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He’s drowning. The surface is only an arm's length away, but he can’t reach it no matter how hard he tries to swim up.
At some point, he realizes he’ll never be able to. There’s a chain wrapped around his ankle, dragging him to the bottom of the ocean. Anchoring him to the seabed.
If this is love, Denki wants no part in it.
Hitoshi has already broken his heart once before. Back in high school when the girls set them up on a “blind” date. Mina didn’t tell Denki who it was, just that it was some poor sap who had never been on a date and needed someone to guarantee him a good time.
Denki was skeptical at first. He didn’t want to play babysitter to someone two or three years his junior, but Mina insisted—or threatened, he can’t recall at this point—and he ended up walking into a ramen shop, anticipating a really awkward time with a really awkward first-year. Spending most of it trying too hard to be cool, but secretly plotting Mina’s demise.
What he didn’t expect was Hitoshi to be sitting there, waiting for him.
Hitoshi, his best friend. Someone he cherished. Relied on. Someone he trusted.
Someone he had been slowly falling in love with and didn’t know it had happened until that moment.
“I didn’t realize you’ve never been on a date before.” Denki remembers rambling, the nerves getting the better of him. “I guess I always assumed you’d gone out on at least a few, I mean look at who we go to school with right? Hottie city.”
“But...” Denki remembers being the most nervous he’s ever felt as he pushed the words past his lips, “I was actually really happy to see it was you. Is that dumb?”
Apparently so. Hitoshi admitted the girls forced him to go on that date. That he originally didn’t want to go through with it.
Denki had been around long enough to know what that meant: he was thoroughly friend zoned. It hurt. Felt like his chest was being clawed apart.
And now, again. The universe is tormenting him. That impromptu kiss. That confession. None of it was real. It was just an act and Denki is afraid that if he keeps holding out on an off chance that Hitoshi might change his mind about him, he’ll end up drowning for eternity.
“I’m seeing someone,” Denki confesses.
There, he said it. At least now it’s out in the open.
“You’re what?” Hitoshi asks. He doesn’t even sound surprised.
Denki looks away because he hoped that he would sound even a tiny bit jealous, but Hitoshi doesn’t even sound like he cares. “Yeah. Uh, only for a couple of months now. It’s not a big deal.”
“With who?”
Denki swallows thickly. “Uh…”
“What?” Hitoshi presses. “Is it some dating app thing?”
Funnily, he’d have an easier time disclosing who if it were a stranger. But, it’s someone they both know really well.
Denki bites his lip and forces himself to smile. “No, it’s...it’s Shouto.”
“Shouto?”
“Yeah, I mean, he’s not…” Denki shifts in his seat. He’s not you, he doesn’t even compare to you. “We’re not like… boyfriends. Just you know, seeing where it goes? I’d rather date someone I know than some rando off the internet, you know?”
He’s rambling again, playing with the fray edges of the wool blanket and averting his gaze. “At least with a friend I know they’re not gonna like… go freaky stalker on me or something, right?”
Although I’d rather that friend be you. I’ve always wanted it to be you, Toshi.
“You’re sure Shouto won’t do that?” Hitoshi retorts. “His brother is insane.”
Denki frowns at his tone. What is that supposed to imply? Shouto is their friend. They went to school together.
“Don’t be mean,” he scowls, shooting him a glare. “Shouto’s sweet and he’s nothing like his brother. You know that.”
“I was just… trying to be funny,” Hitoshi murmurs.
“Well, it wasn’t funny,” Denki snaps irritably. Why is he being so rude? Why can’t he just be happy for him?
“Sorry,” Hitoshi tries. “That’s... great. I bet dating Shouto is uh… extravagant?”
Denki stares. What?
“Does he take you to fancy places to wine and dine you?” Hitoshi asks, but Denki is hardly even listening anymore. His blood is boiling.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I just mean his family’s loaded, so he can probably get you guys into all sorts of crazy restaurants, it could be fu—”
Done. Denki’s done. “Are you saying I’m dating him for his money?!” he practically screeches, desperately suppressing every sob that wants to tear out of him.
“No, I just—”
“Forget it.” Denki scrambles off the couch, furiously trying to rip the blanket off him. This is stupid. He doesn’t even fully know why he’s so upset, he just knows that he’s submerged ten thousand meters under water and he can’t breathe. He’s tired of not being able to breathe. “Just—pretend I didn’t say anything. I’m sorry I brought it up.”
“Denki, wait—”
“No.” He does his best to collect his things and get his shoes on, even though his entire world is blurred with tears. He can tell Hitoshi is only a few steps behind him, following him to the door.
“I thought you would be happy for me,” Denki chokes out.
It was supposed to be you, you idiot. I wanted to be happy with you.
Denki wipes the tears with the back of his sleeve. “I was nervous to tell you because your opinion is important to me.”
I was nervous to tell you because I thought I was making a mistake. You were supposed to tell me it’s a mistake.
God, I wish it had turned out differently.
“I thought,” Denki says, sighing a staggering breath, “you would think Shouto isn’t good enough for me, not accuse me of using him.”
Is that what you really think of me? Is that the reason we aren’t together right now?
Fuck.
Denki storms out, clutching his chest and ignoring the pained expression on Hitoshi’s face.
— — — —
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
“I’m not?”
“I canceled our date,” Denki murmurs behind the comforter he’s swaddled in. He wraps it tightly around him, trying to hide the fact that he’s in nothing but his boxer shorts. When he answered the door, he was expecting to shoo away a group of missionaries. Not greet a snazzily dressed Shouto bringing peace offerings.
“I guess that means this hot taro with boba is also canceled,” Shouto says, glancing at the paper cup in his hand. “And this sakuramochi. And the DVDs of 1960s musicals—”
“I hate you, come in.”
Company is the last thing Denki wants, but Shouto makes a compelling case with food from the outside world and maybe this won’t be terrible. It beats living off stale granola bars and chipping away at dried instant ramen because he’s been too depressed to boil water.
“Denki?”
“What?” He’s halfway down the hallway when Shouto calls him and he doesn’t bother turning around.
“Are you naked in there?”
Denki winces. Oh, right. “No, uh I—”
“Do you wanna hop in the shower while I get things set up?”
Denki looks over his shoulder, his chest tightening. “Why are you so sweet and nice?”
Shouto smiles, dimples forming on top of rosy cheeks, and Denki finds it hard to keep his heart from melting. “I’m just trying to give you reasons not to kick me out.”
“Well...it’s working.”
It only takes twenty minutes for Denki to shower and get dressed. He has to admit, he’s already feeling ten times better after doing nothing but sulk in bed for three days straight. When he enters his room, the TV is already set up with Hello, Dolly! on screen. There’s a tray of onigiri and mochi sitting on his bed. Shouto hands him a mug of his taro tea that he reheated and kisses him on the forehead.
“All ready for date night.”
“You didn’t have to do this,” Denki mutters into his mug. His stomach twists and not necessarily because he wished it was Hitoshi doing all this instead, but because he’s glad it’s Shouto. He feels guilty that this feels so natural and right and easy.
“You seemed really down,” Shouto says, leading him to a nest of pillows on the bed. “I wanted to help.”
Denki crawls into it, careful not to spill his drink or disturb any of the food. When he’s comfortable, Shouto climbs into the covers beside him, sitting up against the headboard.
“I don’t know why you put up with me.”
“Because I like you,” Shouto replies plainly.
God. The words left his lips effortlessly. Something like that should give him goosebumps, but Denki just feels overwhelming dread.
“You made that look so easy,” Denki says unwittingly.
Shouto tilts his head. “Telling you I like you? I’m just being honest with you.”
Of course because that’s how Shouto is. He’s honest to a fault. It’s one of the reasons Denki agreed to go on a date with him in the first place. His frankness, his ability to say what’s on his mind without fear of consequence, has been such a breath of fresh air.
“I envy you,” Denki sighs, leaning his head on Shouto’s shoulder.
“Because I’m honest?” he asks, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “You’re honest, too.”
“Not like you. I don’t just say how I feel.”
Tentative fingers caress Denki’s arm, slowly soothing the tension in his muscles. “It’s easier than you think,” Shouto says. “You just have to let go of worrying about how the other person is going to react.”
“I can’t just not worry,” Denki says, shrugging.
“I know. It’s because you’re kind and you care a lot about people.”
Denki squints at him. “And you don’t?”
“No, I’m ice cold,” Shouto says, smiling crookedly.
“God, you and your dad jokes.”
“You like them,” Shouto says, tugging Denki’s sleeve playfully. “Admit it.”
Denki shakes his head. “Nope.”
“Well then, at least you like me.”
Denki sucks in a sharp breath, pulling away suddenly. I like...Shouto? Is that true?
It’s not. It’s true he adores Shouto. Their relationship feels so organic. Sure, they got along in school, but these past couple of months he realized he has much more in common with Shouto than he thought. Their affinity for classic movies, the fact that they both love to sing along to musicals even though neither of them can hold a tune. On top of Shouto’s honesty, he’s thoughtful, a complete sweetheart, and surprisingly funny. He’s great.
It should work. But, it doesn’t.
“Sorry,” Shouto says, wringing his hands. “Did I say something wrong?”
Denki sets his mug on the tray and buries his face in his hands. Tears prick behind his eyes and he feels like the room is about to cave in on him.
“Hey,” Shouto says, rubbing his back. “Something’s on your mind. Tell me.”
Denki’s stomach drops. “I…it’s...just...”
You’ll be disappointed. You’re not going to like the answer. You’re going to hate me.
“Don’t worry about how I’m going to react,” Shouto reminds him. “You can’t control that. Just say it.”
“I like Toshi,” he confesses quickly, the words jumbled in a hurried breath. He shuts his eyes and tries it again more slowly. “I love him. I’m in love with Hitoshi.”
Denki pales. Shouto’s eyes go wide.
Oh, god. Fuck, what the hell was he thinking? This is what he gets for not caring about how other people will respond, he knew he’d say something so incredibly insensitive and stupid. Shouto told him he liked him and he just—
“Did you hear that?” Shouto calls toward the door, which suddenly swings open.
Denki’s jaw plummets.
Hanta walks in, hands on his hips. Looking smug as all hell. “Fucking finally, dude. We were beginning to think you were going to take this secret to your grave.”
Denki blinks, his brain trying to catch up to whatever concoction Hanta has cooked up because there’s a maniacal grin on his face which means he’s up to something and fuck. He’s kicking himself for not catching on sooner.
“What the hell is going on?” Denki demands.
“This, my friend,” Hanta says, spreading his arms wide, “is an intervention.”
— — — —
Apparently, they’d been planning this intervention for three days. Hanta, Mina, and Shouto (how they roped him into it is beyond Denki). Mina showed up shortly after Hanta announced his arrival with a very confused Hitoshi in tow. They shoved him in the room, barricading the door from the outside with a shitload of tape and ice. Demanding that they talk.
“This is ridiculous!” Denki turns the knob uselessly. “And I have a high tolerance!”
“You’re not actually going to blast the door open, are you?” Hitoshi asks from the bed.
“I’m considering it,” Denki says through gritted teeth. He bangs on the door. “This isn’t funny!”
“Who’s laughing?” Mina yells from the other side. “You children need to talk this out.”
“I don’t want to talk! I want out.”
“If you even try to escape, Kaminari Denki, I will melt your entire DVD collection of bad musicals. Now talk!”
“I don’t—UGH!” He whirls around to face Hitoshi, electricity crackling in his palms.
“Don’t kill me,” Hitoshi says, holding his hands up. “Innocent bystander. Mina’s your target.”
Denki narrows his eyes at him. “You started this whole thing!”
“Uh, yes—true, but I still say we should direct the blame towards Mina.”
“You’d be more satisfying to kill.”
“Also true, but then who would paint your nails? Give you back rubs? Dye the little spiky stripe in your hair?”
“Lightning bolt,” Denki corrects curtly.
“Zigzag thing,” Hitoshi says with a stupid smile.
Denki shakes his head disapprovingly, burying his face behind his hands and trying to suppress his laughter. He never could resist Hitoshi’s attempts to lighten up the mood whenever there was a riff between them. Especially since that’s usually Denki’s job and the fact that Hitoshi puts in any effort to make him smile means the world to him.
The tension starts to dissipate in the room and Denki finally feels like he can breathe again. When he peeks through his fingers, Hitoshi is popping a mochi in his mouth and eyeing the onigiri on the tray.
“What the heck are you doing?”
Hitoshi finishes chewing before responding. “These are delicious.”
“Who says you can just steal my snacks?” Denki asks, plopping himself onto the bed between Hitoshi and the tray.
“You steal my snacks all the time,” Hitoshi says, trying to reach over him. Denki zaps him and he pulls away.
“Yeah, but these are gifts,” Denki says, moving the tray to the floor where they’re safest.
“From Shouto?”
Denki flinches and, suddenly, his heart is hammering against his chest. He’s heard that tone in his voice before, when they were undercover and he thought Hitoshi was going to crush Ito’s hand into dust. But, he can’t imagine Hitoshi being jealous of Shouto. Why would he be?
“Do you really like him?” Hitoshi asks abruptly. “Shouto.”
Denki looks down at his hands, tugging his pinky nervously. “Why? Am I not good enough for him?”
“What?” Hitoshi scoots closer. “Denki, no. I don’t think that at all.”
Denki shoots him a suspicious look. “Don’t you? You only called me a gold digger.”
“I didn’t say—that’s not what I meant,” Hitoshi says.
“Then what did you mean?”
“I was just,” Hitoshi rubs his eyes in frustration. “I was only trying to say that he could probably give you all the things you deserve because...well, because you’re worth it.”
Denki’s heart stills. He watches Hitoshi carefully, only a few centimeters apart, tightly balling up his fists on his lap. It’s the closest admission he can hope for, much closer than the false ‘I love you’ all those months ago. Maybe it’s enough and he decides to grab onto it, holding the words against his chest like a promise.
“I’m worth it?” he repeats.
“Yes,” Hitoshi breathes. “Absolutely. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”
“Including you?” Denki blurts out. He sees Hitoshi freeze up and instantly regrets being so careless because he already knows Hitoshi just wants to be friends. “Forget I said—”
“Yes. Yes, including me.”
Denki’s ears are ringing. He shakes head, confused. “But, you only want to be friends. That’s all you’ve ever wanted.”
“When did I ever say I wanted that?” Hitoshi asks, laughing breathlessly. He grips the fabric of his pants nervously. His ears turn bright red. “I never—I’ve always…”
“Hitoshi.” Denki gulps, clutching his own hands because they’re starting to tremble and if he doesn’t say something soon, he might burst. “I need to tell you something.”
“Wait—let me go first.”
“Let me go first.”
“Denki—”
“Oh my god, okay.” Denki straightens his spine, drawing a nice, long breath. “On the count of three, just say what you want to say.”
Hitoshi scans his face, brows knitted together. “What—at the same time?”
“Yes.”
“How are we supposed—”
“One…” Denki says, preparing to steel himself. He tries not to think about how he’s practically sweating buckets or how much he’s shaking.
Hitoshi waves his hands in front of him in a panic. “Okay, okay, I get it. You can—”
“Two…”
“Wait, Denki—”
Denki squeezes his eyes shut. He swallows his resolve and hopes for the best. “Three.”
“I want to be with you!”—“I’m in love with you.”
Denki’s eyes fly open. He didn’t hear that. No, his ears are playing tricks on him. Even though Hitoshi has gone white at this point, he must have heard wrong.
“What did you say?” Denki asks, almost frantic.
“Wh—you heard me,” stammers Hitoshi.
“We said it at the same time, I didn’t hear you!”
“Oh my god, Denki.” Hitoshi groans half-heartedly, but it quickly turns into fits of laughter, which Denki finds contagious. Soon they’re doubled over, Denki wiping the tears rolling down his chin.
“Hey, why’re you crying?” Hitoshi asks, sliding a hand along the side of Denki’s face, thumbs brushing away the few runaway teardrops. “Don’t cry.”
Denki chuckles, hands grabbing onto Hitoshi’s wrist, desperate for him not to let go. “I’m just relieved, that’s all.”
“You’re relieved that you didn’t hear me say I love you?”
Denki shivers, the words tingling his skin. He can see Hitoshi smiling, still shy, but much more relaxed. His eyes are fixed on Denki in a way that had only existed in Denki’s dreams before.
“Yes because then I can hear you say it again,” he says, turning to kiss his palm.
Hitoshi leans in. He cups Denki’s face and presses their foreheads together, lips so close that it would only take one move to close the gap.
“I love you, Denki,” Hitoshi whispers, voice soft and low. “I’ve loved you for a really long time.”
Denki almost forgets to breathe. He inhales slowly, the woodsy scent of Hitoshi’s cologne making him drunk with pleasure. He grasps the front of Hitoshi’s shirt, fingers curling around the collar. “I love you, too, Hitoshi.”
He tugs at the fabric and the space between them is gone. Heat and electricity surges through him, landing on cool, wet lips. He feels Hitoshi’s warm hands beneath his shirt, pulling him closer. A tongue runs across his lips and Denki mewls, both eager to gain access to each other’s mouths.
BANG BANG BANG
Denki and Hitoshi jolt at the sound, heads spinning toward the door.
“Hey you two,” Mina calls from the other side. “It’s quiet in there so I’m assuming you either killed each other or you’re getting busy.”
Denki smirks, rolling his eyes. “We’re not dead!”
There’s a brief moment of silence before Denki hears snickering. “Well, congratulations, you two lovebirds,” Mina says and Denki is pretty sure he hears a champagne bottle popping. “Now get out here so we can celebrate!”