Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4911607.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Persona_4
  Relationship:
      Seta_Souji/Tatsumi_Kanji, Narukami_Yu/Tatsumi_Kanji
  Additional Tags:
      Angst, Fluff, Long-Distance_Relationship, Unexpected_Visitors
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-10-01 Words: 12085
****** In This Harbor of a Room, You'll Find Your Anchor Soon ******
by pennysparkle
Summary
     Souji's having difficulty getting used to it. Sure, he'd technically
     come home at the end of the school year—but during summer break, he'd
     managed to squirrel in a vacation, three long weeks of Inaba's hot
     weather settling in his bones along with the feeling of being home
     after some awkward interlude where he'd been inhabiting his parent's
     house. The days had been pleasantly long and full of swimming and
     sunning on the beach or lazing by the Samegawa with his friends, and
     it had been perfect.
     Of course, he'd gotten a lot of time with Kanji, too, laying in his
     futon with the fan blowing on high, Kanji hot over top of him, their
     lips pressing feverishly together as they tried to make the utter
     most of the time they had together before the uncertain future of the
     next semester arrived.
Notes
     A continuation of "Didn't_I_Take_You_to_Higher_Places?" dealing with
     the long-distance aspects of Souji and Kanji's relationship.
See the end of the work for more notes
The house is silent and dark but for a single light on over the kitchen sink,
and each surface gleams underneath, counters scrubbed down and canisters
washed, nonexistent crumbs dusted away, floors swept and mopped, garbage taken
out. The cleaning people have been here, and as always, they've left the house
looking as though it's never been lived in at all—which isn't so much of a
stretch, actually.
Souji's having difficulty getting used to it. Sure, he'd technically come home
at the end of the school year—but during summer break, he'd managed to squirrel
in a vacation, three long weeks of Inaba's hot weather settling in his bones
along with the feeling of being home after some awkward interlude where he'd
been inhabiting his parent's house. The days had been pleasantly long and full
of swimming and sunning on the beach or lazing by the Samegawa with his
friends, and it had been perfect.
Of course, he'd gotten a lot of time with Kanji, too, laying in his futon with
the fan blowing on high, Kanji hot over top of him, their lips pressing
feverishly together as they tried to make the utter most of the time they had
together before the uncertain future of the next semester arrived.
In truth, three weeks hadn't felt like nearly enough, but it was better than
nothing, and without school to get in the way, there had been hour upon hour of
time with his friends. Some nights, he didn't even make it back to the Dojima
residence, the entire Investigation Team sprawled out in rooms at the Amagi
Inn, exhausted and overheated. He thinks back on it now and no matter how
ordinary it had seemed at the time, he cherishes it.
But a month has passed now in which Souji has been alone here. He's only seen
his parents once since he came back to Tokyo for good, and even then, it had
been a pitstop between one business trip and the next, their presence in his
life as momentary as ever. That's what it means by a house that's never been
lived in: because most months out of the year, they hire a caretaker while
they're gone, and for the short moments where the tiny, three-person Seta
"family" lives there, it never quite feels like home.
At least not to Souji. His memories here are nothing interesting. Like every
other place and thing in his life, this house is a fleeting distraction that he
won't exist in long enough to become comfortable.
So even with the knowledge that his parents will come back sometime (for a
short stay in which they're bound to mostly ignore him), it's not so much
something he looks forward to. And maybe some people would be excited to have
the house to themselves, but for him, this is the reality. After Inaba, it
feels grating and wrong. It feels lonely—even with the knowledge that his
parents will be here, Souji feels alone.
He pauses by the doorway, lost in thought, though there's not much to think
about here. Everything is a habit: wake up, take a shower, go to school, go to
clubs, come home, do homework, sleep, repeat. Sometimes he'll break things up
by going to the store or taking a walk in the park, but more often than not, it
doesn't help distract him: not when there's kids in the prime of their high
school life, laughing and joking the way he did with his friends. And they're
not here.
These days, he doesn't get up to a lot of what he did in Inaba. There's no side
jobs, no great amount of relationships to balance, certainly no murderers to
catch. He doesn't even make dinner for himself most days; there's no use in
cooking if it's only going to be him eating it. Granted, he does have a couple
storebought bento in the fridge, but he's not particularly hungry at the
moment.
The thing he'd forgotten about living in Tokyo during his year in Inaba is that
the days feel so long and lonely that he's wiped out by the end—and it's not a
pleasant tiredness, like the one he felt all of last year, the tiredness of a
day well-spent. He feels flat-out exhausted as he steps into his bedroom,
yawning and wondering if he really wants to stay up long enough to finish his
homework. On the one hand, it'd mean he wouldn't have to wake up early
tomorrow, and on the other...
His phone starts beeping and buzzing in his bag, and he jumps to grab it, an
uncharacteristic excitement considering his prior lethargy. He knows that it's
probably going to be Kanji. But even that knowledge doesn't stop his heart from
leaping happily in his chest when such a suspicion is confirmed. He flips the
phone open, nearly fumbling it in his haste, and smacks himself in the ear when
he pushes it up too quickly.
"Hi," he breathes out. This is the best part of his day, of his week, because
he always feels somehow off on the majority of days, when all they get to
exchange are texts and emails. Hearing his voice is better.
"Hey. You sound out of breath, senpai. Is now a bad time?"
Even though Kanji can't see him, Souji shakes his head. "No! I just got back
from school."
There's a pause, and then Kanji's voice, sounding confused and a little bit
concerned. "... Right now? It's nearly eight."
Souji pulls the phone away from his ear and glances at the time. Is it really
that late? He hadn't noticed.
"I had cleaning duty and home ec today." He'd chosen that as one of his clubs
on Kanji's recommendation, and honestly, it's pretty fun. He's even managed to
knit a halfway-decent cat that he intends to mail to him when he's finished
with it. Maybe it's symbolic; a tiger for Kanji, and a cat for Souji, and they
belong together, sitting on Kanji's dresser. The idea seems cute enough.
"Yeah? How was it?"
"It was fine," Souji says as he pulls homework out of his bag. It's his last
year of high school, and the workload is so heavy that even he's struggling
with it. Still, it keeps him busy, stops him from thinking about how much he
misses everyone for the entire day, so in a way, he's glad for it.
He's made a few friends at school—no one as close as the Investigation Team had
been—but it makes their absence all the more noticeable. It's not to say that
these new friends aren't nice, because they are. There's Nanami from home ec,
who's way better than him at knitting, but always needs a little help with the
cooking portions; Akira, one of his archery teammates, who reminds him a lot of
Chie at times, and who's always anxious to join him at lunch on the days he
brings homemade bento; Hiroki, a classmate that studies a lot, who'd had the
courage to ask to join Souji in the library one day, and since then, they've
been impromptu study buddies that occasionally go out for ramen afterward.
There are a few others that come and go, mostly friendly acquaintances. But he
finds that he's not so scared of this fact anymore—casual friends are fine with
him, because he's got everyone back at home in Inaba, and those are
his best friends. The ones that are most important. The ones he needs.
Things are working out so much differently than he'd expected them to. Sure, a
part of himself had been terrified that they'd drop him, but they hadn't. In
fact, they seem to like him as much as ever, even though he's not there. Most
of the times, he feels secure in that fact.
And despite his parents' complaining, he's made up his mind about school.
They've been pushing for him to go to Tokyo University and major in business,
but he fully intends to move closer to Inaba once he graduates at the end of
this year. There's a veterinary school in Okina; he's been thinking about
asking Dojima if he could stay with him again for a little while and attend
that. Maybe he and Kanji could get an apartment together at some point...
But that's thinking really far ahead. Granted, he and Kanji have been together
over six months now (and by some kind of divine intervention, they'd managed to
celebrate that milestone together during summer break at a restaurant in
Okina). It's been hard, but Souji's trying to keep it together, to retain the
hope that things might work out for them after all.
"So you're doin' okay?" Kanji asks. He always asks this, and while Souji
appreciates it, he continues to feel a little bit embarrassed by his answer.
"I am... but I miss you."
"I miss you too, senpai," says Kanji. Souji can hear shuffling in the
background, like sheets crinkling over the receiver, and then settling again.
"... Is everyone else doing okay?"
He texts with Yosuke every day, talks on the phone with him sometimes, and
video calls him once a week—about the same amount of time as he spends with
Kanji, if a little bit less. The others, he doesn't talk to every day, but it's
close. Enough that he finds himself worrying less and less that they're going
to forget about him. Still, that doesn't mean he can be there to actually
confirm for himself that they're doing as well as they say they are, so he has
to ask.
"They're fine," Kanji says. He yawns, but keeps talking through it. "We all
went and had Aiya last night. Like old times."
Like old times. This is the part that bothers him. Because he's here in Tokyo,
and they're all down in Inaba, and he's left out. It's not their fault, of
course. They can't help it that he'd had to come home—they'd begged him not to,
had asked him if there was any way he could stay, and he'd tried. He'd wanted
to try so badly, because if the thought of parting with them had been bad, the
reality of it had been much worse.
He remembers them huddling around him, enfolding him in a long group hug as he
waited numbly for the train to arrive, and a few minutes later, in secret,
Kanji holding him in the shadowed cover at the side of the station. He'd been
trembling with fear, terrified that Kanji would whisper to him that he couldn't
do this after all, couldn't let go and pretend he was alright with the
distance. It might have been a relief for Souji if he had, but it wouldn't have
felt good.
Instead, he'd just told Souji that he loved him, squeezed him tightly in his
arms, leaned down and gave him one good, long kiss, enough that Souji thought
he would feel the imprint of him all day. And he'd remembered that hug on the
train home, the way Kanji had just a couple inches on him, enough to surround
him. It had been comforting.
He hasn't felt the simple touch of Kanji for a month now, and it hurts just as
badly as he'd assumed it would.
"I'm glad... it makes me happy that you guys still hang out," he forces himself
to confess after a couple moments of silence. He shouldn't be acting like a
downer, and it's hard, but a lot of the time he feels like he has to put up a
front for Kanji. He has to at least pretend to be doing okay, even though he's
back to feeling as though he's drifting through life, the only things breaking
it up being Kanji and his friends. He knows he can get through it. It's just a
matter of putting on a brave face, like he had before.
"Yeah. It's kinda weird without you, but we manage."
Souji smiles, a tiny one, but one all the same. At least that pleases him a
little bit. A part of him has always been a little bit scared that he wasn't
necessary for the dynamic of the group, even though they considered him to be
their leader.
"I, uh... I got a part-time job," Kanji says into the ensuing silence.
"I thought you were still helping your mom with the shop?"
"Well, yeah... but I can't let her pay me for that."
Souji hums in consideration. A part-time job... Now that he's back in the city,
that seems like a halfway decent pastime—not for money, because his parents
have a credit card set aside just for him—but for something to do. Not that he
can really think of what he'd be qualified for, or good at, aside from tutoring
and the odd jobs he'd gotten up to in Inaba. But is there even demand for that
kind of stuff here?
"Where are you working?" he asks, laying down on his bed, pleased with the
coolness of the pillow against his cheek.
"The bakery."
"In Okina? The one your mom likes?"
"Yeah. It's pretty fun."
The thought of Kanji, wrapped primly in an apron with flour all dusted down the
front is an image good enough to make Souji smile a little bigger, and he
presses his face into the pillow as he lets out a soft sigh. "It sounds like
it's fun."
"Yeah... so listen. I was thinkin' I could save up money and stuff, and then
sometime maybe I can pay for you to come down and visit."
Well. That's certainly not what he'd been expecting to hear. And as much as the
thought makes his heart do some kind of joyful gallop, Souji is pretty sure
that's just not possible at the moment. He studies a lot, and on weekends, he's
got standing roles as a volunteer both at one of the hospitals in town to play
board games with the elderly, and at the library to read books to children.
It's fulfilling, plus some of the old ladies at the hospital remind him of
Hisano, and reading to the children makes it easier to relive his glory days of
being 'big bro.'
Still, he can't dash Kanji's hopes like that—not when he sounds so excited at
his own suggestion. It's just that he doubts it can work out so easily.
It never does; if it's not his parents telling him that he can't, then it's
going to be something else. It's hard to be optimistic in the face of being
alone. It's hard to imagine that it could end.
"That would be good," he says, injecting as much happiness as he can manage
into his voice. And it's a good measure of it; if only he pretends that it's
genuinely something that they're going to do, then it comes easily enough.
"Good," says Kanji, sounding relieved. "So... what are you up to tonight,
senpai?"
"I was going to do some homework and take a shower. Exciting stuff."
Kanji laughs on the other end of the phone, and when he speaks, his voice
quiets a little, secretive. "Think I can watch?"
"Watch me do homework? I doubt that's going to be very fun for you..."
"Nah... I mean the showering part."
Souji can feel his cheeks get hot, and that fact embarrasses him for a moment
before he remembers that Kanji can't see him. Hundreds of miles away and he can
still do this to Souji. "You really want to?"
"Heh... you sound flustered, senpai. But you don't gotta do that for me."
Souji puffs out his cheeks ever so slightly. It's unfair how Kanji
has this much of an effect on him. "You wouldn't be making me do anything."
"Yeah? It's just, I think about you when I... y'know. I'm wondering if I'm
still imagining you the right way."
Souji exhales softly, nudging his uniform button-up higher, warm palm pushing
gently against his stomach for a moment. To tell the truth, he doesn't think
that much about these things when he's on his own and without Kanji there. It's
hard to really be in the mood for it when he's in an empty house, knowing that
any satisfaction will be momentary and may as well turn into disgust later on.
"I think you probably are... but if you want to check, that's alright with me,"
he whispers back, then pulls the phone away from his ear again. His thumb
hovers nervously over the shutter button on the screen. What does he look like
to Kanji? Because it's not as though he's felt particularly self-conscious of
himself in relation to this, but seeing himself, he feels suddenly concerned.
This is all Kanji can see of him—a still image. What he's used to seeing is
Souji in real life, body twisting underneath him, eager to take more of
whatever he's willing to give.
Is this enough? Is Kanji really okay with this? He snaps the picture and sends
it before he can think better of it, and waits for Kanji's reaction.
There's a soft intake of breath on the other end several seconds later.
"Senpai... you're really handsome, ya know?"
Souji's not sure what to say to that—would a thank you seem too arrogant?—but
he's glad that Kanji thinks so, at least. He's still looking at the picture, at
his slender, only slightly defined chest and waist, the way it arches down into
his hips and how they stand out, bones raised in such a position. To the top,
his neck looks almost elegant, long with the muscles pronounced as he'd been
poised to take a breath. His mouth had made it into the picture too, lips
parted softly. It's not a horrible sight. Certainly not as bad as he'd assumed.
"I wish I could touch you," Kanji says emphatically, so frustrated that Souji
can feel a shiver in his bones. Kanji wants him that badly?
But he feels that ache too, so painfully deep inside of him that it's the only
thing he manages some days. He looks at his bed and can't help remembering one
night in Inaba, during the summer when it was far too hot, and they'd curled
around each other anyway. He cleans out the bad leftovers from the fridge and
can't help thinking that if Kanji had been here, there probably wouldn't have
been any at all. He passes high school couples walking home together and wishes
he could do that with Kanji again—and it's so hard. He hadn't realized how hard
it would feel, even though he'd known, logically, that it would be just as bad
as this.
There's a place where they both belong, though. And right now, Souji's is in
Tokyo, finishing out his last year of high school without any fuss so that he
can finally go back to the place where he wants to be. This is what he tells
himself with a sense of resignation.
So he can't do this. He's too sad, too lonely to get turned on, to think that
he's anywhere but here, in his quiet bedroom in his parents' silent house in a
city that's far too loud. Every single component is all wrong.
"I'm sorry," he whispers to Kanji. "I don't know if I..."
"Hey, it's okay," Kanji says back, his voice a shade of sympathetic that Souji
knows no one else gets to hear. "Some other time, yeah? Or maybe not."
"Yeah," Souji says. He's relieved that Kanji's always so understanding, but at
the same time, now he feels as though he's made things awkward. It's in his own
head, he knows, and still his mind is running a mile a minute.
Before he can really think it through, he's speaking again. "I should go. I've
got a lot of homework to do tonight."
"Oh... uh. Yeah. Okay. Goodnight, senpai."
Souji hangs up. It's not right of him to keep this to himself, to put Kanji in
the dark... If his shadow taught him anything, it was that. But it's hard to
explain. Being alone has caused him to regress, to feel insecure and
lonely, stuck. He doesn't have his friends here to lift him up when he's down;
he has to do it himself, and even though he's assumed that role since he was a
child, he finds he's still awful at it.
For a long time, he just lays in bed on his back, halfway undressed, staring at
his ceiling. Not doing his homework, as he'd said. More and more, he's
regretting his actions.
At some point, his phone chimes with a text from Kanji, asking if he'd done
something wrong and apologizing—and Souji sends back that he didn't do
anything, and that there was nothing to apologize for.
It's not his fault. It's all on Souji, because for a little while, he thought
he was okay, but it turns out that he's not. Nothing has changed just yet, and
that's on him.
He goes to sleep feeling more uneasy than he has in weeks. And it's all because
he can't keep pretending that he's not lonely—just thinking about Kanji and all
his other friends back in Inaba together while he's here and all alone has
messed him up this badly.
His daily routine becomes more lackluster than ever after that. Going to school
is more of a chore, even though he's tried and tried to remind himself that
he's doing this so he can move back to Inaba. His extracurricular clubs start
feeling exactly like a way to pass the time instead of something that's
actually fun. And even if he didn't talk to people much to begin with, he does
so even less now.
He hates it, but he doesn't think there's any way to stop it. And he's angry at
himself. He'd been doing so well—he'd been a completely different person in
Inaba, and that was a good thing. For the first time in his life he'd been
really and truly happy, surrounded by friends, doing something special and
important. And here, who the hell is he? Just some kid. Just some teenager
that's too messed up to act normal when he doesn't have his friends around to
validate him.
Kanji's been calling less since Souji told him he was starting to study hard
for exams. There'd been a pointed 'you should too' somewhere in there, which he
felt bad for not even a second after he'd said it. He guesses he deserves to
lock himself away from Kanji when he's like this; he doesn't deserve the
happiness of his presence if he can't even be good to him.
And it's not right. The person he sees in the mirror isn't right. He can't
stand the thought of letting his friends see him like this, but he doesn't know
how he's supposed to get better, either. He just knows he can't let this keep
going.
What happened to being able to stand on his own? And how does he pull himself
out of this mire? Not even a month out from leaving Inaba for the last time,
and he's already like this. That's not a good sign—he knows it. He hasn't been
sleeping or eating as much as he was before, hasn't been making much attempt to
talk to his friends as much as he wants to. And maybe he's punishing himself a
little bit for it, which he knows, logically, he shouldn't be doing.
The days start passing again, little interrupting his haze aside from his
parents coming home one evening. They're exactly the same as they've ever been,
quiet around him, speaking only to question his grades and his extracurriculars
and how he's preparing for entrance exams. He gives them the answers they
expect, answers that are the truth regardless of whatever void it is he feels
inside. Because all these years, he's learned how to keep up his grades and
form a front of being happy, though he knows his emotions aren't their
priority.
At least Kanji still texts him every single day, even though Souji can't work
up the energy to reply some nights. He worries that Kanji must think he hates
him, that he doesn't care anymore, and the idea of that hurts him so deeply
that he throws up from anxiety one evening. But he doesn't know how to say it.
It was always easier to tell Kanji these difficult truths when they were right
next to each other, when Souji could see that he wasn't being judged for this.
It builds and builds. The longer he leaves it alone, the more difficult it's
going to be to address, he knows. But like many things in regards to Kanji,
it's bound to meet a breaking point sooner rather than later.
===============================================================================
Souji gets home from school late that Friday—he'd had cleaning duty and archery
had run an hour over, but it meant something to do, so he doesn't mind so much.
The lights are all on, which means his parents are somewhere inside of the
house; still, they won't be wondering where he'd been. He just kicks his shoes
off in the entranceway and puts his slippers on instead, shuffling toward the
kitchen where he gets a glass of water and takes a tablet of aspirin for the
headache that's been forming all afternoon. Lately he's getting those a lot.
"Souji?" his mother calls from the living room. He tenses up. She only ever
wants anything if he's in trouble, and he doesn't want to deal with that right
now. He doesn't want anything but to go back to his room and lay down in the
darkness.
But he walks into the living room, and his feet falter right as he passes the
doorway. Because it's not just his mother in the living room—it's Kanji, too,
sitting on one of the lounge chairs, looking a little bit awkward and out of
place.
The surprise must show on his face, and yet Kanji smiles at Souji, something
secretive and very 'cat got the canary.'
"Hi," Souji says cautiously. He really can't believe his eyes; he's so shocked
it feels like his legs are going to buckle at any second.
"Hey." Kanji lifts his hand, saluting drily in a gesture that feels so
familiar, and yet Souji hasn't seen it in over a month now.
"This young man says he's your friend," Souji's mother says, and he's trained
in the nuances of her voice. It's pretty clear she doesn't approve—probably
something to do with the half grown-out black and bleach blond hair on Kanji's
head, plus the piercings. Souji feels suddenly, fiercely angry with her, for
judging Kanji when he's just about the best person Souji's ever known, when
he's seen the worst parts of Souji and never chastised or berated him for them,
when he's accepted everything about him even though he doesn't understand it.
That's more than she's ever done.
And then, guiltily, Souji forces that anger down. He's never been actually,
genuinely hateful toward his parents before—he owes them too much, in the end,
to question them.
"He is," Souji says, keeping his voice steadied. Kanji's more, he's so much
more, but Souji doesn't know how she'd react to him saying that kind of thing.
"I see... Don't forget you have homework tonight." With that, she primly turns
back to watching the news.
"Let's go to my room," Souji says, shifting uneasily from foot to foot, as
if he's the outsider. Kanji's watching him closely, eyes practically glued to
him as he stands, and he really doesn't know whether that's a good or a bad
thing. He's still stuck on the fact that Kanji's here. It's astonishing and had
been completely outside the realm of possibility before today.
Together they walk back to Souji's room, a careful distance from each other all
the while, and Souji takes a moment to consider it as an outsider would. It's
tidy—always tidy. There's really not much that makes it special, although he's
got photographs tacked up on a bulletin board, most of which are from Inaba.
Sometimes looking at them makes him so happy, and sometimes, it's the reverse,
but he's glad he keeps them up all the same.
When the door has shut behind them, Souji turns to Kanji, his eyebrows furrowed
as he folds his arms over his chest. Defensive. So defensive, and of what? Does
he really think Kanji came all this way to break up with him or something?
"What are you doing here, Kanji?" he asks, keeping his voice level in the hopes
that Kanji won't assume he's upset about it.
"I, uh... I just really, really... haven't been sure of a few things lately,"
Kanji says.
That somehow feels like a bad sign to Souji, and he's already cringing in on
himself. He knows he's been doing badly, and he knows better than to think that
the first relationship he'd ever been in would go perfectly, but had he really
screwed it up this much? Now even Kanji, who's never been anything but good and
perfect, can't take him anymore.
"Oh," he says. He can't look Kanji in the eye—he's focused down toward his
chest, desperate not to see the relief on his face as he finally drops Souji
for good. This is something he's used to, but he can't take it. Not from Kanji.
Not after he's opened up to him this much.
"Hey... what's wrong?"
His gaze snaps up. He hadn't been expecting that kind of question to come next.
"What?"
"I mean... things have seemed really off with you lately. I thought you'd
eventually tell me, but you were just talkin' to me less and less. I figured
you'd at least tell me if you needed some space, right?"
Souji doesn't know what to say to that. Being confronted with it, he's
absolutely blank.
"Then I was thinkin' about how you always had a hard time opening up before...
And I figured it might be easier if I was here, ya know?"
How does he figure Souji out so easily? How does he always know? And how, even
in the face of whatever it is that Souji's been putting him through, does he
still want to be here?
"But no pressure," Kanji says, then he laughs as he rubs the back of his neck
in a gesture of embarrassment. "I really shoulda thought it through a little
better before coming here, huh? I didn't even know if you'd be here or not..."
"I'm glad you came," Souji blurts out. Because he is—just from being close to
Kanji, he already feels a little bit weak in the knees, a little bit more
comfortable than he had before, especially as relief floods him that Kanji
isn't here to break up with him.
Kanji smiles at him, and he never hides behind those smiles. He never holds a
single thing back."Yeah?"
"Yes," Souji breathes. He's stepping forward before he can stop himself,
wrapping his arms around Kanji's shoulders and leaning up into him until
Kanji's arms curl around him in return. And it feels good to be taken in and
bundled away by him. Souji sighs, tilting his head up so that he can kiss Kanji
once, very lightly.
"I missed you," he says. Just being in his presence makes the words easier to
say already. "I really... needed you..."
"I'm here," says Kanji, squeezing him carefully.
It's like he can read Souji's mind. He always knows just what's wrong, and how
to fix it—and Souji doesn't know how he does it, or how he can ever repay him,
but he knows how lucky he is.
He heaves out a shaky breath, unsure where to begin. Is it even necessary for
him to tell Kanji what's been happening? The truth is that it's probably going
to make him feel better to do so, even when he thinks he's weak or unlovable—at
least Kanji will tell him how much he supports him and cares for him, and
that'll feel nice for a little while.
But how does he say it? He's gotten used to not having to divulge the difficult
parts of him, or at least he thought he'd cleared them all away... yet there's
still this part, the deepest and deadliest beast of them all, the blank
unfortunate part of himself that can't be fixed or hidden away no matter how
hard he tries.
"Hey... let's sit down for a little while, okay?" Kanji asks. He's already
guiding Souji to the bed, sitting him down with a hand at the small of his
back, every inch as helpful as he always is.
Their shoulders press together, the silence between them one of expectation—yet
the fact that it's unfulfilled at the moment doesn't seem to be too much of a
problem. Kanji has always given him time and space where he needs it, but Souji
somehow can't help thinking sometimes that it must feel like a burden.
He rests his head against Kanji's shoulder, eyes falling closed. The warmth of
him is familiar, the smell of him is familiar, and Souji missed that feeling of
knowing so deeply that he feels almost overwhelmed as he breathes in.
"You okay?"
Souji contemplates an answer for this. Right now he is, but overall? "I don't
know."
"What's been goin' on, senpai?" Kanji asks again.
With a sigh, he presses himself all the tighter into Kanji's space. Most
likely, it's an irritating move, and yet he feels as though he can't stop
himself from doing it. Kanji's arm pulls him in gently, his lips lightly
touching the top of his head.
"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I just... you don't mind
that I'm here, do you?"
"No," Souji says. "I wanted you here." Or to be back home in Inaba—but as long
as he's got Kanji, then it'll be fine... he thinks.
They sit together a little while, the only sounds in the room their breathing
and the gentle thump of Souji's heart in his ears. Just to be close to Kanji
again has made his body light up in excitement, and it's not out of expectation
for anything physical, but because no one has touched him in what feels
like forever, let alone so intimately, in the way that only lovers do: a hand
folded around Souji's waist, the whisper of lips against his forehead, the
soft, sweet tightness that he causes in Souji's chest.
"Where are you staying tonight?" Souji asks after some time. Even the silence
has healed him a little bit, easing away enough of the emptiness that he
doesn't feel so much like he's suffocating anymore.
"I, uh... I actually didn't think that far ahead," says Kanji abashedly.
"You can stay here, if you want," Souji says, more quickly than he can really
think it through.
"Your parents aren't gonna mind that?"
Souji shrugs his shoulders. He's never had anyone sleep over before; his
parents probably wouldn't have approved even if he had someone close enough to
warrant that. But they don't check on him—he's a ghost in the house until they
want to ask questions about how school is going and if he's changed his mind to
listen to them.
"They won't find out," he says.
That seems to be enough for Kanji. And Souji settles against him more fully as
he listens to the house outside of this room, silent and empty as ever but for
the occasional sounds of the television and his parents' short, clipped
conversation, no doubt discussing work.
"Do you want to lay down?" Kanji asks. His hand is still rubbing Souji's back
gently, soothing and lulling him slowly, and he nods dreamily.
They lay down on the bed, legs dangling off the sides. Truthfully, all of this
makes Souji feel a little bit weak, knowing that he should be stronger than
this—that it shouldn't be necessary for Kanji to come to him every time he gets
a little bit lonely and overwhelmed. But somehow he's glad anyway. He's glad
that Kanji doesn't mind it a bit, that his mere presence has such a soothing
effect. That he cares enough to want to.
"I was thinkin' about you a lot," confesses Kanji. "I was scared I'd done
something wrong."
"You didn't," Souji says, and he closes his eyes as he pushes his face against
Kanji's chest. "I'm just no good at being alone."
It's the first time he's ever said something like that aloud, and it doesn't
count that his shadow had basically said it first. The fact of the matter is
that he'd contented himself with letting his shadow speak for itself, totally
open and exposed, while Souji continued to try and hide himself away. But he's
with Kanji—he's safe here. Even Souji's shadow hadn't scared him away, so maybe
he's really in it for the long haul.
"Everybody misses you, ya know. It's just... different now. Not bad, but I
guess we all know we're missing you."
"I miss everybody too. A lot."
Kanji's fingertips brush Souji's neck, his hair shifting and tickling him. "I
think maybe we didn't realize how you needed us as bad as we needed you."
Awkwardly, Souji laughs and nods. It's the truth, isn't it? He needs them.
Being around them makes him whole, makes him feel wanted, and he hasn't felt
like that maybe ever. Even with his parents, he feels like a burden. But they
don't make him feel like that. They make him feel important and strong—they
lift him up, and isn't that what everyone needs?
"I want to come back," Souji confesses. "I'm trying really hard to make it
through this year so that I can."
"Yeah. We'll be waiting for you senpai, you know that, right?"
Souji nods. It's too warm being in Kanji's arms, but he doesn't care right now.
For a long time, they lay like that. Long enough for the both of them to fall
asleep in their clothes, over the covers, and Souji only awakens when he's been
shivering from the air conditioning coming on. Like a particularly tired
zombie, he gets up and turns the lights off. And somehow he manages the
strength to change into a pair of lounge pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt, the
same thing he tended to wear to sleep when he was living with Dojima. Then very
carefully, very gently, he rolls Kanji to the side so that he can pull the
sheets down and crawl in beside him to settle down, safe and secure in the
darkness.
===============================================================================
It's lucky that the next day is a day off, because Souji sleeps in well past
his alarm, enfolded by Kanji so perfectly that the rest of the world just stops
mattering for a few hours longer than usual. Of course, the moment his eyes
open is the moment he starts panicking, because the more he sleeps, the less
time they have to spend together, but then he's gripped tighter by gentle arms,
and he sighs, resigning himself. It's not so bad to just lay here with him, is
it?
"Y'awake, senpai?"
"Yeah..."
"Mm..." Kanji grumbles, pushing his face into the crook of Souji's neck.
They're all tangled up and Souji is sweating a little bit, his shirt ridden up
over his stomach, edge of his pants pushed down a little, and Kanji's jeans are
rubbing the sensitive skin of his waist in quite an unappealing fashion, but
it's good. It's certainly the best way he's woken up in what feels like far too
long.
"We should go to the store and get stuff for breakfast," he says boldly. His
parents are usually gone during the day, at meetings or visiting with
colleagues—they'll have the whole house to themselves, and Souji intends to
take advantage of it. Already his mind is boiling over with ideas, all the
things they could do—all the places Souji could take Kanji so that they might
seem a little brighter when he's gone... Or maybe, they'd be worse.
But that's not forefront in his mind right now. There's so many possibilities,
so much optimism overflowing in him, because today seems like a good day, and
Kanji is definitely his ideal person to spend it with.
"Yeah. I should take a shower first, though..."
"Did you bring clothes?"
"Yup. I packed a bag," Kanji says, gesturing to one Souji hadn't noticed the
night before, nor seen Kanji bring into the room.
Curious, he turns his head to look down at him, and Kanji grins sheepishly.
"Your parents showed me your room. Promise I didn't snoop... that much."
Souji laughs softly. It's not like Kanji would have been able to find anything
incriminating in here; there's not a lot of personality to it, aside from the
corkboard with pictures of him and his friends. There's even a few of just he
and Kanji together, and those are the ones closest to the front, because
they're the ones that make him smile the widest.
Fanned out toward the left is a picture of them standing near the water on that
school camping trip, before they'd even had feelings for each other (or at
least before Souji had; he's really not sure where Kanji stands on that); in
the middle, a night when they'd eaten at Aiya, pressed far too close
considering how wide the frame of the camera is, both of them grinning
brightly; and finally, on the far right from just a few months ago, the summer
they'd spent at the beach, sitting around a bonfire together.
They're something Souji treasures. He wonders if Kanji knows that. He wonders
if he'd walked in and marveled, if he'd leaned in close to scrutinize the way
Souji looked at him, if he'd realized just what that meant.
After another quarter of an hour laying in bed, they finally manage to extract
themselves from the warmth of the sheets, tottering toward the bathroom
attached to Souji's room. Much in the same way as they always have before, they
shower without any particularly lingering touches, but Kanji does help wash
Souji's back, and Souji takes care of Kanji's hair for him. He never really
thought he'd reach this point, that someone would touch him so simply and yet
it would mean so much to him, and he's smiling as they get out and towel off.
It's a good day.
In the bedroom, they set to dressing, and Souji's mind is distant as he buttons
his shirt, thinking of everything they could do. He hasn't felt this good
in months; it's weird that being close to Kanji is enough to cause this, but
he's not complaining at all. If anything, he's glad, the preparations of the
day seeming less like a chore with him—although he does have to go back and
rebutton that shirt after messing them all up in his distraction.
Sure enough, the rest of the house is empty of his parents when they emerge
from the bedroom. They don't leave notes or tell Souji where they're going, and
he doesn't really question it. He can tell Kanji is curious about this
arrangement, but he's not too pleased at the thought of delving into that when
he's feeling this good, so he doesn't. It can wait. Maybe it won't ever have to
be brought up at all.
They leave, locking up behind themselves, and then they're out in the street,
the sun bright and the air shot through with a pleasant breeze. The city always
feels different, but on a day like this, it reminds him a lot of Inaba, and his
hand reaches for Kanji's without him even thinking it through. Still, Kanji's
fingers wrap around his, and they set off down the street together.
As they walk, there's people rushing around them, maybe going to part-time jobs
or cram school, the older generation out walking their pets, couples arm-in-arm
strolling the streets just like them, and Souji feels nice. It's good to be
part of this, to feel normal. They step inside the supermarket and there's a
small smile on Souji's face as he begins to head toward the produce section,
only Kanji catches his arm.
"Hey, uh..." He's blushing for some odd reason. "What if... what if I cooked
for you?"
"Like what?"
"Well... y'know, workin' in the bakery and all... they teach you stuff." He
shifts from foot to foot, seemingly embarrassed about this offering.
"I'd like that," Souji says earnestly.
"Yeah... okay. Good."
He follows Kanji around as he searches out ingredients, a quick and methodical
serpentine path through the store which Souji's honestly a little bit surprised
at. He'd thought they would be here a lot longer, but before half an hour has
passed, they've gotten it all paid for and are on their way again, hands
touching despite the bags hanging off their wrists, carefully curling around
each other.
Of course, the second they get outside is the moment the sky opens up and rain
starts pouring down, and Souji goes to turn back, wondering if they might be
able to buy an umbrella inside—but Kanji's tugging him along, running in
absolutely the wrong direction, so even though Souji's laughing, he has to stop
him.
They end up taking the quick way home, sprinting as fast as possible, though
they're still soaked to the bone by the time they get inside the house,
dripping water in the entranceway. Souji makes Kanji wait there, even though he
keeps stepping closer, both of them laughing and shivering a little.
When he returns with towels, Kanji's taken his shirt off, trying to wring it
out with his top half poked out of the front door. It's such a strange sight,
but he throws a towel at Kanji's back and makes him jump, and that just makes
him laugh a little bit harder.
It makes him realize, maybe they should be doing less menial things,
making more of their time together, because he doesn't even know how much of it
he has with Kanji. It's fun, but all the same...
"Do you have to go back tonight?" he asks tentatively.
"I should... I don't want to, though," says Kanji, scrubbing at his hair with
the towel. "Hey, it's what people would expect from me, right? Skipping class?"
It's not that Souji thinks he should do that, just because it's what people
expect... but he's feeling a little greedy right now. One more day can't hurt,
can it?
"You could..."
"Yeah. But I gotta stay in class," Kanji says ruefully, hanging his head.
"Gotta graduate on time, right? So I can be with you."
That causes a pleased flush to work its way up Souji's body, and he nods in
agreement. One day to sacrifice now should be nothing when he considers the
long-run.
"What about your mom?" he asks as he steps out of his pants, folding them over
his arm to take back to the laundry room. "She's probably worried about you by
now."
Kanji rubs the back of his neck, laughing quietly. "She was the one that told
me to come."
Souji smiles. Even now, Kanji's mother feels special to him, some sweet mystery
that he thinks of often. Mostly it's a longing when he exists from day to day
dealing with his own parents ignoring him, but that's really besides the point.
"I'm glad she did," he confesses, bold with the quiet that he doesn't quite
hate right now and the close quarters. He's coveting this—it means that he and
Kanji have all the privacy in the world, and it's not just their half-undressed
state that he needs that for.
"I am too. I was really worrying about you."
"I'm sorry."
Kanji says nothing; he just reaches out to cup Souji's cheek, thumb tracing
over his damp lips, and then it drops away again. It leaves Souji surprisingly
flustered, confused that Kanji's been able to sweep him off his feet all this
time, but he attempts to brush it off by leading the way back into the bedroom.
Soon they're dry and changed (Kanji borrowing a shirt that's just a size or two
too small from Souji) and then back in the kitchen, sorting through the bags.
Souji has to admit, he's curious what breakfast is going to be, and pretty
excited too. No one's ever really cooked for him before; it's a new experience,
and odd to be on the receiving end of when he's always been the one cooking for
everyone else.
And there's something admittedly attractive about watching Kanji stand at the
island, methodically measuring out cups of flour and sugar and mixing things
(and Souji definitely won't complain about what working in a bakery has done
for the muscles of his arms, nor the way his shirt strains around them). It's
not long before he's spooning the finished batter into muffin tins that
probably haven't ever been used, then slipping them into the oven.
"Impressive," Souji says, once Kanji has leaned back against the counter,
wiping his brow and the slight hint of sweat there.
"You think so? I've been working pretty hard... It's fun there, though. And
it's cool having my own money... don't gotta bum off ma so often."
"I'm a little bit jealous." After all, Souji's parents generally tell him to
focus on his studies—if there's one area they don't seem to begrudge him, it's
in giving him money, but he often feels too guilty to ask for it even still. A
real job sounds so interesting since Kanji had brought it up; he'd had a lot of
fun with the ones he'd taken in Inaba, but the thought of working in a bakery
is nice... He won't lie and say his mind didn't skip over to think what it
would be like to work in one with Kanji, which is the part his
mind really wants to dwell on.
"I was thinkin', if I got good enough, I could make a birthday cake for you
next year... but I guess that's pretty far away at this point."
Souji smiles. The sentiment is one that warms him entirely, softening the core
of him into some gooey mess. His parents have very rarely been around for his
birthday, and it falls in the spring months, thus he hadn't been able to spend
it with his friends or with the Dojimas last year or this year. The thought of
next year, as nebulous as it seems at the moment, is something to look forward
to.
"I'd like that," he says.
"Yeah... I'd make you a real cute one. With strawberries and decorations and
stuff."
The grin is tugging at his cheeks, and he can feel it keenly now, but he's not
really ashamed. Kanji's just grinning back at him, pleased that he so clearly
likes the idea.
With time, the kitchen is filled with the sweet scent of something; Souji finds
himself inhaling deeply, a soft sigh escaping him on the exhale, and he tilts
his head to the side. Kanji cares enough about him to do this, and the feeling
of that is almost as dizzying as the scent itself. He doesn't know how he can
always be questioning this; it's so clear that Kanji likes being with him.
Maybe it's just the distance.
When the timer goes off, Kanji is quick to extract the pans from the oven, and
after a minute or two there's a soft, warm chocolate muffin on a plate in front
of Souji, a fork to the side. It's surprisingly pretty: artfully cracked on the
surface, sugar crystallized beautifully in the crevices, tiny chocolate chips
scattered throughout.
"Go on... try it," Kanji says, his nervous tell of scratching his neck
presenting itself again.
Souji picks up the fork and cuts off a small portion, cupping his hand under it
as he lifts it to his mouth to catch any crumbs that drop off. And as he places
it on his tongue, it seems to melt, sweet sugary flakes breaking upon the
warmth of his mouth, then followed with bittersweet chocolate that gives it
just enough of a split from the sugar. He sighs, getting another chunk before
he can really help himself.
"You like it?" asks Kanji after a few seconds, and Souji nods.
"It's delicious," he murmurs, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
"Well just... don't be too impressed. I'm not a natural like you, senpai."
Laughing, Souji lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "Maybe not. But practice has
made you perfect, Kanji."
"Yeah? Thanks."
"Come on. Sit down and eat with me," says Souji, patting the barstool beside
himself.
After a moment, Kanji does, his own muffin wrapped in a napkin, and he chomps
it down without much finesse. Still, it's cute, and when he's swallowed the
whole thing (before Souji has even finished his), Souji reaches over and thumbs
a few crumbs away.
"You had some leftover."
"I was keeping it for later," Kanji says, but he seems embarrassed.
Souji sighs, amused. He finishes up eating, sipping the cup of tea he'd made
earlier to combat the lingering chill of the rain, and washes the dishes before
piling up the leftovers on a plate and setting it aside.
"Hey... your parents can have some if they want them," says Kanji.
Lips pursed, Souji assesses them. He wants them all to himself, truthfully—not
only would his parents likely not realize how special these are, but Souji
wants something to savor, some part of Kanji that'll stick around for him once
he's gone again.
"If they can get to them before I do," he eventually says, managing to sound
remarkably neutral for how serious he actually is.
They make their way back to the bedroom, because the rest of the house doesn't
feel like it's familiar enough for Souji to want to be there. Earlier, he'd
thought it would be fun to go out with Kanji, to show him all the sights here,
but in the end, it really feels best to just lay against him in bed, their
foreheads pressed together, so close in each other's space that it should feel
awkward or uncomfortable—and yet it's exactly what Souji needs.
And the way Kanji's hand rests against his hip, thumb rubbing the skin just
above the waistband of his pants, is slowly turning him on—a lazy arousal that
has him shifting, but not insistently. He can take it for a little while
longer, intent on listening to Kanji recounting all the things that have
happened in Inaba lately.
"Rise stopped by on a break from her tour... she said you came and saw her show
when she was here."
"Yeah."
Kanji laughs, his fingers drifting higher, creeping under his shirt as he rubs
the sensitive skin of Souji's waist. "I think she's still mad at me for
stealing you from her."
Souji shrugs as well as he can when he's laying on his side in bed. "I don't
think you have to worry about that. She's happy for us, even if she teases
you."
"Yeah? Why's it only gotta be me..."
"Maybe because you're so fun to tease," Souji replies, hooking his right leg
over Kanji's hips and swinging up suddenly, pushing Kanji down onto his back so
that he can sit on his hips. He's half-hard under Souji's ass; not really a
surprise there.
"I-I'm pretty sure you've got a different teasing in mind than she does,
senpai..."
Souji grins at him sharply, saying nothing as he circles his hips down slowly,
delighting in the feeling of Kanji straining up, his cock getting harder in his
pants. This is a feeling Souji hasn't had in a long time now, and it sends a
spark of excitement through his body to know that he's able to do this, that
Kanji is here, that he's feeling this. His hands grip Souji's hips, and he
feels high on that touch.
"Is this okay, Kanji...?"
Kanji practically splutters in how quickly he tries to respond to that, head
nodding even as he speaks. "Yeah, yes. Absolutely."
With a small laugh of relief, Souji grinds down a little harder, which makes
Kanji toss his head back into the pillows, groaning. He's slightly red in the
face, his fingers clinging tight to Souji's hips, and as Souji moves, his lips
part and he presses up a little harder against his ass.
"Do you want more?" Souji wonders.
Again, Kanji nods. Souji slides down, his fingers slipping against the buttons
of Kanji's jeans in their nervous excitement, but soon he's got them pulled
down, his cock freed, and he's already leaning in to press his tongue against
the tip.
Kanji's whole body seems to jolt upon contact. It's not a surprise that he's
this sensitive, Souji guesses; it's been a little while since they've actually
gotten to be together. But the thought that he wants it so much is enough to
fluff Souji's ego, so he lifts his eyes to meet Kanji's as he pushes his lips
down, accepting more and more of his cock. And because he hasn't done this in a
little while, he's not nearly as graceful about it as he might have been a few
months ago, but Kanji's hands clench in the sheets all the same, so he counts
that as a win.
"Senpai..." he sighs far above.
Souji pulls back an increment, his tongue flicking lightly against the head
before withdrawing completely. "Call me by my name, Kanji. Or I'll stop."
It's definitely habit—every time Souji asks him to use his name, Kanji sounds
nervous at first, and then slips back into calling him 'senpai' within a few
hours. Of course, it's endearing, but nothing compared to how it feels to have
Kanji calling him by his real name. He likes that much better.
Right now, Kanji's looking impatient and flustered, but he croaks out a hoarse,
"Souji."
"What do you want me to do?" Souji asks.
"Just... keep goin'," he requests, practically squirming.
Souji dips his head down, enthusiastically applying himself to the task of
sucking Kanji off. The feeling of having him squirming underneath is something
powerful, and Souji knows what he wants—knows Kanji has no problem at
all giving it to him—but there's still a heady rush from doing this. And he
keeps sucking, tongue rubbing over the warm, sensitive flesh of Kanji's cock,
ignoring the slight discomfort of it pushing into his throat, until Kanji
pushes at his shoulder.
"Hey... can I..."
When he doesn't continue, Souji raises an eyebrow. Kanji just huffs and looks
to the side. "I wanna be inside you."
That manages to shatter some restraint Souji's managed until this point, and he
hurriedly gets out of his own jeans and underwear, shirt flung off into some
obscure corner while he's at it. Then he's back on Kanji's hips, leaning over
to search through one of the bedside table drawers for lube, which is passed
off to Kanji once he's done.
He could do the prep himself, but he's missed the feeling of Kanji's fingers
working him open, slow and careful, and he sighs contentedly as one pushes in,
slightly cold with lube.
"Does that feel okay, sen—Souji?"
"Yes," Souji murmurs, rocking back slowly. He's impatient for more, and yet he
knows he's going to have to wait it out. There's no use in trying to hurry and
making this worse than it is, and they've only got today for this. If he messed
it up, he doubts he could forgive himself any time soon.
So as slowly as Kanji takes it, and as frustrated as Souji feels with how much
time they're wasting, he's soon open enough to take it. With a little bit more
lube, he's slowly sinking down on Kanji's cock, all the muscles in his stomach
and thighs taut with effort.
It seems to be taking Kanji as much effort to keep calm. His face is drawn as
Souji settles deeper and deeper, still going slow and careful even though the
small taste he's getting of this is enough to make him desperate already.
Eventually, he has to give in, throwing caution to the wind and settling
himself in Kanji's lap with a gasp, eyes half-lidded, stomach rising and
falling heavily. This is the perfect feeling, the one he hasn't felt in far too
long, the simple comfort of having Kanji inside of him and looking completely
in awe underneath him.
"Should I move...?" Souji asks. He's teasing a little bit—doubts Kanji could
even speak a single word with how overwhelmed he seems.
And true enough, he can only nod, his hands squeezing on Souji's hips as he
tries to lift him up.
Readily, Souji starts moving. At first, he's a little stiff, his hips
unaccustomed to the habit of guiding himself down, and in truth, all he's
really done without Kanji is a few nights of jerking off when he was thinking
of him too much—maybe a couple fingers working inside himself if he
was really turned on—but for the most part, he's been bereft. And it feels as
incredible as it does strange and new to be riding him again.
At the same time, he's a little bit embarrassed, though. All this time without
doing anything for himself has got him dangerously close to coming already, and
the intimacy, the sheer closeness of this isn't helping at all. He's barely
gone for more than a minute before he feels himself right on the edge,
panicking and trying so hard to stop himself, but he can't. He shudders, body
going stiff as he comes with a few desperate strokes of his fingers over his
cock, spilling on Kanji's stomach with a moan.
Speaking of whom, he's groaning and clutching Souji's hips, bucking up into him
so hard that Souji doesn't know if he can take the stimulation much longer.
Still, after a painful minute of trying to gain control, he finally manages to
settle, wide-eyed as he stares up at Souji.
"Uh... se—Souji..."
"Don't say anything," he warns. It seems pretty embarrassing; they'd barely
done anything, and he'd gone off that quickly; it's entirely shameful.
"H-hey... it was pretty cute," Kanji says, which doesn't help in the least.
He'd been trying so hard to give off this cool facade, like he'd been managing
everything in Kanji's absence. But like everything else, he just can't keep up
that wall in front of Kanji. It's impossible.
He shudders, not wanting to stop, not wanting this closeness to go away. He
needs the physicality of Kanji, because that's what he's going to be losing
when he goes back to Inaba without Souji.
Hands careful and reverent on Souji as always, Kanji rolls him over onto his
back, settling him before guiding his thighs apart and pushing inside of him
again. The sensation of it is a little bit overwhelming, but it's good—and
Souji sighs, lying back amongst the pillows as Kanji starts to thrust into him.
He's a little more hurried, apparently striving to meet his own peak, but just
as reluctant in the long-term as Souji is to really fall over the edge.
In the end, Souji manages to come one more time, touching himself slowly as
Kanji's thrusts ease into something more intimate, and the tightness of Souji's
body leads him to finally come inside of him with a stuttered moan, body tense,
brows drawn together, lips parted—and then all the agony washes away and he
slumps against Souji's chest.
They're silent for a long while. It surprises Souji that it's never awkward,
but that's just how it is: this is another kind of connection, Souji's hand
carding through the strands of Kanji's hair, Kanji's breath warm even against
his sweaty skin. He'd be happy to spend an entire day this way (but not this
one).
Eventually, Kanji speaks up. "Senpai... we gotta talk, y'know. We're almost out
of time."
And Souji knows that all of this needs to be cleared up, but at the same time,
he dreads it. He dreads anything that reveals him too much, that might finally
make Kanji decide he's not worth it.
"Yes." Already, his answers are getting shorter and shorter, a defense
mechanism, albeit a very avoidant one.
"You know you can talk to me about anything, right? Even if you think it's
weird or... or whatever. I wanna listen to you."
Souji softens a little, but his gaze averts from Kanji's face. How can he talk
to him when it's so hard? When he can barely put these things into words for
himself? He's been forcing everything down for an eternity, convincing himself
that no one cared for him so long that he doesn't even know where to begin
anymore. By this age, don't most people already know how to say what's
bothering them? And here he is, still thinking he has to keep it down, or else
people will stop liking him.
"I know," he says.
"So, uh... I want to do it however it makes you comfortable, but... but we
gotta talk. When there's something bothering you, we gotta talk."
Souji nods. "I know," he says again. "I'm sorry."
"Hey, no. It's not something you gotta apologize for. You don't need to
apologize for any of this." Kanji scoots up, moving to lay side-by-side with
Souji instead, and he reaches out to tuck a thick chunk of silver hair behind
his ear.
Souji can't help but think he must look silly like this, but for Kanji's sake,
he tolerates it.
"It's just, I really want this to work out. I've never liked someone as much as
I like you, senpai. I don't want to lose you."
"You won't," Souji promises.
"I don't want to lose you to anything, not if I can help it. So even if you
think it's hard to think about something, as long as it's something on your
mind that's distracting you, I want you to know I'll listen as long as it
takes. And we'll figure it out together, right?"
"Right," Souji says. He can't help but notice Kanji is doing so much of the
talking right now, but he appreciates it—having only to agree with what's said,
so long as he does—and he does.
"So, uh... y'think you can tell me what's been going on? So we can figure it
out before I have to leave?"
He takes in a soft, uneven breath, glancing instinctively away from Kanji, as
if it'd make the brunt of his words easier to bear. But in the end, it doesn't
work like that. Souji can pretend all he wants that Kanji won't hear this, but
he will. He'll know. And maybe it's time that he let somebody close
enough, truly close enough, to know those bad parts intimately.
"I told you before, that I'm not... good... at being alone," he starts. The
words aren't flowing—they have to be forced free, and he trips over them. "I
mean. Before I came to Inaba, I felt like I was disconnected from everything.
There was nothing that made me me. I just existed. And when I'm alone, that's
what it feels like sometimes."
Kanji stays quiet, his hand resting on Souji's side, slowly stroking the bare
skin of his waist.
"Sometimes it's easier, because I know I have friends, but sometimes it's
harder. Because you guys are a long way away. And before now, I wasn't used to
being around people, so I could be alone. That was normal to me... and now,
it's not. I didn't know how hard the distance would be."
"Yeah. But we still care about you no matter what. No matter how far away you
are. You know that, don't you?"
Logically? Of course he does. But hypothetically? It's a struggle to imagine
that they even think about him as much as he thinks about him.
"I think so," Souji says, though his voice wavers, unsure.
Kanji's brows furrow, his expression almost pained as he rubs his hand up and
down Souji's side. "You're not a burden, senpai. I think you feel like you are
sometimes, but you're not. All of us wanna be around you—I wanna be around you.
Even when you think you have to keep it inside, you don't."
No one's ever said anything like that to Souji before. And while it doesn't
wipe away those worries completely, it opens up something inside of his chest,
makes him feel light and airy, breathing full and deep, lively.
"Thank you," is all he can really say. It's not nearly enough; he knows that,
but he fully intends to make up for it in the coming months.
===============================================================================
The day passes entirely too quickly, but they spend it doing all the things
they haven't been able to during their separation—laying in bed curled close
together as the rain falls outside, just talking about all the mundane things
that have been happening in their lives, and Souji finds that as he speaks, it
gets easier and easier.
Hours are filled this way, and before he knows it, they're walking toward the
station together under an umbrella. Each step is filled with a kind of dread,
because the knowledge that Kanji will be gone in another hour is inescapable.
Still, they have one last dinner at a nearby cafe, sandwiches and a tiny prim
cake split between the two of them, which Kanji savors in an entirely new kind
of way... consideration, perhaps?
When they've finished and get up to leave, the dull ache inside of Souji grows,
making itself known with each second: the knowledge that he's only gotten this
one day, and now it's over. But it's better than nothing. That's what he tries
to tell himself as they walk into the station.
"Hey. So, remember what I said a little while back, about visiting? What do you
think about me coming up here sometimes? Or I could pay for you to come to
Inaba. Everyone would like that," Kanji says once they've taken a seat on a
bench to wait for the train.
"That'd be nice." For once, Souji doesn't doubt whether it'll really happen or
not—he wants it, and Kanji wants it, so what's to get in their way? Besides,
this one day has made him too eager for another one.
"Yeah?" Kanji grins, squeezing his arm around Souji's shoulder, pulling him
closer.
"Yeah."
"Good." There's another lull before he speaks again. "And you're really gonna
talk to me from now on, right?"
"I promise," says Souji. He leans against Kanji's shoulder, wanting to savor
this, but then the train pulls into the station.
Reluctantly, they stand, Souji popping his umbrella open, though it gets tossed
aside by the ferocity of Kanji's sudden hug. He wraps his arms around Kanji's
neck in return, hugging as tightly as he can, for as long as he can, squeezing
harder than he probably should. This is too difficult; he doesn't want to let
go, but he knows he has to. It's just as bad as it had been when he'd left
Inaba.
"You'd better hurry," he whispers against Kanji's neck.
"One more second," he murmurs back.
The announcement plays over the speakers after another minute, a warning, and
Souji tries to pull away, but Kanji won't allow it. A part of him is happy
about that.
"One more."
"You'll miss your train, Kanji." Not that Souji would mind—not at all.
Kanji pulls back with a sigh of frustration, and he kisses Souji. It's only a
small, chaste one, their lips barely just brushing together, so fleeting that
he doesn't get a chance to memorize the feeling. But it'll tide Souji over. And
then Kanji's rushing to get on the train, his bag bouncing against his back.
For a moment, Souji almost wants to chase him, get on the train to Inaba and
not think about the consequences. He knows better, though, because even if this
wasn't enough, even if it never is, it always leaves him wanting more.
End Notes
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