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I’m tired, Kunikuzushi thinks, but his heart is hollow — a blank, a strange ache of loss causing him to hunch over.
Dully, he realises his vision is blurry, though the question as to why doesn’t matter so much now, when he breathes and the scent of sea filters into his lungs. A rough wind nearly pushes him over, but the grip of his thighs is strong against the windowsill and the force of it nearly rips a yelp from his lips.
His mother’s eyes flash in his mind’s eye once more; losing its usual cold indifference — the one he sees whenever she turns her back on him, as her eyes search for another… his younger sister, whose achievements always outshone his own no matter how on par they were.
Disappointment.
He hurts.
Another wind blows at him, and he nearly topples over, onto the ground next to him but his grip on the window frame anchors him once more.
If he lets go…
It’ll be all over.
It’ll be all over.
The thought isn’t as reassuring as it used to be, when he scribbled in papers he’d long burnt to dust and in nights he’d feel heat at the back of his eyes when he tried to drift off to sleep.
He hurts.
How did he get here?
He barely remembers trudging his way to this area, a less well-known part of the school compound. No one really visits because… well, it’s closed off. But Kunikuzushi has found his way in just too many times before. Just to stare at the unending stretch of water below, as he does now, with a leg dangling over the side — not a ledge to keep him from slipping into its depths.
Somehow, the thought doesn’t unnerve him as much as it should.
But his fear of water overwhelms him when the blurriness subsides and he peers down below, the winds whipping wildly at his hair for a brief moment.
His stomach lurches at the sight. Dread pools in his gut. And he stops being able to breathe, for a second, and then two, and then he thinks he stops being able to breathe properly altogether, vision dulling back into senselessness as he coughs and grips the window frame for support, trying to draw air back into his lungs (as though he isn’t considering stopping it altogether).
He remembers his geography lessons… and the videos he used to watch on the net, lesson-like videos he would watch out of boredom whenever it came up as a recommendation to tell him that the currents beneath the sea were enough to drag him down so far he would never see light from the surface again.
Another pair of eyes drift into his mind. This time they’re blue; as blue as the skies but as limitless as the oceans beneath.
Ajax has always loved the sea.
They used to come to this very spot all the time despite Kunikuzushi’s fear of it; and Ajax would seat him below the window. They would sit, Ajax on the windowsill and Kunikuzushi at his feet, while Ajax talked about his hometown and his studies and Kunikuzushi listened, occasionally quipping with rather rude remarks that Ajax would only laugh harder at.
Somehow, the sea has always been less scary with Ajax around.
“Any way the wind blows,” Kunikuzushi says, loudly, steeling his heart in mental preparation; but his voice comes out as a fear-stricken whisper, knuckles turning white on the frames. Maybe they’ll be bruised tomorrow.
He’s shivering at the warm air from the sea. He’s never felt this cold before; his heart this numb, as he slowly brings his other foot up to rest on the windowsill as well, the sight, the expanse of the horizon before him bringing him to another dizzying lurch.
Kunikuzushi never sits on the windowsill. Never, not once.
So when Ajax finds him here, sitting on it and looking at him like he’d seen a ghost-
Kunikuzushi nearly tips the wrong way from shock, in panic, when he realises he can’t. Not in front of his best friend. His only friend.
They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, the seconds counting by like one, two, three-
When in reality, it takes barely half a second before Ajax is within his reach, gently moving the frightened boy — first his foot off the windowsill and set back onto the ground, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and lifting him slightly so it’s easier for Kunikuzushi to draw his leg back from landless waters.
Ajax smiles at him. All natural and alright, as if they haven’t avoided each other for almost a year now.
“No longer scared of the sea?” He laughs, all ease, but his movements betray him, his hand a vice around Kunikuzushi’s and his grip on his waist strong, as if he’s afraid that if he lets go, Kunikuzushi will float away and never return.
Which — he might as well, because his legs are jelly and he isn’t sure he can stand on his own without looking like a fool (or falling over) right now.
It takes him a few seconds to garner a response. “Yeah,” Kunikuzushi says, but his voice cracks and he shuts his mouth immediately, taking to giving a short nod instead.
He doesn’t realise he’s crying until his tears stain Ajax’s shirt.
They sit again, in the corner this time, the opposite corner from the window.
Ajax is still gripping his hand and it almost hurts, but Kunikuzushi can’t find it in him to complain.
But in the tension between them, Kunikuzushi can’t keep his silence. He tugs at Ajax’s hand — eyes unreadable once more, but Ajax understands. He always does.
He pulls Kunikuzushi in for a hug, and the older nearly climbs him just to cling onto him.
Ajax’s neck becomes wet with more tears, the silent sobs tearing through Kunikuzushi’s frame even as he stubbornly bites his sounds back, gripping at Ajax’s shirt.
“Gods, Kuni,” Ajax whispers into his hair as he holds him close, shushing at his tears.
(Kunikuzushi can feel him shaking as he holds him tightly.)
When they finally part and Kunikuzushi sits on his own once again, he finds his hand being brought to Ajax’s lips for a chaste kiss.
“...You’re insufferable,” Kunikuzushi mutters, covering his face with his other hand to hide the tears the action brings.
Ajax, in such a rare instance, doesn’t reply. He takes his time covering Kunikuzushi’s hand with kisses until Kunikuzushi bats at him. “It’s dirty.”
“Hmm,” Ajax hums, latching onto him again and wrapping his arms around him.
Kunikuzushi blinks drowsily.
“Why are you here?” He asks, voice coming out as a mumble as he turns his face into Ajax’s shoulder.
The ginger freezes, and his voice turns sheepish. Kunikuzushi doesn’t have to open his eyes to know he has that embarrassed look on him.
“I still come here every Thursday.”
Belatedly, Kunikuzushi realises it’s a Thursday — specifically, the day and the exact time he and Ajax used to meet in secret here to hang out after school, up until their last fight nearly a year ago.
He still comes here? Kunikuzushi muses, a frown marring his face now. Why didn’t he tell him?
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He grouses. “And… you’re an idiot for waiting.”
“We literally had a fight! And you never spoke to me again. How was I supposed to know?”
“I don’t know. I was waiting for you to say something.”
“I’m not a fucking mind reader.”
“Yeah?” Kunikuzushi mumbles, exhausted. “Okay.”
Ajax rambles on. “And- and, I’m an idiot for coming here? What would have happened if I didn’t—”
He stops abruptly.
A hand cups Kunikuzushi’s head, cradling him and pressing him to Ajax’s chest instead.
What would have happened if I didn’t find you here today?
Kunikuzushi almost doesn’t want to know the answer.
The waves crash and echo in their space, a reminder of every time they’ve sat here for hours, Ajax’s annoying voice infiltrating his every thought, and… today’s experience.
Kunikuzushi leans up with his eyes closed, and his pale lips brush Ajax’s cheek faintly. He thinks Ajax stops breathing for a second when he murmurs, “Thank you.”
And everything is forgiven after.