Work Text:
Their truce is a strange one, fitting for a strange rivalry.
It just happened because Gentaro needed something. Maybe inspiration, maybe just entertainment, and when he found himself going in thinking spirals about it, his bickering with Hifumi comes to mind. What an unpleasant guy, really, is what comes back to his mind, but maybe he could get a thing or two out of him, even if it’s just a cheap laugh from his absurd antics.
And with the way that the public’s prying eyes keeps trying to tear Fling Posse’s covers off of them, maybe it’s best that they feign their amicability better, and trying to make amends with an enemy was a good start.
It turns out that Hifumi Izanami doesn’t visibly hold grudges, and neither does he mind letting a wandering ghost enter his home, eat his food, and listen to his blathering about nothing in particular.
Maybe out of loneliness, maybe because he wanted to find an opening to backstab Gentaro. Who knew at this point. At least, Gentaro gets what he wants.
Nothing about this was bombastic, it wasn’t an interesting end of a story. He just had a reason or another to try and change the way he talked to the guy, and the guy had a reason or another to play along with it, even if it wasn’t a good one, it’d be okay, Gentaro wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him or his posse. So the visits to Hifumi’s apartment start, a seemingly natural progression to what feels like the budding of an odd friendship — And it was one, even if it wasn’t honest, even if they didn’t use the word.
Today he opens the door to something different from the usual blaring lights, blaring music, the dishes set and sparkly on the dining table. No, Hifumi’s apartment is drowned in the early evening darkness, all lights off, but still dimly lit from the last whispers of sunlight coming from the uncovered windows. And among the misplaced solemnity, Hifumi Izanami sitting still on his sofa with his posture loose, leaning against it like he hadn’t had the chance to rest for a week. His expression mostly obscured from this distance and lackluster luminosity, unreadable.
“Izanami-san?” Gentaro asks, small, polite. “Forgive me, is this a bad time?”
“Huh? Oh, no, not at all!” He beams, sitting up straighter. His hair is messy, are those brown roots poking out of his scalp? Gentaro finds the detail somehow enthralling. “Um, sorry about the mess and all. I was...sleeping.”
The apartment looks just how it always does, pristinely clean. “It’s no problem. May I… take a seat?” He asks, cautious, and Hifumi just scoots over, opening space on the couch for Gentaro to take up, which he does.
“Alright, I guess I should, uh, switch on the lights? And get started on dinner and things, yeah?” He laughs, hospitable as always, moving to get up. Gentaro feels a strange pang on his heart upon seeing his rush, these attempts at making things work just the way they usually did. It felt...wrong. Hifumi seemed too tired. He didn’t like the man, but to force him to do work in this state was just too much.
“Ah, I don’t mind. You don’t need to rush.” He blurts out before he can think better. “I’ve eaten beforehand, and the darkness doesn’t bother my eyes at all.”
“Did you have dinner, though, or was it just a snack?” Hifumi pouts, but he sits again, eyes on Gentaro’s. A caring accusation he thought had no place between them. “Lemme guess, it was just fruit and tea again.”
Gentaro tenses unnoticeably when he guesses right, and lies. “Do you really think so lowly of me? I’m a grown adult perfectly capable of cooking his own meals, which I did today. It was quite the feast, in fact.”
“Mm, sure. Liar.” It gets a lopsided smile out of Hifumi. “Really, I’d feel bad if you came over and left without eating anything, so don’t worry, I’m just gonna fix us something quick, and…”
“Izanami-san, really, there’s no need.” He retorts quickly. A lot of unplanned remarks have been slipping out, Gentaro notes, it’s an anxiety-inducing thought, where are they coming from? Maybe his voice comes out clipped, too, because Hifumi deflates a little at his refusal. Ah, it’s quite the difficult predicament. “Not that I don’t enjoy your cooking, but you don’t seem to be in the condition to do much at the moment.”
“I… I’m okay, though.” Hifumi says, but he jumps a little, laughs kinda weirdly at the statement. “I just fell asleep for a little too long is all! Really, Gen-chan, you don’t gotta worry about me, just, y’know, let me treat you and stuff! Like I always do.”
He narrows his eyes. It’s getting a little darker every second. Now he’d just feel like a morally worse person if he let Hifumi do any work for him, he knows almost on instinct. Really, to think that he’d end up like this.
“I insist. Don’t feel obligated to do any work just because I’m here.” He says, clasping his hands together over his lap. It really is strange, the way that he’s trying to exercise this sort of...politeness? With Hifumi Izanami of all people. “If you’d still like to eat with me, perhaps we could visit a restaurant together? I’m sure even Shinjuku has its good spots.”
“Shinjuku is great all over, you’re just mean.” He whines, but begins to relax against the couch, arms crossed and all. His expression softens a little. “Well, I guess that wouldn’t be like, bad or anything…”
Hifumi falls silent. Gives in to honesty, or something. Gentaro’s stare lingers and he starts seeing all the inklings of exhaustion on his face, all these small details. And it’s still not even bright enough to properly study him, he can barely tell the color of Hifumi’s eyes like this. Yet somehow he feels like he’s seeing a lot.
It’s hard to describe. Hifumi doesn’t look tired like how other people look tired. It’s probably about his sort of… well, it pains Gentaro to use the word, but it’s probably because he’s so pretty. Very conventionally so, that social media beauty, polished trophy beauty, Moët & Chandon beauty.
That… now, well, that beauty that still looked the way he always did, just duller. Vacant, darkly ringed eyes that drooped, face missing the usual glow and rosiness. More opaque than sparkling. And Gentaro breathes in — He feels odd, noticing he’s been staring, but seeing his ex-rival like that made him feel tangled up inside. It wasn’t pity and it definitely wasn’t worry.
And he wasn’t a liar.
“Gen-chan?” Hifumi asks, soft and quiet. Gentaro blinks, caught red-handed on his staring. Were he a less composed man, maybe he would have blushed, sputtered, something. He keeps staring somehow, like Hifumi’s figure just kept pulling him, a magnetic field.
Is it because he looks more human? He can’t place his finger on it. The words die in his mind and he needs to talk. Just do something to cut through that thick tension that had settled over them.
“Izanami-san, do you know how to slow dance?”
He blurts out the first sentence he can fish out of the mixed up mess his mind had become. Dancing, really? He doesn’t even know where he got it from. It’s ridiculous. The tips of his ears burn, something about this just turned him into a fumbling idiot.
“Uh… yeah. Why?” Is Hifumi’s response, though, and he keeps blinking at him through these curious long-lashed eyes, it’s a little obnoxious. “Oh, does Gen-chan want me to teach him?”
There’s a hint of a returning sparkle on the gold ring around Hifumi’s pupils. The lack of focus that had been plaguing Gentaro seems to sink its teeth into him further.
“Ah, it’s quite embarrassing, but I’d like that. You see, I have this event coming up from my publisher, and it wouldn’t be a very good look if I of all people were unable to dance well.” The excuse sews itself quickly, Hifumi perks up even faster. Was it a fortunate lie after all? He smothers the thought.
“No problem! Hifumin will teach you.” And he smiles like he always does, flashes of light in that world’s dark, muted palette. “Do you wanna learn how to lead? Or do you wanna follow?”
It probably makes more sense for him to lead, since he’s a man and it’s supposedly a formal event. “Oh, Izanami-sama, is that really a question you should be asking to a delicate damsel like me?”
“Okie-dokie! Stand up, Gen-chan. Let Hifumin-sensei show you the way.” And so he chimes, hopping off the couch, despite Gentaro’s antics. He’s sort of returning to his usual self, by now, so maybe this was worth it.
Even if it was a poorly thought of idea that Gentaro wanted no part in, certainly. Because he hates it, he stands up on cautious legs, and he positions himself in front of Hifumi, quietly.
“I’ll be in your care, then.” He speaks, earning a smile from Hifumi. His chest feels strange.
The gap between them decreases. Hifumi takes a single step, and their bodies almost press together. It surprises Gentaro — He breathes sharply.
“Okay, so, your hand goes on my shoulder. And mine go here.” He explains, quippy, focused in the way that only Hifumi does, which is to say not really concentrated in the task, but still enthusiastic, and a hand goes on Gentaro’s waist.
“Sure,” He murmurs, and places his on Hifumi’s shoulder. He’s warm, he smells good. He had noticed that before, but everytime he notices it again, it’s like he feels it more strongly.
“Good, now you hold my hand like this.” Hifumi keeps going, his palm brushes against Gentaro’s wrist a little before their fingers tangle, and it’s all warm again, he’s a bit overwhelmed. The ground under his feet grows unsteady. “Geez, your hand’s so cold.”
“It is to be expected, for I am but a phantom cursed to wander this earth forever.” He tells, on automatic, and his voice mixes up with the sound of his breathing.
“Uhuh,” But Hifumi doesn’t pay much attention to the lies. He’s invested in his task, and it may as well be the death of him. “Now we gotta sway a little. And you kinda have to count, like, one, two, three. Like this — just follow me, okay?”
The lie suddenly doesn’t matter much anymore. One, Hifumi counts out loud, and there’s a step, one that Gentaro follows suit, and they move together. Two, and it happens again. He feels his clothing sway along. Three, they’re back in place. He probably was sort of stiff. Hifumi sing-songs the numbers, his grip on Gentaro’s hand tightening just a little at every beat, like they’re steadying themselves on each other.
“Good job, Gen-chan! That’s pretty good for a beginner. Let’s go a little longer, okay?” His eyes sparkle, champagne gold. There’s growing awareness of the small space between their bodies.
It’ll definitely be the death of him.
One, two, three. He regrets the idea. Hifumi shines again, he’s having fun, Gentaro’s put a smile on his face. Because he’s only human, he couldn’t possibly just stare straight at the sun at the height of a summer day.
One, two, three. He falls into the rhythm a little more, Hifumi grins, giving his hand a squeeze. It’s such an odd truce. How did they even grow fond of each other in such a short amount of time? Is it really fondness? He doesn’t want that—
One, two, three. No, that’s a lie, he does. Hifumi pulls him closer and the schemes fall apart in his head. He wants that. He wants that.
One, two, three—
“Gen-chan, I can hear you thinking from here, am I makin’ you uncomfortable or something?” He asks, pushing Gentaro off his reveries, and only then he recalls he can breathe, move, and see.
And when he sees the world again — It’s right in front of him, in a dark living room, holding him too close for comfort, and shining again, like he always should be. A polished trophy and a summer afternoon condensed into the same person.
“I apologize, Izanami-san, the event was but a lie.” He admits, and Hifumi’s face falls into confusion. He still glows, he illuminates the whole room in a silly, overused metaphor. “But… you don’t have to stop, if you don’t want to. If it’s okay with you.”
His face feels hot. Hifumi doesn’t stop. Instead, he grins.
“If you wanted to dance with me, you can just say so, y’know.” He says, they’re even closer now. Gentaro didn’t know it’d be possible, but their chests touch, and… “I’ll dance with you as much as you want, Gen-chan.”
It’s more like a hug. Hifumi really was so warm. He breathes, still overwhelmed, and in a moment of boldness, lets his face rest against his shoulder — They melt into one.
“Then, would you keep teaching me?”