#look at these sad idiots ! happy birthday keva :)

[fatalled]

@godenvy // ryuu & hiroji. after the gala. — just say the word & i'll make us loved.

hiroji turns the lights off one by one in the small apartment. the dishes are done, the clothing mess all put back into the dresser, even the coffee table is cleared off and the tiny succulent sits hardy as ever in the middle. the apartment is quiet, the sounds of the city are the only thing that feel like a heartbeat here. ryuu might ascribe it to be as quiet as a tomb — but hiroji wouldn't. he couldn't. the clutter on the shelves from the leather-bound books of poetry to the polaroids where ryuu smiles so brightbrightbright to the wet specimens curled tightly in their jar weren't things that hiroji would bury and weep over. they were — home.

the poetry book with his name scribbled in, decorated little black paper flags to tell him which of the poems were ryuu's favorites. ( although, hiroji would always think his signature right next to hiroji's name is his favorite poem. he wouldn't tell him that. ) the bouquet of dried flowers, red roses wilting eternal. the halloween skull they found. the little feathered raven that sat ever-never-evermore looking at them. they were little pieces of ryuu, little parts of hiroji. they were home carved out of a dark place and made even more precious because of whose hands touched them, whose heart thought they were special.

he wouldn't tell him that either.

he turns off the light as he heads to the bedroom. that event had been — a mess. & hiroji ruined it with a question he shouldn't have asked. ( can i kiss you? — i'm too overwhelmed right now. i just want to go home. ) he should have seen that. he should have seen — and he didn't. too caught up in his own mistake of not being there when he said he would that he didn't check in with ryuu if he wanted to be there at all. hiroji leans against the doorway and looks at the soft shape of ryuu curled up in bed. it's quiet in here, cold. & so very still. who knows how long he'll be out — that's why hiroji cleaned up. ryuu wouldn't have to worry about those things. he can just — rest.

hiroji makes his way to ryuu's side of the bed and sits right on the floor next to him and rests his cheek right there on the edge. ryuu hardly seems to breathe. that slow, unheard pulse creeps through his veins and it's almost unnerving. he looks dead. with careful fingers, hiroji brushes his dark hair away from his face and sighs.

"i'm sorry," he mutters. his voice is too scratchy, too alive. "i ... just." a weak shrug of his shoulders is followed by a heavy sigh. god. this all felt a mess. he feels a burn in the back of his throat that he hasn't felt in fucking years — he might cry. he wouldn't tell him that, though.

"i thought it was going to be a different. it was different in my head. i didn't mean — for-for any of that to happen. i didn't think it would. i thought ... we'd just have a night together and i could tell you —" he cuts himself off and swallows hard against tears in his eyes. pull yourself fucking together, hiroji. the fuck are you doing? a sharp inhale and he picks up his head, leaning against his fist. ryuu simply breathes slowly & continues to sleep. hiroji could be talking at full volume but he wouldn't hear him. a train could come storming through but ryuu wouldn't move — he'd just keep sleeping. "i think i'm in love with you."

without ryuu to hear him, however, did he ever actually say it? coward. a fucking coward.

"i ... say i think but i'm pretty sure. you're literally the one fucking person that makes this fucking mess —" & he points to his temple, "go quiet. it makes sense with you, i fucking make sense with you. and ... i know that after tonight, you're be gunna pretty hard pressed to believe that but ... it's true. you make me so fucking happy, ryuu. and ... i promise, i won't fucking leave you behind."

he reaches forward and places his hand on ryuu's. it's cold — and hiroji feels like he burns too hot.

"everyone else left you but i won't, alright? it's okay if you don't love me back or — if you just wanna be friends, i'll fucking live with it. hell, i'd rather live with that fucking pain than live without you. i'd rather have you never look at me like that than not have you in my life at all. because-because i won't leave you behind. i fucking swear to every poe and whoever else the fuck you got living on your shelves, alright? i know you've been left — but i swear it won't be me who leaves you." he wishes for all in the world to kiss his hands, to have to courage to whisper it against his knuckles how much he cares for him, how precious he finds him, how dear he is to him.

but he doesn't tell him that, though.

instead, he quickly wipes at his eyes. the laugh is barely a sound, barely a shade of anything good. hiroji knows that — he knows that there is very little good to come of him. he isn't like ryuu — scarred by the people in this world who kept taking and taking and taking from him. he's a dog with teeth, ripping and snarling and begging for more. ryuu, however, makes him want to attempt to be gentle.

"so ... sleep tight, pretty boy. i'll keep an eye on you."