"Tatsuya," Jun says, running and laughing and smiling and seven years old. "Tatsuya, I bet you can't catch me!"
Tatsuya takes up the challenge with a nod of his head, and after ten minutes of chasing futilely after his friend he gives in.
"I told you," Jun gasps, doubled over and clutching at a stitch in his side.
Tatsuya tackles him and tickles him until he calls uncle.
"Tatsuya," Jun says, eleven years old and holding an ice pack to his swollen cheek. "Please don't worry about me."
But Tatsuya does worry. He worries that his friend is hurt. He worries that it's not just physical pain. He worries that this will keep happening and no one will try to stop it.
"Here," he says and takes the ice pack from Jun's hand, pressing it against Jun's cheek, letting off a little when Jun hisses.
"What are you doing?" Jun asks, grimacing when more pressure is applied, but not enough to sting too badly.
Tatsuya doesn't know how to answer that so he shrugs and pulls a few strands of trapped hair out from underneath the ice pack.
"Oh," Jun says. "Thanks." He tries to smile but only ends up wincing a bit before pulling his face back to a neutral expression.
"Tatsuya," Jun says, 17 years old and trying his hardest to keep a smile on his face. "I missed you."
I missed you, too, Tatsuya wants to say, but the words are stuck in his throat and he can only stare at Jun's earnest expression for a moment before retrieving his lighter from a pocket and flicking it open.
Jun seems to understand, though, and he moves closer, close enough to close his hand over Tatsuya's.
Tatsuya isn't sure what this means, but he feels a bit lighter, somehow, with Jun by his side.
"Tatsuya," Jun says kissing him and kissing him until he's left breathless. "I love you, Tatsuya."
Tatsuya murmers it back, quietly, shyly, and Jun smiles, and kisses him again.
"I won't leave your side," he says, holding Tatsuya's gaze, "I'll never leave you again."
Tatsuya's not sure if that's possible, if the mess they've made will allow it, but he believes the sincerity in Jun's voice, and that's good enough.
"Tatsuya," Jun says, regretful and hopeful and a little sad. "I won't forget the times we had together. I won't forget you. So, this isn't a goodbye." He smiles, and it is sad, and it is beautiful.
Tatsuya wants to grab Jun's hand, wants to hold him close and never let him go. He doesn't want to lose Jun. He doesn't want to forget.
But Jun is gone, whisked away in a flash of gold and white and darkness, and it's only Tatsuya left.
"Tatsuya," Jun says, and it must be a dream because what else can it be?
"Jun," Tatsuya says, and then he repeats it because it's been too long. He says it over and over again until his voice is hoarse and his throat is raw, until he is left without a voice to utter it with, until he is unable to even mouth it lest he remember what it's like to feel Jun beneath his fingertips, to taste his mouth, to wake up beside him and smile because he's there.
Jun smiles and it is terrible, and it is sad.