Work Text:
- THE THEOCRACY
The theocracy of life is a rather strange one. A supreme ruling force dictating our every move. I have long understood such a thing, and one of the laws within the theocracy of life is that everything exists in a limited quantity, especially happiness.
There is no telling when it would run out, because happiness itself is spontaneous, dashing, speeding across your entire body and leading it to dance a wonderful dance of emotion. The problem: it leaves just as quickly as it came. You must demand happiness at times, as it’s something you can’t live without. However, you cannot be greedy, either, because such comfort stagnates and rusts your brain the more it enters your body.
Still, I wanted to believe that something more stable to hold onto existed in this universe, so that I wouldn’t have to worry about minuscule things like if I’d be able to eat tomorrow, or if I’d even be able to live to see the day after tomorrow.
Some people don’t have to worry about such things, dressed in luxurious clothes and sporting healthy, hearty appearances.
I wonder how it’s like to be one of those people, drowning in monetary gain, drowning in success. When will they ever give back?
In this world where the majority of space is a trench, and we merely live in the shallows, my only comfort is being able to live, being able to love others and myself. Still, it’s so hard to do even that when all I’m given is scraps and the occasional razor blade in a bowl. I wouldn’t have been able to develop my ideals, my views, without those scraps and razor blades, though. Surely, pain has some kind of use?
While I do understand that everyone goes through rough periods in their lives, I find it quite difficult to believe that everyone is suffering just as much as me. They toss me around, kick me when I’m down, and leave me behind. How could people be so cruel? What’s the use behind it, I ask, but no one ever answers me.
I scream from the depths of my swollen heart, unable to bear the insects crawling under my skin, and the locusts that make their way into every crevice that exists on my body. Everything about me is ruined and beaten to the point of complete exhaustion, and I quietly question those standing, heads way above the clouds so high up that they couldn’t see me even if they took a moment to look down, and I receive no response.
All there is is boisterous, thunderous laughter that hurts my sensitive ears terribly, crumbling defensive skin with sound waves to reveal a fragile inner core bursting with the reds and oranges and sickening yellows of peeled, infected skin.
I don’t feel the tears run, and I don’t feel the bruises and injuries that have landed themselves upon my body. This brittle, bitter body; it’s numb with hatred that it cannot express. It deserves this treatment, truly, but I can’t help but wonder why I was chosen to suffer, to bear the heavy loads of other people when I am like the man bearing the boulder, rolling it up a mountain, the man named Sisyphus.
I am not fond of comparing myself to others, for the reason that it is painful. I can feel the way the sides of my mouth bleed, but I cannot taste the blood even as I lap at it with my tongue.
Please, save me-
…What was your name, again?
…
- IT TURNS INTO SOMETHING THAT DIDN’T HAPPEN
Limbs tightening in the night, to the extent of not being able to move. Hinata’s mind is wide awake, though his body refuses to cooperate. It is a spoonful of a curse laid upon him, in order to keep him entangled. Still, there is no fear.
Uzuki Hinata, Hinata, a boy who exists in the crevices of only one person’s mind.
The thoughts of a potscrubber, lost in the turmoiled oceans. A rabbit leaps across the cliff, narrowly avoiding death. There is an ambience in the room, something ticking, and glass shatters. A single drop of perspiration rolls down Hinata’s paling right cheek. His eyes are darker than they’ve ever been as he tries not to get too curious and look around.
The sky hasn’t even begun to dawn yet at this time of day, leaving Hinata lying uselessly on his twin-sized mattress. Stuck, lost, in a labyrinth of thoughts that even he does not understand as they just keep coming with a rampant pace. The beating of his heart is stronger than any force with just how loudly he can hear it reverberating inside his ears, mixing with the sound of his own blood flowing, spilling, all over the sheets.
He can vaguely feel the wetness of it, how it’s sticky like tar. It’s terrifying, unbelievably terrifying. He doesn’t know what to do, now. He lied earlier, didn’t he? There is fear.
So many people talk inside of his head until he can’t hear anything else. It’s all the chattering of people he knows, people he can’t bear to look at, people he can’t even bear to imagine. His eyes widen.
His eyes find the courage to dart around the room, for some way to call for help. He still can’t move, leaving just him and a twitching pinky finger. What is he thinking? This is all just a dream, isn’t it?
Those boys, above him. Giggling among themselves at his pitiful state. They are just silhouettes, but it’s still uncomfortable. His corneas dry instead of becoming moist as they usually would. He doesn’t understand what’s happening. His irises find themselves tracing along the shelves in his room, to the books scattered across the floor. What had happened last night? Barely able to see his own torso, Hinata notices that he is no longer in his uniform.
A panging headache pierces his frontal lobe, causing him to squeeze his eyes shut. At the very least, he’s able to move his eyelids. Try as he may to lift a leg or hand, nothing seems to work. He blinks away the dryness, and his jaw muscles tense into a cramp.
The pain finally causes large droplets to leak from his tear ducts, and his chest moves up, down, up, and down, much more rapidly than before.
The increased volume of movement is a sign that everything is about to pass. The weight of his own blood begins to drift away, though the fear stays for longer than it should.
As his limbs regain strength, it feels as if they are being liquified, hydrolysed in an inky sea. He experimentally attempts to push his left foot forward. Surprisingly, it budges off of its indent on the mattress, wrinkling the sheets, though Hinata can barely see it through the dark.
The blood soaking him and the bed has mysteriously vanished into the aether, stains perfectly lifted in no time. By the time Hinata is able to sit up, the moment he runs a hand across his forehead, he realises he really has to take another shower. It is now that he knows that there is something horribly wrong. The pressure of a fluid pressing against him was much too real to just be a hallucination, though he is no stranger to sleep paralysis.
There is a horrid thumping that is coursing through his body, as if it is made up of tubing and wiring that passes electricity as easy as it is to breathe.
His body is sore, eyelids like they have weights strapped to them from the inside. He reaches down to pull at his pajama pants, made of soft cotton and wool. There’s no trace of the blood he had seen pooling below him earlier. The very blood soaking the mattress, sliding off of it because of the accumulations being too much to absorb.
He lets himself drop off of the bed, tucking the corners of his sheets back under the mattress.
Making his way to his desk, he turns on the lamp with a soft click.
There is a lingering worry of waking Oujin. Though, Oujin rarely ever sleeps, as Echoes don’t have as much of a need for it as humans do. Hinata puts his hand on top of the electric clock like touching a wounded animal, and it beeps to life, causing him to flinch slightly. Considering Oujin’s superhuman senses, Hinata knows that the sound of the clock turning on alone was already enough to wake him if he was truly in slumber, or at least alert him that Hinata had awoken if he was up at this unholy hour. 3:26 A.M., that is the time.
There’s truly too many questions, but no answers whatsoever. There is the crux: what had happened last night, considering his entire room was in complete disarray?
There are some things that aren’t supposed to be there, and some that have dissolved overnight. A book or two which hadn’t been there before, neatly stacked onto his desk; his chair seemed to be pushed back into the corner it was supposed to be in by someone, who he doubted was himself. However, his bookbag was nowhere in sight.
Rolling up his right sleeve, there it is…
In the dim room, there is a dark, massive bruise blooming in contrasting blues and reds across what would be supple arm. On top of it, there are scratches and wounds that have been bandaged with gauze. What the gauze could not cover, however, creeps out across Hinata’s skin like a monster from under his bed.
For a moment, he is unable to move. His left hand stays frozen, gripping the fabric of his right sleeve like a vice, with a force he’s never seen himself use, not even to protect his siblings.
He has no way to describe the way he feels at that moment. It feels as if something is pulsating under bundles of veins, seeing the bruise undulate, even if he knows it is a trick of the night.
Once he comes back to his senses, Hinata swiftly begins to check for other injuries on his body. For some reason, he couldn’t feel them at all, so he began to roll up other parts of his clothing, lifting his shirt and using the small mirror stood up on his desk to check for any additional scarring.
He spots a few new wounds, some bandaged, others not. There was one place on his body that he could feel pain from, his left knee, while everything else seemed to have been gone over with numbing cream, as there was some white, jelly-like residue which hadn’t dried.
Hinata’s uniform was nowhere to be seen in his room. His body began to ache with heat not long after. It was obvious who had been taking care of him since whatever happened. If he had stumbled back home in a delirious state, Oujin would be the first to catch him, the first to carry him back inside, taking him off the ground with ease.
The treatment was a thorough job, one that Hinata hadn’t ever seen from Oujin at any point in time.
Hinata had always known Oujin as a man who had knowledge that couldn’t be extracted just through his eyes, someone who seemed airheaded at his very best. He could be overprotective, but the cleanup done on Hinata’s body wasn’t one that you’d see from just anyone.
It was then that Hinata remembered just how little he knew about the person who took him in. Who was Oujin, really? What had he gone through, the millennium that he had lived?
Just as Hinata wants to ponder more, think further, the door to his room opens with a very light whine. Hinata immediately rolls down his pant leg and turns his head towards the noise.
“…Oujin-san?”
That face is one he’s seen many times, but the expression was one he’d rarely ever encountered. It was the scariest one a person could make, the expression of someone who wasn’t moving any of their features, leaving a blank stare with nothing behind it except for the gaping maw of the void. Hinata feels a chill run down his spine and feed into his veins at the sight. He tries again, calls Oujin’s name.
For a moment, Oujin does not speak. He simply stares at Hinata through the crack he had opened. Those lake-blue eyes with their marigold middles are more off-putting, piercing through Hinata like they see everything, though they would usually be a loving destressor.
Oujin’s monotone line for a mouth morphs into a kind smile, leading Hinata reeling from the sudden change.
His pupils, having grown kind once again, seem to glow from outside in the hallway, calming Hinata’s bated breath. At last, a familiar sight. He looks the same as he always does, dressed in traditional attire that looks different every single day. Hinata nods for him to come in, and Oujin’s eyes don’t close, don’t close as he takes the desire path towards Hinata.
He’s as graceful as always. Everything is normal with him. A bit too normal.
“Hinata, are you alright?”
His voice comes out clear like moisture collecting as dew on the leaves of a young plant. His brows are furrowed, knitted into crooked lines out of concern. The pain conjuring itself under Hinata’s skin finally bursts through, unfettered by the use of medicinal creams.
The tears that come flowing easily add onto the agonising sensation that rattles Hinata completely, down to the bone. He falls to Earth, weighed down by an otherworldly gravity, and Oujin kneels down to embrace him, kissing away any stray tears that find themselves dripping onto his sleeves, hands holding the sides of Hinata’s head, securing it.
Hinata spends the night sobbing into Oujin’s arms until he falls asleep.
- A LOVELY LITTLE THING
The next morning, Hinata awakes with a hand on his head, cradling him softly. The heat of another person is unbearable, all-consuming, devouring him whole. He struggles slightly, before looking up to realise that it is merely Oujin.
His hair is untied, white and black like checkers, splayed over Hinata’s frame like a curtain to protect him from the sun. Yes, Hinata awakes to find that the both of them haven’t moved an inch from the place Hinata had collapsed, though he barely remembers anything other than that. Hinata’s own hair is mussed, dirtied, riddled with knots.
For a moment, just a blink, Hinata’s eyes begin to water. His eyebags are swollen with the discomforting full-body sensation of having cried for too long. His heart feels like it’s being squeezed to bits.
Oujin holds Hinata closer to his chest, seeing that he’s woken up.
The preciousness behind a human shell. Ah, indeed, that is Hinata. Spelled with two kanji that describe a well-loved nestling. Pronounced with a narrow mouth shape at the “hi,” ending with a wide tongue at “na” and “ta.”
“Hi,” with soft, sweet flesh. “Na,” with ginger hair that smells vaguely of sakura flower. “Ta,” with large, doting pink eyes that are filled to the brim with youthful, undying hopes. Hinata, who is Oujin’s darling until it all ends.
Oujin can’t resist the need to lean into Hinata, his essence, his warmth, so natural and pure-of-heart. It’s too much to bear.
Hinata squirms when he feels Oujin settle into the crown of his scalp, an azalea-pink blush bubbling to the surface of his cheeks. “...Oujin san,” he mumbles, and Oujin feels the hollow where his heart should be tighten on itself as a direct consequence.
That very shade of pink has over time turned into one of Oujin’s favourite colours. The tenderness of its pastel contrasts with the slight vibrance that is burrowed deep in its stead. During the summers, freckles congregate on the peaks of Hinata’s plump cheeks, and Oujin spends days holding him, staring deeply at him, trying to count the little brown dots with just his eyes, though he keeps having to start over once he forgets where he last was.
With each soft kick in a futile attempt to resist Oujin’s grasp, Hinata, boyish and prideful, has his sleeve hiked up from the friction. Slowly but surely, the gauze comes into view. Oujin’s fond gaze immediately metamorphoses into something icy, distinctly non-human.
Hinata’s eyes are fluttered shut, and so, he does not see the way Oujin’s eyes lose their light. Oujin continues to jostle Hinata in his arms, carefully allowing another pair to come out of his haori, where they usually reside in a resting position. One moves forward to rest upon Hinata’s right hip, and the other intertwines with his left hand. Carefully, Oujin slants closer to Hinata’s side, giving his line-of-sight full purchase to the large bruise spreading out on Hinata’s forearm.
It enrages him, the way the gauze is soaked in dried blood, which means some of the cuts under Hinata’s arms may have reopened at night while he was tossing and turning, whether it be in his bed or in Oujin’s hold. It doesn’t matter either way.
Instead of pity or empathy, there is a fury that has begun to burn, its fuel being the sight of every injury on Hinata’s previously near-unblemished body. Capable of destroying forests with one single deviating ember is that fury, a fire unquelled and unable to be contained as it burns through everything that ever was. Oujin is reminded once again that at some point in time, Hinata had been no one: just a lost lamb wandering with no shepherd to herd it back to safety.
Oujin had once thought that Hinata was any other human boy. Humans were mere specks in Oujin’s overly-long lifespan, already reaching a millennium at this point in time. A week felt like an hour for an immortal, born from objects and cultures all around it. Thus, a human life felt like a walk in which you had simply overstayed your welcome.
In this sense, Hinata would just be another human in the crowd of which were Oujin’s past paramours, apprentices, or random people in need of his help. Yet, against all odds, this boy has become Oujin’s heart in a very literal sense.
There is a hole in place of a red, beating organ. But, Hinata now lives eternally in that very hole, allowing for him to be immortalised as well. Until that is necessary, Oujin will protect Hinata again and again, blazing through anyone who dared to hurt the rabbit which he had captured in his web with his own love and patience.
Seeing his very own prey’s delectable flesh mangled by another creature, something that wasn’t even going to savour the wonderful, flavourful taste of it: that’s just too much to bear, isn’t it?
Of course, there was no choice. There was nothing else to do, because when a hungry wolf tries to steal another predator’s prey, what that other predator does is the obvious first option: protect its meal and take the wolf as an extra harvest.
Thus, however dyed in depravity Oujin is, seeing Hinata hurt is the one thing he feels he is justified in doing something about. His rabbit, his darling, “if any harm were to come to you, I would protect you,” he says in a low tone, and Hinata sighs in embarrassment. The shame makes the blush on his face grow ever brighter, and so Oujin allows another hand to extend itself and cup Hinata’s face between five human fingers.
This would be obnoxious to anyone else, but Oujin knows that Hinata does not mind, and so Oujin lifts Hinata like he is weightless from their position on the floor, and lays Hinata down on his bed with a huff.
Hinata is weaker than he ever has been, any strength he once had disabled by the horrific pain that spreads from his bruise to the rest of his body. Oujin combs his hands through Hinata’s hair, trying to untie the lumps of hair bound together by a bad night’s sleep.
For the first time since last night, Hinata smiles.
Genuine, high-spirited. Just how it should be.
- THE FINGER I MANAGED TO CUT INTO BLEEDS A COLOUR UNSEEN BY YOU AND ME
Oujin has called for sick leave in order for Hinata to recover safely from his wounds.
On the bed, Hinata is peaceful. He looks content, his chest rising being the only indicator that he is still alive and breathing. Oujin is at his bedside on a stool, watching over his sleeping body.
Their antique store hasn’t opened for quite a while, causing quite the stir among locals. Of course, Oujin pays no mind to what they have to say (inconsequential gossips), but a few words or two have slipped through into his ears.
The rumours are ridiculous. When humans are allowed to let their imaginations run wild, their heads can become wider and more vast than the skies with all of the asinine scenarios which they manage to dream up. There’s never any evidence for their claims, either, yet pure speculation has always made its way all around town nevertheless. It’s annoying, aggravating. But, Oujin is a master of keeping his cool when it does not have anything to do with his beloved rabbit, and so he looks the other way while walking down the street.
Hinata’s siblings have been worried about Hinata’s state. The sister always puts her head on his chest to listen for his heartbeat, while the brother tells Hinata all about what happened at school that day. All Hinata can do is nod feebly, gesturing for the twins to come closer so that he can hug them both. Oujin watches from afar as this happens with each day that passes.
Perhaps it is wrong, but seeing Hinata give such affection to his siblings is quite envy-inducing, even for a creature so ancient, shrewd like the stars in the sky that have been watching Earth for millennia.
So, once the siblings are escorted out of the room, Oujin struts to Hinata’s side and embraces him palpably, leaning down to nuzzle into the crook that hides itself between Hinata’s jaw and collarbone. It’s a perfect fit, where Oujin can fall deep into the natural, human smell of Hinata’s skin.
Now, as Hinata is sleeping so profoundly it is to the point of snores, Oujin tucks his head into the space between Hinata’s jaw and collarbone. The space is mostly delicate, though somewhat hardened through a few days of Hinata not eating very well.
Hinata is quite the light sleeper when he is not at his most exhausted, so he naturally jolts awake at the feeling of someone making contact with him. The immediate reaction is to push the intruder away with all his strength, but at the floral fragrance hitting his nose, Hinata settles, panting from the exertion.
Once again, a muffled “Oujin-san,” makes its way out of his throat, though the latter half of it percolates and oxidises when it meets fresh air. His voice is hushed as he says it, barely breaching Oujin’s already very acute hearing.
“Yes, Hinata?” Oujin answers, saying it cluelessly as if he is not put away in one of the most vulnerable areas of the human body. Nonetheless, Hinata doesn’t do anything about it as Oujin presses on as if he is trying to crawl into and under Hinata’s skin, staking a claim on him like a parasite does its host.
Hinata coughs. “...Nothing, sorry..”
“Don’t apologize.”
Though Oujin’s voice is somewhat muted by their proximity, the vibrations get the sentiment across to Hinata just as well. Hinata feels himself start to tremble slightly at the feeling of Oujin’s words very literally reverberating within him, bouncing around like someone took a tuning fork to his insides.
Feeling the slight twitching that is permeating through Hinata’s being, Oujin unlatches himself from Hinata, moving to rest as little of his weight as possible on Hinata’s frail chest, though he aims to have as much of his mass on Hinata as he can fit.
“It is not your fault, Hinata. None of it is. You must understand this, and find the happiness that you so deserve,” Oujin says, right ear down on the place where Hinata’s heart should be. Instead of beating, Oujin hears nothing. There is a karma of emptiness instead of the human “badump-ing,” as they call it.
Hinata chuckles, however pained it is. Oujin can almost hear how Hinata’s eyes crinkle as they always do whenever he lets out a chuff or two of laughter, the way the corners of his mouth lift, though it may be in sarcasm rather than anything real, and close to the true face. “Oujin-san, I just… I don’t know what I can do now.”
“But, I have something to ask of you, if that’s okay?”
Oujin lets out a thoughtful hum. “What is it, dear?”
“Please stop hurting others for my sake.”
It comes out like anything else Hinata would say. Almost easier than asking for something different for breakfast, definitely easier than the average greeting. It’s just so natural in his voice, honeyed and precious like a rose-gold locket. Oujin’s smile doesn’t betray his shock, staying upright like a strong sailboat amongst stormy seas.
“I’m afraid I don’t exactly understand what you mean, Hinata,” Oujin avers, not a single syllable out of place. It is pronounced perfectly, like crystal in the way it is completely intelligible even from a distance. There is not even the slightest change in expression, because Oujin’s expression remains as empathetic and level-headed as always, unchanging as a stone pillar withstanding erosion.
Hinata is turned away, facing the dark side of his room not lightsome of the sun’s rays, but his eyes flit back to look at Oujin. The feeling of eyes on him makes Oujin flinch and prop his chin up on Hinata’s rib bone, which is jutting out dangerously.
“Oujin-san, I don’t mean to be rude,” Hinata begs, eyes closing midway to become half-lidded, letting much of the light that usually reflects on glimmering eyewhites escape and fade away into nothing. “But, I think I’ve long figured it out.”
Oujin’s expression darkens in guilt. There is nothing to describe the overflow of it that is causing traffic in his mind.
Hinata is smart, astute with his observation. Of course, if Oujin was to consistently bring back bodies or get rid of people who hurt him, Hinata would notice eventually. That, too, didn’t take long. That was Oujin’s Hinata, always on the lookout for such things related to oneself.
Though, sometimes, Oujin wishes Hinata wasn’t such a smart boy. That he didn’t know so much beyond his age. Oujin sometimes forgets that Hinata is no longer a child, that he is no longer as helpless as he was before, found crying in the rain while shielding his younger siblings from the weighty downpour.
Oujin is not the type to lie to his beloved, so he says nothing, simply laying his head back down on Hinata’s ribcage, and Hinata doesn’t press further, knowing that he won’t get a solid answer if Oujin doesn’t will it.
When Oujin’s ear is right about above Hinata’s heart, there is an oscillating. The “badump-ing” which determines one’s mortality, it is there, and Oujin feels the lost heart in his chest cremate on the spot.
- THE FLEA WALTZ
It is day nine of Hinata’s recovery. With that comes his renewed ability to walk, wave, and waltz.
The fear of never seeing Hinata’s bubbly, hearty self again has plagued Oujin’s mind since the night he stumbled back to the residence with bruises and cuts all over his body.
Still, the side of Hinata that is in need of Oujin’s caretaking is one that is also quite endearing. While Oujin hopes for the rabbit to be in the pink of his health in order to maximise his happiness, he really wouldn’t mind being the person Hinata would cling onto during sick days, the way he always has as he sneezes and gasps feverishly, heat taking his body and turning it into slurry.
In the early morning of the ninth day, Hinata is dressed in one of the kosode that Oujin had bought for him a year ago. His tangerine hair has been combed through, haunting dark circles resting under usually bright eyes. On this second floor, Hinata is staring out of a window, enjoying a refreshing gale that comes through the sill.
Hinata hasn’t been going to school, nor has he been going outside, in fear of something like this happening again while he is still recovering. It is not anything of substance, but he worries for his education; what will become of him if he does not continue on in his life?
The theocracy holds him by the neck, binding and squeezing it. Sleep has escaped him for more than a week, leaving him weary and drained. Nothing comes close to the feeling of sleep deprivation for over a week, indeed.
Somehow, Hinata does not feel the usual tension that afflicts him whenever there is an issue he cannot resolve. Perhaps it is knowing that there is now always someone creeping behind him, protecting him from whatever danger he may encounter. Knowing that he is loved, however much he may not believe that that is so.
The wind blows through Hinata. He feels as though he may be dissipated along with it, lost in a haze of unknown emotion, unknown colour. The feeling prickles his face, scraping against it until his cheeks palely flush.
Oujin watches. Nothing comes out of his mouth, though you’d expect him to check up on Hinata, ask him how he’s been.
For them both, it is just another day.
“Oujin-san, I think I’m ready to start working again,” Hinata muses, though it is full of unseen conviction. “We haven’t been open for a while because of me, but I’m okay now, so let’s start again? Please?”
The lilt at the end of his words like the bleat of a kitten makes Oujin feel protective once more. He shakes his head, though he knows Hinata is not looking at him. “I cannot allow it, while you are in this state.”
“What state,” Hinata replies, gripping the fibers of his kosode. The robes crease strongly against the applied pressure. “I just don’t want to burden you more…!”
“Hinata-”
Hinata takes a deep breath that resonates in his chest. “When I can’t do anything for you, Oujin-san, it feels like I’m a filthy little good-for-nothing… I want to help, okay? Please, let me help? I’ll put on makeup, so no one’ll know.”
When he turns around, his eyes are moist, wide with tears. It creates a twinge in Oujin’s body, seeing him in so much distress. Oujin gets up from his seat on an old wooden chair, strolling leisurely towards Hinata with a dim light in his eyes.
When he is close enough to Hinata, he takes Hinata’s left hand in his, hoisting it up to his own mouth. He presses a languid kiss to the knuckles on Hinata’s ring finger. As quickly as they came, Hinata’s tearful eyes reabsorb the humidity.
Oujin begins to move in a box-step, dragging Hinata along with him, his darling rabbit. He mumbles to himself to keep the pace, a “one, two, three,” “one, two, three,” stay that way.
The two settle into an interesting rhythm. “I once saw a dance like this while watching one of those drama CDs you bring back home. It’s quite cliché, but I believe it to be delightful when it’s the two of us,” because of how adorable you are, he doesn’t say in order to not cause Hinata to start getting fussy about being treated like a child again.
Forward, to the side, he strings Hinata along. Back, to the side, and Hinata learns to go together.
Eventually, Hinata starts to understand the basics. There’s a subtle, nearly unnoticeable upturn to the corners of his mouth. But that is when Oujin knows Hinata is at his happiest, with butterflies fluttering in his stomach, about to burst out in joy.
Their waltz is an irony in itself, because it’s not like it’s professional in any way. It is not like they are partners, as Oujin continues to sully Hinata with his corruption. Yet, for a moment, in their box, everything is okay. Hinata is content to hold Oujin’s hands, and another extends from Oujin’s robes to hold Hinata’s waist and bring them closer together.
It is an irony, but it is disarmingly pleasant.
Hinata doesn’t mind this, he finds. He is beloved, indeed, with someone willing to go so far to keep him safe. The flowers of transience bloom above them as he lets himself succumb to the person who loves him, because he, too, loves Oujin with all his heart. No one can take that away from him.