Chapter Text
"Saruhiko!"
School just ended and Misaki was tugging at Saruhiko’s sleeve again, silently asking for the attention Misaki knew the other would give him in a heartbeat. "Wanna go take a walk in the park? I feel like eating a crepe right now!"
Saruhiko simply hummed in reply, which was enough of an answer for the boy beside him. He liked days like these, when Misaki would drag him around aimlessly with no specific goal in mind except maybe to simply spend more time Saruhiko.
And it always started with a tug of his sleeve (or the side of his shirt, if ever it was one of the rare times he opted to spend the day in a short-sleeved shirt).
It was like that all the time. After school, Misaki would turn and tug at his sleeve and start speaking nonsense that may or may not be important, and on their way out of the gates Misaki would tug at it again and ask to go places or do something simple like watch a movie or play video games. Saruhiko would sometimes nod or give a snide remark as a reply, but he never said no when Misaki was concerned.
The park was empty and the nearby cherry blossoms danced in the wind as they found a place to sit and eat their crepes. When they had seated themselves under one of the smaller trees, Misaki tugged at his sleeve again and began talking animatedly about their upcoming project in their art class and going on about how they were going to definitely create an awesome model of whatever it was they were going to end up making.
"... and maybe we can add lights and stuff to make it even more awesome! You know how to do those kinds of things too, right Saru? Let’s make a… a… a volcano or something!" Misaki exclaimed at the end of his long speech, throwing out his free hand to the side as if to emphasize the amount of awesome the project was going to be when they were done with it. "Wouldn't that be cool?"
Saruhiko resisted smiling at the amount of attention Misaki was giving the project because really, Misaki hated school and would always just complain about anything and everything school-related but here he was, talking about a school project and doing the exact opposite of what was to be expected of him. "Hurry up and eat your crepe." Saruhiko mumbled, taking a bite of his own to emphasize the words. It wasn't like Saruhiko was in a rush to go anywhere, no; Misaki was a messy eater and Saruhiko was simply having a hard time keeping his friend clean while the chocolate drizzle continued to smear across his mouth and onto his cheeks. He pulled out the napkin he had tucked in his uniform pocket and dropped it onto Misaki’s lap, hoping his friend would get a clue.
Misaki didn’t, though, and continued eating messily while his eyes watched the cherry blossom petals excitedly. As he finished his last bite of the crepe he leaned his head on Saruhiko’s shoulder, sighing contentedly as he continued watching their surroundings.”It’s so peaceful today.” He noted.
“It’s because you’re quiet for once.” Saruhiko replied immediately, as if on instinct. He felt Misaki’ body tremble next to him, and realized he was laughing silently by his side.
“You never cease to be an ass, do you?”
Saruhiko clicked his tongue as a reply, finishing off his own crepe before ballin up the wrapper and stuffing it in his pocket. The garbage bin was too far and he had a feeling Misaki wasn’t exactly ready to leave just yet.
Honestly, Saruhiko didn’t want to leave either.
“What high school are you going to?” Misaki murmured, yawning as he finished his question. Saruhiko shrugged, feeling the other boy’s head rub against his uniform.
“We don’t need to think about that for a while.” It was another year before they would need to start taking entrance exams, and he was sure he could get into any school he wanted to get into, but it wouldn’t be any good if Misaki wasn’t there, by his side, tugging on his sleeve and making an otherwise boring day an adventure for just the two of them.
Maybe it was this very moment that Saruhiko realized Misaki was the one thing in his life that shined , that showed him that not everything in life is as dark and dreadful as his father had lead him to believe.
Maybe it was this very moment that Saruhiko realized Misaki was the only person that actually tried to break through the walls he created around himself and wasn’t afraid of the ugly demons that resided inside him.
Maybe it was this very moment that Saruhiko realized Misaki was the only one he really wanted in life - the only person that he wanted to stay with forever.
Fushimi tugged on the sleeve of his uniform, noting the wrinkles from days of being tossed to the corner of the room with no regards to keeping it ‘crisp and clean’ like he should have been doing since he joined this hell of a government organization.
Saruhiko! A voice in the back of his mind exclaimed in pure joy as the sudden scent of overly sweet crepes filled his senses. He bit back the memory and released his sleeve, pulling on his wrist protectors and walking briskly out of his cold dorm.
It was the time of year when he should be getting dragged around the park to watch the soft, pink petals dance all around them, except that the owner of the hand that would’ve pulled him along was no longer a hand he could reach out to anymore.
It had only been a few weeks since he made an enemy out of that person, and his bunk bed seemed increasingly less inviting as the nights went by, as if it were trying to tell him that someone - that one - should be occupying a room and sharing a bunk with him.
Scepter 4 wasn’t a place for Yata, though - Fushimi knew that all too well, because it was the exact same for himself at HOMRA. He left to escape the choking atmosphere of that place, but in exchange he lost the only thing that had been the reason for him to live for so long. The burn on his collar began to tingle again at the memory of Yata’s annoying laughter and he reached out to scratch it lightly in an attempt to alleviate the odd feeling.
Fushimi sighed as he entered the main building of his new headquarters. He was much too early again, having woken up from yet another memory-turned-dream of that bright and cheerful smile that he eventually grew to miss. He knew there was at least one person already inside and supposedly working, but doubted it was actual work he was doing, so he knocked on the door to his Captain’s office and walked in without waiting for the other person’s reply.
“Up early again, Fushimi?” Munakata’s eyes were instantly trained on him, relaxed and calm like the eye of a hurricane. “What brings you here at five in the morning?”
“I came for more work.” Fushimi answered albeit none-too-politely. “I finished all the work from yesterday.” His bluntness didn’t catch Munakata by surprise, though the tiny smile did more than tell Fushimi that he knew what was on his mind right now.
Munakata hummed in acknowledgement and tilted his head down to look back at the jigsaw puzzle he had barely started. It looked oddly reminiscent of someplace he’d rather forget right now. “I’ll send the next assignments to your PDA in a moment.”
“Yes, sir.” Fushimi mumbled, still not used to the yes sir s and roger s he was expected to say on a daily basis. He walked out of the room without another word and headed to the room he was expected to be in for the next however-many-hours it would take to finish the next set of assignments. He unconsciously tugged at his sleeve again, and the brief image of the smile from his earlier dream flashed in his mind momentarily before getting forced into the back his mind - hopefully for the last time ever.
He’d get used to this eventually. It wasn’t like he needed Yata in his life anymore. If Fushimi really did need to see that person, there were plenty of opportunities to do so. It wasn’t like he was dead or anything, after all...
Ah, there he is.
Fushimi grinned as Yata laid his eyes upon him, his surprised face twisting into something that held emotions akin to anger and hatred.
“Saruhiko.” Yata growled, his hands clenching into fists as he dropped his skateboard in front of him. “What are you doing here?”
“Cleaning up the mess you hoodlums make, that’s what .” Fushimi laughed as Yata’s face darkened at the word hoodlum . “Why else you I be here, Misaki ? You’re always creating such a big mess, I wouldn’t be surprised if they forced you to clean the bar every day just to learn to keep clean.” Fushimi knew it was a lie, though; Yata was the one that had kept their tiny apartment nice and clean while he was the one that opted to toss his clothes onto the floor and disregard them for however long it took him (or Yata, mostly Yata saw it first) to remember to put his clothes away..
Yata roared in anger and set his foot on the skateboard, his red aura pushing him forward at lightning speeds. Fushimi drew his sword, ready to deflect the attack, and grunted with the effort of pushing Yata’s entire weight off of the thin metal that was in-between him and the butt of the skateboard.
“Slow as always, eh?” Fushimi remarked, finally shoving his enemy off of his sword and into the air. Yata landed gracefully a few meters back.
“Shut up, you fucking monkey!” Yata’s hands were flaring along with his rage, and Fushimi let out a manic laugh before flashing forward and meeting Yata sword to board. “Get the fuck out of our territory!” Yata bellowed in his ear after a few unsuccessful punches.
Fushimi pushed the other’s small body away once again and fixed his glasses, which had somehow gone askew during the scuffle. “Where’s the fun in that, though?” He sneered, twirling his sword around as he shrugged. “I’ve been awfully bored lately, and here Misaki is, ready to entertain me…”
Before Yata could bark another reply towards him, Awashima Seri’s Arrow Attack shot right in-between the two of them and an authoritative yet exasperated “Fushimi!” rang out in the silence that followed. Fushimi turned to look towards the origin of the voice, expecting a glare and an order to put his weapon away, and was completely right, for there Awashima was, glaring hard at the both of them but not saying another word.
Fushimi sheathed his sword and clicked his tongue in annoyance, sparing one last glance at a surprised (but still angry) Yata before tugging on his sleeve and turning to walk towards the Lieutenant. She continued to berate him about picking an unnecessary fight on an otherwise normal day - if normal meant capturing a Strain in the Red King’s terrain and facing the consequences of both crossing territory and causing a few explosions to go off in the name of justice was a normal day - but Fushimi didn’t care to listen to her words, instead moving his right hand to scratch lazily at his burned HOMRA mark and hopelessly wondering when the ghost of that bright, bright smile that had somehow attached itself to his sleeves would finally learn its place and stay forgotten in the corner of his mind.
Awashima had stopped talking at one point and was giving Fushimi a stern side-long look as they walked, and he answered whatever was on her mind with a click of his tongue, dropping his hand back to his side and looking ahead as if Awashima had never spoken. Eventually the Scepter 4 vans came to view, along with their Captain and the Strain, whom was in cuffs and glaring at anything that moved. Fushimi clicked his tongue again; this Strain didn’t look like much of a coherent speaker, meaning that it’d be difficult to peel information off of them. As they neared Munakata, the Strain was elegantly naming off every expletive they knew and tugging on their cuffs, as if they thought that if they found the right word it would just magically unlock itself.
Fushimi was tempted to kick the Strain, but one glance at Awashima told him that it wasn’t worth the extra paperwork he would have to do on top of reporting his earlier scuffle with Yata. He sighed, irritated at the fact that his encounter with Yata was cut much too short for his own liking and that literally nothing else was going well for him today.
It was stupid how, after nearly three years apart, his mind still somehow still managed to trail back to Yata. The dorm bunk was still too cold, the scar on his chest still tingling with every sight of that soft, auburn hair. It was stupid . He can live without the guy, he knows he can, but his mind isn’t letting go for some godawful reason.
Sometimes Fushimi wondered if Yata was just as affected as he was even after all these years, but his reaction to Fushimi every time they saw each other told him otherwise. It was just anger that he saw in those bright, bright eyes now, and Fushimi honestly didn’t know what to think of it.
He should be happy. The Slates are finally, finally gone and their powers are dissipating with each passing day, but something was off, something was still missing.
His leg wound was healed, the paperwork began - surprisingly - dwindling as the days rolled by, and Strains haven’t been sighted in almost a week, which hopefully meant that everything was soon coming to an end. Earlier reports also told him that HOMRA had been officially disbanded as of late, though most of the clansmen opted to continue visiting the bar and hanging out as if nothing changed.
It was yet another quiet day today save for Doumyouji’s random outbursts of laughter and Hidaka’s pleas to please shut up . It was almost too quiet, and Fushimi didn’t even need to stay in the office for more than a few hours before his pile of paperwork was done and he started to go to work on reviewing everyone else’s reports, silently cursing most of them for making such horrid reports and being given the task of proofreading every single one of them, sometimes even rewriting the entire report due to how terrible it was written.
Oh, and those stupid doodles of Doumyouji’s, fuck those too.
When that was over and done with, he dropped off the papers and left work to go take a walk to clear his head. He didn’t do this very often, but it was that time of year again, and he still couldn’t shake loose the almost urgent need to see the flower petals in all their glory before the trees became bare once again.
It was there that he saw that all-too-familiar tuft of red hair swaying with the light breeze around them. His back was turned to Fushimi, but the white headphones around the other’s neck made it much too obvious just who was sitting on the bench on the other walkway, overlooking the lake with the island in the middle of it all. Everything was tainted a sickly pink, but it was a pink that brought back the memory of crepes and a stupid art project that they did end up making - and it was even fitted with the LED lights that the other kid had wanted so badly.
He crossed the patch of grass that was in-between the walkways and stood behind Yata for a moment before realizing that music was playing through the headphones, barely loud enough for him to hear.
“Still listening to that band?” Fushimi huffed, allowing a half smile to decorate his face as Yata whirled around in surprise and met Fushimi’s eyes.
“Y-you..!” Yata sputtered, standing up to look at him properly. “Why are you here?”
Fushimi walked over to the other end of the bench and sat there, completely avoiding the question because really, why was he there? He couldn’t say it was a routine he did unconsciously every year since that first time. He raked through his thoughts for something to do, to say , but he came up empty-handed and opted to focus his eyes on the view of the lake in front of him.
Yata sighed and sat back down on the bench, turning off his headphones and allowing the breeze to fill the silence. It had been a month since they last saw each other, and it was still much too awkward to bring up anything.
But Yata was trying, and Fushimi could tell that Yata really did want to piece back their friendship together, because he wasn’t being loud and angry like he has been the past few years. He was actually thinking , and that in itself was unusual given his firey personality.
“You know,” Yata finally spoke, his eyes trailing a petal as it danced, “there’s a new co-op shooting game at the arcade we used to go to but there are these stupid puzzles and shit that I can’t figure out on my own.” He turned to Fushimi, eyes guarded but there was a spark of hope Fushimi couldn’t help staring at. “Do you… do you think you can help me out sometime?”
Fushimi’s eyes widened. Yata was trying hard to keep his eyes on Fushimi, watching for even the slightest hint of refusal. He looked at Yata for what felt like an eternity before he clicked his tongue and faced forward yet again. He gave a slight nod and noticed Yata’s shoulders relaxing from the corner of his eyes.
“Great!” Yata was smiling, and Fushimi wanted so badly to look at that smile - the one that was only for him and him alone - but he felt like he still didn’t deserve that smile, didn’t deserve the fluttering he knew he’d feel in the pit of his stomach if he allowed himself to see that smile for all its worth. “I have the weekend off if you maybe want to…” Yata didn’t finish his sentence.
“Sure.” Fushimi finally talked, and that smile only grew , along with his desire to turn and look at it.
“Awesome!” Yata laughed, turning back to the scene before them. The silence was comfortable and Fushimi didn’t even realize the time yet until Yata suddenly shouted something about being late for work and standing up abruptly. He looked at Fushimi one last time, who was pretending he wasn’t watching the whole ordeal from the corner of his eyes, and smiled sheepishly.
“I gotta go.” Yata mumbled. “I’ll see you this weekend, then?”
That was only a few days away, and Fushimi found himself suddenly counting the hours until Saturday came. “... Yeah.”
“... and get this, Kamamoto actually proposed to her after so long!” Misaki exclaimed as he walked side-by-side with Saruhiko. “It’s supposed to take place in a few months, but he says you should come too. You will, right?”
Misaki’s eyes were hopeful as Saruhiko turned to look at the shorter man. “Do I have to?”
“Well, no…” Misaki’s confidence faltered. “I guess you don’t. It’d be kind of awkward, wouldn’t it?”
“Of course.” Saruhiko rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I actually got along with you guys.”
Misaki hummed in agreement. They had already talked about all the heavy things that they needed to talk about a year ago, and now they were building their friendship up on a clean slate, with Misaki asking him to go places and help him with trivial things all the time. One thing that Misaki seemed to avoid, though, was Saruhiko’s relationship with HOMRA, because it always set the other on edge when HOMRA was brought up.
“Everyone’s got a plus one for the wedding already.” Misaki sighed. “Kusanagi’s taking the Tundra Woman and even Anna managed to be friends with that brat of all people.”
“So?” Saruhiko knew where Misaki was getting at, but he just wanted him to say it out loud for the sake of teasing. It wasn’t like he really didn’t mind going to the wedding, as long as Misaki was near him. It was almost a given that Munakata is going to attend, so it wasn’t like he wasn’t going to be dragged to it either way.
“So won’t you be my plus one?” Misaki grumbled, turning away. Saruhiko smirked.
“Is Misaki asking me to be his date to a wedding, of all things?” he teased. Misaki turned to look at him again, sputtering a response but not getting anything coherent out of his mouth. He scowled and looked forward again.
“It’s not a date ! You don’t do those as weddings, that’s gross.” Misaki muttered. “I don’t even know why the fuck that brat’s even going. That guy hasn’t even met Kamamoto!”
“A wedding date isn’t uncommon.” Saruhiko said bluntly, completely ignoring whatever else spilled out of Misaki’s mouth. “That’s probably why that fatso even suggested I come.”
“What are you talking about now ?” Misaki huffed, obviously not following Saruhiko’s train of thought. As if he’d ever catch that train this early into their revived friendship.
“I’m saying.” Saruhiko enunciated every word slowly and clearly to make sure Misaki got what he was trying to say. “Wedding dates are okay, and he only suggested I come because you don’t have a date to it yet. Ah…” Saruhiko chuckled. “You know, Captain probably doesn’t have a wedding date either.”
Misaki scowled. “I’d rather have you as my wedding date than your king.” When he realized just what it was he let spill out of his mouth this time, his face went red and he walked a few steps ahead of them. “A-ah… I didn’t mean it that way! Just.. ah… hey, want some ice cream or something?” Misaki stuttered as he spoke, not even looking back to see if Saruhiko was following. “This one’s great, it’s even got that weird italian ice cream or whatever they’re called…”
He turned to look at Saruhiko then, who was still smirking, but any sense of mischief was gone in his expression as he easily caught up to the other. “Now you’re asking me out on an ice cream date ? Really, Misaki?”
“Oh, would you just shut up about that already!” Misaki yelled, causing a few heads to turn in their direction. His cheeks were painted red as he glared. “It’s not a date!”
“It sounds exactly like a date to me.”
“But it’s not !”
“Coming from a virgin like you, it might as well be.”
“Then what the fuck do you call all those times we hung out together?”
“Whatever you want to call them, Misaki.” Saruhiko sang as he walked ahead and towards the shop Misaki was just pointing at.
Misaki sighed again, exasperated by the conversation. “You sound like you’re actually trying to get me to ask you out on a date.”
Saruhiko looked back at Misaki but didn’t answer anymore as he entered the ice cream store with the other in tow.
“Welcome!” a voice greeted him, but he didn’t bother to look at the attendant as he scanned the tags for each of the flavors. Misaki was right next to him, face flushed and eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
“One cup of vanilla gelato.” Saruhiko said plainly. “And a strawberry gelato for this guy.”
Misaki turned to Saruhiko. “What the fuck?”
“You were taking too long.”
“We’ve only been in here for a minute , Saru.”
“Yeah, and?” He walked up to the register, pulling out the money to pay for both of their gelatos.
“Hey, I can pay for my own, you know…” Misaki said, raising his hand to stop the other.
“’s fine.” Saruhiko mumbled, putting the bill on the counter. “A few hundred yen isn’t going to make me broke.”
Misaki’s cheeks were red once again as Saruhiko handed him the cup, picking up one of the two spoons that was in the other hand. “... thanks.” he mumbled before turning to sit at a table in the corner. Saruhiko sat down as well and began to eat his cup of ice cream, taking small bites as if he was afraid of getting a brain freeze or something.
The atmosphere was peaceful again; Misaki would bring something up like a video game one of the HOMRA guys lent him or the newest song he found and came to love, and eventually they ended up sharing Saruhiko’s earbuds and listening to one of the many new Misaki found and kept over the years.
“... I wonder if this is what a date would feel like.” Misaki murmured, obviously tired and affected by the soft melody that played through his left earbud.
“But wouldn’t that mean that we’ve been dating since we were twelve?” Saruhiko remarked almost immediately, and he regretted not giving it a second thought as Misaki reacted almots instantly to that innocent question.
Misaki, who had his arms folded on the table with his head resting on them, shot up and allowed the earbud to fall out of its place. “Wh-what the fuck are you saying?”
Saruhiko swallowed the spit that had begun to collect in his mouth. He did not prepare for this conversation, nor did he ever expect Misaki of all people to bring it up - at all . He settled with clicking his tongue and looking away with a scowl, allowing Misaki to think whatever he wanted to about the situation.
Misaki was obviously contemplating what had rolled off of Saruhiko’s tongue just a moment ago and laughed softly, startling the other. “I knew it, you were trying to get me to ask you out on a date…”
“What makes you think that?” Saruhiko looked at him, refusing to allow any emotions show on his features.
“Everything about today.” His confidence was back as he looked smugly at Saruhiko. “Damn, I didn’t think you actually liked me that way.”
“So cocky, aren’t we?” Saruhiko challenged, eyes narrowing.
“Aha! So I’m right!” Misaki grinned. “God, you’re awful at trying to say what’s on your mind…” He shook his head, the smile never fading. “So that means you’ll be my plus one to the wedding right?”
Saruhiko’s expression didn’t change one bit as he turned away, completely ignoring the man across the tiny table from him. That only spurred Misaki on, who was looking at him with a triumphant glint in his eyes.
“I’m going to take that as a yes, then.” He said, stretching his arms out. Pushed Saruhiko’s earphones towards him. “Hey.. wanna head out of here now?”
Saruhiko grunted and stood up, picking the earphones up tossing his cup away before heading out without needing to turn back, knowing that Misaki was trailing not far behind. He was beyond annoyed right now, what with his pent-up feelings finally being released into the open in the most unexpected way possible, but Misaki didn’t seem one bit fazed by the fact that his once-best-friend was actually gay.
Did that mean…?
“You know,” Misaki’s voice cut him from his thoughts, “thanks for the ice cream date.” his hand was suddenly on his sleeve, and the slight tug made Saruhiko remember all those countless times his friend had done that to him years before, back when they were stupid kids that didn’t understand how the world operated and that their plan to take it over wasn’t as foolproof as they thought it was. It reminded him of the crepes and the cherry blossoms and Misaki’s head leaning against his shoulder, and Saruhiko suddenly realized that Misaki really was - and still is - the only thing he had ever wanted to have and to hold onto forever.
He took a chance and pulled his hand away, intertwining their fingers and looking as if he hadn’t just done that.
Misaki’s eyes were wide and curious as he stared at their joined hands, and in the next moment it was bright, bright, bright , his eyes shining and his smile silently telling Saruhiko that he had done the right thing, that everything was okay, that Misaki isn’t going to run away in terror.
“You’re pretty bold for someone that had issues with putting their head on my lap eight years ago.” Misaki said, squeezing Saruhiko’s hand ever-so-slightly.
“You’re pretty bold for a virgin that probably hasn’t ever gone on a real date before.” Saruhiko replied, smirking when he caught Misaki’s startled expression.
“Real date? What the fuck?” He glowered. “Do you not enjoy ice cream and video games or something?”
Saruhiko laughed happily, a sound neither of them have heard in years . “Who knows.”
Misaki shook his head and sighed heavily. “Picky ass. At least tell me if you’re having fun or something so we can do something else…”
Saruhiko thought for a minute. “If it’s Misaki,” he said, looking up at the grey sky. It looked like it was about to snow soon. “I’ll always have fun.” He could feel Misaki’s heartbeat quickening - at least, he thought it was Misaki’s but even his own heart was beating faster than usual. Something like a fond smile replaced Misaki’s earlier broad grin.
“Good,” he murmured softly, “because you’re going to have to put up with my shit from now on anyways.”
And if that wasn’t a promise that meant Saruhiko was going to be able to have and to hold the one thing - the one person - he’d ever wanted in his life, he didn’t know what else to think of it as.