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It took a lot to get Kuni to this point. A lot of running, a lot of denying and reluctantly receiving, more patience than Kuni could ever manage for himself, a lot of his hand getting grabbed, cups of teas offered to him in the dead of night, the most gentle of words said to him, tired eyes full of hope, reassuring squeezes and shuddering breaths and unwelcome tears turning into welcome ones. All to get him here, love outspoken and his eyes looking down at Kazuha’s lips.
Heizou is standing behind Kuni, resting his head on his shoulder, his right hand on Kuni’s hip and his left tenderly stroking the hair on his nape. “Okay?” he asks him quietly.
Kuni nods. He’s bursting, imploding, breaking and healing and he’s okay. He’s inhaling and exhaling and he’s kissing.
The pain of remembering how long it has been since he last felt this loved, this safe and free gets soothed by pressure on his lower back, lips moving to his cheeks, a hand steering him towards another pair, getting a glimpse of moles under eyes and red. So much red.
Heizou kisses a tear away. “Do you get it now?” Kazuha asks, “How much space there is right here between us, just for you?”
“How you only bring more love to be felt?” Heizou adds.
Believing it is hard. Feeling it, not so much.