Hiroto wakes up cold and instantly knows something is wrong.
He never wakes up cold.
He's always curled around Masaki.
Masaki who runs hot enough to be a living heater.
Masaki who is gone.
He feels across the bed to the other side, Masaki's side, only to realize he's lying on Masaki's side.
Hiroto's up, wide awake before he knows it, peering across to his side of the bed.
Empty.
His heart lurches in his chest before plummeting as he looks around. A sinking feeling squirms it's way under his skin.
No.
He forces himself to breathe, shoves the panic aside.
Maybe he's just in the kitchen, he tells himself, body stilling as he strains his ears to hear sounds coming from outside of their bedroom.
Nothing.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
He's jumping out of bed before he realizes it, not bothering to put on a shirt as he runs out to the hallway. He passes through the living room, Tv's off, couch empty, he hurries even faster to the kitchen only to draw up short. The kitchen is empty.
Masaki isn't by the stove cooking breakfast, isn't carrying plates and bowls of food to their small table, isn't slowly methodically cleaning the counters and dishes he used.
Masaki isn't there.
He runs to the bathroom, empty. Masaki isn't there stripping down to shower, isn't there teasing him into joining him, isn't there leaning against the counter to brush his teeth, isn't there. Panic rises, darkness begins to edge his vision, when did he stop breathing? Hiroto tries to calm down.
A note.
There must be a note left for him somewhere.
Masaki always leaves a note.
He heads back to their bedroom, moving faster than when he had left it. He searches for a note on the bedside tables, each side of the door, nothing. Frantically now, he rips the bedding off searching for a note there in case Masaki had left it on his pillow - though he never had before.
Nothing.
Ah! The kitchen.
Hiroto runs, barrelling down the hall to check the fridge…nothing.
Despair grips at his heart, panic overtaking him. Without thinking, without realizing it, he's started searching the whole apartment from top to bottom.
The kitchen, the living room, the hallway, the bathroom, their bedroom, Aniki's bedroom - nothing.
The second time through, he can't catch his breath, can't think, can't see, he's practically ripping apart the furniture in desperation.
The third time through, he's lost, tears streaming down his face, forced to realize that there is no note. He's fighting with himself, torn in different directions. He can't find a note; not even the tiniest scrap of paper to assuage his fears.
But masaki always leaves a note.
Always.
Which means there must be something.
Masaki's not like Hiroto. Hiroto who never leaves a note. Hiroto who likes to come and go as he pleases without telling his protective older brother where he's going or when he'll be back. It hits him now, sobs breaking loose as he's racked with shivers, just how cruel he's been to Masaki.
He wonders faintly if this is what his brother goes through everytime Hiroto goes off on his own. He can't help but think that maybe Masali got tired of him. He's always so mean to his brother, yelling at him when Masaki is just trying to liven things up, getting angry with him over the smallest of things, ignoring him all the time. Not to mention dragging him into fights all the time because he can't control himself. Kami he's tired of himself, no wonder Masaki got tired of him too. He can't blame his brother for not wanting to continue putting up with his bullshit. Masaki never asked for this, for him, he never wanted a younger brother he's forced to take care of. Masaki never wanted him. Hiroto would only ever be a reminder of the family Masaki lost. Kami, he's horrible.
Masaki left him.
Left him like his dad.
Like his stepdad.
Like his mom.
Like Takeru.
Everyone always leaves him.
He should've known Masaki would too. Maybe he had known. Deep down, he's always been terrified of the prospect. Terrified of losing Masaki. He couldn't lose him. Masaki is everything to him. Hiroto would be destroyed without him; broken into a million tiny pieces never to be put back together, there'd be no life without Masaki in it.
He couldn't help but imagine what his world would look like without Masaki.
Without the one person he loved.
It would be horrible. Darkness would overtake his days. Hiroto would be left a mindless, numb husk of a human. Living day to day on alcohol and wasting away slowly. He would spend the rest of his miserable life torturing himself for being stupid enough to lose Masaki.
There would be no Masaki to gently coax him awake. No Masaki to cook all his favorite foods. No Masaki to tease him relentlessly until Hiroto explodes with frustration and anger. No Masaki to make him laugh. No Masaki to eat icecream with. No Masaki to ride with. No Masaki to fight by his side, always covering his back. No Masaki to clean his split knuckles and wrap them for him. No Masaki to hold him as they watch horror movies. No Masaki to kiss away his tears on rainy nights filled with blood soaked nightmares. No Masaki to gently make love to. No Masaki to tease him. No Masaki to flirt with girls to make him jealous. No Masaki to desperately fuck into the sheets. No Masaki to sing and dance in the shower, dragging him into it everytime. No Masaki to help him dress, fingers finding more skin than actually helping him. No Masaki to watch from afar. No Masaki to watch and protect him. No Masaki to listen to his worries, his rants, his deepest thoughts. No Masaki for him to treasure. No Masaki to text him sweet nothing and endless photos and gifs of cats.
Wait.
Text.
All of a sudden, light breaks through the dark, poisonous thoughts tearing him apart.
Yes, Masaki didn't leave a note because he texted him.
He bolts up from where he'd crumpled up on the floor in the corner of the living room heading straight to their bedroom again. In his haste to find a note, hiroto's phone had been displaced from the bedside table. He wastes previous seconds searching for it only to find it under the bed. He didn't bother moving from the floor where he landed, instantly hitting the button on his phone. A black screen welcomed him.
No.
How could his phone be dead at a time like this!? He always makes sure to charge it for when they go on jobs. How could he have forgotten?
Oh.
The memories of last night flood back to him. They'd been on a job yesterday. He and Masaki had gotten into a fight over something he can't even remember. He'd gone to bed furious, completely ignoring his other half. As the memories flooded in, that horrible sinking feeling got worse.
Had Masaki even come to bed last night?
A sob forces it's way past, choking him as he surges upwards to grab his charger.
No.
Please no.
Masaki couldn't have left him.
Please Kami. He prays to a god he hasn't believed in since the death of his parents, silently begging that it isn't true. The dead battery symbol blinks on, mocking him. He smashes at the button, repeatedly, egging it to turn on faster, when it finally does, his tears blur the screen until he can't see it. He hastily wipes them away, only for them to be replaced seconds later. But it's enough, he shakily types in his password - Masaki's birthday - before pulling up the messages with his brother.
There's no new messages.
The words of their last conversation taunt him.
You ready? You remember the meeting spot, right?
Yes, Masaki, I remember the meeting spot.
Good. Stay safe, Hiroto. Love you!
Mmm.
Mmm!? What's with that? Huh? At least say it back, Hiroto-kun.
Let's just go already, we're gonna be late if you keep this up.
Fine but be careful!
His mind plays tricks on him as the words blur until they are unrecognizable.
No.
Masaki couldn't have left him. He promised he would always stay by his side. After Takeru they'd sworn to each other to never do that.
Hiroto pulls up the dial keypad, fingers moving to type in a number he'd long memorized by heart.
The phone rings…two…three…four…voicemail.
He calls again.
Voicemail.
He calls again.
Voicemail.
He switches the screen, frantically typing out a message before hitting send.
Delivered.
Unseen.
He calls agins.
Voicemail.
He leaves a message.
Time drags on as he stares at his phone. No new messages, no phone calls. Fear sets in, heavier than before. He cries harder, unable to catch his breath.
The world closes in.
Hiroto loses himself to panic and fear, regret and guilt.
His vision completely clouds over, black spots breaking out as his ears begin to ring.
He can't breathe.
Without Masaki, Hiroto ceases to exist.
His world goes black.
Masaki walks into a mess.
This was not how he'd left things.
It looks like a hurricane tore through the place. There was trash strewn about the floor, the fridge door and kitchen cabinets hang wide open, some of their contents all over the floor and counters, fear grips him.
Hiroto.
His grocery bags clatter to the ground as he drops them in his haste to find his baby brother. The rooms blur as he quickly searches them, the mess covering the living room and hallway makes the rising panic worse. Whoever had broken in had definitely been looking for something. Aniki's door was open as he passed, barely glancing in just to make sure it was empty, Masaki continued into their bedroom. His heart lurches at the sight that greets him.
Hiroto was curled on the floor in the mess that had become of their room. He was crying, gasping for breath as he clutched something tightly to his chest. Masaki bolts towards him, dropping to his knees as he frantically checks over his baby brother, looking for blood, for wounds.
He hesitates to touch his brother.
Hiroto's eyes are clenched tightly closed, fear and panic twisting his features. He was shaking, sobs tearing from his throat as he mumbled broken words. Masaki caught some of it, ramblings of no and please and his name.
It was then that Masaki realized that he was clutching his phone tightly as if he was waiting for something. Stricken by a sudden thought, Masaki pulls out his phone.
7 missed calls, 3 new voicemails, 10 new messages.
All from Hiroto.
A sinking feeling sets in.
He had done this.
It was his fault Hiroto was having a panic attack.
Slowly Masaki moved closer, calling out for Hiroto.
No response.
It didn't look like his baby brother had even heard him. Masaki started talking, trying to coax his brother out of his panic, knowing better than to touch him. Hiroto hadn't had a panic attack before, not that Masaki knew of. He had no idea how his brother would react to being touched. Masaki had no intention of getting punched in the face, not because it would hurt but because it would make Hiroto feel guilty for hunting him later.
Sliding closer he talked more, rambling on, trying to get Hirot to breathe.
It wasn't working.
He'd have to do something else.
Masaki pulled out his phone quickly calling Hiroto's number.
In front of him Hiroto jerked in surprise, phone flying up as he swiped to answer the call and held the phone to his ear.
"Hiroto," he called out.
At the sound of his voice, Hiroto's everys flew to him. Before he could react, Masaki had his arms full of his baby brother as Hiroto launched himself at him. He pulled Hiroro close as he scrambled into his lap. He was still crying, still shaking, still unable to catch his breath but the edge of fear had been taken off.
Masaki focused entirely on his baby, coaching him through taking deep breaths until he had calmed down.
What felt like hours later, Hiroto finally relaxed into his hold, practically melting into him as he went limp. Masaki scooped him up carrying his brother into the bathroom. Hiroto wrapped tightly around him refusing to be put down but Masaki managed to undress them without too much hardship, shuffling under steaming water. Hiroto's slight shaking subsided underneath the warm water entirely. Masaki reached for the soap leaving Hiroto to hold on by himself - an easy feat for someone as strong as his brother. He lathered his hands and slowly began to rub it gently into Hiroto's skin, covering him slowly inch by inch.
Eventually, Hiroto slipped down to stand on shaky legs, not moving away but joining Masaki in cleaning them up.
Hesitantly he spoke, whispering, "I thought you left."
Masaki's chest tightened at the words, he embraced his brother, holding him tight as he whispered his apologies, his promises. They linger in the shower, taking more time than necessary to wash. Hands trailing across skin as lips left soft kisses in their wake.
Eventually Masaki herds his brother out and dried him off before grabbing sweatpants and a hoodie for both of them. He dressed quickly, sliding into their bedroom to start picking things up, cleaning the mess he'd come to learn Hiroto had made.
He left the bathroom and bedroom doors open so Hiroto could still see and hear him.
Hiroto joined him, helping to remake their bed.
Afterwards, he settles Hiroto onto the couch with a warm drink before turning on some music to help him work through cleaning their apartment. It was a testament to how shaken up Hiroto still was that he hadn't protested at Masaki's gentleness instead contenting himself with watching Masaki move through their apartment, singing and dancing to the music as he cleaned.
It didn't take him too long to finish cleaning and Masaki swiftly moved to make them a light lunch. Soon he joined Hiroto, letting his brother curl into his side as they watched their show.
Later they could talk about it more, later he would lay Hiroto down and shower him with reassurances.
For now, Masaki settled down with his lover and swore to himself to wake Hiroto up, leave a note or text him before he left without him.
Not that Hiroto would be letting him out of his sight anytime soon.
