After a while, Mutsuki finally broke the silence. "So, are you actually going to tell me now, or...?"

Hajime jerked away from Mutsuki's hand and gave him an incredulous look. "Seriously? Just like that? Right now?"

Mutsuki blinked at him. "Of course right now. I just told you I wanted you to, didn't I? With a whole bunch of good reasons?"

Mutsuki's expression and tone were so matter-of-fact that once again Hajime had to laugh. "You're such a weirdo, Mutsuki," Hajime said, his expression affectionate as he looked at him. But then he sighed, once again staring down at his hands.

After studying him for a little while, Mutsuki said quietly, "Whatever it is, I'm not going to judge you, Hajime. You know that, right?"

Knew that? No. Hoped that? Very, very much.

Hajime was still looking down when he asked, his voice hesitant, "Mutsuki...how did it go...when you told your parents you weren't straight?"


It was something Hajime had always known about himself, deep down inside. Something he'd realized at an early age, but shied away from, not wanting to admit even to himself.

It had been a phase. Something he'd grow out of, the more he actually grew and matured. Kids were weird, after all, and the years around puberty were the weirdest of all.

It was curiosity, that was all. Comparisons. He was a physical guy who'd always been in sports, it made sense he'd appreciate a good physique. His appreciation of other guys was just respect for fellow athletes, fellow guys going through the same changes he was.

There was no way it meant anything more.


He had been popular, and he'd grown up with lots of friends of both sexes. Friends he'd known since they were all kids, friends he met later on in middle school. Friends who shot up alongside him, changing from short, pudgy children into well-developed teens. Boys got taller; girls got curvier. Things changed, and covert glances became the norm. Then overt. Hajime hadn't been so blinded by modesty that he hadn't seen girls checking him out, even girls he'd known since he was in daycare.

He knew what it meant to be flirted with. It had always made him wildly uncomfortable, but he had laughed, and rolled with it. Sometimes he'd even teased back, trying to play the part that everyone, himself included, expected from him. Tried to convince himself that if he just tried harder, he would actually feel something. That he could look around at all of the girls, or any of the girls, and feel something.

Instead, it was as if the more determined he was to convince himself he was 'normal,' the more stubbornly his body and mind refused to cooperate. He couldn't do it; even the prettiest girls with what his friend group agreed were the most attractive figures did nothing for him. He could appreciate their beauty in the same way he appreciated beauty in a sunset, or in his mother's flower gardens, but that was all.

Meanwhile, he couldn't help but notice other things; his teammates on the basketball team, his fellow karatekas at the dojo. Admiration he had tried so desperately tried to convince himself was purely disinterested became something terrifying.

He accepted the teasing he got for always showering alone after practice or games, never lifting his gaze from the floor. He shrugged and laughed good-naturedly at the jokes about his alleged modesty, feeling that the teasing was a more than fair exchange for peace of mind. He tried not to be too disgusted with himself, tried not to angrily wonder what was wrong with him.

No one, as far as he'd known, had ever guessed.


He had tried.

He had watched girls with his friends, and had laughed at their comments. He had agreed that girls were cute, or hot, and he'd awkwardly chuckled and accepted teasing when girls would openly admire him in turn.

It had been flattering, if nothing else. He knew he should be grateful to be found so attractive, and not just because of his body. People liked him. People had always liked him. Why would girls be any different?

But going out on dates had felt wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong. He had gone through the motions, trying to tell himself that he just wasn't doing it right. He just wasn't focusing hard on enough on the right things; the personality, not the body.

When his long-time friend Rina had asked him out his second year of middle school, he'd been surprised, and then almost pathetically grateful. He'd known her since first grade; he knew what a great person she was. She wasn't some random, generic girl, she was Rina, who he had so much in common with, who he'd always had fun with. Maybe this was what he'd been doing wrong, all this time, not trying to date his friends. His parents had been friends first, after all.

Hajime and Rina had gone on a handful of dates, and he'd had fun.

Because she was his friend, and they'd always had fun together. Going on dates was just an extension of that fun.

But that was all.

When she went in to kiss him after their third date, he'd panicked, but let her. And as simple and chaste as that kiss had been, it made him feel almost as wrong as if he'd just kissed his mother.

Telling Rina that things had been fun, but he thought they were better off as friends, was the most honest thing he said their entire brief 'relationship.' It had been hard, though, and her expression as she tried to laugh it off, tried to tell him that was fine, she really saw him as more of a brother anyway...that expression had haunted him.

Both of them were lying, and both of them were lying because of him.


After Rina, he'd stopped 'dating.' He just wasn't ready, he told himself. Yes, he'd hit puberty early, and yes, he was pretty much fully developed by the beginning of his final year of middle school, but that didn't mean he was ready. He might just be an emotional late bloomer.

So he had told himself, with an almost desperate intensity as time had dragged on. He was just developing out of order. There were perfect logical reasons for everything that was happening, and everything that wasn't happening, perfectly logical reasons that would ultimately explain why he was 'normal.'

Because of course he was 'normal.'

This wasn't the way any of this was supposed to happen.


He looked at his parents, and he saw his ideal. Looking back over the course of Hajime's entire life, love had been one of the strongest constants. The love his parents had for him. The love they had for his siblings.

And the love they'd always had for each other.

It had been impossibly embarrassing, back when he was younger. The way his mom and dad would look at each other, their eyes shining. The way they would hold each other, or kiss each other. The way they would always snuggle up together on the couch, the way they'd always hold hands when they were out walking together. Even without PDA, his parents' love had been obvious, and as he'd gotten older he'd been even more embarrassed to accept that love was probably pretty physical, if their constant touching was any indication.

Learning about the Curse the New Year's Eve before he'd started high school had been illuminating. It had told him so much about his father, yes, but also a great deal about Mom. And about their relationship.

How much they'd loved each other, all the way back in high school. And how far his mom had been willing to go, for that love.

Their love had been saccharine sweet, and deeply embarrassing. But Hajime had nonetheless admired it, and nonetheless looked to it as the model of what he hoped, someday, to maybe have for himself.

He just had to find the right girl.


He'd been so blind. Years he'd spent fighting it, years he'd spent denying who he truly was. Years he'd spent, desperately trying to convince himself that all of it was wrong.

Because he'd been so very afraid. And as long as that fear controlled him...he would never truly be able to accept himself, and start to move forward.


Hajime had known Mutsuki since he was five months old, the day Mutsuki was born and Hajime's parents had video-chatted with Mutsuki's to coo over the newborn and 'introduce the babies.'

He was pretty sure that had been his mom's idea.

And as they grew up, in spite of the fact that they lived over five hundred miles apart, they were close.

They had always been close.

When they had been kids, Hajime had been curious about the closeness between his parents and Mutsuki's. Mom had explained that they'd lived together in high school, but that had meant nothing to the children, curious as to why they always got together whenever Hajime's family was in Tokyo. Even if they had to miss seeing other Sohmas, they always saw Mutsuki's family.

But Hajime hadn't minded. He'd always loved playing with Mutsuki, always loved talking to Mutsuki. Mutsuki sometimes drove him crazy, but he also made him laugh like nobody else, and always made him smile through even his grumpiest moods. Sometimes they'd teased each other, sometimes they'd fought, but no fights had ever lasted long, and no negative feelings had ever lasted.

They had always been the best of friends.


When Hajime moved to Tokyo for high school, he had been nervous about settling into his new world, but he needn't have worried. In spite of the fact that he didn't know anyone else at Kaibara High to start with, he quickly found his footing, and quickly made new friends.

But he never lost his old ones.

Even though they went to different schools that first year, Hajime and Mutsuki were often together. Mutsuki was a regular visitor at the dojo, and Hajime an accepted presence at Yuki and Machi's house; both boys had an open invitation to the other's home. And they had taken full advantage, whether it was Hajime lounging on the couch in Mutsuki's living room watching tv or Mutsuki sprawled on the floor of Hajime's bedroom doing homework. Somehow, over time, it simply became accepted: where one would be, often, the other would be nearby.


Hajime had had a plan, when he came to Tokyo. He had wanted to go to Kaibara High to walk in his parents' footsteps, to experience the places that had brought them together. To see more of the world than sleepy Hibe or little Nigeyashi could offer.

To find himself.

When he had suggested to Hatori's daughter Kinu that the two of them see if they could live in Shigure's old house up on the hill, he had been hopeful, but admittedly nervous. Kinu would only be eighteen and a first-year university student; Hajime would be sixteen and a second-year in high school. It would be a lot of responsibility for the two of them to take on a house, and Hajime had fully expected there would be some pushback. But he was determined to do his best, to try to live in that house where his parents had met and eventually fallen in love.

He had not expected that Mutsuki would want to live there, too...and that fact had terrified him.


When, exactly, had Hajime started to look at Mutsuki and see someone other than a friend? When had he started to look at him and notice things, like the way Mutsuki's whole face lit up when he smiled? The way his hair always looked like he'd just rolled out of bed, no matter how much he brushed it? When had he started to notice Mutsuki's long, elegant fingers, and the way he'd rest his cheek against them when he was thinking? The graceful way he would always coil and uncoil himself when he was sitting down or getting up from the floor?

When had he started to look at Mutsuki...and think he was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen?

It had terrified him. Feeling those feelings for other boys had been bad enough when they were schoolmates, or teammates. Feeling them for his friends back in Hibe had been worse.

But feeling himself attracted to Mutsuki had been the worst of all, something that filled him with horror and disgust. This was his best friend, a person who'd been in his life since the very beginning. A person who was bound to him by family and time, a person who he'd always been able to count on. Someone who would always, in some capacity, be in his life.

How could he live with himself if he let his feelings...his foolish, repulsive, unnatural feelings, destroy what they had?


There had been no way to keep Mutsuki out, though; Mutsuki had always been a force of nature unto himself. And when permission had been granted, it was Kinu, Hajime, and Mutsuki who had moved together into the old house up on the hill.

Hajime had settled into the room that had once belonged to his father, and watching his dad's face as Kyo walked around the room, taking the sight of Hajime's things in that old familiar space, had been emotional for both of them. But it wasn't long before the room ceased to be 'Dad's' and simply became 'Hajime's', just across the hall from the room belonging to his absolute best friend.

The person who had always been his best friend.

The person he wanted to always stay his best friend, forever.


It had been a humid August evening Hajime's second year of high school. They'd been living in Shigure's old house together for five months by then, Hajime, Mutsuki, and Kinu, and life had settled into a pleasant routine. Hajime sometimes missed the dojo and his companionable evenings with Kazuma and Kunimitsu, but there had been a beautiful freedom in having 'his own' place, even if he shared it with two other people and had to deal with periodic random drop-ins from people like Kinu's dad.

Homework had become one of their routines, slipped into as easily as a pair of worn-in shoes. Hajime couldn't say when that routine had become special; when he'd found himself looking forward to the time after supper, when he and Mutsuki would head upstairs, Mutsuki would bring his books over to Hajime's room, and they would work side by side. Sometimes Mutsuki would tease Hajime about the reading glasses he'd started wearing his last year of middle school; sometimes Hajime would tease Mutsuki about how easy it had to be dealing with only first-year homework. Sometimes they'd sit in companionable silence. Sometimes they'd talk.

And sometimes, in spite of his best efforts, Hajime's eyes would sneak over to Mutsuki while they worked, noticing how slender Mutsuki's body was, and how graceful he always managed to look even when he was lying on the floor, his head propped up in one hand and his crossed ankles swinging up in the air. Every movement Mutsuki made had always seemed so effortless, beautiful without him even trying.

Sometimes, those feelings would make him sick.


Summer vacation was halfway over, that particular August night, and Hajime and Mutsuki were sitting on the floor in Hajime's bedroom working on their summer homework together. The same comfortable routine, the same familiar pattern.

"What would you say if I kissed you?"

The question had come out of nowhere, and Hajime had been so startled he'd dropped his book. He couldn't have heard correctly, and it was spoke to how twisted his consciousness was that that was what he'd imagined Mutsuki saying.

He was blushing regardless, though, and he was barely able to look at Mutsuki as he gruffly asked, "What was that?"

Mutsuki was sitting beside him, thoughtful eyes fixed on Hajime's face. That attention only made Hajime blush harder, but Mutsuki remained as composed as ever as he repeated, "What would you say if I kissed you?"

Hajime hadn't known what to do, or say, or think. Mutsuki was always fooling around; this had to be one of his jokes, somehow. Even if Hajime had heard correctly, there was no way he meant it. Not for real. He was just messing with Hajime...somehow.

But it was still impossibly hard to stay calm, or even seem like he was calm.

"Wha-why would you ask something like that?" He'd finally managed to stammer out, and, as expected, Mutsuki had laughed.

Was this all just a warped joke?

Except he hadn't stopped at the laugh. Yes, he had laughed...but then he'd smiled. That loveable, obnoxious, beautiful Mutsuki smile, the one that was laughing and teasing, playful and sweet all at once. And he'd smiled that smile as he looked at Hajime and said, "Because I want to kiss you. And I'm pretty sure you want to kiss me, too."

Hajime's face had been absolutely burning red, and he'd been immobilized into a lump with his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't know what to do; every choice he could make seemed like it could easily end in disaster. So he'd just sat there, staring and wide-eyed, as Mutsuki had scooted closer and brought his face close to Hajime's.

"You can also say 'no,'" Mutsuki informed him, his lips hovering so close to Hajime's own that he could feel every word as much as he could hear them. And Hajime...hadn't said no.

The moment Mutsuki's mouth had touched his had been electric, as though a thousand sparks had shot between them and jolted Hajime to the very center of his being. It wasn't his first kiss, or his second, but it was the first one that actually did something.

And in that moment, with blinding, aching clarity, Hajime knew.


Hajime had still been blushing when Mutsuki pulled back, and once again Hajime felt himself laid bare by Mutsuki's piercing grey stare. Then Mutsuki had smiled once more, this time his smile almost devilish.

"I was riiiiiiiight," he said, his voice a sing-song, and in spite of his nerves Hajime had to smile, too as he said, his voice still gruff,

"Shut up, Mutsuki."


They hadn't talked about it, that first night. Hajime had hoped Mutsuki would, but after laughing at Hajime's comment, Mutsuki had returned to his homework. Hajime had stared at him in bewilderment, but much as he wanted to ask about what just happened, he couldn't find the words.

So instead, he'd picked up his own fallen textbook, adjusted his glasses, and tried to focus on Japanese history, wondering at the same time what, exactly, had just happened.


The next day, Hajime had felt like a basket of nerves, but Mutsuki had acted almost infuriatingly normal. In the end, Hajime had taken himself to his room, claiming not to feel well after Kinu asked him for the second time if he was ok.

And as far as Hajime was concerned, he wasn't lying. He didn't feel well, not knowing what to make of the kiss from the night before. Not knowing where things stood now between himself and Mutsuki. Yes, Mutsuki had kissed him, but that didn't mean it meant anything, other than apparently Mutsuki liked to kiss guys.

He'd been lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, when there had been a knock on the door. But Hajime had had no time to respond before the door had simply opened and Mutsuki had stuck his head in, the mere sight of him causing Hajime to flush.

"You're supposed to wait for an answer when you knock," Hajime had said, his voice once again gruff. And once again, Mutsuki didn't seem the least bit bothered.

"If I waited for an answer, you might say 'no,' he said, walking into the room and perching on the edge of Hajime's bed.

"I'm allowed to say 'no,'" Hajime said, then flushed more, the words immediately bringing to mind what Mutsuki had said the previous night. And Mutsuki had smiled, too.

"But you didn't, did you?" he asked, and Hajime shoved himself up into a sitting position.

"Look, Mutsuki, about..." Hajime trailed off, his face still bright red. He wanted to talk about it, to figure out just how things were. To figure out what things were.

But words were hard. "Last night, when you...why did you...when you..." Was it even possible for him to sound more immature?

Mutsuki had chuckled, leaning back on his arms. "I told you already! I wanted to, and I thought you did too. And I was right," he said, giving Hajime that maddening grin of his.

Just what was it about Mutsuki that made Hajime want to kiss him and punch him at the same time? Had he always felt this way, about the boy he'd always called his best friend?

Mutsuki was still grinning at Hajime as he scooted closer. "Would you like me to kiss you again?"

Hajime's response had been rapid and explosive, his expression defensive. "No!"

Mutsuki had considered for a second, looking at Hajime's red, embarrassed face and stiff body language, then asked less teasingly, "Really?"

The question had been met with silence as Hajime sat there, staring at Mutsuki and trying to make sense out of what was happening. If this was all a joke, or an experiment, or some kind of weird game, then Hajime didn't want any part of it.

But at the same time...

"No," Hajime said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not really."

Mutsuki had smiled. "I thought so." Then he reached out, gently stroking the tips of his fingers down Hajime's cheek. Hajime had shuddered at the light touch, and shivered as that hand had moved to cup his cheek. Then Mutsuki leaned close once more, their lips connecting with that same electric shock.

That time, Mutsuki hadn't said anything when he sat back again, simply looked at Hajime with that bright Mutsuki smile. It had been Hajime who'd finally worked up the nerve to speak, his blush red and all-consuming.

"Why...did you want to do that?" He asked, looking at one of Mutsuki's ears because he couldn't handle looking at his face just then. And yet again, he'd been laughed at.

"Isn't it obvious, Hajime?"

Once again, Hajime was defensive. "No, it's not! If it was, I wouldn't have to ask!"

Mutsuki considered that for a moment, then chuckled. "You're so smart, but you can be really stupid sometimes, did you know that?"

"Mutsuki..." Hajime started to growl, then he blinked as Mutsuki reached out and pressed his finger over Hajime's lips.

"None of that. No growling, you, especially not when it's your fault I'm saying something so incredibly obvious."

Hajime's eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything; it was admittedly hard to focus on how annoyed he was, with Mutsuki's finger touching his mouth.

"But I can spell it out for you, if you want," Mutsuki continued, and gave Hajime that dazzling smile. "Because I love you, Hajime...and I've loved you for a very long time."


To the rest of the world, they'd gone on as they were: close friends. Best friends. With effort, Hajime managed to stop blushing around Mutsuki after only a couple weeks, so by the time school started again, no one was any the wiser. They still joked, and they still teased. They still walked to and from school together, most days. Hajime still got annoyed at Mutsuki on a regular basis, and Mutsuki still delighted in provoking him in public. They didn't say anything, to anyone.

But behind closed doors, when it was just the two of them, they'd let themselves be free. Mutsuki would read with his head pillowed on Hajime's thigh; Hajime would idly rub Mutsuki's shoulders or play with his hair while he was puzzling out homework problems. Mutsuki would still tease Hajime about his reading glasses, but in the context of how cute they were. And Hajime would still tell Mutsuki to shut up, right before kissing him.

It wasn't perfect, but it worked. And as more time passed, they got more comfortable, and things progressed. Hajime could hear the word 'boyfriend' without blushing. Touches became bolder, and more confident.

And then, once more...Hajime started to become afraid.


It was because of him, all of it. The secrecy, the silence. Mutsuki had told Hajime early on in their relationship that he would do whatever Hajime wanted, but as far as Mutsuki was concerned, the two of them were in love, and he didn't care who knew they were together. He wanted people to know that he and Hajime were together.

"You're such an amazing person, Hajime...why wouldn't I want people to know you're mine?"

And it had been a wonderful thought. To be open about who they were...to hold hands in public. To maybe not have to deal with the awkward sensation of being hit on anymore. To just...acknowledge it.

And Hajime had wanted, desperately, to be ok with that. But he couldn't; he couldn't tell anyone, couldn't let anyone else know.

Not until he told his parents...all of it.

And that idea was terrifying, too.


They loved him. He'd always known they loved him, to an almost embarrassing degree. All his life, Hajime had lived surrounded by love, hearing, as well as feeling, just how much his parents cared for him. How much they wanted him to be happy.

They hadn't been perfect. No parents were. But they had done their best, and their best had been pretty damn good. Their best had let Hajime grow up feeling confident that whatever else might change in his life, his parents and their love would be constant.

He didn't have to be perfect. He could mess up. He could choose a different path for himself than they had, and that was ok. He might be their son, but he was his own person, and they wanted him to embrace that.

But it was deeply ironic that only a year and a half after Hajime had stood before his father, tearfully begging Kyo to tell him what he'd been hiding and telling him nothing would change how much Hajime loved him, he himself was too crippled by fear to do the same.


Mutsuki had been understanding, and tried to help Hajime work through it. He pointed out how stupidly close Hajime's family was and how there was no way they'd ever be anything but supportive. And Hajime had wanted to believe that...but he couldn't. The stakes were too high; if Mutsuki was wrong, if his parents...couldn't, then where did that leave him?

He knew it was probably irrational. Uncle Momiji had a husband, after all, and both his parents liked them. Loved them, even. They clearly weren't bigots.

But Uncle Momiji wasn't close enough. As much as he knew his parents loved Momiji and Hans, they lived far away, and they were friends. not close family. It was easy to accept things at a distance that might not be so acceptable up close. Hajime needed to know, to hear from someone who could relate to Hajime's position. Someone who could tell Hajime that in the end, everything would be ok.

'Grandpa...have you ever...did you ever... Did you ever...when you... Was there ever...a time...when you had to tell Dad... That you were different?'


Few things in Hajime's life had been as difficult as saying those words. He'd stumbled over them, stumbled and stammered. He couldn't bring himself to look up into Kazuma's eyes, or even to lift his head. In saying those words, he felt as though he were cutting himself open and exposing his very soul to Kazuma...and looking into Kazuma's own.

Kazuma's response had rocked him to the core.

'No. No. I've never told your father...anything like that.'

Hajime hadn't known how to respond. He'd been surprised, then shocked.

Then scared.

He'd made a mistake. It had been a mistake, going to Kazuma and asking him. A mistake to think that Kazuma could help him. A mistake to think that any of this would be that easy.

He'd fled back to the house on the hill, back to the safety of his room with its closed and locked door. Back to where he could hold Mutsuki, and kiss Mutsuki, and not have to worry about anyone else knowing.


His visit to Kazuma had happened three months after that warm August night when Mutsuki had first kissed him, and that had been the last time any words on the subject had passed between Hajime and anyone other than Mutsuki himself. Time continued to flow by; New Year's came and went, and they found themselves gearing up for the end of the school year. To Hajime's complete shock, he ended up chosen as the Student Council President for his final year at Kaibara High...with Mutsuki appointed to be his Vice.

Because of course he was.

Suddenly, they were spending more time together than ever before at school. Hajime initially felt out of his depth with the presidency; he hated feeling like the center of attention, and suddenly there wasn't a single student at Kaibara High who didn't know who he was. He worried that he wouldn't be good enough, that he wouldn't be able to keep everything together.

But he'd never backed down from responsibility, and he threw himself into the job with the same fierce focus he'd always thrown into every task in his entire life. He'd accepted the presidency; he would fulfill its responsibilities to the best of his abilities. And he'd do it with Mutsuki at his side.

He couldn't say if Mutsuki made things better or worse. Sometimes it felt like a bit of both; Mutsuki could be a total liability when it came to order and routine, but there was no one who could touch him when it came to asking for favors or manipulating people. He was the charm; Hajime was the drive. And with the rest of their Student Council, they made it work.

But there had been no question that Hajime was stressed about it, in those early days. It was easy to ignore their relationship when he and Mutsuki were on separate floors dealing with their separate school lives; it was another thing entirely to be thrown together so often on Student Council business, often in the small Student Council office. Mutsuki's stupid comments about Hajime being 'Papa' or 'Big Brother' had helped Hajime stay annoyed with him when he needed to, but that year, it was becoming increasingly difficult to hide...or to want to stay hidden.

He couldn't give in, though. Not yet.