Setting: Post-Game
PoV: Toya
Toya has never believed in fairytales.
They are pretty words, based on pretty dreams with pretty endings. But pretty things tend not to have substance, and he finds them hollow and empty of anything but filling children's minds with wishful thinking. In reality things are rarely so easy, so pretty. In his reality, things are much grittier, harder, darker. Rarely does anything have happy endings.
He is no exception either. When Sho asks if he thinks a relationship could work between them, he doesn't give the answer Sho wants to hear. For now, perhaps. But it will not have a happy ending.
When Sho hears that, he needs time to think. Against Toya's expectations he comes back and still wants to try, even if he does not promise forever like the storybooks say. Eventually Toya agrees to it as well, not because he changes his mind but because he finds himself wanting to be with Sho too, even if it isn't sane.
It is difficult, Gods it is difficult. He bears the brunt of it alone without Sho's knowledge, because he knows Sho does not mean any harm despite what his grandfather thinks. He does not want to involve Sho in the webs of breeding and class and social status, does not want to watch Sho be torn down into pieces deemed unworthy in front of him. This is not sane, his grandfather tells him, and he knows it without having to be told. This relationship is pointless, meaningless.
And yet, the moments he shares with Sho alone in their small apartment are anything but meaningless. There are no servants to wait on them, no hands to do the chores he did not know existed until now, no one around to watch his every move. There are no elaborate ball parties, no fancy dinners or clothes or manners, no magic or adventure like the ones in fairytales. But there is peace, a comfortable type of silence that exists between them while Sho washes the dishes and he dries them. There is warmth, the type he finds when he falls asleep with Sho next to him, just a touch away. There is belonging, the type he learns exists not where his real house is, but where Sho is waiting to welcome him home after a long day.
He learns this is happiness, not the fancy type the fairytales talk about but a simple kind that can be found in quiet and peaceful moments. He learns he is not yet hardened enough to be immune to it, and the warmth seeps into his heart and fills the emptiness inside of him, makes him whole. He learns he is terrified of happiness.
There are no happy endings, and he is no exception. The problem with happiness is that it is not permanent, and now that he is accustomed to happiness the thought of losing it is terrifying beyond belief. He thinks about how things used to be like and he doubts he can ever step back there again, not without longing and pain and regret. He sits next to Sho on the couch and thinks about how much time he has left to savour this moment together before they will have to part. He has never been so afraid of anything in his life.
"Do you believe in happy endings?" He asks Sho once, right in the middle of watching a TV show together at two in the morning, because Sho can't sleep and Toya doesn't mind keeping him company. The TV show is hardly worth their attention, as expected of a program shown at an hour where barely anyone is awake to see it.
Sho pauses, and for a moment Toya wonders if he is actually enjoying the show they are watching. His eyes are still fixed on the TV, but he words his answer carefully.
"If you mean happy endings like the ones in children's books, then no."
Of course. Toya does not expect a different answer. Sho is far too sensible and practical to believe in childish things. Sho has given him the answer he is expecting, and yet Toya can't help but wonder why he feels so disappointed in being right.
"But I believe in compromises. A way to work things out for the better." Sho's voice cut into Toya's thoughts just when he thinks he heard the full answer. "There are no permanent endings written out of our control."
Toya glances over at Sho and meets his clear eyes. It has been a while since The Pillar, and he has nearly forgotten this side of his lover. Sho is a person who can see ahead, someone who sees the future, but instead of accepting the fate shown to him he only sees what he can change. He looks into Sho's eyes and sees the willpower to change his ending, something that Toya hasn't considered.
No permanence in endings. From anyone else he would have laughed, but because it is Sho he finds himself believing it too.
They settle back against each other to watch the half-forgotten TV show, and he finds Sho's clean scent comforting. For the first time in a while, he feels content.
He still doesn't believe in happy endings, but perhaps it isn't wrong to hope for a better one, no matter how difficult it may be.