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Sometimes Koko wondered if anything would be different…if anything would have changed if he had said what was on his mind… any of the number of things that weighed on his heart on that last night together.
Not their last night together. No, that would come weeks later, when Koko made the decisions that sent their futures spiraling into vastly different directions.
But their last holiday together. Their last Christmas, after so many were spent together side by side. Christmas was always a difficult holiday for Inupi’s family, especially after the fire. Always working paycheck to paycheck to rebuild their lives, refusing to accept money from a child due to some sort of pride that Koko never understood. But despite the pride of his parents, Inupi never complained when Koko pulled him along to share dinner and sweets and presents with his family, and later just the two of them, locked away in their little hideout. Koko did not like to let the holiday pass without seeing his friend for at least a little bit, because clearly his presence brought a bright spot to Inupi’s cold winter day.
Someone who didn’t know him as well would likely have missed the small smile that graced Inupi’s normally stoic face as they shared a slice of the Christmas cake Koko had stolen from his mother’s kitchen. But Koko never missed it… he had grown to admire it over the years as unique and lovely and perfectly Inupi.
Koko wished he had appreciated it more, back when he still had the time.
But on a Christmas day, so many years in the future, all Koko could recall were memories.
Soft memories, muddled by time to be something much sweeter and more significant than it had probably been at the time. But that added sweetness, even if it was added due to distance and heartbreak, was what helped Koko survive the nights alone.
Koko recalled a sense of relief when they returned to their hideout that Christmas night. It wasn’t even Christmas any more, the clock ticking past 1 am on the morning of December 26th. But that didn’t matter. It would still be Christmas until their heads hit the pillows, and for the moment, Koko had enjoyed it. As much as he could.
Because Inupi was there. And for once, they were unburdened. For once, it was just the two of them once again. No gangs, no obligations, no ties. Just the two of them, as it always should have been.
Koko pulled the coat of the Black Dragons off of his shoulders for the last time, and watched out of the corner of his eye as Inupi did the same, admiring the pale expanse of his friend’s back. The scarring there was just as red and angry as the scar on his face, but it had blended with his unmarred skin for a bit as Inupi’s skin flushed with the temperature change from outdoors to indoors.
Koko remembered him being close enough to touch. The place where they had kept their clothes back in those days had been near enough to each other that Koko could have done it. But he didn’t, his hands occupied with pulling a simple black sweater over his head. But his fingertips still itched for contact with warm skin, even as he tried to distract himself.
Even now, he wished he had reached out. Run his fingers down Inupi’s spine, around to his stomach. Pulled him into a hug, where his face nestled against Inupi’s neck, the last stings of cold evaporating from his body as they shared what little warmth they had gathered around them.
But he did not. Even though he should have in hindsight.
Koko could have lied. Said he wanted to comfort Inupi after such a stressful night. Inupi’s dream was gone after all. The Black Dragons were over. Yet again, another generation slipped out of Inupi’s grasp without him being able to do much. He was pretending he was fine, but the way his shoulders curled in let Koko know he was not.
In those days, Koko knew Inupi better than himself. He knew his subtle cues that were so hard to pick up on and took years of closeness and practice to master. He knew when Inupi was annoyed, angry, sad. He knew when Inupi was happy, from the small smile and the crinkle in the corners of his eyes.
Koko wondered if those expressions were still the same. If he still snorted when he laughed, if he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth when he was trying not to cry.
He had no way of knowing. Inupi could be so different now.
His Inupi. He who had never been his, and would never know Koko had ever thought that maybe one day Inupi might be his.
Sinking deeper into his thoughts, Koko remembered that by the time he popped his head through the neck of his sweater, Inupi’s skin was covered, and his chance was gone. At least for the moment. Koko observed as Inupi busied himself with warming up water, making them something warm to drink after spending the night out in the snow. Koko could not recall if it was hot chocolate or tea, though it was probably not coffee due to the time of day. Inupi had always known that Koko was sensitive to coffee, and if he wanted to get a wink of sleep, Koko wasn’t allowed coffee after 3 pm.
The contents of the cup didn’t matter, they were nowhere near as warm as the brush of Inupi’s fingers against his as his friend handed him a mug.
Koko was sure that the calluses on Inupi’s fingers were still there. He had always been tinkering, fiddling with his bike. He knew that hadn’t changed, because Inupi always needed something to do. Koko never minded them, and wished that he had felt them on other parts of his body besides his hands or his wrist or his face.
But it never did him good to dwell on that thought for too long.
It was so terribly hard not to dwell, however. Not when the only time he was happy on this god forsaken day was when he was running through memories.
Soft memories of soft smiles and soft blonde hair. Soft touches that were never acknowledged and never will be acknowledged. Soft feelings that Koko will always wonder about, never knowing if they were mutually shared and reciprocated.
Koko remembered almost being shy when he presented Inupi with his Christmas gift. The last Christmas gift he ever gave his Inupi. A thin gold bracelet that Koko had been setting money aside for every month because it cost more than a pretty penny. It was delicate, feminine, and reminded him of Inupi the moment he saw it. Inupi had never been one for jewelry, if Koko remembered correctly, but he was never sure if that was a personal choice or an inability to spend money on frivolous things like Koko could. But his smile had been so bright, and he said he loved it as he let Koko do up the clasp around his left wrist.
Despite the smile, there was a sadness in those blue eyes, and Koko knew Inupi always smiled the widest when he was pretending he was not in pain.
There had been an unspoken accusation hanging in the air, one that Inupi never liked to use because he missed her too, but Koko felt it nonetheless as Inupi passed Koko his gift.
“Don’t you wish that this were my sister?”
Koko only ever thought of her three times a year. Once on her death day, because that was when the lives of himself and Inupi changed forever. Once in February, when he and Inupi had their last fight about her. And once on Christmas, because maybe nothing would be how it was now if Koko had corrected Inupi then.
Because in that moment, Koko had only been thinking of Inupi. Inupi was his only thought, his only desire and only comfort. Those blue eyes that looked so much like hers…in them he only saw Inupi.
He hadn’t wished for Akane in months. Years, if he was being honest. Koko could never quite pinpoint when it shifted, or why he chose to lie and keep up the facade for so long. Maybe because it was easier to keep the dynamic that he already had.
But it was more likely because he never knew how Inupi really felt. If Inupi shared the feelings Koko kept so close to his heart.
So it was easier… safer… to keep those feelings close to his heart and pretend they didn’t exist, even as he longed to pull Inupi into his arms and keep him there. Keep him safe. Something he could never do for Akane. But something he would give his last breath to do for Inupi.
koko would give anything to go back to that moment. To slap his own stupid 15 year old self to get him to say something that would’ve changed the moment.
Because assuredly, even in that moment, in the wee hours of a December morning almost a lifetime away, Koko loved him. He knows he did. Maybe he couldn’t have put it into such beautiful words as he could now, but the feelings he held in that moment were the feelings he still felt now.
He loved him, and he should have told him.
Or shown him, because no matter how eloquent Koko finds himself to be, he knows that words would have failed him in that moment.
But instead he said nothing, and he did nothing. Koko can still remember the pull of the fake smile that he fixed onto his cheeks as he thanked Inupi for his gift. A scarf, that Koko knew Inupi saved up even longer to afford, because always so proud, Inupi alos never liked to accept Koko’s charity, even if it came from a place of love.
Love that Inupi never knew about.
Or maybe he did. Sometimes Koko liked to torture himself and imagine that Inupi did know.
But he knew that was a lie when he started rationalizing with himself.
Koko never gave any hints, never gave away his secret.
Even when they lay side by side on a small pallet they had made up as a bed, it was Inupi that rolled over in his sleep and pulled Koko against his chest. Koko had been awake, always the last to fall asleep in their small shared space. How could he sleep when Inupi snored the way he did, or with the way their backs pressed together as they both sought out each other’s warmth in the unfinished concrete room, or the way Inupi’s cold toes kicked out against his legs when Koko invaded his space too much.
The gesture was unconscious Koko knew, because the break in his Inupi’s snores had lasted only long enough for him to roll over, and resumed again as soon as his nose was nestled in the tangled mess of Koko’s hair.
He wished Inupi had done it of his own volition, but that was too much to ask for.
In his dreams, Koko was always the one to make the first move, because he could not imagine an Inupi that loved him in that way. No matter how much he craved it.
At the time, it was enough just to be held by Inupi, because Koko could fantasize as he fell asleep that this was real.
That it meant something to both of them.
When they woke, Inupi pulled away with a polite apology, his hair a mess and cheeks flushed pink, and for a moment, Koko wanted to pull Inupi back to bed, right on top of him.
He should have told him he didn’t mind.
That his arms felt nice wrapped around his stomach, and that Koko liked the way Inupi wrapped around his back as if he belonged there.
He should have told Inupi that it was so much easier to sleep when Inupi held him, despite his brain sending off a million signals of joy and panic and relaxation.
Maybe they would have spent more nights like this together if he had.
He would empty out his bank account in a heart beat for the opportunity to have Inupi hold him like that again.
Koko had let Inupi go.
He let him go from their shared bed.
Let him go when Koko made the choice to join Tenjiku.
Let him go when Koko said goodbye for the last time, knowing in his heart it was for the best.
Balling his hand into a fist, Koko could still feel the warmth of Inupi’s shoulder as he walked away. A selfish gesture, that last touch, but one he had so needed to get through the next years alone.
Koko just hoped that Inupi could forgive him for everything he had done, and for the person he had become. Would he be disappointed? Ashamed? All he could do was beg for Inupi’s forgiveness, were they to meet again, because the man he saw in the mirror was so different from the one that first loved Inupi.
Maybe Inupi had already forgiven him. Maybe he wasn’t torn up at night, pondering the what ifs like Koko was.
Maybe he was happy. With someone else. Someone that didn’t break his heart on a regular basis by being an emotionally constipated teenger who couldn’t even put his feelings into the simplest words.
Maybe he didn’t think of Koko at all anymore.
Maybe he had truly moved on. His memories of their last month together even blurrier and jumbled than the memories Koko had nailed into the inside of his brain.
While the thought hurt, Koko just hoped with his whole heart that it was true. This burden of unspoken things and unheard feelings was one he wanted to carry all on his own.
He wanted Inupi to be happy, even if he wasn’t.
He wanted Inupi to be healthy, even as Koko polished off his second bottle of wine before 10 pm.
Koko wanted Inupi to be surrounded by friends, and love, and everything that he deserved, even as Koko sat alone in his penthouse apartment, bought with dirty money done by doing dirty things that his dirty gang had done.
Koko wanted better things for Inupi than himself.
Even as his heart called out to a love that had never ever been his.
Even as Inupi was the only thing he still craved in life. The one thing his money could never buy. The only Christmas gift he wanted, and the one he would never receive.
Koko wished, with all that was left of his broken heart, a wish that would never come true.
One more night.
One more Christmas.
One more moment with Inupi, and his sleepy, secret little smiles that were no longer for Koko alone.