Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

恋をして 振られ また 捨てられて.

—

Ozo slumped into his bedroom, eyes scanning every crevice. His mother had cleaned out his floor but his bed still remained as disgusting as it’d been since. A faint rustling sound and Brandon’s odor reminded him of his position. “…wanna bath? I know you feel funky right now.” Brandon remained silent even as Ozo turned to face him. “Bit late to be embarrassed now? I’m holding you like a bride, you know?” He still stayed shy — wouldn’t you be too? Ozo walked in before kicking his door closed. “I’ll help, okay?” He stepped into his personal bathroom and flinched at his lightbulb, it was way brighter than he recalled.

Then again… he rarely showers. He hadn’t been feeling well but now, he was over the moon. As well, Ozo had only used the guest room for a while because his room was a jab in the face at his misfortune. Now, it’s somewhat like a welcoming place. He gently placed Brandon on the floor tiles and covered his eyes. “I’ll start the water up.”

The water was below freezing as Brandon usually is — and Ozo, his counterpart, would warm him up always. Brandon fit snug into the tub, not even wincing at the water. Ozo grabbed his shower head before drenching Brandon then wetting a loofa and a bar of soap. As he rubbed the two together, Ozo kneeled and leaned on the side of the tub. “Let me help,” is what he whispered before scrubbing Brandon down with the care that implied he would shatter any second. “Brandon?” He still looked shyly down so Ozo forced his chin up. “Hey hey, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk. I’ll just.. sit here silently too — I guess.” Brandon blinked a couple times and said something, so ethereal and mind-numbing. Ozo had listened to recordings of his voice for hours and it sounded even better here — in real life. The sentence fell on flat-ears however as there was something that allured Ozo to stop. The sentence gave a direction but a vague description of whatever this direction might be.

‘i’ll do anything you want and i’m everything you want.’

That might’ve been what he said.

“Talk to me. Please.”

And so Brandon talked and it felt amazing. The room seemed almost distorted and Ozo was barely aware of where he was going. He didn’t remember drying Brandon, dressing him in the clothes Ozo bought for his birthday, and carrying him down to his dining table. Sitting him down felt reminiscent of servants placing their rulers down. Those they praised as God. Brandon was his God. Ozo was His servant. Brandon somewhere in the process had ceased talking and Ozo sat down across. The table was not excessively long so they could reach the others with ease — yet Brandon seemed to struggle. (What a thought, he obviously just wanted to not use much effort. Blasphemy.) Ozo gingerly grasped his hand and put it on his left cheek.

‘Talk.’

Ozo began,

“I love you. I hated the world the second you disappeared out of my sight and into someone else’s. I’ll be by your side — even,” Ozo hiccuped and Brandon wiped away a stray tear, “even if it kills me. Because I’m useless and pathetic and I’m nobody’s lover, friend, or son. Let me be your failure. Let me apologize.” And so he did. Strings of incoherent apologies left his mouth yet Brandon kept his hand there. “Please don’t touch me. I’m filthy. In mind and body.”

‘Allow the Lord under your roof and He shall save those unworthy.’

And in the night he spent with his God, man finally learned his place underneath. By His side, He will protect him.

“I’ll never leave you again.”

—

恋をして 恋をして
その過去を 捨てて ここまでおいで

Chapter Text

Ozo was a kind-hearted, dorky, and creative kid. He had the nicest personality and an even better face. So, why was he there? Sparten harshly rubbed his eyes before scowling at the sight before him. No, this wasn’t Ozo. This was a delusional, selfish person who sacrificed his future for a lost cause. It looked like Ozo but surely, this wasn’t him. The one who expressed his heart wasn’t this thing that let its heart collapse in on its self. Even as Sparten left, mumbling curses about this pathetic being, his heart still ached. It still clawed at his throat, making him stutter in his rant. Everything fucking hurt and why is that his problem? Sony walked out with Bkinger eventually and they looked atrocious. In that moment, Sparten ceased his hatred — stopped his brash thinking. What would his friends’ faces look like if he spoke up? If he told that person, that human being, words of encouragement, would his friends cry? For a second, he felt regret and sorrow. Sony gazed up. Sparten just wanted to join Ozo at this rate. It was his fault.

“Sparten.”

Sony sounded like shit.

“Your face is selling the deal,” Bkinger abruptly says.

“Let’s keep walking, for them.”

Sony nodded along with her.

Sparten replies, “They could’ve fucking been here if w- if I tried.”

Bkinger grits her teeth. “You can’t change the past. Ozo made a choice and we have to keep going on in life. Brandon was something completely different.”

“…”

“Let’s be happy, like them. Let’s have fun, like them. Maybe they’re happier — where ever they are.”

So they walked, and did the same tomorrow, and after that, tomorrow.

They stumbled but kept a pace, it’s the least they could do — for themselves.

Tomorrow is another day.