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Rohan woke up first, which was no small feat of its own. Josuke was used to waking up ungodly early to take care of his hair, and Rohan had the luxury of working from home, which meant he didn’t often have to wake up earlier than he wanted to. But the moonlight from the window had fallen on his face just right, and now he was awake.
He looked over at Josuke’s exhausted, sleeping, naked form. Completely vulnerable. Rohan could have done anything to him in that moment, either using Heaven’s Door or doing the dirty work with his own hands, but that would have been useless. The worst thing he could do to Josuke was to love him, and he'd already crossed that line.
Rohan accepted long ago that he ruined every relationship he touched. A dark part of him wondered now, if he hadn’t been there that night, if she hadn’t been so focused on saving him, if maybe Reimi might have lived. He’d driven his own parents away by his ambition, refusing to just sit still and be what they wanted him to be. He’d taught himself not to care about how much he distressed Koichi on a daily basis, but he could see the kid would rather be anywhere else than hang out with him, and it was only a matter of time before he left, too.
Rohan reached out to touch Josuke’s face, to see if by fingers alone he could figure out why they were still doing this, why he hadn’t kicked the brat out yet to save him from himself. Why every time Josuke turned up on his doorstep, Rohan let them end up like this. Why he insisted on pulling him closer, when all they could do together was crash and burn.
Just before Rohan’s fingertips could brush against his face, Josuke grumbled in his sleep and turned over, away from him. He snatched his hand back, shame washing over him. What would he have done if Josuke woke up and caught him staring? Ridiculous.
One day, probably sooner than he hoped, it would be the last time Josuke ever slept next to him. Rohan would probably have to end it himself, before his sharp edges shredded Higashikata Josuke and dimmed the light in his eyes, the way he did to everyone that had ever been close to him. If Josuke did the same to him, he could gladly go on living a half-life, being the Icarus to Josuke’s relentless sun, but the only thing he’d ever truly be for Josuke was a death sentence.
Even still, he wanted to hold on just a little longer. Just enough to chase the cold away.
—
Josuke woke up as the first sign of light streaked across the sky, even before the birds began to chirp outside Rohan’s window. He enjoyed sleeping in, and when it came to getting up for class in the morning he had no sense of hurry, but some days his eyes opened on their own. They were just as desperate as he was for the sight of Rohan sleeping next to him, at peace.
The early morning sun, dim as it was, cast a soft glow over Rohan’s face. His dreams must have been pleasant for his eyebrows and mouth to be smoothed out like that, a way Josuke almost never saw. Josuke was pretty sure that meant he wasn’t in them, which wasn’t a thought that should have felt like a knife slipped between his ribs. He should have laughed, knowing he was antithetical to Rohan’s good moods and yet still ended up like this more nights than not, but instead it made him feel hollow.
Josuke moved as close as he dared, reaching up to gently touch the scar at Rohan’s hairline. It was small and slightly jagged, and though Josuke had never been bold enough to remark on it while Rohan was awake and therefore let him know he’d seen it, he was pretty sure the scar was the reason Rohan always wore those weird jagged headbands. And from that alone, he was pretty sure he knew where it came from.
He leaned over as if to kiss it, then drew away at the last minute with another sigh. What was he thinking? If he woke up Rohan like that, he’d probably get his lips torn off. Which he’d probably deserve, because even if Rohan wouldn't have mutilated him for it, he couldn’t let himself get close.
It wouldn’t be fair to Rohan, after all. Josuke couldn’t help but feel protective of him, the way he did for everyone in Morioh, but with him it was different. It always had been, and it was getting to the point where one day, Josuke would have to admit he wasn’t really a pure love type at all.
A pure love type would have done this right from the start. He would have confessed to Rohan, taken him out on dates, held his hand. Instead he’d conned his way into his bed, tricked him into letting Josuke be by his side. He wouldn’t be suffocating Rohan, occupying so much of his time he couldn’t be with anyone else. Josuke wouldn’t be so possessive, drowning him instead of watering him to help him grow.
One day soon, he’d have to do something that really pissed Rohan off, bad enough for Rohan to kick him out and refuse to see him again. It was the only way they’d ever move forward. Rohan would never love him, never need him, and even though Josuke had accepted that he just couldn’t stay away, and he knew one day he’d dull Rohan’s sharp edges. He’d hurt him, somehow, and he couldn’t bear the thought. If Rohan wanted to ruin him, he’d gladly hand himself over, but Josuke couldn’t stomach the idea that if Rohan ever stopped being himself, it’d be his fault.
But even still, his fingers were drawn to Rohan’s scar again. He wanted to stick around just a little longer, just enough to leave a mark on Rohan’s soul.