Two weeks into waiting. Nothing new to report.

He went for a swim. On his own, at the rec center, early in the morning on a Thursday. No one was there. He had the water to himself. And he tried to use that time to hone into some Haru energy and let the water carry him, let it heal him, if it could — speak to him maybe? Did the water speak to Haru? He wasn't quite sure about that. His friend often mentioned something about not fighting with it, carve an opening, something about fangs. He was an interesting person. One day Asahi was going to just let it go with a sigh and give up trying to understand Haru's way of thinking.

But it was nice to leisurely maneuver around the pool without any structure, without lanes, without rules, without technique. In that moment, he wouldn't go so far as to bring up the word free, but it was mind-numbing for sure. He didn't have to think about anything, and it was impressive that he made it through several weaving circles without being reminded of the times he'd spent with Kisumi in these very same waters.

When the memories did begin to surface, he was able to push them away for a little bit longer by kicking off of the walls and swimming faster, reveling in the slip stream sliding past him and keeping his skin nice and cooled. However, every moment that he slowed down, the memories found more room to catch back up, and it soon became difficult to get past them. They started grabbing at his ankles and climbing up his back and clinging onto his shoulders, and he gave up quickly. He didn't force himself to think about it too hard, just swam back to the poolside and pulled himself out.

His knees were a little weak on his way back to the locker room. His lungs were breathing heavily, chest rising and falling in big, quick swells, looking for air. He forewent rinsing off in the showers. He was already going through most of the motions with his eyes closed. It was better just to get out as quickly as possible. So he wasn't completely dry by the time he got his clothes on, but that was a nuance that didn't need attention. He stuffed his belongings in his gym bag and slung it over his shoulder, already halfway out of the building.

The sun hadn't fully risen yet, but it was at that point over the horizon, where it was pretty much level with his eyes, so he squinted and picked his way down the sidewalk mindfully. Every now and then, he stepped on a dead leaf. The air was cool, winding through his still-dripping hair. There were a lot of birds out, singing their morning songs, doing their best to wake up the ones who weren't slowly trekking their way back home.

He paused at Kisumi's car with a sigh, because the back tire was going flat again. He kicked it, as though that were some kind of punishment for misbehaving. It wasn't the car's fault really. It hadn't been driven in a while. He sighed again, then stuffed his hands in his pockets and made a mental note to get it fixed. He could probably have a tow truck come during lunch, better to get it done right away.

He grimaced halfway up the first flight of stairs, and slowed down his pace, because his legs were sore, and climbing the steps didn't seem to suit them at the moment. He wasn't sure what that was about, and it took him the rest of the walk up to remember he'd gone for a five-mile run the other day. That was dumb. He was in pretty decent shape, but not as a runner. It was a wonder he hadn't noticed the ache in his muscles at the pool. Or maybe kicking off of the walls had woken them up and reminded them that they were tired. He decided he had enough time before class to soak for a little bit. He should probably stretch too.

He let himself into the apartment, slipped off his shoes, flicked the lights on, and then just stood there and stared over at the bed and the pink-haired boy sitting on it.

Kisumi lifted his head the moment Asahi opened the door, Asahi just hadn't noticed, and now they stared at each other in silence, neither of them moving, not even to close the gaping space between them.

Kisumi was in jeans and a zip-up jacket, perched on the very edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees as though he had just walked in and sat down to wait. There was something about him that was different, but Asahi couldn't put his finger on it for the longest time. He was mostly just caught up in the way those lavender eyes danced with a deep solemnity in the morning light, pinning Asahi down as though trying to speak already. It took maybe a solid five seconds for Kisumi's brow to slowly form a crease in the middle.

For whatever reason, this sent a shiver of bitterness through Asahi's stomach, and he found himself clenching his jaw, muscles vibrating now with a low simmering emotion that burned all the hotter as the seconds ticked by. His heart was pounding, but he didn't let it show.

It was quiet for a very long time.

Asahi watched Kisumi's jaw flex, and then his purple eyes just barely shifted before his body filled with a quiet breath.

"I'm sorry."

Asahi read the sincerity in it. It wasn't hard. His eyes were gleaming with it, the corners of his lips turned down at the smallest angle, and Asahi realized the difference about Kisumi was that there were legible emotions in the lines of his face. The tops of his cheeks were pink, there was blood flowing through his veins. He was alive. And still the simmer rose up slowly from the pit of Asahi's stomach, gradually turning into a boil, filling his ears with static.

He turned his eyes away, dropped his bag off of his shoulder to sit it with the shoes in the genkan. He took just a few careful steps forward and let his keys clatter onto the kitchen counter. Then he squared his shoulders back to the boy across the room.

Again, a very long moment passed between them, in which nothing was said, and Asahi let the fury build up in his veins. He waited until he was good and ready to talk before he released the pressure on his jaw.

"You're sorry." He nodded, and then shrugged. "Is that it?"

Kisumi's frown twitched. "I didn't —"

"Hold on, wait," he interrupted, holding up a hand. "Before we go into any of this, I just think you should know you're an asshole."

Those purple eyes dropped a fraction of a degree. "That's fair," Kisumi said quietly.

"Oh, I think that's more than fair. In fact, I think it's a bit lenient. I don't even know where to fucking start with you."

"Asahi —"

"I can't do this without you," he said, with a venomous sting to his tone. "Did you know that?"

He gave Kisumi a chance to respond this time, but the other boy stayed quiet, his expression slowly pulling with more grief. Asahi clenched his fists at an attempt to keep his quivering muscles in check. It didn't really work.

"There's a reason you were the only person I kept in contact with after middle school. The one constant in my life, Kisumi. I told you that."

Kisumi opened his mouth.

"I told you that!"

He flinched, and then decided not to speak.

"How fucking dare you," Asahi hissed through his teeth, eyes already burning. "Where the hell do you get the fucking balls to pull some shit like that? Where are the fucking car keys?!"

Kisumi stood quietly from the bed, and took his bending expression of grief to the closet where he dug a forgotten jacket out of the back and pulled the car keys out of its inside pocket. He crossed over to Asahi with a slightly bowed head and held them out to him. Asahi snatched them out of his hand, ignoring the way Kisumi flinched again, and especially ignoring the glossy sheen that came to his eyes.

"Call your goddamn mother and tell her where you are."

Kisumi turned away immediately. He walked back across the room to the desk where Asahi had left his phone charging. He sat in the desk chair, knees shaking, and put the phone to his ear. Asahi stayed where he was, glaring at him all the while, entirely unable to process anything but anger. He didn't even feel a twinge of relief or compassion when Kisumi started speaking quietly in a very choked up voice.

"Mom?" His shoulders tensed and he squeezed his free hand into a fist on his knee. "Yeah …" His whole body trembled this time as he listened, and his eyes welled up with fat, glossy tears that instantly fell down his face. "Mama, I'm sorry," he moaned. He leaned over the desk and dropped his face into his hand. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry … I know … No, I'm fine. I'm at home … Mmhm …"

His body deflated with a mournful exhale and he pressed the heel of his palm into his forehead as he grimaced. "I'm sorry, Mom. I'm sorry … No, I promise I won't … Yes, he's here …" He sniffed and attempted to wipe some of the tears from his face. "Okay … Okay … I- … C-Can I call you about it later? … Yeah … I promise … Okay, I will. I love you … Bye."

He hung up quickly and dropped the phone to the desk to bury his face in both hands this time, shoulders shaking. Somewhere within his quest for breath, he managed to moan through his palms. "Asahi, I'm sorry."

"Stop crying," Asahi snapped, still vibrating with rage across the room. "I will not pity you for this. Two fucking weeks, Kisumi. Two weeks! Everyone thought you were dead! Are you shitting me right now? We were waiting for the fucking police to call us and tell us they found your body at the bottom of the fucking river! How dare you!"

Kisumi wiped at his face, actually managing to clear the tears away and hold the rest back. He even looked up to meet Asahi's glare, still frowning, now red-faced, his eyes nothing but sorrowful.

"I hope you didn't expect me to fall into your arms when you got back."

Kisumi wiped his wrist across his nose and shook his head. "I figured you'd be upset," he said weakly.

"Upset," Asahi repeated, arms crossed now. "Upset. Fuck you. I'm not fucking upset. Piss off! Upset is for people who get stood-up on a blind date. I'm fucking furious with you! You have no idea, Kisumi! No idea what you put me through! I've been by your side since day one," he growled, stabbing a finger toward the ground. "Day one! How many times have I held you while you cried? How many nights have I spent next to you? How many tears have I watched you shed? How many mornings have I spent waking up at fucking four o'clock to make sure you have everything you need, so that you wouldn't have to worry about anything else? So that you could just do your best to live! It's fucking heartbreaking watching you go through this! I've lost so much sleep over you! I've done the fucking best that I can, every day, and you're just gonna go off and end your fucking life like a fucking screw you to all the people that have done their best to help you?!"

"It's not like —"

"Don't you dare! Don't you dare say it's not like that. That's all that it is! You're hurt, and you're tired, and you're sad, and you're in pain, and you're depressed. I get that," he breathed desperately, his voice now trembling dangerously. "I get that, Kisumi. You have every reason to be. I get that. I promise. I'm not asking you to pretend to be happy. I'm not asking you to ignore everything that's happening in your life. I am asking you to live. To live, Kisumi. That's it. That's all. If all you can do in the morning is open your eyes and take a breath in, then that's fine. That's fine. I will take that." His voice broke down into a loud whisper on the last bit and he was struggling to see Kisumi through the blur in his eyes, but he pressed on.

"It's selfish. It's entirely selfish of me. There are so many people in this world who love you, and are worried about you, and want you to wake up to see the next day, but if that's not enough for you, then I will continue to stand here and beg you to live for me. For me, Kisumi." Asahi patted his chest. "For me, at the very least, please."

His voice broke again, and he found himself on his knees in front of the other boy. He wasn't sure at what point he'd managed to get across the room, but he was there now. He grabbed at his shirt and pulled him forward to plant the crown of his head into his chest. He didn't smell like oranges today. Kisumi smelled like something foreign, like a generic bar of cheap soap from the convenience store on the corner. For whatever reason, this was what finally broke the tears over his cheeks.

"Please, Kisumi. I need you." His body shuddered as he tried to breathe. "I know I'm not much. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I couldn't stop this for you. I'm sorry that the best I could do was hold you. I'm sorry I didn't give you all the space you needed to grieve. I'm sorry that all of this is happening to you." Kisumi's shirt was squeezed in both fists now, and Asahi's tears were dripping all over his lap probably.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't give you everything you wanted," he continued with a woeful moan. "I'm sorry I couldn't satisfy you, that I couldn't take the pain away, that I fell short. I should never have touched you."

Kisumi's hands were suddenly on his shoulders. "No, no. Asahi …"

"I can't do this life without you. I don't want to do this without you. I'm in love with you, Kisumi. Please stay."

He was only vaguely aware of the kiss that touched the back of his hair, of Kisumi sniffing and his arms folding around Asahi as he huddled closer.

"I will, Asahi. I will. I'm sorry," he whined, his voice muffled by Asahi's hair. "I'm so sorry."

It was jarring, this moment, in which they both just sat there and cried, in which Kisumi's arms were the arms that now held Asahi while he buried his face in his stomach and left his fists trembling in his shirt, pulling on it like it was the only thing keeping Kisumi tethered to him. And it took a long time — a very long time — for either of them to even remotely reel themselves in enough just to, at the very least, shift.

Kisumi was probably the one who stopped crying first, because Asahi stopped hearing him, and then he was being rocked, gently, comfortingly. He uncurled his fingers and wound his arms around Kisumi's waist. They drew each other closer, and it was another several minutes before Asahi exhaled a breath and went quiet. His arms were still trembling, still waiting to be fully convinced that this body was not going to leave again, that it was actually there to begin with.

He listened to Kisumi's heartbeat, felt it pressing against his forehead. He absorbed the significance of that, let it sink into his skin, let it be the only thing he focused on. He tried to breathe out in relief, but it wasn't happening. His chest was still too tight.

"You found a way through the numbness," Kisumi's voice said quietly.

Asahi didn't know what that meant initially, so he didn't respond.

"I told you I wanted it to hurt." Kisumi's body shivered. He shook his head. "But it didn't, not even remotely. I wanted to hurt, because I wanted to feel something, but you gave me so much more than that. You touched me somewhere deep." He dragged a slow hand up Asahi's spine, and it made him tremble. "It wasn't physical. It was deeper than that, somewhere I couldn't reach, somewhere I didn't want to be touched. Initially, I just wanted to wake up so that I could be done with this. I wanted to hurt so that I'd have another reason to die." He pressed his face closer to Asahi's head and tightened his arms. "But I woke up to doubt instead, to second thoughts, to hesitation, to just another reason to live, and I hated that.

"I'm sorry, Asahi," he said, kissing his hair again. "I ran to get away from it, and I was hoping that once I put enough space between us, I'd be able to let go of you. I was going to go see Hayato one more time, and then end it, but you followed me. And when I saw you, I panicked. I couldn't convince myself to go through with it, so I got off the train at Osaka and just … I just … shattered."

Asahi's fingers curled around the back of Kisumi's jacket as though searching for a tangible reminder of how real this moment was, and then he pulled back, sliding out of Kisumi's arms to look up into his eyes. And they were still full of sorrow, still shining with grief, full of life, even though that life was sad. Kisumi's fingers reached up to touch Asahi's cheek. Asahi blinked, and then breathed for a moment.

"Why were you gone for so long?" he found himself asking quietly.

Kisumi's fingers moved from stroking his cheek to brushing through his bangs, his eyes following the movement. "I couldn't pull myself together. I spent a whole week still trying to convince myself to go home and do what I had planned to do, but it didn't work. So the next week, I just walked around the city and watched people live their lives. And I thought about being one of them, tried to remember what that felt like. I sat in the sun, laid in the grass, watched the fish in the river …"

He went quiet for a moment, and as he did, his glossy eyes got glossier. He looked back at Asahi and smiled a painful smile. "I ate waffles." A lone tear broke over his cheek and he wiped it away. "They didn't have chocolate chips. And the bacon wasn't the same. So I had to come back, because … I want to do this with you."

Asahi let his chest sink. The tension holding his spine let go, and he slid his hands under Kisumi's jaw, rising up on his knees to meet his lips with a kiss. Kisumi's fingers slid back down to Asahi's cheeks and he brushed his thumbs over his skin several times as he participated in said kiss. It was still full of sadness and something heavy, but it was warm, and it was togetherness, and Kisumi whispered against his lips.

"I'm in love with you too, Asahi."

And Asahi didn't realize, until that very moment, when his body shivered at the words, that that was the first time Kisumi had directly told him such a thing.

"Promise me you'll stay," he murmured in return.

Kisumi nodded. "I promise."