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When Jakurai first proposes it, Ramuda is apprehensive to accept his offer to move in together.
Make no mistake, he absolutely wanted to do it; he was, at this point, halfway living in Jakurai’s house already. He had clothes strewn about in various shelves and cabinets, a toothbrush next to Jakurai’s in the upstairs bathroom— hell , he even slept there at least twice a week, and Gentaro and Dice had even begun to make a habit of visiting him there instead of at his own apartment.
For all intents and purposes, there was no reason at all to reject the offer. Even still, he‘d attempted some weak deflections.
“Hm,” he says. “I’d need a place to work. You would have to convert a room into a studio.”
In Ramuda’s mind, this was a hefty request, and yet Jakurai responds by saying, “That’s perfectly alright. Yotsutsuji moved out months ago— I’m sure he’ll be fine with having his old room be used for that.”
At the mention of Yotsutsuji’s name, Ramuda bristles. It isn’t as though they were on bad terms— not anymore , in any case— but Ramuda still feels bad about taking his room even though he knows just as well that Yotsutsuji would be fine with it.
“I can’t stand to eat your stupid healthy meals every day,” comes Ramuda’s next excuse. “If I stay in your house, we need to change it up from time to time.”
Jakurai snorts when he hears that, but nonetheless asks, “And what would you propose we do to, ah , change it up?”
“We order take out once a week!” Ramuda replies, grinning easily.
“Anything you want,” Jakurai responds, all reverence and no hesitation. It makes Ramuda's face feel too warm. “Is there anything else I need to take note of before you finally allow me the privilege of agreeing to move in?”
Ramuda’s grin widens despite himself. He’s always been a bit of a brat, and as though to prove that fact, he adds, “Your house is boring. If I move in, I get to do whatever I want to the place— change the paint on the walls, buy new carpets and curtains. A whole makeover!”
That does give Jakurai pause. With a twist of lips, he says, “I like how my house looks.”
“Well, it’s not just going to be your house anymore, is it?” Ramuda says, light and airy despite the way his nerves kick into full gear. Jakurai knows him well enough at this point to understand that he’s just said yes.
The full truth of Ramuda’s hesitance to move in with Jakurai is this:
Ramuda is a fucking mess. He’s a wound up little ball of insecurity wearing human skin, and he counts himself lucky that Jakurai doesn’t seem to have noticed just yet. He gets breakdowns and panic attacks and moments where he feels less than human, moments where he’s reminded of his past as a tool , and he can’t imagine that Jakurai would be willing to stay with him forever. Sooner or later, any day now, Jakurai’s going to figure out that he isn’t worth it, that he was never worth it, and Jakurai will once again leave—
And, well. You get the idea.
But Ramuda doesn’t always have those thoughts. They’re thankfully few and far between, and when he does have them, Gentaro and Dice are often ready to drop everything to pay him a visit. They sit with him and calm him down, weather his mood so well that it almost feels as though the breakdowns never happen at all.
Ramuda usually knows better than to see Jakurai during one of those bad days. Sometimes those periods even stretch into bad weeks , and he loathes the thought of subjecting Jakurai to that.
“You could tell him,” Gentaro says one afternoon, in the middle of a coffee date. Dice is running a little bit late, but he’ll be here soon, Ramuda is sure.
His posse never lets him down, after all.
“The part where I’m more high maintenance than is worth maintaining? Or the part where I cry super ugly when I’m having a full breakdown?” Ramuda shoots back, peering up at Gentaro through his false lashes.
Gentaro frowns. “The part where he'll respond back that loves you enough to gladly sit with you through your bad days.” He takes a dainty sip of his tea. “Besides, you’re so high maintenance as it is, I doubt this would be enough to scare him off. If he’s still here after you practically threatened a home renovation out of him, then he isn’t likely to be scared off by this much.”
Ramuda hears those last two sentences well enough, and he understands them, too. Unfortunely, his mind is stuck on one thing: “You think he loves me?”
“' Think' ?” Gentaro scoffs. “Ramuda. You can’t honestly be this bad at figuring these things out. Everybody knows he’s in love with you.”
Ramuda is quiet, and Gentaro continues, “He would hang the moon for you, Ramuda.”
“Oh, and does he just go around telling people this?” Ramuda snarks, because it's possible that what Gentato is saying isn't a lie, but that doesn't mean Ramuda will believe it so easily.
“Dude, do you think he needs to?,” comes a voice from somewhere behind Gentaro
Dice strides over towards them dressed to the nines. He’s in a modest, three piece suit, with a navy blue tie and slicked back hair to match. His usual hairpiece is nowhere in sight, but on the lapels of his suit jacket, Ramuda sees a golden pin. It’s Fling Posse’s insignia, and Ramuda smiles.
“Dice!” He greets while Dice takes the seat next to Gentaro. “How was the gala?”
“ Boring,” Dice huffs. He’d been obligated to attend a charity gala at the behest of his Mother, and while they were definitely on better terms now, there was still the dispute between them of Dice’s responsibility as the son of one of Japan’s most powerful women. “The only good thing about it was the buffet. I managed to snag, like— three, four servings of that fancy turkey dish they had? So I’m stuffed right now.”
“No wonder, then, that you didn’t immediately take my macarons the moment you saw them,” Gentaro comments.
“Ha ha,” Dice says sarcastically, then shoves two of Gentaro’s macarons into his mouth just to be spiteful. Ramuda laughs at the way Gentaro’s face crumples.
“Anyways,” Gentaro says, bouncing back from the slight quickly enough. “Dice is right. Nobody really needs to be told. Everybody figures out easily enough that Jinguji Jakurai is infatuated with you.”
“Of course he is!” Ramuda says, chipper. He swirls his drink with a straw, refusing to meet Gentaro’s eyes. “Everybody’s at least a little bit infatuated with me.”
Ramuda doesn’t need to see him to know that Gentaro is rolling his eyes. “Fine,” Gentaro says. “I’ll correct myself: the man is in love with you, and he will remain that way even after he’s seen you at your worst.”
“Oh, is that what this is about?” Dice says. “Those days?”
When Ramuda turns to him, Dice is staring back imploringly. Ramuda bites a lip, and then nods shyly. “I mean…” Ramuda starts, but the words are lodged in his throat. “I…”
Gentaro and Dice wait patiently for his words to fall out of his mouth. He appreciates that about them— that they wait for him to talk, and that they trust that he will. Not everybody would trust Ramuda like that.
Sighing, Ramuda clears his throat. Then, “He has seen me at my worst before. On a rooftop. And… and, he didn’t exactly… remain.”
Gentaro looks like he wants to protest, so Ramuda holds out a hand to stop him, a sign to wait.
“Look,” Ramuda says eventually. “I know that things were different before. I know that that only happened because I did something to hurt someone he cares about, but… it really doesn’t change the fact that he was gone. The moment he found out what I was… he was gone. And, like, yeah! That’s my fault, too, because I kept pushing him away even if he was ready to talk to me.”
There’s silence again, before Ramuda sets his drink down on the table. “But I don’t think I’m ready to risk a scenario where… I’m not holding him at a distance. I tell him about all the worst parts of my life, and— and he goes away even if I tried to keep him close. Because I tried to keep him close.”
“Aw, buddy.” Dice’s hand shoots across the table, towards Ramuda’s head. In soft, slow motions, he pats Ramuda, a little bit like one would a pet. Ramuda doesn’t really mind the gesture. It’s comforting.
What’s even more comforting, though, is when Gentaro speaks. He says, “You’re absolutely right. That does sound like a big risk. But, Ramuda? You can’t keep lying in wait for the day that you’ll be ready for it, because that day will never come.”
He gets up from his seat, strides gracefully to sit next to Ramuda, and envelops him in a warm embrace. Gentaro isn’t a touchy-feely sort of person, so it means a lot that he’s doing this to comfort Ramuda.
Dice stands, too. It would make the strange scene of Ramuda and Gentaro hugging even stranger if Dice were to join in, so he doesn’t do that, but he does add on, “You’re plenty obvious, too. Not to everybody else, maybe, but Gentaro and I know for sure you’re in love with him. So I think it’s pretty easy to say that he’s worth that gamble, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Ramuda replies against Gentaro’s shoulder, resolve hardening.
“Can I talk to you about something?” Ramuda says one night. His things are due to arrive tomorrow, but Jakurai’s house had already felt like home even before he officially moved in, so he’s completely comfortable lying down on the living room couch. He’s got onesies and pajamas in the closet in Jakurai’s bedroom upstairs, but as it is, he’s clad in one of Jakurai’s grey sweaters. It’s so huge on him that it falls past his knees.
“Of course,” Ramuda hears from somewhere in the kitchen. Jakurai is doing his work at the kitchen table, despite the fact that he has a perfectly good study upstairs. Ramuda thinks he’s doing it just so they can be close together, and it’s a little unhealthy how his heart rushes at this thought.
“No, but I need to talk to you,” Ramuda says again, pitching his voice high enough that it almost sounds like a whine. He doesn’t make a habit of using his higher pitch that much anymore, especially not around Jakurai, but sometimes he does it just to be annoying.
He does it now to hide his nerves. If he acts flippantly like this, then it shouldn’t feel so serious, should it?
It still does. Ramuda thinks Jakurai can tell just how anxious he is, because Ramuda can hear him setting his laptop aside and getting up from his chair.
Ramuda’s heart beats faster and faster as his footfalls draw near. He inhales, and it still doesn’t help.
Jakurai’s sitting next to him on the couch before Ramuda even knows it. Despite himself, despite the erratic beating of his heart, Ramuda gets up and shuffles into Jakurai’s lap until they’re chest to chest.
He buries his face against the crook of Jakurai’s neck, and he feels the way the other man wraps his hands around his waist.
“Did you make me come over here just so you could give me a hug?” Jakurai asks. He sounds so fond, as though he wouldn’t mind it at all if that were actually the case.
Ramuda shakes his head no instead of offering a verbal response. Jakurai hums, pulling him even closer. He sets his chin on top of Ramuda’s head, and it’s a moment so comforting and picturesque that Ramuda kind of just wants to stay in it forever.
He can’t do that, of course, but not for a lack of trying. Fifteen minutes pass by just like that, with Ramuda completely still and Jakurai’s hand rubbing soothing circles on his back.
Then, Jakurai breaks the silence. “I’m quite happy to stay like this, Ramuda, but I do need to finish replying to emails. If you need more time, then I can come back after I—“
“No,” Ramuda says, low and soft. “No, I… I’ll talk. But stay like this, okay?”
Ramuda couldn’t stand the thought of having this conversation while knowing Jakurai could see his face. He’d sooner let himself implode.
“Okay,” Jakurai says, ever incapable of denying Ramuda. His hand continues to stroke Ramuda’s back.
“When you asked me to move in with you…” Ramuda starts, speaking against Jakurai’s shoulder. “Did you think it would be like this all of the time?”
“‘Like this’?”
“Y’know,” Ramuda says. But obviously Jakurai asked because he doesn’t know, so Ramuda expounds, “Sweet. Peaceful.” Ramuda’s hand finds a lock of Jakurai’s hair, and he combs his fingers through it. “…easy.”
Ramuda could see it in his mind, if he tried hard enough— the way Jakurai’s brows would draw together in deep contemplation. The way he would purse his lips as he makes the mental effort to construct the best possible response, because he was so thoughtful like that.
It takes half a minute, but then Jakurai says, “No. Not at all.”
“So you knew for a fact I’d be a horror to live with, huh,” Ramuda attempts to joke, but there’s no humor in his voice. He can’t muster up the energy for it right now.
The hand not rubbing Ramuda’s back moves upwards, settling onto the back of Ramuda’s head. He says, with a ridiculous amount of gravity, “No, it’s not like that either.”
“So what is it like, then?” Ramuda says, unable to keep the pout out of his voice. He isn’t angry, or irritated. He’s just scared, and he’s tired of feeling that way.
Ramuda buries his face even deeper against Jakurai’s shoulder, and Jakurai replies, “I had faith in us both.”
That response puzzles Ramuda. "Hm?"
“Things won’t always turn out the way we want, Ramuda,” Jakurai says. His head shifts from somewhere above Ramuda, and Ramuda can no longer feel its weight on top of his own head. “But I always thought we would stick together when they don’t.”
There’s silence again, heavy and unnerving. Ramuda has always been used to filling silences; he isn’t truly as sociable and talkative as he makes himself out to be, but the alternative is silence, and he hates silence.
Maybe Jakurai knows this about him. Maybe that’s why Jakurai takes it upon himself to continue.
“I don’t think I’ve told you this yet, but—” Jakurai’s hand stills. Then, he pulls both of his arms away entirely, and places his hands on Ramuda’s shoulder, trying to coax him off.
Ramuda doesn’t want to budge, and Jakurai says, “Look at me, please? I want you to see me when I say this.”
The thing is, Ramuda is just as weak for him as he is for Ramuda. So Ramuda lets himself be pried off, and he looks Jakurai in the eyes.
He thinks that perhaps the adoration in Jakurai’s gaze should have faded by now, but it hasn’t. And when Jakurai tells him earnestly, “I love you. I am in love with you. And… no matter what happens, as long as you do your best to be honest with me, I’ll be here. I’m yours until you don’t want me to be anymore,” Ramuda wants to believe it never will.
God . Ramuda's heartbeat stutters in his chest as though they were the aftershocks of an earthquake.
"You…" he attempts, but nothing leaves his lips. Ramuda thinks he might be overheating a little bit, and it doesn't help that Jakurai is smiling at him the way that he does only when he's done something to make Ramuda red in the face.
The best part of what he's just said, Ramuda surmises, might be the condition: as long as you do your best to be honest with me . Because Ramuda has always wondered what would make this time different, when, before, Jakurai had also promised to follow him to the end of the world, and yet had left him all the same.
But Jakurai is asking for his honesty, now, in a way that he never had before. And Ramuda's heart has grown so weak for him that he thinks he can do it. It'll be hard, but he'll try to be honest, and maybe--
Maybe this'll work out.
So Ramuda inhales deeply, and then he says, "Sometimes I have bad days."
Jakurai stares back at him with a contemplative expression. He doesn't say anything, though, and Ramuda elaborates as best he can.
"Like. Really bad days. They… they're kind of unpredictable, honestly, even though most of the time I can tell when they're about to happen. I just-- sometimes they happen, and I can't explain why, and I can't do anything to stop them. I just need to get through them."
"What do they look like?" Jakurai asks. It's a mercy, really, because Ramuda doesn't know where he's supposed to be going with this. The question helps him navigate, guides his thoughts so he'll have an easier time with what to say.
"Well, usually… usually, they don’t really look like anything.” Ramuda chews on his lip. “It’s just me, in my mind. Feeling bad.” He takes a second more to think, and then, “Well, I guess I get a bit unresponsive, or I’m more sluggish… and when it gets bad enough, I get irritable and quick to anger.”
Ramuda nearly shudders thinking of how, once, during one of those awful periods, Dice had come over to see how he was doing, only to be met with a snappish attitude from Ramuda and an icy command to leave him alone. Dice had forgiven him after Ramuda apologized, but… it was still terrible, and nothing will make Ramuda stop feeling terrible about it.
“And when does it get bad enough?” Jakurai urges, stopping him from spiralling into another bad memory.
“When I remember being Chuoku’s spy, and nothing around me can make me forget.” Ramuda tries to bite back a bitter laugh, but he can’t quite manage to. “God, ‘spy’ isn’t even right, because that implies they treated me like a person.”
The grip of Jakurai’s arm around Ramuda’s waist tightens when Ramuda says that. It’s the furthest thing from uncomfortable, though; somehow, Ramuda feels protected by it.
And Ramuda goes on like that, talking about how sometimes he feels like he’s drowning in the memory of his life not belonging to him. He tells Jakurai about his fears, and doubts, and how some nights he chooses not to go to bed because he gets nightmares of having to hurt the people he cares about just to survive.
Jakurai, all the while, listens and asks, and asks and listens. He stays , holding Ramuda tightly enough that Ramuda doesn’t even notice how he starts to shake, and somehow that is what gets Ramuda to realize: ah, so he does love me, after all.
The first time Jakurai sees it happen is a month after Ramuda moves in.
All things considered, Ramuda thinks it strangely fortunate that it took that long. Usually, when enough bad things pile— and in his line of work, they do that a little too often— Ramuda finds himself ready to crumble, but Jakurai is a steady presence in his life, keeping him stable and on-track.
That’s not to say Ramuda is incapable of doing everything himself; he was already working in the fashion industry— juggling a dozen things a day and working out a multitude of events and shows— even before his getaway from Chuoku. He’s hesitant to admit that their funding certainly made his business flow much, much smoother, but Ramuda is and has always been competent when it comes to his shop.
Still, he isn’t about to complain that he doesn’t have to do everything himself anymore.
On days that he’s too lazy to get up, Jakurai makes the effort to convince him to. In the moments that he forgets to eat, Jakurai is usually ready to remind him, if not cook or buy him a meal entirely. Sometimes, in the whirlwind of every product review he has to make, or client he has to attend to, Ramuda gets too overwhelmed to sleep, unable to stop thinking about all the things that could go wrong, but Jakurai talks him through it, stays with him until his eyelids finally feel heavy enough and he drifts into unconsciousness.
Jakurai isn’t what’s keeping Ramuda together, because that’s something Ramuda has to and does do himself. Jakurai makes it easier, though, makes it better.
Unfortunately, contrary to popular belief, Jakurai isn’t God, and he isn’t going to be able to fix everything.
“What’s wrong?” Jakurai asks the moment he arrives home to find Ramuda breathing unevenly on the couch. He kneels in front of Ramuda, not even remembering to take off his coat as he cups Ramuda’s face in his hands.
Plenty of things were wrong, actually, but it was as difficult to articulate that as it was to breathe.
“I…” Ramuda tries, but it comes out raspy. “I’m— I fucked up.”
Before he can say anything else, Jakurai takes his hand and drags him up. It’s only when Jakurai hands him a glass of water that it registers to Ramuda that he’s been led to the kitchen.
“Could you please try to be more specific than that?” Jakurai says gently, and in another time Ramuda might have considered that tone condescending, but right now hearing it helps him breathe.
“I ordered the wrong fabric,” Ramuda says. “500 yards of it, and it’s already been shipped to the warehouse, so I can’t have it refunded.”
”Okay,” Jakurai says, urging him to continue, and Ramuda appreciates how he doesn’t try to minimize the problem.
“I needed it for a vest design that’s already been pre-ordered by so many people. It’s a huge cost, because the fabric is expensive, which means the vest was also sold for a steep price, and I can’t just— I can’t just give people the wrong thing. That’s stupid. It’s— I’m so fucking stupid, I—“
“Stop, no,” Jakurai says. His voice is so soft that it makes Ramuda want to cry.
He outright does cry when Jakurai envelopes him in a warm embrace. They’re both standing at full height, so all Ramuda can do is feel the way his cheek presses against the soft fabric on Jakurai’s chest.
It feels good to cry about it. It was a terrible mistake that could cost him months worth of setbacks. In another time, he wouldn’t have been allowed to cry like this, but nobody owns him anymore, and his feelings are his to feel, so he does.
His soft sniffles get messier, his sobs turning into outright shrieks. He can feel tears dripping down his face, probably messing up his eyeliner, and he must look so, so ugly right now but it feels so nice to be held despite it all.
He cries, hideous and unpleasant and loud, and Jakurai keeps holding him until it all subsides.
Eventually, when he no longer feels the weight of a million different thoughts heavy in his mind, he feels brave enough to pull away.
“M’sorry about your shirt,” he tells Jakurai, rubbing at the residue moisture on his face with the sleeves of his own sweater.
“It’s very much okay,” Jakurai says, earnest. “Are… you okay?”
“Better,” Ramuda says, but his voice cracks so much that Jakurai fetches him another glass of water.
When Ramuda finishes drinking it, he admits, “I can probably figure this out.”
“You’ve handled worse before, so I’m inclined to agree,” Jakurai tells him. He leans forward to tuck a strip of Ramuda’s hair behind his ear, and the action bleeds with affection. “If you don’t mind me asking, what about the situation made you feel this bad?”
There’s something in the way Jakurai phrases it— as though it were the fault of the situation , rather than Ramuda himself— that compels Ramuda to be honest. It’s not a desire that many people can wring out of him, but Jakurai isn’t his partner for nothing.
“I feel incompetent,” Ramuda says, plain and simple, except it’s not plain and it’s not simple, because if it was, maybe he would be able to talk to Gentaro or Dice about it. He hasn’t, though, and he doesn’t know if he even can.
Jakurai’s hand finds his, intertwining their fingers together. “And?”
“And—” Ramuda takes a deep inhale. He can do this. He can be honest. “And whenever I feel incompetent, like I’m not doing my job right, I feel like I’m going to die. Because… because—“
“Because that’s how they made you feel,” Jakurai finishes for him.
Ramuda nods his head, looking away. It’s never easy to talk about how Chuoku has affected him, and time has helped him grow beyond that hurt, but it can’t heal everything. Irreversibly, they’ve harmed Ramuda, and it’s incredibly unfair, but it’s damage that Ramuda will simply have to learn how to live with.
“Because that’s how they made me feel,” Ramuda agrees, swallowing around the lump in his throat.
“Is there anything I can do?” Jakurai says, a little breathless, a little desperate. A lot desperate, actually, but Ramuda sees past how he tries to hide it.
“Don’t you have work?” Ramuda asks, because the last thing he wants to do is inconvenience Jakurai further, but Jakurai only says, “It can wait.”
Ramuda takes one more deep inhale. He closes his eyes, counts to ten in his mind, and when he opens them again, he says, “Let’s watch something. I’ll figure out what to do with the fabric after, but… I just need my mind off of this.”
Jakurai pulls him forward with their intertwined hands. He gives Ramuda one more hug, and then a kiss on the forehead.
When he pulls away, it’s already far past the time to be eating anything unhealthy.
Jakurai tells him, “I’ll make popcorn.”
The second time arrives about a week after, and Ramuda doesn’t know if it can really be considered a second time, given how it’s pretty much just an aftershock of the first.
He’s still reeling with the aftereffects of the order mishap. He already sent his customers an informative post on the situation, along with a link to a survey for whether or not people want their orders cancelled. Everybody is blessedly understanding about the matter, but there are still people who want certain clarifications or have more specific questions, so Ramuda’s past three days have been spent fielding those in the isolated space of their bedroom.
He’s barely slept in the past week, and even now that the situation has settled down and everything’s been mostly handled, he still can’t find it in himself to fall asleep.
Ramuda is tired as all hell, and he has the time to rest, but whenever he closes his eyes, they snap right back to being wide open at the thought that maybe he’s missed something.
Jakurai notices, because of course he does. At some point, he seems to decide that enough is enough, and that decision comes in the form of a grand piano suddenly situated at the center of their living room.
“Um,” Ramuda says when he sees it. “Where did you get this? And when did you find the time to bring it to the living room without me noticing?”
Jakurai pays his questions no mind, and tells him deftly, “Could you please lie on the couch for me?”
Ramuda, in an act of obedience that he doesn’t usually employ, does as he’s told and settles himself on the couch. Jakurai, on the other hand, takes a seat before the grand piano. He opens up its lid and hovers his fingers over the keys.
“I haven’t played in quite a while,” Jakurai admits. “But I do miss it.”
“Mm, still doesn’t tell me where you got the piano,” Ramuda says airily. His vision is beginning to blur now that he’s so fatigued, but he pays that no mind.
“It was sitting in the basement, and I dragged it here and cleaned it up while you were busy attending to your clients upstairs.”
It’s enough of an answer to shut Ramuda up, and he continues to remain silent as Jakurai starts to play. There’s a bit of an awkward roughness to how he starts, a testament to how much time it’s been since he’s played piano, but that awkwardness gradually disappears and turns into a natural grace that reminds Ramuda of how Jinguji Jakurai is bad at nothing.
Ramuda observes. He looks at the way Jakurai’s hands move across the keys, stares in idle fascination and love struck awe at how Jakurai plays the instrument with his whole body, the strands of his hair swaying behind him as he moves gracefully against the piano. The soft melody of whatever piece Jakurai is playing is hauntingly beautiful, but it can hardly compare to the scene that goes along with it. Ramuda stares at Jakurai playing the piano with an intensity that proves just how much he wants to burn this into his memory.
“You know,” Jakurai says, softly enough that it doesn’t overshadow the music, but loud enough that it pulls Ramuda out of his thoughts. “I had a client at work today named Kaede. She was nine years old, and she said she wanted to be a fashion designer.”
Ramuda smiles, his body drooping against the arm of the sofa without him being conscious of it. “And what did you tell her?”
“I said I knew the best designer in the world.” Jakurai keeps playing, and the words begin to blur agains the melody.
“Isn’t it bad to—“ Ramuda tries and fails to stifle a yawn. “—lie to kids?”
“I didn’t lie,” Jakurai says. “You’re the best fashion designer in the world.”
“You’re biased because you’re in love with me,” Ramuda mumbles, his words nearly incoherent. The melody is dulling his mind.
“I really am,” Jakurai says, and Ramuda is too busy sleeping to reply.
The third time it happens is two months later. There’s no real reason behind it this time; Ramuda simply had a bad day.
Jakurai is happy to sit with him through it, though. He takes a day off from work to spend with Ramuda, and when Ramuda tells him, “You hate taking day-offs,” all he can say in response is, “I hate the thought of you being alone more.”
Ramuda hums, leaning against him. It’s only 5:00 in the afternoon, but they’re both in bed with Ramuda silent against Jakurai’s chest.
“Are you gonna hate me one day because I made you take a day off?” Ramuda asks, oddly sullen.
“You didn’t make me do anything.”
“Because I make you do everything .” Ramuda takes a deep inhale, the way that he does in preparation for an uncomfortable confession. “Aren’t you tired of me yet? Of all these things you do for me?”
“No, I’m not,” Jakurai says.
“Why not?” Ramuda asks, tone vulnerably soft.
“Because when I’m with you, I feel like I deserve to be happy,” Jakurai replies, a bit too earnest for his tastes. After everything, though, honesty ought to go both ways between the two of them. “These things that you think are such a burden for me to do for you… they're not. I will never be tired of being here for you, because I love you, and my greatest happiness is to be with you."
Jakurai is sure Ramuda wants to make fun of him. That's what Ramuda does whenever he's confronted by too much sincerity; however, all Ramuda says is, "I love you, too," and nothing else. Jakurai's chest feels warm at the thought that Ramuda believes in him so much that that was enough to reassure him.
By the time Ramuda has drifted off to sleep, Jakurai can feel the warmth of his skin and the thrum of the blood in his veins.
Truth be told, Ramuda makes him feel like he'll be okay, too.
Jakurai has had his fair share of negative emotions and unpleasant periods in his life. Before Ramuda even moved in, Jakurai would often get nightmares of every person he's murdered in cold blood. Somehow, though, whenever Ramuda slept over, the sound of his heartbeat would be enough to stave Jakurai's nightmares off. As selfish as it sounds, that was one of the countless reasons he'd wanted Ramuda to move in.
But then Ramuda, in a pleasantly unexpected turn of events, kept on trusting Jakurai. In stark contrast to their time in The Dirty Dawg, Ramuda has revealed himself over and over and over again, and for that Jakurai truly believes he will never tire of staying with Ramuda throughout his bad days, whether it be the fourth or the hundredth or the thousandth time.