Work Text:
“I think I like you, Hanako-kun,” Nene said, pausing in her tracks as the gate clanked shut, separating them with mere iron that Hanako could never cross.
And he could have sworn, in this exact moment, his dead heart stopped beating, and her words felt like a punch to the gut.
She looked over her shoulder; her shimmery hair blew in gentle waves with the light wind. Her scarlet eyes glistened, and Hanako could see his own pitiful, shocked expression reflected back at him. “But I know you don’t feel the same way.”
Heat stirred in the back of his neck and forehead, and a heart-lurching chill spread across his chest. She turned to leave—to leave Hanako all alone with her confession in the very practice garden where he’d given her his own confession.
A fake confession. That had made her cry.
And something in him snapped.
“Y-Yashiro!” he stumbled over her name, and before she could leave to where he couldn’t follow—he grabbed her hand.
“Wait!” he said, his voice felt breathless, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered why when he didn’t need to breathe in the first place. But somehow, it felt like Nene stole all the breath from his dead lungs.
Nene’s eyes widened as she stared down at his hand holding hers. It was like that very day he let her cry against his chest—the day he’d accidentally led her on with his antics. And he made sure to be careful—to not lead her on again—but maybe he was never leading her on. Maybe it had always been how he felt. But one thing he knew for certain was that ever since that day, he became hyperaware of Nene.
He followed her gaze down to their hands—and he couldn’t help but notice, for the umpteenth time, that Nene’s hand was impossibly small compared to his. Her fingers were so slim compared to his own blocky fingers. Her palm felt hot and clammy, or, perhaps, it was his hand clamming up?
“Hanako…kun?” she uttered, tilting her head very slightly.
And he swallowed the ever-growing lump in his throat. “You…can’t do that…” he mumbled, pulling his hat down to cover his face. “You can’t just confess and leave.”
He heard the slightest intake of her breath. And he risked looking at her. Her eyes were so round, so watery. And her cheeks swirled a beautiful shade pink. “And you can’t…” He looked away, staring off to the side, trying to focus on a bumblebee that buzzed around the flowers. But he was too aware—too aware of the way Nene looked at him like that—like she truly anticipated what he had to say. “…tell me…how I feel about you…”
He risked one more glance at her—and his own eyes widened as Nene leaned against the practice garden gate and kissed him.
A kiss that was so soft, so gentle—just the slightest of pressure against his lips—and yet it was enough to turn his whole body rigid, to make his heart slam against his chest in an unsteady rhythm.
He didn’t want to give in. He wanted to resist. To remind himself he’s a murderer. For him, there is no salvation. He didn’t deserve her.
And yet, he found himself breaking piece by piece, giving in to Nene’s soft lips.
The way she kissed him—the way she touched him—her hands were beyond gentle; the way they knocked his hat off, and explored his hair, tangling and pulling in ways that set him ablaze. The gate separated them, but he wanted nothing more than to pull her against him, to feel her heartbeat against his own.
Her fingertips softly trailed over his shoulders and down to his chest, making his dead heart race in ways that only Nene could make possible.
One heartbeat after the next, he felt himself giving in, cupping the back of her head, reveling in the feel of her silky hair against his fingers; cool to the touch and impossibly soft. He kissed her back—hard and desperate, trying to convey the words he would never dare to utter—the words he’d never allow himself to say.
I’m in love with you.
And Nene gasped against his mouth, and that was his entire undoing. He pulled Nene flush against him—against the gate that separated them. The very line Hanako couldn’t cross—and it dug painfully against his ribs as though it were mocking him. But he didn’t care because all he could think about is Nene—her soft lips, her short breaths—the delicate curves of her body. She was impossibly soft and plush, and he couldn’t get enough—and all he wanted was to pull her closer—to break the gate between them.
They pulled back, panting heavily. And Hanako buried his face against the crook of her neck, breathing in hard.
“What do we do now?” Nene asked, her voice sounded as uneven as his heartbeat.
“I..don’t know…” he said.
“Then let’s not know…together?”
“Okay.”
And he wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that—holding each other, the gate bruising their ribs—but Hanako welcomed it. Any pain was worth it if he could hold Nene in the way he always wanted.
Because he was so entirely in love with her.