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Chikage's chest is caving in.
It's late Thursday night — or early Friday morning — and Chikage can't sleep. Not that he ever really can, but it feels worse than usual. Nothing particularly happened today (yesterday?) that Chikage could point to as "setting him off", so to say, but there's no denying the incessant itching under his fingernails, beneath his skin, within his bones.
He's kindling for a fire, ready to burst into flames. He's the kid who didn't notice how suddenly the tide retreated. Sudden pressure is fatal, and Chikage knows a boulder is coming fast. He lies awake in bed, fingers twitching and eyes glued to the ceiling. He isn't sure if he can look at the moon.
Chikage tries to shuffle out of bed, but the arm slung around his waist stops him. There's a soft grunt from beside Chikage.
"Utsuki..."
It's half-croaked, half-whispered, and it rattles against Chikage's ear. Chikage rolls over and leans into it. "Hi, Tasuku."
Tasuku huffs loudly, inches impossibly closer. The tension pauses its coiling. "You said you'd sleep."
"I know," Chikage says, eyes halfway to half moons. "I just..."
Tasuku cracks an eye open. "Can't?"
"Yeah."
He huffs again, rubbing his nose against Chikage's shoulder. Chikage chuckles and presses a kiss against the fluff of Tasuku's fringe. Tasuku goes pink.
"Just from a kiss?"
"Oh, be quiet." Tasuku headbutts him gently, barely a feather against Chikage's chin. "...Do you want to go on a drive?"
A safety blanket. An olive branch in this wide blue sea.
"That sounds great."
There's something special about Tasuku's motorbike, beyond its worse-than-eye-catching paint job and horrible name.
Maybe it's how close Tasuku insists on him being, the warmth in his chest when he drapes himself over Tasuku's back. Chikage can feel Tasuku's heartbeat against his chest, and he can hear the thrum of the motor beneath them, and he can smell rubber on asphalt, and he can taste petrol and hot leather. The steady rhythm rocks him like a baby.
Maybe it's Tasuku rather than the bike.
They come to a stop at a clearing off the road near a forest. It's not quite dark enough to stargaze, and Tasuku murmurs an apology against Chikage's ear for it, but Chikage kisses his cheek in thanks all the same.
The silence hums instead of screeching. The wind rustles the leaves, and engines rumble in the near distance. Cicadas sing their ceaseless melody as their feet leave craters in the thick grass tickling their ankles.
Pinkies linked, they lean against Tasuku's bike. Chikage's head finds its way to Tasuku's shoulder, and Tasuku rests his head on Chikage's in kind. Chikage peers up at Tasuku. Tasuku raises an eyebrow back.
Idly, Chikage thinks there are supernovae in Tasuku's eyes. He marks stars in the mess of innocent scars stretching across Tasuku's skin, draws constellations out of the fading acne scars on Tasuku's face. There are asteroid belts in the stretch marks on his thighs and biceps, and there are meteor trails in the healing scabs covering his hands. Tasuku caught Chikage in his orbit, even though Chikage didn’t mean to stay this long.
Chikage leans up and stares more intently at Tasuku.
"What is it, Utsuki?" Tasuku murmurs. It's no more than a whisper, still a little husky from disuse.
Chikage smiles, touches noses with him, and presses their lips together. He tastes sleep and mint and galaxies.