#giyuu not wanting to come to terms with the fact sabito's just doing the same thing *he* is

[nerosdayinanime]

"BECAUSE YOURE WORTH SOMETHING!" "THEN I DONT WANT TO BE WORTH SOMETHING! AND ESPECIALLY NOT TO YOU!" "WHATS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN!?" "EXACTLY WHAT I FUCKING SAID!" Giyuu stared down at him, contempt rising in his expression- but Sabito could feel the hurt behind the anger, both boiling over into a moment of shock. Pain bloomed on his cheek as his head was knocked sideways, he snarled and struck back- yelling vaguely filled his ears aside the pounding of his own heart. His throat hurt though he couldnt hear his own screaming over the adrenaline and tension, it-  ..it hurt. His cheek, forehead, he could taste blood- but what hurt the most was seeing the same on Giyuu. That he was inflicting. The same pain in his eyes he knew his own echoed. All of it a desperate plea, their bared teeth and glares wavering for a moment.

--

"What happened to Tomioka-san and Urokodaki-san?" "They got in a fight." "They did..? Why are they holding hands?" "They get upset when they fight." "Uwaa.... Thats so cute!" "I dont think Urokodaki-san's busted lip is very cute, nor Tomioka's black eye, Kanroji-san." "Ah!! I didn't mean it like that!-" 

(Sabito gently smoothed his thumb over previously bloodied knuckles, since patched up and cleaned. He felt Giyuu's hand tighten around his own, resolved and firm. He huffed a sigh and rested his head in his other hand, the ache subsiding.)

[soldez]

Being near Sanemi made Giyuu want to ruin him, to take some of that goodness for himself, so that Sanemi could be selfish, and Giyuu could be brave. 

Brave enough to say something dangerous, like I love you.

don't look at me

Surface Tension

Giyuu had spent so much of his life indulging in mourning. 

He used to think that to mourn was to punish himself for his selfishness. He’d blamed himself for the deaths of his sister and the boy who had called him a brother, so he’d carried the two of them on his back along with the sword at his hip. He’d occupied his meaningless time on this earth with repentance. He’d hoped the weight of his guilt would bury him in the earth. 

He’d lived here with Sanemi for months, and not much changed throughout that time. Funny how the most suicidal of them all had become the only two to survive. They’d bonded over this, fallen into a fast, unspoken rhythm, and when the time came to leave the Flower Estate, they’d built their own cabin, feeling like strangers in their own separate homes. They moved in together. Took care of each other, when necessary. And they stayed in the same routine. 

More loss made Giyuu realize that his loved ones couldn’t live with him forever and that mourning only distracted him from what he still had. After Muzan’s fall, he came to terms with this. What he couldn’t come to terms with, with the weight off his back, was the absurd lack of guilt--and the foreign feelings that had come to replace it.

It was a rare day that Giyuu woke up earlier than Sanemi, but once he got up these days, he stayed up, not liking to wallow in depression as much as he used to. Sanemi looked exhausted, so Giyuu tiptoed outside, resolving to stay there until he woke up. The sun just barely kissed their greying garden. With all the birds gone south and the frogs in hiding, silence hung thick. Giyuu sat by the pond for nearly an hour, fall chill biting his face. 

The sound of Sanemi’s footsteps, then, and the brushing of his clothes as he sat down sounded deafening in the dead silence, the same way a dim torch looked bright in the pitch black: like a lighthouse. Then, quiet overtook the pond again. Sanemi studied him. He must have noticed his pensiveness, because he tread carefully. Giyuu stared ahead.

"How are you?" Sanemi tried. 

There's something wrong with me, Giyuu thought. I'm feeling things that I shouldn't. I'm not feeling the things I should.

"Fine," he answered.

"What are you doing?"

Mourning something that hasn't died yet. Maybe that hasn’t been born.

"Enjoying the quiet."

Sanemi was more perceptive than him--maybe if Giyuu thought loud enough, Sanemi would hear. Then, they'd never have to say it out loud. They could go on like this forever, just the two of them, and Giyuu found he wouldn't mind being alone so much if it was with Sanemi. As long as they could stay like this. Usually, Giyuu spoke his mind and took what he wanted, but he knew there were invisible lines somewhere dangerously close that if he crossed, would make Sanemi leave forever. He just had to keep absolutely still.

"I'll enjoy it with you."

Giyuu felt like the two of them were sailing, swaddled in a shriveled leaf barely light enough to stay afloat on the pond. The water cradled them, but if it rained, they would grow too heavy and drown. The wind rocked them, but if it grew too strong, it would blow them away and they'd lose their ship forever. Neither moved a muscle, on opposite sides of their fragile vessel, for fear that the weight of them both might break the surface. The surface tension of silence was the only thing keeping Giyuu and Sanemi from unknown depths.

Still, he reached for his hand.

The two of them said nothing for what felt both like seconds and hours. Sanemi said nothing of Giyuu's hand finding his own, sending ripples in the water, absently rubbing the stumps where his index and middle fingers used to live. Giyuu said nothing of the naturalness of that gap: the fingers must have hurt to lose, but the space they left was the perfect size for Giyuu's thumb. It felt like home. So did Sanemi’s hand when he slotted it under Giyuu’s right stump to prop him upright sometimes, though Giyuu would never say so out loud. 

They'd both lost so much. Saying it out loud would only give them something more to lose.

Giyuu was selfish at heart.

“It’s so still, huh?” Sanemi mused. “You’d think it was frozen over.”

Giyuu hummed in reply. 

“You cold?” Sanemi asked.

“Not really,” Giyuu answered, but found his shoulders tucked under Sanemi’s haori anyway. More ripples. He froze.

It had occurred to Giyuu from the very start that Sanemi embodied everything Giyuu wished he was. A true pillar. Someone able, even eager, to protect others, even at the cost of his own life. He didn’t even have to think about it. Maybe that was why Giyuu had resented him at first: he was just like Sabito. But in the end, despite his bravery, confidence, and ineffable strength in the face of loss, Sanemi was every bit as dumb as him, and on some level, maybe that had spurred Giyuu to let a little bit of that strength possess him toward the end. He only wished it had come sooner.

“I’m gonna start on breakfast.” Sanemi ruffled his hair. He leaned towards him standing up so that his nose--and lips--brushed the top of Giyuu’s head before he tipped back to his center. “Don’t stay out too long.” 

He walked away.

Before Muzan's defeat, Giyuu had thought of Sanemi as stupid. He still thought as much. But Sanemi was brave, and selfless in a way that Giyuu never was. Giyuu had never so desperately wanted to make another person happy. Being near Sanemi made Giyuu want to ruin him, to take some of that goodness for himself, so that Sanemi could be selfish, and Giyuu could be brave. 

Brave enough to say something dangerous, like I love you.

When Giyuu slid back inside, the smell of eggs and rice welcomed him. Sanemi’s back faced the entrance, clad in that faded purple yukata, and not for the first time Giyuu wondered how he managed to spend so much of his life killing and still look so at home in a kitchen. He must have been born to provide.

Giyuu could stare at that back from the door all day, but he was tired of being selfish, so instead, he squeezed in beside him at the counter and picked up a knife. The tension between them wavered again, but he ignored it. Saying nothing, Sanemi held a bundle of chives still with one hand so that Giyuu could chop it, his attention still on the eggs he was whisking, trusting Giyuu completely not to chop his fingers off. Giyuu worked slowly in comparison to Sanemi’s confident dashing, sprinkling, and whisking; he aligned each chop with care. 

Even without the pond in front of them, Giyuu still felt that he could slip at any moment and drown. He considered going back to bed until he felt more stable. He didn't.

There wasn't much else Giyuu knew how to do in the kitchen department, but Sanemi never asked him to leave, only gently elbowing him aside when he stood in the way. Giyuu watched Sanemi season the egg and roll it, with unreal gentleness, into a lovely cylinder. 

"You wanna eat in bed?" Sanemi offered. It was a habit Giyuu had picked up over years of living alone, and Sanemi never teased him for it. In fact, it felt a little less pathetic when someone joined him.

"Sure," he said despite himself.

They only ever ate on Giyuu's futon, because Sanemi liked to keep clean and Giyuu didn't give a shit. Dim light seeped in through the walls. Plates sat in their laps. He was glad Sanemi sensed his need for quiet, because he thought that if he spoke now, something he'd regret would slip out, and there would be no going back. At the same time, Sanemi's presence at his side, and the fact that he knew Giyuu well enough to stay quiet, drove him crazy, and he might just say it anyway. Giyuu stuffed his face to keep from talking. 

Sanemi picked at his food. Giyuu forced himself to speak.

Don't be selfish, don't be selfish, don't be selfish. 

"Is…" Giyuu swallowed, restraining his thoughts. "Is something wrong?"

Sanemi blinked as if he'd forgotten Giyuu was there. "Huh? No, I…" He met his eyes, making Giyuu's breath hitch. "Actually, I should be asking you that."

"Nothing's wrong," Giyuu whispered. 

After a long moment, Sanemi averted his eyes again. Then, just as fragile as Giyuu:

"Okay."

The two were sinking. He could feel it. He tried to stuff his face some more, but he'd already cleaned his plate. He pointed to Sanemi's.

"Aren't you hungry?" 

Sanemi misread his concern, pushing the plate toward Giyuu. "Knock yourself out."

Selfish, selfish, selfish.

"No, I…"

Sanemi looked so earnest, and Giyuu realized that every time he tried to show concern like Sanemi showed for him, it turned out like this. He always twisted it around so that he was accommodating for Giyuu, like he couldn’t imagine Giyuu wanting to be around him for any reason other than to take and take and take. Infuriating; endearing. 

He thought about little Genya, and the happiness he'd wanted for his brother. Giyuu was the only one left to make that wish come true, if Sanemi would only let him. Their ship wavered dangerously. He wanted to scream. Finally, he couldn't stop himself:

"You're an idiot," Giyuu breathed.

Sanemi frowned. That hadn't come out right.

"Excuse me?"

Giyuu couldn't stop. "You're an idiot. Oh my god. You're so fucking stupid." The unmistakable urge to laugh bubbled up in Giyuu's chest, something he'd only learned to recognize over the past few months. "I can't believe this."

Giyuu laughed, clear as a bell, cutting through the tense quiet. Ripples exploded throughout the water, but the more he tried to stop them, the more the boat rocked. Sanemi had an unreadable expression, but he didn't look amused. He didn't even look angry. The closest thing Giyuu could compare it to…

Concern. Giyuu laughed harder.

"Moron," Giyuu wheezed, knocking the empty plate off his lap. "You absolute moron."

"Giyuu--"

"Sanemi." None of it mattered anymore. Giyuu was selfish, but that was okay; Sanemi was selfless to the point of stupidity, and if Giyuu didn't take what he wanted, no one would. "I want to take care of you. I care about you."

Sanemi stared dumbly. To get it through his thick skull, Giyuu moved closer, cupped his hand on Sanemi’s cheek like he always did for him, and spoke with absolute clarity:

“I love you.”

Any lingering doubt in Giyuu’s mind dispersed. Sanemi’s eyes went huge, reverent, and he stilled like if he breathed, Giyuu would turn to dust and disappear. Brave Sanemi--usually so brash, so confident. Giyuu felt a surge of pride that he could reduce him to this. He wanted to do it again. And again. And again.

"... Oh."

There was one more thing left to break.

"Sanemi," Giyuu breathed, breaking the last wall of silence, "can I kiss you?"

Sanemi didn't look away this time. He didn't even answer. He leaned in, so no barriers stood between them...

And he kissed him. And there was nothing left to mourn. And Giyuu kissed him back. And over the pounding in his ears, Giyuu couldn’t imagine ever sailing in silence again. And they kissed. And they kissed. And they kissed.

Giyuu drowned.

😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

thank you so so much again louie and aya for beta reading this!!!❤❤❤

[dudeandduchess]

HGW, Day 4: Character Death | Giyuu x F!S/O

NOTE: Hey hey, bbys! This one doesn’t deal with actual character death, but more of how Giyuu dealt with his loss. Also, this one is connected to Day 3 of Hurt Giyuu Week. But y’all can bypass that and just read this. UwU

*** Warnings: Mentions of Character Deaths, Mentions of Death of an Unborn Child, Grieving, Depression, Language, Angst, SO MUCH ANGST

If Giyuu was ever given the chance to change things in his life, he would still have chosen to have had the chance to meet (Y/n).

Even if choosing her meant that he was going to lose her in the end.

The pain was still fresh in his mind, as well as his heart, but that was nothing new. He felt so numb that he could barely function, but that was also nothing new. In the months that passed by after (Y/n)’s death, he slowly regressed into something that was nothing more than a shell of his former self.

Hell, he even felt that he was no longer human; but simply a machine that went on with the motions— as was expected of him.

Because (Y/n)’s death had hit him hard— much harder than Sabito’s; not because he wasn’t as close to Sabito as he was to (Y/n), but because he had already planned out his entire life with her. The future he had planned wasn’t just for himself, but for both of them— as well as the family that they were supposed to build together.

And to have had that destroyed in one fell swoop… it broke the heart that he thought was already starting to mend.

However, no matter how bad his days got— and no matter how difficult Shinazugawa made life for him, what with his sneers and his accusatory glares— not once did he think about giving up, because he knew how much that would sadden not only (Y/n)— but also Sabito, and his sister Tsutako.

But even his own resolve couldn’t block out all of the hateful words that Shinazugawa was throwing his way at that moment.

It seemed that it had been a bad week for Sanemi, as he had been very distracted as of late— even during missions. And his mood was made even worse, considering the fact that it was also (Y/n)’s birthday that day.

Those two had spent almost their entire lives together— and it was pretty difficult for the Wind Hashira to come to terms with the fact that it was the first time that he wasn’t going to celebrate his closest friend’s birthday with her.

“If you hadn’t fucked up, then she would still be here!” Sanemi bellowed at Giyuu, all while pointing an accusatory finger at the other man. “It’s your fault that she’s gone!”

“Shinazugawa-san, please calm down,” Shinobu cut in, while Rengoku and Uzui pulled the livid Wind Hashira away from their comrade.

“How can I be calm when it’s his fault that she’s dead?” Sanemi hurled at Giyuu once more.

Still, he chose to remain quiet— as he was sure that there was a smidge of truth in the other man’s words. If he had just caught up with her in time, then she wouldn’t have been turned into a demon.

She would still be with him— most likely enjoying a slice of Castella as well as a cup of tea, with Sanemi beside her scarfing down the cake that he so ‘disliked’.

His life would have still been the same bliss that it was, had he looked after her better.

“It’s all your goddamn fault!” Sanemi yelled again, as he thrashed against Rengoku’s and Uzui’s tight hold on his arms.

It was obvious to everyone that Shinazugawa was just using Giyuu as a scapegoat, as he was the one who had dealt the killing blow to (Y/n); but everyone also understood that— no matter how unfair it was to Giyuu— it was how the Wind Hashira was trying to cope with his own grief.

However, Giyuu was tired of it; he was sick of always being the one that was blamed with everything. So, with tears pricking the backs of his eyes, he snarled, “Did you ever think that I wanted that to happen? If I could have traded places with (Y/n), I would have done so in a heartbeat. Because the gods know, as much as I do, that she deserves to live more than me.

“She was pregnant with our child! And she was… we were…” The pain in Giyuu’s voice was made even more evident by the way that his bottom lip quivered. At that point, tears had begun to fall down his face, yet he made no effort to wipe them away— as he knew that it would be fruitless. Not when more tears would only replace the ones he’d wipe away.

To think that he had been so close to attaining another bout of happiness with the love of his life; it made him take in a stuttering gasp of breath, if only to try and calm down his frantic emotions.

All the fight seemed to leave Sanemi after that revelation, since he had stopped trying to free himself from the hands that held him back. Still, his own tears didn’t cease falling. “I… didn’t know, Tomioka. I…”

Sanemi wanted to apologize for all of the harsh words he’d hurled at his comrade, but his pride kept him from doing so. And that left him stuck between opening and closing his mouth in search of the right words, as well as clenching and unclenching his hands into fists— as he was very uncomfortable with his own previous actions.

But, finally, after a long stretch of silence, Sanemi finally managed to muster out, “I’m… sorry, Tomioka.”

Giyuu merely shot him a watery smile at that, before answering, “Don’t apologize. It’s not like I deserve it, anyway. Especially after what I’d done… I don’t think I deserve happiness at all.”

[dunadaze]

dandelions

There were dandelions growing in cracks between the pavement, a bird had made its nest a tree overhead, something shook leaves from a bush nearby, and colorful flowers bloomed everywhere. Spring had ushered forth a salvation for all things, a time of life in contrast with the past winter months.

Giyuu Tomioka stood in front of a grave.

There were bees that buzzed lazily from flower to flower, the murmur of passing cars, a bundle of purple hyacinths in his hands, and sunshine warmed the skin of his bare neck. All around the man stood the vibrancy of life, yet he was at a place of eternal resting.

All of this life, yet Giyuu faced the last remembrance of death.

The earth embraced Giyuu as the man lowered himself to the ground, the stone walkway bit through his clothes, the grass and moss tickled his exposed skin. A bell rang in the distance, whether it was the town bell striking the hour or another person in the cemetery, he did not know. He was restless, pulled grass out in clumps and rocked back and forth on his knees. The grave leered up at him, the cold gray unforgiving as Giyuu locked eyes with the name carved into it.

Sabito

The other half of the name had faded over the years, lost to anyone but the ones who knew the deceased boy. Giyuu let the bundle of hyacinths fall to the space in front of the tombstone. Purple, the plants meant a deep sorrow and forgive me. Sorrow, for Giyuu had lost the person who understood him the most in the world. Forgive me, because Giyuu had been the reason Sabito’s life was cut at the stem so early.

He’d never forget the day it happened. He had told the therapist that he didn’t remember, told his grandfather he locked away the memories, because that was easier than dealing with the emotions thinking about that day brought forth.

It had been warm, too warm, that day. Giyuu could remember sharing a drink with Sabito and the other kids, something sweet, the taste of sugar and fruit. Chimes hummed in the breeze, the wind hot like the stagnant air of a sauna. The other kids, who had wanted to stay by the convenience store fan, had told Sabito and Giyuu to go on without them.

Giyuu had mentioned the river, thought he was clever for finding a solution to combat the heat. And like a fool Sabito had agreed, he always agreed to anything Giyuu wanted.

They were only middle schoolers, kids high on the thrill of things who believed themselves invincible. Grandpa Urokodaki had told them not to play in the water by themselves, had warned that the summer monsoons made the water too high, too unpredictable.

The day could be recalled by the man in perfect recollection, like his brain was some sort of tv that had recorded the incident to forever play in his mind.

He could remember the water drops that hung off of viridian leaves, the birds that chattered overhead. He could recall the way the sun broke through gaps in the leaves, and how the grass felt against his bare feet. He could remember the way Sabito’s mouth made an “o” shape as he slipped, and the sound his body made when it hit the water below.

Giyuu had been too frozen to do anything that day. He wasn’t able to jump in after and pull Sabito’s body to safety as he thrashed wildly. He wasn’t able to throw him the rope the kids used as a hammock, and couldn't stop Sabito’s head from slipping under the water. He couldn’t will himself to run and get grandpa, and he couldn’t stop Sabito from drawing his last breath before he disappeared down the river.

The man sighed, ran a hand through his raven mess of hair. It was the anniversary of the death, a day Giyuu always kept free so he could come to visit Sabito. Every year it was the same, he would sit in front of the grave for hours. Thinking, unable to form words, thinking about how painful remembrance was. He would talk to Sabito about mindless things, not dwelling on the horrible fate he’d been dealt. That painful fate that made it impossible for Giyuu to scream or cry, yet being unable to express himself.

He stretched to dust fallen petals from the top of the grave. “It’s been a while, Sabito.” It’s been a while, but still you are with me. Never leaving, still in my head. He could still see Sabito sometimes, out of the corner of his eyes or the first moments after waking up. He could still feel the brush of Sabito’s cascade of hair on his cheek, still smell the mint gum that he had chewed so often. No matter how hard Giyuu tried, he just couldn’t get rid of the dead boy.

Not that he wanted to get rid of Sabito, no, it was more like he wanted to move on.

Giyuu wanted to be able to live without the constant, gnawing suspicion that he was the reason Sabito had drowned that day. Live without the feeling that he was lonely in a room of people, live without the fear that no one else would ever make him feel the things Sabito made him feel.

There were no tears in his eyes, but his voice faltered. He wanted to cry so, so badly, yet there was nothing he could do to make the tears come. He thought that surely he was the worst at expressing himself, unable to cry when he filled with sadness.

“I came here to tell you something,” Giyuu rested his head against the stone nameplate, felt the Sabito as it was indented in his flesh and made his forehead ache. He murmured a quick apology, he always did when he visited, and wiped at the dust that had gathered on the grave. His mind was a storm of tumultuous feelings, grief, sadness, nervousness, and anticipation𑁋 all fought for his focus, each vied for the spot to school Giyuu’s face into a deep emotion and pick out the words he would speak to Sabito.

There was a folded piece of paper in his jacket pocket, the graphite on its surface rubbed onto his fingers as he fished it out. “I wrote it down beforehand, I thought it would be easier to tell you if I thought hard about what I really wanted to say.”

His ocean eyes flickered across the paper, courage built in his stomach and prepared to help the man vocalize his feelings. “I’m not someone who’s good at expressing what I want, people are always telling me that.” He cocked his head, “But, today I’m going to try my hardest, because I know I will never be able to rest easy if I don’t get this off of my chest.”

The paper folded beneath his clenched, shaking fingers. “I still feel like I caused you to die, but I wanted you to know that slowly I’m beginning to come to terms with the fact that your death wasn’t my fault. I took us to the river that day, but I was not your damnation. I didn’t take your breath away and make your body go cold, the water did.” He paused, took a shaky breath in. “I dwelled on you for so very long, so long that I didn’t want to get close to anyone else because I was scared I might hurt them. And I have finally been able to open up, to make friends and fall in love again. I have been able to do the things with others that I thought I would only be able to do with you.” He sighed, looked down at the paper once more. “Sure, sometimes we fight, and sometimes they tease me, but they’re good people.”

The air picked up the ends of the man’s ponytail, wind danced through ebony locks and brought goosebumps to the surface of his flesh. “I came here today to ask for your blessing. As kids we promised to only love each other, but.” The words died on his tongue. “But, things didn’t go the way we thought they would. So I’m here to introduce you to someone, someone that I love.”

He leaned away from the grave, “I’m sorry if it upsets you. I’m sorry that I didn’t keep our promis𑁋”

“GIYUU!”

Someone rounded the corner, face flushed and annoyed. “I told you to wait for me! I was still talkin’ to your sister!” Sanemi Shinazugawa huffed, annoyance in his face vanished as he laid eyes on Giyuu, the man still on top of the grave. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt, my bad.”

“No, it’s okay.” Giyuu slid back until he was in the space in front of the grave once more. “I said everything I needed to.”

“What should I say?”

Giyuu hummed, gestured to the space beside him and waited for the other man to sit down. “I’ll start.” He rested a hand on Sanemi’s shoulder, “Sabito. Meet Sanemi Shinazugawa. My lover .”

“Nice to meet you.” Sanemi narrowed his eyes, a trait that Giyuu recognized as his I’m thinking face. “When Giyuu said he wanted someone’s approval to go out, I thought it would be from a parent or even a sibling. I never expected this, and I’ve never done anything like it, so I’m real fuckin’ sorry if I mess up.” He leaned into Giyuu’s side, always the one to initiate contact between the two. “I’m here to ask you for your blessing.” He positioned his body in a half-assed attempt at a bow, still trying to keep Giyuu’s body pressed into his own.

The other man let out a puff of air, as much as a laugh as one could get from Giyuu Tomioka. “I hope you are okay with this Sabito, sorry to force it upon you so suddenly.”

A burst of wind moved the purple hyacinth, until it tumbled into the grass beside the grave and landed by a bright, yellow dandelion. Giyuu found his eyes, for once in a long while, filled with tears. “Hey!” Sanemi rose and took his face in his own hands, “What’s the matter?”

“I’m happy.”

Happy, because the wind had picked up the flower Giyuu had brought, and had pushed it until it was next to another flower Giyuu knew. A dandelion, a flower that had so many meanings, that showed healing after an emotional injury. A flower that portrayed long lasting happiness and youthful joy. A flower that fulfilled wishes. Dandelions granted blessing.

“Happy?” Sanemi rubbed the snot from Giyuu’s face, wiped the tears that ran down his cheeks in tiny rivulets. “But you’re crying like a damn baby!”

“Tears can mean more than sadness.” Giyuu sniffed, made to stand up.

“You don’t want to stay longer? I haven’t even read my qualifications,” Sanemi joked.

“No. We already got the blessing after all.”