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The accidental brushing of hands. The gazes that lingered for a bit too long. The tension in the air, thick with uncertainty and want. Tsumugi and Tasuku’s relationship was anything but straightforward.
On the surface, the relationship was as straightforward as can be: Childhood friends who had a major falling out only to mend their relationship later on. It was a tale as old as time.
Tasuku wished that the tale was that simple.
The jealousy that reared its ugly head whenever Tsumugi mentions an ex. The longing in Tsumugi’s eyes when Tasuku talks about something (usually a play) that he loved. The unspoken words that somehow become deafening whenever relationships get mentioned. It was no wonder everyone thought that Tsumugi and Tasuku have (or had) something that extended far past their close friendship that spanned across the years.
Everyone was right.
“Hey Taachan. I like you.” Tsumugi’s voice was soft, so soft that the current brezzes could carry it out into the unknown, away from him. Away from Tasuku.
Tasuku could feel the wind in his hair. He closed his eyes, taking time to muse over the scene.
It was a quiet night with a perfectly clear sky and a moon that seemed way too bright and way too big. It was like a scene out of a shoujo manga. Was this planned? It had to have been.
It was cool, yet not too chilly. They were in a quiet place, yet the distant hums of cars prevented things from becoming too quiet. Tsumugi even brought them to the park that they often frequented when they were children.
It had to be planned.
Tasuku slowly opened his eyes. This wasn’t the first confession that he had gotten, but it certainly was the first confession where he felt something beyond his usual indifference.
“I know.”
Tsumugi looked away from Tasuku’s face, choosing instead to stare into the endless black sky. The two stood next to each other, quiet. Despite neither of them saying anything, the scene was loud. Too loud for Tasuku’s taste.
Why was it so loud?
Tasuku didn’t know. He didn’t know why it was so loud. He didn’t know why he had such a foreign yet not unwelcome feeling twisting and turning in his stomach. He didn’t know why he couldn’t just reject Tsumugi like he did with everyone else.
Did he like Tsumugi?
Tasuku wasn’t sure what having a crush even felt like.
Tsumugi chose to speak, almost as if he could read Tasuku’s mind.
“You don’t like me back huh?”
Tsumugi’s voice was resigned, almost as if he was expecting it from the beginning.
“I never said that.” Those words came out quickly, much to the surprise of Tasuku.
A deep breath. A careful glance. Words that came out barely above a whisper.
“Then what do you say?”
All the moments that Tasuku had with Tsumugi came flooding in. All of the laughter and tears. The arguments and reconciliations. The protecting and being protected. The warmth that permeated throughout all the memories, no matter what the situation was.
Maybe, Tasuku was too familiar with what a crush was.
“...I like you too.”
Tsumugi smiled warmly, his face glowing in the moonlight.
“I’m glad.”
The rest was history.
Well, it should’ve been history.
After the confession, nothing much changed between the two of them. Their stares lasted a little longer. Their touches felt a bit more intimate. Their time alone was filled with an unexplainable air full of yearning and caution. Yet, neither of them made a move after that.
Sure, they held hands a few times. They went on outings that were dates in everything but in name. They almost kissed once after a viewing of a particularly romantic movie. Yet, they never addressed their relationship. They never asked each other out on an official date. They never made anything official.
They still hung out almost daily. Their families always expected the other to come over for dinner at least once a week. They texted each other every day, even if it was a simple pair of good morning and good night texts. All the dice were in place for a relationship to form.
Yet, they never did.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Months turned into years. Tasuku and Tsumugi didn’t turn into anything more than friends.
Then, Tsumugi had that incident with Godza and presumably disappeared forever from Tasuku’s life.
Tasuku didn’t know how to take it at first. The constant texts, the (almost) daily hangouts, the presence of Tsumugi. It was suddenly all gone without a trace, without a word, without even a text.
Tasuku knew that Tsumugi had his reasons for doing things (he was a rational guy), but Tasuku didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand why Tsumugi didn’t even mention anything to him.
It seemed naive, foolish even, but Tasuku thought that he could’ve convinced Tsumugi to stay if he had known. Tasuku could’ve helped Tsumugi throughout whatever it was.
At least that’s what Tasuku thought.
Oh well, Tasuku couldn’t do anything about it now.
C’est la vie.
Years later, Tasuku saw him again.
Relief, anger, yearning. Tasuku felt everything at once then nothing.
Tsumugi turned, only to freeze with wide eyes when he saw Tasuku. Unspoken words, mysterious feelings, past history. All of that laid on both of their tongues, quiet and heavy.
Tasuku knew the moment either of them said something, it was over. The dam would break and everything could come pouring out. That was unprofessional. So, Tasuku shut his mouth and shoved all of his feelings away. Tsumugi was a grown man. He didn’t need to explain himself.
At least, that’s what Tasuku kept telling himself.
Then, the whole unbelievable event with that creepy doll happened and… well… Tasuku still couldn’t wrap his head around it.
Not only was Groundhog Day a fantastical element, only displayed in fictional works, but Tsumugi had to be there too. Why him?
Tasuku was fine with Tsumugi leaving. Tasuku wasn’t angry at all. Tasuku didn’t mind one bit.
Over and over. The day never changed. Tasuku didn’t understand why. He talked with Tsumugi. They both decided that everything was fine. Yet, his eyes opened the next day to find out that it still wasn’t the next day.
But why? Why? Why? Why? Tasuku was fine. Tasuku was fine. Tasuku was fine.
Huh. Those words felt empty to him.
Maybe, Tasuku wasn’t fine.
With that realization, Tasuku came to talk to Tsumugi and it turned out that Tsumugi wasn’t fine either. Who would’ve thought?
Only then, only after all of the dancing around and the repression of feelings and the pretending, did the day finally end.
Tasuku learned one important lesson that day (or well, those days): He’s still quite emotionally attached to Tsumugi and Tsumugi was still quite emotionally attached to him.
This lesson didn’t spark the joy that Tasuku thought it would.
Tasuku thought that everything could return back to where it was, back to when they were…
They were nothing but friends.
Maybe, that’s why. Tasuku mused. I expected something to change, but it didn’t.
Day after day. Play after play. Nothing changed between Tsumugi and Tasuku. Their previous relationship returned, but now it’s more quiet. More restrained. They no longer held hands. They longer considered any of their excursions as dates. The connection that they used to have fizzled out.
Yet, the connection’s still there, still pervasive enough for everyone to notice. For Tsumugi and Tasuku to notice.
The touches that they shared when they reached for something at the same time. The silence in their room, which if it could speak, would have tales to tell. The connection in-between them, while a lot weaker, still burned enough to be felt. Everything was still there to kindle a romance.
But, Tasuku didn’t make any moves. Tsumugi didn’t make any moves. It became a carousel of what ifs and I can’ts, a carousel that was never-ending. All of the conversations that they shared, all of the laughter and tears, all of the moments. It played and played and played, like music for a carousel. Ongoing and unceasing.
Every ride does end eventually, no matter how long it is.
The carousel, the one that ran for years on years, slowed down to a halt. The music stopped. Well, it stopped after one last encore performance.
“Hey Taachan, we’re always going to be friends right?”
It was late at night and Tasuku was supposed to be sleeping, but he couldn’t. Clearly, Tsumugi couldn’t as well, so they just laid in silence until the carousel started one last.
“Yeah.”
“Is that all we’ll ever be?” Tsumugi’s voice was as soft as it was on the day he first confessed.
Tasuku closed his eyes.
“I don’t know Tsumu.” Tasuku finally answered, his response burning him slightly as he saw the flames of his and Tsumugi’s romantic relationship sputter.
Tsumugi was silent, his sheets rustling as he tried to make himself more comfortable despite the situation.
“...However, I think it is.” Tasuku wasn’t sure, he never was when it came to things like this. But, he felt it. He felt that it was over.
Tsumugi sighed. It was sad, but it didn’t sound desolate. It sounded accepting.
“I thought so.” Tsumugi shifted again, this time towards the wall. “But, it’s fine. As long as we’re friends Taachan, nothing else really is important. You’re one of the most important people to me and I want you around. Even…” Tsumugi swallowed. “Even if it isn’t in the way that I thought it would be.”
Tasuku saw the flames go out, heard the music ending, felt the carousel stopping.
“I’ll be around for you Tsumu. I always will be. Just… not as a boyfriend.”
“I know. That’s good enough for me.”
Raucous applause. Cheers for the end of an era. A fitting end for their tale.
Relationships are fickle things. Even with the right feelings, the right actions, the right people, it isn't guaranteed to work. Despite all the dominos lining up for a great relationship, nothing knocked them down. Now, the dominos were gathering dust. They weren't forgotten, but they were never meant to be knocked down.
Tasuku and Tsumugi just wasn't meant to be together and that's fine.
C'est la vie.