#also he stares at tsuyoshi for far too long

[sunlightfeeling]

takuya’s initial reaction seeing tsuyoshi after the Bistro disaster™

[broken-clover]

Goretober Day 31- Free! (Detox)

In the end, I wasn’t able to get it in on time T-T

hahahaha fuck. Welcome to the final day of @bowlll‘s Goretober, because somehow I managed to survive a month. Despite this technically being his third appearance, I decided to use Chipp for my free day, and today’s topic is ‘detox.’ Because I love this idiot ninja man, and if there’s one thing I love more than content for a character, it’s content where they suffer in some fashion. And getting off of drugs is a great opportunity for pain n suffering, so let’s go!

Additional Warnings: Drug use, vomiting, lots of cursing

For a decent chunk of his upbringing, Chipp was well-convinced that he’d long hit rock-bottom. Living as a squatter in and out of condemned buildings, peddling syringes and pills and powders and looking over his shoulder for the cops all the while. Always struggling to restock for his relentless buyers, yet never having enough money from drug hustling to fully silence his growling stomach.

That wasn’t even getting into the rages his customers could throw out of nowhere, the random street fights he stumbled into when he was just trying to make a few sales, and his own body’s internal pleadings for another hit to keep him going, begging for just another pill, another syringe in his veins. All of it nonstop, with barely a moment’s rest.

He would gladly take it all back if he didn’t have to take the fucking withdrawal anymore.

He’d been the one raring to go in the first place, finally ready to get off the shit that was probably gonna get him killed before he turned thirty. Past-him wound up being a huge goddamn idealist, and he wanted to kick the guy’s ass. His own ass? Fuck it, thinking hurt too much.

The first day hadn’t been miserable. It was part of the reason he’d been so damn enthusiastic to finally get clean. Chipp was used to the quiet burn in his limbs, the little bit of mind fuzz that showed up when a hit was wearing off on him. If he could stay tough, especially with his new master supporting him, how hard could getting clean possibly be?

“H-urk!”

The nausea was by far the worst. It felt like someone spent all of last night kicking him in the stomach. It’d explain the shit night of sleep he got, anyway.

“Bucket’s on your left, kid, don’t miss this time.”

“G-go fuck yourself with a- oh god, nnh- !”

He was barely able to turn and stick his head over the bed’s edge before another round of nausea hit. The yellow bucket perched by his side managed to catch the stream of sick that forced its way out of his body a moment later. The taste of acid made him cough and spit, irritably rolling over on the ratty mattress and clutching at his aching stomach through his old t-shirt.

“You shouldn’t turn over like that. It’ll make you throw up again. And you know you’re just gonna have to do it again in a few minutes, anyway.”

“Go suck a dick, you old bastard.”

Truthfully, Chipp was amazed that Tsuyoshi hadn’t dumped him back on the street yet. He knew that he wasn’t such an asshole normally, but the withdrawal was bringing out the worst in him. He almost felt bad for the poor man.

An equally-prominent part of him wanted the hurled insults and cursing to finally get the man to stand up and slam the door behind him. Chipp knew that he’d be losing one of the only chances he’d ever had, but his body was aching for another shot, all but screaming at him to find the biggest needle he could, jam an arm full of heroin, and chase it down with enough downers to make him numb for a full week. And even if he could bring himself to move more than a few feet, he knew Tsuyoshi wouldn’t let him leave the room.

The last round of vomiting had only sharpened the ache in his head. The motel room’s weak overhead almost seemed to pulse with every beat of his heart. Staring at it made him feel even dizzier- and with it, more nauseous- but his eyes were drawn to the peculiar sight. It was the closest thing he could get to a high.

The older man was sitting across the room, calmly perched at the rickety table. His vision was mostly focused on the magic-powered hotplate that was currently boiling a teakettle. Every so often, Chipp could see his one good eye glance over at him for a moment, before quickly returning to the kettle.

“What the fuck is that for?” He demanded.

“Language.” Tsuyoshi calmly chided, shaking his head. “I’m making tea.”

“No shit, you dumb bastard. Why the hell are you making tea now?”

“I’d say we could both use a drink.”

It was a simple response. Still, Chipp took it as an excuse to let out a furious growl and bury his face in a pillow. Moving all of a sudden only made everything ache more.

“I know it hurts.” Tsuyoshi’s voice was ever-patient. “But I will do my best to help you.”

“I don’t want your goddamn pity,” the teen hissed back, “I want some fucking heroin.”

A sigh heaved behind him. “I know you’re strong. If you don’t clean your body now, I fear you won’t live much longer. I don’t think anyone can thrive in an environment such as this one.”

Chipp wanted to hurl more profanities, but merely curled in on himself. He wanted to get clean. He really did. It was just the drugs talking. He couldn’t live like this anymore.

Stiff, trembling hands clutched at his ears. The teakettle began to whistle, sending more little throbs of pain across his skull. A hiss escaped his throat.

“Turn that fucking thing off!”

“I am, calm yourself.” The mechanical shriek quickly softened into silence. “Better?”

“T-thanks.” He had to remind himself.

The room went into blissful quiet. Well, as quiet as things could get when it felt like even the feeling of skin rubbing together was almost too loud. Chipp considered it better than nothing. It helped, if only a little.

“Here.” Tsuyoshi approached his bed. In each hand, he held a teacup. “Drink this. It will help you.”

Chipp sat up, slow and stiff as to avoid making himself sick again. As soon as he smelled the unusual odor of whatever was in the cup, he flinched away and covered his nose.

“I don’t want it.”

Tsuyoshi sighed in dismay. “You’re becoming dehydrated.”

“It smells like shit!” Chipp protested in turn. “And I feel like hell already, how is hot tea gonna make that any better?”

The man was silent. Chipp watched him place the teacups on the edge of the bed. Before he could pull away, Tsuyoshi reached out and pressed the back of one hand against his forehead.

“Your temperature has been fluctuating all day. It will take a bit of time for it to stabilize again. It does seem like you’ve got a bit of a fever again. Still, you’re dehydrated, and the sweating isn’t helping that at all. If you feel like you can keep it down, I’d like you to drink something.”

It would have been an easy excuse to say that he didn’t, but Chipp didn’t like that very much. Reluctantly, he held out a hand. “Give me the fuckin’ teacup, already.”

A smile poked out under the man’s moustache. “Glad to hear.”

The first sip was hesitant and awkward, but the rest flowed easily. In spite of his initial wariness, the faint sweetness and heat was oddly soothing to his burning throat, and the steam helped with the dizziness and itchy sinuses. He didn’t realize just how thirsty he had been in the first place.

“Feeling any better?”

“I guess…” He admitted. “A little. Maybe you aren’t- fuck-”

Chipp could hear the teacup shattering as it fell off of the mattress. He hardly cared, too preoccupied with frantically grabbing for the bucket as another wave of nausea hit him. Having the bucket in his lap made it easier to aim, but the reeking stench of acid and bile hurt his nose and made his eyes grow watery with tears.

“God…god dammit…” He gasped between heaving sobs. Everything hurt. Even the pleasant feeling of the tea had been replaced with a sickly saccharine taste that he couldn’t get off his tongue, no matter how much he gagged and spat.

Tsuyoshi looked no more concerned. “Oh my. I suppose I’m going to have to go see if I can get something to clean up this mess with.”

“Huh?”

In the time it took him to respond, the man was already at the door. “I’m going down to the front office, to see if I can get a few towels. I’ll only be gone a minute. Will you be alright until then?”

He was actually gonna leave him alone? “Y-yeah, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it, Sensei!”

An odd look was sent his way at the sudden title, but Tsuyoshi turned back and left. “Behave yourself.”

Chipp rubbed at his watery eyes, even more red than they usually were. Shit. The whole damn room was too hot. He was melting just sitting there.

Carefully, he eased himself off of the bed, trying to find his balance while also avoiding the mess of ceramic shards and tea that he’d made. Outside would probably reek of city-smog,but Chipp still felt drawn to it, wondering if the the air would help cool his warm skin. If he couldn’t get his highs on drugs, then he sure as hell wasn’t going to restrict himself here, too.

The door opened slowly, the boy flinching at every axle squeak as he peeked out. When he caught no sign of Tsuyoshi, he let out a sigh of relief, and let the door swing open. The banister a few feet in front of him was nothing more than a stack of cinder blocks overlooking a worn-down city district. The afternoon sky was full of dirty gray clouds, and the air stank of cart-food, trash, and sweat, but something about it felt infinitely more free than the four walls of that one room.

He slumped over the railing, propped up on his arms. A faint breeze ruffled his hair. Yeah. That was the good stuff. It felt nice against his hot, sweat-soaked body.

Something moved in the corner of his eye. He glanced at it with panic, but realized that it was merely a ratty-looking kid, probably a couple years younger than him, lingering on the walkway with his hoodie pulled up to his ears.

Just the sight enticed him. Chipp knew exactly what this kid’s deal was. His brain was telling him to turn tail, slam the motel room door behind him, and pretend like he’d never left. The impulsive part of his brain, the one that was always getting him into trouble, made him look over at the stranger and sign him over.

A too-shiny grin sparkled under the hood, matched with glowing green eyes that he was all-too-familiar with.

“Hey, buddy. Need a hit?” His voice was far too raspy for his age. Probably snorted too much of something too quick and got himself hooked.

Chipp flicked his eyes over both ends of the walkway, making sure nobody was coming. “What’cha got?”

“Ohhh, all sorts of good shit, man.” One sleeve was pulled back, revealing a menagerie of baggies that had been taped to his skin. “What are you craving?”

“Anything. Shit, anything.” He was already in too deep, and he knew it. Just the sight of all those powders made his heart speed up, the veins in his arms aching. The last scraps of his mind were screaming for him to turn away. “What’s the strongest thing you got?”

The kid’s smile widened. “A man of simple tastes, eh? Me too.” He gestured to a little packet of gray pills. “Handful of these, and you’ll feel like you’ve died and gone to heaven.”

Chipp was so antsy, his hands were already shaking as he fished through his ratty jeans in search of a few dollars. “How much?”

“CHIPP!”

Both boys froze in place, turning at the exact same time. Tsuyoshi was storming over to them, his good eye blazing with fury.

“S-Sensei, I-” In the sudden panic, he watched the other boy vault over the barrier and take off running as soon as he hit the ground. He couldn’t watch for too long, though, as Tsuyoshi grabbed his shirt collar.

“One minute I said, ONE MINUTE!” Each word was like a stab to the chest. “And WHAT do you do?! Run off and decide to get high again!”

“I’m s-sorry-”

Chipp felt the hand on his collar tug roughly, dragging him. In his panic and disorientation, he let himself be pulled along back to the door.

Tsuyoshi swiftly kicked the door open, gaze stony and unreadable. Chipp stumbled along for a few more steps before a firm hand planted itself between his shoulderblades and shoved him roughly towards the bed.

“Sit down, shut your mouth. I don’t want to hear anything from you for a while.”

The sheer force made his body bounce as he landed on the mattress. It jarred something loose in him. Though he intended to be quiet, the sudden scramble to try and find the bucket he had put down was noisy and awkward as he began retching.

“Here, here, be careful- !”

The contained was oriented beneath his chin. Chipp didn’t have much time to question, too occupied with the spasms that overtook him. They swiftly ate through the last of the energy in his body, and all he could manage to do was to curl up into a ball and begin trembling once it had ended, moaning in pain.

He heard a little sigh. The mattress dipped as he felt Tsuyoshi sit down next to him. Careful hands lifted his head up, letting it rest in the other man’s lap.

“S-sensei…”

“Shh...stay strong. It will be over soon.” Chipp felt fingers running through his hair, pressing against his throbbing temples. “You can make it through this.”

“I c-can’t…” Without thinking, he found himself tearing up again and sniffling. “I can’t-”

“You can. I know you can. Someday you look back and realize just how far you’ve come. And this will all seem like a bad dream.”

Chipp let his body gradually go slack. The hand in his hair and the low, soothing reassurances were enough to relax his taut, stiff muscles. And before he knew it, he had drifted off to sleep.

[mythlived]

[Rasmus] ♂

❛  From the Outside In !  

♂ - … My muse’s father

     [ ┊♟┊ ]  ━  There was silence as Tsuyoshi stared at the data that had been relayed to him over the phone. Rasmus was a good agent. He did what he was told, he killed when he was asked and had no qualms about it, he had no partners that led him astray. He did exactly as he was told. Yet, there were times when his information was lacking. He had mentioned months ago that he had found the deserter, but had run into complications and refused to elaborate on their nature. There had been mention of an unsuspecting informant, but no explanation of what he meant by that. Not only that, but he also managed to dance around an answer when he was asked what was taking so long in disposing of the loose end. A masterpiece in some ways, a complete failure in others. He was willing to put up with some things, considering the agent’s outstanding record, but he was becoming impatient and was not the only one. 

Dr. Ström had raised concerns when Tsuyoshi had mentioned Rasmus’ unwillingness to elaborate on the aforementioned complications and the informant. His most recent information, Tsuyoshi imagined, would only put her even more ill at ease. It had certainly upended most of his thought processes for the day. He had been stuck on one note and one note only for the past several hours. 

                           Someone had tried to befriend the agent.

             The agent refused to say who. Inconsequential, he had said. 

No, that was not sitting well with the scientist. He knew it would not sit well with Ström either. It was probable that Ström would suggest sending someone into the field after him or to help him. That, Tsuyoshi knew, would not go well. They had not taught him to work with others. It was likely Rasmus had his own plan, but if nothing else, he knew the agent was loyal to them, to the organization, to their cause. Regardless of complications, he would get it done. At least, he could only hope that was the case. If it were not… Well, they would end up with far too many research subjects dead to have any viable results. They would have to start over. No. No, no, no. Losing their research was the last thing they could do. No. It was not even an option. The loss of their research would mean a loss in their lives, he and Ström had put far too much into this to lose it because of two or three agents losing sight of the untold end goal. He needed to call her into his own office. If nothing else Ström would be able to look at things with a clearer mind.

He clicked on an intercom.  ❝  Dr. Ström, if you could meet me for data collection, please.  ❞  It was a phrase he used often to avoid letting the agents-in-training know there was some sort of crisis, whether it be within the walls of the compound or without. It seemed to be working thus far.

It only took her a total of ten minutes to reach his door from wherever she had been before. Not bothering to knock, she swept in as if she owned the whole operation. Which, he supposed, she did. But he did too.  ❝  What is so important that you pulled me away from our most recent subject  ?  ❞  A specimen that had been born blind, Sigrid had been intent on seeing how it was affected by their research. Would it stay blind  ?  Would they be able to induce sight through their own means  ?  Even he had been lost in their most current results until he been reminded to check in with their field agents. Until Rasmus had given him reason to upturn the table of his thoughts entirely. 

❝  Unfortunately,  ❞  he said, sliding the notes he had taken toward her, the highlighted note sticking out in stark contrast to the rest even across the desk, ❝  Rasmus has neglected to offer important information, again. He refused to give the name of his informant and has refused the name of this one as well.  ❞  He watched as her eyes flitted from one side of the page over and over, as if she had not read it correctly the first time. 

❝  Send one more. Just to check in.  ❞  She slid the paper back toward him, posture stiff. 

❝  You think he wouldn’t notice them  ?  ❞  It was a slim chance that he or the deserter would not notice an extra agent being sent into the field. 

❝  Of course he’ll notice them. If it’s a threat he needs, then it’s a threat he’ll get,  ❞  she said. She arched an eyebrow at him, as if wondering whether he had truly asked such a ridiculous question. Nonetheless, he pressed his lips into a thin line as he studied her. Always one for action, even when she was clear-headed. He was worried too, certainly, but Rasmus was a special case in a number of ways. Intelligence, socialization, role, and a plethora of other things were different about the agent because they had chosen to build him from the ground up. It was likely he would be more attuned to their movements than another agent could be. They had trusted him with far more than any one agent should have been trusted for. 

Tsuyoshi sighed, sitting forward and glancing one more at the data he had been given. ❝  Any sign of deviant behavior and we’ll send another agent. Until then, we should leave him be. It may be more harmful to show a sign of distrust now than to show one later. ❞  It was hard for him to be certain, but Rasmus’ track record could not be ignored. 

❝  And what  ?  Hope that it isn’t too late  ?  He’s been out for months in the same city as Rhys. What if all of our data is false and Rasmus is feeding us lies  ?  ❞  Anger sparked for a moment in Sigrid’s expression, but she schooled it quickly enough for Tsuyoshi to question if it had ever been there in the first place. But that was a question for another time. 

He scoffed, shaking his head. ❝  Dr. Ström. If he was developing any sort of personality, we would know. If our data was false, we would know. It would change. He would try too hard to keep it from being obvious, no  ?  ❞  

Nevertheless, the seeds of doubt had already been sown. Going through the agents best fit to trace the untraceable would be the next matter on his agenda. They would not be blindsided by betrayal again. 

@duskfloret​

[norihisahyuga-archived]

Love You Only (5/?)

Matsuoka Masahiro/Nagase Tomoya Tokio 2000~ words. Sfw.

If you asked Tomoya Nagase about colors, he would swear to you that he remembers them somehow, impossibly. Enter Masahiro Matsuoka, whose arms he ends up being pushed into, the man who sets his world alight with the rainbow. Neither of them can shake how familiar it feels, and as their journey through life and love continues, they begin to realize that sometimes love really can transcend anything put before it. For @chlance, of course. A labor of love, and another soulmate AU no one asked for.

Tomo is used to feeling overwhelmed beneath the scope of someone’s attention. School had been difficult when teachers asked him questions directly, and the never ending focus the bullies in school had for him only made it worse. By the time he was scraping his way through university, his anxiety had reached a height he did not know anything could possibly achieve.

Of course, it didn’t help that he more often than not failed to take it seriously when his crippling shyness crept up and made even eye contact virtually impossible. He told himself he would grow out of it, and when the failed to happen, he made more excuses. He needed to focus on his studies, anyway, and people always judged him for how he dressed, so what did it matter?

But as his fingers lace tightly with Mabo’s and he allows the man to lead him down the length of the beach, he realizes he hasn’t had nearly as much trouble with Mabo as he had expected.

By this point, the sheer amount of time he’s spent out and about today should have been enough to get beneath his skin. The way Mabo focuses on him when he speaks, the way Mabo stares when he doesn’t think Tomo is looking— All of that should have ruined this night for him.

It isn’t lost on him that the two of them have been out ever since this afternoon and he’s had no problems except a few times when he’s blushed and fidgeted. But that’s his fault, not really anything to do with Mabo. Mabo has been nothing but entirely lovely to him.

Even now, Mabo fills the quiet between them with a soft humming, and the song seems distantly familiar, though Tomo can’t place it. He wants to ask what it is, but he also just wants to listen.

In more ways than one, he is grateful. The last thing he would want is for his issues to get between the two of them when all he wants to do is prove that the two of them truly are meant for each other. Very rarely do fated couples decide that they are not suited for each other, and Tomo doesn’t want Mabo to think that the two of them are anything less than soulmates.

“There’s a little outcrop of rocks up here,” Mabo says, pointing a bit ahead of them, and Tomo lifts his head from Mabo’s shoulder so he can see. “I sit there sometimes. Would you like to sit with me?”

Tomo nods, letting his head fall back against Mabo’s shoulder. “I’d love to, yes.”

The walk is a short one, and when Tomo hesitates at the sight of the tide lapping at the bottoms of the rocks, Mabo turns to him with a little smile, a cocked head. It takes Tomo a moment to realize what Mabo is asking him, and he can’t quite summon the words he needs to respond to the question. Instead, he just gives a little nod, bracing a hand on Mabo’s shoulder.

He knows Mabo is strong. He can see it in the muscles, in the way Mabo carries himself, but he’s still unprepared for Mabo’s arm around his shoulders, another tucked beneath his knees, lifting him up off of the sand. A little squeak breaks past his lips without his permission and he wraps his arms tight around Mabo’s shoulders, pressing his face against Mabo’s neck.

“Easy, Tomo.” Mabo’s voice is warm in his ear, and a pang of familiarity hits Tomo in the gut so hard it makes his eyes sting. And he doesn’t understand what it could possibly mean. “Trust me. The last thing I’m going to do is let you fall. You can trust me, I promise.”

His face burns at the words, and if he could, he would tell Mabo that he knows, and that he does trust him. Somehow, impossibly, he does. He knows he’s stupid for thinking that this soon into this… Whatever this is, they don’t really have a word for it yet, do they? But there’s something about Mabo that he feels like he can trust, something that makes this, makes him different.

True to his word, Mabo sets Tomo down on top of one of the rocks before pulling himself up to join. There’s enough space for the two of them to sit comfortably, but Tomo still sits with his thigh pressed flush against Mabo’s, staring out at the moon bright and silver in the sky, wavering on the blue-black surface of the sea. It’s somehow beautiful, this subtle bit of color.

Mabo leans back on his arms, his dark eyes suddenly solemn as he stares out at the sea. “I come here a lot to think,” he says, and Tomo pulls his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on them as he watches Mabo’s face and listens to him speak. “The ocean is soothing, don’t you think?”

“I do,” Tomo admits, watching Mabo’s eyes leave the ocean to meet his gaze. “When I was younger, my parents had to take me to the beach all the time. I demanded it.”

“What a little brat,” Mabo murmurs, but the half-smile his mouth slips into around the words proves it’s a joke. Tomo giggles against his knees; it’s true, he was a brat when he was younger. Between his insistence about the colors and his demands to come to the ocean, he was a handful.

“I would spend the entire day here. All the way until the sun set.” Tomo shrugs, pushing a stray curl back out of his eyes. “I don’t know. It always felt… More like home than home did, I guess.”

He had never been able to explain it to his parents, the need to be closer to the ocean, to be able to smell the salt in the air and see the sun reflecting off of the water. Even when he was little, he knew the ocean would be a bright and vivid blue, and he had not been disappointed when he had seen it for himself. But there was still something missing, some vital piece to complete the scene. He just wishes he knew what it was so he could finally have some answers.

When he focuses on Mabo’s face again, he can’t help blushing and ducking his head just a little. The expression on Mabo’s face has grown more intense, his eyes somehow darker, focused on Tomo’s face with such fascination that Tomo almost hides behind his hands. It’s not the same as when other people evoke this type of reaction in him. Then, the need to escape is enough to ruin everything for him. Now, it just piques his curiosity. What had he said to earn this look?

“What is it?” he finally asks, reaching out to push at Mabo’s shoulder a little. “You’re staring at me, what did I say? Was the thing I said about the ocean that weird?”

Something in Mabo’s face changes as he gives himself a little shake, and his laugh seems off. But Tomo hasn’t known him long enough to be sure. “No, no. I just… You sound like a cute kid.”

Groaning, Tomo covers his eyes with his hands. “Stop, you’re embarrassing me.”

“I mean that.” He’s startled when Mabo’s fingers curl around his wrists, tugging his hands away so they can look at each other once again. “You must really love the ocean, hmm?”

“I do.” Tomo smiles, this time broader, more freely. “I still love to come and swim when I can.”

“Maybe we can come back here and do that tomorrow? I wouldn’t mind, I haven’t been able to just swim and enjoy the sun in a while.” Mabo shrugs a shoulder when Tomo frowns at him. “Work.”

“Ah, I see.” Tomo lets Mabo scoot a little closer to him, lets Mabo wrap an arm around his shoulders and pull him a little closer. It’s nice to be close to Mabo, to feel the warmth of him in contrast to the coolness of the rock beneath him. “I would really like that, actually.”

Mabo smiles at him, teeth and all, and the flush in Tomo’s cheeks is pleasant this time. He doesn’t feel the need to shy away. “That sounds like an excellent plan to me, then.”

“I’ll cook for you,” Tomo says abruptly. “I don’t live far from the beach. And I’m a great cook.”

The flash of surprise in Mabo’s eyes makes him pause, suddenly wondering if it was appropriate to make the offer in the first place. Then Mabo smiles broader and nods, and Tomo stretches his legs out so he can wrap his arms around Mabo’s waist, cuddling in against him. He’s warm, and the sea air is cool, maybe a little too cool, but Mabo more than makes up for it.

It makes him think of something… It flits at the edge of his mental ability to grasp at it, though he reaches for it. Something like this… Had he been somewhere like this before, with someone?

Shaking his head, Tomo turns so he can tuck his face in against the side of Mabo’s neck, feeling the slow and steady beat of his pulse against his nose. There was no chance he had been anywhere like this with someone before, not like this at least. He had enough trouble making friends throughout school— only a few determined people had made sure that he didn’t spend his university years alone, and he owes Inocchi and Tsuyoshi his life for that— so there was no chance he had been anywhere like this. Because this is a date, and though he had his own handful of crushes throughout his life, none of them had ever developed into more. He was always too shy to talk to people, the men he liked were always so bright and charismatic. So what is this evening reminding him of? Maybe he read about something like this in a book…

When nothing comes to mind, he pushes the thought away for later and decides to focus on the here and the now, enjoying this tender moment. He hopes there will be more. He hopes he and Mabo will be able to make this work, because if their days together are half as lovely as today has been, then Tomo is more than ready to put effort into this to make it last a lifetime.

“Thank you for today,” he finally says, straightening up so he can speak to Mabo directly. “It’s been wonderful, and I’ve really enjoyed getting to spend this time with you.”

Mabo’s smile is warm and genuine, and he lifts a hand, his fingers soft on Tomo’s cheek. “You’re welcome, Tomoya. I hope you enjoy tomorrow just as much. I like being able to make you smile.”

The words make the blood rush right to Tomo’s cheeks, but this time, he doesn’t drop his head. “You’re very good at it, you know. That’s something I’ve noticed today.”

“I have fate on my side to help me out, but I’d like to think I’m pretty good at being charming all on my own.” Mabo winks at him, and Tomo smothers a laugh against the palm of his hand.

When it’s finally too chilly for Tomo to handle the bite in the air, Mabo lifts him off of the rock and, despite his protests, carries him the entire way back to the car. Tomo gives up after a few minutes and just lets himself enjoy the ride, realizing just how tired he is after today. He isn’t used to being out all day, but he hasn’t regretted the time that he’s spent here with Mabo.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Mabo says, setting Tomo down beside the car. “Besides, you might be taller than me, but you don’t weigh anything.”

Tomo rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say, Mabo-kun. C’mon, take me home. I’m tired.”

He really isn’t ready to say goodbye when Mabo walks him up to his front door. He unlocks the door before he turns to tell Mabo goodbye, stepping into the hug Mabo offers without even having to think about it. He even nuzzles against Mabo’s cheek a little, unable to help himself.

“I really did enjoy today with you,” Mabo whispers against his ear. “Thank you for that.”

Tomo scoffs but smiles just the same. “You’re welcome. And thank you, too. I’m really looking forward to getting to see you again tomorrow. And I hope you sleep well tonight.”

Mabo doesn’t back out of the driveway until Tomo has his door firmly shut and locked behind him, and he smiles to himself a little at that as he kicks off his shoes. When he checks his cell phone, he finds a few text messages from Tatsu and reads through them, skidding to a stop halfway down the hallway when he gets to the last one: a request to use his spare bedroom.

“Oh, Tatsu…” He shakes his head and checks the timestamp on the message, relieved to see it was just from a few minutes ago. He fires off that of course Tatsuya can come stay with him, then makes sure the guest bedroom is all in order for his best friend to spend the night. This is not what he wanted to hear after Tatsu had already told him about the problems he was having.

He has no right to tell Tatsu what to do with his life, and he knows that better than anyone else— no one telling him what to do had ever eased his anxiety, after all— but it still makes him feel sick to know Tatsu and his girlfriend are having so much trouble. Just keeping himself together takes so much effort on Tatsu’s part these days, and Tomo knows his girlfriend makes things more difficult than she makes easy, and he can’t help but really dislike her for it.

Sighing, he changes into a pair of pajamas and sits down on the couch, resolving he can at least wait up for Tatsu to arrive before going to bed.