Chapter Text
Satomi finds out when Kyouji takes him to dinner and burns his mouth on the food.
Really, he noticed that Kyouji had been quieter than usual that day, uttering not a single peep or teasing comment. When he spotted Satomi at the station entrance, he smiled, waved, and brushed some dust off Satomi's shoulder before leading him to the restaurant he wanted to check out. I thought you’d like this place; my buddy recommended the yakitori, his LINE message read. Satomi thumbs-up’ed the text, quietly relieved that Kyouji picked up the habit of reaching out every few months to assure Satomi he wasn’t dead.
Now, however, he knows that Kyouji dying isn’t the only thing he should be afraid of. Clutching a chicken skewer in his hand, Satomi gapes at Kyouji, only catching a glimpse of his severed tongue before he clamps his jaw shut and smiles serenely at him.
Satomi’s throat feels dry as he speaks. “Kyouji-san, what in the world…?” He hesitates, barely even registering what he just saw. Instead, he points at Kyouji’s mouth in a silent ask.
Kyouji hums nonchalantly and pulls out his phone. I left the yakuza, he types. They took my tongue. He had the nerve to add a smiley emoji at the end – Satomi felt dizzy at the sight.
“You–!!”
He suddenly slumps forward, the meager amount of strength he had draining from his body. His face felt numb and he had no idea what he looked like; hopefully none of the restaurant-goers were looking. Unbelievably, he felt a rush of boiling hot emotion in his core, white-hot anger and unexpected grief nearly overtaking him. Kyouji immediately moves closer and slides a warm hand onto Satomi’s back.
I offered my pinky, but it wasn’t enough. I guess since I did really badly in the last karaoke battle, kumicho decided this was ample punishment.
Satomi winced as Kyouji forced his phone back into his periphery. He watched the text cursor blink at him mockingly, emphasizing Kyouji’s words, his barely-anything explanation. He rubs his sore eyes and looks at Kyouji with an unreadable expression.
Forget this. He slams his palms against the table, flagging the nearest waiter down. Without bothering to even look behind him, he leaves Kyouji to handle their check as he rushes outside, the winter breeze nipping at his hot skin.
___
“What are you going to do now?”
Fiddling with his takeout box in his lap, Satomi sighs into the cold air of a nearby park. It’s small, quiet, and no one is outside at this time during a weekday; without the usual chatter of people in the air, Satomi feels like he’s entered a limbo-esque plane of existence.
Kyouji pauses before shrugging off the question, because of course he does. His tired eyes trace the playground’s structure, the cloudy weather erasing any harsh lines or shadows from the world. To Satomi, the only things that were real in that moment were the bench underneath him and the broad silhouette of Kyouji by his side. Everything else felt fuzzy around the edges, as if they were only half real. Kyouji lazily types something into his phone.
Dunno. Gotta be something I can do without speaking. Maybe a circus clown or a mime.
This time, Satomi nearly throws Kyouji’s phone out of his hand. He grits his teeth, shoves the phone back into Kyouji’s palm, and stands up. He doesn’t look up as he begins walking, speeding up his pace as he hears Kyouji’s anxious footsteps behind him.
“I can’t deal with you right now," he grits out. "Go back to your stupid snack bar or hotel or take the train back home. If you want to act like an idiot then leave me out of it.”
He hears a rapid flurry of footsteps behind him. Before he could react, he feels a strong hand grasp his shoulder, spinning him back around–
“– Don’t touch me–!”
But before he can escape, Kyouji pulls Satomi into his arms. In his outburst, Satomi pushes Kyouji with all his might but the big, stupid oaf doesn’t budge an inch. He smacks his chest, involuntarily letting out a tiny cry, resisting when Kyouji wraps both arms around him, murmuring softly into his ear, his entire body crushing into Satomi like a weighted blanket.
As Satomi unsuccessfully tries to worm his way out of Kyouji’s iron grip, he hears a faint vibration from inside Kyouji’s chest. It’s so quiet that Satomi thinks he imagines it, but the unmistakable sound of Kyouji’s whispers reach his ringing ears.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he hears, the syllables slightly slurred and choppy. Over and over again, Satomi barely recognizes the words anymore as they simply turn into sounds.
Satomi doesn’t cry. He hangs onto Kyouji tightly and stops trying to feel anything at all.