#i had this weird impending ominous feeling n then checked the date

[lesbianlanarcher]

my wives have been missing for a whole year now...

has anyone seen them?

[its-love-u-asshole]

I’ll See You Soon [fic]

Pairing: Fushimi Saruhiko/Yata Misaki

Rating: T

Summary: Written as an epilogue for Shaking in My Skull. 

It's always said that good things never last, but for them, the statement couldn't be more untrue.

Note: 2nd day entry! I had the sudden inspiration for this verse again, so yay for random epilogues lmao. Thank you to @emeraldwaves for checking this over!

AO3

"This is a rather big favor you're doing for them you know. I'm surprised."

Are you truly?

Despite the words, the tone was calm and pleasant, much like the room around them as they waited. Waited for the next step of a journey, one which Munakata knew wouldn't end, and shouldn't. Maybe that was why he felt the corners of his mouth lift softly, his eyes fixating on the clear depths of water below as the overseer of change sat beside him. Yet Nagare's voice held no criticism, no objections, as Munakata had predicted.

All was as it should be.

Munakata chuckled, his bones and eyes finally feeling the weight of exhaustion brought upon by several centuries at his post. He would rest soon.

Somehow, he'd never dreamed of being okay with this, with retirement, but the knowledge his throne would be well cared for dulled his worry. Perhaps, he thought, a permanent vacation was just what he needed. He closed his misty eyes for a minute, letting the resolve settle slowly into his being, the yoke of hell's guardian falling off his shoulders as if it had fully served its purpose.

Munakata opened his eyes again, though the mistiness was still there, and couldn't help but thank Mikoto for dragging him along to the afterlife by his side. Munakata guessed things did work out how they were supposed to in the end.

Which brings me back to this...

"Favor you say?" He asked with fondness, knowing the truth deep down, just as much as he had that first day, when two determined youths had ventured out on the Return together. "That's where you're wrong."

Nagare said nothing, only pulled away from the pool with a nod of amusement. Yes, he already knew the answer as well, and Munakata gave a fuller laugh this time, letting it echo off the meeting room's walls to blend with Mikoto's heavy breathing behind him as the angel snoozed.

Exactly as thing should be...

After all, favors were kindnesses given beyond the usual.

No, what he was doing...this was precisely what he owed.

--

The sounds of his heart monitor beeping were becoming normal by now, fading into the rolling of stretchers and medicine carts, drowning into the chatter of nurses and doctors alike. For most people it would probably be annoying, maybe ominous or sinister. Not for Yata.

He smiled slowly, his eyes managing to blink without succumbing to tiredness. It was hard, but he wouldn't leave without--

"Misaki..." The voice came from the bed right beside his, weak and barely there, but to him it was as calming as ever, capturing his attention in an instant. Misaki smiled wider, turning his head, though his muscles protested. Whatever, it was worth it.

Despite all the years he'd spent looking and thinking about Saruhiko, seeing his face never got old, no matter how old they actually got.

Misaki chuckled at his own joke, eyes sweeping over the body in the other bed. Saruhiko's hands were still at his side, toil worn and wrinkled, curled in on themselves from a life full of paperwork and overtime. Yata knew if the other stood, his posture would be god awful too, after his countless hours hunched over his computer. Dumbass.

As if sensing his thoughts, Saruhiko squinted at him, the crows feet under his eyes being accentuated by the expression, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose. Yata laughed, and while it quickly turned into a cough, it didn't make it any less pleasurable. Saruhiko's eyes flashed in amusement, the bright blue hues as vibrant as ever. Beautiful, analytical, piercing. So very Saruhiko.

Yeah, totally worth it.

"Yes?" Yata's voice was hoarse, struggling, and at that moment he figured he must look the same as Saruhiko. Saruhiko, with his rough, sagging skin and white hair, the perfect picture of old age. Funny, Yata never considered his appearance as he grew older, how far they'd come, until now, sitting right on his deathbed.

No doubt he had receding hair just the same, aching joints and bad posture to go with them. He laughed again, feeling unbelievably alive from the realization alone.

Ninety-two years, not bad huh, Saru?

Yata felt his eyes water, and he doubted it was from his body aches. Not bad at all.

Saruhiko licked his dry lips, shaking his head as he glanced up at the ceiling. "Do you think they planned this?"

It took a second for Yata to realize who he was referring to, but when he did, he couldn't help but feel a weird surge of gratefulness. "Probably, knowing them."

"How cheesy."

"Are you complaining?"

Yata felt his heart stutter when Saruhiko smiled at him, probably both from the emotions it elicited, and the fact his time was almost up. His eyelids felt heavy, his thoughts scattered, but when he finally passed, he wanted Saruhiko to be the last thing he saw.

The last face he saw before he died, the first when he opened his eyes.

He didn't doubt Munakata and Mikoto putting this together, not letting Yata spend even a day without Saruhiko. Not to mention the date...

Perfect.

Saruhiko reached a quivering hand across the small space which separated their beds, as if sensing the impending fate as well. Yata gripped it as tightly as he could, keeping it against his chest as his heart pounded and skull shook from the effort of keeping himself alive. Just a bit more...

Saruhiko finally answered him, his voice cracking and fading slowly. "No...I'm..n-not. Misaki..."

The tone was as scolding as it could be, and Yata could nearly hear the implied meaning there. "Idiot, you'll see me soon. Sleep."

Sleep huh...you too Saruhiko...you should sleep...

Yata felt his grip on the other's hand slacken, and he fought against the urge to drop it, using the last of his energy to keep it close to him. As if he'd let Saruhiko pass through a door alone ever again.

Sleep...and I'll be here when you wake up. 

Yata smiled, feeling his vision spin out of use, his lungs giving up as the two monitors in the room went haywire, and the last thing he could make out was Saruhiko's eyes closing, the grip on his hand tightening.

And then there was nothing.

There was silence.

A complete absence of noise.

Still and steady...

.

.

.

Yata Misaki. Age ninety-two, born on July 20th, died on the night of August 14th.

Fushimi Saruhiko. Age ninety-one, born on November 7th, died on the night of August 14th.

.

.

.

Saruhiko opened his eyes, seeing nothing but the blurred edges of walls around him, shining white. Blinding white, giving off the illusion of a never ending hallway. Same as always, he thought.

He was lying on the floor, his limbs frozen like in ice, and he slowly began twitching each finger, working to his arms and legs with practiced ease. The room remained hazy, and without faltering, he reached up, removing his glasses until the room bloomed into clarity. His skin felt smooth, his muscles strong, his body able, as if he hadn't aged a day since he was twenty years old.

The thought made something nostalgic inside him stir, and he wondered why he was surprised in the slightest. He gave an amused smile at the ceiling, reaching up to thread his fingers through his long dark hair, feeling the lack of a receding hairline, basking in the mobility of his joints.

He wondered if this was a gift too, being given back his youth, though he didn't care to question it. He had more important things on his mind, and he turned his head to the side calmly, ignoring the distant paranoia beating in his heart, telling him he'd woken up here alone.

No, he knew better these days.

Misaki's eyes were bright and glowing, as they'd always been. That had never changed, even with age. The amber color warmed Saruhiko to his toes, the love and fierceness he associated with those eyes threatening to melt him on the spot.

Misaki...

The other was staring at him in wonder too, his face youthful, his hair back to the same fiery color as before he hit sixty, and Saruhiko reached forward to run his hands over it, down Misaki's cheeks and lips, like he held the universe in his hands. Well, he sort of did. Misaki was his universe, had helped him build and strengthen his world until it was big enough for them to share.

Saruhiko's fingers settled on the redhead's lips, feeling them lift up into a huge smile, and it was probably that which made Saruhiko lose his control. He surged forward, catching Misaki's lips with his own, the kiss firm and all he'd ever wanted. Somehow, he'd never gotten tired of it.

Misaki pulled away with a snort, but his watery eyes gave his real emotions away. Saruhiko, for once, didn't feel the need to comment, probably because his eyes stung too. "I look that good huh, Saru? No more wrinkles..."

Please...

Their foreheads bumped together as Saruhiko shook his head, reveling in the silence around them, something which had once unsettled him to no end. Now it was a reminder, telling him his time with Misaki would never truly end. "No. You always looked good to me."

Misaki's eyes widened for a brief second, the tears in both their eyes building, before the redhead pushed back on Saruhiko's head with his own. It was all they could think of to deal with the emotions raging between them, and eventually, Saruhiko's tears spilled first. Both of them laughed regardless, no unhappiness or discontent to be found, and they clung onto each other a moment after.

The force of the hug had them falling to the floor again from where they'd sat up, but they didn't mind. Nothing would ruin this.

"I missed you Saruhiko."

"We were apart for a few minutes, tops."

"Doesn't matter," Misaki sniffled. "You idiot."

Saruhiko couldn't feel pain anymore, but he swore he felt his skin sting from how hard Misaki gripped him, and he wouldn't give it up for anything.

I missed you too. I love you.

How silly it was, given how long he'd been apart from Misaki in the past, for months, maybe even years as he faced the unthinkable. Saruhiko shook his head, smiling to himself. Guess it doesn't matter now.

For that point on, they'd get through everything somehow, like they'd always had.

Together.

"Hey Saru," Misaki said, pulling away with a laugh. The redhead reached up to wipe his tears away, a small smirk settling on his face. Saruhiko hummed in response, returning it. "I think we're late."

The statement actually managed to catch Saruhiko off guard for a second, but soon he was rolling his eyes, taking in the plain white room once more. Once late arrivals, always late arrivals, that much was true.

Saruhiko leaned forward, capturing Misaki's lips again in a quick kiss before he heard a door open behind him as if beckoned, and he heard the familiar sound of a cane clicking on the floor.

Saruhiko smiled at Misaki as the redhead offered him his hand, and Saruhiko took it gratefully, ready to face fate's next endeavor.

"Yeah, I guess you're right."