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"So?"
It was a simple question, one word, so why was the answer so stupidly choked up and lost on his tongue?
So, what were they up to here? Why were they back in the 80's, back in the same hallway where Hijiyama had first viewed those records from 2188 that plagued his nightmares? The same hallway that years prior had also been where he had laid eyes on and immediately fallen in love with Tsukasa? Takatoshi wasn't sure himself. He had no clue what he was doing here, and he hasn't had a clue what he's been doing ever since he first told Tsukasa how stunning he was, the man who turned his life upside down like no one else ever had.
Six years had now passed since they first escaped that war torn hellscape, things have gotten better, everyone is living, thriving in the colony, and here he was choked up and fumbling to tell the man he liked... no, loved , what he had felt all this time. It was really hard on him. He didn't know what to do with those feelings, if they were even acceptable for a man like him to have, but he had been holding himself back for so long that it hurt. The heartache he felt when Okino would lean closer, how his touch burnt him, how he felt strangled over not allowing himself to pick him up and kiss him as he constantly dreamed of. It was strange how such strong emotions reverberated within him so physically painfully.
He tried to open his mouth to respond, but nothing came out other than a short 'ah' followed by a groan, his palm pressed to his face to hide his shame. Takatoshi tried to avoid the other man's eyes, scratching at his neck nervously. He couldn’t help but sweat nervously as he realised how long he's been there, just standing, not saying a single word. He hadn’t even told Okino why he dragged them there, and Okino's expression, impossible to read as always, made Hijiyama start fidgeting.
' So much for proper courtship, huh? ' The thought kept clinging to him viciously, keeping his ribs feeling tight, heart beating so fast he almost felt nauseous.
He hated how frustrating it was to never be able to tell what was going on up there in Okino's mind but, then again. That frustrating personality had always been a part of his charm, hasn't it? It's part of what made him so drawn to him from the moment they first met. His face flushed thinking of the first time they spoke again, had Tsukasa always been a tease? He thinks so. Always had him wrapped around his finger-
"Hey, Takatoshi." Firm, but patient.
He jolted.
That damned use of his first name, the way it never failed to make his heart flutter.
"Y-yeah?" His voice cracked as he stuttered what barely counted as a response, making him feel like a helpless 16 year old. A grown man, acting like a nervous, lovestruck teen.
The expression of the other before him softened at his jolt, his pathetic little voice crack. Takatoshi wanted to scream in agony, but nothing would come out. He couldn’t let anything come out, not now. Not when Okino's hand was reaching for his own, not as his heart burnt with such a fierce need as the other pulled him down, the floorboards creaking as they sat with their backs to the wall.
He didn't know how that both calmed him and made his anxiety worse. Okino nudged closer, pressing their arms close together, resting a hand on his thigh, driving him insane.
"You don't have to answer anything." Okino sighed, squeezing his hand on Hijiyama's leg tighter. "I think I get what you're trying to do. Bringing me to where we first met, it's charming, I like it." Hijiyama felt every word stab at him, he felt like he was bleeding out.
But why did that feel so relieving at the same time?
"However," Okino sighed, and every bit of relief suddenly left Hijiyama’s body, an unpleasant chill pouring from his head to his toes, “you don’t need to keep pressuring yourself, you know.”
Something about those words made Hijiyama’s heart sink. In an instant, he had gone from a lovestruck kid to seeing his life flash before his eyes.
He tried to speak.
Okino raised his hand to silence him.
“..Hijiyama. It’s been six years. ”
There was a strain in his voice Takatoshi had never heard before.
“Six years. Waiting. Waiting. And yet still waiting. I love you, you know how much I do. I say it to you so much, but at this point, if you’re not ready now, I feel like you’ll never be.”
A shaky sigh, masked by a cynical, dry chuckle.
“We live together, we do the laundry together, we cook together, we do everything together, even sleep. When Fuyusaka asks me if we’re together already, when Tomi and I are having coffee and she asks the same damned question,” the emphasis on his words made Hijiyama sink into himself, “I always struggle to tell them that no. We aren’t. And though I cherish every moment as if we were, I can never tell if you do, I can never fucking read you, Takatoshi!”
A choked up whimper filled the room, along with a broken gasp, Okino’s words growing louder, more frantic, every single word he says spilling like poison.
“I love you, I always have, from day one, Takatoshi. And you fucking know that, and I know you love me too,” the hand that hadn’t been gripping Hijiyama’s with a force neither of them expected him to have traveled up to grasp at his own hair, “Fuck, do you? I can’t even tell at this point! You used to at least let me touch you, and these past few weeks, what? You barely even look at me? You turn your back to me when we go to bed and tense up like you’re going to die when so much as try to hold you, you don’t even tell me if I did something wrong, have I done something wrong?”
When Okino finally looked up from the floor, face stained with tears, eyes the most gut wrenching red, lips quivering, Takatoshi felt sick. Sick with hatred towards himself, sick with guilt, sick that he had done this to Tsukasa, his Tsukasa.
Hijiyama was stuck, a deer in the headlights. His heart was twisting, the knot in his throat suffocating, if he opened his mouth even slightly more he knew, he knew for a fact, the nausea would overtake him. If he had struggled to speak before, he was definitely unable to speak now.
Through heavy sobs, through the sound of the pounding of their hearts, Okino shoved himself off the floor twisting around so he was knelt between Takatoshi’s legs, both his hands gripping at his shoulders, nails digging into the soft fabric of Hijiyama’s clothes.
“For the love of god, Hijiyama, can you please say something?!”
An arm wrapped tight around Okino’s waist, a hand placed softly on the back of his head, the unwelcome freezing anxiety the two felt was still present, but muffled by the warmth of their embrace.
Okino was still shaking, tears staining Takatoshi’s shoulders, all the while Takatoshi’s tears slowly, but surely, dampened Tsukasa’s hair. Their clutches on one another never loosened, as if they were to let go of one another at any point, they’d both succumb to the most horrible fates.
Everything was quiet, aside from the occasional heaves and sobs from both men.
The sunset Hijiyama had expected to confess during was now vanishing before his eyes, the abandoned school building growing darker, darker, until suddenly, the sunlight had entirely vanished, the only thing illuminating them being the bright blue gleam of a blank screen Hijiyama had brought up.
Okino’s grip on his shoulders tightened.
Neither of them had any clue how much time had passed, they could have been in that state for minutes, hours, neither of them were sure. While Takatoshi’s tears had already stopped, Okino had still been silently weeping.
“Please, Hijiyama,” Okino’s voice was hoarse, “ Please , just say something. Anything. ”
A whisper, more like a mumble, barely audible.
“What was that?” Okino lifted his head to look at Hijiyama, whose eyes had once again begun flooding with tears.
“I’m sorry.” Was all he could manage to choke out, barely audible, but clear enough.
Clear enough to make Okino’s expression contort into the most grim, revolted scowl he had ever seen.
He had clearly misunderstood the situation.
He had misinterpreted it in the most awful, shatteringly worst way possible.
Takatoshi panicked.
“Sorry? Hah.. haha Sorry ? Sorry for what ? What are you sorry for, Takatoshi. Say it. Tell me now, say it already .”
Every word had been a stab to his chest, every word was like a curse, like another piece of glass jammed down Hijiyama’s throat.
“Just say you can’t do this and put this whole thing to fucking rest alrea-”
He lunged forward.
It was Takatoshi’s turn to silence him now, this time, with a messy, desperate kiss, frantic with need, their teeth clashing, though, even still, Okino could tell it was full of pent up love, pent up years of care, and fuck, as much as he wanted to call Hijiyama every insult in the book, he wasn’t able to, because he himself was just as stupid.
Two helpless idiots who were unable to leave each other’s side, no matter the circumstances.
A small hand clung desperately to the side of Takatoshi’s neck, another clung with desperation to Okino’s waist. Neither of them wanted to pull apart, neither of them wanted to let go, but their lungs couldn’t last in these conditions forever.
Heavy breaths filled the room, the sound of old, wasted away wood creaking coming to a halt.
“... May I please talk?” his voice was a broken whisper.
“Yes, you idiot…” there was no malice in Okino’s words, though Takatoshi could tell that he was hurt. Of course Okino was still hurt. A kiss wouldn’t just fix everything, it wouldn’t fix the months… no, years of hurt he put Okino through without considering his feelings, all under the guise of his ideals that had been outdated by decades to Tsukasa’s own.
Takatoshi crossed his legs and lifted up Okino, angling him so he was in a more comfortable position, no longer putting a strain on his knees. He brought him close to his chest, and he took a deep breath, listening to the calming, quiet, yet still rushed thumping of Hijiyama’s heartbeat.
An inhale, then an exhale.
An inhale, then a shaky, broken exhale.
“I’m not asking for you to forgive me,” he started, “N-Not right away, at least.”
An arm snaked under Okino’s, pressing him even closer to him. Takatoshi had failed to notice how much he missed the other man’s touch until Okino himself had pointed out he had been avoiding his embrace the past few weeks.
And all that over what? Being scared of a simple confession, of three little words that carried the weight of the universe to them?
He really was an idiot, as unaware of his own emotions as he is of the emotions of others.
No, not others, Tsukasa. Of his Tsukasa.
“Years kept passing, every time I wanted to, every time I tried, wished to, I could never say it. I tried, trust me, I know you could tell I tried. But…” He bit his own lip, shamefully, “My prejudices kept getting the best of me, no matter how much I tried to shake them off.”
Okino looked to the floor, away from Hijiyama.
“I understand,” the man on his lap mumbled, “You grew up in a tough time, when prejudice was the norm.” Okino yawned, exhausted, and nuzzled up closer to Takatoshi’s chest. “Being yourself in those times was… a death sentence. To say the very least. I get that.”
“Old habits are hard to shake off, especially when they were all you knew, especially when the punishment for what you kept hidden was…”
“Shame, disowning, exile, an inevitable suici-”
“Ahhh I get it!! I get it already, I was alive, Okino, I know that, damn it!” Takatoshi’s shoulders dropped in defeat, his neck craning up to stare at the ceiling in desperation.
Okino let out a small, humourless huff at the cruelty of mankind. All that for what? For the sake of nonsensical ideals, ones that would never fly many decades past that point.
“Yes, that, all that. My entire life I grew up in a strict household, it got stricter when I became a delinquent, you know that, you’ve seen the tapes, and it got even stricter when I was dispatched to the army, to become a sentinel.” He shifted his weight, resting his chin on Tsukasa’s shoulder.
“When I found out the girl I had been in love with had actually been a man that whole time, along with the fact I found you just as beautiful… No, even more beautiful than before when I started to know you as Okino and not Kiriko, I.. Well…” He looked to the floor in front of him, a pained scowl covering his features, “Suppressed thoughts from my childhood came back, ones I punished myself for, so that others wouldn’t punish me instead. Many times I had been insubordinate, and taken the consequences, but this.. This was not something I could just take, that would not be a punishment I would be able to endure. I had gained many scars on my body from my time in training, and even more emotional ones from just about everything, I guess. But this? I don’t think there would be anything left to scar had anyone found out.”
Okino took Hijiyama’s hand in his, making him wince.
“I understand this is not an excuse and that this doesn’t mean I can just… Brush off how I hurt you, but… I really, really need you to understand. That Tsukasa, nothing in this world terrifies more than the thought of losing you again. Nothing in this world hurts me more than the idea of being stripped away from you like in all those past loops.” His breath was shaky again, Okino turned slightly, cupping Hijiyama’s face with his hands. “However nothing terrified me more than the thought of losing you without ever telling you how I feel, without telling you that I.. I…”
Okino looked at him with expectant eyes.
He had only now realised the position they were in, one similar to that fateful day where a Hijiyama from many millennia past, had lost everything. Okino had lost count of how many times he had watched those logs. Hijiyama, especially, had watched them an unhealthy amount, far more times than anyone should ever have to watch the love of their life die, far more times than anyone should have to watch themselves lose all sense of hope, of sanity, where the only option left is to kill not just one person, but to taint yourself with blood until you can no longer take it, until the only way to calm your rampage is by force, a violent force.
Their heavy breaths were the only sound in the room as of this moment.
Hijiyama squeezed him tighter, closer.
All those horrible memories flooding his mind, though, in those memories, he found the courage, the resolve to finally, and wholeheartedly, spill those words that had been stuck in him for so damn long.
“...I love you, Tsukasa.”
He had said it.
He had finally said it.
“And all it took for you to get the guts to admit was both of us having a bad day, huh?” Okino chuckled, and before Takatoshi could protest, soft, kind lips crashed into his own, though this time, there was no desperation, they had all the time in the world, all the time to feel each other, to hold each other, to show just how much they love each other, in every sense of the word.
They parted, a small whimper came from Takatoshi as Okino teasingly swiped his tongue across the other man’s lips before properly letting go of his face.
“Y-You know,” Hijiyama stammered, “If you waited a second I… I brought you here to confess once and for all in the first place… You’re. Agh…”
“You were gonna confess for good? Like all those other times?” Okino grinned that signature, teasing smile, with an eyebrow raised in questioning.
“Oh shut up, Tsukasa…”
“Only if you can make me.”
That sly little…
“H-Hey.. I’m still getting used to this. Go easy on me…”
They squeezed each other’s hands tightly, the sound of two heavy, satisfied sighs filled the room, followed by a chuckle, a giggle, and then comfortable laughter.
With an arm under Okino’s legs, and one against his back for support, Hijiyama got up, lifting Okino in a bridal carry, cutting his laughter short, and quickly replacing it with a content exhale as he nuzzled up to Takatoshi’s neck for comfort.
There was no reason to stay in the simulation anymore at this point, it was dark, the old building had no lights at all at that point, so, they might as well return home.
Besides, two grown men sitting in the corridors of an abandoned school building at night was.. Not ideal. Far from it, even.
Okino threw his arms around Hijiyama’s neck.
“You know, I am still angry…” His words made Hijiyama cock his head to the side in shame.
“Y-Yeah, I imagine you are. I’m sorry.” He sounded so dejected, Okino couldn’t help but grin, snickering at his beloved’s misfortune.
“I expect you to make up for it tonight when we get back home, you know? Six years of tension is not something you’ll be able to make up for that easily.”
“Oh? That’s no problem, Tsukasa, I’ve been planning on making dinner anyways, and don’t worry, I’ll take care of the dishes afterward too, it’s only fair since-”
“In bed , Takatoshi.”
“Oh?”
A beat of silence.
Takatoshi now fully processed what Okino had meant.
His face went a dark red, nearly dropping Okino as the other man laughed at him.
“Oh.”