TW: mild mention of self-harm in this chapter. It's not much, just a character getting hurt and absent thoughts of wishing for more pain, and a brief allude to former self harm. Nothing graphic, but just a warning. Also, another slow building panic attack. Since I love those so...
Hi guys!
I've been posting on Sunday recently, since it's easier on my schedule usually, but I'm going to be out of town tomorrow, so you get the chapter today! :-D This chapter is a bit heavy, so be careful if you have triggers about self-harm and things like that. Let me know if you want more details.
I have to go and finish my packing, so I won't write too much more here, but I'd like to thank everyone for your comments! I appreciate them all! :-D
Enjoy!
"Hi guys! Okay, so thanks for coming! I'm sure you're all wondering why I called you all here, but first, I just really wanted to thank everyone for showing up! This is going to be so much fun!"
Taka listens with a distracted ear as the enthusiastic swimmer bubbles before them, grinning bright and happy. He can feel her darting glances at him every so often, and he thinks she is doing the same to Mondo, but she is doing her best to pretend nothing is wrong. He's grateful for that.
After all, she's not inaccurate to say that /everyone/ showed up today. Because... somehow, they actually /did/. Even Togami and Fukawa showed up, though the former looks very bored at the proceedings while the latter is just staring at the former in a way that Taka isn't ashamed to label as 'very creepy.' Enoshima and her sister— Ikusaba— are also here, though they both look slightly bored. Enoshima does stare at him sometimes, though, before looking at Mondo, giggling her strange giggle into her hand. Taka decidedly doesn't like it and resolves to keep his distance from her the best he can today...
Still, it's probably the first time he's seen their entire class together outside of, well... class. And the few class meetings he's forced them all to attend to discuss business pertaining to everyone, like information about festivals and administration rules and whatnot. However, even then full attendance is rare, to his chagrin. He wonders what it is about heading to the kitchen to make things that has gotten everyone so excited to interact all of a sudden... and why it had to happen /today/, of all possible days.
He's grateful that most of his classmates are leaving him alone, at least, though Makoto and Kyoko are standing near him. Makoto had tried to strike up a conversation with him earlier, but he had quickly realized that Taka was very much not in the mood and started talking to Kyoko, shooting him worried glances every so often. Kyoko, on the other hand, had just stared at him for a full minute with her head tilted curiously, even during her conversation with Makoto. She'd only looking away when Hina began their meeting, though he can still feel the phantom touch of her gaze. It had unnerved him greatly and he doesn't enjoy the scrutiny... it makes him feel tenser, the loose relief from his and Mondo's earlier actions thoroughly ruined.
It also doesn't help that Taka can't help but notice how Chihiro is standing over by Mondo, standing close to him, ignoring the biker's dark countenance. While they are also not talking, every few seconds the young girl will shoot the biker worried looks, frowning gently at him with concern. It certainly isn't helping Taka's mood any, making his stomach clench to see it, part of him resenting how close the pair have gotten over the past several weeks.
After all, some of the only times Mondo and he have been apart in weeks has been when Mondo is with Chihiro, usually later at night, the biker shrugging and evading question whenever Taka asks what the pair does together. It makes his imagination run wild, wondering if they aren't... well. Doing similar things that he and Mondo do, but decidedly /more/. Which he thinks is ridiculous, Mondo wouldn't do that with two different people, right? I-if he and Chihiro were... were... well, doing /that/, then Mondo wouldn't do that with him, too, right? R... right?
But... he doesn't know. He just... he just doesn't know. And now, with him and Mondo /fighting/, it makes him wonder if things haven't been irrevocably damaged between them... and he wonders if Mondo will decide to move on to Chihiro to spend all of his time with now. To… to be as close to /her/ as he once was with him... showing his care and affection and kindness to someone who deserves such things, someone who isn't as ungrateful as he, Taka, is... well. It would probably make him happier, wouldn't it? Spending his time with a /girl/, not a /boy/? Especially not with a boy as messed up and stupid as Taka is... ungrateful and cruel and harsh... h-he'd probably be happier with Chihiro, happier to spend time with someone worthy, happier to- to not have to deal with Taka anymore... to not... t-to not...
He does his best to focus on Hina, who is bouncing on her feet up front, smile bright and wide. He can't quite push his feelings and thoughts down, as tumultuous as they are, but he certainly can focus on his friend as she starts talking again, his emotions not as important as his friend and her excitement. He's already a bad enough friend in general, as needy as he is. He can't afford to be any worse by not paying attention when his friends speak...
"So! I'm sure you all know how we have the Winter Festival in a few weeks, right? And Taka told us last week that our class is expected to provide something for the festival, right? Well! I asked the Headmaster and he said that we can help provide some dessert for a bake sale! I know a lot of you guys won't know how to bake, though, so I figured I could teach you! It'll be fun!"
Taka blinks at the statement, feeling very taken aback. In fact, his shock is enough to briefly shake him from his spiraling thoughts, head tilted at the strange words his friend had said. Of course, he'd already known about the festival, he's been working with the headmaster and other volunteers for the past week to help plan for it, like he'd done with the Fall Festival.
(In fact, Mondo has actually been tagging along with him to the meetings, generally being quiet and zoning out, but he's actually come up with a few ideas, such as getting a DJ and a small dance area set up, like is common in western schools. But thinking about the biker is decidedly unhelpful, so he quickly pushes that away...)
A-anyway! He knows what Hina is talking about, about how their class is expected to provide something for the festival, be it individual or collective. He'd just assumed that the students would provide individual booths again, like they'd done for the Fall Festival, but it seems that Hina has other ideas... not that he is complaining! He has always enjoyed cooking and baking when he has the luxury of being able to do such a thing.
His mother, when she'd been alive, had been the most wonderful chef after all, coming up with her own recipes all the time. He still has her handwritten cookbook in his room at home, in fact, lovingly placed in a position of honor amongst his most prized possessions. He'd considered bringing it with him to school, but he'd been afraid of it getting lost, stolen, or worse; /dirty/. So, he'd left it behind, feeling only partially bereaved. It's not like he hasn't memorized all the recipes, though. He's probably read the book a thousand times, eyes intent on his mother's beautiful handwriting, his heart aching as he would read it over and over and over again... it's the one thing he has of hers that feels the most personal, after all. The most like it's /hers/.
(It also has no monetary value, only sentimental, so he doesn't have to feel guilty about keeping it instead of selling it for the much-needed yen. Like they'd regretfully had to with most of her other possessions...)
He gets jolted out of his thoughts when he hears Hina talk again, his chest aching for a different reason now as she continues her speech. He clenches his hands into tight fists, letting the sharp bite of his nails ground him as he does his best to listen.
"So! I was hoping we could work on this all together! Before we begin, does anyone have any previous experience with baking? Anything will help, so don't worry if it's not a lot!" Hina giggles, swaying lightly back and forth. She's been a lot happier since she and Sakura began dating, he notes absently, unable to help the small smile at her clear excitement. He barely considers her question, though, before his hand is up, raised tall and high, like he's always done when asked a question he knows the answer to. After all, he has a fair amount of experience baking, even if he's not perfect at it!
He can't help the flush on his face as all eyes turn to him (except for one pair, though, which he tries to not let destroy him), making him flush bright red. He doesn't back down, though, just stands with his head held high, a tight smile on his lips. Hina beams at him, though he can't help but see the concern that is still dancing in her eyes. He wishes he hadn't gotten so good at reading other people that he notices such things now... the biggest downside to having close friends! Aha…
"Oooh, Taka! You know how to bake?" the swimmer asks, tilting her head curiously. His cheeks flare brighter, but he just nods his head sharply once, trying to smile and look natural. The unnatural stiffness in his shoulders probably dispels that, though... hm...
"Ah! Yes, Hina, I do! Sort of! My mother was an excellent chef, before- a-ah. Before she died! We would always bake together when I was younger, and while I've not had much of a chance to bake since, I always make her cookies on the anniversary of her death to place on her grave!"
A-ah... he hadn't meant to say that... but it's not like it's untrue. He /does/ do that, ensuring that he has enough money to purchase the materials for the event, even if it takes him weeks to save up. He knows his father finds it a waste of time and resources, but the man has never dissuaded him from the ritual, even though the cookies are not eaten by anyone. Alive, at least... while he's not entirely sure he believes in an afterlife, he likes to think that his mother does enjoy the cookies he gifts her, even if she's no longer here to enjoy them. He is not ashamed of the ritual, either, and it is something that he prides himself on, truth be told. It helps him feel closer to his mother every time.
Still, he can feel his body heat up even more at the sad and pitying looks he is given, making him want to squirm, though he doesn't. It would be unprofessional, after all. And it's probably just his imagination, but... for a split second he... he could have sworn he felt...
Lavender eyes watching him...
But the feeling is gone as soon as he notices it, making him feel certain he'd just imagined it. Shaking off the feeling, he continues looking steadily at Hina, hoping that he doesn't look as nervous as he feels. Hina is also giving him a sad look, but it's easier to focus on just one person than all of them, to be honest.
"Oh... well, at least you have some experience! Maybe you can teach us one of your mom's recipes someday, if you wouldn't mind? That would be super cool! Either way, would you mind helping me teach everyone the basics of baking? Like, proper procedure and stuff? It's always better to have two accounts than only one!"
Taka smiles brightly at the request since it's finally something he feels confident about doing. Helping out with educational exploits— even if it's an extracurricular exploit like this— is most definitely more comfortable to him than anything else. He nods enthusiastically.
"Of course, Hina! It would be an honor!" Taka exclaims, the first hints of something positive entering his heart at the bright smile the girl gives him. It's not quite /happiness/, but it's the closest he's felt since his fight with Mondo, so he'll take it... the feeling brightens when Hina bounces on her heels happily again, nodding with enthusiasm.
"Oh, yay! This is gonna be sooo fun!" Hina bubbles, still smiling. A small pout lights her face when a bored, annoyed voice fills the room, interrupting what she was about to say next.
"As exciting as I'm sure this is, is this a mandatory activity from us? I'm sure that if we need desserts for this festival, I can hire perfectly good caterers. Surely, we don't have to waste our time learning such asinine things..." Togami drawls, his cool eyes sliding over them with a raised brow. Taka frowns over at the billionaire, placing his hands on his hips as he gives his patented Disapproving Stare. It comes so naturally to him that, for a moment, he completely forgets about the swirling emotions inside of him. Small miracles...?
"Togami-kun, that is beside the point! While we could purchase desserts to fulfill our requirement, that is not the purpose of such a thing! Creating a festival booth is a great way to get to know your fellow classmates, as well as to create bonds between us all! While I had not been informed of such a thing before, I trust Hina when she says that the headmaster wishes for us to provide baked desserts for the festival!" Taka states firmly, nodding his head with his enthusiasm. He doesn't let Togami's disdainful snort get him down, either. He's more than used to far worse reactions to his words, after all.
"Oh, how wonderful," the billionaire snarks, but Taka notices that he doesn't leave. Technically speaking, he is not required to stay, as the festival is considered an extracurricular activity and— as such— is not mandatory, though it is recommended. Perhaps, despite his protestations… Togami does wish to learn to bake with them...? How wonderful!
Taka does notice the way that Togami glances over at Fukawa, though, a deep frown on his face, but he's not entirely sure what such a look means. Surely, if he were interested in the asocial writer, he'd look happier...? They had arrived together, after all, and Taka knows the writer spends most of her time tailing after the billionaire, which makes Taka think they must be at the very least friends, then. So, why does Togami look almost pained...? Just another mystery of social interaction that he is woefully inept at, he is sure! Oh well... as long as the billionaire is here...?
"Wait, I thought you were organizing the festival, Taka? Sooo... why wouldn't you know what our class assignment is? You don't think the headmaster doesn't trust you, do you? Oh dear..." Enoshima calls out suddenly, pulling his attention from Togami and Fukawa's strange interactions to the model, who has a mock frown on her face. Or... Taka thinks it may be mock? He's not entirely sure, but it just... something about it doesn't strike him as genuine. Then again, nothing about the model does, to be honest! He's sure she's a lovely young woman, don't get him wrong! Just... something about her still doesn't sit right with him, even all these months later, for whatever reason... hm. But he should give her the benefit of the doubt, yes? It's not like she's done anything at all this quarter to make him distrustful, after all...
Smile turning strained, he shakes his head firmly, looking at the model with as much confidence as he can manage.
"I am sure that is not the reason, Enoshima-kun! There is quite a lot about the festival that I am not privy to, as no one person can organize the entire thing, I assure you! I am sure that there is no nefarious meaning behind my lack of former knowledge!" he claims, though he can't help the slight pang in his heart at the mere thought of it. He's always done his best to provide as much assistance for the festivals his schools put on as he can. What if- what if Enoshima is right, though? What if Headmaster Kirigiri /doesn't/ trust him, and he's just been deluding himself all this time...? Oh... oh no...
"Hmm... if you're sure, Taka! You'd know the headmaster more than me, I'm sure he trusts you just fine! And you can call me Junko, ya know, we're all friends here! Speaking of friends, where's your boyfriend? I thought you two were, like... attached at the hip or something! But now you're, like, all separate and stuff! You two didn't have a fight, did you? Because that would just be sooo tragic! You two make the cutest couple! Puhuhu!"
Taka can feel himself stiffen at the words, his breath escaping him at the smiling girl's surprisingly callous words. He honestly can't tell if the model means to be so cruel, or if she— like him— just doesn't understand social interaction. But... surely a world-famous model would know that saying such a thing is hurtful... right? Especially if they /were/ fighting... which they are, not that he'd tell her that! But more than that, the rest of her words are very much untrue! He and Mondo most definitely are /not/ dating!
(Sadly...)
He can hear several people take inhales of breath, can see Hina frowning worriedly between him and Mondo, and he can hear the beginning of a growl originating from the corner that he resolutely refuses to think on. He ignores the churning that is going inside his stomach and frowns at the fashionable girl, shaking his head sharply once. Despite his unease and discomfort, he is still planning on giving her the benefit of the doubt, knowing that— while it might have sounded like it could be cruel— her words could have been stated innocently, too. After all, she is not the first person to mistake him and Mondo as a couple... it would be best to correct her mistake and hope that she drops the issue entirely once he does. It's the best course of action, really!
So, frowning but not quite Staring with Disapproval yet, he begins his forceful rebuttal to her words.
"I am afraid you are mistaken, Enoshima-kun! Mondo and I are simply friends, nothing more! As for anything else, I do not see how such a thing would be any business but our own! I would thank you to respect our privacy!"
Despite himself, his heart is pounding as he says the words, and he very firmly refuses to look over to where he knows the biker resides, not able to stand seeing the disgust or anger he's sure to find there. He keeps his eyes entirely on the model, steady and intent upon her and only her.
As such, he is watching carefully as she gasps, lifting a hand to cover her mouth as it opens, eyes wide with what can only be shock, the girl looking truly horrified. And yet... and yet, something about it strikes Taka as /false/ again, though he has no idea /why/, as the girl doesn't show any outward indications of being deceitful. It's just... it's just a feeling he has, something roiling through his gut that senses that something is off, similar to the feeling he gets when someone is misbehaving near him. Surely, he must be wrong, though...
Right?
"Oh! Oh, I'm sososo sorry, Taka! I could have /sworn/ you two were, like... totally a thing! I mean, it's not like guys are ever so close to their guy friends, right? I was positive you two must have been, like... totally physical and stuff. Are you sure? 'Cause I was positive you were, like, gay or something, and being so close to another guy when you're gay can only mean one thing, right? But, ya know, it's great to see you two break the stereotype! Go you!"
Okay. That's it. That's not just a friendly statement, no matter what she may try and say! Especially since they are not, actually, friends! And to accuse him of such a thing, in such a public manner... granted, yes, it is true, but that is beside the point! Outing someone against their will is cruel and potentially life threatening! And he- he doesn't... he isn't ready... he barely accepts the truth himself, how could he ever tell his classmates and closest friends? But... but he can't lie, can he? He hates lying, and he's already lied so much these past several weeks... but, as previously said, he can't confirm it either... o-oh dear...
Well, he has to say something that will deescalate things, and soon, because he can hear Mondo growl again, the biker slamming his hand against the wall as he begins stalking over to the model. Taka holds up a hand, almost without thought, and shakes his head sharply once without looking over in the biker's direction. He doesn't know what it means that the angry stomping that had been resonating around the small kitchen stops almost immediately, without any complaint... but he supposes it doesn't matter. He has more important things to worry about at the moment.
Pushing everything else out of his mind, he pulls back on his Disapproving Stare (tm), and frowns mildly at Enoshima, to showcase his disapproval.
"It is improper to talk about such personal things in a public venue, Enoshima-kun! I would thank you to cease doing so immediately! Now, we are not here to stand around and have idle chit-chat! We are here to learn the basics of baking, so that we may showcase a booth worthy of our prestigious institution! If you are not able to do such a thing, then I must ask you to leave, so that the rest of us may proceed without further interruption! Am I understood?!"
There... that was good, right? It was a successful evasion of the topic, but not so obvious that his fellows would suspect anything... right? His heart is pounding, and his mind is racing, and it takes all his concentration to keep his roiling emotions off his face. Most people he's ever met would probably call him an open book, but little did they know just how much Taka always has to hide... of course, for the most part he prefers to be open and honest, but moments like these remind him why he must be able to mask the negative emotions he feels, even if it burns him inside.
As he stares at Enoshima, eyes hard and face set in Disapproval, he catches a glimmer of something on the model's face, something far darker than the seemingly bubbly expression the girl usually has on. Something he usually only sees on the faces of his bullies right before they hit him. Before he can really comprehend it, though, it's gone, the girl smiling brightly again, shrugging casually as she leans against the counter, seemingly without a care in the world. It makes him wonder if he'd just been imaging the look or not, even as the unease mounts within him...
"Jeez, no need to get your panties in a bunch! I was just saying. Besides, like I said, we're all friends here, yeah? I know you guys have your group chat— which you all /rudely/ left me and Mukuro out of, by the way, but that's okay! We don't mind, and I'm far too busy for such things anyway. I was just trying to make conversation, ya know? And I'm worried 'bout you, Taka! You just look so /sad/ and full of /despair/... puhuhu! But if you just wanna bake, then okay! Let's bake!" Enoshima trills, grinning her unsettling grin, winking as she shoots them a peace sign.
She settles against the counter then, going quiet and saying nothing more. Her sister is shuffling awkwardly beside her, not looking any of them in the eye, and Taka doesn't quite know what to do. Part of him wants to keep talking, to ensure that no one else makes the same mistake she did, about him and Mondo, but... but he has a feeling that would be a bad idea. He could nod and accept her unspoken promise to behave, but his insides are too unsettled to even do that.
In the end, he's saved from having to decide by Hina, the swimmer bouncing up and smiling shakily at them all, looking between them anxiously. She giggles nervously as she does so, breaking the tension somewhat.
"Well! Now that that's over with, we should get started baking! Um... Taka, wanna come and, um... help me explain the basics of baking?" Hina questions, her eyes wide as they look at him, her nervousness clear on her face. Seeing his friend in such obvious distress helps him push his own roiling emotions aside, a bright (if somewhat strained) smile on his face as he nods.
"Aha! That sounds like an excellent idea, Hina! Yes!"
With that said, Taka marches up to the front with Hina and settles beside her as they begin explaining basic baking techniques, getting a feel for where everyone is baking wise. It turns out that Makoto has helped his mom bake cookies and cakes before, but they were always ones from boxes, nothing from scratch. Yamada confesses that he knows how to make pie from scratch, but nothing else, and Sayaka mentions she has watched her grandmother bake before, and had even helped her once or twice, but that was back when she'd been a young child, so she barely remembers it. The rest of the group doesn't really know much about baking in general, either never doing it, or not being very good at it. Taka does his best to not look in the corner he knows Mondo had retreated back to, his silence on the matter making Taka's heart clench. After all, he knows that the biker has some experience with baking... even though he may not be very good at it, it's still something, but Mondo doesn't mention it. He tries not to let that affect him too negatively...
After they go over a brief overview of the basic baking techniques they would need (such as how to use a mixer, the importance of preheating ovens, making sure to add the ingredients in the exact quantities in the right order, etc.), Hina decides it would be a great idea to have everyone try and bake something, following a simple recipe she printed off the internet.
"It's a sugar cookie recipe! It's one of the most basic recipes to make! If you guys can follow this, it shouldn't be hard to follow the other recipes! Many cookie recipes are just a variation of this one anyway. You guys can work in pairs to make things a little easier, too. Just make sure you follow the instructions exactly, okay? Yay! This is gonna be so much fun!"
The swimmer is grinning at them, while their classmates glance nervously at one another, not expecting to be thrown into things just like that. Even Taka isn't entirely sure it's such a good idea, knowing that baking isn't exactly the simplest thing for everyone to pick up. If it weren't for his mother and her patient guidance, he'd never have learned how to cook, let alone bake, after all. He'd always been too forceful as a child, not adding proper amounts of ingredients and making everything taste very disgusting. Of course, over the years he's made sure to perfect his baking technique, even if he usually only gets a chance to bake once a year...
An uncertain silence descends over their group as they glance nervously at one another, looking unsure of how to proceed (or looking bored, in Ludenberg, Enoshima, and Togami's cases).
It isn't until they hear a loud, exasperated sigh, followed by loud footsteps that the silence is broken. Taka can't help how his heart begins to race as his eyes unconsciously dart towards the noise, watching with bated breath as a form he knows so utterly intimately stalks up to them, lavender eyes not even glancing in his direction. He tries not to let that fact destroy him as he watches rough hands grab a printed-out recipe, with less force than he would have imagined, if he didn't know the biker so well.
"This the shit ya want us ta bake? Seems simple, shit. Got the fuckin' ingredients?" Mondo questions, his back only slightly stiff as he looks at their friend. Hina grins up at him, looking happy that the biker is taking initiative like this.
"Oh! Yep! Headmaster Kirigiri is providing them so we can practice! Do you..." Hina pauses, her eyes darting over to Taka quickly before looking back at Mondo. She smiles brightly, which strangely makes Taka feel more nervous to see... "Do you wanna work with Taka? He should be able to show you how to do it easily enough, if you don't know how-"
"I'll be fine," Mondo grunts, eyes staring resolutely at the recipe, hands clenching the paper tightly. Taka tries not to let the pain radiating through his chest show, eyes falling to the ground unbidden, unable to handle the startled looks their classmates give him. He just... it's fine. It's all- all fine... h-he... he...
Mondo continues then, the knife stabbing further into his heart with each word he says. "I know how ta do this shit. Ain't like it's fuckin' hard. Mix shit together an' put it in the oven. Ain't like Ishimaru's top shit fer knowin' how ta do it."
Oh. So... they're back to last names, then. That... that's just wonderful...
He really did ruin everything this time, didn't he...?
Of course. Of course. He ruins everything. It was inevitable that such a thing would happen, isn't it? Now Mondo will retreat to his corner, Chihiro there to comfort the biker, and then they'll be the ones who are inseparable. They'll be the ones people will think are in a relationship, and they /will be right/, because why wouldn't they get together? Mondo is an attractive, kind, and caring young /man/, and Chihiro is a charming, sensitive, and beautiful young /woman/, so why wouldn't they want to date one another? They don't really look like a pair you'd expect to be together, Mondo rough around the edges and Chihiro delicate and dainty, but they make a striking pair regardless, and they'd make an even more striking couple. He knows this. He... he knows this.
After all, Taka knows intimately how gentle Mondo truly is, knows how the biker doesn't actually like being violent and cruel, that he yearns to be able to show his softer side. He'd be able to do that with Chihiro without fear of people questioning him. Chihiro is just the kind of girl that people want to protect, after all, so no one would fault Mondo for wanting to be close to her, for wanting to protect her. No one would ever understand Mondo's protectiveness when it comes to Taka. Taka doesn't even understand it himself. And he never will get a chance to, since he's ruined everything and Mondo hates him now, and he's going to be alone, alone, /alone, alone, alone, alone, alone, alon-/
"Taka? Are you... are you okay?" he hears someone ask him softly, his eyes wide as he looks up into Hina's sad, caring eyes.
Knowing he doesn't want to make the girl worry more than he already has, he tries to smile, but he can't even manage the false motion he usually uses. Instead, he just shrugs, taking one of the recipes with shaking hands. While he'd been thinking, the rest of their classmates had come up and grabbed a sheet of paper, working in pairs as they try to figure out how to bake together. Taka doesn't even have to look to know Mondo and /Chihiro/ have paired up, pressure building behind his eyes. How utterly pathetic... no wonder Mondo is finally done with him, moving onto someone far less pathetic and weak than he is. He… he should be happy for the biker, truly... if he were a better person, he'd be happy for him...
He truly is worthless, isn't he?
At his silence, Hina lets out a soft noise of distress, before she wraps her arms around him, holding him tight as she rests her head on his chest. He has to fight to not gasp, his entire body aching acutely. He just... he wants to head to bed and never get up again, he wants to never have to face this ever again, he wants... he wants...
He wants...
"Taka... I'm sure it's not that bad! You two are so close, whatever you fought about won't erase everything you have! I'm sure of it, okay? Mondo just needs some time and then you two will be close again, I'm sure of it, okay? Don't get discouraged, I promise-"
"Please... don't," Taka whispers, unable to listen to Hina's kind words without wanting to break down entirely. Because she is /wrong/, okay? She's wrong! He'd overstepped his bounds, he'd tried to take more than he was given, and now everything is broken. Broken glass, shattered in pieces around him, and he has no hope of fixing it, of picking up the pieces and gluing them back together. It's all ruined and he /can't fix it, god, he can't... he can't... he... he.../
He can't break down. Not here. Nor can he leave; if he does his friends will know something is wrong, they'll /know/ how pathetic he is, how he can't even be man enough to face the consequences of his pathetic actions... so he has to stay, but he can't break down, so he has to calm down. He has to push this all back, back, /back/, and he can break apart later. When he's alone. When he... when he's /alone, alone, alone/, he can break apart then. For now... for now, he has to pretend as best he can that he's fine. That he can handle this without breaking apart entirely. That he's not so much of a child to cry and wail and scream when his first and dearest friend realizes how /pathetic/ and /clingy/ he is and moves on the first chance he has. He just... he has to pretend that he's not dying inside.
That's all.
"I- I will be fine, Hina, do not worry about me!" he grins, the expression feeling so false on his face that it's not even funny. He keeps going, looking down at the recipe, grasping for anything he can do to distract himself. "Would you mind if I made the cookies as well? I am fine to work on my own, aha! I just- it's been a while since I last baked, and while I remember the process, it would be good to ensure I still know how to make a dessert as basic as this!"
It's a bit of a lie, but not enough of one to make his insides clench more than they already are. He's fairly certain he still remembers how to bake, as deeply engrained as the process is in his bones, but it wouldn't do for him to get so cocky, now! After all, M-Mondo... O-Owada... t-the biker was right. He's not special for knowing how to bake... he's not special at all... he has to struggle just to do basic things. He can't grow complacent. Growing complacent is how things fall apart... his grandfather taught him that one...
"Oh! Of course, Taka! I can handle everyone, go and make us the best cookies we'll ever have! Make sure you save me one, though, okay?" Hina exclaims, breaking him from his thoughts again as she removes her arms from around him. Her words cause another spike of pain to fill him, knowing that he's only going to let her down, like he lets everyone down, but he does his best to not let his pain show. He just nods slowly and practically flees to an empty space at the counter without another word, far away from- /no one/, looking down at the recipe with only slightly blurry eyes.
A-ah... this is a rather simple recipe, isn't it...? Just flour, baking powder, baking soda, sugar, an egg, butter, and vanilla. Hm. He knows his mother had a slightly more complex sugar cookie recipe, amongst other cookie recipes... his mind fills with her handwritten notes and pages, his heart aching even further. Knowing it's /unhelpful/, he does his best to push all of the pain out of his mind as he heads over to the pantry, hands gathering the ingredients he needs almost on autopilot. He doesn't notice until he's reached his workstation again that he's grabbed far more than he needs, even for his mother's sugar cookie recipe. His eyes stare blankly at the /chocolate chips/ he'd grabbed, knowing that such an ingredient is not needed in /sugar cookies/, but unable to put them away.
Instead, he opens up the flour and carefully measures the required amount into his bowl, adding the rest of the dry ingredients with only slightly shaking hands. He lets himself get lost in the mindless motions of baking, letting his mother and her gentle laughter guide him as he mixes his ingredients, heart hurting as much as it always does when he bakes, but for reasons that aren't solely related to his mother for once.
He doesn't let himself dwell on it, though, and just... focuses on his baking. His mother always said that nothing bad can happen as long as you just follow your heart while in the kitchen. Seeing as how battered his heart is at the moment, he's not entirely sure how helpful that advice is, but he tries his best. When he pours in the chocolate chips, he does his best to not focus on how he's been following his mother's chocolate chip cookie recipe this entire time, not her sugar cookie one. It doesn't matter, anyway. Chocolate chip, sugar... what does it matter? They're both a kind of cookie...
(Follow your heart, indeed...)
He mechanically heads over to the baking sheets Hina left out and grabs two of them, lining them with parchment paper, remembering to wash his hands at the last moment. Once done, he heads back to his station, eyes focused solely ahead of him, not diverting left or right at all.
Then, once he is back, he rolls his cookie dough into one-inch balls, placing them carefully on the sheet, with enough space between them that they won't run together when they flatten in the oven. He fills up both trays with the small dough balls, breathing heavy but trying so hard to not let the pain consume him. It's hard, it's hard, it's so very, very hard, but he's doing it, he's doing it, he- he's... he's doing it... he-
His back stiffens when he hears a loud, muffled curse, followed by a soft, high pitched giggle. A second later, a deeper, richer laugh joins in, one he knows so intimately he can't breathe to hear it. His heart is racing, and his eyes are aching, and he stares at the unbaked cookies— /Mondo's favorites/— and he wants to break down. He wants to cry, and scream, and throw a tantrum like he's not done since he was a young child, wants to break apart and crumble and shatter and never get better, never pick up the pieces, never move on, never-
He picks up his baking sheets and heads over to the already preheated ovens, sliding them in and setting a timer on his phone for eight minutes, knowing that the cookies taste best when slightly soft and chewy, rather than crispier and crunchier.
Unbidden, he remembers his mother laughing as they would sneak cookies from the sheet, still piping hot from the oven, taking careful bites as they howled with laughter at their 'theft.' His mother loved cookies that were soft and chewy, loved to eat them fresh and gooey from the oven, even though they'd often burn her mouth.
"Nothing worthwhile comes without some measure of pain, my little Taka," she'd say to him softly, her smile kind but her eyes sad, caressing his cheek softly as she carefully handed him a cookie. He'd smile up at her, naive and innocent, not quite understanding the words she said but treasuring them all the same. He'd never understood them, not then. Not then. Not at all.
Not like he does now.
He watches the cookies as they bake, eyes blurry but resolutely pushing it down, breathing slowly as he watches the cookies as they spread across the sheet, forming perfect circles on the white paper. He'd always been so excited when he and his mother made cookies, doubly so /After/, as rare a treat as such a thing was. He'd love to eat them with his mother, loved to greedily gobble down the sweet disks, knowing he should wait, but his mother never minded. She did the same thing, after all, so young and carefree, even when weighed down with sickness and pain. He'd loved homemade cookies as a child, they'd been his favorite snack, his favorite treat, the thing he'd beg for every night, even though he knew they couldn't, that his family /couldn't afford it/. He would have eaten cookies all day long as a child, if such a thing were possible.
He's not eaten a single cookie since the night his mother died. Not fully.
They always taste like ashes.
He gasps softly when he hears his alarm go off, his hands shaking as he turns the annoying beeping off, opening the oven with blurry eyes, reaching in to grab the cookies and take them out of the oven. He jerks back with a soft hiss, cradling his hand against his chest, realizing he'd forgotten the oven mitt, like the /absolute idiot/ he is. His hand is aching, his palm blistering, but he doesn't even care, doesn't care, it doesn't matter. Pain has never mattered to him.
It's what he deserves, after all.
He grabs an oven mitt quickly and returns to take the cookies out, the melted butter making them glisten in the bright fluorescent light. Part of him wants to forgo the mitt, wants to feel his skin bubble and burn and burst, pain, pain, /pain/ radiating through his system, like it radiates through his heart, but he can't. He can't, he can't. He's in public, he can't break down here where others will see, and besides, it's been so long since he last gave into such feelings. He can't allow himself to be so pathetic now. Not again. Not again.
Once the cookies are out, he places them carefully down on a cooling rack, breathing shakily as he watches them cool, bitterly remembering a time when he'd greedily snatch one up, barely waiting long enough for the sheet to cool down, stuffing it into his mouth as his mother laughed joyously beside him. He can't even imagine eating one of these now, as sick as he feels. His palm is aching, red and white and burning, but he doesn't care, he doesn't care, it's not enough, it's never enough, he wants... h-he wants...
"O-oh! Taka, t-those look really good," he hears a soft voice peep next to him, making him stiffen as his breath exits his body entirely. He doesn't tear his eyes away from the cookies, hoping the young girl will leave him alone if he just stays still and silent enough. No such luck. She just keeps talking, oblivious to his discomfort, words soft and confused. He never has any luck... "But... but I thought we were supposed to make sugar cookies? N-not that I'm questioning you! Just... u-um..."
He bites his lip at the question, shame filling him as he's called out for his stupidity, reminding him just how /worthless/ and /pathetic/ he is. God. He can't even make simple sugar cookies. They were supposed to make sugar cookies, not /chocolate chip/, why did he- w-why did he-
"They're my mother's favorite," he gasps, closing his eyes at the scrutiny he feels. He bites his lips harder when he feels /eyes/ on him, eyes he knows, eyes he hates (loves). He knows he's just imagining it, /knows/ those eyes would never want to be on him ever again, and as much as he hates it, he loves it, too, and he hates himself more for his own delusions. How- how pathetic, how... how worthless, how... h-how...
"O-oh... w-well, they look really good! M-Mondo and I's batter looks kind of, um... melted... I think we added too much butter, and it was all melted, s-since neither of us knew what it meant by softened... b-but I don't think it meant melted, u-um..."
"Softened means it should still be solid, but not hard. Room temperature, really. Melting the butter entirely alters the consistency of the dough, making it runnier, causing the cookies to bake flat. To fix it, you should put it in the refrigerator for a couple of hours, or the freezer for fifteen minutes, if you don't wish to wait," Taka mumbles, before biting his lip so hard it splits, the blood bursting over his tongue in a disgusting, salty mess. He hadn't meant to say that, oh, god, now they're going to hate him more, he's such a /know-it-all/, why can't he just keep his mouth shut, no one cares, no one cares, no one wants a /lecture/ from /Ishimaru/, no one wants him to tell them what to do, no one wants-
"Oh! Really? Thanks, Taka! I, um... I'm gonna go and do that! Mondo, m-maybe you should talk to Taka, okay? He can help with the cookies, f-for next time... o-okay?"
Taka bites his lip harder, relishing perversely in the flash of pain he feels. He clenches his hands and digs his nails into his palms, his right hand screaming with pain, but he doesn't care. H-he- he doesn't care, he... h-he...
"Shit, whatever man. Sorry I ruined the cookies," he hears Mondo mutter, the sound shooting straight to the heart of him. For a second, he thinks Mondo is talking to him, since he'd said /man/, but then Chihiro is talking, and he guesses he must have misheard.
"N-no! You didn't ruin them, Mondo! Taka says they will be okay if we put them in the freezer, s-so don't worry. Besides, it was kind of my fault, t-too... um. I'm gonna, uh... go put the batter in the freezer. Um... yeah."
Taka hears light footsteps click away, leaving him alone with an oppressive silence that plunges the knife deeper into his chest. His nails dig deeper into his palm. It's not enough. He wants... h-he wants...
"... uh. So... fuck. Yer ma liked chocolate chip?" he hears the biker mutter awkwardly, and he hates it. Hates it, hates it, /hates it/. He wishes Mondo would just leave already, wishes he'd rip the bandage off and make the break clean. If he's going to leave— and he will, he will, /he will/— then Taka wishes he'd just leave and not bother with this small talk, awkward and stilted, a pale imitation of the closeness they'd once shared. He can hear Mondo take a breath to speak again, long seconds passing in silence, and Taka can't take it, he can't /take it, god, just make this stop-/
"W-we don't have to do this. You don't... y-you don't have to pretend, O-/Owada-kun/. I-it- it's /fine/, go to Chihiro, be with her, I- I'm /okay/, you don't have to- t-to /pretend/-" his words break out in a gasp, pain lacing his chest at the words he is saying. God, he hates them, /god/ he wants to take them back, but he can't, he can't, he can't, he can't do anything, he can't make things better, god, he's so /pathetic/, why does he bother trying, why does he do /anything/, why-
"Wait, the fuck? Pretendin'? What the fuck are ya talkin' 'bout? Shit… yer not still fuckin' hung up 'bout earlier, are ya? Fuckin'- goddamnit, Taka! I told ya I wasn't fuckin' lyin' 'bout that shit! I know yer fuckin' /mad at me/ an' shit, but Jesus Christ! The fuck I gotta do ta show ya I mean it when I say that I- I fuckin'... and what the fuck does Chi hafta do with this shit? I don't fuckin' understand you, Taka, you're not makin' any sense and you're drivin' me outta my /goddamn mind/, fuck!"
Taka flinches back at the angry sounding words, heart clenching as he hears the pain and the anger and the /hurt/, and he hates himself more than he's ever hated himself before, because /this is all his fault, he did this, he couldn't be content with what he had and now things are ruined, and Mondo hates him, and he'll never look at him with kindness, and his mother is dead and his father hates him and he's all alone, alone, alone, he doesn't want to be alone, god, please, don't make him be alone again, he doesn't want to be alone he doesn't want to be alone he doesn't want to be alone-/
His hands grab behind him for stability and his injured one touches the still hot baking sheet. He can feel it as it burns him but he /doesn't care, he doesn't care, he just doesn't care/. He lets his hand wrap tight around the edge of the tray, his already burnt palm and fingers aching at the feel, but it's not enough. The tray has cooled significantly since he'd taken it out and it barely hurts now, not like how he wants to hurt, to bleed, to be beaten, black and blue and /bloody/, and he- he wants- h-he- he /wants/-
"Jesus Christ, Taka, don't fuckin' touch that! What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he hears a loud voice exclaim, before his hand is being grabbed, yanked away from the tray clumsily. Unfortunately, his hand is still gripping the tray tight, and when it gets pulled back, the tray goes flying, a loud *CLANG* sounding as the cookies scatter across the floor, the entire room turning to face them with wide, concerned eyes, and Taka can't take it, he can't take it, it's too much, he can't- he can't- he /just can't-/
"Aw, shit! Sorry, man, didn't fuckin'... uh... here, I'll clean 'em, shit, fuck," Mondo exclaims, bending down to pick up the scattered disks, eyebrows furrowed, and lips turned down, and Taka wants to cry, but he can't cry, and he wants to scream, but he can't scream, and it's all so /much, much, much/, and he can't take it. He feels himself back up shakily, back pressing to the cooling rack, and part of him wants to flip it, wants to destroy everything, like he's already destroyed everything, and he wants to break down, but he /can't/, he's in /public/, so he doesn't, he just watches with wide eyes as Mondo cleans up his mess, not moving, not moving.
And then /she/ is there, her watery eyes wide, and she's saying words, but he can't hear them over the roaring in his ears. He can see Mondo reply back, voice gruff and low like always, and then /she/ replies back, voice high and sweet, and he watches as she bends down to help Mondo and he /can't/-
Before he's even consciously aware of it, his feet are turning and he's /fleeing/ the room, not caring that everyone is watching, not /caring/ that he's making even more of a fool out of himself than usual. He can hear people call after him, but he doesn't stop, he just keeps going, exiting the kitchen and then the dining hall, walking fast but not running, not running, because of course, even /now, of all times/, he refuses to break the rules, and he can't see with how blurry his eyes are, but he's only got a few more feet until he's safe, until he can break down and cry, he just has to make it a few more feet and then-
He feels a hand roughly grab his upper arm, tight and bruising, and he can't help the cry of pain he lets out, tears falling as he tries to pull away, but he /can't, he can't, he's trapped, he's stuck, oh, god, is he going to die, he doesn't want to die, he wants to die, he wants to be hurt, he doesn't want to be hurt, he wants to be free but he can't ever be free, he doesn't deserve to be free, he deserves to be in pain, he deserves to be alone, he deserves/-
"Holy shit, Taka, calm the fuck down! It's only fuckin' me, goddamnit! The fuck is goin' on with ya today?!" an angry voice calls in his ears and he /can't take it, he can't take it, he can't take it-/
Taka pulls sharply against the arm holding him, but it doesn't budge, doesn't move, just gets tighter and it /hurts/, and he wants it to hurt, but he doesn't want it to hurt, and his throat is so thick he's afraid he'll never be able to breathe again, and he can't help the strangled sob that gets released from his throat, his eyes leaking tears like the /pathetic child/ that he is, and it all hurts and he wants to die, he wants to die, he /wants to die-/
"H-holy shit, T-Taka... K-Kiyo, ya need ta calm down, yer gonna hurt yerself, please man... k-kyoudai, just... f-fuck..." the voice calls again, softer and quieter than before, and he feels his body get maneuvered, arms trying to wrap around him, but that just makes it worse, makes his skin crawl, he can't see, can barely hear, can barely /think/, and he just wants to curl up into a ball and never move again, never face a moment like this, he wants this to be over, wants this to /end/, please, god, make this /end/, and he just- h-he /just-/
"Okay... f-fuck, okay... I- I'm gonna let ya go, but please don't run from me, okay? We gotta... fuck. We gotta talk 'bout this shit, 'cuz I think one or both a' us have got the wrong idea, an' we just... we gotta fuckin' talk 'bout this shit, man, 'cuz this ain't like ya. So... please don't run from me, okay? Shit..."
Taka feels his arm get released, and part of him /does/ want to run, to flee and never look back, but the concerned and soft words manage to break through the panic somewhat, and he remains rooted in place, gasping heavily for breath that refuses to come, shaking like a leaf but unable to stop.
He stiffens when he feels soft, tentative fingers touch his cheek, and he wants to flinch away, to remove himself from the touch that is only going to harm him, but he can't, he can't, he just turns his face subtly towards the warmth, closing his eyes, gasping softly when he feels a warm palm cup his cheek, a soothing thumb reaching up and swiping away the tears that are still falling from his pathetic eyes.
He then stiffens further when he feels another warm hand touch his side, tentative at first but then firmer when he doesn't flinch back. He can feel the body before him take a hesitant step closer and he lets it, even as his skin crawls, craving the closeness like the child he is. He raises his hands, and he clutches the thin shirt in front of him, unsure if he means to pull it closer or to push it away, and then he feels a forehead press against his, gentle and caring and he feels more tears fall, more tears that get tenderly wiped away.
"Hey... hey, Kiyo, yer okay... yer okay, we're both okay... just... breathe with me, man, c'mon... follow my breathin'. Ya need ta calm yerself, yer panickin' Kiyo... yeah, that's it, man, breathe with me... yer doin' so fuckin' good Kiyo, c'mon..."
Taka doesn't really want to do what the voice says, but it's so calm, and soothing, and /familiar/, and he can't help but follow it. It hurts to breathe, in and out, but he follows the body in front of him as best he can. His eyes are closed, and he can't see the person who's holding him, and while he /knows/, knowing for sure would just make him panic more, and that's the opposite of what the voice wants. He just keeps breathing, in and out, the taste of cinnamon on his tongue. It's intoxicating.
Eventually, he isn't sure how long it takes, he manages to control his breathing. His palm is aching as it clutches the thin material before him, but he doesn't pull it away, can't. The hand on his side is rubbing soothing circles on his waist while the hand on his cheek is rubbing soothing circles under his eye, and it all is so /much/, but it's okay. It... it's okay, he's okay... h-he... he's okay...
"Better, Kiyo?" he hears the soft voice rumble, making him tremble slightly at the sound. Despite himself, he opens his eyes and looks into soft lavender, concern and worry bleeding out of them, and he... Taka, he...
"I'm sorry... I- I messed up again..." he mutters, closing his eyes once more, unable to handle the sight before him. He hears Mondo sigh softly, and he tenses as he waits for the reprimand, but the tension slips away when he feels warm lips press tenderly against his forehead, apropos of nothing. They linger there for several seconds, before they pull away, trailing down softly to his cheek, where they press tenderly again. And then to the other cheek, soft and tender. And finally... finally, to his nose, making his breathing fall out of the order he'd just gotten it into, but that's okay... t-that's A-okay... Mondo pulls back then, but before he can worry, the biker's forehead is pressing to his again, arms pulling him tighter to the warm body, hand still cupping his face reverently. It doesn't matter that they're in the middle of a public hallway, not to him, not at that moment, at least...
"Nah, ya didn't fuckin' mess up, Kiyo. Just... fuck. I- I thought... I thought you were fuckin' /mad at me/, or somethin', an' I let that shit mess with my head. I shouldn't a'... unless... are ya mad at me? 'Cuz I can't tell, man, I just... I thought I'd give ya some space, cool off myself, but then I saw ya were startin' ta freak out, an' I don't know if it was 'cuz a' me, or yer ma, or... I dunno, the nonsense that keeps attackin' yer head. But just... shit, man. Talk ta me, okay? I'm fuckin' worried 'bout you and I just... I just... wanna make sure you're good. I hate seeing you like this, Kiyo. Fucking... fuckin' breaks my fuckin' heart. Y'ain't ever gotta feel so upset ya hurt yerself, okay? An' I don't know if ya meant ta, but... s-shit. Still. Mean it. Hate seein' ya in pain, an' I'll do everythin' I can ta help ya, even if it takes the rest a' my fuckin' life. An' that's a promise, okay? A man's promise. A… a promise between men."
God. God. /God/. Why does he always have to say things like this? It should make it better, but it just makes it worse, makes him want to cry again, and as fragile as he feels, he can't hold it in. He pulls away from the warm forehead and hand that is still for some reason cupping his cheek, but can't pull away from the embrace entirely, too weak, too pathetic. Instead, he buries his face in a warm chest and just... stays there, breathing deep as he tries to calm himself again, listening as Mondo hums softly above him, arms wrapping fully around him now, one weaving into his hair to hold him tight. He feels himself shaking his head, frantic, hands clenched tight to a warm wife beater.
"No, I... n-no. I'm not- not mad at you, kyoudai...! I- I... I thought /you/ were mad at /me/! B-because I... w-what I said, after we- er... y-you know... I thought you /hated me/ and d-didn't want... want to be my friend anymore, and I just- I- a-and I know you have told me that nothing could make you h-hate me, b-but... but everyone always hates me, and I don't know /why,/ what I do wrong, and I don't want you to hate me, I- I don't w-want to be alone, I- I- I don't- p-please don't... M-Mondo, I-"
He hears Mondo let out a strangled noise, before the biker is pulling him up, forehead pressed tight to his again, Taka's eyes flying open with his surprise, starring straight into pained lavender. Oh, god... o-oh /god/, he... he can't...
"Y'ain't. Y'ain't gonna ever be alone, Kiyo, not with me here. Shit, man... I ain't ever leavin' ya, an' I don't care how many times I gotta fuckin' say it 'til it sinks in, fuckin' a million times, don't mean shit as long as ya... as ya know I /mean/ it, okay? Ain't a single, fuckin', goddamn thing that'll make me hate you. Not... not anythin', okay? I may get mad or upset, 'cuz I ain't fuckin' perfect an' I know I got my own issues ta deal with, but... but no matter how mad I may get, ain't ever at you, okay? I'm just... mad. At myself. At the world. At just... all a' it. But not you... not- not ever /you/. Okay? A-an' I'll tell ya this ev'ry fuckin' day if ya need me ta, ev'ry goddamn minute. Ain't goin' nowhere, man. Not unless ya want me ta go. Yer kinda stuck with me, heh. So, don't... don't worry, okay? I'm... I'm here, Kiyo. I'll always /be/ here. If there's one thing that I want ya ta know... it's that, okay? Ain't ever leavin' ya. /Never/. Okay?"
Oh. Oh, oh, it /hurts/, god it /hurts/, but it's such a good hurt. So, so good. More tears fall and he shakes his head, he doesn't even know why, he just... it can't be true, it sounds so true, but it... it /can't/...
"Why," he manages to gasp, eyes wide as they look into pale lavender, "w-why? I don't... I- I don't understand, k-kyoudai... w-why..."
He doesn't know what he's saying, wants to stop, but on the other hand he just... he wants to /know/, wants to know /why/, why Mondo... why he cares why he- he... why...
To his surprise, Mondo chuckles softly, both of his hands coming up to grasp his face, shaking his head fondly as he moves his face and kisses Taka's forehead again, tender and gentle and sweet. God it... it's so...
"Why? Ya wanna know why? Shit, man... I'm shit at words, but just... yer just so fuckin'... fuckin' /incredible/, man. An' I know y'ain't gonna believe me, know ya got problems with that shit, but just... ya just... ya make me feel like I ain't a piece a' shit. Ya know? All my fuckin' life I've just been a fuckin' screw-up, but when I had Daiya, didn't seem ta fuckin' matter. He never cared I was fucked up, I was his bro, h-he had ta... had ta care 'bout me. But then he was gone, an' I was alone, an' I just... I told myself I was okay, that it didn't fuckin' bother me, but fuck, man, it did. I hated it, hated bein' so fuckin' alone, even when surrounded by my fuckin' gang. Shit fuckin' /hurt/, an' I /hated it/, but I didn't know what the fuck else ta do. Had ta keep the gang together, couldn't let Daiya down, so I had ta fuckin' keep goin', even if it hurt like nobody's fuckin' business. I... shit. Didn't even realize how much fuckin' pain I was in, I got so fuckin' good at hidin' that shit..."
Mondo pauses here, before laughing again, looking him in the eyes with liquid intensity, all soft and caring and /adoring/, and Taka just... he...
"But then... then I fuckin' met you. You ran inta me, like a fuckin' cliche, an' I haven't been able ta stop thinkin' 'bout ya since. It was always so easy fer ya ta cry, ta let yer emotion show. Never said it, but I envy ya fer that, ya know? Gotta be fuckin' strong all the time, can't fuckin'... can't fuckin' cry. Not even alone. But ya... y'ain't afraid a' it. Don't think. Ya just... let yerself feel what ya feel, even if it hurts. An' yer prolly the strongest fuckin' person I know, like, damn Kiyo... ain't a lotta people who can go through the shit ya've faced and still be able ta care 'bout the things ya do, like morals an' shit. Yer fuckin' incredible, man. An'... an' ya... y-you... you look at me. Like I fuckin' /matter/. Like I'm not... like I'm not a piece of shit."
Mondo laughs again, eyes shining, and it hurt, it hurts, it hurts, but he can't say anything because Mondo is talking again, low, and intimate, and it's just so, so much...
"Didn't even know I was hurtin' so goddamn much 'til I met you and I didn't hurt quite as much anymore, you know? And when we became friends... w-when we became /kyoudai/... shit, Kiyo. Can't fucking describe what that shit meant to me. Means to me... Christ. Holding you, comforting you... it made some of the pain I was holding onto so tightly just... vanish. I always had a hard time getting close ta people, everyone always was so fucking afraid a' me, an' I never knew how ta let anyone in. But you... you just... y-ya just... fuck. I'm shit with words. Always fuckin' have been. Ain't nothin' good enough ta show what ya fuckin' mean ta me, Kiyo. But just... y'ain't gotta wonder why I care 'bout ya, okay? I do, I fuckin' /do/, an' this shit ain't goin' nowhere. Ya mean the fuckin' world ta me, kyoudai, an' if I had one wish in life it'd be that ya could fuckin' see how utterly amazin' ya are ta me. An' it makes me fuckin' uncomfortable as shit ta say it, not gonna lie, but I will, Kiyo, if it makes ya feel less pain. I'll say it every goddamn day if it makes ya feel even a hint better. Christ, I'd do fuckin' anythin' ta take yer pain away, man... fuckin'... fuckin' /anythin'/..."
Taka's heart is beating out of his chest, and Mondo's eyes are like lasers on him, pinning him, devouring him, and it's all too much. Too, too much. He can't help himself as he drifts forward, can't help the way he /wants/, so badly, can't help how much he /yearns/. No one has ever said anything like that to him; no one has ever cared about his pain, his anxiety. No one has ever called him /strong/, not after seeing him at one of his lowest moments like this one. He wants to deny it, wants to say that Mondo is being untruthful, or that he's just confused, but... but here in this moment, looking Mondo in the eyes... seeing the tender and— dare he say— /loving/ gaze... he just... he /can't/. Can't force himself to pretend otherwise. Can't force himself to feel doubt. His heart is light and on air and everything still /hurts/, it hurts, but in a far different way.
He can't force himself to stop, even though he knows he should, knows that this, of all things, will surely ruin everything. But he's already thought that so many times before, and things still /aren't ruined/, so maybe this won't, either. Maybe Mondo won't... won't hate him, and maybe... j-just maybe...
Mondo will... will want...
Mondo will want it too.
Before he can stop himself, before he can make himself think rationally, he erases the remaining few inches of space left between them and presses his lips so lightly to Mondo's that he might as well not be touching him at all. But he is, /he is/, he very much /is/, and the lightning that shoots down his spine is proof enough of that. He wants to press closer, wants to devour the biker as much as the biker has devoured him, wants Mondo to /feel it/ like he does, but he's too petrified to move. The last time he'd done this— the last time he'd foolishly pressed his lips to another boy's, another /friend's/— things had been ruined in less than an instant. He'd been on the ground before he knew it, his heart breaking faster than he could even comprehend.
He's so afraid in this moment, not wanting to fear Mondo but knowing he's risking everything right now, knows he's confessing to far more than he's ever been comfortable sharing before. Knows that Mondo won't be able to pretend that he's /not/- n-not... not /gay/, knows that Mondo will /know/, without words, and it terrifies him as the seconds pass and neither of them move, frozen to the spot, lips barely touching but very clearly /are/. There's no ambiguity in his actions, no question if he does or doesn't. Is or isn't. He knows he's confessing here, and as terrified as he is...
He also isn't.
He waits, breath bated and shuddering, for Mondo to make the next move. It's utter torture to wait, to hold so still, but he has to let Mondo make this decision. He put himself out there, is putting his entire heart on the line, but he's kind of putting a lot on Mondo, too. It's the least he can do to let the biker make this decision on his own, to let him decide what he- w-what he... what he /wants/.
And Mondo... M-Mondo, several seconds later, like waking up from a dream, Mondo... M-Mondo...
/Mondo pulls away/-
"W-we... f-fuck," the biker curses softly, Taka barely hearing him over the roaring in his ears, the shattering of his heart so utterly loud he can barely take it. "Your hand... we, uh. We should get that fixed up, okay? Know ya got a first aid kit in yer room, s-so... I, uh... l-let me bandage it up fer ya. Okay?"
Taka doesn't even think as he nods his head slowly, head full of cotton, lips tingling (un)pleasantly. Mondo... Mondo had pulled away. Mondo is- is pretending like nothing had happened. Mondo...
/Mondo doesn't want it, not like Taka wants it, even though he says such sweet things, even though he looks at him with so much love in his eyes, even though everything in Taka screams that Mondo wants it too, Mondo doesn't, he doesn't want it, doesn't want Taka, and Taka- Taka-/
Taka smiles and nods, blinking as he looks down at his hand, laughing lowly. It sounds nothing like a laugh, sounds more like a sob, but he'll take it. He'll take it. He has to take it.
Because at least Mondo isn't hitting him. At least Mondo isn't looking at him with /disgust/. At least he's not screaming, cursing, eyes and face red with anger, spitting mad, pushing him away harshly, /get the hell away from me, you f*g/, hating him and everything about him. At least- god. At least he's willing to just- just /move on/, r-right? To not... not let it ruin them. It... it's something... god, it's /something/-
"A-ah... y-yes! Y-yes, kyoudai, an e-excellent idea! Haha! Hahahaha! Ha!"
The laughter is somewhat hysterical, but neither of them mentions it. Taka just follows, numb, as Mondo turns and walks stiffly over to Taka's room, mere feet away, taking out the key card Taka gave him weeks ago, opening the door with only slightly shaking hands. Taka watches as Mondo enters the room, heart aching so much more than he can take, but he can't stop. Can't break down, not now, not when things between him and Mondo just got fixed again. Instead, he just follows and sits carelessly on the bed, like Mondo tells him to, as the biker enters his bathroom and finds the extensive first aid kit he keeps stocked at all times. Given his perchance for angering people, it's a good thing for him to have...
He still watches listlessly as Mondo returns, his gait awkward and stumbling, the biker looking nothing like the fearsome biker gang leader he is. With his hair down and his eyeliner gone and his coat off, he just... he just looks like a normal teenager. Like an overwhelmed, in-over-his-head teenager, trying so hard to pretend nothing has changed when /everything/ has changed. Mondo smiles at him slightly, and it looks /wrong/, but Taka doesn't mention it. He just smiles back, also wrong, and watches as Mondo kneels carefully before him. His smile goes sideways at the sight of Mondo kneeling in front of him, nestled between his open knees, but he doesn't have time to focus on the flash of /heat/ that rushes through him before Mondo is thrusting his hand out.
"Hand," Mondo mutters, eyes not quite meeting his, looking off to the side. Taka doesn't fault him. He just diligently holds out his right hand, eyes firmly focused on the burnt appendage, unable to handle continuing to look at Mondo.
It's not much better, to be fair, watching as Mondo's much larger hands grab his so tenderly, careful to not hurt him even slightly. He can't look away, though, just watches with a numb heart as Mondo grabs the antiseptic and very, very carefully applies it to the wound. Taka can't help the way he flinches at the sting of pain, and he also can't help the sharp stab in his heart when Mondo shushes him gently, thumb rubbing a soothing circle on the back of his hand.
"Ain't gonna hurt ya, Kiyo, don't worry. Just need ta clean it, s'all. Don't worry 'bout a thing, okay?" Mondo mutters, eyes briefly darting up to meet his, before looking down at their hands again, carefully taking the cheap aloe Taka has and rubbing it gently onto the burn, soothing the pain instantly. Well... the topical pain, at least.
Taka says nothing, just continues to stare, biting his lip to try and make it stop tingling. He tastes blood. Oh. He'd forgotten he'd split the thing earlier. Maybe that was why Mondo-
Ah.
But he's not thinking about that.
Once the aloe is applied, Mondo grabs some of the slightly higher quality gauze Taka picked up from the nurse a couple months ago, and wraps it around his hand a couple times, tight but not oppressively so. He watches as the pristine white covers up the bright and angry red, masking the injury like it had never happened at all. Only the still present twinges of pain let him know it's still there, still very much there. Mondo grabs a piece of tape and applies it to the edge of the bandage, securing it in place. And then- then Mondo, he-
/He gently brings Taka's hand forward and presses a soft kiss to the bandaged palm/.
Grk...
"There. All better," Mondo mutters against the appendage, pulling back with flushed cheeks and averted eyes, but he still holds the hand gently for several seconds more. Eventually he does stand, letting go of Taka's hand slowly, cheeks still (adorably) pink. Taka can feel heat flood his cheeks as well, his stomach roiling at the lingering sensation on his injured palm. It still hurts, but it's... it's starting to settle. Somewhat. Kind of. Maybe...
Mondo hovers above Taka for a long moment, before letting out a soft sigh and looking up at him, a small frown on his lips.
"Hey. Uh... just 'cuz I don't wanna have shit hangin' 'tween us... ya... ya mentioned somethin'. Earlier. 'Bout, uh... Chi. Do ya... shit. Do ya got a problem with me an' Chi hangin' out? 'Cuz, I thought ya two were friends an' shit. Ya never seemed ta have a problem with us hangin' out b'fore, but if ya do... Taka, man... just... fuck. Tell me? An' don't try an' bullshit me, okay? I want the truth. Deserve that much, at least."
Taka's heart clenches at the words and he lets out a shaky breath, looking down at his bandaged hand with watery eyes. He bites his lip again, the pain barely even registering as he shrugs heavily. He doesn't want to talk about this, doesn't want to 'shake the boat' so soon after they fixed things, but... but Mondo is right. He deserves to be told the truth, after everything Taka has done today. If he wants the truth... the absolute least Taka can do is give it.
So, with a tired sigh, he plays with the bandage Mondo had applied, feeling pathetic once more.
"N-no... I don't... I don't have a problem with you two," Taka starts, but is forced to stop at Mondo's disbelieving snort. He looks up with mild irritation and Mondo grimaces slightly, giving him an apologetic look for interrupting. After another soft sigh, he continues. "I do mean that, you know. I- I'm... I'm /glad/ that you have her, h-have another friend... really, I am! I... j-just..."
He pauses, squirming uncomfortably on the bed, eyes falling down to his hands. He shrugs clumsily again and tries for a smile.
It fails.
Typical.
"I just... s-seeing you two, together... I- I don't know. It just... /hurts/. N-not that I'm upset with you about that! Please don't think that kyoudai! I... i-it just... reminds me. That I'm not... that we... hm. That I'm not special. That what we h-have... t-that while you're my /best friend/, I... a-and I worry. I worry that you... t-that you and her..."
His words trail off and he bites his lip again, the blood welling under his teeth, bitter and sharp, but he doesn't care. Part of him wants to press a thumb into his palm, wants to feel it /ache/, but he can't. Not while Mondo is here; is watching. He hates himself for his confession, but... but Mondo wanted to know... a-and maybe now he'll see how pathetic he is, and he'll /hate/-
"Ya think I'm gonna fuckin' replace ya. That's it... isn't it?" Mondo states dully, voice flat and emotionless. Taka flinches at the sound, gasping as his eyes close, body shaking as he tries to keep it all inside. But Mondo asked him a question, and he deserves the truth, doesn't he…? He... it's the least he deserves...
And so, despite the pain in his chest, he nods firmly once.
And he waits for Mondo to deliver his sentence.
And-
"Shit... Taka..."
And then Mondo is there again. Kneeling between his legs, hands grabbing his, pressing as close to him as he can. Taka's eyes open wide, his breath shaky as he looks down at Mondo, as he sees the wide, pleading lavender. And he... he...
"Ya don't ever have ta fuckin' worry 'bout that, okay? Like... /fuck/, man! S'like I always tell ya, Kiyo; yer the best goddamn thing ta ever happen ta me. An' yeah, Chi is great an' all, but he— fuck, I mean, /she/— s-she ain't got nothin' on ya. Like... at /all/, okay? No one could ever fuckin' replace ya. 'Cuz ya /are/ special, okay? Ta me... yer the most fuckin' special person I have ever fuckin' met. Chi could never replace yer friendship ta me, Taka. Never."
Taka could leave it here. He could smile, could nod, could say it was just his insecurity speaking and thank Mondo profusely while vowing to never bring it up again, pushing down the pain like he always does. He... he /could/...
But...
But Mondo had asked him for honesty, didn't he? And Taka... it's the least he can offer...
"I-it's not... i-it's not /friendship/ I'm worried about... w-with you and... and her..."
Silence descends around them again, and Taka can't handle the intensity of Mondo's eyes, his face devoid of emotion, just that mysterious emotion he's never been able to decipher swirling in his eyes. He looks down at their hands, Mondo's gently grasping his, and tries not to let his broken heart shatter even further into dust.
After several seconds pass, Mondo eventually speaks, voice low and soft, so quiet he has to strain to hear him. And his words...
"... yeah. Yeah, I uh... I got that. An', uh... f-fuck. My answer don't change. You... ya don't... don't got nothin' ta worry 'bout. Okay? Chi an' I... shit ain't like that. S-she... uh. S-she's great an' all, but... y'ain't got nothin' ta worry 'bout. So... fuck. Yeah."
Mondo is looking at their hands, too, Taka notices when he looks up at the biker in surprise. He doesn't have long to look before Mondo is looking back up, and their eyes meet, and Taka... Taka...
"Oh," Taka says dumbly, mouth running dry. Mondo smiles a crooked half-smile at him, standing shakily.
"S-so. That, uh... that shit's dealt with, yeah? So. Um. Wanna... fuck. Wanna watch a movie or somethin'? Dinner ain't 'til 6:00, so... uh..."
He watches as Mondo shuffles awkwardly, hand rising to rub the back of his neck nervously. Taka blinks up and him and he... he...
He smiles...
"Y-you know what... I- I think... I think I'd like to head back to the kitchen. Y-you and... and /Chi/ never finished baking your cookies, a-and I would like to try one! A-and... a-and you can... y-you can try one of mine if you'd like!"
His words are shaking, but the meaning behind them is genuine. He stands and he smiles, and he feels genuine. He has no idea what is going on between him and Mondo, has no idea what is going to happen next, or even what is happening currently, but... but he doesn't care. In this moment... he just doesn't care. His heart still aches, his mind is still confused, but Mondo is /smiling at him, looking at him like he means the entire world to him/, and for this moment... he's okay. Maybe he won't be later, maybe something will come up that will shake this tentative peace he's found within himself, like it always seems to do, but for now... f-for /now/...
For now, he's okay.
For now, his heart isn't currently breaking.
For now... for now, he can smile, and he can /mean it/.
And maybe... maybe that can be enough? Taking each moment as it comes, not trying to force himself to need more than that, to make promises to himself that he can't keep. He knows what he wants, and he knows that Mondo /doesn't/, and it hurts, but at the moment it doesn't burn him. It just... it settles, and maybe later it will ache so fierce he'll want to cry again, but that will be a problem for a future version of him. For now... for now, he wants to head back to the kitchen, wants to bake Mondo's cookies, wants to /share his mother's cookies/ with Mondo, and just... he wants to exist without so much pain for one evening. Is that so much to ask? Is it... is it really so much to ask?
He watches with a softly aching heart as Mondo nods, smile soft on his face as he holds out a hand to beckon Taka gently. And Taka...
Taka accepts.
Awww, Mondo and Taka are just precious, aren't they? Ooof. So sappy. I'd say sorry, but honestly, I love it. My Aro heart loves the good mutual pining while desperately in love thing. That's the good stuff, my dudes! And that 'kiss'... ;-)
Also, can you tell that I'm not comfortable writing Junko? Ha. I think I just made her an evil Hina. I wouldn't have written her at all, but I felt it was kind of weird having her not attend any of their group gatherings when I think she'd probably be social, considering her love of despair thing. Plus, she's really good at ramping up said 'despair,' isn't she? I still am not confident enough to write Mukuro, since I've not 'met' the girl yet as of writing this, and I really don't like Toko's canon characterization, so I doubt I'll write either girl, but they are there, at least! It's... something...?
Also also, this chapter feels kind of... cobbled together to me, since I wrote it at several different times and sometimes while at work, which means I was pretty distracted. I did my best to blend it all, but some parts seem odd, which bugs me. It also was originally supposed to be connected with the next chapter, but it was almost 30K words, which is just a bit too much for me, so I split them up. Just know that next chapter follows this one directly.
Anyway! Let me know what y'all think! Feedback is always appreciated! I've seen people apologize for comments, but please I know I love them all! I know I don't respond as often as I should, but a lot of that stems from the fact I always overthink it and get all rambling, which makes my social anxiety go nuts, which is just… not fun. But I really appreciate every comment, as well as the asks on my Tumblr. Thanks guys!
(Finally, as for Taka's self-harm thing... I was originally going to address that later in the story, but it never came up. But the way I see it, Taka never physically hurt himself. Not on purpose. He just purposely put himself into situation in which he knew he would get hurt. Like how in the fifth chapter, Taka was kind of offering himself up for Mondo to hurt him. That sort of thing.)