"Mm," Miharu says, and he and Yoite leave the store. There are dead leaves on the ground.
Yoite is thirsty. Miharu is thinking.
"You know," Miharu says, finally, "I've never had a brother before."
"Oh," says Yoite, and he wonders what Miharu's face looks like right now. He doesn't really remember Tsukasa's face. "Neither have I."
--
"Maybe in the spring," Miharu mumbles as they lay in bed that night, "We'll go sit at the park under the cherry blossom trees. They smell sweet, you'd like that. It'll be warmer, then."
"That'd be nice," Yoite says, laying there stiffly, hoping Miharu won't touch him, hoping Miharu will touch him.
They both know he probably won't live that long, but it's a thought, at least. Something to build fantasies on. That's all Yoite can really do.
Miharu does touch him; first, their fingers are laced together, and then Miharu's head is pressed against Yoite's chest and their knees are touching and Yoite wants to fly away, and he wants to carry Miharu with him. "I was thinking." Miharu's voice comes out on a breath, soft and light, and Yoite hates the ringing in his ears for ruining it. "The lady at the store. I think she was wrong, we aren't like brothers."
"Okay," Yoite says, and his own voice is a short rush of air, because for some reason he's relieved.
"Mm." Miharu shifts, beside him. He's all thin limbs and soft skin, and Yoite keeps it a secret, but he's glad he lets Miharu touch him. "I think we're like-"
Right then, Miharu leans up to kiss the corner of Yoite's mouth, and his little hand holds on tightly to Yoite's. It's the action in place of a word, because neither of them know what to call it anyway.
"Yeah," Yoite breathes, when Miharu pulls back. "I guess we are."
They hold on to each other until morning.
