Work Text:
Inspired by: Meguro wanting Abe to buy him a planetarium.
"No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio
o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:
te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma."
At night, Meguro lies on the futon, the room bathed in the soft glow of stars on the ceiling—his planetarium.
The one Abe got him. The one he didn’t ask for, not really. Just a half-joke, said with a grin and a nudge.
But Abe remembered. Of course Abe remembered.
Meguro’s eyes trace the constellations, but they always return to Abe, sleeping beside him, his breath steady.
He listens. Abe is murmuring something in his sleep—maybe the name of a star, maybe just a dream.
Meguro reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from Abe’s face.
He doesn’t know how to describe this feeling. It’s not a loud kind of love.
It’s not dramatic.
It’s quiet. Hidden.
A love that lives in the spaces between breaths, in stardust and silence.
He smiles. Just for himself.
Inspired by: Meguro saying "Zettai ni Abe-chan wo mamotte agetai."
"Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva,
dentro de sí, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,
y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo
el apretado aroma que ascendió de la tierra."
Abe is tired. Meguro can tell, even if Abe tries to hide it.
Endless rehearsals. Scripts. Interviews.
He never complains. He just keeps going. Quietly, diligently.
Meguro finds him one night, dozing at the table, script still in hand.
He sets down a drink beside him. No words. Just a gentle nudge.
Abe stirs. “You didn’t have to…”
“I know,” Meguro says, soft. “But I wanted to.”
He doesn’t say what he really means:
I’ll protect you. Always.
Not with grand gestures, but with small ones. A drink. A blanket. A moment of rest.
Because that’s how he loves: from the roots.
Deep and unseen.
Inspired by: Meguro saying “Abe-kun suki da wa, ore.”
"Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera."
It happened during a YouTube video.
One simple moment.
“Abe-kun suki da wa, ore,” Meguro says, with a casual voice.
Abe laughs. “Baka,” he says. Fool.
Like it was just a joke.
But Meguro knows it wasn’t.
Later that night, alone in his room, Meguro lies in bed with his phone.
He reads Abe’s messages.
Watches the moment again.
When did it begin? This heartache, this warmth, this ache?
He doesn’t know.
He just knows one thing:
He loves Abe. No pride. No fear.
Just love.
Inspired by: The yakiniku “date” and their secretive quiet closeness.
"sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño."
Dinner was delicious. Abe grilled the meat perfectly, as always.
Now, full and warm, they sit on the couch. The TV plays, but neither really watches it.
Meguro yawns and stretches, and Abe leans into him—head resting on Meguro’s shoulder like it belongs there.
Like it always has.
Their hands find each other, brushing, holding.
Abe closes his eyes. Meguro watches him, then lets his own eyes flutter shut.
His breath slows to match Abe’s. Their hearts beat quietly, together.
No words. No labels. No need.
This is what love is.
Not fireworks. Not drama.
Just this.
Just them.