The following week, Asahi struggled not to wake up automatically at four o'clock every morning. He'd changed his alarms, but his body was so used to the early hours now that he woke up on his own anyway, and absolutely no amount of laying with his eyes closed or staring blankly at the ceiling helped him to fall back asleep, so he just spent the time gingerly carding his fingers through Kisumi's hair, watching his body breathe, and being grateful that he at least didn't look so lifeless in his sleep.

He still had practice, still had class, still had to make sure Kisumi got to all the places he needed to go, but not having to be at the café in the evenings threw him off as well. However, Makoto didn't miss a single beat. He filled Asahi's empty time more than Asahi would have expected.

No Haru meant that Makoto was incredibly aimless. It wasn't necessarily that he had nothing to do, but that, when he was free, he was only too happy to hang around Asahi and Kisumi, and he fidgeted a lot, and constantly asked if there was anything they needed, and volunteered to watch over Kisumi more, and Asahi was convinced this man could not live without having someone to take care of. It was fine though, he didn't mind Makoto's presence. It made the atmosphere a lot warmer, more full and less empty. Hiyori still joined them for homework sessions, but he seemed to want to be alone more, now that Ikuya was out of the country, and Asahi wasn't at all bothered by that, and had to stop Makoto multiple times from calling Hiyori to ask if he wanted to join them for dinner.

It was a slow week, quiet, but cushioned by good company, and Asahi didn't necessarily rest, but it was a little bit easier to breathe now that there was one less place to run to.

There was still an intensely uncomfortable knot in his stomach, dropping Kisumi off at the train station on Friday. As always, he watched Kisumi through the window until the train pulled out of sight, and for a while this time, he just continued to stand there, regretting that he had promised he would stay home this weekend, because what was he supposed to do now?

Without Kisumi to look after, and without work to mindlessly fill up his time, he had far too much room to think, far too much room to truly notice how tired he was, even though he knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep.

He tried. After slumping home, he lay down immediately and tried to prompt himself to sleep for the rest of the evening. It was early, but he was sure his body needed it. The problem was that he'd gotten used to sleeping next to Kisumi, and now there were no noises coming from the neighbors next door, so the pressure of the silence was incredibly heavy, and the weight of loneliness was like nothing he recalled experiencing before. Kisumi was gone every weekend, but it seemed having extra time to think about that made the empty spot next to him rather unbearable.

He turned over on his side and elected to scroll through his phone for a while. He wasn't looking at anything in particular, just allowing himself to fall into the rabbit holes of distraction as he checked his emails, clicked on app notifications, and read through news articles. He found himself at some point looking through old pictures, and came across the videos from his birthday, which he realized had now been recorded over a year ago. It was insane to think about, and he wasn't even sure if the time had passed incredibly fast or achingly slow. It felt like a whole decade had gone by since their near-accident when Kisumi had first found out about Hayato. And yet, it very well could have been just yesterday at the same time.

He clicked on a video at random.

It was the one where Kisumi had just slipped off the step in the lobby and was giggling uncontrollably with zero motor functions as Asahi, Ikuya and Makoto attempted to get him back to his feet. Asahi stared with a blank gaze, falling into a cold that he didn't feel, deeper and deeper without realizing it, watching that unfiltered smile and the way Kisumi's eyes glittered with joyous tears. He had been so drunk in that moment, but his happiness was real regardless, and no one could argue that.

Kisumi was such a beautiful person when he was laughing, and the sound was like a buoyant song, something poppy and light, something full of positivity and nostalgia, like driving down the highway with the windows rolled down on a cloudless day, when the sun was set just right in the sky and the air was perfectly cool and the sunshine perfectly warm. A happy Kisumi felt like spring and smelled like cherry blossoms and citrus. A happy Kisumi looked like hope and stuck like glue, and gave you the freedom to never take the world too seriously.

Asahi faintly remembered the way it felt, hiking Kisumi up onto his back, remembered being jealous when Kisumi had made that comment about being carried by Makoto, remembered Kisumi's arms holding him comfortably, remembered his fingers digging through his hair. He didn't remember Kisumi cheerfully placing a light kiss on the back of his head, and he had to rewind the video several times to catch it, because it was quick and Ikuya nearly blocked the shot, but it happened and it was there, and it made Asahi's stomach do something abnormal.

A blush of heat blossomed across his nose. He swiped back to one of the videos of Kisumi dancing and again allowed himself to be dragged down into that cold unaware, because Kisumi's smile was so full and present and untainted. Asahi's eyes followed the graceful way his body moved, the subtly sensual way he tilted his head back and dragged his hand down through his hair and over his neck. Every motion was so fluid and intentional. Without the rosy blush in his cheeks, no one would be able to tell he was intoxicated.

He watched the video of them both dancing next, and for this one, he rolled back onto his stomach and set the phone down on the bed where he could see it. He laid he cheek on his arm and stared blearily at the screen, memorizing the way that their bodies moved together, growing increasingly jealous of and angry with his past self for being immortalized in that moment. He was bitter that that had been the only moment he'd gotten to touch Kisumi like that, to fall into the intoxication of his charm and allure.

He should have said yes that night. He should have stayed with Kisumi in this very apartment. He should have walked up the stairs behind him, followed him into the shadows and kissed him more than just once. He should have removed his jacket from Kisumi's shoulders himself, and then continued to remove the layers underneath until there was nothing left but that graceful body. He should have searched his skin with his lips and held him close and given him all of the physical Asahi he had to give. But he hadn't done any of that. And Kisumi had wanted him to.

"You're so stupid," he mumbled to himself, after watching the video four consecutive times.

He locked the phone and turned back over, then closed his eyes and tried to lock the image of happy, laughing, smiling Kisumi into his mind. He tried to hold him there, tried to feed the fuel to keep him alive, manifest him into something tangible with the pure desperation of his imagination. He needed that Kisumi back. If that was selfish, then so be it, just for a moment. He missed his best friend. He missed the man he'd fallen in love with. He missed the constant teasing, and random cuddles, and bubbling laugh. He hated that he'd dropped all of his many chances to make love to Kisumi's body, to become one with it, to be more whole than he ever could be on his own. To kiss him, just to simply kiss him again, couldn't he just have that? He was so lonely. He was so empty. He was so cold.

His body sat up, fueled by a frustration that no amount of wallowing was going to fix. He got out of bed, stuffed his wallet and keys into his pocket, and left the apartment. He wandered to the nearest convenience store, strolled around with his hands in his pockets, not looking for anything in particular, and — fifteen useless minutes later — left with a case of beer and found himself driving aimlessly down the road. He had no clue where he was going, until he just happened to pull up in a spot by Haru and Makoto's apartment. He found himself walking the familiar path up to their unit and knocked on the door.

He never had to wait long on Haru and Makoto's doorstep. Makoto opened the door after about ten seconds with Saba-Mochi tucked in one arm. His bright smile was an instant warmth.

"Hi, Asahi."

Asahi bit at his lip, suddenly feeling rather bashful. He wasn't sure what had brought him here, but he'd just realized that he and Makoto had never been alone before, and it was a bit odd. He was comfortable with Makoto, but he never realized how much he'd truly always coupled him with Haru. They were very rarely separated like this, and it just naturally felt kind of wrong. Asahi scratched at the back of his head and held up the bag in his hand, avoiding Makoto's eyes.

"Want a beer?"

Makoto's smile was something else. Asahi wasn't sure he'd ever been the sole person on the receiving end of it in any one moment. "Are you lonely?" Makoto asked, his tone light and intuitive.

Asahi huffed out a breath and let the bag drop back to his side. "Yeah."

Makoto's smile only widened. "Me too," he said, already stepping back to allow Asahi room to enter. "Come in. Mochi and I were just watching a movie."

…

And that was how he ended up lounging on Makoto's floor with warm cheeks, leaning back against the foot of the couch with his legs underneath the table while his hand absently wandered through Saba-Mochi's fur.

She had picked her way over to him pretty much the moment he'd sat down, and hadn't stopped purring and rubbing up against him since. He didn't know how much time had passed like this, listening to Makoto talk conversationally about many many things that he kind of stopped paying attention to after his second beer. He was on number … four now? And Makoto was still making his way through the only one he'd managed to get open. That was fine. Asahi had never pegged him as much of a drinker anyway, and he was sure Makoto was just giving the beer casual sips to be socially polite. That was also fine. Asahi verbally confessed that he didn't know why he'd come over just to sit on the floor and drink with Makoto, but he was grateful for the company. It was distracting.

"I'm glad you came over," Makoto said sweetly with an agreeing head nod. "I'm really not used to being alone. The small amount of time that I lived by myself, Haru was still always around, so I never really got used to it."

Asahi drained the last of the beer in his hand and absently reached for another. He just barely noticed Makoto's eyes watching him, but he couldn't read what was in them.

"Have you two ever been apart?"

Makoto nodded. "Mmhm. But not so much until we came to Tokyo. He went off to Australia once with Rin for a few days before we graduated. But before that, we'd never spent much more than a day without each other." He pursed his lips and dragged his fingers down Saba-Mochi's tail. She swished it and rubbed her face in Asahi's lap. "Once he started swimming here though, there were more training camps and tournaments I couldn't get to. So I had to start accepting that being together all the time is just kind of impossible."

He shrugged. "I'm okay with it, I guess. But I know he has a hard time when he's with unfamiliar people. And we've never had to be away from each other for a whole month so …" He frowned for a moment, gaze distant before he picked up his head and smiled again. "This should be interesting."

Asahi dropped his eyes to Saba-Mochi as she kneaded at his pants. Normally by now he would have brushed her off or made it very clear that he wasn't interested in her attention from the get-go, and he was sure they had made that agreement a long time ago, but here she was digging at his leg, and he wasn't particularly bothered by it.

"Your cat is clingy," he said tonelessly.

He didn't look up, but he could still hear the docile smile in Makoto's voice. "She can tell when people are feeling sad."

Asahi frowned. His eyes lifted in silence, and Makoto gazed right back at him, his green eyes tender and omniscient. Asahi rolled the inside of his lip between his teeth and didn't respond. He dropped his gaze back to the cat as she climbed back up into his lap and stretched her body to nuzzle her face against the underside of his chin, as though she was listening to the conversation.

"Haru picked her out," Makoto said. "Most people don't know it, but he's very intuitive. I think he knew she was going to be an empath."

Asahi ran his hand down Saba-Mochi's back. Her body arched effortlessly into his palm, tail still swishing. "Why did you guys get a cat?" he asked quietly.

Makoto hummed half a chuckle, reminiscing probably. "There were a lot of strays around Haru's house in Iwatobi. He used to feed them, and we'd sit on the back deck and play with them all the time. We talked about getting a cat for a while, we just could never find the right time. And then …" Makoto's body sagged a bit, but his smile, though small, remained in place. "When Hayato got sick, I was really … It was just hard to accept. I think Haru wanted to do something to make me feel better. She helps a lot."

As he said so, Saba-Mochi's tongue licked at Asahi's jaw, and he felt a weight hovering in his chest, rising and falling slowly with a tide as though undecided whether to fully accept the quiet comfort or resist it entirely.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Makoto asked, his voice twice as soft.

Asahi kept his gaze lowered. "Talk about what?"

"It … kind of seems like you're holding a lot back. We don't have to talk about it, if you really don't want to, but … You must be tired."

Asahi's body sagged right on cue. It was bothersome, being prompted to look at that mountain of emotions he had long since abandoned. There was no way he'd ever be able to sort through it in his lifetime, it had gotten much too big. It was much simpler, much easier just to turn his back on it and pretend it wasn't there. He only acknowledged it when he had to throw something else on top of the pile, but he'd gotten rather good at looking the other way after that.

"There's not much to say," he said, finally lifting his eyes. The bend on Makoto's brow was almost too tender, too concerned. It was uncomfortable. Asahi pursed his lips. "I … I just miss him," he admitted, dropping his gaze again. "I miss him all the time, even when he's right there. He's like a ghost now. I just want him to smile again. I want him to laugh. I want him to be … I just … I miss Kisumi."

Makoto nodded. He scooted around the table and sat next to Asahi, also with his back to the couch. Asahi barely registered the movement. His brain was starting to feel incredibly cloudy, and he could sense the oncoming swell of a headache beating at the back of his skull. He raked his fingers through his hair, and the words kept tumbling out of his mouth.

"I feel so stupid, Makoto. I had so much time to be so much more for him before all of this, but I never paid attention. He wanted more than just a friendship for a long time, and I just didn't catch on until the exact wrong moment, now he can't mentally be a part of anything — can't emotionally be a part of anything, and I feel like I missed my chance to be with him, to make the most out of our relationship, to make him happy. I just … I want him to be happy, but he's the farthest thing from it, and I can't reach him. Every bit of ground I gain just gets lost again under more bad news, and he's just spiraling down into a depression that I'm so afraid he's not going to make it out of."

Saba-Mochi mewed. Her scratchy tongue licked his skin again, and he felt a band of tension leave his spine. A gentle hand was also rubbing consolingly at his back now, and he didn't much have the cognizance to acknowledge who it belonged to, but he was somehow grateful to have it there.

"You've always made Kisumi happy, Asahi," Makoto's voice said somewhere close. "I know it's hard not seeing that in him now, but I don't think it's fair to tell yourself that you failed him at all. Everything fell together the way it did for a reason, and I think that's the most beautiful part about relationships. Even if you didn't know it, you've always loved him with a genuine passion, and he knew that without you having to say so."

Asahi's lips pinched in the corner and he didn't want to admit that some part of him was very comforted by that, because the other part swung a side-eye at Makoto and squinted him into focus.

"That's great, except it doesn't really solve my problem."

"What's your problem?"

Asahi didn't answer. Instead, he angled himself more toward Makoto and made a face. "Do you and Haru kiss a lot?"

Makoto blinked several times, clearly caught off guard, and probably embarrassed by it too, because his cheeks turned pink. He tried not to be thrown off for too long though, because he breathily coughed a nervous chuckle and rubbed at the back of his neck.

"Umm … Well, I suppose it depends." He shrugged. "Physical touch is probably more important to me than it is to Haru. So for him, probably yeah, we do kiss a lot. But …" He giggled, face going a deeper red. "I could always stand to kiss him more."

"Does it make you sad, when he doesn't want to kiss you?"

Makoto's lips pinched together on one side as he gave Asahi a look that he, again, couldn't read. "It would," he said. "But Haru knows me very well. It's easy for us to predict what the other needs before anything has to be said about it, I would say. I can tell when he's not in a kissing mood, and he can tell when I am, so we compromise."

Asahi sat with that for a moment. He didn't know what answers he was looking for particularly, he just knew that Haru and Makoto were the only real example he had to go off of, as far as relationships went — as far as same-sex relationships went, he should add. Kon and Akane were a decent couple, and if he ever needed parenting advice in the future, he knew where to go. But them aside, there were no other role models to examine, to look at, to copy, to admire — because, for one-hundred percent sure, his parents were useless, unless he wanted to get a good look at how not to be with someone. Also, Haru and Makoto were really great friends, and he did admire them, and he secretly wanted to have a relationship with Kisumi kind of like they had with each other, except that that was looking very hopeless right about now.

"You're a very patient person, Asahi."

Asahi squinted and swung his eyes back to the other boy. Why was that the second time he'd heard something like that, and still he felt the farthest from patient that anyone could be?

Makoto actually chuckled at the look on his face. "I know. It probably doesn't feel that way. But you really are. Kisumi's been through a lot lately, and you've been by his side the entire time. It's unspeakably difficult to want to be so much more for someone, when they're not in a place to accept that from you. And I can tell how much you love him, how much you want him, but you've resolved simply to be whatever he needs you to be right now, and that's incredibly admirable. Not many people can do that."

Something dropped in Asahi's stomach, but he couldn't tell what it was. Yua's words hadn't been all that different, but for whatever reason, hearing this from Makoto hit him differently. And he wasn't sure if that was because Makoto actually knew him relatively well, and so could give an honest opinion like that, or because he'd just noticed that Makoto's cheeks very faintly dimpled when he smiled like that specifically. And he was still trying to figure out what that specific smile was that made it so much different from all of his other smiles, when Makoto's gaze dropped to Asahi's lap and he frowned.

"Mochi, no."

He picked the cat off of Asahi's thighs, pulling her away from swatting at the beer bottle by his side, and he started to make an exasperated comment about Saba-Mochi being meddlesome, but he didn't really get to finish, because suddenly Asahi was kissing him, and honestly it was a shock to them both, because he didn't really know how he got there. He didn't really know why he went there, didn't even recall telling his body to move like that, but for surely it did, just on its own. And there was the smallest second of immobilized surprise where their lips were just there, very obviously touching in a real actual kiss, before Makoto quickly jerked back and gaped at Asahi with very very wide eyes and a very very red face. And then they were just staring at each other, because Asahi's brain was having a really hard time downloading what had just happened, and really, it seemed as though Makoto's was too, but for different reasons.

Saba-Mochi made an angry noise that neither of them acknowledged. She wiggled in Makoto's grip, tossing her head around, but it wasn't until she scratched at his hand that he dropped her with a yelp, and she was able to scamper off somewhere. They didn't pay attention. Makoto's gaze had dropped for all of half a second, and it wasn't until it came back that Asahi finally finished processing what he'd just done, and his face flared up as well.

"Fuck."

Makoto opened his mouth, but Asahi was already past salvation. His shoulders shivered and he dropped his face in his hands, head shaking.

"Oh my god. Holy shit."

"A-Asahi …"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. That was so stupid. I don't know why I did that. Oh my god, I'm a fucking moron. That was so dumb."

"No, no, Asahi …"

"My … Shit. Fuck. Fucking dammit. God fucking dammit. God fucking shit goddammit."

"Asahi, listen. I-It's okay …"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I really don't know why I did that. I wasn't trying to … I just … You were just looking at me, and I couldn't … I didn't mean to. I don't even like you like that! I mean, you're attractive, but it's not like I want to … I just didn't … Fucking fuck! Haru's gonna fucking kill me."

"Noo, Asahi. No. Haru's not going to kill you. It's okay."

There was a hand on his shoulder, trying to gently shake him out of it, but again, he was hardly cognizant enough to even tell whose hand it was. All he knew was that it most definitely was not okay.

He shook his head, moaning into his palms. "No it's not. It's not okay. Stop being so fucking nice all the fucking time. I just kissed you! I don't even know why. Fuck! I'm such a fucking mess. This is so pathetic."

"Okay," Makoto said softly. His hand was back to rubbing at his back. "I'm just going to take the rest of these, okay? I think you've had enough."

Asahi peeked through his fingers as Makoto leaned over him to grab the beer he was working on and stood to pick up the case with the remaining few and bring them to the kitchen. It really didn't even register. All Asahi felt was mortified, and he couldn't hold a thought to save his life beyond that.

"Makoto, I'm sorry," he whined, still into his palms, even though now he was watching the other boy over his fingers.

Makoto had somewhat returned to his normal color already, and he seemed rather calm in the moment. He even bothered to pass Asahi another small smile. "I know, Asahi. It's really okay."

Shit. This guy. Goddamn this fucking guy.

Asahi was already shaking his head again. He rocked onto his knees and started pushing himself to his feet. "It's not okay. It's not okay," he huffed, suddenly breathless. "I have to go home."

"No no, wait. Asahi …"

Makoto was back across the room in a flash, and it was great timing, because the dizziness swept from Asahi's head down to his feet in one big flush, and the room suddenly tipped over. He lost his knees somewhere, and then Makoto's big arms were underneath his and they were probably the only things holding him up.

"Okay, okay," Makoto said gently, like an adult trying to keep a child calm. "Why don't you sit back down, alright? I'll pull out the futon. You can sleep here tonight."

Asahi's body automatically tried to protest, but Makoto was very strong, and it hardly took him any effort to gently set Asahi down on the couch.

"I can't- Nooo. Are you insane?" He felt himself rolling over, trying to find a hold to push himself back up, but he never got there. Jesus Christ. The room was still spinning. "I can't stay here. I have to go home."

He swatted at Makoto's gentle reach, but missed apparently.

"Sorry, Asahi, but there's no way I'm letting you leave like this," Makoto said, and somewhere between that and the next second, a blanket found its way over Asahi's shoulders and he felt his feet being picked up off the floor. He hadn't even realized his body had already succumbed to lying on the couch. "I'm pretty sure it all just hit you at once. Go ahead and sleep it off, okay? Don't worry about it."

"I can't sleep," Asahi mumbled, even though he was already struggling to keep his eyes open.

"Just try, okay?"

That same hand rubbed at his back one more time, and that was the last thing he could definitively remember. He didn't fall asleep straight away, but whatever happened after that was very broken and disjointed, and he wasn't going to bother fitting all of the pieces together. He knew that Makoto was moving around a lot, and he knew his head hurt, and he couldn't see for shit, and his throat went swollen and made it very annoying to breathe. He knew his nose wouldn't stop running, and his face was hot, and he heard the cat meowing, and then suddenly her purring was right in his ear. He knew that in one moment he was bundled up on the couch, and then in the next he was buried under a thick and familiar duvet on the spare futon, and the lights were suddenly out, and he didn't know how much time had passed between those two moments, or how he'd gotten there. And then that was it.

When he woke the next morning — or who even knew what time really — it was to the smell of food and clattering in the kitchen. His eyes didn't open straight away, and trying to pry his eyelids apart was something of a feat. The moment he did, the sunlight looming over his head drove a nail through the top of his skull, and he grimaced, turning his face into the pillow under his cheek with a groan. He was lying on his stomach, and for the longest time, he couldn't understand why that position made him feel particularly stuck, but then he realized he could feel the vibrations of familiar purring echoing up and down his spine, and then realized there was a light but distinct weight on his back between his shoulder blades.

He probably dozed off again, he wasn't sure. It wasn't for long though. Or at least he didn't think it was, because nothing changed by the time he turned his face back to the side and just barely managed to squint his eyes open to stare blearily at the foot of the couch.

Fuck.

He was tired, and his head was throbbing. His throat was dry, and his tongue was pasted to the roof of his mouth with a horrible, sleep-flavored glue. Also, he couldn't breathe through his nose. He felt … awful.

He heard movement, but it didn't register until a pair of legs came into view and then squatted in front of him. He rolled his eyes up, and Makoto smiled.

"You awake?"

He didn't answer for a good long while, because he was still trying to process that himself. He spent that empty time staring up at Makoto's green eyes, feeling horribly embarrassed for reasons he didn't want to bother himself with just yet, and then finally mumbled, "I think there's a cat on my back."

Makoto chuckled and reached out to lift the weight from Asahi's spine. Saba-Mochi stretched out her body, clearly disturbed, until Makoto scooped an arm under her and cradled her like a baby. She touched her paw to his chest and closed her eyes, probably to go back to sleep, tail flicking lazily.

"She wanted to comfort you," Makoto said, scratching lightly at her forehead with a finger. He stood and walked out of sight, but also casually added, "She heard you crying in your sleep."

"Ugh."

Asahi rolled his eyes to himself and stuffed his face back into the pillow. He would have been fine never knowing that.

"Are you hungry? I made breakfast."

Makoto's voice wandered off for a moment before showing back up close to where Asahi was laying, and he turned his head to the other side to find the gentle giant sitting down at the table where he'd already set out plates of grilled mackerel for both himself and his guest. Asahi pushed himself up slowly, still squinting against the sunlight with an exhausted grimace. His fingers rubbed at his scalp, and most definitely his hair was all kinds of chaotic.

"I'm barely sub-par as a chef now, but I like to think I've gotten pretty good at grilling mackerel," Makoto said, fingers still scratching through Saba-Mochi's fur. She was curled up in his lap now, and all Asahi could really see of her was her twitching ear.

He exhaled, really still just trying to reenter the land of the living, and Makoto waited for him with a patient smile. He didn't touch his food until Asahi scooted closer to the table with the duvet wrapped in a puffy cocoon around his shoulders and picked up a pair of chopsticks.

"Itadakimasu," he mumbled. Makoto echoed him, eyes still watching Asahi carefully, though when Asahi started shoveling rice into his mouth, he let up just enough.

"Were you able to sleep?"

"Mm." He didn't know what it was supposed to mean, but Makoto seemed to accept it as a valid response.

"Here." He passed a glass of water across the table. "You should probably drink this."

Asahi accepted it and gulped down the entire glass in all of five seconds. Makoto took it back the moment he set it down, and got up without any prompting to get a refill. When he brought it back, Asahi gulped down another half glass.

"How do you feel?"

"Like someone's hammering a nail into my brain."

"Would you like some pain killers?"

Asahi nodded, and Makoto got up again to grab a bottle of ibuprofen. He topped off Asahi's water while he was up, then finally settled back down, watching again rather carefully as Asahi swallowed back a couple of pills, downed a few more large swigs of water, then returned to his breakfast.

"Haru's not mad, by the way," he said, still rather causally as he took his eyes from Asahi to tend to his own meal.

Asahi scoffed a long sigh, because that was exactly what he didn't need to remind him why being in Makoto's presence made him feel so uneasy in the pit of his stomach. It was because he'd fucking kissed him last night. And still, he had no idea why. There had been literally no thought process going into it, and he had to mentally kick himself for not realizing how shit-faced he'd gotten. What a pathetic excuse for making poor decisions that weren't really decisions. Should he be concerned with the fact that he'd kissed Makoto purely out of impulse? That was for sure a one-time thing that would never happen again, but like seriously, why had it happened at all?

"You already told him?" He groaned as his cheeks became warm, and pulled the duvet over his head, pinching the edges together in front of his face to bury his nose in it and hide. Makoto was amused.

"I'm sure if I'd decided to keep it to myself he would have found out on his own somehow, and then we'd both be in trouble." He passed Asahi another smile. "Like I said, he wasn't mad. I explained the context of the situation, and I think he got it." He shrugged. "You were just lonely, and sad, and very intoxicated. It happens."

Asahi stared across the table, peeking out from his bundle of blankets. He squinted and groaned again. "Makoto, you're literally going to be the end of someone someday."

Makoto blinked at him innocently, and it was disgustingly genuine. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you are way too fucking nice. You can't be like that with that face. The next time someone kisses you without your consent, please just give them a good kick to the balls."

Makoto let out a frail laugh. "I could never do that. Especially not to you. And anyway, I knew you didn't mean it."

"Doesn't matter," Asahi said, shaking his head. "You're gonna have too many people taking advantage of you like that. I don't think you really understand it, so I'll make it very clear. You're a catch, okay? No, I'm not into you like that, and I'm glad you know. But yes, you are very attractive, and even someone like me knows how to acknowledge that, and you see where that's gotten us. Jesus. Just … protect yourself, okay? That's all I'm saying."

Makoto's smile was both patient and full of fondness. "Thank you, Asahi. I'll keep that in mind."

"Thank you."

It was quiet for a moment as they dropped their gazes and ate, and Asahi accepted that his drunken night with Tachibana was always going to be a place of humiliation burned in the back of his mind where he would be free to remember it at the exact wrong moments. At least an awkward kiss was all that had come out of it. He couldn't imagine what the atmosphere would be like if it had somehow gotten beyond that, and he just thanked the gods that Makoto was a holy saint that was as innocent and loyal to his own companion as they come.

Really though, Haru wasn't mad?

"Can I ask you something?"

Asahi glanced up over the table. Makoto wasn't looking at him, but his expression was rather concerned as he stared at his half-eaten fish.

"What exactly is your relationship with Kisumi at the moment?"

Asahi's chest inflated with a slow intake of air, and he let it fall out of his nose gracelessly. He turned his head away to stare to the side at nothing in particular. "I don't know."

Makoto hummed a noise that was uncomfortably sympathetic and it sent a chill down Asahi's spine. He vowed to himself in that very moment that he and Makoto were never going to be left alone in the same room again — not while one of them was so vulnerable.

"I really want everything to work out between the two of you," Makoto said, softly and earnestly. Asahi could feel his gaze lifting to watch him, but he didn't look back. There was a bit of a pause before he continued. "I know you love each other. I truly hate that there's so much in the way of you two being together the way that you want to be. And I don't want to … suggest anything inconsiderate of your feelings, or of Kisumi's. I don't really know if there even is a solution. But just out of observation, Asahi, it … really seems like you kind of need someone you can be genuinely close with right now."

Asahi let a few heartbeats go by while those not-untrue words sank into the pit of his stomach, because they both knew that there were quiet and uncomfortable implications behind that "need" that neither of them necessarily agreed with. When he looked up, there was a frown on Makoto's face.

"Do you think that's accurate?" he asked quietly.

Asahi thought about lying, thought about ignoring it, thought about pretending it wasn't an issue, but Makoto was a being that, in all his gentleness, somehow forced out the truth.

"Yeah," he mumbled.

"I don't know if Kisumi can be that for you right now."

Asahi shook his head, gaze dropping again, this time to the table. He shrugged deeper into the comfort of the duvet. "He can't."

Makoto was quiet for a while, but his discomfort and concern for both of his friends was very loud. "Do you think … I don't want either of you to be hurt, Asahi."

It wasn't until just then that Asahi caught onto just exactly what about this conversation was making Makoto so uncomfortable, and when he looked up, the trepidation in those green eyes confirmed it.

"You're afraid I'll break," he said steadily, gazing straight into those eyes now.

A sorrowful crease formed on Makoto's brow. "I'm … afraid you might find yourself in a-another situation where you might … do something that you don't mean to."

Asahi's spine stiffened.

"It's not that I think you'll do it on purpose," Makoto said quickly, waving his hands at the look on Asahi's face. "I-I'm just concerned. I mean, you just warned me not to let anyone take advantage of me. I just don't want the same to happen to you."

"Except you think the opposite would happen, right?"

"No, no! That's not it at all."

Asahi scoffed bitterly and turned his gaze away. "Doesn't matter, Makoto. It already happened once. I get it."

"Asahi, please. I want you and Kisumi to be happy — both of you. I think you're holding a lot of things back that really need an outlet. If you don't acknowledge them, they're going to try to come out in other ways. I don't want you to have any regrets. I would rather you kiss me by accident than do something else with another person that you might not be able to forgive yourself for later."

"So what are you suggesting then?" Asahi said, a bit too harshly, as he swung a glare across the table this time.

Makoto's expression was already contorted with grief and his eyes were shining. "You need to slow down and let those feelings out."

"Let them out how? And do what with them? What feelings are we even talking about?"

Saba-Mochi stirred, and Makoto absently curled her up in his arms against his chest, never taking his eyes away from his friend. "Asahi, you're so angry," he whispered.

Asahi puffed up immediately, because having that pointed out by another breathing soul didn't help it at all. He stood and headed for the door. Makoto was right behind him.

"Asahi, no wait. Please don't keep it bottled up."

Asahi tried not to listen, tried to turn his ears off, and tune Makoto out, and ignore his presence following so close and being so concerned and so worried and so agonizingly soft. He stuffed his shoes on and pushed back past Makoto to find his wallet, because it wasn't in his pocket anymore, and Makoto still tried to convince him to take apart that mountain of emotions, because he was just going to get angrier otherwise, and he knew that, but the subject of the matter was entirely frustrating all on its own, and he still had a headache.

He was already back across the apartment and reaching for the door, when Makoto's arms suddenly closed around him from behind and squeezed him in a desperate hug that was so full and enveloping, it caught Asahi entirely off guard. He froze, staring at the door, and wished Makoto's voice whispering into his hair wasn't so loud.

"You don't have to do all of this by yourself."

It called attention to too many things that all stung in different ways. It clogged his throat, and his body shivered. He hated that Makoto was so close, that he could most assuredly feel that thinning patience in him, ready and waiting to snap. There was no time for that. There was no time for this. Slowing down and letting his feelings out wasn't an option. There were bigger things happening, and they had nothing to do with him. So he grimaced, and he forcefully pulled himself out of Makoto's healing hug, and then left him there, using every minute it took to get home to swallow back the lump in his throat.

He'd hardly made it through the door to his and Kisumi's apartment before his phone went off. He rolled his eyes to himself with a long sigh and pulled it out of his pocket to find Haru's name on the screen.

"Fuck," he hissed, then thought about ignoring it, but he was already in trouble with Haru, and he knew it. There was no way Nanase wasn't mad at him for what had happened. He might as well get the earful now, while the possessive boyfriend was in another country. He answered with a sigh. "Listen, Haru —"

"Apologize."

Asahi closed his eyes and let his shoulders sink. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean —"

"Not to me," Haru's voice said coldly. "Go back to the apartment, right now, and apologize to Makoto."

Asahi scoffed and dropped his arm to his side. "I already told him —"

"Not for the kiss, idiot." He didn't shout, but he might as well have for all the racking it did to Asahi's nerves. "You and I will talk about that later. I told you Makoto is extremely sensitive to how other people feel. He was just trying to help you. Go back and apologize for being a prideful asshole and blowing him off. You hurt his feelings."

"Jesus Christ," Asahi grunted through his teeth. "Don't use your telepathic mind shit to gang up on me."

"Go back and apologize, Asahi," Haru growled quietly.

"Listen, it's not my fault he's so concerned, okay? None of this is even about him."

"Asahi, we are your friends. You were the one who went to him for comfort. Don't get bitter about it just because he said something you didn't like."

"I wasn't —"

"And you're not the only one who's been having a hard time watching Kisumi go through this. I know you love him, but he has other friends who care about him and are trying to help him and are losing sleep over it too. Go back to the fucking apartment, and apologize to Makoto now."

The line went dead with a finalizing click, and Asahi knew better than to ignore the tone that preceded it. There was no end to the ferocity of Haru's determination to protect Makoto, present or not. It was clear he would go to whatever lengths were necessary, and Asahi didn't want to test that and end up getting Haru on a plane back to Tokyo to kick his ass. So he sighed to himself and turned around to go back the way he came.

Makoto was again cuddling Saba-Mochi with one arm when he answered the door, only this time it was with shiny red-rimmed eyes instead of a smile, and it sucker-punched Asahi in the gut. Makoto immediately grimaced with sorrow.

"Asahi, I'm so sor —"

"Stop," Asahi interrupted, raising a hand to cut him off. He had to drop his gaze, because he couldn't look him directly in the eye, and he felt intensely awful. Looks like Makoto was right about doing something he was going to regret. He squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered to himself. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, re-opening his eyes to stare at his feet. "You were trying to help, and I was being stubborn. You have nothing to apologize for. I shouldn't have walked out like that … You were right."

He slowly raised his gaze to the dip in Makoto's brow. How could someone so large be so tender?

"I want you to be okay, Asahi," he whispered.

Asahi nodded. "I know."

"I won't bother you about it anymore." Makoto hugged Saba-Mochi to his chest with both arms now, absently soaking in her comfort probably. She was purring like crazy. "But Haru and I will always be here if you need help, okay?"

Fuck.

He was a shitty friend. He was a shitty friend with good friends who were too good to him. No, he didn't know what he was supposed to do with his anger and all the other feelings boiling underneath the surface, where he was stuffing them down every day and trying to forget that they existed, but that didn't mean he had any right to turn a blind eye on the other people around him. He was so obsessed with Kisumi, he'd kind of just tossed everyone else's feelings out the window and selfishly took advantage of their presence.

"Makoto … How are you doing?"

Makoto smiled, but it was quickly overshadowed by a grimace, and fat silver tears began falling liberally from his eyes. Saba-Mochi mewled and climbed up his chest to lick his chin while he sniffed and tried to wipe his face.

"I miss everybody," he whimpered.

It was a heart-wrenching scene, watching this six-foot-some-odd man try to clear his tears away while holding a cat and attempting to save his smile just because Asahi was on his doorstep. Asahi sighed.

"Do you have any mackerel left?"

Makoto sniffed, and nodded with a sad, breathy huff of air that was probably meant to be a laugh. "Your plate is still on the table."

He moved to the side, and Asahi walked in behind him. They returned to their meal, which was now cold, and Asahi spent the rest of the day with Makoto. It felt much better that way.