#but somehow people always turn a blind eye when it comes to kimi

[kimisicecream]

The most impressive thing Ferrari has ever done is somehow convince the entire world of F1 that Kimi Räikkönen is the only driver they ever did right by when in reality they did him so fucking wrong.

[amjustagirl]

Chapters:  one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven.

Wordcount: 2.3k

Summary:

Akaashi Keiji catches glimpses of another life in his dream.He dreams of fields of endless gold, of constellation of stars that light up the night sky. He hears echoes of the birdsong in her laugher, the songs to the gods in the wind.

(Loosely inspired by Kimi No Nawa)

Masterlist link here 

AO3 link here

Author’s note: This fic is a little different from my usual work, so I’m a little nervous about publishing it. If you do like it, would love if you leave a comment / reblog / anything!

If you’d like to be included in the taglist, do drop me a msg/ask!

‘It’s for my mother’s birthday’, Akaashi says, and the florist tilts her head in thought, a dimple appearing on her right cheek. 

‘What about pink carnations? They’re pretty and well within your budget’.

‘Good choice – plus it means that I’ll never forget her’ he says, nodding in approval and she bustles around to gather her materials, fingers nimbly twining tissue and ribbons around the blooms. 

‘Oh - ’, he begins to say in surprise when he notices she’s included a bunch of baby’s breath in the little bouquet, because a university student’s budget only stretches that much. 

‘Don’t worry, it’s on the house’, she hastily reassures him, her curly hair bouncing as she shakes her head. ‘I just thought it’s sweet you’re buying flowers for your mother.

‘Thanks.’ He smiles at her. She grins back and promptly trips over her own feet as she hands the bouquet over to him. ‘Watch out’, he calls, reaching over the counter to grab her elbow in an attempt to steady her.

‘Sorry! That’s so clumsy of me. Um – I’ve been meaning to ask you for some time, but would you like to grab coffee with me someday?’ she asks, cheeks flushing as pink as the flowers in his arms. 

‘Oh’, he says, dumbstruck. ‘I – uh’ 

She must read the hesitation in his face because she shakes her head self-deprecatingly, saving him from floundering awkwardly. ‘Sorry! I don’t know what came over me – please forget I ever said that!’ Then she bows and ushers him out of the store, waves away his apologies with a laugh and calls after him to ‘please come again!’ 

His mother fusses over him when he presents his bouquet of carnations to her, bending down to press a kiss to her cheek. ‘Why does it look like university is treating you so badly?

‘I’m fine, mum’, he tries to distract her with a hug, but she’s having none of that. 

‘Are you really, Keiji?’, his mother asks, lips pursed. ‘I know my son well enough to know he’s not sleeping well’. 

‘I try’, he offers, but he knows his excuse falls flat when she sniffs. He’s so irredeemably busy with school work and internship that sleep is practically the last item on his list of priorities and things to do and tasks at hand, but he knows if he breathes a word about the amount of work on his plate, his mother would nag him relentlessly until she’s convinced he’s taking care of himself again

So honed by years of dealing with Bokuto-san, he switches tactics to diversion. ‘So mum, tell me how auntie managed to talk Yuji-kun into going on blind dates?’ His mum brightens and immediately turns her mind to her favourite nephew’s dismal love life. 

But his mother insists on him staying over that night, so he finds himself staring at the ceiling of his old bedroom, in a bed that suddenly feels too small for the worries that adulthood is cramming into his head. He’s patient, counting the spaces between his breaths but sleep eludes him and he sits up, determined to sneak in more work at the very least.  

He tucks a pencil behind his ear, ready to get cracking on his thesis when he tilts his seat too far on the back two legs of his chair and loses his balance, falling onto the floor with a thump. ‘Damnit’, he curses quietly, hoping the noise doesn’t startle his mother awake, but from his vantage point on the floor, he can see the omamori he inexplicably refused to throw away on New Year’s Day hanging on the bars of his windowsill. 

‘What are you doing here’, he mutters, untying the charm and running his thumb along its fraying seams. The charm obviously does not respond - it’s an inanimate object after all, but for some reason, he slips it in his pocket when he returns to the dorm when morning comes. 

The frequency of his dreams starts to increase. 

He’s back in her body, curled up under a pine tree on a cool autumn day. 

‘I can’t believe you convinced me to spend an afternoon running around like a forest nymph when we could be studying to ace your exams’.  There is a tinge of disdain in his words because he  knows  her grades are better than decent, though they’d be better if only she’d spend more time on her books instead of flower fields. 

‘Aww, a nymph? Someone’s feeling extra poetic today’, she teases lightly. 

‘Don’t try distracting me from the fact that you really should be studying’, he insists, displeased. 

‘I do study’  she protests, but he hums disbelievingly, the spectre of Waseda’s devilishly difficult entrance exam looming in his mind. 

‘Not enough to get into a decent university at this rate.’

‘I don’t want to go to university, Keiji, I’ve tried telling you this before’, she sighs. 

‘You don’t?’ 

‘Nope’  she responds, popping the word in her mouth. ‘I just want to sell flowers to people someday, is that so bad? It’s simple - they make people happy, and that makes me happy in turn. If we only have a lifetime to spend on this earth, shouldn’t we pursue what truly brings us joy instead of dreams others impose on us?’

‘ I suppose that makes sense’, he says, sounding vaguely convinced.

‘Course it does’, she responds easily, a smile flickering in her voice. ‘I always make sense. Now. Let’s not squabble, it’s my turn to tell you a story today’. 

So he listens, enthralled despite himself, as she spins tales of the Kodama, tree spirits dwelling in the ancient forest, how her mother taught her to always offer a prayer to the gods before chopping down a tree - and if the tree bleeds, to back away because it means it has a Kodama living, breathing within it. 

‘Are they real?’  he asks her, when she finishes a tale of a  Kodama who assumed human form after falling in love with a maiden blessed with cherry blossoms in her cheeks.

‘Of course they are’  she laughs. ‘If you close your eyes and listen carefully, you can hear them sing. ’

He closes his eyes, but the forest remains eerily still. ‘ I don’t hear anything, ’ he says, disbelief colouring his tone. 

‘Maybe it’s because they know you don’t really believe in them yet.’

He wakes up with the scent of pine in his nose, the lingering touch of grass against the soles of his feet. 

‘Electricity is a fickle beast in this household, so the first thing you need to do when you come home is to light the fire in the irori. Even Toya-chan knows how to do that, and he’s eight!’  

He stares balefully at the sunken hearth lined with stone and filled with ash, situated right in the center of the old house.  ‘This is a fire hazard’, he tells her stubbornly. 

‘Fire is life, you spoilt city boy! It only becomes dangerous if you don’t respect it. Now come on, or you’ll end up freezing to death and I won’t be able to save you. I always keep a lighter in my pocket and in the store room there’s coal and if really necessary, some petrol I flinched from the petrol station – ‘

‘You better make sure the teachers don’t find your lighter and think you’ve been smoking – ‘ he interjects and she continues as if she doesn’t hear him. 

‘So you light the fire and hang the kettle from the iron hook, and voila! You can cook porridge or soup if electricity runs out and you can’t rely on the rice cooker or stove. And when the night is too cold to sleep in your room, you can drag your futon out here for warmth. It’s kinda nice, almost like camping. Now, let’s see you try lighting a fire yourself!’ 

Her fingers are thin and nimble, but they’re unfamiliar implements to him, so he fumbles with arranging the coal and scrap paper around damp wood. He has to resort to using a drip of petrol to coax the damp wood to ignite in flames but he counts it as a triumph anyway as fire dances in the sunken hearth.  

He can hear her cheer – ‘Congrats city boy!’ Ignoring the implied insult in her words, he smiles. 

He’s back in her skin again when her voice echoes in his mind. 

‘Y’know you’re not gonna be able to learn how to put on a bra if you don’t open your eyes when doing it right?’  she says, amusement ripe in her voice. ‘Every girl has tits, Keiji . If it makes you feel better, I’ve seen your dick ’. 

‘What?’ he yelps, eyes still stubbornly closed. 

‘How else was I supposed to use the urinals? Goodness, being a guy is so convenient when it comes to peeing, you just point and shoot - ’

‘Right, that’s too much information, thanks’, he huffs. 

‘Well, you’re gonna make me late for school if you don’t open your eyes’’, she sing songs, and he knows she’s banking on his reverence for punctuality and perfect attendance records to get him to look in the mirror, but he’s not sure it outweighs his mother’s lessons of being a gentleman.  

‘Keiji-kun ’, she says again, amused. ‘I do appreciate that you’re trying to protect my modesty, but those rules don’t really apply when we’re in a situation like this, you know? If it makes you feel better, I give you explicit permission to look at my breasts when strictly necessary.’

‘Can you not say it like that’, he grouses before cracking an eye open, somewhat persuaded, and somehow manages to snap the tiny hooks in place. ‘Bras are like torture devices’. 

‘Don’t I know it’, she chuckles.  ‘Be glad you only have to put up with it every once in a while’. 

He snorts, more comfortable once some semblance of her modesty is secured. ‘I’ll count my blessings then’. Twisting at the waist to zip up her skirt, his breath catches at a glimpse of freckles on her back in the mirror. He forgets he’s still standing in front of the mirror as his fingers idly ghost over the constellation, a spray of stardust on bare skin. 

‘Keiji ?’ she asks, confused. 

‘Sorry!’, he startles. ‘It’s just - I never noticed you had freckles on your back before.’

‘Yes - I’m aware I have them, and?’, she replies archly, and the irony that she’s completely fine with him staring at her breasts but not her back does not elude him, but he holds his tongue. 

‘They’re arranged in my favourite constellation’, he tells her honestly and he’s relived to hear her chuckle again. 

‘I’ll show you the real thing next time’, she promises, before switching seamlessly to berate him -  ‘And you can stop staring at my back now, we’re gonna be late for school! ’

The next day is spent wondering if he’s a creep for dreaming about half naked sixteen year old girls – even if there’s nothing remotely sexual about his dream. 

He sees her run through the woods like a fawn discovering spring for the first time, watches her come to a stop at an open clearing framed by trees. There is a shrine in the center of the clearing, cracked and covered in moss, but she approaches it reverently, dropping to her knees. 

‘There is old magic in this shrine’, she whispers, brushing leaves and branches away before laying her omamori down at the altar. ‘ Do you remember the wish you made? ’ 

‘I wished for more time - I got greedy and asked for yesterday to come again ’, he answers, voice hushed. 

‘And I wished for the exact opposite. I got impatient and asked tomorrow to arrive, as fast as it can ’, she replies, tilting her face up to the sun. 

‘I suppose that’s what happened ’, he says. ‘Our wishes got tangled up, and our bodies and souls got thrown through time and space’. 

‘Hm. Do you think we have souls, Keiji? ’ she asks him.

‘Yes  ’, he says, sounding perplexed. ‘What else would we be swapping?’  

‘What colour d’you think your soul is? ’ It’s a strange question, but he’s used to anticipating the unexpected from her. 

‘Blue. It reminds me of the summer sky ’, he replies.

‘Fitting’, she laughs with a cheeky grin on her face. ‘Since the sky is a star’s domain’. 

‘What about you’, he asks, so accustomed to ignoring her teasing about Bokuto-san. ‘What colour do you think your soul is?’

‘Yellow, I hope ’, she says dreamily. ‘It’s warmth and life - like flames lighting up wintry nights, or daffodils on the first day of spring’ .

He wonders if it’s a coincidence that the strange dreams hit him in full force right after he brings back the omamori. 

But Kenma’s right, he’s become strangely addicted to the narrative his dreams are showing him. It’s like the books he snuck under the covers at night, emerging bleary eyed in the morning because he was intent on seeing the story end. And if he’s being completely honest with himself, it makes him feel like that he - quiet, bookish Akaashi Keiji is the protagonist in the Ghibli movies that Bokuto-san makes him watch, so he doesn’t put up a fight against the dreams that re-invade his sleep.

Taglist: 

@1tooru @kageyamakock @animeflower26 @underrated-fruit-tarts-official @bongofrito

[sword-dad-fukuzawa]

The Monster in the Port Mafia's Basement

What tale will I tell you tonight, love? I have pretty ones, the sort of shiny baubles I could sell at a flea market for a dollar apiece. They glitter in the sunshine but they’re made of glass. You can see straight through them. But those are boring. Boring to tell, boring to listen to. You know how those end, anyway. 

Well, I’ve got a couple sad ones. Real tearjerkers, you know. A brother and a sister torn apart by the machinations of a great and hungry beast, a pair of lovers who can never truly touch...maybe a woman who would rather choke on flowers rather than ruin something lovely and pure. Do those bore you, my dear? You look as if you’re spacing out. 

I have just the story for you, then. I’ll tell it just as I was told, and you can’t complain about the ending. Or the middle bits. Do be warned, love. It’s not a nice tale at all. 

Deep in the bowels of the Port Mafia’s base, there lives a monster. 

What’s the Port Mafia, you ask? A group of smugglers, with their claws dug deep into the underbelly of Japan. Their reach stretched westward, consuming entire cities with their own lust for profit. In the end, they destroyed themselves, as all great and terrible things with claws and teeth do. But this story takes place long before that, so don’t worry your little head about it. Just listen. 

Now, where was I?

Ah. Deep in the bowels of the Port Mafia’s base, there lived a monster. For all I know, she’s still down there, writhing and snapping at anything that comes too close. 

The Port Mafia was well acquainted with monsters. Their boss was a serpent in human skin, with fangs held tight behind his smile. His second was an angry, rampaging god, who never did make much of an effort to keep his talons sheathed. And while he left of his own accord, though that’s an entirely different story, the man who kept the monsters caged was born under the Port Mafia’s stretching shadow. 

So when they found this particular monster, a young girl no older than thirteen, they did what they did best. Instead of letting the dark in her burn away with the sunshine, they tossed her deep into the bowels of the beast. 

She did terrible things down there, dear. Perhaps at first she was made to eat the apple, but soon she began to enjoy the taste. And that’s how little baby monsters, who can still become people through no small amount of healing, grow into adult monsters with eyes that flash in the dark and claws to pierce your skin. You were a baby monster, you know, just like me. Now look at you, all grown and clutching the handle of your teacup like a civilized being. I’m quite proud of how far you’ve come, you know. 

The sad bit about this monster in the Port Mafia’s basement, though, is that she was never meant to be one. By some accident of birth, some people are just going to grow up into dark, twisted little things, and no amount of happy circumstances will change that. But she was always meant to be a flower of the light, unlike you and I, who had to fight tooth and nail for sunshine. 

The greatest tragedy, I think, is that she never got that chance.

Ah, but I’m rambling. Do indulge an old woman, love. 

I heard this story from a boy who went down there, into that hungry darkness beneath the Port Mafia’s towers. He’s now a man, as old as I, and you’ll be pleased to know he survived the monster to run the candy shop on the north end of this city. Perhaps you’ve met him? No? Well, you never were one for sweets. 

Regardless, this boy knew the monster. Not very well, I’d say. He told me that they had only talked once, and so I asked him why he went. He told me that once was all he’d needed. 

Do I know what they talked about? No, unfortunately. You’ll have to ask him yourself. 

I do know, however, that they met because of their mentors. Hers was that great snake I mentioned. He was always so fond of warping young, powerful flowers into decaying husks of themselves. 

Ah, of course I knew him well. He was an improvement on the old Boss, if only because the snake had a brain and knew how to use it. He wouldn’t send me to my death out of spite, or out of paranoia. He would send me to my death if it served him. Though, perhaps that makes him worse. Regardless, the monster’s master gave her a short leash, and so she followed him wherever he went. 

The boy who told me this story also had a mentor. The Silver Fox, he used to be called. He’s dead now, long dead, of old age if I took his measure right. The snake and the fox were friends, once upon a time, and they remained friends as long as the fox turned a blind eye to his friend’s tricks. Perhaps the second tragedy is that he did so for too long to save her. 

Regardless, they met once, when their masters went for tea. A week later, the boy would infiltrate the Port Mafia base. It took him hours, he told me. The layers of security then might have stopped even the greatest assassin. As far as I know, it has.

How did he do it? Well, I can only speculate. He never did tell me the details—but I suspect he has forgotten them. It was a long time ago. But know this: the boy may be as human as you or I, perhaps more so, but his mind was something far greater than anything we may possess. He could have become the greatest detective in the world if he so chose. And while I don’t know for sure, he might well have, if he hadn’t visited the monster’s lair. 

It changed him, of course. Such things do. At the very least, you come out the other side of such a crucible fundamentally different, if not fundamentally warped. I do believe the boy was one of the lucky ones. 

Somehow, he walked into the lowest level of the Port Mafia’s base with his head held high. When he arrived at the bottom of the stairs, there was only one door, with a little glass window to peek into. It was a 2-way mirror, so he could glance inside without fear. And make no mistake, the room was undoubtedly occupied. But the hallway was as quiet as the grave. Even his shoes, he told me, made no sound. He is the sort of man who notices such things. 

Silently, the boy stepped to the window. It was a bit taller than him, he recalled, so he had to push up on his toes and brace himself on the door with his fingers. He only remembers because he had to wipe away his fingerprints after. He looked inside, then— 

What did he see? Dear, I’m trying to hold you in suspense. Be patient, and don’t interrupt. 

As I was saying, he looked inside. And he saw the monster, sitting as calm as you please, in a little metal chair. She was wearing the business attire that the Port Mafia favored, always pretending at civility when they’re all dark, writhing things stuffed into a mortal shell. She had her legs crossed and her golden butterfly hairpin, which the boy told me was the first thing that had caught his eye, sat jauntily in her hair. She was sitting across a table from a man. 

The man is not important. He must have been a failure of some kind, someone who hedged on a deal or leaked information to the wrong person. He could have been anyone. 

Oh, honestly, don’t look at me like that. I’m not callous, I’m realistic. 

But he was laid on that table like an offering, tied down with hospital-issue restraints. He had a strange expression on his face. The boy hesitated when he told me this part, as if he couldn’t quite find the words. I’ll repeat them to you. 

“Terror,” he told me. “Terror and bliss and some unspeakable dread.”

But also, the boy said, he looked so very tired, as if he could slump over at any moment. The monster smiled at the man, then leaned forward over the table. He couldn’t hear what she was saying to him, but he could read lips well enough at the time. Apparently, he picked it up during a stint in the police academy. From what he could tell, from that foggy two-way mirror, she was murmuring a poem to him. Some sort of lyrics, anyway. He told me that she recited an entire poem to this quivering mess of a man, but he only recalled one line after. 

“Kimi shinitamou koto nakare,” she whispered to him. “Thou shalt not die.” 

And a thousand butterflies burst from her, flashing red and purple and brilliant gold, descending upon the man in a swarm. They perched upon his head and shoulders, upon his arms, upon his chest. They covered him like a living blanket of jewels. But instead of looking awed, the boy told me, the man looked horrified. He began to babble pleas for rescue, for mercy, for salvation, but the monster only smiled wider. 

Then she flicked her fingers, twirling a scalpel between them. She cut the poor man open on that table, surrounded by butterflies. The boy could only watch as she dissected him with all the precision of a surgeon and the calm cynicism of someone who had done so a thousand times. And yet, when the man, by all rights, should have passed from this world to the next—the butterflies, the terrible, beautiful butterflies, flapped their wings. It felt like the air was sucked from the entire floor, the boy told me, as he watched the butterflies whirl around the man like a plague of locusts. 

When he could see the man again, he was perfectly whole. His skin unblemished, his blood no longer staining the table, and his face no longer slack with agony. The boy watched the monster cut him open again, and again, and again, each recitation of that poem bringing forth a new cloud of insects to pass judgement on his soul. 

He never opened that door. It had been his intent, he admitted to me, to open the door and tell her that they could run away together. That the snake would never find her, not if he had anything to say about it. But after watching her cut that man open a thousand times and putting him back together with a murmur, he turned around. He wiped his fingerprints off of the door. And he left the base, never to return. 

You look sick, love. Drink your tea. I warned you, you know. The story of the monster in the Port Mafia’s basement was never going to be a nice one, or one with a happy ending. I still don’t know what happened to her. She would be an old woman like me, now. Perhaps she has died. Perhaps that curious ability of hers means she cannot die at all. Perhaps she will live forever and ever, longer than any monster has a right to, and watch us all perish from this earth. 

Too dark? My apologies. And here you are, taking the time out of your busy workday to talk to your poor, elderly mother. I do adore you, Kyouka. I don’t think I tell you that enough. 

--

Thou Shalt Not Die always made me wonder if it could be applied to torture and interrogation. This fic exists in the same universe as They Took Her, if you were wondering--my dark little AU.

[gb-fics]

The One Who Hurt You

Fanfiction:

Kiryuuin Shou x Kyan Yutaka (Golden Bomber)

Note: Some of you may be able to tell from the title, but this fic is referring to the song “Ano Hi Kimi wo Kizutsuketa no wa” (I know, I know, it’s from Killer Tunes, ssh ^-^;). I just got this idea from Dorobune lately and it matched too well to not use it. Also, I’m never sure whenever to point this out or not, but there is slight mention of mental health issues in this fic, just so you know.

On a more personal note, I’m sorry I didn’t post anything in quite a while already. I’ll try to be a little more active again soon (^-^)

„Can you come over?“, Shou asked without introduction. He sounded breathless.

Yutaka tilted back his head and stared at the ceiling.

He didn’t feel like going over to Shou’s place tonight. He hadn’t felt like picking up the phone to begin with.

But he had told himself, that it might be something important. Something about Shou’s health, or news from Jun, or some infection among the staff members. He hadn’t dared to decline the call, although he wasn’t really in the mood to talk to Shou.

“Maybe another time”, Yutaka suggested. “Let’s make plans for the next time you are free.”

He couldn’t help sounding bitter. They all had a lot of free time recently, but still, Shou always seemed too busy to meet up. Yutaka understood that everyone had a different way of copying with the situation, but he was mad at Shou anyway. He had cancelled their dates one time too often lately.

“I meant more like now”, Shou said.

Yutaka checked for the time and sighed.

He had planned on a lazy evening all by himself. His intention had been to pity himself throughout for not receiving enough attention from his boyfriend and not knowing what to do with himself either. Maybe, he would have gotten a little drunk, too.

He considered how long it would take him to find his motivation, take a shower, maybe eat something, because Shou’s refrigerator was always poorly stocked and drive over.

“I can be there in like two or three hours”, he admitted.

He didn’t quite understand, why he was always the one to give in, when Shou on the other hand was allowed to cancel their plans last minute without so much as a proper explanation.

“No, Yutaka, I mean now”, Shou sounded urgent. Yutaka felt the old, familiar ball of panic rising within his chest. It tasted sour at the back of his throat.

He remembered the panic, back from when they had been nothing but friends, way before they became popular. Every time Yutaka’s phone had rung, he had flinched. When it was Shou, he had panicked. When it was the number of a stranger, or someone who knew Shou, Yutaka had panicked, too. Shou had been unstable back then and even now, that his mental health had improved, Yutaka had never really gotten over the fear of loosing him. Ever since the pandemic had started, the fear had become more acute again. He wasn’t sure how well Shou was doing and the fact that he closed down on him, caused Yutaka to worry even more. Not being able to meet with Shou, didn’t just anger him, because he wanted to spend time with his boyfriend. It made him feel anxious, when he wasn’t able to check on him regularly. He felt helpless then, having to watch from the outside but unable to interfere, because Shou just wouldn’t let him in.

“Has something happened?”, he wanted to know, trying to sound calm. Shou would feel bad, if he knew how much Yutaka worried; worried so much that he wished to rip open his chest and close his hand around his heart to physically stop the panicked pounding.

“I’m fine”, Shou said, but his voice sounded funny, somehow flat like it usually did when he was stressed or distracted.

Yutaka had learned to read his voice over the years, because it was actually more telling than his face. Whenever they talked, Yutaka kept scanning his voice for little warn signals, for red flags that would tell him if he needed to act.

Although Shou sounded stress, he didn’t seem at the verge of a nervous breakdown yet, so Yutaka decided to aim for a compromise.

“I’ll take a shower and drive over immediately. I’ll be there in an hour and we order takeout?”, he suggested.

Shou was silent for a moment.

“No, please”, he said. “Come here right away. I don’t care if you’re showered or not.”

Yutaka bit his lower lip. Maybe he had been mistaken. Maybe Shou was closer to a meltdown than he thought. But then, why wouldn’t he tell him right away?

“Are you sure there is nothing wrong?”, he assured.

“Don’t worry”, Shou said. “Just come here as fast as possible. Please.”

He was practically begging now, something that was extremely rare for him. Shou didn’t like using the word “please”. He didn’t like to ask something of other people, even if it was Yutaka. He was better at apologizing.

“Okay, I’m on my way”, Yutaka said and suddenly felt angry at himself.

He had promised himself to not let Shou walk all over him any longer. If he cancelled on Yutaka without explanation, Yutaka shouldn’t rush out to meet him, as soon as Shou called. He wasn’t a dog. He had wanted to explain to Shou, that he couldn’t treat him like that. He had wanted to tell him, that he would need to make an effort, too, if he wanted their relationship to continue.

But old habits were hard to overcome and all that Yutaka could think of was the pale, gloomy kid Shou used to be, always so very close to breaking. Every time Shou called him to his side, Yutaka was unable to decline, because the blood rushing through his ears seemed to turn into a whisper of “What if it’s a relapse? What if this time it’s a relapse and you are not there?”

“Thank you”, Shou said quietly.

Yutaka held on to the phone a bit longer, listening to the silence at the other end of the line. He wanted to make sure he did not miss any meaning hidden in it.

“Don’t just sit there, get going!”, Shou exclaimed finally and started laughing.

“Okay, okay”, Yutaka huffed out, annoyed that Shou acted like he just didn’t hang up, so he wouldn’t have to leave the house. All the same, he was also relieved Shou sounded lighter now, his scolding nothing but a tease. He didn’t sound like he was close to breaking.

“See you soon”, Yutaka added, then he hung up.

He got up and tried to stay calm. There was no point in rushing out the door. He needed his keys and his helmet. If he stormed out senselessly and forgot something, he’d only waste time by having to come back up.

He considered changing into a proper pair of pants, but than it wasn’t like Shou would care. He usually looked unfashionable whenever they met.

Yutaka breathed in deeply while he put on his shoes.

Over the years he had learned to calm himself. There was no point in letting Shou see how unsettled he was. It only made Shou pull back harder, worried to bother Yutaka. It had turned out that appearing relaxed and almost a little brash was what put Shou at ease the most. Sometimes, he needed Yutaka to speak to him firmly, so he got it together again. By now, Yutaka had gotten quite good at finding the right balance of caring for Shou without letting his own panic show. Shou had no idea how scared Yutaka was, whenever he texted him in the middle of the night, or when he didn’t pick up his calls several times in a row.

It hadn’t been like this when they were still on tour together and Yutaka could keep his eyes on Shou at least every other day. But the lockdown had made the old fear kick back in. Yutaka felt the pressure of the forced isolation and the unpredictability of the coming months weighting down on himself as well, and Shou had always been the more sensitive one.

He put on his helmet and swung himself onto his scooter. Luckily Shou’s place was close by. It had been one of the reasons Yutaka had decided to rent this apartment after all, although he hadn’t told Shou back then. Their relationship had still been too fresh. He had claimed the reason for his moving was the need for a bigger place. By now, Shou seemed glad about the short distance, too.

Yutaka forced himself to focus on the traffic. He had to fight the urge to skip red lights and cut in on the cars on the road. He wanted to be at Shou’s place as fast as possible, but he had to get there alive.

He’d feel calmer, if Shou would agree to see a professional, at least while the measurements were in place and they weren’t able to continue their tour. It was Yutaka, who had coaxed Shou into trying therapy for the first time, too, but unfortunately, Shou had not been too convinced by the results. He had written it off as pointless. Yutaka would be relieved, though, if a professional kept looking for warn signs, too, and it wasn’t all up to him to carry the burden. Maybe, he’d be able to sleep more peacefully at night again.

He pulled up in front of Shou’s apartment building, taking in another deep breath. There was no need to worry Shou even more with his own panic. He had to be calm. He had to be the stable one, so Shou could hold on to him, when he stumbled.

Yutaka climbed the stairs. He could have taken the elevator, but he didn’t like to stand idle with his thoughts, when he felt like this. As long as he focused on walking, his brain wouldn’t produce pictures of what he might find. He thought of Shou’s first apartment. Small, messy, the blinds always drawn by day and night as if Shou was scared of what the light might exposed. Yutaka had always felt uncomfortable visiting him there. Not that his friends from university had lived in more luxurious places back then. But Shou’s apartment had always radiated the sadness of an animal cage that was too small for its inhabitant. He knew Shou had had troubles leaving the house on some days. That was why he had always thought of the place as a cage and avoided visiting Shou in it. Even today, although Shou had moved several times and was in a much better mental state, Yutaka felt queasy whenever he approached his front door. He was scared, that someday Shou would open and Yutaka would find his apartment had turned into a cage again.

He rang the doorbell.

It took quite some time, until he even heard noise from the other side. Yutaka wished he had a key. He hadn’t brought himself to ask about it yet.

Then the door was opened and he stared into Shou’s face. For a moment, Yutaka felt like his heart just stopped beating. There it was, his worst nightmare. He felt horrified and oddly relieved. At least, he’d be allowed to stop searching Shou’s face for hints now. Everything was open on display.

Shou’s eyes were red and swollen and filled with tears. He had obviously been crying until just now. His nose was running, too, and he made weird sniffling noises. His hair was in dismay as if he had tried to get it out of his face angrily and then forgotten to straighten it out again. Red stains were showing on his cheeks like it always happened to him when he was stressed or just got emotionally worked up.

He looked upset and puffy and Yutaka knew, that someone had hurt him. He had seen Shou hurt so many times already, by girls who had not returned his love, by colleagues whom Shou deemed better than himself, by so-called fans who had been nothing but cruel and too demanding.

Yutaka stepped inside, closed the door behind himself, so no one would be able to spot them and pulled Shou into an embrace. He wrapped his arms around him and held him without the intention of ever letting go.

To his surprise Shou leaned into him, wrapping his arms around Yutaka’s waist and allowed himself to be held, which usually happened quite rarely.

Yutaka inhaled deeply. Shou’s hair smelled smoky as if he had been roasting something. Yutaka wondered if he needed to worry. Had Shou set something on fire in his own apartment and the shock had upset him this much?

“Hey”, Yutaka whispered, still holding on to Shou.

They were about the same height and he could rest his head against Shou’s neck comfortably. Sometimes, Yutaka wished to be taller. If he was as tall and buff as Kenji, he’d be able to make Shou feel small and safe. He knew that it would not help him fight off all the invisible enemies Shou was struggling with, but maybe he’d feel better, if at least he was able to protect Shou physically. Maybe it would make him feel a little less helpless.

“What happened?”, he asked lowly.

“Ah.” Shou pulled back and chuckled. He reached up to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand. “It’s nothing. Not what you think. I’m fine.”

He managed a smile, exposing his gappy teeth. His mind seemed to be elsewhere, though.

“Hey”, Yutaka repeated, taking hold of Shou’s hands. He held them in his own for a moment, turning them around, so Shou’s palms were pointing up. He gently trailed his fingers up Shou’s arms, in a gesture that was meant to be tender, but again, he could only concentrate on the sound of his own blood that rushed so loudly in his ears all of a sudden.

He knew exactly what he was doing, what he was doing currently whenever he met with Shou. Their sex had turned too desperate and too greedy, too, because Yutaka got impatient to tear off Shou’s clothes. Lately, Shou had pulled back from him a little and often enough, Yutaka had had to go home after receiving only so much as a kiss. Shou could sense the fear that drove Yutaka, even if he might not understand what he was doing. But Yutaka felt overwhelmed lately, almost shaking with the desire to assure that Shou was alright. He needed to inspect his skin, make sure no marks or bruises were to be found anywhere. Shou’s phase of self-harm hadn’t lasted long. It was Yutaka, who had never gotten over it. Maybe Shou wasn’t even aware Yutaka had noticed back then, so he couldn’t guess what he was searching his body for now. Yutaka’s greed had to remain incomprehensible to him, and whenever Yutaka found no traces on Shou’s skin, he turned tender, almost compulsively so. The relief made him want to cherish every part of Shou’s body and he wanted to wrap himself around him, to make sure no one harmed him ever again.

“Tell me, who hurt you”, Yutaka inquired. “I’ll punch them in the face. This time I’ll do it, I swear.”

Shou laughed quietly and pulled back his hands from Yutaka’s grip.

Yutaka was glad to hear him laugh, although he had been absolutely serious about his words. It had never been Yutaka, who hurt Shou, but it was his duty to protect him anyway. He’d make sure he was alright and that he had a reason to smile and laugh every single day.

“You won’t”, Shou said with a gentle sternness. “Now, come in. But give me another moment, you got here faster than I expected.”

He led Yutaka to the living room area, that wasn’t so much a living room as a working space, because obviously those two things went together for Shou. The desk with the technical equipment took up a large part of the room. Yutaka couldn’t understand why Shou didn’t search for a bigger apartment. Everything here looked cluttered. He wasn’t very good at dividing his space economical, either.

“Just wait here, okay?”, Shou asked and gestured for him to sit down somewhere at the low table. “I’ll be right back with you, then we can talk.”

Shou wiped his eyes again, then he turned around and disappeared into the kitchen. His kitchen wasn’t really a separate room, but rather a part of the apartment that was separated from the rest of the living room through a divider. Yutaka wasn’t able to see Shou, but he heard clattering and a low sizzling. He wondered if he had arrived so early, that he had interrupted Shou’s dinner plans. It would explain the burnt smell.

Yutaka looked around the room and tried not to think of Shou’s red and puffy eyes.

He had clearly not expected Yutaka yet. Obviously, he had pointed that out to indicate he would have forced himself to be calmer already otherwise. The thought hurt. Had Yutaka gotten here a little later, Shou would have done his best to cover up the distress he was in. He would never expose his vulnerability to him. Yutaka would always have to guess and worry, if he was able to catch up on the hints in time to protect him. Shou wouldn’t ask for help, even if he needed it. It was all up to Yutaka.

He wondered, if it would have been better to confront Shou immediately. But he wanted to give him time to collect himself.

He was probably cleaning up the kitchen just now, trying to come up with the right words to explain to Yutaka, what had happened. He’d wash his face in the kitchen sink. His cheeks would be very red from the cold water and his eyes would look somewhat less puffy. He’d try to seem collected and Yutaka would pretend he was, to leave Shou with the feeling of dignity he obviously needed to open up to him at all.

Maybe giving him that much space was the problem, though. It gave Shou the time to recoil again and again and maybe Yutaka would never get through to him like this.

A loud clattering came from the kitchen and then Shou swore so heartily that it nearly made Yutaka flinch. Shou wasn’t exactly using polite language around him usually, but outbreaks like these were surprising for him anyway.

Yutaka decided that he had worried enough for today.

When he had seen Shou on the doorstep, all of his anger had vanished. He had only wanted to protect him. But now, he was here, after Shou had called him and begged him to come, making Yutaka worry. And then he had opened the door crying, worrying Yutaka even more, only to place him here alone in his living room, as if Yutaka’s worries and feelings didn’t matter at all.

He got up and walked over to the kitchen area, determined not to let Shou get away with it this time.

Shou had his back to him. The water was running, but he stood in front of the sink without moving. Yutaka took that as a very bad sign. Shou seemed to be dissociating.

“Who made you cry?”, Yutaka asked, not nearly as gentle as he had intended.

Shou shook his head without turning around. He finally turned off the water, though. Yutaka heard he make a sniffling sound again.

“It’s embarrassing”, Shou said quietly. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You can’t call me over here crying and then have me sit around calmly without getting an explanation”, Yutaka said loudly, this time sounding angry for real. He wished he had his voice under control not to daunt Shou. But he was angry and most of all, he was very, very scared. “What happened? I can’t help you, if you don’t tell me who hurt you. Who made you cry?”

Shou turned around. For some reason, he was clenching a plastic box filled with mushrooms to his chest. His cheeks were even redder than before.

Accusingly he lifted his arm and pointed over to the countertop next to the stove.

“That!”, he shouted. “That made me cry, okay?”

Yutaka turned his head slowly. On the countertop sat a grater and half an onion.

“I was grating onions. You know it always makes me cry.”

Yutaka stared at the remains of the onion for a while. He realized he’d look pretty ridiculous, trying to punch it.

He turned back to Shou.

“But you seemed so stressed”, he insisted.

“I am stressed!”, Shou exclaimed. Now he was the one unable to keep his voice down. He gestured around the kitchen. “Look at this mess.”

He held up the mushrooms before slamming them down onto the countertop as well.

Yutaka now noticed the pan sitting on the stove. It contained pieces of meat. The meat was nearly black. It still smelled burnt inside the whole apartment.

“Wait”, Yutaka said slowly. “You were trying to cook? For us?”

Shou crossed the arms in front of his chest. He always looked defensive when he did.

“You got here too early. It wasn’t ready yet. And while I opened the door, the meat got burnt.”

Yutaka looked down onto the pan and slowly shook his head.

“So, this is why you called me over?”, he assured. He wasn’t sure if he ought to feel relieved or even more angry. He was too baffled to feel either. “You begged me to come here as soon as possible … for dinner?”

Shou shrugged, pouting slightly. It made his full lips look pretty, especially with his cheeks this flushed. Yutaka was determined not to get drawn in by it, though.

“You wanted to be here only in an hour”, Shou muttered. “I had already started. I was worried the food would grow cold. You had to come right away.”

Yutaka nearly wanted to laugh, but he still felt something like an unpleasant afterglow in his chest. Even if he knew that there was no acute danger in sight, the fear didn’t just disappear from that knowledge. It clenched his bones a little longer with the cold sensation of panic. Even if his brain knew that Shou was currently safe, Yutaka’s body hadn’t accepted that reality yet. He still felt too shaken to forgive Shou this easily.

“You can’t do that to me”, he said. He had wanted to say that for so many weeks already. Every time Shou cancelled their meetings last minute, every time he called him when actually he should be asleep, every time he seemed a little too moody and recoiled from Yutaka’s touch. Shou couldn’t do that to him without explanation, because then Yutaka’s mind went into overdrive and he imagined him hurt and caged in and possibly gone forever.

“You can’t just call me over like something is wrong and then stand there crying and expect me to be okay with that”, he went on. “Because I worry about you so much. It scares me.”

Yutaka inhaled shakily. The words were out at last. He didn’t want to sound accusing or like he was blaming Shou for being sensitive. But it was important for him to know, that Yutaka needed more from him.

Shou looked up. His dark eyes were kind and pained. They were clear, though, not teary at all.

“I know”, he said softly. “I know you worry. I’ve been an awful boyfriend lately. I need time for myself to process everything that’s going on currently. But that doesn’t mean I’m not able to handle it. I’m sorry, I cancelled on you so often lately. I wanted to do something nice for you today. I thought it would make you happy, if I cooked for you.”

He gestured around the kitchen helplessly.

“But I’m godawful at it. I wanted to prove to you, that I’m doing alright and that I’m able to take care of myself. But I was wrong. I can’t take care of myself.”

He sniffled quietly once more.

“Fuck, I don’t even know if you need to wash mushrooms or not.”

“Shou”, Yutaka said gently and took a step towards him. He reached out hesitantly, touching Shou’s cheek lightly. His skin felt very hot to the touch. “You know, it’s not your cooking skills I’m worried about.”

Shou closed his eyes. For a few seconds, he looked peaceful.

“I am okay”, he said. He spoke quietly, but very firm. He opened his eyes again, looking right at Yutaka. “You need to believe me, when I tell you that.”

Yutaka hesitated.

“I just remember how it used to be, before the band worked out for us”, he admitted. “Remembering you that unstable frightens me. With everything that’s going on … everyone is stressed.”

Shou nodded.

“I know. But I’m a lot stronger now than I was back then. I’m not loving the current situation, but it’s not bothering me that badly, either.”

He took Yutaka’s hand, placing it against his neck and holding it there.

“Back then my whole future was insecure. I was scared of where I was going”, he continued. “But you know I have savings now.”

His grin looked out of place for their serious conversation, too boyish and gleeful. Yutaka found himself smiling in return.

“I know I won’t end up on the street. And back then, I was heartbroken, too. Now, I’m in a happy, fulfilling relationship and I have a loving boyfriend, who supports me.”

He leaned in and his lips brushed against Yutaka’s, a very light and very quick kiss, before he pulled back again.

“So, you’ll ask for help?”, Yutaka asked, still full of doubt. “If you need it?”

“Please, trust me”, Shou repeated, giving Yutaka’s hand a light squeeze. “You don’t have to look out so closely. If something is wrong, I’ll tell you.”

“I want to protect you”, Yutaka whispered hoarsely.

“I’ll let you.” Shou’s reply came immediately.

Yutaka exhaled, leaning forward and resting his forehead against Shou’s. Sometimes, it was nice they shared the same height. Maybe there was no need for being taller after all.

He closed his eyes.

“But you know”, he said quietly. “I have another confession to make.”

Shou hummed under his breath questioningly.

“I also don’t know if you need to wash mushrooms or not.”

Shou broke into a laugh, his body trembling against Yutaka gently. He was still holding on to his neck.

“So, what are we going to do?”, he asked. “You actually don’t seem very helpful.”

“Don’t worry”, Yutaka said and finally opened his eyes to pull back. “I might not be able to protect you from everything myself. But I know who can.”

Shou raised his eyebrows. Yutaka grinned triumphantly.

“Uber Eats.”