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If one were to ask Kiroku what he liked about his crush, Akuta, he would say “everything”, and it wouldn't have been a lie. If he had to name one thing he liked about Akuta, in the past, he'd have said “his positivity”.
But that was in the past, and now was now.
When had his desires become so twisted? It had started innocently enough. He couldn't recall exactly when he'd fallen in love–perhaps it was when Akuta had praised his art in Shodoshima. Or maybe it was when they'd laughed together on the school's roof after their first hospitality live. He couldn't pinpoint when, but before he knew it, he'd fallen hard for the boy.
And yet despite being unable to recall when he'd fallen in love, he could state exactly the moment these twisted desires began.
He could remember the heat and steam within the restroom walls, the warm water against his skin, the way his legs brushed up against Akuta's as they sat, cramped into a single small tub. Akuta was before him, bare, vulnerable. His hands grasped tightly upon Kiroku's arm, his eyes wide as he cried out in desperation, his voice shaky, unstable.
“–But I don't want you to hate me!”
Kiroku had never seen Akuta so desperate. He'd never thought that he would have Akuta of all people, begging for him to not hate him, to not leave him, so utterly desperate for his friendship. Or rather, it was not their friendship that Akuta was desperate for, it was Kiroku himself. At that moment, Akuta needed him, and he would do whatever it took to keep Kiroku in his life.
It was a sad sight. It was sad to think that Akuta would think that Kiroku would be willing to abandon him over an argument like this. Of course, Kiroku's feelings had been hurt, but that wasn't enough to make him want to leave. Kiroku wasn’t the type to walk out on a friendship like this, and Akuta knew that full well, yet–irrationally–he still believed that Kiroku would do so anyway.
Throughout their time planning Akuta’s feature tour together, Kiroku had begun to notice his insecurities, little by little. It was like fitting a puzzle together, the puzzle that was “Akuta Isotake”. And in that moment, it felt as if everything had finally clicked into place. He’d finally found what was beneath those layers of positivity, if one could call it that anymore. This was the real Akuta, a typical, yet terribly lonely boy. Kiroku had originally loved Akuta’s positivity, his ability to “jump” no matter how hard things got, but he didn't mind this side of Akuta either.
It didn't matter if Akuta wasn't actually as positive as he’d initially thought. Kiroku would protect him, keep Akuta safe, so that he'd never have to “jump” again. It wasn't Akuta’s positivity that he loved, it was Akuta himself, just as it was not Kiroku’s friendship that Akuta loved, but Kiroku himself. Negative or positive, Kiroku was simply happy to have Akuta by his side, and surely Akuta felt the same.
So it had occurred to Kiroku then, as Akuta trembled, still clutching onto his arm, his eyes teary, that he looked quite lovely like this, insecurities and all. He'd realized it, how twisted his feelings were becoming, but anyone would feel this way if they were to be looked at by their beloved in such a pathetic, desperate way. It felt good to be so wanted, even if it wasn't in the way he needed Akuta to want him.
Then, another thought struck him. Even if Akuta didn't love him romantically, wouldn't he still agree to date Kiroku? Would someone as insecure as Akuta dare to reject Kiroku, when he already felt so strongly that Kiroku would leave him over an argument? The answer was obvious.
Perhaps Kiroku was a bad person for thinking that, and a worse person for acting on it.
The sound of raindrops pelting against glass filled the near empty clubroom, and Kiroku paused, his eyes drifting to the window for the first time in what felt like hours. He set down his paintbrush upon his palette, positioned by his blazer, folded up neatly upon a paint stained chair. Kiroku allowed for his hands to drop to his lap, disregarding the streaks of paint across his dirty uniform. He'd stayed after school for club activities, and he’d been immersed in his painting. Before he knew it, the rest of his clubmates had already left to go home, and he’d been left alone.
…Not that he minded. It was much easier to draw in an empty classroom, where he knew no one was watching or judging him. Kiroku had gotten used to his usual life being loud and hectic as of late, but that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy the bouts of silence in between. Once he returned to HAMA House, he knew he would be greeted by many people and a lively atmosphere. He liked that too.
However, perhaps he’d overstayed. Standing up, he made his way to the door, opening it just a peek to look out into the hall. As expected, it was desolate, devoid of students. Surely, there must’ve been at least a couple of students cooped up in their clubrooms as well, even if they weren’t loitering about in the halls, but it still remained that none of them would be going home any time soon.
After all, it was pouring outside. They’d all be trapped here for at least another hour if the weather was generous. Pulling out his phone, Kiroku blinked as he was met with a missed call from Nanaki. Luckily, it hadn’t been long since he’d missed it, and he walked back to his seat in front of the canvas, dialing Nanaki back.
Nanaki, unlike him, was quick to pick up. “Oh–hey, sorry for the call. I just noticed that you weren’t home yet, so I was a little worried…are you still at school?”
So Nanaki was worried about him…that was sweet of him. Kiroku felt blessed to have such a kind friend and roommate, and he felt a small smile pulling at his lips as he nodded, although he knew Nanaki could not see it. “Mm…I’m at school. I was really absorbed in drawing…so I didn’t notice that it was raining.” It went without saying that now it was too late to try to do anything–he’d have no choice but to wait it out.
There was a pause on the other line, before Nanaki chuckled, “That sounds just like you. If it’s like that, then you’ll probably be stuck at school for another hour, right? I’ll save you and Akuta some dinner.”
“Isotake?” Kiroku blinked, “Is Isotake also out?”
“Hm? Yeah, I just called him a sec ago and he told me that he was trying to film something on the way home from school…actually, he was on a call with me when it started pouring super hard. You should’ve heard how frantic he was…dude nearly destroyed my eardrums with the way he started screaming on call.”
Kiroku giggled, hearing Nanaki sigh deeply. Hearing his laugh, Nanaki let out a small defeated laugh of his own, before continuing, “Anyway, he wasn’t too far from Asunaro when it started pouring, so apparently he high tailed it back to school. I thought you guys might’ve been together, but I guess not…I’ll send him a text to let him know you’re also at school so you guys can chill for a bit until the rain subsides.”
They chatted for a moment longer, before Nanaki hung up, and Kiroku was left to his lonesome once more. He supposed his priority now was to clean up the clubroom and find Akuta, wherever he was. He wondered if the boy had made it back to school yet–surely…he had, right? Glancing outside the window, Kiroku sincerely hoped that Akuta was not outside at the moment. He could risk catching a cold if he were outside for this long.
Luckily for Kiroku, he didn’t have to wait very long to find out where Akuta was. It hadn’t even been a minute before the art club’s door swung open with a loud bang, startling Kiroku. The door had opened violently enough for his paintbrush to fall, and he hurriedly moved to catch it before it touched the ground. There stood Akuta, his hand gripping the doorframe, a puddle forming at his feet as he waved happily, “Kiroku! I came to hangout!”
“I-Iso…” Kiroku could only let out a noise as he watched his mess of a boyfriend march into the classroom, wreaking havoc (leaving puddles) in his wake. “Isotake…you’re leaving…puddles…stay still,” He pursed his lips, motioning for Akuta to stay still as he moved to grab some emergency towels from the cabinet, “...You’re completely drenched…did you just get here?”
Akuta gasped, as if realizing for the first time that he was soaked from head to toe, “Oh shit, my bad! Yeah, I just got here. I was trying to film this wild scene where a bird zooms down from the sky and destroys the entire neighborhood, but then it started raining like crazy, so then I was like “Oh fuck!!!!” and I ran back to school as fast as I could to protect my baby (my camera). But like, it’s all cool because now I can film a cooler scene!”
“Wouldn’t it be epic if the ending of the movie went like BAM–the bird destroyed everything, but it’s all for the sake of mother nature and wildlife conquering the world again?! And then there’s like a huge rainbow in the sky at the end of the film…rainbows always come after storms like this. It would look so cool.” He rambled excitedly, his hands flailing about as if to convey the coolness of the scene he had in mind. Then, he paused, smiling cheekily, “Oh also, I got a text from Nanaki that you were at school so of course I beelined it here! Aren’t you stoked to see me?”
“Mhm,” Kiroku smiled, feeling a squeeze in his chest, seeing how adorably energetic Akuta was. He did like the silence, but he loved listening to Akuta’s voice more. Truthfully, Kiroku wouldn’t have minded looking at Akuta all day either. He could never tire of seeing him, listening to his voice. Holding up the fluffy spare towel he’d brought, he tilted his head, “Isotake, do you want to…leave your clothes over there to dry…?”
It wasn’t like there was any sunlight to help dry out Akuta’s uniform, but setting it aside would definitely beat wearing it around. Without much thought, Akuta nodded, shrugging off his blazer as he pulled his hoodie over his head. Kiroku watched as Akuta halfheartedly wrung out his uniform, and although he’d tried his best to avert his gaze, his eyes lingered upon Akuta’s form nonetheless.
Akuta looked small without his clothes on, thin and pale. Droplets ran down his skin, reminding him of that particular evening in the bath, when Kiroku had realized just how frail Akuta actually was. He was frail and cute, enough for Kiroku to crush him under his palm. Even now, that sentiment had not changed. Recalling Akuta’s eyes then, how his touch felt hot against Kiroku’s skin, Kiroku could feel the knot in his stomach tighten, twisting as he finally tore his eyes away, feeling his cheeks burn with a feeling he couldn’t quite describe.
Whether it was love or something more disgusting, more warped than that, he couldn’t say.
“Kiroku?”
Akuta’s voice snapped Kiroku out of his thoughts, and he turned back to his boyfriend, the heat in his cheeks not yet subsiding. Akuta remained oblivious to where Kiroku’s mind had drifted, smiling innocently as he held up his blazer and hoodie (thankfully, Akuta had forgoed drying off his pants, as they weren’t as wet in comparison to his top and socks…also, Akuta admittedly had half a mind to consider the consequences of running around in one’s boxers on school grounds. He didn’t even know how he’d explain that one if another student were to peek into the art club’s window), “Should I put these in the back?”
“Oh…sure. I can put them…in the back for you. Stay still for…a moment,” Kiroku replied, his voice soft as he moved to dry Akuta’s hair with the towel he’d been holding. It was a good thing students in the art club were always spilling paint on themselves–that meant that they always had spare towels, conveniently enough. As Kiroku took his time drying Akuta up, he realized that he’d accidentally left small streaks of paint in the boy's hair. Evidently, he hadn’t had the time to clean up before Akuta came, and he’d forgotten about his paint stained hands. “Ah…I got paint on you.”
“Hm? ‘S okay, I can wash it off later when we get home. Besides, I actually kinda like the smell of paint anyway, it smells like you,” Akuta laughed, his eyes, which had been squeezed shut, opening to look up at Kiroku. There was a twinkle in his gaze as he smiled sweetly, and Kiroku felt his heart skip a beat, his hands tightening around the towel, moving before he could think to stop himself.
He leaned down, catching Akuta’s lips in a chaste kiss. It was nothing more than a brush of their lips, hardly classifying as a kiss, but it was one nonetheless. Although it was barely a kiss, it was enough to satiate Kiroku for the time being. If Kiroku were being honest, he’d never actually properly kissed Akuta before–it was silly, but they’d only ever shared chaste, brief kisses.
He couldn't bring himself to ask for more–perhaps that was his guilty subconscious speaking. Kiroku had considered himself a bad person for stealing Akuta's kisses despite knowing full well his feelings weren't returned, but he could never go through with giving his boyfriend a “proper” kiss. He guessed that made him halfhearted, but certain thoughts always lingered in the back of his mind whenever he even so much as considered the thought.
What if Akuta hated it? There was certainly no way he could like kissing someone he wasn't in love with. What if Akuta pushed him away? What if Kiroku asking for more was the last straw, and Akuta would come to his senses, realizing that this relationship was better off broken. What then? He couldn't have that, so he couldn't press Akuta on the matter.
Akuta remained still, turning his head to stare out the window, before he smiled sheepishly, idly wringing his wet clothes, “You do that a lot, huh?” He didn’t seem unhappy with the kiss, nor was he jumping for joy, his attitude one of quiet acceptance. Resignation was probably better than dislike.
Kiroku blinked. “I only do it…because, I think…you're cute.” Taking the clothes from Akuta's hands, he moved to place them upon the back counter to dry. “...Sorry.” Despite his apologies, the both of them knew that he would do it again, like many times before. What use was there in apologizing now? If he really wanted to apologize, then he should’ve stopped this altogether. But he wouldn’t, and neither would Akuta.
“Cute…you do call me that a lot too.” Akuta didn't comment further, his voice trailing off, his gaze distant, as if he were deep in thought. Wrapping his arms around himself, he shuddered, “It's kinda cold in here. You guys don't happen to have any spare uniforms in the clubroom, do you?”
Indeed, it was a little chilly, but one could attribute the coldness to the fact that Akuta was wearing no shirt after having just been drenched in rainwater.
Kiroku shook his head, “I don't…think so.” If they wanted a spare uniform, they'd be better off going into the nurse's office to find one. However, Kiroku wasn't keen on leaving this classroom, nor was he willing to allow Akuta to walk around in this state, so he decided it would be for the best that he did not bring it up.
Realizing that there was nothing to be done about his lack of uniform, Akuta didn’t press further. Whether he had realized that he’d be able to find a spare uniform in the nurse’s office or not, he didn’t say, but if he had come to that conclusion, he didn’t comment on it. Kiroku found it hard to believe he’d be here voluntarily if he’d known. Tossing the towel he'd been using aside onto a nearby chair, Akuta dramatically sighed, “At this rate, I'm gonna die of hypothermia!” A pause, “Did you catch that, Kiroku? I'm gonna die of hypothermia.”
“Is that possible in this situation…?” Kiroku murmured in wonder, more to himself than Akuta. Before he could come up with half a decent response, he felt his breath being knocked out of his lungs as a figure rammed straight into his chest. The knot in his stomach twisted once more as his eyes widened, looking down at what, or who had made himself comfortable in Kiroku's arms, “I-Isotake?”
Akuta was snuggled up to Kiroku’s chest, his arms wrapped securely around the boy's torso. He hummed mischievously, “Gotta huddle for warmth, right? And I've got a perfectly good, super ultra warm boyfriend here sooo…lemme hold you for a bit!”
Was Akuta aware of how charming he was? How adorable he was, snuggled up in Kiroku’s arms? With his ear pressed up against Kiroku’s heart, could he hear how fast it was beating? If Kiroku could keep Akuta in his arms–safe, protected, caged–forever, he would. Swallowing hard, Kiroku's hands hovered above Akuta’s bare back, unsure of where would be the most appropriate place to rest them. As much as he would have loved to keep Akuta there, this was probably too far. It felt a bit much.
“...That…y-you can’t,” Kiroku finally said, gently placing his hands upon Akuta’s shoulders, pushing him back to make some space between them. Akuta stared up at him owlishly, and Kiroku flushed nervously, hurriedly moving to grab the blazer that he’d neatly folded up and set on a chair nearby. He’d almost forgotten about his blazer. Although it would be relatively large on Akuta, it would keep him warm in the meanwhile. Also, it would make Akuta a lot less awkward to look at. “Wear this.”
Akuta allowed Kiroku to slide the blazer onto him, silently watching as he carefully buttoned each button. It almost reminded him of how he’d sometimes see Kiroku buttoning up his little sister’s jacket, slowly, carefully, and with so much love. It was sweet. Once Kiroku was done, Akuta ran his hand down the fabric, his fingers trailing upon each seam and pocket. The blazer was a little wrinkled, smelling strongly of acrylics–it smelled like Kiroku.
“Thanks,” Akuta smiled, “I’m feeling a lot warmer already, hehe!” He gave Kiroku another hug, albeit this time he was quick to pull away, drawn to the painting Kiroku had left unattended. “What's this?” Kiroku began to fidget with his fingers, watching anxiously as Akuta stood before the unfinished painting, his eyes scanning over every brush stroke of the canvas.
Truthfully, Kiroku knew he shouldn’t have felt nervous. He knew Akuta was the one person that would never find fault in his art, no matter how insecure or unsatisfied he himself felt about it. However, it was always nerve wracking to have someone stare so closely at your art, especially when they were the subject matter. Not that Akuta would know that this was about him.
It had taken Akuta a moment to turn back to Kiroku, his expression rigid, yet he still sported a smile. “Leave it up to Kiroku to come up with another masterpiece! This one really jumped out at me…it’s like…it tells a story, kinda! It’s a little different from your other artworks, ‘cause the colors are a lot more muted, but I can still see your style in it. It’s super cool!” Although the praise seemed genuine, Akuta’s posture remained stiff, and he paced around the room, finally stopping at an empty desk.
Hoisting himself up, he sat on the desk, rather than the many paint stained chairs within the classroom. He kicked his legs slowly, glancing at the painting once more, “I wonder if it’s based on a true story…or something.” Forcing a laugh, Akuta shook his head, “No that’s a super silly question, right? Sorry if it’s too personal, if you don’t wanna tell me the inspiration behind it then you really don’t have to.”
Kiroku hugged his arm, his fingers grasping tightly onto his sleeve. Normally, Akuta wasn’t so reserved about asking questions like this, it was unusual. It also almost felt as if he was backtracking, as if he didn’t want Kiroku to answer his question for whatever reason. Kiroku had a feeling he knew why.
The painting itself was drawn in shades of black and white. It featured a large, grotesque wolf, and a small, cute bunny. Although the bunny and the wolf were snuggled up against each other, side by side, the bunny’s eyes were closed, relaxed, whilst the wolf’s eyes were open, crazed with hunger. It went without saying that the bunny would soon meet its end in order to satiate the wolf's needs, much like…
…Much like how Kiroku and Akuta were.
It had been on his mind for so long, the guilt of it all, that he had felt the need to put it onto a canvas. Akuta was the sweet, adorable bunny, trapped in Kiroku’s arms, unaware that the person he loved so dearly–even if it was just as a friend–was an awful, horrible person. And Kiroku was the large, starving wolf. He’d trapped Akuta in this relationship, giving him an ultimatum between this relationship or no relationship. Although he’d never said those words, surely it had felt that way to Akuta.
Soon, Akuta would be eaten up by Kiroku’s selfish desires, and what would be left of him then?
He wondered if he were being dramatic. At any time, they could stop this. Hell, if Kiroku really wanted to, he could break up with Akuta right now. He could tell him that whether they were lovers or friends, he would remain with Akuta all the same, and surely this would lift a weight off of Akuta’s shoulders. Everything would go back to the way it was, and this darkness looming over them would be gone. He could make it happen right now.
But he wouldn’t, because he wanted this. Kiroku, despite his best efforts to deny himself, truly loved the sight of Akuta, desperate and pathetic as he pleaded for Kiroku to not hate him. He loved it so much, he simply could not stop.
So as much as he wanted to tell Akuta that this drawing was a representation of them, and as much as he was sure that Akuta had already realized it, he only grabbed a sheet, throwing it over the dubious painting. “It’s not…based on anything. I just drew…whatever came to mind.” Taking a breath, he straightened out the sheet, his voice nearly inaudible, “I’m glad…you like it, though.”
Akuta smiled, and a silence fell upon them. The only thing Kiroku could hear was the constant sounds of droplets against the window, and the persistent pouring of the rain. It was calming and yet anxiety inducing all the same. He wasn’t used to it being so silent with Akuta around, but when he looked at Akuta, the boy was idly kicking his legs, sitting still as he gazed out the window.
Maybe it would be inaccurate to say that he was used to it being noisy whenever Akuta was around. In the confines of their room, Akuta would have moments of silence, focused on writing his script, oblivious to the world around him. Kiroku was like that as well–they were both the same in that regard, it was one of the only traits he could say he shared with Akuta.
Perhaps Akuta had a lot on his mind right now. Deciding that it wasn’t something he should touch upon, Kiroku opted to doodle instead. Although he’d wanted to finish his painting, he couldn’t do it with Akuta around…so he would simply grab his sketchbook from his bag and doodle in silence until the rain stopped. Twirling his pencil in between his fingers, he wondered what he should draw. Sitting on a stool once more, his sketchbook placed on his lap, he looked around the classroom.
The answer was quite obvious. He began to sketch Akuta, as if it were second nature. He’d drawn the boy so many times by now, that he swore he could’ve done so with his eyes closed. Kiroku had long memorized every wisp of hair on Akuta’s head, every freckle upon his cheeks. He’d drawn Akuta so many times that his sketchbook may as well have been dedicated to Akuta entirely. Line after line, a practiced image of Akuta, smiling brightly, appeared on the page.
Kiroku smiled to himself, satisfied with his work. However, no matter how adorable his boyfriend looked on paper, he certainly could not compare to the real deal. Looking up from his page and over to the boy in question, he blinked as they made eye contact. Although Akuta had not moved from his spot upon the desk, his kicking had stopped, and he was now caught red handed staring at Kiroku.
“Um…” Akuta scratched his cheek, embarrassed at having been caught staring. “Whatcha drawin’? Can I see?”
It wasn’t an unusual question. Akuta loved Kiroku’s drawings, and he often asked to see them, much to both Kiroku’s embarrassment and delight. Kiroku, too, enjoyed showing his art to people whom he knew would like it, but there was something so inherently awkward about showing one’s crush a drawing of themself. Still, he nodded, getting off of his stool and passing his sketchbook into Akuta’s grabby hands.
Kiroku stood in front of Akuta, shifting about in place. A part of him wanted to check for Akuta’s reaction, the other afraid to see how he would react. He wondered if Akuta found him disgusting for loving him so much, drawing him so much. Akuta would surely never say it out loud, but he could think it. Kiroku probably even deserved it. Although negative thoughts filled his mind, he found his worries being dispelled as Akuta’s cheeks blushed pink, his lips curling up to form a pleased grin.
“You drew me! Yay!” Akuta hummed happily, holding up the sketchbook as he examined the art from every possible angle. “Man, this looks just like me…honestly, I’m a little embarrassed to say it looks good, ‘cause isn’t it like complimenting myself…no! I’m totally complimenting you, okay? Like, you drew me super well! Er, accurately!” Akuta’s voice echoed within the classroom, and he frantically stumbled over his words to find a proper compliment.
Upon seeing the amused smile on Kiroku’s face, Akuta set the notebook down on the long table he sat on, kicking his feet once more. “Y-you get the point. Anyway…you’ve been drawing me a lot lately.” Kiroku had always drawn Akuta quite a lot, but the same could be said for the other members of Day2. Only after they’d started dating, did Kiroku really let loose, Akuta becoming his most beloved muse. “You must really like me, huh?”
“I don’t…just like you.” Kiroku was quick to blurt out a response, once again met with wide eyes. “Isotake, I…really, really…love you.” Love was such a heavy word, but if Kiroku wanted this to last, then he would have to burden Akuta with that word. “I draw you…so much, because I love you. But…no matter how much I draw…it never seems to amount up…to the real thing.” Akuta was much more pretty than anything Kiroku could ever draw, and that was an unfortunate fact he’d long accepted.
Kiroku wondered how Akuta would respond. Would he laugh off the statement? Respond with weak “I like you too”? Those were the usual responses. However, this time, Akuta seemed to give the statement a bit more thought, his hands folded in his lap as he avoided looking into Kiroku’s eyes.
Finally, Akuta spoke, his voice small, nearly inaudible, “Then why won’t you…kiss me…?” His cheeks, which had blushed with a faint pink, now deepened to a redder color. He cleared his throat loudly, as if it would somehow unspeak the sentence he’d just spoken, and Kiroku found himself at a loss of what to say.
So really, the only thing he could manage was a breathless, “W-what?”
“I-I mean…! It’s not that you don’t kiss me and I know it feels like I’m complaining, but I just…it’s like earlier!” Akuta was doing everything in his power to look anywhere but at Kiroku, and while his attempts were admirable, he was also failing amazingly. “You kissed me earlier…and said I was c-cute.” Upon speaking the word “cute”, Akuta’s voice grew even weaker. “Like, you tell me you love me, and that I’m cute and pretty and stuff…or whatever, b-but you’ve never actually given me a proper kiss and I’m–am I the problem here? Are you forcing yourself to date me, and that’s why you won’t kiss me?”
Grabbing onto Kiroku’s sweater, Akuta pulled him closer, their eyes finally meeting. Kiroku noted the way Akuta’s hands shook, the way his expression trembled with a certain amount of intensity, a desperation that was all too familiar to Kiroku. His fingers curled tightly around fabric, wrinkling it…not that it was of any concern to Kiroku at this point. “You’re not. You’re not, right? You love me? Kiroku, Kiroku do you love me?”
Kiroku’s voice was stuck in his throat, and he could not possibly fathom what kind of expression he was making right now. His initial reaction was pure disbelief–Akuta couldn’t have possibly thought that Kiroku was forcing himself to date him. He couldn’t have possibly thought that Kiroku refused to properly kiss him for such a reason. All this time, Kiroku had been holding back, all for Akuta’s sake…and this was the conclusion the boy had come to? It was unbelievable.
However, as unbelievable as it was, what stood out to him more was the here and now. The sight of Akuta’s desperation was what he loved most, and he drank in the sight, his hand moving to caress Akuta’s cheek. His skin was warm, soft, and his blush seemed to darken underneath Kiroku’s touch. Akuta didn’t love him in that way, but this was still a form of love, wasn’t it? In the end, the difference between romantic love and platonic love was a choice. If Akuta chose to call it love in the way Kiroku wanted him to, wouldn’t that count?
Wouldn’t it be fine to say that Akuta was in love with him?
Akuta leaned into Kiroku’s touch, his eyebrows furrowed as he allowed for a small moment of comfort. Still, he did not let go of Kiroku’s sweater, and seeing how vulnerable Akuta had become, Kiroku finally entertained the thought that he’d long rejected from the start. If it failed, this could all be over…he’d never get a second chance. But he still wanted to try.
Gently, Kiroku whispered, “Isotake…I really do love you…no matter what. I’m not…forcing myself to date you, but I think…you are.” He continued to stroke Akuta’s cheek with his thumb, slowly, rhythmically. With as much warmth as he could muster, Kiroku tilted his head, “I won’t leave you...I promise. So maybe, we should…break up?”
“Break up…?”
Akuta’s expression, which had begun to relax, tensed up once more, the desperation in his eyes flaring into something more twisted, more cold. It was unlike anything Kiroku had ever seen from Akuta, a look he didn’t know the boy was even capable of. But he didn’t hate it, on the contrary–
“No you don’t. You don’t love me…do you…? I-If you loved me, then you wouldn’t break up with me. Because you love me. You’re supposed to love me. You’re lying…” Akuta rambled under his breath, his eyes now averted to his lap, his voice distraught. “Why would you lie to me? Why would you say that?” His voice, which had been dangerously soft, grew louder with every word, until he was nearly shouting.
Kiroku pressed on, yet he lowered his hand, letting it drop to his side, depriving Akuta of the comfort that he'd sought for, “No–I’m not lying…I do love you. But, I can’t force you…to be in a relationship…if it makes you this sad.” He stroked Akuta’s hair as if attempting to calm the boy down, “We’ll always be friends, so…even if it’s not like this…I’ll always love you…as a friend. So…let’s stop this…already.” This was exactly what Akuta needed to hear the most and the least. Perhaps he should’ve chosen to say this from the start, but saying it now…
At that moment, Kiroku couldn’t help but think that he truly was a bad person.
“No…I don't wanna…you can't…! If you do that then I'll–!” Kiroku wasn't sure what he was expecting to happen next, but it certainly wasn't Akuta pulling him in by the collar of his sweater, roughly crashing their lips together. Kiroku could feel Akuta’s hands trailing upwards from his collar, his fingers closing in around Kiroku's throat.
“I-Iso–?!” Kiroku could hardly utter Akuta's name between choked breaths, wincing as he felt a sharp pain upon his lips. Akuta's teeth dug into him, cutting and biting into his lip as he was forced into a deeper kiss. His fingers squeezed, his thumbs pressing down against Kiroku's larynx, his nails breaking skin. The kiss was hasty and messy, unromantic in every sense of the word, yet a twisted part of him enjoyed how violent it was. If this pain was a result of Akuta’s desperation for him, then he’d accept it with open arms. Akuta could sink his teeth into Kiroku’s flesh, silence his voice, and Kiroku would thank him for it, if he were allowed the honor.
He could taste blood, but he couldn't quite make out whether it was his own or Akuta's. Red dripped down their skin, their lips becoming brushes, painting fresh red on blank canvases. Akuta's nose had begun to bleed, and it wouldn't take long before the boy grew lightheaded–that is, if Kiroku didn't faint first from the lack of oxygen. Grabbing Akuta's wrist, Kiroku attempted to pry his hands off of his throat in hopes of creating some distance.
As much as he enjoyed this predicament, as much as he wanted it to last forever, he couldn't stand by and allow this to continue. It wouldn't do if either of them were to faint now, given Akuta's unstable state of mind. Kiroku knew that offering to break up with Akuta would’ve driven him up a wall, and yet a part of him hadn’t anticipated that his actions would be this effective. He’d guessed that Akuta would plead and cry, but for him to become violent? It wasn't something he could have foresaw.
Unfortunately, Akuta was not keen on cooperating, his grip upon Kiroku's throat only growing tighter. Muffling Kiroku's rejection with his lips, he deepened the kiss further, before allowing a second in between them to breathe, his hands finally loosening, “I don't want you to love me as a friend. I need more than that. I need you to need me.” Akuta’s hand left Kiroku's throat to rest upon his chest, the other weaving into his hair as he tugged harshly, forcing Kiroku to meet his gaze, “Kiroku…I-I don’t want to talk about breaking up with you again. I’ll give you everything you want, so…don’t leave me, okay? Please?”
Kiroku could feel a shiver going down his spine as his heart raced, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. Rather than desperate, it would be more accurate to say that Akuta had fallen off the deep end. Truthfully, he didn’t know what to make of it, if this was behavior he should encourage. Any sane person would shut this down, but perhaps Kiroku wasn’t necessarily all there either. He needed to keep Akuta like this–in between normalcy and desperation, so that he’d keep needing this.
But still, even if he couldn’t reiterate more on how much he adored this newer, darker, more unhinged side of Akuta, this was definitely too much, right? This was beyond desperation, bordering on obsession. If Akuta continued to remain in this state, perhaps he’d do something drastic. Kiroku couldn’t imagine what else he would do, but he didn’t want to find out how much further Akuta would be willing to go to make a point…at least for now. He should curb this somehow. It was worrying, all things considered.
“Isotake. Calm…down.” Using this moment of pause to pull away, Kiroku pinched Akuta’s nose. He let out a breath as blue eyes widened in surprise, and Akuta's hands instinctively flew up to grab Kiroku’s, yet his fingertips had only barely brushed skin, when Kiroku let go of his nose. “I won’t leave you…but, you’re…acting weird. And…your nose is bleeding.”
“Eh? Ah…” Akuta stared blankly, processing the statement before he used his sleeve to wipe off the blood on his face, “Oh shit, wait, this is your blazer–! Sorry, I’ll–I swear I’ll wash it tonight before I give it back!” He began to mumble about grabbing a tissue, his demeanor returning back to usual. When there was no tissue to be found, he looked back to Kiroku, whose face and throat were also smeared with blood.
It was then that Akuta recalled what exactly he had just done moments earlier, and he paled, his skin near indistinguishable from a blank canvas, “I…oh my god. I’m so sorry.” Akuta hopped off the table, shame and embarrassment clear upon his features as he attempted to move past Kiroku to get to the sink at the back of the room. However, he was stopped as Kiroku moved in front of him, blocking his path. Tentatively, he looked up, his eyebrows furrowed, “D-…did I make you mad?”
“No,” Kiroku said, ruffling Akuta’s hair. A small smile tugged at his lips, “You’re just really…bad at kissing, Isotake. You should…sit back down…I’ll grab…some wet paper towels.” He gestured for Akuta to sit back down on the table, before going to grab some wet paper towels. As he wiped off the blood from his face and neck, he glanced over to see Akuta sitting, kicking his legs once more like a sulking child, and a small laugh escaped his lips. Was he feeling guilty?
Kiroku liked seeing Akuta desperate, obsessed. However, this Akuta was lovely as well, he was so adorable that Kiroku wanted to spoil him rotten. Stepping back to stand in front of him, Kiroku motioned for Akuta to look up at him, and the boy did, allowing Kiroku to tilt his chin up with his fingers, gently dabbing the wet towel upon his nose and lips.
“Kiroku…about earlier,” Akuta began, fidgeting with his fingers, “I’m really, really sorry. I know it sounds like an excuse, and like, you hear this all the time in movies and stuff, but I really don’t know what came over me…! It’s like…I just blacked out. If you really wanna break up, then I know I shouldn’t force you to stay…and I know you wouldn’t leave me even if we weren’t dating, b-but I…–” Akuta’s voice was cut off, muffled as Kiroku dabbed the paper towel over his lips.
“...I don’t want to break up…and you’re not…forcing me to do anything.” Kiroku corrected, his voice soft, but firm. “But I’m worried about you, Isotake…I’m worried that…you’re forcing yourself for me.” Kiroku, despite using this very reason to corner Akuta, said it once more–this time, much more truthfully. Whether he was speaking the truth, or using this as a chance for him to pull Akuta closer to him, even he didn’t know anymore. “So I’m willing to break up with you…if it makes you feel better.”
Kiroku didn’t want to break up with Akuta. But at the same time, he admitted that if Akuta somehow overnight realized that this whole thing was unhealthy–if Akuta somehow came to his senses and decided that he would break up with Kiroku after all…what could he do besides accept it? It would hurt. He would do everything in his power to keep Akuta, and yet he had to acknowledge that he wouldn’t act out nor seek to destroy their relationship when it came down to it.
What Kiroku had been relying on was Akuta’s assumption that he’d leave if Akuta were to break things off, but now he had nothing. He’d risked it all in that moment before, and now he had no way to keep Akuta in this relationship unless the boy decided he wanted this. And there was nothing Kiroku wanted more than for Akuta to want this.
Kiroku admitted that he was a bad person. He’d done so much and pushed Akuta so far, only to leave the final choice up to the boy himself. Wasn’t that cruel of him? It was halfhearted. Everything he’d done was halfhearted, and that was why Kiroku would never win against Akuta, no matter how much push and pull there was between them. Still, he had to try.
“You’re so nice, Kiroku…” Akuta mumbled, remorse painting his features. He reached out, taking hold of Kiroku’s sweater. However, he clung on to only the hem–with a small movement, Kiroku could easily pull away. Kiroku wanted so desperately to refute the statement, to say that he was the one using Akuta for his own selfish desires, yet his mouth remained stubbornly shut, and he set the bloodied tissue aside, finally done cleaning.
“I don’t want to break up with you. I really…really like you.” What kind of “like”, neither of them could say, but were labels really so important? Akuta sighed, “You’re really…too nice for me. And I know you love me…so I…I wonder if I got too greedy. Because it felt like you were holding back…so I started to doubt, well, a lot of stuff. And I should’ve said this earlier, but I just let it build up until I exploded like that. I’m still super, super sorry.” It was Akuta's one bad habit, one that Kiroku knew would not go away easily.
Kiroku of all people knew that Akuta was the type to let things build up until his feelings ran wild. It made sense. However, he didn’t know what to make of the first half of Akuta’s words. Kiroku knew that Akuta was desperate for validation, he knew that Akuta treasured him deeply as a friend and a person. No matter what type of bond they had, it would be unbreakable. Although he no longer cared for labels, he still could confidently say that he was romantically in love with Akuta, yet the same could not be said for the reverse.
Because Kiroku loved Akuta in that sort of way, naturally he would yearn for something deeper, something more intimate. Of course he’d want to hold him or kiss him, that was something he’d been thinking about for a long time. But if Akuta really hadn’t wanted it, Kiroku would be happy to cease attempting to do so–after all, as long as he was Akuta’s “lover”, as long as he was someone Akuta considered special, then it didn’t matter whether they kissed or not.
In other words, Kiroku had a lot of desires. Kissing Akuta, holding his hand, hugging him…such were small wishes his heart made. However, his greatest joy was being special to Akuta, an irreplaceable existence, not only in their eyes, but in everyone else’s as well. He wanted everyone to admit that he was the most important person to Akuta, and he wanted it to be undeniable. So if Akuta refused to grant his little wishes, he would accept it, as long as he was allowed to remain in this position.
Yet in Akuta’s case, it didn’t make sense. Akuta was forcing himself to date Kiroku because he was afraid that Kiroku would leave him otherwise. And now that he knew Kiroku wouldn’t leave, he still chose to stay…his desperation–or perhaps it was his insecurity–was just that strong. But that didn’t explain why he wanted so desperately for Kiroku to give him a proper kiss, not when he clearly despised it…right? He should have despised it. Kiroku couldn’t be delusional enough to think that Akuta wanted to kiss him.
“It’s okay…” It was a relief that Akuta was not going to break up with him, at the very least. At this point, Kiroku wasn’t exactly sure where this conversation was going, but he decided that maybe now was as good a time as ever to be straightforward. “I’m also…sorry I didn’t notice sooner. Um, is there anything I can do…for…I mean…” He awkwardly mumbled, “What do you want from me?”
For once, Kiroku couldn’t quite understand Akuta, and so the only logical thing he could do was ask.
Akuta looked at him as if he were stupid, and honestly, Kiroku did feel quite silly as Akuta replied, “Well, you could give me a proper kiss.” Right. Yes. This was indeed what Akuta had been asking for this whole time, yeah. Although Kiroku felt hesitant, unsure if this was what Akuta really wanted, he’d oblige.
Kiroku nodded, one of his hands moving to cup Akuta’s cheek, the other hand resting upon the table, effectively caging the boy in place. It was…honestly a little weird. Although they’d been dating for months, he’d never properly kissed Akuta due to his own guilt–not for a lack of wanting to, of course. This was something he’d always wanted, but it wasn’t something he thought would be possible. The concept of Akuta asking to be kissed made him feel lightheaded.
At any moment, Akuta could choose to pull away, back out, and say that he was joking, and Kiroku would completely accept it, see it coming even. However, Akuta remained still, his eyes shut as Kiroku closed the distance between them, gently pressing their lips together. Although Kiroku’s lips still ached from their prior attempt at a kiss, his throat sore, the pain easily slipped his mind as he focused on the sensation of Akuta’s lips melding against his.
As expected, Akuta’s lips were soft, still tasting faintly of blood, but strangely enough, Kiroku didn’t mind. It was not the first time Kiroku’s lips had touched Akuta’s but it was the first time he’d truly allowed himself to enjoy it. It was a little embarrassing, but despite knowing that he likely wouldn’t have gotten the chance to do something like this (until now), he’d actually searched up how to kiss online. It was silly, but it seemed like his hard work was finally paying off.
Akuta smelled of rain, his tongue tasting of a metallic flavor, but it was no less of a pleasant kiss. Kiroku could feel Akuta’s hands hesitantly moving around, circling around his waist, his chest, his shoulders, and finally resting comfortably at the nape of his neck. The touches were not deliberate in a provocative sense. If anything, it was awkward, scared, as if he wasn’t sure where he wanted to put his hands, but Kiroku was more than willing to allow him to play around until he found a position he was comfortable with.
His fingers threaded through Kiroku’s hair once more–it was gentler than before, a little ticklish, but certainly not unwelcome, and Kiroku tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his lips moving languidly against Akuta’s. Kiroku could hear his heart beating in his ears, mixing with the pattering of the rain outside. Faintly, he could also hear the sound of Akuta’s breaths, feel it fanning his lips as they kissed. His lips felt numb, and yet tingly, as if he’d just eaten something spicy. However, that couldn’t be right. This kiss was much sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted.
They parted temporarily to breathe, yet their faces still remained close, and Kiroku could feel the flutter of Akuta’s eyelashes against his skin as the boy’s eyes peeked open. At such a close proximity, Kiroku found himself admiring Akuta’s curved lashes, his peachy flushed cheeks, and his cherry red, swollen lips. Akuta had always been gorgeous to Kiroku, but the sight was so overwhelmingly radiant that he couldn’t stop himself from staring in awe. Akuta must’ve surely been carved from the sun itself.
Swallowing thickly, he scanned over his beloved’s face for any sign of discomfort, any at all. However, upon realizing there was none, he let out a sigh, his worries dispelled.
Gliding his thumb across Akuta’s bottom lip, he moved to press another kiss upon the corner of his boyfriend’s lips. Although this kiss was not as deep as the previous, it was not nearly as chaste as the kisses that Akuta had been dissatisfied with. His lips lingered in place, and he felt Akuta’s fingers run along his neck, his nails grazing against skin with just enough pressure that Kiroku almost wished he would break through it.
“You're…definitely a better kisser than me,” Akuta breathed, his chest rising and falling as he attempted to catch his breath. Once his breathing had evened out, he whispered shyly, “Can I tell you something?” He leaned into Kiroku’s touch, bringing one of his hands to rest over the artist's. His thumb ran shyly over Kiroku’s knuckles as he confessed, “I…actually really like it when you tell me you love me.”
“Mmh…?” Kiroku blinked, pressing a sweet kiss against Akuta’s jaw, eliciting a soft sigh. “I love you…” So Akuta liked hearing it? All this time, Kiroku had thought that his words were a burden upon Akuta, but he actually liked it? Who’d have thought. He could feel his own cheeks flushing as Akuta tilted his head, his eyes half lidded as he nudged Kiroku’s hand with his cheek, urging him to continue. There was something about his affectionate gaze that made Kiroku’s breath catch in his throat.
It was a different kind of exhilaration compared to when Akuta looked at him with desperation, and a part of him almost preferred it. He couldn’t tell exactly the emotions behind those eyes, but he could tell love was present…and he liked it. A lot. From start to end, Kiroku supposed that he was always under Akuta’s mercy. “Isotake…you’re so pretty,” he murmured, closing his eyes as he pressed another kiss behind Akuta’s ear.
Kiroku could feel Akuta’s fingers unconsciously curling around the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging gently. This felt like a redo of their prior kiss, but carefully and slowly, like applying salve to a tender wound. Kiroku watched for any changes in Akuta’s expression, like a dog waiting for praise, only to be met with a laugh as Akuta’s grip on him loosened.
“That tickles,” Akuta giggled, “...But I kinda like that too.” Akuta’s eyes were averted as he continued to speak, unused to the words that came out of his mouth, “Um. I mean…I said this earlier–like, a lot earlier when you were drying me off from the rain that you…called me cute a lot. And I guess I didn’t really express it properly, but I really do…l-like it. I like it when you call me cute or pretty or whatever…and I know it’s weird!”
He momentarily let go of Kiroku, only to hop off the table, tackling the boy into a tight hug, burying his face within Kiroku’s chest. “...!” Kiroku stumbled, taking a step backwards as he wrapped his arms around Akuta to stabilize the both of them. Akuta was once again cuddled up nicely in his arms, but this time he was luckily clothed enough for Kiroku to return his affections.
Akuta’s voice came out muffled against Kiroku’s sweater, “I’m probably not that cute or pretty. But I like it when you compliment me, because you’re the only person that thinks that…and I want you to keep thinking that.” Although he looked harmlessly clingy in the moment, his words held a certain edge, “Kiroku…you said earlier that you felt like I was forcing myself to date you, but I’m really not. It’s true that I…can’t easily say that I love you in the way you want me to, but…”
His grip tightened as he shook his head, “I don’t know if I love you like that. I can't tell the difference between different types of love anymore, and honestly I really don’t care either. But I do know that if you ever fell in love with anyone else, I’d hate it. I’d hate it so much, I could just…kill you.”
Oh, so Isotake was serious about that stunt earlier.
Akuta smiled as if he hadn’t just said something utterly outrageous, tilting his head up to look at Kiroku, “I’m greedy, you know. I just keep taking from you, Kiroku. But even if I’m greedy and selfish for using you like this, I still want you to keep loving me. I want you to keep complimenting me…” He looked into Kiroku’s eyes–surely, Kiroku saw him differently than the rest of the world. That was why his compliments meant so much. No one wanted Akuta as much as Kiroku did, and perhaps that was why his words meant more.
“...When we started dating, I thought you were shy, so that’s why you wouldn’t kiss me properly. But then when I realized that you were purposely holding back, I freaked out ‘cause I thought you realized that I was using you. I thought…you realized how ugly I was. And that you didn’t love me anymore.” If Akuta were to say whether he was the bunny or the wolf in this relationship, he would surely consider himself a wolf.
Although Kiroku had thought that he was using Akuta, the same could be said for the reverse. Kiroku couldn’t say that this made Akuta a bad person–it wasn’t wrong to want to feel loved. Akuta had always been seeking attention and love from anyone who could provide it. Was he really using Kiroku if the boy himself was more than willing to be used?
“It made me desperate…I think. And it made me do a bunch of shit to get you to…like me again. Like, um…” Akuta seemed particularly nervous as he cleared his throat, letting go of Kiroku to cover his face with his hands, “Well, I…feel really bad that I have to say this, but I sorta did notice you checking me out sometimes, so I thought that I could get your attention if I acted stupid and hugged you...without putting on a shirt. Which in hindsight sounds really dumb, but hear me out–.” He said the last bit quickly, his words jumbling together, yet each word felt like an arrow shooting straight through Kiroku’s body.
There were so many things to process. On one hand, the fact that Akuta went out of his way to do that for Kiroku’s attention was…cute. Insanely cute. Absurdly cute. Kiroku didn’t even know Akuta had that in him–he’d always thought Akuta to be the oblivious sort, so to think that he’d do something like that on purpose to get a reaction out of Kiroku…it was strangely endearing. But on the other hand, the sheer embarrassment of being told that Akuta was actually aware of Kiroku’s stares, was enough to kill him on the spot.
Faintly, he could hear Pinfu whistling in his mind, impressed by Akuta’s…bravery, if one could call it that, only to be told to shut up by Rouzel, who had been quietly allowing the two boys to have their moment. Kiroku had thought that he’d gotten used to having his imaginary friends with him at all times, and they knew when to tune out, but it had occurred to him finally that of course they’d been watching everything. And worse, they saw him getting called out by Akuta…
“Ahh…” Kiroku could only manage to let out a glum noise as Akuta gasped, realizing that his words may have done a number on his boyfriend.
“H-hey! Don’t feel bad, I was super flattered that you were looking! Ushio tells me I’m built like a toilet roll with four chopsticks for limbs, so it was super reassuring, actually.” He gave Kiroku a thumbs up, “Also, speaking of Ushio, his nickname for you was spot on! Even though I hugged you like that and tried my best to act super duper cute, you didn’t give in at all! Really great self control. You’re just like…Buddha…yeah…so zen of you…”
Akuta seemed extremely proud of his reassurance, but frankly, Kiroku wasn’t sure if it would be more appropriate to laugh or cry at this moment. Finally, he settled on covering his face, mumbling a weak, “I’m…going to die.”
“Nooo don’t die, Kiroku! You gotta live!” Prying Kiroku’s hands from his face, he leaned in, peppering kisses upon Kiroku’s cheeks. He looked rather happy with himself as Kiroku’s face softened, a small blush spreading across his skin–it was hard to remain glum when he was being kissed like this. Akuta had never taken the initiative to kiss him until today…it still felt fresh, new. He blinked as Akuta paused, cupping his face.
Suddenly, Akuta was staring at him quite intensely, his eyes scanning Kiroku’s features with as much focus as he would have during a movie. “...??” Kiroku could only avert his eyes, his blush growing darker as he wondered why Akuta had abruptly become so silent. There was a soft rustle as Akuta moved to brush his bangs out of his face, before letting out a quiet huff. “I-Isotake…?”
“I just realized something,” Akuta grinned widely, squishing Kiroku’s cheeks, “You look really handsome when you blush, Kiroku!” He laughed, feeling Kiroku’s skin becoming hot under his touch. “I mean, I always thought you were. But it feels…a little different right now.” He didn’t elaborate further, much to Kiroku’s dismay.
Kiroku could only furrow his eyebrows in confusion. If there was something he’d learned during this time, it was that he probably didn’t understand Akuta as much as he thought he did. He was so sure that Akuta was unhappy in this relationship, that he was forcing himself to be here. Now he wasn’t so sure. Or rather, he’d gotten direct confirmation that Akuta wanted this. Despite knowing that Kiroku wouldn’t leave him whether or not he returned his feelings, Akuta chose to stay.
Akuta was not content with simply being in a relationship with Kiroku, he wanted everything that came with it. He wanted not only Kiroku’s presence, but his affection–emotionally, physically, any way Akuta could get it. What he wanted could not be identified as a simple yearning for friendship as Kiroku had initially thought. Truthfully, if he were to go by sheer facts and definition, it would be easy to say that what Akuta wanted was a normal relationship.
But this relationship was far from normal. It was born from a twisted desire shared between them, and even now, even after all of it, he couldn’t define it as a “normal love”.
“Isotake…I don’t understand you.” Kiroku admitted. “When I met you…I thought…I could understand you.” He had thought that he knew what Akuta was like. The Akuta then was straightforward and strong, unyielding in face of anything that came his way. “But I…was wrong.” It was only during Akuta’s feature tour did he realize how much Akuta had truly been shouldering, how much he wanted to protect him. Akuta was strong, but he didn’t always have to be. “And then I guess...I just kept being wrong.”
The Akuta now was someone unfamiliar to him, a form of Akuta he’d never seen before. In one single afternoon, Kiroku had seen the person he considered his boyfriend at his lowest, his most affectionate, and…whatever state he was in now. In a way, Kiroku felt as if he were watching Akuta emerge from his egg, little by little. He wondered what kind of person Akuta would become, he wondered what kind of direction their relationship would take.
“I think…you know me pretty well though.” Akuta grinded his heel against the ground, a small squeak sounding as he looked down. “But it’s probably ‘cause I’m still changing that it feels like you don’t know all of me. Oh but, I guess in that case, that would mean that you don’t…that you won’t know me as well then. D’ya think that’s a bad thing?” Akuta looked strangely guilty as he asked the question, although he didn’t rescind his words.
Kiroku was quick to shake his head, “...No. I’m looking forward to seeing…you “hatch”.” If anything, it was exciting to see. Akuta was being meld, changed before his very eyes, and he had a direct part in it. He would help shape the person Akuta would become–what greater honor could he possibly wish for?
He leaned in closer, close enough for their noses to brush, the intensity of his gaze causing Akuta to flush a splotchy red. Kiroku wondered if Akuta didn’t like being stared at, or if his reaction meant something more. Either way, it was adorable. Kiroku caressed the shell of Akuta’s ear, and the boy’s eyes squeezed shut in anticipation, before he heard Kiroku’s voice in his ear. “But if possible…please let me be the first…to see…every new side of you.”
Taking a step back, Kiroku patted Akuta’s head, giggling as his eyes opened, his hands flying up to cover his ear. He looked absolutely dumbfounded, only a small croak leaving his lips as he realized what had just happened. “I-I thought you were going to…” His voice trailed off, and Kiroku tilted his head, oblivious to why Akuta was so confused. Perhaps his ears were sensitive.
“Hm…?”
“–Nevermind!” Akuta shouted at the top of his lungs, as if it would make him any less flustered, “But in that case, it’s…yeah, um. Yeah! You’ll definitely be the first to see everything. It’s–I mean–I want you to. ‘Cause you’re the most…important person to me. And uh, um.” Losing his momentum, Akuta’s voice grew smaller and smaller, “...I love you.”
I love you.
Kiroku stood frozen, his mind processing Akuta’s words. It was a mere three words, but it was the first time Akuta had spoken them to him. More than desperation, more than obsession, these three words were enough to make his heart soar. Although he’d always known that Akuta loved him in some type of way, it wasn’t something Akuta said out loud, and certainly not once they’d started dating in the way that they did. Perhaps it was because of their relationship, that Akuta hesitated to say it even more.
Maybe it was because Akuta finally had the chance to talk this out with Kiroku, that he was able to say it. Or maybe during the course of this conversation, something within Akuta had changed. However, that was but another mystery to Kiroku. Smiling, he nodded his head, “I-I love you…too.” Being able to say “too” felt like a privilege in and of itself.
In the back of his mind, Kiroku knew the foundations of this relationship were still twisted, and so did Akuta. Even now, when they’d come clean to each other about most of their emotions, that did not change. Without Akuta, there would be no Kiroku, and without Kiroku, there would be no Akuta. Such a relationship in which one could not exist without the other was far from normal, but Kiroku couldn’t say he hated it. If anything, this was the outcome that he’d longed for.
Whether this relationship would continue like a happy fairy tale, or if it took a turn for the worse, Akuta and Kiroku would remain interwoven in it. Even if it ended in grotesque, ugly violence, he would happily welcome it with a smile.
Kiroku paused, glancing out the window. He could no longer hear the pattering of the rain, the dripping of water flowing down pipes outside of the window, and yet the sky was still a drab gray. No sun could be seen, obscured by the clouds above. Gloomy as it was, this was the sort of weather he enjoyed most. Cloudy and quiet, serene after a long storm.
“Isotake,” Kiroku said, reaching out to take hold of Akuta’s hand, “...It’s stopped raining, but…I don’t think…you’ll be getting…that rainbow shot, you wanted.” It was a shame that the clouds did not disperse like Akuta had expected. “Maybe if we wait a bit longer…the sun will come out.”
Akuta did not so much as look out the window, merely squeezing Kiroku’s hand as he laughed, “Nah, ‘s all good, let’s just clean up and get outta here. I don’t need the rainbow shot that badly.” There would be many more rainy days, and many more rainbows to see in the future. He would simply wait til then.
“Besides…cloudy days are your favorite, right?”