Work Text:
Ryo had always been the quiet one. Even as kids, when Sakuya would drag him around the neighborhood on whatever adventure struck his fancy that day, Ryo would follow without much protest. It wasn't that he was particularly obedient or anything—he just liked being wherever Sakuya was. Simple as that.
He'd been the pretty one too, though he'd never seen it that way. Soft ginger curls that caught the light, delicate features that made old ladies coo over him at the grocery store, and skin so pale and smooth that Sakuya used to joke he looked like a porcelain doll. Ryo had always hated those comments, especially as they got older and he became more aware of how feminine they made him sound.
Sakuya, on the other hand, had grown into his looks in a way that made Ryo's chest ache with longing. Gone were the round bread cheeks of childhood, replaced by sharp jawlines and cheekbones that could cut glass. His voice had dropped to a rich baritone that sent shivers down Ryo's spine whenever he laughed or called his name. Where Ryo remained soft and ethereal, Sakuya had become all masculine angles and easy confidence.
Maybe that should have been his first clue.
He remembered being seven and watching Sakuya climb the old cherry tree behind the elementary school, all skinned knees and determined frowns. "Come on, Ryo!" he'd called down, leaves in his dark hair. "The view's amazing up here!"
Ryo had been perfectly content watching from below, but he'd climbed anyway. Not for the view—though Sakuya had been right about that—but because Sakuya had wanted him to. Because Sakuya's smile when he'd finally made it to that sturdy branch had been worth the scrapes on his palms.
That was the thing about Sakuya. He had this way of making everything seem possible, like the world was just waiting for them to grab it. And Ryo had been happy to let him lead, to be the steady presence at his side while Sakuya burned bright.
It had taken him embarrassingly long to realize what that feeling in his chest meant.
The first time Ryo heard Sakuya talk about "those people," they were in their second year of middle school. Some older student had been caught with another boy behind the gym, and the rumors had spread like wildfire.
"Gross," Sakuya had said, making a face as they walked home. "I don't get how guys can be into other guys. It's just... wrong, you know?"
Ryo had stumbled a little, his bag suddenly feeling heavier. "Wrong how?"
"Just unnatural or whatever. Like, that's not how it's supposed to work." Sakuya had shrugged, already moving on to complain about their math homework, but his words had lodged themselves somewhere deep in Ryo's chest.
That night, Ryo had lain awake staring at his ceiling, trying to convince himself that what he felt for Sakuya was just normal friendship. Best friends were supposed to want to spend all their time together, right? It was normal to know exactly how Sakuya took his coffee, to have memorized the way his nose crinkled when he laughed, to feel like something was missing when they weren't together.
It had to be normal.
But even as he told himself this, Ryo knew he was lying. Because normal friends didn't spend their nights imagining what it would be like to hold hands, to kiss, to whisper secrets in the dark. Normal friends didn't feel their hearts race when their best friend fell asleep against their shoulder during movies.
Normal friends didn't fall in love.
High school hadn't made anything easier. If anything, it had made everything worse, because now there were girls everywhere, and everyone expected Ryo to notice them.
"Dude, you're seriously hopeless," their classmate Tanaka had said one day at lunch, watching Ryo completely ignore the group of girls who'd been trying to get his attention all week. "When's the last time you even talked to a girl who wasn't asking for homework help?"
"I talk to girls," Ryo had protested weakly.
"Asking the convenience store lady if they have milk bread doesn't count." Sakuya had grinned, stealing a piece of Ryo's lunch without asking. It was such a casual gesture, so familiar, but it still made Ryo's pulse skip. "Seriously though, you should ask someone out. What about Miyuki from class 2-B? She's cute, and I heard she likes quiet types."
Ryo had made some noncommittal noise and changed the subject, but the conversation had stuck with him. Because how was he supposed to explain that he couldn't care less about Miyuki from class 2-B, or any girl for that matter? How was he supposed to tell his best friend that the only person he wanted to ask out was sitting right next to him, completely oblivious?
The worst part was that Sakuya seemed genuinely concerned about his nonexistent love life. He was always pointing out girls he thought Ryo might like, always trying to set him up or give him advice on how to be more confident. It was sweet in a way that made Ryo's chest ache, because it meant Sakuya cared about his happiness. But it also felt like a knife twisting deeper every time.
"You're gonna end up alone if you keep being so picky," Sakuya had said just last week, bumping their shoulders together as they walked to the train station. "I mean, I get that you're shy, but you can't expect someone to just fall into your lap, you know?"
If only he knew, Ryo had thought miserably.
The thing was, Sakuya never seemed to have the same problems. He dated casually, nothing serious, but there was always someone. A girl from their class, or from the photography club, or the sister of someone from soccer. He was charming without trying, had grown into those sharp features that made teachers do double-takes in the hallway, and that deep voice that made girls giggle when he said their names. He was the kind of person who could make anyone feel like they were the most interesting person in the room.
It should have made Ryo jealous. Maybe part of him was. But mostly it just made him sad, because it was proof of how impossible his feelings were. Sakuya liked girls—beautiful, confident girls who could match his newfound maturity. He'd made that abundantly clear over the years, in a dozen different ways. The casual comments about actresses he found attractive, the way his eyes would follow pretty girls in the hallway, the easy way he flirted with that voice that had gotten so much deeper, making them all blush and stammer.
And then there were the other comments. The ones that came up whenever the topic of same-sex relationships arose, which seemed to happen more often now that they were older. Sakuya was never cruel about it, exactly, but he made his opinions clear. It wasn't natural. It wasn't normal. It made him uncomfortable.
Each comment was like a small stone added to the wall Ryo was building around his heart. For protection, he told himself. To keep this thing contained before it could destroy the most important relationship in his life.
Because losing Sakuya's friendship would be worse than never having his love.
"Ryo, you're doing that thing again."
Ryo blinked, realizing he'd been staring out the classroom window for who knows how long. Sakuya was looking at him with that familiar expression of fond exasperation, chin propped on his hand.
"What thing?"
"That spacey thing where you zone out completely. Were you even listening to what I was saying?"
"Of course I was," Ryo lied, turning back to his notebook. They were supposed to be studying for their English exam, but Ryo's notes were mostly just random doodles and half-formed thoughts.
"Uh-huh. Then what did I just ask you?"
Ryo felt his ears grow warm. "You... asked about the English thing?"
Sakuya laughed, and the sound went straight to Ryo's chest like it always did—deeper now than it used to be, richer and more resonant in ways that made him want to close his eyes and just listen. "The English thing. Very specific. I asked if you wanted to come over after school to study. My mom's making katsu, and she always makes too much."
"Oh." Ryo tried to ignore the way his heart sped up at the casual invitation. It wasn't like it was unusual—they spent most afternoons together, either at Sakuya's house or his own. But lately, every moment alone with Sakuya felt charged with possibility and danger. "Yeah, sure."
"Cool." Sakuya's smile was bright and uncomplicated, and Ryo had to look away before he did something stupid like stare too long. "Fair warning though, I think Kenta's coming over too. Something about borrowing my history notes."
Ryo nodded, trying not to feel disappointed. It was better when other people were around anyway. Safer. Less chance of him saying something he'd regret.
But when they got to Sakuya's house that afternoon, Kenta was nowhere to be found. "He had to cancel," Sakuya explained, kicking off his shoes in the genkan. "Family thing or whatever. So it's just us."
Just us. Ryo swallowed hard and followed Sakuya upstairs to his room, trying to keep his breathing normal. It would be fine. They'd studied together a million times before. He could handle a few hours without making an idiot of himself.
Except Sakuya was in one of his restless moods, the kind where sitting still seemed physically impossible. He kept getting up to grab different books, to adjust the music, to comment on something he saw outside his window. And every time he moved, Ryo found himself watching, cataloging the easy way Sakuya inhabited his own space.
"You're being weird today," Sakuya said eventually, flopping down on his bed with their English textbook. "Weirder than usual, I mean. What's up?"
"Nothing's up." Ryo stayed seated at Sakuya's desk, putting as much distance between them as the small room would allow. "I'm just tired."
"Bullshit. I know your tired face, and this isn't it." Sakuya propped himself up on his elbows, studying Ryo with that focused attention that made him want to squirm. "Come on, what's going on? You've been acting strange for weeks."
Had he been that obvious? Ryo felt panic flutter in his chest. "I don't know what you mean."
"See, that right there. You won't even look at me." Sakuya's voice was patient but insistent. "Did I do something? Are you mad at me?"
"No!" The word came out too fast, too sharp. Ryo finally turned to face him, and immediately regretted it. Sakuya was looking at him with such genuine concern, such open affection, that it made his chest ache. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"Then what is it? Come on, Ryo. We tell each other everything."
Do we? Ryo thought. Because I've been keeping the biggest secret of my life from you for years.
The silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Sakuya sat up fully, his expression growing more worried by the second.
"Is it about dating?" he asked suddenly. "Look, I know I've been bugging you about it, but I just want you to be happy. I worry that you're too shy to put yourself out there, and—"
"I don't want to date anyone," Ryo interrupted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.
"What do you mean? Everyone wants to date someone eventually."
"Well, I don't." Ryo turned back to his textbook, staring blindly at the pages. "So you can stop worrying about it."
"That doesn't make sense." Sakuya's voice was confused, a little frustrated. "Are you asexual or something? Because that's fine, but you could have just said—"
"I'm not asexual." The words felt like they were being dragged out of him against his will. "I just... the people I like aren't available."
"Oh." There was a pause. "Is it someone I know?"
Ryo's hands clenched in his lap. This conversation was spiraling quickly into dangerous territory. "It doesn't matter."
"Of course it matters. If you like someone, you should tell them. What's the worst that could happen?"
What's the worst that could happen? Ryo almost laughed at the absurdity of the question. The worst that could happen was losing his best friend, his anchor, the most important person in his world. The worst that could happen was watching disgust replace affection in Sakuya's eyes.
"Some things are better left unsaid," Ryo managed.
"That's such bullshit, and you know it." Sakuya's voice was getting heated now, the way it did when he felt strongly about something. "You can't just pine away for someone without even trying. That's not living, that's just... existing."
"Maybe I'm fine with existing."
"Well, I'm not fine with watching you do it." Sakuya stood up abruptly, starting to pace the small space of his room. "God, Ryo, sometimes you're so frustrating. You act like you're content to just fade into the background forever, like you don't deserve to be happy."
"That's not—"
"It is, though. You do this thing where you convince yourself you're not worthy of good things before you even try for them. It drives me crazy."
Ryo stared at him, something hot and desperate building in his chest. "Why do you care so much?"
"Because you're my best friend!" Sakuya stopped pacing to look at him, and his expression was raw with frustration and something that might have been hurt. "Because I've known you since we were kids, and I hate watching you sabotage your own happiness. Because..."
He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter.
"Because I don't know what I'd do without you, okay? You're the most important person in my life, and when you're miserable, it makes me miserable too. So yeah, I care. Maybe too much, but I can't help it."
The words hit Ryo like a physical blow. The most important person in his life. If only Sakuya knew how he meant it, how desperately Ryo wished those words could mean something different.
"Just tell me who it is," Sakuya continued, moving closer. "Maybe I can help. Maybe it's not as hopeless as you think."
"You can't help." Ryo's voice came out strangled. "Trust me on that."
"How do you know if you won't even—"
"Because it's you!"
The words exploded out of him like a dam breaking, loud and raw in the sudden silence of the room. Sakuya froze, his eyes going wide with shock.
"It's you," Ryo repeated, quieter now but no less devastating. "It's always been you. Since we were kids, since before I even knew what it meant. So no, you can't help, and no, it's not better to say something, because now I've ruined everything and you're going to hate me and—"
He was crying. When had he started crying? The tears were hot on his cheeks, and his chest felt like it was caving in on itself. This was it. This was the moment he lost everything.
"Ryo." Sakuya's voice was barely a whisper.
"I'm sorry," Ryo gasped, scrambling to his feet. He needed to leave, needed to get out before he made this worse. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to tell you, I know you think it's disgusting and wrong and—"
"Stop." Sakuya caught his wrist as he tried to push past him toward the door. His grip was gentle but firm, and his face was pale with shock. "Just... stop. Please."
Ryo tried to pull away, but Sakuya held on. They stood there for a moment, frozen in the space between heartbeats, and Ryo could hear his own ragged breathing echoing in the quiet room.
"You're right," Sakuya said finally, and Ryo's heart plummeted. "I did think it was wrong. I thought... I don't know what I thought. But I was stupid, okay? I was ignorant and stupid and I hurt you without even knowing it."
Ryo looked up at him through his tears, confusion cutting through the pain. "What?"
"I'll take responsibility," Sakuya said, and his voice was steady despite the uncertainty in his eyes. "For being an idiot, for not seeing what was right in front of me. For making you feel like you had to hide this."
"You don't understand." Ryo shook his head frantically. "I'm in love with you. I have been for years. I know you don't feel the same way, I know you think it's sick, but—"
"I don't think it's sick." Sakuya's grip on his wrist tightened slightly. "I don't know what I think right now, but I don't think that. And I... I need time to figure this out, okay? But I'm not going anywhere. I promised we'd always be together, remember?"
Ryo did remember. They'd been ten, maybe eleven, sitting on the swings at the park near their elementary school. Sakuya had just moved to a new house across town, and Ryo had been terrified that the distance would change everything between them.
"Promise me something," Sakuya had said, his small hands gripping the swing chains tightly. "Promise me we'll never be apart for real. No matter what happens, no matter how old we get or where we go. Promise me we'll always be best friends."
And Ryo had promised, sealing it with a pinky swear that had felt more binding than any contract.
"I remember," Ryo whispered.
"Good." Sakuya's thumb brushed over his knuckles, a gesture so gentle it made fresh tears spill down Ryo's cheeks. "Then trust me, okay? Let me figure this out."
The days following their conversation blurred together in a haze of hyperawareness. Ryo found himself cataloging every interaction, searching for signs of what Sakuya might be feeling. A lingering glance during lunch could mean everything or nothing. The way Sakuya's fingers drummed against his desk could signal nervousness or simple boredom.
What made it worse was how different Sakuya seemed when they were alone versus when others were around. In private, there were moments of tentative closeness—a hand that lingered when passing him something, conversations that went deeper than they used to, looks that felt weighted with unspoken questions. But the moment they were in public, Sakuya maintained a careful distance that made Ryo's stomach clench with anxiety.
He tried to rationalize it. They were still figuring things out, still learning how to navigate this new territory. Of course Sakuya would want privacy while they worked through everything. But watching Sakuya laugh with their classmates while keeping that invisible barrier between them made Ryo feel like a guilty secret.
The late-night texts helped, though. Sakuya would send him random thoughts, questions about homework, observations about their teachers that made him smile despite his worries. It was during those quiet digital conversations that Ryo felt most connected to him, most hopeful that this thing between them might actually work.
"Is everything okay?" Ryo asked one afternoon as they walked to the train station. Sakuya had been particularly quiet, and there were shadows under his eyes that suggested he hadn't been sleeping well.
"Yeah, just thinking about stuff." Sakuya's smile was tired but genuine. "Hey, can I ask you something?"
Ryo's stomach clenched with anxiety. "Okay."
"How long have you known? About... you know. Being gay."
The question was so casual, so matter-of-fact, that it took Ryo a moment to process it. Sakuya had said the word—gay—without any of his usual discomfort or disgust.
"I don't know," Ryo said slowly. "I guess I always knew I was different, but I didn't have a word for it until middle school. And then I spent a long time trying to convince myself I was wrong."
Sakuya nodded thoughtfully. "That must have been lonely."
"It was." The admission slipped out before Ryo could stop it. "Especially when you would say things about... about people like me."
Sakuya flinched. "I'm sorry. I was an ass."
"You didn't know."
"That's not an excuse." They'd reached the platform, but instead of heading toward their usual spot, Sakuya guided them to a quieter area near the back. "I've been doing some reading. About LGBT stuff in Japan, about what it's like for people who are... who are gay."
Ryo stared at him in surprise. "You have?"
"Yeah. I've been reading about everything. The history, the discrimination, what it's like for gay couples here. I learned about how hard it is to come out, about the bullying and family rejection and workplace discrimination." Sakuya's voice was getting more intense. "I read about the suicide rates, Ryo. Did you know that LGBT youth in Japan are six times more likely to attempt suicide?"
Ryo felt his throat tighten. He hadn't expected Sakuya to dive so deep, to research the darker realities of what his life could become.
"I found forums and blogs and personal stories. I stayed up until 3 AM reading about people who lost their families, their jobs, their friends. People who lived in secret for decades because they were too afraid to be honest about who they are." Sakuya's eyes were bright with unshed tears. "And I realized how ignorant I've been. How much harder I probably made things for you without even knowing it."
"You don't have to apologize for not knowing something."
"Yes, I do. Because I should have known. I should have paid attention, should have noticed when my best friend was struggling." Sakuya turned to face him fully. "I should have made you feel safe enough to tell me."
The train arrived before Ryo could respond, but Sakuya's words echoed in his head during the entire ride home. Made you feel safe enough to tell me. As if it had been Ryo's right all along to be honest about who he was.
It was a radical thought, and one that made something tight in his chest begin to loosen.
"You're dating Sakuya now, aren't you?"
Ryo nearly choked on his rice. His older brother Riku was watching him with that knowing expression he'd perfected over years of being insufferably perceptive.
"What?" Ryo managed once he'd stopped coughing. "No, we're not dating."
"But you want to be." It wasn't a question.
Ryo looked around the kitchen frantically, but their parents were both still at work. It was just him and Riku, who was stirring his miso soup with infuriating calm.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Ryo." Riku's voice was patient but firm. "I've known you were gay since you were fourteen. And I've watched you pine after your best friend for years. So either something's changed recently, or you've gotten really bad at hiding it."
Ryo stared at him in shock. "You've known?"
"It wasn't exactly subtle. You've never shown interest in girls, you light up like a Christmas tree whenever Sakuya's around, and you have approximately zero poker face." Riku took a sip of his soup. "What I want to know is what's different now. You've been walking around like someone who's had both the best and worst news of his life."
"I told him," Ryo said quietly. "I didn't mean to, but I did."
"And?"
"And he said he'd take responsibility. He's been researching LGBT stuff and apologizing for things he said before. But we're not dating. We're just... figuring things out, I guess."
Riku was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice was gentle but serious.
"Ryo, I need you to be realistic about this."
"What do you mean?"
"You and Sakuya are seventeen. You're still kids, even if you don't feel like it. People your age... they're still figuring out who they are, what they want. Sometimes they think they want something because they feel guilty, or because they don't want to hurt someone they care about."
Ryo's stomach dropped. "You think he's just feeling sorry for me."
"I think he's a good kid who loves you and doesn't want to lose you. But loving someone as a friend and being in love with them are two different things." Riku leaned forward, his expression serious. "I just don't want you to get your hopes up too high. Sakuya might try dating you because he feels like he owes it to you, but that doesn't mean he'll actually develop romantic feelings. And if he doesn't..."
"If he doesn't, he'll find a girl eventually." Ryo finished the thought, his voice hollow.
"Maybe. Probably. And when that happens, it's going to hurt like hell."
The words hit Ryo like a physical blow, not because they were cruel, but because they rang with truth. He'd been so focused on the miracle of Sakuya's acceptance that he hadn't let himself think about what came next. What happened when the guilt wore off and Sakuya realized he was straight after all?
"I should break up with him," Ryo said suddenly. "Before we even really start. It would be easier for both of us."
"Maybe," Riku said quietly. "But that's not really my call to make."
That night, Ryo lay awake staring at his ceiling, his brother's words echoing in his head. He thought about all the conversations they'd had about Sakuya's dating life, all the girls he'd shown interest in over the years. He thought about the careful way Sakuya had been treating him lately, like he was something fragile that might break.
Maybe Riku was right. Maybe this was just delayed guilt, a misguided attempt to fix years of casual homophobia. Maybe Sakuya was forcing himself to consider something that went against every instinct he had, and maybe that wasn't fair to either of them.
By morning, Ryo had made his decision.
He'd planned to wait until they were somewhere private, but the words started spilling out of him as soon as they met up at the train station before school.
"We should stop this," Ryo said without preamble.
Sakuya, who had been in the middle of complaining about their upcoming chemistry test, stopped mid-sentence. "Stop what?"
"This. Us. Whatever we're doing." Ryo couldn't look at him directly. "It's not fair to you."
"What are you talking about?"
"You're straight, Sakuya. You've always been straight. And I put you in an impossible position by telling you how I feel." The words were tumbling out faster now, like he had to get them all out before he lost his nerve. "You feel guilty because of things you said before, and you think you owe me something, but you don't. You don't have to force yourself to be something you're not just because—"
"Ryo, stop."
"—because I was stupid enough to fall in love with my best friend. This isn't your responsibility to fix. I can handle my own feelings, and you shouldn't have to—"
"Ryo."
"—pretend to be interested in me when you're obviously not. It's not fair to either of us, and eventually you'll meet some girl and realize what a mistake this all was, and then—"
The words were cut off abruptly as Sakuya grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, not hard, but enough to make him focus.
"Will you shut up for five seconds and let me talk?" Sakuya's voice was frustrated, almost angry. "God, you're so determined to have this conversation for both of us."
Ryo stared at him in surprise. They were standing in the middle of the busy platform, commuters flowing around them like water around stones, but Sakuya didn't seem to care who might be listening.
"You want to know what I think?" Sakuya continued, his grip on Ryo's shoulders tightening. "I think you're scared. I think you finally told me the truth, and now you're panicking because you might actually get what you've wanted for years."
"That's not—"
"It is, though. You're so convinced that this is one-sided that you won't even give me a chance to figure out how I feel."
"How you feel?" Ryo's voice came out strangled. "Sakuya, you're straight. You've dated girls. You've told me a dozen times that you think being gay is unnatural."
"I was wrong about that. I was ignorant and stupid and wrong." Sakuya's eyes were bright with an emotion Ryo couldn't identify. "And maybe I am straight. Or maybe I'm not. Maybe sexuality isn't as black and white as I thought it was. But I'll never know if you keep making decisions for both of us."
"I'm trying to make this easier—"
"Easier for who? Because it sure as hell isn't easier for me to watch you give up on something before we've even tried." Sakuya's voice cracked slightly. "And it's not easier for me to know that you think I'm so shallow that I'd be ashamed of you."
Ryo's eyes widened. "That's not what I think—"
"Isn't it? You keep acting like I'm going to wake up one day and realize what a huge mistake this is. Like I'm keeping you a secret because I'm embarrassed." Sakuya's grip on his shoulders tightened. "Do you really think I'm that much of a coward?"
"No, but—"
"But nothing. Yes, I've been careful about how we act in public. Yes, I've been distracted and weird lately. But it's not because I'm ashamed of you, Ryo. It's because I'm trying to figure out how to do this right. I'm trying to learn about what your life has been like, what our life could be like. I'm trying to understand what it means to date a guy in a country where that's still not fully accepted."
Ryo stared at him in shock. "You've been researching that?"
"Of course I have. I've been reading everything I can find about LGBT rights in Japan, about what gay couples face, about how to be a supportive partner." Sakuya's cheeks were flushed with emotion. "I've been trying to educate myself so I don't screw this up, and you think I'm planning to dump you for some girl." "Do you remember what I promised you when we were kids?"
"That we'd never be apart," Ryo whispered.
"That's right. And do you remember what you promised me?"
Ryo shook his head, confused.
"You promised the same thing. You promised me that no matter what happened, we'd always be together." Sakuya's hands slid from his shoulders to his wrists, holding him gently but firmly. "So don't you dare try to break that promise now just because you're scared."
"I'm not scared, I'm being realistic—"
"Bullshit." The word came out sharp enough to make Ryo flinch. "You're terrified that I might actually care about you the way you care about me, because then you'd have to stop seeing yourself as the pathetic one-sided crush and start believing that you might deserve to be loved back."
The words hit like a slap, not because they were mean, but because they were true. Ryo felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and he tried to pull away, but Sakuya held on.
"I'm not saying this is going to be easy," Sakuya continued, his voice gentler now. "I'm not saying I have all the answers, or that I'm not confused as hell about what I'm feeling. But I am saying that you matter to me. You've always mattered to me. And maybe that's enough to start with."
"Sakuya..." Ryo's voice was barely a whisper.
"So here's what we're going to do." Sakuya glanced around the platform, then back at Ryo with sudden determination. "We're going to skip school today."
"What?" Ryo stared at him in shock. "We can't skip school."
"Why not? When's the last time either of us missed a day?" Sakuya was already pulling out his phone to check the train schedule. "Come on. We'll go somewhere quiet where we can actually talk without worrying about who might hear us."
"But we have that chemistry test—"
"Fuck the chemistry test." The casual profanity was so unlike Sakuya that Ryo's protests died in his throat. "This is more important."
Before Ryo could argue further, Sakuya was leading him toward a different platform, away from their usual route to school. And despite every instinct telling him this was a bad idea, Ryo followed.
Because Sakuya was right. This was more important.
They ended up at a small park in a quiet residential area, the kind of place where salarymen came to eat lunch and mothers brought their toddlers to play. At this hour, with most people at work or school, it was nearly deserted.
Sakuya led them to a bench under a large zelkova tree, its branches providing a canopy of green shade. For a moment, they sat in silence, watching the few other park visitors go about their morning routines.
"I've never skipped school before," Ryo said finally.
"I know. Neither have I." Sakuya's smile was slightly nervous. "Feels kind of liberating, doesn't it?"
"Feels like we're going to get in trouble."
"Probably. But some things are worth getting in trouble for."
They fell quiet again. Now that they were here, away from the urgency of the train platform, Ryo felt awkward and uncertain. What were they supposed to talk about? How were they supposed to navigate this strange new territory between friendship and something more?
"Can I ask you something?" Sakuya said eventually.
"Okay."
"When did you know? That you were in love with me, I mean. Not just that you were gay, but specifically that you had feelings for me."
Ryo thought about it, trying to pinpoint the exact moment when friendship had transformed into something deeper.
"I think I was in my second year of middle school," he said slowly. "You had gotten sick, remember? Some kind of flu that kept you out of school for almost two weeks. And I was so miserable without you that my mom actually asked if I was getting sick too."
Sakuya nodded. "I remember. You brought me homework every day, even though you were terrified of catching whatever I had."
"That's when I realized it wasn't just friendship. Because I would rather have risked getting sick than go another day without seeing you." Ryo's cheeks warmed with the memory. "I spent that whole two weeks trying to convince myself it was normal to miss your best friend that much, but deep down I knew it wasn't."
"And you never said anything."
"How could I? You were always talking about girls you thought were cute, always asking me about which girls I liked. And whenever the topic of gay people came up, you made it pretty clear how you felt about it."
Sakuya winced. "I really was an ass."
"You were a kid. We both were." Ryo picked at a loose thread on his uniform pants. "I don't blame you for not knowing something I was trying so hard to hide."
"But I should have paid more attention. I should have noticed that you never actually showed interest in any of the girls I pointed out, or that you got weird whenever I brought up dating."
"Maybe. But it's not like I was dropping obvious hints."
"Weren't you, though?" Sakuya turned to face him more fully. "Looking back, there were so many signs. The way you always remembered little details about things I mentioned in passing. How you never seemed to mind when I canceled plans with you to go on dates, but you got quiet and withdrawn afterward. The way you looked at me sometimes, like..."
He trailed off, his cheeks flushing slightly.
"Like what?"
"Like you were memorizing me. Like you were trying to hold onto something you thought you were going to lose."
Ryo felt his breath catch. Had he really been that obvious?
"I was," he admitted quietly. "I was always terrified you'd figure it out and decide you didn't want to be friends anymore. So I tried to be satisfied with whatever you were willing to give me."
"That must have been exhausting."
"It was." The words came out more tired than he'd intended. "But it seemed better than the alternative."
"Which was what? Telling me the truth?"
"The alternative was losing you completely." Ryo looked down at his hands. "At least when you didn't know, I still got to be part of your life. I got to be important to you, even if it wasn't in the way I wanted."
Sakuya was quiet for so long that Ryo started to worry he'd said something wrong. When he finally looked up, Sakuya was staring at him with an expression he couldn't read.
"You really think I would have thrown away our entire friendship just because you were gay?"
"I didn't know. But I wasn't willing to risk it."
"God, Ryo." Sakuya ran a hand through his hair. "I hate that I made you feel like you had to hide such a huge part of yourself from me. I hate that my stupid, ignorant comments made you think I'd abandon you."
"You couldn't have known—"
"Stop making excuses for me." Sakuya's voice was firm. "I was wrong, and I hurt you, and I need to own that if we're going to move forward."
"Move forward?" Ryo's heart skipped. "What do you mean?"
Sakuya took a deep breath, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his uniform jacket. "I mean that I've been thinking. A lot. About you, about us, about things I never let myself consider before."
"And?"
"And I keep coming back to the same conclusion." Sakuya met his eyes, and there was something vulnerable and determined in his expression. "I don't want to lose you, Ryo. Not as a friend, not as... whatever this could become. You're the most important person in my life, and that's not going to change just because I'm figuring out that maybe the way I care about you isn't as simple as I thought it was."
Ryo felt like the ground was shifting beneath him. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I don't know if I'm gay or straight or something in between. I'm saying I've never thought about guys that way before, but I've also never had a guy tell me he's been in love with me for years." Sakuya's cheeks were pink, but he didn't look away. "I'm saying that when I imagine my future, you're always in it. And maybe that means something."
"Maybe?" The word came out smaller than Ryo intended.
"Okay, definitely. It definitely means something." Sakuya's smile was nervous but genuine. "I just need time to figure out what, exactly. And I need you to give me that time instead of making the decision for both of us."
Ryo stared at him, hardly daring to breathe. "You really want to try this? Even though you don't know how you feel?"
"Especially because I don't know how I feel. Because the not knowing is driving me crazy, and the only way to figure it out is to try." Sakuya reached over and took his hand, lacing their fingers together. "Is that okay with you?"
The touch sent electricity up Ryo's arm, and he had to resist the urge to squeeze Sakuya's hand too tightly. "You don't have to force yourself—"
"I'm not forcing anything. I want this. I want to try." Sakuya's thumb brushed over his knuckles. "I want to see what it's like to hold your hand and not pretend it's just because we're best friends. I want to figure out why the thought of you dating someone else makes me want to punch something."
"It does?"
"Yeah, it does. Which probably should have been my first clue." Sakuya laughed softly. "I always told myself it was because I was protective of you, because you're shy and I didn't want anyone taking advantage. But lately I've been wondering if it was something else entirely."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, hands linked, watching an elderly man feed pigeons near the fountain. It felt surreal, like something Ryo had dreamed so many times that he couldn't quite believe it was real.
"So what happens now?" Ryo asked eventually.
"Now we figure it out together. Take it slow, see how it feels." Sakuya squeezed his hand. "No pressure, no expectations. Just... us."
"Just us," Ryo repeated, and for the first time in years, the words didn't carry the weight of longing and impossibility.
They talked for hours after that, sitting in their shaded corner of the park. About everything and nothing, about their fears and hopes and the strange new dynamic between them. Sakuya asked questions—about what it had been like to grow up knowing he was different, about the loneliness and fear and self-doubt. And Ryo found himself answering honestly, without the careful editing he'd grown so used to.
It felt like breathing after holding his breath for years.
The next few weeks passed in a strange, wonderful haze. To the outside world, nothing had changed. They still walked to school together, still ate lunch side by side, still spent most afternoons doing homework in one of their bedrooms. But underneath the familiar routines, everything was different.
Sakuya paid attention now in ways he never had before. He noticed when Ryo got quiet and withdrawn, noticed when something made him smile or laugh. He asked questions about things he'd never thought to ask before—what Ryo's favorite movies were, what he thought about late at night, what made him happy.
And slowly, carefully, they began to explore what it meant to be more than friends.
It started with small things. Sakuya would let his hand linger when he passed Ryo something, or sit just a little closer than necessary when they were studying. Ryo would catch him staring sometimes, a thoughtful expression on his face, and when their eyes met Sakuya wouldn't look away like he used to.
"Is this weird for you?" Ryo asked one afternoon. They were in Sakuya's room, supposedly working on a history project, but Sakuya had been distracted all day.
"A little," Sakuya admitted. "But not bad weird. Just... different weird. Like learning a new language or something."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I keep noticing things about you that I never let myself notice before. Like how you bite your lip when you're concentrating, or how your eyes get this little crinkle when you're trying not to laugh at something." Sakuya's cheeks were pink. "And I keep wondering what it would be like to..."
He trailed off, looking embarrassed.
"What?"
"Nothing. It's stupid."
"Tell me."
Sakuya was quiet for a long moment, staring down at his textbook. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"I keep wondering what it would be like to kiss you."
The words hit Ryo like a physical shock. He'd imagined it so many times over the years, but hearing Sakuya say it out loud made it real in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.
"You do?"
"Yeah. Is that... is that okay?"
"More than okay," Ryo managed.
They looked at each other across the small space of Sakuya's room—Ryo with his soft ginger curls catching the afternoon light, cheeks flushed pink with emotion, and Sakuya with those sharp features that had replaced his childhood roundness, his voice when he finally spoke low and careful. But neither of them moved, and after a moment the tension broke as Sakuya's phone buzzed with a message from his mom about dinner.
But the moment lingered, a promise of something waiting just around the corner.
The kiss, when it finally happened, was nothing like the passionate, cinematic moments Ryo had imagined over the years. It was awkward and tentative and lasted maybe three seconds, but it was perfect in its imperfection.
They'd been walking home from school, taking the long way because neither of them wanted the day to end. The cherry trees were in bloom, petals drifting down like snow, and the late afternoon light was golden and warm.
"Ryo," Sakuya said suddenly, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk.
"Yeah?"
"I want to try something. If that's okay."
Ryo's heart started racing. "Okay."
Sakuya stepped closer, close enough that Ryo could see the nervousness in his dark eyes. He lifted one hand to cup Ryo's cheek, his touch gentle and uncertain.
"Tell me if you want me to stop," he whispered.
And then he leaned in and pressed his lips to Ryo's, soft and warm and real.
It was over almost before it began. Sakuya pulled back, his cheeks flushed and his breathing slightly uneven, and for a moment they just stared at each other.
"How was that?" Sakuya asked, and there was something vulnerable in his voice that made Ryo's chest ache.
"Perfect," Ryo said honestly.
Sakuya's smile was bright and relieved. "Good. Because I'd really like to do it again sometime."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Definitely yeah."
They walked the rest of the way home in comfortable silence, hands linked, both of them trying to process what had just happened. And if they were both smiling like idiots, well, nobody had to know but them.
That night, Ryo lay in bed replaying the kiss over and over in his mind. It had been everything and nothing like he'd imagined—more awkward but also more meaningful, because it was real. Because it was Sakuya choosing to try, choosing to explore something that scared him but that he wanted badly enough to push through the fear.
It felt like the beginning of something beautiful and terrifying and absolutely worth the risk.
For the first time in years, Ryo fell asleep without the familiar ache of longing in his chest. Instead, there was warmth and hope and the lingering memory of soft lips against his own.
Maybe Riku was wrong. Maybe this wasn't just guilt or obligation. Maybe, just maybe, it was the beginning of something real.
And if it wasn't—well, Ryo would deal with that if and when it happened. For now, he was going to hold onto this moment, this perfect, imperfect beginning, and let himself believe in the possibility of happily ever after.
Because some risks were worth taking, even if you didn't know how they'd turn out.
Especially then.