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The people of Inazuma have always been close-minded and strict, their rules surrounding etiquette and appearance extended far beyond the individual themself, they care very deeply about the political state of their region.
Everything was traditional; set in stone. You get a good education, a high-paying job, marry into a good family, continue the bloodline, and leave behind a good sum for your children so they can do the same.
They’ve never taken kindly to outsiders, the closed borders having kept all foreign influence at bay for centuries
One of the political situations no one ever dared to speak out against were same sex couples, the mere thought of a protest being enough to send some old native fogey into a rambling fit about how “It’ll ruin Inazuma’s future!” or “be the downfall of countless family names”.
Yet here, in the quiet of Thoma’s bedroom, the air is suffocating and heavy. Years of suppressed urges threatening to just rip control from Ayato’s hands.
Nothing is said for minutes on end, neither daring to move, fearing celestial-level punishment if either were to act first.
Faint hairs on Thoma’s arms stand up, emerald eyes glazed in fear and uncertainty as Ayato’s hands remain still at his hips.
Never has he seen Ayato look at such a loss before, especially for words. There’s nothing more Thoma wants than to tell; to show Ayato that in reality, there’s nothing shameful or deplorable about their wants - maybe he wants to prove it to himself, too - something inside him barks out shameful insults, reminding him that this is wrong, that they’ve already gone much too far.
Ayato has always been quite impressive at concealing his worry, his fears. Yet now? The look on Ayato’s face does nothing but scare Thoma. It’s one he has never once seen before.
He looks defeated; expression bleak and pulled downwards.
Deep down, Ayato is worried.
Thoma desperately wants to do something , to be Ayato’s remedy right now, to fulfil Ayato’s desires, but whatever he chooses to do will go against some part of him regardless.
If anything got out, if mere whispers of rumours began to spread, the hearsay alone could single-handedly and swiftly deal massive blows to both Ayato’s reputation, but also the Kamisato Clan and Yashiro Commission easily.
It had been terrible enough when word got out that an unworthy outsider had “weasled” his way into the Kamisato Clan as a housekeeper. Ever since then, ensuring basic human rights for outsiders had become something Ayato was passionate about. He’d work tirelessly without a single care for his health, keeping his family’s name from ridicule.
It makes his chest ache, the weight suffocating him.
Ayato being so close, so flush against him, made Thoma fear he’d cave.
Thoma, in good faith, could not encourage this.
Ayato’s entire insides felt like they had been frozen and shattered to bits watching Thoma’s expression shift into something bitter and sorrowful, the slow shake of his head much like a stake through his heart.
He has not a single clue what he’s getting at, he knows this is wrong, he knows he could ruin everything he’s worked so hard to build back up over the last 10 years, yet… he's almost ashamed it isn't enough to stop him from pushing.
“Thoma…” , he speaks, tone twisting the sound of his voice into something akin to pleading; something far out of character for him.
Inside his mind, however, Thoma is begging relentlessly to Celestia to make it all just stop, to give him ease in burying his feelings, because anymore and he fears he’ll crack.
He swallows his fear and gently wraps his fingers around Ayato’s hands, the chill of the leather reminding him just who he’s touching.
“My Lord… this-”
His breath hitches, his chest aching as his lips part to form his next words, all for his brain to freeze when Ayato’s eyes lock onto his lips.
Oh, it would all be so easy… so easy to close the gap between them. To intertwine tongues and exchange spit like sinners with nothing left to lose.
“Please! Get a hold of yourself, Ayato! I-”
Tears bully Thoma’s waterline and threaten to spill as he loses control of his volume. He’d never acted like this, let alone thought to, and the way it snaps Ayato out of his trance guts Thoma.
He’s cut Ayato deeply, evident by the way Ayato’s slender eyes grow wide and shine with grief, like he’s mourning a moment they hadn't shared.
The grip around Ayato’s hands tightened, holding firm.
“I can’t pretend like I don’t want this anymore. It’d be so much easier for both of us if you just let this go…” Thoma’s voice is oozing with desperation, every word slices Ayato’s heart up like he’s to be cooked, served, and devoured, all to be spat out and humiliated.
Ayato scoffs, pained at how Thoma thinks this could ever possibly be easy for him.
“Easy? Thoma, you can see my eyes full well, does it look like I want to let this go? Read me, Thoma. Do you believe I’ll be content letting this become a regret in my life?”
The look in Ayato’s eyes made Thoma want to cower away under his bedsheets forever. To hide away in Chinju forest among the Tanukis. Some days, deep down, he would begin to miss the real Ayato, growing so accustomed to the regal and composed facade he wears that he mourned their friendship outside of work.
Now, however, he wishes Ayato was composed, wearing that facade. If he was the sly and silver tongued Commissioner, Thoma knew Ayato would have let it all be by now.
…But even if he had left now, if he had shut the door behind him, Thoma knew the damage had been done. Never would they be able to look at each other the same. Their eyes would convey everything they wish they acted on in a matter of glances.
No meeting, no game of hotpot, no business trip, no festival prep would ever feel the same, everything, every word and every act of service Thoma would provide from here on out would feel like some pathetically desperate attempt to make up for what they let slip by.
“I- …I’m sorry, Ayato, I didn’t mean it like that. But-”
It’s like they were frozen, trying to slowly chip away at the tension in the air, but far too weak to make any real progress on it.
Thoma sets it all back to square one without knowing.
“This is wrong… we both know it! If anyone were to start a rumor-”
Ayato nearly wishes his hands were free so he could grab Thoma by his shoulders and make him understand.
“Thoma!” He pleads, licking his lips subconsciously. “If that were to happen, you know more than anyone that I’d love to witness the people muster attempts to do something about it.”
A reluctant and quiet groan escapes the blonde, like he’s fighting against something within himself, grasping at every straw he can to give himself a reason to not give in.
“Even still…” He mumbles, sounding defeated, much like he’s given up. Uncomfortably reminiscent of when they were teenagers, and Thoma would eat insults from the native Inazumans routinely, putting up no fights.
“I’m a foreigner, a stray dog who got lost. You deserve more than to get with someone so lowly-”
Ayato doesn’t let his self-loathing continue for a moment longer; he cuts it short with no more than a stern gaze and stiff shake of his head.
“I won’t hear any of that, you know this. I have fought to the hilt in securing you the respect you deserve. If the people have a problem, they may bring it to me. Not once will I ever allow them to take it out on you. You've been through that far too many times.”
Tears well in Thoma’s eyes as his stance, the one he’s fought so hard to maintain, begins to crack. Ayato has examined every brick Thoma has used to build it and aimed directly for the weakest ones.
Finally peeling his hands free, Ayato gazes at Thoma like the man before him is a hurt puppy.
Everything in Thoma ruptures when Ayato’s bare hands hold his face.
He had slipped his gloves off.
Thoma breaks at the skin-to-skin contact, the comfort of his face being held like this was reminiscent of how his mother would reassure him as a child. When he would run home crying because some bullies had mocked his dream to become a Knight.
Unable to bear looking at Ayato, he squeezes his eyes shut as tightly as he can. Maybe he’ll wake up in a cold sweat and be thankful this was all a nightmare, a dream.
Yes, that’s exactly it. He’ll wake up, get ready, and prepare breakfast for Ayato like he does every morning.
All for the sake of professionalism, right? He caters to Ayato because it’s his job. He makes sure Ayato's living quarters are perfect, not a speck of dust anywhere, because it’s his job. He sewed him a new robe for his birthday because it’s his job. He does all of this because it’s his job. He doesn’t love Ayato, he’s just good at his job.
Right?
Ayato stays quiet and still as Thoma weeps into his hands, wondering if Thoma knows he’s leaning into the touch.
His heart aches exceptionally at the sight before him. Never once has he seen Thoma cry.
Not when Inazuman criminals studied him all day, just to pin him down and wail on him in Chinju forest when he was returning home. He came back to the estate in a stupor, sure, cuts on his face and clothes ripped, blood covering him in splotches like paint, spear tip sparkling with drying crimson, yet not a single tear to be seen.
Not when they were teenagers and he watched as Ayato mourned over his father’s body.
Not when he was a wanted criminal, hiding out in Komore Teahouse.
Everything Thoma had been through runs through Ayato’s mind at a rampant pace, astonished at the fact now is when he lets tears spill.
Inside Thoma, his heart is pleading to let himself find comfort in Ayato, to close the distance between them and wrap his arms around him, to hide all of his shame in the crook of Ayato’s neck, to breathe in his scent in full and let it act as a reagent.
Though, despite everything, despite being a broken down mess, Thoma cannot convince himself it’s right or acceptable in fear of ruining everything.
And he doesn’t need to.
Ayato embraces Thoma genuinely, an arm drapes over his shoulders while another settles around his waist, one of Ayato's hands doing all the hard work for Thoma and tucking his face into his neck.
Ayato didn’t know if this was right; he was utterly clueless when it came to navigating something so personal like this, but something in him felt Thoma needed it.
And just like that, everything Thoma had been thinking to himself, every ‘this is wrong’ ‘do not let this go further’, all of it had faded in Ayato’s embrace.
He reluctantly abandoned his guilt, only for the moment.
Tears of Ayato’s own begin to well as he feels Thoma squeeze him around the waist tightly, hearing quiet yet soul-shattering weeps, all muffled by the crook of Ayato's neck.
No more than a few tears fall from Ayato’s eyes before he breathes deeply, knowing he should be composed to be of any real help.
He holds the back of Thoma’s head firmly in place, rubbing his with the other.
Under his hand, he feels how Thoma’s breathing sputters, slows as he breathes in, and returns to a shaky and uncertain mess breathing out.
They stand there for a few minutes - minutes that feel like hours, nothing but the sound of their breathing drifting into the other’s ears.
Thoma knows he needs to move, yet he doesn’t want to. Why must his brain fight with him on everything? Soon, he begins to sob into Ayato once more, everything in him firing back up and cursing him.
Ayato can feel him tremble and hyperventilate; he can feel Thoma’s frustration with himself.
He changes his approach.
Gently peeling Thoma off of him, he tucks stray strands of hair behind Thoma’s ear and looks at him pitifully.
“Thoma…”
Ayato’s voice is soft, silky and sheen as he coos to his retainer, his best friend. He takes Thoma’s hands in his own and squeezes them gently.
“Please, look at me.”
Thoma shakes his head. He prayed once more that he was having a nightmare.
Maybe if he thought about it hard enough, it’d become true.
That’s all he wanted this to be… something he’d shake off when he woke up.
“I can’t.” His voice quivers, cracking as he pleads with Ayato. “Please… don’t make me.”
Ayato is at a loss, he feels. He’s never been the best at comforting people, even when it came to Ayaka. The fact that Thoma was carrying so much self-doubt below his sunny demeanor made it even more difficult.
Maybe it’s because he was treating the act of reassurance like a scheme, something to plan out and maneuver like he does with his work, he thinks.
Draping his arms over Thoma’s shoulders like a weighted blanket, he then lightly presses his forehead to Thoma’s. In his mind, he brushed Thoma’s bangs away and placed a kiss on his forehead, something he desperately wants, but ultimately decides to place that on hold.
“Thoma,” Ayato exhales, not knowing in the slightest if he is helping anymore, “You know I care deeply for you, you know this care extends far beyond our work relationship. If you wish for me to leave, although I could not do it in good faith, you know I would regardless, if that is what you need-”
Thoma interrupts hurriedly, shaking his head with his eyes still fixated on the floor behind Ayato. “No.. I don’t want you to go yet-”
Lifting his own head, Ayato pets Thoma’s hair, admiring just how pretty it is so up-close.
“Then I won’t, but I need you to let go of your worries. Do not keep everything buried. It’s just us, and it is far too late in the night for anyone to come pestering. If this feels right to you, reciprocation is waiting. If not, could you tell me why?”
Ayato winces to himself for a moment after he’s finished speaking, worried he’s scaring Thoma off by talking so much, maybe he should’ve never initiated anything-
Thoma finally gathers enough mental strength to look at Ayato. He knows he probably looks stupid, like a crybaby even, the sniffle he makes and the way he wipes his eyes certainly not helping his case.
Little did he know, however, Ayato thought nothing of the sort. Ayato thinks Thoma looks perfect, even now. He wanted to carry him in his arms and kiss him until every doubt in Thoma’s mind dissipated into nothing, like they were never there to begin with. He wanted to show Thoma that nothing is wrong, and nothing will be, because Ayato has always made sure of it.
Thoma forces out a clearly fake and nervous chuckle.
“Hah…” He swallows, “You’ve made this really hard…”
Sorrowful worry seeps once more into Ayato’s expression.
“Could you elaborate further?”
Leaning his head against Ayato’s forearm, he sniffles once more.
“Saying no… My brain knows- or- thinks this is wrong, but my heart is craving it. It doesn’t feel right but-”
The man before Thoma is still, expression unchanging and patience unwavering as Thoma fights his brain to let himself finish the rest.
It’s… nice… how long Ayato is willing to wait with and for him. One of the busiest men in the nation is never in a rush when it comes to him.
Thoma wonders if that’s because it’s his job too, though this time, something in him doubts it.
Ayato can tell he’s getting stuck all over again, Thoma’s green eyes drifting back to the ground all sorry-like.
“You can tell me, Thoma.”
He fights tears once more as Ayato’s comfort reassures him in, unfortunately, the exact way he needs it.
“I-”
Thoma glances back at Ayato. His violet eyes, deep as the abyss, usually intimidate others, scare them to bits, strike fear in the ones he negotiates with or punishes, yet for Thoma, all there is is care and patience.
“I really do want you, Ayato. Terribly.”
Ayato’s heart warms his whole body hearing it for the first time. He’s dreamt of these words leaving Thoma’s lips countless times over the years, yet to finally hear it… he felt like a child talking to their crush.
He smiles-
No, he cheeses.
He cheeses, a glimpse of his teeth showing, something Thoma had maybe only ever seen once or twice.
Ayato never smiled with his teeth.
Seeing Ayato smile so genuinely, so close to his own face, is utterly infectious, and though he’s still a little sniffly… Thoma can’t help but smile in return.
“Thoma… Oh, Dear …” Ayato’s voice is deliciously buttery and comforting, wrapping Thoma’s heart in a quilt of warmth: “I will do all I can, for my entire life if need be, to absolve all guilt instilled in you that has made you feel this is wrong.”
Ayato’s eyebrows raise in pity as he sees Thoma’s eyes water once more, nipping it in the bud without hesitation, using his thumb to gently wipe tears away as they form.
“Including,” He continues, blushing at the way Thoma tilts his head into his touch, “whatever in your mind that has convinced you that you are a mere stray dog, undeserving of my care…”
Thoma’s heart swells. His brain is still shouting at him, echoing the things he’s heard Inazumans say about him, replaying the things they’ve done to him… but Ayato is beginning to help ease it all.
Something this sweet and soft could not possibly be wrong.
“Ayato…” He murmurs, his voice soft and coated thinly in anxiousness…
“Yes, Thoma?”
Licking his lips without thinking, he blinks down at Ayato’s lips for a moment, too nervous to ask.
Of course, instantly, Ayato catches the hint. He’s always been good at things like that.
“Did you forget how I was gazing at you earlier? You don’t even need to ask…”
His voice trails off as he tucks some of his digits under Thoma’s hair.
And as if they were in sync, not a moment more passes before their lips meet. Brief for the sake of going slow, the look they share after is enough to get both of their bodies boiling.
“I promise no one will know.” Ayato hums.