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"I understand, so please Ichijou-san… don't cry anymore." As Godai returned to his side, Ichijou felt strong, warm arms close around him. Without hesitation, Ichijou returned the embrace, clinging to Godai as though he may disappear through his arms if Ichijou’s grip loosened even a bit.
In the end, they got through the rest of the evening without incident. It was all a blur, up until Godai pressed a cool can of green tea against his cheek. Ichijou flinched, blinking as he was pulled out of his thoughts. They were standing outside of his small apartment; Godai had gone to the ancient-looking vending machine to get them drinks. How was it that Godai had even come back with him, specifically? Out of everyone important to him, Minori, Sakurako, why--
“Do you want to talk about it?” Ichijou took the drink with a small smile and shook his head, burying his thoughts. Ironically, it was him who had wanted to ask that same question to Godai.
He had wanted to ask so many times, and yet...
“I was just wondering what you wanted for dinner. It’s... been a while since I’ve cooked, and I was never that good, to begin with. And we would still need to--”
“We can call for a pizza later, or something.” Strangely, it was Godai who seemed to be coaxing Ichijou up towards his apartment, rather than the other way around. It wasn’t as though Ichijou was nervous to be alone with Godai, they had been alone together dozens and dozens of times. It was natural, and... It wasn't as though they weren't close. A warm hand closed over his shoulder, and Ichijou was once again zapped from his thoughts. Now in front of his door, he quickly dug out his keys and unlocked the deadbolt. He could feel Godai beside him, watching him. It made him feel strange.
“Ichijou-san?”
“It’s nothing. Come inside, you must be exhausted.” Ichijou pulled the door open and stepped aside to allow Godai access first. As his guest, Godai should--
“And you? You’re just as tired as I am.” The door was promptly nudged out from his back, and Ichijou found himself ushered inside by Godai. A brief heat warmed Ichijou’s cheeks as he was forced to step out of his shoes quickly in order to make room for Godai at the entryway. He flicked on the light, illuminating the small combined kitchen and living space. With the curtain drawn, the artificial light mingling with minimal furniture and plain white walls made the atmosphere seem rather dull and uninviting.
Would he be surprised to see that nothing had changed? Even the tv was still the same, boxy and small with chunky grey buttons on the side; the remote was on the coffee table, in need of dusting. Behind him, Godai stretched and wandered into the kitchen with a tired yawn. Ichijou heard him rummaging around in the fridge, which was nearly void of anything that wasn’t bottles of water. "Looks like curry's off the menu."
“I-I’m sorry, if I had known-- Well, um--” Ichijou felt himself start to stammer, tripping over his words as he hung his coat up. From the kitchen, Godai laughed, his tone relaxed. Ichijou almost wanted to disappear into the closet, along with his coat.
“You really haven’t changed, have you, Ichijou-san?” Ichijou turned to the kitchen to see Godai watching him. Ichijou stared back, taking in Godai. Much like Ichijou’s apartment, Godai himself hadn’t changed at all. Not a single wrinkle had been added to his face since Ichijou had seen him all those years ago. His hair, unlike Ichijou’s, was still a full mass of tousled fluff, without even a strand of white or grey. He blinked, a confused smile crossing his lips. However, before he could reply, Godai continued to talk.
‘It’s kind of a relief, actually…” He was helping himself to Ichijou’s kitchen, as he often did back then. It was a sight Ichijou wouldn’t let himself daydream a single second, just because he had wanted to see it so bad. He waited for Godai to keep talking, not wanting to interrupt.
“Everything but me has changed…” There was something off in his voice; something that made Ichijou want to go to him. He stayed in place, though, waiting. “I guess... I didn’t realize how much time had passed. I was so wrapped up in myself and, now…” Godai trailed off, staring down at the instant coffee he had been trying to prepare, probably out of habit to busy himself. There were speckles of powdery coffee scattered around the container.
Ichijou went to his side, unable to stay away from him.
No more waiting,
Godai blinked, looking up as Ichijou’s arms wrapped around his waist from behind. Whatever little fog that had begun to glaze over in his eyes vanished, and he raised a hand to one of Ichijou’s and squeezed, suddenly spinning their positions with a mischievous little grin.
“Yuu-- Godai?” They were so close; Ichijou’s hands were behind him, against the counter, and Godai was leaning in, so close. He smelled like dirt and sweat and Godai. Ichijou closed his eyes as Godai’s forehead pressed into his, a gentle weight against him. Ichijou swallowed, his cheeks warm. Although he had been expecting a kiss, and perhaps it may have very well been Godai’s intentions, he was in need of something else at the moment.
Slowly, cautiously, Ichijou let his arms slide up Godai’s back and he rubbed slow, small circles as Godai’s head slipped down into the crook of Ichijou’s neck, his grin swiftly falling apart.
“Sorry. Can I just-- Can we just stay like this...” Godai’s voice was quiet, muffled by the fabric of Ichijou’s shirt. Ichijou could feel him breathing slow, deep, steady breaths. He raised one of his hands to the back of Godai’s head, holding him.
“I’m here,” Ichijou spoke softly, confidently. He didn’t know if he could do this right, though. He didn’t know how to comfort people, Godai was the one who could so easily put a smile on people's faces. Despite the little tremble that ran through his frame, Godai gave a nod, hands clinging to the back of Ichijou’s shirt. The trembling was getting more frequent, and whatever insecurities Ichijou had been having towards himself and his position in Godai’s life evaporated as he held him. Godai had come home with him; Godai trusted him enough to be this open and vulnerable like this, and at that moment, Ichijou felt as though they both understood that the moment they had reunited would be the last. Even now, torn apart from within the very depths of himself, he was still trying to save Ichijou from worrying, trying to save his smile. “I understand, so please Yuusuke, you can cry. I’m here...”
Ichijou didn’t even try to stop them both from sinking to the floor together, and he sat there quietly as Godai’s quiet sniffling turned into unrestrained sobs. If Godai wanted to leave tomorrow, Ichijou would join him, and together they could go anywhere.