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“If there’s anything I can do, I want you to come to me.”
Those words ring clear as day in Denji’s mind. They ring heavy like the rolls of church bells and beckon him like soft tunes of a wind chime. He didn’t pay much to them, at first, but then as with everything his mind started to wander with them.
Anything?
He’s only heard one other person use that word before.
He approaches Yoshida a few days later, fingers wringing together and expression held tight on his face. He’s sure he’s being observed like some animal in Yoshida’s head under his watchful eye, and he shuffles under it.
“You…you said anything, right?”
Yoshida tilts his head curiously, like a dog. And if Denji wasn’t so embarrassed right now, he might’ve even thought it cute.
“Hmm? What’s this all about all of a sudden?”
Figures the deceptive bastard would answer his question with his own.
“Just..just answer me, alright?!”
Yoshida’s face remains serene as ever while Denji’s panicking on the inside. He hates every minute of it. If only time could move faster damn it-
“Well, yes. Anything. Anything you want and anything you need. So what is it, then?”
Finally.
That’s his green light.
“H-hold me.”
Even the ever-calm Yoshida looks surprised. Eyeballs wide, mouth agape, and stance taken slightly aback.
“Huh?!”
Look, Denji’s just tired okay?!
Hugging was the only form of affection Denji knew when he was a child. Before kissing and before sex there was hugging. Hugging a person and feeling their warmth and breathing in their scent and simply knowing they were there could keep you alive. He’s done it many a time with pochita.
“Shut up! I just need…I’m just, tired okay and I just…”
He just needed to feel it again.
Yoshida’s looking at him like he has some kind of deeper ploy hidden beneath all this. But Denji isn’t lying; its been so long since someone’s held him, hugged him, told him that he’s doing well and that he’s fine, and it’s been so long since he’s had reassurance in his life over all the chaos and struggle and he thinks back about control and responsibility and his head spins and memories blur and he thinks too many faces and two people who would hold him now and how he killed-
“I’ll do it.”
Yoshida’s bright, sharp voice pulls his head from beneath his ocean of thoughts. Like a lifeline, Denji clings to it. It’s the only clarity and control, comfort, he has right now.
Yoshida opens up his arms, but their movements are slow and his face remains unreadable. It’s a bit too methodical, almost robotic. Has Yoshida never hugged someone before? But unnecessary thoughts get swished away like waves of the sea pushing seashells onto the beach sand; the far recesses of his mind that he keeps locked behind a door. Denji doesn’t bother to study Yoshida and instead approaches him with his own awkward teetering towards him, face heating up and embarrassment running through his veins, heart beating wildly but mind certain that he needs this.
He needs this.
He slowly, cautiously, wraps his arms around Yoshida’s torso. They meet each other behind Yoshida’s back. His chest pushes against his. And though he doesn’t feel Yoshida’s arms around his back, Denji could care less. They stay there, and eventually, the tension in Denji’s arms fades away. He can feel the warmth of Yoshida’s body like this, heat easing into his body like a languid flow of lava coursing through his body. To his chest, to his arms, to his legs, and his heart. It’s engulfing him, Yoshida’s warmth, and Denji lets it, the fire from his touch makes Denji feel alive. When he breathes in, he’s able to tell apart the scent of freshly ironed clothes and the faintest iron of blood and a dark, inexplainable fragrance underneath it all. Everything about it screams Yoshida to Denji, and he remembers it as if it was familiar to him. When he puts his head on his body, he can feel the subtle rhythmic ‘thum-dum, thum-dum’ and isn’t sure if it’s Yoshida’s or his. It’s like they were truly intertwined into one complete being.
For the first time in days, weeks, or months even, Denji’s mind is perfectly clear. Calm, cool, crystal clear waves of the ocean, happily soaking up the sun’s light on a hot summer’s day.
That’s when he feels Yoshida returning the favor. Strong, firm arms secured tightly around him, and he can feel the tip of Yoshida’s chin tickle his head and brushing against his hair. Bony pale fingers leisurely rubbing circles on his back and it feels, almost relaxing. As if the whole world could disappear at a moment’s notice but Yoshida’s touch would keep him anchored here, safe. And his hold around Yoshida tightens, because he wants him to keep him anchored here, too. Denji doesn't say anything but between them, all words are conveyed through the body; 'Never let me go, not now.' And perhaps if Denji was seeking warmth and comfort from Yoshida, he’s seeking something from Denji too. They embrace for a long, long while, and everything just feels right in this blissful, magical embrace. It’s only when Denji remembers this touch too well, when glimpses of red hair appear behind his eyes, that he makes a slight move to pull away and Yoshida lets him go, despite feeling some form of reluctancy as Yoshida's fingertips trace his body from his back, all the way to the tips of his nails.
Now they’re separated he can clearly see Yoshida’s expression, and it isn’t one of usual smugness or playfulness. His downcast eyes and tight lips read to Denji a form a sadness he wouldn’t expect from a man as stoic or mysterious as Yoshida. Yoshida might be able to wear a hundred different faces and fool a thousand more people but through the dark mirror that is Yoshida’s eyes Denji can see pity, concern, and a shared neediness that they both felt reflecting back at him. Denji doesn’t quite know what to make of it.
“Thanks.”
He doesn’t need to say anymore.
“Wait,” Yoshida’s voice rings out to him again, hand jutting out to grab him before Denji could dash off. He gives him a tired look in response, hand clasping his in a grasp that gives Denji the thought, that maybe, just maybe, Yoshida doesn’t want to let go. Ocean waves push those thoughts away.
“I-if you need anything, I’ll always be here.” He finishes. ‘If you need to hug me again, come to me because I need you to.’ It remains unspoken but the words are still heard by Denji. His fingers rub against his, and Denji has to resist the urge to interlock them together. He looks away from Yoshida, because for some reason he can’t bear to look at his face for too long less his heart fills with longing need again, and simply nods his acknowledgement.
They finally pull apart.
It was just a brief moment of comfort for Denji, maybe even for the both of them, but the euphoria he felt is something Denji would secretly keep in his heart, forever.