Archive of Our Own

Akihiko imagined leaving Japan to be something bigger than him, at first—he had fought hard, faced trials that he never could have imagined, and lost more than ever. He felt like he’d had an almost divine epiphany when the idea first came to him. He knew it was his job to protect people, and he had failed miserably. It was only logical that he needed to leave and get stronger to finally be able to fulfill that goal. He didn’t deserve to stand with his friends after everything they’d been through until he proved his worth.

When Akihiko returned to Japan three years later, it was with his tail between his legs.

He spent his time abroad training, and reflecting, and dreaming. He dreamed of his friends, both living and dead. He dreamed of Shinjiro. He dreamed of his sister. The people he failed haunted him, day and night. It felt like the people in need of protection, the ones he left behind, were growing to resent him with every second he was away.

Akihiko trained, and trained, and trained, but no amount of getting bruised and bloodied could replace what he had abandoned. He was pathetic. It took him far too long to realize where he needed to be, and even longer to muster up the courage to return and face them.

Instead of a tour across the world, he went on a tour across Japan. It felt shameful to return with no money or a place to stay, an awful admission that he was wrong for leaving with no notice or plan. He felt all too lucky to have friends so kind as to welcome him back with open arms.

Junpei and Yukari were easy to catch up with. They’ve both been kept busy with their own flourishing careers, and that was hard enough to accept on its own—he could’ve been in a cozy position of security too if he hadn’t just left school and all his resources behind. They could only host him for a short period of time each. Neither of them seemed to resent him for leaving. They were simply happy to see him back in one piece. It was freeing to see them, if anything.

Mitsuru was harder to face, but the consequences of avoiding her would have been worse.

Miraculously, her lecture didn’t skewer him through the core with a sword like he’d come to expect from her. Akihiko would like to think that his training at least helped him build a thicker skin. It’s just as likely that Mitsuru went a little soft without having to constantly keep two rowdy boys in check.

Akihiko spent most of the scorching summer at the Kirijo residence, recounting his travels to Mitsuru whenever she had a spare moment. Junpei was awestruck by his stories, while Yukari was concerned for his safety, but Mitsuru just listened patiently; she knew better than to suggest Akihiko couldn’t take care of himself, and that he was too stubborn to back down from all the challenges he’d been faced with.

Somehow along the way, she managed to convince him to try university again in the fall, and even offered to let him stay with her until then. “There’s more than enough room for you here,” she insisted, “and you aren’t a bother.”

Part of him considered taking her up on it. He hated the maids constantly up his ass, knowing that he could never truly relax here, but the comfort of stasis felt so much better than facing whatever hard truths awaited him at the end of his tour.

Mitsuru caught on to his reluctance to move on easily. Of course she did. He could never hide anything from her. She brought it up casually, softly, like he might bolt at the sign of danger if she started placing too much responsibility on him too fast. It was just an innocuous mention that she has been keeping an eye on Ken and their schooling. She slipped Akihiko their phone number the next night, coolly suggesting that they would be happy to hear from him.

She never kicked him out, but the implication was clear.

The voicemail he leaves Ken is long and rambling, probably a little incomprehensible. He doesn’t want to impose—they probably don’t even have permission to house an extra person in the dorms in the first place—and he tries to make it clear that even just getting dinner together would be nice, but he’d love to stay for a few days if he won’t be a burden.

Stumbling over his phrasing the whole way through, he awkwardly concludes the message, “So… Let me know what you think. No pressure, really, you can kick me out whenever, but—Well, I’m looking forward to catching up. And seeing you for however long you’ll have me. Um… Talk to you soon. Thanks.”

Akihiko hangs up quickly, tossing his phone to the side where he can’t look at it. He’s making a fool of himself.

Ken carries a lot of baggage with them that Akihiko doesn’t want to face, sure, but he can’t pinpoint exactly what’s making him so damn jittery about the prospect of seeing them again. He chews on his lip and waits for the stomach-churning anxiety to cede all night, nervously checking his phone as often as he can for a response.

They never call back. Their texts the next day are polite and to the point; explaining that the security is lax now, they’re alone at the dorm anyway, and that Akihiko is welcome as long as he needs.

They haven’t even noticed that I keep Koro-chan here.

…Not that you’re the same as a dog, senpai. I’ll be really happy to see you again. <3

The end of the text makes his heart race faster and faster the longer he stares at it. He doesn’t know quite what to make of their tone, but he has to jump at the opportunity now that it’s been handed to him.

Mitsuru sends him off a few short days later, with a smile and a quick wish of “good luck”.

—

The trip home from dinner is quiet.

It started off completely fine. Ken is so different that Akihiko spent most of the night feeling like he was on a blind date more than catching up with an old friend.

The change in height greeted Akihiko first—Ken has shot up to be eye level with him now, and claimed it hasn’t shown signs of stopping. They’ll tower over him in adulthood at this rate. They finally gained weight, too, no longer the gangly skin-and-bones kid he’s come to expect. Their face is rounder, body shape filling out into soft curves.

Really, everything about them is more feminine. Even with Mitsuru’s warning to “not make a big deal of it, they’re cagey and will scatter like a street cat,” Akihiko is sure he couldn’t hide the shock on his face.

It’s evolved past just the androgyny of youth, moving into purposeful adjustments to their outfits and their appearance to make themselves look more girly. Cute hair clips, bright nail polish, even sweet perfume—it made his head spin to take it all in at once. Akihiko would like to offer a “congrats,” or even a “come to me with questions,” but none of it feels quite right on his tongue.

It’s not their fault, but the bittersweet taste of Ken growing up to resemble Miki so much isn’t lost on Akihiko. Every time he had the extra cash he would pick up another accessory for her, blindly following his heart on what he thought she’d look cute in. It’s hard not to wonder if she would’ve liked what Ken is wearing, or if Ken would ever let him do the same.

He has to squash that train of thought before it can blossom. That’s what’s causing this tension in the first place, this stupid brotherly instinct of his that he can’t manage to shake.

Despite all the changes, the way Ken moves around the world is the same. It doesn’t take a trained eye to notice the way they carry tension in their body; they’re constantly strung tight, startling easily and on the lookout like they’re being followed. They’re picky about the way people touch them, sensitive to how loud things are, obsessed with where they’re situated in any room.

It was easy to let the way Ken operated go unaddressed in the past, when they all were so tied up in their own business to bother fixing an eleven-year-old’s trauma responses. Akihiko can’t help but dote over them now, though.

Every “are you okay” or “should we go somewhere else” pushed them further into their shell. Akihiko could see it happening in real time, helpless to stop his gut reflex to check in every time Ken seemed distressed.

He’s forced himself to keep his mouth shut on the way home, despite bursting with so many more questions of what they’ve been up to and stories of his travels. He’ll have to try again in the morning, when Ken’s bubbling irritation isn’t threatening to spill over into something worse.

It wasn’t supposed to be this tricky. Akihiko digs his nails into his palms, trying to silence his own nerves as they finally approach the old dorm building.

“So it really hasn’t changed at all, huh?” Akihiko jokes as Ken pushes the doorway open.

The smell greets him first, musty in a way that’s all too familiar and fills his lungs with the thickness. A small white dog comes bounding up to greet him next, sniffing at his feet curiously and barking. Akihiko gives Koromaru a tentative scratch behind the ears, hoping it’ll appease him. He’s never been the dog’s favorite.

“It’s kinda creepy, right?” Ken exhales an awkward laugh as they agree, bending down to greet the dog. The tension melts out of them like this, immediately more comfortable in the familiar space. Akihiko is relieved to see it.

Ken is right—it’s uncanny how much everything in the building has remained stuck in time. Even the chair arrangement around the dinner table appears to be untouched. Akihiko shivers, reminded of what Ken told him during dinner. Their classmates insist this building is haunted now. Everyone bends over backwards to find other living arrangements when they’re assigned to this hall. It’s only Ken, the dog, and a couple straggling furnished rooms these days.

The alternative option isn’t much better. The idea that this place could be updated and renovated, or completely gutted, or torn down, leaves an uncomfortable pit in Akihiko’s stomach, too. He knows he’s sentimental, but this place holds too many important memories to disappear entirely.

Finding his words, Akihiko manages, “Might be worse if it was too different. I’m not sure.”

Ken gives a noncommittal shrug, heading towards the kitchen to go about their business as if they don’t have a guest. Akihiko hovers idly in the entryway, unsure of where he fits into this picture anymore.

If he closes his eyes, he could pretend it’s anyone busy in the kitchen right now. The dusk outside makes it feel like the quiet liminal period he became so used to, the times where he’d finished his homework and dinner and had to tensely wait up until the Dark Hour began. He wonders if Ken feels the same about this time of night, or how much they think about the past at all. It’s hard not to feel like he’s the only one still stuck in it these days.

Ken is pretty like this in the evening light. Akihiko stares, transfixed, feeling like he’s intruding on the privacy of someone settled into their own home. They’re finally relaxed but they’re still distant, the wall between them still high and sturdy. Maybe they’re just not as talkative anymore. He still finds himself worrying that they were just being polite in inviting him, anyway. Maybe they finally found out how to live normally, without disturbances like himself. Maybe they want to distance themselves from everyone in their past. Akihiko would understand if that was the case.

Even if Ken pushes him away, he thinks he can be fulfilled just being able to see them again.

Regardless of what country he was in, what time of day it was, or what kind of training he was doing, his restless thoughts would always turn back to Ken. He needed to know if they were alive and well. He needed to know if they were coping as poorly as he was. He’s not sure what outcome he was most fearful of finding out. But seeing Ken in one piece, flesh and blood, brings such immense relief that Akihiko thinks he could learn to drown out the bitterness in his mouth of no longer being needed.

Ken is happy to see him, too, despite the iciness. He’s sure of it. It’s not like Akihiko has never had experience with the closed-off uncommunicative type before—it’s just a change. He has to learn to adapt to this new Ken, no longer the kid that would quietly vy for his attention in the sidelines.

He clears his throat, gently disturbing the pretty picture in front of him. “Where should I put my stuff?”

“Oh, um.” Ken startles a little, like they nearly forgot he was there. “I kinda figured you’d sleep in your old room. It’s one of the few they still have set up.”

They gesture towards the stairs like Akihiko might’ve forgotten where the bedrooms were in his time away. He smiles at the thought, amused by the idea that this building isn’t permanently engraved in his muscle memory.

“Fair enough. Thanks again.”

—

Akihiko takes to sleeping on the couch.

He’s grateful for the room to himself, he really is, and despite the dorm’s age the mattresses have always been fairly comfortable. Something about sleeping there just feels wrong, unsettling him down to his bones.

The first night is spent tossing and turning under the covers. The next day, left to his own devices, he finds himself wandering aimlessly around the hallways. The doors to the unoccupied rooms are locked anyway, Ken explained, most of the furniture gutted. It would be pointless to try to open them. Even knowing the logical answer, Akihiko finds himself hovering in front of the doorway most familiar to him anyway. He waits with bated breath for too long, like maybe the occupant will open it a crack and scold him with a gruff voice for sitting there like a creep.

He never comes. The sound of Koromaru barking to greet Ken is what snaps Akihiko back to the present that evening, shakily coming downstairs to meet them for dinner.

Akihiko shoves his bags into the corner of the living room after that. It’s easier to sleep here, minimizing his time upstairs. It feels like Ken’s classmates were right, and this place really is haunted.

Thankfully, Ken seems content to accept Akihiko’s new sleeping space without question. He’s out of their way, for the most part, diligently waking up before sunrise for his morning jogs. They’ve only crossed paths in their respective routines once, when Akihiko is coming back inside while Ken is rushing out the door.

Even before the sun is high in the sky, it’s too hot and sticky to exercise fully clothed. It’s freeing that he can go shirtless now, something he’ll never take for granted, but he’s forgotten just how new and different it is for his long-time friends.

He’s reminded of that again when he’s face-to-face with Ken in the entryway, half naked and sweaty. They hold their tongue about that, too.

Still, he can’t miss the way their gaze lingers at his chest, just a little too long to be subtle. An invitation of “you can touch if you want” dies on his lips.

Ken is just curious and surprised, probably. That makes the most sense. He’s sure he had a similar look on his face when they first met up after all this time. He tries not to think about it any more than that, stamping down the weird desire curling in his core for Ken to look at him more, or longer.

Akihiko takes to sleeping shirtless, on top of everything else. He’s prepared with the excuse that the air conditioning doesn’t work well down here, but the questions never come. Ken holds their judgments yet again.

—

The sunbeams warming his face wakes Akihiko, groggily rubbing sleep from his eyes. It’s brighter in the living room than usual—his alarm must not have gone off, he realizes with a start. He’ll have to make up for the missed workout tomorrow. A rest day every now and then can be good.

There’s bustling in the kitchen, soft footsteps and gentle clinking of someone trying hard not to make too much noise. Akihiko blinks again, taking in the tall shape of someone busy cutting up vegetables and feeding bits to the dog sitting expectantly at their feet. The figure’s hair is pulled back in a low ponytail, loose strands hanging over their forehead. They’re focused, moving with practice and ease. Their shoulders are relaxed for once, body free of the awful tension they carry around all day, and when they look down at the dog there’s a genuine smile on their face.

Shinji…?

No, he’s wrong.

Akihiko shakes his head, shifting to get a better view as quiet as possible. Ken stands there, busy in the kitchen, seemingly unaware of his presence. As his vision focuses, he can rid himself of the ghost of uncanny similarities and only appreciate the differences.

Ken’s eyelashes are beautiful, long and dark. He’s privy to a good view to admire them with the way they look down carefully at their work. The bright morning sun brings out their high cheekbones and the highlights in their hair. They’ve always been softer than Shinji, than any boy Akihiko knows. They’re different, delicate.

Ken is mesmerizing to watch like this, when they’re alone and at peace.

Akihiko spends the morning still as a rock, careful not to alert Ken to his presence as he watches them. They meticulously pack their own lunch, a breakfast for Koromaru, and put aside some leftovers in the fridge. They’ve done it every morning since he got here, leaving Akihiko notes with the container like “I had extra” or “I tried a new recipe”. He feels dumb and further indebted to them, but he can’t really complain, not when the food is that good.

Ken chats with Koromaru as the dog eats his breakfast, idle things about how they’re running a little late and how they’re not looking forward to the commute to school in the heat. It’s adorable, filling Akihiko’s chest warm and bubbling over with affection for them.

He finds himself sleeping in past his alarm the next morning, and the one after that. His training regimen is slipping, but it’s hard to care when he can indulge in this view.

—

It’s been difficult to stay busy during the day.

In theory, Akihiko should be working on finding more permanent living arrangements, a job, things to keep him steady between the time he leaves here and when he can start school again—Mitsuru’s insistence in the first place, that he continue to “apply himself before he permanently becomes a meathead”.

It’s impossible to focus here, he finds. If his mind isn’t drifting to where Ken is, what they’re up to, or what they’ll do together that night, he’s just stuck reminiscing about the past like a sad old man.

After the first full week of moping, Akihiko works on finding ways to occupy himself.

The summer heat makes it impossible to exercise unless it’s early morning or late night, and any workout equipment that ever lived in this building has long since been moved out.

Koromaru is a welcome distraction, but only in short bursts. The old dog doesn’t have much interest in being walked very far outside the dormitory grounds these days, and he tires quick from a few minutes of playing fetch. Lazing around and napping all day alongside him feels tempting.

Akihiko turns to passing time alone in the shower rooms, figuring it’s a good way to let out the residual steam.

It’s fine at first. Old habits die hard; he has to work to remind himself that he actually has privacy now, that there’s no need to touch himself with the frantic pace of someone afraid of being walked in on at any second. He hasn’t taken his time with himself in forever. These days, he tends to prefer simply getting the job done and moving on with his day.

Akihiko forces himself to relax into the stretch of his fingers, thumb working in light brushes over his clit. His mind works overtime to conjure up anything to get him to completion—dark hair and a gruff voice on top of him, thicker fingers filling him, a hot tongue lapping up his thighs. The images ripple like water and change form as he tries to bring them into focus, speeding up the hand on his clit. It turns to longer hair, a sweet voice, curious hands running up and down his chest and asking him when it changed, what it feels like, if this is okay despite their age and their relation and—

Akihiko stops before he can finish, gasping for air like he’d been drowning.

It was Ken. Just Ken, not his sister or anything sick like that. He may fall into his older brother type habits with them, but it’s not the same. It’s completely different. It’s not that wrong of him to think of them like that, even if they’re a few years younger than him.

They’re the only person he’s been around for the last week, so it’s only natural that his mind would wander there. He tries not to consider that this didn’t happen with Mitsuru, or any of his other friends, and sticks with that explanation.

He can’t reason the guilty knot out of his stomach, despite his best efforts. Akihiko crosses that passtime off his list, and doesn’t take long in the shower after that. The misery of boredom is better than confronting whatever unhelpful thing his brain is trying to supply to him.

He can tell that he’s bothering Ken when they come back from school, drawn to hover around them while they’re busy cooking or doing homework until they finally settle on the couch to hang out with him at night. He’s getting in the way more than anything. He feels like the annoying younger sibling for once in his life, adrift and waiting for instruction or a purpose.

That isn’t how things are supposed to go, so Akihiko tries to learn to cook to pass the time.

He’s not entirely incompetent, not like he was in school. He’s learned to make a couple safe meals, mostly from carefully written instructions. They never turn out looking very nice, Akihiko was never very handy with a knife, but they taste fine. If Ken is kind enough to house him, the least he can do is make a couple dinners to thank them. It feels wrong to not be able to provide at all for the other.

A lot of groceries go to waste as he tries new things, but it’s by far the most interesting way to stave off his wandering thoughts. Ken has bought more cookbooks than he would ever know what to do with. Going to the store to buy replacements for what he’s wasted is a task in itself, too, another way to keep himself occupied.

All the while, Ken seems annoyed. Akihiko has been clinging onto silly hope and initial text messages for reassurance, but his faith is wavering more and more; it feels like they’ve changed their mind since they first invited him, and he’s become nothing but a nuisance. It’s hard not to be convinced their nights spent watching movies or playing video games together are just attempts to humor him, until Akihiko can finally be out of Ken’s life for good.

In Ken’s defense, Akihiko figures he’s no good at socializing anymore—Mitsuru implied as much herself, asking if he forgot what it’s like to be around friends after years alone. He’s probably lost his touch with teenagers, though he doesn’t remember being so damn fussy and short-fused when he was this age.

Ken is quiet a lot of the time, withdrawn. They don’t respond well to questions about their life and they shut down when Akihiko brings the conversation around to new things about themselves. They just look at him. He feels like a specimen laid out for study, a weird freak of nature taken in to explore and learn about. Ken never made him feel so out of place before. It used to feel natural.

When he asks about school, if classes are hard or if they’ve made new friends, they give short nondescript answers. He tries a different approach; he compliments their longer hair, the cute hair clips they put in it and the nail polish they wear. Ken doesn’t seem to like that either, never responding past a “thank you” and getting all fidgety. It’s probably just teenage self-consciousness, or anxiety around presenting in a new way. He gets it, he really does. He just wants things to be comfortable between them again.

There’s a pit of fear in the center of it all, a deep-seated worry that Ken has noticed his leering and his wandering thoughts and is pushing him away as punishment. He knows he’s not the most subtle person in the world. He can only hope they’ll forgive him, if they do know.

When he’s alone, all Akihiko can really do is wait for them. He offers to pick up the slack around the house, offers to help with schoolwork even though Ken has always been smarter than him, offers to talk if they ever want, like he maybe has a chance of them opening up. Most of all, over everything else, he worries about Ken. He misses them.

—

“Can you teach me how to fight?”

Akihiko nearly chokes as Ken brings it up casually, while doing the dishes.

“You haven’t had enough of that for a lifetime?”

Ken sighs, and he can swear the plates clink together louder as they continue to wash them. He’s made them upset again. It’s like a minefield having a conversation with them in the past weeks, and he can only stumble blindly through it.

“I don’t know,” Ken starts, quieter than before, “I never really learned how to do all that hand-to-hand stuff. Seems useful.”

The idea of Ken fighting again, fighting with their fists flares something protective inside Akihiko. He’d be a hypocrite to say they shouldn’t be allowed, especially now that they’re older. Grappling is useful in self-defense situations. Knowing how to throw a proper punch can absolutely come in handy. He knows this, logically, but he can’t help the want to keep the other in a bubble where nothing in their life will ever come to that.

Something to bond over will be useful for the two of them, though. This could be the thing that manages to break through the hardened shell Ken has built around themselves.

Akihiko concedes. “You free Sunday?”

Ken perks up immediately, nodding.

“Meet me outside, then. Six in the morning.”

“C’mon, senpai, let me sleep in a little.”

They bat their lashes and the last of Akihiko’s resolve crumbles in a second. Miki used to do the same thing, pulling out the puppy dog eyes any time she was asked to do anything remotely inconvenient. Akihiko would do anything for that look, for a sweet little voice asking “please, onii-chan,” and if Ken asked like that too then he would—

No, no. That wouldn’t happen, anyway, no use thinking about it. He should take an ice cold bath tonight. Akihiko reels himself in, hoping desperately the other didn’t notice.

“Fine. Seven.”

—

It’s half past seven when Ken finally meets him in the courtyard, still looking sleepy in an oversized tee and a messy ponytail. He very well could have gone to wake them up, probably should have gone and knocked on their door and lectured on the importance of being punctual and how it’s dangerous to exercise once the sun has been in the sky for a couple hours.

But the thought of entering their room and rousing their sleeping form sent his heart racing in ways he didn’t know how to explain. He’s done it plenty of times. He’s even carried them to their own room when they’ve dozed off in his or Shinjiro’s bed before.

They’re not a little kid anymore. That must be why he feels so unsteady about it. They deserve privacy.

Ken has always had a preference towards shorts but with their growth spurt came much longer legs, slender and toned. Akihiko makes sure to only mentally note that they’re wearing even shorter shorts in a respectful way, merely observing. The shorts barely go any lower than the pajama shirt itself, exposing pale thighs to the humid morning air. Do they shave? Their legs look so smooth. Did they wear these on purpose?

…Wishful thinking. Not everyone carefully plans what they’re going to wear to work out the way he does. It’s too hot, he’s convinced himself, shirtless is easier. There’s absolutely no sinking disappointment in his chest like a stone in water when he notices that Ken isn’t staring at his exposed skin today.

Akihiko manages to get a hold on himself when Ken clears their throat, mumbling a small apology for keeping him waiting. Right. He isn’t here to ogle his friend’s body. They have an objective.

The two stretch in relative silence, save for Akihiko’s short instructions. Ken makes careful work not to look too long at him, and he does the same out of courtesy.

Getting to work is easy, too, starting with taking stock of Ken’s abilities. They undersold their skill level, from what he can tell; they have a solid understanding of a fighting stance and it doesn’t take much guidance to correct their punch. They’ve always been quick to pick up on new things, intelligent and adaptive. It’s not a surprise they’re able to adjust to Akihiko’s teachings fast.

Moving to grappling gets hairy too fast. It’s useful, that’s why he suggested it, carelessly forgetting how close you have to be and how long your hands have to be on the other person and how warm their skin feels. Ken’s breath puffs out hot across Akihiko’s face when they ask questions.

By the time they’ve moved positions to have Ken pinned to the ground, Akihiko feels feverish.

He pulls back immediately, sitting up and brushing himself off, mumbling an excuse about how it’s too humid out for them to be in close contact like that. Ken doesn’t reply, red in the face as they help themselves up from the ground. Probably better that way.

They settle on sparring instead, an activity that allows Akihiko to observe like a respectable teacher from a respectable distance away from the other.

Ken is talented. They’re never going to be able to pack the strongest punch in the crowd, but they’re observant enough to make up for that. It levels the playing field, making things more interesting than he initially expected.

The fact that Akihiko remains distracted isn’t helping, either.

They break for water, the morning sun beginning to feel oppressive. Ken dabs the sweat from their brow with the bottom of their shirt, and Akihiko freezes. There’s something else underneath—a flash of a cute pattern, thin straps, a sports bra?

His heart is racing, and he knows it isn’t the workout. It’s none of his business but his mind won’t stop wandering back to it as they continue to spar, wanting to go back to look longer and harder. Maybe it’ll get too hot to bear and Ken will take off their shirt completely, fight in just a bra and the little shorts, a perfect excuse for Akihiko to take in their toned stomach and their collarbones and their back and—

“Are you going easy on me, senpai?”

Ken lands a punch on Akihiko’s abs, too busy far off in his own world to see it coming. He should’ve been able to block such a simple blow. He grits his teeth and resets positions.

“No, it’s not that, I—”

“Really? ‘Cause I’ve seen your play fights with Aragaki-senpai before.”

Somehow, the first mention of his name since coming here hurts more than any knockout punch in the ring. Akihiko falters, leaving himself open for Ken to land another hit at his side.

“You’re babying me,” they accuse, closing in on Akihiko. “I can take a hit fine. So just teach me—”

“Ken, it’s only because you’re new to this. I promise.”

“Why can’t you trust me? I don’t need to be treated any different than him.”

They don’t take a sparring swing this time. They put their hands to Akihiko’s chest and shove him with force, open-palmed and childish. It sends him stumbling backwards, already hesitant to resist and now fully caught off his guard. Ken glares at him from across the yard, arms crossed petulantly.

“I do trust you, it’s just…”

Akihiko trails off, unable to even put it into words. Ken is capable, he logically knows that much. Still, something in his gut resists the idea of even laying a hand on them, and something protective flares in his chest at the idea of them fighting anyone. It’s strange.

“What? Be honest.”

“I didn’t play fight with Miki,” he offers, like that makes sense.

It sounds stupid as soon as it escapes his mouth but it’s the only way he can manage to explain it; fighting Ken feels like fighting his sister, imagining Ken off alone defending themselves feels like leaving his sister alone to fend for herself. Even this reminds him achingly of Miki, the way his fiery little sister always insisted on being included in everything him and Shinji did, even if he told her she was different to him.

Ken is silent, expression unreadable. They don’t seem angry anymore, at least not outwardly. The quiet is eerie, eyes trained on their feet. Akihiko feels sick all over again.

“Sorry,” he starts. Putting his foot in his mouth in front of Ken is becoming all too familiar. It feels like he misunderstood initially; they aren’t actually a minefield but Akihiko is a particularly careless steamroller running over everything he tried to build, ruining Ken’s mood and their relationship. He swallows the lump in his throat at the thought that he’s going to push them farther away than they already are. “I shouldn’t be comparing you to anyone, Ken. Especially not my little sister, I—”

“No,” they cut him off before he can destroy things any more, “It’s...It’s okay, senpai. That’s okay.”

The tension is awful and palpable as they both stand there quietly, unsure of how to continue. Akihiko wants to shout, push them back and tell them that he can’t do anything right if they don’t say what they mean.

Ken looks so small like this. If he’s too weak to spar with them, he’s too weak to start a real argument.

The younger breaks the silence first, awkwardly shuffling to gather their things. “I think I’m gonna go shower.”

Akihiko nods, thoughts too jumbled to do anything else. He watches as Ken heads towards the dormitory entrance, nodding as they open the door, “Um, thanks for the lesson senpai.”

—

There’s a quiet return to normalcy for a few days after their training session. They don’t continue their argument, don’t speak of it at all, and don’t make any plans to continue to train. Ken keeps busy with school, and Akihiko stubbornly tries to seem like he’s just as busy at the dorm.

He’s grateful that they can at least keep up their routine of watching nonsense on TV together once Ken is done with their homework. They’ve been studying harder this week, probably for some exam that seems like life-or-death in the moment. They doze off on Akihiko’s shoulder one night, body slumped against his from exhaustion.

Akihiko smiles, reminded achingly at how often this used to happen. It’s a sweet innocent habit of Ken’s. They were always insisting that they were fine to stay up as late as the others, before passing out sandwiched between him and Shinjiro on the couch minutes later. He should wake them like normal and send them off to sleep in their own bed. Akihiko raises his hand and it shakes, heart pounding in his throat with the same anxiety that stopped him from waking Ken up on Sunday morning.

They’re so close, close enough he can see the softness of their skin and feel the warmth radiating off of them. Their hair tickles his neck and jaw as Akihiko shifts, feeling Ken’s breath come out in warm puffs across his chest. Their lips are cute and pink and he’s suddenly overcome with the need to taste them, he could just press one thumb against the lower lip and feel the heat and the wetness and take in the fact that Ken is real, it would be so easy to—

What? Akihiko takes a deep breath, steadying himself and trying to locate a grip on his sanity. It must be past his bedtime, too.

He doesn’t want to disturb them when they haven’t been getting enough rest anyway. They look too peaceful pressed against him like this. That’s what he’s comfortable telling himself, anyway. Akihiko carefully peels himself away from Ken’s side, laying them down against the pillows he stuffed at one end of the couch and pulling the blanket over their sleeping form to tuck them in.

He heads off to the empty room he’s supposed to be sleeping in. He heads off alone, and it’s fine that he’s alone, he absolutely cannot think about what it would be like if he had curled up on the couch spooning Ken without wanting to burst into flames.

This bedroom still brings its own anxieties, and he can’t do much other than stare at the ceiling and try to quell the unease settling in his bones. Something else thrums underneath his skin all night, something electric and hot and exciting, but he ignores it to the best of his ability. It’s better if he tries to sleep, even if his mind won’t go silent in this room.

In the end, the restless night is still easier than going through with waking Ken up.

—

“Shit,” Ken hisses, knife clattering to the counter.

Akihiko abandons his task at the rice cooker immediately, rushing to Ken’s side and grabbing their hand from where they’d been cradling it against their chest. On inspection, it’s not a deep wound on their finger, but still long and pooling blood faster than he can clean up.

“Stay right there. I’ll get the first aid kit.”

Ken snatches their hand back quickly, like Akihiko’s grip was hurting them more.

“Calm down,” they snap, “It’s not that bad.”

Ken purposefully keeps the wound hidden, grabbing a nearby tea towel and wrapping their finger in it to stop the flow. Akihiko reaches again like a childish game of keepaway, asking, “Well, let me just—”

“You said it yourself, right? I’m not your little sister,” Ken scowls, “so stop treating me like it.”

Akihiko frowns, stunned silent at the outburst. No matter how hard he tries, or what way he explains, he can’t do right by them. They refuse to accept the help. Ken takes another step back, freeing themselves from where they’d been crowded against the kitchen counter.

“I was fine on my own before you came here,” they mutter.

“Were you?” It bubbles up from the inside, hot and visceral before he can stop it. “You don’t seem fine. You’re acting like a brat.”

Akihiko can practically feel the wall building around Ken as they scowl at him, shooting back, “You’re one to talk.”

He takes a steadying breath, clenching and unclenching his fists. Akihiko feels like a stupid teenager all over again snapping like this, like he hasn’t made years of progress learning that acting this way won’t get him anywhere. Maybe this place just brings out his worst habits. Maybe he hasn’t made that progress after all, not really. Maybe Ken wants this reaction from him, on some level, the same way he feels he deserves their vitriol.

He doesn’t want to fight anymore. Not with them. Akihiko tries for honesty instead, imploring, “I don’t see why you won’t let me take care of you, Ken.”

“It’s just pity. You’re trying to make up for lost time.” Ken’s words blossom painfully in his gut, a bruise he’ll be feeling for weeks after. “You feel guilty for how, well, everything turned out. You feel responsible, and now you’re using me to fix it.”

Akihiko can’t find any words, let alone ones to disagree with Ken. They’re not wrong—he’s only stayed so long because he’s floundering trying to find what he can do to make them like him again. More than forgiveness, he wants space to be useful again. He’s pathetic.

Glaring at him, Ken continues, “Did you ever think that it didn’t just affect you? That I might feel bad about it all, too?”

He has to bite his tongue to stop himself from replying “no, I didn’t.”

It was always his burden to bear, in his mind—his fault Miki died, his fault he lost Shinji. Ken is an innocent bystander, a poor child that got caught up in a messy tangle of other people’s problems. They shouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath like this. No one should but him. Leaving was an opportunity for them to have a normal life, even just for a little bit.

“It was weak of me to run, I know,” he admits, hoping to build a bridge between them again. “But I’m here because I care about you, nothing else. I’m not trying to use you.”

“I’m not mad at you for running,” Ken corrects. “I just think you’re a bit of a hypocrite. And I don’t want you to be here if you’re going to keep it up with this big brother fetish.”

With that, they rush past Akihiko, making it up the stairs and leaving him in the kitchen.

Alone, Akihiko laughs, practically high with the way his blood is rushing fast through his veins. He’s stupid and weak. He should’ve known better than to come here and mess things up again. Seeing Ken alive and well should’ve been enough for him, but he wanted to be selfish and stay and keep them all to himself.

Part of it, he’s sure, is that he’s just having trouble coping with how grown-up they’ve become. He would’ve felt the same about Miki; he can’t keep every kid attached to him under his wing forever. Eventually, they’re bound to leave the nest.

It doesn’t explain everything. It doesn’t explain the all-consuming possessiveness he feels, the way he wants to study Ken and for them to look back, watch him, never take their eyes off him and maybe even—

It doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense. More than anything, Akihiko can’t shake the bruised feeling at his core knowing that he trampled over the already delicately balanced peace he’d formed with Ken. He cleans up the kitchen in silence and goes to bed without eating instead of mulling over things more. He’s not sure he could stomach the food now, anyway.

—

The slam of the front door shocks Akihiko back into reality, finally stirring from his place stewing in unresolved misery on the couch. A mumbled “I’m home,” barely registers to him from across the room, along with the thump of a bag being dropped and shoes being kicked off.

Ken’s home. They’re home, and he’s barely thought through a single word of how he wants to approach them after the night before. They shuffle awkwardly past the couch with their eyes glued to the floor, making a silent beeline for the stairs.

All the planning in the world couldn’t have prepared Akihiko at the sick twist in his stomach at being ignored, at their routine of sharing space being broken even if it was still only weeks-old. He can’t stay here forever—in fact, he’s supposed to leave within the week. He can’t leave things like this.

Never one for a solid plan anyway, Akihiko rushes forward to follow Ken upstairs.

Their door is left slightly ajar, a small comfort that he isn’t entirely imposing or misreading the right course of action when he enters Ken’s room. They still stiffen slightly when he pushes the door open all the way. The tension is awful, thick. He isn’t used to talking, and he’s sure Ken didn’t suddenly develop the skill in the past three years either.

“Hey,” he starts, sinking immediately into feeling horrible as he takes a shaky step in.

He’s had bad fights with Shinji, astronomical even, but they’ve never sat down and made up like this before. Shinji bitches back, they punch it out, they leave it alone. It’s easier like that.

Again, Akihiko is struck with feeling like he’s back with Miki. When they argued, it was because he was being dumb. She was always right, and Ken has been nothing but right this whole time. At this point, they can read him better than he can ever manage to self-reflect. He’s left looking like an ass. He needs to bite back his shame and just apologize, just like he’s done with his sister. Akihiko knows that’s not his strong suit, but he’s willing to try.

Ken isn’t great with words, either. He’s well aware of that. He should take the time to appreciate that they’re trying to voice their feelings at all, all things considered. It’s not something they had particularly good role models for. They’re learning together, he has to remind himself; growing together.

They nod at Akihiko. He takes it as a cue to step into the room farther, tentatively taking a seat next to Ken on their bed when they don’t say anything else.

“I haven’t been fair to you,” Akihiko tries.

Ken laughs, bitter and sarcastic, agreeing with a short, “Yeah.”

They watch him squirm under the uncomfortable silence, really studying his face. Akihiko feels flushed all over, embarrassed at his weak attempt. Ken seems willing to sit there all day and pull more out of him, so he tries again.

“I guess what I’m stuck on is that I don’t know how to operate this,” Akihiko gestures between the two of them, “anymore.”

“You’re operating it as a pity party just fine,” Ken bites back.

“I’m not. I don’t see it like that, why aren’t you…” Akihiko frowns, watching Ken’s body language get more and more closed off by the second. Frustrated, he reaches out to put a hand on their shoulder. They shrug it off immediately, snapping the last of his patience with the gesture. “Shit, Ken, what do you want from me?”

They study his face again, letting Akihiko shrink in the uncomfortable silence for even longer. He’s messed it up, he’s positive, they’re never going to look at him again. Ken leans closer and he braces himself for the worst, maybe a slap in the face, or a shove off the bed, or—

Ken kisses him, light and soft and a little hesitant and shit, that makes more sense.

They try to pull away and Akihiko grabs them by the shirt, reeling them back in. Both of them melt into it when their lips collide this time, deepening quickly. Ken is unpracticed but enthusiastic, a little bitey at his lips every time they lick into his mouth. It’s still exciting, electrifying even, and Akihiko easily falls into place following their lead. Before he knows it they’re pushing him down onto the mattress, climbing on top of his lap to kiss him more urgently.

Akihiko pulls back, just to catch his breath for a second, gears in his head turning a mile a minute. He opens his mouth, not sure if he’s going to protest or keep the conversation going, only starting, “Look, I—”

Ken mercifully shuts him up with another kiss. It’s better like this, Akihiko realizes, much simpler. He’s always been one for actions over words, especially when his words constantly get him in deeper and deeper trouble with the other. He lets Ken kiss down his neck, sliding their hands under his shirt to push it up and over his head.

They pause for a second, looking at him carefully. “Do you want this or not?”

Akihiko is stunned enough at their forwardness that he can only manage to nod wildly. He does want this, of course he wants it. Ken is achingly gorgeous from the way they’ve filled out to the way they’ve grown out their hair. Kissing them is a dream, a dream he didn’t want to admit he really had, but it all makes so much sense now and he’s thrilled.

Ken’s hands take quick to exploring his chest once he’s fully shirtless, youthful and delicate in contrast to his mottled skin. It’s beautiful. They play across the scars across his chest; some raised and gnarled from healing poorly, some pink and wide from being battle torn, some white and faded with time. The decorated skin helps the scars underneath his pecs blend in.

They take their time mapping it all, trailing light across the skin and watching Akihiko’s skin break out in goosebumps, only commenting, “This is amazing.”

Akihiko knows he’s blushing, at a loss for words with how his brain is malfunctioning from praise. It doesn’t discourage Ken, busy kissing and nipping small bites down from his neck and spreading across his chest to mark him up. He hasn’t retained much sensation there anymore, but Ken is so cute and he’s being paid so much undivided attention that he can’t help but keen and squirm under it anyway.

When they seem satisfied they reach a hand between Akihiko’s thighs and fuck, this kid is forward. He knows he’s right there with them, already achingly hard in his boxers. He bites his lip, hoping they don’t comment on how embarrassingly wet he is as they feel him up through the thin fabric. It would give away too much.

Ken withdraws, and Akihiko’s hips buck up to chase the touch pathetically. They grin, looking down on him like he’s their prey. Akihiko feels small under them, despite how easily he could overpower them. They repeat the action, shoving a hand down his pants and stroking him firm this time to watch the way he gasps and bites back a plea for more.

“Not fair,” Akihiko manages between gasps.

He grabs them by the waist, pulling them in for another kiss in a clumsy attempt to take the lead. He can’t let them get the upper hand like this, too. He has to level the playing field. He smooths his hands up their back, trying to strip them of their school jacket and shirt as best he can.

Once he gets their shirt unbuttoned he’s stopped in his tracks by the feel of more fabric, some kind of soft lace around Ken’s ribcage. He pulls back to take it in—a cute bralette, girly but still a little youthful with a cheery pattern of stars and moons on it.

It suits them. Nothing is there to fill the cups, but the cut brings out their collarbones and the curve of their waist, still managing to emphasize their femininity. Ken freezes, and Akihiko feels anxiety sink into his bones again, worried that he’s gone too far by staring like this without saying anything and scared them off.

“It’s, um.” Ken fidgets like they’re about to attempt to explain their way out of it when Akihiko cuts them off.

“Does it match?”

He’s dumb. That’s the wrong thing to say and he knows it as soon as the question tumbles from his lips, but it’s all his brain can supply when he’s so desperate for more.

Ken doesn’t reply verbally, but their face and chest flushing hot red is an answer in itself. They stand up and shed their shirt and pants and it’s true, they’re wearing a matching set. The cute panties have the same pattern with a small frill framing their thighs and a little bow at the front. They’re already half hard underneath, dick making a tent and a small wet spot at the top of their underwear. Ken fusses, clearly feeling exposed, pressing their thighs together like that can hide anything.

Akihiko knows he should say something. Preferably something intelligent or supportive, words of encouragement or a compliment. He can only manage to gape, open-mouthed and hungry instead.

“No more questioning me, okay?” Ken says, climbing back into his lap. It’s hard to protest once they grind down where their crotches meet, Akihiko melting into putty in Ken’s hands immediately.

He finds himself hovering his hands over their waist like he’s scared of where he should place them. He wants to feel all their smooth exposed skin, their back and thighs and ass and grab them and pull them as close as possible. Before he gets the chance, Ken takes advantage of his uncertainty and he finds his arms pinned above his head.

This works, too. Akihiko knows he could flip their position in seconds but he has to admit he’s enjoying the view from below.

“I’ll call the shots, senpai. Or,” a grin breaks out across their face as they roll their hips, teasing, “do you prefer nii-chan?”

It’s a joke. Akihiko knows it’s a joke, just a stupid taunt over everything they’ve been fighting about. He still can’t help but tense like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. His stomach drops in dread, but there’s still heat simmering underneath it all. His whole body feels like it’s on fire, really.

That can’t be hot. It really cannot and should not turn him on, but the cute nickname falling from Ken’s lips sounds so right and the almost disdainful look they shoot him from above makes his stomach do backflips and feel things he didn’t know were possible. He bites his lip to stop any awful embarrassing admissions from escaping.

They sit there in horrible silence, again, Ken unreadable for a long minute. Akihiko manages to convince himself for not the first time that he’ll be kicked not just off their bed, but out of their room and maybe banned from the entire dorm building permanently. He braces himself for the worst as they open their mouth to speak.

“What, that do something for you? Turned on by a cute little girl in your lap?”

Akihiko finds himself shaking his head no, like that’s going to help his case at all when the truth is glaringly obvious.

Ken doesn’t seem bothered, at least. It’s a good sign, and Akihiko is content to push off thinking about what this revelation could really mean for him. Ken leaves their remarks hanging there, getting to work unbuttoning Akihiko’s pants and sliding them off his hips the rest of the way.

The next press of their crotches together to grind is too hot, practically boiling, only separated by thin fabric of each other’s underwear. Akihiko whines, arching into the touch. Ken picks up the pace, frotting against him in a way that reveals they’re seeking their own pleasure above all else. He’s happy to be used, even thrilled. Laying there pinned underneath he can appreciate how pretty Ken is, the way their hair flows over their shoulders and how they gnaw on their lower lip to focus.

He knows he’s a bit of a sappy romantic. He wants to stop and admire the simple things, even now.

The pressure gets to be too much too quickly, and soon enough Akihiko finds himself pushing his hips up back against Ken and riding the high from the grind of their bodies. He could probably come from just this, he realizes incredulously. He’s so pent up that some heavy petting and attention from a cute girl is all he needs.

“Aww, you seem worked up,” Ken teases, and Akihiko moans pathetically, beyond being able to argue back when they’ve barely even touched each other. “Let me take care of you, nii-chan.”

The name gets him again like an electric shock, and he finds himself nodding wildly before he even knows what he’s agreeing to with the other.

Ken motions for Akihiko to sit up against the headboard and he follows the instruction quickly, watching Ken as they arrange themselves between his legs. They nibble at the skin of his inner thigh and he’s already oversensitive, trying not to clamp his thighs shut like he’s a blushing virgin. Ken is just so intense and straightforward and it’s been so long that he finds himself embarrassed, even though he knows he’s supposed to be the older and more experienced one in control.

“I’ve never done this before,” Ken admits, a little sheepishly.

It’s said almost absentmindedly but Akihiko knows to take it as a confession, a small admission of vulnerability generously shared with him. He runs a hand through Ken’s hair in a way he thinks is reassuring, suddenly all too aware of their age difference again.

“I can guide you,” he offers. He can only hope it sounds cool, jealous of how composed the other manages to be when they’re supposed to be stumbling blindly into this as a pair. Akihiko knows he’s barely keeping it together, seconds away from breaking and begging for more instead when Ken’s breath ghosts hot over his clit.

He can tell he’s not being subtle when he sees the amused glint in Ken’s eye. He’s crumbling so easily for them, not even a challenge to conquer. He’s getting weak.

“Yeah? What do you want me to do first?”

Akihiko exhales shakily, shifting to start to remove his boxers in hopes that it’ll be clear enough that way. Ken snaps up to grab his wrists before he gets very far, looking at him with a deadly seriousness. “Use your words.”

They’re devious. This kid is an evil genius and he can see in their eyes and the crack of a smile how much they enjoy this. They’re the picture of innocence in their cute lingerie, and yet it feels more and more like they’re actively trying to give him a heart attack.

Akihiko swallows his pride, managing out, “T-take my boxers off. And then, I… Use your mouth on me.”

It’s enough to appease Ken in the moment, mercifully. They comply, tossing his underwear onto the floor.

They waste no time getting a taste, leaning in to tongue up Akihiko’s slit. It’s so hot and intense that he needs to knot a hand in their hair to ground himself, hiding his face in the pillow and taking it.

“Good girl.” He lets it slip, and before he has time to be embarrassed of that on top of everything else Ken moans in appreciation.

They push his thighs open wider, fighting against where he reflexively tenses and tries to hide. They work him open slowly with their tongue, careful but curious and exploring. It’s a little uncomfortable how intimate it feels; he hasn’t let anyone see him like this in so long and when he touches himself it’s all business, just a means to an end. Ken takes their time, learns every part of him, listens to his gasps and small movements as they break him apart.

He’s all but forgotten that he’s supposed to be guiding them, only able to let small encouragements of “yeah” and “that’s good” tumble from his lips. He finds he can’t form a coherent thought past that.

Ken tongues near his clit, fluttering over it and making small circles around it, only teasing. He’s starting to feel insane from the lack of attention. Akihiko whines and bucks his hips up in a wordless plea for more.

They pull back to stare up at him innocently, mouth and chin soaked and voice a wreck as they ask, “What’s wrong?”

He’s sure the way he’s tugging at their hair hurts. He can’t even bring himself to maintain eye contact with the other for more than a brief moment. Still, Ken seems content to wait patiently for a verbal response as long as it’ll take.

“My dick, ah… Please,” he huffs out.

They only kiss and bite at his thighs more, taking the time to suck a hickey into the soft flesh while they wait for him to regain composure. “Mm? You want my mouth there? Say it, then.”

Akihiko’s heart races like he ran a marathon, feeling dizzy and more out of breath than any time in recent memory. He’d be hard pressed to admit how much the other affects him but he’s almost there, so close to the breaking point. He knows what they want, what they’re waiting for, and he’s too worked up to care anymore. He gives in fully to their will. Anything for more of their touch.

“Fuck, please, be a good girl and suck your big bro off.”

Ken grins again. They could smile like that while they’re driving a knife straight through his heart and he’d be grateful, he thinks, overjoyed that it’s aimed at him.

“I want you to watch me this time, okay, nii-chan? Keep your eyes on me.”

They’ve won. There’s no room to disagree or disobey. Akihiko has no choice but to stare as Ken wraps their lips around where he’s aching and throbbing. They suck, light at first, flicking their tongue over the tip and he feels like he’s lost it all as he gasps, heels scrambling against the bed.

Embarrassing moans escape him helplessly, louder and louder, gaze fixed on Ken as they continue to work him with their tongue. One of their hands is between their own legs, too, letting out small hums and groans as they continue. It’s too hot, he’s on fire—the knowledge that they’re enjoying it too has him filled with burning desire that he doesn’t know what to do with.

He could stay like this forever, he thinks. Everything about Ken is so intense and overwhelming and good that he doesn’t have to think or worry about his standing with them or anything like that. He’s reduced to pure sensation and nerve endings, able to let go and just feel.

When he comes, he swears he sees stars. He swears they match the cute little pattern on Ken’s underwear.

They keep sucking him through it, only climbing into his lap when his thighs stop trembling and the aftershocks finally calm down. Akihiko pulls them in to kiss, beyond caring about how weird it is to taste himself. He just wants Ken to feel good in return.

He helps them out of their panties in a blur, taking over stroking their dick with a shaky hand. He’s still floating, drunk off his orgasm as he gets his hands on them. It’s hard to take in anything except how beautiful they are like this.

“You felt so good. You’re so cute, Ken,” he mumbles senselessly, letting his mouth run with any silly praise and compliment he can think of. He says their name like a prayer, can’t get enough of chanting “yes, Ken.” It’s working—he can finally see them let go, fucking back into his hand and letting loose moans without any shame. He whispers again, “You’re so pretty. You were perfect.”

Ken nods through it all, brows knit in concentration as they pick up their pace, erratic now with their desperation.

Akihiko takes a deep breath, taken with the sight when he says, “That’s it, sweet girl. You can come for your big bro.”

He doesn’t have it in him to be ashamed anymore. It works, it works so well and Ken’s voice breaks as they spill all over his fist and onto his stomach. He holds them through it, mesmerized, giving them one more kiss before they collapse into the sticky mess on his body without a second thought.

Laying there, sweaty and gross, Akihiko finally feels comfortable enough to wrap his arms around Ken and hold them close without a worry. He’s sure that he can feel their heartbeats connect. He never wants this feeling to leave, never wants to let them go again.

Maybe they’re both stupid, hard-headed, and bad at communicating, but he’d glad they somehow found a way to get their feelings across. There’s no point dancing around the truth of it anymore or feeling weird and ashamed about it; they’re always going to be connected, fates intertwined, and they should embrace it.

Ken finally seems to come to, retreating from Akihiko’s hold to sit up. They grimace at the mess between them.

“Sorry, I got carried away, I just…”

Their voice cracks, seeming genuinely upset with their forehead creased in concern. Akihiko reaches to comfort them and they don’t retreat this time, allowing themselves to be pulled back into his arms. He sits there, holding their small shaking form, and it feels right.

“Don’t leave soon,” Ken mumbles into his shoulder.

It comes out small and sad and Akihiko is reminded again of how young they are, how they built a life here by themselves the past few years. He’s reminded of how he wasn’t there for it. Sure, he has nebulous plans to go back to school but this is concrete, tangible, and he wants to nourish it into something that can grow more than anything. Everything else can wait.

“I’ll stay. I missed you, Ken.”

“Yeah. I missed you, too.”

The priority clicks into place with the exchange. He knows that not everything is fixed by being here with them but it’s better, so much better. A wall has been broken down, finally. Something new can start to be built in its place.

When Akihiko sleeps that night in Ken’s dorm bed he’s no longer tossing and turning, no longer feeling like he’s waiting for ghosts to materialize and watch over him. He sees the room from a new perspective, and when he falls asleep it’s peaceful with Ken held tight in his arms.