Work Text:
eita sees kenjirou in everything he does. all the music he writes screams ‘kenjirou’ in the most heavenly way possible, poetic in words and breath-taking in melody. and he pours his emotions into notes and sharps and flats, slipping bits of crescendos and diminuendos here and there, because he wants the world to know that kenjirou is his, and only his, and his music only ever shrieks the truth.
eita sees kenjirou in everything he does. eita could’ve sworn all the places he’s been reeks of kenjirou, and eita just smiles. because he loves it when he could feel kenjirou whenever they’re distant. and kenjirou is a busy man, dealing with patients, surgical masks, heartbeats, eita.
eita sees kenjirou in everything he does. no drunk nights were ever not about him. with every single drop of tequila he drinks, he feels warmer, burning even, reminiscent of the sacred nights slathered in whispers of love and worship they shared. and he chants his name every time. kenjirou, kenjirou, kenjirou. please come back.
eita sees kenjirou in everything he does.
but kenjirou does not.
(for he is long gone, and eita refuses to believe it.)