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Only once did Gentaro care for anyone, and only once did he lose that very person, to the hands of people he despises to this very day, who ripped away the lives of many for the sake of what he’d consider a regime, albeit not seeming that way to the public eye. His brother, the very light which guided him throughout his childhood, became bedridden, barely holding onto his very life. The moment he laid eyes on the sickly man was when he vowed never to feel for anyone else again, seeing the connections that held people together as something problematic and trivial, restricting the potential of human thought to a point where one could make all the wrong choices in a single instance.
The world was such a horrid place, and the novelist, refusing to believe in a thing such as destiny, decided to face it head-on, ignoring the flowers that would bloom on his skin from time to time. The idea of soulmates was nothing but an inconvenience to him, for it would only give him one more person to fret over, to serve as an obstruction in his plan for vengeance against Chuuoku, for daring to ruin the life of the only person he cared so deeply for. Somehow, he’d get his revenge.
If only his fated person would stop getting into trouble so often…
It didn’t start until a while after he’d turned 19; at least once a week or two, he’d awaken to an intense pain, whether it be in his side or directly in the gut, with flowers blooming on each area that felt as if it were to burn off any second. He couldn’t help but wonder… Was he alike his destined other, left without hope in their miserable, monochromatic lives?
No. No, he couldn’t possibly waste more time just to think of such things. In times like those, his hands quickly flew to the nightstand beside him, to grab a bottle of painkillers, which at the moment, would seem like the messiah himself. With no hesitation, would he gulp a tablet down in minute desperation, and the cycle continued from there. It sometimes concerned him, considering that he could literally feel everything the latter was, and he’d have to forcefully remind himself to forget everything—to forget, and move on with his life, as dull and sorrowful as it was. If only the flowers on his body ceased to bloom.
After the first occurrence of flowers on his body, he grew accustomed to wearing a hakama when in public, as silly as it looked in that day and age. It was a gift from his brother, offered to the novelist after being informed of the whole ordeal. The loose-fitting garments were perfect for him, covering any evidence of his connection with the other, avoiding the risk of catching the attention of others. It didn’t assure that he wouldn’t avoid the gazes of others… But it was better than gaining attention for having flowers, adorned all over his upper body.
Of course, he knew his specific someone was not at all oblivious to his existence, given that his own emotions fluctuated easily, reaching extreme highs and lows that even he could not comprehend for himself.
Ah, how troublesome it was, to go through such rough times, only to leave it all behind with nothing. No one to care for him, and no one for him to care of.
He had no intention of facing his soulmate anytime soon, and if he was lucky enough, never. Leaving his “special someone” in the dark might even discourage them from ever searching for him. Or perhaps, it’d result in piquing their interest even further… Such thoughts were out of the question, though. For the time being, he continued to feed himself words of false confidence, redirecting his attention toward the matter at hand: his brother’s well-being.
For a while, nothing eventful happened. The weekly disturbance, caused by a jolt of pain, of course, daily visits to his brother’s hospital room, and meetups with his editor were all that took up his time. But like all good things, such a period of time came to an abrupt halt, when the renowned fashion designer of Shibuya came up to him, with an offer to join his silly rap battle team, it seemed. It sounded too good to be true, giving him access to a powerful tool that could help him against Chuuoku in the future to come. Although, at the time, he feigned hesitance, not wanting to give off the wrong impression. There’s always someone watching, and suspicion was the last thing he wanted to deal with. Nonetheless, he joined, curious to what the future had in store for him.
The year flew by quickly, and those nightly pains of his occurred less often over time. The occurrence on his being didn’t come to a complete halt, but it was better than nothing, no?
Eventually, he disregarded the ordeal with him and his soulmate, accepting his lifestyle as it was. He moved forward believing love was a foolish thing, but little did he realize that he was a foolish man, not any better than anyone else.
It was an odd thing, to see Dice randomly show up at his place every so often. Not that he didn’t mind the surprise visits, but he had to admit, the gambler’s spontaneity had an effect on him, and he didn’t know if it was something to be concerned about or not. Sometimes, it instilled a sense of worry inside that reclused heart of his, unwilling to accept such an emotion as his own. Weakness, he called it.
Being the fool that he was, he remained adamant on setting strict boundaries from the latter, which he’d only bring himself to loosen up on, time and time again. One could say that he’s enamored towards the other, which he’d deny in a heartbeat. How could he stoop so low, to fall for someone like… Like him ?
Dice, a man without a set of morals, one with an incomprehensible tendency to put his life on the line for the sake of gambling, his one true love. Gambling, a game only the desperate played, when they’ve reached the point of no return. Throwing in risky bets, caring not for their lives or loved ones, if they even had any to begin with.
Gentaro would merely scoff if he were to find that the gambler’s heart was destined to be with anything else. Perhaps he had a soulmate of his own, with destiny still waiting for the very moment to bring them together. But then again, was such an idea plausible? The belief that everyone had their own destiny…
It sounded like something out of a fever dream, by someone who’d lost all sense of reality, despite it being presented in front of their very eyes. Admittedly, it sounded like something he would write, like that of the three lost souls from different planets, brought together as the three pieces of a long-abandoned puzzle, held together by their shared losses and dissatisfaction with their circumstances.
As he thought, destiny was something out of fiction. He could change his life’s course with the flick of a wrist, a sentence, spoken aloud or conveyed through text, or maybe…
The shattering of glass snapped Gentaro out of his daze, his body sprawled out on the futon, facing the ceiling above him. His eyes snapped in the direction of the kitchen, and he quickly made his way over there, only to see a nervous-looking Dice holding an egg and a pan.
“...And what might you be doing this early in the morning, hm?” the novelist mumbled, still somewhat tired. His eyes glanced between Dice’s face, the egg, and the pan, although his focus remained on the egg, for the most part. “I don’t remember telling you to come to my house whenever you’d like… Especially if you’re going to make the kitchen a mess. You’ll bring the spirits in with all this ruckus.”
An unimpressed look on his face is enough for his words to convince the gambler, eyes widened in panic. Lo and behold, the surprise from Gentaro’s words led him to drop the egg, effectively making a mess on the kitchen floor. His eyes looked to the other’s, looking for any signs of anger or frustration. As per usual, the novelist doesn’t look angered at all, but he’s tired this time around, given that he’d been stirred from his slumber at such an early hour.
“Oh, shit,” Dice muttered, looking away from Gentaro’s look of slight disappointment. He placed the pan on the stove and grabbed an entire roll of paper towels, finding himself in some sort of a panic. “I-I’ll clean this up right away, I didn’t mean ta’...”
He was silenced by an upraised hand; Gentaro’s, to be exact. It startled him a bit when he saw the latter reach over for the paper towels, to which he didn’t bother to withdraw. Needless to say, confusion struck him. In situations like these, Gentaro would’ve left him alone to clean up the whole mess. But this time? There had to be something wrong.
Dice decided to help him out, still dismayed with knowing that it was his own mess. After a few minutes of wiping the floor down with clean water and a single alcohol wipe, they were done. He, however, was not. Resting a hand on Gentaro’s shoulder, he cracked a grin.
“Gen, you okay? Ya’ don’t seem like yourself,” he chirped, a hint of concern in his voice. His eyes scanned the novelist up and down, checking for anything that could be off. Turning to rest a hand on his forehead, he let out a grunt in confusion. “No fever. Are ya’ sad? Upset? Tired-”
“Do you believe in soulmates, Dice?” Gentaro interrupted, looking intently at Dice with those emerald green eyes of his. He awaited a response, but grew somewhat impatient, and repeated himself. “Do you, by any chance?”
The question arose out of nowhere, and Dice didn’t really have an answer to it—at least, it seemed that way, from his lack of responsiveness. He stood still for a moment, eyes glancing from one corner of the room to another, stuck in thought. From him came a deep exhale, and he finally looked at Gentaro once more, a faint smile on his features. His hesitance was evident, in the way he spoke to his body language.
“Yeah, I guess,” he muttered, voice soft and gravelly. A hand ran along the nape of his neck, trying to relieve himself of the tension in the air. A bitter laugh escaped him, eyes filled with a sort of sorrow, it seemed. “I’m pretty sure I got one, too. All I know is that they’re sad all the fuckin’ time.”
Gentaro tilted his head in the slightest, but although the time called for anything else, he laughed along, eyes closed, with the same relaxed tone he used whenever he’s out and about. It unsettled Dice greatly, to see how nonchalant the other was. To ask a serious question such as that, only to laugh it off like it was nothing. He grew upset, fists clenched tightly, but kept himself still, not wanting to make things worse. Instead, he let his words speak for him instead of his actions, something he rarely did, save for rap battles.
“Stop actin’ like an ass, Gen…” he grumbled, eyes now filled with a calm rage, slowly building up with each passing second. It hurt him to feel this way, to see that the person he sought comfort from would merely shrug his personal feelings away. But maybe he expected too much from the novelist sometimes, overestimating their connection with each other, resulting in arguments such as these. Of course, they’d never escalate to an extent like this, with Gentaro genuinely oblivious to how sensitive Dice was with the topic. “You wouldn’t know what it’d feel like. For all I know, maybe you don’t have a soulmate, so you can’t feel how shitty it is, to know there’s someone out there who’ll never be with ya’. Look at me, Gentaro, and tell me my soulmate’ll stay, even after knowin’ that I’m a complete failure.”
Oh, how he wished he could wipe that stupid grin off of Gentaro’s face, which remained there all throughout his little rant. Did his words amuse the latter? Seeing the novelist, amused by seeing him in pain such as this, after all they’d been through. If he said he didn’t care, that’d only turn him into Gentaro, using lies to cover up whatever bullshit that hid beneath the surface. He knew it all along, but chose not to say anything, respecting the barrier between them.
(Although, he’d always wished they could be closer than they already were.)
As for Gentaro’s side of the entire ordeal, he stood in silence, listening to every word that left Dice’s mouth, observing the every rise and fall of his intonation, and he couldn’t help but be reminded of how much of an utter fool he was. Leaving his emotions behind for his own sake, to disregard Dice’s existence like it was a hindrance, something to be disposed of. But no, he couldn’t say any of that, it’d only make things worse. Not like his judgement was valid, anyways. All of his choices up to that very moment have brought him nothing but sorrow and regret, leaving himself in solitude, with the belief that he’d stay that way forever. Could he even make things better?
At the thought, he laughed quietly, and seeing the agitated look on Dice’s face, he knew he screwed up. Once again, the novelist made a fool of himself, and he’s left to either pick up or discard the missing pieces to the puzzle that is himself.
“Oh, Dice. Perhaps you see yourself as a complete failure, but I for one, do not,” he began, feeling his façade begin to fall apart, just as easily as it put itself together. Taking a few steps forward, he rested a hand on the gambler’s shoulder, although making sure his arm remained fully covered by his sleeve, and smiled. A smile that he hadn’t wanted to show anyone for a long time, awkward and childish as it was. It made him feel weak, with the mask he worked so hard to create falling apart into shambles. All because of a single, stupid gambler who he couldn’t help but care for with all his being. “I would never leave you, if we were to be soulmates, that is. Unless I am?”
“Cut the crap, already…!”
The only thing Gentaro saw and felt after that was a hefty blow to his chest, sending him against the wall without an issue. His body, already in enough pain as it was, fell to the floor, but the smile on his face still remained, although weaker than before. Pain spread through his chest like wildfire, and without his painkillers in reach, he couldn’t do anything but sit there and look at Dice, as he realized what he’d done.
“Ah, I… I didn’t mean to upset you this much,” he coughed out. His throat burned when he spoke, and guilt built up inside of him, along with more regret. He should’ve kept his mouth shut, then maybe he could’ve avoided the question that was bound to be asked. “I didn’t think you had it in you…”
No longer was the novelist trying to repress anything inside of him, and he allowed for a single tear to roll down his cheek, before he looked away, trying to hide his teary eyes from Dice’s view. He’d already exposed too much of himself, and what would the latter think?
“The fuck does that mean, huh?” Dice tried to sound enraged, but at that point, it was worry that overcame him. He inched closer to Gentaro, a pang of regret bursting in his chest. As he was about to reach out to his injured teammate, though, an unmistakable pain shot through his arm, and without thinking, he took off his coat and rolled up his sleeve, to see a cluster of cyclamen begin to bloom on his arm, more of them than he’d ever seen in prior instances. His eyes widened at the realization.
Noting that Dice was silent for quite a while, Gentaro took that as a way of confirming that the pieces were slowly coming together in his head. He smiled to nothing in particular and lifted a sleeve to wipe the stray tears from his face.
“I’m pathetic, aren’t I?” he laughed, blended in with choked sobs, creating an unpleasant noise. The look on his face was one of shame, regret, everything he’d kept to himself from the beginning of time up to this very point. Eventually, his voice died out, save for the occasional hiccup or sob. He looked down, knowing how ridiculous he must seem. “...Sorry.”
“So… ya’ knew, and didn’t tell me about it,” Dice stated. His gaze drifted over to Gentaro’s body, limp against the wall, and he gently patted it down until he felt something soft on his sides, like he was fluffing a pillow. No words needed to be said for him to know what lay under those layers of clothing, and he took a seat in front of the man, a hesitant hand reaching out to grip the other’s. “But why? Why hide it? Aren’t we… y’know… friends or somethin’?”
“I want to say yes,” Gentaro quietly scoffed, running a thumb along the back of Dice’s hand, calloused and firm. “But I don’t want to, either.”
His voice was no longer one with a lilt, high-pitched and soothing, but a warm baritone, with a faint rasp to it. The words spoken were mumbled out, but the gambler still understood everything. It almost infuriated him even further, but not before he had second thoughts, seeing the state that Gentaro was in.
Both of them had their own issues, so… maybe it was only fair if he tried to understand the man, who always insisted on dressing as someone from a bygone era, who never let his composure falter until now.
“W-Why?” Dice asked. There was nothing else for him to reply with, and well… It was probably for the best if he dropped the question now instead of later. His grip on Gentaro’s hand tightened a bit, the rest of his body tense, from all the stress shooting through his veins. He couldn’t let things end bitterly. He wouldn’t stand for it.
“The bonds that friends and loved ones alike share. They make things so much more complicated, no?” Gentaro mumbled, finally turning his head to look at the blue-haired fellow, the person he refused to fall in love with, all because he couldn’t bear to lose someone else again, if it were to ever happen. “I’ve already lost the one person I cared for. Why would I want to go through the trouble of losing another?”
Dice, with his addiction to gambling, convinced him that there wasn’t such a thing as real love in his mind. Money was all he needed, or anything else that could be used to place bets. In no way did Gentaro believe Dice would ever fall for someone, since Lady Luck was his mistress. But for the first time in a while, his assumptions were proved to be completely false, reality being the exact opposite of what he thought to be true.
“And what makes ya’ think I’ll leave?” Dice asked in response, taking no time to wrap his arms around the novelist’s sides, pulling him into a tight, comforting embrace. He spoke in a soothing, hushed tone, while gently resting a hand on the back of Gentaro’s head, fingers brushing against the scalp. Hearing no response, he sighed and continued on. “You’re the only person I have left, and… Even though I do the dumbest shit, that doesn’t mean I’d suddenly disappear out of the blue. I’ll make sure of that, I promise. I really do.”
He felt the novelist shift around, and slowly, but surely, he felt a pair of arms wrap around him, returning the embrace.
Gentaro, as understanding as people thought he was, couldn’t comprehend his own self, broken and lost, not knowing where to go, despite being able to lead others perfectly well. He was taken aback, hearing those words come from Dice, of all people. A man who, presumably, thought for himself, trying to put someone else’s life before his? It sounded too good to be true, but yet, there he was.
“...You’re such a persistent man,” Gentaro commented, followed by a weak laugh. He buried his face into Dice’s shoulder and felt another flower or two bloom on his side. Well, at least he knew the gambler was being honest. “Ah, it’s no wonder why I can’t get over you.”
“Then you don’t have to,” Dice said with a grin, ruffling Gentaro’s hair a bit. “We’ve got all the time in the world to work this out.”
Gentaro lifted his head to look up at Dice, who’s beaming with a radiant smile, still contagious as ever. Even if he tried, it’d take a whole lot of effort to get the gambler to back down. Perhaps it was for the better, though. Caring for one more person couldn’t be that bad, could it? In the end, after a long period of deafening silence, he hummed in affirmation, and in that moment, he felt like all the weight had just been lifted from his shoulders.
“I’m glad it’s you, Gentaro,” Dice breathed out. He couldn’t have been happier. He hugged Gentaro a bit tighter, continuing to mutter words of thanks as he did so. “We can finally live in peace, yeah?”
Hearing those words made Gentaro's heart flutter, and promising as they sounded, it might be too good to be true. But hearing them come from Dice... Maybe he deserved a chance or two at things. It's not like he ever gave the man the opportunity to know him better, or the other way around. He felt a hand rest on his head, and it calmed his senses, all tension in his body slowly fading away until all that was left was himself. Not Yumeno Gentaro, but him.
“Yes, we can,” he answered. The novelist couldn’t hold back a smile any longer, and he pulled away from the embrace, looking fondly into Dice’s eyes, beautiful magenta irises returning the gaze. He leaned forward to plant a gentle kiss on the latter’s cheek, and sighed in blissful relief.
It was his turn to become startled when Dice took the initiative, his lips crashing against Gentaro’s in a single movement; rough, yet gentle in its own way. He pulled the other towards him one more time, their shared warmth all too comforting. And when the two of them thought of breaking the embrace, they happened to lock eyes, knowing what the other was thinking.
They came to a silent, mutual agreement, the decision made as quickly as the matter arose. With quiet laughter, they both stood and moved to the living room, a more comfortable place for chit-chat and silence, even. Once more, did they lean into one another, eyes closed and breathing steady. And although the silence lingered, neither of them really cared much at all.
Gentaro’s eyes fluttered open for a second, and saw a forget-me-not, hanging over the collar of his tattered, black shirt. With gentle movements, he pulled up his own shirt as well, to see that, indeed, the same rested on his own body.
The flowers that bloomed on their bodies no longer brought pain, and they were more than enough to convey how the both of them felt. It felt comforting, to know there was someone who’d never give up on him, despite the way he behaved, the way he spoke lies like they were truths, how he’d keep all his feelings inside of himself, even though he was on the brink of falling apart.
Dice was the one person who would still be there for him, to comfort him through it all. That was just the thing Gentaro needed in his life, and after years of denial and sorrow…
He could finally close his eyes and rest peacefully, without the worry of waking up to intense pains, thinking about how dumb love was, and all the like, because the person he lived for lay right next to him, and he’s sure his soulmate felt the same way. With Dice, maybe he could finally find himself.
He’ll never have to feel alone again.