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chosou often hears from other people that they wish they’d had an older brother like him while they were growing up. when people tell him that he smiles, agrees, because what else is he supposed to do? he figures that if he told people that his purpose in life is to be an older brother, they’d be a bit put off. yuuji was, the first time he asked chosou what he wanted to do with his life. chosou had responded, firm and unwavering, that he wanted to be a good brother. yuuji paused, and chosou couldn’t understand the look on his face for a long time.
he was sad, maybe.
chosou and yuuji are all that’s left of the itadori family. well, yuuji is all that’s left. chosou was born to an unwilling mother after yuuji’s father assaulted her, and spent the first 23 years of his life not knowing that he had another brother. yuuji itadori. an only child. chosou remembers how sad he had felt, having been told that - yuuji grew up without an older sibling, without any siblings. chosou’s mother had two other sons. they all lived together, up until three years ago. their mother died, and despite chosou’s best efforts, the brothers began to split apart.
the years that followed after their mother’s death brought challenges chosou had never dared to conceive. kechizu, the second oldest, had begun committing petty crimes. shoplifting, public intoxication, misdemeanors that would drive chosou out of his mind the more they piled up. he tried to talk to kechizu, so many times. he told him that their mother would be disappointed in him, that it wasn’t too late but very soon, it would be too late.
too late came a month after their last talk. kechizu enlisted the help of eso, their youngest brother, to break into a house and steal some things.
the house of jin itadori, the man who raped their mother.
on halloween two years ago, kechizu and eso broke into the itadori family home, expecting to find lots of valuables and nothing else. they’d stumbled upon yuuji itadori. he was 15 at the time, eso’s age. kechizu and eso attacked him, beat him so badly that two years later, he still struggles to use his left leg.
jin was awoken by all the noise, by yuuji’s cries of pain. he came down the stairs with a gun.
eso was kicking yuuji in the stomach when yuuji saw his father, when yuuji begged him not to shoot the teenager.
yuuji maintains that he doesn’t remember the rest of the events from that night. chosou prays that he’s telling the truth, that he doesn’t remember eso’s blood and brain matter spraying across his face. he prays yuuji doesn’t remember how kechizu had charged at his father, how he’d grabbed the pistol used to kill eso and shot jin so many times that the clip ran out of bullets. he prays that yuuji doesn’t remember how kechizu wrapped bloody hands around his neck and intended to kill him next.
most of all, chosou prays that yuuji doesn’t remember stabbing kechizu in the neck with a shard of glass.
chosou was alerted the next morning that kechizu and eso were dead, but he knew it before he even woke up. he woke up in the middle of the night, his bedroom dark, and thought, my brothers are dead.
when he went to identify the bodies of his brothers that day, he stopped by yuuji’s hospital room to apologize. he remembers being stricken by how young yuuji was. the police officer chosou had been cooperating with said yuuji’s name, and chosou nearly dropped to his knees.
yuuji itadori. jin itadori had a son - chosou still had a brother.
on his knees on the hospital floor, chosou forced himself to look yuuji in the eye, to look at what his brothers had done and take responsibility if they weren’t able to. yuuji’s right eye was swollen and bruised, his left one colored red by burst blood vessels after kechizu strangled him. he lied in his hospital bed, staring at chosou with an empty gaze.
“i’m so sorry.”
chosou doesn’t know if he was apologizing for the actions of kechizu and eso, or for the actions of jin itadori.
chosou wakes up thinking about yuuji’s skateboard.
he used to skate, before the attack. he’s shown chosou videos of tricks he learned before, of tricks he would have liked to learn one day. his leg works much better two years later, but he still can’t skate. somehow, chosou struggles with this knowledge more than he does.
he gets out of bed, brushes his teeth and takes his medicine, and then heads into the kitchen to prepare breakfast for him and yuuji.
despite his best efforts, chosou feels his mood dropping as he cooks. it’s a bad day, he supposes - they’ve become more frequent since losing his mother, and much more intense since losing his brothers.
if it had been up to chosou, he wouldn’t have told yuuji that they were siblings until he recovered fully from not only his physical injuries, but the trauma of that night. but when yuuji was discharged from the hospital he had no home to go back to, and chosou was his next of kin.
yuuji moved in that winter and took eso’s bedroom.
chosou had complicated feelings, at first. not toward yuuji, but toward his late brothers. for so long, he was so angry. sometimes he still is. but in that anger, there is gratitude. the loss of kechizu and eso brought yuuji into his life, and out of the hands of a rapist. he doesn’t know much about yuuji and their father’s relationship - it’s one of the few things yuuji has little to say about. still, chosou notices how yuuji tenses up when he hears someone raise their voice, how surprised he looks when chosou asks him about school, or his friends, or even his feelings.
chosou never had a father, and he thinks that deep down, yuuji never had one either.
“morning,” yuuji chirps from behind chosou as he enters the kitchen. chosou blinks - he’d been staring at the coffee machine, at his reflection in the sleek chrome. he tears his eyes away quickly, turning instead to greet yuuji.
“good morning,” he says, moving pancakes onto a plate for yuuji. “did you sleep well?”
they go through this every morning. sometimes yuuji says yes, he slept through the night. sometimes he says no, that he dreamt again that he was eso. he says he thinks living in his bedroom messes with his subconscious. chosou asked him once if he’d wanted to move into the other room, and yuuji shook his head quickly, body tensing the way it does when he’s afraid.
he hasn’t mentioned the bedroom again.
when yuuji doesn’t answer immediately, chosou looks up at him, brow furrowed in concern. yuuji is already looking at him. he studies chosou as he places a plate down in front of yuuji and sits down across from him at their little table. he’s about to ask yuuji what he dreamed about when the younger speaks first.
“i heard you crying last night.”
chosou chuckles lightly, dismissive. “ah, did i keep you up? sorry about th—“
“why were you crying, nii-chan?”
for a split, fraction of a second, chosou sees eso in yuuji. the worried furrow of his brow, the nervous set of his mouth. he’s worried about chosou. eso was one of the only two other people to ever worry about chosou.
chosou shakes his head, waving a hand. “don’t worry about me, nii-chan just had a hard night. were you able to get some rest?” he hopes that yuuji will take the hint, that he’ll drop the topic and they can move on. he knows, though, that yuuji’s never been one to skirt around the issue.
“sure, i slept fine,” yuuji says, his voice softer now, “chosou, why were you crying?”
chosou doesn’t respond. he doesn’t know how to - these aren’t yuuji’s burdens to shoulder. how is he supposed to explain to yuuji that he was crying for their late brothers, for his late father, for his late mother, and for the 21 year old chosou that found her in the bathtub after she slit her wrists?
kechizu and eso didn’t even know that their mother committed suicide - no way in hell was chosou going to further poison yuuji’s perception of his father with that fact. it’s a fact between him and his psychiatrist.
“i - i hear you every night,” yuuji murmurs when chosou doesn’t answer. chosou drops his eyes to his untouched plate, heart skipping. “you think i can’t hear you, but i do. i can…i can hear when you hurt yourself, too.”
chosou looks up at that, horrified. yuuji’s gaze is soft, tired. he offers a sad little smile. “i know you’re the untouchable big brother, but i think…i can help out, if you want to talk about it.” his voice is soft, but chosou can still hear the sadness in it. he wonders briefly if eso ever heard him crying late at night, if he could hear the soft thud of chosou hitting a closed fist against his head.
“i’m not untouchable,” chosou says finally, his voice nearly inaudible even to himself. he pauses, managing a small, sad smile. “if i was untouchable, i would have been able to keep my family together. i’m weak. and it’s my duty to become stronger, so that you don’t have to be.”
“bullshit,” yuuji huffs. it shocks a laugh out of chosou, but yuuji doesn’t look amused. “i think you and maki are really alike, you know? she thinks she has to be the strong one, mai’s protector, the one who takes responsibility no matter what. but that’s not what makes a good older sibling. that’s what makes a good parent.”
chosou flinches, against his will. he lowers his eyes again. “i have to—“
“no, you don’t,” yuuji sighs softly. he hesitates, fidgeting with his fork. his pancakes are cold and soggy with syrup, now. “we don’t have parents, not anymore. and i don’t want a father, i want - i want a brother.”
they don’t hug. chosou used to hug kechizu and eso all the time, before. when he tries to hug yuuji, chosou remembers the last time he hugged eso, and yuuji tenses like someone is about to hurt him. so they don’t hug. but today, yuuji stands from his chair and shuffles over to wrap his arms around chosou’s shoulders.
he hugs chosou like he’s the younger brother. it would make chosou feel disgusted with himself, if it didn’t feel so nice.
hiromi comes over, sometimes.
it took chosou a long time to allow it. he remembers all the different men who would cycle through their home when he was younger, all the different versions of his mother reserved for each for them. he’s had this thing with hiromi, unspoken and fragile and sacred, since a couple of months before his brothers were killed.
chosou never introduced him to kechizu and eso, out of fear that what they had wouldn't last. then his brothers died, and yuuji moved in, and hiromi stayed still. chosou was so avoidant - declining to tell hiromi why he would wake up in the middle of the night, choking, why he refused to spend the night anymore. after a year passed and chosou inevitably snapped one night(he and yuuji fought, not for the first time, but the worst yet), hiromi sat on the kitchen floor with chosou and held his hand while he explained himself.
even when chosou choked on his sobs, unable to finish his sentences, hiromi waited.
that night, after they had gone to bed and hiromi was holding chosou to his chest like he was something worth cherishing, he stroked chosou’s hair and said, very softly, “if you won’t allow yuuji to look after you, you have to let me. i won’t take no for an answer anymore.”
so hiromi is allowed to come over, now.
he’s a lawyer, so he’s often busy and even more so exhausted. but he finds time to come to see chosou and yuuji both. chosou loves hiromi anyway, but he loves him so much more when he sees the way yuuji lights up when he answers the door for him. hiromi brings them food sometimes, just because. chosou has a hard time accepting it when hiromi spends money on him, but he feels satisfied when he watches yuuji be surprised by the random gifts hiromi brings sometimes - as if it’s a gift from him, too.
sometimes, chosou worries that hiromi has come over expecting to have sex - only for hiromi to lock the door behind him, kick off his shoes, and collapse on the couch. he always stares at chosou expectantly, until chosou lies down with him and covers his body with his own.
they’re in chosou’s bed today. yuuji is at school and hiromi is tired, his back aching and brow furrowed even as he rests. chosou watches him shamelessly, hands touching carefully wherever he can reach. he likes to trace the bridge of hiromi’s nose, feel the strength and the softness under his fingertips. he gently trails his fingers down hiromi’s nose, and brown eyes, ringed with dark circles blink open at him. they just stare at each other for a little bit. it’s easy. if you were to ask chosou who he is right now, he would just be someone in love.
“what?” hiromi mutters, voice deep with sleep. chosou suppresses a shiver. he blinks, fingers still brushing hiromi’s face.
“what do you mean, what?”
hiromi’s eyes flutter closed, mouth curving into an amused smile. “you look so happy right now. what are you thinking about?” he asks lazily. chosou bites the inside of his cheek. something comes to mind - it’s not the answer to hiromi’s question, but chosou says it anyway.
“you never ask me to come to your place anymore.”
he doesn’t mean it in an accusatory way, and hiromi understands that. his eyes remain closed as he hums softly, thoughtful. “well,” he starts quietly, “this is your family home. you feel safe here. i can see it in the way you move.” when chosou starts to ask what he means, hiromi opens his eyes and the glittering brown stuns him silent. he brings a hand up to cup chosou’s face. “you keep your phone ringer on when you’re at my place. i want you to be somewhere you don’t need to prepare to leave at a moment's notice. yuuji’s here, and he’s safe when he’s here. i know how much that matters to you. so it matters to me, too.”
he says it so plainly, so matter of fact. at his apartment, chosou knows yuuji is safe. so hiromi spends time at his apartment. simple as that.
it’s so simple, in fact, that chosou begins to cry.
he thinks it can be alarming, the way he breaks into heavy, gasping sobs in an instant. he worries all the time that he scares hiromi when he does this. but hiromi only shifts closer, wraps an arm around chosou and squeezes. “i know, baby, im sorry,” he says softly, words still slurred with exhaustion. “i didn’t mean to make you cry.”
chosou hates the way he whines, gripping hiromi’s sweater in tight fists. he feels so small, with hiromi. he feels like he’s allowed to be small. he doesn’t have any duties to fulfill, no responsibilities, no expectations. all he has to do is love and be loved in return, and he’s still trying to work out why that’s so confusing to him.
hiromi continues shushing him gently, stroking chosou’s shivering back. “my beautiful boy,” he murmurs, nuzzling chosou’s neck. “i love you so much, you know that? i’m so fucking proud of you, chosou, you’re doing so well.”
“hiromi,” chosou chokes out, tugging hiromi by his shirt even closer to him. their bodies press flush against one another, and chosou shudders with the relief of being touched. his eyes flutter when he feels hiromi pressing soft, open mouthed kisses to his neck. he thinks dazedly that he wants hiromi to peel his skin back, to open him up and sink inside of him so that he can feel this warm, this small, forever.
hiromi pulls away, though, and chosou chokes on a sob.
“shh, sweet boy, you’re okay,” hiromi soothes, leaning back. his tired eyes rake over chosou’s shivering form, and his gaze makes chosou want to bare his neck. they hold eye contact as hiromi continues rubbing chosou’s back, his hand moving so agonizingly slowly until its cupping chosou’s ass. he kneads the soft flesh, eyes half lidded. chosou tries to keep quiet, but he gasps and chokes anyway. soft little whimpers are pulled from his throat whenever hiromi squeezes his ass particularly harshly. “my good boy,” hiromi breathes. his exhaustion is still evident in his gaze, but there’s something else there.
sometimes, hiromi looks at chosou like he wants to devour him.
it's always been something he does, since before they even started having sex. hiromi does this thing - he likes to lean back and undress chosou with his eyes, it seems. he does it most when they’re in the car, or when chosou is cooking. he’ll rest his chin on his palm, or massage away whatever headache is lingering in his temples, but his eyes stay on chosou, intense and intimidating. like he’s studying him, like chosou is a case to be solved. he supposes he is, in some ways.
hiromi, unlike chosou, is infuriatingly patient. it’s evident in the way he touches chosou when they have sex, the way he’s determined to make chosou feel as small and helpless as possible in the best way before giving him what he asks for.
“darling,” hiromi rasps, his eyes lidded and dark, like just laying with chosou is enough to have him desperate. “can i make you feel good? words, please.”
chosou is still gripping hiromi’s sweater. he’s stopped shivering, though, getting closer and closer to melting with every ragged breath he takes. “ah - yes. please, hiromi—“
hiromi shushes him with a kiss, a brief but heated thing that leaves chosou’s head spinning. “i told you about begging,” he mutters, sitting up so that he can position chosou on his back and straddle him. “i will always, always give you what you want.” the way he says it, a firm and unwavering promise, makes chosou’s eyes water.
chosou meets hiromi’s dark eyes, unsure of what he’s looking for. permission, maybe. permission to let go, to give in, to shrink. he finds exactly that. hiromi hovers over him, all consuming and protective, and chosou knows that he’s going to be taken care of. his body understands it immediately - his limbs turn to liquid, melting into the sheets. his cock aches, yet it doesn’t feel urgent. his body knows he has to wait before hiromi touches him, really touches him. chosou’s mind is the last to catch up. he expects to hear yuuji arriving home early from school, or for hiromi’s work phone to vibrate. a few moments pass, the only sound being chosou’s soft panting as hiromi massages his chest.
his vision is just beginning to blur when hiromi snakes warm hands under his shirt to pinch his nipples. his touch isn’t gentle by any means, but he’s not rough. he grips both of chosou’s nipples firmly, carefully twisting and squeezing them. “good?” hiromi whispers huskily. if chosou thinks about the hard press of his cock against his own through their underwear, he’ll lose his mind. “hah - good, good.” he gasps, trying and failing not to arch his back.
hiromi smiles a little, fond. “good boy,” he praises softly. chosou leaks into his briefs.
“here’s what we’re going to do,” hiromi starts, his voice slow and words almost slurred, like he’s just as affected as chosou is. he used to doubt that, but not anymore. he’s seen how hard hiromi gets just from bringing tears to his eyes. “i’m going to—“
chosou’s phone vibrates, noisy and loud against the nightstand.
in an instant, the illusion shatters. chosou barely realizes that he’s crying, sobbing as he twists to try and grab his phone. yuuji is the only other person that calls him. hiromi stops him, one hand on his flushed and damp cheek. “shh, baby, it’s alright. i’ll answer him. you just breathe. can you do that for me?” his eyes study chosou’s face, brow furrowed deeply. chosou hopes he’s not disappointed.
the thought alone makes him sob again, but he nods anyway.
he feels like he’s watching from underwater as hiromi grabs his phone, swiping the screen and bringing it up to his ear. “yuuji-kun?” he greets gently, “is everything okay?”
chosou tries very hard to hear yuuji’s answer. he tries to focus on the conversation, to come back to the surface. but he blinks and more tears spill, he blinks and hiromi has hung up the phone. panic surges forward, his throat tightening.
“what happened?” chosou chokes out, scrambling to sit up on his elbows. “is he - where is he? what’s—“
“he’s okay. breathe, chosou, yuuji’s just fine.” hiromi soothes, stroking choso’s long, inky black hair. “in fact,” he chuckles lightly, “he called to say he’ll be home later than usual. he’s going on a date with a boy.” pausing to chuckle, hiromi’s face softens at chosou’s expression. he can only imagine what he looks like right now. yuuji going on a date? is it with his friend fushiguro, who he’s had a crush on for a while? where are they going? how late will he be home?
“he’s okay, chosou.” hiromi whispers again. his eyes are a little clearer now, but they look sad. chosou hates when he looks at him like that. “you’re okay.” he lies back down so that he’s beside chosou instead of straddling him, and wraps his arms around his trembling frame.
“you’re okay, my love.” hiromi whispers again, as chosou curls into his chest and tries to disappear.
chosou tries not to think about it too much, the sheer weight of his self hatred. he despises himself. it’s difficult not to linger on that when he starts thinking about everything he’s done wrong, everything he still does wrong.
chosou never had a role model. when he turned 13, it became his responsibility to look after his family. he didn’t do well in school. he barely graduated, had no friends. he dedicated his life, his every breath to his mother and his brothers. still, he somehow let them down consistently. the year his mother killed herself, chosou thought things were finally getting better. he had gotten a part time job, was trying to go back to college, was attempting to date. he was doing better.
he stumbled across his mother in the kitchen late one night. she had been sitting at the table, on what looked to be her second bottle of wine. when she heard chosou step into the kitchen, she barely glanced at him. she didn’t speak until chosou had grabbed his water bottle and was headed out of the kitchen.
“you ruined my life, you know.”
chosou froze in place, his blood running cold. “wh-what—“
“i didn’t want you,” his mother repeated, gaze low. “i tried to kill you when you were inside me. i tried, god did i try. but it didn’t work. and then there you were. and now here you are.” she raised her eyes slowly, until they met chosou’s. he remembers thinking stupidly how beautiful she was when her face was flushed from drinking, her hair messy like she’d just gotten out of bed. she took another sip from the bottle and continued. “i loved your brothers’ father. i loved him, but i think he could see how much i hated you. maybe that’s why he left.” she paused when chosou choked on a sob, glancing at him briefly. “maybe he could just see it in you, like i can.”
chosou had wanted to ask her what she meant by that, what she saw in him. but his throat was tight and his mouth wouldn’t move. he watched as his mother gulped down what was left in the wine bottle before standing up, walking past chosou and down the hall without looking back. “get some rest, love.” she called over her shoulder before he heard her bedroom door close behind him.
chosou stood in the kitchen until kechizu woke up to begin getting ready for school. and then he cooked breakfast for everyone, making sure not to add too much salt to the eggs he fried. his mother hated when they were too salty.
two days after what his mother confessed to him, he found himself drawn to her room while kechizu and eso were at school. he pushed open her door, ready to sit at the edge of her bed and watch her sleep the way he sometimes did. instead he was met with the scent of blood, metallic and thick in the air. from where he stood beside her bed, he could see her hand hanging limp over the edge of the tub. there was red smeared across the white porcelain, dripping to the floor from her fingertips.
chosou turned and walked out of the room. he closed the door behind him and rested his forehead against the wood as he called for an ambulance.
he never got to ask her what it is she saw that made her hate him so much.
i don’t want a father. i want a brother.
chosou stares at yuuji’s bedroom door, subconsciously tugging at his hair. it’s late. yuuji’s probably asleep. he should go back to his bed and go to sleep. but it’s bad tonight, and when he closes his eyes he sees blood dripping from slender fingertips, staining long nails.
taking a deep breath, chosou tries to tamp down the panic that bubbles up inside him. he brings a hand up to knock when his phone vibrates.
yuuji: you can come in u know
chosou blinks harshly a few times, trying to clear the tears before he turns yuuji’s doorknob. yuuji sits on his bed, his tablet in his lap and digital pencil in hand. he smiles when chosou peeks his head in. “hey,” he greets softly, and goes back to drawing. chosou mutters a hello, settling down on the edge of yuuji’s bed. he sits stiffly, shoulders tense, not too sure what to do with himself. he doesn’t know why he’s being like this - he just came to spend some time with his younger brother, that’s all.
“do you ever think about your mom?”
chosou startles at the question, turning to meet yuuji’s gaze. his eyes are sad, but he wears a small, brave smile. slowly, he lifts his tablet and shows chosou what he was drawing. it’s a woman - she has dark hair, cut to end bluntly just below her chin. her eyes are closed, but she’s smiling. what catches chosou’s attention are the large stitches across her forehead. he swallows. “is that…” he pauses, surprised to find his throat feeling tight with emotion. “she’s beautiful.” he says, softly. yuuji’s lip quirks up.
“i know, right? even at the end, she was so pretty.” yuuji’s gaze lowers, but his sad smile doesn’t fade. “he hated when i told her that.” he sets the tablet aside and heaves a heavy, dramatic sigh. then he meets chosou’s eyes. “i think about her all the time. i wish she’d been the one who lived. then i could never doubt that i’m a good person, because there would be more of her in me than my father. but…im my father’s son,” yuuji murmurs, “and i’m terrified by it.”
chosou’s chest clenches painfully. the same fear he lives with…it’s touched yuuji too. “for what it’s worth,” he starts, reaching out and ruffling yuuji’s fluffy pink hair. “i don’t think you’re anything like him. you’re good, yuuji.” he smiles a little at the way yuuji wrinkles his nose up, nudging his hand away gently. he looks so sweet, knees pulled to his chest and his already large frame swallowed up by a hoodie he’s seen fushiguro wear before. when he opens his mouth, the words that come out are anything but sweet.
“i think i’m a monster,” yuuji says softly, casually. “at least, i have a monster inside me. i’m terrified that i’m capable of - of what he did to her.” he pauses, looks up at chosou through his lashes. “i look just like him, you know. i see him every time i look in the mirror. sometimes i dare myself to look just a little longer, to see if i can find any of her in my eyes. but i just end up freaking myself out.”
“yuuji,” chosou whispers, frowning. yuuji shakes his head, just barely.
“he killed her.” yuuji sighs, and chosou isn’t sure how to react. he figured - jin itadori killed his mother, too, after all. “but not all at once. he hit her with the blender, one night, right in front of me. then he took her to the hospital right away, because she was bleeding more than he…anyway, she never left the hospital. they gave her stitches, but she was on life support. i always thought that was - stupid. like, what’s the point in closing the hole in her head if she can't even breathe on her own?” when he chuckles, there’s no humor in it, only sadness. chosou has scooted closer and closer without realizing, and he ends up with yuuji’s hand clasped in his. “maybe it was to make themselves feel better. like, if she was dead anyway, at least they—“
yuuji cuts himself off, swallowing. “anyway. i used to beg him to let me visit her. when we did, he’d sit in the corner reading a magazine. i used to sit by her bed and show her - videos of me skating,” his voice wobbles, and he clears his throat. “i used to tell her that i still thought she was so pretty. when i said that, he…he told me to shut up. cursed at me. like i was speaking nonsense, or something. but it was true, nii-chan, she was so pretty. even after he broke her head.” yuuji pulls his hand away, wraps his arms around his knees and hides his face in them. his body shivers with the effort not to cry.
chosou stays close, but doesn’t touch. he aches to think about a young yuuji, showing his brain dead mother videos of him trying to teach himself to skateboard. he was so young. he’s still so young. “i’m so sorry.” chosou whispers, stupidly. yuuji takes a deep, trembling breath.
“i wish i was more like her,” yuuji whispers into his knees. “i don’t want to look like him. i don’t want his temper, or his eyes, or his voice. i don’t want to have a monster inside me.”
“you don’t,” chosou says firmly, maybe a bit louder than he means to. regardless, yuuji glances up at him, looking exactly how he had looked in that hospital bed two years ago. “i mean it when i said you’re good, yuuji. i have no doubt in my mind about that.” he says, softly and truthfully, he needs yuuji to know that it’s the truth. yuuji just looks at him, tormented.
“i killed your brother.”
“but first you tried to save them.”
yuuji makes a soft, broken noise, face hiding in his knees once more.
there’s a lot that chosou could open to yuuji about. he could tell yuuji about finding his mother’s body, about the boyfriends who came around, with different names but identical intentions. he could tell yuuji that his mother wanted him dead.
chosou doesn’t tell yuuji anything. he scoots a bit closer and gathers him up in his arms, hugging him close the way yuuji did to him a couple of weeks ago.
hopefully this says enough.
days later, yuuji asks chosou to drive him and fushiguro to a movie.
he’s met fushiguro a few times - he comes over from time to time, clings to yuuji like a sad cat whenever he does. he’s a timid, soft spoken kid. chosou can tell he would much rather go straight to yuuji’s room rather than linger in the kitchen and greet chosou the way they usually do. he doesn’t blame him - chosou can see something in fushiguro. he can tell, just by looking at the kid, that he’s sad. sad in the way yuuji is sad, sometimes. he admits, he worried at first. he figured fushiguro would be a weight that yuuji shouldn’t be asked to carry.
seeing them now, however, changes chosou’s mind immediately.
as chosou waits at the kitchen table for them to be ready to go, he hears hushed murmuring and footsteps approaching from yuuji’s room. when he raises his head, he meets eyes with yuuji.
yuuji gets this look, sometimes. like the light has drained from his eyes. sometimes he looks at chosou and it feels like looking into the eyes of a corpse. he carries himself like he’s so heavy, pinned down with the weight of it all. this is the yuuji he sees now.
“yuuji,” chosou says softly, unsure of what else to say. he starts to ask that they reconsider, maybe to give yuuji a chance to cancel on fushiguro politely. fushiguro beats him to it. chosou watches as fushiguro lifts his head and meets yuuji’s eyes, and immediately cups his face.
“put your shoulders back, baby,” fushiguro chides softly, for only yuuji to hear, “equal weight, remember?”
yuuji’s eyes flutter closed for a second. when he opens them, they’re glassy. he nods and straightens out his slouched posture. then he leans over and rests his head on fushiguro’s shoulder. he looks up to chosou and offers a small smile. “you ready, nii-chan?”
on the way to the movie theater, yuuji is a bit more lively. he chats with chosou and fushiguro both, cracking his usual jokes and smiling his bright smile. he offers to pump the gas for chosou when they stop, so chosou turns the car off and watches with a fond smile as yuuji practically bounces off to go pay.
“what did you say to him, earlier?” chosou breaks the silence, causing fushiguro to raise his head from where it had been ducked. they meet eyes in the rear view mirror and he tilts it slightly, confused. “earlier..?” he asks, hesitantly. chosou chews idly on his bottom lip.
“when you told him to fix his - to stand up straight.” chosou looks away from fushiguro’s deep blue eyes when he spots yuuji approaching the gas pump. he hears fushiguro make a soft, thoughtful sound.
“well,” fushiguro starts gently, “he just - carries so much. i have to remind him to share it with me, sometimes. so i can help him.” he falls quiet again, fidgeting with his sleeves. chosou expects him to elaborate some, but he leaves it at that. simple. chosou feels as though somebody’s turned everything in his head over, suddenly.
now that chosou thinks of it, yuuji carried himself a lot lighter after speaking with fushiguro earlier. chosou wonders if the metaphorical weight can become tangible enough to weigh yuuji’s shoulders down. tangible enough for another person to help him carry it.
yuuji gets back in the car, sliding in next to fushiguro and nudging his head against his shoulder wordlessly. chosou continues the drive to the theater, and they sit in comfortable quiet, with only the quiet hum of chosou’s shoegaze playlist playing from the stereo. it’s peaceful, even when fushiguro speaks up.
“you know,” fushiguro says softly, observationally. when chosou’s eyes flick up to meet his, he’s staring resolutely at yuuji. then he glances back to the rear view mirror. “you two really do look alike.”
chosou grips the steering wheel tighter, wills himself not to tear up over something so minor. he hears yuuji sniffle.
“you really think so?”
can we talk?
hiromi calls chosou immediately after reading his text.
“are you okay?”
chosou feels himself smile despite his nerves. “hi, my love. i’m okay. i…” he trails off, chewing on his bottom lip. “can i come over?”
hiromi is quiet for a moment. chosou can feel the nervousness for the both of them.
“you want to come to me?” when hiromi speaks again, his voice is so soft, nearly hesitant.
“i want to come to you,” chosou confirms, “and i want to turn my phone off. can i - can i do that?”
hiromi’s answering chuckle is a bit wet, but he speaks with a steady voice.
“i’ll leave the door unlocked, then, darling.”
chosou hasn’t been to hiromi’s house in months - the guilt floods him as soon as he steps onto the welcome mat.
like hiromi said, the front door is unlocked. chosou lets himself in as quietly as he can, trying to buy himself some time to calm his nerves. he locks the door behind him, kicks off his shoes, and starts toward hiromi’s office. he rounds the corner of the hallway and peeks his head into hiromi’s office, only to find the room dark and unoccupied. he feels a hand land on his hip from behind, careful and soothing.
“you really think i’d be in my office when i’m expecting you to stop by?” hiromi mumbles, leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to the back of chosou’s neck. “do you want a drink, love?” he asks softly. chosou hums, barely a sound at all, and leans back into hiromi’s touch. he mumbles an affirmative, and tries not to smile when hiromi guides him gently toward the living room.
hiromi settles chosou down on the couch, leaving him with a soft peck on the lips before going to grab some wine. as he listens to his footsteps retreat, chosou takes in his surroundings.
it’s really been too long since he’s been here. he remembers the house seeming too big, last time, with minimal furniture and too few decorations. it didn’t seem like a home, not the way chosou was accustomed to. now, there are plants in every corner that was hauntingly empty before. even the couch he sits on is bigger than the last one was, a sleek leather sectional positioned in front of the same coffee table hiromi’s had for the last three years.
hiromi’s house is warm in a way it never used to feel, chosou notes. or maybe he was never willing to entertain the idea of relaxing while he was here, of settling down. when hiromi returns holding two glasses of red wine, chosou is unable to resist pulling him down and into a kiss. hiromi hums softly into his mouth, a hand coming up to rest on the back of chosou’s head. they part slowly, hiromi’s eyes still closed and chosou’s studying his tired, handsome face.
“chosou,” hiromi calls softly, eyes still closed. “did you come here to break up with me?”
he doesn’t open his eyes after asking, afraid. chosou shakes his head vehemently even though he knows hiromi can’t see him. “the opposite, actually,” he whispers, and hiromi’s brown eyes flutter open. “i want to bring yuuji here. and i want to stay here, if you’ll let us.”
hiromi’s face softens in a way chosou doesn’t see often. his thumb strokes chosou’s cheek, as if to confirm that he’s really sitting here, saying these things - that he’s not dreaming. “i don’t understand,” he whispers, shakily. “your - your home…”
chosou bites hard on the inside of his cheek. “i’ve had a tough couple of months,” he whispers, “but i’m seeing so many things differently, now. when i think of my family, i think of you and yuuji.” chosou doesn’t acknowledge the sharp breath hiromi takes, instead leaning further into his hand. “the master bathroom still has blood stains in the grout. yuuji is afraid of the bedroom across the hall from him. the family that lived in that apartment no longer exists. it hasn’t for a long time, i think.” chosou closes his eyes, but the tears still threaten to escape. “i wanted to cling to them, to preserve their memory,” chosou whispers. “but the truth is, they forgot me, long before they died. i am yuuji’s older brother, now. and i’m your partner. that’s the truth.”
chosou sighs softly when he feels hiromi’s thumbs swipe gently at his tears. “yuuji’s boyfriend said something to me, the other night. he said…he told me that sometimes he has to remind yuuji to - to share his burdens with him. equal weight, he called it.” when he opens his eyes, chosou is face to face with a glassy eyed hiromi. “it got me thinking about you. i want to share my weight with you, and i want you to feel open to share yours with me. i want to live in a house, to build a home, with you and yuuji. i love you, hiromi.”
hiromi chokes on a sob, and pulls chosou into his arms. for a long time, he just holds chosou, sniffling, breath trembling. finally, he clears his throat. “i love you, darling,” hiromi sighs, “and this has always been your home. you and yuuji both. i’d be - i’d be honored to have you two move in.”
chosou hums, his focus zeroed in on the pulse of hiromi’s heartbeat underneath where his ear is pressed to his love’s chest. when he speaks, his voice is muffled by hiromi’s arms cradling his head. “i’m sorry if i ever gave you the idea that this is anything but permanent for me. i plan on marrying you.” he mumbles. hiromi’s arms tighten around him, and then loosen at the strained groan chosou lets out.
“sorry,” hiromi says with a breathless chuckle, “it’s just - i asked yuuji for his blessing months ago.”