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Tei’s been acting... Weird recently.
It’s constant— he’s been more fidgety, more nervous. Tensed and flinching.
Ikeda doesn’t think he’s done anything. But Yaitabashi has hammered it in his head that sometimes, just because he doesn’t find something insulting; doesn’t means others don’t as well.
Apparently, a lot of what he says classifies as mean— even if he’s not trying to! It’s annoying, Ikeda really doesn’t get it. He grew hearing those things all the time, and he turned out fine. Yet when Ikeda repeats the exact things his Dad has said to him: they all look offended!
Granted, Sou has set a baseline rule of, “Everything your Father has said to, or about you is cruel and extremely wrong and should not be trusted under any circumstances.” With Maekawa adding on, “He’s also a pile of steaming shit that’s unemployed and miserable. So his opinion shouldn’t matter anyways. Plus— he’s a paedophile.”
Tei hadn’t said anything back then, but he agreed— judging from the look in his eye.
That’s... Well, his Father being wrong about something, is a hard subject to grasp. Although, if he frames it as, ‘he is technically right, but his opinions are often the worst possible and most uncharitable outcomes that could conceivably happen,’: it’s a lot easier to swallow.
There is truth in what has Father has taught him— but there was also cruelty. And that’s the part where his Father is wrong. See, his Father chose to be like that— he chose to do that to him. And he didn’t regret it: because his Father gained many, many things from the way he raised Ikeda.
Because Ikeda Koji loved his son; but he also loved himself. His Father did love him, that is why he made him believe all his words, hanging off of them like scripture.
Yes, Ikeda Koji loved him so much he didn’t want anyone else to have him— even if that meant a bit of white lies. A bit of exaggeration. Ikeda Koji loved himself so much that he decided his own son would live to serve him; to please him.
His Father loved him— but his Father loved himself even more.
People are selfish, Ikeda knows. His Father was selfish too, is what Ikeda has recently come to terms with.
Maybe he is why Daiki is the way he is— his greed, his selfishness: his cruelty.
If Ikeda got his looks from his mother; he got his personality from his Father.
His Father was good at understanding people— understanding Daiki. He knew what made people tick, what made them squirm, what made them scared. How to observe, and what to do with that to get the desired outcome.
He taught Daiki to do the same; which brings him back to the matter at hand.
Tei is acting weird.
Specifically, Tei is acting weird about Ikeda. He’s perfectly fine talking to Hirose on the phone. Whenever Sou ships a new terrarium their way while praying it doesn’t crack— Atsushi lights up at the gift. Proudly displaying it in their emaciated kitchenette. All small and tiny and slightly mouldy.
He can’t look at Daiki, though.
(It feels like the second trial all over again.)
Ikeda first thought it was his eyes acting up again. Maybe a nightmare about the Bleeding, about his and Kumada’s final spat before she died— where Atsushi can’t see anything besides red, red, and red.
At least, that’s what he thought.
But no, it’s not that Atsushi can’t look at him; it’s that he won’t. Tei refuses to look at him: not fully.
He looks slightly to the left when he gives him food— looking past his shoulder as he tells him he’s allowed to sleep, holding him close.
Tei doesn’t look at him at all when he tells Daiki he’s allowed to go to the bathroom— that he’s allowed to shower.
It gives Ikeda pause.
He’s started avoiding his gaze in general, but those times are when it’s at it’s worst. He looks so nervous, too— like a scared animal; does that make Ikeda the predator?
Hm, yeah. No, Ikeda decides. Tei isn’t scared of him; he’s just... He’s just— uncomfortable, around him.
And that thought is what really gives Ikeda pause.
Ikeda doesn’t say anything— not yet. He’s not supposed to question this kind of thing. Although, that’s what his Father had said: that’s what he ingrained into Daiki over the years.
So...
So maybe it’ll be fine if he asks. He’s allowed to now, right?
His Dad is dead, anyways. He won’t be leering over shoulder— eternally judging and scrutinizing. Not ever again, he saw the corpse after all.
It still doesn’t stop the instinctual fear that permeates his gut.
Ikeda likes it here, and that’s what makes it even more terrifying. Because, the second he upsets Tei— he’s out the door.
(Ikeda doesn’t realise he’s already upset Tei many, many times. He doesn’t realise that Tei has always come back— that he will continue to do that until the end of time.)
(Because, this is Tei’s apartment; it’s not the Den— not by a long shot.)
(And yet, it’s home— like the Den, like his mother’s bedroom.)
(Ikeda thought the similarities between Atsushi and his Father would stop after the Game.)
(He was wrong; they got worse.)
He can’t risk it; and Atsushi is just glad he isn’t constantly being a raging asshole anymore.
But still, but still, but still: it’s not enough.
Tei, the prick has been avoiding him— it’s not subtle, they literally live together? Sure, he checks on him in their room: being able to leave his room is still new to him. So he stays there most days— he hasn’t even properly been outside. Not because he’s scared to!
It’s just... It’s just a lot.
Tei pushed it once, back when he first started living here— they didn't talk for the rest of the day.
That’s fine by Ikeda, he’s more than content in their room.
Of course, Atsushi being the absolute asshole he is— clearly isn’t on the same page as him.
“Hey, uh— Ikeda? You, want dinner, yeah?” Tei speaks— nervous, more so than usual.
No shit, he’s fucking starving. Ikeda wishes he could say that that out loud, but the promise of food always seems to cow him quite well, make him quiet and agreeable— Ikeda nods. He puts down his pen and paper as he climbs off the floor, using the bed as support.
“What is it?”
“Oh! Uh, well I just made katsu curry, but I also made something else as well, I want you to that try beforehand.” Tei states, avoiding his eyes and looking constipated as all hell.
“Pff— trying to poison me or what? Because if that’s what you’re going for. At least pretend to act like you aren’t planning something, you look like you’re gonna get arrested a third time.”
“I— God, why do I even bother?” Tei asks himself, it’s a familiar sentiment that Ikeda often wonders as well, “Just— follow me, it’s not anything bad. You won’t like it; but I think you need it, y’know?”
Ominous, but Ikeda’ll bite.
Tei had originally brought Ikeda all his food to their room, but apparently it’s, ‘not hygienic,’ so Atsushi has since spent a stupid amount of time trying to get him out of their room— especially at meal times.
Ikeda has given up fighting back, for the most part— so he follows Tei out of their room. Gripping Tei’s sleeve as Ikeda passes through the door frame. An unconscious habit, stirred up from a long time ago: when he used to clutch his mother’s hand when nervous or scared, not that he’ll ever admit that to Atsushi.
It’s scary to leave their room; that was never a problem in the Game— because that was never really their room. It was temporary, they weren’t even outside, so Ikeda was fine to move in and out as he pleased. Now though...
... He’d forgotten how big the world is. Large and imposing and so new. The Game almost felt like a fever dream— but Tei’s apartment is shockingly real; one hop, skip, and a jump from the Den.
He can leave their room though, Ikeda sometimes forgets that, so Tei remembers for him.
It’s a short walk to their kitchenette— although it’s more so a couple of steps then a full walk; when considering Tei’s shitty ass apartment.
There’s a bowl already placed on the small table. Ikeda notes that the food in there is decidedly not katsu curry. That's probably tucked away in the fridge. Tei urges him to sit down in front of it— while sitting onto the seat beside the bowl.
Ikeda follows; tail between his legs at the mere sight of food. He can feel himself tense up, he’s not usually this nervous about food— at least, not anymore.
It’s just... Tei’s being extra weird right now.
He’s not saying anything. Ikeda’s here, right in front of the food— and Tei isn’t saying anything.
He’s not— what is Atsushi waiting for?
“Uh,” Ikeda starts, something sick permeating his gut, “You gonna say anything, or...?”
Atsushi smacks his lips— he’s unhappy, even an idiot could recognize that.
“I— well... Daiki, could you— eat, for me?” Tei asks, rapidly thumping his leg up and down.
Wait what? That’s— that’s not how this goes. Tei is supposed to say that he’s allowed to eat; not... This.
Why’d it change; why did Tei change?
“... The hell? Atsushi, what the fuck are you doing?” Ikeda asks, pissed.
“I—”
“Why’re you being weird?” Ikeda continues, a pit in his stomach.
“Wh— I’m not being— weird. I just—” Tei cuts himself off; conflicted over— something.
“You are. You aren’t telling I can eat— why not?” That’s the real question. He’s been off for days, yes— but how does his weird behaviour correlate to this?
“Because...” Tei trails off, before steeling himself.
“Because I don’t want to tell you that you can eat,” Tei finishes, determination clear as day.
“I— what? Tei,” Ikeda questions, fear audibly seeping into his voice. He— he can’t eat? Why? Tei always says that he can, even when Ikeda himself refused to, back in the Game.
So... So what changed—?
Tei takes a deep breathe.
“Daiki I’m not telling you to eat; I’m asking you,” Atsushi pleads— it’s stupid, what’s the difference anyhow?
His throat is fucking sore, not because of dehydration, no. Because of this— feeling. It’s been building for days. His throat fucking hurts: it aches and twists— pulsating and burning. Like it always does when he feels like... This.
... Upset, maybe? Is he upset?
What, just because Tei won’t let him eat? That’s pathetic.
His eyes hurt too— but he’s not crying, he’s not! It doesn’t count if they haven’t rolled down his cheek; but he can feel them— blurry and boiling and annoying.
He was fine minutes ago, what happened?
He just... It’s not meant to go like this, is the thing— not with Tei.
He always— he doesn’t, he gives Daiki permission. Since he’s figured it out, every meal, every drink, and every damn night he’s always...
So— so why? Why’s he being such a piece of shit: Ikeda hates him right now. He’s being annoying and weird and cruel! The dick.
“Wh— I...” Ikeda starts, staring at the bowl in front of him. It’s egg fried rice, and it smells good dammit. He licks his lips subconsciously, he feels his stomach growl and groan. He hates this, he feels like his skin is on fire. All tense in the back of his throat— he can feel the tension headache already.
“... Tei?” He can barely make out the bowl, with how unfocused his eyes are— all cottony and soft in the back of his head, vision blurry. He does not acknowledge how his voice breaks and cracks and whines.
He’s starting to blur out, just because Tei won’t give him permission to eat. Shit, he’s really got desperate— hasn’t he?
God, if his Father saw him now...
“... It’s just,” Tei starts, reluctant— like he isn’t the one making this difficult.
“Daiki, you... You can’t live like this. You shouldn’t need permission to eat— you’re human Daiki, you should be able to do human things without thinking; without permission. Not... Not this,” He says, like this is something to be ashamed about.
Which is stupid, this isn’t something to be ashamed about. Hell, Atsushi has been more than ready to give him permission both during and after the Game, so— what changed?
Why is he trying to change it?
‘You’re human’, so what? Ikeda thinks, annoyed. That doesn’t mean anything— Ikeda can live like this; he has been living like this for the past 12 years for fucks sake!
Did... Did Daiki do something?
Is that why he’s been acting off recently?
That must be it, Tei is nice— really nice. But Daiki knows he always makes things difficult: he must’ve finally, finally pushed past Tei’s breaking point— but honestly? He would’ve preferred another calm room to this. Ikeda admits Atsushi has leagues more of self restraint than his Dad. But Daiki always knew this would happen sooner than later— he was expecting it: he was counting on it.
So why’s Daiki so shocked? He feels... He feels hurt: betrayed. Which is stupid! Because this is exactly what he deserves, right?
It’s just— he’s hungry.
He’s been getting hungrier— it’s constant, excessive and still he starves and yearns and hungers. Back with his Father, what he eats now in one day could last him up to a week.
Tei, throughout it all does not complain about his greed— he gives and cooks and permits, as Daiki shovels and swallows and devours. Though, Daiki has a feeling that, starting now: everything is going to change.
Shit, what the hell did he do to piss off Atsushi this badly?
He still hasn’t responded to Atsushi, Ikeda notes. Yet still, Tei waits for him— he’s still so nice, even when he’s mad at him.
(He was still so nice to Daiki, even after he strangled him.)
(He misses the feeling; or maybe he just misses his Dad.)
He needs to respond, Tei deserves that much, he deserves a lot more Daiki in general. His Dad did too, yet they both stayed.
He needs to figure out what he did wrong so he can change, be better— anything that makes Atsushi less angry with him. So he can go back go giving him permission like he’s always done.
“I...” Daiki starts, sniffling. Head fuzzed out and ringing, “I’m sorry.” He sounds pathetic, but if he’s like this Tei might be less mad, he always is when he get like this. And maybe that’s manipulative, but as long as Tei isn’t mad at him anymore— that’s all that matters.
“Wh— wait what? Daiki, what are you apologizing for?”
Fuck, fuck it’s worse than he thought— he’s testing him, trying to see if he’s aware of what he did wrong, or that he’ll admit something to Tei that he has no idea about. Shit, what did he do this time?
“I— fuck, I’m sorry,” He repeats uselessly— he’s so hungry. He hates this; he always hates this part: words won’t do, so he’ll have to compensate in it other ways.
... What does Tei want?
Shit, Tei isn’t his Dad— he doesn’t want the things his Father wanted; Atsushi’s made that abundantly clear. What does he want instead? What does Tei like? What he like from Daiki— what does he want from Daiki?
Atsushi likes it when he initiates contact, doesn’t he? A touch of the wrist, a head on his shoulder— Tei’s mouth unconsciously form a smile when he does that: is that what Tei would want?
There’s only one way to find out, Daiki assumes: nauseated.
Atsushi’s next to him, on the adjacent seat— so it’s easy to reach over to him and bury his face in Tei’s chest; arms shaking as they hesitantly hover over Tei’s forearms.
“I— hey, hey Daiki. It’s okay— you’re fine, we’re fine. You have nothing to apologize for, okay?“ Atsushi comforts, but Daiki must have something wrong because— because why else would Tei do that to him?
There’s always a reason when Dad withholds food from him— so, it’s much the same with Atsushi, right?
Is it working? Is he doing what Tei wants; what he deserves, after putting up with Daiki for so long?
“I’m sorry.” And why is Tei apologising? He really is too nice, “I shouldn’t’ve pushed you without warning.”
“I— it’s... It’s just I was talking to Yaitabashi awhile back— and he mentioned that it’s concerning that you still have these... Habits.”
Tei’s ranting continues, “He— he said that he’s been teaching you how to be more independent, but he knows that this is a sensitive for you and— and he thought I might have better luck. Then, he asked if I’ve been doing anything, to— to help,” Tei stutters out.
“But I haven’t, and that’s my fault. Because, instead I’ve just been doing the same exact thing as your— Father,” He bites out the word, like there’s poison on his tongue.
“And— and I don’t want that. I don’t want to be like him. You shouldn’t still have to rely on what he’s taught you, not since you were able to escape. So...”
“So. I’m sorry, Daiki,” Tei... Apologies? That can’t be right, but Atsushi’s eyes are watery and he’s biting his lips to resist frowning. It’s only after he’s done his speech that he wraps his warm arms around Daiki as well, his left hand finding purchase in his hair— a comforting weight.
Daiki sinks his weight onto Tei— relaxing. He’s not in trouble! Tei’s... Tei’s just being too nice again. Dumb and too good. Something coiled and defensive in him fades, and it’s just Daiki now. Daiki and Atsushi.
This is fine, Daiki thinks— his mouth twitching upwards.
“I’m... I’m not in trouble then?” Daiki dares to ask, quiet and high pitched.
“No.” It comes out fast and tensed, “No, Daiki. You were never in trouble. You’ll never be in trouble again, okay?”
“... R-really?” Daiki chokes out, eyes wet.
“Yeah,” Tei confirms, as he slowly lifts himself off his chair to more effectively hug Daiki, now resting his chin on Daiki’s hair as he stands, hunching over. His grip tightens, moving from his head to the base of his neck. Subconsciously moving his thumb back and forth, in a comforting and repetitive manner.
The rice is left forgotten in the table, for now.
The confirmation is reassuring; Daiki further leans into Tei’s chest— blocking out the harsh light. He doesn’t really know why Yaitabashi was saying that, but he’s pretty smart, so what he’s saying must’ve been right. Tei agrees with him too, so— so Daiki should at least try and listen, right?
He’s good at listening, or— at least he was raised to be.
“So... So, what did Yaitabashi want me to do?” Daiki likes Yaitabashi, he’s nice too. But not like Tei, he likes to ask Sou stuff instead of Tei— he tends to stutter and rant. Then Daiki can’t really understand his explanation; kinda like right now.
But Sou’s calm— even when he’s not. He gets angry, but not like Tei; not like Dad. And it’s never at him, shockingly. He’s always answers Daiki’s questions, even when he is mad.
A lot of Daiki’s questions make Sou mad: but he’s never taken it out on Daiki.
He’s weird, too. But a good kind of weird.
“Oh— uh. He... He said he wanted you to try and eat without, um— permission,” Atsushi explains, heart in his throat.
“It’ll be great, yeah? You can eat whenever you want, however much you want. That sounds good, doesn’t it?” Atsushi says— mood improved compared his last sentence. Focus successfully shifted.
It sounds terrifying, actually— Daiki thinks, somewhat nervous. But he knows that’s not what Atsushi wants to hear, so he stays quiet. Because of the very real chance that this is what will push him over the edge— and Daiki really doesn’t want that. He likes Tei, so he’ll try and do what he says.
“So... You want me to— eat,” The word catching in his throat, “Without you telling me that I can?” Daiki clarifies in disbelief— this is weird. Daiki’s fine with his life right now. He thinks this is the happiest he’s been in a long while. And it’s all because of Tei, and Ruka, and Yaitabashi, and Maekawa, and Matthias. They are the reason he’s still here— they’re the reason he’s happy.
The least he can do is listen: even if his Father would be so mad about it.
But, he’s gone now. He’s gone... Somewhere—Daiki can’t remember when or why he left, but it’s been a long while. So, Daiki guesses his opinion doesn’t matter as much anymore.
“I— uh, yeah. Yes. I— I want you to at least try. Can you do that for me?” And how could Daiki say no to Tei?
“You don’t have to of course, but...” Atsushi continues, wary.
“Um, sure?” Daiki doesn’t think he could’ve said no. Not because he was scared of Tei; but because he’s looking him like that. If Atsushi knew how much Daiki would do, if he just looks at him like that. He’d never hear the end of it, especially as Ikeda.
Daiki would a lot for Atsushi, simply because he wants to. Is that weird? He doesn’t want Tei to be sad— not because of the consequences, no. But because he just doesn’t want Tei to be sad.
It is weird, he decides— Daiki is weird. But he doesn’t mind being weird, if it’s for Tei.
They can be weird together.
“... Okay. Okay, right. Uh,” Tei blabbers, separating himself from Daiki— he misses Tei already. Tei sits down on the other seat once again, urging Daiki to turn around to the table.
The rice has gone cold— but Daiki has always been used to cold food, back in the Den warm food was for special occasions. Being able to eat the moment food was set down in front of him was a special occasion. It was always a waiting game back then— it’s how his entire life had always felt. Waiting for clients, waiting for food, waiting for his Father.
(For his mother.)
At least until Tei.
“...”
The rice looks awfully intimidating— a voice in the back of his head calls him dumb as hell for thinking that.
He— he just has to eat it. No big deal! That’s easy! That’s fine. It’s fine— totally fine. He eats all the time— he’s done it a thousand times! This is easy: no big problem. No problem at all! He does this every day, it’s just...
This time, there’s no one telling him that he can eat. That he’s allowed to eat.
How do people do it?
Tei does it: he does it as easy as breathing.
Daiki used to do it too, back when he was still Maeno. Maeno Daiki: a mama's boy through and through, with no concept of fatherhood.
That kid’s dead now, and Ikeda is the one that resides in his corpse— Daiki is his impersonator, all high-pitched and dumb and naive. Much like Maeno was.
He replaced him; in a way. Replicating him, a fraud— not just with his art, but as a person as well.
Daiki doesn’t do a very good job at pretending to be person sometimes. At being human, humans can eat when they want to, bathe when they want to, and shit when they want to.
Daiki can’t— neither can Ikeda.
But Maeno could; and since Daiki is him, in all the off-colour and inaccurate ways he can be.
He... He could at least try?
Maeno could eat without permission; so, by that logic Daiki also could, right?
He feels sick at the thought. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong, is what he thinks— as his hands curl into a fist. Tei places his hand above Daiki’s own.
It helps.
There’s a spoon laid beside the bowl, instead of the usual chopsticks— it quickly becomes apparent why Atsushi opted for the spoon today.
He’s shaking.
“Look,” Tei starts, “ If— if there’s any point where you feel uncomfortable, or— or that you can’t do it. You don’t have to eat it. Not completely, even just one bite is enough for today, yeah?”
“You can say no if you want to, Daiki.” He doesn’t think anybody has ever said that to him before.
It’s new— it’s terrifying. Daiki doesn’t like change; but ever since the Game he’s been learning new things, seeing new things: experiencing new things.
This...
This is just another new thing to experience.
He’s not with his Dad anymore, and if his Dad was coming back— he would’ve come back to punish him a long time ago.
If he hasn’t come back yet, he’s probably not coming back at all, is he?
Is that a bad thing? It shouldn’t be, but he feels lighter now— is that the bad thing?
(He misses his Father, yes. But he’s also scared of him.)
(Daiki doesn’t think he’ll ever stop feeling either.)
He won’t hurt him, if he eats— will he? Because he’s not here to do it.
(Will Tei?)
Daiki immediately dismisses the thought, mostly. His Dad would sometimes do that: convince him to do something that breaks his rules— then punish him for disobeying.
Atsushi isn’t one for mind game, though. He’s so straightforward in a way that Ikeda would frustrating and stupid.
Daiki finds his straightforwardness refreshing: Tei won’t hurt him, not like this.
Atsushi said he can say no, if he wants to.
(Does Daiki want to say no?)
Well, the thing is— is that he sort of does. But, he also sort of wants to say yes.
Being able to eat without permission is... Intimidating. It’s also— appealing. Everyone else does it. Daiki knows he can’t; he knows that makes him weird. He hated group dinners, back in the Game. Watching everyone else eat freely was...
Sickening. Yeah, sickening.
Letting someone else do all the hard stuff is also appealing; but for entirely different reasons. The truth is: Daiki’s used to it. Needing permission to eat is something ingrained in him— he doesn’t like change. So it was easier to continue doing what his Father had told him than... Not.
But a lot of things has changed recently— there’s no reason why this can’t either.
‘You can say no if you want to, Daiki.’ Daiki repeats in his head. Tei has always made him feel so safe.
He picks up the spoon. Hand shaky; Tei’s hand on his left is warm— comforting.
(When Maeno Daiki was a toddler, he loved eating with his hands. Apparently, he used to take the food off the spoon his mother was holding, ball it into his tiny fist and swallow what didn’t fall out of his teething mouth.)
(‘Eager to be independent,’ is what his mother said about him.)
He’s not independent now. But a start’s a start.
(He hopes his mother would be proud.)
He quickly dips the spoon into the bowl; before practically shoving the rice into his mouth— the less he can think about it: the better.
He swallows before he can chew it— causing him to start coughing. Tei’s worried mumbles fall to the background of his mind, only really felt by the hand rubbing circles across his back.
He feels like crying all over again.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Why’d he think this was a good idea? How’d Tei think this was a good idea?
His Dad— his Dad’s gonna kill him. He’ll be so mad that he’ll.. That he’ll—
“Hey, hey Daiki. It’s okay. You did fine— you did perfect.” Atsushi comforts.
“You were perfect Daiki, yeah?” Atsushi’s smiling. Really smiling, he looks— Daiki doesn’t know, he doesn’t remember seeing that look before.
(Fond, maybe? He remembers, in the dark recesses of his mind.)
“No! I— no, I... Once Dad finds out—!” Daiki yells, frantic.
“He won’t find out; he’s not here anymore, remember?” He’s not? Where is he then?
“You’re safe Daiki, I promise. You did good. So good, okay?” Atsushi prompts. It doesn’t feel real— it doesn’t feel true. But Atsushi won’t lie to him; he’s Atsushi, after all.
“... Okay,” Daiki meekly agrees.
“Do you... Do you think you can manage a little more?” Atsushi asks— pushing.
‘You can say no if you want to, Daiki.’ He remembers.
That was scary— good but scary. And Daiki thinks he’s had enough for the day. He liked Tei saying he was good but right now he just wants to curl up in Atsushi’s warm arms.
“Um, maybe later?” Tei said he could say no— he should put that to the test.
“Oh! Yeah— yeah of course. C-can we try again tomorrow, maybe?”
“... If you want to,” Daiki answers, tired.
He’ll try it again later, but for now— he needs to see if his Dad will come back. He could, he always seems to know when Daiki was doing something wrong. Always watching—always waiting.
Atsushi doesn't know Ikeda Koji like Daiki does; he could come back without Atsushi even knowing— so he needs to make sure.
Daiki’s broken rules before in here; but never this bad.
If he doesn’t come, Daiki hopes— then he’ll try again.
“Can we go back to our room now?”
Technically, it was Tei’s old room, that Ikeda took over when he moved in while Tei took the sofa. But, Ikeda never liked sleeping alone so Tei started sleeping on the bedroom floor— then Atsushi and Daiki both started sharing the bed: Daiki prefers it that way, Tei does too.
“Uh, yeah— I just have some work I need to do on my laptop. Can I bring it with me?” Tei asks, already getting up. Daiki makes a hum of agreement.
It’s weird, someone asking him permission to do something. It feels nice though— no wonder his Dad liked making him do that so much.
“And we’ll have dinner later, right?” Tei says, as he comes back— laptop in hand.
“Uh, yeah— later.” Daiki doesn’t really want to think about food right now.
“Okay. Right, well— lead the way Daiki,” Atsushi says; holding out his hand for Daiki to hold onto.
Daiki takes it automatically— you’d think they’d been doing this for years by how easily Daiki’s hand slots into Tei’s.
(It feels nice.)
You’d think the same thing, when they curl up with each other in bed— Daiki hugging Tei’s waist as Atsushi places his laptop on his back; instinctually doing so.
This was a recent change too; he used to flinch every time Tei so much as grazed him. And now look where they are!
It took a long, long while but now Daiki is the one who initiates contact— any kind will do really.
Daiki used to be scared of touch the same way he’s scared of food.
He’s not scared of touch anymore.
It might just... Take awhile. Maybe even longer than touch; but hey— he has Tei, and Sou too. He won’t have to do it alone. They’ll help him.
Even if he can’t eat normally right now, he can eventually. It’s just a work in progress.
But hey: a start’s a start— isn’t it?
(He hopes his mom would be proud; if she saw how far he’s come.)
He knows Tei is though, and that’s enough for him.
Daiki hopes he'll start feeling proud of himself, one day.