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The war in shinjuku had faded into nothing but a faint memory, but remnants of it had been etched into the mind of those who'd survived. Months had passed by, and the rhythms of life returned to the familiar normalcy of frequent missions and harsh training sessions.
But for Yuuji, it was clear that the wounds ran deeper. At least clear to Megumi, because as the days blurred together, and a new routine came to be.
Yuuji would appear in front of Megumi door in the hushed hours of the night, day after day like clockwork, and find his way into Megumi's room without a word. He'd slip under the covers, seeking solace from the storm of regret coiled deeply inside of him.
So when Megumi stirred awake one night in early september, he wasn't surprised to feel a heavy weight pressing down on his chest. Yuuji had been nestled against him so comfortably, as though peace was a second nature to him.
Megumi stared, his eyes running over Yuuji's every feature. His face was so soft, the lines of worry and guilt completly smoothed away, leaving behind a fragile serenity that made Megumi's heart ache. His boy was so pretty.
With out hesitation, Megumi wraps his arms around Yuuji, pulling him upward just a little in one smooth and deliberate motion. It eases a soft whine from Yuuji, who blinks awake, squinting up at Megumi in confusion.
Megumi's hand finds its way to Yuuji's hair. He slicks it back with a tenderness at natural as breathing.
His touch lingers long enough to assure Yuuji that he was here . He wasn't going anywhere.
"Yuuji," he whispers. He watches as Yuuji's lips curve upward into a faint, sleepy smile, and his eyes flutter shut as he nuzzles closer.
He presses his nose to Megumi's warm cheek, grateful for the warmth.
He's grateful for all of Megumi, really. There's something so utterly reassuring about him that Yuji wouldn't dare to imagine life without him. Nearly everything about him was admirable. Everything was worth loving.
Megumi was addictive in the way he would clear Yuuji's mind of the pent-up guilt and shame, lifting the weight up off his shoulders with one simple affectionate touch.
He presses a soft kiss to Megumi's cheek, letting it melt into the warmth of his skin, letting Megumi feel it .
He stirred faintly at the touch. He doesn't speak, but simply pulls Yuuji closer in acceptance.
In return, Yuuji's lips brush against Megumi's face again in a series of soft kisses. They trailed from Megumi's cheek to his temple, then to his nose, and back again.
He'd go any length just to show how deeply he cared. It was more than affection.
It was a quiet devotion that filled every corner of Yuuji's mind, binding their souls together with some invisible string. He'd do whatever he could to make Megumi feel appreciated. He wanted Megumi to know, with every gesture and every whisper, that he deserved to be loved.
The imagine of Megumi lying on his knees, so frail and vulnerable, still floods his head at times. Megumi had lost his will to live.
It's his fault, after all. None of that would've happened if they'd just stayed away from each other in the first place. None of that would've happened if Yuuji had just chosen to be executed.
Selfishly, he had chosen to live. Selfishly , he'd hurt Megumi.
But now, there's no way Yuuji would be able to keep his distance. There's something about Megumi that draws him in. He's Yuuji's sense of comfort, sense of self. There's no replacing that.
Megumi anchors him down, grounding him when he needs it the most.
"Yuuji," Megumi repeats, as he's showered with kisses.
This invisible string that bound them, it had endured so much. Despite their bodies being toyed with like puppetry, they couldn't leave each other. They'd either live on within reach of eachother, or not live at all.
Megumi's hand slides beneath Yuuji's shirt, rubbing up and down Yuuji's back in a slow and deliberate pattern as he pushes him back down against his chest. "Go back to sleep," he murmurs.
Yuuji let out a soft sigh and relaxed. His ear pressed up against the steady beat of Megumi's heart, reminding him that he's still here, caring for him.
It was only nights like these that they could finally rest. The world outside could wait. With Megumi, he'd remain untouched by every wave of grief that threatened to pass by.
He could surrender into the quiet sanctuary of Megumi's presence, breathe in the scent of something distinctly him, and be spoiled with the feeling of skin on skin.
In the morning they'd forget all about it. They'd return to their normal routine, pretending as if they didn't care about each other at all.