No.

No, Heracles cannot be here.

But he is. There is no way around it; Heracles is here, where Kiku has always fainting hoped but is nowhere near ready to find him.

Kiku uncovers his mouth just as his eyes well up. The message sits on the screen, that absurd smiley face taunting him, blurring before him in flame-hot tears of panic and what thinks could ever be anger. But who exactly is he angry at? Heracles for showing up, himself for feeling how he does about it, this entire situation for existing? He doesn't know, and hyperventilation isn't helping him to think. Kiku covers his mouth again in an attempt to even his breathing and fails.

Another message almost makes him choke on the thick air.

CatMan: Kiku? Are you alright?

Alright… Kiku actually laughs that, some manic, strangled sound that takes the place of crying. This is the furthest from alright he has been in years, and the last time he reached a true equilibrium is even further back. This is throwing his already fragile mind into a sick spiral. For once, he does not lie.

SakuraDreams: Why would you do this?

CatMan: It has been months. I thought you would like to see me…

The ellipsis reads as accusation, or guilt. Kiku cannot tell which. He cannot even tell if what Heracles is saying is true. Of course he should want to see him; he loves him. Heracles is his only connection to the world. But him being in Greece was safe. It allowed Kiku to have his cake and eat it to, to be alone as he needed to be and having this person exist in the context of a screen. Heracles is very real now. Kiku is not sure how, or if, he can deal with it.

But, God, he cannot go on like this. He simply cannot pass up what is both that most terrifying and most exciting opportunity of his life.

SakuraDreams: I do.

He has to retype the message twice, as his hands are far from steady. Typing out his address takes at least five times more. Heracles responses with enthusiasm, saying he'll be right there, and Kiku closes out the messenger before he can read it fully. Heracles will be here soon. Soon he will see whom Kiku really is, how he really lives, and inevitably leave, forever. Kiku is allowing his love to approach him when he knows full well this is what will rip it away. He is waiting for his death… this decision is near suicidal.

There is nothing left to do but lower his face to his hands, and cry while he still can.

What has he done?

.

Kiku's heart has turned to a bomb and he is waiting for it to obliterate him. Waiting, he realizes, is the worst thing a ruined person can do to themselves.

He tries to occupy himself by fixing what he can. Kiku changes his dirty shirt, throws away what needs to be, makes up his bed from what could quite possible be the first time. Everything that seemed fine when it was just him looks suddenly unacceptable now that there's going to be someone else.

There is going to be a person here… the thought nearly paralyzes him, but Kiku does not allow it to. There is no time. He is marching his way up to the gallows and his pace is disturbing to even him.

An hour passes, and for a moment Kiku lets himself believe that he's dodged what could be a fatal bullet. Perhaps Heracles has changed his mind. He is a smart man, perhaps he has figured out that saying away is the best for both of them, that the online fantasy is already far better than what the reality ever could be.

Then the doorbell rings – Kiku is far too alarmed that it still works.

And then there is silence. All he has to do is walk ten steps and open that door, and no matter what, his life will change. He will either be twice as alone as before or… he doesn't know. He really, truly, does not know what else could come of this. Who on earth would want anything to do with a person like him?

For a moment Kiku wishes he could take it all back. That he could somehow go back in time and avoid that chat room, avoid finding the one person he felt understood him, avoid falling in love and more than anything avoid this. Depressed comfort must be better than whatever this is – this sheer terror, this heart stopping dread, this hard breath and chest pain.

Right?

Another knock, and Kiku has no choice but to stop thinking for once in his life.

After ten steps are ten miles, Kiku is by the door, trembling, slightly nauseous, and clinging to consciousness about as tightly as he clings to the handle. The metal is cool in his hand, like a knife's blade. He closes his eyes, and then, with the same faith it would take to jump from a cliff to a kiddy pool, pushes it open.

The cool air hits his face, the warm sun against his skin. Kiku starts by opening his eyes to the floor. There is the same walkway he has seen a million times, only there is someone standing there now. Kiku's bones lock. He has envisioned this moment over and over again in his own mind, and now that it's happening, he cannot even look up and begin it. Kiku quite literally cannot move. He is stuck in his own mind and his body is no longer his own.

Then, a voice.

"Kiku?" It is soft, tired, smooth. Kiku has never heard it before but it still strikes him as familiar. "Oh my gosh… you are tiny."

This voice does not scare him like the others, and for just a moment, it allows Kiku to breathe. He stops again. Then, he lifts his head, blinks away his tears, and sees him for the first time.

Everything is the same – the green eyes, the sharp features, the long hair and crumpled white shirt and soft smile… the same immediate feeling of mixed relief, anxiety, and comfort. Through it, Kiku found his voice.

"Heracles," he says slowly, carefully, still trying to believe it. "You… are here."

"Yes." Heracles smiles, and it is even more breathtaking in person. "I had a few days off… and, well, I could not think of a better way to spend them."

He talks the way he types… Slow, thought out, wonderful. His voice is all he imagined and then some. This person he has been talking to… he is real. Kiku cannot believe it. He cannot grasp it; it will not click. He speaks through this trancelike state, too lost to be scared. "You are real."

Heracles tilts his head, chuckles lightly, and says, "Well, of course."

Repetition is necessary. "You… are real." Kiku barely hears himself. They still have not moved from the doorway, and he is stuck in cruel, endless, dreamlike limbo. No amount of words is enough. At a lost, mind clouded, Kiku looks up again and says something he never thought he would. "May I hug you?"

Another deep chuckle. "Of course, kitten."

A second later, Kiku is surrounded by strong arms, by warmth, by the faint scent of sawdust and sunshine. Kiku finally allows himself to believe, to feel, and everything explodes. He goes from frozen to gripping Heracles's shirt desperately, to burying his head in his chest, to breathing in and holding tighter and wondering why he cannot catch his breath.

Heracles is so… warm. That is the only way to describe it. Kiku cannot remember the last time he has truly been warm, truly felt this safe, this alive. Warm, strong hands grip Kiku's shoulder and he feels like crying, just as he realizes he already is. He cries because he is scared, he is happy, he is overwhelmed, because the last time he so much as touched someone was an eternity ago, because he is warm.

By God, this is real.

"Kiku?" Heracles sounds frantic, but he thankfully does not let go. Kiku could not take it if he let go. "Are you alright?"

Kiku nods, unable to speak, and realizes he is actually afraid to let go. "Yes," he manages to say. For the first time, he is not lying. His hands shake as he grips Heracles's shirt harder and repeats, "Yes."

Heracles rubs his shoulder, so gently it almost reads as fear. "Are you sure?"

Another indulgent seconds ticks by before Kiku accepts that he must get a grip on himself. With almost painful reluctance, he lets go and takes a step back, his eyes trained downward as mania turns to embarrassment. "I am fine," he says quietly.

Heracles must sense it. "I am sorry to show up so abruptly," he says. "I just really wanted to meet you. I thought you would feel the same… perhaps I was wrong."

"No," says Kiku immediately, meaning it. His heart pounds, and he finds himself wishing for a keyboard to be in front of him, wishing he could say something else. But the words are stuck in his throat.

When Heracles peers over his shoulder, it certainly does not help his heart to slow. "Your apartment is… nice," he says, that horrendous infliction hanging on his words that makes it clear to even Kiku he is only being polite. "Do you live here all alone?"

Kiku can do nothing but nod.

"Oh. That's nice." There is that infliction again. "I live alone as well."

Kiku begs himself to look up, but he is simply unable. "Oh," he says, voice cracking. He needs to say something, needs to hold this conversation, but he can't, and he isn't sure why he thought, even briefly, that this would go any differently. The moment of magic is gone and cruel reality is back.

"Hopefully I will not interrupt your work schedule."

That certainly is not something to worry about, Kiku muses to himself rather grimly. Come to think of it, he has no idea how he has managed to keep his unemployment from Heracles this long. It is blatantly obvious to everyone else what he is– a NEET, a hikikomori, a low life, a waste of space and a burden on Japan. To Heracles he must be more… or at least he was, before this moment. Kiku's insides turn to painful knots, and he cannot respond. So he shakes his head.

Heracles's stare feels heated. "You seem nervous."

Another whisper. "Oh," says Kiku as his heart plummets to his feet. He had been hoping it would not be noticeable so soon. But it is, apparently, and he can almost hear the ticking countdown starting. "I… suppose."

A long, introspective silence falls. Kiku can tell it is introspective because he expects nothing less of Heracles… the man is far smarter than he lets on, and his perception is shockingly sharp. He only continues to prove it. "Kiku…" he says, and then gives a low, contemplative hum. "I'm getting the feeling that you do not go out much."

"No." Kiku wonders how he can justify this, make it sound at all better than it is, but when he realizes that simply isn't possible, he feels something break, and it all spills out at once. "I do not go out… at all. The last time I spoke to someone was…" In the midst of this breakthrough, Kiku must stop and think. It has been so long he cannot even remember.

Then, suddenly, he does remember. The last person was his Chinese half-brother, Yao. Yao had said he was worried about him and he needed help. Kiku told him to get out, leave him alone, and never come back. Since that moment, Yao has respected that order. A sudden pain in Kiku's stomach nearly paralyzes him. "…a year ago," he finishes, quietly.

"Wow," it is a breath, almost more a sound of understanding than a word. Heracles does not sound particularly surprised, nor repulsed, nor sympathetic… Kiku cannot tell what he is feeling and it only makes he himself feel worse.

"If you would like to go…" Kiku's voice cracks again – he is still not used to speaking so much. He clears his throat and continues. "I would understand."

"But…" A confused pause. "Why would I do that?"

Drained already, Kiku shrugs.

"I do not want to leave." Kiku feels a hand on his shoulder, large and comforting and so, so warm. "I am finally getting to meet the man I love."

Love… Kiku had no idea that word spoken aloud would mean so much more than it did flashing on a screen. The simple words shoots into his heart like an arrow, and spreads to his blood, his lungs, filling him with joy and relief and confusion alike. "You still feel that way?" he asks, a bit pathetically. He cannot help it. He is just so surprised…

"Of course. Nothing has changed." Heracles says it like he was just asked if the sky is blue, or water is wet. "I only wish you would look at me."

It takes a Herculean effort, like pushing a boulder up a hill again and again, but slowly, carefully, Kiku does. He lifts his chin, blinks, and looks straight into Heracles's eyes. He still cannot believe they are this green. They are just like the pictures but brighter, wiser, kinder, and in some sickly pretentious way Kiku feels like his soft green gaze believes in him, unlike anything ever had in his life.

"See? This is not too hard." Heracles holds eye contact like it's a precious gem, and he seems to give it such high importance that Kiku does not dare break it. He continues to look at him, even as Heracles tucks a piece of hair behind Kiku's ear, even as he leans down, even as his whispers, evenly, "I have always wanted to kiss you." And then, before it sinks in, "May I?"

Kiku nods even as his blood stops moving in his veins. Then, he cannot see Heracles's eyes… or anything else.

Today is a day for firsts. Their first time meeting, Kiku's first time speaking to someone in what feels like a lifetime… and now, deep into his twenties, long after he has given up on ever having such experiences, his first kiss.

Kiku cannot help but freeze at the initial touch of his lips. Heracles is obviously experienced, and Kiku knows it is obvious that he is not. He does not know what to do, how to move, where to put his hands or even how to feel. But Heracles is guiding and gentle. His kiss is even warmer than the rest of him, and Kiku gets lost in it, melts into it. He forgets he is scared beyond believe, forgets he was ever cold.

To Heracles, it is likely a simple kiss. To Kiku it is a sign that something is finally, finally changing, for once in his life.

When they part there is silence again, and Kiku cannot look at Heracles any longer. Flushed, smiling, and bent on hiding it, he glances over his shoulder and attempts a distraction. "You know, I got a cat a few days ago." He calls Eros's name, and she comes scampering up. Heracles's eyes go wide.

"Everyone should have a cat." Heracles stoops down without hesitation and rubs Eros behind the ears. She leant against his hand immediately, and Kiku smiles for the first time that day. There is something about seeing this man, all muscle and strength, handle a cat as gently as a child that allows Kiku to truly trust him.

"She certainly makes things less lonely," Kiku says, and then quickly shuts his mouth. He waits for the laughter, or at least for the horrid silence to return.

But Heracles only says, "Yes, I know what you mean."

Words come easier, as Kiku is only staring down at Heracles's back. "How so?"

"I am also alone quite a bit." Heracles says it as if it is normal, as if it is acceptable, as if Kiku's shame is simply unnecessary. "I have preferred cats to people since I was very young. They are much easier to get along with, in all honesty." A pause. "But I do understand the loneliness."

And it clicks – Heracles is no god, no fantasy. He is just as human as Kiku is. He lets out a soft "Oh;" partly an answer, partly a realization.

"That is why it was such a relief to find you, Kiku." Heracles picks Eros up and looks at her, as if she is whom the words are for. Kiku wonders if Heracles is not turning around for the same reason Kiku is hoping he won't. "Getting myself here was… difficult, but well worth it."

"Oh," says Kiku again. The difference in levels suddenly feels awkward, unnecessary, so Kiku sits beside him. The gap between them is wide enough to be comfortable but narrow enough to be intimate. "Well, thank you."

Heracles turns, though not fully. "Why are you thanking me?"

Kiku scratches Eros behind the ear Heracles is not petting. This cat might as well be the red string connecting them. "For getting here, despite it all."

"Oh." Heracles almost laughs. "I did not think you were too happy about it."

"No, I was…" Kiku's hand tenses, and he takes care not to hurt the cat, "…scared," he whispers.

"That's alright." Then, Heracles does the unthinkable – he gives Eros a last pat on the head, and then waves her away. "We all get scared. What matters is what you do with it."

Heracles holds out his hand, and Kiku hesitates to take it. But the wall between them breaks, and Kiku clings to him like a lifeline, or a beautiful dream.

His chest is like a pillow.

.

For years, Kiku has been stuck in a constant cycle of waiting. Waiting for hope, waiting for confidence, waiting for change, waiting to be happy. Those wounds are still open and bleeding, and it will take more than a warm touch to heal them.

But at least Kiku has stopped waiting.

Heracles sleeps a lot, Kiku muses to himself as he presses a light kiss to his closed eyelid. This must be the third time today. But Kiku does not mind, as Heracles is beautiful when he sleeps. It is as if someone has taken all the peace Kiku has been missing from his life and converted it into human form. Kiku can breathe, finally, though he only sighs in contentment.

Somehow, it is enough to wake Heracles. "Oh no," he says, his voice low and scratchy from sleep, his hand lifting to rub his tired eyes. "I fell asleep again."

Kiku smiles, though the bed sheet pulled up to his chin mostly hides it. "That is alright."

"But…" Heracles stifles a yawn. "I don't want to waste any time."

The haze that Kiku has allowed himself to become intoxicated by suddenly dissipates. Now, he is forced to remember that Heracles will not be here forever. He is a Band-Aid on a bullet wound, a fading painkiller, a façade. "I see," says Kiku through a thick throat.

"I don't want to leave."

Kiku blinks… he still has trouble believing it. But Heracles has one hand in Kiku's hair, another on his back, and his strong, warm touch helps a bit. Just a bit. He looks at Heracles and tries to memorize the details – the straight slope of his nose, the glow of his skin in the evening light, his tired, contemplative, warm gaze. He wants to look at him forever.

"I do not want you to leave, either," he admits.

Heracles responds by kissing his nose, and then changes the subject like one would dodge a bullet. "What got you here, Kiku?"

Kiku blinks. "Pardon?"

"Here," Heracles runs a hand across the sheets, then lifts it and waves, lethargically, at the rest of the apartment.

"Oh." Kiku suddenly understands – Heracles wants to know how he ended up so isolated. He tries to think back, tries to pinpoint the moment the world disappeared, but finds nothing. Things have been this way for as long as he can remember. "It was… a progression, I suppose." He shrugs. "Perhaps I just enjoy being alone." It is a lie, but what is the truth?

Heracles grins, almost patronizing, perhaps sympathetic, perhaps in understanding… Kiku cannot even tell. He is still working on that. "Whosoever is delighted in solitude is either a wild beast or a god."

There he goes again with those quotes. Kiku feels like he should be upset, but he is smiling. Only Heracles would weave such things into casual conversation. "I feel like I cannot win, here."

Heracles frowns guiltily. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to interrogate you."

"It is fine," says Kiku, honestly unaffected. He struggles to keep his eyes open and speaks without barriers. "Maybe I am simply not fit for people."

Heracles furrows his brow. "Nonsense," he says. "You are wonderful."

"What a silly thing to say…" Kiku honestly does not understand. "You barely know me." He does not know how true that is, as this is the same man he has spent many hours waiting till dawn to speak to and many months loving, but laying here next to him feels different… very different. Somehow.

"I know you were in the photography club in high school," says Heracles easily. "I know your favorite color is blue, and you adore spring because that is when the flowers bloom. You especially like the cherry blossoms. You prefer sake over wine, and when you were young, you had a fluffy white dog named Pochi and played too many video games." Heracles smiles, visibly proud of himself, and Kiku looks away. All of it is true, and for some odd reason that scares him. "I would like to think I know you quite well."

Kiku tries to think of a rebuttal but then wonders why he needs one. "I suppose you are right."

Heracles sighs softly, and begins to trace circles against Kiku's back. His touch is electric. Kiku blushes, faintly embarrassed, but he is too content to allow it to bother him. "I really do love you." Heracles says it so easily.

There it is again, out of nowhere, just like every other time. The words are a punch in the chest and a kiss on the cheek at the same time. "I love you too." The words run together in a whisper, too fast, too quiet to be felt. Kiku wishes he could type it.

A gust of wind is all that breaks up the silence. Kiku concentrates on Heracles's breath against his neck, on his heartbeat beneath his fingertips, on this beautiful warmth and comfort. He tries to forget all of this will be gone soon. What a beautiful couple of days this has been… and they have flown by like seconds. Kiku swallows, hard. If things go back to how they were, he is not sure what he will do, or how long he will last.

"Can I ask you something?" says Heracles suddenly.

"Sure." Kiku immediately tenses… he hates that question.

"How attached are you to this place?"

Anxiety turns to confusion. "This place? My apartment?"

"Well, yes, but… I am talking about the bigger picture." Heracles takes a breath, as if unwilling to continue. He still looks Kiku in the eye as he continues. "How attached are you to… Japan, Kiku?"

Kiku is confused by the question, but what truly confuses him is that he does not know the answer. "I have lived here all my life," he says as his mind whirs. He has lived here all his life, he knows nothing else… but does he have a connection to it? Kiku remembers how Heracles would rave about Greece, about the architecture and history and vast, blue seas. Kiku only ever told him about the cherry blossoms. "I am not sure," he finishes finally.

"This will sound mad." Heracles takes a deep, shaking breath. "But I believe I have an idea."

Kiku looks up from Heracles's chest. No, certainly he cannot be saying… "What do you mean, Heracles?"

Heracles grasps for Kiku's hand and clutches it tightly. "Come home with me."

"What?" Kiku stares, incredulous, but knows Heracles is serious. He is a dreamer, an idealist. It is just like him to ask something like this. "How on earth…"

"Didn't you say you have always wanted to see Greece?" Heracles smiles, the tightness of lips implying he knows just how crazy this sounds. But he presses on. "Sometimes it is necessary to simply start over."

Starting over… it does not sound terrible. Kiku can tell himself all he wants that he will change, that he has the will, that when Heracles leaves things will somehow be better than how they were before he came. But Kiku knows all of this is a lie. After years of internal abuse, he is not strong enough. He needs a push… maybe a shove.

"This is so extreme," Kiku forces out.

Heracles pauses, frowns. "I am sorry, I should not have asked. That was selfish."

"Not… really, no." Kiku can call this a lot of things but selfish is not one of them. Starting a life with this man, someone he mostly knows through typed words and pixelated photographs, is reckless. But rooting himself to an apartment is also reckless, just in a quieter, sadder, hopeless kind of way. Kiku's mind spins. "It is just a lot to think about."

"You do not have to decide right now." Heracles presses his forehead to Kiku's, closes his eyes, and says, quietly, "Sleep on it."

Kiku nods… it is all he can do. His heart pounds, his thoughts race. There is only chaos beneath his skin. To silence the storm, Kiku lifts his chin and parts his lips, slightly, so slightly, the confidence he needs to continue still building within him. Thankfully, Heracles has always had that confidence. He brings their lips together with careless fluidity, and Kiku is swept away by it, like flotsam to ocean.

He could get used to being kissed like this – gently, yet so impassioned, as if he is both the most fragile and the most precious thing in this man's eyes. Maybe he is. Such a thing is hard to believe, but Kiku suspects he will have time to figure it out.

After all, he is tired of waiting.

The End… is only the beginning!

Note: NEET - a Japanese term meaning "Not seeking Education, Employment, or Training."

Thank you everyone for reading!