Chapter Text
There's a faint scent drifting upwards. It takes time for him to place it. The air carries a warmth and comfort he isn't used to. Cinnamon and nutmeg waft towards him, and a fireplace lightly crackles nearby. The warmth coats his body, which he realizes is covered by a thick blanket. Something hot is pressed between his palms-a mug, he realizes.
The gentle heat soothes his aching muscles, and tempers the pain trapped behind his eye. Somehow, the pressure and tension stop building here, and he sits peacefully. There's no patrol to be done, nothing to investigate, and no meeting to attend. He has no gun, baton, or badge here, nor paperwork to sign.
Maybe that's why he isn't sure if he's falling asleep, or waking up.
Whatever the case may be, Kinjo slowly opens his eyes.
A small, cozy room comes into focus around him. First, he sees the fireplace. The light and warmth cast by the flames bathe the room in a comfortable heat. Just enough to feel calming, but not enough to make him uncomfortably hot under the blanket. Then, he sees the slightly-worn brown couch he sits on, and the various blankets and pillows strewn about him, not unlike a nest. Here and there, bits of black fur are embedded in the pillows.
His head feels heavy at first, but with time, the fog begins to clear, and he looks up from his steaming apple cider. His gaze drifts to the nearby doorway, where someone stands, silhouetted by white light.
“You're here,” he says softly, tucking a ginger curl behind one ear. Once upon a time, Kinjo had known him. They'd been teens then. He’s older now, but his nose has the same barely visible trio of freckles, and his eyes have the same soft, umber warmth that Kinjo had never been able to forget.
“...I…” Kinjo's words desert him. Tiny ripples form into waves within his cider mug, and feels his grip increase significantly. His inability to speak is met with a kind, gentle smile. Until the door behind him closes, he’s encircled by a faint halo. When it shuts, shadows encroach over his form, still too far to be illuminated by firelight.
“... It's you…” Kinjo's voice trembles, and something prickles behind his eyes.
“It's me.” He sounds relieved, but unsure.
“Maeda…” Kinjo tests the word. Should I call him that? That name belonged to someone else. As though he were responding to his internal query, his visitor steps forward.
“You don’t have to use that name,” he offers tentatively.
“Then what should I call you?” Kinjo asks genuinely.
“I’m not sure,” he mumbles, shifting on his heels, and holding one arm close to his chest. “Anything is fine, as long as it’s from you…”
“Yuki.” Kinjo says it definitively, without hesitation. Yuki’s eyes widen, then soften. Slowly, cautiously, he takes a step forward, then another. As he enters the ring of light cast by the fireplace, Kinjo silently stares. Even if he can't get himself to speak, a distant longing forces him to lean forward.
“Can I… sit down?” Yuki asks quietly, pausing before the couch. Still silent, Kinjo nods, and watches as he sits down beside him. The couch creaks slightly as he perches on the edge, posture a little stiff. He glances uncertainly over at Kinjo, looking unsure of himself, and of whether or not he should be so close. Without a word, Kinjo sets the mug down, and reaches forward. His grip closes firmly around the other's palm, and Yuki shivers. When he turns to look at Kinjo again, his eyes are wide with relief.
“I wasn't sure if you-” his words are cut off as Kinjo tugs him closer by the arm. The blanket slides from his shoulders, coiling about them in a small heap. Yuki gasps quietly, but doesn't resist as he's pulled in, and he doesn't make a sound when Kinjo's fingertips dig into his shoulders. Something seems to melt between them, and Yuki returns the embrace almost as quickly as Kinjo had initiated it. “I missed you too.” He whispers. The words are soft against Kinjo's collarbone, where Yuki's breath brushes against his skin. For a while, Kinjo closes his eyes, and takes it as it is. The fire crackles, Yuki hugs him more tightly. It hurts, a little; somehow, everything is a little more real than he expects.
“What is this…? Where are we?” Kinjo asks at last.
“I…” Yuki swallows, and leans into him more before drawing back. “I’m not sure how to explain…” When he pulls back enough to meet Kinjo's gaze, his eyes are sad. “It's sort of like…” he trails off, and squeezes Kinjo’s hand. “You know how sometimes, there's a moment, just before you wake up, where you aren't really awake, but you aren't really asleep, either?” A thumb circles gently over Kinjo's knuckles. “I think… it's a little like that.” He looks down, and ginger curls hide his face from view. “The in-between space, before… well… before the end.”
I… I'm… Kinjo realizes at last. Then… is this a dream, or…
“The end…” he echoes. I don't remember dying. Was I really dying?
“Not yet,” Yuki's fingers tightly squeeze his palm. “You aren't dead.” He insists this strongly, but without evidence.
“Are you… sure?” Kinjo’s voice is quiet. “I can't seem to remember what I was doing…” Yuki frowns, and the pressure around Kinjo's hand increases again.
“No…” he admits reluctantly, looking away. “I'm not sure. I don't know if you'll…” Yuki’s posture shrinks, and he pauses again. “I can't do anything this time.”
“Yuki…” Kinjo isn't sure if Yuki’s brown eyes are watery, or if it's just a trick of the light.
“I wanted you to live.” Yuki’s voice trembles, and the emotion behind it is complex and hard to parse. Kinjo thinks he hears desperation there, but anger, too.
This is real. He realizes. There's no logical explanation for how he knows, but he knows, from somewhere deep in his bones.
“I'm… I'm sorry.” He forces himself to speak. The apology feels useless and heavy on his tongue. Immediately, Yuki looks up at him again, and wipes a few tears from his eyes.
“It's okay,” he replies quietly, with a small, sad, smile. “What’s done is done. Neither of us can change it.”
“What happens now…?” Kinjo shudders, and Yuki presses closer against him, steadying him slightly.
“We wait,” Yuki murmurs. “Eventually, this will be over, and you'll wake up, or…” Kinjo doesn't need to hear the rest.
“If I don't…” he begins, feeling suddenly cold. “Then… then what?” His fingers curl into Yuki’s back, and he feels his partner’s touch mirror his own.
“I don't know,” Yuki admits, a little shakily. “But if that happens, I’ll be right here. You won't be alone.”
The words are sobering, carrying a heaviness to them that sweeps the remaining dregs of dreamy fog from Kinjo's mind. Light and sound fill his thoughts, as images from the place he'd left behind return to him. The faces of the people he’d left behind. Not all of them were gone, yet. They're better off without me, anyways. He'd done enough. There was nothing left for him, nobody waiting for him, nobody left to hurt.
“Maybe…” Yuki whispers, and Kinjo wonders if he'd been speaking his thoughts aloud. “But… I hope, if you do make it… that you’ll go back, and try.” Kinjo stiffens, but thoughts carry over to him before he can speak.
I wish I’d gone back. Maybe, if I'd kept trying, somehow I could have…
Somewhere in the distance, something else comes to them. Like a head being shaken, or a word being spoken. Yuki sighs, and nods.
I know…
“Yuki…?” Kinjo leans over his love, disconcerted by the sudden stillness.
“I'm alright,” Yuki reassures him. “It's probably not fair for someone like me to say that to you.” A hand presses against his chest. “But still… I think I know how you feel.” Kinjo listens quietly. The least he can do is allow Yuki to speak. “...Even if everything is ruined… and it seems like you can’t do anything but cause more pain…” he sighs, and stops. “...I can't tell you what's right, and even if I could, I don't think that'd be fair of me to do. But… will you at least think about it?”
“I will.” Kinjo promises, after a long moment of hesitation. I probably won't have that choice, will I? He isn't sure if he regrets giving up. He isn't sure he had given up. Did any of it matter, in the face of his sins? He'd sacrificed every limb and love, until there was nothing left to toss aside but himself.
I was broken from the start, wasn't I?
“Kinjo.” Yuki gently drags him out of his spiraling thoughts. “I know.”
I think I was broken from the start, too. Another thought, or the semblance of one. Yuki sighs, and touches Kinjo’s face. “I think… I think it might be better to focus on the present,” he smiles sadly. “We can't do anything now.” Kinjo softens a bit at the sorrow reflecting in Yuki’s brown eyes. “If you wake up, it will all still be there… and …and I don't know how long this will last.”
How long… this will last? The words echo in Kinjo's mind. He didn't know when it would end. But Yuki was right. If he woke, every consequence and potential choice would still be there waiting for him.
But he won't be. Kinjo drags Yuki back into his embrace, wrapping him up so tightly that it must have hurt at least a little.
And if I don't wake up… then…
“You really don't know what happens… if…?” Kinjo’s voice is low and uneasy. Yuki shakes his head into Kinjo's chest. “Then… have you… been waiting…?”
“I… I'm not sure, exactly,” Yuki replies quietly, voice slightly muffled. “It's hard to describe, but I think… I think waiting is the best word for it.”
He's been alone, all this time? Guilt burrows deep into Kinjo's chest. How many people suffered more because he entered their lives? He'd even somehow managed to chain down the one he loved most, leaving him tethered, stuck, and alone. A faint sigh puffs against his neck, and Yuki shakes his head again.
“I wanted to be here,” Yuki corrects. “And besides… I wasn't alone. I'm never alone.”
“Is… is he here, too?” Kinjo asks tentatively.
“In a way,” Yuki’s shoulder brushes against his arm. “But don't worry. This is just for us, okay?”
“I see…” Kinjo nods slowly. All of it was difficult to wrap his head around. “Then… can we stay like this for a while?” His love looks up at him, and the small smile on his face is as bright as the sun would be.
“I would like that.” He says softly, and sinks once more into Kinjo's arms. As they sit there, curled up in the space between, something akin to acceptance sinks into Kinjo's shoulders. Letting go, he feels the tension in his shoulders start to fade. There was no war to fight here, no problem he could solve. Instead, he allows Yuki’s fingers to trace his collarbone, and begins to soften against the warmth at his side.
“Oh Kinjo…” Yuki murmurs suddenly. “I was sure I’d never be like this again.” Two fingers trace along his face, and a hand cups his cheek. He leans into the soft touch. “I'm glad I got to see you at the end…” Kinjo nods, and tentatively begins to card his fingers through Yuki’s curly hair. “Just being here with you… being able to look at you…” He sighs, thumb drifting softly over Kinjo's ear. “It makes me really happy.”
“I… I missed you,” Kinjo mumbles, trying to keep his voice from cracking. It felt the same way for him. It's real. He's really here. “I… I wish…”
“I know.” Yuki says quietly, filling the silence Kinjo left between them. “I do too.” For a moment, Kinjo's eyes drift over the space around them. His gaze catches on the window nearby. He can't make out what lies beyond, only a boundless sea of whites and blues, but near the glass, little snowflakes fall endlessly down.
“...Did it hurt?” Kinjo’s voice goes quiet again. When Yuki meets his gaze, there’s a somber darkness hiding behind his usual light.
“I’m… I’m not sure,” he replies slowly. “I don’t remember… but I don’t think so, not… not at the end.”
“I… I see.” Chest heavy, Kinjo presses his thumb into Yuki’s warm palm. In response, Yuki’s fingers squeeze his hand more tightly for a moment.
“Kinjo… I’m sorry, but won’t you tell me why?”
“Don’t you… already know?” It's less a protest, and more a defeat.
“I want to hear it from you. Is that okay?” Despite Yuki’s presence, something heavy and cold twists around Kinjo's spine, and settles over his lungs. Regret, or a memory? The line between them had become thinner and thinner over the years.
I… I do remember. Kinjo knows that if he tried, the details of what had happened before waking up here would surely come to him. But he would rather dwell on the now, and extend each moment. He was certain both of them wanted that. For this reunion to last as long as they could make it last.
But in this case, Kinjo doesn't need to recall the scene of the crime; he knows every detail of the events involved in creating it.
“It didn't matter what I did-every time, it always ended up the same-” Kinjo's voice raises slightly as he speaks, until he halts, choking on his words.
A gentle pressure closes around both of his palms. Without speaking, Yuki tries to comfort him. This treatment wasn’t the kind he’d ever been worthy of, but he doesn't pull away.
“When it really mattered… I didn't protect anyone. None of you deserved to die. But I failed. I let it happen. I tossed you all aside.”
It was the only way to make it stop.
Maybe that was true, and maybe it wasn't. Regardless, he was standing in the wake of that choice. And looking back towards the shore, he could only regret the trek.
Why hadn't he stayed? Why did I let myself…? What have I done? Why…
Darkness flickers over his vision, and for a moment, something cold and wet trickles over his back. He's only brought back to the now when he notices someone firmly gripping his shoulders.
“Kinjo!” A familiar voice grounds him, like a lighthouse guiding a ship back toward the shore. “Hey, it's okay, it’s okay…”
“Yuki-” Kinjo takes a ragged breath, unable to hide or chain down his bubbling fear. “I shouldn't have done that-I don't want to-”
“I know,” Yuki draws in close, and brushes a hand along his back. That touch soothes his trembling, and melts through the ice creeping down his spine. “I know.”
“I can't go back.” He was going to die, wasn't he?
“It's too late to take it back.” Yuki’s words are slow and regretful, as he carefully settles the blanket back over Kinjo’s shoulders. “But you're still here. It may be out of your control, but that doesn’t mean it’s over.”
He no longer had control over anything. Not even himself. However, though he doesn't have much left in him capable of hope, he can’t simply discard Yuki’s belief. Kinjo himself was living proof to the contrary, after all.
“I felt like that too,” Yuki whispers. “Even after, I wanted to live.” His gaze lowers, then drifts out toward the unknown far beyond their view. “I’m not sure my choice mattered, in the end… but I think the only way forward was through…” Yuki sighs, and Kinjo rests one hand on his shaky shoulder. “I'm still not sure if I made the right choice. I was never sure, but… I gave up the right to choose, so...”
“Yuki…”
“I hurt people…” “They didn't deserve to die, but they still……Nothing I did could ever have fixed that.” Both of them stare down into the carpet, sitting together, but no longer face to face.
When he at last breaks the silence, Kinjo’s words are slow and halting, falling bitterly from his lips. “I… don’t have the right to judge you. Not anymore.” Both of their gazes remained fixed on the fire crackling in the hearth. “I’ve changed… I’m not the same person you knew…” Yuki’s fingers slip through his own as he pulls away. That simple action of Kinjo drawing away seems to spark something in him back to life. Head snapping upward, Yuki stares relentlessly back up at him.
“I know everything, Kinjo. I know what kind of choices you’ve made, and I know what kind of person you are.” After stealing back Kinjo’s hands, Yuki holds them tightly, leaving no space for escape. “I know you’ve changed, and I know what you’ve been through, and I know what you’ve done.” Something heavy and cold coils around Kinjo’s neck.
His hands have been bloodied for years now. He’d washed his hands in the deaths of his enemies and friends. The latter always stained him. They burned into his skin, a process no gloves or worthy results could cover.
He knows exactly how many lives he’s snuffed out. After the first, Kouhei, he’d never forgotten a single one. Even after he’d begun letting them go, watching coldly as they slipped through his fingers.
I’m counting on you, partner.
I’ll follow whatever you say if you save us!
…You can’t take me with you.
I believe in you.
If that’s where ya need us, then we’ll go. See ya soon, okay?
Umber eyes still bore into him, light burning into his surely putrid soul.
“I know who you are. Even if you’ve changed, you’re still the same person I…” The words slow down, carrying more and more weight. “You’ll always be Tsurugi… and I’ll always…” He trails off, uncertainly, and the determined expression slowly fades into something softer and a little sad. Seeing that look, Tsurugi’s resolve shifts, and something he’d sworn to himself long before rises to the surface.
“Yuki, I… I never told you.” Though his chest feels tight, he continues. “I promised I would tell you my feelings, but we never…” he swallows. Those words have been buried deep below the surface for so long. After he'd realized it would always be too late, he'd tried over and over to drown them. “...Would you humor me?”
“I think I know already,” Yuki’s smile is a little impish, but his eyes are warm and a little teary. “But I've waited a long time. I want to hear it." However, when Tsurugi opens his mouth again, Yuki's eyes widen. “Before you start,” he interrupts, “I have an idea.”
“Oh?” Tsurugi lifts an eyebrow at him, watching quizzically as Yuki stands up, tugging him along. When they stand, the couch and the fireplace and everything else seems to fade into the distance.
“Do you want to dance with me?” Tsurugi looks up again, and suddenly, Yuki’s face is haloed in golden light. Something like the sun casts warmth down upon them, and Tsurugi steps back, taking in their suddenly different appearances. A silvery vest, slightly pearlescent, wraps around his chest. Underneath, he wears a midnight blue dress shirt with a white tie crisply hung from the collar. In places, bits of silver, black, and grey pop through, giving the impression of a moonlit night sky. Before him, Yuki stands resplendent in matching attire. His vest is a shimmering gold, and the dress shirt below reminds Tsurugi of a twilight sky. His tie is lighter like Tsurugi’s, but the tone is warm, like the sun.
“What do you think?” With one hand out, Yuki looks at him expectantly.
“I…” Tsurugi swallows, temporarily speechless. “You… You look wonderful.” He manages at last. Yuki glances down shyly for a moment.
“Do you even know how attractive you are, Tsurugi Kinjo?” The smile returns as Yuki lifts an eyebrow at him, one hand on his hip.
“I suppose I don't,” Tsurugi replies, amused. “But you’re the one who doesn't know how handsome he really is.”
“Oh.” Yuki stares at him blankly for a moment, as though it hadn't really sunk in who Tsurugi was talking about. “...Me? Really?”
“Yes.” Tsurugi replies sternly, shaking his head. “Who else? You're practically glowing, Yuki.” A light blush brightens his partner’s cheeks, and he doesn't make eye contact for a few seconds.
“Save that stuff for when we're dancing,” Yuki teases quietly, drawing him forward. Even though part of him had been about to protest, or say he doesn't know how, Tsurugi doesn't resist the pull. Dragged into Yuki’s orbit, he follows along as best he can, and even though neither of them really have a plan, they still move together.
After a little while, Tsurugi decides he likes the chaotic, natural flow of their dance. The two of them carve a swirling path, lost to a song neither of them can hear. Instead of a ballroom, they dance above a sea of green. Leaves and petals cushion their steps, dandelions and clovers bouncing back up unharmed after the dancers pass.
“Yuki,” Tsurugi never forgot the words, so even after all this time, the speech feels almost rehearsed. “Now that we're safe,” he pauses, stumbling slightly as his foot sinks a little into the ground. The dance takes them quickly onward, but Tsurugi spots sand in the spot between the ferns where he'd stepped. A heavy feeling sinks into his chest, and he meets Yuki’s eyes uneasily.
“I know,” Yuki’s gaze is uncertain, too, but he continues to lead the dance. “I know… I see it too, but let's focus on the present, okay?”
“Right.” Tsurugi swallows, and meets Yuki’s eyes. His partner wavers slightly as one of his shoes lands in another hidden patch of sand, but Tsurugi keeps him steady. They don't look away from each other again. “Now that… it's all over,” he forces the words, until it begins to come more naturally again. “I can convey my feelings.” Warm brown eyes soften, and Yuki nods.
“I've never said this to anyone before,” They step forward, circling one another, before Yuki slows their pace, and sets them swaying gently back and forth. “But I think I've known for a while, even if I couldn't quite understand or accept it…” Another nod. Yuki, as always, listens and patiently waits for him to open his heart. “Thinking about you… it helped me to keep going, back then…”
“It was the same for me,” Yuki says softly. “Nothing felt safe, except for you, somehow.”
“I should have protected you,” The words escape before he can stop them. With the script broken, Yuki pauses, considering him with a somber expression.
“I want you to know something.” Yuki’s gaze is steady. Tsurugi nods, giving him the space to speak. “Back then, I almost gave up, so many times. Sometimes, it seemed like nothing I did mattered... Maybe deep down, I already knew…” he sighs, and stares down at Tsurugi's chest for a second. When he lifts his head to continue, his expression is determined.
“You being there helped me go on. Thinking about you, knowing you, being seen by you… that kept me going, Tsurugi.” The smile on Yuki’s face is sad and joyful in equal parts. “Our time together made me feel real. That was mine. One thing, that belonged just to me. That's why, even if it wasn't for very long, even if I wasn’t…” Though his words halt for a moment, Yuki continues. “That's why it meant so much to me.”
In the meantime, Yuki leads them onward, in a slowly spiraling path. Throughout the makeshift meadow, lightning bugs, or perhaps dandelion seeds, float around them. Tsurugi waits, processing Yuki’s words, and letting them sink deep into his soul. Eventually, he rewrites the script in his head, and forges ahead.
“It was like that for me, too.” Somehow, it felt easier to express these things now, in this place. “You never gave up on me, even when I didn't deserve it. Even when I gave up on myself…” Yuki’s grip tightens around Tsurugi's palm. After a moment of quiet reflection between them, he continues attempting to put it into words.
“I never forgot you.” Tsurugi admits. “I… I tried to, but I didn't want to forget. I couldn't.” Yuki’s eyes widen, and he watches wordlessly as Tsurugi touches his face. “Yuki… You left a mark on me, and the world was different without you in it.” He pauses, tucking a stray ginger lock behind Yuki’s ear. “If you weren't a real person, you couldn't have done that.” Yuki’s brown eyes turn misty, and he hides his face from view, sniffling into Tsurugi’s chest.
“Thank you.” Yuki mumbles, voice wavering, and he grips Tsurugi’s shoulder more tightly. They stand there, still and quiet, for several long moments. Doing his best to comfort his partner, Tsurugi holds Yuki's back, and waits until he's ready. Eventually, the dance continues. Yuki looks up, and leads them on. Before he continues, Tsurugi takes it all in for a while. Yuki’s sunlit ginger hair, the warmth of his body against Tsurugi's own, and the soft plants below their shoes. Even if sand sometimes finds them, they continue on through the green, releasing dandelion seeds to spin through the air in their wake.
“I…I love you, Yuki.” Though he has to force himself to begin, once he starts, the words flow easily. After waiting so long to say them, he feels suddenly lighter, as though a weight had been lifted. Yuki pauses, and accepts the confession.
“I love you too.” He replies quietly, at last. “I love you, Tsurugi.”
All at once, Tsurugi’s thoughts and movements halt. Surprised, Yuki watches him lower his head, and grasp lightly at his chest. An unexpected burning sensation pounds behind his eyes. Yuki's expression melts into concern, and he lifts a hand to Tsurugi’s face, gently brushing against his cheek. There were tears there, he realizes, belatedly. I'm crying, aren't I? He wasn't sure he even remembered the last time he'd done that.
“Oh Tsurugi…” once again, Yuki's smile is a mixture of joy and sorrow. “I didn't mean to make you cry.”
“It's fine.” Tsurugi mumbles. “I'm fine.”
“It's okay if you aren't,” Yuki whispers. Tsurugi nods. Despite it all, he still savors the warmth of Yuki's hand against his face. “This… this is hard.” Another tear falls, and is gently wiped away. Tsurugi nods, unable to muster a reply.
“Thank you for telling me.” Yuki’s grateful smile melts into amusement as a thought crosses his mind, chuckles lightly under his breath.
“What is it?” Tsurugi tilts his head, eyes still a little watery.
“Well, it's just kind of funny.” Dandelions drift by. One lazily spins through the air near Yuki’s ear.
“How so?” The dandelion falls further and further away, until it settles in the leaves below.
“It's been so long… so by now, it seems so obvious, but when you asked me to wait back then? I was so oblivious.” He smiles bemusedly again. “If someone told me back then that this is what you were going to say, I’m not sure I'd have believed it.” With a soft sigh, he leans into Tsurugi's chest. “I'm really glad we were able to talk like this…”
Is it over? Tsurugi wonders. Surely not. He wasn't ready, not yet. As though in response, fingers press against his back, holding on more tightly.
Not yet. He isn't sure who's thought that was. Maybe it belonged to both of them. Not yet, not yet…
“Yuki…” Tsurugi doesn't let go. “Was there anything else you wanted to do?” There must have been a lot of things. He hardly had the chance.
“Um…” Yuki's voice is a little unsteady, but it evens out as he speaks. “Snow. I wanted to see it for myself.”
The world around them seems to hear his wish. Dandelion seeds Tsurugi had imagined as snowflakes swiftly bend and shrink, until the plants disappear, and the two of them really are surrounded by falling snow. A sparkling white blanket covers the dying meadow, and the sand creeping in beneath.
The warm sun above fades away, soon replaced by the silently watching moon. They stand there, still and quiet. Around them, the snowflakes take up the dance in their stead, lightly spun about by a gentle breeze as they fall to earth. Tiny motes of white land over Yuki’s head, settling between his ginger curls before his warmth melts them away.
Snowflakes and sins sink into their bones. Despite it all, Tsurugi doesn’t let go, and Yuki remains there, warm against his chest. The gold and silver gilding them both begin to fade, darkening in the moonlight. Slowly, the snowflakes stop falling.
“Yuki…” Like a returning melody, a question Tsurugi has already asked forms in his mind. “Was I…”
“Tsurugi.” A patient finger rests over his lips, and Yuki smiles quietly up at him. “I can’t answer that question for you.” Tilting his head, his hand drifts to cup Tsurugi’s face. “You know that, right?” Scarlet eyes drift downward, he sighs, and nods. “And besides. I know who you are.” Yuki pauses, and grins impishly. “I know who I fell in love with.” It’s warmer now, and the snow is starting to melt. That must be why his face feels so hot.
“My feelings…” He begins, awkwardly, “... Never changed either, Yuki.”
“I love you.” Yuki blurts suddenly.
“Hm?” Bewildered, Tsurugi blinks several times.
“I’m just saying it again.” Yuki smiles, and continues in a light, melodic tone. “I love you, I love you! I love you.” On the last one, his smile seems to falter a little.
“I love you. …I love you,” Though it takes him considerably more effort and time, Tsurugi replies with his own verse. When else would they have the chance? “I love you.” Their hands grip more tightly, Yuki squeezing first, before Tsurugi steadies him, seeing the tears threatening to form in his partner’s brown eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Yuki sniffs. “I’m okay.” And so, they fall into an intimate silence. Despite the snow melting around their feet, Yuki shivers. Despite the warmth increasing, he was suddenly cold to the touch. That’s right… spring had barely started then, hadn’t it? It must have been so cold. Tsurugi shudders too, as an uncomfortable sensation flows over his feet. It felt like there was water in his boots. But, hadn’t he been wearing dress shoes? Looking down, he sees the puddles forming around them. However, here and there, he sees something flickering over their legs.
Yuki’s loafers shimmer in the dim light, and sometimes appear more brown than white. His dress pants lose their color, shifting into greys, darker at the bottom as through waterlogged. A cold black color seeps into Tsurugi’s own clothes. A familiar pair of combat boots and trousers return, blending him into the night. The bright, shimmering vest Yuki had seemed so resplendent in fades too. His tie loosens and is slowly stained a deeper and deeper shade of red. Seeing this once more, Tsurugi is afraid of what he might see if he looks up again.
“It’s okay,” The same, warm voice as always meets his ears. “It’s still me. …I’m not going anywhere.” Relieved, Tsurugi meets his gaze, wincing as something burns coldly into his right eye. “Oh Tsurugi…” Yuki murmurs, taking in his face. Unhappy, Tsurugi reaches a gloved hand upwards, trying to obscure it from view, but his hat is already gone. The snow has disappeared by now, leaving nothing but wet sand and puddles. Tsurugi lowers his trembling hand, suddenly ashamed, but Yuki’s gaze is soft and warm. Shivers keep him from staying entirely still, but he leans in close, and holds Tsurugi’s face. When he breathes, a faint cloud of vapor escapes, as though the air around them was far colder than it felt.
Transfixed, Tsurugi stays perfectly still as a gentle kiss lands over the right side of his face, pressing lightly against his half-lidded eye, and brushing lightly against his eyebrow.
“I want to see you,” Yuki whispers softly, holding his face in both hands. “You don't have to hide anything.” Words fail Tsurugi, then. Instead of speaking, he holds his head higher, and takes in the face before him. Comforting, soft hands. Deep, umber eyes with hints of cinnamon-brown gaze not at, but into him. Yuki’s head tilts slowly to one side, shoulders shivering, as Tsurugi lifts a hand to delicately comb through his hair.
The ginger curls are damp, and icy water droplets drip down into his sleeve. Tsurugi shudders too. He feels suddenly heavier, and something seems to be dripping down the back of his neck. Just as he realizes water must be dripping from his hair, too, an unpleasant sensation hits him like a lightning bolt. It sparks between his eyes, and flashes down his spine leaving prickling pain and numbness behind as it goes.
Yuki lowers his hands to Tsurugi's arms, grounding him as he stands there, teeth gritted, and eyes tightly closed. That pressure around his forearms seems to guide him back, until he opens his eyes, and sees the concern on Yuki’s face. That brief respite only lasts a moment, though. In an instant, Tsurugi’s right leg buckles. Yuki gasps as he suddenly loses balance and begins to fall.
“I've got you,” Arms wrap around his chest, and Tsurugi nods numbly, steadying himself as best he can. They sink lower and lower as Yuki carefully eases him down into the shallow water. “I've got you.”
It was a bitter nostalgia. For a while, he'd almost forgotten. Now, that familiar, useless feeling returns. Though he already knows what the result will be, Tsurugi attempts to move his numb leg. Nothing happens. He rests one palm into the water, propping himself up, before leaning into the support currently being given to him. Yuki kneels against him, before slowly sitting down, so close that their knees brush together. His hands, still holding tightly to Tsurugi's frame, shiver violently though.
Though he isn't much warmer, Tsurugi tugs him in closer, resting his head on Yuki's shoulder, and wrapping him in as tight an embrace as he can manage. Yuki sighs, and nuzzles into his neck, readjusting his hold now that they've made it down to the ground together. At some point, the snowmelt must have been replaced by the sea; saltwater laps greedily at their knees. The tide must be coming in, now. Slow and steady, the water rises up higher and higher, licking at their legs and reaching up toward their hips.
Tsurugi realizes belatedly that he was trembling too. It wasn't from the cold.
“I… I'm afraid.” He doesn't know why he says this aloud. Yuki curls closer into his chest.
“Me too.” He whispers.
“I'm not ready.” The words must be barely audible, but they don't go unheard.
“I know.” Fingers dig into Tsurugi's back. A cold wave rises, plunging his abdomen into darkness.
“Yuki…?” Tsurugi claws against Yuki’s soaking sweater vest, voice oddly broken and almost pleading.
“I'm here, Tsurugi.” His love replies quickly. “I'm right here, I'm with you.” Yuki’s presence, reassuring and fierce, never leaves his side. Even as he shivers, his touch remains warm. Even the shakiness in his voice is somehow comforting. "D-don't let go.” This time, there's a warble to his words, as though they were coming from underwater.
“I won't,” Tsurugi promises, curling around his smaller frame. He lifts one hand to hold the back of Yuki's head, and tugs him closer. His other arm guards Yuki’s back, gloved fingers tightly gripping his shoulder. “I've got you. I won't let go," he promises. Most of their bodies have been swallowed up now. But the contact between them remains, even if it can't be seen. The two of them hold fast, shielding each other from the waves.
There was no fight or flight left now. They had both seen enough to know. It was better to stay close. Here, they could feel their hearts beating. Unyielding, neither of them release each other, even as the last wave comes in, and every trace of them returns with it to the sea.