Author Note: It's been a hot minute. Life is crazy. Worse than that… it is COVID-19 lockdown. I am slightly stressed and my writing got rusty; therefore, I had to post something. I still have not finished watching Iron Blooded Orphans, but I got to the part where Aston did The Thing That Was Sad, which resulted in this.
Aston was at Takaki's house again — still. He wasn't sure how or why it kept on ending up like this.
Takaki rose beside Aston and stretched. "I guess that's it for tonight, then?"
It was a rhetorical question. Aston only glanced along with Takaki at where Fuka had fallen asleep at her desk after she had served tea to them.
"She sleeps soundly," Takaki murmured, his fondness softening his tone, "but even so, we probably shouldn't stay up too much longer and risk at all disturbing her. She has a quiz tomorrow."
Aston's hand tightened around his teacup handle. A quiz Fuka had to be rested to pass? That was like getting good sleep before facing a battle. It meant Aston ought to return to Tekkadan, so his presence here didn't jeopardize her chances at gaining an advantage.
He knew Takaki would still ask him to sleep here. Takaki liked it when Aston curled up in this room the same way Fuka did. But Aston refused to do that — as often as he could without trouble. Aston didn't like to stick around here for too long no matter what. It had to do with a lot more than just Fuka taking a quiz.
The inside of his teacup stared back at him. Dregs swirled on the bottom, but Aston tossed them back, preparing himself mentally to leave the way he knew he should. But his body didn't move; his tongue only explored the bitter-tasting dregs. He thought, That was my third cup.
He didn't like to linger in this place — or have fun, or relax with tea — because of what it did to him. Aston didn't like this companionship, this peace and quiet. Enjoying himself, experiencing feelings... those were burdens he wasn't prepared to carry. Yet he kept coming back here to visit these two. He wanted to protect Takaki... but how that so frequently ended up with Aston doing things like sipping tea into the night, he couldn't fully understand.
All he knew was that he hated himself for becoming illogical about his purpose, his existence. He was designed to fight and kill and die; nothing else was appropriate. So why did he always give in when Takaki coaxed him into lounging and chatting here, when they both knew that Aston was human debris, raised to be empty-headed and empty-hearted? Takaki's invitations to spend time together weren't orders from Tekkadan. And human debris were better off without forming any attachments. Therefore, Aston should know better than to do this, even if Takaki didn't; it would just cause Aston pain if he continued.
Aston swallowed the last gulp of his tea slowly.
The clock ticked. Aston heard Fuka snore lightly, while Takaki chuckled at her. Aston reminded himself for the hundredth time that this wasn't where he belonged. Like this, he was only pretending to become a normal person... and someday, he would only regret doing it.
Takaki leaned over him to pluck the empty teacup from his hand.
Aston let him do it without protest. At that, Takaki smiled.
"Do you want one last cup, before saying goodnight?" Takaki asked, whispering. His smile... Aston enjoyed seeing it.
Takaki had Fuka's dimples, but his eyes held more radiance and sparkle somehow. Aston always had trouble not smiling back when he saw it.
When asked if he wanted more tea, Aston almost always instinctively said yes before he could help himself. But this time, he forced himself to shake his head. "No, I don't want more," he said. Then he remembered what Atra had called 'good manners' and added, "Thank you."
Takaki grinned wider. "Are you sure? You don't have to hold back, you know. Fuka and I both like spoiling you." His fingers played over the teacup's edges... and then his smile faltered. Takaki looked at the floor in between his socked feet and wet his lips — almost as if he wanted to add something more.
Aston quirked up one eyebrow and waited, but a silence stretched. So he said, "I've had enough."
"Ah. R-right." Takaki's lips curled all the way down into a frown.
Aston remarked Takaki's hesitation. He watched and waited patiently, remaining calm. He wasn't going to be the first one to speak and distract if something weighed on Takaki's mind; it might be something important having to do with Tekkadan, after all. So Aston decided instead to study the way Takaki's hair fell so perfectly against his cheek, while silently considering when might be the next politest moment to leave. Probably after Takaki decided whether he wanted to address whatever bothered him with Aston. Takaki frequently called Aston, "a trustworthy sounding-board."
But still Takaki said nothing.
After another moment in which Aston wondered whether he should start leaving anyway, Takaki's frown turned back into a smile — one that caught Aston by surprise for how gracious and giddy it seemed. "I'm so glad you came over and stayed a while."
Aston's gaze remained pinned to that smile. It looked even better on Takaki, even brighter than Takaki's regular smiles. Seeing it gave Aston a curling feeling in his stomach he couldn't explain... other than that the feeling tingled, all pleasant.
Takaki's fingers toyed with the teacup again. Then — and Aston blinked — Takaki set the teacup back down on the coffee table instead of taking it to the kitchen sink. When he leaned down to do so, he brushed so near that Aston felt warmth radiating from him.
Takaki didn't look at Aston again, though. "Aston, you know…. The truth is, I—"
Aston stretched out his right hand and tucked it against Takaki's cheek.
Takaki's exclamation stuttered to a halt. Aston turned Takaki's face toward him, wanting that smile to fall on him again. Whatever Takaki wanted to say, Aston wanted him to say it where he could keep on taking in those eye-crinkles, those dimples, and that pearl-like grin. "It's better if you look at me when we're talking."
Takaki froze. Their eyes met for a brief beat before Takaki glanced away. His smile faded. He wasn't listening.
"What?" Aston prompted bluntly.
Takaki sighed. Wrung his hands. Then Takaki said, "The truth is, I like you."
Aston shivered. Then he stared. Then he blinked. Takaki liked him? He already knew that much. It was obvious… wasn't it? Otherwise, Takaki wouldn't keep inviting him here. They were 'friends,' Takaki had often insisted. So of course Takaki liked him.
But saying it out loud was bad.
Saying it out loud was bad, because Takaki's feelings for Aston made Aston recognize he reciprocated — at least enough to keep lingering here when he already knew he shouldn't.
Human debris didn't have friends. They certainly didn't have more than friends, either, in that 'romantic' way all the girls talked about. It was dangerous, Takaki talking like this — no matter how much 'like' he meant. Putting those feelings out in the open where Aston needed to face them made Aston bothered. Annoyed.
Ignoring what he liked was easier, safer. Ignoring anything he felt meant Aston didn't need to interpret what stunt his insides did right now — why they twisted acrobatically when Takaki glanced at him another time, his big hazel eyes glimmering... and his face too close, because Aston still held it.
Ah, Aston shouldn't have touched him. He shouldn't put himself where he could have these throbbing, jolting physical reactions.
Takaki wriggled in his grip. He looked startled, uncomfortable — so much so Aston almost laughed. Then, instead, his heart thudding, Aston felt himself overcome by a new urge — to wipe Takaki's nervous expression off his face and replace it with... with what, Aston wasn't quite sure.
He simply gave in to the urge. He leaned forward and pressed his lips on Takaki's.
Takaki made a startled sound, but Aston's mouth swallowed it for how close they were together. Touching mouths felt surprisingly pleasant... and Takaki's soft skin against the rough palm of Aston's hand felt nice. Felt… relaxing. Maybe the word was 'comforting?' Either way, how wretched that Aston liked it. How wretched, being careless enough to start liking anything.
But a spark of something lit up Aston brighter, and his grip on Takaki only tightened. He parted his lips, out of some instinct unfamiliar, yet dark and deep. When he did it, his mouth locked more neatly — more warmly — over Takaki's, creating a more frantic, more fluttering feeling. He felt the heat of Takaki's exhale directly against him, like steam from fresh tea, and suddenly his body and mind went reeling.
Aston liked Takaki back — a lot. His head muddled with the intake of feeling so many of his senses at once. He inhaled Takaki's light, pleasant smell, like the soap Kudelia had made everyone use. The burn of his body increased the longer the moment drew out. Takaki's jacket fabric gave way softly under his fingers when Aston let his hand fall away from Takaki's cheek onto his shoulder instead. The sight of Takaki's cinched-shut eyelids and his delicate eyelashes dazzled Aston when he opened his own eyes to look, wondering exactly when or why he'd closed them. And—
The taste. The taste of Takaki like this, when Aston darted out his tongue — just once, just out of a persistent need to experience yet more of him. Takaki tasted like the tea they'd had, but also just like how Takaki's skin smelled, or Takaki's breath did when they leaned heads together and spoke quietly because Fuka was asleep.
Takaki groaned waveringly.
Aston jolted and pulled away.
He tried to sort the feelings and the thoughts swirling around his head. But nothing much came to him any more — only a pleasant buzz. Satisfaction, maybe, even though he'd done something so strange and sudden.
So stupid, so dangerous.
Takaki's chest rose and fell. His gaze settled on Aston, wide and surprised, and seemed it would stay there at last. Aston assumed he'd need to speak, to offer some explanation.
But he didn't have one. Takaki was always the one with the answers if it wasn't on the battlefield — not him. Aston only went in front whenever it came to fighting.
Aston's face seared now, uncomfortably hot. If he kept looking at Takaki, he felt something in him would fall apart. And he couldn't let that happen. Aston needed to be strong, to be able to fight, to keep protecting Takaki.
He shouldn't have stayed. This 'like' was no good.
Takaki cleared his throat and wrung his hands. Aston ran a hand down his face. This fluttering discomfort, yet happiness... This was definitely something human debris shouldn't feel — because it wrapped like coils around him. It tied Aston to someone else. It tied him to Takaki, who mattered to Aston too much.
Aston wasn't meant to be tied. He couldn't do his job that way.
Takaki had turned pink. He cleared his throat. "Um," he husked. "So, does that mean—"
"Why did..." But Aston trailed off after interrupting. He swallowed and started again. "Why did I do that just now?"
Aston shouldn't have needed to. He should have already understood that doing it would be a bad idea.
Takaki buried his face in both hands.
But then his shoulders quaked. He laughed.
Aston furrowed his eyebrows. Fuka was still asleep; they shouldn't make so much noise. He tried again to get a clear reply. "How come that happened?" Maybe Takaki had done something subtle to lure him into it.
The sofa depressed next to him, but Aston didn't look over. He felt so embarrassed that he'd dared to do what he had done.
He had never before been that close to someone.
Takaki sat down. Their legs pressed together at the thighs. Aston tried not to fidget, then realized he almost always fidgeted in Takaki's presence, whenever they got close. Whenever Takaki made full contact with him. It was something he'd never been able to help.
This was dumb. The dumbest thing Aston ever could have done.
Takaki said, "I guess you did it because you were feeling strongly, too — am I right?"
Aston slowly considered that explanation. "Human debris don't have feelings." He scowled.
"Aston." A kindly tone. Patient. And yet somewhat patronizing. Maybe also colored with disappointment.
Aston reluctantly met Takaki's eyes.
"Every person has feelings," Takaki said. "You've just been trained to ignore them."
"It's better if I do," Aston replied. He'd said so much in different contexts before, a couple of times. Didn't Takaki recall?
Takaki asked testily, "Why?"
Aston shrugged. Must they go through this again? "Easier," he grumbled.
Easier to ignore, to feel nothing.
Takaki sighed. He stretched his arms behind his head and leaned heavily on the sofa.
For a moment, all Aston could hear was the hammer of his own heart inside his chest. He couldn't seem to tame it, now. He blinked a couple of times. The silence went on. Fuka's breathing drifted over from her desk, so Aston concentrated on listening to that instead of the relentless pounding inside him. Or to Takaki's irritated tisking sound.
After another tense moment, Aston clenched his knees with trembling hands and tried, "I've told you. If I experience too many attachments, I'll get distracted. Then when it's time to die out there, it'll only—"
"And I've told you," Takaki said, "I don't want you to talk that way!" His voice tightened; he still attempted to whisper, but Aston could tell he'd rather be shouting.
Aston rubbed the back of his head, looked away, and didn't say anything. Emotions, he thought, were confusing, not just bad. A moment ago, Takaki had looked happy. Then startled. Then embarrassed. Now irked, or like Aston would maybe get smacked. Aston didn't want to get caught up in the same emotional, reckless mess as that.
As human debris, instead, he should—
"You're not human debris anymore," Takaki said. "And I value your life. So don't—"
"I value yours." Aston's face burned again. The taste of Takaki lingered on his lips, and all at once, he wanted to taste it again. But he stayed firmly situated where he was. "I want to make sure you keep existing."
He couldn't do that well if he harbored feelings.
"But didn't you kiss me," Takaki cried, "because you like it when we're existing together?"
The words hit Aston like bullets. His heart drummed loud inside his ears.
He raised his fingers to touch his lips. Kiss. Why did Takaki have to put words to the action and make it twice as real like that? Aston and Takaki had kissed. Aston liked Takaki back.
Except Aston hadn't thought of it in damning words like 'kiss' until just now.
Aston kept his fingers over his lips. They quaked. His whole body throbbed. Takaki, so close to him... It made Aston want to kiss him again.
A frustrated huff left Takaki. Then Takaki got up — swinging a leg smartly across Aston's hips.
He sat on Aston's lap so they were nose to nose. Aston tried to lean away, to sink into the sofa's back cushions, but Takaki draped arms over his shoulders.
"You like this," Takaki murmured, his glare near-furious… in a way that made Aston's breath hitch. "Right? And if you die, you can't have it. You can't have it ever again."
Aston's thoughts tangled themselves. But if I do have it, I'll also die. So there's no way that I can win.
Besides... just because he wanted it…. Did that mean he had any right to it? Human debris had no rights. They could possess or 'have' nothing.
And Aston didn't want to feel this nice.
Human debris fought and died. Dying was what they were good at — and only that. But they lived longer if they refused to feel or get attached to anything. Aston was going to have the same fate all other human debris did; he'd watched everyone else floundering through it. Aston might try to believe in Takaki's words, but if he did, if he believed he had a right to want Takaki or like him... wouldn't that just make it harder to die when the time finally came for him to?
If Aston didn't want to suffer, wasn't it smarter to deny himself this?
Takaki took Aston's face in his hands. "You want it again, Aston— right?"
Now, besides the pleasure, there was pain. Those words caused Aston tangible pain somewhere in the region of his chest.
His hand rose between them for a second time. He placed his palm against Takaki's shoulder and pushed slowly, increasing the space between them.
Takaki's face fell. Watching that hurt Aston, too. But Aston said, "Once was enough."
If they did anything else, it would only get worse. Satisfaction might come the more they kept at this. And then it would feel even more terrible when Aston's end came on the battlefield. He understood that, if he understood little more.
Takaki's gaze flicked away from his face. A pang of regret shot through Aston at that, and a piece of him wondered if he might be wrong. If he should allow himself to take more and kiss Takaki again. If one kiss wasn't enough for him and might not ever be.
A groan echoed around the room.
Aston realized belatedly it was his own. And he'd settled his hands onto Takaki's hips before he actually knew what he was doing. But he still managed to rasp, "We can't." His mouth felt parched for more gentle contact. "I can't."
"You can do anything you want, Aston. You can have things like dreams and aspirations. You can have this — because you're part of Tekkadan, now. Do you understand?"
Aston's hands trembled on Takaki's hips. Takaki's arms clasped closer around his neck.
Takaki would really give him this. Aston could take it if he wanted it?
No. No.
Aston shook his head. "I can't do more. I'd only regret it. The kiss just now... it taught me that."
Takaki stayed still a long time, his too-near face unreadable. Aston began to worry whether Takaki understood what he had meant. Or if he'd said something awkward, or wrong, and now Takaki thought poorly of him.
It wasn't that Aston didn't want another kiss with Takaki. It was that he did, and thus he had to decline. If Aston didn't, one day, he would regret it.
That was how all this worked out in the end.
Aston swallowed when Takaki's grip on him faltered. "I'm— I'm sorry," Aston said. "But… do you understand?"
Takaki turned rigid, then relaxed. He smiled again at last — but this time, it looked sad. And it came with a short, empty laugh. "Yes, Aston, I understand. You can't like me the same way I like you… right?"
"Mm." Aston nodded, a little surprised Takaki finally grasped human debris' limits. He wanted to ask, just to check, Do you really understand, or do your words mean something I don't understand? Half the time, I don't even know if I can explain in good words…. That Takaki wasn't protesting any more confused Aston, in that it seemed too unlike him.
But Aston trusted Takaki, so he nodded again. Takaki was smarter than him. Better at understanding emotions. So if Takaki told him that he understood why Aston was rejecting him, especially considering that Aston had started their kiss... then Aston believed him.
He relaxed. The sofa creaked underneath them. He didn't realize — until Takaki grabbed his hands and lifted them — that he still hadn't moved his hands from where they squeezed Takaki's hips.
Slowly, Takaki guided Aston away. He smiled easily again... and then retreated from Aston's lap. "So," Takaki said, standing up. He then reclaimed Aston's teacup. He took it into the kitchen. "I'll walk you out?"
Aston twitched. He curled his hands into twin balls to steady them. But he was slightly astonished.
Takaki always asked if Aston wanted to spend the night. But now Takaki made the decision for him?
It took Aston a long beat to stand up. But he finally did, stomach dropping. He should be relieved, really, that he could finally leave here. Leaving what was he should have done earlier. How silly that now something in him — a weak but niggling voice — so piteously protested against doing it.
He must have been wearing a strange new expression, because Takaki spoke again, more softly.
"It's okay, Aston. I'm not mad. It's just that having you stay here, after a kiss like that..."
Aston grabbed the back of the sofa; the low, thick tone Takaki spoke in did something to his equilibrium so that he needed the balance.
It made Aston dizzy and weak-kneed to reflect again on their kiss. It made Aston want to hear that low voice Takaki spoke in again. Closer.
Takaki said, "I think it's better if you go. I... need some time alone to process this."
Talking. Talking — working to make words — would clear Aston's head faster. He said, "Process this?"
Takaki winced and exclaimed, "Feelings, Aston. Yours and mine, and the differences between them. If I'm honest, I'm still trying to accept that I jumped to conclusions… and they were so wrong. And that I... failed to realize you might be the type to kiss me, if I confessed to you — to find out how you felt about me back." Takaki laughed. It sounded forced. "I probably should have figured you'd do that to test! And that of course, it doesn't mean you might want more. I guess I'm just a bit tired from all the work we've been doing. And so, I want tonight alone to rest… and to make sure I drill it into my thick head now that you aren't interested. I'm sorry that I so misinterpreted you."
Aston rubbed his head at the bubble of words, his cheeks gone red. He got stuck again on reflecting on their kiss. It hadn't been much of a 'test' in the end — more a confirmation of what Aston already knew he liked, yet shouldn't like, and still hated to admit — but if Takaki understood now, there was no sense in explaining that complex 'like,' or his reason for not indulging it again.
"Do you have your coat?" Takaki asked him.
Aston blinked and picked his coat up from on the sofa arm, staring at the iron flower emblazoned on its back, realizing he would have forgotten it there.
Takaki walked to the door, glancing once at his sister and turning the handle so it didn't squeak. He opened the door and gestured Aston out first.
Aston dragged his feet. Then he paused in walking out, struggling to find the right words. "Things won't change between us... right?"
Takaki took a half-step back. But in another moment, he closed his open mouth. The twinkle in his eyes when he replied a beat later was real; Aston could tell when Takaki was genuine from so much time spent watching him. "No," Takaki said, "nothing will change. I really enjoy being around you. So does Fuka. I'll get over this. We don't have to change anything if you don't want to, Aston."
Aston nodded silently.
Then Takaki walked him outside.
The days passed in hazes of sweat, work, and worry. Takaki stayed true to his word. Nothing changed — even once new war began.
And Aston? He stayed true to his own intentions. He did not once kiss Takaki again. Not even when they bunked up alone in their tent, and part of Aston burned — ached — to.
But by the time he was dying inside the mobile suit he'd come to know, it finally occurred to him that Takaki still didn't understand. Takaki didn't understand what Aston had meant when Aston had said he would only regret doing something like kissing Takaki again.
If Takaki had understood, he wouldn't be trying to climb between warped sheets of metal right now, reaching his hand out for Aston. Takaki wouldn't be straining to rescue him. He wouldn't be crying like that. He wouldn't be yelling protests. He would just simply understand that this was natural and couldn't be avoided — because Aston was human debris who had started having — and then tolerated — feelings. What other fate for Aston was there?
Aston tried hard to make words. He tried to explain it again. But he still didn't think it reached home in quite the way he wished it to. And now he was feeling... as if he drifted.
He realized he'd been wrong about something, too. Even the one kiss Aston regretted, now — never mind what it might have done to him in his death throes if he had kissed Takaki more times than that.
He couldn't hear Takaki's voice any more. It hurt to see Takaki cry instead of smile. But that image was fading, too. Everything faded in Aston's bloodshot eyes, and then in his other faltering senses — except for Aston's lingering thoughts. They remained, loud. Desperate. Strong.
He wished Takaki could hear them.
This is painful for me... because of how desperately I still want you. That kiss... I shouldn't have done it. It tied me to you, to here, to life... and so now I'm afraid to die.
I want to stay, Takaki. If I had killed my soul instead, like all the other debris do... if I had refused to feel anything for you... or for anyone in Tekkadan...
He heard Takaki call his name, through what miracle at that point, he didn't know. Sound felt like it reached him through a wall. How was it even Takaki's cries of distress were so dulcet and heartwarming now? Ah, damn it. Aston was about to die. Soon maybe it wouldn't hurt anymore, though, because it'd finally be over.
Then would Takaki understand?
If I had never met you, Aston thought, then I could have gone quietly, and not regretted leaving you.
Aston began to slip into darkness. But through cracked lips, before he let go of the world — and despite everything he knew he regretted — he said to Takaki, "Thank you."
Thank you for keeping me close by your side, even when I only kept on trying to leave.