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They hadn’t meant to end up here. At least, Shouta hadn’t.
He’d been perfectly content to live their lives the way they had been—spending all their time together, talking about anything and everything, being able to lean on each other for anything.
And then Hizashi ruined it.
He’d pestered Shouta into being invited over, with an ulterior motive, of course. Shouta would’ve been perfectly fine eating a few of his beloved jelly packets, but no, Hizashi had shown up, arms laden with fresh groceries, and insisted upon cooking him dinner.
Shouta hadn’t thought much of it. How could he have? Hizashi pulled this sort of stunt at least once a week, had ever since they were in their third year of high school.
It had been just like normal, they’d cooked together and then ate together, making amicable chatter about their students. Just like always. Shouta could not emphasize more how things had been perfectly normal between the two of them.
The problem had started when they’d begun washing the dishes, again together, because Hizashi thought that if Shouta had helped with the cooking, he absolutely had to help with the cleaning up.
So, they’d gotten to work with Hizashi washing, Shouta drying, and it had been going well for the most part. They’d just finished when it happened.
“Shouta! Look!” Hizashi pointed at the kitchen window, above the sink, wearing an expression of pure excitement. Shouta was taken aback, he hadn’t seen Hizashi look that giddy since high school.
“Is someone there?” he frowned, the idea being the first thing to pop into his head. Admittedly, it was an odd place for someone to be, what with Shouta being on the fourth floor, but he supposed an attack could come from anywhere.
“What? No!” Hizashi rolled his eyes at him. “Look up!” He said, jabbing his finger in an upwards direction for emphasis. Shouta dutifully followed directions, but he saw nothing but the night sky and—
“Stars!” Hizashi clapped his hands together. “You can hardly ever see them from this part of the city. Come on, let’s go to the balcony and look at them for a little bit.”
“Why?” Shouta couldn’t help asking. “They’re just stars.”
Hizashi gasped dramatically, practically jumping on his back, as he clutched at Shouta’s arm.
“Just stars? These stars have the power to change the world. The most mystical thing in our universe! This is the stuff poets and lovers can’t stop raving about! There’s nothing just about them!”
“I don’t get it. They’re balls of gas in space. There’s nothing logical about being obsessed with them.”
Hizashi groaned, dragging Shouta along. “Just come with me.”
Shouta wanted to protest. It was his balcony, why was he being dragged to it? Besides, this time of night, it was sure to be cold outside and he wasn’t wearing his sleeping bag or capture weapon.
Hizashi’s hand slipped from holding onto his sleeve to grasping onto Shouta’s hand, as he pulled him along, and any urge Shouta had of complaining withered away. All he could think about was the warmth emanating from Hizashi’s hand now enveloping his. His grip was strong, not overly so, but rather a comforting kind of strength.
A steady strength that announced that it was always there, supporting without overwhelming. Before Shouta could begin to analyze why on earth he was suddenly obsessing over Hizashi holding his hand, again something the other man had done periodically over the many years they’d known each other, Hizashi was already letting go to pull the balcony door open.
Shouta, much to his dismay, felt a pang of longing, wishing that Hizashi would take his hand again, his fingers feeling lonely in the cold air.
Hizashi did no such thing, climbing out onto Shouta’s balcony, calling for him to “Come out, already!”
He paused, still staring at his hand trying to decipher what had overcome him. Shaking off the lingering feeling, he stepped through the door, the chill autumn air making him shiver.
Hizashi was already gazing at the sky, an awestruck look on his face. Shouta didn’t see why, it wasn’t like this was the first time he was seeing stars.
He said as much, but Hizashi only shot him a fond look, beckoning him over with his finger.
Shouta obeyed, slippered feet padding across the wooden floor. His fingers clutch at the railing, palms sliding against the cool metal before he curled his fingers, grasping the railing tightly, leaning sideways so that the railing was supporting his weight as he turned towards Hizashi.
Hizashi physically pulled his arm, pointing up at the glittering night sky. “Look! You can see Hokuto Shichisei from here! I haven’t seen that one in a long time. Oh, and there’s the tsuzumi boshi.” His finger trailed from star to star drawing an invisible line.
Shouta followed as intensely as he could, but all he saw was little shiny dots— as though someone had grabbed a paintbrush and had haphazardly flung white paint across a black canvas.
He could hardly see pictures in them like Hizashi was alluding to.
He didn’t say any of that to Hizashi, far too captivated with the way he was humming in contentment, the glow of happiness suited him, Shouta thought.
Hizashi gasped in excitement, buzzing with energy, one of his hands landing directly on top of Shouta’s, where he was still grasping the railing. “There’s Orihime and Hikoboshi! Ahh, they’re separated as always, but I love seeing them. They’re the most romantic story I’ve ever heard,” he sighed dreamily at that.
Shouta, who couldn’t stop staring at the way Hizashi’s hand covered his so completely, felt compelled to ask, “What’s so romantic about them?”
“You don’t know the story of Orihime and Hikoboshi?” Hizashi appeared to be almost scandalized by that. “Did you grow up in Japan or not?” he demanded to know.
Shouta rolled his eyes. “Are you going to tell me or not?”
Hizashi hemmed and hawed, but they both knew he was only drawing out the inevitable. If Hizashi knew something Shouta didn’t, not even the power of the universe could prevent him from telling Shouta everything.
“They’re the story of Tanabata!” he exclaimed as if that should mean something to Shouta.
It didn’t.
Hizashi’s pout only grew larger. “Fine,” he sighed. “I will culture you, my poor dear ignorant friend.” Shouta ignored the names, waiting patiently for Hizashi to get on with it.
“Once upon a time, there was a princess, the daughter of the Sky King, Tentei. Her name was Orihime. She was a weaver, but not just any weaver, no, Orihime wove the most beautiful clothes anyone had ever seen. Not just beautiful, they were soft to the touch and they said that the comfort one felt by wearing the clothes she wove was akin to being in their mother’s womb.”
“High praise.” Shouta wasn’t impressed; so she was a weaver. What did that matter?
“Just listen,” Hizashi scolded. “As I was saying, she was in very high demand. Because of that, she swore to work hard for the rest of her life, and thus, was unable to marry.”
“Logical. A relationship would only distract her, if she had that much weaving to do.”
“You would say that, you unromantic heathen,” Hizashi huffed. “Like a normal person she was sad about that—”
“Why would she be sad? Did she hate weaving?”
“No! She loved it.”
“Then she should’ve been happy there was nobody to keep her from doing what she loved.”
“...I’m moving on now. I can’t help that you’re heartless.”
Shouta found that offensive. He was only speaking logically; why waste time on something that would keep her from feeling joy and pride in her work?
“Her father was worried about her so he introduced her to Hikoboshi, whose job was to herd cows. They fell in love at first sight and got married almost immediately.”
“Happy ending,” Shouta drawled, leaning over the railing a little more, one hand still beneath Hizashi’s, the other grasping his chin, elbow balanced precariously on the edge of the railing.
“Not quite. See, once they got married, Orihime stopped weaving and Hikoboshi stopped tending to his cows. Enraged by that, Tentei separated the two of them for good.”
“Huh. So she was right the first time around. Love was a distraction. Tragic.”
Hizashi shook his head at him. “I’m not done.”
“Sorry.”
“Orihime was devastated to be apart from her husband and begged Tentei to allow them to meet. He acquiesced, saying that they could meet on the seventh day of the seventh month, so long as she had finished her weaving, of course.”
“Of course. No reward without hard work.” Shouta nodded. He approved of Tentei’s methods completely; he did the same with his students.
Hizashi rolled his eyes at them. “They aren’t your students, they’re two people who love each other,” he sniped, correctly reading Shouta’s mind.
“So, that’s what they did that first year, but when it was time to meet, they found that there was no bridge to connect them. Orihime cried and cried, when a flock of magpies saw her plight. Taking pity on her, they formed a bridge with their wings allowing the two lovers to meet, and they promised to do so every single year after that as well,” Hizashi sighed.
“Oh, but they can’t come if it rains, which means Orihime and Hikoboshi are separated for another year,” he added. “The tears of Orihime and Hikoboshi.”
“Rude of them to inconvenience the rest of us,” Shouta frowned.
“That’s all you have to say? Nothing about how romantic the two of them are?”
“What’s romantic about them? They’re separated for almost their entire life.”
“And they still love each other that much, enough that even one day together is enough to be worth all the other days apart.” Hizashi sighed, wrapping his arms around himself, and in the process leaving Shouta’s hand bereft of his company once again.
“What I would do to have someone love me that much,” Hizashi said, a small smile on his face, eyes turning back to Orihime and Hikoboshi. “That even a moment of my time would be enough for them.”
“I wouldn’t,” Shouta said slowly, tracing every inch of Hizashi with his eyes. He’d known him forever, but still, somehow, it felt as if he was only seeing him for the first time, today.
“Why not?” Hizashi sounded sincerely curious.
“I’d want someone to fight for me, to be with me every step of the way, even if someone tried telling him not to be.”
Hizashi blinked, posture straightening as he turned towards Shouta, a question on his lips, but Shouta was more taken aback by the spark of hope that he saw in his eyes.
A gust of wind blew over them, making him shiver in anticipation. Feeling bold, he held his hand out. Hizashi wasted no time, lacing his fingers with Shouta’s, both standing silent for a moment, on the precipice of the biggest change of their lives.
“Someone who couldn’t be apart from me for even a second, even when I’m in a mood. That’s how I’d like to be loved,” Shouta whispered, voice feeling hoarse. “Someone who bursts into my home, insisting on cooking me dinner, and would then insist on doing the cleaning up together, someone who wants to do our marking together, someone who’s loud and blond and wears the dumbest sunglasses I’ve ever seen.”
Hizashi let out a wet chuckle. “If this someone isn’t me, this is going to be the worst story you’ve ever told.”
Shouta frowned, his heart aching at the fear he could hear in Hizashi’s tone. Licking his lips, he said, “I don’t want just a moment of your time. I want all of it.”
Hizashi exhaled, loud and breathily, eyes closing almost involuntarily, grounding himself. When he opened them again, Shouta was almost shook to his core at all the love he saw there. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Hizashi confessed. “Your time.”
“You have it. All of it. Forever,” Shouta promised.
“Well, not all of it. We do have jobs, y’know. Can’t end up like Orihime and Hikoboshi now, can we?”
“Definitely not,” Shouta deadpans, Hizashi bursting into laughter. They press into each other, Hizashi enjoying the night sky, Shouta enjoying Hizashi.
“I’m sorry for taking so long to catch up,” he said softly.
He spotted a wry smile across Hizashi’s face, his grip tightening on Shouta’s hand. “You needed the time. I didn’t really mind. I knew this was going to happen eventually.”
“So much faith.”
Hizashi shrugged. “You and I? We’re end game, our souls intertwined, all that jazz. Half the fun is seeing how we’d get there. I’m glad we finally made it though, it’s time to see the other side of things. Even more fun this way,” he tacked on quickly.
Shouta hummed. It was all so terribly cheesy but he couldn’t deny it either. Hizashi was his light in the dark, the one that kept him from flying away and getting lost inside his own head.
“I guess we are,” he murmured.
The night sky still didn’t mean much to him, but now he could see why poets couldn’t stop waxing lyrical over the stars; there really was something about them.