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These days, Mikejima Madara often finds himself waiting. With barely enough work to keep him occupied, and others tiring of him nosing his way into their own, he has far too much time on his hands. It feels like a cruel punishment to be left to his own devices for so long.
He hates how his mind wanders during these periods of rest, drifting away to far off places that betray the kind and motherly image he tries to maintain. He tries to expel these thoughts with his extra energy, chest heaving after running enough laps around the dorms to lose count, but they fight their way back to the surface with little effort. A cat can’t simply change its spots, after all.
It’s not like his true nature is much of a secret to anyone who’s known him long enough. His open threats to Eichi (all for his precious Leo’s sake, of course) say as much. The fiercely burning desire he feels to protect his loved ones, bubbling over into brute force when the need arises. He can’t help the way his skin itches with a need to take revenge on anyone that dares to hurt those important to him. Madara has lost one too many precious things to be so careless to stand by.
He wouldn’t even consider letting another one slip through his grasp. He learned his lesson, what felt like one hundred times over, losing his dearest childhood friend, Shinkai Kanata. The reason he challenged everything both of them knew, the reason he gave up everything, became an idol, and has to live his life on the outskirts; now all Madara can consider him is something bygone, no longer in want or need of his protection. At least Kanata somewhat acknowledges his existence now, after painfully being shut out completely, but every rogue and other harsh words directed his way still sting.
Just short of the levels the Shinkai cult has gone to, Madara thinks himself to be devoted. Everything he had done in the past was to bring Kanata the freedom and happiness he deserved; even now, selfishly following his own whims and agenda, he finds Kanata in mind more often than not. In addition to his exile from Japan for a time, his best friend left him with another curse: a deathly vice grip on his heart and soul. It was an unshakeable, looming thing, as much as he wants to deny it. He feels a pang deep in his chest at every mention of Kanata’s name, or during the fleeting moments in which they interacted. Maybe he could blame the fact that he was raised to worship Kanata; he knew better now, but he always felt pulled back to him like a mysterious ocean current.
Madara would admit, had admitted, that he loves Kanata. Almost as much as he needs to breathe to stay alive. He wishes (ironic, he thinks bitterly) more than anything for Kanata to live his life to the very fullest and be loved by those around him for who he is, a human, and not as a god. Secondary to only that, he wishes Kanata would give him the same loving attention he gives his friends of the Five Oddballs, Ryuseitai, the Marine Bio Club, and countless others he can’t help but attract. Kanata may have stepped down from his primary role as a god, but he still carries the same warm and unjudging presence one would have, Madara believes. He didn’t even have to try to adopt the caring role Madara so desperately fights to achieve.
Worse yet for Madara’s jealous tendencies, he can’t ignore the tightly-knit bond between Kanata and his unit mate, Chiaki. Their parental role towards their juniors feels like his personal retribution for failing to be a hero. He’d always be Chiaki’s biggest supporter, pushing his feelings to the side for the group’s success and happiness, but he undoubtedly yearned to take his place, just a little bit.
If not for the circumstances forcing them apart, maybe Madara could have remained in Ryuseitai, standing alongside Kanata as he grew into the idol he is today—as opposed to watching from the sidelines. It was the support of everyone around him that allowed Kanata to succeed, but…
Madara would not admit that a part of him, the side that wanted to guide and protect by any means, missed being Kanata’s only friend, the center of his attention. Kanata, who clung on to his every word about the outside world, who came to share a dream that Madara wasn’t able to reap the fruits of. Kanata, who now loved Chiaki, his light, his hero.
His hero.
Not only was he a failed hero, Madara felt like a failed villain, unable to detach himself from loving Kanata despite many clear signs that he should do so. That was Chiaki’s duty after all, wasn’t it? He had shown Kanata what the warmth of another person felt like, Kanata only knowing the cold, clinical hands of his caretakers. Madara was sure it hadn’t stopped at just a hug, ha. They were so close, their little relationship would’ve naturally progressed, both learning about each other in the most intimate sense.
Madara wouldn’t be surprised if Chiaki wasn’t the only one. Seriously, with Kaoru spouting all that “I’ll do whatever it is Kanata-kun wants, even though he is a guy” nonsense, letting Kanata praise him and cuddle up to him. It made Madara’s head throb.
There were those thoughts he was trying to avoid again.