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Tecchou sat stiffly at the blanket spread beneath the pink-coated tree. With each gust of wind, each sway of branches, a new cascade of petals flurried in the air, falling onto his hair, his uniform, into the cup he was awkwardly holding – the translucency of sake making it seem like blossoms were suspended in the air.
Frail flowers eaten alive by the razor-sharpness of the liquid that lingered across Tecchou’s tongue.
He never liked the taste of alcohol, never liked the grogginess that followed drinking it; the dullness of senses and drowsiness. Alcohol crooked reality right in front of Tecchou’s eyes, deepening the feeling of complete alienation. Still. The commander insisted, saying that the picnic under cherry blossoms would strengthen their bond. And perhaps it would if it wasn’t for half of the other divisions deciding to join in.
Tecchou looked at his cup, at the single pink petal drifting across the surface. How lonely it looks – he mused, oddly thoughtful. It would look so much more beautiful high in the sky, taken by the wind, carried into the open world.
“Are you going to finish this?” Teruko nudged his shoulder, her head jerking eagerly towards the cup.
Tecchou shook his head, and handed her the sake, watched her tilt her head, long locks flowing down her back, and drink the entirety of the cup.
“You shouldn’t drink when you’re in this form,” he chided when Teruko let out a satisfied hiss.
She looked at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“I believe you’re in no position to lecture me about this, Tecchou,” she grinned at him and winked before pouring more sake into her cup.
Tecchou sighed, “You look no older than ten, vice-commander, other people are bound to be suspicious.”
“Vice-commander, vice-commander,” Teruko grumbled under her breath and fully turned to face him, batting her eyelashes. “What happened to Teruko-san, or even better neesan?”
A sudden strike of warmth spread across Tecchou’s cheeks, rapidly crawling down his neck. Teruko giggled mercilessly, clearly delighted at Tecchou’s discomfort. It was just his luck that it was exactly then that the commander decided to tune in.
“What are we laughing at, Teruko-kun?” He smiled at her brightly, his cheeks flushed red, signs of growing tipsiness.
Teruko laughed sweetly.
“Oh, you know, commander… reminiscing on how adorable Tecchou was as a child.”
“Vice-commander,” Tecchou hissed, but it hardly brought the desired effect as both Teruko and Fukuchi burst into laughter.
“He was an interesting little fellow, wasn’t he?” Fukuchi snickered.
“Who was?”
Tecchou’s blood ran cold at the faux innocence of Jouno’s question. Fukuchi laughed again and put his arm around Tecchou’s shoulder, pulling him close to ruffle his hair.
“Our Tecchou, naturally!” Teruko grinned, leaning closer to Jouno. “He used to be so clumsy, you wouldn’t believe it, Jouno! Now he carries himself all straight and might but… The first months after gaining his ability, he used to drag his sword across the floor because he forgot he could shorten it! I think there are still marks on one of the corridors!”
Jouno raised his cup to his lips, not so subtly trying to hide his smile.
“Somehow, I have no trouble imagining that,” he hummed, and Tecchou’s flush took even deeper shade.
“Ah, he was so cute!” Teruko whined. “He was the only kid in my old division, everyone doted on him, and he absolutely hated that. Wanted to be treated like an adult all the time.” She tipped her head to the back, emptying her cup. “Sometimes it was frustrating, but usually it was quite hilarious. A little kid with a missing front tooth, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, asking when he would be allowed to step into the shooting range. He just… I think he didn’t know how to be a child.” She added wistfully, the smile on her face dimming.
Tecchou quickly wiggled out of Fukuchi’s hold and adjusted his uniform, refusing to look at Jouno.
“It was a long time ago,” he cleared his throat, reaching for the pot with green tea.
The smile returned on Teruko’s face.
“Oh, trust me, Tecchou, I am painfully reminded about that every time I look at you!”
“Not everyone ages backward like you seem to do, Teruko-kun!” Fukuchi winked at her jokingly.
“What can I say, it’s a special talent!” Teruko grinned before turning back to Tecchou, her eyes narrowing suddenly. “Though I must admit… you grew up well. Quite easy on the eyes, aren’t you? Don’t you agree, Tachihara?”
“What?” Tachihara squeaked out, looking frantically between Teruko, Tecchou, and Jouno who was right beside him. “I- I… maybe?”
“Oh, he is plenty attractive!” Teruko cheered, “Must have gotten that after his neesan. Right, Tachihara?”
“We’re not related,” Tecchou noted warily but was completely ignored.
“I really don’t, um, I don’t think I… ha,” Tachihara squirmed, trying to find a way out. “Anyway, Teruko-san, how old actually are you?”
Tecchou’s lips twitched at the obvious deflection of the question. Still, no one had a chance to call Tachihara out as, almost instantly, Teruko launched into explaining the twisted logistics of her ability.
By the time the sun started slipping behind the horizon the conversion all but escaped Tecchou’s memory. As much as the picnics weren’t his thing, he understood the primary purpose; seeing people he passed in the hallways of their compound smile at each other – people whose faces were usually painted with grime and blood and pain – was refreshing. He would probably enjoy it more if it was just their unit, just the Hunting Dogs; people who signed the deal with the devil and sold their bodies and souls to the government. No matter how the other soldiers tried – there would always be a distance between them. Tecchou would never fully connect, he never really connected with anyone except–
A loud hiccup coming from his left side made him stop in his tracks.
Right. That was what he was tasked with, even on his day off.
“You sure you don’t need help, Jouno?” He asked, dubiously eyeing his partner as he stumbled despite keeping his hand on the wall of the building.
“Eat shit, Tecchou,” Jouno barked.
Tecchou bit the corner of his lips.
“Is that a yes?” He couldn’t help but ask, amusement subtle in his voice.
“I’m going to skin you alive,” Jouno threatened.
Tecchou sighed, a little smile dancing in the corners of his lips. Sometimes Jouno’s stubbornness was irritating, but occasionally it happened to be nearly endearing.
“I’m going to touch you now,” Tecchou announced flatly before reaching out and wrapping his fingers around Jouno’s wrist, tugging him closer until their shoulders brushed against each other, and Jouno let out an offended ‘ha?!’. Tecchou sighed again, “Don’t be difficult,” he murmured, feeling a little like he was talking to a child. A slightly sour scent of alcohol was tickling his nose. “I was asked to take you home safely.”
Jouno’s face grew red with anger. He put his hand on Tecchou’s, touch warm and branding, and tried to pry his fingers off his wrist. Obediently Tecchou let go.
“Oh yeah?” Jouno spluttered. “By whom?”
Tecchou bit the inner part of his cheek.
“By you.”
“Bullshit.”
“Jouno, you all but ordered me to take you home. I believe you used words ‘this isn’t a request, this is–’”
“Shut up, Christ, Tecchou!” Jouno screeched.
Tecchou’s shoulders trembled in silent laughter.
“Don’t laugh!” Jouno swatted Tecchou’s arm. “I don’t pay you for laughing.”
“You don’t pay me at all, Jouno,” Tecchou shook his head; his own voice sounding foreign to his ears – softer, a little subdued. It took him a moment to realize that he had been talking through a smile, relaxation turning his speech warmer; more honey-like.
“My company should be considered a bonus on its own,” Jouno grumbled, slowly moving forward as if to prove something, but his walk remained unstable. It looked like his kneecaps were seconds away from giving up under his weight.
Tecchou clicked his tongue and gently brushed Jouno’s elbow with his knuckles.
“Let me help, Jouno,” he murmured, before guiding Jouno’s arm to hook around his own. Jouno’s face darkened but he didn’t say a word, stubbornly turning his head away with a loud huff.
Not the first time they found themselves in this position – one being the support of the other, after a terribly draining operation, after a long day, after they were released once the medical procedures were re-performed on their bodies. Sometimes sharing your fatigue is a necessity.
“You stink,” Jouno complained.
“Not any more than you do.”
Jouno pinched Tecchou’s wrist, and even with the protection provided by the glove Tecchou could feel a tiny bruise forming across his skin. He was made of scars and shadows of ache – this one he welcomed readily.
“Don’t be ungrateful,” he rolled his eyes.
Jouno pinched him again, but lighter this time which Tecchou took as a sign of compliance. Jouno wasn’t the most cooperative person in the world, but he wasn’t nearly as disobliging as Tecchou first thought him to be. In a way, it was comforting that even tipsy – Jouno hardly changed. Amusement stirred in Tecchou’s stomach when annoyed grumbling came from his side.
“Stupid, stupid, and insensitive, absolutely no respect for my nerves,” Jouno rattled quietly, and it wasn’t hard to figure out who he was talking about. “Can’t read a room at all. Take you home safely, my ass. There’s no way I would ask,” he continued even as his hold around Tecchou’s arm tightened.
It wasn’t the first time Jouno tasted a little bit of alcohol, and Tecchou had to escort him home. His tolerance was by no means low, he had never gotten properly drunk – tipsy was the closest word to describe that state. Still, every time Jouno demanded Tecchou’s assistance – one way or another – and every time, without fail, it made Tecchou nearly proud that Jouno trusted him enough for this. He suspected, never confirmed, never saw a need in asking, that the alcohol dulled Jouno’s senses, and for someone who relied heavily on hearing, losing even an ounce of control was simply unsafe.
It was Tecchou’s job to ensure his partner’s safety.
“There is no way, there is simply no way!” Jouno groaned louder this time, huffing and puffing more than he usually did. “It’s impossible!”
Tecchou turned right. Only a few minutes now until they reached Jouno’s place.
“What’s impossible, Jouno?” He asked, deciding to humor his partner a little.
Jouno’s face contorted with anger.
“You.”
Of course.
“The vice-commander.”
Unexpected but not entirely surprising.
“Tachihara.”
That one surprised Tecchou a little. While Jouno didn’t have his favorites, it wasn’t hard to notice that he was a little bit more favorable towards Tachihara than anyone else in their division. He didn’t smack Tachihara’s head every five seconds like he did with Tecchou, he didn’t click his tongue at his attics, which was the case with Teruko, he hardly ever prodded at his choice of words, which he occasionally did during conversations with the commander. No, around Tachihara Jouno was… understanding, more forgiving.
Tecchou hummed. If Jouno wanted to continue – he would without any incitement.
“There must be something wrong with everyone,” Jouno declared, “Gunpowder got into all of your eyes, your sight cannot be trusted. And neither your opinions on that matter.”
“On what matter, Jouno?” Tecchou asked, punching in the code to Jouno’s apartment. He had been there enough times to memorize that, enough times to own the additional set of keys.
Jouno muttered something under his breath as the door to the elevator opened in front of them. The polished mirror inside did nothing to hide the blush rapidly rising on his cheeks.
“Sorry? I didn’t hear you.” A little smile crept on Tecchou’s face as he pressed the button marking Jouno’s floor. His finger lingered for a moment, feeling the Braille. He did that sometimes – trying to re-learn the world through Jouno’s lens.
Jouno grumbled some more.
“Sorry?” Tecchou repeated.
“Sorry, sorry,” Jouno echoed, pitching his voice to resemble Tecchou’s tone. “And he’s smiling too. Idiot. See, this is what I’m talking about,” he rambled grumpily, abandoning Tecchou’s side and stepping out of the elevator once they reached the floor. “There is no way anyone considers your face attractive when you spew so much nonsense and resonate with this degree of idiocy.”
The keys that Tecchou was fumbling with dropped to the ground.
“Clumsy too. Nothing changed since you were a child apparently,” Jouno sighed and leaned to pick up the keys.
Tecchou’s hands instantly shot out, noticing the subtle wobble in Jouno’s form, ready to catch if he was to topple forward. He knew – Jouno would not appreciate colliding with him, falling to his knees in front of him; there was only so much that his pride could handle.
But the effects of the alcohol must have been wearing off because Jouno only swatted Tecchou’s hands away, expertly feeling the doorknob, jamming the keys into the keyhole, and turning it with one sharp twist of his wrist.
“You may come in,” Jouno muttered, stepping into the apartment, Tecchou close behind him, his head still spinning slightly at the sudden comment Jouno made earlier.
He watched Jouno shuffle around the kitchen – a place Tecchou was usually banned from, under a threat of slow and painful death – trying to gather his thoughts. There was no point in asking if Jouno needed help, he never did.
Tecchou slowly lowered himself to sit on the kitchen stool. Years of knowing Saigiku Jouno, and sometimes he still felt underprepared to face Jouno’s resentment; he could only hope that Jouno would forgive his ineptness in, once again, understanding what he meant. Sometimes Jouno could be benevolent, rarely with Tecchou though.
The kettle on the stove started whistling, and Jouno spun around to turn it off while reaching for cups. He swayed only a little; he’d probably kick Tecchou out soon anyway. Taking liberty in this rare moment of near-peace, Tecchou propped his chin on his hand and watched his partner bustle around the kitchen. The top buttons of his uniform were unbuttoned, his sleeves were rolled up lazily. It was always nice to see Jouno like this – in a place where everything was set by his own hand, where everything turned to motion under his control, where nothing reeked of sweat, where walls weren’t soaked with fear and unbearable effort. He was clearly in his element here – his body showing signs of natural calm, not a facade of lethal serenity. It reminded Tecchou – Jouno, too, was human, just like him. And Jouno, too, had trouble filling the norms of humanity despite needing them so desperately. Domestic – who would use that word when talking about Hunting Dogs? And yet. Here they were.
Guilt crept up and squeezed Tecchou’s throat tight when he noticed the relaxed set of Jouno’s shoulder and how it disappeared when Tecchou’s eyes lingered for too long.
Tecchou could never quite tell when his attention was wanted and when it caused discomfort. Childish dreams – the day will come when his presence matters more than the sword by his belt. He quickly looked down, at the some moment when Jouno set the cup in front of him. Green tea, Tecchou quite liked the brand Jouno favored. Not that he would ever admit that – he knew that if he told that, Jouno would never buy it again. They were like that. Awful around each other, unshakable pillars of strength.
With a sigh, Jouno sat on the opposite side of the kitchen island. His hands held the cup like it was a precious thing, delicate glove-less fingers against thin ceramic walls. How deadly those fingers, how sharp the claws carefully tucked behind polished clean nails.
Tecchou raised his cup, inhaling the characteristic smell of grass with hints of fruit, and took a generous sip. It pleasantly trickled down his throat, washing off the acid of his thoughts. His eyes fell shut on their own accord. Like this, he could pretend, for a moment, that he is just a man. That all he smelled of were memories of the sun, heated skin, and green tea. A breath of alcohol against his skin. Normal things. That the tips of his fingers didn’t permanently stink of blood, that his body wasn’t spiked with chemicals. He wondered if Jouno could smell it on him too; the polished metal, the chill of death his ability brought in its wake. He wondered what Jouno thought of him a lot. Tecchou opened his eyes, finding Jouno’s face with ease. Normal things. Jouno’s pinched expression, marble countertop, outlines of cups behind the frosted glass. Normal life, moments when Tecchou was Tecchou.
“I hate when you’re trying to think. Always so loud, like a beehive.” Jouno grimaced and put his hands on the table. “Ugly brains, ugly faces…” he added after a moment, quieter, but followed with a sharp and loud snort. “Attractive, my ass.”
Tecchou blinked. This time hearing this word wasn’t nearly as startling.
“Why does it bother you so much? What Teruko said.”
Jouno scoffed, “I just don’t like misunderstandings.”
“Does it even matter if others find me attractive?”
“No,” Jouno replied quickly, letting out a pained growl, and swiftly raised his cup.
Tecchou raised an eyebrow, “Really?”
“Yes, really,” Jouno snapped. “You, people,” he specified with disgust because after all – Jouno was way above humanity. His soul a contradiction to the body made of bones and corded with flesh, “think that looks is all there is to someone’s attractiveness. Ridiculous. Your voice, your smell, your behavior, your temper, and personality – all of that speaks of your attractiveness.”
“Mine?” Tecchou asked with disbelief.
Instantly, Jouno’s face changed color, rapidly taking a shade of embarrassment and anger.
“God no!” He screeched, “It’s a figure of speech, Tecchou! Someone’s, anyone’s, everyone’s! Jesus, Tecchou, not everything is about you!”
Tecchou chuckled.
“Stop laughing, or I will tear you to pieces so thoroughly that no one will even think of describing your corpse as,” he raised his hands, pausing to slowly do air quotes around the final word, “attractive.”
Tecchou raised his hands defensively, “Alright, alright.” He nodded, but the mirth still clung to his voice.
“Tecchou,” Jouno warned sharply.
“Jouno,” Tecchou echoed, trying to summon a cool of indifference but failing miserably to do so.
Jouno spluttered, his fingers twitching as if his body was truly ready to pull out a knife and dismember Tecchou here and there, piece by piece. What would be inside of him – Tecchou didn’t know. Were bodies bruised from the inside too? Were his bones kintsugi by now? How dark was his blood? He wouldn’t learn that anytime soon – he thought as Jouno tucked his hands under his armpits.
“You’re an ass,” Jouno summed angrily, “Here I am trying to teach you a lesson, and you remain ungrateful.”
“Oh really?” Tecchou tilted his head, “And what lesson would that be?”
Clearing his throat, Jouno puffed his chest out. There was a stiffness to him though. The outline of his shoulders tense and unnatural. The corner of his eyes collecting wrinkles of unease. The shape of his lips foreign with the secrecy he held behind his teeth. A vulnerability it was – a posture of a predator prepared to take a leap over hedgerows needled with spikes.
“Relying on sight alone will get you nowhere, Tecchou-san. It can only fool and deceive you,” Jouno announced at last.
Tecchou hummed. Jouno was right – of course – but the ground of this truth for him and Tecchou came from different places. Tecchou could agree, but his agreement barely covered the rawness behind Jouno’s experience.
“Of course,” he nodded still before adding – much, much quieter, “Thank you.”
Jouno huffed and put his hands back on the cup without saying a word.
In so many ways, their bodies were similar – their job required that. And yet no enhancement, no surgery would return Jouno’s sight. “I don’t miss it anymore,” Jouno told Tecchou once, and Tecchou decided he would never question the truthfulness of his words because it was not his place to do so. Instead, every time Jouno hinted at his experience, Tecchou listened. This – this was when Jouno was most vulnerable. Not by his disability but by his admittance and honesty.
Tecchou hummed, musing over what Jouno had just said. His eyes finding Jouno, his slim hands, and the elegant curve of his wrist. Were he not wearing a military uniform, would Tecchou be able to tell he was a soldier? How far did the deceit reach? Jouno, a serene face hiding a twisted spirit. A game of shadows he was – a sharp contour of darkness against the smooth, bland surface. How much he kept hidden? What was revealed to the world? Tecchou cocked his head. Was his malice not carved in the corners of his eyes? Were his lips not framed into a promise of teeth? Did his body not remind of a snake – a poisonous one, a viper maybe? But then, was there no softness in the feather-like weight of his eyelashes? Were his hands not careful and his footsteps light?
“Stop staring,” Jouno snapped. “It makes me dizzy with disgust.”
“How so?” Tecchou snorted but looked down obediently.
Jouno groaned.
“Your gaze is clammy.”
“Clammy?” Tecchou echoed dubiously.
Jouno snapped his fingers, “Clammy. Disgusting,” he shuddered. “It lingers over the skin even when you look away, ugh.”
“Funny,” Tecchou commented and leaned back on the chair, crossing his arms on his chest. “I thought you liked attention.”
“Funny, I thought you liked shutting up.” Jouno retorted.
“Don’t mistake your fantasy with reality, Jouno,” Tecchou replied, biting down the smile forming across his lips.
Jouno wheezed loudly; there was a faint blush on top of his cheeks – anger spiking just enough to pull his entire body into a reaction.
“You wish you appeared in my fantasies, but really you’re a frequent guest only in my nightmares, Tecchou-san.” He ground his teeth, words coming sharp if only a little slurred. “Your wretched presence follows me even there.”
And Tecchou could say a lot of things to this. That in his nightmares he saw Jouno too, he saw his chest pierced with a sharp blade, he heard an echo of a gurgle coming from Jouno’s throat as he choked on blood; sometimes even, when his mind was particularly cruel, he felt the grasp of Jouno’s fingers – borderline painful and first but weakening slowly by each whistling breath coming from Jouno’s mouth. Nightmares in which Tecchou failed at the singular task he was entrusted with – protecting his partner. He could tell Jouno all about it now; he doubted it would be taken well.
“Feeling guilty yet?” Jouno continued instead, stealing the silence away.
Tecchou hummed. “Not particularly, no.”
Jouno scoffed, “How disappointing yet unsurprising. Absolutely no respect for me, how indecent.” He clicked his tongue and tapped his foot against the wooden floor. With one smooth motion, he lifted his cup and drained it whole like it was liquor. “This is exactly why people calling you attractive is a joke and an insult all at once. They don’t know you. Fools.” For once – his spite directed at someone other than Tecchou. As if Tecchou was not to be blamed, nearly as if he was a victim. “They have no right to you.”
Tecchou’s lungs grew twice in size, the sudden, involuntary intake of the air surprising him. He felt his inhale to be loud and prolonged, but Jouno showed no signs of noticing that at all. Indeed, he only poured himself more tea and drowned the cup whole again. His expression bitter and dark.
Hot blood flooded Tecchou’s veins, bringing an echo of his rushing pulse high, high – up to the back of his throat, carrying a tentative question. Tecchou didn’t really care much about what others thought of him. But to every rule, there was an exception. His tongue was numb – the only muscle in his body that never seemed to listen to him quite right.
“And do you know me, Jouno?” His voice reaching his own ears muffled as if through a thick glass.
He knew the answer; it kept him awake at night. When the moon was behind the clouds, when his fingers itched for the reassuring weight of his blade when vulnerability stirred his blood with horror. For some battles – he had no weapons.
Jouno scoffed with displeasure. As if irritated that Tecchou even asked.
“Surely better than they do,” his response laced with superiority and perplexity alike. “Which means, I’m a better judge of your character.”
“Better than Teruko and the commander?”
Jouno scrunched his nose.
“They’re clouded by their affection for you, stupid sentimentality,” he sneered. “Luckily, I’m under no influence of something so… silly.”
Tecchou frowned. He measured his relationship with others by its length, rarely the emotions that came with it. Anyhow, he was poor at identifying how people felt about him. Respect he recognized because he learned it at a young age; the most important things in the military – respect, and obedience.
“Their… affection?” He repeated slowly, unsure of the word. Had he ever even spoken it out loud?
“Yes, Tecchou-san, god, you are so daft,” Jouno hid his face in his hands. Silver wisps slipped between his fingers, catching the moonlight that was sneaking through the window. The night had fallen deep and dark without any of them noticing. “Just because they don’t show it, doesn’t mean that they don’t feel it. They sure do have a soft spot for you. You could use it in your favor actually,” he mused, “Guess you’re just too narrow-minded to recognize how.”
“It wouldn’t be fair though, would it? To use it against them?” Tecchou pointed out, brows knitting in the middle of his forehead.
Jouno exhaled loudly and leaned back on his chair, his hands falling to his sides.
“Your blind devotion to fairness is insufferable,” he complained. “No, it wouldn’t be fair,” Jouno admitted with annoyance, “but life isn’t all fair, Tecchou-san, you should know it by now.”
Sour disappointment twisted Tecchou’s guts. Of course, he was aware that not all was just, not all was fair; but it was always hard to accept it when it was his lifelong mission to help build a good world. Without justice, there would be no point in Tecchou’s actions. Without fairness, there would be no point in Tecchou at all.
“You’re unfair in your judgment too, though,” Tecchou grumbled, ignoring the prickling discomfort.
“Huh?” Jouno raised his eyebrow.
Tecchou shrugged, though his shoulder felt stiff, muscles moving awkwardly under the skin.
“You’ve never hidden your animosity towards me.” Words tasted like ash in his mouth.
How strange that you can stomach a thought, but the moment it becomes a word suspended in the air, it rains acid all over your body. Animosity, how loudly it hissed until it sizzled out; a snuffed-out flame that left dusk and stillness.
Slowly, Jouno put his hand on the table, his nails drummed quietly against the surface. His eyebrow lifted even higher. He licked his bottom lip. Took his time before he replied, but it didn’t feel like he was toying with Tecchou.
“So?” Was what he replied with at last.
A single syllable, and yet, somehow, it managed to stop Tecchou’s heart altogether, his lungs – once again full of oxygen, trapped there by his clenched throat.
“Doesn’t it…” Tecchou hesitated, his teeth worried the corner of his lip, chewing on the unstated. “You…” he started over and stopped again.
Jouno sighed, the way he always did when he was about to explain Tecchou things that should be obvious.
“Have I not made myself clear earlier?” He asked. “Sometimes actions and feelings do not align.”
Tecchou’s heart thumped – hopeful, hopeful – quickly he tapped the noise down, but his ribs rattled still; his chest swelling with something warm, growing, and infectious. His blood ran hot soon enough, burning out the last restraints that kept him in check. He learned the perks of silence as a child, but around Jouno he never seemed to be able to hold his tongue.
“I don’t hate you either, Jouno.” Spoken barely beyond a hush of a breath.
It surprised Jouno more than Tecchou expected. His shoulders froze mid-shift and then slumped a little. A man held at gunpoint, realizing that there were no bullets in a magazine. Had he feared death, or was he awaiting it?
“Gross,” Jouno huffed without heat and turned his head away.
Tecchou’s lips twitched at the corners. Jouno’s serene face rarely cracked under the weight of emotions other than anger. It was now that Tecchou realized – other, softer, feelings made Jouno bleed unease; so unfamiliar on such a face.
A memory suddenly resurfaced in his head. Months ago, Tachihara’s innocent question, “do you like Jouno?”, Tecchou’s hesitating because “like” did not quite convey, and Jouno bursting into the room. Ah, it never crossed Tecchou’s mind that he might have misread the situation. Who could blame him anyway? Insecurity wasn’t something one would relate to Saigiku Jouno of all people. It seemed to… mundane, too human for him to suffer from it. And yet–– Tecchou inhaled sharply when Jouno brushed a strand of his hair away, showing the faintest breath of pink over his cheeks, and the sight alone brought a surge of words. Nothing new, nothing special, something possibly monumental.
“I could never hate you.” All choked up, quiet as if Tecchou was drowning lungs and mouth full of seawater.
Jouno smiled, looking like he did that involuntarily as if he was too lost in his head to stop his lips from moving. He appeared almost fond, pure. Tecchou could not look away, memorizing every inch of Jouno; gathering evidence – one day he would pull the memory out and say “Jouno’s not who you think he is”. He can be sweet and delicate around the edges, breakable and human.
Tecchou watched still when Jouno rested his chin on his propped hand before speaking.
“You would if we met before.” Before the military, before all of that, before either of them learned what trust unbound was.
But Tecchou didn’t entertain ideas of what-ifs. His world was built upon whens, wheres, and hows. For him, Jouno was like that too. A smoke that irritated your eyes, always within his vision. A tang of violence on the tip of his tongue. A body so fleeting that solid under his touch. Jouno was here and now, just like that.
“But we didn’t.”
Jouno’s lips twitched again before the corners were pulled down, weighted by troubles alien to Tecchou. He did not like the sight of it so he bit the inner side of his cheek, tasted the blood, and spoke again.
The same truth over and over.
“I know you now, and I don’t hate you.”
A beat of silence so long that centuries long. The curve of Jouno’s lips teasing a taste of disbelief, the wrinkle in the corner of Jouno’s eyes alluding to the unexpectedness of the confession. His breath like a whisper crushed between two separate gusts of wind. A tiny noise, a frustrated groan rather than a word. Without warning, Jouno got up and walked over to the window to abruptly yank it open. The moonlight slid over the smooth surface along with the dying sounds of city life and the distant smell of the river and cherry blossoms. Jouno rested his hands on the frame, all acute lines against the night’s tender.
Tentatively Tecchou raised from his seat but froze when Jouno lifted his hand, halting his movement.
“Jouno?” Tecchou called, but it was a faint sound, pressed tight against the back of his throat.
“You’re…” Jouno hesitated and inhaled sharply as if to sober himself up with the cool nightly air. “You’re impossible.”
Ah, of course.
Tecchou rubbed the back of his head.
“Right... Just like vice-commander and Tachihara-kun?” he asked, recalling their conversation.
At that Jouno laughed; one of these rare, quiet laughs. The only one that occasionally made Tecchou’s stomach swoop.
“No,” Jouno shook his head. “In a completely different way.”
It could be an insult, for all that Tecchou knew, but there was some warmth to it too and it poured heat into his veins, spurring his body to move, to act. The legs of the stool creaked when he pushed himself away from the kitchen island, but this time Jouno made no motion to stop him. Taking a deep breath in, in just a few seconds, Tecchou found himself next to Jouno, their shoulders brushing against each other, the fresh air kissing their cheeks flush.
The night was silent, calm. Normal things, grazing over the city, brimming with crime, with a soldier held by justice at gunpoint.
When Jouno tilted his head, his pale freckles like a mirror image to the stars above them, Tecchou cleared his throat and looked away. A moment passed before Jouno nudged his shoulder. Tecchou hummed in response.
“I thought you’d be different,” Jouno confessed after a moment.
“Different how?”
Jouno hesitated, his eyebrows furrowed, his lips tightened as if he suddenly regretted the moment of honesty. He spread the fingers of his right hand and reached out, leaning out of the window, trying to catch the night. Another moment passed and he leaned even further, his body angling over the window sill, the wind hugging his shirt tight to his chest. If there was a purpose to this, Tecchou could not guess it. He only allowed himself to watch as the wisps of Jouno's hair danced softly around his face, smoothing out the cut of his temper beneath his skin. Eventually, Jouno pulled back, the heels of his feet touching the ground again, his fingers back on the window frame.
Many times in the past, Jouno started a conversation and never finished it, leaving Tecchou in the dark. Tonight that was not the case.
“You’re not who the world wants to see in you,” Jouno was speaking quietly, his cheeks pink, and if Tecchou didn’t know better he would have thought that the alcohol still lingered in Jouno’s veins. “Everyone wants to see someone or something in you.” He suddenly turned toward Tecchou, allowing him to see his face. Softer, he was, when there was no anger in him. “And you Tecchou, are just you.”
Just Tecchou. What did it even mean?
Tecchou's heart clenched painfully.
He thought of Jouno; who people wanted to see in him, and who he truly was. The kindness buried deep in his bones, the poison that ran in his veins. The rough edges that framed his laugh, and the soft flutter of gentleness in the middle of the night. The bone-chilling shreds of his body when he fell into particles, and the reassuring warmth of his skin that hid muscles trembling with effort.
“People don't see you for who you are either,” Tecchou said finally, bringing his eyes up to look at the moon instead of its white shadow across Jouno's face.
“No, Tecchou,” Jouno smiled and leaned out the window again. “They see just how I want to be seen by them.”
“And me?”
“You're... impossible to deceit.” His fingers clenched over nothing, over everything, over the chill of the night that sent goosebumps down his revealed arm. “And that's why I hate you so much.”
And because Jouno liked being seen as a liar, Tecchou allowed him this one lie.