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When Aren first asked Shun about the things he had always had on his hands, Shun told him that they were bandages that seal his magic powers.
Aren knew he was lying, for more reasons than one. Not only did Shun definitely not have magic powers, but those were absolutely not bandages. Being in a gang taught him a lot of things, and one of those things was how to clean up after getting wounded.
So, Aren knew bandages better than most people.
Those things around Shun’s wrists? Not bandages.
It wasn’t a big deal that he was lying—it really wasn’t. While Aren did value honesty, he also valued privacy. He had his share of secrets and Shun didn’t even know about his violent past until he stumbled upon him fighting some other guys. So, he was fine if his boyfriend kept some secrets from him, it was his right.
This secret just… seemed so odd. Why would he lie about those things on his hands (and to Aren, his best friend and boyfriend, no less)?
Well, he started by asking Nendou about it, but he kind of just stared at him and laughed. He tried asking Saiki too, but he simply shrugged and walked away.
Hairo started repeating Shun’s story about how they mask his powers, but even he admitted that he didn’t really believe it; it’s just what Shun said and he liked to listen, even if it didn’t make sense. While that interaction wasn’t particularly helpful, Aren did appreciate that some people attempted to take Shun seriously.
He didn’t bother asking Teruhashi because he knew Shun pretended they were nothing and took them off when she was around, and Mera and Yumehara were just as clueless as Saiki.
Yeah, he didn’t think he’d get very far by asking his classmates.
So, Aren let it go for awhile. He trusted that Shun would tell him if it was important. As much as it absolutely bugged him that he didn’t know, he wasn’t going to try to push the truth out of Shun over something as small as what he wore on his hands.
After months of silently speculating later, his opportunity came while he was hanging out at Shun’s house.
They were finishing their homework in his room to appease Shun’s mom, and then they were going to cuddle and watch some new detective tv show that Shun was interested in.
Math was hard. Aren liked to think that he was a good student, and he was, but he wasn’t always the smartest student and math ain’t easy. He sighed, falling back against Shun’s pillows and blowing some hair out of his face.
“Have you started the math homework yet?” he asked, turning his head to look at Shun, who was staring intensely at his homework and twirling his pencil around in his hands (it was freaking adorable).
Shun glanced back at him, blinking thrice. “Uhhh, not yet. I’m working on my history. Need help?”
Aren nodded, trying to look as pitiful and as in need of help as possible. “Yeah—I don’t get this crap!”
Shun just laughed at him, but set his history aside and nudged Aren’s foot. “Sit up, you dork. Let me see.”
Sighing, Aren complied, sitting up and tossing his papers in Shun’s lap.
The pencil around his fingers continued to twirl, but Aren noticed that it was… not slowing down, but almost like his fingers were stumbling to catch the pencil. Huh, interesting. Whatever, that wasn’t the point right now. The more he admired Shun’s adorable habits, the less homework he’d get done.
“Hm, I see your problem!” Shun said after a minute or two of going through the assignment sheet and Aren’s work. He stopped twirling the pencil and began to write the problem out on a separate sheet of paper. “See, what you need to do is—gah!”
Shun dropped the pencil as if it was on fire, hissing in pain.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Aren asked, his flight or fight instincts kicking in, frantically scanning Shun for any signs of something being wrong. Crap, he hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary, anything that would indicate that Shun was in pain, and he was usually pretty attuned to these things! He’d been hurt enough times in his life after fights that he knew how to recognize it, and he was pretty good at noticing when his back was hurting or if his tics had taken a toll on his neck.
It was then that he noticed Shun was clutching his right wrist tightly, as if to try and relieve some pain. His face was tight, his eyes wide and almost frantic.
But Shun just shook his head, chin jerking a couple of times. “No, no. It’s okay,” he muttered, taking a deep breath. “I just—I need my gloves.”
Wordlessly, he rolled off of his bed, all of the homework sheets falling out of his lap and scattering around the sheets.
“Your gloves?” Aren asked, quickly rolling out of the bed too and hovering behind Shun, who was sorting through the stuff in one of his drawers. He couldn’t remember Shun ever talking about some gloves before.
Shun ignored him in favour of muttering angrily under his breath, something about his “stupid gloves” that Aren couldn’t quite hear.
He wasn’t quite sure what to do in this situation—he never was, to be honest. He was a guy who liked to take action and be proactive, but Shun wasn’t really answering any of his questions and seemed pretty focused on finding his gloves.
It was hard—not being able to do anything when Shun was in pain. They’d had this discussion before, when Shun was in tears over how badly his shoulders were hurting due to his tics. Sitting there and not really being able to do anything while Shun desperately held his shoulder, digging his fingers into his skin and trying to make himself stop crying was hard. More than that, it made Aren feel useless.
“There’s nothing you can do about my tics, Aren,” Shun had told him, smiling weakly as his shoulders rolled and rolled and rolled, almost endlessly. “I mean, kt tape helps sometimes, and so do massages or heating pads, but it doesn’t really stop the pain. Just… lessens it.”
Aren was used to doing what he could—applying the tape and giving massages when needed, but it still never felt like enough. He wanted to do more; he wanted to do something to help stop Shun’s pain.
But Shun was right—there wasn’t much he or anyone could do other than try to make the pain a little more bearable.
So, when Shun’s face twisted and when he gasped as if something had burned him, Aren knew that there wasn’t going to be much he could do to help and he hated it.
After a second, Shun let out a joyous whoop, pulling… huh? Aren blinked in confusion as Shun pulled his red so-called bandages out of his drawer.
His hands were shaking as he clumsily slipped the ace ring that he almost always wore off. The ring ricocheted off of the edge of the dresser and tumbled to the carpeted floor with a silent thunk. Shun pulled the gloves on, the fingers on his right hand trembling so fiercely that Aren wasn’t sure if they would actually be able to properly do anything at the moment.
But the moment the “bandages” were secured, Shun sighed, letting his arms flop to his side, turning so he was closer to Aren and going limp against him. “That feels better,” he muttered, and there was an air of relief and a lightness in his voice.
Yeah. Aren wasn’t sure what in the hell just happened, but Shun seemed to be happy, so he guessed that was okay for now.
“Is it okay if I hug you?” he asked cautiously, because he was a respectful guy and he tried to do his best to respect how Shun’s body and tics reacted to touch, especially unexpected touch.
It took a second for Shun to respond, as if he had trouble processing what Aren asked. “Hm? Oh, yeah. Yeah. That’s fine,” Shun replied groggily, and he pushed his face deeper into Aren’s shoulder, sighing contently once more.
Aren was still confused, but Shun consented to a hug, so he brought his arms up and loosely wrapped them around him. It was then that Aren noticed how rigid and high Shun’s shoulders were—it like he was hugging a statue.
They stood like that for a while—Aren wasn’t sure how long because time stopped when he was with Shun—silently holding each other. But eventually, Shun pushed himself off of him and flopped back down on his bed.
Slowly, Aren followed suit, making sure to sit not too close to give Shun some physical space. “So, uh, you okay?” he asked hesitantly.
Shun shrugged. “As okay as I can be for now,” he replied.
It didn’t seem like Shun was going to elaborate, as he had already started to gather all of the scattered papers and sort through them. So, Aren spoke again. “What happened?”
At that, Shun sighed, closing his eyes. “It’s-it’s embarrassing,” he said, his voice cracking.
“Shun…” Aren hesitantly placed a hand in the middle of Shun’s back, lightly so that it wouldn’t feel too restricting. “You know you can tell me anything. I don’t think anything you gotta say is that embarrassing. Besides, we’ve both had our fair share of embarrassing moments.”
He snorted. “Yeah, embarrassing moments… but this is…” he trailed off, an almost angry cough sound coming from his throat. “It’s ridiculous. And I don’t want you to think that I’m… ridiculous.”
And there it was. One of Shun’s greatest fears, one that he hadn’t necessarily admitted to but alluded to quite a bit, was that no one would ever take him seriously. He was short, not a physically strong person, and had a wild imagination, so it only made sense that the people around him tended to take him as a joke. As real as Dark Reunion was to Shun, it was still a front; still a way for him to play into the image of him that people want to see, a way for him to escape the reality that he was just a naive child in everyone’s eyes.
So, Aren shook his head. “I don’t…” Aren paused, wracking his brain for something to say. Comforting people didn’t come easily to him. He knew how to speak with his fists, not with his voice. He knew what he wanted to express, he just… he didn’t know how to do it. This was Shun’s area of expertise, something he was better at.
“Aren?”
He blinked at the hesitant sound of Shun’s voice. Damn, he got lost trying to find the words and kept Shun waiting for him to finish his sentence. He relaxed his eyebrows, which had nearly risen to his hairline, and offered Shun a small, apologetic grin.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I’m just tryin’ to—I don’t think you’re ridiculous. And… I know that whatever you’re hiding ain’t ridiculous either.” And it was the truth because Aren loved listening to Shun and he loved loving Shun. Dark Reunion wasn’t real, nor was Shun part of the Jet Black Wings, but his imagination, his ability to make believe and create everything out of nothing was as real as flesh and blood. It was magical, something that Aren didn’t know was possible before he met Shun.
Now, he believed in things that didn’t exist, he listened with bated breath as Shun told him stories about things that never happened. It was Shun that made them real, by thinking and feeling and emoting in a way that most people weren’t able to do.
So, no, nothing about Shun was ridiculous. Not when he could make dragons real and everything exist simply by choosing to believe, choosing to pretend.
Shun met his eyes, and Aren spotted that little sparkle of life in them, the kind that he exaggerated for the world but dulled for quiet, personal moments like these. The kind of sparkle that was sincere as anything, that was the silent thank you that Shun was too nervous to say. It meant he could relax and simply be without a front.
No one said that loving Shun would be easy—it ain’t easy to love anybody—but wow, was it an epic adventure all the same.
“These… these aren’t really bandages,” Shun began, slowly his chin rising and eyes squinting inquisitively at Aren, as if he were worried he would have some kind of visceral reaction to the statement.
But Aren just shrugged. “I mean… I kind of figured,” he admitted.
Shun made a face as if he had just eaten something really sour. “Well–I–whatever. These don’t really suppress my powers or anything… they’re compression gloves. Just… normal compression gloves that I cut up a little to make them look cooler.”
“Compression gloves…” Aren echoed, his eyes moving from Shun’s face to the gloves on his hands. “Like… those things people with chronic pain use?” Yeah, he’s pretty sure one of his old gang friends had to use compression gloves after he broke his wrist and a few of his fingers. He punched some guy real hard and then punched a couple other guys real hard too.
“Yeah,” Shun nodded. “They squeeze the veins in your hands to help out with circulation. They just… help me with my hand pain.”
“Your hand pain?”
“Ugh!” Shun buried his face in his hands, his fingers tapping against his cheeks. “It’s so stupid, Aren!”
“Hey, no. It ain’t stupid,” he asserted earnestly, scooting just a bit closer. “I promise, it ain’t stupid. And, hey, I won’t tell anyone this either! Everything you say is between you and me.”
Shun peeked at Aren between his fingers, making some whoop ing sounds as he did so. He still seemed hesitant, so Aren made that zipping your mouth shut and throwing the key away gesture he’d seen other kids at school do.
It made Shun laugh weakly, and he slowly dropped his hands, letting them rest on his thighs. “I just… have these stupid finger tics and they hurt so much,” Shun began, scowling at his hands. “Like, I wrap my fingers around each other and around everything that I touch and it’s ridiculous! Like, I can’t even use my phone without rubbing the freaking screen! Did you know that rubbing things can hurt? Like, rubbing something normal like your phone screen or a water bottle? It hurts, Aren, a lot. The more that I do it, the more that it hurts and I can’t stop doing it! And sometimes, like today, it gets really bad and writing things hurts. I was trying so hard not to rub my homework sheets, so I was messing around with my pencil and it distracted me for a little bit but… it-it hurts. Even the pencil thing hurt. Not as much as writing did but…” He laughed again, a pitiful and defeated kind of sound. Almost like he’d given up in believing that his tics didn’t define him or make him any less of a person.
“See? Told you it was stupid. It’s easier to tell everyone that I have secret powers than to admit that, sometimes, I feel like I can’t even use my fingers.”
But it wasn’t stupid, at least, Aren didn’t think it was and that had to count for something, right? It was something so far out of Shun’s control, something he seemed to have been dealing with alone for a while. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he told him, voice firm.
“Please,” Shun retorted, pursing his lips and blowing air five times. “It’s like, the only way I can deal with having barely functioning fingers is by pretending there’s some dark magic at play and blaming it on them! Everyone knows that I have Tourette’s—it’s not like that’s anything new! It’s so stupid.”
“Why do you feel like you have to hide this one?” Aren asked quietly. No matter how hard he tried, he still couldn’t wrap his mind around how this was something to be ashamed of. It was just… another part of Shun. Another fun little adventure, a way to find some light in something he couldn’t help. That’s what Shun told him once, around the time they first met. That pretending his tics were the work of Dark Reunion was just his own way of coping and processing what was happening in his body. Sure, a part of it was a cover since he was still a little embarrassed by his tics, but he said that it was mostly just easier to explain and more fun that way.
But Shun just gave him a dead-panned look. “There’s a difference between making cute or funny noises or looking a little weird while I roll my shoulders and not being able to hold a pencil. It’s so embarrassing that I sometimes can’t use my phone because of finger tics, that it gets so bad that I literally cannot use it without compression gloves.”
“Shun, it’s—”
“—pathetic, isn’t it?” Shun interrupted, scoffing and glaring down at his hands. “At least everything else kind of makes sense. This one… this one just makes me seem so weak.”
“Hey, Shun, look at me.” Aren reached out and gently placed a hand on one of Shun’s cheeks, turning his head until they were making eye contact. “You’re not weak. You’re really strong.”
Shun scoffed, rolling his eyes then blinking thrice. “You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re my boyfriend. Besides, needing the gloves does make me weak. It… it makes everything people think about me true.”
And that? That destroyed Aren’s heart. It made his chest tighten, his fists clench, made his blood boil, and anger flood through his veins. He was filled with the urge to hit something, to break something.
It wasn’t fair that Shun—the most wonderful person in the world—felt this way, that other people made him feel this way.
“No, I mean it,” Aren insisted because he wasn’t just saying it; he meant it with everything that he had inside of him. “You put up with so much crap from your body and you can’t do anything about it. You deal with so much pain, and you still try hard during gym and you still do all your homework and you still hold my hand and cuddle with me. You put up with so much crap from everyone around you and… and you’re still so kind and good and fun and… you’re not weak, Shun.”
Tears had begun to well in Shun’s eyes, but Aren knew better than to acknowledge them. Instead, he pretended not to notice as Shun brought a hand to his face and wiped them away.
“There ain’t anything wrong with needing compression gloves. If they help you, then… they help you. It doesn’t make you any weaker than anyone else. Their purpose is to help people, and as long as they’re helping you, what’s the problem?”
“It’s… it’s the fact that I need them in the first place. And for something as stupid as Tourette’s no less.”
Aren wanted to scream, to affectionately throttle Shun and force him to believe that wasn’t true. But, no, he couldn’t do that. As pure as his intentions would be, the act would probably be more violent than sweet.
“Sometimes… sometimes you need to accept that it’s okay to ask for help,” Aren said. “Like, when I was a gang leader, I would feel like I had to fight everything on my own, you know? I was the leader which meant that I had to carry everything myself. And that got me in some rough situations where I’d come out looking worse than when I came in. It wasn’t until my guys finally punched me and told me that they could help fight my battles, that I didn’t have to fight it all alone, when I finally started coming out uninjured.”
Hell, it was a pretty literal and violent metaphor, but Aren was hoping that it got the message across. Besides, he knew that Shun liked action and liked to pretend that he was a great fighter. That would make what he said a little more bearable, right?
“Ah, what I’m saying is, sometimes, you’re better off asking for help or accepting things that’ll help you. If the compression gloves lessen your pain, then, babe, I want you to wear them. And so would Nendou and Saiki and Hairo and everyone else. We want you to be happy and to feel comfortable and pain-free more than we care about whether you can do it on your own or not, you know?
“There’s nothing wrong with pretending you have powers or saying that you have powers to hide something you’re scared of,” Aren continued. “In fact, I think your Tourette’s is a super power of its own.”
Again, Shun scoffed. “Please, you don’t have to humor me,” he said, though there was no real malice behind his words. In fact, although he tried to hide it, Aren noted a hint of intrigue in his tone.
“No, I mean it. It’s just… it may be different, but it’s you, and I think that’s really cool. Besides, you can make noises that most people can’t and some of your tics require you to be really flexible, which you are! And, through all the crap you deal with, you’re still kind.” Aren paused, taking a second to tenderly press a kiss against Shun’s lips. “And caring.” Another kiss, this one a little deeper. “And brave. Hell, you’re the bravest person I know, Shun, you know that?” Another kiss, on the forehead this time.
“You take this thing that you think makes you weak and you use it as fuel to be the best person you can be. I think that’s pretty super.” Aren concluded by giving him one more kiss, this time, taking Shun’s closest hand in his and raising it to his lips, gently kissing his finger tips that were poking out between the red fabric.
By the time he was done, Shun’s face was as red as a tomato. His eyes were wide, and he was staring almost blankly at Aren.
For a second, Aren was worried that he may have gone too far. He’s not… great with words, especially because he still thinks and talks like a delinquent a lot. He must’ve gotten swept up in his whole attempt at a romantic speech about how much he loved his boyfriend thing and scared or embarrassed Shun. Gah, of course he did, he never really learned when to shut his stupid mouth.
He let go of Shun’s face, sending a sheepish smile his way. “Sorry, I uh, that was weird wasn’t i—”
But he never got to finish that sentence, because Shun lunged forward, grabbing Aren’s face in both his hands and smashing their lips together.
It took Aren a moment to process the fact that he didn’t scare Shun off, but soon, he was kissing him right back, placing a hand on the back of Shun’s neck, rubbing his thumb against his skin.
It was a messy kiss, a long and silly one. Their teeth clanked against each other as if they had never kissed before, their noses kept bumping into each other, Shun’s fingers were rubbing Aren’s face, and by the time they were done, they were giggling breathlessly, leaning against each other.
“You’re so corny,” Shun laughed, his shoulders rolling. Once his shoulders stilled, he laid his head on Aren’s shoulder. “But… thank you.”
Aren shrugged. “Only saying the truth,” he replied. “You have nothing to be ashamed of—especially not with me. And if anyone says otherwise, I’ll beat them up.”
He said it like a joke, and although he was trying to stray from his delinquent past, he kind of meant it for real. No one should ever make Shun feel less special, less valued than he is. No one should ever make him feel ashamed over something that he can’t control, make him feel like he has to hide what helps him. There’s nothing wrong with making up a silly story to hide something you aren’t ready to share yet, but Aren didn’t want Shun to think it was something that had to be hidden.
So, yeah. He would be willing to beat up anyone who beat Shun’s feelings.
“Okay, okay. I get it,” he said, fondly rolling his eyes and then blinking, blinking, blinking.
“Do you?”
Shun hesitated, nervously biting his lip, and Aren frowned. But before he could say something, Shun spoke up. “Maybe… maybe not entirely right now, but I will. Someday, I think,” he said, his lips twitching into a grin.
Someday wasn’t now, but someday was a start. “Okay,” Aren replied. “I’ll be here with you the whole way, got it? Whenever you need me.” He paused and then added: “Also, you did a great job cutting those gloves up. They look really dope.”
Shun looked down at his gloves, absolutely beaming. “Thank you! I knew that I couldn’t just leave them like they were, they wouldn’t match my style and the whole Jet Black Wings thing, you know? Then I realized that they still worked if I cut them up a little bit!”
So, Shun began to ramble about his gloves and how they added to the Jet Black Wings and the character he portrayed. Aren listened intently the entire time, absorbing every word that came out of Shun’s mouth. He liked listening to him talk—it was nice to just sit back and exist in the presence of Shun, to be thrown out of this world and into another.
“You look really cool with the gloves, babe,” Aren spoke up once Shun finished his explanation, relishing in the way Shun’s face flushed once again.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it, you big dork,” Shun teased, reaching forward and ruffling Aren’s hair.
“Hey, who you callin’ a dork, dork?”
Aren was about to playfully pounce on Shun, dragging him so they were laying down and cuddling on the bed—hey, they just had a moment, homework be damned, they deserve a little cuddle break—when Shun’s mom called up to them.
“Shun Baby! Your friend Riki is here—wants to know if you two wanted to get ramen with him!”
He and Shun stared at each other for a moment, their eyes locking, then they burst into laughter. “Nendou sure has bad timing,” Shun chuckled. “Do you wanna go?”
Honestly, Aren would prefer to stay and cuddle with Shun, but he was pretty hungry and he liked hanging out with Nendou. “Why not?” he replied, stretching his arms and pushing himself to his feet. “Hey, maybe we can get him to invite Hairo, make it a double date.”
Shun’s eyes bulged and his cheeks puffed as if he were trying to hold in laughter. “Well, it would be rude if we made Nendou third-wheel…”
Aren helped him to his feet, but didn’t let go of his hand. “This okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s okay.” Shun stood on his tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss on Aren’s cheek. “Now, let’s go play matchmaker and eat ramen!” He tightened his grip on Aren’s hand then called back to his mom. “Coming, mom!”