Chapter Text
Hitoshi doesn’t know how to feel about his situation. More specifically, he doesn’t know how to feel about his guardian, Yamada Hizashi.
On one hand, the man has been more caring than anyone that Hitoshi has been placed with so far. He never stops smiling at Hitoshi. He never tells Hitoshi to shut up or leave him alone. He never regards Hitoshi as a burden. There are times, in the safety of his own mind, where Hizashi lets his irritation show. It’s a different kind of irritation, though. It’s an annoyance born from an inability to understand why Hitoshi acts the way he does and it’s often overshadowed by worry and anxiety, rather than genuine anger or resentment.
There’s a genuineness that he finds undeniable. Hitoshi isn’t gullible. It’s impossible to lie to him and it’s impossible to mask your true intentions from him. Hitoshi can and will always uncover someone’s inner thoughts and dark secrets, whether he wants to or not, and Hizashi, despite being a massive liar when it comes to just about anything, is completely sincere when he tells Hitoshi that he wants to take care of him and give him a life that is comfortable.
On the other hand, Hizashi is very clear about the nature of their arrangement, even if he will never be aware that Hitoshi knows. When he says he wants to take care of Hitoshi, it is a true statement, however, there’s an asterisk there. These genuine things that Hizashi is unafraid to remind him of are all temporary. Once the mission is over, Hitoshi will be sent back to an orphanage where he’ll rot until he’s an adult and therefore able to be kicked out onto the streets with no legal repercussions.
This knowledge puts Hitoshi between a rock and a hard place. If he lets himself get comfortable and lets himself get close to Hizashi, it’ll be worse for him when he gets abandoned. If he does the opposite and refuses to help with the mission, or just generally acts terrible, then Hizashi might get rid of him months earlier than he otherwise would’ve. It’s an impossible choice that leaves Hitoshi staring blankly at the ceiling from where he lays on the living room floor, body half underneath the coffee table. Hizashi had left for his date with Shouta a little under half an hour ago and Hitoshi is unfortunately plagued with too much time to stew in his own thoughts.
On the other, other hand, Hitoshi has no loyalties to either side of whatever war Hizashi is working to stop and helping a real life spy with his job is objectively cool as hell. If Hitoshi can manage to get into Yuuei like Hizashi wants, then he’d effectively be going undercover and carrying out secret assignments for his foster father. That is awesome and way more exciting than real studying or anything a normal foster parent would have him do. Whatever the specifics are for Hizashi’s side of things, Hitoshi knows that it’s important and that failure is the precursor to war.
He wants to help Hizashi because he wants Hizashi to like him. He wants to run away because Hizashi doesn’t like him enough to keep him forever. He wants to help because Hizashi is nice and a better parent than Hitoshi could’ve ever imagined. He wants to run away because he doesn’t think that he’s good enough to pull this undercover shit off. He wants to help because it seems fun. He wants to run away because it hurts thinking of a life where Hizashi isn’t there, looking at him like he’s this precious thing that needs to be doted on. He wants to stay because he’s weak and pathetic and he’d rather go back to the scientists that created him than take away his only avenue of physical affection, daily meals, and an adult that praises him.
(He wants.)
It’s terrifying how attached he is to Hizashi despite every cell in his body screaming at him to get away before Hizashi can betray him. It’s terrifying that all it takes is one week of an adult being nice to him and prioritizing his needs even a little bit before Hitoshi folds and aches to fall to his knees, begging Hizashi to keep him. He tried for days to be standoffish and distant, and it backfired majorly when Hitoshi kept getting flooded with Hizashi’s worries and paternal sounding fears. Then, Hizashi had the audacity to refer to Hitoshi as his kid, heartbreakingly sincere, to Keigo and get his ass shot by some random criminal the next day.
Final nails in the coffin. Hitoshi’s coffin.
Last night, Hitoshi dreamed of the doctors experimenting on him. He dreamed of their mask-covered faces, lacking all humanity, and their glove-covered hands putting a helmet over his head, reading his brain activity, as they forced him to watch Hizashi bleed out. He woke up frozen and with the realization that he genuinely liked Hizashi and wanted to stay with him for as long as possible. He woke up with the knowledge that, like everything else in his life, it was completely out of his hands and he’d have no choice in the matter come time for Hizashi to abandon him.
Hitoshi runs a hand through his hair, nails catching on his scalp, and he repeats the motion, over and over and over until his nails catch a little too hard and hints of blood get caught beneath them. He doesn’t like how often he’s home alone. It’s too quiet and Hitoshi has nothing to distract him from his own imploding thoughts.
Maybe he could go out the fire escape again. He doesn’t look dirty and out of place anymore, so he’ll be able to focus on his surroundings and avoid getting lost. Hizashi said he’d be gone for a while, anyways. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?
Making up his mind, Hitoshi turns off the television and scuttles off to his room. He quickly dresses in a button up shirt and a pair of pleated pants, both black and relatively plain. It’s the closest thing he has to something formal, when compared to this neighborhood anyways, and while he knows it’s extremely boring, he’d rather not have a repeat of last time. He slips on a pair of jet black skater shoes with a white sole and hops out his window and onto the fire escape.
Part of him almost heads up, just to see if it’ll lead to the roof, but he ultimately makes his way down, praying he looks different enough that no one recognizes him. He hits the ground with a little thud and strolls down the sidewalk, keeping his head low and his posture relaxed. He looks like a delinquent, even when he dresses up, with his spiky hair, deep eye bags, and resting bitch face. He’s not sure what it is about him that sets people off and makes them assume the worst, but he’d like to avoid that too.
He doesn’t have to force that relaxed stance, though, since just being outside does wonders for his brain. The sun is warm enough to fend off the biting chill of autumn and Hitoshi feels like he can actually breathe now. The street smells of different foods, delicious and overwhelming, as Hitoshi makes his way past familiar buildings, trying to find something more direct than fresh air to occupy his mind.
Hizashi doesn’t leave him money, since everything he could possibly need is already provided inside the apartment, which makes going to cafes, bakeries, and street vendors pointless. There’s some shops specializing in items that he could look at, though he tends to avoid wandering around stores aimlessly like that. He’s been accused of trying to steal shit more than once. Granted, he was trying to steal shit, but still.
After a minute or two of listening to semi-crowded chatter, both verbally and mentally, Hitoshi finds himself in front of that record store from before. He didn’t even mean to find it, legs taking him here subconsciously or maybe by pure luck. He only realizes where he is steps away from the glass doors, just like he was before. He glances side to side. No one is looking at him, or thinking about him in any capacity. This is already going way better than last time.
Hitoshi’s heart beats a little too hard and his nerves flare up. He pulls one of the doors towards him and a bell inside jingles loudly. Hitoshi treads into the record shop cautiously, doing a quick scan of the place in the time it takes the door to close behind him.
The store is empty and small, maybe the size of Hitoshi’s living-dining-kitchen area, with a counter by the door and layered shelves pushed against each other’s backs to form small aisles to peruse through. Cubby shelves cover the walls with custom vinyl jackets being shown off in each one, decorating the walls with thousands of album covers. The store is dimly lit with lights hanging over the layered shelves in the center and a big neon pink sign above the cashier’s counter reading the store’s name, ‘ Record Spins’.
“Can I help you?” A deep voice, dark and no nonsense, rings out.
Hitoshi turns to see a boy around his age, though definitely a little older, coming out from an employee-only door behind the counter. He has black hair that spikes out the back of his head with a fringe that triangles down to partially cover half his face. He has glaring red eyes and one of his ears is pierced with a small bird skull hanging from it, the beak pointing at the ground. He’s dressed in a red choker, black pants, and a hot pink work shirt, which makes him a bit less intimidating, and Hitoshi manages to catch the neatly printed ’Tokoyami’ on his name tag.
“Uh, hi there,” Hitoshi lifts a hand to wave awkwardly. “I’m… just looking.”
Tokoyami nods stoically. “Very well. Let me know if there’s anything you need.”
The employee goes back through the door he came from for a few moments as Hitoshi starts slowly walking around. There’s music playing in the background, low enough that Hitoshi can’t make out the lyrics. He doesn’t recognize most of the cover art being advertised either. There’s some that he’s seen in Hizashi’s collection and others that he vaguely knows from somewhere that he can’t remember. A lot of them are cool and artsy looking while there are some others that are cute and stylish. He wonders if the theme of the cover art shows what kind of genre it is. He wonders if he can ask Hizashi.
Tokoyami comes back out and starts organizing something behind his counter. Hitoshi tries to keep his eyes from wandering off the records. He can’t stop himself from staring, though. For some reason, Tokoyami’s thoughts aren’t rattling in his head. They’re still there, and Hitoshi can still hear them but, to use a simile that Hizashi would be proud of, it’s like the volume is turned down and his thoughts are at the bottom layer of the soundtrack, impossible to really make out.
It’s not insanely weird or anything; just like with verbal speaking, people have different voices and their inner voice often reflects their real one, even in the case of people who can’t speak or don’t have an internal monologue. Your brain, regardless of the way that your thoughts manifest, is always digesting and processing information and people who don’t talk or have an explicit internal monologue still have that running in the background, even if they, themselves, can’t hear it.
Hitoshi is “lucky” enough that he’ll hear it no matter what. The main difference is that people without an internal monologue are harder to connect with and it takes more concentration on Hitoshi’s part. Sometimes, their “voice” comes out in feelings or pictures being planted in his head, like he’s experiencing things through their perspective. It’s all very complicated and Hitoshi’s understanding of his power scientifically is limited to the few things he picked up as a little kid. For the most part, Hitoshi interprets everything roughly the same way anyways so it rarely matters in the end.
Even though it’s common enough not to send alarm bells shooting through him, it’s still very curious. He almost wants to try and get closer, since his powers are more effective within a certain nearby range. It’s a little intimidating going up to someone, though, and Hitoshi finds his palms sweating at the idea. It certainly doesn’t help that Tokoyami is a cool looking older teenager and Hitoshi has very little experience with that. He’s used to dealing with kids younger than him, and the ones who happened to be older were usually assholes and not much help in terms of developing his social skills.
Not that he wants to befriend Tokoyami or anything. He’s just being practical and trying to learn more about his powers. It makes sense. It’s odd enough of a phenomenon that it warrants investigation. He can practice being undercover! He’s never done spywork before. It’s probably a good idea to start brushing up on the necessary skills– should he find a library and try to study spycraft? Or would that get him immediately arrested? Do you think Hizashi has any “spycraft for dummies” books?
Focus. He needs to figure out what to do about Tokoyami.
Should he try talking to him? Would it be weird to introduce himself? That’s probably weird, right? Why would you introduce yourself to a store employee? Maybe he can come up with something to ask for and get him talking that way?
“Do you need something?” Tokoyami suddenly asks him, barely looking up from what he’s doing.
Hitoshi’s hand flies to scratch the back of his neck nervously and he lets out a small chuckle that sounds pathetically forced. Tokoyami’s eyes are naturally slitted and narrow, but right now, Hitoshi reads it as thinly veiled irritation. His brain trips over itself trying to find something to say that isn’t stupid. He does another once over of the store, and Tokoyami by proxy, and his eyes linger on the boy’s forearm.
“Is that a tattoo?” Hitoshi asks, both using it as an excuse and being actually curious about it. He walks over to the counter, pressing himself up against it to get a better look.
“Yes, it is,” Tokoyami says. He doesn’t give any indication that he’s nonplussed at the question and even lifts his arm to give Hitoshi a better look.
Black ink is etched into Tokoyami’s forearm, depicting an uncolored bird skeleton with shadowy feathers and wings that give the appearance of smoke leaking off the bones like blood. It’s very beautifully done with the art style being horrific in the same way that Hitoshi’s clothes are. It’s artistically graphic and gory, though not to the point of it being hard to look at or inappropriate.
“I designed it myself.”
Hitoshi nods his head with raised eyebrows, impressed. “So you tattooed yourself?”
Tokoyami chuffs out a noise of amusement. “No, it means I drew the design and gave it to someone else to tattoo on me.”
Hitoshi’s mouth forms an ‘o’ shape and embarrassment heats at his cheeks. He should’ve known that. “You seem kinda young to be getting a tattoo.”
Hitoshi doesn’t know specifics about a lot of age laws like this, but he’s fairly certain you have to be at least eighteen and this guy doesn’t seem that old.
Tokoyami raises a pierced eyebrow at him. “Fairly ironic to comment on youth given that you appear twelve.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that? I’m about to turn fifteen.” Hitoshi huffs. He doesn’t have an actual birth date either, though. His file always listed the first of July since that’s the day he was picked up by social services. Technically, by that date and by Hitoshi’s white lie of an age, he would’ve just turned fourteen some odd weeks ago given that it’s mid-August. But still! That’s… almost fifteen in a way.
Tokoyami chuckles to himself, not giving Hitoshi any other response.
“How old are you then?” Hitoshi asks, slightly accusatory.
“Sixteen, almost seventeen,” Tokoyami answers simply. “Which is the legal age one can get a tattoo with parental consent. I got it for my birthday last year.”
“Your parents just let you get one?” Hitoshi can’t even imagine that. Every home he’s ever been to has explicitly been against drugs, alcohol, tattoos, and any other “debauch” behavior because it makes them less desirable, and makes them seem like low lifes.
Tokoyami shrugs. “There is little reason to deny me.”
“Aren’t police really cracking down on suspicious looking individuals?” Hitoshi asks. “You don’t think they’ll assume you’re a thug or something?”
Tokoyami crosses his arms over his chest and closes his eyes in thought.
“They are welcome to speculate if that is how they wish to waste their time. I have done, and will continue to do, nothing wrong.” He says firmly. “Police and their allying entities are an oppressive force used to bend people to the government’s will. They operate in shadow and pretend to embody light. They will always deem certain kinds of people as suspicious and unruly. I’m afraid it is an inevitability, especially when war and calamity loom in the horizon. If we submit to their senseless whims, we will lose the part of ourselves that makes us more human than they.”
“More human?” Hitoshi furrows his eyebrows. He doesn’t really get what this guy is on about and he speaks really strangely. It’s like he’s a dramatic character in a movie, there to weave suspense into the story by spouting nonsensically. To make matters worse, every time Hitoshi tries to focus on him, the hum of his thoughts stays consistently low. They are there and Hitoshi can hear them, but he can’t make out the words.
The most he can get is a vague sense of flight, similar to that of a bird, and gritty darkness that covers the corners of Tokoyami’s mind. It’s not a bad or crazy darkness– it’s just dark and thick to the point that Hitoshi thinks it may be what’s dampening Tokoyami’s thoughts.
“Indeed,” Tokoyami nods. “Our individualism and ability to rise against conformity is what makes us human. The right to choose, the right to be as we are, the right to exist without restrictive laws threatening our free will. Those who serve do not have that; they merely have the power rush that comes with thinking themselves superior.”
The right to be as we are, huh?
Hitoshi remembers being little and wanting nothing more than to play with his toys. Instead, he was forced to submit to their tests and cram his head full of useless knowledge that he barely remembers now. He dreamed of freedom. He dreamed of being his own person, devoid of his powers. He dreamed and dreamed until he couldn’t anymore and ran away. He still dreams. He still aches. He wishes he could exist with his power, or to be able to get rid of it entirely.
“You’re very philosophical,” Hitoshi says, not totally sure if that’s the right word he’s looking for. “Do you think about this kinda shit a lot?”
“I ponder,” Tokoyami answers. “I spend many hours meditating every day, allowing my mind to clear and be left with nothing more than my body and the emotions that inhabit it.”
Ah, that explains a lot actually. Meditating has the power to cut Hitoshi off from people mentally. They usually have to be actively doing it, though.
“Sure, but these are, like, massive perspectives that you have to think about, right? You can’t just feel your way into being anti-government.”
“Why not?” Tokoyami inquires. “Do you not base your beliefs on how you feel? Do you not feel rage and injustice at the mistreatment of others, thus fueling your opinions on those doing the mistreating? Are your perspectives not inherently reliant on your empathy?”
“I–” Hitoshi is stunned. He was just wanting to see if Tokoyami could give him insight on how he’s managing to mask his thoughts and he gets hit with that? Now, Hitoshi actually has to think about it because he’s not really sure.
Acting on emotion is not something he often does. He reacts on emotion like anyone– he is human despite what you may think– but he’s fairly certain that his beliefs and morals are based on his ability to think things out and logic through them. If he were running purely on emotion, he would’ve accepted Hizashi with open arms, right?
… or perhaps he would be in the same position that he is now, paralyzed by his desire for family and his fear of being abandoned. If he were looking at things logically, he wouldn’t care if Hizashi liked him because it wouldn’t matter so long as he was given a home and food every day. Logically, Hizashi getting rid of him would be fine because Hizashi said he’d find a better orphanage for him, and even if he doesn’t, Hitoshi has lasted this long. He’d be fine.
But, despite the logic, he still feels so strongly about staying with Hizashi and the idea of Hizashi leaving him behind– which is wild because Hitoshi doesn’t think he feels that strongly about most things in general. Sure, he has hard opinions on food and, sure, he’s spent multiple hours arguing with people over the ethics of sea parks having large creatures, like orcas and dolphins, but are those really him feeling strongly about something?
Has he been completely unaware of how deep his emotions are? He’s always been convinced that he’s basically a robot, unable to experience and understand his own feelings. He can never really put a name to a particular emotion or bodily sensation like hunger. He just feels something and makes an educated guess based on how much he recognizes the symptoms. Oftentimes, however, even the recognition evades him and he just has to either sit with or ignore whatever is making his chest tight.
Oh, fuck. Maybe he does run the same way Tokoyami does and he’s just been completely ignorant to how his own brain and body operates.
“Is that… bad?” Hitoshi asks hesitantly. “Aren’t emotions uncontrollable? Irrational?”
“Sure,” Tokoyami agrees easily. “But that doesn’t inherently make them wrong. There is no rationale to being afraid of the darkness in your closet, however, that fear exists for a reason. It’s telling you something. It’s a warning. You don’t have to spend hours thinking about whether or not an injustice has occurred. Your anger figures it out for you. I simply trust my body, my emotions, my shadow.”
“Shadow…?”
“My dark shadow,” Tokoyami nods. “Everyone has one. It’s the negative feelings you have– the anxiety, the depression, the rage, the fear. It’s the guardian given to you by your brain in order to survive. I don’t rely on reasoning things out first; I act based on my instincts.”
A guy with no internal monologue who meditates for hours every single day and reacts to things, instead of questioning them. No fucking wonder Hitoshi can’t hear his thoughts.
“That seems like a terrible system,” Hitoshi says bluntly. “Our negative emotions aren’t always right. Sometimes you get mad over shit that doesn’t matter that much, or sometimes you’re anxious for no reason. Acting on their basis is just going to get you in trouble.”
“True,” Tokoyami says. “I am not saying that logic doesn’t have its merits, or that I don’t use it myself when it comes to forming morals. There are plenty of arguments to be had about the self-centeredness that comes with attaching emotions to morality. Just because something makes you feel bad, that doesn’t mean it’s morally wrong. However, when these two work in tandem with each other and you simply prioritize the emotion, you allow yourself to decenter your mind from the abstracts of the universe and connect with those feelings inside your body. I personally believe it’s a perfectly acceptable way to handle morality.”
Hitoshi nearly forgot that this conversation was about morals. When you take out the part where he’s trying to figure out how Tokoyami’s thoughts function, what he’s saying starts to make a little more sense. Not a lot, but a little. It’s a preference for how he sees the world.
“Sounds exhausting,” Hitoshi says, unsure what else he can respond with. He isn’t smart enough to keep with this conversation now.
“More exhausting than having to logically justify every thought, feeling, and opinion you have?” Tokoyami tilts his head curiously. “I simply trust myself– my emotions – to be my primary guide and I sit with them, trying to understand what they’re telling me and why. It’s the difference between questioning if something demands a response from you and questioning why you’re having the response at all and what you can do about it. It’s not particularly difficult.”
That’s… fair enough, actually.
This conversation is surprisingly insightful. Tokoyami as a whole seems very smart– intense as hell, but smart. He reminds Hitoshi a bit of Shouta with the way he holds himself. If Shouta was a melodramatic seventeen year old that spoke strangely, like he’s constantly quoting poetry, then he’d be Tokoyami. Something about that fills Hitoshi with a sense of comfort. He can’t read Tokoyami’s mind, but he trusts him.
“Can I… ask you a question?” Hitoshi winces. “You can’t tell anyone, though. It’s important.”
“If I can be permitted to ask you one back.” Tokoyami says, eyes focused on Hitoshi’s anxious form. He seems to have completely abandoned his work in order to talk and Hitoshi finds it hard not to feel bad about that. He hates bothering other people, even if there’s no one in the store and Tokoyami doesn’t seem to care that much.
“Sure,” Hitoshi agrees, swaying his body side to side as a means to fidget. “So… I was recently adopted and it’s a bit of an awkward situation because my new dad is… well, he’s…”
Hitoshi bites his bottom lip, trying to think of a lie that would still give Tokoyami the general atmosphere of what’s happening. He can’t tell the exact truth– it’s already bad enough that he told a stranger that he’s adopted– but it has to be enough for him to understand the stakes.
“He’s doing something that means he can’t keep me forever,” Hitoshi says, giving up on his ‘being a liar’ plan. “It’s complicated and personal so I can’t tell you specifics but I knew from the beginning that we’d be on limited time, somewhere between a few months and maybe a year, and I was fine with that! But now… things have changed for me. I like my new dad. He’s nice to me, even if a lot of it is fake as hell. There’s a lot of genuine care there, I think. He doesn’t love me but he does see me as a pseudo-son and I don’t want that to change.”
Tokoyami nods along and Hitoshi can tell the boy is making eye contact with him. Hitoshi refuses to meet it. He can’t. It hurts too much. All he can do is rub his hands together and sway his body, trying to get all these feelings of upset out of him. He’s not shaking yet, at least.
“But the thing he’s doing… it’s important and I can’t talk to him about it because it’s none of my business. The end result is always going to be the same, no matter what. He’s going to abandon me. I don’t want him to and I’m sure he’d reassure me if I talked to him about it, but it would all be niceties, y’know? I just… I don’t know what to do.”
Tokoyami hums in thought. “That’s a very difficult situation to be in.”
Hitoshi flushes at the validation and his hand comes up to mess with his own hair. “Yeah… I’m sorry, that was probably a lot all at once. I didn’t mean to dump all over you like that. You just seem… good at feelings.”
“I suppose so,” Tokoyami chuckles before leveling his expression. “Do you want me to be honest?”
Hitoshi hesitantly nods his head. He hopes Tokoyami doesn’t make him cry, accidentally or otherwise. Hitoshi has been so sensitive lately; it’s kind of driving him insane.
“I think you’re scared and mourning a future that has yet to occur,” Tokoyami says. “I don’t have specifics on this something you speak of, however, I know that anything is possible, regardless of what’s happening. The universe is born of pandemonium and humans are born of fervor, both are unpredictable and unreasonable. You don’t know what will happen until it does and worrying about something that is potentially months, if not years away? Well, that is irrational, wouldn’t you say?”
“But I have to prepare for if–”
“Sure, you can prepare,” Tokoyami interrupts him. “In the same way that we prepare for our eventual death. You make peace with it happening, set up some things to make it easier if it’s sudden, and then you live the rest of your life because we aren’t alive for death’s sake.”
“But…” All the fight leaves Hitoshi because there really wasn’t much to begin with. He is freaked out and he is worried about the future. Months pass in a flash, and that’s only assuming that he can manage to get into the stupid ass school and can stay long enough for any of these talks to actually matter. Even just thinking about it is stressful.
“Tomorrow might rain,” Tokoyami continues, his sharp eyes have softened considerably. “But that doesn’t mean it’s raining today and it’s inane to plan your day out as if it is. Tomorrow’s forecast shouldn’t stop you from doing what you want right now. It just means that you’ll have to figure something else out tomorrow, and that’s alright because the day after that will be sunny again anyways. You can keep an umbrella with you, just in case.”
Hitoshi processes the analogy, his frantic movements slowing down as his anxiety settles into something solid in his chest.
“So… you’re saying I should just enjoy the time I have now and worry about it later?” Hitoshi summarizes. Tokoyami is probably right, but that doesn’t mean Hitoshi likes the answer he came up with.
“I’m saying that anything can happen between now and the moment you’re meant to leave,” Tokoyami says. “He might change his mind and decide he wants you. You might decide that he isn’t as good as he seems and that you are fine with leaving. Nothing is written in stone, my friend, and sometimes it is best to observe how it plays out. And if, until you’re given more information to work with, you sit back and enjoy how things are now? Well, that’s not the worst thing in the world.”
Tokoyami actually smiles for the first time. His lips slot into a small smirk, natural looking and clearly satisfied with the conversation. Between this and the fact that Tokoyami called him his friend, Hitoshi can’t do anything except gape at him.
“My friend?” Hitoshi repeats, brain filtering out every other word. “We’re friends?”
“I’d certainly think so,” Tokoyami chuckles. “We discussed in-depth perspectives and your apparent father issues. Seems like a solid foundation for friendship to me.”
“Oh,” Hitoshi’s chest warms. He’s never had a friend before. “Cool. Yeah, that’s so cool. I’d love to be your friend. Uh, thank you for talking to me. This really helped, actually.”
Hitoshi bows, a little too quick and sloppy.
“I’m glad to be of some assistance,” Tokoyama says with a polite nod. “Though, this means that I get my question, as well.”
“Right, of course!” Hitoshi actually meets his eye, desperate to please his new friend. “What is it?”
Tokoyami stares at him for a few beats, seemingly content to drag it out for dramatic effect. Hitoshi tries not to sweat or nervously fidget as the silence, filled with low volume music, drags on for longer than he’d like.
“What’s your name?” Tokoyami finally asks, looking endlessly pleased with Hitoshi’s taken aback expression.
For a moment, Hitoshi considers giving Hizashi’s family name– not because he doesn’t trust Tokoyami, but because he thinks it would be nice to belong to a family like that. He doesn’t, though. He’s never been particularly good at keeping information straight because of his power, and adding a lie on to it, even as small as this, would only end up confusing him.
“Shinsou,” he introduces himself, voice soft. “And you are Tokoyami, right? It’s nice to meet you.”
“Very well. Can I help you with anything else, Shinsou?” Tokoyami asks him, a small air of finality to it that leaves Hitoshi a little sad. He wants to keep talking, even though he knows that the other boy should probably get back to work.
Hitoshi shakes his head. “No, I’m fine. I’m actually gonna go ahead and leave. I can’t stay out for too much longer and I was wanting to try and find a bookstore or library around here.”
“You’re not buying anything from here?” Tokoyami tilts his head.
“Nah, I told you that I was just looking.”
Tokoyami makes a considering hum and holds up a finger to signal Hitoshi to wait a minute. He ducks into the back rooms and Hitoshi can briefly hear the sound of movement and shuffling before Tokoyami comes back out with a small keychain of an orange cat with sunglasses DJing. He hands the keychain to Hitoshi, who takes it and gives him a confused look in return.
“I don’t have any money–” Hitoshi starts, cradling the small object.
“No need,” Tokoyami raises a hand to stop him from rambling. “You paid with your time and an introspective conversation. It’s on the house.”
Tokoyami is a peculiar person, and Hitoshi thinks he really likes him.
“Oh, thank you,” Hitoshi grins at the little figure and pockets it. He does really like cats and this particular one reminds him of Hizashi. “Do you… work weekends or just weekdays?” Hitoshi’s voice becomes suddenly unsure and he hopes he doesn’t sound desperate.
“I work the evening shifts every day except for Monday and Tuesday, and I add an additional night shift on Friday and Saturday since I don’t have school.” Tokoyami says, reaching down for a piece of paper and scribbling a couple phone numbers on it. His handwriting is as formal as his speech patterns. “You can call the store to check if I’m here, or text my personal cell. I enjoyed our conversation today, Shinsou. You’re welcome to stop by whenever you wish. Perhaps next time we can actually discuss music and I can give you some recommendations.”
Hitoshi takes the numbers and forces the giddy energy down before he does something embarrassing like flap his hands or scream. He bows again and pockets the paper and the keychain. “I have to take an entrance exam tomorrow so I won’t be able to make it, but I’ll try on Sunday to give you updates… if you want them, that is.”
Tokoyami nods. “Very well. I wish you luck on your exam, Shinsou. Yuuei is nearly impossible to get into.”
“Wait, how did you–?” Hitoshi balks.
“Only one school with an entrance exam this late in the year,” Tokoyami says. “It is especially brutal.”
Hitoshi nervously rubs the back of his neck and, for the first time in his entire life, he wishes his power would work properly. Tokoyami sounds ominous in a way that unnerves him and it would be much easier if his thoughts could answer Hitoshi’s questions so he doesn’t have to ask them himself. Ugh.
Hitoshi awkwardly bids his goodbyes and leaves the record shop with his heart much lighter than it was when he came in. He wonders if he can tell Hizashi that he made a friend, or if the man will get mad that he left without permission again. He was explicitly told not to leave and Hitoshi really doesn’t want to lose his fire escape access.
He wanders around for a little while longer, watching the sun set as his head is filled with people’s thoughts once more. He already misses talking to Tokoyami; the quiet of his thoughts is refreshing and the fact that Hitoshi can talk with him to fill the hated silence makes it all the better. Now, he’s bombarded with overlapping thoughts that have nothing to do with one another. They’re fuzzy and distant since he’s deliberately trying not to pay attention, but it’s still like being trapped with a buzzing in your ear that you can only get rid of if you want to spend a couple hours spiraling and hating yourself.
Eventually, he finds a bookstore on the same street that he met Shouta on and he spends another hour or two looking at everything they have to offer and skimming the first couple pages of things that sound interesting. The clerk doesn’t really regard him and her thoughts show her complete disinterest in him, even as he leaves without getting anything. He might try to convince Hizashi to take him here and buy him some things. Hitoshi would rather find a library, if he’s honest, but this place is quaint and he likes it well enough for the time being.
By the time Hitoshi gets back to the apartment, night has fallen. It’s just as untouched and empty as he left it. Hizashi must not be back yet. Good.
Hitoshi heads to his bedroom, still in awe over the fact that he has a bedroom, and puts his cat figure in his desk drawer. He doesn’t have anything else in there, so he imagines it to be the cat’s apartment and vows to find some furniture for him. He glances around the rest of his, painfully plain, room. In the half open closest sits all of the bags from their last shopping trip.
Hitoshi made his bed with his new comforter and pillows, but he couldn’t bring himself to decorate much more than that. Hizashi has respected his privacy enough not to look inside and see the disappointment that is his room and Hitoshi is content to keep it that way. He doesn’t need anything fancy, really. He’s perfectly happy with his empty room, even though he still feels the excitement thrumming in his skin from when they were shopping and he got to pick whatever he wanted.
He was overzealous. He heard Hizashi’s thoughts say that they were spending spy money and he found so many cool ocean things that would look awesome in a bedroom. He didn’t mean to grab it all with shaky hands. His emotions got the best of him.
Right, his emotions.
He guesses that now is as good as any to try and take Tokoyami’s advice. Hitoshi thinks about his conversation with him and gnaws on his lip. Let his emotions guide him. Let himself feel the present. Okay, then. He can do that.
What does he feel when he thinks about furnishing his room? Hitoshi furrows his eyebrows and tries to imagine it; he envisions himself decorating and having a room that’s his and a space that he can feel comfortable and safe in. The first, and maybe only, thing he can recognize is the way his heart speeds up and squeezes. That’s probably anxiety.
Why is he anxious about his room? Hitoshi looks around, even peeking his head out to look around the apartment. No answers jump out at him immediately. Okay, maybe logic will help?
Logically, he knows that it would suck to get attached to his room just to have it ripped from him. He’s had guardians take his stuff away from him, including the right to having a bedroom at all. It would also suck to get used to the luxury of having his things, only to lose them all when Hizashi abandons him. He’s already in love with his bed, so much softer than anything he’s ever slept on. He really doesn’t think he’ll handle losing it.
Hitoshi’s eyes linger on the small piece of paper with Tokoyami’s numbers. ‘And if you sit back and enjoy how things are now? Well, that’s not the worst thing in the world.’
Enjoy the present because you can’t change the future. It’s a bit of a flawed sentiment but… something about it clicks with Hitoshi. He doesn’t have to be miserable while he waits for his impending doom. It’s like when he would eat food given to him, knowing that it’ll be taken away tomorrow. He’s hungry now and there’s food available now.
He’s hungry for a comfortable bed and space that he can have to himself. He’s hungry for the feeling of safety that he might get if he just relaxes and trusts Hizashi, and maybe later, Shouta. He’s hungry for the love and affection of his guardian. He’s hungry for a family– a real, proper family. He’s hungry for experiences that every other kid gets, the normalcy of life.
He wants to be a regular kid with a mother and a father and family dinners together at the dining table and hair ruffles and warm cuddles and an active school life and friends and… fuck.
Tears stream down his cheeks as he’s suddenly overwhelmed by the flood of want that he’s never had before– no, that he never bothered to acknowledge before. It was always there, the longing and ache of loneliness. He just ignored it, or maybe couldn’t process it because his brain has always been fucked about things like that.
He knew he wanted to stay and he knew he wanted Hizashi to like him, but he didn’t realize how much he wanted even the illusion of a normal life. Hitoshi is a liar. Hizashi is a liar. Shouta is a liar. If all goes well and they end up playing pretend, they’d all be liars together. None of it would be real and Hitoshi would be only one aware of the true extent of that. He still wants it. He wants it more than anything now that he’s had a taste of it– a taste of daily meals, a taste of an adult who seems to like him, a taste of semi-constant affection and care, a taste of freedom, a taste of connection.
Hitoshi crumples to the ground and sobs. He wails like a child, loud and trying to get the attention of a caretaker who isn’t there. He curls in on himself, fists clutching the front of his button-up as he rocks himself in a desperate motion on the floor. He’s a bottle of soda that’s been shaken consistently for over ten years and he’s beginning to explode, spraying out his insides across anyone unfortunate enough to come close. He’s unraveling, not just now but every day since he got adopted.
The pain of wanting is so much, and it’s made worse by the fact that he can have it, just only for a little while. Whoever said that it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all can go straight to hell. Hitoshi has never known his parents, has been through invasive and torturous experiments as his earliest memories, and he’s been tossed from one shitty home to another for years. None of that comes remotely close to realizing how much he wants, and the grief of knowing that he’ll eventually lose it.
Hitoshi is crying so hard that it hurts and his chest stings from how badly he’s hyperventilating. He needs to scream. He needs to explode and destroy everything. He needs to–
He needs to breathe.
His thoughts are swimming in anguish and it’s impossible to muddle through them. He tries anyways and looks for something to focus on, something to distract him.
“It’s not raining,” Hitoshi mumbles out in-between sobs. “It’s not raining yet.”
He rocks his body and tries to grab at anything he can to ground himself. He needs pressure. He needs something to tape up the soda bottle before it bursts. He needs to hold himself together before he collapses.
Hitoshi drags himself over to his bed, grabs both his bat and cow plushies, and burrows underneath it until he’s pressed into the back corner, completely boxed in. He squeezes his bat plushie against his chest and holds his cow close to his face, nuzzling into the soft body and letting it dry his tears. Rubbing his hands and cheeks against the fur of his plushies helps him focus and, while he can’t properly rock with the limited space, he can do small jerky movements that get the job done. It helps. He doesn’t know why it helps, but it does.
He stays like that until the spikey ball of overstimulation in his chest dulls into something smoother. Exhaustion is the first thing that hits him when the storm is over. It’s bone deep, only fixed by a nap where you never wake up. His entire body aches too, muscles burning like he’s been exercising. He must’ve kept his body tense the entire time.
Hitoshi drags himself out from under his bed and grabs his flip phone from his nightstand. He’s still not used to having it and, as far as he’s concerned, Keigo is the coolest person ever for giving it to him. He checks the time and startles. Twenty-two hundred– ten o’clock at night. He probably came back around eight. Has it really been two hours of him freaking out?
Hitoshi’s door is open, letting him take a quick peek into the still apartment. Hizashi doesn’t seem to be home yet, which isn’t cause for alarm. Three hours for a party is probably normal, right? He’ll be home soon.
–
Or Hitoshi can go fuck himself since Hizashi has been radio fucking silent for hours.
It’s nearly two in the morning. Hitoshi ate a frozen ready-made meal after his little breakdown and spent the rest of his time studying. He really doesn’t enjoy academics and he finds studying to be incredibly tedious, but Hizashi made him a custom deck of memory cards so he could turn it into a game. All the cards are laid out on the table, turned upside down, and then he goes through and tries to match the test questions with their answers.
The hall clock ticks behind him and Hitoshi turns on the television to have some background noise as the hours pass. He isn’t freaked out about his guardian being out late, or the fact that Hizashi said he’d give him a call if he had to stay out late. It’s reasonable to assume that the party just went on a little longer than he anticipated, or that he and Shouta got along a little too well and spent some extra time together. Hitoshi really isn’t upset about this. Or scared. Or anxious. Or anything else associated with negative feelings.
He’s fine.
He’s texted Hizashi over a dozen times in the last couple hours, getting nothing in response. It’s the first time Hitoshi has ever texted him and he’s not responding. Which is totally fine. He probably can’t reach his phone because he’s busy living it up. There are hundreds of explanations for why he wouldn’t text back, including the possibility that he got drunk and lost it– which has happened to one of Hitoshi’s guardians before.
Or it could mean he got attacked and his phone was dropped or destroyed.
(Hitoshi can’t stop thinking about the last time Hizashi came home late, stumbling in and trailing blood down the entrance. Hitoshi thinks of his nightmare last night and wonders if maybe it was a sign. He’s not superstitious or spiritual but Tokoyami seemed like the type to think everything happens for a reason and that dreams are actually prophecies of the future sent to you by the universe. The idea has been whittling its way into Hitoshi’s brain ever since they spoke.)
One of the perks of your pretend father being a spy is that he’s trained for bad situations, right? Being targeted by evildoers doesn’t matter if you know how to make it so you shoot first, and Hitoshi is almost positive that Hizashi isn’t being cocky when he thinks he’s one of the best spies in Westalis. He’s probably fine. He’s definitely fine. Everything is fine.
The front door unlocks and it’s pushed open quietly. Hitoshi’s head shoots up and he cranes his neck around the couch to see Hizashi come in. At first glance, there’s no visible injuries. He’s walking fine and there’s no blood. He’s clearly disheveled, though, with his clothing wrinkled and out of place. He’s caked in a layer of dust from his shoes to his hair.
Hitoshi pulls himself up and launches himself towards Hizashi, barreling full speed and tackling him so hard that the man yelps and stumbles backwards, slamming his back into the door he just closed.
‘An intruder–?!’
“Holy shit, you’re okay!” Hitoshi mumbles against Hizashi’s shoulder, interrupting the man’s initial thoughts. He presses his face against it as hard as he can. Hitoshi doesn’t even care that he’s getting his own clothes dirty.
“Jesus, Hitoshi,” Hizashi says. He’s smiling when Hitoshi peeks up at him. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“ I scared you?” Hitoshi repeats incredulously. “You said you’d be gone for a couple hours and that you’d call me if it went long! What did you end up doing? Not calling me!”
“I know, I know,” Hizashi sighs, bringing a hand up to pitch the bridge of his nose. “I’m really sorry, kiddo.”
’They took our phones and I couldn’t contact anyone. I didn’t even know how late it was until I drove in.’
Wait, what? Who took whose phones?
“Are you okay?” Hitoshi asks, seeming to catch Hizashi off-guard. Hitoshi doesn’t let go of him either, attaching himself to his guardian with the neediness of a child. It’d be embarrassing if not for his decision to try and follow Tokoyami’s advice, and the fact that he’s spent well over four hours worried out of his mind that his dad might be dead.
“What? Yeah, of course I am.” Hizashi says quickly, rubbing Hitoshi’s shoulders soothingly. “We, uh, got caught up at the party and there was an accident in the streets on the way home. I had to stay at Shouta’s apartment for a little bit while we waited it out and– and my phone died so I couldn’t tell you. Nothing too bad.”
It’s not a very good lie, even by Hitoshi’s standards. Hizashi carries himself with the same assuredness that he always does, which almost makes Hitoshi want to believe him anyways, but the lie is too vague and doesn’t account for Hitoshi knowing for a fact that Shouta owns a phone in some capacity.
’Shit, I really can’t have this conversation right now. I’m so exhausted from everything that’s happened. But Hitoshi takes priority right now. This happened because I didn’t see them coming and all of this could’ve been avoided if I had a clearer head. Hitoshi doesn’t deserve to suffer because of my stupid mistakes.’
Hizashi holds Hitoshi close, wrapping his strong arms around him and running his fingers through Hitoshi’s hair as his hand cups the back of his head supportively. Hitoshi’s skin burns with the touch and he starts trembling from the way it nips at his skin like fire flickering against him. It’s overwhelming and so, so good. It almost distracts him from how different Hizashi sounds in his thoughts right now– more solemn, with less music references and a hardness that makes Hitoshi a little uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry,” Hitoshi whimpers, feeling every bit the scared child he knows he is. Something happened that was serious, probably spy related, and all Hizashi is focused on is him. Part of him wants to sink into the selfish feeling of wanting that he’s been surrounded by all day, exacerbated by Hizashi’s immediate thought of prioritizing him. The other part slashes him with self loathing, berating him for burdening Hizashi when the man is in such a state.
Hitoshi clings to Hizashi. He soaks up the touch, the affection, like he’s saying his final goodbyes. The hand in his hair plays with the purple locks calmingly. Hitoshi never wants to let go. He wants Hizashi to shield him from the rain. It’s drizzling now, he thinks.
“Why are you sorry, little listener?” Hizashi sounds upbeat, but there’s no hiding the weariness leaking into his tone. “I’m the one who kept you up so late and scared ya half to death!”
Hitoshi pitifully shrugs. He doesn’t have an answer that would satisfy. He rubs his cheek against Hizashi’s vest, tears soaking into his shirt. He’s pathetic, crying like a toddler because his dad– not even his real dad– came home a little later than he said he would.
Hizashi clicks his tongue sympathetically, making no move to let go. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart. It’s all good, I promise.”
“Did you–” Hitoshi sniffles. He forces himself to peer up at Hizashi, nearly looking away again when all he sees is tired fondness. “Did you have a good time at the party?”
Hizashi smiles, small and genuine. “Yeah, buddy, I did.”
’If you count escaping an enemy compound as a part of the party; might even count as part of our first date.’
“How’s Shouta? Is he good?” Hitoshi asks, heart racing with each new facet of information he manages to dig up. There’s so many questions that he needs to goad Hizashi into answering. Why were they at an enemy compound? Does Hizashi know that Shouta’s an assassin now? Or is it the other way around? What happened?
“Far as I know!” Hizashi says, though there’s something hesitant in his eyes. “We hit it off pretty well.”
’Well enough that I have to figure out how the hell I’m supposed to tell Hitoshi that we’re actually getting married and Shouta’s gonna move in after the exam. Breaking that kinda news isn’t exactly apart of my training.’
There’s a relief in Hizashi returning to his more silly thinking habits as he relaxes with Hitoshi in his arms, followed immediately by Hitoshi locking up, completely speechless, and staring at Hizashi with a dumbstruck look on his face.
But can you blame him? They’re getting married and Shouta’s moving in? Already? Everything’s going so fast and Hitoshi’s head is spinning with everything being revealed to him back-to-back. He had a breakdown earlier, spent hours full of anxiety, learned that his dad probably almost died, and now they’re adding a new family member?!
He knew it was going to happen eventually, sure. He figured that Shouta would probably move in sometime within the week if kept up his end of the deal he made with Hizashi. But eventually isn’t right now.
Hizashi gives him a questioning look. Hitoshi realizes that they aren’t on the same page yet and that he’s just blinking silently, completely overwhelmed at the revelation.
“Hit it off?” Hitoshi repeats in a prompting tone. “So like… hit it off as in you slept together or–”
“No! No, goodness no.” Hizashi lets go of Hitoshi and slips past him, heading towards the kitchen. Hitoshi pretends like it doesn’t hurt.
He follows Hizashi as the man scurries around the kitchen, putting on a kettle to boil for tea and a small sauce of milk for Hitoshi’s hot chocolate. All the while, Hizashi stammers over himself in his thoughts, trying to collect them.
“We just…” Hizashi trails off, making a vague gesture with his hand. “Hit it off. I don’t know how else to explain it.”
“Okay,” Hitoshi says slowly. He hops up on to the counter while he waits and kicks out his legs. “Are you actually dating then? Instead of just trying to trick his sister?”
Hizashi grimaces. “Sorta. We decided that it would be, y’know, a pretty solid idea if we just got-married-and-moved-in-together!” He says the last bit all at once, voice pitching up with a bashfulness that Hitoshi genuinely can’t decipher. It doesn’t sound fake, but it’s way too emotive even for someone like Hizashi.
‘I think this is the worst possible way I could’ve given him this news.’
Hitoshi tries to stop himself from laughing and puts on a shocked expression, one that would hopefully pass up his actual reaction from earlier. “Woah, no way!”
He starts giggling at how his attempt immediately falls flat, almost mocking in how it sounds. He’s never claimed to be an actor. Hizashi raises an eyebrow, lips quirked up in misguided amusement.
“I mean… anyone could’ve seen this coming,” Hitoshi plays off. “I figured this would be the next step or whatever. It’s just a lot faster than I thought.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” Hizashi leans back against the counter opposite Hitoshi. There isn’t a lot of space between them since the kitchen, despite being really luxurious looking with how long it is and the quality of the appliances, is still in a tight galley style. Hizashi puts his hand on Hitoshi’s knee. “Things got a little out of hand tonight and I just– it happened really quickly for me too.”
’It’s ultimately a good thing to have more time together, but it’s a lot to put on a kid.’
“So, you did sleep together,” Hitoshi says dryly, trying to push down the lump in his throat from the care in Hizashi’s thoughts. “That’s why you’re going so fast– like a shotgun wedding but gay.”
Hizashi chokes on his spit. “No! And even if it was, that’s none of your business.”
’How does he know about that stuff? He’s way too young.’
Hitoshi rolls his eyes. Even if he’s younger than fourteen– and that’s a big if – that doesn’t mean he isn’t exposed to the world. “It kind of is my business if we’re going to be a–” he stumbles over his words and averts his faze, “–be a family.”
Because that’s what they are, right? Or, rather, what they will be?
“Yeah,” Hizashi says wistfully. “Yeah, you’re right, Toshi-chan. It’s absolutely family business, which makes it your business. I’m sorry.”
Hitoshi shrugs him off. He’s never been apologized to by an adult this much and it’s a little unsettling.
“Are you okay with it?” Hizashi asks. “With Shouta moving in and pretending to be your step-dad? I know it’s… less than stellar that I’m making a lot of decisions for you but you deserve a say in your life.”
’Or, at least, you deserve to be able to express it. No matter what, Shouta has to move in and be my husband for the mission. I’d hate forcing Hitoshi into something he doesn’t want to be apart of but neither of us have much of a choice, I’m afraid.’
Hitoshi doesn’t love the lack of autonomy because of Hizashi’s job and he wishes he had a little more time to settle in as a foster kid before adding a new family dynamic. Still, is he okay with it?
He likes Shouta well enough. Something about the man feels safe; it could be the roughness of his edges, the blunt honesty he isn’t afraid to let loose, or just the fact that he’s strong and had been nice to Hitoshi on a street full of people who looked down on him. Hitoshi gets what Hizashi means when he says there’s a vibe about Shouta that draws him in. It fills Hitoshi with a childish curiosity, like a kitten wanting to check out the scary stranger feeding them.
Shouta is tall and he’s harsh, things that would normally make Hitoshi run the other way. It’s never good to let your guard down around men with large hands that can break bones. But Shouta doesn’t set off his warning bells. Hitoshi doesn’t find himself anxious around people that often, despite his history. He likes interacting with them and, despite his hesitancy, he always finds himself wanting to trust.
There’s that word again; want.
Tokoyami says that he doesn’t need to logic everything out; he can feel something and trust it. He feels like Shouta is safe, he feels like he wants to trust him, he feels like…
He knows that his lack of self preservation is born entirely out of the part of his brain that wants connection. It all circles back to that, doesn’t it? The reason why he hasn’t run away yet. The reason he’s okay with Hizashi making all these decisions for him. The reason why he’s been so conflicted about being with Hizashi at all.
He wants a family.
He wants to experience those things that normal boys do and he’s realizing that this may be his only chance to get them. Once the mission is over and Hizashi abandons him, there’s a pretty high likelihood that Hitoshi will spend the rest of his teenage years in an orphanage similar to all the others he’s been in, and even if he can find a family or group home that will take him, it literally won’t matter because he will always be the foster. He will always be the outcast, taken in out of pity because no one else wants him.
Hizashi wants him. He wants him because Hitoshi is useful to him and, as sad as that is, it’s better than not being wanted at all. It’s selfish to want as much as Hitoshi does. Hizashi is doing a job, and Shouta is doing a favor and using it to look out for himself. Hitoshi is the odd one out, the only one who looks at this as something that could be real.
But he’s using them too, isn’t he? He’s using them as replacements for a family he will never have. He’s pretending this is real and soaking in the affection and love like any of it really exists. They’re doing it to help other people, but Hitoshi is doing it purely for himself. He’s apathetic and spoiled. He wants and he takes and he wants more even after he’s been given everything.
Hizashi gave him a home and he keeps sneaking out. Hizashi gave him a room and he refuses to decorate it with the things that Hizashi bought him. Hizashi gave him the opportunity to get into the country’s best school and he dreads it. Hizashi is offering him a family and all Hitoshi can think about is the fact that it’s not real.
“Toshi-chan, sweetheart?” Hizashi steps forward, between Hitoshi’s legs, and tips his head down to try and get Hitoshi to look at him. “Are you okay?”
Hitoshi sniffles, not sure when he started crying. He nods anyways.
Is he okay? Not really.
Is he okay with Shouta moving in and dealing with another person pretending to love him? No, not really.
But he can play along.
He can pretend, too, because it isn’t raining yet, and the sunshine is still warm on his skin even if the storm clouds are drifting in.