Work Text:
His mother told him that Touma Akechi is a handsome boy, because he couldn't see him.
Saiki has a good idea of how his muscles contract when Touma Akechi launches into his endless speeches, and the way his heart races whenever his tongue clicks against his palate; Saiki, he knows lots of things, but he doesn't know what Akechi looks like, when the lashes of his purple eyes touch his skin, and when Akechi smiles so hard that two dimples appear on his cheeks. Saiki knows that Akechi is smiling, because his muscles are contracting and stretching: he knows that Akechi is smiling, hard enough to stain his cheekbones with a shy and chilly pink; Saiki knows this, because he sees the vasodilation of his blood vessels and all this influx of blood reaches his face and part of his neck hidden by his white shirt. And Saiki knows it, and Saiki can't see it. Damn, Touma Akechi must have a nice smile.
Touma Akechi does not smile much, because he talks too much to have time to do so. So Akechi doesn't smile much; only when Saiki brushes his fingers between his, the air of by accident that happens too often to be truly one; and also when Saiki leaves his main farm a little too long on his frail shoulder.
Saiki, he doesn't touch anyone and he doesn't let anyone touch him. Sometimes, he places his head on Akechi's shoulder, with insubstantial fatigue and vulnerability, with his eyelids fluttering as if he were about to collapse; and the rawhide leather of Akechi’s suspenders rub his chin, and Saiki says nothing, and between thousands of blinks, Saiki lets his eyes wander over the policeman novel whose pages Akechi caresses, failing to be able to caress the skin of Saiki. These moments are real treasures.
Akechi talks a lot, almost as much as he can think. So his thoughts are a flood that Saiki cannot read. Akechi, he thinks of Saiki's skin enough times a day that he may want to touch it. Saiki's skin is white, and it could be a little rough; a little dry, rather abrupt. These are just guesses, because Akechi has touched it too few times to actually know it. Akechi, he believes that Saiki's skin is severe: he saw it, in any case; each time they came back to school together, and his eyes lingered too long on Saiki's hand, swimming in the void as if it asked to be taken, and the way a little too fast, the one that we can call panic, when Saiki urgently put it in his pocket. Akechi had never been a low-key person.
So Akechi wants to touch Saiki, and he does nothing about it. Sometimes, Saiki comes by himself: there are a few seconds of sweetness and intimacy, and fingers touching, and futile kisses on the forehead late at night which Akechi does not know exists. Saiki doesn't want his skin to touch his, for a reason that Akechi ignores. And it could have bothered him, if Akechi was not looking at Kusuo Saiki with so many stars in his eyes. And its stars, they shine in the loving sky. Touma Akechi doesn’t find Kusuo Saiki's sweetness in his kisses: only in worried looks, in whispers, in little secrets.
(you were my first friend. ever.)
☾
Saiki can't hear Akechi's thoughts, but he can see how fast his heartbeat is when they are both lying in bed. It's raining outside. The wind slams against his window in a kind of horror movie he hates, and Akechi jumps every time. Perhaps to reason, Akechi talks about the rain, and its smell, and the geomine molecule, and the evaporation of the humidity that mixes with the air mass, and the rain gauge, because it's starting to rain a lot.
Saiki doesn't listen to him, because Akechi’s words are as quick as the rain that hits the ground: and Saiki, he looks at him as if he could see something other than muscle tissue. It’s disturbing, those thousands of fabrics that shiver every time the wind slaps too hard.
Saiki can't see him, and Akechi doesn’t know it. Akechi is looking at him with too much love that Saiki’s eyes ignore. Saiki, he knows that Akechi's eyes are soft and that his eyelashes pulsate like a butterfly about to fly away, for Saiki, only because of Saiki; and Saiki knows it, because his mother told him. His mother, she can see him.
His mother was almost euphoric about this pure love: she says that it is a teenage love, a first love that should mark their hearts. First love is precious: she says. She is thirty-seven and still has memories – those of Kuniharu and her heart that was beating and still beating too fast. So Saiki, he can fly through the air, Saiki can destroy the earth, Saiki can crush the moon; and Saiki cannot see his first love.
Saiki has a few photos, to compensate. Not that it changes much. Because when Saiki strokes Akechi's hair, he has no idea how Akechi dies on his lower lip. His teeth permeate his fleshy lip, and play with the flesh – to try to forget that his heart is beating fast enough to kill him. Sometimes, all this love; all his gestures, all this delicacy in his fingers, all his I love you that Saiki does not say: it is too much for Akechi to be able to breathe properly. All this love hangs in his chest: and it is so great, so imposing; so absolute and important that it takes his throat. So Akechi, he bites his lip to forget his love at the door of his mouth. Akechi bites his lip so as not to let it out. Flee. Embrace Saiki's whole body. Since this love is chaste: and to stroke Saiki, to murmur groans on his chest that he cannot control, to rock his fingers inside his thighs, only for the love of his flesh, it would be to betray him.
Saiki can feel the softness of his strands caressing the skin of his palm, and they are long enough for him to wrap them around his fingers. But Saiki does not know their color: Saiki learns it from photos. Old photos – the ones he found in the back of his drawer. There were some dust on their child's faces, and the corner of the photo was twisted enough to make it look like it was antique. This photo is surprising for two specific reasons, Saiki thinks. To be honest, Saiki does not remember this photo. So, it is surprising, since he had no idea of its existence. The button had been pressed by his mother, and Saiki, it was perhaps because he was not yet on his guard, that he did not notice it. This photo is amazing, because Saiki had not prevented his existence. And, perhaps for a slightly sweeter reason, this photo is beautifully breathtaking. Saiki won't say it, Saiki won't think it: but Saiki is glad it exists. It paints the face of a child who doesn’t smile: Saiki and Akechi seem too serious for six-year-old children playing in the sand. And if Saiki does not remember this photo, Saiki remembers this day. Saiki, he memorized how the sand settled in their shoes, how the sand was hot enough to burn their little fingers, how their castle collapsed in the strong wind. Saiki and Akechi are not smiling, because they are too focused not to let the sand slip between their too thin palms. However, if we get a little closer, closer: Saiki, he sees the stars in their eyes. Especially in those of Akechi. Saiki does not remember what they looked like, his stars in the purple sky; Saiki, he only remembers their shy laughs, their fleeting success – the little secrets they let slip between the construction of two or three towers. So, for these two reasons, this photo is surprising. This photo is a good memory.
(when i’m too afraid of the dark during the night, i think about you, Kusuo-kun.)
☾
At night, Akechi clings to Saiki as if he were afraid he would disappear. Saiki doesn't say anything and Saiki doesn't move. On his ring finger, Saiki has the geranium ring.
Akechi does not know it, but Saiki puts it only when he is by his side. Most of the time, this ring scares him: it brings him a vulnerable peace. But Saiki did not learn to be vulnerable. Saiki, he plans everything in advance; even things that don't exist. With it, Saiki ignores if the world is falling apart. Hence, this ring is a sufficient risk for Saiki to leave it in the bottom of his pocket.
Still, Akechi plunges his face into Saiki’s neck, and it’s nice: being able to focus only on Akechi’s lips brushing his skin. He is here –only him; real. Between these millions of thoughts, these hundred of maybe of the universe that Saiki have to prevent, sometimes; Saiki forgets how reality is. Saiki doesn’t need air to exist: but there just are times when he needs to breathe. And he breathes Akechi’s hair.
Saiki closes his eyes. Saiki doesn’t look at Akechi’s body all over his shoulder. Saiki imagines; makes up in his own mind the features Akechi could make. Akechi does not know, because Saiki will never say it, but Saiki likes Akechi, a little bit a lot and madly; Saiki loves Akechi Touma, so he only wants to hear from him. Saiki no longer pays attention to the hundreds of voices that whisper in his ears like a playlist of incessant cries and cries and cries: and this pain, and all this sadness, evaporates into Akechi Touma's sighs. And it is precious, all his words that Love whispers to him. All these images that Love shows him.
Saiki loves Akechi Touma without seeing him. It’s a blind love. It’s a delicate love. Saiki, he's not used want to press Akechi against a wall and to kiss him until he can't breathe. Saiki loves Akechi Touma, and he cannot explain why. Because Akechi is annoying, and timid, and talkative; he's asking too many questions that Saiki doesn't have time to answer. Sometimes, Saiki thinks of exploding. Akechi, he can be too much. Akechi’s intelligence is about the age of forty, and Akechi has the impatience and hyperactivity of a little boy of five. Akechi, he hasn't changed. It's reassuring. Because when the world is about to pass out in chaos, Akechi remains the same – his legs are still shaking, his thoughts disappear into infinity, and Akechi Touma remains Akechi Touma.
Saiki has no reason to love Akechi Touma. And it's enough for him to do it.
☾
« Are you sleeping, Kusuo? I can’t stop thinking about how snakes can help predict earthquakes. They can sense a coming earthquake from 75 miles away, up to five days before it happens. Isn’t it amazing? »
Good grief, Saiki thinks without saying it. I can do that too. Snakes, you aren’t special. Pay attention to me, Akechi-kun.
« Snakes are such interesting creatures. Did you know a snake can literally eat so much it explodes? I saw the documentary on the body of a 13-foot python found who tried to snack on a 6-foot alligator. »
Why were you watching this? I’m thinking about breaking up.
« Snakes also don’t have ears on the outside! Creepy, isn’t it? »
I wish I didn’t have ears too, now.
It is around 2:00 am, and when Saiki turns himself to the alarm clock on his bedside table: it’s 2:49 am, to be more precise. It is perhaps by frequenting Akechi that Saiki gets closer to precision, who knows? Anyway, if Saiki had been told six months before that his boyfriend would wake him up at almost 3:00 am to tell him about snakes, believe it or not but; Saiki would have believed it. Without frowning.
Because it’s Akechi Touma. It is enough to know his name to understand; to remember his harassing words. Sometimes, Akechi Touma is synonymous with too much. Enough that Saiki can't contain it. In the back of his mind, controling is whispered. And this is perhaps one of the finest proofs of love, for Saiki: to be in love with Akechi Touma even though Akechi Touma escapes him. Akechi Touma is unmanageable and unpredictable – he kisses his cheeks, sometimes, without Saiki expecting it. (good) surprise. These are tiny pieces of sand that slide between his hands. To slip is to flee. Akechi Touma is a surprise.
And Saiki Kusuo, he who likes control, calm, stability; he who loves the known and the ordinary, he is in love with a surprise. Good surprise.
To be in love with a surprise is also to be in love with a dream. Dreaming possibilities. It is almost 3:00 am, and Akechi tells him about snakes. The world is made of cotton. Akechi speaks, and there is only him. Akechi doesn't know it, but Saiki only hears him. Saiki doesn't speak – he doesn't open his mouth. Saiki answers all the facts that Akechi tells him only in his mind. These are remarks that Saiki keeps for himself. The world is made of cotton. Saiki doesn't like to talk much; opening your mouth requires energy. And Saiki, he's lazy. His words sound wrong. And Saiki, he's awkward. He does not know how to take care of things – hearts. Outside, the moonlight is reflected on its tiles; tonight, this night, the moon is bright enough to enter his room. She slides on the new Shonen on his desk, on his school uniform hanging on the belt of his door, on his polished parquet.. On Akechi's pale brown hair that Saiki can't see. Akechi is on his back, and their shoulders touch. Akechi talks about snakes and their two hundred teeth. Saiki intertwines their fingers, and timidly, almost, Saiki puts his lips on Akechi's palm. Please. It’s a quick, light kiss; his lips, too dry, chapped by winter, do not soak into Akechi's skin. They are not adventurous; they are chaste. Shut up. Saiki places this united grip on his chest. Under his t-shirt, Akechi can feel the beating of his heart. His voice, too loud for a night at three in the morning, too fast for Saiki's closed eyelids, no longer exists in the air. The moon as bright as the sun. Saiki doesn't need to put his hand on Akechi's chest to hear the frantic beating of his heart. Saiki knows them well enough for them to become everyday music. Akechi no longer speaks, because under his palm, the strength of Saiki's heart is more interesting than the snakes that fly in the sky.
Miracle. Akechi closes his eyes to travel in unconsciousness. Thank you, Touma. Akechi breathes hard on Saiki's shoulder, but that's okay. Akechi thinks of how he could have Saiki's heart in his hands. Akechi thinks so, and he says it. Gently, as if it were a secret; "I wish I had it, Kusuo," he whispers. Because Akechi sees when Saiki pushes him away, when they kiss too long; too strong. Akechi slides his tongue over his lips, and Saiki puts his hands on his shoulders to keep him away from his kisses. Akechi sees, and he doesn't talk about it, even if it haunts him; the way Saiki stretches when their basins rub against each other. Akechi thinks about it a lot. Akechi is trying to understand. Akechi looked many times at his reflection in the mirror – he saw the little blemishes on his face, the scar at the corner of his nose, his wrinkles at the corner of his lips, his eyes too big like two tennis balls. Just like scary doll style terrifying enough to repel Saiki.
And Saiki doesn't tell him, and maybe he never will, because Saiki is not good at words; but "You already have it, Touma.", he thinks.
He didn't say it.
Miracle. Outside, it is snowing.
☾
It’s hard to tell your boyfriend that I’m not attracted to you because I only see blood vessels. Saiki is in love with Akechi Touma. Hence, Saiki doesn't want Akechi to question his love. It's hard to explain; this love that exists for no reason.
Saiki is not attracted to Akechi; and in addition, Akechi, he is noisy, harassing, quick, timid, crybaby. Saiki has no reason to love Akechi. And Saiki couldn't explain to him, why he likes to hear his laughter, and why he hates hearing his crying that he tries to repress, when Toritsuka makes fun of him – once; Saiki hit his head against a wall, and Toritsuka never said anything again. Saiki doesn't like when Akechi talks too much, but he likes the sound of his voice – to compensate. Saiki doesn't like it when Akechi asks a thousand questions about his medium skills, but he likes the fact that Akechi isn't afraid of it. Saiki could crush the whole world in the palm of his hands, and Akechi still looks at him as if he were the most beautiful treasure in the world. It was his mother who told him. Because, you know, Saiki can't see Akechi Touma.
Saiki does not understand love; he never understood why Yumehara was hysterical at Kaido's approach, why Teruhashi stammered enough to be ridiculous with him. Saiki is calm with Akechi. His heart is slow, like he takes time to exist. Saiki likes to be with Akechi; the smell of lavender on his clothes is reassuring. Akechi is a surprise. It’s a familiar surprise. Since they were kids, Akechi has surprised him. Saiki cannot read Akechi – he cannot know what he is thinking, when Saiki puts his hands in his pockets and not in his. Akechi has trembling muscles (and bright eyes). So, Saiki hurries to brush his shoulder against his. But his heart rate is slow, and he doesn't panic, and he does like Akechi Touma.
Love has no meaning, so how could he explain it to Akechi Touma?
☾
« Kusuo-kun… » Saiki knows something is wrong, since it is no longer Kusuo. Akechi is playing with his fingers. « Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I don’t want to force you into anything. I’m just thinking about it. Since one month, eight days and eleven seconds. But you don’t have to answer. Sometimes, I can’t sleep at night because I can’t stop thinking about it. And also because I’m afraid of darkness. And I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one. Did you know that 40% of people are afraid of darkness? Makes sense, right? Isn’t it scary? To be in a place where you can’t ev– »
Akechi-kun. Please, focus.
« I’m sorry, Kusuo-kun! Nevermind. I forgot what I wanted to ask. Memory loss is in fact very recurrent when you’re suffering from stress, anxiety and–»
Are you dealing with those?
Saiki, he stops in the middle of the street. Akechi turns around, and tries to smile at him; he stopped playing with his fingers, that may already be it. « I’m pretty lucky, because unlike people who –»
Good grief, cut it out.
They look at each other. Saiki does not see the gleam in Akechi’s eyes. They look at each other long enough for Akechi to jump, a little, when a bird suddenly leaves the branch of the tree planted in the neighborhood garden. Akechi, he can't lie. He can't look at Saiki and lie. Even through his green glasses, even if Saiki's purple eyes are not so visible, Akechi can feel the accusation, perhaps also the exasperation that frowns his eyebrows.
The world is spinning. The world is crushing them. The freezing wind creeps under their jackets and the humidity of the soil flows through their soles of their shoes. For a second, it seems like the whole world is against them.
« Don’t you find me pretty, Kusuo? » Is there something wrong with me?
The sky is gray. Neither white nor black. Quite foggy. The streets are dark because the sun is gone. The world is falling apart – Akechi tried to catch it between his fingers, but those thousands of crystal tips just spun between his palms. Akechi could only watch them flee. Far from him.
Enough twisted to push you away?
Scraps of memories slipped by the freezing and arid wind.
I think you may be the prettiest person I ever met.
And I wished I could see you.
Saiki, he approaches Akechi. Neither too close, because it scares him; nor too far, because it worries Akechi. Saiki is close enough for Akechi to see the softness of his eyes. Akechi is intelligent, and one day, perhaps, Akechi will realize that this delicacy only bypasses him. This attention is special, since it is unique. The world is boring, and Akechi is not. For reasons numerous enough that Saiki could not count them. Sometimes, they all fog up; and Saiki barely sees them. Maybe someday ; Saiki would look at them to understand them. And Saiki can explain why the existence of Akechi Touma is not a nuisance. Akechi Touma’s existence resonates with the word treasure.
Good grief.
Saiki smiles. Saiki is not good with words because he has forgotten how to say them. Saiki speaks, for the first time in a long time; and his voice does not tremble, even if his throat is dry, and even if his tongue has forgotten where to stand so that words can exist. And Saiki speaks, under the sad sky, under the crying sky; before Akechi's silent tears; and Saiki says:
« Touma, you are a work of art. »
And I’m sorry I can’t touch you.
And that’s why I can’t touch you.
and I look at you; and I look at the bottom of your soul, the brushstrokes that allow your existence among the billions of other brushstrokes, those that distinguish you from the billions of other works of art. And here I am, in front of you; and I'm standing by your side, when I could be somewhere else – and somewhere else, this is where I don't want to be. And I couldn't explain it, because there are hundreds of your drop shadows that I don't understand. And some of your colors are so fine, so light, so hidden; that my eyes are not enough to see them. I can't see what you look like, but I like to look at that bunch of beauty that I can't see – because, it's you. then, that’s enough. you are six hundred muscles and two hundred and six bones. but you are Akechi Touma. that's all I want to know. that's all I can see.
And the dull and gloomy sky is broken by a lightning, hope, they say; by a sun, a little shy, rather discreet, perhaps stealthy; and yet, their eyes do not miss this beam, rising in the clouds, in the same pall of darkness which threatened them with rain.