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Tuesdays were long and challenging days. Kazemaru dreaded them. For that very reason, Fudou loathed them. He loathed how much the other studied in the morning, how hard he worked in the evening, and how quickly he had to catch up at the library right after the end of his shift. Above all, he loathed how drained out he always came back looking. They had been living together for a few months now. Fudou did not really remember how it had gone down for it only seemed natural at the time. The other had started staying over for the night, over and over again until his presence became essential. It was a dangerous thing: getting used to someone, relying on them. Especially with a relationship as ambiguous as theirs.
To most people, Fudou Akio was nothing but a drunken mistake: a failed experiment at best and the main topic of a few therapy sessions at worst. Ichirouta was different. They argued like children, kissed like hormonal teens, and watched tv in his living room like an old married couple. Ichirouta was full of shit, a smart-ass, and a sensitive one at that. He was not certain what to call this thing that they had, but he would not have it any other way.
Still, ever since he had moved in, Tuesday afternoons had become awfully boring.
There it was again. Fudou awoke from a spontaneous nap in a cold and empty bed, still drowsy from his slumber. The sun had long set outside, leaving the sky a black canvas covered in colorful specks of light. When he squinted his eyes just right, the whole thing became a dizzying light show, iridescent makeshift urban stars- or whatever ichirouta said. He liked that.
The cold February weather sent a shiver down the brunette’s spine. Wasn’t the heater on? He rose hastily, covering his bare chest in an orange woolen sweater that was lying on his desk chair. He had never seen Ichirouta wearing it, but it simply could not be his. The other had long given up on trying to lure him into wearing anything of that sort. He was a lost cause. A few snarky comments about his green sweats here and there and that was it. Fudou only truly made the effort to be fully dressed when Ichirouta had friends over. Sure, the bright flush on his cheeks was always endearing but he was not that shameless, and he was not certain the likes of Kidou Yuuto (or whoever his friends were) trusted him that much to begin with. No matter what the blue-haired boy had to say about it.
Fudou naturally found his way to the kitchen. The stove read 8 PM, for how long had he been out? Ichirouta would be back any second now. He figured they both were deserving of a hot meal so he got to work, lifting his long sleeves up to slice up some tofu before throwing it all in an oiled pan, cursing at the splatter produced by the abrupt gesture. Kazemaru strongly disliked meat so Fudou barely ever bought any. He checked the fridge for leftover veggies, deciding that they would taste just fine stir-fried with some rice.
Focussedon his work, gaze on the blurred water of the clean grains, the brunette found himself thanking fate for how peaceful his apartment was. 8 PM usually rhymed with nerve-wracking cries from the upstairs neighbors’ youngest. The brat loved to throw tantrums at dinnertime, disturbing his peace and making him wish he had the money to move out.
“I want one” Kazemaru oftentimes joked, earning a horrified look from the other.
However, as the outburst died down, Tuesdays would suddenly get so much better, oddly domestic too. He did not mind those moments.
The jumble of keys would resonate through the living room, as Kazemaru struggled with the damaged lock of the front door, cursing lowly in the process. The brunette would then get the door, feigning annoyance.
“One word…” came the blue-haired boy’s empty threats at the sight of the other’s wide grin.
“I didn’t say anything!” he always answered.
“Better keep it that way.” The boy’s eyes then crinkled in moon crescents so bright it stopped time for an instant, basking Fudou in a soft glow.
Ichirouta’s smile awoke a fondness at his core, a warmth at the pit of his stomach that was never enough to fully consume him. It filled him with the confidence to answer: “Or else…?” With the full knowledge that it was all just bantering.
The other’s answers came as a passionate form of bickering that lasted through dinner. It then would somehow turn flirty before dying down into the murmurs of sweet nothings. They were somehow making up for their lost time. Nothing was ever enough of a deterrent for them to give up on their night-loving stroll. They would get candies, ice cream, lollies, or whatever their tight budget allowed that week, never discouraged by the cashier’s judgmental looks at their childish purchases. Perhaps the poor guy was simply annoyed at getting customer this late. Kazemaru would joke about it, he was insecure about the most trivial things, but it made Fudou so happy he could simply not resist suggesting a stop at the 24/7 store.
The outing could last hours: blissful moments of wandering in the dark, the occasional passers as their only witnesses. Weirdly enough, the brunette had noticed they always ended up lying on the same grass patch down next to the river, simply looking up. They never saw any stars; Fudou did not know any constellations anyway.
The walk back home tended to be quieter. They both hated quiet. Yet, in each other’s presence, it somehow became more bearable. It was a peaceful type of quiet, devoid of any sense of doubt or expectation. The unspoken promise that when he'd finally burn the whole world down in his flames, the other would simply be there, unharmed and oddly calm.
He walked backward on the pavement, blissfully ignorant: of what they were, of their dire intertwined fate. Uncharacteristically unconscious. Debilitatingly carefree. Time stopped around them, and life disappeared. It all made sense.
Back home, hidden under sage green bed sheets, Fudou lulled the boy to sleep, leaving a trail of butterfly kisses on his tanned skin. He lay curled up, face underneath his elbow. Sharp tongue and the face of an angel. What was there not to love about Ichirouta? That was it, wasn't it? He loved him.
There was no way he would be dealing with those feelings anytime soon though. He did not expect anything anyway.
With the demon child asleep, Fudou began to wonder how much more time he would have to wait. Dinner was served, getting cold on the coffee table by the minute. Surely, his cooking going to waste was reason enough to give the other a quick call. He grabbed his phone from the TV stands and fell back on his green couch as he pressed his index on the back of his phone to open it.
His insides sunk down his stomach.
Their stove was late, he first noticed. It was past 10.
The demon child had been asleep for several hours. Ichirouta was late of several hours.
It all felt too familiar. Scenarios began rushing through his head, flashing on by the perilous highway of his mind before he even had time to fully grasp them. How could he have not noticed? He cursed out his shivery fingers on his keyboard; looking for something, anything that could shake the distress away.
He searched through the library’s website, chasing down an exception, a disruption of the subway line, a power shortage… A justification for the other’s absence.
Nothing.
Nothing made as much sense as the truth. The whole weight of the sum of all the Thursday afternoons of the semester seemed insignificant now that Ichirouta was gone for good.
Suddenly, Fudou was so too. It was all happening at once. His body became as empty as the room he sat in -life escaping it and his heart swelling up down his stomach making up for the hollow feeling. He wanted to scream it out until it shrunk back to normal size, to punch it out until he could feel his hands again. He ached for physical pain.
It beat too hard, too fast., too much. It pounded in his ears begging for an escape. Fudou feared it might explode and paint the whole room red. It occurred to him that he had no idea what his insides looked like. Whether red or black, he would not be here to witness the mess anyway.
His blue fingernails clawed at his bare skin underneath the sweater in an attempt to get his blood flowing again. That stupid sweater.
There was no use.
What was this itch at the corner of his eyes if not his body’s way of communicating what he already knew? Salty tears rolled down his cheeks, irritating his already sensitive skin. Rubbing salt in his wounds. He thought he could be overreacting, and his mind immediately switched to that dreadful mental image of Kazemaru’s clothes neatly folded next to his: always ready for his suitcase.
It was all coming back to him. Their initial mutual hatred. Every look, every fight, everything. He was fourteen again with something to prove, Kazemaru was looking down on him, wishing he’d leave the team already… And people left. He cursed them out and they left. He knew that. Still, he had Fallen back for it, harder than ever. He took a deep breath he almost choked on as his sight became rice-water blurry.
People did not stick around. He had come to accept it before Kazemaru. The boy had made him weak, caressing the cracks on his face and kissing his flaws ever so delicately that he had ended up believing he could actually feel it. He was getting to him. Trust was a delusional promise. And love ... Love was in Ichirouta's touch, in his stupid pout, and it was gone.
No jumble, not struggle, no cursing. Nothing. Still, he started hoping, waiting, giving out his trust again like it had not just been the cause for this whole breakdown in the first place.
Please, please, please...
He tiredly wiped his wet cheeks dry with a coarse sleeve before going to hug his knees, carefully holding himself so as not to crumble down again. He did not even know what he was pleading for. The tears would not stop escaping, they were set on emptying him from the inside out until nothing was left. He pinched himself on the wrists.
It’s okay. You’re good. You’re okay.
The words barely even made sense anymore and he had a hard time believing them. Yet, he held on to that mantra, repeating it through loud, pathetic sobs until a ringing sound started resonating through the living room.
It took him a few seconds to realize he was not making it up. The doorbell was going crazy outside. He scurried up to rush to the door. Something was wrong. Kazemaru had the key. What was he ringing for?
He wiped his face anew, looking for composure.
It’s not that deep, it doesn’t even matter.
He attempted to convince himself as he opened the door to reveal the other. There he was, flushed cheeks in the bitter winter’s brisk, staring at the floor. Fudou’s eyes felt prickly again, threatening. He had to hold it in, to remain collected.
There he was. Nothing comforting about that.
The other’s insistence on looking away was not helping him calm down. What was with this face? He started regretting having yearned for the other’s return so badly. He almost missed feeling empty. A knot was forming at the base of his throat, keeping it all bottled up.
“Did you lose your keys or something?” he broke the heavy silence. He did not mean to sound so cold, but he needed to thread carefully. To keep it all in and out of sight.
“Yeah.” The other simply answered hands deep in his pockets and his long blue locks haphazardly tied in a high ponytail. “Sorry.”
He never looked so disheveled. What was with that look? Was his head so heavy with remorse that he had to wear it low?
“So, are you just gonna stand there?” he asked before he could stop himself.
“Don’t be a prick” the corner of his lips curled up. Some part of the brunette wanted to fight it off: the warmth that finally overcame his body. He feared how dependent he had become. It was always difficult, coming down, admitting that it was all him making it up in this sick, sick head of his. He was still shaken, shocked at how easily he crumbled.
Ichirouta was staring now, puzzled. He looked like something was tickling the tip of his tongue, politely asking for a way out.
“You look tired” Akio mentioned before the blue-haired boy could say anything.
“You look like you’ve been bawling your eyes out all afternoon.” Came the straight-up answer. There was worry in his soft voice. There was guilt in the brunette’s heart. Fudou Akio did not need anyone’s pity. Yet, this self-imposed distance was fading fast. Every inch of him was screaming out how much he loved him. It was embarrassing.
As his body softened, he came to wrap his arms around the other’s waist, bringing him close to his appeased heart and nuzzling his head in the crook of his neck.
“Akio?” he earned a surprised whimper. Still, the other reciprocated, gently intertwining his long fingers in thick brown hair.
“It’s okay, you’re good, you’re okay” Ichirouta murmured in his ear before cupping his hot pink cheeks with his cold hands “let’s head in” he suggested, barely audible this time.
Water was pouring out in a low hum, hugging his skin in a slow burn. Ichirouta liked his baths scorching hot, and they were sharing one. Ichirouta also liked peach-scented shower gel and bubbles. Akio loved the way tanned skin glistened under the yellow lights of the neon tube. He sighed as he lied his shoulders back on the cold ceramic, soothing his own battered skin.
"You feeling any better?" He asked and Fudou held back a smile. The other was definitely avoiding eye contact with bare skin, eyes up to the ceiling and cheeks reddened by the heat and the touching of their knees. He was never that shy the brunette noted, he simply did not want to get distracted from the conversation.
"I am."
"Good... Good." Fudou knew that prudent expression. It on was Sakuma's face and on every single one of his worried teacher s back in high school when everyone had first noticed. He wished he could wipe it off like fog on the bathroom mirror.
"I just get in those moods sometimes..." Akio provided. Ichirouta nodded along, playing with a loose strand of blue hair. It was unusual to hear Fudou open up that way. He was protective of his feelings. Kazemaru knew better than to push him now.
"I thought you would never come back."
"What do you mean? All my clothes are here!"
Fudou playfully splashed the other in retaliation and embarrassment as a crystalline laughter echoed against the tiles.
"... And you're here too." He finally offered, bringing his hand up to his own face to protect himself from the vicious attack. There was a subtle glint in those amber eyes that the brunette could not look away from. He was glowing.
"You're staring." He teased
"Yeah, I thought you would never come back," Fudou repeated as if to help make sense of the fact that he could have filled the whole bathtub with his tears an hour prior. It felt so unreal. He really was unstable. "I knew you'd be back but- I don't know..." he dismissed. Kazemaru waited for a follow-up but nothing came.
"Well it's not like I could just leave," he spoke like it was obvious.
"Because of your clothes..."
"Because I love you."
The brunette impulsively raised his head up. He had never seen such intensity on this pretty face. His breath was cut short and his brain stopped when Ichirouta put his hands on the edge of the tub to push his body closer to his.
"O-Okay." Fudou stuttered, mechanically closing the distance between them by wrapping a loose arm around his tiny waist.
"Okay?" he mocked. "I'm confessing to you and all you have to say is 'okay' " he scoffed "Wow, that's cold."
"Shit, no...wait-" Akio scrambled with his words. Ichirouta brought a finger to his chin, humming as he tilted the other's head up. He was being such a little bitch, smiling and everything. Fudou felt insides burning at the light touch. "Shit..." he repeated, hot and bothered. He clumsily grabbed his lover's elbow to bring him closer with strength, making him lose balance in the process and splash the floor wet. Blue hair fell on his the brunette's damp chest.
"I love you too," he admitted, slowly regaining his composure as he watched the boy struggling to get back up. He looked so silly. "can't believe you had a crush on me though, so embarrassing."
"Shut up." Ichirouta blushed as he propped himself up on his forearm to face him. "You like me too."
"I do," Fudou whispered as he placed a chaste kiss on his lover's soft lips. "I really do." They stayed there until the bath got cold, relishing in each other's warmth. Finally catching a breath afterthis long day.