Work Text:
drip. the smell of something tasty takes over his nostrils— eggs? pancakes? something smelt like breakfast. what was that? it was good. who’s cooking? drowsily, kuramochi opened his eyes, squinting against the artificial lighting in their living room. living room? oh. right. he fell asleep on the couch.
drip. it’s gloomy outside, pouring. what was that now? water? a leak? in the corner, he glared at the bucket collecting rainwater. why was that so damn loud? he wasn’t sleeping that lightly was he?
drip. joyous laughter called for his attention, and his heart skipped a beat when he made eye contact. sanada? what was he doing here? he had a plate in his hands, the blue-grey color scheme of his striped apron an achingly familiar sight. “what has the leaky roof ever done to you for you to look at it like that?”
kuramochi deflated into the couch with a sigh, eyes raking over sanada’s body. he’s wearing that blue dress shirt white jeans combination he loves so much… is he going somewhere? it feels like they went for a while without seeing each other, even if they’d been together last night. that wasn’t enough, kuramochi wasn’t ready to let him leave yet. “i thought you fixed that.”
sanada moved his legs to sit next to him, plate of waffles drenched in maple syrup on his lap. kuramochi cringed, how sanada still had perfect teeth after he ate such sweet things like that was beyond him. “i did. say aah.”
there’s a piece of waffle prodding at his lips, miraculously dry, and kuramochi bites it off the fork without a second thought. he’s long since stopped fighting sanada when he started to baby him. it was either he let sanada do things for him or he had to deal with a very whiny and pouty sanada. the former made his heart race and ache just a little less.
“are you still tired?” sanada asked when he finished the last of his tooth-rotting breakfast, resting the plate on the coffee table.
kuramochi would always be tired. there was a bone deep exhaustion he could never shake, from too much practice and too little sleep perhaps. he wouldn’t tell sanada that, though. shaking his head, he scooted over until he could slot himself under his arm, curling up into him. “i just wanna do this.”
sanada strokes his hair, fingers toying with the strands that fell over his forehead, humming. he’s a little on the cold side today, but kuramochi guesses that was from the weather. he had thin skin after all.
like this, it’s easy. it’s always been easy to fall into sanada, to let himself be wrapped up in those strong arms. it was nice. he just had this naturally cozy aura about him, his presence inviting, captivating. you just couldn’t help but want to be near him, to bask in his comfort, to love him.
being the center of his attention was just as gratifying. kuramochi’s sure he’s never felt pure euphoria until sanada shunpei had confessed to him, had shown kuramochi that he loved him. he was completely enthralled, bewitched, absolutely under all of sanada’s spells.
“you really missed me, huh?”
rolling his eyes, kuramochi scoffed. sanada knew he did, but it’s not like he had to admit that. “and so what if i did?”
the laugh it got from sanada warmed him to his core, and he can’t even get annoyed when he started poking kuramochi’s side like the pest he is. his voice was wistful when he speaks, with the remnants of his laugh, “you-san, you never change.”
swatting at his hands so he had something to do, kuramochi pursed his lips. “yeah, well…”
“youichi?”
“hm?”
sanada grinned, slow-spreading and an attack on his heart, “i love you.”
kuramochi couldn’t help his blush. completely enraptured. sanada always knew how to make him blush, his stomach churn with butterflies and his heart go a mile a minute. sanada always knew how to make him feel happy.
he goes on before kuramochi could respond, “you know that right? i love you so much, more than anything in the whole universe... i think it’s time, baby.”
kuramochi’s brows furrowed. time? “time for what?”
sanada hummed again, his fingers traveling down the back of kuramochi’s neck, trailing his spine for a while before his hand settled at the small of his back. he’s still smiling, but the light doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “time to let me go. you’ve been holding onto this for too long, and i want you to move on now.”
what was sanada talking about? holding on to what? “i… shunpei, i don’t understand?”
sanada’s fingers were so gentle when they tilted his chin up, and a bit of panic hit him when he noticed how teary sanada’s eyes were. why was he going to cry? it made kuramochi tear up too. “you’re dreaming, youichi. this is a dream. I’ve been dead for almost two years.”
the frisson of shock that washes through him is ice cold. the frames of a distant memory flash vividly through his mind— there’s rain, too much rain, sanada waving enthusiastically on the other side of an empty street, outward a roll of his eyes but inward fondness, a light on red, skidding tires, rain hitting his sneakers, a loud crack, umbrellas discarded, someone screaming, sanada unconscious, rain washing away blood from his hands, a monitor flatlining.
kuramochi wakes with a gut-wrenching sob, cold and hollow, his body curled into one side of the couch. the tears flow uncontrollably, dripping onto the cushions with poor attempts at choking back his cries. the rain pours outside, the skies gloomy, there’s a bucket in the corner with no water, no smell of western breakfast foods, no blue and grey striped apron greeting him.
that was right. he is alone. he’s been alone for years now. he could still feel sanada, hand on his back, fingers on his chin, bodies pressed close, skin running cold, blood on his hands… he’s running to the bathroom before it registers, kneeling and retching into the toilet bowl.
it never goes away.
it’s not like he wants to keep doing this. it’s not like he likes waking up in the middle of their— his too large bed, screaming and sobbing. he just… he doesn’t know how to stop. sanada loved him like nothing he’d ever experienced before, and he’s devoted himself to that happiness for so long. what is he supposed to do without him? how is he supposed to live his life when it isn’t his only? they’d built themselves around the other, too entwined for him to unravel by himself.
but. here he is. the sun in his sky wrenched away from him, leaving him with nothing but gloomy days. his forehead rests on frigid porcelain, streams running silently down his cheeks. that exhaustion sets in, bone deep. he would never have him back. no one would ever love him the way sanada did. no one would ever feel as right for him as sanada was. he would be alone forever. he’s alone right now.
with no sanada, there is no one here to love him.