Chapter Text
Spring was a sight for sore eyes.
Warm against the lingering cold, enveloping in its safety and beauty.
My spring — like a ghost — recurring in my life by my own conviction.
I missed him.
Would he love me if he knew? Was it better to stay still and wait, after all?
He was free to love, already perfect enough to have whoever he wanted.
But really, he wasn't free.
He was missing his spring — with sky-colored eyes and darkness braided into his head.
A faint light in his wintry world.
His life could never be complete without him.
A mass of dark clouds gathered in the sky as cold drops fell on the shoulders of those hurried and brave enough to endure them, he admired the courage it took to walk through autumn's frost.
That wasn’t the case for either of them.
Shion didn’t dare look at the eyes ignoring him from just a few meters away, his umbrella far too heavy in his hand.
A nervous itch crawled up his body at the mere possibility.
He would die just to believe it was possible for them to be friends — for the touch of his hand.
His steps weren’t as decisive as he had hoped, but in an instant, he was there, slightly towering over Haru, offering his own, open umbrella.
He saw Haru stutter in surprise, but those eyes still held a warm space for him — he could feel it.
He wanted it to be true.
The trip to the station wasn't uncomfortable in itself.
Shion kept trying to talk about anything, as Haru nodded or replied politely — it was maddening.
He missed the closeness, he abhorred this artificiality.
He missed those clear eyes looking at him with joy… not that sober sharpness born of envy.
Their steps slipped on the shiny, wet pavement.
"I heard the manager scolded you again, Senpai," he said, a last attempt at conversation.
Haru sighed, eyes on the platform and the train arrival sign.
"She's got something against me… She always has."
He glanced to the side, as if remembering that she was, in fact, the reason for their distance. The short reply felt like a dagger in Shion’s chest, the raindrops stinging like splashes of blood.
He felt like a ghost.
Seeing him every day at the office, unable to talk to him, hearing him from afar, with his shadowed voice and lowered head. It felt like living with the happiest memory of his life, trapped in a snow globe; he could see it clearly but it was simply untouchable.
"She does…" Shion began, trying to fix things, to make amends—Desperately — just like he’d done these past years.
He was running out of ideas.
"I'm sorry, for not standing up to you. I got you in trouble that one time."
He stared at his own shoes, unable to look at that disappointed face. The memory that day clear in his head.
He saw Haru’s shoes shift slightly under his weight, stepping just a little closer. Enough to light a flame inside Shion, to make him feel alive.
"It's never really been your fault, Tatsunami."
Shion looked up to see Haru staring at the same spot between their feet, the umbrella rested, closed, beside Shion — creating a small puddle beneath the station’s roof. Fusing their shadows.
A tick of time passed. The rain was starting to ease.
"I'm sorry too, for pushing you away," Haru added. They both looked up — their eyes met, but now there was a lightness to them as familiar blue seeped through.
Would the gates of heaven look that same color?
"I just thought you were too perfect, too talented… I thought you’d been looking down on me this whole time."
Shion stayed quiet, too stunned to do anything but stare.
His pursuit of perfection had run Haru over, and Haru had chosen to flee, wounded, rather than face him.
Now he understood — it was never about the manager, or Aoi, or anyone else.
It’d been his fault.
"I'm sorry too, I guess I was also avoiding you the whole time…"
The words rushed out like a flood — too hopeful to let this moment pass.
"You needed me during hard times, but I…"
The train approached slowly, lifting a thin layer of water in its wake and shutting him up.
Haru looked at him, waiting for the sentence to continue — but his expression was different now. Softer, understanding.
"It's all right now. I guess we both made mistakes."
They boarded the train in silence but there was a familiar comfort between them — so full of hope for Shion.
Could it be… could it really be possible?
White, flawless hair looked even more neat than usual, his steps felt lighter, and his mood even more static.
It was strange, for Haru, to speak with Tatsunami again. As if a weight had slipped from his stomach only to settle in his chest.
Human closeness was strange to him — or at very least, unusual.
Now, it's like they were friends again.
Who would’ve thought a single conversation would be enough to mend the gap? Not completely, perhaps, but Haru could at least feel Tatsunami’s effort to reconnect… And he could appreciate that.
This time, they ate lunch together, the break was actually enjoyable for someone as lonely as him.
Who would’ve thought someone’s voice could sound so exceptional? That its tone could echo so deeply in his chest?
He could feel those eyes on him the whole time, was this also part of what he'd forgotten about friendship? Long gazes with the weight of a hurricane?
Part of him thought it was, if nothing else, irregular.
Yet another part basked in the attention — in being seen. He felt there was a desperation within him that he had ignored for far too long.
"Ahh, I can't wait to go winter shopping..." Tatsunami continued in a conversation Haru wasn’t fully following.
"Winter shopping...?" he asked between bites of his neatly packed bento.
"Yeah! There's a coat I've been meaning to buy for months now."
Haru chuckled silently. "You really haven't changed a bit, have you?"
Tatsunami looked at him with a faint blush and scoffed, still smiling.
"What's wrong with wanting a little wardrobe update?"
"Nothing! I just don't know anything about fashion... So it seems a bit silly."
Tatsunami eyed him up and down and playfully chimed in,
"I figured, Senpai."
Okay, now Haru was just a bit offended — only because it was Tatsunami saying it, of course he’d have perfect fashion sense too…
But he couldn’t let envy and self-deprecation win — not again, they were just restarting their… friendship?
He shook his head but noticed Tatsunami perk up.
"Maybe we can go shopping after work? I can give you some advice."
Haru looked down at his own monotonous, plain outfit, he really needed to stop overusing black. Next to him stood the perfectly sculpted image of Shion Tatsunami — colors that were easy on the eyes, high-quality clothes that looked soft and comfortable.
He reluctantly accepted.
He could see that analytical look — the one Tatsunami used when working on a project or talking to a boss.
He was methodically scanning each store in the mall, discarding them in less than a second while factoring in countless variables… variables Haru didn’t even want to think about.
How methodical could picking a clothing store possibly be?
The only standard he had was whether it was within his budget. Beyond that, he couldn’t care less about fabric quality, and he had no clue about brands.
The only thing that stood out to him was the sheer number of people at a shopping mall on a Thursday evening. His eyes were starting to sting from the artificial lights, and his head ached from the overwhelming noise of voices.
Somehow Tatsunami was his anchor, he could mentally disconnect a little while waiting for him to make a decision.
Suddenly, he felt warmth on his wrist and a strong, guiding pull leading him to one of the more distant shops.
It looked elegant but not overpriced, not too crowded, and it had a variety of suits and coats — even Haru found himself interested.
Ah, it worked. Maybe that analytical power was exactly what he needed in his professional life.
Even though they were standing in front of stylish clothes and a sleek-looking store, he could only pay attention to the hand on his wrist.
It was the strangest thing — a warmth on his skin almost unrecognizable to his nervous system, sending jolts of electricity through his body like a winding current on the verge of electrocuting him.
He didn’t know if it was due to the lack of physical… or human contact in general, or if it was because it was Tatsunami specifically.
His hands had long forgotten the feel of Aoi’s, and now his eyes could only focus on that one point of contact.
Desperate for it to end. Terrified that it might.
The pressure disappeared, and he saw Tatsunami glance at him from the corner of his eye with an expression Haru didn’t know how to describe.
A feeling of being known.
A glance exchanged, then fading away.
“I think this could look good on you, senpai.”
His crimson eyes were focused on a brown V-neck sweater.
Haru’s mind was still stuck on the physical contact, so all he could do was nod as they walked into the store.
How pathetic.
Tatsunami probably didn’t think twice about the touch, but to Haru, it felt like a fire had been lit and extinguished.
How long had it been since he last touched someone? Since someone had touched him in more than a brush or a bump?
His body already registered it as some sort of alien contact — already preparing defenses to strike at the slightest movement.
It ached.
Lost in thought, he didn’t see when Tatsunami pulled the same sweater off a rack, only a size smaller and in a bluish shade.
“Here, senpai! It’s your size, and it even matches your eyes!”
And yes, it fit perfectly. In the mirror, he could see it; it was almost an exact match to his eyes. It was warm and not too expensive. Tatsunami had such a good eye he’d even guessed the right size.
“It’s… Wow, it really is fashionable.”
He was wide-eyed, surprised by how different he looked just by adding a little color.
“It looks great on you,” Tatsunami added, his gaze fixated on him.
Haru felt scrutinized in a way — but it felt good to be the center of someone’s attention.
“Thanks, I’ll buy this then.”
He was folding the sweater when Tatsunami stopped him, grabbing both his wrists again. Haru’s pale blue eyes widened at the sudden contact.
“What? No way, you’re not getting just this. We’ve only just begun!”
A sly smile played on Tatsunami’s lips — like this was something he’d been wanting to do for a long time. It was unbelievable.
He ended up trying on cardigans, pullovers, hoodies, and suits.
Each item called for Tatsunami to fix every fold and crease, taking him by the arms, the collar, and the waist to adjust and assess.
His skin tingled with every touch even if the layers of clothing dulled the effects...
Had Tatsunami always been this touchy?
He still hadn’t decided if he hated it or needed it, if it made him uncomfortable or too comfortable; he was walking a tightrope between unfamiliarity and need.
A hunger only recognized after years of starvation — one barely satisfied by crumbs.
In the end, Haru only bought what his wallet could handle, combined with Tatsunami’s recommendations and what felt most comfortable to him.
They left the store with a few bags only to enter another one a floor above. Tatsunami seemed to know the layout by heart and even the employees by name.
Ah, this must be one of the stores he came to regularly.
“Tatsunami! It’s great to see you.”
A few employees gathered around him and started chatting, of course Tatsunami was social even outside of work… He probably had tons of friends.
Surely the physical contact they shared meant nothing to him — as normal as breathing.
He shook his head to lure the thoughts away. He was starting to think like a stalker.
Tatsunami received a brown coat — long, warm, and perfect for cold, rainy days.
It suited his figure with sharp but soft lines that enhanced his silhouette.
Haru felt a twinge in his hands as he saw the employees adjusting those folds — folds he should have been fixing.
That contact belonged to him, and yet it was stolen in an instant. He clenched his fists and tried to push those thoughts away.
He wondered why…
Why did it feel like something was being taken from him?