Work Text:
Aira pushed the door shut behind him, though voices still penetrated it. The darkness in the dressing room was soothing against his eyes, even as he'd relished in the flashing lights surrounding him just moments before. He felt his expression relax, and he let out a deep exhale, as if wiping away the boy that had just been onstage.
First his hat came off, then his jacket. It still felt alien to him, no matter how many times he did it, to wear these things like he was actually a real idol. The idols he loved so much—trying to pretend he could ever become one of them was ridiculous. It had always been a dream of Aira's, ever since he was old enough to attend a live for himself. It was natural to see something that touched your heart, and begin to aspire to become a part of it one day, right? Even if you weren't suited for it.
Aira looked into the mirror now. Sweat still coated his fair skin from the effort, and his makeup was starting to look gross, smudging in places. He wondered what everyone thought, seeing his face. Aira remembered when he went to lives, his heart would flutter just seeing his favorite idols' faces. They were so dazzling, so charming and graceful and cute—even if they were just talking to each other, or saying their hellos. To Aira, his idols would be perfect no matter what they did.
That's what he thought, but when he was next to everyone else, slower and sloppier and his voice straining to hit the notes everyone else reached with ease, he felt humiliated. Perhaps it was hypocritical, but no matter what he could never push away how unbelievably frustrating it was to hold everyone back. He'd always known that he wasn't talented like others. But a cruel string of hope always tugged him along—Maybe he'd find someone just like him, someone that tries just as hard and fails just as much. And maybe, someday, he would be saved. Maybe everyone would love him, as ugly as he was.
He still held that thread of hope, buried deep in chest so he wouldn't forget about it. And yet, when he was staring at his face like this... When he thought of the others, even Hiiro, even though he was so oblivious and so hopelessly tactless, and how they all made the audience swell with cheers, loud as he remembered them when his voice was among them—how he was always the one left behind... Aira shuddered, and then sobbed. The release felt good, and then he felt the tears, hot on his face. He had cried like this before, loud and ugly like a child who had scraped his knee and hadn't yet grown to resist the pain. It was a regular occurrence for him to think this way, no matter how much time passed.
It's not fair.
"Aira!"
There was no knock on the door before Aira heard the door to the dressing room swing open. Hiiro stood there, his hand on the doorknob. Fluorescent light poured into the room from the hallway. Aira froze for a moment under the spotlight. He gazed at Hiiro's figure like the moment was captured in a photo. His eyes were strikingly blue; his lips were parted as if he was about to say something more. Seeing him, Aira's face contorted, and he let out another sob.
"Hiro-kun," he tried saying, but he wasn't sure how intelligible it was. He hiccuped, and squinted his eyes blurred with tears. "Where's Tattsun-senpai? I want Tattsun-senpai—"
It seemed like Hiiro didn't notice, because without answering, his eyes widened and he stepped forward. "Aira? What's wrong?"
Aira didn't reply, just whipped his head away in an effort to hide his tears. It was too much of a hassle to try to explain his feelings to Hiiro. It was pointless, and it made him feel awful. Hiiro didn't even do anything wrong, as usual. He just—he just—
Aira burst out crying again. His vision blurred.
"Aira! Aira, hey, why are you crying?" Suddenly there was a weight upon him. Arms around him, skin against his own. Hiiro was taller than him, so he ended up having to look up from his shoulder. The embrace was tight, but not suffocating—soothing. It wasn't at all like the desperate way he clung to him whenever he was the one seeking comfort. No, this time it was strange how familiar it felt. How warm.
Aira was suddenly aware of how his shoulders shook, and of how his tears stained his cheeks. He exhaled sharply, trying not to gasp again. It was always agonizing when this happened. Hiiro would link their arms or touch his face or grip his hand and entwine their fingers together, and Aira's breath would catch and his chest would feel like it was tangled in a knot. He probably thought those kinds of things were normal for friends to do. This kind of face-to-face friendship wasn't exactly something Aira was familiar with, but he was positive that the way Hiiro expressed it was breaking some boundaries. Otherwise, why would Aira be this nervous merely when they touched?
But Aira had never been smiled at before. He had never been wanted. It was a strange feeling. And even though he was kind of an idiot, when Hiiro said nice things about him, things that no one else had ever said to him, it made him happy. Stupidly happy. That happiness made the growing pit in his stomach—the unwelcome, looming feeling of distrust—hurt even worse. Even though Hiiro was always so bright and genuine, he found himself wondering things like if he didn't mean the things he said at all; or if Aira was the one who mistakenly thought that maybe he was being favored. But the other part of him detested that thinking, because Hiiro was probably—no, surely he was a good person. They had been through so much together. And yet, the thought that someone would want to be Aira's friend—really, and truly—seemed far away and blurry. His head hurt. Ah, even his feelings were ugly and clumsy when Hiiro was around.
Finally, he mustered the strength to speak through his tears. "Hiro-kun," he whimpered. "Stop it... Someone's going to see us."
Hiiro obeyed and let go of him, looking concerned still. "Sorry! I thought I might be able to make you stop crying... Please, tell me what is troubling you so I can destroy it."
"Stop it! Don't do that!" Aira's gaze lowered after he snapped back at him, and there was a short and heavy silence between the two of them. Aira sniffled again, stray tears still sliding down his face. "Look, let's just go back to the dorms, okay? You're always too pushy, just leave me alone..."
Hiiro blinked, and his expression betrayed a bit of confusion. "I can't stand to see you cry. It would be a poor show of friendship if I allowed this to go on any longer."
"We are friends, but..." Aira paused and avoided Hiiro's earnest gaze. "Sorry."
Another period of silence unfolded, filled with nothing but Aira's shallow breathing and the intensity of Hiiro's staring. Aira waited for Hiiro to quietly leave, hurt—or maybe to tell him he was being ridiculous, unreasonable; they had shared so much pain together, and this was where he drew the line? Perhaps his expression would twist, and he would begin to laugh—
As Aira stared at the ground miserably, there again was Hiiro's touch. He lifted him up so that Aira's head rested against his shoulder again—an arm was wrapped around his waist and cradled him as if he were a child. Aira took a sharp inhale and felt Hiiro's voice vibrate against his cheek.
"Aira. If you don't trust me enough to talk, it's okay. But please, don't cry. Because my dear friend's pain is also my pain." Aira watched as the tears fell from his face onto Hiiro's shoulder. "Shall we go home now, my friend?"
Not having the energy to protest, Aira nodded, afraid if he tried to say anything Hiiro would notice he was crying again. He felt the soft sway of footsteps beneath him. His chest was tight with heavy, heavy guilt. And now more than before, Aira felt his face get hot and his heart beat fast noticing the way Hiiro's hand purposefully cradled his waist or how his head fit so comfortably, so warmly into his neck. Past his shoulder, Aira stared at the ground helplessly and was oddly touched by how quiet Hiiro was able to act at times, as if he possessed wisdom locked away from ordinary people. Like he could see right through Aira's feelings.
What a strange boy. No matter how long they knew each other, Aira didn't know if he would ever get used to when Hiiro wrapped his arms around him—and he didn't know if he could ever stop backpedaling, trying to pretend that he couldn't trust anyone. Trying to deny that the two of them weren't close. Aira allowed himself to close his eyes, lulled to sleep by the exhaustion of crying and the beat of footsteps. Perhaps if he was more awake, he would have recoiled a bit more. But his head was a muddled, unfocused mess of guilt, of the acknowledgement that it felt good to be touched like this. He wiped his tears on Hiiro's shoulder and his thoughts gradually came to a stop.
"Goodnight."
Aira remembered these words vaguely, and they lingered in the back of his mind like a throbbing headache as he awoke, feeling dizzy. The bed he was laying in felt smoother than usual, and he was unusually warm—the draft in his room was gone. His heart racing, he sharply inhaled as he quickly sat up to touch his surroundings. Confirming his suspicions, Aira's eyes opened to face a dark night that he did not recognize. There were beds and shelves arranged in places they shouldn't have been and furniture he'd never seen before. Still a bit dazed, he tore off the blankets he didn't remember pulling over himself to examine the room more closely.
The first thing he noticed was a rug to the right of the unfamiliar bed, and Hiiro sleeping peacefully atop it. His knees were curled up to his chest, and his arms stretched out to cushion his head; his eyes were closed, and he breathed shallowly. Seeing the boy, slowly the memory of the night before returned to Aira, and he came to his senses. He sighed, lamenting. Hiiro was so troublesome, wasn't he? He leaned forward with his palms propping his face up, keen to observe Hiiro in such a serene state.
His hair was mussed, and he very softly snored as he breathed in and out. His face flinched every so often as he slept and dreamed. His shirt was tugged up to his chest as if he had tried to pull it off half-asleep and failed. Aira stifled a smile. It was a little cute how Hiiro wouldn't even sleep in the same bed as him after he'd been so adamant about trying to get him to stop crying. He looked a bit like a dog the way he was curled up right next to the bed, too. Aira leaned closer over the edge of the bed with a fond gaze. He rubbed his sleepy eyes, wondering if they were still red—wondering how many hours had passed since Hiiro had brought him here.
Suddenly, Hiiro stirred and slowly his eyes blinked open. Aira felt himself flush as Hiiro's eyes locked with his own, realizing how shameless the situation appeared. He fumbled to pretend he absolutely wasn't just fawning over Hiiro as he slept, and pushed himself far from the bed's edge in the effort to conceal himself. "Hi-Hiro-kun," he stammered, hoping the darkness would conceal the patches of color he could feel forming in his face.
"Aira..." Hiiro stared at him, and his sleepiness quickly melted into a smile. "You're awake! Good morning!"
Aira relaxed, speaking in a soft voice. "It's not morning, idiot. Look, it's still dark."
"Okay! So it's goodnight, then?"
"Not that either." Aira rolled his eyes. "Is this your dorm, Hiro-kun?
"Yes! You fell asleep because you were crying, and I wanted you to feel better. It wouldn't be right to leave you alone after that, right?"
Aira shifted uncomfortably at the mention of the incident that night, looking down at his palms where his fingernails squeezed into. "Well, you're bothering your roommate, aren't you? You better properly apologize to him tomorrow, you know!"
"I would have already done so, but he insisted he was leaving after we arrived." Hiiro looked up at Aira, and tilted his head curiously. "Now, shall we go back to bed? With how small you are, you might get sick if you don't get enough sleep."
Aira narrowed his eyes. "Um..."
"Oh, is it that you can't sleep? Don't worry, I'm right here! Is there any way I can help?"
"Um... Hiro-kun... Why are you on the ground?" Aira focused his gaze again on his knuckles, fingers locked together. "I get that you don't wanna sleep in your roommate's bed, b-but... You could've slept..."
It felt like Hiiro's eyes were boring into him, waiting for him to finish. Aira exhaled, trying to focus his words so he wouldn't stutter.
"Ugh, jeez! Hiro-kun, just come here already! You look like a stray dog laying on the rug down there, so stop trying to make me pity you~!" Aira gingerly pulled the blanket up as if beckoning him. His heart was beating hard again, so much that it felt like it was the only thing he could hear.
"Ah, really?" Hiiro's eyes were bright with excitement. "It would be a blessing to sleep beside Aira if it would make him happy! And if I was causing you undue worry by how I slept, I apologize!"
"Just get in already..." Aira flopped down on his back again as Hiiro hopped into bed next to him, laying on his stomach with his head poking out to the side. There wasn't any movement for a moment; Hiiro didn't shut his eyes, but instead they were half-closed and gently directed at him. The two of them were far too close for comfort—for Aira's comfort, because he could feel Hiiro's breath on his skin, and was all too aware of the heat coming from beside him. Aira then realized that this was, perhaps, not his brightest idea—in his mind he had justified it was to make up for how cold he was to Hiiro earlier, but he had not expected he would be this terrible at keeping his feelings in check.
Of course he knew. Deep down, no matter how much Aira tried to convince himself that he wanted to push him away, he knew that he had never felt this helpless before. He loved the way Hiiro looked when he smiled, and how his own heart skipped when he was deadly serious. He loved how much of his heart he gave, how much he believed, how bright he was. He loved when Hiiro always came to him first, and he loved when Hiiro clung to him so quietly. And of course Aira loved it when he was adored, when he was praised and was loved. Of course he wanted to believe that it was all true.
This is just how he is, he'd tell himself whenever he found himself hoping too much. You're not special. You never have been. He involuntarily tensed up, his breath catching. What a stupid idea this was. He closed his eyes, ready for it to be morning already.
"Aira." Hiiro's warm voice, in a whisper, recited his name. Aira's eyes were still closed in defiance when he felt the mattress shift, and suddenly hands touched his face. Both of Hiiro's palms rested on his hot cheeks, and his fingers were interwoven in his hair, just beyond his ears. Aira's eyes blinked open to see Hiiro staring at him—well, he was staring earlier, but he was...
Close. Aira could count the freckles dotted on his cheeks and could notice the small ways his nose crinkled as he focused. It seemed like there were little stars in his eyes, they twinkled so innocently. If he noticed such small details about Hiiro, then surely he would notice the way Aira held his breath and curled his toes. Was this what it was like? He'd never fallen in love before, and he'd never been loved before. He didn't know if he should close his eyes or watch—if he should place his hand over Hiiro's to let him know that this was something he wanted. Instead, Aira was frozen in indecision, and looked on with wide, tearful eyes.
Hiiro's thumbs hovered over the space under Aira's eyes. His eyebrows suddenly furrowed, and he tilted his head in concern. "Why are you crying...?"
A pause. Aira felt a deep, deep pit form in his chest where his hope had just settled. The more seconds that passed without movement, the more humiliated he was to be there, his face still resting in Hiiro's hands. As he felt his tears spilling over, Aira tore away Hiiro's wrists and abruptly sat up, moving far away from him.
"Hiro-kun, you idiot! Idiot, idiot, idiot! Stupid!" he sniveled through his tears. "You really don't get other people's feelings at all, do you! You're so dense! I don't know why I ever try, you'll never, ever understand!"
Hiiro's eyes were blank. And they were blue, and they were captivating, and even as Aira felt frustration filling him like he was going to choke on it, he noticed them in the room lit by nothing but the moon. Aira squeezed his hands so tight they shook and scrambled out of Hiiro's bed. He wiped his tears away. "You always do this! You can't keep doing things that make it look... like... like..."
Hiiro, eerily quiet before, spoke in a small, meek voice. "Like what?"
Aira flushed in indignation and turned away to face the door. He felt guilt on his neck from Hiiro's confused gaze, but with the despair that festered inside of him, he wordlessly turned the knob and closed it behind him, and walked. And he kept walking, all the way to his room where he quietly slipped in through the door and nearly tripped trying to get into bed and tried to suffocate his tears in his pillow before he sniffled too loudly and woke someone up.
Rather than Hiiro, he was the stupid one, wasn't he? For expecting so much. He turned over at the thought. The ceiling looked wide and empty. He paused for a moment, listening to the shallow breaths of sleep; he sent a wary glance to the beds on the opposite side of the room. Finally, Aira exhaled shakily. It felt like his body was at its limit after crying so much that night, and it was obvious that he should be sleeping, too. Even so, Aira felt guilt seeping into him slowly, and—and the draft in his room made him feel colder, and he could still feel Hiiro's hands on his skin. Aira wistfully reached up to his cheek and rested his hand there. He remembers how he brushed through his hair when they first touched, and how gentle he had been despite how strong he was.
Aira leaned into this touch, and longingly squeezed his eyes shut remembering it all. The frustration boiled over into a kind of yearning—just wanting Hiiro to realize, wanting him to go just a little further when their faces were inches apart. Wanting to experience the sensation of Hiiro's hand against his cheek again. But it was arrogant of him to desire that much anyway, wasn't it? That wish came from the heart of someone who did not even fully trust in Hiiro, someone who lashed out when cornered like an animal. He thought that someone like that shouldn't be allowed to wish so unabashedly. It was selfish. He was being selfish. Wasn't he?
He remembered Hiiro's face when he yelled, alike that of an untrained dog when you chastise him: confused, unexpressive. The image ate at him. It wasn't Hiiro's fault that he didn't understand, but Aira had still gotten angry at him like that. Ah, he was such an emotional, immature person... It was something he already realized, but being faced with it again made his heart ache.
He knew it already, so finally he relented and closed his eyes. He was too exhausted to feel sorry for himself anymore, to stay awake senselessly hoping. He realized he was still cold, so he pulled the blanket up to his face and buried himself in it. He fell asleep soon after his eyes shut.
There was a knock on the door, and Aira was still half-asleep in bed. Immediately his eyes fluttered open and he looked around. His dorm. Now that it wasn't dark he could see clearly everything he was used to seeing—the shelves of idol merchandise, his belongings stacked up in a pile next to his bed. And he was alone. On his nightstand, there was an iced coffee and a small sticky note attached to it. His name was written on the note—so one of his roommates must have put it there. Instead of picking it up, Aira unplugged his phone to see what time it was. Almost ten in the morning. Aira squinted, wondering if he was seeing it right. He nearly always woke up much earlier than this.
There was another knock, more hesitant this time, and then a pause before Aira heard a voice from behind the door. "Aira-san, are you in there?"
It was the voice of Tatsumi, soothing and clear. Tatsumi had an enigmatic way of making everyone he spoke to listen intently, and whenever Aira heard his voice a familiar relief flooded through his body. In a panic after realizing Tatsumi was looking for him, Aira gathered his voice and called out. "Ah—I'm coming!"
Sheepishly he opened the door to face him. Even though he would never expect Tatsumi to ridicule him, he was ashamed to make someone so kind worry about him, and he felt guilty for making him search for him like this. "Good morning, Tattsun-senpai," he mumbled.
"Good morning, Aira-san." Tatsumi looked put together as always, his clothes free of wrinkles and his skin clear and glowing. Aira tried not to think about how disheveled he appeared in contrast, with how he had slept in his Alkaloid uniform and tossed and turned all night, and his face probably looked like a wreck with how much he had cried and with all the leftover makeup smudged everywhere. It was undoubtedly noticeable, but perhaps Tatsumi would be kind enough not to mention it. "I was worried about you when I didn't see you after the live. So was Mayoi-san."
"Um, sorry... I didn't get kidnapped or anything."
"I heard..." Pause. "Aira-san, is..." Tatsumi wavered like he didn't want to upset him. "Is everything alright? You look very tired. How well have you been sleeping?"
"Well..." Aira felt his insides twist at the question, though it was meant to comfort him. His throat tightened—a common instance recently—and he looked up pleadingly at his upperclassman, receiving a curious look in return, and then back to the ground. Tears pricked at his eyes again, and he tried to fight them back. Aira hated being seen like this, especially by Tatsumi, who seemed flawless and steadfast and the opposite of Aira, whose emotions ruled him.
As if Tatsumi sensed the apprehension in him, he smiled serenely. He placed his hands on Aira's shoulders, and Aira moved his gaze to the side, unyielding. "Aira-san." He was scolding him, but his voice was warm and motherly. "What's wrong?"
Aira choked on the words—it was so difficult to say them, and he loathed the way they sounded more than anything. And yet they came out so quickly, like he was begging to admit them. "I... I like... Hiro-kun..." After he finally said the words aloud, Aira felt his chest squeeze even tighter. It didn't feel good. Horrified by the confession, Aira stumbled backwards, but Tatsumi stopped him as he wrapped him in a hug. He was wordless, but his embrace was warm and accepting. Aira froze for a moment, taking in Tatsumi's reassurance. He sniffled, his tears threatening to spill over. His eyes were shut tight as he pressed his forehead into Tatsumi's sweater.
"I really... really like him..."
Tatsumi smiled and stroked his hair calmingly. "Why are you crying? Love is a beautiful thing, Aira-san."
"Because it's weird, isn't it?"
"Not at all."
"I mean... We're idols, that's like a taboo, right...?"
"That's fine, too. Your fans want you to be happy." Tatsumi released Aira even though he was still sniveling. Aira hugged his arms in his absence, trying to pull himself together. Tatsumi looked down at him. "What is the true reason you're so distraught?"
"... He's just..." Aira began, his voice barely above a whisper. "I... I never had any friends, you know? And... He always gets close to me, and he's nice to me... He's really nice to me..." He sucked in a breath. "He doesn't even know... how much that means to me."
"And it's difficult to tell him that, yes?"
"Of course it is...!" Aira sniffed. "Hiro-kun's nice to everyone! I'm just some loser that wants him to care about me most! And... I'm so mean to him all the time, I don't even deserve it..."
Tatsumi smiled sympathetically. "The Lord sees value in everyone, Aira-san. Hiiro-san always comes to you first, always worries about you. He depends on you. He treasures you."
"But he doesn't like me like that," replied Aira tentatively. "It's... It's just not like that."
"Do you think Hiiro-san has ever thought that he loved someone before?"
"... Um..." Aira shifted uncomfortably. "No... Probably not."
"Why do you think he acts the way he does, then?"
"Probably because," Aira mumbled, a bit sheepish, "wherever he came from, they never taught him."
Tatsumi nodded, looking upon Aira with approval. "That's right. So, Aira-san... It would fall to you to teach Hiiro-san everything he doesn't know, correct?"
A bit of conviction filled Aira's heart for a moment, but it flickered out as he shifted his gaze again. "It's scary... I would feel stupid if he didn't like me after everything."
"Sometimes our Father forces cruel fates upon us," Tatsumi hummed, and Aira thought perhaps there was a glint in his eye—not playful, no, but knowing. As if he was recounting something. "Unrequited love is a reality for many."
"But I don't want that!" Aira suddenly burst out, and looked a bit tearful again. He bit his lip.
Though for a moment he looked shocked at how passionately Aira shouted, Tatsumi quickly softened. He pat his head fondly. "Fufu. I know. Now, I called everyone to eat. I'll wait for you if you'd like to get dressed."
Aira's hesitance must have been obvious on his expression, because Tatsumi smiled at him again. "It will be okay, Aira-san."
After a second, Aira nodded unsurely, and Tatsumi closed the door. Aira felt almost sick so many emotions were going through him—even though it felt nice to be comforted by Tatsumi, his worries felt heavier than ever. He had thrown around the word "love" so nonchalantly that it made his head spin. He had never actually thought it, maybe because the word was so heavy and foreign. And he felt like his mouth was dirtied saying even as much as he did out loud. Those were his feelings, and they were his, and now they were out in the open and he couldn't cover them up anymore.
Aira grimaced and finally pulled off his dirty clothes from the night before. It was freeing, and so was washing his face. With a face unblemished by tearstains and smeared makeup, it wasn't so difficult to face the day. In fact, it would almost feel totally normal if not for how the sun was shining oppressively through the windows. He faced Tatsumi with a performative smile, grabbing his coffee on the way out.
As Aira walked down the dorm hallway with Tatsumi for breakfast like they always did—he wondered how long everyone had put it off after he had slept in—he found himself shrinking his presence in embarrassment as he watched all the people passing them by. None of them probably noticed them earlier in the doorway of his room (Tatsumi was blocking him off pretty well with how tall he was), but he still vaguely felt like he was being judged. But that sensation was pretty familiar, remembering how he used to feel before he became an idol.
The cafeteria did not smell of breakfast anymore, but it still made Aira hungry after he realized he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast the previous morning. His stomach growled and he exchanged an awkward glance with Tatsumi, who smiled. "I'll buy you something to eat, alright, Aira-san?"
Aira, starting to navigate interactions with a degree of normalcy now, nodded. "Really? Thank you~!" He followed Tatsumi down the familiar path to the table Alkaloid always used to eat. Even though he really shouldn't have expected anything different, when he saw the other two members, he froze and felt shame pool into his face. He tried to discreetly huddle behind Tatsumi, peeking out from behind his shoulder.
"Aira!" Hiiro's eyes darted around for him, and when Aira was spotted, he visibly perked up. Aira flinched at his shout and tried to pretend he didn't notice anything. Tatsumi looked over his shoulder to give him a stern look. But before Aira could give in and step out, Hiiro stood up with a jolt, throwing his chair backward (and made Mayoi, next to him, cry out in surprise). Hiiro stepped over to him and bowed deeply. His bangs fell helplessly over his eyes and he didn't say anything for a moment. Aira leaned over to try and observe him, but he could not discern anything, for his body was stiff and gave away nothing. As if he noticed Aira peering at him, Hiiro looked up. Aira hid behind Tatsumi again just as Hiiro raised his voice at him. "I'm sorry!" He yelled it sincerely, and his arms strained to stay straight at his side.
Aira startled completely out of his hiding spot behind Tatsumi. Hiiro suddenly looked the same as ever: the same innocent smile, the same baseless way of insisting everything would be okay, the same bright eyes. "For—! For what?!" he spat back at him without thinking. Hiiro lifted his head again to speak.
"Everything! I apologize for being an idiot! And for making Aira sad!" Hiiro's heartfelt response echoed throughout the cafeteria, and Aira felt his face heat up. He desperately glanced at everyone staring at the two of them, and, indignant and flustered, he went over to grab Hiiro by the forearm and dragged him back to the table.
"Okay, okay, okay, but you don't have to advertise it to the entire cafeteria! Ugh, why are you like this...!"
Hiiro smiled at him again once the two of them sat down, and Aira couldn't help but feel a little bit of relief. It was devastating to see such a blank, confused expression of Hiiro's last night, so seeing him smile so simply just because Aira acknowledged him was almost healing. Aira felt himself soften, defeated, and he let go of Hiiro's arm. He rested his face in his hand, wiping away his smile with an inhale. "Sorry for making you wait," he mumbled. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Tatsumi give Mayoi a small smile and lead him off to get food. Leaving Aira alone with Hiiro.
Great.
"So..." Hiiro leaned in toward him, his eyes wide with hope. "Will you please be my friend again, Aira?"
"Huh?!" Aira twisted to face him. "Of course we're still friends! There's no way I could get rid of you that easily."
Hiiro was quiet. "Do you mean it? You still need me, Aira? I'm not being disposed of?"
"What? There's no way I'd do something violent-sounding like that. Stop saying such dramatic things all the time, jeez." Though Aira reassured him, Hiiro still gazed forward blankly. He was stubborn sometimes, wasn't he? Well, this time, rather than feeling depressed, he was more just a little unsure and a little afraid, which was still rather strange for him. "Um, Hiro-kun... Last night... why didn't you follow me like you always do?"
"... I wanted to make Aira feel better. But when I tried, I only made you cry again." He paused. "So... I didn't want to see Aira cry again."
Aira's heart stung at those words, and reached over to pet Hiiro's head. Finally, Hiiro smiled at the familiar gesture. "There, there..." Aira sighed thoughtfully. "No, I'm the one who should be apologizing... I blew up at you and just left without saying anything. You must have worried all night..."
"So this means we are friends, then!" Hiiro bounced back and grabbed both of Aira's hands in his, like he didn't even notice what Aira was saying.
"Like I said, we never stopped being friends..." Aira looked at how Hiiro held his hands—his hands were bigger, and a bit rough on the inside. He stared, cherishing the feeling. "You know what I'm saying, right, Hiro-kun? That I was terrible to you?"
Hiiro pulled his hands closer to his chest with a warm expression. "I don't really understand, but I forgive you!"
Aira's eyes still lingered on how their hands touched, but there was a burning, heavy feeling in his chest. "That's not really fair..." He couldn't bring himself to tear away his hands lest Hiiro's happy expression be spoiled, but his gaze dropped unhappily. "Hiro-kun, I... Um... How do you feel... about me?"
Hiiro looked curious, but didn't hesitate to respond. "You're my friend, of course!"
"What about Mayo-san? Is... Mayo-san the same as me?"
"Well..." Hiiro thought about it, and furrowed his brow. "He's my friend, too, and so is Tatsumi-senpai. But I like Aira the most!"
Aira's heart ached, but he swallowed it down and pressed further. "Do you know about love?"
"Love..." For a moment Hiiro's expression clouded as he sounded the word out. "I studied the word, but Nii-san always used to tell me I didn't understand it."
"Um... Well, it can mean different things, but more or less... it's how you feel when you care about someone a lot, in like... a special way, you know? And you don't feel the same way about anyone else." Aira took a breath, trying to level his voice. This conversation was beginning to be painful. "Um, I... I was wondering if you've felt that way about anyone before."
"Hmm... Aira." Hiiro smiled and drew their hands close to his face, so that they almost touched his cheek. "I'm getting the feeling that this is really important, right? So: the person that's the most important to me is you."
There was a stunned silence, and Aira heard silverware clinking as he blinked slowly, trying to process the words. "You... love me?"
"I guess that's right! I learned something new!" Hiiro smiled. "Hehe. Aira looks shocked. I'm sorry if I startled you! Should I take it back?"
"N-No! I just..." Aira's face was red. "It's nothing."
"Friends should share their worries with one another, Aira!" Hiiro squeezed his hands.
"W-Well, if you love me, then we aren't just friends anymore, are we?" Aira sputtered. "I was just...! I got mad last night because I thought you were going to kiss me...! But you do like me after all! So why didn't you? Moron!"
"Kiss...?" Hiiro looked puzzled then blinked. "Oh! Like—"
He brought Aira's hands to his chest and rested his elbows on the table, and leaned over to kiss Aira on the other side. Aira was pulled forward, and before he knew it Hiiro was there, close to him all over again. Their lips only met for a short, innocuous moment, but to Aira, it was another picture: Hiiro clutching his hands, Aira's eyes closed, Hiiro's chin eagerly raised—but still, it only lasted for a second or two, so it was impossible to savor it fully. Still, Aira reeled back and covered his face with his hands in embarrassment.
This boy, so shameless and positive—who never meant to befriend anyone. He was otherworldly, like no one Aira had ever met before, not even like the eccentric idols he loved watching on stage. He was weird because of how he acted; the way Aira had to teach him everything, how he had no sense of boundaries, the way he said things and how he spoke. But he was also weird because of the way he looked at Aira. To Aira, the idea of being looked at so fondly was just as alien as Hiiro reacting so cluelessly to the concept of love. Being treated so kindly was weird. Being loved was weird.
"Did I do it right, Aira?" Hiiro practically sang out, proud of himself. "I remember reading about it when I came to the city."
"Ugh, you idiot..." Aira hissed, trying to disguise his smile. "We're in public, you can't just do that!"
"Oh! Okay, I understand now. So only when we're alone, right?"
"Yes. And... ugh, never mind. You're hopeless. I'll have to tell you everything else some other time."
Hiiro kept glowing. "I liked it! I've never done something like that before! Aira always teaches me new things...!"
"... I never have, either..." Aira murmured shyly. "So, um, Hiro-kun... You're mine now, okay?! You get that?" He leaned over and put his hands over Hiiro's cheeks, forcing their eyes to lock. "So stay with me, okay? Forever?"
His face still in Aira's hands, Hiiro nodded and affirmed him with his words a little slurred. "Of course! From the very beginning I wanted to be with you forever!"
Relief sunk into Aira's heart, and happiness. He couldn't stop smiling, so he let go of Hiiro's face to push the dumb grin off his expression. Somewhere within himself, he realized he hadn't actually said the words: "I love you". But Hiiro already was so excited that he supposed it was best saved for another occasion. Those words, and everything else he wanted to do with Hiiro—he didn't care about any of it happening so quickly.
It would be slow—Aira would probably get impatient with him, just like he always did. But it was fine. Aira would teach him everything, even the things he himself didn't really know about. Just like he always did. And he'd have to get used to this warm feeling, something he'd lived so long without; no longer assuming he would be left behind, at least not with Hiiro. When Hiiro, so unashamedly honest and so loyal, said that he would stay, that Aira was important to him, the words pushed away everything Aira had ever convinced himself. It might be a while until the two of them were normal.
But right now, he was just happy to be loved.