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Keisuke isn't quite sure what to make of it when he and Akira are quickly accepted as refugees. After everything they've gone through, it almost feels like it's too easy.
It seems as if the paperwork that Motomi forged for them is solid enough. Keisuke holds his breath, trying his best to not fidget and look nervous when one of the soldiers looks over their documents. Akira sighs slowly though his nose, something between mild worry and exhaustion, and that's all the encouragement Keisuke needs to give the man a tight-lipped smile, desperately trying to will the twitch in his cheek to calm down. That's how a normal person should react when they flee to a neighboring country, right? It's usually a life-or-death situation, and it might as well be in Akira's case, and Keisuke knows that there's no way that he can live on his own without Akira. If someone looks at it that way, then being accepted into Nikkouren pretty much will decide their fate. So maybe they are normal, kind of. (What a weird thought considering everything they've learned over the past few days.) Maybe it isn't so bad that Keisuke looks anxious. But if the soldier notices how much Keisuke is overthinking everything, he does't say a word; he hands the papers back to them and points them in the direction of a temporary shelter for asylum seekers.
The shelter is cramped, noisy, and stifling; the air is thick with people and an underlying sense of tension, but in a different way than in Toshima. The desperation isn't nearly as bloodthirsty, and, despite the lingering remnants of despair drifting between the small beds, Keisuke feels like there is a tiny glimpse of hope, too. They've all crossed the most dangerous hurdle, they're in a new country, and there's a promise of a better life... at least after they get out of here. There's barely any privacy to speak of, and Keisuke feels a little bit overwhelmed; this is a big adjustment, in some ways even bigger than when he arrived in Toshima. He's never stepped foot in Nikkouren before. This isn't his home. He guesses from his limited experience in the country that it's not that different from the CFC, but it's... weird, like the feeling when one takes the train home and accidentally gets off a station too early. He knows the way home, hypothetically speaking, but everything is just slightly off.
And it's not like he can really go home again, even if he has Akira. It's complicated. It's like their promise can only ever be half-fulfilled. Nothing is the same as it was when Akira was arrested. Keisuke had hoped, at the time, that he could drag Akira back home with him and everything would go back to the way it always was, even though he knew deep down that things could never be the same again. It's one thing to know something and quite another to experience it, though.
Keisuke pulls the thin sheet on his cot up to his chin. The lights don't go completely off in the shared living area - Keisuke gets it, since there are all sorts of people here with different needs - but Keisuke has found comfort in the ambiguous dark in the past. In the dark, there could be anyone just in arm's reach. There could be nobody. It all depends on what Keisuke wants at the time. While a warm, welcoming body in the black of night has been a comforting fantasy in days gone by, he wonders if an empty void might feel safer now. He can't hurt or kill anybody that isn't there, and a body that only exists in his own mind can't reject him.
Now, Keisuke is confronted with reality. Akira is sleeping fitfully not even twenty centimeters away from him. This is both Keisuke's dearest, most desperate wish, and also his deepest fear.
Not even a month ago, Keisuke thinks that he would have known what to do. He would have reached out and squeezed Akira's shoulder, maybe offered him his joke of a blanket or his coveralls so he could stay warmer. It could be a friendly gesture, right? It didn't have to mean anything. He could tell himself that, at least, and try to tell the same to Akira with a straight face if he asked. Maybe his voice would falter a bit, and maybe Akira would make a face, but he would press his lips together and leave it at that. (But Akira wasn't really ever one to ask about such things. Akira is just as clumsy at romance as - )
Everything feels so loaded in ways that it wasn't in the past. He tried to act assured when he held Akira's hand in the underground tunnel towards Nikkouren, but he knew that it was - a gesture, one that he probably wouldn't have dared before... but it still allowed for a few things to remain unsaid, which is both a blessing and a curse. They haven't talked about everything that happened, not really, not since arriving. They haven't had the time or privacy for it. Keisuke isn't sure if he should feel glad or awful that he can imagine that Akira really does like him back... or at least isn't so repulsed by him that he'd wholesale reject him. There's plausible deniability. (Ugh.)
Even the fact that Keisuke is lying down so close to Akira, even though they aren't technically on the same cot, has Keisuke's mind racing and his heart aching against his ribs. It doesn't mean anything - not really. He and Akira just ran away to Nikkouren together. They'll keep a low profile and try to blend in with the rest of the population. There are loads of people trying to cross the border right as the war is starting, so in theory it shouldn't be too hard.. They're here. That should count for something. It's easier to work together than alone, especially since Akira sometimes acts before he thinks. (Not that Keisuke is a lot better, but they can sometimes see each other's weak spots, and they probably really do work better together than alone. Keisuke wants to believe that.) And Keisuke is strong now. Hypothetically, he should be able to protect Akira if he needs to.
Not that his strength has done a whole lot of good so far.
... This is why Keisuke is awake. He could try to rest, but he's pretty sure he'd just have nightmares. If not about his strength and its horrifying consequences, then -
Akira turns on his back in bed and groans softly in his sleep, his eyebrows furrowed. Even in the dim light, Keisuke can see that Akira's lips are slightly parted, soft puffs of air probably passing between them as he breathes. Keisuke has watched Akira sleep a few times when they were in Toshima together, the rare times when Keisuke slept less than Akira, but... there's something different about this.
This breath is different than the cries Akira made beneath him, both in pain and pleasure. There was a moment where Keisuke second-guessed himself, but he thinks that Akira is sleeping the same as he always did. Probably.
Keisuke sits up in bed, watching over Akira. Is it creepy that he's doing this? Would Akira think it's weird? They did, um... well... but Akira hasn't given Keisuke a sign that romantic overtures are welcome since then, and it really was an extremely loaded conversation. Everything happened so fast. Maybe that's how things will always have to be between them - either nothing happens, or everything happens.
"Akira," Keisuke finds himself whispering, not quite a question.
Akira grunts and rolls over, squinting at Keisuke. Keisuke isn't really sure what he was expecting - Akira always was a really light sleeper, especially after they've been living in a very dangerous situation for over a week. "What is it?"
A thousand thoughts cross Keisuke's mind. Did you mean it when you said we could stay together? Are you sure you want me around? Were you really okay when we had sex the other day, or was I forcing you again? Are you okay right now? Is there anything I can do to help?
- Do you love me as much as I love you, or am I being an idiot again?
Keisuke grips onto the plastic of his cot and averts his eyes. "Nothing," he mumbles.
Akira sighs and swings his legs over the edge of the cot, his knees bumping against Keisuke's. "It's not nothing if you woke me up," he says, not unkindly, as he situates himself into a more comfortable position, curling one of his legs underneath him and his other leg slipped between Keisuke's. He's a little grumpy from lack of sleep, but. He doesn't seem angry at Keisuke, which Keisuke will gratefully take. Keisuke tries not to think too hard about how close and casual they seem in this moment - maybe others would look at them and think they are lovers, or close friends, but Keisuke knows that it's more complicated than that. (At least he thinks it is.)
"I've been thinking a lot," Keisuke says, and as soon as he starts talking, he realizes that it's too late. He's not going to be able to stop, and he's going to sound really stupid, but there's nothing he can do about it now that the words have started. "About where we go from here. This could be a new start for us, right? - For me and for you, I mean. But I need to make amends somehow. To you, and to everyone else." Akira tilts his head, and an image enters Keisuke's mind - Akira leaning up into Keisuke's touch, allowing Keisuke to ruffle his hair and caress his cheek. But that's not what Akira is doing right now, even though Keisuke feels his eyes start to water a little. Somehow thoughts like that are so much worse now that he knows what touching Akira intimately feels like, what his kisses and his skin and his whole body feels like against his hands and his lips. "It's not fair. I need to be doing more."
"Nothing's fair," Akira says evenly, interrupting Keisuke as he takes a breath. It almost feels like a bucket of ice water poured over his head. "What happened to us, what happened in Toshima - nothing about it was fair."
"But that's what I'm saying," Keisuke says, his voice raising enough that it might draw attention. Akira narrows his eyes and pushes his index finger to Keisuke's lips, and Keisuke feels blood rush to his head despite the circumstances, his rapid heartbeat temporarily drowning out all other sound. Finally, after a long minute, Akira removes his hand from Keisuke's face, and Keisuke can still feel the imprint of Akira's finger on his lips. It takes a startling amount of willpower to not run his tongue over the indent over and over again, just so he can remember what it felt like. "... I was saying," Keisuke whispers as soon as he is able to regain his composure, "that there's more that I should do to make it up to... everyone." It's probably best to be vague in situations like this; while everybody here is an asylum seeker, and Nikkouren has taken them in comparatively warmly, who knows who might be listening? "I've been thinking, you know." Keisuke rubs the back of his neck, which is still very hot. "Maybe I should enlist or something, if they'll have me."
Akira raises an eyebrow, exhaling slowly. "You don't like fighting. That doesn't seem like a good idea."
"I don't like it, but does it matter what I like?" Keisuke grips onto his coveralls and focuses on his hands, unable to look Akira in the eye. "I'm different now," he continues, hoping desperately that if he says it then it'll become true. "There are so many things that I can do now that I wasn't able to do before. So if I can help bring down the CFC, the awful people that did this to us... then shouldn't I? If they did this to me," Keisuke says, unclenching his fists and staring at his palms, "then wouldn't it be the right thing to do to use my strength as a weapon against them? I'm pretty sure that they'd be happy to have more able bodies in the war effort."
Akira puts one of his fists in Keisuke's palm. Keisuke's eyes stay fixed there. He doesn't feel like he can breathe - if he moves a centimeter, then the whole illusion of closeness might break and everything will fall apart. Keisuke doesn't know if he can handle that right now. "There's no going back home," Akira says after a moment. His fingers slowly unravel, and Keisuke shivers as he feels Akira's fingertips spread along his palm, his middle finger brushing against his life line. "But I think, maybe..." Akira furrows his eyebrows, and it's hard to tell in the half-dark, but Keisuke thinks Akira might be blushing a little. This quickens Keisuke's pulse, and his eyes widen, watching Akira intently, as if each milimeter his eyes open could allow him to see any shift in Akira's color. Akira blinks a few times, pouting, and then wraps his thumb, ring, and pinky fingers around Keisuke's wrist, leaving his index and middle fingers on the soft of Keisuke's inner arm. "We have to create our own home now. Together. That's what you wanted, right?"
Somehow, those words feel like a knife to Keisuke's gut. "I do... I did... but it's not fair if that's not what you want. You shouldn't have to feel like you owe me something just because we have history; I'd get it if you - "
Akira's grip on Keisuke's arm tightens. "Who's saying that's how I feel? Don't put words in my mouth." A car passes by outside, and the passing headlights illuminate Akira's face.
In this instant, Keisuke sees everything that he's ever loved about Akira. His face is set and determined, his eyes shining with conviction, and his body is leaning forward, so so close but not quite right up against Keisuke's. Keisuke is pretty sure that he could look at this expression for hours, even if the strength of Akira's emotion leaves him feeling a little lightheaded and fluttery in his stomach.
"It's not as if I don't understand your feelings." Akira rubs his fingers back and forth along Keisuke's wrist, and Keisuke's skin feels like it's burning from overstimulation. It would be one thing if Akira was saying this to him, or just touching him, but this almost feels like too much at once, and Keisuke still wants to put this moment in a jar and lock it away someplace precious, since he's not sure if he'll ever have this again. "I didn't feel good about..." Akira shows Keisuke his wounded hand. "And I know it's different with you. More complicated, maybe. But that's all the more reason to not enlist. I don't want to be a weapon ever again." Akira's nails dig into Keisuke's wrist, and Keisuke inhales sharply. "Is this any way to repay the dead, Keisuke? By being a tool and letting others use you?"
Keisuke opens his mouth, but a lump in his throat makes any vocalizations impossible. He stammers hopelessly. This is nothing like how he expected Akira to react to his worries - it's neither soft and gentle like Keisuke hoped, nor completely dismissive as Keisuke feared -
And it's moments like these that remind Keisuke of why he fell for Akira in the first place, all those years ago. While he only realized it back when he broke up with his girlfriend, he realized later that he must have loved Akira for so much longer than that.
Keisuke isn't sure what he would do without Akira, and maybe that's why a small, desperate part of him wants to push him away. Keisuke has hurt him so badly. If Akira was ever harmed by Keisuke again, then Keisuke is pretty sure that he would die. He never wants to hurt Akira again, so maybe it's better that they go their separate ways, and maybe it's better if Keisuke throws himself into a violent war that's sure to kill thousands of people. That's what he thinks he probably deserves. But does justice matter if Akira, the one who he would do this all for, wants Keisuke to live?
"I won't forgive you if you go to war," Akira says, and there's a quiver in the last word that makes Keisuke's stomach flip. "Not ever."
A conflicted, painful joy spikes through Keisuke's heart, and this thing that Akira is telling him finally almost feels like something Keisuke deserves, even if he can't believe it. "Akira..." He grasps onto Akira's wrist in turn, feeling Akira's heartbeat flutter underneath his fingertips.
This is something worth holding on to, even if it hurts sometimes, and Keisuke can't do that if he's away from Akira. He grips on tightly, so hard that he thinks his fingers might leave a mark, but Akira is holding on with just as much strength, his eyes focused on Keisuke.
"Come home with me and live," Akira says. "It's not fair, but..." Akira squeezes. "It might be enough if you give it your all."
When Akira says it like this, Keisuke wants to do everything that he can to prove to Akira that he can do it. "Okay," he says, nearly a whisper.
Akira frowns, his eyes serious, and he releases his grip from Keisuke's wrist. Keisuke's skin sings, aching for pressure. "Don't say things like that again. I don't want you to die."
"I won't," and Keisuke thinks that he means it this time. Now that he knows that this is really how Akira feels, now that it's easy enough for Akira to walk away... he thinks he can try to believe Akira with all of his heart, or at least keep his doubts to himself.
Akira looks over his shoulder briefly, checking to see if anybody is watching, and Keisuke holds his breath. He remembers, suddenly, Akira's excuse when he was first arrested. Akira brought it up first, even if it was a joke, so maybe Akira does want to do things with Keisuke? (Not that they can do anything here!)
Time stutters around Keisuke, and before he knows it, Akira's arms are wrapped around his shoulders. Akira, someone who never initiates physical contact. Akira, who has shrugged off many people who pat him on the back or try to embrace him. Akira, who has only ever touched Keisuke like this - and, if Keisuke is understanding Akira's actions correctly, will only ever touch Keisuke like this. Nobody else. The thought is dizzying and frightening and beautiful.
Keisuke's vision goes wobbly as he hugs Akira back, clinging onto him tightly, letting a few stray tears of happiness and catharsis and longing for a better future slide down Akira's jacket as they embrace.