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"Kurosawa,"
It was quiet, the way Adachi called for his name.
"Are you okay?"
Adachi.
That was Adachi's voice.
It was the love of his life.
His long-time crush, his best friend, his lover, his life. Kurosawa remembers that as he muffled his sobs. His heart clenching painfully as embarrassment bubbled in his chest at the realization that he had been caught, but despite this he doesn't look up. Head stubbornly staying planted on his bent knees, refusing to lock his eyes with Adachi.
He was afraid. It wasn't like he didn't trust Adachi. He just knew that he'd see sadness in those eyes, and Kurosawa doesn't know what that would do to him during this state. So he just doesn't. No matter how much he wanted to look. To seek for his comfort, to show him the hurt.
"...Yuichi?"
Kurosawa hears padded footsteps, before there's a rustling noise beside him. The sound of silk being dragged against a wall.
"--You're not okay." Adachi observed, and it almost makes a small smile surface on his face.
It was such an obvious thing to point out, but Kurosawa couldn't get himself to pull through with finding humor in it, because despite the obviousness, nobody has ever noticed.
He wasn't the Kurosawa that cried every night. The Kurosawa who's only thoughts composed of degrading thoughts and planned steps to appease others rather than himself. He wasn't the Kurosawa that hated himself so deeply that he stopped caring about himself, only forcing himself to keep appearances so he didn't get complaints.
He was only the Kurosawa that could do everything. He was only the Kurosawa with no flaws.
The Kurosawa that he actually was, was never acknowledged by those people. Always pushed away, always disregarded, because there was no way that that Kurosawa existed.
Adachi was the only one that managed to peak through the mist.
There was a sudden heat above his shoulder.
Close, but not touching. Hesitant as it hovered.
"You're not okay." Adachi whispers, and the tears refuse to stop as they overflowed from his forearm and onto his lap. "Is it okay if I touched you?"
Kurosawa's breath hitched at the question. He gave a quick nod, before allowing himself to get lost in the feeling of Adachi's hand on his shoulder.
Grip not hard, just present. Thumb lazily drawing circles against him as they both sat in silence.
Kurosawa failed to stop his cries, and Adachi only listened, not trying to stop him. Not trying to tell him that it wasn't proper to cry like this.
Or to cry at all.
"It's okay." He whispers, and Kurosawa has no choice now but to let the tears keep flowing.