Hirato has sinned irredeemably. He realized it even while shoving Akari aside as Varuga attacked.
Indigo irises appraise the doctor's now-battered form. Monsters didn't break his arm or precipitate the collection of abrasions visible through shredded clothes. No, these injuries are resultant of Hirato's unintended forcefulness.
Contrition proves impotent against longing, however, and moonlight finds the brunet exploring porcelain skin with exceeding care. His hand ghosts along Akari's arm, avoiding his cast and interlacing their fingers—effectively immobilizing the limb in order to prevent discomfort. He's stilled by a sharp inhale. The blond's pleasure typically resides along the razor's edge of pain, but this is different. Hirato extricates himself before things escalate. Perhaps desire yields to guilt after all.
"What's wrong?" Akari inquires.
"We should stop." …before I break you, the captain supplies mentally.
"I'm fine."
"You mistake me. We should stop."
It's not novel—ending a physical relationship so abruptly. Lovers have fumed, cursed, and negotiated. Hirato's equanimity obtained through everything. But Akari isn't a lover; he's a beloved. Important. Singular. Deserving of sacrifice.
The researcher doesn't rage or bicker like so many others; he only nods impassively. After wordlessly straightening his clothing, he leaves.
Weeks later, Circus' second captain receives an order from Bizante: You will personally provide security for Research Tower's expedition to Niji Forest per Akari's request. Compliance is mandatory.
"That manipulative bastard." Hirato sighs resignedly. "I must be a terrible influence."
They remain silent en route. With both teams in tow, meaningful conversation is impossible. Anyway, the doctor is thoroughly captivated by the view—like every caged bird, he loves to fly. Once, the commander endeavored in all ways to keep the blond's head in the clouds. Now, he smothers a sudden urge to take Akari's hand, recognizing that he's forfeited the right.
After landing, Akari separates from his subordinates. Ever dutiful, Hirato follows suit. He approaches a cliff's edge, its stunning vista almost as breathtaking as the man at his side.
"You're an A-class jerk," Akari says calmly, ruby gaze seeking an imaginary horizon. "An unrepentant manipulator. Frustratingly unmovable. I'd be justified in mangling you." The physician then levels those incredible eyes at him. They're searching, thoughtful. "And dangerous. One push and I'm covered in bruises. I shudder to imagine our… liaisons if you didn't remove your ID beforehand. Furthermore, you would kill without hesitation and dissemble without blinking."
"...you've long known that."
"Indeed. And I know that despite this, I'm safest beside you," Akari states, lobbing the proverbial ball squarely in the brunet's court. "Somewhere in that primitive brain, you know it too. Who else would you trust with my life?"
Several breaths pass.
Not even Tsukitachi, Hirato concludes, and I trust him with mine.
A gloved hand wraps around an uninjured arm, drawing the other close.
"Caught on?" the researcher quips. "Remarkable. Higher-functioning amoeba do exist."
"Leave the teasing to me, hmm?" He does precisely that, skimming affectionate lips along Akari's jaw. "I'm better at it."
Hirato withdraws after a swift kiss and regards the injury in downcast eyes—injury as excruciating as broken bones and scraped flesh.
Never again, he swears. And somewhat selfishly: Not even for your own good.
Fill for the for the following prompt from a real-life friend: "What would it take for Hirato to leave Akari?"
This is the best I could do, Marjanne. You always ask the toughest questions. I hope my answer is sufficient for you and everyone else.
Hey folks, I'm all out of ideas, so if you want more, prompt me. If I can come up with a story, I'll write it.
Also, how come Word word counts don't match those of FF?