Disclaimer: Aoharu x Kikanjuu belongs to NAOE.
Song: crack by Hatsune Miku
as we are
I'll try to tie our strings together
More tightly next time… so
Please stay right where you are
.:.
There are times like this when Masamune feels bad.
No, that isn't quite the word for the tumult of emotions spilling around like a blender in his stomach. That isn't what he'd call the fiery emotion that fizzles across his skin, across his thoughts, across his heart as he looks down at an injured and slumbering Hotaru. The TGC has ended, and though he came out of the onslaught with more wounds than both of his comrades, he still can't bare to look at the scars, the accusatory bruises, the small lacerations smeared with dirt that paint a picture of desperation and determination along Hotaru's small body.
He hates it all. Masamune hates it all.
Standing in the lamplight of his apartment, tender-footed, quiet as a firefly, he steals glances at the boy that's sleeping on his sofa. There's a phantom hand that grips at his heart each time he sneaks a glance at those slumbering eyelashes or those parted lips. There's thoughts —all equally accusatory and harsh — each time Masamune swallows the young boy's visage.
"It really is your fault, you know. It's your fault he got banged up like this. It's your fault that small body is so scarred. It's your fault."
He wanders aimlessly around the kitchenette, idle hands and suspended breaths, until he can't take the numb feeling that pokes at him any longer. He lifts his eyes, erects his stance and walks straight toward the couch. On his way, he plucks up a wet towel that's been soaking in cold water for the past thirty minutes while he looped between guilt and excuses. When he reaches Hotaru's motionless form, something tangles in his throat, but he swallows it down and kneels by the sofa.
The first thing he notices —the very first thing— is how remarkable Hotaru's breathing sounds. Little breezes of air that tiptoe in and out. A delicately rising chest. A rhythmic heartbeat pulsating beyond the fabrics and wrinkles of his uniform. Masamune is 100% sure he becomes a bit light-headed at the thought, but quickly returns his thoughts to the present.
Stay focused, Masamune. Stay focused on the task at hand. There's no time or place for those feelings.
The wet towel finds its way to Hotaru's cheek and a few droplets trickle down the roughed skin— down, down, down until they escape beneath his collar. Masamune's eyes follow each droplet, and each droplet eventually leads to Hotaru's sloping collarbones. It takes everything in Masamune to avert his eyes and focus on dabbing the towel against the younger one's cheek. Regardless, his self-control is bending. Bending out of control and preparing to snap underneath the weight of his curiosity.
He chances an innocent look and convinces himself that one touch won't hurt. One touch won't…
Hotaru's skin is warm beneath his fingertips. Soft and warm and precious— just as he always imagined it would be. He even removes his glove just to get the full effect of caressing the boy's cheek. Masamune rarely touches anything with such care, such gentleness. There are the girls at the host club that he handles delicately, but it's different with Hotaru. His fingertips are like feathers.
As he roves his fingers back and forth, his eyes behold Hotaru's face once again. In particular, a small scratch across the boy's temple. Perhaps Hotaru fell. Perhaps he tumbled. Perhaps that monster Midori landed a hit. Whatever the reason, Masamune finds that the longer he stares at it, the harder it is to look away. The harder it is to look away, the harder it is to keep his eyes from becoming filmy and fuzzy and hard to keep dry.
"It really is your fault, you know."
Dropping the damp cloth to the side, Masamune lowers himself, closer, closer, closer until his eyelids brush against Hotaru's eyelids and their breaths intermingle.
"Hotaru, I'm so sorry—"
As Masamune watches each droplet that falls from his own eyes, he can't strangle the last of his words out. He just hopes his tears will be all the words he needs to express his promise:
"I'll protect you from now on."