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It has been… Well, Shou has lost count. It’s been a long time since he first partnered up with Akira. After each assignment, which left his disgusting, monstrous heart beating rapidly, his muscles sore and pulsating, and his limbs aching, Shou would return to his apartment.
‘I’m going home now, Tenkubashi-Kun. Will you head home too?’ Words spoken so gently—to someone so undeserving—filled his ears and heart, each syllable painfully seared into his thoughts no matter how insignificant they seemed.
‘…yes.’ Was all he could offer, before they departed. It pained him; Gunji-san was so insistent on lending Shou his kindness and yet he turned his head away, only to stare longingly when he no longer had those warm green eyes on him. How selfish.
Shou had never thought of this apartment as his home. It was where he lived, but he didn’t need to feel ‘warmth’ or have a ‘home’.
…
Then came Akira.
Akira Gunji, his partner, his—
~~~~
Due to the many missions which required them both to be together, Akira had himself a place within Shou’s apartment. It wasn’t until much later would Shou realise this himself.
Home-baked goods wrapped in clingfilm Gunji would bring over every time; a hint of something warm and heartfelt within an assortment of cold ingredients, manga that had been lent stacked neatly beside his desk. There was a green mug in the sink, remnants of tea long evaporated, leaving a ring of golden-brown at the bottom. A stray shirt or pair of trousers a size or two smaller than Shou’s would be lying around the house or hidden in a drawer, and his greedy heart’s personal favourite; the two different toothbrushes in the cup, one blue one green.
His heart throbbed with something unfamiliar whenever he looked at the mundane sight, silence and loneliness his only companions in those lightless nights. It was a trace of something— someone else. Who lingered long enough to leave signs of his presence, yet was gone long enough that his absence was something Shou had to prepare for.
Shou had a habit of, whenever he cooked food with Gunji, he’d insist on him having the first bite and asking for his thoughts. It was more or less the same response, and Shou couldn’t tell whether he had grown critical of his own food or if Gunji was just being kind.
Gunji wasn’t a liar, though.
It had been almost a decade since Shou buried his feelings and thoughts six feet under. Almost. And then that cursed yet holy day came, where Gunji-san’s eyes were so kind. There was an incessant need that tugged at him, like how a dying man thirsts for warmth. Shou’s hands, his heart, cold and bloodied and numb, for the first time reached out again.
…
Or at least, he wanted to. Amamiya’s teachings remained in his head, leeching off his humanity. The unyielding pressure reminded him of the very reason why he remained inhospitable, why his hands, his heart, stayed freezing.
Still, he just couldn’t resist dreaming for a bit.
~~~~
‘It’s not like we’re friends…’
Shou flinched. Gunji-san was looking at him, a hint of worry. He had zoned out while he was talking. Letting out a soft sigh, Shou ran his hands through his hair.
“I’m sorry, Gunji-san. I wasn’t paying attention. You were saying?”
“T-That’s fine, it’s nothing important, but Tenkubashi-kun…”
Akira stopped talking, his eyes darting to the floor. Shou watched his Adam’s Apple rise and fall slightly as he swallowed; a nervous habit of his, the kind of thing he’d do when there was something he wanted to say, but wouldn’t end up saying.
Sometimes, there was a wall between them. It didn’t matter how close they got, or how much they talked about each other or day to day things. At the end of the day, there was a hole neither could fill. Something neither knew how to provide. Perhaps it was clear, and they were just blind.
How wishful was it for a blind man to see?
Or maybe it was just him, who grew accustomed with this ache in his heart.
“Is something on your mind, Gunji-san?” Shou started. His arm started to move, reaching out towards Akira, pausing before he could notice.. He… he probably wouldn’t want that.
Akira offered a shy smile, a little taken aback that Tenkubashi initiated conversation. “I just… you know you can talk to me, right?”
Shou’s heart must’ve stopped. His breath caught, and each inhale felt like thorns were being shoved down his throat. Were they ever meant to be? Thoughts like cold metal against skin lingered in his mind, biting. Akira was so, so kind, Shou couldn’t help but think their meeting was a mistake. That day, on the train was a mistake. If not, why was his punishment this torment, each breath like torture and each passing moment like swallowing rocks, gathering in his gut and weighing his heart down.
“I know.”
He knew. And yet—
“You can talk to me, if you need to.” Akira insisted. It was no longer an ask for affirmation, rather a statement of one, his green eyes staring straight at Shou. There was determination in his gaze, the same kind when he had promised to protect Shou.
There was an innate feeling of dread, of mistrust. For someone like Shou, that was to be expected with that fickle heart of his, and the guilt that followed for feeling that way.
Gunji wasn’t a liar, though.
~~~~
Shou acts on instinct in battle. He’s used to acting alone, defending himself, and occasionally risking himself to deal a blow. He endured the pain, as best he could. It still hurt, every time, and it was agonising. Curled into a fatal position, hands clawing at his ribs in hopes of relief; any scratch marks healing instantly leaving not a trace of his pain.
Shou’s suffering was private, his injuries were unseen.
Was.
But now with Akira beside him, there’s a discernible difference in Shou’s methods.
Shou is very used to being thrown against concrete. It’s an easy move to pull and can disarm your foe. The crack of his spine being broken and fused together again never fails to disgust him, even slightly. The distance and force varies, causing an array of different injuries each time, but they all guarantee blood. Seeing Gunji’s face contort into shock and horror each time it happens… it’s an expression Shou wants to avoid on his face.
Before, there was one thing. An order to be carried out; to subdue a target. But now with Akira beside him, he’s thinking about himself, just a little more. To save Gunji from the torment he somehow got from seeing Shou injured. He thinks about it still - does a weapon think about getting damaged? A weapon can be repaired, the wielder cannot. And yet—
“That doesn’t mean you deserve to get hurt.”
Shou found himself thinking about what Gunji-san had said to him that day, with such a look in his eyes, and wondering.
Gunji wasn’t a liar, though.
~~~~
“Please-!” Shou’s words fell on deaf ears. He was restrained, trapped, and Akira felt light years away from him. He was ready to cut his entire torso off if it meant stopping Gunji. He grit his teeth, struggling to pull himself out of the wreckage.
In front of him, Akira turned his head, a smile bursting with emotion. Shou’s heart dropped, already knowing what that meant. He opened his mouth to speak again, to yell to plead, to say something— to just - dear god - don’t do it—
“I’m… sorry, Shou.”
For the first time, Gunji had said his name. Shou hesitated, overwhelmed and agonised. How much must he mean to him, if he referred to him by his name…? Shou understood how careful Gunji was when it came to formalities, so…
No. Now wasn’t- now wasn’t the time. Gunji was going to—
“Akira!!” He called out. His voice was raw, desperate. One last final plea. He reached his one free arm towards Akira, so, so close to him, yet so far. He just—
“I’ll be back, yeah? And… when I am, let’s go and eat out, or have a sleepover. Okay, Shou?”
Shou’s expression collapsed. Still, Akira stared at him, a look in his eyes Shou never could quite decipher and a reassuring smile despite the obvious trepidation lingering in his face.
“Trust me… because I trust you.”
…
He was gone. Shou stared in disbelief for a long time, his hand still outstretched as if by chance, Akira would come back and hold it. He would help him out of the rubble, stay by his side as he recovered as he always did. And afterwards, they would eat at a restaurant—
Shou didn’t realise the tears until the blood dripping from his cranium got into his eye, blurring his vision entirely.
He’ll be back, surely.
Akira Gunji wasn’t a liar.