Chapter Text
Sometimes Haru wonders why he can never touch Mikey as deeply as Mikey touched him so effortlessly. He doesn't know why there is a gap between them that he can never entirely bridge. He only knows the weight of the secrets that he keeps, that stubborn loyalty he chose for himself before he even knew what it meant. Haru bleeds and bleeds, but Sanzu knows he never sacrificed anything that wasn't worth losing.
Nothing matters as much as it seems, so Mikey can rip his face to shreds all he wants because these things mean nothing to Haru. There's always something worst to hang onto, Shin's dead eyes, big brother turning into the shell of a man, Shin sitting listlessly next to Mikey's hospital bed and he knows one thing for sure; - you don't get to choose how people love you.
(Mikey cries a lot when they're not looking, and Haru never fails to gently look away; you don't get much of a say in who you love either and that's ok. He'll be fine.)
Before Sanzu even existed, Haru used to spend long afternoons with Baji and Mikey, playing hide & seek behind the Sano dojo, small dirty nails digging into Baji 's arm to keep him quiet, the two of them waiting for Mikey 's slow prowl down the hallway to fade. Haru doesn't remember much except the warmth of Baji's breath on his cheek, Mikey 's small hands wrapping around his wrist. He remembers Shin's dark eyes, the tone of his voice, soft and deep, his brother Takeomi lingering by the door before leaving and Senju sneaking hard candies from the kitchen to share with Emma. He remembers these quiet moments before dawn, curling up with his sister and thinking there's no darkness that's not an illusion.
Haru fades like spring gives way to a slowly degenerating summer, and before he's even turned 16, Baji dies with the last shadow of their childhood spent together. Nothing changes, life moves on, and everywhere Baji used to stand, Haru only sees wasted space and a clinging loneliness. Mikey also lingers on the edge of acceptance, and they start spending more time alone together again, just driving around the city at night with no purpose. The silence of past summers gone keeps straining past the walls Mikey's raised between them, but Haru sees him for what he is - defeated.
They don't know how to grieve, he realizes. No one knows and so they're left alone with their loss. At some point, it becomes part of the flesh.
Not that it matters, because they're never quite alone, so they leave and go home in the small hours of the night, back to their respective ghosts. Sometimes Mikey rides with him to the end. He never speaks much when it's just the two of them, and Haru thinks it might be for the best. He doesn't have much to say either, at least nothing that hasn't been said already, only unending regrets.
Shin wanted me to stay with you, so why do you keep evading us? I'm the only one left. Without you I'll be all alone. Don't you feel so lonley?
“Did you fall asleep?” Sanzu asks him at the first red light on an empty crossroads. Mikey’s hand ghosts over his ribs, flexing over the loose fabric of Sanzu’s Toman uniform, but he doesn’t answer. Mikey doesn't stir, but Haru's too familiar with him not to feel his dull black eyes swerving to the side, intensely focused on the blurring city light. Neons hanging from the front of an old convenience store, tired eyes glazing over, "just lean on me, ok? "
They drive past Haru's childhood home, past the old creaking portal Shin accidentally slammed into six years ago, one night he was driving Takeomi home after a fight, and Mikey’s head lolls against his shoulder. There's no much left of Shin in the world, only Mikey 's ride, cardboard boxes in a corner of Mikey's room, and a dent in the portal of Haru's childhood home. Sanzu is careful not to drive too fast, slowing down smoothly before each turn, a hand firmly wrapped around Mikey’s arm to prevent him from falling. That felt like yesterday, 10.000 years ago.
The narrow streets leading down to Mikey’s home are usually empty at night, much more silent now than they used to be. Mikey’s breathing is soft and slow, and Sanzu thinks he understands a little of his moral and physical fatigue; the brutal state of hypersensitivity he is plunged into every day and the despair that comes at night, the numbness and the anguish of solitude.
Mikey doesn’t wake when they arrive, he's just a boy sleeping soundly on Sanzu's shoulder, languid and amorphous, so tender and serene – he looks nothing like the monster Haru knows he can be, and that’s alright. Sanzu doesn’t mind. He can love Mikey broken and sad, just the way he Baji and his brother left him.
(Years after, when Mikey's finally become the monster he was always meant to be, when he's followed Hades down to the depths, Sanzu realizes that he couldn’t care less that they’ve relegated themselves to the lives of pariahs, not when he only sees love and devotion seeping from their knives and guns. At some point Mikey stops being the child he used to be and turns into the mockery of a King Sanzu could have sworn he used to know (but how? He wonders.). Nothing matters because Mikey lives, he does, and that’s all Shin ever asked for.)
They slip through the window of Mikey’s room, and Haru lays him down on his bed. He never lingers home though he knows Mikey's grandfather and his sister wouldn't say a word, he doesn't want then to see him in their home in the middle of the night. They’re in Mikey’s childhood bedroom for the first time in years, and the smell of leather, sweat and oil hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the heady scent of mint and Grandpa's favorite black tea, last night's leftovers left on the table and fresh laundry. Breathing deep, Sanzu feels hopelessly intoxicated. Gazing up into the darkness of the room, through Mikey’s black half-lidded eyes, he sees himself as a creature of unbounded wants and desires, driven and derided by greed.
“Help me undress,” Mikey orders softly, mind-numbingly soft and precariously teetering on the edge of sleep, a deathly gentleness rolling down his tongue, eyes vacant as if he were absent to the world.
“Of course,” Sanzu says hurriedly as Mikey rolls on his back, eyes glued to the ceiling, “let me help you,” he mumbles anxiously, fumbling to undo the buckles of Mikey's coat, and Sanzu wishes he were able to find the right words to tell him for once.
Mikey doesn’t say anything. He’s not looking at him, and Sanzu knows that Mikey doesn’t speak much anymore these days and that when he does, the words cut like knives.
(The vision of Mikey surrendering himself, even if it is just a little bit haunts his memories for the following years, an ache so much worse than the searing scars on the corner of his lips. Sanzu doesn’t know loss as well as Mikey does, he hasn’t tasted defeat as many times as Mikey already has, but he does know that these things don’t come to him easily. The truth is, Mikey's weak, and he’s got a heart of glass, all sharp edges and cutting grief tossed aside, smashed on the floor. Mikey’s quiet and easy. He’s predictable. He seeks oblivion in violence in order to stifle fear and anguish. Sanzu’s seen it before, he knows that Mikey’s fallen, and he’s got no strength left to stand back up - There's nothing wrong with that and it doesn’t matter if Sanzu’s got to carry him a little. Just shoulder some of his burdens to make his life easier.)
Mikey tips his head back as Sanzu helps him take off his shirt, slowly and carefully, because Mikey might be a monster but he's still more fragile than glass and he holds a place in his mind and in his soul that would be empty otherwise. He's a beauty that’s a little deathly, he thinks. Soul-sinking.
“You’re always so careful around me,” Mikey sighs languidly, head lolling against his shoulder in permission, and Sanzu smiles because there are only so many ways to express love and devotion, “I'm the strongest but you always act as if I might break,” he sighs, “you think I'm weak and you love me weak."
“I’m your friend." As if it was the only thing that really mattered. Maybe it is.
Mikey watches him carefully through his lashes, head down and completely relaxed, slowly kicking his feet in the air. Sanzu leans into him, plunging into the deafening silence stretching between them. When he’s close enough he can hear the screaming locked into Mikey’s throat, see the hurt in his eyes like broken shards of glass - and look, no one understands Mikey like he does. Only Baji would have been able to save him, and now he’s dead so it’s up to Sanzu to help.
Sanzu doesn’t know what to do, he’ll never be as strong as Baji was, but he does understand Mikey.
(See, Mikey loves the silence so much he dug the words from Haru's throat with a knife to bury them into the ground – Sanzu thinks Mikey got tired of all the screaming in his head, calling out the names of people who never loved him at all. They never came to save him, until someone finally did and ruined everything. He was there. He's seen it all.)
“So that means you'll always stay with me right?” Mikey whispers softly, slowly weaving fingers through his hair, pale locks spilling from his hand, “like you said you would?” Mikey whispers innocently, quickly hooking their pinkies before gently tracing the scars on the corner of Haru - Sanzu's mouth with his fingertips. "you'll never leave? Do you promise?”
(“Do you promise?” Mikey asked years ago, a white knuckles grip on his brother’s pocket knife, eyes black and desperately empty. Sanzu barely remembers anything but the song of the crickets, blood dripping down to the ground and Baji’s screaming. No. Of course not. But the words were taken from him and there's no refusing Mikey. At some point you learn to love the chains around your neck when it's all you've ever had.)
Mikey knows what he’s thinking. He might not remember, but he knows he’s not supposed to ask any more of him. That doesn’t prevent him from taking again and again, much more than Sanzu ever had to give. He keeps on giving.
“I’m sorry,” Mikey adds, sinking into the mattress, holding his head in his lap. Sanzu knows that if he were still Haru he’d cry. Now he only wants to grieve, because Mikey’s been dying for years and there’s nothing he can do about it.
“Don’t ever be,” Sanzu says quietly, “I understand. I really do, so you don’t have to say sorry. Just keep going. You gotta keep going,” he adds because Mikey is so tired he won’t remember anything in the morning, and he needs this moment - just a moment to catch his breath. Mikey plunged the knife into his mouth, Sanzu remembers, but he’d been the one to guide his hand afterward.
(Mikey probably wishes he didn’t understand, but he does – he really does. Everything falls in place and years later, when he’s driving a blade into Mucho’s gut, he thinks; they made me wicked, and then they will blame me for what I’ve done. The moment they stop being teenagers to become adults and then criminals, they start calling him Mikey’s mad dog, but Haru knows he’s not crazy, just that he understands Mikey better than most.)
People don't understand love until it hits them in the guts, Sanzu thinks as he kneels in front of Mikey, a tinge of half-light and half-dark illuminating their drunken dreams.
“You don’t have to ask,” Sanzu hums, “I want it, I'll always be by your side. I promise ,” he adds breathlessly, and he thinks that he’s not giving up on anything but the sense of separateness that used to plague his days. Not that much of a sacrifice, he decides. "I promise you I’m not lying."
Mikey blinks slowly, and there's no word left to say, too many feelings suspended in the air that Mikey refuses to feel. Sanzu knows that Mikey’s a cripple now, that he’s lost parts of himself he can never recover. Now, he barely ever speaks, and there’s nothing left to feel.
“You’ll never be free. Do you even care?” Mikey sighs as if it mattered, and Sanzu lowers his head, lays his hands in front of him, and he thinks he’ll never be afraid again. He’d let Mikey carve him open just to squeeze out his heart with his bare hands because his love doesn’t leave enough room for fear – it’s all-encompassing.
Mikey watches him through pale black lashes, and Sanzu realizes that there are still lingering traces of warmth on his cold body, tender vestiges of lonelier feelings on his skin.
“I know. I don’t care. I'm not renouncing anything,” Sanzu says hurriedly, anxiously laying his head on his lap, a shiver running down his spine when Mikey’s pale, delicate hand comes to rest on his nape – a single gesture to signify forgiveness and absolution, “you’re all that I have. I don’t want anything as long as I’m with you. I don’t care. I’m your only true ally, and you know it.”
Mikey’s hand clenches around his neck, and Sanzu knows that the boy cradling his nape wouldn’t hesitate to kill him — he leans into his touch as if it were the only thing that could save him.
There’s something lost, and there’s no way to approach this unbearable loss. There’s no fragment left of what was before, only the secrets clinging to his skin, the blood on his tongue. Mikey’s loss is a fragment of the body.
“Alright then,” Mikey mumbles sleepily. "Do what you want."
(Months later, Toman is dissolved, and Sanzu exchanges a black coat for another, white or red; it doesn't matter.
– Mikey. He's the only one he ever had.)