles gently at him, and it takes him a few moments to process what she's said. But, god, it feels like something finally lets loose inside his stomach. He sags back in his chair, letting out a short laugh, a breath he didn't even know he was holding. "But not immediately, okay? Give it a week before you try though, just to be sure."
"Really?" His heart might leap out of his chest, but that doesn't mean he gets to act so uncool in front of his doctor. "I mean, um. Thanks. For letting me know."
Izumi rushes out of her office after a quick farewell. His cheeks almost hurt from smiling so wide when he hauls Leo up by the arm from where he's hunched over a notebook, but Leo can yell at him for it later when they're in the car. For now, Izumi hugs him. His stupid, genius boyfriend who hugs him back slowly, who smells like shampoo and magic marker, who is all his.
"It's fine," Izumi says in a rush, mostly to beat Leo to the punch so he doesn't start rambling about inspiration or making up excuses about aliens. "I can still--I can still stay with everybody and perform."
"Well of course, Sena!" Leo yells, thumping him on the back lightly before he smiles up at him. "Even if you couldn't, I would've find a way!"
"You're being too loud, Leo-kun."
"Wahaha, I'm just excited to get my Sena back! Let's go, let's go, we have to go tell everyone else!" Leo's laugh, loud and manic and bright as always, fills Izumi's chest with so much warmth, he can't help catching his hand and squeezing it as he lets Leo drag him out of the clinic.
Later, Izumi's chest will ache on cold days and his breaths will get tight in the rain. Sometimes, his throat will itch just because. Because he sees Leo wandering alone on the beach, silent and contemplative. Because Leo's smile turns savage as he writes compositions like he's chopping through enemies on the battlefield. Because some nights, Leo is too soft, too quiet, too gentle in their bed when he touches Izumi.
And later, Izumi will hold Leo’s hand, slotting their fingers together, as he whispers, “I love you, Leo.”
And his chest will ease when Leo whispers back, “My Izumi.”