Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Remind me why the fuck we’re doing this again?” Sakakura sighs as he looks out at the sea of people in front of him.

“To have fun, duh!” Yukizome says, rolling her eyes, “You two are complete workaholics; don’t get me wrong, I admire that unwavering dedication and sense of duty, but it’s important to give yourself a chance to unwind and have a good time every now and again.”

“And that’s what this is supposed to be?” Sakakura asks with obvious skepticism, glaring angrily at a small child with curly pigtails – blissfully unaware of her surroundings, she gets uncomfortably close to bumping into him and spilling her giant, electric blue slushie all over his shoes, before she finally looks up and makes eye contact with him, prompting her to run off, crying for her mother.

“God, you’re always such a stick in the mud!” Yukizome huffs, “Amusement parks are like, the pinnacle of fun. Right, Kyosuke?”

“She does make a valid point,” Munakata agrees gently, “It has been quite some time since either of us enjoyed a day off.”

“I mean, sure, but-…”

“No buts!” Yukizome interjects, “We’re here, and we’re going to have an amazing day, and there’s nothing either of you can do about it!” she proclaims confidently, hooking an arm around each of them and leading them through the park’s entrance.

“Now, let’s get a move on, boys – it’s only going to get hotter and more crowded the longer we wait around.”

And she is right; it is barely ten in the morning, but hordes of families and teenage friend groups are already piling into the sprawling park grounds, and the harsh mid-July sun is mercilessly glaring down at them from a clear, bright blue sky. It had required prolonged and incessant nagging from both him and Yukizome, but Sakakura is glad they managed to convince Munakata not to wear a suit for once, or he might have gotten ill in the grueling heat. Instead, he has donned a pair of white slacks and a blue linen shirt (which Yukizome insists is actually a ‘pale cornflower’, because she is pretentious and thinks you need fifty different words to describe the colour blue). He is still a bit overdressed for a day at the amusement park, Sakakura thinks, but considerably more casual than his usual attire. In fact, he has even rolled up his sleeves and undone the topmost button on his shirt, revealing a tiny sliver of pale skin that makes Sakakura feel… things he would rather not dwell on.

---

The three of them spend the next thirty minutes or so simply wandering around, taking in the sights and sounds of the park as they attempt to familiarise themselves with the area; while it is not their first time coming here, much has changed since their last visit, which took place several years ago, when they were still in high school.

Ugh, the very memory of that day makes Sakakura sick to his stomach... It had been the last weekend of the agonisingly long month during which Munakata and Yukizome had dated each other, before they came to the mutual conclusion that they worked infinitely as friends, and Yukizome accepted her true calling as the overbearing mum friend of the group. Sakakura was already madly in love with Munakata, even back then, and having to watch the two of them walk around hand in hand all day, sharing ice cream cones and quiet laughs meant only for them had been… less than enjoyable for him, to say the least.

To make things considerably worse, the event took place while he was still in the closet, and Yukizome – ever the most considerate and helpful of friends – had made the horrendous decision to bring along a female classmate of theirs to try and set her up with Sakakura, resulting in the most uncomfortable, most cringeworthy double date in all of history. The poor girl had eventually run into some friends of hers, and had promptly and mercifully abandoned the absolute shit show of a love triangle that she had unknowingly been forced to bear witness to, and Sakakura had spent the rest of the day walking three steps behind his friends, feeling like the most miserable, pitiful third wheel of all time.

Now, it is just the three of them, as friends. No awkward handholding or third wheeling. Just the three of them. As friends.

Except not really. Because Sakakura is still madly in love with Munakata.

Yukizome knows how he feels – she has known for a while now – and she has been nothing but supportive. It makes sense, he supposes; she no longer harbours any romantic feelings for Munakata herself, so she has no reason to be jealous. Still, her complete lack of apprehension is impressive; if he was the one faced with the prospect of his two best friends getting together romantically, he would probably be worried about getting left behind in one way or another, even if he had not been in love with one of them. At first, he just assumed she felt so utterly confident in her awareness that Munakata would never return his feelings, that she felt no need to even entertain the possibility, or any associated consequences. But that line of thinking quickly proved to be incorrect, because Yukizome was not simply unbothered by his feelings for Munakata – she actively began encouraging him to act on them. Had it been anyone else, Sakakura would have taken it for a cruel joke, or a poor attempt at tricking him into making a complete fool of himself. But this is Yukizome, and Sakakura knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she would never do anything like that to him.

No, her insistence that has he has a chance with Munakata is every bit as genuine as it is foolish, that much he is certain of. When she says she can sense something in the air between them, she means it. He wants to be angry with her for trying to kindle a false hope, for naively pushing him towards something that will inevitably end poorly, but he knows she is doing it out of love, knows she only wants him to be happy – so much so that she has become blind to the fact that this specific flavour of happiness is simply not meant for him.

But what if it is meant for you? Her voice echoes in his mind, terrifying and misguided, but infinitely tempting all the same. Recently, he finds himself surrendering to that delusion more often than he feels comfortable admitting. It is not entirely due to her incessant coaxing, either; there is something in the air between him and Munakata – he feels it too. The two of them have been spending an increasing amount of time alone over the past couple of months, not just for work-related reasons, but of their own volition, as well. Granted, there is nothing inherently suggestive about that – they are friends, after all; Sakakura and Yukizome have coffee and go shopping together all the time, and it has never felt weird.

Still, grabbing coffee with Munakata just feels… different, somehow. At least nowadays. They make eye contact more often, and Munakata smiles at all his jokes – even the really dumb ones that obviously fail to land – and sometimes, their hands accidentally touch while reaching for one of those little sugar packets in the middle of the table, which would not be particularly noteworthy, was it not for the fact that Munakata always takes his coffee black. Sometimes, Sakakura almost wonders if-…

“Juzo? Hellooo, earth to Juzo…?” Yukizome’s voice suddenly calls out, interrupting his ruminations.

“Huh? What?”

He blinks a few times and looks around, forcing himself to abandon the mental bubble he had inadvertently retreated into and return to reality. When he does, his ears are immediately accosted by a cacophony of crying children, jaunty, carnival-style music, and screams of terror-infused delight, courtesy of the passengers aboard the massive rollercoaster that zooms past them every few seconds. The air smells like summer and buttered popcorn, and the cobblestone path in front of him is lined with colourful little stalls hosting various games and lotteries, all of them crowded by hopeful patrons, tantalised by the giant chocolate bars and fluffy plush toys being displayed on the stall walls.

Shit, right. Amusement park.

“Are you alright? You were spacing out,” Munakata asks, reaching out to touch his arm – seemingly unaware that he is making his friend decidedly not alright by doing so.

“I’m fine…” Sakakura mutters, mentally kicking himself for how annoyed he sounds; he is not, really – just dreadfully embarrassed, because holy shit, Munakata is touching him, gently squeezing his bicep and running his thumb back and forth across his bare skin, and Sakakura really has no reason to freak out about that, because they are friends, and Munakata is simply making sure he is okay, and yet Sakakura feels as if the skin of his arm is going to melt clean off at any moment.

“Here, have some water,” Yukizome says, handing him a small bottle from her purse, “you look… warm.”

Oh, he is fucking warm alright, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the scorching summer sun.

“Do you want to sit down for a bit?”

“No, no, I’m okay, really,” he insists, mortified with himself for getting so caught up in his own thoughts – his sad, pathetic, brutally non-heterosexual thoughts about his best friend, no less.

“Fine,” Yukizome concedes, “but please let us know if you start feeling ill, and we’ll take a break, okay?”

He rolls his eyes and grumbles, “Sure, whatever…”

“Well, if you are sure…” Munakata says, giving Sakakura’s arm one last pat before finally withdrawing his hand, leaving the other man feeling both disappointed and relieved at the same time.

“So, what are we doing first?” Sakakura asks, uncomfortable with being fussed over and eager to abandon the current topic of conversation.

“Ooh, I want to go to the haunted house!” Yukizome says excitedly, her calm and responsible motherly persona abandoned for the time being, as she jumps up and down while pointing towards a big, dark building looming ominously in the distance.

Personally, Sakakura does not see the appeal – what is so fun about having an underpaid seventeen-year-old in bad costume makeup jump out from a dark corner and scream at you, exactly? – but he is more than willing to humour his friend if it means getting her off his back for a while.

---

The haunted house attraction is about as lousy as he expected. There is no particular theme or overarching story being told to make the experience more coherent, just a bunch of random creepy stuff spread across a few long, dark hallways. In addition, there are only a few, subpar live actors, one of whom Sakakura almost accidentally punches in the face when they tap him on the back. The rest of the ‘scares’ come in the form of plastic skeletons dropping from the ceiling, and obnoxiously loud, prerecorded sounds of thunder and evil laughter played over an old, crackly sound system. It makes sense, he supposes. This is an amusement park full of kids, after all – probably would not be a good idea to make things too intense, or they might get sued by angry parents or something…

While clearly not afraid, Yukizome seems to be having a good time. She claps and giggles with childlike delight at every gaudy clown doll and giant rubber spider, and the sight makes Sakakura smile; she may have invited him and Munakata here to give the two of them an opportunity to relax and have fun, but she is every bit as hardworking as they are, and she needs this just as much. He has no idea how she can be so entertained by something so shoddy and soulless, but he is happy for her, nonetheless.

“She’s really enjoying herself, huh?” Sakakura notes.

“Yes, so it seems. It is good to see her in such high spirits, even if I do not quite understand the reason,” Munakata admits.

Yukizome has pulled ahead of them a little, and is currently inspecting some kind of giant, stuffed werewolf-looking thing further down the hallway, at the end of which hangs a torn curtain with sunlight peering through from the other side, suggesting that they are almost at the end of this absolutely riveting experience.

“Yeah, man, I don’t-…”

Sakakura does not get a chance to finish his sentence, as he is rudely interrupted by an animatronic doll with a hockey mask and fake blood all over its clothes, which suddenly bursts through the wall right next to them with a loud crash, wildly swinging a prop axe around and laughing maniacally. It happens so suddenly that they are both caught completely off guard, and Sakakura lets out a surprised yelp and stumbles a couple of steps backwards, unwittingly reaching out for something to grab on to, and finding it. In the form of something warm and soft, something that feels disturbingly much like… human skin…

Oh.

It takes him a while to fully comprehend, but the thing he is clinging onto for dear life is, in fact, Munakata’s hand. The moment he realises, Sakakura feels as if the floor has opened into a bottomless pit beneath his feet, and yet, he remains frozen in time, unable to move a single muscle. Munakata likewise does not move or speak for several seconds; they both just… stand there, fingers interlaced, staring at the animatronic axe murderer in front of them as he continues to flail around.

It was an accident, it means nothing, they were both just startled, he knows that, but he still thinks his heart might beat out of his chest at any moment. It is pathetic, but he wants to stay there forever and ever, spend every last moment of his life standing in that dark, narrow hallway, with Munakata’s hand in his, and an unhinged robot man screaming in his face.

Wanting, needing to sear the image into his mind for the rest of eternity, he allows himself to sneak a glace at their entwined hands from the corner of his eye – warily, as if he might scare the other man away by drawing attention to what is happening. In the dark, it is hard to make out where he ends and Munakata begins, smooth, porcelain skin blending seamlessly into tan in a way that makes Sakakura’s inside turn to mush. Maybe Munakata has not even realised…? No, there is no way – it has been well over half a minute; even if he was too startled to notice at first, he must be aware of it by now. And yet-…

“Helloooo? Did you guys die in there, or what?”

Chisa Yukizome is a wonderful human being. Sakakura loves her with all his heart, and he would never wish any form of harm upon her sweet, precious soul. Except now. Right now, he wants to strangle her with his bare hands.

As soon as she calls out to them, the spell is broken. Munakata quickly pulls his hand away, and it feels as if a piece of Sakakura’s heart is being pulled out along with it.

“I’m sorry,” Munakata mumbles, already moving towards the exit in quick, determined strides, as if he wants nothing more than to get away from Sakakura. Fuck.

“’s fine,” he replies, despite the fact that absolutely nothing is fine, and he is about two seconds away from throwing up.

Choking back the bile in his throat, he shoves his hands in his pockets and somberly trudges after the man whose soft, pale hand is the only thing he will be able to think about for days to come – the man whose hand he would damn near murder someone to be able to hold again, now that he knows what it feels like.

---

“Geez, what took you so long? Did you get lost trying to walk down a straight hallway?” Yukizome jokes once they finally emerge from the darkness.

It didn’t seem very straight a minute ago, Sakakura thinks bitterly, the harsh sunlight forcing him to shield his face with his hand and squint his eyes, as he waits for them to reacclimate. He is not sure who he is angrier with: himself, or Yukizome, or the person who designed the stupid fucking haunted house, or maybe even god – if there is one – for having the audacity to make him the saddest, most disastrous little homosexual in all of human history.

“We got attacked by some weird doll,” he says dismissively, trying his best to sound unbothered.

“Aww, did you get scared?”

“No…”

“I was quite startled, actually,” Munakata admits.

Yukizome laughs incredulously, “Seriously? I wish I could have seen that.”

If she notices anything off about either of them (which Sakakura highly doubts; his own sour mood can easily be explained away as him being flustered about getting scared, and Munakata’s emotional state is notoriously difficult to decipher), she makes no mention of it. As Sakakura mentally panics, wondering if he will ever be able to look Munakata in the eyes again without dying on the spot, or if he will have to move to Antarctica and become some kind of penguin-herding hermit, she is already prattling on about the next attraction she wants to visit – some kind of spinny teacup ride that she used to love as a child and would like to re-experience as an adult, for nostalgia’s sake. 

The ride in question is so horrible it makes Sakakura wish he could go through the haunted house a hundred times over just to escape it. It is not scary at all, just extremely nausea-inducing, the stupid little teacups spinning round and round and round and round for what feels like a century, as Yukizome’s hair repeatedly whips him in the face. He makes sure she sits in the middle, arguing it is because she is so tiny that she might fly out of the seat otherwise; in reality, the mere thought of sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Munakata right now makes him feel all warm and dizzy, and he is fairly certain he would just straight up faint if that thought was to become reality.

By the time the abominable carousel finally stops, Munakata is slightly green in the face, and Sakakura feels a bit queasy himself, so he suggests a quick snack break, which no one objects to. There is a wide variety of food stalls to choose from, offering both sweet and savory options, but given the weather, they quickly settle on ice cream. Yukizome goes for strawberry and butter pecan, while Sakakura picks chocolate fudge and cookie dough. Munakata still feels a little ill, so he is content to drink water and nibble on some crackers that Yukizome fishes out of her purse – which must have some kind of magical properties, because it always seems to contain way more stuff than it should logically be able to fit.

“Do you want to try some, Kyosuke?” Yukizome asks cheerfully, offering a spoonful of strawberry ice cream, which Munakata gratefully accepts.

It is a decidedly non-weird, unremarkable and entirely platonic interaction – and yet, Sakakura’s heart beats a little faster when Munakata turns to him and asks if he can try some of his ice cream as well. Maybe it is the fact that the white-haired man seems almost… embarrassed, when he is normally so self-assured, or maybe it is merely Sakakura’s regular nervousness acting up; either way, he can feel his face heat up as his friend looks expectantly at him.

“Sure, yeah, here you go…” he mumbles; he did not have the foresight to grab one of those tiny plastic spoons that Yukizome got, so he just holds out his hand, expecting Munakata to simply take the whole ice cream cone from him.

He does not. Instead, he leans in alarmingly close and, with the ice cream still in Sakakura’s hand, he takes a bite, making the boxer’s face burn even hotter, for reasons he cannot – or does not dare – to articulate. As if that was not enough, he also manages to misjudge the distance between himself and the frozen treat slightly, and leans in just a bit too close, resulting in him getting ice cream on the tip of his nose.

“Hey, uh, you got some-…” Sakakura mumbles, pointing at his own nose while trying his best to sound casual, and not at all like he is currently bearing witness to the most adorable sight of his entire life.

Looking surprised, Munakata reaches up to touch his face, furrowing his brows when he sees the ice cream on his fingers. His face turns the same soft, creamy pink as Yukizome’s strawberry ice cream – which she almost drops from laughing too hard at the sight of his angry little frown – and good lord, Sakakura thinks, it should not be physically possible to be this much in love with someone. For the briefest of moments, he forgets he is supposed to be embarrassed about what happened at the haunted house; he is just happy to be there, having a good time with his best friends.

“Here, let me get that for you,” he says, stifling a laugh of his own, as he reaches out to wipe the ice cream off Munakata’s nose without thinking.

By the time he realises what he just did, he has already licked his fingers clean, and Munakata is looking intently at him, his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape; the expression is wholly unfamiliar to Sakakura.

“Shit, sorry, shouldn’t have touched you without asking,” he mumbles, adverting his gaze, afraid that the strange look on the other man’s face is going to reveal itself as one of revulsion if he retains eye contact for any longer.

Why the fuck did he do that…? Why did he not just… ask for a goddamn napkin or something from Yukizome – she always has some on her – or, better yet, let his grown ass friend wipe his own damn nose instead of being a total weirdo?

“It’s completely fine,” Munakata assures him, except he sounds odd somehow, and his voice cracks slightly halfway through the sentence, and Sakakura has no idea what that means, and it terrifies him.

---

He finishes his ice cream without saying much; he is probably just going to make things worse, somehow. Munakata is also pretty quiet, and Yukizome keeps throwing him funny looks that he cannot decipher. After five uncomfortable minutes that feel more like hours, she finally declares that it is time to resume the “fun”, and Sakakura breathes a sigh of profound relief. Before they can go back to elbowing their way through massive crowds and spinning around in oversized, mechanical teacups, however, Munakata excuses himself to go to the bathroom.

Yukizome does not even have the decency to wait until he is out of sight before she pounces on Sakakura.

“Did you just… make a move? Are you two finally getting somewhere?” she exclaims excitedly.

“What?! No!” Sakakura hisses, “What the fuck are you talking about?!”

“Oh, stop it! There’s no use pretending – I saw everything. Look, now you’re blushing; you know exactly what I’m getting at!”

“I don’t-…”

Completely ignoring his protests, she lets out a high-pitched squeak and wraps him into a tight hug.

“This is wonderful!” she chirps, “I’m so happy for you two!”

“There’s nothing to be happy about! Did you see that weird look he gave me?!”

“You mean the look that absolutely screamed desire and adoration? The look that was just as tender and loving as it was carnal and hungry? That look?”

“You’re seriously delusional,” he groans, wriggling out of her embrace.

He can see how your best friend wiping ice cream off your face and licking it off their finger could potentially trigger a range of emotions in a person, but Yukizome’s suggestions are simply absurd. Surprise? Confusion? Sure. Curiosity? Amusement? Maybe. But desire? Adoration...?

“There’s no way,” he says firmly, shaking his head for emphasis.

“There absolutely is,” she counters, just as firmly, “You just have to continue to-…”

“I’m not doing anymore weird, creepy shit, alright?! I didn’t even mean to do it in the first place, I just…” he trails off; he truly has no idea what got into him.

Noticing that he is starting to get riled up, Yukizome gently places her hand on his forearm.

“I’m sorry,” she says with a small, apologetic smile, “I didn’t mean to make you upset; I genuinely thought this was something intentional on your part. But even if it wasn’t, there is no need to feel bad about the fact that it happened. Kyosuke didn’t mind, I promise. If you’re not able to see what I see yet, that’s okay, but please believe me when I say that you did not make him uncomfortable. You need to stop treating every interaction you have with another man as if they are somehow inappropriate. You’re not being weird or creepy; if you were, you would know, because I would have beaten the shit out of you.”

“Fine. Thank you. Or sorry…? I don’t fucking know what I’m supposed to say,” Sakakura grumbles.

“You don’t have to say anything. We can talk more about this some other time – or not. I just want us all to have fun today. I hope this hasn’t ruined the mood for you.”

“Nah, it’s alright.”

Suddenly, he spots Munakata in the distance. He tries to wave him over, but the other man clearly does not see him. He looks lost and confused, and has probably forgotten where he left them, and Sakakura loves him so much.

“Oh, there’s Kyosuke!” Yukizome exclaims.

“Yeah, uh… I don’t know if he’s gonna be able to make his way back here on his own. He doesn’t seem to have any clue where he’s going. Maybe we should just… go to him instead?”

“You’re probably right,” she agrees, trying – and failing – not to giggle.

Munakata is visibly embarrassed to have gotten lost, and apologises profusely to both of them when they meet back up with him. Fortunately, the uncomfortable tension from before has already dissipated, and their conversation is lighthearted and friendly as Yukizome guides them to the next stop on her agenda.

---

“You want us to go on that thing?” Sakakura asks, looking up at the colourful metal monstrosity in front of them with obvious scepticism. “Are you trying to get us killed?”

“Come on, it will be fun!” Yukizome coaxes, eagerly trying to pull her less than enthusiastic friends towards the ride’s entrance – or rather, towards the massive queue leading up to it; she is not very successful, which is to be expected given that she is much smaller than both of them.

“No visit to an amusement park is complete without a good rollercoaster!”

“It has loops and shit!” he argues, but she apparently considers this to be a selling point, as opposed to the massive red flag it obviously is.

“And what about you?” Sakakura continues, turning to Munakata, who is not exactly jumping at the prospect either.

“You got sick from those damn spinny cups, there’s no way you’re okay with this, right?”

“Well…” Munakata begins, but before he can make any sort of rational decision, Yukizome hits him with her most deadly attack: the pouty face/puppy eyes combo.

“Pleeeease…” she begs, sweetly clasping her hands in front of her chest, and Sakakura knows the battle has been lost.

Goddamn it.

“Alright,” Munakata sighs, gently patting her head; Sakakura has to focus all of his attention towards his own imminent death to stop himself from imagining himself in her place, and even then, he is only mildly successful.

“Since you seem rather excited about this particular ride, I suppose we will have to be strong for you… It is rare for us to go on a trip like, after all; we should try to make the most of it. Right, Sakakura?”

Goddamn it.

“Yeah, sure, I guess…” he mutters, because Munakata is smiling warmly at him, and he is a miserable, lovestruck mess of a man who would do damn near anything for that smile.

---

The queue to the rollercoaster is horribly, agonisingly, infuriatingly long. Who the fuck wants to stand in line for a whole damn hour, just to go on a ride that lasts less than five minutes…? Unfortunately for him, the answer is “Chisa Yukizome”. The child standing behind him looks way too young to go on a ride like this, and keeps bumping into the back of his legs over and over. Their parents do not seem to care about either of these facts. Sakakura rubs his temples and tries his best to think calm, non-violent thoughts.

When they finally reach the front of the line, he regrets ever wishing for it to move faster. The moment the coaster train comes into view, Sakakura feels his stomach turn, and drops of cold sweat begin to trickle down his temples. If he was not one hundred percent certain Yukizome would tease him about it for the rest of his life, he might just have tucked his tail and ran; unfortunately, his pride far outweighs his sense of self-perseverance.

Because he is apparently doomed to live every moment of his life in senseless agony, each row of the train only has two seats, and when he turns around to grab a hold of Yukizome to make sure he does not end up having to sit next to Munakata, she is… not there. Instead, he spots her at the very front of the train, about to board with some complete rando. He is not sure exactly how she got there so fast, when all three of them were at the very back of the vehicle just a second ago, but there she is, giving him a small wave and an apologetic smile. Did she seriously just… cut in line? To force him to sit next to Munakata…? He cannot believe his eyes.

“Oh, Yukizome is all the way over there,” Munakata notes; surprised, but not alarmed, because he is blissfully unaware that this is all part of her evil masterplan to drive Sakakura to complete madness.

As the seat next to her is already taken, he has no choice but to walk into her trap with open arms. Trying his best to seem unbothered, he climbs into the nearest seat and pulls the safety bar down with unnecessary amounts of force. His hands are trembling and his hair is damp with sweat, and he is not sure who the main culprit is – his fear of a violent, rollercoaster-induced death, or the fact that Munakata’s leg is currently pressed up against his.

“God, how lame would it be to die on a fucking rollercoaster?” he laughs nervously, staring intently at his own feet as a park employee makes her way down each row of the train, pulling on the restraints to make sure they are all properly fastened.

“I-I highly doubt that is going to happen,” Munakata says, trying his best to sound calm and composed, but not entirely succeeding, his eyes nervously following the employee as she gives a thumbs-up to the person manning the control room before leaving the boarding platform.

A moment later, the train sparks to life, slowly pulling out of the station and beginning the ascent up the lift hill, prompting a sharp inhale from Sakakura. The suspenseful chatter of the other passengers is drowned out by his own furious heartbeat pulsing in his ears, and the ominous sound of clicking gears pulling the cart higher and higher up into the air.

“If we survive this, I’m beating Chisa’s ass,” he hisses through gritted teeth.

“Please don’t do that.”

“No promises-… oh my god do you see how tall this fucking thing is? It just keeps going!”

“Everything will be fine,” Munakata tries to comfort him, but Sakakura is well and fully panicking at this point.

“I’m gonna die holy shit Kyosuke I’m gonna fucking die I’m actually gonna die,” he rambles pathetically.

And then the cart reaches the top of the hill. It hovers there for a couple of seconds, and in that brief moment of deafening silence and stillness, Munakata suddenly grabs hold of his hand and squeezes it tightly. Without thinking, Sakakura returns the gesture. Then they are plunging back down, and the wind is tearing through his hair, and he is laughing, and he does not care if he dies.

---

It is over too soon. Much, much too soon. The handful of minutes spent rushing through loops and drops and sharp turns feel like mere milliseconds, and despite the fact that Sakakura’s heart is beating out of his chest and his stomach is threatening to empty its contents long before they reach the brake run, he wants nothing more than to keep going, lap after lap after lap, until they bleed together into one and he can no longer form a single coherent thought, and the only thing that exists is the warmth and the pressure of Munakata’s hand in his. He knows the sensation will disappear as soon as they hit the brakes, and he tries to savour the last few seconds of bliss as he braces for the inevitable, for coldness and emptiness and a hastily mumbled apology.

But the warmth remains.

It is still there when they round the last corner and pull back into the boarding platform; still there by the time the ride comes to a halt and the safety bar is released above their heads; still there as people start to get up from their seats and gather their belongings. He can barely process what is happening around him; the sounds of belt buckles clicking open, rushing footsteps and elevated voices are all distant and muddy, wholly unimportant and uninteresting in the face of Munakata holding his hand for the second time that day.

The hold is no longer a bone-crushing death grip of pure terror, as it had been during the actual ride, but their fingers are still firmly laced together, and Munakata does not appear to be planning on letting go anytime soon. He probably initiated the contact because he felt scared (and Sakakura certainly does not blame him, he was about ready to piss his pants, too); it is considerably harder to rationalise the fact that he has not put an end to it yet.

Actually, is he alright…? Nervously, Sakakura looks over at his friend, worried he might have passed out or something. Fortunately, that is not the case; while he appears somewhat shaken, eyes wide and chest heaving, Munakata is very much awake, and seemingly fine.

“Hey, uh… You okay…?” he asks anyway, just to be certain; he knows it will most likely snap the other man out of his daze and thus put an abrupt end to a moment he wishes could last forever, but Munakata’s well-being is infinitely more important than… whatever this is.

“Yes, thank you,” Munakata breathes, turning his head to face Sakakura, still not releasing his hand, “Just a little dizzy.”

His face is slightly flushed and his hair is all ruffled up; Sakakura did not think it possible, but that slight crack in his pristine, icy exterior somehow makes him look even more beautiful than usual.

For a moment, they simply look at each other; not moving, not speaking, oblivious to everyone and everything except one another, suspended in time inside an invisible bubble of their own, entirely accidental making. Every single nerve ending in Sakakura’s arm feels as if it is about to catch fire, and he desperately hopes Munakata has not noticed how gross and clammy his palms are.

And then Munakata looks down at their entwined hands, and back at Sakakura, and then his gaze softens and the corners of his mouth turns ever so slightly upwards, and suddenly Sakakura feels more lightheaded than any rollercoaster could ever make him, because Munakata is fucking holding his hand and smiling at him, and it is not an accident.

Regrettably, he has no sooner arrived at this earthshattering realisation than his reverie is interrupted by one of the employees operating the rollercoaster – a young, tired-looking woman with several piercings on her face and an overall dark, brooding aura that clashes terribly with her colourful work uniform – who taps him on the shoulder and rudely pops a bubble of chewing gum right in his face.

“So, uhhh… Are you two, like, gonna get off, or what…? You’re like, holding up the line…” she drawls with an exaggerated eyeroll, looking and sounding as if she would prefer to be literally anywhere but there.

It is only then that Sakakura realises that he and Munakata are the only ones who have yet to leave the ride, and that the people waiting in line are glaring angrily at them, and suddenly he too wishes he was anywhere but there.

“Shit, uh, sorry,” he mumbles, immediately pulling his hand away and scrambling out of his seat, his face absolutely burning with embarrassment.

Yukizome is standing by the ride’s exit, looking like she has just beheld something absolutely outrageous. No, really, Sakakura swears her jaw is going to hit the damn floor if it drops any lower, and it makes him… kind of irritated, for some reason. What is there to be chocked about…? Surely it is not that big of a deal? Just two dudes, holding hands… for several minutes… while gazing dreamily into each other’s eyes… completely and utterly absorbed in each other’s presence, oblivious to the rest of the world-… Jesus fucking christ, who does he think he is fooling?!

He knows he has no reason to be upset with her. And he is not – not really. In fact, he is not angry at all, just… embarrassed and scared. Scared of people knowing he is gay, even people he will never meet again ever in his life; scared of Munakata knowing how he feels; scared of those feelings being rejected; scared of them being requited; scared of being hated; scared of being loved. Even Yukizome’s reaction terrifies him. Logically, he knows he has nothing to fear from her; she knows about his sexuality, knows about his feelings for Munakata, and she is rooting for him so hard it is almost annoying sometimes. And yet, part of him worries that actually seeing those feelings in action, actually seeing him holding hands with another man – a man for whom he possesses romantic affections, no less – will make her change her mind. As if the truth of the matter will finally hit her, and she will turn away in disgust.

Of course, she does no such thing. Quite the opposite, really –  as he approaches with hurried and somewhat wobbly steps, her surprised expression swiftly morphs into one of gentle, maternal worry; clearly, he is not doing a very good job of hiding the fact that he is very close to having some kind of mental breakdown.

“Alright, let’s get you two outside,” she says, her tone kind but firm.

Momentarily confused, Sakakura looks over his shoulder and realises Munakata must have hurried out of his seat just as quickly as he did, because he is now standing right behind him, wearing a strange, unfamiliar expression. Thankfully, he does not look angry, more so… bewildered? Sakakura is not entirely sure, but it makes him anxious either way, and he is happy to advert his gaze and allow Yukizome to pull him outside by the wrist.

Once outside, she promptly locates the closest bench and orders them to sit down on either end, placing herself in the middle.

“Okay, let’s try to calm down a little. Have some water and crackers,” she says, getting the emergency rations out of her bag and forcing them upon both her friends.

For a while, no one says anything else. They simply sit there, trying to regain their footing on the ground, and on reality.

Now that the world is no longer spinning, and he is at safe distance from Munakata, Sakakura begins to to consider the possibility that he may, in fact, have overreacted a little… Or, okay, fine, a lot… Maybe the handholding really was accidental after all, and he simply romanticised the scene in his mind, making himself see things that were never really there... Grabbing someone’s hand on a roller coaster because you are scared is not that weird, really. Especially not if they are your friend. As for not letting go once the ride ended… Honestly, Munakata was probably just too dazed to realise. And the smile Sakakura must simply have imagined. Alternatively, it may have been a polite, subtle attempt at apologising for the unprompted physical contact, or a gentle way of asking Sakakura himself to let go in order to not cause offense. Regardless, Sakakura seems to have blown the entire thing completely out of proportion, something he bitterly notes is starting to become a general theme for today.

He cautiously glances over at his friend, who is silently nibbling on a cracker. Munakata’s hair has been returned to its usual, neat shape, and his face is already back to neutral, offering little to no insight regarding his current state of mind. That is not necessarily a bad thing, though, as it likely means he is not particularly bothered by the handholding incident. When he is bothered, he usually knits his eyebrows together in a subtle, angry frown that is so cute it makes Sakakura desperately want to kiss the bridge of his nose. But he is not doing that now. So, they must be fine. Right…?

Suddenly, Yukizome leans forward, obscuring his view of Munakata and interrupting his thoughts.

“Are you feeling any better yet?” she asks with a soft, tentative smile, “Do you want some more water?”

The last question is about as genuine as a parent asking their child what they want for dinner despite clearly having made up their mind about it already, because she thrusts the bottle into his hand without waiting for a response.

Since he is not in the mood for unnecessary bickering, he accepts it with a sigh and drinks deeply from it before handing it back.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry…” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before handing back the bottle.

“No need to apologise. That was… kind of a lot, wasn’t it?” she laughs awkwardly, and Sakakura knows she is not referring to the roller coaster.

“It was certainly… intense,” Munakata agrees, “I would not exactly say I disliked it, though…”

His voice is unusually quiet; quieter than such a casual, non-controversial statement calls for. Unless, a tiny voice at the back of Sakakura's mind whispers - unless he is not talking about the roller coaster, either.

“Yeah, uh, same here…” Sakakura mumbles, not sure if he hopes Munakata hears him or not.

He considers asking for a quick bathroom break so he can go splash some cold water on his face and hopefully calm down a little more, but ultimately decides against it; if he leaves his friends alone now, he knows he is going to spend the rest of the day worrying about what they might have talked about while he was gone, especially considering the fact that Yukizome clearly has some kind of well-meaning but horribly stupid match-making agenda going on. Even though she has thankfully feigned ignorance so far, the prospect of her accidentally revealing something incriminating regarding his feelings for Munakata to the man himself in a misguided attempt to be helpful is absolutely horrifying and very real, so Sakakura forces himself to once again get his shit together as best he can, and asks where they are off to next instead. After some consideration, Yukizome suggests the arcade – because apparently they have one of those now – and since the proposed activity mainly involves standing upright with both feet on the ground, there are no complaints.

---

Unfortunately, said arcade turns out to be located at the complete opposite end of the park from the roller coaster – because of course it is – and in order to get there, they must wade through massive hordes of loud, terrifying, snotty children, who Yukizome pointedly tells him he is not allowed to kick or push or scare in any way, which he in turn tells her is an absolutely redundant remark, because he would never do such a thing.

…Well, discounting the handful of brats he may or may not have beaten up while working security for Hope’s Peak a few years back – something that Yukizome is quick to bring up, and he cannot even bring himself to be upset about it, because his flustered, barely coherent attempts at justifying himself make Munakata laugh, and the sound is clear and pure and perfect, temporarily breaking through any lingering tension between them and making his heart flutter dangerously.

They have barely begun their long and perilous journey before Yukizome stops them in their tracks. 

“Oh, wait, look! They have one of those hammer game thingies!” she exclaims, pointing excitedly, “You should try it, Juzo!”

“What? No. Do it yourself.”

“But you have to be really strong for those kinds of games! You’re supposed to hit the hammer and-…”

“I know what a high striker is, Chisa. And I’m not gonna play it.”

“Aww, come on!” she pleads, pouting her lower lip, “I’m sure you’d win really easily, and we might get some kind of fun prize!”

Sakakura looks at Munakata for support, but he simply shrugs.

“I don’t see any harm in giving it a try.”

“Not you too!”

“See!” Yukizome beams, triumphantly placing her hands on her hips, “Two against one.”

“Ugh, fine, whatever,” Sakakura groans, “You’re payin’, though.”

---

“So do I just hit it, or what?” Sakakura asks gruffly, looking between the colourful rubber hammer in his hands, and the tall tower in front of him.

The tower has obnoxious, multi-coloured lights and numbers along its sides, and the top is designed to look like the face of a clown, sporting curly green hair, a disturbingly wide grin, and a red bell for its nose. Sakakura wishes he knew who designed it, so he could use the hammer on them instead.

“Yeah, just, uh… whack it real hard,” says the scrawny, shaggy-haired boy who is manning the attraction, pointing towards a round platform at the base of the tower.

While he does not appear to detest his job quite as intensely as the girl from the roller coaster, he does appear somewhat uncomfortable, and had almost choked on his soda when they approached. It seems a little strange, choosing to work at a place like this if you are that anxious around people, Sakakura thinks; then again, kids that age probably do not have a huge surplus of options…

“Alright, let’s get this bullshit over with,” Sakakura sighs, before bringing the hammer down on the platform as hard as he can.

The puck zooms towards the top of the tower, a loud TWANG ringing out as it makes contact with the bell, hard enough to produce a significant dent in the metal. All the lights on the machine start blinking aggressively, as an obnoxious, jolly jingle announces his success. Then, all of a sudden, sparks begin to fly from the lights, the entire contraption hissing and fizzing as the music distorts, morphing into an ear-splitting cacophony of garbled noise. Finally, everything comes to an abrupt halt, the lights flickering one last time before going out, as the machine appears to shut down completely, turning dark and quiet.

"...That's not supposed to happen, is it...?" Sakakura laughs nervously.

"Did you... break it? Munakata asks, tilting his head in confusion.

Yukizome gasps, "You broke it!"

"I didn't mean to! I didn't know this thing was made for little fucking babies!"

"I-It's not, really..." mumbles the employee, "Lots of big, burly dudes play it, and I've never seen anything like that happen before..."

"Impressive..." Munakata nods, and Sakakura feels his face heat up.

"No, it's not!" Yukizome glares at them, "Property damage is not impressive!"

"I told you, it wasn’t on purpose!" he argues, before turning to the boy, who is nervously twiddling his fingers and avoiding eye contact, looking almost as flustered as Sakakura feels.

"Listen, I'm really sorry," he grumbles, "I seriously didn't mean to. Am I gonna have to pay for this?"

"I don't think so...?" the boy says, sounding very uncertain; he has clearly not been instructed on how to deal with a situation like this.

"The park will probably handle it….? I think I should call my supervisor and tell him what happened, though..."

"Do we... need to stick around for that?"

"No, no, I'm sure it's all cool. But, uh-... I guess you technically won? Since you did hit the bell... So, uh, here..."

Still looking away, the boy grabs a large plush toy from a shelf behind him and hands it to Sakakura.

"Oh. Uh, thanks..." he says awkwardly, examining the toy; it is a big, round bird with a deadpan expression and stubby little legs, light blue in colour and with half an eggshell on its head. It reminds him of Munakata, and the realisation makes him feel uncomfortable and giddy all at once.

"We're genuinely super sorry!" Yukizome cries, bowing repeatedly, "My friend is a big, stupid idiot who thinks with his dumb, meaty fists instead of his brain!"

“Now, now, Yukizome – that’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” Munakata tries, but his words are somewhat undermined by the fact that he is openly laughing as he says them.

Completely ignoring him, she continues to apologise on Sakakura’s behalf until the employee, who still looks rather uneasy, finally excuses himself and runs off, mumbling something about really needing to call his supervisor.

“You’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?” Sakakura sighs, glaring at Yukizome.

”Nope!” she chirps, clearly amused by his indignation.

Munakata gives him a small, sympathetic smile. “I am glad you did not get into trouble for it. Hopefully he won’t, either,” he nods towards the employee, who is now standing by a trashcan a few meters away, talking loudly on the phone.

The boy keeps looking back at them with a weird expression, and Sakakura suspects it might be his fault.

“Aw man, poor kid, I think I scared him…”

“Scared?” Yukizome asks, quirking an eyebrow, “Juzo, honey, I don’t think he was scared, I think he just had a major sexual awakening…”

“A-A what?!”

“He was totally into you! Kyosuke, you saw it too, right? He was all nervous and blushy!”

“He did seem somewhat… flustered,” Munakata agrees.

“Because he was scared!”

Yukizome rolls her eyes, “No! He thought you were hot!”

“Perhaps he found it endearing how your initially rough demeanor and intimidating yet impressive physique contrasted with your obvious embarrassment upon realising you had broken the machine...?” Munakata suggests.

“Yeah, exactly-! …Wait, what…?” Yukizome asks, enthusiastic agreement turning to confusion.

“Did I… say something strange?” he asks, and Sakakura is taken aback by how genuinely worried he looks, seeing as he is usually not particularly concerned with making sure the things he does and says are socially acceptable.

"Not strange, just... unexpected."

Unexpected and specific, Sakakura notes, heat seeping into his cheeks. Munakata is usually not very observant when it comes to other people’s emotions, so it seems odd that he should make such a detailed assumption about a complete stranger's state of mind. And yet here he is, speculating upon the intricacies of some teenage boy's imagined attraction to Sakakura with significant nuance and eloquence, almost as if he has already considered the matter in great depth. Almost as if he is speaking from a place of personal experience…

No, there is no way. He is reading way too much into this. Munakata does not find him endearing. He is not attracted to him, and he is most definitely not in love with him, oddly specific comments and prolonged, potentially-not-accidental handholding be damned. Something may or may not be happening here, he can no longer confidently deny that, but there is absolutely no reason to automatically assume that means Munakata likes him back. God, and he had the audacity to call Yukizome delusional…?

“A-Anyway, let’s get the fuck out of here. What were we doing, again?” he says awkwardly, because his mind is quickly running off to strange and upsetting places, and Munakata still has that weird, nervous look on his face, and it is making Sakakura freak the fuck out.

Yukizome must have noticed the invisible clouds of tension starting to form above them, and thankfully, she is quick to help him chase them away:

“Oh, right!” she exclaims, clapping her hands together, “The arcade!”

---                                                                                                         

And so, the journey continues. The mood is normal again… mostly. Ugh, this constant flip-flopping between comfortable, casual conversation and awkward silence and weird looks is making Sakakura all antsy…

Fortunately, his competitive side ends up getting the better of him, and the arcade actually provides a rather effective, albeit temporary escape from his worries. He starts off by absolutely destroying Yukizome at Dance Dance Revolution – twice – and then promptly proceeds to have his ego crushed as he gets his ass handed to him by Munakata and Yukizome in various fighting, shooting and racing games. Granted, he doesn't lose all of them, just… the overwhelming majority. Also, he may or may not have broken a couple of the machines by slamming the buttons too hard, but no one has to know about that… Especially not Yukizome.

In a surprising turn of events, Munakata turns out to be an absolute champ at crane games, and his friends watch in awe as he effortlessly retrieves plushie after plushie after plushie. By the time he is out of coins, there are so many of them that they can barely be carried even with the combined efforts of three people (though admittedly, Sakakura is not of much help, as he is already carrying his giant bird) and a small crowd of curious children has formed around them, wide-eyed and likely a bit jealous of the trio and their impressive haul.

“Hm,” Munakata says, looking at the mountain of colourful stuffed animals in his arms with a troubled expression, his face barely visible behind all the toys, “It appears I may have gotten a bit carried away.”

Yukizome giggles, accidentally dropping a weird, pink giraffe (…horse?) thing with googly eyes, as well as a penguin with a bow tie, onto the floor.

“A little?”

“You could have told me to stop, you know,” Munakata sighs – a little flustered, but not outright upset.

“Nah, it was fun to watch,” Sakakura says with a lop-sided grin; as rare a sight as it is, Munakata is adorable when he is embarrassed.

Actually, is it bad that he kind of wants to see him like that more often…?

“What am I supposed to do with them? I cannot keep them all in my apartment, nor do I wish to," Munakata laments.

“We could give them away?” Yukizome suggests, nodding towards a group of kids standing a short distance away from them, murmuring loudly amongst themselves as they gaze longingly at the plushies in Munakata’s arms with about as much subtlety as a serial car crash.

“I’m sure we’ll have no problem finding willing recipients…”

Munakata happily agrees to her idea, and the three of them begin passing out stuffed toys to random arcade patrons, much to the children’s’ delight – not to mention the delight of their parents, who no longer have to keep throwing money at the claw machines.

Sakakura leaves most of the distribution to Yukizome, since she is a lot more comfortable around kids than he is, though he does give away one plushie himself – a small frog with big glass eyes and a felt tongue, which he hands to a teenage girl with huge, bright purple hair, ripped stockings and a lesbian flag patch sewn onto her black denim vest.

He remembers reading somewhere on the internet that gay people like frogs, for some reason; it makes no sense to him whatsoever, and he is not sure there is any truth to it, but he decides it is worth a try. She is standing by herself in a corner next to an ATM, writing on her phone, her long, black nails dancing across the screen with impressive speed.

As he approaches, she looks up with an apprehensive expression, caught somewhere between fear and annoyance, and he mentally punches himself for not having the foresight to consider the fact that someone like him – a lone, adult man with a perpetually pissed off expression and arms the size of tree trunks – approaching someone like her – a lone teenage girl – may not be a comfortable experience for her. Thankfully, she relaxes a little once he presents the frog and explains the situation, accepting the toy with a reserved smile and a quiet ‘thank you’.

He still feels somewhat anxious as he walks away, wondering if he what he did was inappropriate, but when he looks back over his shoulder, he sees the girl taking silly selfies with the plush, smiling brightly into the camera on her phone, and he decides to let it go.

Once all the plushies have found new owners, the three of them recuperate by the arcade’s entrance.

“Alright, only this one left,” says Yukizome as she reaches out to grab the big bird plush that Sakakura has had a firm grasp on ever since they left the high striker.

“Actually, could I… maybe keep this one…?” he mumbles, turning away from her and protectively hugging the plush to his chest, realising too late how pathetic it must look.

To be honest, he had not anticipated her trying to take the toy from him, and now he finds himself embarrassingly unwilling to part with it.

For a moment, Yukizome seems genuinely surprised; then she looks over at Munakata, and back to the plush, and back to Munakata, and finally at Sakakura. A knowing smile settles on her face.

“Of course you can, you’re the one who won it – even if you did kind of cheat.”

Naively, he hopes and prays she might leave it at that, but her grin soon turns mischievous, and Sakakura knows he is fucked.

“Why that one in particular, though?” she asks sweetly, nothing about her tone or phrasing suggesting that she already knows the answer to her own question, or that she is asking it for the explicit purpose of flustering him.

“I-I don’t know, I just like this one. It’s… cute,” he mutters, very aware of the fact that Munakata is looking directly at him.

As far as he can tell, the other man mainly appears to be amused, not embarrassed or weirded out, so hopefully he has yet to notice the striking similarity between himself and the bird. It is actually kind of impressive, Sakakura thinks, how someone can be so smart and so oblivious at the same time…

---

Mercifully, Yukizome decides not to humiliate him any further. She does, however, force him to go on another nausea-inducing ride with her – this time, it is one of those giant towers where they launch you straight into the air at terrifying speeds, and then drop you back down almost as fast, just to make sure anyone who did not feel their soul leave their body on the way up gets a second chance at having a near-death experience. Actually, force is the wrong word; she bribes him, with churros. They are so good they are almost worth being blasted halfway into space so fast the breath is knocked right out of his lungs and it feels like his skull is going to crack open from the tremendous pressure. Almost.

Munakata is allowed to sit this one out, at his own request. Though Yukizome initially tries to make him reconsider, she changes her mind once she sees the blatant apprehension on his face as he glances up at the tower. While not openly protesting – likely for fear of ruining Yukizome’s excitement – he is nervously wringing his hands, clearly having had more than his fair share of excitement for today. Both his friends agree that it would be cruel to subject him to such discomfort for the sake of something as silly and unimportant as an amusement park attraction, and they know full well that he is much too inclined to suffer needlessly and push his limits beyond what is healthy to actually put his foot down and refuse to go on the ride by his own accord. And so, he is instead tasked with looking after the group’s belongings. They make sure to find a quiet, shaded spot for him, as the sun is still beating down on them with little care for Munakata’s sensitive skin and eyes.

After the ride, Yukizome leaves to go to the bathroom, while Sakakura returns to where Munakata is waiting by himself.

“Hey,” he greets the man, who is still seated on the same bench they left him at, nestled between an old ticket cabinet which is no longer in use, and a garbage can shaped like a frog.  

Munakata is holding Sakakura’s big, blue bird plush in his hands, and staring intently at it with his brows furrowed. “This bird…” he says without looking up, “it… looks a little bit like me, does it not?”

Instantly, Sakakura feels the blood in his veins run cold. Oh god. Oh fuck.

“I, uh… I guess…?” he says, nervously rubbing his neck; he is honestly impressed at how casual he manages to sound, given the fact that his legs feel like fucking jelly, and his throat is closing up, and there is cold sweat on the back of his neck, and the meager contents of his stomach are threatening to empty themselves onto his shoes… God, this is the fucking worst.

“This may be a bit of a stretch, but you called it ‘cute’, earlier,” Munakata continues, oblivious to the fact he is making his friend yearn more dearly for a swift and merciful death with every word. “Does that mean you find me cute, as well…?”

“H-Huh?! No, that’s-… I can’t-… I mean, that’d be weird, wouldn’t it…?”

“Not at all.”

He finally looks away from the plushie, putting it down on the bench next to Yukizome's bag, before standing up and turning to face his mortified friend, who is staring back at him with eyes blown wide with panicked confusion. Meanwhile, Munakata’s own face is calm and level – not openly disapproving as far as Sakakura can tell, but decidedly serious.

“No, no, wait, fuck, hold on a fucking minute," Sakakura sputters, "I don’t think you understand. I’m-… Listen, I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable-…”

“I find you cute, as well.”

…Huh?

What the fuck...?

He… must have misheard. Right...?

“You… You think I’m cute…?” he repeats in disbelief, terror and delight swirling in the pit of his stomach as Munakata offers a quiet nod in response.

“A-As a friend, yeah? Like, you'd say the same thing about Yukizome, right?”

“No. Or, well, yes, but not-… That is to say, I-…”

Munakata’s eyebrow twitches ever so slightly, something akin to frustration flashing across his face as he tears his gaze away from Sakakura.

“I am not very skilled or experienced in matters of the heart; I do not have the words to accurately express what seemingly comes so natural for others," he states regretfully, "All I know for certain is that, recently, there is this… warmth, this softness inside me, that emerges only when I am near you. It is similar, in a sense, to the fondness I’ve harboured for both you and Yukizome for years – which I have come to understand as friendship – and yet, infinitely different..."

He shakes his head, letting out a resolute sigh and turning to face Sakakura again, grey eyes brimming with sincerity and determination.

“I am rambling,” he says, “To answer your question more directly… No. I do not believe so. I do not mean it… as a friend.”

"Do you realise what the hell you're saying...?" Sakakura asks quietly, staring wide-eyed at him, as if seeing him for the first time. Taking in his features - the powdery white of his hair and eyelashes; the subtle blush mottling the smooth, pale skin of his cheeks; the intensity of his steely gaze - and falling in love with them all over again.

Munakata simply nods, and Sakakura forgets how to breathe properly.

"You're serious, aren't you...?"

Another nod.

Holy fuck.

“Well shit, a-alright, in that case,” Sakakura stammers, determined to seize what little courage he can muster and say somehthing, anything, before the shock of what is happening fully hits him, at which point he will likely be unable to do anything but open and close his mouth uselessly like some kind of overgrown, anxiety-ridden goldfish.  

“In that case, yeah - me too. I... think you’re cute, too, I mean. Really, really cute,” he mumbles, staring intently at a piece of gum stuck to the pavement as if it is the most interesting thing he has seen all day.

With bated breath, he waits for the glass to shatter, for this obvious tear in the fabric of reality to mend itself. He waits for the moment Munakata recoils with disgust; the moment he startles awake and finds himself alone in bed in the middle of the night, realising it was all a dream.

It never comes.

“I… see,” Munakata sighs instead, and the unmistakable relief in his voice is as clear as it is unbelievable, cutting through even the thick, icy fog of doubt and self-loathing that has clouded Sakakura’s mind for as long as he can remember.

And Sakakura is relieved, too. Relieved, and confused, and overjoyed, and mildly terrified. He wants to cry and laugh and hug Munakata so tightly he can barely breathe, and he does not know if any of those options are the least bit appropriate, because he has no idea how scenarios like these are supposed to play out. This is completely uncharted territory for him (though based on what he said before, Munakata seems to be in the same boat, which is at least somewhat comforting).

Throughout his high school years, Sakakura had been asked out by a handful of girls whose names and faces he had barely been able to remember, even back then. Turning them down had been awkward, sure, but it was at least a straight-forward process. He would do his best to sound apologetic, throw in some bullshit excuse about wanting to focus on his boxing career and not having the time for romance; the girl would almost invariably run off crying, and he would feel bad about it for a day or two, and that would be it.

But Munakata is not some teenage girl with a shallow, unrequited crush - and neither is Sakakura. Munakata is the love of his life, and his confession feels infinitely heavier, yet infintely more fragile in Sakakura's hands. It is less defined, too - shapeless, tentative; a flower unbloomed, the colour of its petals still unknown.

And yet, despite their formlessness - or perhaps because of it - Munakata's words, and the feelings they represent, are raw and vulnerable in a way that cannot be replicated with all the pink envelopes and heart stickers in the world. He is baring his heart in a way that is deeply humbling - so much so that, in that moment, Sakakura finds he does not particularly care if his friend's affections turn out to be platonic or romantic in the end; he is just happy to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Munakata trusts him enough to be truly vulnerable with him, and that whatever it is he feels for Sakakura, it is strong enough and important enough for him to want to pursue, regardless of how it might affect their current relationship.

"So... what does this mean for us?" Sakakura asks tentatively.

Repeatedly, he reminds himself that the only thing Munakata has actually confessed to is finding Sakakura cute - in a non-platonic sense, yes, but still; there has been no declarations of undying love, and no interest in pursuing a romantic relationship has been directly expressed.

"I'm... not sure," Munakata admits quietly, his fingers reaching out to brush against the back of Sakakura's hand in a manner that is both blessedly discreet, and profoundly intimate and affectionate.

"As I said, I have yet to fully decipher the nature of my own feelings, and I recognise now that it may have been insensitive of me to spring them onto you like this, when I barely understand them myself - and in a public place, no less..."

He shakes his head woefully, then continues before Sakakura can argue:

"I'm sorry, I truly am; not for the way I feel about you, whatever it is I feel - but for the way I decided to broach the topic. I was not planning on bringing it up like this, I simply-..."

As he awkwardly trails off, struggling to find the right words, Sakakura concludes that this must be just as strange and daunting for the both of them. The realisation soothes his self-consciousness ever so slightly, melting it into something gentle and compassionate, daring him to be vulnerable, too.

"Hey, it's okay," he says softly, turning his hand over so that their palms are facing together, "this kinda shit takes time. You don't need to have everything figured out right away."

They are standing mere centimetres apart, shoes almost touching, fingers repeatedly interlacing and unraveling; never quite holding hands, never quite breaking contact. Despite standing a decent distance away from the main path, in a fairly secluded area shaded by a row of small but dense Osakazuki maple trees, the two of them are by no means hidden from public view, and though his eyes remain fixed on the man in front of him, Sakakura is still painfully aware of the steady stream of people passing nearby - an offensive blur of colours and shapes and sounds lingering in his peripheral view. Under normal circumstances, he would be scared out of his mind to be seen like this, but this is possibly the furthest from normal he has ever found himself, and the fear and shame has been forced to take a back seat to the wonderful, confusing flurry of emotions which he is currently experiencing for the first time in his life.  It is not that the anxiety is absent altogether; if it was, his fingers would be wound tightly together with Munakata's, not simply tracing the lines of the white-haired man's palm with timid, featherlight motions.

Nevertheless, Munakata's safe, steady presence - not diminished, but amplified by the uncharacteristic display of emotional vulnerability - keeps Sakakura grounded, and the panicked shrieks in his mind, pleading with him to stop, pull back, get the fuck out of there before someone sees - before someone realises - fade to a small murmur, an indistinct call from somewhere deep in the depths of his consciousness. 

"Sakakura, I want to be closer to you. Emotionally, and physically." Munakata whispers, "Of that, I am sure." Though tinted with a private softness, his gaze is so serious and steadfast it completely takes Sakakura's breath away; it does not falter, not for a fraction, even as heat begins to pool into his cheeks, dyeing them that maddening, precious shade of pink that makes Sakakura's head swim.

"Cool," he chokes out in a miserable attempt at sounding casual, and not at all like someone who is exactly one affectionate word or gesture away from a heart attack, "me too."

His insides feel the way sour, fizzing candy tastes. He no longer has any doubts about Munakata's intentions; this is not a joke, or a misunderstanding. It is all real, all genuine, and Munakata is perfectly aware of the implications of what he is saying.

The realisation prompts him to pause for a moment, to rewind and re-examine the events of the day through the lens he had previously fought so hard to ignore, because it had felt like a cruel, twisted mockery of the impossibility he yearned for.

“So, does that mean… the handholding, was that… intentional?” he asks quietly, awkwardly stumbling and stuttering his way through the word ‘handholding,’ as if his embarrassment was not already apparent enough by the fact he is beet red in the face, furiously blushing all the way up to his ears.

“Not initially, no,” Munakata admits; he must have caught the flash of panicked regret in Sakakura’s eyes at those words; the way his hand shakes and retracts just a little bit, because his gaze turns almost painfully gentle, as he reaches out to finally do what Sakakura could not, grabbing the taller man’s wrist and guiding it back to the centre of the narrow space that separates their bodies, before weaving their fingers together with slow, deliberate motions.

“Is this alright?” he whispers, inclining his head towards their clasped hands, and Sakakura nods fervently in response; he can feel tears burning at the corner of his eyes, and he suddenly does not trust his voice to carry anything but a pathetic, wet sob of relief and ecstasy.

“You need to stop catastrophising and jumping to conclusions,” Munakata chastises gently. “I said, ‘not initially;’ What happened at the haunted house was entirely an accident; what happened on the rollercoaster was not. And this," he says, gently squeezing Sakakura's hand for emphasis, "isn't either."

“Can I hug you?” Sakakura suddenly blurts out, so caught up in the moment that he doesn’t even have the sense to make sure no one is looking at them before asking. He is high out of his mind on adrenaline, and Munakata is the only thing that matters.

At first, Munakata appears taken aback, his pale eyelashes fluttering and his mouth forming a small, surprised ‘O,’ but it quickly morphs into a smile. “Gladly,” he says; the word has barely left his mouth before he founds himself wrapped in a crushing embrace. Sakakura completely melts into his arms, burying his face in the crook of Munakata’s neck and breathing in the crisp, clean scent of his cologne, notes of pine and spearmint mingling with the sharp, vaguely tropical smell of sun screen on his skin. As Sakakura clings onto his shirt so hard his knuckles turn white, Munakata begins to trace circles along the green-haired man’s back with his palm, climbing slowly upwards until he reaches the back of his neck. He runs his fingers through the soft, wavy curls of Sakakura’s hair over and over, giving him goosebumps despite the smouldering summer heat.

"I'm scared," Sakakura whispers, feeling more vulnerable than he ever has before, "I'm scared you're gonna change your mind. I mean, it's okay if you do, I'd never hold that against you, it’s just that… I already know how I feel about you, and that’s not gonna change. I’ve known that for a long, long time, and I’m terrified that once I start acting on the way I feel, you’ll be totally weirded out, and it’s gonna ruin what we have right now. So please, even if you realise you don't like me the way you thought you did, just promise you won't leave me. Promise you will still be my friend."

"Juzo," Munakata breathes, and the sound sends a jolt of electricity down the length of Sakakura's spine so strong it almost makes his knees buckle. "I will be your friend for as long as you'll have me. I promise."

Then, in a more matter-of-factual tone, he adds: “That being said, I do have every intention of attempting to court you, if such an arrangement would be agreeable to you. I cannot say for certain where it will lead, but I would like to find out.”

“You… you actually wanna date me?” Sakakura asks in disbelief, somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

“Yes.”

“For real?”

“Yes.”

“Seriously?”

Munakata lets out a sigh laced with exasperated affection. “Sakakura, my answer is not going to change regardless of how many times you ask.”

“But you’re… you. And I’m just… me. I’m brash, and hot-headed, and honestly pretty stupid most of the time, and-…”

“… and kind, and loyal, and passionate, and funny, and handsome – among other things,” Munakata interrupts. “Do not sell yourself short. You have plenty of admirable qualities, and I think-…”

The sentence comes to an abrupt halt, as Munakata pulls back slightly to look at something over Sakakura’s shoulder. “Oh, hello Yukizome. Welcome back. You were gone for quite some time,” he notes in a manner that is entirely too relaxed for a man who is, in that very moment, tenderly caressing the back of his best friend’s head, while said friend sobs into his shirt.      

Briefly, Sakakura is both confused and mortified; he is embarrassed to admit it, but he genuinely forgot Yukizome existed for a moment.

“Is everything okay here…?” she asks; although Sakakura still has his back turned, he immediately recognises her voice. It is laced with audible confusion, and he can hardly blame her – she has had to deal with his miserable, self-deprecating pining all day, and then the second she goes to take a piss, she misses a development that Sakakura has stubbornly hailed as a complete impossibility for literal years, despite her repeatedly insisting otherwise. Honestly, he has no idea how she has not developed chronic migraines – or something worse – from having to deal with his bullshit everyday…

“Yeah, we’re good,” he says, trying and failing to sound nonchalant as he reluctantly extracts himself from Munakata’s embrace and wipes his eyes before turning to face Yukizome.

“The hell you are! You’re crying! You,” she says, turning to Munakata with an angry frown, “what did you do to him?”

Outraged by the baseless accusation, Sakakura opens his mouth to protest, but Munakata speaks up before he has the chance to do so.

“I simply informed Sakakura of the romantic affections I seem to be developing for him,” he explains blankly, his neutral expression and calm, casual tone making it sound as if he is stating a simple and entirely non-controversial fact, rather than confessing something so profound Sakakura can still barely begin to wrap his head around it.

Apparently, Yukizome does not quite understand either, because she raises her eyebrows so high they disappear completely behind her bangs, as she repeatedly looks from Munakata to Sakakura and back to Munakata with wide eyes.

“Are you two trying to pull some kind of prank on me?” she asks dubiously.

“No,” Munakata says firmly, and the look on his face is all the proof she needs. A moment later, she erupts into a mess of waving arms and high-pitched squeals of delight.

“Oh my goodness, I can’t believe it! It finally happened! Oh, I am so, so, so happy for you two!” she cries, throwing her arms around both of them.

“You’ve been expecting this?” Munakata asks, confused.

“For years! You have no idea how frustrating it’s been, having to watch this poor, anxiety-ridden disaster of a man dance around his feelings for you!”

Munakata glances curiously at Sakakura, who simply shrugs, even though he is obviously flustered. “She, uh… She figured it out almost immediately. I thought I was being discreet about it, but she saw right through me. Guess I should have expected as much from someone as nosy and annoying as her…” he sighs feigned discontent, the insult made rather ineffective by the fact that he is actively returning her hug.

“Anyway,” Yukizome says after a while, releasing the two of them from her surprisingly strong grasp. “This is all very, very exciting – don’t get me wrong – however, I did just violently throw up in the bathroom, and I’m not quite sure if I ate something bad, or if I’ve caught some kind of stomach bug, so it would probably be best if we did not stay here for too much longer, just in case.”

“You puked?! What the hell, are you okay?” Sakakura asks, but she is quick to shrug off his concerns:

“I feel alright at the moment, I just want to be on the safe side.”  

“No, yeah, you’re right, let’s get the fuck out of here,” he agrees.

“Should we call a cab? Or an ambulance?” Munakata wonders aloud.

“What? No! I told you I’m fine, we’re taking the train,” Yukizome concludes, then takes off in the direction of the nearest exit before either of them can argue with her. She doesn’t even grab her bag, which is still sitting on the bench behind them, next to the blue bird plushie that is currently staring at Sakakura with its grumpy little bird eyes, completely oblivious to the fact it might just have fundamentally changed the trajectory of his life, simply by existing.

“I suppose we better follow her,” Munakata says, walking over to the bench to pick up their things. The emotional intensity of the situation has mostly dissipated by now; to some extent, Sakakura wonders if things won’t simply go back to normal as soon as they return home. Maybe Munakata will rethink his decision and get cold feet, or maybe the two of them will be too awkward to figure out how to make things work.

And yet, as he stands there, already knee-deep in worst-case scenarios, Munakata returns to his side with Yukizome’s bag on his shoulder and the stuffed bird under his arm, and extends his hand.

“Would you… like to hold hands?” he asks tentatively, and Sakakura almost feels like crying all over again.

“Yeah, I would. I’d like that a lot.”