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“You’re allowed to touch me, Akito.”
It comes suddenly, during one of their quiet moments, when they’re content to just sit on Akito’s bed and be for a while. It’s familiar, and yet it’s different to how these scenes used to be.
There is no arm slung around his shoulder. His legs aren’t laying over Akito’s, tangled until they’re inseparable. He hasn’t needed to straighten up his hair once.
Akito has barely touched him in weeks.
His partner looks up at him, shocked and almost guilty. His eyes avert again after a moment. “…I know.”
“Then why don’t you, anymore?”
The point of change is easy to identify. Akito’s gaze drags to the faint bruise on Toya’s cheek.
The last time they touched, really touched, was the contact that left the mark to begin with.
The distance hurts.
Akito doesn’t answer the question. His eyes flicker between Toya’s face and his own hands, uncomfortable, before landing on the wall.
“Akito.”
Toya reaches for his partner’s hand; Akito flinches as soon as their skin brushes together, but he doesn’t pull away. Scared eyes meet Toya’s own.
Gently, he grasps Akito’s hand in his. His partner shakes softly under his touch. And then, slowly, he guides their hands up to his face, Akito’s gaze growing more panicked with each centimetre they move.
Warm fingertips meet the lingering bruise.
Akito shakes his head.
“I– I can’t,” he mumbles, tears clumping in his lashes, ending their eye contact. “I can’t. I– I’m sorry, Toya, I—”
He tries to rip his hand from Toya’s, but the taller boy keeps it in his grip. “You can’t what?”
“Can’t, th-this, it’s wrong, you shouldn’t—”
Akito tries again to move his hand away, and when he fails, he panics. He desperately tries to pull away, but there’s no strength behind it, and Toya knows that Akito could escape easily if he needed to.
After a moment, they make eye contact again. Akito doesn’t move as tears drip down his face.
“You should be scared of me.” His chest heaves. “Why aren’t you scared of me?”
“Oh, Akito,” Toya murmurs. “I could never be scared of you.”
A few moments pass.
Akito breaks.
“I– I’m sorry, Toya, I’m s-so sorry,” he sobs, falling forward into Toya’s arms, and Toya can only rub his partner’s back as he cries. “I didn’t— didn’t wanna hurt you, you—”
“Shh, Akito. I know.”
Akito clings to him, trembling. Toya couldn’t care less about the tear stains on his hoodie or the stretching of the fabric in his partner’s grip.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Toya, I shouldn’t—”
“Akito, it’s okay.”
“It’s not!” His voice barely sounds like his through the distress; Toya has never seen this before, and it scares him. “You shouldn’t let me do this, I– I hurt you, Toya, I punched you— look at you!”
Akito raises his head; the sight of his partner so frantically upset breaks Toya’s heart. The ginger looks at the bruise for a moment before violently shaking his head and dropping back into Toya’s shoulder.
“I–I’m so sorry, Toya— I don’t get it, w-why aren’t you scared of me?”
“Akito…”
Gently, he raises Akito’s head, cupping it in his palms.
“Because it’s you.”
More tears slip down Akito’s face. Toya swipes them away with his thumbs. “It’s alright, Akito. Breathe.”
The first breath Akito takes stutters heavily, and Toya can see the effort he’s putting in not to break into more sobs. But he breathes nonetheless. Toya does, too, setting a steady rhythm for his partner to follow.
After a few minutes of gradually weakening cries, Akito heaves a sigh. “Sorry. I dunno why I got so fuckin’ stupid about that,” he chokes out, voice strained as he wipes his eyes.
“It’s alright,” Toya says, bringing his hands down away from his partner’s face.
They go quiet again; Akito looks like he has something to say, so Toya simply waits until his partner is ready.
“I… I stopped touching you ‘cause I thought you’d be scared of me, after I…”
He doesn’t finish the sentence, but the way his gaze flickers to the bruise again fills in the blank.
“I thought if I tried to touch you too soon you’d flinch away from me.” He laughs wetly. “And… I’d hate that.”
“Akito…”
They sit for a moment. Then, cautiously, Toya reaches out, laying his hand over Akito’s and gently brushing his thumb over the knuckles. “I’m not afraid of you, Akito. And I’m not going to flinch if you try to touch me.” He draws a shaky breath. “I want you to touch me.”
“I…”
Something pained flashes in Akito’s eyes for a moment, but it’s gone before Toya can properly discern what exactly it is. His partner exhales deeply. “Okay. …I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
And finally, after weeks of waiting and expecting, he feels the warmth.
Gentle fingers begin to run up and down his hands, moving to caress his wrists. The hands travel up until they reach Toya’s jaw, but they hesitate there; he can see Akito’s eyes flickering between his own hands and the bruise, unsure.
Toya wants him to continue, needs him to. So he does it himself, slowly leaning down so that his face rests in his partner’s warm hands. He sighs, content.
Rough fingertips rest against the sides of his face, and he leans into it. Akito’s thumb brushes against his beauty spot. He pauses for a moment more, then moves down.
“Does it hurt?,” he murmurs, voice low and breathy, seemingly in awe of what's happening.
“Not really. Only if I press on it.”
“Okay. I-I’ll be careful.”
“I know,” Toya whispers, allowing his eyes to fall shut.
Things stay like that for a few minutes. Akito’s hands drag across his face, down to his neck, his arms, every exposed beauty mark; Toya is content to let the warmth fizzle on any part of his skin. Every now and then, his partner gently touches the bruise before leaving it alone. It’s peaceful.
When the hands reach his hair, he melts.
Giving in to the sensation, he falls forward into Akito’s chest as those gentle fingers thread through his hair, mixing the blue tones together. The feeling fills him with warmth until it’s inescapable, and he loves it.
“I missed you,” he murmurs into the soft fabric of his partner’s hoodie. He inhales the scent of syrup and allows it to envelop him.
“Yeah.” Toya can hear the smile in Akito’s voice. “I missed you too, partner.”