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Toge has grown used to fighting curses with Yuuta.
Their abilities matched pretty well, and their natural coordination made most of their assigned missions child’s play.
The higher ups must have come to the same conclusion as they kept teaming the two students up ever since their first mission at the Hapina shopping district.
It had only been months since that event, yet it felt like years to Toge. Mostly because the people they were back then had made way for improved versions of themselves. That’s how life as a jujutsu student was: you kept growing stronger, evolving and changing, the person you are now is never the person you’ll end up being the following month, although you only really noticed the changes in hindsight...
That unexpected synchronization they had acquired with ease on their first mission was not a one time beginner’s luck and although Yuuta kept denying it, it definitely would not have ended well without his help. Toge called it an awakening, Yuuta’s careful rise into the jujutsu sorcerer world.
They found that practical team harmony again without too much trouble on their next missions, and before they even knew it, both of them had fallen into a comfortable pace of violent exorcising. A sensible chaos.
Solo missions had always been Toge’s specialty. Not that he had much of a choice, given he was the only higher ranked sorcerer in his year, but he’d grown accustomed to going curse hunting by himself. He had been raised a lone wolf after all, and he’d rather risk one life at a time, his own preferably, without ‘collateral damage’ as the higher ups called it.
Toge almost considered himself a material good of the Jujutsu world. The one you could dispose of any time. But he attached way, way more value to his friend’s lives.
Which is why it was reassuring to him that nobody bothered his solo fights. If they did, he’d have to be cautious, he’d have to protect their lives at all cost, knowing the danger lurked as much from a curse as from his own mouth; he’d have to think like a human being rather than like a poisonous tool which death didn’t affect the slightest. That’s how he learned to grow up in the Inumaki clan. He was useful, yet dangerous. Powerful yet threatening. He was to be used cautiously, had to obediently face death without flinching. He was born for sacrifice. His classmates, however, deserved better. They weren’t as much of a living menace as he was, they could live a long, healthy life without risking hurting someone with every syllable they voiced. Hypothetically. Which is why Toge preferred them safe away from him, fighting without the omnipresent dread of loosing a teammate. Of hurting them...
Until Yuuta.
The boy had a similar experience with accidentally hurting people around him because of Rika. He probably understood Toge better than anyone and chose to willingly stick by his side despite the warnings. At first, Yuuta had been slightly apprehensive around Toge which had affected the latter more than he’d admit, but their relationship as teammates and friends had developed to an extent that trust had become an understatement between the two.
Toge has been witness to Yuuta’s improvement, both his inner and physical growth, all those months. The boy’s mental strength was always something he admired, not to mention the pace at which he progressed. And well, the boy himself… Let’s say Toge had grown attached way more than he’d expected.
Around each other, they felt at ease, a mutual sense of safety bonding the teenagers that conveyed through almost imperceptible glances, soft nods, reassuring blinks and tugs of the lips. They had established a silent way of conversing without even noticing, part of why they were such a good match for curse exorcising.
Toge would gladly entrust his life to Yuuta if asked to.
Which is why he’s not worried the slightest when Yuuta suggests they part during their ongoing mission to get the job done faster. Toge knows Yuuta will have his back no matter what, and vice versa.
When Gojo had announced they were to team up again between two mouthfuls of whatever sweet he had bought, Yuuta had given Toge that intense look of acknowledgment and determination (and probably so much more he had yet to decipher), a soft, affectionate glint in those navy irises he had a weakness for. The gentle curve of his lips shaped his features into a caring reassurance that made Toge long for something he wasn’t aware of...
Whatever happened, they could overcome it because they were a team. Toge had found the words cheesy when Yuuta first used them, yet the faintest throb in his chest as he grew more fond of the dark haired boy told him it didn’t really matter.
The curses they would have to fight were various, being mostly mid-level, so they should be able to handle it without too much effort. Gojo had stated. But the real target was on a higher scale. Supposedly first grade, although the higher ups somehow always managed to get it wrong and some reports had classified said curse in the “intelligent” category, although that could mean everything and nothing…
As usual, they were expected to fight after a vague explanation, most certainly wrong data and an even more approximate warning from Gojo. Their teacher had mentioned victims traumatized after seeing a reflection of what probably was their deepest fears, meaning the curse could either be a shape shifting one, or just one that could meddle with your brain. Something to watch out for, in any case.
That night, Toge had found himself trying to come up with potential worst fears for each of his friends. Panda’s would definitely be Maki finding out about him stealing her stash of snacks little by little, enough that she wouldn’t notice right away. Maki didn’t fear, she’d make death dread her if it was to show up at her door. Yuuta was spiders; Toge internally giggled at the memory of huge panicked blue eyes begging for help on his doorstep at three a.m as the most ridiculous spider had crept from under his bed.
When Toge’s turn came, though, nothing came up. He couldn’t think about any specific fear of his that could do him much damage on a mission. Snails would definitely not be the cause of his death.
So here they are, in a disused medical center, with an evasive description of the job, and an even more ambiguous warning. The building wasn’t too big, a square facility built with long, dull corridors sheltering a rather wide courtyard. It somehow looked like a school, rather than a medical center. Exploring the entirety of it should not take too long if the two students split up. Yuuta would deal with the first floor, Toge the upper one. First to finish would join the other. If they weren’t back within an hour, then they’d assume something was wrong.
It is awfully quiet upstairs. The silence would have been comforting if not for the unidentified spots of dark staining parts of the wall like thick mold, or the long row of hollow windows having shattered its panes in a thousand pieces of glass that spread throughout the corridor, crunching under each step Toge takes, betraying his position. The boy asses the damage, scanning through the dimness for any signs of cursed energy. A soft breeze sweeps through his hair as he takes a wary look through one of the pane-less windows. The artificial night from the veil casts eerie shadows into the courtyard. It’s both mesmerizing and disturbing.
The tiniest clinking of shattered glass draws Toge back to reality as he turns back to the corridor in a jolt, immediately back on the lookout. A shadow that definitely wasn’t there before lurks from the darkness and the blonde boy doesn’t need another warning to place a cautious hand on his collar’s zipper, akin to a finger on a trigger. The shadow doesn’t seem to move, encouraging him to take careful steps forward. Toge stops in his tracks only seconds later, muscles tense, features phasing into something unreadable. Witnessing something impossible can be described as a dream-like experience, something hazy you can’t quite grasp, a weird tingling in your mind trying to whisper sense into your vision. Toge blinks once, twice, but said vision doesn’t change, still he’s left frozen in place, unable to have a coherent thought.
The slender figure standing before him, its platinum blonde hair, its heavy lidded eyes staring at him imperiously, the purple symbols adorning each side of his lips as a graphic reminder of the threat it bore… Toge knows it all too well, better than anything else, actually. He saw it everyday, on every reflecting surface. But seeing yourself from an outside point of view is different. It verges on an out of body experience. There is no mirror in front of him, Toge is sure of it. It has to be an illusion.
Right. The boy tries to force some sense into his short-circuited brain.
This has to be an illusion. It is dark but the windowed wall to his right provides enough light to ensure it isn’t a trick of his eyes. There definitely is a physical body perfectly similar to Toge’s facing said boy. Before he takes action, he needs to figure this out: if it is an illusion, something must have caused it, and if a cursed body is the source, why hasn’t Toge sensed the cursed energy?
Scanning the place in vain search for anything that would betray a curse’s presence, Toge swallows noisily. He has yet to use his cursed speech, still the knot forming in his throat makes it hard to believe. The fake Toge hasn’t moved yet, both reassuring and worrying the real one who attempts an approach. The latter starts to move an arm up, slow enough that it wouldn’t be considered offensive, to check if the illusion would mirror him. If it was a simple clone, it wouldn’t be able to act on its own, right? But when fake Toge doesn’t return the move, cocking his head to the side with questioning eyes instead, real Toge feels his breath falter, skipping a heartbeat as he freezes again. His eyes widen in anticipation.
Shit. An illusion, Toge reminds himself. It is all an illusion. Something inside him screams to get rid of it, tells him if it was a normal curse he’d have gotten rid of it a while ago, however the uneasy foreboding of what could possibly happen lurks in the pit of his stomach, making his every move extra cautious. Maybe if it was only hallucinatory, Toge theorizes, it wouldn’t have much abilities (it wouldn’t have your ability, the little voice inside his head nags). Maybe it was only a shallow copy of his physical body, an empty shell unable to resort to cursed speech.
He hopes…Toge’s mind starts racing. The minute elapsed since the apparition feels like an hour to the teenager. As he reflects on what to do, beads of sweat form on his temple when a bloodcurdling thought occurs.
“The similarity standing out of some victims’ records is the experience of trauma after witnessing what they described as their deepest fear.” Gojo had explained the day before.
Is that it? Of all the trauma he’s been through, of all the atrocities he’s seen and curses he’s fought, of all these experiences his worst fear is no other than his very self?
Toge shakes his head, he doesn’t want an answer, he’s already waited too long, now is not the time falter, Yuuta is probably half done with the job already, he has to act. Unzipping his collar in a mastered flick of the wrist, Toge barely has the time to inhale before he’s cut short.
“I wouldn’t if I were you.” Fake Toge deadpans, a nonchalant shrug emphasizing his bored features. The sound is heavy with cursed energy turning Toge’s limbs in what feels like cold stone he’s unable to control, watching them tremble helplessly instead.
“We both know how that feels” fake Toge taps one of the sigils on his cheek “and we don’t want to hurt each other, do we?” A spark lights up the curse’s eyes as he places his hands in his pockets, toying with the copy of the cough syrup they always have with them. “Plus this thing tastes terrible so let’s not waste our breath, yeah?” He continues, as if he isn’t the one misusing cursed speech as he pleases.
As each sentence is delivered aloud, Toge is hit by the sound of it. He has never heard his own voice that much in such a short amount of time, not in years, and even though he recognizes it as his own it feels like hearing a complete stranger.
“I assume it is a peculiar feeling for people like us to be talking so blithely like I am? That’s what you’re thinking, right?” His lips quirk up ever so slightly, in what is probably meant to be a reassuring smile.
Toge is only lost deeper in his unease. Every single word the other voices seems to weigh a ton, grounding the cursed speech user deeper and deeper into a dumbstruck fever. His voice echoes throughout the long hallway, cursed energy so thick its almost palpable. Toge’s mind races only to end up blank, body not answering his pleads to take action.
“It’s fine, you know? Using your voice.” The fraud takes a step closer. “It isn’t fair that we have to provide all the effort, that we refrain from speaking our minds, from expressing ourselves freely and look like a hollow nothing with a food-limited vocabulary. It isn’t fair that we have to shut up for the likes of others.” His head perks up in an innocence so hammed up it could fit the role of the creepy child ghost in some horror movie. “Don’t you think?”
Toge is at loss, feeling defective. The curse’s speech flow is so much denser than he is used to, a tide washing over his shell to dislodge his soul and sinking it in a cursed sea. The cursed energy is released at such a pace Toge worries he is going to shatter. His breath hitches in an attempt to speak, body still not responding. He hates it. Hates being victim of his own awful power, the one he’d promised never to use on anything other than evil, anyone other than a cursed body.
Curse, curse, cursed. Toge is tired of hearing those words. They’re anchored into his life, into his own body, a burden he was born with and has to bear, an extra weight to carry around whatever he does.
Well, curse the Inumaki clan for creating him and not taking the responsibility. Curse them for creating a living nightmare and expecting it would eventually turn its own self into a living dream.
“You’re tired, aren’t you?” Fake Toge’s voice snaps him back to present as he is once again hit by the effect of cursed speech, limbs and eyelids heavy with exhaustion. “Tired of this gift, of being handed around like a doll to be toyed with for your family’s satisfaction…” His arms fold, acting as though he is upset.
“Well, hear me out. I think you pretend you’re mad at your family for giving birth to the living danger of a cursed child you are, while you really just are frustrated with yourself for not being able to control that power.”
Toge doesn’t mean for the whimper of a plea to escape his lips, he doesn’t mean to tremble with all his being as his body frozen with curse won’t allow him the relief of collapsing to the ground. His voice manages to croak a barely audible “shut up” which has no other effect than a blood-wet cough to escape his mouth.
The curse takes yet another step forward, narrowing the gap between their identical bodies.
“Look, all I’m saying is if you allowed yourself to use your speech more often, maybe you wouldn’t have those shitty side-effects anymore. You wouldn’t have to taste the metallic warmth of your own blood. Like me: an improved version of you.” The white of his teeth reflects in the dark blue atmosphere as he beams with a content grin. As quickly as it appeared, the smile fades into a flat line.
“You could have the world if you wanted.” His purple irises glisten defiantly, atmosphere thickening by the second.
Is Toge that selfish? In a way, though he refuses to admit it to himself, a greedy part of him is jealous of Fake Toge for being able to speak so freely. Although it does sound tempting, he would never, for anything in the world give up on his effort and sacrifice his entourage’s freedom for the likes of his own selfish wishes. He won’t repeat the mistakes he’s buried in the past... His inside rattles with ghost pain, a sinking feeling flooding his lungs as tears threaten to spill from his unfocused eyes. Toge focuses on breathing (can’t get no rational though in that empty head of yours if you don’t oxygen your stupid brain up, Maki had once said) as he watches his other self grow bored, features melting into jaded ones.
“Well, you’re no fun, I-”
“Inumaki?” A voice calls from a distance the sound of looming footsteps echoing behind the curse.
Yuuta’s voice. Toge’s breath is momentarily caught, a mix of relief and utter dread washing over his frozen body at the though of the situation’s shift and how it could all end up...
Fake toge huffs through the nose in annoyance whereas his lips indicate the contrary, quirking up in excited anticipation and sending shivers up the blonde’s spine. The effect of surprise and cursed speech having worn out, he shifts in a balanced stance, more alert than ever, wary eyes following the boy facing him’s every move.
“Inumaki, are you okay? I though I heard your voice,” Yuuta is right around the corner, the characteristic shadow of his lanky, katana bearing body emerging from behind the wall at the end of the hallway. “I’m done downstairs, do you need any h-”
Toge doesn’t wait any longer, as soon as Yuuta into sight, within his cursed speech’s reach, his vocal chords tense with cursed energy, ready to beg the boy to run to safety.
“YUU-”
“Don’t move.”
Fake Toge doesn’t bother turning towards his target, locking eyes with his real self through the process and oh, this sentence. Toge knows it all too well, knows the feeling of every syllable rolling on his tongue, every vibration scratching his throat more vigorously than normal words would. He at last recognizes a part of himself in the cursed fraud and its is so deranging.
Strong nausea seizes him as he realizes what is happening. Yuuta frozen in place at the end of the corridor, tired eyes wide with confusion as Toge’s other self has committed the unthinkable, using cursed speech to order a friend around in an ill-intended way.
The hallway distorts into one infinite, cramped line in Toge’s vision, the dimness playing tricks on his eyes as he once again forgets to oxygen his brain. Although he isn’t moving, it’s as if Fake Toge is squeezing the air out of his lungs, reducing them to shriveled pebbles. Time has stopped as the boy gets closer and closer to breaking into a state of hysteria, self awareness flying away as the efforts of keeping his mind grounded are reduced to ashes. He hears his cursed voice talking his way but he does not register the words or the meaning. They’re just sounds. Until they are not even that. Everything is just-
“Inumaki !” Yuuta. “Snap out of it!”
And so he does, Yuuta’s voice anchoring him back to reality, leading his senses back to his body. The first breath he takes is shaky yet relieving. Both Toges’ attentions turn towards the taller boy who is moving, not without difficulty, towards them. Real Toge’s mind races, screaming for his friend to stop, to turn around and leave, to stay safe. But he goes on.
“I-I don’t know what’s happening, and I’m sure it must be even more confusing to you, but whatever it is, we can overcome it together. Like we always do, right?” His focused eyes soften into something cheery, full of hope. Toge’s heart flutters.
The fraud separating both the boys lets out an amused chuckle as he turns back to his twin.
“As I was saying, you’re no fun, but I can help with that. You need to run wild every now and then, I’m just here to give you a glimpse of what your freedom could be!” His innocent grin is back on “So, wanna learn to cut loose?” One of his hand is extended towards Toge, palm up in an offering way.
“Toge.” Yuuta calls again, calmly.
The curse’s face twitches in annoyance, inhaling deeply.
“This one’s a nuisance,” his chin jerks towards Yuuta behind them “let’s practice on him.”
And just like that, before Toge has time to snap out of his stupor, his copy shifts away, turning his back to him as he takes a step towards a distressed Yuuta. The latter’s eyes dart back and forth between the two versions of the smaller boy. It’s too much for Toge’s already scarred heart. In a rush of adrenaline, the blonde firmly grasps one of his copy’s shoulder.
“DON’T-”
“Shhh.”
Fake Toge’s smile is a twisted, nefarious one this time and though he’s similar in every physical aspect to Inumaki Toge, his aura is so cursed there is no way to mix the two up. There’s nothing human in him anymore.
“You watch first, then I’ll let you practice.” It assures through a bestial smile as it frees its shoulder in a move.
Toge is left still to watch helplessly his other self curse the closest person to a family member he’s had in years.
“Kill yourself.” It voices clearly.
And Yuuta complies, reaching for the katana in his back, placing its tip on his chest as he starts sinking it into the white fabric of his uniform, and deeper into his delicate flesh.
This has to be a bad dream. Toge is going to wake up soon, and he’ll be in his room, the familiar ceiling of the only place he’s ever called home welcoming him back. He’ll get up, knock at Yuuta’s door, won’t wait for an answer to come in. He’ll see the messy dark hair peaking from under the covers where the boy will lay safe, chest rising up and down peacefully in his sleep. Yes,Toge is going to wake up soon.
Except he doesn’t.
The ground beneath his feet opens up, crumbling into nothingness to swallow him whole. There isn’t anything left to keep him from falling, nothing but the dark, deep oblivion that calls his name. Yuuta could probably have protected himself from the curse’s speech, considering his rank, but the surprise and confusion of the scene certainly had him trapped. And Toge can’t do anything, watching the whole thing without really seeing it.
“Hey.” The curse holds an index up the way you do when you’ve got an idea. Its eyes root Toge to the spot, pinning him here like a dead butterfly on a cork board. “if you hate your cursed speech so much, why don’t you get rid of it?” It makes its question sound genuine and well-intended but Toge knows better.
“Why don’t you slit your own throat, cut your own vocal strings?”
It hits Toge like a blast, a punch in his gut, a blow on the head. His body is shook with feverish tremors and he sees himself bend down slowly, watches his shaky hand reach for a sharp piece of shattered glass on the floor, in a daze. His every move feel like they’re set on a slow-motion mode, the air seemingly an obstruction to his actions, like trying to move underwater. Like trying to run away in a dream. In a nightmare. Limbs heavy and defective. Toge feels the cool tip of the sharp blade pressing painfully against his exposed throat; feels the tickle of warm blood pouring along the curve of his neck, over collar bone; tastes the familiar liquid iron in mouth through a fit of bloody cough.
Ah. Is his only coherent thought as he watches helplessly the red spread through Yuutas white shirt like a drop of ink in water.
This is it. My deepest fear. Yuuta’s delicate features are distorted with pain and concentration as his knuckles turn white from clutching the katana, sinking the blade deeper into his chest.
Hurting them. Toge’s vision blurs, probably from the blood loss, or was it the tears? Hurting my friends. Consciousness is alarmingly slipping away from him as the broken glass continues its neat, red line across Toge’s throat.
The ones I love.
His gaze trails absently to his miserable nightmare self. It gives him a knowing shrug, as if to say see? Problem solved. No throat, no curse. Toge wants to laugh. He’s probably taken leave of his senses but the whole situation is so incongruous it’s almost funny.
His nemesis is about to say something again when something shiny, tainted with red erupts though its chest. Eyes widened in shock, it looks as though the words it’s about to say get stuck in its throat, blood spurting out ungracefully instead. How ironical.
“You… Are not… Toge.” Yuuta’s cold, murderous voice echoes from behind as the blade of his katana deepens into the curse’s torso.
The remnant of cursed speech fades, letting Toge drop the piece of bloodied glass in a wet clinking sound. He staggers, wondering how his legs are still carrying him. Through heavy lidded eyes, the boy watches, or rather hears Fake Toge’s body turn back into its original blotchy form before melting around Yuuta’s blade into a thick, dark goo splotching heavily on the ground.
Good.
Toge allows his mind to slip away, distorted sounds of Yuuta’s voice calling his name lulling him to sleep. He falls into something soft, warm even, sensation of something stroking his hair before everything gets dark.
_____
And dark it is. Everything is. Toge isn’t sure if that’s how death is supposed to be; you’re not supposed to be able to see anything, right? You’re not supposed to be at all, actually. However, the glimmer of light looming in the distance is not heaven’s entrance gate, he’s sure of it. The glow is soft, shy even, yet dazzlingly bright at once. Pure white, like a certain uniform… It blends with the ambient darkness until the color settles to a soothing blue, a deep one, like a stormy ocean. Like a certain pair of eyes. Toge is too caught up in the cradle of blue waves to notice the ominous avalanche of red rushing his way.
The teenager is pulled back into consciousness in a jolt. He blinks away the last remnant of nightmares as his eyes adjust to the darkness. The familiar rustling of his own bed sheets greet him back home and he allows a breath of relief to escape his lips. As he reaches to wipe away his damp forehead, he notices one of his hand is neatly wrapped around the palm with bandages.
Right.
He stares at it, the past events rushing back to his afflicted mind. When his throat gets dull and itchy as he swallows with difficulty, Toge realizes its been bandaged as well, probably by Shoko, and wonders how long he’s been out. It’s undoubtedly night, considering the moonless pitch black sky, though their mission was an early morning one, meaning he’d slept all day?
The mission… Toge reminds himself again, like a slap in the face. Yuuta. Was Yuuta okay? Was he safe? Were his wounds serious? Just like that, Toge spirals back into delirium, ragged wheezes tearing through his throat with hoarse grunts. Coughs start to join the choir and the room starts to gently spin around him. He hasn’t used his cursed speech once, during this assignment, yet his throat has never felt worse. His gut twists unpleasantly, like something noxious is stuck in his core, gnawing the pit of his stomach away. It has to be emptied, Toge gulps. He feels like his entire being needs to be cleansed, as to spit out the metaphorical dirt which has soiled it…
He’s going to throw up.
Toge dashes out of his room to the common bathroom down the hallway, not without tripping and bumping into his door frame. He barely has time to grip on both sides of the sink before his body starts stirring its contents until it comes out through a fit of coughs. It’s not bile like he expected. Blood. It has probably coagulated down his throat while he had laid unconscious on his back for hours. The sorcerer heaves over a bloodstained sink, knuckles turning white from gripping its ceramic rim.
A few minutes pass, inhaling and exhaling feebly as his head hangs low, eyes shut tight. When his head gets less dizzy and his stomach eases, Toge settles on rinsing away the red mess, eventually cleaning his own face with cold water. His hands cup underneath the faucet before splashing the liquid over his sweaty skin with determination, until the experience of his last mission feels like a distant dream. Straightening up, Toge instantly jumps back in surprise, heart skipping a beat at the sight.
The large mirror that towers over the sink reflects the image of a disheveled blonde boy, violet orbs trained on him. Although this one looks way more exhausted than the curse he’s seen hours earlier, Toge can’t help but shudder. This time, though, the sheer terror that had him frozen in place while facing said curse is replaced by revulsion and pure anger, or rather frustration. He watches the boy in the mirror scrunch his face up, mimicking his own rage before his fists ball up and he doesn’t have time to register what he’s doing, throwing himself forward.
Its the deafening echo of shattering glass that jerks him back to his senses. His reflection is split in a thousand little pieces of body parts, trapped in a web of thin cracks. His tight fist aches, knuckles smeared with red. Toge lets out an irritated huff, seemingly done with seeing red both literally and metaphorically today.
“T-Toge?” A soft voice interrupts.
The boy whose name was called startles, jumping into a steady stance as one hand instinctively reaches for his absent collar to unzip it.
“Hey, it’s okay! It’s just me.”
Yuuta throws his hands up in a peaceful surrender. He is standing by the door frame, the white neons of the bathroom casting shadows on his concerned features. When the smaller boy visibly relaxes, Yuuta’s eyes hover from his face, to his bloodied fist before trailing on the shattered mirror, assessing the damage. Toge’s gaze falls down, ashamed of his own behavior. The dark haired boy, however, chooses not to comment on it, gentle as ever.
“How are you feeling?” He takes a cautious step closer “You’ve been out all day, and most of the night. I was so worried I couldn’t sleep,” He rubs a hand up the back of his neck with a sheepish smile “then I heard some commotion…”
Toge’s face heats up with embarrassment. He allows himself a glance up Yuuta’s tall frame. The latter seems genuinely concerned, barely concealing his trouble with that lopsided smile of his. There is no trace of any major injury on his chest, to Toge’s relief. His friend seems to notice the pointed gaze on his chest as he starts fiddling absentmindedly with the fabric of his shirt.
“Ah, this… It’s fine, Shoko-sensei took care of it, don’t worry.”
But Toge does worry. He is the cause of the injury after all. Blinking the tears away, he bites his lower lip, begging himself to get a grip. A strong and warm hand settles on his shoulder, squeezing lightly in a comforting way.
“Hey, it’s okay, I’m fine, really. It’s over now, you don’t have to worry anymore.”
The hand on his shoulder strokes gentle, reassuring circles that leave burning trails through the fabric of his shirt. Toge is left conflicted, wanting to leap in Yuuta’s arms and let the relief of seeing him alive and well pour down through his tears, but he also wants to scramble out and hide with shame and fear of hurting him again. He does nothing of these, just standing there, stupefied. If Yuuta gets bored, he doesn’t show it, rubbing patient circles on Toge’s shoulder.
But when the latter glances up to prepare his leaving, he’s met with unfaltering blue eyes, anchoring him right there. Yuuta’s face is way closer than he’d expected. The blonde opens his mouth to say something, anything really, a beg for forgiveness, a self-depreciating comment, a cry, a confession even, but he’s cut short when a finger is pressed against his lips and he suddenly forgets everything he is going to say.
“Don’t talk, you throat hasn’t recovered yet. It was a bad injury, the cut was, well…” it’s Yuuta’s turn to look away, mouth pressing into a thin line. “Shoko did her best, I’m sure it’ll get better pretty soon.”
Toge answers with a shrug, aloof attitude that seems to say well, it’s not like I’m not used to it. It doesn’t seem to aid Yuuta’s worry, though. His eyebrows knit together in a pained expression.
“I know… I...I’m sorry.” And there it is again, this unfathomable stare, navy blue eyes determined to transmit a message that leaves Toge confused.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats “not just about your throat… About, well… Everything that happened earlier. I’m not sure what exactly you went through, but I’m certain it was traumatic in a way, and…” Toge follows the motion of his adam’s apple as he swallows “I’m sorry I wasn’t there earlier. Sorry I couldn’t help much it’s… I’m quite frustrated with myself, really.” He pauses. “Part of why I couldn’t sleep.” A nervous chuckle punctuates his sentence.
Toge is absolutely mind-blown by such blasphemy. He blinks, dumbfound, at the taller boy as he processes his words. If his throat wasn’t so worn, he’d have scoffed. Yuuta was apologizing for what? For something Toge was entirely responsible for? For not being able to deal with Toge’s part of the mission earlier when he really did kill all those curses whereas Toge did not lift a single finger. Now he felt frustration strike back full throttle, disbelief probably spreading on his face.
It was me. His mind screams. It was all my fault.
His hand reaches up to pinch Yuuta’s cheek in a scolding way, replacing the boy’s sad expression with one of confusion.
“Okaka.” He croaks, lips quivering before he literally throws himself in his friend’s arms, wrapping tight arms around him as his face buries in the fabric of his shirt. He shakes his head as to refute Yuuta’s sayings, nose rubbing against the latter’s collarbone in the process. Unshed tears start spilling before he even knows it and his chest heaves with soft spasms.
“Toge…” It’s almost a whisper, a prayer.
Toge wants to drink the word, to hear it again and again, to feel it roll out of Yuuta’s tongue, to have it whispered against his ear forever. The fabric of Yuuta’s shirt is getting damp with tears. They don’t care.
“I know you’re not going easy on yourself. I just want to make sure you know nothing that happened is your fault. This… Curse, it knew what it was doing, playing with your mind and fears. Just because it stole your appearance doesn’t make it you.” Toge listens as the words vibrate through Yuuta’s chest, soothing hands stroking his hair.
“You’re a good person, Toge… The best, actually,” a chuckle “and I’m not letting you go until you accept it.”
His hands travel to his shoulders to pull the boy back ever so slightly, which owns him a grunt, already missing the warmth of Yuuta’s body and the sound of his steady heartbeats. It’s all quickly forgotten though, when one of the hands moves up to caress his jaw, settling under his chin to tilt his head up and force their gaze to meet.
When had Yuuta become so confident. When had Yuuta become so astonishingly beautiful. When had Yuuta become such a huge part of Toge’s life?
“Please don’t beat yourself up too much, okay?”
And Toge has no other choice than to nod, hypnotized by those mesmerizing eyes once again. With a relieved sigh, Yuuta drops Toge’s face to run a hand through his raven hair, lips spreading into a grin.
“I though you’d be more stubborn. Are you sure you’re the real Toge?”
Said boy puffs his cheeks into a pout, flicking Yuuta’s forehead with less force than intended, earning a heavenly giggle.
“Alright, alright, I’m sorry.” The grin won’t budge. “Now let me see that injury.”
Yuuta grabs hold of Toge’s wrist, examining the cuts on his knuckles as he mumbles something about Toge getting hurt as soon as his back was turned. In a rush of affection, Toge goes for the boy’s free hand, squeezing it lightly as a way of thanking him. The latter’s eyes find his as his lips spread into a small yet warm smile.
“Come on.” He says, getting up and tugging at the hand he held for Toge to follow him.
They end up on Yuuta’s bed, Toge sitting criss-cross on the mattress as Yuuta faced him, sitting on the edge with a leg out. His calloused hands feel surprisingly soft as he tended Toge’s wound with care, wrapping yet another bandage around it. Toge follows the circular motion of the fabric around his knuckles, eyes trailing up Yuuta’s forearm, to his shoulder, his neck, before landing on his face. He fights the urge to reach up for it, to follow the same path his eyes just had, but with his hand.
“There.” Yuuta pulls away, seemingly satisfied with his work. “All mummified.” He jokes.
The way his shoulders (were they always this broad?) slightly shake as he lets yet another chuckle escape his parted lips (were they always so attractive?) has Toge at loss of, well… Everything.
He doesn’t fight his urge, this time, leaning on his hands to meet Yuuta’s lips with his. He lets them press slightly harder, tilting his head in a better angle when he hears the taller boy hum with contentment. The awkward position and the weight on his injured hand quickly call him back to reality, though a grin finds its way through his lips as he sees Yuuta chasing after him when he pulls away.
“Huh.” Is all the teenager says as the flush spreading around his nose gets darker. “Le-let’s do that again, sometime.”
Toge laughs through a nod.
“Let me just…” He leans in again, gaze darting between his lips and eyes in a silent demand for permission. “Make sure you’re the real one.”
Toge grants permission by closing yet again the gap between them in another softer, chaste kiss. They part when Toge reaches for Yuuta’s phone behind him, pulling away to type something under the other’s confused gaze, eventually flipping the screen towards him.
Was he hotter than me?
A squint soon followed by a disoriented “huh?” makes Yuuta’s confused, kiss-dazed face even more lovable, somehow, and Toge’s eyes crinkle in fond crescents.
He types again.
My evil twin.
Realization strikes Yuuta whose face goes from confusion to bewilderment to amusement in a split second.
“Oh my god, Toge, you are insufferable!”
They both erupt in laughter, any sign of anxiety long gone.