"Zashi."
"Nem."
"You know I gotta say it." Groaning, Hizashi lifted his hand up to rub at his face with his hand over his eyes. Blocking the view of the dark-haired woman before him when she sighed out with a rustle of the bag draped over her arm being set down on the counter along with the tea, she brought him and her coffee with a light thud. Hands then touched his forearms gently. "Zashi, you look like absolute shit. You look like something died and came back to life. What's wrong, babes?"
Rubbing at his eyes fiercely, he peeked out from beneath his hand at the woman. How did he explain this? How did he tell this woman what he'd done Thursday night? How did he say it without the lump in his throat building up? Dropping his hand from his face with his glasses falling back into place, he leaned against the counter when Nemuri turned to grab his chai tea. Pushing it into his hand, he fiddled with the cover. "I went out drinking Thursday, remember?"
"Of course I do! But that doesn't explain why you look like you're five seconds away from falling apart on me? Nor does it explain why you look like a half-dead zombie. What happened? Did something happen with your coworkers? Did something happen when you got home? Wasn't Shouta supposed to help you before leaving?" He winced at the black-haired man's name instinctively when he felt heat gathering in the back of his neck as he looked away. "Did something happen with Shouta?"
Clenching his jaw briefly, he swallowed before licking his lips. Lifting his chai tea up to sip at the spicy tasting tea to buy himself some time, he tried to ignore the swollen feeling of his eyes as the tea poured into his sensitive stomach. He had tried to keep his hang over yesterday from affecting his work. From impacting his schedule but Saturday proved to be the roughest day by far for him. Two long days. "I kissed Shouta Thursday night. He left and I puked my fucking guts out after."
"Oh, Zashi, why didn't you tell me last night when I asked you yesterday how everything went?" He kept his gaze pointed down when he put the chai tea down with his hands trembling lightly. How could he admit it to Nemuri when he hardly believed it happened himself? He'd had a damn good cry over it Thursday night and Friday night before his show. His eyes felt itchy, swollen, when Nemuri's arms were sliding around his waist. Her head pressing to his shoulder when he blinked.
And God help him, he couldn't stop himself from curling his arms around Nemuri as he lowered his head down to bury into her shoulder. Letting out a shuddering breath, he inhaled through his nose dragging the floral, rose scent of her perfume down into his lungs. He always liked that Nemuri smelled floral. Like roses. It was comforting and familiar and all that he needed right now. It was like hugging his mother. "I don't know. I wanna pretend it never happened because he ran off. Like I'm diseased or something. I was embarrassed."
"You're not diseased, Hizashi, and it's not your fault that you want to pretend it didn't happen. Who the hell does that?" Her voice was muffled into his shoulder as he fought off that tremble to his lip the best he could as he hugged the woman tighter who tightened her arms around him in return. Hands sliding along his back with her head resting on his shoulder. "Do you want me to kick his ass? No, you know what? I'll kick his fucking ass to Timbuctoo when I get my hands on him!"
"No! No, I'm fine!" Pulling back from her shoulder, he found a frown pinching at pink lips with sky-blue eyes flicking over his face. He tightened his arms around her waist when he sighed out with hands continuing to slide over his back comfortingly. Gently. God, he loves Nemuri. Loves her so much. "I don't need you to kick anyone's ass, Nem. I won't lie, having the guy you like kiss you then run off like that hurts. It hurts a fucking lot, but I have to talk to him about this."
"I personally don't believe you should "talk" to him, Zashi. You need to scream at him; rage and scream at him for that! Because if Oboro pulled that shit on me? Well, I'd for sure be angry! I don't know if I could forgive him and that's what makes you a bigger person." Hands soothed over his back with hands then kneading at the small of it gently when he raised a hand up to caress those dark purple locks. "If you need back up, I'm right here. You know that right? I'll always support you, Zashi."
"Thank you, Nem. I'll kick his ass with you in mind when I do talk to him, okay? Is that good enough for you?" A grin curled over pink lips when Nemuri squeezed her arms around him. It felt nice being hugged by this sweet smelling woman when he sighed out. Why did he have to be attracted to this frustrating man? A stoic man who'd made him cry rather than a woman who would be kind to him? Did it matter what gender? "To be fair, he had his reasons. I haven't told him I'm trans yet anyways so if this is the end-"
"It's not! I can adamantly tell you that this is not the end of whatever weird tension you have with Shouta!" Nemuri lightly patted his back then when she sighed out with her dark lashes fluttering when she rolled her eyes. Then the sharp, pointed look given to him, arms squeezed his waist. "You both are acting like teenagers. Regardless of his reasons, you don't just run away without saying anything to someone you just kissed! Zashi, my love, you need firmer boundaries with this man."
"Boundaries are hard!" He whined when he got a sharp slap on his lower back to which he jutted his lower lip out in a pout at the dark-haired woman who merely scowled at him. Sky-blue eyes slit with dark lashes fluttering in a blink as her glasses slipped down her nose slightly. It had him sighing when he squeezed her to his chest where he slid his hand over her hair again. "Fine, fine! When I talk to Shouta, whenever that may be, I'll put up firm boundaries. Besides it's time for that trans talk anyways."
"Whenever that may be? Have you been avoiding him? Hizashi Yamada, have you been avoiding him?" He looked down with his lips parting silently, but the words clogged in his throat when Nemuri stared at him. Her face changing into one of surprise. Shock. As if there was something he was missing when he blinked at the woman who slapped his back. "Oh my god, you are! You totally are! Hizashi, what are you doing? Why are you the one avoiding him?"
"I can't look at him right, Nem! I can't even talk to him! How can I? He rejected me just by running out of the house after kissing me! He didn't even text to say it was a drunken mistake! I got nothing! So, excuse me for not wanting to talk to him or see him at the moment!" He hated how defensive he sounded when he let out a slow sigh with his gaze flicking up to Nemuri. "How do I talk to him again after that, Nem? He practically broke my heart! How do I talk to that man?"
"Oh, Zashi, come here." He was tugged forward again to which he happily bent down to bury his face into her shoulder where he inhaled that floral rose perfume again. Hands sliding over his back with one lifting up to caress his hair gently with Nemuri clicking her tongue gently. Holding him tightly as she could as he adored the feel of her curves against his. A curvaceous frame that fit perfectly in his arms. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you. It's just- It's not you. "
"I know. I just don't know what to say to him. Do I apologize? Do I beg for his forgiveness over that? Or do I just let this be the end? I haven't looked or talked to him properly all day yesterday and I can't talk to him today. What if he thinks I hate him now? It's only been two days but I just- I can't. I can't look him in the face and not feel hurt, Nem." Mumbling into her shoulder, hands slid over his back and hair again in another caress when Nemuri sighed out softly.
"I know, Zashi. I know. And you don't gotta see or talk to him until you're ready just know that, okay? But it seems like you have a big talk ahead of you with that man. You're gonna be talking to him for quite a while, you know that? So, I'd suggest that you begin getting all your ducks in a row, babes." It felt good. Having hands sliding over his hair like that which had his lashes fluttering down onto his cheeks. He nuzzled his face into her shoulder when he got another sigh from the woman.
"I'm a mess, aren't I?" He mumbled into her shoulder again when arms tightened around him with a squeeze that had his heart jumping in his chest. Clinging onto her with her sweet, rose scent clinging onto her that was oh so familiar to him after the years upon years of her wearing it. It was nice. Familiar. It made admitting it all out loud strangely easier to bear when a hand slid over his hair in a caress with Nemuri clicking her tongue at him.
"You are. But I love you regardless, Hizashi Yamada, even if you are the hottest mess I've ever seen in my life!" Arms squeezed him when she then pulled back and he straightened up with a pout forming on his lips when he met those sky-blue eyes of hers. There was a pout on her own pink lips with arms sliding from around him as hands gripped his upper arms. Rubbing at him before squeezing firmly at his biceps. "You're going to figure this out, Zashi. I know that you are, it's just a matter of doing."
Sighing out himself as he leaned back against the counter, the sound of Oboro chattering with Hitoshi and Izuku was loud. Carrying to them effortlessly when he fought the urge to groan when he let his pout drop away from his lips. He knew that Nemuri was right; it was about doing. He needed to have a very long, very lengthy talk with Shouta but how did he find the strength to do so? How could he when he can't even face him? "Do you really think I can do this, Nem?"
"I do. You're a strong, smart man who just needs to figure out what to say first and once you do? You'll be able to sit Shouta down and chew him out for being a dickhead and leaving you like that after kissing you! Hell, I'll even take the kids off of you for when you do it! You deserve to be treated with respect but just know that goes both ways." Hands squeezed at his upper arms with another of those comforting rubs being given when Nemuri smiled softly at him.
Smiling softly at Nemuri, he couldn't help but feel touched. An odd touch that had him reaching up to slide his hands along the woman's forearms gently. Her deep burgundy sweater was bunched up around her elbows allowing for him to touch the warmth of her skin. She was like a beacon of comfort this afternoon it would seem when he squeezed at her wrists gently. "You'd really do that for me? If you keep being so sweet I might think you have a thing for me, Nem!"
"Don't flatter yourself, you know I have a type and sadly, babes, you don't fit that criteria for me." Nemuri swatted then squeezed his upper arms before letting go when he giggled at the woman as she then reached over to grab her drink along with his own. He lifted his cup up to sip at his chai tea when the woman then grinned at him. "Though I can't deny the thought didn't occur to me when we were teens before Oboro and I became a thing but alas, now you have the hots for Shouta."
"I flatter myself all the time! Everyone deserves flattery now and again!" He lifted his cup up again to stick his straw between his lips to pull at the chai tea. Sipping at it happily, he jumped when his phone chimed in his back pocket to which he felt that guilt wash over him. He tightened his grasp on his cup when Nemuri's dark lashes fluttered behind her glasses. Her head tilting before the realization flickered over her face. "Nem-"
"Is that him texting you right now?" He fidgeted before nodding when the woman smacked at his upper arm to which he tightened his grasp on the cup in his hand with a yelp. She then raised her brows at him with a look towards his pocket when he refused to dig into it for his phone. "You know, there's only so long that you can avoid one man. If he's the one reaching out then maybe he has something to say, you know? But I'm not gonna chew you out over it. You're a grown man. You'll know when."
"I just don't know what to say to him yet, you know? I might've been drunk then, yeah, but I knew what I was doing, you know? I knew what I wanted, and I thought he wanted the same thing. He was giving all the signs, but he didn't say yes or no verbally, you know? I thought-" He took a breath then placed his drink down on the counter with his hands fidgeting together. "I thought he wanted it too. And he kissed me like he wanted it too. Am I in the wrong, Nem?"
Sky-blue eyes flicked away from him when Izuku squealed, running across the hallway then up the stairs with Oboro's booming, hearty laugh ringing out to fill the quiet of his home. It was nice. Unbelievably nice having both of them here like this. He found himself smiling softly when Izuku ran upstairs down the hall in a flurry of thudding footsteps when Nemuri sighed out. "There's no knowing if you're in the wrong. But I'd say the sooner you talk to him, Zashi, the better it'll be for the both of you. You can't keep on this way."
"I can't say it's been this way for the whole five months I've known him. Definitely two months since I've actively been crushing on the man but is it better to nip it in the bud now? Is it better to just spill it all out now?" He fidgeted then with his fingers twisting together when he groaned before lifting his hands up to push his glasses up. "I don't know what to do, Nem. I wish I could have someone else make these choices for me, you know? I wish I didn't feel this way."
"Sometimes we can't control how we feel, Zashi. All that matters is what you're going to do about them. You've had this crush for two months? Maybe two months is enough time to know how you feel!" He blinked at the dark-haired woman when she then sighed with a hip cocking out slightly when she swirled her drink. "Two months is a while but if you want to wait longer, Zashi, you can! But I'd say two months is enough to get a somewhat good grasp on where your feelings are going!"
Fidgeting again with his fingers twisting together, he took a slow breath then sighed out. Was two months long enough? Had he liked Shouta this whole time? Or was it really the past two going on three months that it made itself painfully abundant? If he didn't feel that way, then why kiss Shouta? He'd been drunk but he had stated what he wanted. To kiss Shouta and he'd done just that. "Well, it's really two months that's going on three in January. But is that enough time?"
"Well, you'll have known him for six months next month, right? Six months is a long while, Zashi, and three months is definitely not the longest but if you know how you feel then there's no changing that! If you want him why not take him? Why not be with him? If you want this man, why stand in your own way when you both can have a conversation rather than whatever the fuck it is you have now?" Nemuri then took a pull on her coffee when he tugged his fingers apart with a sigh.
"I don't like the sound of that. Like I'm-I'm selfish in taking him, Nem. I want him to be with me too but what if the kiss fucked everything up? I mean, the man doesn't even know I'm trans yet! I haven't had the balls to say a thing so it could all be for naught when he finds out I-I don't have a cock and it'll be the end of it! I just- I don't know what to do!" Leaning back against the counter with his hands coming up into his hair, he sighed out when he glanced over to find Oboro coming down the hallway.
There was a slight smile on his lips before he paused in the doorway with blue eyes flicking between him and Nemuri. As if there was a tension in the air that he couldn't quite feel. He fidgeted when Oboro made his way across the kitchen hesitantly before reaching out to touch Nemuri's waist. Tugging her back a step or two with his hands resting on her waist with a look of worry pinching at his face when those blue eyes met his. "Is everything okay? How's your talk going?"
"Zashi is a mess of complicated emotions, sweetheart. I'm trying to help him unravel them, but he seems to be getting only worked up more and more. Why don't you give it a crack, huh? Before the boys come searching for you?" Nemuri questioned before sticking her straw between pink lips with her head resting back against Oboro's shoulder. They looked unbearably lovely together. They always had. It had him crossing his arms over his chest with a sigh as he pushed up his glasses.
"A mess, huh? Zashi's always felt emotions bigger than anyone, you know that, Nem, so don't be so harsh about it! Is this about Shouta?" Nodding at the blue-haired man, a thoughtful expression flickered over the man's face as the couple began to sway idly while Nemuri sucked at her coffee idly with a hand stroking the back of Oboro's. "Well, I think the basis you gotta work with is that you like him, right? You like Shouta and that's plain to see. And you kissed him on Thursday?"
Heat gathered in the back of his neck. He knew it was common knowledge he'd kissed Shouta, but it still had him tightening his hands into fists as he shoved them into his armpits when he let his gaze flick to the floor. Staring at his feet before lifting his gaze up with his teeth dragging over his lip before sighing out. "Yeah. Yeah, I like Shouta, and I kissed him! This is easy knowledge I've told the both of you! But I-"
"And you liked it?"
"Yes, but-!"
"And you want to kiss him again, don't you?"
"Of course! But I-!"
"Do you want to be with him, Zashi?"
"Yes! But he-!"
"But what? Zashi, you are quite literally standing in your own way about this! You like him and you want to kiss him so what's complicated about that? What's complicated about liking Shouta? Yeah, it might not work out but how about taking one step at a time? Why not start with telling him that you're a trans man? Why not start there?" Nemuri blinked before pulling the straw from between her lips to look up at her husband. Even he felt a little awed as heat tingled in his cheeks.
Oboro was right, wasn't he? The blue-haired man had always been more careful when it came to his words but he could be just as blunt as his wife. Just as blunt as himself. His cheeks burned lightly when he slumped back to the counter with his arms tightening across his chest when he clicked his tongue before sighing out. "Okay. Okay! I'll tell him I'm trans first but I just- Would it be wrong of me to take a few days to myself? I mean, he all but broke my heart running away from me like that! Like I was a-a pervert!"
"That's more than fine! Zashi, you are entitled to your own feelings, you know that, right? You can take a few days to regroup, to not feel so hurt, and then talk to him then do it! There's no law that says you're obligated to talk to him right now! Especially when he did hurt you and I can see that he did." He slid a hand from beneath his arm to push his glasses up when Oboro frowned slightly. "Anyone would feel hurt if they kissed someone and that other person ran off on them like that. I can talk to him if you want?"
"We can both talk to him to see where his head space is, you know? We can do that much for you, Zashi, and we can do it without mentioning you whatsoever." Nemuri swirled her drink with ice hitting off the sides of her cup when she smiled softly at him with that sympathetic expression to her gaze. It had him melting from his stiff set when the couple before him swayed idly. "We can see what's going on with him and then check back with you, yeah? Would you want us to do that?"
Oh, it was tempting. Even if he said no, it's not like they wouldn't talk to Shouta. The man was their best friend too and if they talked then they talked. He just didn't want to be nosey but the idea of Nemuri and Oboro being the bridge between them for a few days was tempting to take the offer. He shifted his weight from his right foot to his left before tightening his arms over his chest. "If you want to, I'd appreciate it! I'd just- I'd like to know what he was thinking because he'd never tell me!"
"We won't disclose anything personal, just so you know, but if it involves you then-"
"Auntie Nemuri! Uncle Oboro! Look at what Dad got us!" The three adults turned to find Hitoshi holding up an action figure while Izuku bounced on his feet while waving an action figure of his own in his hand. Today he was wearing his brace to support his arm which had it cradled to chest. He didn't blame him; the poor kid probably was tired from heaving that cast arm everywhere. "Come play with us! I wanna play with you guys before you leave!"
"I don't think your Dad will say no to playing with you guys, now, will he? Take his mind off of some things, yeah?" Oboro raised his brows at him then with a pointed look when he looked back to his bouncing sons before smiling softly as he pushed off the counter. Grabbing at his drink, Oboro stepped out from behind Nemuri to clap his hand on his shoulder. He knew what Oboro was trying to do. He was giving him an out. To not think about it. "Let's go play, Zashi! We'll talk more about this before we leave, yeah?"
"C'mon, Dad! Let's play!" His smile widened when Hitoshi dashed forward to take his free hand to tug him forward a step. Izuku then bounced on his toes with green curls bouncing lightly in time with his movements before dashing forward, stuffing his toy beneath his arm to grab at Oboro's hand to tug him forward as well. Nemuri chuckled when Hitoshi's wide purple eyes beamed up at him. "I'll even let you use one of my toys, Dad! So come play!"
"Alright, alright, no need to keep begging! Let's go, yeah?" It was so easy to make his sons happy, he swore it. It had the boys beaming up him with delight when small hands tugged at hands with Oboro tight on his heels with Izuku tugging him forward while Hitoshi tugged at his hand. He'd worry about Shouta later. He'd worry about what he was going to do when he saw him face to face. For now, he wanted to play with his sons and forget about it. Just for a bit he'd like to forget. He'd worry about it later.
The quiet thud of his bedroom doors coming together was deafening in the quiet of his bedroom. Hizashi turned on his feet to lean against the doors with a light rattle when he looked down at his socked feet. His sisters always poked fun at his socks but he liked to be expressive with them. Today he wore mistletoe themed socks in the spirit of Christmas coming upon them. Staring down at his feet a moment longer, he let his gaze flick to his phone he had tossed onto the bed.
The screen was black but he knew when he turned it on he would find a text from Shouta. And he wasn't sure he was ready to talk to the black-haired man yet. Not yet. His chest ached at the thought of talking to him; it was the first time in their friendship he found himself reluctant to talk to him. What did he want to do? He knew his talk with Nemuri and Oboro had been helpful if not a bit forceful. Enforcing the idea that it was okay to take his time before talking to Shouta was a relief.
After all, the last thing he wanted was to hurt even more if he reached out while he still felt sour. While he still felt upset about what happened which, according to Nemuri and Oboro, he had all the rights in the world to be upset about. Licking his lips, he dragged his teeth over them before straightening up and pushing off the doors. A bath. He wants to take a bath tonight. Something that will help relax him and get him ready for bed. Then he'd follow it with a nice cup of tea.
Padding across the floor to his dresser, he tugged open the middle drawer where he grabbed the first T-shirt his hands touched. It was an old band T-shirt of his that he'd gotten from his mothers. Tossing it onto the bed, he then opened the bottom drawer to grab at a pair of pajama pants. Moving over to the top left drawer to tug it open and grab a fresh pair of boxers. Dumping the last two items onto the bed, he ignored the sight of his phone as he walked along the foot of his bed only to round the corner of it.
Making his way to the bathroom, he reached down to grab the hem of his sweater. Working it up towards his chest, he bunched it up as he worked his left arm and right out before bunching it up carefully. Tugging it over his head while being mindful of his glasses and hearing aids with locks of hair slipping through the neckline to sway. To tickle his back. He got his shirt up over his head with his hair falling in a heap down his back to which he tossed the sweater into his hamper.
Stepping into his bathroom, he flicked the light on before he made his way across the small space to his shower where he pushed the curtain open. Bending over with a hand braced on the tub wall, he reached for the faucet handle. Tugging at the small button, water burst from the faucet into the tub bottom as he fussed with the hot water setting. Standing upright, he turned on his feet to walk back across the bathroom into his bedroom with a yawn bubbling up his throat.
Swallowing it down, he tugged apart the button of his pants and tugged the zipper down. Wiggling his hips as he pushed at his pants and boxers to get them down his thighs quickly to his knees. Letting them drop in a heap around his ankles, he stepped out of his pants with fingers hooking into his socks to tug them off. He lifted his pants and boxers up to remove his packer from them before tossing his clothing into the hamper.
Placing his packer on the bedside table, he turned on his feet with a shiver racing over him at the cool air attacking his skin. The slap of his feet was deafening over the tiles of his bathroom floor when he made his way back to the tub with his hair swaying against his back ticklishly. He bent over with his hand bracing itself on the edge of the tub when he dipped his fingers under the water. Hissing in a breath, he jerked his hand away at the burning heat of the water.
Then he began to fuss with the cold water knob before sticking his hand under the water again. Feeling it cooling ever so slightly, he fussed with the knobs again until the water was at that perfect heat. Nothing burning hot but nothing like the cool-ish warm he hated. Perfect. He grabbed the stopper which he shoved into the drain as the water gushed into the tub that was beginning to fill with water. He straightened up then padded over to the sink where he opened the cabinets beneath it.
Grabbing at a towel then at the lavender scent of his bath salts. Straightening up, he shut his bathroom door then flipped the lock. The last thing he'd want was for his boys to come bursting into the bathroom looking for him. He'd put them to bed without much fuss from either six-year-old, but it didn't mean they couldn't burst into his bathroom at any given moment. It had him humming softly to himself as he slid the towel from the counter to the closed toilet seat.
Opening the bag of salts which he inhaled. Calming. That's just what he wanted tonight. Nothing helped him sleep better than that lavender and chamomile combo. He'd use the electric kettle, and he'd make a cup of the tea before heading to bed. Watching the tub fill with water, he stuck his hand into the bag of bath salts then sprinkled it into the water as it filled the tub. Humming softly to himself while he did so until he was satisfied with the amount of salt he used before sealing the bag.
Turning to the sink, he opened the cabinet door then tossed it back with the other salts and towels he kept there. A peaceful night was all he wanted after an afternoon filled with lengthy conversations, games of make believe, and cooking. He was tired. Not to mention he had to jump on his grading tomorrow and make sure he had it done for school on Monday. His last week there. It was odd to think these were his final days there, but he was more than eager to return to his life.
To return to merely working at his bookstore. It was a dream he hadn't known he'd been wanting but God if he didn't want it. If he didn't miss it. He sighed out to himself when he leaned forward to swirl his hand through the hot water as he let the tub fill up. Letting it fill a little over halfway before twisting the faucet knobs cutting off the water. He reached up to take his glasses off then placed them on top of his towel before stepping into the tub one foot at a time.
The water lapped at his shins when he then lowered himself down into the water. The heat of the water had him sliding down eagerly into it. He sank down to his shoulders with the water sloshing gently around him. It had him melting with his eyes fluttering shut with a sigh slipping out of him. He rested his head back against the wall while the ends of his hair floated into the water. It was nice. The calming scent of lavender filled the bathroom effortlessly.
It would cling onto him until he took his shower in the morning before going off to work. Work. God, he swore nothing was agonizing than going to work where he had begun to actively avoid Shouta. He'd avoided him successfully all of Friday, had dodged his texts, and threw himself into the segments of his radio show that night. He hadn't answered the few texts given to him over the past handful of hours. Sporadic. As if the black-haired man didn't believe he'd answer.
And he was right. He didn't know what to say to Shouta. Shouta, who had let him kiss him. Shouta, who had ran off like the room was on fire. He'd cried over this man for two days in a row now. Even now, he felt those tears ready to come for him if he thought too long on it. What was he doing? Why did he kiss him? Was it because the desire had become too much for him to withstand? Was it because he had enough of the fantasies about kissing him that he had decided to make it a reality?
What was his end goal in kissing Shouta? Even if the man had held him so tightly he found it hard to breathe, he never said yes. But he hadn't said no. It had him twisted up when he thought too long on it. He had not a clue what Shouta wanted from him that night, but it only stirred up mix signals. Had he been reading those mixed signals wrong? Was Shouta not interested in him? He'd said as such that he didn't know when they were in his office at the store.
The black-haired man had asked if it was okay not to know and he'd said yes. But what did that mean would Halloween have been? If he'd let Shouta kiss him that night? Why was he letting himself get so mixed up by one man? Shouta was his best friend. That much was clear. He was a close friend that he'd gone and fucked up their relationship with. He didn't know what to do with himself when it came to Shouta. When it came down to this tension between them.
Even if talking to Nemuri had felt nice getting it off of his chest it left him aware that he didn't know what to do. Perhaps the first order of business would be to tell Shouta that he was transgender and go from there? He felt wrong not telling Shouta. He felt wrong kissing him. Giving him a false sense of-of something to Shouta if that's what he thought. He wants to be with Shouta. Hell, how long had he been pining for a lover? How long had he been thinking about how nice it would be?
How long did he wish that he could go back to his early twenties when he had lovers from bars with him? Shouta came along right as he was thinking of dipping his toes in the dating pool. Before he'd joined that mom's group on Facebook and made his friends. But did that mean Shouta had to be his lover? No. No, it didn't. He knew very well that he could open the app store and download any app of his choosing. He could find a lover through another app if that were the case.
Find someone else to fascinate himself with if it meant that Shouta would remain his best friend. He'd apologize for the kiss, and they'd be friends again. But he didn't want that. He wants Shouta. There's no one he wants more than Shouta. It was making itself abundantly clear that he wants the black-haired man but what did he do about that? What did he say about it? It had him confused. Had him worried. Shouta didn't even know he was a transgender man so how would this work?
He knew that he might not be the black-haired man's cup of tea, and he was prepared for that. No one had to love him just because he was transgender. No one had to be with him. It was all a matter of preferences and what someone would like in a partner. He himself knew he had a preference for dark hair and eyes. It's what made finding Shouta so attractive so easy. He knew it might be a bit of bias after spending so much time with Shouta but he couldn't imagine being with anyone else.
Was he falling for him? He had not a clue. He didn't know if he was falling for the black-haired man, but he knew he had a horrid crush. One that was growing more serious with each day that passed him by. A crush that did nothing but grow bigger. Stronger. He wants nothing more than to throw his arms around Shouta. He wants the man to sweep him off of his feet and kiss him. Kiss him like he wants him. It was a desire he'd had before but now there was a face.
Now there was a man he could pine and gush over. He had not a clue what he was going to do but he knew he had to do something soon. He can't keep ghosting Shouta like this as it wasn't right. He didn't want to be the type of friend that fucked up then dropped off of the face of the planet. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Shouta even if the black-haired man had hurt him. There was no sense in hurting one another even if he wanted to be pity. Even if he wanted to be a bit vindictive.
He didn't want to really upset Shouta. He knew the black-haired man had to be wracked with guilt over his reaction and honestly? He hoped he was. He hoped Shouta felt guilty. What he did, regardless of his reasons, was awful. He could have said something. Anything. If only to excuse himself to the Uber because the man was waiting for him. Anything would be better than that look of horror on his face before rushing off. Before tearing away from him like he wasn't supposed to enjoy it.
It was a look that he found himself replaying again and again rather than the kisses that he wanted to think about. It was tainted. Ruined. He imagined their first kiss would be something better. Something like what could have been on Halloween night. It tore his heart out of his chest when he'd gone to bed. A sniffling mess after tugging the trash barrel to his bed. He'd been ripped apart by the reaction of Shouta's. Even if he was drunk, he had some serious apologies to make to him.
Some explanations as to why he reacted the way he did. Nemuri had tried coming up with reasons as to why Shouta would have reacted that way. Oboro speculated that maybe Shouta hadn't realized he would go in to do that. That, even though he returned it, that maybe it wasn't horror on his face but surprise. Horror or surprise, it didn't matter, did it? Shouta still broke his heart by running away like that. He ripped it out of his chest by reacting the way that he had. Was it so bad that he had kissed him?
Was it so bad that he'd wanted it too? Or was there some reason he didn't, see? Didn't understand due to his drunken state? He had not a clue but there was nothing that would justify a reaction like that, would there be? He found himself pinching his lips together tightly. He shifted with the water sloshing around him with his fidget. He opened his eyes to look down at the water before him as he sank down lower up to his chin. Mindful not to go too low due to his hearing aids that he'd kept in.
The water lapped just blow his lower lip when his hair floated around him in wet tendrils. Like seaweed as he listened to the quiet lapping of the water around him when he sighed out. He hated feeling petty. He hated feeling good at the thought of Shouta trying to apologize out of guilt. Was he hurt? Yes. Was he upset? Yes. But did that justify his wanting Shouta to feel guilty? For him to feel bad about the situation? He had not a clue, but he didn't like feeling vindictive.
He knew he'd have to talk to the black-haired man eventually. He'd have to do it just to get some peace of mind. So that the black-haired man can make an informed decision before they even thought of going forward. He still didn't know what possessed him Thursday night. He still didn't understand why he had given in so easily. How he could've say that out loud to Shouta. But was it a lie? No. No, he'd been spending nights imaging what it'd be like to kiss Shouta.
What it'd be like to touch those lips. What they'd feel like under his lips. And reality showed him how much better than his fantasies had been. If he had the chance, he wanted nothing more than to kiss him again. And again. His crush on Shouta was only made worse but his heartache kept him from focusing on it. Kept him from thinking on it in the past few days. And he liked to believe he didn't need to focus on his crush when his heart ached from the way Shouta reacted.
God, why had he looked at him like that? Why had he run away like that? It ripped his heart out of his chest, and he knew if he kept ignoring Shouta it would only spell out more problems. Would have him dodging Shouta while they were at work. He had exactly four days left before they all began their winter break and the end of his job. End of his time at the school. He couldn't help finding it a bit melancholic at the thought but he was ready to put it behind him. Return to his little book store.
The water sloshed around him when he lifted his hands up to swirl lazily in the soft smelling water. God, does he love his bath salts. The water lapped at his lip when his knees bent up slightly with a slim reveal of them out of the water. He straightened up slightly allowing the water to lap at his throat rather than at his chin. His lips. He slid his hands along his thighs when he sighed out to himself. What was he going to do with himself? Nemuri was right in that he was a damned mess.
His life was looking more and more like those stressful, insufferable dramas he'd always avoided on the TV. It had him sighing out as his back pressed to the wall with his hands lifting from the water with a light splash. He brought his hands to his chest where he splashed the water up onto his throat beneath his jaw. His hands sliding down his chest to touch his mastectomy scars. He'd never been ashamed. He'd never been scared to live the way he wanted. He hadn't been ashamed in a very long time.
But he was scared at the thought of telling Shouta. However, he had a good support system, didn't he? If it went badly with Shouta, then he had a fall back with friends willing to support him. But the thought that he very well could lose Shouta was enough to rattle him. Was enough to scare him absolutely shitless. But he had to do it. He knew what he had to do but he didn't want to. He wanted to continue on without saying a word but that'd be wrong. He couldn't deceive Shouta for a month more.
And that's what he was doing, wasn't it? He was lying. How could he so effortlessly tell his mom group of friends about his transgender status but when it came to Shouta, he felt scared? He felt ready to retreat into a shell to protect himself. But he knew that Shouta deserved the truth. To make an informed decision. He just wished it didn't scare him so much at the thought of losing Shouta. Leaning against the tub wall, he rubbed at his scars gently before sliding his hands up with a low sigh.
He'd tell him. He swore he would. When he got up the courage to speak to Shouta again there would be a talk. A very big, very long talk that he knew was coming. It had him sighing out at the thought, but it needed to be had. They needed to talk about that unspoken tension. Their kiss. The way that he longed for Shouta to touch him. How he couldn't stop himself from dreaming about those dark eyes. How he longed, wished, and wanted nothing more than to be with him.
That he was a transgender man. Did it count as a confession? He had not a clue, but he was melting. Helpless. How could he not say those things out loud? They were festering in his chest leaving him breathless. He wanted to talk to Shouta right now, but his heartbreak was still fresh. It still ached. His ego had been hit in the worst way possible and he needed time to himself. It needed a few days to heal on its own before he talked to Shouta again. Even if he missed texting him.
Even if he missed talking to him over the phone while he did the dishes. Did the laundry. So much of his life had been wrapped up in Shouta that it felt odd to ignore him. To be the one to avoid him rather than the situation where Shouta had avoided him at work. It had him heartbroken, but he knew there was no changing it. He just needed a few days to himself, and this weekend worked out perfectly to do just that. A small window of time to let him focus on what he wanted to say.
He needed just a few more to gather his bearings and figure out what he wanted to say to Shouta. Did he confess now? Or did he let that crush of his bubble up a little more? He had not a clue what to do but like Nemuri had said, maybe three months was enough to know. Enough to crush on the black-haired man. But he felt odd having to say it out loud. How long had this crush been going on? Was it made abundantly clear Halloween night?
It seemed to be the catalyst in his fascination with this man, wasn't it? Had he been interested in Shouta since the beginning? Yes. He'd been intrigued by the exhausted, tired man that had stood in hsi shop gently bouncing a one-year-old Eri in his arms as she whined and fussed. He'd been intrigued enough that the next time he was in his shop he'd been thrilled. He had jumped at the chance to introduce himself properly. To buy Shouta a meal. To give him his number.
He'd been so eager at the thought of another run in with Shouta even back then. Back before his name. Back before he had come to adore his little daughter. He didn't understand where the fascination kicked in, but it did. The night of his little dinner party had definitely held its spark for him. Had made him aware of how beautiful Shouta was. Was that the catalyst? Or was it Halloween night? Was it something that was slowly building up hill? Or was it just himself getting wrapped up in something?
Believing something was there when it wasn't? He knew that attraction existed. He was a man after all. He believed in attraction at first sight; how could he not? He'd met many people who he found pleasing to the eye or the attraction that flared between them. Had that been the start of all this? His noticing of the exhausted man standing in his shop with a fussing baby? He didn't understand it, but did he need to figure it out? Can't he simply say he'd been riveted by Shouta from the beginning?
Painfully curious about who he was?
About what type of man, he was? Isn't that possible? He dragged his teeth over his bottom lip with the water sloshing when he slid his hands over his chest once more. Then he let them sink back down beneath the soft smelling water with a splash. Sighing out to himself with his head pressing against the wall with tendrils of wet hair clinging to his chest and shoulders. Surely, he could admit out loud that he was attracted to Shouta, couldn't he? Can't he admit out loud he finds him interesting?
Riveting? That he wants to get to know Shouta even more? To find out what makes the man tick? Was that so wrong of him to want those things? There had been more than enough tension filled moments along with himself and Shouta. Enough for him to truly realize just how hot the man made him. Just how that tension ran over his skin and beneath it in a thrumming circuit. How he jumped at the thought of talking to him. How eager he was to see that stubble covered face. To spend time with him.
It could either be that platonic excitement or it could be his crush. It could be both. But if there was one thing, he was sure of, it was that this attraction went both ways. It was like what his mother said in the beginning; that Shouta could find him handsome. Or like Taishiro said that day in the break room that he was a handsome man and Shouta probably knew that. That he was attractive, beautiful, even if he personally couldn't see it. It had him curious on if Shouta did find him attractive.
If he did find him beautiful or handsome. It was an itching desire to know that had him shifting in his bath with the water sloshing gently against his skin. Lapping against the sides of the tub. He never thought he'd live to see the day when he would be letting himself fall into the old role of a lovestruck teenager. It had been a long time since someone made him feel this way. Not even his last boyfriend had managed to do that for him. Had made him feel so intensely like this.
Though to be fair, his ex-boyfriend had been quite a bit older than him, but he'd been spoiled rotten. There had never been a love deeper than adoration or affection. When was the last time he truly felt that he was falling for someone? Was it back when he thought he had a thing for Oboro? Was it for another ex-boyfriend of his? An ex-girlfriend? When was the last time he felt he had a genuine connection to someone? It was hard to recall.
Sliding his hands along his thighs beneath the water, he groaned as the feeling of the bath water beginning to cool around him. A subtle change but one that told him that soon enough he'd need to get out. Then he could get some tea. He sighed out with his hair clinging damply to his shoulders and chest when he looked down at said chest. His nipple piercings catching the light in winks up at him when he slid his hands over his stomach. Stopping mere inches beneath the water. Beneath his scars.
Would Shouta accept him? The least he could do was tell Shouta that he was transgender then let him take the reins. Let him choose what he was going to do with that information. No matter how this turned out, friend or romantic, Shouta should be in the know. After all, what if one day he was over he left his packer out? What if he left a drawer open that showed off the fancy boxers that held his packer? What if Shouta found his transgender pun themed t-shirts hanging in his closet?
What if Nemuri slipped? Or Oboro? It was a matter of time before Shouta found out and he'd rather the black-haired man heard it from him first. Not from someone else. He rubbed his hands into his stomach when it cramped on itself. Nerves? He had not a clue. But he knew that it was inevitable that he said something to Shouta. How long had he been trying to plan this out anyhow? Five months? Four? It was a decent amount of time and here they were going on six months of friendship.
He rubbed at his stomach when he let his head press back against the wall. Just a little longer. There was enough warmth to the bath that he didn't need to worry about getting out yet. To think the month was almost ending. He was almost done with his teaching position. Perhaps it would be better than not seeing Shouta every day. It left him with a sense of entitlement to see his best friend every day. He couldn't get enough of seeing Shouta stalking down the hallways with a goal in mind.
Like a shark. Watching those curls brush over his hair in messy, disheveled manner as his legs moved with brisk strides. How his jaw could clench. The way those dark eyes flashed or the way his nostrils flared. And yet there was the way he looked at the end of the day when they were in the staff room. When Shouta was sitting in his chair massaging his temple with black curls spilling over his shoulders. Black brows squeezed together while he gathered his things.
When he looked more tired than he looked irritated. When he could feel those dark eyes on him when he left for the day. How Shouta always looked so tired was something that worried him. He knew with a one going on two year old was rough but he'd sworn that Shouta looked more tired in recent times. Thursday night was no doubt something they both needed to forget about the stress of work. And then he'd gone and done what he'd done. But Shouta had kissed back, hadn't he?
And that spoke volumes to him, but he knew that in the end it may not matter. It may indeed be for naught in the end when he told Shouta about his transgendered status. And he didn't know how he would feel if the black-haired man rejected him, but he would take it with a grain of salt. If Shouta decided they were better suited as best friends, then that's all they would be. He'd look elsewhere for that romantic attraction. He'd find someone else if Shouta had no interest, he was sure of it.
Sure, it might be difficult with how big his crush felt but he knew that he could do it. After all, the last thing he wants is to push himself onto someone who may not want him. That would be the very last thing he'd do to Shouta. He refused to let this man feel pressured into dating him if things went that way. People had their preferences, and he knew that Shouta was no different. Neither was he. He had his own preferences, and it was no different than wanting a man with dark hair and eyes.
He could find any man like that. And if Shouta was gay, fully gay, then there would be no way that the man would want to be with him, would there? Even if he was masculine presenting, there was no way Shouta would want to touch him if he were gay. If he was bisexual or pansexual, there might be some leeway. But in the end, it all chalked up to preferences. And if Shouta didn't want to date a transgendered person, then that was simply his preference.
He could be saddened but he wasn't going to hate someone for not wanting to be with. The last thing he was going to do was shame another person over something as simple as a preference. He hopes it doesn't change Shouta's perspective on him. He hopes that it doesn't change the fact that, regardless of genitalia, that he was a man. A man, just like Shouta was a man. He hoped that the black-haired man didn't think of him differently.
It would be the worst thing in the world if the black-haired man decided that he wasn't man enough for him. He flinched at the thought but he knew that at the end of the day, that'd be his choice to make. His place to make that call. He'd learned more than enough in life that he can't make people like him. He can't make others want to be around him. If anything, he had to take it with a grain of salt and let that be that. It had him heartbroken at the thought.
However, it would be up to Shouta if he wanted to continue to associate with him. If he wanted to continue being his friend. He'd like to think that their friendship was strong enough to weather the truth of his transgender nature. That Shouta wasn't so shallow that he'd throw in the towel and that would be that. They'd gotten to know one another. He thought of the black-haired man as his best friend. And, on some level, he hoped that Shouta thought of him as his best friend.
Even if their kiss shared on Thursday night had thrown them off some, he knew that they could make their way through it. He knew that they could do it, it was just a matter of talking it out. Even if it made heat rise to the back of his neck at the thought of talking to the man who had spurned him. Had hurt his heart. It was hard to think of standing before Shouta to talk to him about what happened. He wanted so badly to put it behind them but he knew that there was no chance of doing that.
Not if they were to go forwards. He wanted so badly to go back in time and take it back. To not know how those lips felt beneath his fingers. How Shouta's breaths had raced over them with a light tremble. How those dark eyes looked at him with a look of curiosity. Of intrigue. Desire. How those lips felt pressed against his own. How they slid against his with their plush fullness. And yet some part of him was happy to know what it felt like to touch them. What if felt like to kiss Shouta.
It was hard to tell what it was; regret for kissing him or regret that he was letting this be the thing that possibly ruined things between them. The last thing he wanted was for things to end over a stupid kiss that he'd impulsively leaned in to give Shouta. Sighing out to himself, he lifted his wet hands out of the water with a trickling splash when he rubbed his wet hands over his face fiercely. He needed some damned tea. He needs to unwind. He wants to have a cup of tea. He can always take a longer bath tomorrow.
Shifting forward away from the wall, the water sloshed around him before splashing deafeningly as he stood up. The water chopped against his shins as he shuffled forward then bent over to unplug the bath then placing the plug on the shelf. He then stepped over the wall of the tub carefully onto the mat. One foot at a time with water pattering onto his bath mat when he then grabbed his glasses. Lifting them up into place with fog over the lenses blurred his vision.
He reached for the towel to pat at his skin briefly, to rub the ends of his hair before wrapping around his waist. The bathroom was warm. He was warm. It was a nice soak as he rubbed the towel over the ends of his hair that had gotten soaked before wrapping the towel around his waist. His hands slid over his chest with fingers brushing over his mastectomy scars with another sigh leaving him. Monday. He'd talk to Shouta on Monday when he saw him if he really wanted to put the truth out sooner.
If he wanted to get over this faster. He didn't know if his decision would be the right one, but he could always evaluate how he felt tomorrow. How he felt Monday morning. Sliding his hands down to his stomach that gave a pang, he padded forward towards the bathroom door with a sigh. Flipping the lock, he tugged open the door and stepped out into his bedroom with a shudder at the cool air attacking his damp skin. Swirling around him had him shivering fiercely with his teeth chattering briefly.
Making his way forward towards his bed, he uncurled his towel from around his waist to begin rubbing his skin dry. Pausing at the corner of the bed, he rubbed the towel down over his legs. between them. Over his lower back and ass then higher up along his back with his locks swaying against his back. The cool air attacked his skin with his nipples perking up with a tingle as he slid the towel over his skin. He smelled like lavender. He could smell it on himself like a fine perfume.
He patted at his skin with firm rubs before balling his towel up to throw across the room towards his hamper. It landed in a heap when he then walked around the corner of his bed to the foot of it. Grabbing his boxers, he stepped into them carefully then tugged them up his slightly damp skin to his hips with light hops. He grabbed his t-shirt and lifted it up to throw it over his head. Tugging it down into place with his arms sliding into the sleeves with a sigh as the hem fluttered against his waist.
Then he grabbed his pajama bottoms and stepped into them clumsily. Teetering on his feet with a grunt leaving him as his wet feet pressed into the fabric which stopped him up. Once getting his feet out of the bottoms, his phone chirped on the bed. He hesitated before leaning forward to grab it. Lifting it up, he found a six hour old text from Shouta. One from Yagi. He licked his lips before biting his lip. He weaved on his feet before placing his phone back down with a low sigh under his breath.
He didn't know how to reply to Shouta. He didn't even know if he could reply to Yagi who was asking him about Shouta's odd behavior at work. It was a simple question; did he know what was going on with Shouta? He turned on his feet quickly as he could to his double doors where he shoved his feet into his purple slippers then grabbed his robe. Swinging it over his shoulders with arms sliding into the sleeves, he then slid his hands into the holds of his doors. Hesitating.
Was he really going to run away? Was he going to let this be a topic of awkwardness? It was late but surely a talk with Yagi wouldn't hurt, would it? If had him biting at his lip fiercely with his gaze flicking over to his phone. He knew he didn't need to run away. He didn't need to be nervous about talking this out. And yet his hands moved to tug open the bedroom doors as his legs moved to step into the small hallway. His body choosing to make the choice for him regardless.
Sliding his slippered feet over the floor, he made his way down his small hallway quickly. As if he could run away from his phone. From the message from Shouta that he'd yet to look at let alone open. He chewed his lip slightly as he made his way into the dark kitchen. He shuffled over to the doorway to flip the light on. The bright light had him blinking rapidly against it when he then shuffled across the kitchen. The drag of his slippers over the floor was deafening
He made his way towards the counter where his electric kettle sat beside his coffee pot. Tugging it forward, he pulled the kettle up off of its base to then shuffle over a step to the sink. Tugging the top open, he then turned the faucet on with water gushing into his kettle. He felt guilty. Ignoring Shouta like this wouldn't bode well for him. He didn't want to ignore him and yet he felt strangely cagey when it came to the idea of talking to him let alone texting him.
He was scared to see what Shouta had said to him and he wasn't sure how he was going to answer him in response. It made him antsy. Had him anxiety ridden. He didn't know what to say to Shouta that wouldn't be some type of word vomit. That wouldn't be a slew of apologies on his end of things. Apologies that would leave him teary eyed. He didn't want to throw all of that onto Shouta. Turning the water off, he flipped the cap back into place to cover the top of the kettle.
Shuffling over to place it back onto its base burner. Pressing the button, the blue light of the burner flared to life when he turned to the corner of his counters to reach into the cabinet there to grab for his chamomile tea. Tugging the box down, he found himself fidgeting. He didn't know what he'd say to Shouta, but he knew that it would be soon that he'd tell him. That they'd have their sit down conversation together. He just needed to take the time to gather what he wanted to say.
How he wanted to say it. It had him sighing out when he opened the box, grabbed a pouch then shut the box before returning it to its place in the cabinet. Shutting the door with a gentle thud when he then grabbed his mug hanging beneath the cabinet. He tugged it forward then opened the packet to drop the tea bag into the pot when he shuffled over to the trash to toss the packet away. Opening the drawer to grab two spoons, he then placed them on the counter with the drawer thudding shut.
It was painfully quiet. He couldn't deny that while it'd only been two days since he talked to Shouta he missed him. He missed talking to him. He hated the thought that he'd somehow grown a dependency on the man, but he wanted nothing more than to fill the silence between them. To bring them together to talk. But what would he even begin to say? He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what he'd do. And he needed time to gather his thoughts.
If he didn't talk to him on Monday, then it would be Tuesday. Wednesday. He could always give the excuse that he'd been busy shopping for the boys, which wasn't a lie. He'd been going on shopping ventures and hiding their toys in his closet for wrapping. Christmas was this upcoming weekend, after all. It was painfully close. And this was the fourth week of the month they were encroaching on. His time at the school would be over. He wouldn't see Shouta every day.
And that would put some space between them again, wouldn't it? It felt odd to think it but he found himself somewhat thankful for the thought. He didn't know how he made it through Friday without running into Shouta but to be fair he had been running away from him. He'd been ducking corners and running down stairs with Shouta shouting after him. He'd eaten his lunch in his car for Christ's sake! He didn't think he could avoid his friend for much longer. What did he do?
Did he take the next two days to gather his thoughts? Did he talk to Shouta on Tuesday? Or Wednesday? The middle of the week when they got off of work with the vacation starting on Thursday? He didn't know how the hell they were going to do this. How the hell he was going to bring it up to Shouta. He didn't know what to say and he didn't know how to say it. He wants nothing more than to be the one to mention it to Shouta and be a man.
He wants nothing more than to say that he could man up and fix the situation. He knew he was wimping out. He knew he was avoiding Shouta like his life depended on it. It was his fault that this dragged on so long, but he needed time. He needed time to heal his aching heart and damaged ego before he even thought of talking to Shouta. If anything, he was sure that if he gave himself just two more days to get through this then he'd know what to say. What to do.
Glancing out the window, snow swirled through the air with the promise of sticking. Of bringing the three feet that the weather channel had predicted to last Saturday through to Sunday. It had him sighing out at the thought of having to shove out the walkway and driveway again, but it would be better to get it done tomorrow. Better than having to dig the car out at the crack ass of dawn when he needed to get to work and arrive all sweaty.
He sighed out to himself when he glanced at his kettle with bubbles forming in the water as the bottom hissed lightly from the water that was on the bottom no doubt. He held his fingers next to the kettle without touching to feel the heat radiating off of it. It had him humming softly when he opened the cabinet before him to grab the honey inside. He then shut the cabinet with a gentle thud when he reached up to scratch at his head. He shouldn't keep Shouta in this limbo.
Shouldn't keep himself in this gray area. This limbo that had him sighing out softly to himself as he drummed his fingers on the edge of the counter when he then nodded to himself. Wednesday. He'd talk to Shouta on Wednesday. It was the best time and as much as he hated it he knew it would be better to spend time thinking. To put together what he wanted to say before jumping into that conversation. From Friday to Wednesday it would give him six days to think on what he wanted to say.
Half a week. It killed him to think of going without talking to the black-haired man that long, but he needed this to be right. Much like how he put off their talk on Halloween for a month, this time he needed to focus on what he wanted to say. What he wanted to tell the black-haired man. What he wanted to say. It had been a long time since he had come out to someone he was attracted to too. It's been a long time since he'd wanted to come out to someone that he was interested in pursuing romantically.
He knew that it might not be an option when he came out to Shouta but what was the harm? A broken heart? An awkward friendship? Even if he didn't confess his crush to Shouta yet, he knew that at the very least the black-haired man could make an informed decision. That was the least that he could give Shouta, wasn't it? Let him decide if he wanted to come over? If he wanted to see him again? If they wanted to spend this holiday together the way they celebrated Halloween?
It hurt his heart to think that their friendship would end right here when he told him the truth, but the reality might be different. It might be different how Shouta reacted to him about it. The black-haired man might just surprise him with his answer. After all, his exes all seemed okay with him being trans. Of course, his ex-boyfriend's enjoyed it for in their words they "got to be with a man" while also "getting pussy" to their friends. Something he'd overheard one too many times.
It led to the failure of quite a few of those relationships due to his heartbreak that he was seen that way. He knew that it was only said in the moment, a joke between friends, but how did he go through with that? How did he stay with someone who saw him like that? But there was that older boyfriend of his, a man his senior, who had adored him. The sex had been good, and the elder man had treated him so delicately, so sweetly, it was his longest relationship of two years.
He never fell for him, but he adored that ex-boyfriend with all of him. There were people who would accept him. There were people who would accept him wholeheartedly. Shouta had never given him any signs that he would reject him. But how could he know? How could he know for certain? It was an uncertainty that had him on the fence, but he knew the right thing to do was give him that chance. That choice. And if Shouta chose not to be his friend anymore then he'd understand it.
He'd be heartbroken but he'd understand it. The light cheerful beep of the kettle tore him out of his thoughts to which he lifted it up carefully then poured the steaming liquid into his cup with a hum. Placing it back on its burner, he unplugged it when he leaned against the counter as he waited for his tea bag to step. He was tired. Tired of always overcomplicating things. The one thing he can be honest and straight forward with was telling Shouta that he was transgender.
In all honesty, he could start there and wait until the new year to confess his crush. He could do that much for Shouta, couldn't he? That was all anyone could give someone else. The chance to make an informed decision. Lifting a spoon up, he dipped it into his steaming mug where he stirred the tea lazily. Pressing on the tea bag firmly side to side along the cup before lifting his spoon out and tapping it dry. Placing it on the counter, he looked down at a nudge to his calf.
A crunchy meow that Hitoshi called Twix's "signature meow" had him smiling as he bent down to scratch at the top of Twix's head with a hum. Loving the purrs rumbling over his calves as the cat lazily twined himself between his legs. It had him humming softly with his hand sliding over his head and down his back when he had the chance. It had hips jumping up when he reached the base of his tail when a chirping meow of Sterling joining her brother.
It had him smiling as he reached over to pet the small cat who began to twine herself through his legs eagerly. God, does he love Sterling. A small gray cat with white paws and the tip of her tail white, she had to be the sweetest amongst her sisters and brother. She followed him like a second shadow half the time with Cappella being the first. He pets both cats before straightening up with a hum to grab at his spoons. Scooping up his tea bag, he used the top spoon to squeeze the bag tightly.
Watching the light yellow liquid dribbling into the cup from the bag. He then turned on his feet to shuffle over to the trash where he tossed the back away into. Sliding one spoon into the sink, he grabbed at his small sugar container that he kept pressed against his coffee pot. Getting a spoonful of sugar, he dumped it into his tea then used his honey in a light drizzle. It would be sweet enough to make it pleasurable to sip at it but not so much to keep him awake tonight from the sugar.
He stirred his tea as he opened the cabinet to return the honey to it, then shutting the door with a light thud. Stirring his tea lazily again, he returned his sugar container to its place by the coffee pot. Lifting his spoon up from his tea, he popped it into his mouth only to hum at the sweetness. His tongue piercing clicked off of the spoon when he slid it out of his mouth to slide into the sink with the other. Picking up his hot mug, he turned on his feet to shuffle over to the doorway of the kitchen.
Turning only to nearly shriek at the sight of Izuku standing in the doorway. The boy had been there for how long? Behind him was Hitoshi who held onto his good hand with wide green and purple eyes watching him with an intensity that had his heart jumping wildly in his chest. It was eleven thirty! What in the world were these two doing up so late? Swallowing down the shriek bubbling in his throat, he pressed a free hand to his chest where his heart was thudding furiously.
How had he failed to hear them come down the stairs? He swore he would've heard someone on the stairs. Izuku looked hesitant with wet lashes while Hitoshi looking at him pleadingly when he blinked at his sons. And it was then that he noted the soaked appearance to Izuku's pajama bottoms which had him blinking when he turned to shuffle over to the counter to place his mug down. Turning his attention to his sons as he made his way over before squatting down before the red-cheeked Izuku.
Reaching up, he brushed away small tears clinging onto his lashes. His son looked utterly distraught with his lower lip trembling slightly as green brows squeezed together tightly. Accidents happened. While some may say Izuku was too old for them, it didn't change the fact that it happened. And he knew that the boy had to be embarrassed. Ashamed. He stroked away those small tears before leaning in to kiss at his forehead with thumbs sliding over his cheeks.
"Oh, it's okay, honey, we all have accidents sometimes, you know that, right? Did you have a bad dream?" He murmured with Izuku nodding hesitantly to which he cupped his face with his thumbs moving over cheekbones gently when Hitoshi shuffled closer to his brother. Those purple eyes staring at him with a glimmer of worry for the green-haired boy when he squished those freckled cheeks gently. "C'mon. Let's get back upstairs and I'll take care of all of it, alright?"
"Can we sleep with you tonight? Please, Daddy?" Wavering. Hoarse. Had Izuku been crying for some time before they both made their way downstairs? It tugged at his heart viciously when he watched Izuku's lower lip wobble slightly with those big green eyes staring at home hopefully when he sniffled. "I-I know you don't wanna let us but I really wanna sleep with you! Please, Daddy, can we? Please?"
"Yeah, I wanna sleep with you too! Can we stay with you tonight, Daddy?" They were laying it on thick. When was the last time Hitoshi had called him Daddy? It tugged at his heart when he pulled his left hand from Izuku's cheek to come up to touch Hitoshi's with both six-year-olds looking at him pleading. He knew they were waiting for him to say no. That they were scared of him saying no. "Please? Just this once? Then we won't ask no more! Please, Daddy? Can we?"
Letting his gaze flick between those hopeful faces, it was painful to think of saying no. He wants to bring them upstairs and tuck them into bed after changing Izuku's sheets but the mattress itself had to be soaked. It needed to be scrubbed then air dried. It wouldn't do for Izuku to sleep on a chemical scented mattress. And, truthfully, would it kill him to let them stay with him just this once? "Alright. The two of you can sleep with me in my room but let's go get you cleaned up, Izu, okay?"
"Do I need to take a bath?" Izuku questioned when he dropped his hands from cheeks to stand up with his hands sliding over wild indigo locks. Wild green curls. He smiled softly down at both six-year-olds before nodding his head when Izuku whined then before looking up at him again with that small hand tightening on Hitoshi's. "Can I just take a shower? I don't really wanna take a bath, Dad. Can I just shower it off?"
"If that's the case then why don't you two go wait in my room and I'll bring down a fresh pair of pajamas for you after I get your sheets in the wash, okay?" Heads bobbed in a nod when he caressed their hair once more before bending over to kiss at the top of Izuku's head then at Hitoshi's. "Go on, skedaddle. Go wait in my room for me and I'll be down really quick, alright? Just remember this is a special exception and tomorrow night you'll be in your own beds like normal, okay?"
"Okay! Thank you, Dad, for letting us sleep with you!" Hitoshi chirped up at him before stepping forward with a gentle tug on Izuku's hand when the indigo-haired child turned to his brother. A small smile on his lips as their feet pattered over the tiled floor of the kitchen with Izuku sniffling again as he stuck close to Hitoshi. "See? I told you Dad would say yes! It's okay now, Zu! Dad'll take care of it!"
"Izu, why don't you take your pajamas off once you're in the bathroom, yeah? I don't want you getting a rash being in wet pants, alright?" Heads bobbed once more at him when he then shuffled forward down the hallway with a sigh. It certainly wasn't the turn he thought his night would take but he felt awful for his son. Izuku was clearly dealing with something and he'd mention it in the morning to him. He'd take care of it and then they'd all go to bed together. Tomorrow he'll think more on it. He swore it.
