from me to you (who else could it be?)

The man with primrose hair gazed out the streets of Paris with a look of utmost serenity, his elegant figure blending in with the evening atmosphere quite cleanly. His lips were quirked up, slightly, as though the man was in the middle of a faintly amusing daydream, and he held a delicate, gold-tipped teacup to his face as if to half-hide his smile. A touch of fondness grazed his expression, the dying rays of the sunset glazing his face in perfect angles that only accentuated his beauty.

Neither photographs or paintings would be able to capture this beauty, Mika was sure, though internally the younger man couldn’t help but try–secretly, at least–every time. After all, any portrayal of Shu  Itsuki would not have looked out of place in an expensive art museum.

Then again, Mika doubted that any of his creations of Oshi-san were ones he’d want to share with anyone else–any that were good enough to keep, at least. The museum would be for his eyes only, a shrine to his god that had been blessed with altruism, among other good qualities, to lower himself for Mika.

He shook himself mentally, refusing to let the thoughts root themselves deeper in his memories than they had already. Shu had chastised himself for thinking of him in such a way before. After all, the only reason he’d fallen from grace back at Yumenosaki had been due to other people placing him on a similar kind of pedestal that Mika was placing on him right now.

After all, now, they stood by each other on the stage, side-by-side as the partners they always should have been, as Shu and he had drawn out through their joint art for the world to see. 

Still, Mika couldn’t be at fault for admiring him in private, could he? Just because they were partners now didn’t mean Mika didn’t hold the other’s art to high regard. He still looked up to him, though not in the way that made Mika feel like he had to be exactly like his Oshi-san to make great art, not anymore.

Mika crept into the room slowly, taking care of his steps so as to stop himself from stepping on the creaky floorboards he’d noticed the last time he’d visited Shu’s host family’s apartment. The thought that he’d disturb his partner while the other was deep in his own world had been waved away so long ago that it hardly seemed consequential now, though Mika’s old habits seemed always to flare into life in places he felt a stranger in.

This was Shu’s room in Paris, and he needn’t have such trepidation in simply walking in, Mika imagined Shu saying something along the lines, he and wouldn’t put it past the light-haired man if he’d actually said so the first time Mika had made the trip to visit. Though, Mika had been quite preoccupied that time...

Crowds had always made him nervous, and with his lack of knowledge of the ES Agency’s private airport the first time that Shu’d urged Mika to join him in France, Mika had been forced to book a public flight, the seat having been in the middle of a group of three that when filled, Mika had to make himself smaller in order to keep his shoulders from brushing against the ones of the people at his sides. When he’d gotten to the apartment, he’d been exhausted, and Shu had thankfully excused his poor reception of the older man’s host family, sensing that he did indeed desperately needed to rest.

(And rest he had! Shu had even allowed Mika to bury himself in the joint between the other’s shoulder and neck, desperately pressing himself to the other’s collarbone–like an animal, Mika had thought, blushing shamefully later on–in order to calm himself down. Shu had traced his hands along his spine the entire time, a notion that made Mika’s heartbeat pick up every time he remembered the moment later on, though at the time those hands had been the one thing allowing him to calm down.)

But in the present, a sense of nervousness and expectation awaited Mika in the apartment’s living room, and he took the time between Shu noticing him to memorize the expression on the pink-haired man, indulging in the fact that he was able to carefully trace the lines of his face as he wished in the small break in time.

Mika always found something to admire in the man, no matter how Shu would probably disregard it, (in the earlier times, at least) as empty praise. Even during the ‘executions’ of him and the rest of the Eccentrics, even through the aftermath, of Nito leaving and Shu locking himself away, Mika’d admired Shu’s beauty in resilience, helping his everything rebuild so that one day, maybe the art he’d make he’d share with Mika, so that maybe Mika’s life would be worth it for him to have lived, one day.

The thought warmed his cheeks, and ah he was doing it again, wasn’t he? Placing Shu on a pedestal? It was one of those bad habits that were especially hard to break, given how used to it he’d been in the past.

But surely, it was alright to admire his teacher like this? It had been a while since Mika’d seen Shu with this expression in mind, if he remembered ever seeing him in such a way at all. (If he were to be perfectly honest, the determined look his teacher donned onstage was akin to the one he wore off it, too, though Mika was often privy to Shu's expression of genuine affection not a few times.). Because this face, this was beautiful.

Shu’s face was soft, his mouth curled up in a light grin and a blush that kissed his cheeks gently, painting that pale face with a color that resembled his own hair. His eyes, what Mika could see from his half-view of his teacher, were now closed, and Mika saw the man’s chest move lightly as he huffed a small laugh. 

What was he thinking of, that made him look so.. so…unbelievably fond?

It looks like the face of a man thinking of his lover, MIka thought with a pang, like all those paintings he’d seen from fancy art museums he would never have been allowed to enter as a child.

Mika felt the claws of jealousy grip himself in his chest. Who was he thinking of, that made him look so fond?

Did Shu have a lover? He would’ve told Mika, surely. After all, they were partners, Shu had said, in art and life. And in death, too, if the childish words of Mika’s younger self had counted for anything, if Shu had agreed (or maybe he’d internally rebuked the thought now that they were both grown and more mature and faced with the harsh realities of the adult world. Was it that what was at fault? Was it Mika?).

…Had Shu only meant ‘partners’ as in ‘work partners’? And would that mean that Mika was trespassing every time he spent at Shu’s apartment, taking away precious time that Shu meant to spend with his lover?

As Mika panicked over these realizations, he unintentionally swayed to and fro in a daze, as though physically sick, not bothering to care for the creaking of the floorboards as swayed. As a result, he put his weight down on a particularly noisy part of the wooden flooring, and the noise awoke Shu from his thoughts in a daze. 

Shu blinked, quickly snapping to. “Kagehira,” he said, by way of greeting, not bothering to look at him and rather brushing away invisible crumbs on his trousers. Apparently, he’d recognized the presence of his partner through just his motions. “How long have you been hovering? Come in, you needn’t be invited.” He placed his cup by its saucer, taking care to make sure that it was balanced before, placing both on the table as he finally allowed himself to take in Mika.

Shu’s fond look disappeared in an instant, and he gave a small frown as he stepped closer to Mika, tugging at the other man’s disheveled clothing. “Whatever happened?” He asked as he poked and prodded at Mika’s face–which was likely still in a distressed expression from his previous thoughts–tracing his arms and trailed his hands to the tips of his bandaged fingers. Ah, Mika’d forgotten he'd put them on! “You–! Where have these injuries come from?”

Mika blushed lightly as Shu's fingers grazed his face and hands–Shu wasn’t the sort of person that showed affection through touch, nor was he a touchy person to most strangers, and though his actions now could be interpreted otherwise, those familiar with him knew that Shu had a purely innocuous motivation for these light touches, noting them only to make sure Mika had been eating properly and living properly now that Shu couldn’t monitor the other halfway across the world.

“Ngah…” he muttered, giving the other a sheepish smile, “Jus’ somethin’ I’d been helpin’ Naru-chan with. She ‘n a few o’ the other Knights members are puttin’ on a play for some o’ the young ones on TV, an’ I thought I could help with the props a lil’ bit.”

Shu stopped in his trailing of hands, clutching at Mika’s instead, then focusing his eyes solely on Mika’s own mismatched pair. Facing the full force of his attention was nerve wracking, something still hard to get used to even through the years. Mika looked away nervously. 

“Regardless,” Shu started, a frown tugging at his lips, and Mika ached to think that he was the reason it was present, “It is no excuse for you to neglect your health in such ways. You must be careful, especially around sharp objects. Don’t expend yourself to do tasks others are completely capable of doing by themselves. That Narukami! I should ask her to–”

“No, ya don’t need ta do anythin’ like that!” Mika wrenched his hands out of Shu’s tight grip, waving them around wildly. “Naru’s lookin’ out fer me, I promise! The only reason I got those cuts were cause of ma clumsy hands!”

Shu looked at him carefully, then traced his hands to cup the other’s cheeks, tilting them carefully as his expression softened from observing to something else entirely. “I suppose there wouldn’t be a world where that girl would deliberately allow you to get hurt. I do tend to worry, though.”

The younger man allowed himself to melt, utterly malleable in the other’s touch. “Mm, yeah. Yanno…” started Mika, hesitating, then changing his mind. Maybe he’d be crossing a boundary if he said that. “Yer folks’ve called me ta check on ya, too.”

“What?” If there was anything Shu had expected him to say, this was surely nearing the end of the list.

“Ah, I forgot ta mention this, but,” Mika said, abruptly stepping away from Shu’s (embrace? Would that be too romantic of a word?) hold to creep back to his bags, rifling through the pockets of one to seek out the envelope he’d been sent. 

When the letter had arrived at his dorms in the ES building, his eyes had nearly bulged out of their sockets upon looking at the crest decorating the flap of the envelope. The Itsuki family symbol, Ritsu had read, glancing over his shoulder, Ya get in trouble with that ‘Oshisan’ of yours, Mikarin?

He’d barely met them, really, until his first visit to the Itsuki family estate for their wild goose chase concerning Shu’s grandfather, but it was apparent they found him worthy enough to speak to, at least. 

Finally, he found it, preserved carefully in a folder in his carry-on bag. He took it out and gestured at it with his free hand. “This!” Mika said triumphantly. The wax seal was cracked slightly, a side carefully cut off a part of the flap from a knife he’d borrowed from Ritsu after a full minute worrying and picking at the skin of his hands of how to best open the envelope.

His partner noted the insignia and took in Mika with a bemused expression, tracing the sharp edges of the expensive paper carefully. “What exactly is ‘this,’ Kagehira? I wasn’t aware you had private correspondence with the rest of my family.” 

Mika jumped at the insinuation. “It ain’ what yer thinkin’! I ain’ been talking behind yer back, I swear! ‘S just…” he hesitated, “Jus’ a letter from yer homefolk. They been worried, they said.”

“...Is that so.” Shu had a complicated expression on his face, and Mika suddenly worried whether it was right for him to have mentioned the letter at all, Shu obviously having had tense relationships with the majority of his close family even though they had bothered to reach out (though to Mika, at least) once Shu had presumably stopped responding, but Shu smoothed out his face to blankness as Mika fretted even more.

The pink-haired man slid open the letter, eyes glancing over the looping handwriting and clutching at the expensive paper with an unreadable look in his eye. He took a sharp, almost hesitant breath, and at Mika’s inquiring gaze he matched with one of his own, searing and sharp and strangely determined. The severity of it surprised Mika, and he gave a small yelp.

The small noise made Shu huff out a laugh before he started, “We must both take care of ourselves,” he paused, then, “I want to be worthy to stand on a stage with you. I want to be someone who you can call a partner. I suppose to do such a thing, we must both prove to be worthy of taking care of each other, which does include for you to be selfish, sometimes.”

Mika smiled, though met with the full force of Shu’s attentive gaze he felt slightly guilty. With Mika’s frequent Paris visits, he probably hogged all of the limited free time that Shu got, what with the majority of his business being spent in university and work, especially the time that Shu may want to spend with probably-lover in the city. Mika was selfish already. He was too selfish.

Maybe Mika should stop. He didn’t want to distract Shu from his work and relationships with others. But Mika was also greedy, and despite it all, he soaked up all the attention the other man gave him these days, indulging in the lightness of his presence more than he could in darker times. 

After a pause, Shu realized that during his small speech, his hands had clasped themselves onto the sleeves of Mika’s shirt, and the two blushed at the touch, Shu clearing his throat and stepping away, slightly.

“Anyways, Kagehira. How have you been? And before you answer,” he added quickly as Mika started to answer, “I mean how have you been, not Valkyrie? I’m well aware of the going-ons of our unit as a result of that producer girl’s reports, so I wanted to ask you. It’s been ages since I’ve last seen you in person, and I’m afraid that our late–night conversations over the phone rarely live up to the real thing.” 

Mika thought for a moment. Recalling what he’d been doing for the past month as a member of Valkyrie was easy enough, a few kinds of photoshoots and interviews and the like were usual. Acting roles were common enough, though… the especially… promiscuous sort that Mika had been offered just last week weren’t ones that Valkyrie of all units were presented with… 

He’d declined the offer, obviously, but he’d made no mention of it to Shu, who probably had his own university worries to settle, and the one who’d made the offer hadn’t really asked again, so it’d slipped Mika’s mind, honest! But… should he make a mention of it to Shu, here? Probably now, he probably wanted happy news right now.

“‘S been fine, I think.I got a buncha projects goin’ on, even if ya don’t count Valkyrie’s an’--oh!” Mika jumped slightly, remembering, “I started makin’ early presents for some o’ those kids from ma orphanage. Yanno, something ta give fer the little ones the next time I visit. A buncha cute lil’ plushies for ‘em to cuddle with,” he said, wondering if he was rambling again and not getting to the point as Shu had berated him over at one point in their high school careers, and he took a glance at the man. Shu, still listening intently, didn’t seem to mind. 

“Um,” Mika looked away from the other man as he spoke the next part. “You could come with me next time. If ya want, ‘course.”

His ears felt like they were burning, and he was certain that Shu could see the glaring redness on them.

“How admirable of you,” Shu gave an affectionate smile, “I suppose, if there are no scheduling conflicts for me for the trip, I will come with. Hmm,” he muttered slightly, eyebrows knitting themselves together as he was drawn into thought, “It may be too unseemly for me to tag along without reason, though. I’d like to plan my own gifts for the children.“Shu drew a hand to his chin at that, muttering under his breath as he was lost in ideas for the gifts.

Mika anxiously waved his hands at that, hurriedly assuring the other man, “Ya don’t need ta bring anythin’. You jus’ bein’ there’ll be enough, I swear.”

“True as it may be, I would like to gift something to them of my own volition. If not to the kids, then to the guardians, at least. I want to thank them,“ he said simply, “For doing me a great favor.”

“Eh?” Mika tilted his head to the side–old habits, and one Nazuna had said reminded him of a dog in some ways. “How so?”

“For taking care of you. For allowing us to meet.” Shu had a grin on his face as he said this, and Mika blushed as he realized he was being teased. These days, Shu had a strange penchant for toying with Mika in these ways, saying things that could be… misinterpreted… by Mika if he thought too much about them. He hadn’t realized when this had happened, and he only half-heartedly wished for the other man to stop, the other half wanting more of this, the almost-flirting that set the butterflies in Mika’s stomach aflutter.

“Oshi-san!” He whined, head growing dizzy. “Ya can’t jus’ go ‘round and say things like that!”

Shu only gave a sly smile, an expression that was growing steadily familiar on his face, but thankfully, as though reading Mika’s mind, pulled away, gesturing to lead the other deeper into the apartment. “On another hand, I would like to introduce you to a few projects that I myself have been working on in your absence. These are more personal, though I do believe that I could use them as inspiration for school projects.”

Given the fact that Shu had an entire atelier to store and create his works now, he spent most of his hours making art in the place, and at his host family’s insistence, kept the mess of fabrics and threads at his workstations, though he often took materials back to the apartment, using a spare storage room as a separate kind of studio. 

And so, Shu led the darker-haired man to this place, gesturing at the minor renovations he’d done.

“It has been a while since you’ve visited, and aside from my usual work, I’ve been working on a few personal projects myself,” he gestured at a few of the dresses in development, as well as the monstrous stack of notebooks that were nearly ripped apart at the seams, the pages taken out of them tacked on the wall with a sense of frenzied passion, the kind Mika remembered Shu getting before when he got particularly invested in a project.

Shu continued showing off his works, and Mika marveled at the expertise of his teacher, commenting on similar threading strategies they’d both used, Shu looking at him in pride as he gave out his own recommendations to the pink-haired man. This was how they worked, now. Their lives intertwined, their art, though separate, had touches of the other in them that ultimately served to make the art better. 

They were both receptive to each other, in this sense. Complimentary.

The two talked late into the evening, and not long after, Mika yawned, hand raised to hide it so Shu wouldn’t think it was due to boredom. Shu caught the motion anyways, and looked at the window, fretting, “Ah, I suppose I may have talked for too long; it should be time for bed, hm? Also,” Shu added, “I’m afraid the rooms had to be rearranged slightly, so our sleeping arrangements have been changed.”

“Changed?” Mika tilted his head.

Shu turned a pink as light as his hair, and padded towards his bedroom, trusting Mika would follow. “Yes, yes. Most everything should be as usual, but it is only the second bed that has been taken away, and the replacement couch no longer doubles as a bed–though I would not have let you sleep there anyways! To think, what it would have done to your already poor posture!”

He was rambling, as he did when he was nervous–or, in this case embarrassed. “So, I’m afraid that–”

“Ya only got yer bed?”

“Astute observational skills, Kagehira,” Shu sniffed, then winced. “I apologize. This is my bed, but it will also be yours for the rest of your stay. Now, take your toiletries and clothing and get ready for bed.”

“B-but if there’s only one bed, ‘s only right that I should sleep on the floor or somethin’, yeah?” Mika stuttered, “I mean, I don’ wanna impose an’ stuff…” 

Shu frowned at that. “Impose? Certainly not; I doubt you’d ever find a way to impose upon me. And besides, I had thought that the nature of our relationship had progressed–” He stopped suddenly, cheeks heating, then muttered, in a voice low enough that Mika couldn’t hear, ”Perhaps he’s confusing my intentions for something else…”

“Eh? Oshi-san?” Mika tilted his head.

Shu shook his head to rid himself of the thought. He thought internally--not that Mika was privy to his thoughts-- That if Mika thought they were about to do that, then he would find that he was wrong. “Just–get your things. You are sleeping here–and sleeping, only, I assure you! And that is final.” 

Shu ignored Mika’s protests as he reached for the other’s baggage and moved it to the bedroom, and at that, Mika had no choice but to follow.

____ 

Mika crawled into bed, trying to stomp the feeling that he was crossing a very personal line as he did so. Shu was turned away, and Mika almost collapsed at the domesticity of the situation.

“Um,” Mika said smartly. There was little space on the bed; it was a twin-sized mattress, and not usually made to have two grown men sharing it like little kids on a sleepover. Mika darted his eyes around, keeping all his focus on creeping near to the edge and not falling off so as to not have to make Shu uncomfortable with touching as he slept.

Mika twitched at every small movement that Shu made that let the bed dip down, drawing a frown to the man’s face. Shu turned towards him, placing a soft hand on his shoulder. “Kagehira?” The voice drew a full-bodied shiver from the man, making the both of them flinch.  

“...Why do you refuse to look at me?” Shu asked the dark-haired man, voice soft but still seemingly out-of-place in the silence. “I mean… I suppose we have yet to–and I hate to say it this way–share a bed… but it isn’t as though partners of our nature… do not do such things.”

Mika’s eyes were wide and his face warmed at the double meaning of the words, not yet cleared from Shu’s clarification, and he stuttered through his reply, heart still feeling low, “S-sorry… ‘s just… ain’t this the typa thing ya usually do with… yanno…”

“What? Spit it out, Kagehira.”

“Like, someone… ta someone ya really like. With someone ya love…” 

“What?” Shu said, his expression so utterly baffled that he had scarcely a response to Mika's shuttered expression. “What?” was the only other thing he said–the only other thing he could say. “I care about you, Kagehira! I-I,” Shu stuttered, utterly red in the face, “I like you, and I care about you! What in the world ever gave off the impression I didn’t!?” Shu rolled over, stuffing a pillow over his face and mumbling very inelegantly, though he was so preoccupied to not notice. 

Mika sat up, wringing his hands nervously as he gazed at Shu, who still had not moved an inch. “Did I say somethin’ wrong…? ‘M sorry, Oshi-san, fer makin’ things awkward, ‘specially cause o’...” he paused, then gestured at the bed–not that Shu could see it, “this. I oughta just take the couch…” 

At those words, Shu seemed to regain himself.He sat up abruptly, surprising Mika as he set his hands on the other’s shoulders, his expression as determined as ever. To Mika, it reminded him of the face he’d make in the middle of a particularly difficult work, when he found an issue he sought to resolve. “I have someone I care about. I have my partner. I have you.”

Mika felt his mind go blank, a buzzing filling his ears. “Really?” He asked. “I-I always thought… it didn’t seem real… that I could be yer partner. Since I saw ya, you’ve always been like some sort of out-of-reach god, like someone… I just, I don’t think,” Mika took a breath. This could ruin their… whatever they had, but hadn’t Shu said to speak his mind?  Mika then decided to go for it anyways. Better to rip the bandage off all at once than to leave the wound to fester. “I don’t think ya like me in the same way I like you.” 

“In… what way, Kagehira?” His voice wavered, and Mika stifled the thought that it had a tinge of something, something like hope in it. 

Mika felt like he couldn’t breathe. Was Shu really forcing him to say it like this? “Ya know what I mean… I didn’t think… I thought… you have someone you like, right? It’s like that. It’s who you were thinkin of when ya were looking out the window when I came in. Like… all wistfully and fond-like.” Mika recalled. “I mean, it makes sense, right? ‘Cause yer so cool ‘n here in Paris there’s probably a ton of cool artists that ya’d like more an’–” 

“Kagehira!” Shu said firmly, clenching his hands where he continued holding Mika’s shoulders and interrupting Mika before he could go off on a larger ramble and lose it completely. “Kagehira,” Shu said, softer, his expression growing into something less sharp and tired but with a look tinged with something like a faint sense of disappointment. “Was everything we shared just platonic to you?” 

Mika blushed, “N-no. I didn’t– I want– I swear–!” he struggled to speak. “I thought it was… cause yer so focused on yer art ya don’t really have time get those kinds o things…but I… I didn’t want it ta be.” 

“And neither did I, Kagehira. I know,” Shu started, “I did think, though,” he hesitated, “Thought my feelings had come across–Kiryu had assured me a while ago that I was not hiding it in the least–through our art, especially after these few performances. But I suppose art is subjective, and it may be that if you weren’t looking for it particularly, you could misinterpret the message easily. So,” Shu cleared his throat from the ramble, Mika still hanging on to every word the other man spoke. ”Listen closely, Kagehira. I shall say this once only.”    

Mika nodded, leaning forwards eagerly. 

Though the soft expression fell from Shu’s face, Mika didn’t miss it as he would have, for the way the other man’s cheeks were dusted the same pink as his hair was twice as sweet in his own eyes. The older man’s eyes dart away as if embarrassed, only for a moment, but come back to rest on Mika’s face, twin gems the rich violet of Roman robes reflecting the mismatched mosaic of yellow and blue.

“I admire you, as an artist and creator. And, as a real person and human being I– I–,” The older man stuttered slightly, and though his eyes didn’t flicker, they let slip an overwhelming amount of tenderness before Shu continued, “I want to be with you. I want to spend time with you. I want you to be my partner, in art and life, for the rest of our lives.” 

It wasn’t phrased in the way of a confession, not technically, but Mika’s heart stuttered, and he would have been sure that it had stopped and he’d up and gone and died and he was surely in Heaven now, right? Because there was no way his teacher was here, now, and saying this to him. Right now. 

He buried his head in his hands, and Shu inhaled sharply, clearly worried if he’d said something wrong. 

“Kagehira,” he said, suddenly unsure of himself, “If you don’t reciprocate my feelings, then–”

“No! It’s nothing like that!” Mika snapped his head back up, as quickly as he'd ever put it down and wrapped both of his hands around Shu’s own, “S’ just… I feel the same. Towards ya. I like you, Oshi-san. I have for a while.”

Shu eased his hands out of Mika’s grip, allowing them to rise to cup the other’s cheeks, rubbing at the edges of his eyes where tears threatened to fall. Mika’s own hands trailed at Shu’s waist, scratching at the edges of the fabric.

“Fool,” said the pink-haired man, though his expression was much too fond for the insult to hold any ill-meaning. “Then you should have said so sooner, and we could have been rid of these misconceptions once and for all far earlier.”

Mika puffed his cheeks in mock indignation, “Hey, ya instigated the whole thing as much as I could’ve! I mean, it ain’t like ya were hidin’ the fact that ya were so iffy about romance an’ all o’ that. I mean, yer art always comes first, right?” 

“Well, yes-! But-!” Shu inhaled sharply, aware that perhaps it was his own restrained nature that had caused the false impression.

Mika grinned in understanding. “Wait no, I see. It’s ‘cause yer a romantic at heart, ain’t that right?”

“Hm!"

Shu refused to answer completely and instead moved his hand to the back of Mika’s hair, tugging slightly at where it had gotten longer and Mika made a faint noise of complaint. “Now that we both are seemingly on the same page at last,” his eyes twinkled lightly, partly in question, and Mika returned the look with a nod of assurance, “Sleep. I’ve planned a busy day for the both of us tomorrow; the itinerary is full and though I’d love to keep you here longer, I doubt that that snake of CosPro,” Shu rolled his eyes, “would be happy if Valkyrie were to suddenly stop their activities in Japan.”

The other man made a noise of assent.

"I really like ya, Oshi-san,” said Mika fondly, once Shu had turned off the lights and had the both of them tucked into the bed. And those words, though they were near the same to the ones he’d spoken just minutes ago, seemed to echo in the clear night, laden with a pure emotion.  “I look forward ta tomorrow with you, Oshi-san.”

“And I, you, Kagehira,” He said simply, softly.

Mika only snuggled closer.

day by day

It 's dark, but the city lights in the distance illuminate Nayuta 's face carefully, tracing along his chin and jaw, reaching up just under his eyes, which are slitted in a half-asleep state. Crescent moons as they are, they gleam in the shadows, twin pearls that mirror Kanata 's own, and Kanata takes care to make as little noise as possible so his younger brother doesn 't wake. Nayuta stirs, but closes his eyes as Kanata stills.

Kanata waits to let out his sigh of relief until he 's out the door and shivering in the chill. The air escapes through his mouth in a misty cloud, dissipating into the sky. He really should have brought a coat.

Now what?

Initially, he 'd thought a run would stem his nervous energy. They 'd won Paradox Live, Nayuta and him. The real Nayuta was back. They 'd won the reward money (though they 'd both decided it would be best to donate it to people like them) and despite everything, lost against Buraikan.

Paradox Live was, officially, over.

And yet still, despite it all, his nerves wouldn 't let him sleep. Some cardio would do him some good, he 'd thought as he laid, tossing and turning, in bed. If nothing else, at least he 'd manage to get in some exercise. Now, yawning and very cold, Kanata regrets ever choosing to step out, even if the confines of his futon were negligibly better at keeping in the heat (they 'd yet to invest in a new space heater despite the fact that the old one had broken down ages ago).

Rounding a corner, he aims to get out of the slums and into the city. He 's noticed that the bright, flashing lights and the relatively easy atmosphere as smaller crowds of people sway from store to store lulls him to calm better than any amount of just walking anxiously around dimly lit alleys, tensed at every shadow that might suddenly reveal itself to be an armed thug.

The nights in the slums after all, were known for their fair share of bogeymen.

Kanata shivers as he 's reminded of that day when Nayuta had left him, the older speeding through the maze-like alleys only to find out that he was too late, his brother lying in a bloody pile near that damned building he frequented too often and too scheduled for his comfort. The bad memories threaten to swallow him up, but the darker thoughts are chased away by a sort of light performance in his peripheries.

So he 'd reached the more populated part of the metropolis.

The streets of the city, Kanata notes, are moderately filled for this time of year and day. Night workers scour a few 24 hour stores for energy bars and caffeinated drinks; groups of high school students (probably sneaking out) linger around, checking watches and scanning their surroundings guiltily; construction workers peel off damaged posters of some idol group or other, replacing them with new ones; couples stroll through a nearby park, hand in hand as they lean heavily against the other, moulding their two shapes into one.

Kanata grimaces as a pair gets a little too friendly nuzzling into each other, treading the lines of family-friendly PDA quite carefully. The sight involuntarily snags into memories of his old home, with reminders of his and Nayuta 's mother bringing over the various men who only looked at them with either greed or contempt or, in the rarest of times, pity.

He shuffles away as fast as his feet take him.

It 's a slow night, and he finds himself getting lulled to sleep from the almost idyllic silence in the air, broken only by a few low murmurs appropriate for the time. Observing the going-ons of the city like the traces of a ghost left behind from their sombre regret, he continues his trek to wherever it takes him. He 's about to end his night on the first peaceful note he 's gotten since they 've started the Paradox Live battles, so of course it 's only particular to the genre of his and Nayuta 's lives that the cruel knife of fate decides to sink its dirty blade into the throat.

His heart jumps as he hears the voice.

"Hey!" he calls out, voice as irritating a sound as ever, "Kanata!" It feels so obviously out of place, like an anachronism in some third-rate movie adaptation of a Shakespearean play. His name, spilled outward from the upward grin of the other man 's mouth, peels away the mask of belonging, the masquerade he pretends to play for the hour so easily torn down by a single calling of a salutation.

The man-he 's barely a man, really, considering the fact that his childish impulsiveness overshadows any wisdom he 's learned in two something decades of life-blazes through the frigidity of Kanata 's overtone, and it 's surprising how he doesn 't turn tail and flee as soon as he spots the look Kanata shoots him. SUZAKU, for this matter-or rather, Allen, if one forgoes his stage name-does indeed flinch, but continues his scorchingly destructive journey to Kanata nonetheless.

"Kanata..." he repeats, slightly breathless, and Kanata waits for him to continue. He doesn 't.

"The hell do you want?" Kanata says after a while.

Like he 's been snapped out of a daze, Allen stutters like an idiot. "O-oh. I-it 's just. I saw you across the street. I wanted to say hey..." he trails off.

Kanata squints at him in suspicion, deliberating whether or not he 's trying to mock him. They 're not friends, not exactly, but they hold a mutual (albeit grudging, in Kanata 's case) appreciation for each other 's desire to make music. Kanata had learned from their meetings throughout the Lives that the rich boy 's enthusiasm for hip-hop was the same as Kanata 's; they 'd both joined Paradox Live to prove themselves.

Allen 's emotions were ones he wore on his sleeves. If he 'd secretly hated him the entire time, he was a better actor than what Kanata had pegged him to be, though he thought it unlikely. Among the sea of sleazy people Kanata 's met, Allen Sugasano and the people he 's-though he deigns to use the word-befriended of the Paradox Live have been the ones who 've stayed the truest to their hearts.

A light wind cards through the air, calling Kanata to wrap his jacket tighter around himself at the chill.

"Ah," Allen pipes up, and Kanata realises that they 've been staring at each other in silence for a while now. The redhead jerks and after a series of rapid arm movements, holds out his jacket. "You must be cold. Here," he offers.

"Tch." The moment, if there ever was one, is interrupted. "As if."

Allen deflates, reminiscent of a wounded pup, and springs back up within a split second, as though Kanata had imagined the expression. "No way, Kanata," he says determinedly, "You gotta be freezing in those clothes," he eyes his shorts and low-necked shirt, and the gaze alone makes Kanata warm. "What if you get a fever? If you won 't think of yourself, at least think of your brother. Who 'll take care of Nayuta if you get sick?" he blabbers on, stepping closer.

"The hell? Don 't bring my brother into this. Besides, I don't need your charity." Refusing to be intimidated, Kanata keeps his stance, even as Allen veers into his personal space.

"Charity?" Allen tilts his head, as though genuinely confused. "It 's not really that if you 're just helping a friend, is it?"

Friend. "Either way, I don 't need it."

"Kanataaa," he whines, and he 's standing close enough that Allen 's breath brushes against his face. It smells sweet , Kanata notices, the thought bubbling up to the forefront of his mind-eyes glancing downwards for merely a split second-and he tries his best to wrestle it down.

"S-SUZA-"

"It 's SUZAKU! And cozmez 's Kanata!" It 's like throwing a rock into a still lake. The sky that was perfectly mirrored now splits into thousands of shards that ripple outward from the epicentre, and the fan rifles through their pockets hurriedly while others glance and widen eyes in recognition, drifting towards them like moths to a flame.

Whatever weird air that had gathered between the two is gone as SUZAKU turns to sign whatever spare slip of paper the fan finds. Before Kanata can register the annoyance that fact brings, he 's bombarded by several similar slips of paper as the redhead, fans crowding around him like ants to sugar.

"Kanata!" one fan shouts, "I love your music! Please, sign this for me!"

"T-thanks, I guess" He stutters out, muttering and slightly flustered as he 's not used to speaking much with his fans at all. After all, cozmez had done many relatively low-key performances in music houses before Paradox Live had pelted their names on radios, news stations, and big-name magazines with a kind of popularity typically reserved for famous idol groups.

Others shout similar words of admiration, shoving writing utensils and whatever merch or paper they wanted him to sign. Dully, Kanata hears Allen speaking to the fan he 's with warmly, and a sour feeling rises in his gut. Before he can focus on what that is, a voice distracts him.

"I love you, Kanata! Please, marry me!" The over-enthusiastic fan elbows the rest and stands in front of the crowd, leaping at the white-haired man.

"Hah?!"

Kanata ducks to the side so she 's unable to grasp at him. He knows that Nayuta would say not to fight them-they 're cozmez 's fans, after all-but Kanata 's hands rise up on instinct, shielding his face and ready to defend should anyone of the surrounding people decide to strike out like the fan. He turns warily, his back feeling terribly unprotected.

On the other side, he can hear a similar commotion, and the voice of Allen can barely be heard over the cacophony of the noise the crowd 's making. Their fans clump together like a sort of hive mind, forming a wall that blocks him out of the world. Their voices drone out everything, and Kanata feels suffocated as they tighten around him, a snake around its prey.

A hand grabs around his wrist, warm like the sun, and he tenses, turning, only to be met with deep brownish-red eyes.

Allen.

"Come on," he says, his voice next to Kanata 's ears in a way that sends a shiver through his spine. Where? Kanata thinks, They 've blocked nearly all of the paths.

His thoughts stutter to a halt as Allen tangles their fingers together, tugging at them until both of them break into a run, swooping in between gaps of bodies and ducking under stray arms. A final push, and they 've broken out.

Their shoes patter through the streets in a rhythm that 's consumed by the crowd of fans that follow them. In his bones, Kanata feels the vibrations his feet make as they stomp against the concrete, his breaths adding to an instrumental that he duets with Allen, hand still clenched in sweaty hand.

The other man mutters a few words, a curse, then, ‘damn it, we 're not losing them, ' and Kanata snaps out of his daze, fingers twitching but not yet letting go.

"Damn you," he mutters under his breath, though with Allen being so close he overhears.

"Huh?"

"This is all your fault. Your stupid prettyboy hair 's too recognizable."

Almost shyly, Allen tugs at his hair. "R-really? You think it 's pretty?"

The words are so utterly absurd that Kanata almost feels the need to laugh. Kanata glances at the expression on Allen 's face-so completely innocent and fixated on Kanata 's words, cheeks tinged slightly pink-and the laugh bubbles up involuntarily, taking the edge off of his building anger.

Allen 's lips twitch in turn. "W-was it really that funny?" he asks.

"Absolutely not," is the response he gets as Kanata sobers, "More importantly, they 're gaining on us." He angles a thumb back to point at their followers, which seem to have been replaced by several police officers aiming to stop the two punk-looking troublemakers speeding through the streets at night.

"Cops," notices Allen (quite unnecessarily, if Kanata must add). He starts to slow, tugging on Kanata 's sleeve. "Come on, I 'm sure if we just explain they 'll leave us alone."

" Explain ?!" Kanata nearly shoves him away just for that, "Like hell, they won 't even give us a chance to talk. Just follow me."
Allen hesitates, but Kanata tugs him along with their joined hands. "There," he says, nodding towards a tight alley close to a corner. It 's not completely hidden, but if they turned abruptly and let the shadows swallow them up, they 'd be safe for a few minutes, at least.

Allen nods in understanding-albeit with a slight dour expression-and at Kanata 's signal, they duck to the side, the momentum of their run sending both of them straight into a wall with an oof!

The officers thunder closer, and Allen unconsciously moves closer to Kanata, glancing out of the alley nervously. Their followers pass like a stampede, eyes barely glancing at the shadowy corner that covered the two men as though there was nothing there at all.

Both of them huff lightly, wary of making too much noise. Kanata leans back and relaxes, placing the back of his head against the brick wall of the building. It 's probably a restaurant or pastry shop or something, because a sweet smell wafts across, making his mood more amenable than it would have been otherwise.

He tries his best to keep their personal spaces separate, though with the narrow space they 're in, there 's barely enough room to go without stepping on each other 's toes.

Speaking of.

This guy... he 's way too close, Kanata thinks.

And indeed he is. The redhead leans over the other, a hand pinning Kanata against the wall, glancing out anxiously.

"Do you think they 're gone?" Allen asks, breaking the silence, seemingly not noticing the way he 's unintentionally kabedon-ing Kanata. At the silence he 's met with in response, he shifts his eyes back to Kanata, who meets his eyes with a flinty gaze of his own.

"Uh..." is all Allen says, quite smartly, then gulps as his eyes flick down, then back up to meet the other 's again.

Involuntarily, Kanata 's do the same.

"I..." Allen starts, but then drifts off, the word trailing the air between them like a whisper.

Kanata isn 't oblivious of the way some people look at him-from glances on the street to full-on gaping faces whenever cozmez performs. But he has no time to reciprocate those feelings. Onstage, he 's blinded by lights and his phantom illusion and the feeling of the beat as he raps through it. Outside of his own music and Nayuta, he sees nothing from other people in his own life.

But Allen stands on the same stage as himself. Allen is obsessed with hip-hop and rapping in a way that he sees whenever he glances in the mirror. But where Kanata is cold, cutting, and precise, Allen is on fire, a chaotic and tumultuous presence that ignites and incinerates and scorches.

Allen is a fire and he burns . Especially onstage. Especially in the frigidity that Kanata has established in his world.

Kanata isn 't oblivious of the way he looks at Allen.

Kanata isn 't oblivious of the way Allen looks at him, either.

With the thought in mind, and without thinking, Kanata steps forwards, until their chests bump against each other, and his face is far too close to Allen 's.

"What are you...?" the redhead breathes, although his hands rise to meet Kanata 's torso, stopping just as they graze his waist.

Kanata furrows his brows as he closes the gap between them, and Allen 's breath hitches as his lips meet Kanata 's. His lips are softer than Kanata expects, and his sweet smell only adds to the atmosphere. Allen tilts his head to get a better angle, and Kanata dives into the opening, head spinning as though his brain has been lost in brain fog..

Allen 's the first one to pull away, surprisingly. The motion brings out a small stab of annoyance in Kanata, which barely manages to shock him out of his daze.

"T-that was nice," Allen says, stuttering like the idiot he is.

"Yeah," mutters Kanata, his mouth pulling too ahead of his own mind until he realises what he said. "I-I mean! Whatever. It was whatever. Let 's just go; I think the cops are gone now."

"Yeah," Allen says in the same tone.

"Whatever," Kanata tosses his hair over his shoulder, turning away from the other man in an attempt to hide his own face.

It 's been a few minutes, though Kanata still checks to make sure the coast is clear. As he 's about to leave, however, "Wait!" Allen yelps out, "You-you 're still coming over to do the shuffle song, right?"

"W-what?!" Kanata almost trips out of the alley.

"The shuffle song," Allen says intently, striding forward, "You do still want to finish it, right?"

The damn shuffle song is the last thing on Kanata 's mind, especially after the completely idiotic thing he 'd just done. "Sure, I 'll- just- later," is what he finally decides on, then escapes the alleyway as fast as he can.

"Ahh, alright." Kanata swears that Allen mutters something else, but by that point, Kanata 's too far ahead to even think about what it could be.

As soon as he 's sure that he 's out of Allen 's sight, he runs. The further away he was from Allen the better, and the more he assumed that his brain would start working again. What was he thinking? Kanata repeated the words in his mind. What in the world was I thinking? He would have shouted the words to the world if he 'd been sure that the wind would have blown them away as far as possible.

Soon, the lights from the city become dimmer and the streetlights work less and less in between roads. He 's home. As silently as he can, Kanata unlocks the door, holding the keys to make sure they don 't jingle and wake Nayuta.

As he steps in, he relishes the feeling of warmth that home gives. Warmth?

Kanata glances around, spying the glow of a space heater in the corner as it creates a comfortable atmosphere. He 's planning on warming his freezing limbs before slipping back into bed when-

"Where have you been?" The familiar voice of his twin carries across the room, cutting into the silence.

"Nowhere," Kanata answers quickly, "Nothing. When did we get that?" He asks, with a vague gesture at the heater, hoping to distract.

Nayuta simply waves the question off. "Paid it off with some funds from a part-time job a while ago. Just forgot to tell you." His eyes sharpen then. "Besides, you still haven 't answered my question."

He rises from the chair he 'd been perched on. For how long his little brother had been waiting, Kanata doesn 't know, and he silently curses himself for waking Nayuta. "Were you out on one of those jobs again?" Nayuta asks worriedly, starting to scan Kanata 's face for any sort of injuries or bruises, which weren 't entirely uncommon on those odd jobs Iori Suiseki used to send him on in the past.

"You said you 'd quit doing them," Nayuta says accusingly as Kanata brushes his hands off of him lightly.

"I did quit. It wasn 't one of those jobs. I promise," he adds at Nayuta 's disbelieving expression. "I was just walking."

"Really?"

"Really, really."

"Hmm," is all Nayuta says, and Kanata almost believes that that 's the end of it, until, "You seeing someone?"

"I- What?" Sputters Kanata. Out of all the things that he expected his brother to ask, this is one of the last of them, "A-as in what?"

Nayuta rolls his eyes. "As in, you know what I mean. Well? Are you?" he asks again, and it 's in such an honest tone that Kanata wonders where in the world he 'd gotten that idea from. As if reading his mind, Nayuta adds, "You had that grin on your face when you came in-"

"Wha-!"

"-and your face was all red and stuff-ah! Yeah like that, almost exactly!"

Quickly, Kanata hides his face behind his arms, navigating blindly to the bed and flopping onto it, facedown.

"So, I 'm right, huh?" Nayuta says casually.

"Nope. Nowhere close. Besides, I can 't hear you; this bed is so warm and soft that I fell asleep instantly."

Nayuta lays beside him, ducking into the covers. After a moment of silence, he starts, "You know, you can tell me whatever you want to."
"I know," Kanata says, his voice muffled by the pillow he buries his head in. "I 'm just. Tired."

"If you say so," Nayuta says. He falls asleep almost instantly. Kanata, however, stays up, repeating the moments with Allen in his mind over and over again like a record he can 't stop playing. The shuffle song? To hell with that; how in the world was he going to face Allen now, let alone make a song with him?

He groans into the pillow, sure he 'll stay up agonising all night, but the warmth of the memory lulls him to sleep within minutes.

Yapfest ahead:

12.1.24

It's going to be christmas soon, keito

so what, eichi

--

still an unholy amount of klance. read Dirty Laundry when I was supposed to do my french homework. Kill me

Gotta memorize physics formulas but i just finished s8 (which i will promptly be ignoring. sue me (dont do that). (LANCE WOULD NOT FUCKING BE A FARMER FUCK YOU HES GOT BIG ASS DREAMS AND HE WOULD NOT BE FUCKING SATISFIED BEING A FARMER ON EARTH READING STORIES TO TINY ALTEAN KIDS HED BE IN SPACE WITH HIS SPACE FAMILY AND WITH ALLURA WHOS ALIVE AND BUT ALSO NOT TOGETHER TOGETHER LIKE IN A LIKE LIKE KINDA WAY BECAUSE THE WRITERS MADE THEIR RELATIONSHIP SUCK ANS I WOULDVE ROOTED FOR THEM IF THEYD ACTUALLY BEEN GOOD AND LITERALLY NO ONE GOT ANY DEVELOPMENT?? AND THEY BUTCHERED MY BOY LANCE??? they've hated him since whenever lotor appeared honestly fuck the writers they can suck my metaphorical dick (<- guy who just learned that phrase from an ao3 tag like minutes ago)and if i dont see any good s8 fix=its im going to write one myself fuck this.) I need s8 fix-it fics. or i just gotta reread the ones Ive already read. someone needs to euthanize me.

11.30.24

I have been reading an unholy amount of Klance. They need to shoot me. Physics quiz on monday again what the fuck.

Watching voltron s8. i don ththink ive bene paying attention since s6 didn't they have the alternate realities thing in s2 or 3 or something why is it happening again. didn't the fate of alternate realities rest on defeating lotor at one point or something. Are there even real stakes to this.

THey are NERFING allura's character so bad oml she could do with so much better writers

11.17.24

I hate you voltron legendary defender.
I have a physics test tomorrow chat should I study or read another fanfic

10.24.24

I HATE YPOU I HATE YOU SO MUCH I DOn'T HAVE ENOUGH DIAS TO GET YOU

10.14.24

I genuinely think I forget about this whenever I don't have school (how do i even procrastinate if there's nothing to procrastinate on?) Anyways PSAT in 2 days hope i get good scores and get into the national score thingie (i have not studied for a single day). The sat/psat prepbooks sit on my desk, unopened. I have not written a single thing in it. Jesus Christ (I'm not religious) what have I been doing this entire time.

It feels like my brain isn't okay a lot of the times. There's not a small amount of times that I try to think, and thoughts slip off of my brain like there's nothing to ground them; nothing for my thoughts to catch on to long enough for me to decipher them. It's not like the fog kind of thing that I had in middle school--which I guess was sort of like this weird thing caused by the pandemic where I wasn't entirely grounded in reality--but it's honestly pretty damn similar. At least I'm doing stuff now? Making art? And not just reading fantasy stuff to stop thinking about real things (guy who is still guilty about doing that part, but not as much anymore).

I keep saying "I need to just lock in" but it doesn't work as well. I think I'm good at math. I'm better at math than reading, at least (even though I do enjoy the latter of the two more than the former...) but even with math and physics it's hard to understand these days. Ahhhh at least I have my shitty art...

10.10.24

Good night my good peoples (or evening or morning depending on which part of the world you're on). Got an 80 on the physics progress check. Im sooooo distressed I can't even finish my calc homework (for people who don't know, "calc" is slang for calculus. You see, I'm just the average hip sixteen year old, nothing to see here-). Oh, boy I sure wish the stress of getting an 80 wasn't so bad that I just am not able to do my homework anymore! Ah, well, I guess I'll just have to paint again... aw, man, I wish I could do my homework! But I guess I just have to take a break! oh boy!

More importantly, it kinda feels like I'm making paintings just to make them; like making them just so that it's over and not because I really enjoy painting. I guess it's just because it feels like I have too many canvases (mom got me 9!! of those flat ones) and I'm trying to fill them? I also have 2 sketchbooks I feel guilty over not using so I fill the paper with meaningless stuff just to cover the pages. Trying to get rid of the habit and actually enjoy making art.

More more importantly, I just got too much homework wish someone could axe my head off like they did to the french. Just kidding. I'm gonna lock in tomorrow (trust).

10.8.24

It's almost tomorrow technically but whatever. I'm so cooked. What the hell is going on in physics. Maybe I should be the one teaching myself; my teacher never manages to explain?? anything?? AHh it's my own fault for forgetting AP1 last year...

10.5.24

It's still in the midday essentially and I might just be cursing myself later for saying this but today was alright!! It was a bit sad though when I thought about my friends possibly drifting away from me--I'm not an interesting person, after all--but I suppose that's just something I'll have to deal with. I have lost as many friends as I have loved and I'm probably an idiot to think I'll get to keep these two forever. At least my art will remain with me for as long as I love it.

Speaking of art!! That was what I really wanted to talk about herebut I think it's!! Going well!! It's still not at the level I want it to be, and I'm still depressed because it sucks!!!! So you might be wondering: So (unnamed), why in the world are you so happy? Why so many exclaimations??!! It's because!! Even though I'm not satisfied with what my art is right now!!! And I still think it's horrible!!! I'm satisfied with it!!!! At the moment!!!!!!! Because!!!! I know that I'll get better!!!!!!! And that I have time for me to practice!!!!!!!! My whole life!!!!!!!!!!!! Even if I think there's a time limit until I become an adult!!!!!!!!!! There's still a chance that I might!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So I'll keep practicing!!!!!!!!! Until my art is whatever I want it to be!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sorry this was probably not as great of a revelation as you might have thought but I feel really happy right now like I haven't in a while. If anyone reading this feels down I highly recommend making art. Any kind of art--drawing, painting, sculpture, music, cooking, whatever!! But it will make you feel better!! Especially if you're feeling stressed!! Or it may be that it's just some weird experience specific to people like me. But it's still something to try.

Yippee!!! I love today so far!!!!!

addition from 3 hours later: I'm listening to klance comic dubs in the year of our lord 2024 im at the lowest point of my life

Just found out that people taller than me exist i hope they all burn in hell (i hate you childe genshin impact)

9.30.24

who up amor vinciting they omnia. the trip albums became global like a week ago but i dont wanna listen to the valk album in case i might like?? idk form bad memories with it maybe?? I don't know if its the right words but I don't want to connect the thought of the trip album with bad experiences, so i try to only listen to it when im making art at like 2 am lol. ((dont get that time anymore... damn you calculus BC))

anyways. my parents were arguing because I woke up late to get to the bus so I just stayed home (bad idea) (i didnt get any work done) AAAAAAAAAAH i gotta lock in

but that is all that I would like to share ♡ yippee♡♡

Write something down!! Nothing's gonna appear anyways

This is an editable paragraph. Normally I have a border around me on focus, but not today!