Work Text:
The first letter he had ever sent had been returned to him, unopened, with a note telling him to never write again.
It was his father’s handwriting, and Misumi had been reminded of how lonely it was now that his grandfather wasn’t around.
He still has it- buried in the desk in his room. He’s not sure why exactly, because it hurts every time he looks at it, but time has dulled the edge a little, and lately, the hurt has been so much more bearable.
Maybe that’s why. Maybe, instead of a reminder of the past - of what he’d lost and how lonely he was, it’s a reassurance, that now, he’s not alone anymore. That he won’t be alone forever, if he just tries hard enough.
Of course, because he’s Misumi, and because he’s the kind of stupid and stubborn that his father hates, he had kept writing, though he’d never sent them.
Don’t get him wrong, Misumi is no Madoka, nor a Tsuzuru, writing long scripts and detailed letters full of complicated metaphors. No, Misumi prefers things simple and straight-forward, he likes when he can understand them on the first try, with no veiled words or intentions.
So, his letters were simple, and many.
▲
The first person to have ever read one of his letters had been none other than Kazunari.
It was obvious it would be, because Misumi is straight-forward and Kazunari likes that in a person.
Contrary to what he had once believed, it had been easy too. Misumi had always figured it might be hard, sharing something so personal, but he’d joined the Mankai theater officially instead of being a lonely phantom, and Kazunari had welcomed him with open arms, a smile, and a promise of friendship.
What hadn’t been quite as easy, had been the teary green gaze as Kazunari read through one, and then another, and then another, before looking up to him and pulling him into a hug.
Misumi had asked why he was crying, Kazunari had answered that he was crying for him, for all the tears he’d never shed.
Misumi had cried himself to sleep in Kazunari’s arms.
He’d started writing letters again, but this time, he sent them- slipping them under the door to room 202, folded diagonally in the shape of a triangle, a curly “Kazu” written in his messy handwriting.
▲
The first letter he ever received was on his birthday.
Slipped under his door, folded diagonally to make a triangle, in Kazunari’s neat handwriting, page after page after page, filled with doodles and beautiful handwriting from the person who had come to matter to him more than anyone else.
And, because Misumi was the kind of stupid and straight-forward and stubborn that his father hates and Kazunari loves, he had knocked on his door and asked him to let him love him.
▲
“Sumi~! What’cha doin’?” Misumi looks up at the call of his name and grins happily at Kazunari as he leans over the back of the couch and wraps his arms around his shoulders. Misumi leans back so that Kazunari isn’t stretching as much, and lets his head rest against his partner’s shoulder,
“I’m thinking of Kazu~” He answers easily, because he’s the kind of straight-forward that Kazunari likes,
“You’re so cute Sumi!” Comes the happy chirp next to his ear, a nose nuzzling his hair briefly before Kazunari is speaking again, “How about we go triangle hunting today? It’s your birthday after all!”
Misumi is always up for triangle hunting, especially if it’s with the person he loves, and he turns his head so he can offer Kazunari his widest grin,
“I’d like that!” He chirps right back, still getting used to the reeling from whenever he’s shown this much affection. Kazunari’s bright smile softens into something full of fondness and love, and Misumi’s heart swells three times over.
He remembers panicking the first time it had happened, but now he knows it’s just because he’s happy. His heart always feels like it’s full nowadays, and it just overflows whenever he’s with Kazunari. Spilling from him in happy grins and teary eyes.
“Let’s go then!” Kazunari straightens, but not before wiping the tears collected at the corner of orange eyes and kissing the crown of Misumi’s head.
Misumi really doesn’t think his heart is built to handle the kind of love that’s bursting from him, but he’s been doing it for a year now, so it must be.
▲
Triangle hunting is fun.
Triangle hunting is especially fun when he has company.
And triangle hunting with Kazunari is easy, because to Misumi, Kazunari is a triangle all to himself, and he loves him more than words could ever say.
“Look Sumi, I found one~” Kazunari calls as they sit down in their usual space at their favourite cake shop, right next to the window, the sun shining through and warming them in the cool air conditioned space.
Excited, Misumi looks up to see where Kazunari is pointing, and promptly gets poked in the nose.
There’s cream on his nose and a smile on his lips and Kazunari is laughing so loudly it’s attracting attention, and Misumi can’t help but think ‘Good’ because Kazunari is a triangle and the world deserves to see him shine at his brightest.
Of course, Kazunari isn’t just going to get away with that, so Misumi puts his finger in his own whipped cream and draws a triangle on the cheek of the man he loves.
▲
Armed with a new lock-screen of Kazunari and himself grinning wildly and sporting matching whipped cream triangles on their nose and cheek, Misumi finds the first letter.
He knows who it’s from. Of course he does. How couldn’t he, when he’s been seeing the same handwriting for the past year. When he read page after page after page on this same date, only a year prior.
Can a heart ever get too full? When does the overflow become too much and drown him?
This year, it’s one page. Not even; there are three lines, and there’s adoration in every word. The kind that Misumi could never express in words but sees clearly on this page and in all the photos of them and feels in the way Kazunari will quietly wrap himself around him and seek his warmth.
It’s only the first of many. It’ll remain his favourite, because Misumi has no qualms playing favourites because he’s straight-forward and speaks his mind and will forever let the world know that Kazunari is the triangle piece that fits in his heart just right.
But there are so many more. Smaller, but no less meaningful pieces that slot into his heart, as he picks up another letter, this one on the couch, folded diagonally, messily adorning his name and filled to the brim with admiration.
There’s one on the table, folded into a paper hat, handwriting even messier than the last, full of kind words and awkward pauses and laughter.
The stairs, made of flowery writing that fills Misumi with thoughts of princes. A garden full of flowers awaits him in the next one, on the bench of the garden.
Strict rules and strong will, sports and dedication, the feeling of warm, home-cooked meals. Poems, marshmallows, games, music and sunflowers. Every single letter is for him, and every time Misumi wonders how much more love he can hold.
And, finally, as he reaches his room and opens the door, his heart gives and bursts and overflows as he stares at the hundreds of letters, of sticky notes and doodles, adorning every surface and shaped into triangles.
In the center of the room, lies a row of paper planes, ready for take-off.
Misumi is drowning, and he lets himself fall back into familiar arms as they wrap around him from behind and remind him that all of this is real.
It turns out that the heart can only take so much love before it overflows and drowns you.
Misumi didn’t know drowning could ever feel so wonderful.