Work Text:
Tsumugi sighs and approaches the school gates, his brain numbing any emotion he may have felt prior like autopilot. Saying today was going to be a long day left an air of redundancy; every day was a long day, especially if it meant his luck stood in the way of not just him, but the people unfortunate enough to be around him. He feels a few students rushing through, bumping against him along the way as if he weren’t really there.
Unconsciously, he holds his arm a little closer to himself.
Unsurprisingly, the first few hours of school drag on almost painfully, though Tsumugi knew to keep himself distracted from the disgusting yet addicting sensation that made itself apparent every time his clothes shifted. He spent most of the day keeping to himself, with people holding short conversation with him or the occasional offer to join his classmates to do something later that day.
Ah, he thinks to himself, it’s likely out of pity. I really do look like a sorry being.
Club rolls around eventually. Admittedly, the thought of heading over to the club room felt a little intimidating, but he’d feel too bad if he skipped. He was already a burden to everyone, he didn’t need to trouble anyone else. Perhaps he could just tell them he was nauseous, but he really didn’t want to lie—it’s not like he was great at lying anyway. The other option was easier: just head into the club room, start making something, and use a needle to just—
He shakes the foul (but tempting) thought from his head. It was going to happen anyway, knowing his stellar luck, but he shouldn’t be willing it upon himself. Not in front of others, not when it could hold them back greatly from what they’re doing. Maybe it would’ve been better if he hadn’t come to school at all, but these thoughts knew exactly how to drown him when he sat in isolation. He needed something to do, he needed people to be watching him. He felt foolish and selfish, using people without their knowledge. Nothing’s changed after a year.
The door in front of him was closed, which was a pretty normal sight, though after knocking, a few minutes of waiting, and a couple of shaky tries for the door handle, he figured that nobody was there after all. There probably wasn’t any club today after all, and it’s likely they forgot to tell him again. The two were probably busy.
Well, this meant he could spend some time in the comfort of one of the secret rooms, the one he usually found Natsume in. The thought of finally feeling even a small bit of comfort excited him. His junior, although rather explosive, somehow always gave him that sense of purpose back, even when he felt unworthy of it. He knew he didn’t deserve to be recognised, he knew nobody needed him, but it felt amazing to imagine. It always felt good to feel like people cared.
As he enters the door, Natsume yells at him for ruining another one of his spells with his mere presence, and he just smiles.
He moves over to one of the shelves by the side to find something to do so as to not distract Natsume again, but he doesn’t notice that he’s already started packing his things and sorting everything back to their proper shelves. Flipping through the pages of a book, he tries to immerse himself in what he’s reading, but the itching was starting to get on his nerves. Keeping his eye on the book and rereading the same sentence for maybe the fourth time in a row, he reaches over to scratch at his skin unconsciously.
The sensation of something scratching against them felt nice. He really relished in the feeling of the pain coming back and replacing the irritating itch. Really, all he wanted to do was continue scratching and scratching until his skin burned and everything started to bleed and—
A hand grabs his arm and he’s turned around to face Natsume directly. Still in a little bit of a daze, he doesn’t realise that he had, in fact, started bleeding again, through the bandages and onto his fingers and hand. Instinctively, he reaches down to try and cover what he can from Natsume, praying he hasn’t seen anything.
His prayers are unheard.
“Senpai, what were you doing to yourself? Why were you scratching yourself like that? Don’t you know you could’ve—”
He glances down and notices stains of red on Tsumugi’s hand, wrist and uniform. Gently, he rolls up Tsumugi’s sleeves for a better look. He looks down, hair falling and covering his eyes, obstructing any emotion that may have been showing. Immediately, Tsumugi lets out incoherent noises in an attempt to simply brush it under the rug and go on with their lives, spewing strings of “it’s nothing” and “don’t worry about it” when he hears a mutter from in front of him, almost too quiet to catch.
“—stupid.”
“I— I’m sorry?”
“Senpai is so stupid.”
It wasn’t as if he didn’t expect to be shamed for what he had done—if anything, he was waiting for it to come, he was waiting for his favourite person to berate him for it, because he knew he could never hate him no matter how harsh his words were sometimes. Maybe all the time.
What he absolutely was not expecting was to feel his arms wrapped around him in a protective embrace.
“How many times have I told you to tell me when you feel like hurting yourself?” He asks quietly, and though he sounds strict Tsumugi can hear the concern in his voice.
It’s true that he should’ve talked to someone instead of letting it bubble up, but he was already being a burden. No matter the outcome, he was bound to be a burden, so he may as well punish himself for it. Before he can open his mouth to relay this, however, Natsume somehow senses what he’s about to say and holds him a little tighter.
“There’s a reason I want you to tell me before it happens, and it’s because there’s still a chance for me to stop you. What if you look for something more one day? What if you suddenly decide that— and we both know it’s happened before. If it means I’ll be able to stop you no matter what, if it means I can help you even just a bit, then I’d rather you told me. I need you to tell me—”
“I don’t want to burden you, Natsume,” Tsumugi finally says after recovering a little from the shock, even after the earful he had just received.
“I don’t care if it burdens me, I’d rather be burdened by your stupid presence distracting me from my spells and magic work than have to enter my workspace knowing it’s not going to happen.”
Natsume’s voice was close to a yell, and yet Tsumugi couldn’t even flinch. Even when Natsume’s fists came down hard onto Tsumugi’s chest and shoulder, he couldn’t be any more surprised, instead feeling like he probably deserved it for upsetting one of his oldest friends. He knew he was a disappointment, he was hopeless and selfish and—
He swears he hears a quiet sob, and he feels Natsume’s fists cling onto his uniform shakily.
“I don’t want to enter this room—or this school for that matter—knowing that you’re not gonna be there to bother me, so keep bothering me. Bother me until the end of time, bother me into the next lifetime. Bother me because I want you to. Bother me because I love you.”
His voice was a stark contrast to what it was just a few seconds prior. He had stopped using his little talking quirk at some point in that speech, which made it intimidating yet all the more sincere. He was quiet, coming above a bare whisper, and Tsumugi could’ve sworn he could hear how hard the other was shaking.
Natsume was crying.
Carefully, Tsumugi finally returns the hug, being careful not to dirty Natsume with his (already drying) blood. He pulls away just a little bit to take a better look at the shorter boy’s face, but the distance between them closes unexpectedly and he feels a soft pair of lips against his own.
He melts into the sudden kiss, running a hand through Natsume’s hair gently. He tastes the tears the other had been crying, and suddenly he feels himself choke up properly for the first time in a while. He pulls away to let it happen, and he didn’t expect to cry as hard as he was. Among the tears cascading down his face and the sobs his body lets out involuntarily, he chokes out a litany of apologies.
Natsume holds onto Tsumugi’s arm, guides them both to sit on the ground, and with a baby wipe and first-aid kit he had procured from somewhere close by, he begins to clean up the mess Tsumugi had made with a tenderness that rarely made itself known in the face of others. He cleans it up well, and when he’s satisfied with his work he bandages it up properly. He brings his now-bandaged arm up to his lips and presses a kiss onto it, a strange but welcome sensation Tsumugi would take over every other disgusting feeling he had been feeling all day long. Natsume leans in and places another kiss on Tsumugi’s neck, where the only other visible scar was. The memory of the action may have been a little longer ago, but it still felt startlingly fresh to the both of them, so it was rare that they acknowledged it. Overwhelmed, and also not knowing what to say to kill the silence, Tsumugi apologises again.
“Stop apologising, idiot.”
“Ah— I’m sorry—”
A punch, and as Tsumugi rubs the area, Natsume huffs and pushes himself up.
“Ah… Though it feels nice to have permission to bother you like this because Natsume-chan lov—”
A book is hurled at his direction, and this is enough to make him shriek. Luckily, it misses him, though unfortunately it crashes into other things and he proceeds to pick them up and return them to their proper places.
“Shut the hell up, don’t ever call me that and never mention it again. You’re bothering me, and I have work to do. Stay here but stop causing any more trouble. You’re an absolute pain, Senpai.”
Stay here, Natsume wants to say, because I want you here with me.
Stay because I love you.