sachingja

[sachingja]

── ★ ˙🌱 ̟ !! touch prompts

¹⁾ knuckles brushing across a cheek

²⁾ a fist knotted in the collar of a shirt

³⁾ lips pressed against a brow-bone

⁴⁾ legs intertwined under covers

⁵⁾ shaking hands knotted together

⁶⁾ two fingers pressed against a pulse point

⁷⁾ unsure fingers braiding hair

⁸⁾ thighs wrapped around a waist

⁹⁾ feet kicked up into a lap

¹⁰⁾ hands guiding a spoon up to waiting lips

¹¹⁾ linked pinkies

¹²⁾ a head leaned against a stomach

¹³⁾ footsie under a dining table

¹⁴⁾ hands playing gently with hair

¹⁵⁾ a thumb pressing down on a bottom lip

¹⁶⁾ fingers scratching at a scalp

¹⁷⁾ a chest pressed warmly against a back

¹⁸⁾ foreheads leaned against one another

¹⁹⁾ hands kneading at sore muscles

²⁰⁾ fingertips tracing the notches of a spine

[sachingja]

🐝  *  ―  𝑵𝑶𝑵-𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑺𝑻 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺. (  some triggering content ahead. add " + " to reverse the action.  )

[ wipe ] sender wipes away receiver's tears [ hurt ] sender hurts receiver with words [ lonely ] sender finds receiver alone in a dark room [ wounded ] sender patches up receiver's wounds [ crying ] sender finds receiver crying [ help ] sender runs to receiver when they scream for help [ nightmare ] sender wakes receiver up from a nightmare [ dying breath ] sender talks to receiver before dying [ hold on ] sender pulls receiver into their arms [ anger ] sender takes their anger out on receiver [ argue ] sender gets into a heated argument with receiver [ scared ] sender scares receiver [ sick ] sender cares for receiver while they are sick [ palm ] sender places a hand on receiver to stop them from doing something [ fight ] sender gets into a physical fight with receiver [ comfort ] sender tries to comfort receiver [ blood ] sender notices that receiver is bleeding [ collapse ] sender collapses into receiver's arms [ pressure ] sender puts pressure on receiver's wound [ slap ] sender slaps receiver in the face [ panic ] sender helps receiver through a panic attack [ lie ] sender catches receiver in a lie [ sobs ] sender sobs uncontrollably while receiver holds them [ hiding ] sender finds out that receiver has hidden an injury from them [ death ] sender just died, receiver finds out [ chin up ] sender lifts receiver's chin to stop them from hiding their tears [ fears ] sender talks to receiver about their fears [ scream ] sender screams at receiver [ coping ] sender teaches receiver some coping mechanisms [ loss ] sender is there for receiver after they've lost someone important to them [ needs ] sender asks receiver what they need [ bullet ] sender takes a bullet for receiver [ bruises ] sender finds bruises of unknown origin on receiver [ rainfall ] sender finds receiver out alone in the rain [ hospital ] sender wakes up in a hospital bed and finds receiver sitting by their bedside [ intrude ] sender walks in on receiver treating their wounds [ calming ] sender tries to calm down receiver [ inspection ] sender holds receiver's face while inspecting an injury they got [ rescue ] sender carries receiver to safety [ clean ] sender cleans blood off of receiver's body

[sachingja]

🐝  *  ―  𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺. (  add " + " to reverse the action.  )

❛  do you want to tell me about your day?  ❜ ❛  here, you look like you're freezing.  ❜ ❛  i love you just the way you are, and i'm here to remind you of that whenever you need to hear it.  ❜ ❛  i promise i'll always be here if you need me.  ❜ ❛  i wish i could take away all your pain.  ❜ ❛  i'll stand by you, no matter what challenges may come our way.  ❜ ❛  i'm gonna make sure nothing bad will ever happen to you.  ❜ ❛  if you need a shoulder to lean on or someone to listen, i'm here.  ❜ ❛  if you need someone to talk to i'm always just one phone call away.  ❜ ❛  it's okay. i've got you. you're safe now.  ❜ ❛  it's okay to feel this way, we've all been there.  ❜ ❛  it's okay to lean on others for support occasionally.  ❜ ❛  just let me take care of you for a bit.  ❜ ❛  no matter what happens, you'll always have a place in my heart.  ❜ ❛  what do you need me to do to make you feel better?  ❜ ❛  you can always ask me for help if you need it.  ❜ ❛  you just relax and let me do the rest. you deserve a break.  ❜ ❛  you look like you could use a hug.  ❜ ❛  you're always taking care of me so no it's my turn to return the favor.  ❜ ❛  you're not alone in this. i'm here for you, no matter what.  ❜

[ blanket ] sender draping a blanket over receiver's shoulders [ breaths ] sender helping receiver to calm down by using breathing techniques [ compliment ] sender complimenting receiver to make them smile [ cry ] sender offering receiver a shoulder to cry on [ gift ] sender giving receiver a small gift [ hand ] sender holding receiver's hand while they're walking [ hug ] sender pulling receiver into a tight embrace [ injured ] sender helping an injured receiver with everyday tasks [ jokes ] sender trying to make receiver laugh [ kindness ] sender surprising receiver with random acts of kindness [ massage ] sender giving receiver a shoulder massage to tend to their sore muscles [ patterns ] sender drawing random patterns on receiver's skin [ pillow ] sender offering receiver to use them as a pillow [ scars ] sender gently tracing receiver's scars [ sick ] sender bringing a sick receiver whatever they need ( food / medicine / etc. ) [ steady ] sender wrapping an arm around receiver's waist to steady them [ support ] sender quietly sitting down next to receiver to let them know they're there [ touch ] sender letting receiver know they're there through simple touch [ warmth ] sender pulling receiver into their arms to share body heat [ wound ] sender cleaning / bandaging receiver's wound(s)

[sachingja]

he would never get used to it: the sight of a man blessed by the goddesses walking towards him, like a beacon in the night, as beautiful as the day he was born and allowed to walk this earth again. in the privacy of his own mind, kōji liked to think that the reason why satō came back was this, for the both of them to find each other at the exact right moment in time. it seemed implausible and incomprehensible, a life in which they weren't together, and kōji did not like to dwell on it too much. if anything, he wanted to believe in these tales enough to maybe get his own do-over, do relive it all over again, to fall in love with the same man twice, somewhere in the nebulous future which neither of them knew anything about yet. but then again, he hardly paid any attention to the tales of the past that people told each other all through the land, about the goddesses and mythical creature, the skyfolk and the twilight dimension. to him, few of it mattered much more than the history of his own family, the heritage of his people that he carried with him everywhere he went, and was never as apparent as when he was with the architect, who so easily towered over him, humored him despite his foul moods, and made idle remarks about the other minish he had met, that were usually nothing like kōji, who did not know how to explain those intricate differences to someone so far removed from them. and still, he tried and tried to make satō understand because he wanted him to. craved satō's acknowledgement like plants craved water and the sun; kōji had, in many small and big ways, become so simple and predictable.

satō looked nothing short of remarkable as he pulled himself out of the lake, the sun cascading over his skin in prismatic flecks, leaving bits of color here and there, some pink above his collarbone, the green hue of the thick trees surrounding them a halo around his head, the reflection of the water sprinkling turquoise flecks all over his feet, up to his ankles, as if he was taking the lake with him long after he had left it. things seemed to stick to him like that, as if he carried everyone he had ever met and everywhere he had ever been with him, in that boundless heart of his, and kōji marveled at that ability to be so unguarded and open. satō always met the world ahead, with eyes wide open, where kōji preferred to hide away and watch it pass him by. this was one of those rare occasions where they would somehow have to meet in the middle, he figured, and pulled a face as satō dripped water all over his nice, thin pants, leaving dark, damp hand prints on his thighs. it was enough to distract him from the view of all that bare, wet skin so close to him, and the scowl forming on his face hopefully dampened the flush of his face, surely announcing his appreciation for the other man to the world. oh well, so be it.

he tipped his head back, snorting; satō really had, if anything, more audacity than anyone would ever give him credit for. it was what kept this thing between them alive, thrilling, and it had, on more than one occasion, led straight towards kōji's bed, a place filled to the brim with pleasant memories now, and most of them had something to do with satō's size, the sheer physicality of colliding with him, a body that was meant to swallow him whole, cover his entirely. so what, kōji was just a man after all, and he was neither blind nor ignorant of his own preferences and desires. they all culminated here, after all. " don't flatter yourself, " kōji said idly, though he knew that they both knew he was only playing, hardly meant it. " you're lucky it has never been a problem between us, or that i never let it be. " and beneath satō's wide palms, he twisted and turned his ankle this way and that, only to feel his touch spread over his legs, to multiply the places in which satō had existed with him, for a brief moment, in a perfect overlap. beneath the architect's skilled fingers, the dark ink on kōji's skin seemed split apart, as if done by nature, and he was more fascinated by that view than by the prospect of getting his feet into that puddle over there.

" you don't even know what grass would be saying, " kōji said a little petulantly, because satō would do just about anything to get his way, which he usually appreciated but loathed a little as of right now. he liked it where he was, loved the proximity to the forest floor and the various flowers blooming around them, in the shade of the canopy, where the sun could not burn them. he sighed and pulled satō's hands towards him before he could evade his grasp fully, leaning into him to press a tender kiss to his mouth; it was perhaps unfair to play this card, but kōji could not contain himself, not when satō was this close to him, his skin shining with the wet gleam of the water, his face so earnest and open. the sun swallowed down his tongue, like a glimmer from within his chest. " but only the legs, and i am not taking off my clothes. and don't drench me, yes? i've only just washed these and i would hate to ruin them. " he conceded finally, and let satō go back into the water. he followed slowly, reluctantly, his body not entirely sure if this was really where he was supposed to go. eventually, he slid forward in the grass, until he could dip his toes into the water, breaking the surface with the touch of his heel that followed. it was not the most pleasant feeling - it never was, could not be to his kind - but it was fine. " there, " he echoed his lover with a triumphant little smile. " are you satisfied now? "

sunlight comes down in slants through the thick canopy of the forest, most of it falling onto the surface of the lake and the edge of the riverbank. where the grass is so faint in its green colour that it is on the verge of turning yellow, though satō doesn't miss the happy stems closer to kōji being restored to some of their more enriched hue, the kind of spring meadow shine that always seems so vibrant once winter has finally let go of its grip on the land. it is as if there is a competition between the forest and kōji to see who is happier about the other being here and it reminds satō that he may have met a few minish or their descendants in his time, but never one so perfectly entrenched into his nature as the man across from him, who almost feels it second nature to turn up his nose even against his fellow minish of different parts, may they be those mountain minish ( the most frequent kind satō's met among the small margin ) or town minish ( much lesser he has met those. ) he is more minish than hylian in that regard, but then again he's never seen kōji fuse those little stones the minish were known to carry around and go looking for either. maybe he is just equally the sum of his parts, frowning or not frowning.

dipping his head back into the water, ears back to a bit more of a natural angle, satō contemplates the things he could try to get kōji to be a little more adventures. as the descendant of forest minish he already is incredibly opposed to even traversing any road close to death mountain, the goron and the mountain minish no folks he wishes to seek out unless they are in front of his vendor and ready to buy some of his produce because the mountain may be rich in mineral but absolutely lacking in anything of nutritional value that wasn't rock, and just as the person he is kōji doesn't seek great or small pleasures outside of his comfort zone either. the forest is always a safe bet, in faron anyway, especially since the path into the thicker parts of it is easy to find for both of them - the river runs almost parallel to the main road as is, and the little lake as an off-shoot from it is easy to find when one tries to look for the lack of rushing water as background noise and instead the trickle of a small waterfall dipping from one stony over overhang to a lower one. kōji likes the way there more than the lake itself, always content to place himself against a tree or look for fern by the side of the road, while satō has no qualms of getting into the water. he doesn't like the sky much, nor the swampy landscape in lanayru, but lakes in the summer are nearly as nice as the hot springs in eldin.

" i think it's funny that i'm twice your size and it doesn't matter to you most of the time, " satō retorts, leaning his head forward so his chin touches the water again, giving kōji two wiggling eyebrows to look. satō kicks himself off the lake floor then, so he can extend his knees again, and swims a few more laps so he is on the other side of kōji's tranquil little spot, and can look at him from another angle - the water is the deepest here if he were to swim into the middle of the lake, but instead he puts his palms onto the grass again and hefts himself out of the water. something he takes private pride in, and can count on every single time, is the way kōji watches him whenever he is in any of his usual states of undress, which is the way the sun looks down at stone to melt, putting even a man blessed by din to shame with it. satō is not a vain man at all, thinks little of his body beyond its function, but he couldn't ever decline or ignore the appreciation kōji has for his body, the way he always seems to marvel at it as if he isn't a whole wonder himself, and it never seems to end.

using this to his advantage now, he steps forward until he's nearly in front of kōji before he gets down on his knees again and puts both of his hands on kōji's leg, first the left one and then the other, doing gentle but quick work of folding up the hems of his trousers until they are just by his knee. satō pats his thigh then, before he looks back up at his lover to offer him a dashing smile. " there. you don't even need to do anything but put your legs in the water a little. the water is very nice and i like it more when you're not so far away. i am sure the grass is happy to talk to you as well, and that tree isn't gonna disappear either. it's not going to move somewhere else suddenly! " he tries once more, his thumb caressing the thin skin stretching over kōj's kneecap. his shins and feet are covered in various bruised and nicks here and there from all the work he does in the field, and satō scoots back to lean down further still to place a tender kiss against some of the older scars, faint and nearly gone, from brambles and other odd miseries involved in such hands-on work. he'd know, his arms look the same. " spend some time with me. that's what we're here for. " he concludes before turning back around, tugging at one of kōji's legs playfully before he lets go and slips into the lake again.

[sachingja]

as a child, the summers had been some of his favorite weeks of the year, when days would stretch out forever and sprawl into endless minutes in which he could run into the dense forests surrounding their house and spend hours upon hours in the thick of the green. it had been a fleeting infatuation, soon to be claimed by the loss that had arrived in quick succession at his doorstep, that had left him bereft and without aim in the immediate aftermath. he had done what had appeared most sensible then, and attuned his life to the ebb and flow of the seasons, did what his father had done before him, and that is how he fell into the trade. it had been nothing more and nothing less than that - to do what he knew, even if he could barely see the forest for the trees.

it was different now, to return to the lush of summer with someone else, someone who had not known him as a child, and someone who revered him more than possibly anyone else ever had. satō was a beautiful creature any minute kōji laid his wandering eyes on him, but he seemed to glow beneath the warm, eager summer sun, as if there was a fire inside of his chest that warmed him all through the year and only gained strength in those long, evergreen months. he never appeared to face the same discomfort kōji had to deal with in the heat, instead, he seemed to thrive upon it, and winter could barely touch him either for he always ran hot. whatever could get to him, he simply didn't let it even come close, and kōji envied him for it, for how much ease he possessed where all the merchant knew was the awkwardness of stilted social interactions existing beyond the script of a simple transaction. once someone wanted him to answer for anything removed from whatever goods they were acquiring, he was simply stumped; satō, on the other hand, knew how to talk to all sorts of folk, knew how to handle kōji with such great care that it almost made him smile, right where he sat on the warm forest floor, watching the water cascade down the architect's unbelievably broad shoulders.

despite his distaste for the season, the water, the temperature, his heart felt miraculously at ease then, simply watching the man he loved.

but instead of humoring satō more, he huffed out air as he stretched out his legs and watched the tall grass and flowers part way for him, almost naturally, which made him stare in a bit of awe ( and for once, satō was not the reason for that ), never not undone by the all the plants that surrounded them. how much easier it was to breathe here, in the shade, surrounded by leaves, than it would be out there in the lake, where he barely could find his footing. how did satō not see that? " you know, your chances of getting me in there are getting slimmer by the minute. seconds, even. you think it's funny that you're twice my size, big guy? " he challenged, not completely devoid of mirth, because if satō wanted to be a little mean, a lot playful, kōji could return that sentiment tenfold. it didn't qualm him, after all, satō was perhaps the only person he had ever meet that could deal with his moods, and didn't let that deter him. on the contrary, it usually made him double down.

case in point, kōji thought with a sigh, and felt the tree hum in agreement. how awfully distracting it was to watch his lover part the waters of the lake with such grace no one ever thought his body could possess. where kōji was short and slight, satō was broad, thick, muscular, soft in all the right places, and his eyes reflected that gentleness so innate to him. it almost got to him just then, but he had been born with a stubborn, thick skull, and it would take more than drooping ears and sparkling eyes to get him to move off the floor and out of the grass. his body simply did not want to leave this patch of grass behind, where everything seemed perfectly fine and safe. kōji could not understand how others of his kind could prefer that to this, to the greenery and the smell of leaves, how one could ever trade it to sit on a lily-pad until kingdom come. " i'll get in some other time, " he promised, face contorting, knowing fully well that satō would construct other, more mischievous means to get his way. well, let him try. " i prefer watching you more, anyway. the water cannot be that good. "

while the springs are nice ( satō would know ) and the hot springs up in eldin canyon are second to none, they are not exactly what one would seek out on those warm and humid summer days hyrule deals with on the longest months of the year. the kingdom is always blessed with light, a sun burning far hotter in the clear sky than one who's not from the desert or death mountain could bear, but the people have accepted it to be a sign of the goddess's goodwill. satō knows a little something more about that, though he is also aware the reason the clouds remain more or less away in certain regions can be called back to the lightning rod installed close to mineru's island as well as some of the other work for cloud and weather control they have tried to figure out - it is all now so far up there that little could be impacted down below, and the hylians in necluda and faron are more than happy to spend their summers relatively free of the pains of too mixed weather, not having to deal with earth too dry neither swamp land like it is so increasingly happening in lanayru.

faron remains the nicest place in summer still, ordon not too far from it and the veins of lake hylia creeping through some of the kingdom's oldest woods into the sea giving the place enough shade and cool air that it is such a no-brainer to be there in the summer, on days when satō doesn't have to be anywhere and the coast in akkala looks far-less inviting, the strong gusts of wind and perpetual state of falling leaves in their orange burnt beauty fading in comparison to what he knows he will find when he makes the trek downwards, through hyrule field and all the way down to the little village where kōji is undoubtedly cursing the weather and the sun in equal measure day in and day out. there is something comical to it, to see a man so short filled to the brim with such zest of distaste for this season, when once fall came he'd be so busy with work in the small hours of the day that a bit of a break beforehand can only be of help in the long run. not that he sees it this way, but satō sometimes likes to simply insert himself into kōji's day and take him away from his house and his own fields, to at least let the faron woods give them some space where they could be together without kōji cursing at every trace of blue sky.

satō doesn't get overheated in this weather, he rather basks in it, but this corner of the lake is a bit more deserted than further upstream, and the privacy it gives them is worth the trek ( as well as seeing kōj fussing over every tree they pass, his ears peaking up and moving back and forth at every noise the forest makes, the lines of his face smoothing out. ) he also has no issue with getting into the water by himself, the fish around him making a wide berth wide away because he probably is not only too big but must smell of heat and dirt alike, something none of them enjoy. he can see kōji resolutely ignoring all of his gestures to come inside too, his lover always very adamant about how much he hates the water, although there is whole subset of his people that love it and couldn't be happier to take up lily-pads and fishing spots and what-have-you. satō dips his head into the water once, the lake surface breaking around his ears, and comes back up with his hair pushed out of his face, finally, and some of the humidity being replaced by cold water. blinking into the sun, he waves at kōji again. " come on, it's not a deep lake. it's barely a river. even for you, " satō says, his own ears doing the opposite of what kōji's did thus far, drooping down close to brush his neck.

swimming a few laps to where the bank of the lake is higher, he pulls his arms onto it as he crouches in the shallow water, looking up at kōji with the largest gaze he can muster, as sweet as he can be. " you always complain about the heat. i know you're probably happy talking to that tree you just met, but you can at least put your feet in. it will help you cool down! " drumming his fingers on the grass, satō waits him out. not only is the water cool enough to maybe help and melt some of kōji's permanent frown during the summer days, but there is something so beautiful to him when he lets his guard down around satō and tries something new, showing satō that he trusts him more than his trusty old friend of discomfort.

[sachingja]

keep thinking about that call on the boat. like, if junho would have told inho that he would have kill him to his face, inho would have dragged him by the ears.

[sachingja]

[ YEW ]sender beckons for receiver to join them in the water. ( 🍃🌋 )

the heat had become unbearable this far down south in the last weeks, turning sweltering swiftly, making it almost impossible to get any work done outside, so kōji had taken to the inside of his house, where there was enough shade to grant him some relief and he would not have to deal with all the sun and humidity that made his skin crawl and itch, that had him sweat as soon as he stepped outside, and that had rendered any of his field work useless. it would be interesting to figure out the next few weeks with people eating less and less due to the high temperatures, and his fields yielding little in return besides some fruit, which he was grateful for as one could be, perfectly ripe, yellow bananas, crisp red apples, and berries of all different variations giving him at least something to sell.

it had been the architect's idea, of course, to venture farther into the woods bordering the edge of kōji's backyard, where he could spend hours in the shade of the large, ancient trees. the silence always put him at ease and lightened his steps, and so he had readily agreed; after all, it had been a while since satō had come down from death mountain to spend some time with him, busy to fix all sorts of things in the hazy months of summer, and kōji had been no pleasure to be around, anyway, with the sun and the heat making him less likely to even leave his bedroom. or his living room floor, wherever it was bearable at any given time of day.

in hindsight, kōji should have known better though, when satō had proposed this little outing, dragging him deep enough into the woods for no other soul to be around, towards the lake, where the surface of the water shone brilliantly like diamonds, and kōji had stopped as soon as they got close while satō had already stripped out of the flimsy piece of clothing offering minor coverage against the sun. all that exposed skin was not enough to entice kōji, who had grown mostly used to it anyway, on account of satō having some universal distaste for clothing, and who preferred to pull kōji into bed naked, anyway. it had lost some of its effect on him, was the point, and with his aversion to any body of water larger than the spring close to his home, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and simply refused.

satō, obviously, had already waded into the lake, and kōji ignored the flush creeping up his spine at the sight of his long, strong legs, the well-defined shape of his thighs, and how, once he had gone in far enough to be submerged up to his hip, it only made his firm middle and chest look better. his naturally messy hair was curling into his forehead from the humidity, and kōji did not have to be telepathic to figure out was satō was trying to do here. he exhaled, and said, loud enough to be heard over the distance, " the answer is no, i'm not getting in there with you. are you crazy? "

he looked around, for a spot in the shade that seemed comfortable enough, and promptly sat down at the root of a tree, which seemed to hum as soon as his back made contact with the bark. he liked that, how the greenery surrounding him always seemed to welcome him.

" you can, uh, stay there, though. i will be right here waiting for you. "

[sachingja]

this is a losing game, dmitry knows it with such stark clarity that he almost wants to laugh, but he is just aware enough of how misplaced that hysterical urge would be. yet it is pressing against his throat, his rib cage, or maybe that is just the pulse of his staggering heartbeat, like a hammer inside his skull, pounding insistently in his eardrums, the roar of his own blood loud over the density of the crowd, replacing all those voices, the music, with nothing but the sound of her voice, the intake of her breath, and his own words, meant to hurt and tear apart, but tossed around so foolishly that he doesn't think it would make any difference. nothing that he says here will make any difference, that he knows too; he has already lost her and whatever he could do now is damage control, so that her father will not have his head for failing so spectacularly, so he might still be allowed to enter the united states on the off-chance that anyone would seek his services.

or maybe, her father will send him straight back to st. petersburg, perhaps as an uniquely evil sort of punishment. the few instances in which they had met, he had seemed like the sort of man who would do that, vindictive to his core. ill-equipped to connect with his daughter, too, and dmitry thought back then that she must be difficult to handle, but it turned out that she is none of that.

it turns out, he might have never met another person that he immediately, inherently understood as much as katherine.

his mouth falls shut, and his hands hang uselessly by his side, following her every order. she could tell him to leave right this second and he would, or she could tell him to stay, and he would find a way to grow his roots into the ground, or glue his feet to the slap of pavement they are sharing, the last few minutes they might ever have with each other, and dmitry wonders how this could have happened to him; how everything could unfold in this extremely specific way, and how his luck always has a way of running out. this is why he does not gamble, he thinks, and looks at her face, equally flushed from the sun and her rightful indignation, and his fingers flex with the urge to touch her, but she does not allow him that privilege anymore.

" i didn't - i did not plan to be with you, like this, " he says, the syllables all stuttered, running together at the end, like his brain cannot make up its own mind, decide on how and where to place the vowels, stitch those words together. maybe it is this honesty that has always come badly to him, which made it so much easier to just lie for a living, but now, " you and me, that was never part of the job. that was just... that was the one thing i could have never prepared for, and it is the one thing i have never lied about. i am with you, i was with you because i don't think there is a world in which i could have not been. it wasn't a conscious choice, it just was. "

[ ⟢ ] The sound of her last name on his lips, her title, that eight-letter word which ties her intricately to her father, sucks whatever air is left in her lungs just as it does the angry retort she planned to level at him (surely something to do with her never wanting anything to do with him, ever again — which would be a lie, something she once believed them incapable of telling each other but she’s now aware it is their shared mother tongue). With a sharp inhale through her gritted teeth, she watches him retreat, allowing more space, more distance to form between them. Katherine should be glad, she asked for this in her severing of their familiarity — instead she shivers, as if his presence was the warm summer sun and now his visage has been obscured by a heavy cluster of rain clouds.

“ If it means anything to me ... ” She repeats to herself, the words little more than a mumble, and the laugh which follows is soaked in disbelief. Could he not tell that it did? Had it not been real, that sense of such clear transparency she’d felt with him; as if there had been a direct line of communication between her mind and his, their thoughts and feelings immediately sent from one to the other? Had he somehow tricked her into thinking he understood her, and she him? Could anyone be that good of a deceiver? Could he?

She shakes her head as he speaks, certain her face mirrors the conflict raging within. “ Jesus, just ... just stop. ” Even just the simple mention of all the nights they had spent together twists her features in pain — the memory of those spent awake by each other's side, doing nothing but talking under the cover of night while their hands braided together haunting her just as much as those they spent intertwined, no way of telling which limb belonged to who or from which mouth a breath first spilled.

“ Then why did you do it? If it wasn't a lie — if being with me wasn't a part of your job, then why? ” The words leap from her mouth like a colt; abrupt, impulsive, and stumbling. The question itself had not been articulated until it had been spoken, a subconscious feeling rather than an active thought until her voice had carved through the blanket of silence between them. Anger and grief flushes her cheeks red, and now that the inquiry has been vocalized her fiery frustration blooms brighter; she wants to push and scratch and punch, but most of all she wants to pull him close again, feel his body shift and mold to fit against the shape of her own. How cruel that this is what has happened to them, that she craves him close even while his presence scars. “ Why couldn't you just stay away? Trail me like all the other agents my father has employed to follow me since I left the nest. ”

[sachingja]

06. sitting beside them while they are asleep to watch over them. ( 🦥🧠 )

there are some thing you only really appreciate once you have lost them, and sleep is one of those rare things. back then, before, it had never been hard to come by, and while his years in law school were largely characterized by all-nighters in libraries or convenient stores, or wherever no one would bat an eye at him and his book, after he entered the prosecution offices, he ran on predictable hours, and could fall asleep just about anywhere. that had changed, of course, after the entire thing had happened to him - the first few weeks, while he was barely conscious in the hospital, he refused to fall asleep. whenever he closed his eyes, he would be back in that cupboard again, and that singular, horrifying brand of fear slicing through him kept him awake for hours, despite his brain being hardly able to maintain some resemblance of coherence. beneath the heavy blanket of medication, he had known that something was wrong beyond the broken bits and pieces of his body, but he had ignored it, and when he was released, he had further ignored it, too. thought he could will it away by sheer force of will, like he had ignored so many other things before, his weak marriage, his sons that would not even look at him, the disdainful glances at the prosecution offices. that promotion that would never come.

now, years after the fact, the circumstances are a little different, and much easier to deal with. the mandatory therapy sessions had been to his dislike when he had to go, but the resulting medical attention had somehow worked out in his favor. sure, is he relying on more drugs than any man his age should? maybe. but most men his age did not get abducted and left behind somewhere in the woods, left to die.

the sun has long set by the time he wakes up in familiar surroundings, the late summer days stretching thin around the edges this far into the year, air thick with the slow-crawling promise of fall. dongjae came home a few hours ago, after a call had pulled him out of bed in the middle of the night and directed him towards a crime scene at the outskirts of the city, one of those residential areas with white picket fences, big, sprawling houses, rich families. the kind of environment he dreamed of as a kid, unattainable and impossible, that made him burn with envy until it felt like all he could breathe was jealousy. a young, dead girl, and on his way back home he had left a message with simok's office; that never quite loses its novelty, the fact that he could do just that, knowing fully well that simok would listen, call back, or, in a few, rare instances, show up at his house. like now.

" how long have you been staring at me sleep? " he asks, voice rough around the edges, hardly with him from the four deep hours of sleep he managed to cram into the afternoon. he blinks blearily, vaguely aware that there must be pillow creases all over his face, his hair in complete disarray, but simok is sitting by his side with the cold, handsome air of a statesman, a statue, perhaps, which should be erected in his likeness, anyway, perhaps directly in front of the central prosecution building. dongjae, sleep-warm and heavy with it, reaches his hand out to touch his fingers to simok's wrist before closing his eyes again. humming underneath his breath before he turns onto his back and beds his head on his forearm. blinking himself into a state of alertness. " you haven't been sitting here for long, have you? "

[sachingja]

just had the funniest thought of my entire life (due to my ongoing gilmore girls rewatch): inho running some tiny little restaurant in some small town far off seoul, maybe close to the shore, and he went to culinary school before they kicked him out for bribery, or whatever else uncouth reason because inho is still inho and he will always be inho. much like jess, junho lives with him in the apartment above the restaurant, and inho is generally known as quiet and polite, the food is exemplary, but everyone in their small town is vaguely afraid of him because it is impossible to get a read on him. whenever junho needs some privacy, inho sits downstairs in the closed restaurant and watches baseball games. sometimes, junho will come downstairs to sit next to him and watch with him. they go fishing together, occasionally, the only reason why the restaurant is ever closed, unless junho has to go to the hospital.

[sachingja]

am i thinking of another oc....

[sachingja]

it had only occurred to him then, while listening to this handsome stranger at his bedside, to check his hand for his wedding ring. he had not been thinking of it before, but he could not quite remember if he took it off before the surgery or not, could not quite reason within his own brain if that was something people usually did or if they all left their wedding rings at home; and besides, he still wore the simple engagement ring his husband had proposed with, too, in addition to it. suddenly, he felt like shifting and searching though his body did not respond to any command, did not behave much more than to slice more searing pain through his midsection and force him to remain in bed, right where he was. it was bad enough that this man was sitting at his bedside, holding his hand, showering him with affection ( much like satō would, but his brain refused to make this connection, too, and he was left wondering, adrift inside his own head and body ), now he could not even look for his engagement and wedding rings. he barely wore jewelry to begin with, not since getting out of business school anyway, and now he could not remember where the most important bits where. the monitor next to him began beeping, showing his agitation before kōji remembered himself and where he was, and settled down against his better instincts.

" okay, " he said, still largely unconvinced, but he could play this game, sure. " did they give you my rings, then? i cannot remember if i took them off before the surgery. " the words came slow, still, labored, much different to his usual speed of speech, but he worked his jaw to pull the slur out of them, make them more comprehensible. if the man was who he claimed he was, rings and id and sweethearts and all, kōji would choose to believe him for the time being - thinking, logically, that they would not let an imposter into his hospital room, right? it did not take a genius to figure out that the part of his body that was cut open and stitched up again would hurt, but that did not negate the fact that it did hurt, and the satō-imposter could read him like an open book, much like his husband would, rushing out of the room to alert the medical staff of his condition. two women entered, one of them in a short white coat, and kōji tried to place them, if he saw them earlier, the nurse maybe but he could not say for sure. they pinched and prodded him, checked the surgical site and changed his dressing, which had apparently desperately needed it, and administered some more painkillers. kōji tried to listen, to stay alert enough to digest what they explained to him, but when he asked if he could go home today, the doctor cut a non-negotiable glance at him. so much for that dream, then. it made him sigh, just in time for the man who claimed to be his husband to appear at his bedside again, visibly concerned but it did nothing to remedy the fact that he was far better looking than anyone else kōji had seen in this room. or maybe he just had a very obvious type, and was beyond biased. who's to say.

he blinked twice before he remembered how to speak and then he pushed through the wave of dizziness that came with the good stuff they had just given him. " mhmm, " it was not much of a word, barely a sound, but his hand reached out anyway, not sure how far he even made it across the mattress, beneath the blanket. " bad news, " he offered, and then remembered that it might be a bad thing to say in a hospital room. whoopsie. " so, they said i have to stay overnight, because while i was, mhm. " he smacked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry and the world shrinking at the corners. still, kōji fought against it to keep his eyes open and look at maybe-satō, which was better than no satō, so he had to look his fill. it was the easy equation of his life. " while i was mobile, it was not, ah, scheduled, and they said it was open, cause the infection got kinda bad. " which is what he got for waiting it out like he did, but he would have not been able to do it any different, and now here he was, confined to a hospital bed for a whole night. he had warned the office, of course, they knew about his absence but it did not become him. he would rather be home, and he thought of his plants that needed watering, the greenhouse which was due for a clean-up, and satō, of course, who was surely missing him already. " but if i sleep, you'll leave, " kōji said, at last, which sounded very reasonable to him. it had been ages since he had to sleep on his own, save for a few business trips, but he had no desire to do so. though, he could imagine it to be difficult, with the stitches and all. ugh, satō would hate that.

it was one of the symptoms anaesthesia could bring on, satō has been made aware of this before and generally knew about it in a roundabout way, but he hasn't really planned for kōji to momentarily be unable to place him. well, he placed him alright, with the same kind of questioning attraction he felt the first time they met - which instilled great pride in satō of apparently having turned kōji's head so thoroughly from the word 'go' as that was mutual - but not entirely all the way where they are now, where satō only had to look at his husband and could tell at a glance that, somehow, kōji managed to be even more attracted to him, appreciate and want him more than before. naturally it is a little funny, or rather very funny, but satō doesn't have one clue how to manoeuvre this besides reminding kōji that the husband he's looking for so adamantly is right in front of him and that, once the after-effects wear off, kōji will probably be furiously blushing out of embarrassment for babbling the way he does right now and for thinking he couldn't immediately tell this is satō who is talking to him and holding his hand. the doctors might not think so, but that will be the much bigger hurdle to get through once he's brought kōji back home, where kōji might go to hiding himself away in their bedroom for an hour just to meet the mortification of having behaved hilariously out of sort, all while still riding the high of the pain killers they prescribed him that satō already all picked up, and with another doctor's visit on the horizon to check that the scar's been glued together and healing well. oh, boy.

" almost only? ouch, that hurt. that's what i get for not sleeping enough the past two days. or maybe we have to check you for glasses next, sweetheart. believe me, i am your husband. you wanna see the wedding band? looks just like yours. my id? in my back pocket, " satō says, his hand still running through kōji's hair softly, who goes between squinting at him as if having to convince himself that satō really is who he says he is, and frowning from what must be the lingering soreness from getting a part of his body opened up, his appendix removed, and then glued back together before they wheeled him out of here. kōji isn't one who announces his pain a lot, no one who yammers or suffers loudly all over the place ( though sometimes satō wished he'd be a bit more vocal, so he wouldn't have to employ all his kōji-reading skills to detect any shift in his mood or his body and know it means he's coming down with something. ) but him being quiet and pragmatic about it means that when he is in pain, it is definitely not something he lies about, and definitely not something he'd ever oversell either; he is too logical about his own hurt, only voicing his discomfort when it actually annoys him or shifts into something worse. satō checks him over once more, and sees him favouring the side where he wasn't glued up, and knows that with the anaesthesia wearing off his husband might need another dose of pain killers, especially when neither of them wants to spend a night at the hospital.

there's two other patients in the room, who thankfully aren't looking at them much ( probably used to it ) which means they have somewhat a modicum of privacy, although he doesn't think kōji is currently in the state of mind to care. still, satō waves at them politely before he focuses back on his husband. " that must be where the incision is, " he tells kōji softly, and then squeezes the hand still in his before he rights himself. " i'll get a nurse or a doctor, so they can have a look at you now that you're awake. be right back, " he adds and then, on muscle memory more than anything else, leans over and brushes his lips against kōji's forehead before he extracts himself from his seat next to kōji's bed and the room at large, walking down the hallway to the next nurse's desk he can find, where thankfully one is present to listen to him explain about kōji being awake and in pain, something they seem to have expected, and she marches past him and towards kōji's room with a certainty that gives satō a lot of comfort, and he lingers in the doorway while she tends to kōji only to make room for a doctor too, both women more than capable of something satō wasn't by nature of being anything but a doctor, and he nods at them and listens to them too once they turn to him, leaving back down the hallway where they came from. once they've retreated enough, satō inches his way back into the room, looking at his husband lying down with his eyes a little more alert but overall looking way too pale, besides his mildly ruddy cheeks, probably from suddenly having two more people in the room, even when they're medical professionals. " you wanna rest a little more? i think once you sleep a little more, you might feel better. "

[sachingja]

to wake up from anesthesia was an eerie sensation, similar to waking up in the middle of a dream, or being startled out of some sort of reverie, when your mind is so completely off the tracks that it took some heavy adjusting to get it back to where it was. the world around him was a blur, most of all, but the man next to him was nothing of the sort, instead rendered crystal clear in kōji's vision, those big, dark eyes, a head full of enviable hair swooped off his forehead in the fashion of some superhero, and those broad shoulders beneath the flimsy shirt he was wearing - who was letting that guy walk around like that? it was too cold outside to do such a thing, kōji remembered coming here in his suit and a light coat to combat the early morning chill on his way to work, much earlier, reaching as far south as possible this deep into the year. it had been unpleasant the night before, when satō had dutifully made sure that the bedroom had been a little warmer for once, the cold too aggressive in kōji's ill state, who had said almost nothing out of fear of either throwing up or passing out. not that satō would have minded, he was sure of that, but simply because he preferred to keep himself together; it had been bad enough that he had spent the entire mixer in some state of discomfort that only worsened during the day, and had culminated in that uncomfortable night prior. even worse that satō had to see him in such a state, because it reminded kōji of that embarrassing chest cold he tried to will away by pure, well, will alone and failed spectacularly. instead, satō had found him passed out in his dorm room, wheezing like a tea kettle, unable to even reach for his phone plugged in by his bedside or the long-cooled-off cup of tea he had put there the last time he had managed to leave the bed.

but that had been years ago and kōji considered himself grown enough to recognize when he got sick, which happened only rarely, anyway, usually only plagued by the occasional cold throughout the year, or some fatigue after busy weeks at the office. his exhaustion was something they both were familiar with, from days back in business school where he could go weeks on end with little to no sleep just to finish a project. it would manifest in lethargic days were most he ever did was either laze around with satō, stay in bed for an indefinite amount of time, or only spare some leftover energy for his plants, which he liked to care for personally. occasionally, satō would talk him into joining him in the living room but he usually had to carry kōji there himself, and those days only lasted for a weekend or two, he was mostly good to go after some downtime. this was nothing of the sort, though, a pain that slowly intensified until it became unbearable, just in time for them to prep him for surgery and wheel him downstairs, to the OR. it was then that he said goodbye to satō and sent him on his merry way, and kōji expected him to be here earlier, when he woke up, but there was this other guy, who looked familiar in all the weirdest ways, like kōji's eyesight was all wonky and off-kilter, and that made him feel weird and off-kilter in the process.

but before he can think of dodging the strange man's touch, his hand is already on him, so gentle that it renders kōji speechless for a moment, simply staring at the stranger next to his bed, who held his small hand between two large, warm palms, and tried to explain to kōji that he was his husband. but kōji begged to differ; he knew what satō looked like, he was fairly sure, after spending so many years with him, waking up next to him every day ( or on days when satō would remain in bed long enough ), seeing him in each and every state of life, and that was definitely not him. or was it? kōji blinked a few time and scrunched his nose, but even when he tried to make sense of those words, he could not. he stared bewildered at their intertwined hands, at the man's open, soft face, heart-stoppingly handsome, kōji could recognize that even in his altered state, and wondered. " you're not my husband, " he said, and his tongue made the vowels sound all wonky, like he spoke in a dialect he had never heard of before. " my husband is, uhm, almost here, i am sure, and he is not - you kinda look almost as good as him. " his mouth felt dry beyond belief all of a sudden, and his throat rough, and he coughed, which made him wince, a sharp pang of pain slicing through his entire body, hot and insistent and overbearing. he groaned and sunk back into the pillows, all the fight melting out of him to be replaced by a sort of blurry ache that he could not quite place; his entire body felt numb. he could barely feel his limbs. " something hurts, like. bad. " he allowed because it was too obvious deny. the only reason, really.

to be married to a man who thought himself above most part of the human condition is one thing, to watch the same man try and employ this strategy for something that infamously couldn't be willed away a whole other. between the two of them satō's of a bit sturdier stock, getting sick less often than kōji, but even then his husband isn't someone who gets sick very often, or would lament over smaller issues he's had. satō remembers the terrible chest cold kōji tried to simply ignore that one time in the earliest day of their relationship, where in the end it took being unable to even sit up for him to admit defeat, since then satō has vowed to look out for his other half, to make sure not even kōji himself could neglect himself solely on the basis that being unwell or ill didn't fit into his work week or whatever schedule he's adhering to at the moment - a deadline or something else that needed to get done. in the end he is also just human, like the rest of them, although satō would be the first to vouch for at least otherworldly intellect and beauty, being fairly certain that kōji's father must have prayed and offered an unholy amount of incense to wind up with a son as near-perfect as kōji was, the epitome of a dream.

needless to say, the epitome of satō's dreams has looked a little too pale the evening before already, and with an upset stomach that eas not located where his stomach generally is. he should have expected it then, when kōji brushed off most of satō's attempts to take care of him or even drive him to the hospital during the mostly sleepless night, that kōji would decide to check himself in once he put everything in order at work - knowing someone as well as your own mind, or even better, gave satō the key advantage to know when the call came in, and to have already checked which hospital was closest to his husband's office for him to be able to get there before his appendicitis would make him keel over. he beat kōji by nearly ten minutes, having forewarned the front desk nurse already, and despite seeing kōji sick he immediately felt better once he saw him, could put his hands on kōji's face and weave his arm around his waist until they told satō he'd have to leave, surgery prep was happening, and anyway kōji needed a change of clothes and something besides the bag he takes to work. it was good for satō to be useful, who gave kōji a kiss goodbye before he left and got all the things kōji needed from their home, his toiletry bag and a set of comfortable clothes for the time he'd have to stay in the hospital, only to be back in time and wait for kōji to wake up from his anaesthesia.

it should not be funny, is the thing, to see kōji's bleary gaze and his mildly flushed face, and hear him barely string a sentence together while he can't stop staring at satō. honestly, it is more endearing than funny, makes satō grin so wide that he has a hard time hiding it while he leans over the hospital bed and gently takes kōji's hand in his. " hmm, so i've heard, " he says, way too amused and fighting the way his grin bunches up his cheeks. kōji is a fussy patient on his worst days, because he respects doctors and nurses but has little patience for something slowing him down, and satō's surprised it took them so far into their relationship for him to experience kōji having had anaesthesia; well, blame it on both of them coping fairly well as is. reaching out his other hand to push the unruly strands of kōji's undone hair off from his forehead, satō sweeps a thumb gently over the bridge of kōji's nose. " i am your husband, kōji, i'm already here. " better to keep to himself that he won't ever forget kōji mumbling on fondly about how big he is, something he'd never do aware and sober and in public, but apparently does when his brain has no filter. that's - interesting, something else that makes satō grin. " are you feeling any pain? the doctor said you might feel sore, but otherwise you should be good. "

[sachingja]

the pain had been one thing. it had started the day before, a slow-crawling kind of discomfort he experienced while in the office still, pouring over books and accounts, the emails the front office never managed to filter quite well enough. he had put it down to a bad lunch, perhaps, or just the weather, the short night, maybe, because he had gotten less sleep than usual after one of those horrible mixers his superiors insisted on hosting, and dragging him to, every once in a while. usually he got out of those things with a good excuse but this time he had needed to be there, after successfully closing a deal with the overseas office in brazil, one of his biggest deals to date yet, which is to say: celebration was in order, and somehow he had become the man of the hour. once he returned home from the office the day after, though, the pain had only gotten worse, and while he was stretched out on the couch, with his feet in satō's lap, he paused nursing his rare cup of tea, and looked at his husband with an even rarer sort of clarity. appendicitis was something he had yet to experience at that point, but he knew either way that it was just that. how he made it through the night was a mystery to him - the pain had only gotten worse, and satō had done his best to help him through it, offering to drive him to the hospital, but kōji had a few more things to wrap up at the office; he could wait. it was manageable. and so, after doing just that, he had called satō on his way to the emergency room to inform him of the impending surgery, and by some miraculous happenstance, the architect had somehow beat him to the punch, was already pacing the entry when kōji pulled up, looking more hazard than kōji could have expected, after all he had assured him repeatedly that everything was fine.

after that, admittance had taken far less than he would have thought, and soon enough, they had him in a room with three other beds ( much to his dismay ), ready to be taken downstairs, to the OR. satō had assured him that he would bring him a change of clothes, because he could hardly walk out of here in the suit he had shown up in, and he had forgotten his bag of toiletries in the bedroom this morning, already running late after a light, sparse breakfast; the plants had taken up most of his time, preparing them for his inevitable absence. the nurses were all kind, attentive, and the surgeon seemed capable enough; kōji respected doctors the most out of any profession, because they went through the rigorous reality of medical school and had to undergo extensive training before they would ever be allowed near a living patient. he admired their tenacity and hard work, and worried very little about the surgery itself, especially once the pain became too bad to ignore and they promised to be quick about everything. like any good citizen, he trusted them with his life, and knew this was only a minor procedure anyway. when they sent him to sleep, he hardly noticed, barely making it to the proposed eight his nurse told him to count through, down from ten.

once he woke up, the world looked different: fuzzy at the edges, woozier than he could remember, and he felt mildly nauseous, though he could recognize that it was largely from the anesthesia, and the fact that they just cut him open and closed him up again. he blinked a few times, trying to gather his bearings and place himself, where exactly he was - he knew it was the hospital, that there were other patients in the room, but that was it. it was bright, though, too bright in the room, and he groaned, turning his face into the pillow his head rested on. then, a blurry motion caught his eye and he blinked a few more times, frowning. there was a hysterically handsome man sitting by his bedside, looking worried and a little worse for wear ( god, who had put him through all that misery, and what was he doing by kōji's bed? there surely had to be other rooms, other patients, other people in this entire big building ), and for all the world like someone had kicked his favorite puppy. or whatever people liked, kōji didn't quite know and couldn't make sense of it just now. " what are you doing here? " he asked, bewildered, but his tongue was thick and the syllables came out all jumbled and weird, and he made a face; he hated when he sounded less put together than he wanted to be. " i have a husband, you know, " he added, because maybe this man did not quite understand he was in the wrong place. kōji was waiting for satō to show up with his stuff, sit with him until they would inevitably send him out again and he would put up a fight anyway. " he's, like, very big, " he said, frowning now. " he should be here any minute. "

@disvelocitys ; what if your husband accurately diagnoses himself with appendicitis, drives himself to the hospital, and wakes up but cannot recognize you (his spouse) because he's completely out of it

[sachingja]

he was far from stupid and he had listened with rapt attention whenever his lover had imparted him with information about that life of his that existed beyond the effusive borders of their relationship, how rich it was and so chock-full of a very simple sort of love, one that existed between individuals who enjoyed each other's company and did not require much more, a reality so far removed from kōji's own, that he had never quite managed to wrap his head around it. but that very same reality was sitting in front of him now, with much more polish and grace than kōji had ever seen anyone possess, and while it did not frighten him, it did dissuade him a little. he knew what he was here for and he did not like one bit of it, this confrontation with his worst impulses at the hand of one of satō's closest friends, who apparently could read him like a book or had been a devoted student whenever satō shared some information about him to people who would not know anyone he knew, that had no idea of his life, or his workplace, or where he lived. it was better that way, because kōji did enjoy his life for what it was, for the most part, and did not want to get fired because of an affair with a man. it was bad enough that hideo and him had to pretend in front of everyone, whenever they went anywhere, just to be safe, but if this would come out - it could and would easily ruin his career. while all his superiors were either engaged or married, and most of his colleagues were dating even within the company, kōji remained steadfast. not necessarily solo but certainly with enough secrets to dissuade anyone from prying any deeper.

in hindsight, he did not know why he agreed to this; he could have simply told her that he had too many appointments, his calendar was full, and itinerary as busy as ever, and it would not have been a lie, just a bend to the truth that colored his day by day. but the other, murkier truth was that he felt guilty for everything he did, waking up in the morning next to hideo, knowing that he had been cheating on him for a year now, and whenever he saw satō, he felt worse, fully aware that nothing he did could serve them both. that this life he had stumbled into was at an impasse and it was only his own decision that could change that and move the pieces where he wanted them to be. the thing was, though, that he did not know how he wanted his life to be. hideo presented the well-known and kōji's reluctance to change; satō was the realization of daydreams, a manifestation of better things that swept his life like the downpour he arrived in. he had never quite stopped having that effect on kōji, always sweeping him along, rushing through him in waves. with satō, kōji felt home and whole, but to let hideo go, he would have to stand answer for so many things, too many of them - he knew that hideo knew, and he was not stupid enough to pretend he didn't. often enough, kōji returned home smelling of another man and hideo had made no remark the last time they had slept with each other, months ago, a loveless affair, but kōji knew that he had seen the marks. connected the dots.

kōji exhaled, and zelda did not move, as stoic and beautiful as the stature or some saint. she had that otherworldly quality of most of the people satō surrounded himself with and kōji had no idea how he fit into that line-up. " like you said, " kōji offered, dryly, free of any emotional infliction. " i guess i know just enough. " because she was right, he had heard of all of them, zelda, impa, link, and that monk who talked to no one and nothing except the stones, or something, but he had never met them. they had been to hokkaido and to thailand, had spent weeks together wrapped up in each other, and there had been the lonely instance of satō picking him up at his office, which had never been repeated since, but beyond that, their lives had never intertwined. it was all just hearsay. but it did not matter that they did not know each other; she would hit him where it hurt regardless and so she did, with no remorse, and in a way kōji appreciated that, could admire it even. how she went to bat for satō and how much she cared about her friend, about this man who had colored kōji's dreary life in the warm shades of a sunset. a perpetual summer. kōji took a sip of his coffee and exhaled softly; he had never been to this place, a little too far out of his comfort zone, but she had asked and so he came. " i am not stringing him along, " he said, all teeth, because while what he did was far from fair, it had never been a false promise, just a badly executed one. " and besides, he knew what he got himself into. i told him so repeatedly, which i am sure he told you about, too. i am not saying that i am a saint, believe me, i know better than anyone that i am far from it. i am just saying that i am human, and that this, i think it requires more of me than i can give , and to make that choice is taking me longer than i wish to admit. it will be him, in the end, though. that is the only thing i know. " there it was. would that satisfy her? he did not think so, but it was as much of the truth as he would allow her to hear. " i love him, i love him more than i have ever loved anyone, but my life is not so easy. i wish it was. "

most people think her soft, studious if they are inclined to kinder tidings, and more often than not the kind of delicate flower she is very much not. a flower she certainly may be, she thinks of herself more in line with the nightshades she's seen impa study with a specific eye for detail, and that zelda has taken a liking too during her first years living with her best friend. as she has grown older, and grown up, she has become much more than window decoration and begs to differ on anyone who sees her as such. maybe this makes her appear as stern sometimes, in a way she has also taken a little note of from impa to grow a big more of an outer layer towards the world, or as a know-it-all, but she rather be seen as that than as someone who can't fend for herself or be there for the people she loves, put in more than just a good word for them, instead do something substantial beyond just that. satō is possibly the last person on this planet that needs her to do a shovel talk in his honour, as he appears to be more the kind that would be the one to employ them in zelda's honour if impa were ever indisposed or hayato not in the mood to talk, but that doesn't mean that zelda wouldn't do it. she has heard plenty of his - well, the terminology eludes zelda there, but she has heard plenty of kōji, although the first few months without a name or designation attached to him.

that she would be able to place him so easily the first time she has seen him, out on his own running errands, has surprised even her. somehow it has surprised him too, this man that has turned satō's world over into a realm far beyond any good sense of caution, though then again satō's never been one to practice caution very much ( zelda and him are alike in that. ) she was even more surprised that he'd agree to sit down with her, his schedule somehow even busier than satō even made it out to be from what he divulged of this affair that has been going on for close to a year now, maybe even longer, but zelda never asked for sordid details; satō imparted most of them to her and malon anyway, and the gaps that were leftover she could fill in; can fill in now, sitting across the impossible man who has made her friend into a brighter, even more vivid, and impossibly warmer person than he already was. zelda determines this counts for something as she watches him, very put together and almost translucently polite, nothing sticking to him of his surroundings. and yet satō is stuck to him like second skin, like a tree setting roots in volcanic soil no matter the warning signs.

" well, you know who i am. so you do know enough, i think. but satō's chatty, i wouldn't be surprised you know a lot about his life, " zelda waves him off, not unkindly, as she wraps her hands around her own warm mug of tea. the café sits neatly between the busier city district kōji must have his office in and the university campus, which usually makes it a good place for zelda to get through some of her research away from people she knows she'd undoubtedly chat with upon seeing, so this makes it the perfect place to meet kōji and see for herself how a man who lives in a bloodless relationship has somehow not yet found the guts to answer a demand satō never made of him, but waited patiently for, maybe a little too patiently. " i am not here to talk to you about honour or anything antiquated like that. but i wanted to meet and see you for myself, " zelda tells him, her eyes remorseless as she looks directly at him. he can't scare her, and he doesn't look like he wants to, but it is good for her to show she is serious, and not to be trifled with. " kōji-san, i will not waste time you don't seem keen on wasting either. i want to know if you are content to keep stringing satō along or if you will ever give him the chance he has given you, multiple times. because i don't think i want to know a man who is not serious about him, even though i can see in satō how much he wants you to meet his friends, and be with you, even if he'd never demand you to make that choice. "

[sachingja]

it was a little crazy that he would find himself here in this very moment, that all the antagonizing, the spitted remarks, the anger and righteous discontent had largely faded and left nothing of the sort in its wake; instead, there was only desire left, this wanting that had somehow become enough to live by, that kept kōji awake whenever he felt himself nodding off at work. that he had grown from resenting the landscaper to looking forward to seeing him whenever he got home, how it made him steal looks from across the street to see what he was up to. a few times he had even seen him chatting to link, who never talked much to anyone ( kōji and him understood each other without words, naturally ), and he had seen him with zelda, of course, who had nothing but praise for the man, back when kōji couldn't have cared less she had talked about him like he hung the moon into the sky and spun the stars out of thin air. only much later did he realize that it was all a ploy of hers to get him to finally accept satō, to say yes to that pesky little invite, to come out of his own shell and remove some of the walls he had so deftly put up between himself and the world. and so kōji had followed her words, after all, much like anyone who had ever met her, and he had listened to impa, too, who had told him to stop being such a dickhead and just get his shirt together. she was right, too, and kōji had pondered all of that during one of his weekly dojo visits, while working through his stretching routine. it had done him some good, and when he had returned from his vacation, everything was so clear to him. like the untouched surface of a lake; he knew what he had to do, and that is what he did.

kōji snorted and leaned his head back against the headboard, resisting the temptation to roll his eyes, instead indulging in the proximity of the other man, and leaning down far enough to crook his neck, for once, grasping satō's face in his hand so he could kiss him, mindful of the coffee mug between them, but no less insistent for it. he kissed him for long enough to feel it rush into the depths of his gut, feel it trickle down his spine irresistibly, and only pulled back far enough to talk, speak his words against the other man's mouth, which was already delightfully pink and a little swollen. it made heat seize inside kōji's veins, one that he had grown familiar with over the hours of the previous nights, in which he had explored satō's body to his content, hands aimlessly wandering over so much skin, only to feel all that muscle shift beneath his palm. it had driven kōji mad, that all of that was his for the taking, that he could touch his fingertips to satō's chest or his thighs, and watch him react to it from up close. what a privilege, he had thought fondly, and then there had been almost no thoughts at all, except for the overwhelming fullness, the realization that he hadn't been this close to anyone in forever, that he enjoyed this degree of intimacy more than the banter, more than anything else that had transpired between them. " i think malon was trying to do you a favor and i hate to admit that she was right. after i found out you were single, well, " he hummed softly and kissed satō again, but then he returned to his place against the headboard, not wanting to risk a strained neck. " that changed my perspective a little, " he admitted.

when satō turned his hand beneath kōji's, he mindlessly intertwined their fingers, marveling at the difference in the sizes of their hands, how satō's was so much largely and easily swallowed his own whole; the length of his fingers was notable, too, and before kōji could completely lose his track of thought, he looked away, snapped his head up, and almost bumping his chin against satō's head in the process. how very elegant, well done, asano kōji. he cleared his throat. " i haven't done much to make her grow so well, to be honest. i just followed the instructions, link gave it to me with a manual, and that made it really easy. i don't think any of my research would have done her justice and she is far too pretty to wilt, " he was sighing softly now, thinking of the day link had brought her over, on an unassuming sunday, and kōji could hardly believe his eyes when he had realized what was growing in that little blue pot. she was one of his prized possessions and he took great care of her, though it never felt like any work at all. this, much like his actual work, came very natural to him. he felt himself flush then, growing hot beneath his collar at satō's thoughtful and sweet remark / for how long had the man thought about him like this? did he look at kōji and saw something worthwhile there? something that deserved these mindless affections? a part of him just wanted to know so he could put it aside, stop focusing on everything satō did, but the other half of him enjoyed it: how satō treated him so kindly despite his off-putting behavior. he shifted his shoulders a little, ducking his head, suddenly shy. " i don't think it's anything special, you know? other people go and sing karaoke, and i have plants. i don't have much else in this house besides that... sorry if i am boring you. i'm sure you know more than enough about all sorts of greenery, i saw you plant those trees in link's backyard. " and the sight of him, shirtless and with dirt smudged across his arms and cheek, had kept kōji awake for weeks, but satō did not need to know that just yet.

kōji's words are the magic trick to satisfy something primal in satō, the part of him that maybe doesn't wish on shooting stars but that believes in wonders all the same, and that has felt the equivalent of a comet striking earth when he first laid eyes on the other man. like a notice from heaven, or maybe the depths of the earth, whatever it was it told him all he needed to know. and, no, it wasn't all just the more primitive piece of his mind that only knows the wanting, though in the fracture of a second it was, and then it ballooned into something else, grew legs and arms and a voice and a face or however the saying goes, and a man with a beautiful body and a handsome face turned into something more: hopes and wishes, desires rolled into empty hours of the night, dreams during the day as if satō didn't have a copious amount of work to do and malon wasn't on his ass the entire time to get it done in time. link has been silent as ever, never one to speak much when the people around him understood him anyway, and satō admired that until he couldn't even pry the smallest of small things out of the farmer, less a grave and more a locked vault, but it was neither in satō nature to pry into someone's discomfort and, besides, zelda's been much more forthcoming. what link wouldn't say, she'd put out into the world like a missile strike, an arrow finding dead centre, and she told him all he needed to know and wouldn't want to find out for himself. she got kōji to their little get-together ( well, she and malon did anyway ) and that was when satō knew how to shape daydreams into a concrete future, one to arrive on the express lane: he's done enough pining, played enough games of kōji's ill will and sour-sweet temper; the next time he'd be the one to get what he wants.

and he did, he does. evidently as it is now, where kōji speaks to him less like someone on the offence but rather someone giving in a little, an inch rather an a mile, but satō's made homes out of bad soul and unfaithful wooden stalks, he'd find his way around the frameworks of this wonderfully complicated man and the mercurial back and forth he seems to fall into. he kissed like that too, dangerous and hot the first moment their lips met ( spurned on by satō almost burying half of his body into kōji's smaller frame, no matter the crick now sniping at his neck a day later ), only to become sweeter the later the hour went, so sweet when he was nothing but mouth and then nothing but air, a body making way for satō's just how satō made room for him when they barrelled into each other for the first time - a give and take, the measuring of balance between them and their desires almost coming naturally, as if meant to be, probably meant to be, and when satō finally felt nothing but tight heat around him he knew it really probably was, that fate came knocking from the other side of the window and told him it was here, told him he'd have to tread his weeks carefully only to have this unbelievable kind of luck fall into his arms, his lap, let him in. it is too good to be true, even after a night of interwoven limbs and shared air, and satō doesn't even know for sure how the world smiled on him like that, with this impossible man.

satō's hand remains where it is, grip becoming a little surer at the display of kōji becoming a bit more comfortable around him, the coffee and conversation helping. lifting himself a bit on one of his hands, satō scoots back until they can be side by side, leaning his head back enough so he can place it gently against kōji's shoulder, leaving a kiss against his neck above marks satō so dutifully put there last night. nuzzling his nose against warm skin, smelling some new kind of freshness to kōji he thinks must come from some moisturiser or whatever he needs for his skin to be so incredibly soft, satō smiles again before he can help himself. " malon got the important thing across and you didn't forget. and believe me when i say i know how incredibly lucky i am. saw you smile just now! double lucky, " he tells kōji, meaning every word, before making himself comfortable so his weight wouldn't rest too much on kōji's shoulder but instead of his own hands without having to move too far away from him now that kōji really got into the mood to talk - about all his lovely plants, which satō could place some of but it seems kōji knew which ones satō wanted to hear most about. riveted, and interested, satō hummed along or encouraged kōji with a squeeze to his thigh, kōji's smaller palm a nice weight on top of his hand, making satō feel flush against his neck. " a silent princess is rare. link must hold you in high regard to gift you one. yours is already growing quite well, " satō notes, looking up at kōji, he can't help but kiss the line of his jaw this time, a little array of butterflies against the thin skin there. at the same time, he moves his hand over, so kōji could weave his fingers between his own if he wants to do that. " it's not strange at all, sweetheart. shows you're passionate about what you do and really good at it, too. all those plants, they're clearly at home here. and all of them have names? don't think they could be happier. "

[sachingja]

05. placing a cup of tea or coffee in front of them. ( zelda and kōji! )

the invitation had not been a complete surprise but it had been a surprise either way; where he usually made a point to keep his and his lover's life completely separate, there had somehow been an overlap, a minor detail that must have slipped his mind for he was usually so careful, made sure that everything they did, everything they got away with, was perfectly clandestine and not to be met by someone else's eye. but this had been a bit of a blunder on his part, when he had run into her out in the city and she had somehow recognized him - maybe satō had shared more than he would have ever admitted to kōji's face, because it would be tiresome to keep so many secrets, to constantly do his bidding, kōji understood that. nevertheless, the encounter had struck him with a wild and burning sort of anxiety, one he could not quite shake once he got back to the office, and even when he got back home to hideo, who had only stared curiously and had asked nothing of him, their conversations reduced to platitudes and the occasional, proper talk that made him remember how it was back when things had just begun, it had lingered. like nails sunk into the back of his skull, it drove through him and left him with a persistent ache.

" so, to what do i owe the pleasure? " he asked, better to get ahead of it before she would, unquestionably, demand him to end things with the man he had grown to love, so much so that it would be an impossible demand. but he knew of his own selfish ways, and he could recognize that it had already gone on for far too long; satō deserved better, kōji kept telling him repeatedly, and apologized in the same breath. maybe one day he would be brave enough to leave hideo, and the thought almost made him scoff because it irked him, his own incapability, his own weakness, how he resolutely remained stuck between a rock and a hard place. satō had given him everything, would drop the world in the blink of an eye for him, and yet kōji was too scared to take the final step. while hideo might have become a burden to him, more than anything else, he was still the only person who had ever really known him, who had ever loved him, largely unconditionally, who saw him as a perfect wish-fulfillment and knew how long it had taken kōji to break through. for someone who did care very little about other people, kōji found himself caring perhaps too much about his boyfriend. was that a crime?

maybe these were all ill-fated, shameful thoughts of a coward; kōji never saw himself as extraordinary, could not marry the idea satō had of him with who he really, actually was. but here, that did not matter, the woman in front of him had only met him once and had probably come to her own conclusions, without any help necessary. kōji accepted the cup with a bow of his head and a polite thank-you; he was raised right, after all. " i'm sure you know far more of me than i do of you, don't you? "