They rest on a flight of stairs, in some back alley wedged between Hirasaka's tall buildings. The walls are littered with graffiti and slurs, maybe the unofficial collaborative art-project of a few Kasu High students, and the floor remotely reeks of piss.

Jun's prim posture doesn't fit into the scene- not quite, not really- but, Tatsuya supposes, he might just be a tad tense, anyways. As though reading his thoughts, Jun averts his eyes to the floor with a bashful flutter of his lashes. "I…" he begins, and he struggles to find anything at all to say. His cheeks flush a pretty pink. "I really wonder what you were thinking, back at the temple."

He says it without giving away his thoughts on the matter; on having Lisa ever so unabashedly declare her honest feelings for Tatsuya; on having Tatsuya turn her down with an even bolder declaration of 'I'm only interested in Jun', unmistakable in meaning; on playing it off and keeping it in mind for whenever there's time.

And well, they have a little time now.

Tatsuya presses his lips together tightly. "She deserved a truthful answer," he mumbles, heat rising to his ears and up his neck, somewhere between embarrassed and five minutes shy of overheating. Jun but hums thoughtfully in reply, crossing his ankles where his rolled-up slacks give way to bare skin.

"So you were serious," he confirms, eyes a bit misty as he studies the different scrawls across the walls. The tips of his ears look redder than usual when he tucks some hair behind his right one, pursing his lips while obviously and desperately feigning interest in everything but Tatsuya.

His fumbling is surprising, to some extent; Jun is earnest and honest in everything he does, losing neither his wits nor his tongue, usually, even on the worst of days. But somehow—somehow, bumbling, awkward Tatsuya, who so frequently gets lost in his own head and speaks with his fists, who can't remember the meanings of flowers or long passages of French poetry—somehow, that ill-spoken, dense Tatsuya has articulate, dignified Jun at a loss for words.

So it takes a while. They're really just an awkward silence of ineloquent mouths, of shifting feet and fidgeting anxiety, as though one sentence lacking contemplation could make or break everything and nothing, all at once.

(It couldn't. Not even the end of the world could.)

Jun is the first to speak again, because he seems to know how and when and where to meet Tatsuya, not quite in the middle- rather, after two thirds of the way- but he seems just fine, walking the extra mile.

"Are you sure about this?" he asks, a bit soft and with a subtle crack to his voice. He licks his lips as though they were dry, and chances what feels like a first peek in ages at Tatsuya, ever so shyly. "You have every right in the world to hate me." For all I've done, though that remains unspoken.

And perhaps, Tatsuya supposes, ultimately, he does have the right to hate him; to begrudge him for all the suffering he's caused and to loathe him for instilling compassion in all of them, regardless. Yes, he could blame him and hate him; but it's not what he wants to do, let alone what he is able to do.

"I couldn't," he therefore states, blunt and honest. Jun seems doubtful still, expression holding an edge of scepticism that has nothing to do with distrust and everything to do with self-hatred. "Really," Tatsuya presses, and he wonders if it would be out of line to reach out and hold Jun's hand right then, squeeze it and lace their fingers together in an attempt to anchor both of them in the moment.

But before he can bring himself to act on the impulse, Jun stands up, turning around to offer Tatsuya his hand in a completely different context. "I want to believe you," he states, pulling Tatsuya to his feet, "more than anything. But I also want you to consider your feelings on the matter once more."

The smile that follows is sad and weak and just a bit lopsided, with one cheek still holding a faint, yellowing bruise from that time when a healing spell had been neither fast nor strong enough. "It's been ten years," he goes on, looking down at their still clasped hands, "so think it through."

Deep inside, Tatsuya knows how pointless it is. Like the words engraved in his lighter, Jun's everything is, for better or for worse, carved deeply into Tatsuya's very being. They're two awkward halves of a pitiful whole; the time to keep apart has ended along with the world's status quo.

But Jun doesn't ask for any of those thoughts. He only asks for Tatsuya to humour him on this- to stand by his principles tomorrow too.

"Alright," Tatsuya agrees eventually. Jun gives him a pretty smile and squeezes his hand before letting go at last. Tatsuya feels a small smile tugging at the corners of his own mouth.

"I'll take you home."