Work Text:
In the Kingdom of Science, summer nights are warm and dry.
Gen walks quietly. He breathes deeply, in through his nose and out through his mouth. The hemlines of his kimono follow him, stroking the grass, pulling him to the ground. The forest ahead is almost an emerald, if only with a touch of gloom.
Cicadas are singing softly. Voices of villagers (Gen is still looking down on them, but he can, he is used to looking at his contemporaries that way) are fading one by one. And the road is wet with dew.
If you close your eyes and grip your shoulders till your wrists crack, till your ribs ache, it seems to pass. The trees will disappear, the skyscrapers will rebuild. The whistle of the wind will be replaced by people's voices, tyres screeching, noise.
"Reality bites, " — Gen whispers as the traitorous branch crunches behind him. It wasn't it who betrayed Senku, but this fact does not honour his spying endeavours at all.
You can hide the sound of footsteps, dissolve your breath in the air, soothe the pounding of your heart, but your gaze will always give you away. Gen feels other people's eyes in his gut, they chafe his soul, they dwell on the past. Even more when they're full of love. Senku's eyes are just like that.
And you can't refuse him directly, because no one has ever confessed directly. He is a decent boy and does not allow anything extraneous, except a glance in the back or a touch when he needs to pass some small change from hand to hand.
"We create reality, " — brings the wind in return. The gaze whispers more.
"Look at me."
"Praise me."
"Throwing around pathos-philosophical phrases is my job, Senku-chan."
"Kiss me."
Senku shrugs and stands next to him. He's handsome, you can't take that away from him. When the dim moon licks the line of his jaw, when unruly hair falls over his face, when his gaze burns not with doomed first love but with fiery excitement, real passion - then a silent request makes one want to give consent. But that is not what the scientist wants, of course.
One can hardly tell him without faltering: "I was picking up naive girls yesterday with a smile and a cherry blazer, and today my life is fucked up, but you seem nice. Don't you want to sleep together?". He wants sincerity, maximum commitment, gum for two and all the other confetti.
Gen is over that shit.
Nose in, mouth out. The air of the future is nothing like the dust of the city.
"It will pass," - Asagiri is hardly lying, - "trust the mentalist."
The palm of his hand falters in a ridiculous attempt to touch. An inappropriately desirable gesture.
Senku replies quietly, with a sigh: "I've been indoctrinating myself since high school. Time has counted for millennia, and it... Hurts."
Senku's gaze swims in the twilight, the wind tangles his long hair.
"You had the disgusting emo-quiff, the first-girl look and the reputation of being the latest shithead."
Gen is almost laughing. He hides a smile in his palms as the stars break through the murk of clouds.
"Quite an unflattering characterisation."
"You have turned my head."
And the wind howls. Heart falls into stomach. Palms tingle, Gen gives out:
"Oh," and he himself can almost believe his surprise.
A patterned refusal swirls on his tongue. Asagiri doesn't need trouble in this crazy who-knows-what century, doesn't need dedicated eyes, loyalty oaths and matching tattoos. That's not why he attracts a scientist to himself, that's not why he kisses him (is that what you asked for?).
Senku clutches at his cuffs with his fingers, himself thrusting towards him. He's definitely trying to get drunk with the kiss, and it's - no joke - flattering.
The Mentalist even pulls away regretfully, only to breathe in and out.
"Well done" (is that what you wanted?).
Reality bites, Senku looks on lovingly, but who better than the Mentalist to know: this will get over.