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City lights.
Red flashing and the headlights and the signals turning crimson to green. Wet tarmac and the crunch of concrete gaps under the tires and growling engines. Yelling and bustling and steps and whirls of the crowds gathering like flocks of sheep on the streets.
And then, all of it faded into the background, and there were two clear shadows in the dark little path in between the buildings no one dared to look in.
They held hands, not speaking a word, fearing to break the silence of their own world.
It might be cliche, but time didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Apart from each other.
This could be a movie scene.
Oikawa traced along the bony wrist, imprinted the slim fingers joint to prominent knuckles into his memory, rubbed the pinky where they used to make promises.
Futakuchi didn’t do anything apart from breathe in the reek of alcohol.
City lights.
A motorcycle rushed past, groaning, sleek and black with grey smoke billowing back.
Once it was gone, the world was silent again.
Oikawa watched the flirting eyelashes close over the hazel which was looking back at him. He breathed against a soft cheek and watched the dip of a dimple come and go as the younger boy bit his bottom lip. He ran a hand through the silky locks.
Futakuchi didn’t care. He pressed closer.
The glow was fading from the city. It was raining.
They breathed in their scents mixing in the air, creating the smell of home and love and rightness.
It was so, so wrong.
Rain kissed the foreheads of the pair, dripping down their faces.
Oikawa continued to drink in the blurred features. The eyes, now opened, were looking at him again and he felt something shiver in his heart as the melted caramel stared at him, heat in them, warmth, want, love.
Futakuchi didn’t speak. He wasn’t planning to unless Oikawa spoke.
So he spoke.
“I love you. And I want to tell you that forever. I love you like no one else ever has. I love you more than anyone, anything, you’re the only thing I need,”
A silence.
Futakuchi moved.
He slowly leaned forward and Oikawa shut his mouth. His heart raced.
Maybe, for the first time, Futakuchi was going to take initiative and kiss him first.
But no,
Instead, there was a slender finger, elegant and gentle pressing against his lips, and the face was so much more closer, holding the sweetest, saddest smile.
It broke both their hearts.
“Stop being so sappy.”
Oikawa sucked in a breath.
“You don’t need to say all of that.”
The eyes looking up at him, flashing gold in the lights from the flashing lamp posts.
It was beautiful.
“‘I like you,’”
Oikawa’s world stopped spinning.
Those words.
It made his chest hurt.
Because it came from the person he loved the most.
“...That, and nothing else. That sounds more like you, that’s all we need,”
The palm moved from his face and Oikawa was released from the spell to breathe.
The boy smiled and it was a smile wet from the rain, water pouring down dimpled cheeks, eyelashes fluttering off the droplets of rain or tears, lips curving softly into a little smile.
“Right?”
And the distance zeroed and yes.
Finally.
It wasn’t Oikawa who grabbed the other boy and crashed his hot lips against the soft, equally eager ones.
It wasn’t Oikawa who took the younger boy’s face in his palm, tilting his chin up, and letting their mouths connect.
It was the tiptoe, even though they were the same height, it was the arms curling around his neck, body against body, they were both drenched but the skin they could feel between the fabric was hot, it was the eyelids closing slowly over the irises, it was the lashes fanning on the damp cheeks, it was the lips which curved upwards before touching the older man’s lips.
Nothing else mattered.
They treasured the warmth and the golden touch.
Oikawa lifted his left hand and pulled the other boy’s head even closer.
Futakuchi’s fingers traced the nape of the other brunet’s neck.
Oikawa swallowed Futakuchi’s breath.
Futakuchi did the same.
They pressed slow, like a dance, a step of tongues, furtive emotion moving along to the pattering music which rained down onto tarmac, and Oikawa felt the hands digging in his back.
It made his own smile crown his lips.
He wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to let go.
They stayed like that.
They wanted to stay like that
But, but still, even after the romance, even after the sweet kiss,
Eventually, they had to part.
They were slow.
The song ended as the rain cleared.
And so did they.
They stared at each other. The drowned city began to be audible again.
Oikawa didn’t let his hand move away from Futakuchi’s head. He mumbled.
“I love you.”
Futakuchi smiled.
He pushed away the hand.
“Go.”
And Oikawa stepped away hesitantly, pushing the churning of emotions down in the crevices of his shattering heart.
He stepped away.
He looked one last time.
And then he turned.
He turned, and he walked out into the light, the shining city, and immediately a woman called out his name and he stopped moving, heart aching to run away, but he planted his feet on the ground as the woman approached him, happy and concerned yapping, and he smiled like a liar, and took her hand.
Futakuchi could see the gold shining between the laced fingers.
He smiled at Oikawa’s back.
An act.
He waited for the familiar footsteps to become far enough to call them strangers.
He was gone.
And then he slowly, like a curse had taken over him, slid to the floor, knees weak, curling up, face buried in knees, sobbing, whimpering like the wreck he was.
He sobbed out a desperate,
“I love you, too.”
And there was the telltale patter, and there was rain again, and it poured down again, and it rained, it rained, it rained.
—-
It was always you.
Whenever you thanked me, it was somehow, yet always, always painful.
We were never what people called friends. Not were we lovers. We were just helplessly in between. Undecided. Waiting for something to happen, like an unripe fruit, waiting for harvest.
We couldn’t make progress, we couldn’t take a final step, we just couldn’t take one more step forward.
We were aggravating. I regret it.
It was always the empty promises and sugarcoated words which I always loved and endured. Talking didn’t seem so meaningful. It wasn’t interesting anymore, because we didn’t mean it. It was like a tasteless poison.
You would always be the one to ask.
“Are you okay?”
And I would jump in fear, and you would place a hand on my shoulder, and I should be happy because finally, honesty. Something which wasn’t fake. It was too foreign. It scared me.
“What’s the matter?”
I was stupid. I wasted it all.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
It was always you who would turn your back first when we said goodbye, and I wanted to snatch your hand and turn you back, but that wasn’t me. I couldn’t. Coward. The small magic, the last trace of your fingers on my cheek was bittersweet, yet it was so potent and sharp I felt jagged and broken.
The magic never broke. It kept going until I could only beg silently at your disappearing back. I just wanted to believe. I wanted to cling. I was hoping for hope.
It just amplified the pain.
I wanted you to be happy. The smell of you, your taste, the touch of your hand, I thought I could put it behind, but I can’t.
I wanted a brighter, warmer, gentler future, softer than the diamonds you used to give me, softer than the diamonds hanging in the sky. But everything’s falling apart.
I wanted it so badly, I wanted it in the time I had left, I wanted to share it with you.
“I love you.”
I just wanted to say it to you.
—-
It continued to rain.
Futakuchi could only sob.
He was gone.