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It has been three days since Minoura and Michio arrived at Iwayajima Island. Everyday was the same— Minoura would try to make contact with the twins, while Michio was nowhere to be found. It was quite obvious he was arguing with his father—Jogoro— and trying to find out the truth about the sudden murder cases in Tokyo.
Every night Michio would stumble back into the room with bloodshot eyes and a pale face as if a ghost haunted him. Minoura had to watch him without a word because each of his questions was met with loud silence that only made the whole situation more tense than it needed to be.
On the third night Michio returned again. His state was the same as it was for the past three days. Exhausted and dreadful. Tonight something broke in him as he began to wallow against the floor like a capricious child and words left his mouth before he could stop them:
“It’s horrible, horrible! I didn’t want to believe this, but still! Still everything came true! It’s the end!”
“Is it… how we thought it was? Minoura asked quietly.
“Yes, and even worse than that.” His voice calmed after the sound of Minoura’s. It was more sorrowful than ever before. His twisted melancholy face was ghost white. Minoura tried to press further— what did he mean by worse, but Michio didn’t answer. Only added:
“Tomorrow I’ll refuse. After that, a catastrophe will happen. Minoura, I am your ally, together, we will defeat the demon. Will you help me?”
Michio reached his hands towards Minoura and grabbed his wrists . Despite giving himself courage with his words, he presented a view truly pathetic. It comes as no surprise, after all he called his own father a demon and foreshadowed that he wants to defeat him. Who wouldn’t be fatigued, who wouldn’t lose colour on their face at a moment like this? Minoura wasn’t sure what to say to cheer him up, so he only gently returned the squeeze.
After the emotional outburst both returned to their beddings. The room was especially dark, as if the honesty in Michio’s words somehow worked on the atmosphere of the whole island. The only source of light was the window, letting through the shine of the moon between curtains.
Minoura laid on his side, facing away from Michio—who he assumed— was already asleep. He himself felt drained by everything, even in a creepy place like Moroto's estate he needed to get sleep, however he found it difficult.
The unknown noises from outside of their room bothered him, the air suddenly felt too thick and the blanket the opposite, it wasn’t warming him enough. The light from outside both irked him and comforted him, his mind couldn’t pick a side.
In his mind started to form dreams, splitting images between his thoughts and reality. He was about to fall asleep, to get some rest after the long day, but he was interrupted again, this time not by noises or the annoying shine of moonlight, but something warm, touching his wrists again. He forced his already sleep-deprived eyes to open and his hand moved on its own to shake off whatever was keeping his limbs hostage. It wasn’t a thing, but a familiar warmth— Michio.
While Minoura was brawling with his consciousness to let him doze off, he wasn’t aware of the noises happening behind him, and especially the motions of another body. The contact was warm on his cold skin from the breeze of wind coming in through the gap of the door and the too short cover. Minoura turned his neck enough to peer at the somebody beside him. His heart thumped faster as he did— whether from the anxiousness of waking him up or the shock of the embrace remained unknown.
Michio was asleep— and yet he was the one who moved closer onto his bedding.
Minoura felt the hot breath on the back of his neck. He didn’t move, like that simple hold on his wrist was keeping him locked in the same position. Minoura tried to not pay attention to it, trying to finally doze off to sleep, but this made the experience even harder. He was aware that he should push him away, to get space between them, but a part of him stopped him. Michio was close, but not enough to make it suffocating. Their bodies weren’t attached to one another, but the heat was spread amongst the two men.
Minutes passed, more and more, each second felt longer than the other. Michio wasn’t waking up anytime soon, and Minoura wasn’t falling asleep.
Courage built up on Minoura and his voice finally sounded. “Michio, Michio get off.” He muttered in the otherwise silent room, he was so focused on getting the man away that he called him by his name instead of his surname like always.
Michio only moved closer, he didn’t care for the voice— his thumb brushed aimlessly against Minoura’s wrist.The hand which gripped his wrist, circled around the other’s waist, not like a friend, but like a lover making sure their significant other was comfortable— which Minoura clearly wasn’t.
Minoura rolled himself to lay on his back, now Michio’s face was more visible. The same exhausted face he had to see every time their eyes met on the island was now resting, more peaceful than he would imagine. He reached, not to return to embrace, but to grab the man’s hand and pull it off himself, gently— always gently, to not disturb him, but with enough force to get some senses into Michio.
But as one would expect, he was met with the opposite answer he hoped for and Michio tightened his grip, his leg lifted to drape itself on his friend's thighs to keep him closer as if he were an oversized plush toy while flushing them together in an intimate hug on the floor mattress.
“Moroto, wake up, Moroto!” He whisper-yelled to the other man, now shaking his hand.
It helped, the aggressive motions got him to stir and his eyes began to reveal themselves from behind tired eyelids.
“...Minoura..” He mumbled through an agape mouth as his gaze found the face of his most beloved person. “Ah… Minoura… you’ve come to help me.” He continued, eyes barely open. His hand let go off the other’s wrist and instead moved further up to cradle his cheek in his palm. Cold, but pleasurable to touch in such closeness. He missed how much they used to stick close when they were younger. He felt weak without him.
Minoura tensed at the touch— it wasn’t ordinary what you’d expect from a close friend, or even a crush or roommate. It was explicit. Something you get to feel in a bed with your wife or husband. He hated this touch. He hated how it was pressed on him from no one other than his friend Michio and not a loving wife.
“Help you? Moroto, you’re acting like a madman. Wake up, Moroto!” Minoura begged again, not quite scared, but irritated at how clingy Michio became tonight. He pulled his head away, but the hand remained on his cheek, tender like a pillow, yet uncomfortable enough to try and resist.
Michio’s face turned full of sorrow, like those words hurt him. “Quiet down. There are other people in this house.” He warned, suddenly his voice sounded more cautious. “Let me sleep here… with you, my dear friend. I need you tonight.”
Michio craved for him to understand. His thoughts were running crazy tonight. He was anxious before the next day. “I’m terrified of the outcome tomorrow...” He stated, his tone shaky, words trembling as he buried his face in Minoura’s shoulder. His hand fell from Minoura’s face back to embrace him into a hug.
“Please… this one last time, let me hold you like I’ve always dreamed of. Let me finally feel how it is to embrace the heart of someone valued to you.”
Michio continued— his emotions were as evident as back when he first returned to the room. Painfully truthful.
Minoura found himself to be speechless yet again by Michio’s words. That man was full of surprises— the one thing that wasn’t a surprise were his feelings towards him. With how much love he cherished him like not everyone ever could. He couldn’t forget the sight of his eyes, then fear from back when Michio touched him too close to crossing a boundary between friends. And after— how much his hands were shaking, whether from fear or excitement was unclear. It always felt like a poorly made movie to him, or a creation made in his mind by the alcohol in his blood.
But having this in front of this face— he couldn’t deny the feelings of love his best friend held out towards him.
It could end horribly if he let Michio cling to him like this for the whole night. It could also help his friend have a good sleep before an important day that could change both their lives. His thoughts swirled on endless ideas, they couldn’t stop on anything specific.
In the act of an impulse, he let go of Michio’s hand and let himself be pulled into the strange hug. His eyes looked away, at the ceiling above his head to try and focus on something other than the weight of another man pressing onto his shoulder and side.
Michio recognized it— how Minoura gave up on trying to push him away and his grip relaxed. He was still close, and hiding his own legs under Minoura’s thin blanket to keep both of them warm. “...Thank you, Minoura.” Michio murmured against his friend’s sleeping clothes. “You’ve done so much for me. Even after finding out the truth about me, you never found me disgusting… you never hated me.”
Michio confessed, relaxing as he did so. “I don’t know how I could ever repay you for letting me love you.” He whispered, sleep already catching up to him.
Minoura’s breath hitched and held it in his lungs the whole time as his friend spoke, like those were the most important words to him during this moment. He never imagined hating Michio— the unfamiliar feelings for the man were always stuck with him, like a reminder that their friendship would forever be something more for Michio, but it never passed his mind to feel any sort of loathing for him. His heartbeat sped up again, he felt the organ against his chest and hoped the other man would be exhausted enough not to notice.
“... Don’t bother with repaying me. You’re doing enough by helping me with this case. You’re risking your life only to help me figure out the truth. You’re putting your life in my hands, even though you’re already aware I can’t return your feelings.”
With those words, Minoura placed a hand on Michio’s shoulder, not quite a hug, but something grounding. A silent permission for him to stay here as long as he needed to think and calm himself. His heart slowed down as the sleep swallowed both of them into a restful slumber, both tangled under the covers and somehow fitting on the small bedding that Minoura got from Jogoro.
The next morning they acted as if none of that happened, both of them were too focused on tasks ahead to mention (even to themselves) how comfortably they've finally slept during their stay at Moroto's estate.