Chapter Text
Racing Heart
Genya blended concealer deliberately over the bruises on his neck, taking care to not press too hard so they wouldn’t ache. The makeup did a remarkable job of covering up each round mark, which made Genya feel better. It did not, however, stop the race track his heart had set itself on.
He’d been a trembling mess all day long, overcome with the anticipation of that night—a night Genya now prepared for. He’d already pulled on his suit and tied his boots and spread wax dye along the tips of his hair—a vibrant yellow he never thought would look so nice on him—and now he stood in his mom’s bathroom, applying concealer to his face and throat, successfully covering up the bruises his father had left along his nape. Like he was never there to begin with. It was a new sensation for Genya, being able to hide his father’s abuse. It was a nice sensation.
“Did you want help with your eyeliner too,” His mom’s voice asked, encouraging him to glance up, “or just your hair?” She appeared behind him in the mirror with a small box in her hands, smiling fondly up at Genya. He met her reflected gaze and smiled in return before setting down the tube of concealer and facing her.
“Yes, please,” he said simply. She laughed and gestured for him to sit on the bath’s edge.
“You remember the first time we did this?” She murmured. She set aside her little mystery box and grabbed Genya’s eyeliner from the counter, tilting his head backwards with one gentle hand and lining up the other to Genya’s eyes.
“Yeah,” he responded, grinning bitterly but trying his best to stay still as the pencil glided over his closed eyelid. “Dad was so fucking mad—which, by the way, can you see anymore bruises, or did I cover them all?”
His mom went still.
After a few beats of no movement, Genya peeked open the eye she hadn’t touched yet, and found her frozen before him, her lips pursed and brow furrowed. His breath caught in his throat and he leaned forward, opening both eyes and reaching out for her free hand.
“Ma?” He asked, a worried pang stabbing between his ribs. “Are you okay?”
She tried to pull her tense expression into a smile, though it did little to hide the obvious despair in her eyes. Genya’s already thudding heart tripped and fell on its face.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. Her eyes shone, wet with unfallen tears.
Genya shook his head. “It’s not your fault, ma,” he promised. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Really, it’s okay.”
With the hand holding his eyeliner, she stuck out a finger and combed some of his hair back. That smile she forced on seemed to come slightly easier at the gesture and her shoulders relaxed a little, so Genya relaxed in turn—well, mostly: his heart’s version of relaxing was just to resume its previous erratic pace, which was rather unappreciated.
“You covered them well enough,” his mom finally said. “I can’t see any.”
Genya nodded, exhaling a relieved sigh. “‘Kay, cool. Thanks, mom.”
“Of course, sweetheart.”
She went back to applying his eyeliner then, instructing him to close his eyes once more and positioning his head back. Her hands were warm and slightly rough against his face: a stark contrast to the smooth, cool feel of the makeup, but a comforting difference. The familiarity of her touch always helped Genya breathe, so he focused on that.
Truth be told, he couldn’t tell if the speed of his heart was due more to excitement or terror. He was very excited, of course he was; he felt fancier in the suit Nezuko made than he’d ever felt in his life, and he was beyond elated to finally see how Tanjiro had dressed. He was, however, also painfully aware of the fact that almost the entire school body would be in attendance, and they would all be able to perceive Genya. That had never been a problem at his shooting club, and not too bad of an issue during day-to-day classes, but at a dance? Genya had never been to a dance before. Would he know what to do, or would he make a fool of himself? Would everyone stare? Would he stand out like a sore and stupid thumb? Would they be able to tell how anxious he felt? Would they laugh him out of the room? Could he ever show his face at school again?!
He took a breath and rolled his shoulders.
Those were thoughts for later, he decided, or never better yet. Tanjiro wouldn’t want him getting so worked up. Instead, he’d advise to let the worries be and just focus on him—which would be easy enough when the time came. Genya focused on Tanjiro easily.
An entire problem in itself.
“You look so handsome,” Genya’s mom said. She fixed an edge of his eyeliner with a q-tip before removing her hands. He hesitantly glanced through one eye, waiting for her to nod approvingly before he opened both. She smiled warmly at him: a welcome sight. “I bet Tanjiro will say so too.”
“Mom,” Genya chastised, quickly turning his face to the floor to hide the stupid grin tugging at his mouth.
She hadn’t been making his life any easier with those little comments. He didn’t really mind them, but they always made his stomach erupt with butterflies and made those relentless thoughts so much worse—thoughts that went against his ultimate rule: No Stupid Feelings For Tanjiro Kamado. He had let himself get far too lax on that rule, allowing brief daydreams here and there, and the quiet, ridiculous, hidden fantasy of one way this night could end…but that wasn’t right. He knew it wasn’t. And it was disrespectful—no, outright heinous—to think of Tanjiro that way. Not him. He couldn’t have him. He couldn’t…it wasn’t…not him.
His mom definitely disagreed with the sour sentiment, though. Every time he denied her suggestions, she made a small tut of disapproval (a noise Genya heard now) and shook her head sadly (an action Genya saw now).
“I’m just saying,” she continued, setting his eyeliner aside and picking up that small box she had walked in with, “that boy knows beauty when he sees it, and I know he sees it in you.”
Genya ignored the comment. “What’s inside?” He asked instead, pointing to the box.
Luckily, she allowed the deflection, and held it out for him to take. It was small, much smaller in his hands than hers, and made of a fine, red velvet, almost like something meant to hold an engagement ring or some other precious piece of jewelry. He glanced up for her approval and she gave a nod, so he opened it.
Inside was a thin necklace, made of a nicely crafted silver chain and an amethyst pendant carved into the shape of a star. It looked delicate and beautiful and important, far too incredible for Genya to even hold. He sent his mom another seeking look.
“An old friend gave that to me,” she whispered, gaze wistful as she reached out to brush over the stone. She met his eyes after, solidly. “I want you to wear it tonight.”
Genya shook his head immediately, trying to give the box back to her. She pushed it back into his hands. “Ma, I can’t,” he said, trying again. “It’s yours, it’s too nice, I can’t—”
“I want you to,” his mom said, then removed the necklace from the box in one quick swipe, unclasping the chain and leaning forward to pin it around him. Defeated, Genya allowed her.
It was tiny on him, more akin to a choker than a proper necklace, settling just over his collarbone and framed perfectly by the lapels of his coat. As his mom stepped back again, Genya raised a tentative finger to rest against it, tracing the smooth, cool metal and ridges of the stone.
“See?” His mom murmured, eyes alight when Genya caught her gaze. “It suits you perfectly. It even matches those earrings of yours.”
Right. Genya toyed with one of them, the moon dangling from his right ear. A secret gift from a secret person. Secretly perfect for him. They came alongside the concealer and hair dye, two other gifts Genya had gratefully used and adored.
“Thank you, ma,” Genya said. He took one of her hands again, squeezing it tightly and smiling up at her. “I’ll be really careful with it, I promise.”
“I know you will.” His mom smiled back, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his brow. “Now, your hair: just one half braid?”
Genya agreed, and so she set to work, weaving a small french braid alongside the left half of his hair and leaving the rest to flop over the right side of his head. He originally tried doing it himself, but, as he very quickly discovered, braiding his sisters’ hair was a far different task than braiding his own. And so, he asked his mom.
She was quick about it though, finishing up the task in a matter of minutes, so before too long Genya stood at the mirror again. He scrutinized every inch of himself, scanning for critiques on his stature, insults for his face, anything that could deter the self confidence he wished for, and coming up…empty. For once in his life, he liked what he saw. He liked how he looked. Genya…liked himself.
“Like I said,” his mom whispered, standing beside him in the mirror with a proud smile, “beautiful.”
Genya didn’t even want to argue. He smiled back. “Thank you, mom.”
The car ride that followed passed swiftly, accelerated by Genya’s terror/excitement and subsequent speeding heart. His leg bounced on its own and his palms sweated relentlessly as they pulled into the Academy parking lot, then to a stop by the event hall doors. Purple and blue and white lights pulsed through the cracks of the massive doors and chest-thrumming music hung in the air, cutting through the metal of the car and straight into Genya’s bones. He swallowed heavily, his mouth tense, unsure whether he wanted to grin like a maniac or have a panic attack and die.
It’ll be fine, right? He took a breath and wiped off his hands, shakily unclasping his seatbelt and swallowing another bout of saliva. Yeah, it’ll all be fine. It’ll be fun. You’ll have fun.
You’ll see Tanjiro.
“Okay,” he murmured, more to himself than anything. He turned to see his mom, grinning shyly when he did. “Thanks, ma. I’ll see you tonight.”
His mom grabbed his hand before he could open the door. She squeezed his fingers in hers and hummed softly. Her eyes darted between his, searching for something deep that Genya couldn’t name. She smiled tightly. “Sweetheart?” She murmured. “Have so much fun, okay?”
Genya nodded. “Okay,” he promised. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” After another squeeze, she released his hand, and he opened the car door, then a second later, he stood alone in the parking lot, facing the imposing doors to the event hall.
Just walk, he thought, and made himself do that. One foot in front of the other. And fucking breathe, idiot, breathe. His heart pounded holes into his ribs; his legs shook like jelly; his hands sweated endlessly; but the doors appeared before him anyway, silver handles beckoning like a spell. Do it. Genya pushed.
The music, already so loud, enveloped him immediately, stealing his breath as he stepped inside. The neon lights washed over the crowd and twisted the colors of their outfits—a mass of students in fanciful outfits that Genya did fit into. He glanced around, spying a few teacher chaperones, a few familiar students, many unfamiliar personnel, but no Tanjiro just yet. He released the door and took another step in.
The waning moon and street lights helped adjust Genya’s eyes, making it easier to pick out the individual faces he scanned over. No, not him, not him—oh, hey, that guy—not him… Surely he was here already, yes? The others arrived earlier with Kanae Kocho, a chaperone. He had to be here.
Then he saw it: the breaking line of people, the glimpse of another familiar face, someone he might call a friend…
And the white swan in the center of the room, staring his way with the prettiest eyes Genya had ever seen.
Tapping Toes
Take a breath, Tanjiro told himself for the millionth time that night. He leaned onto his toes then his heels again, rolling back and forth on his feet to sate the anxiety gnawing in his chest. Deep breath in through the nose—he inhaled—and all the way out through the mouth—he exhaled.
And the anxiety didn’t go away.
He barely had a reason for being so anxious in the first place! Formal had only been underway for a half an hour. He had pleasantly greeted many friends, and he had already shared an energetic dance with Zenitsu—everything was great! Except for one fact, one missing person: Genya.
Which was fine! He could take all the time he needed! Tanjiro was fine with it, of course. So long as Genya was comfortable, he was fine. Genya could show up whenever he wanted. That was okay. Tanjiro felt fine.
But that didn’t stop his spinning thoughts. That didn’t stop the urge to bounce his legs and tap his toes and wander around the hall with a now-lukewarm glass of punch clutched in a shaking hand. That didn’t stop the worry that he nigh refused to acknowledge: the worry that Genya would not come.
“It’s okay,” Tanjiro whispered, and poured himself a new drink, “just take a breath.”
A deep breath and sip of cool water later, Tanjiro turned back to the party. He would, he decided, enjoy himself as he peacefully awaited Genya’s arrival. Inspired by his newfound vigor, he marched toward the crowd. He could abide by the minutes—for surely it would only be a few minutes more—until he appeared in those doors, magnificent in whatever he wore, framed as the prince he was, waiting stunningly for Tanjiro to approach and…oh, who was he kidding. Tanjiro could not patiently wait by. He was far too selfish, too greedy.
Too smitten.
That’s what he was and he knew it. Smitten. Infatuated. Head-over-heels. In love. Was he in love? Maybe that he didn’t know, but he knew the rest. He liked Genya. He liked him a lot. He had realized that recently, over the past month or so. He really liked Genya, and he really wanted to be with him. Maybe even kiss him. Maybe tonight. Hopefully tonight.
Which was why he found himself so anxious for Genya to arrive: he wanted nothing more than to grab his hands and pull him into his fantasy, no matter how selfish the desire. Was that bad? That sounded bad. Maybe he ought to reconsider the whole idea. Ought he?
“Tanjiro!” Called out a familiar, friendly voice, interrupting his fluttering thoughts and turning him around. His ballet instructor, Miss Mitsuri Kanroji, hurried towards him with a bright grin and Mr. Iguro in tow, who seemed a little less than thrilled to see Tanjiro in turn. Still, he didn’t argue as Miss Kanroji hauled him over and pulled Tanjiro into a tight hug.
“You look so pretty!” Miss Kanroji squealed, squeezing Tanjiro so firmly that he lost his breath. Tanjiro held her back anyway, chuckling airlessly and heaving when she let him go. “You’re like the Swan!”
“That was the idea!” Tanjiro cheerily replied, and spun around to show off his outfit. The ruffled skirt and coat tails flared when he did, framing him similarly to a tutu, just like he had hoped. The white wisteria embroidery rippled at his movement and swayed in time with the settling skirts as he slowed, like a gentle wind brushed through their petals. He had never felt quite so fantastic in an outfit before, but now he felt positively divine. All thanks to his talented sister and friend. He beamed at Miss Kanroji, who clapped for him.
“Gorgeous!” She cheered, then hugged him again.
Behind her, Mr. Iguro took a step forward, apparently deciding to join the conversation with a scalding look. “I thought Genya Shinazugawa was meant to join you,” he said flatly, more an observation than a question, his arms crossed over his chest.
Tanjiro did his best to keep his expression from falling, though the simple comment from Mr. Iguro sent a cold pain through his chest. “Uh, he’ll be here,” Tanjiro affirmed, nodding along to his own words. “He wanted to come later—but he’ll be here any minute!”
Mr. Iguro’s eyes narrowed, sharp over the lines of his mask, but he didn’t say anything else. In his silence, Miss Kanroji spoke again, seemingly unconcerned about the short exchange.
“Have the best night ever, okay, Tanjiro?” She instructed, and reached out to squeeze his shoulders. “Enjoy your friends and the dance!”
Tanjiro squared his stance and pulled on a new grin. “Yes, ma’am!” He chirped, playfully saluting her. “I hope you enjoy it as well!”
“We will!” She placed a quick kiss to Tanjiro’s head—Mr. Iguro’s glare worsened at the gesture—then skipped away, taking Mr. Iguro’s arm in hand and dragging him, uncomplaining, along with her. Tanjiro took a breath, then left as well.
That small remark did horrors to his composure, though. It was one matter when Tanjiro alone fretted over Genya and his late arrival, but with a chaperone noticing? Well, that just made it all the more worse. He held tightly to his water cup as he ambled through the crowd, offering brief greetings and responses to people he knew and slowly sipping at his drink, hoping to not let it grow warm again. Even that repetitive motion refused to soothe his worries, though, leaving him to anxiously tap his way to the edge of the room again, separating himself to take yet another deep breath. He should find his friends again, he knew. Maybe being with them would placate the worst of his troubles.
As if reading Tanjiro’s thoughts from across the room, his sister, Nezuko, appeared from amongst the other students, skipping his way so her own coat tails fluttered behind her. She had adorned herself in a charming pink suit with azaleas lining the hem of her slacks and lapels, which complimented her bright eyes and orange-tipped hair perfectly. She looked sharp and stunning and positively overjoyed, grinning ear-to-ear as she found Tanjiro and bounded over to him. With that expression sent his way, Tanjiro couldn’t help but smile along.
“There you are!” She called as she approached, reaching out to grab his hands. Tanjiro accepted the gesture happily, giggling when she instead released him for a hug. “I couldn’t find you for a while, I was worried!”
“I’m alright, I just…” Tanjiro trailed off. Without really meaning to, he looked away, towards the main doors of the event hall—doors that still sat painfully closed, with no new visitors. No new Genya.
Nezuko, the clever saint she was, caught on to his anxiety immediately, and pulled away from the embrace with a pinched look. “He’ll be here,” she promised without any prompt, finally taking his hands and squeezing. Her expression was solid and stern, a firm testament to her faith. Tanjiro sighed.
“I know,” he agreed, eyes still dallying towards the doors, “I just really hoped he would be here by now, and I’m getting worried, and…” he rocked on his feet, teetering onto his toes and then heels and taking, yet another, deep breath. “I don’t know, I’m working myself up.”
“You definitely are,” Nezuko said with a nod, “but that’s okay. I understand.”
Tanjiro smiled and met her glittering eyes. “I know you do.”
“How about we wait for him together?” Nezuko suggested. She swung their joined hands side-to-side, jostling some life back into Tanjiro’s limbs. “Everyone else is gathered on the dance floor—wanna come join?”
To be frank, Tanjiro wanted to stand directly beside the doors and wait for Genya to appear, so he could throw his arms around his shoulders and hold him the entire night. He wanted to ask him to dance and ask him to stay and tell him how he felt. He wanted to kiss him.
“Yeah, sounds good!” Tanjiro instead answered, nodding and following Nezuko into the crowd of students. She cheered and happily led the way, though Tanjiro noticed a sideways stare locked on him, eyes narrowing as if she could read his thoughts.
She didn’t say anything when they made it to their friends, though, instead stepping away so they could pull Tanjiro back into the group. Kanao greeted him and fixed his collar, Zenitsu hugged him tightly and kissed his cheeks, then Inosuke took his side, squishing their arms together and propping his chin on Tanjiro’s shoulder. They all wore their own coats and skirts: the completion of a home-economics-assignment-meets-art-project belonging to Kanao and Nezuko. To go along with the flowers theme, Kanao wore a fluffy, pale purple suit stitched with orchids; Zenitsu was in yellow, with a long choppy skirt and hyacinths; then Inosuke wore a deep blue, slitted skirt and coat that popped against the red snapdragons sewn along the hem. They all looked incredible, as Tanjiro had told them many times that afternoon. He just wished Genya was there to complete the set.
Well, it was what it was, and Tanjiro had to be okay with that.
But then, at that moment, catching his attention like a hook, Tanjiro smelled it: that sugar and soil scent, wafting into the event hall and cloying around Tanjiro despite all the other bodies. He turned suddenly in place, dislodging Inosuke in his desperation, spinning to see the doors—doors now cracked, filtering in outdoor light.
“Tanjiro?” Zenitsu asked as he jolted. “Are you okay? Your heart—” But he must have noticed as well, because he cut himself off.
Tanjiro wanted to say something back, to assure him he felt fine—better than fine now—but he couldn’t stop his feet from moving forward, trying to pry through a crowd that seemed suddenly too thick. He pushed into a couple people, murmuring numb apologies, but Kanao appeared in a flash of orchids and he stood still again, watching the crowd part at her urging, carving a clear line of sight for Tanjiro to follow, and follow it he did, straight to the entryway.
His breath caught short.
Genya stood perfectly still, pale moonlight wreathing him from behind before the doors closed him inside. With the sharp lines of his indigo suit and his crisply squared shoulders, he looked magnificent, far better than Tanjiro had imagined, if only to show how lacking his daydreams had been. His lovely purple eyes danced over the crowd, a worried crease forming in his brow until finally, finally, he saw Tanjiro too, and the entire world fell silent.
Tanjiro moved forwards without really deciding to, only aware that his feet were padding across the floor, and that Genya was growing ever closer. He wore the earrings gifted to him, as he said he would, and he had applied the yellow dye to the tips of his hair—a beautiful look on him, set primly aside by a partial braid and juxtaposed against the rich purples of his suit. If Tanjiro wasn’t mistaken, he’d even drawn on eyeliner, which Tanjiro liked maybe a little too much. He looked dashing and heavenly. He looked like a figure the old artists would paint, carve, and write endless poems about. He looked like a prince. He looked like a god.
“Hi,” Tanjiro said, breathless and awestruck, stopping a half a pace in front of Genya and meeting his eyes. A pretty necklace rested on his throat, he noticed, just a little purple star that shifted when he swallowed. It suited him perfectly.
“Hey,” Genya replied, just as quiet as Tanjiro. His gaze dropped, inching down the entire length of Tanjiro’s body before crawling back up. His ears turned pink. “You’re taller.”
Tanjiro lifted his skirts to show off the white heeled boots he wore. “I’m cheating,” he said, and Genya laughed.
“You…are…” He exhaled shakily, a grin twitching up his cheeks. “Gorgeous.”
“Thank you!” Tanjiro curtsied. “You look…” Oh, there were so many things to say, so many words to describe how ethereal he was, how much Tanjiro loved to see him. “Wow.”
And that was the best he could say!?
It made Genya laugh again at least, so Tanjiro considered it a win and giggled along. He took a small step forward, positioning them even closer, so he could take a fuller breath of that sweet, earthen smell. The smell of Genya.
“Sorry I’m late,” Genya murmured when he moved up. “I hope it didn’t bother you.”
Tanjiro shook his head, deciding to keep his fretful evening to himself. No need to worry Genya. “It’s no problem! I’m just so glad you’re here! I’ve been so excited. Your suit is incredible—and I love the yellow in your hair—and that little braid is so pretty—and where’d you get that necklace?”
“Uh…” Genya blinked and chuckled lightly, probably thrown off by Tanjiro’s desperate statements. Desperate to let him know how he felt, most of all. Desperate to know if the affections were shared, if they were a matter Genya would wish to pursue.
As Genya could not read minds, however, he did not get a response on that front. Instead, Genya lifted a hand to touch the small necklace on his collarbone, and smiled softly.
“It’s my mom’s,” he explained. “She wanted me to wear it tonight.”
And thank god for that, Tanjiro thought selfishly. The necklace looked so pretty on him—everything looked so pretty on him—and Tanjiro wanted to prove it. He wanted to trace his fingers over where Genya did, he wanted to feel the pulse in his throat through the chain, he wanted to place a kiss atop the clasp, under his jaw, along his shoulders and collar and beneath his chin. Everywhere, really. He really wanted to kiss him.
“It’s beautiful,” Tanjiro said, once again keeping all those needy thoughts to himself. “You’re beautiful.”
Genya’s eyes went a little wide at that final compliment, though he didn’t shy away. Rather, making Tanjiro’s heart skip ten million beats, he also took a step forward. The hand he had rested over his necklace reached out and combed a stand of hair behind Tanjiro’s ear. Tanjiro lost his breath. Genya’s finger trailed down from there, tracing the line of his jaw and unmoving throat before delicately adjusting his collar and stopping—just far enough to the side to be considered on his shoulder, but still close enough to keep a fingerprint over his nonexistent pulse and slip minutely beneath his coat. If Tanjiro could do anything at that moment besides gape and stare, he likely would have thrown himself into Genya’s arms and begged him to be his.
“You’re beautiful too,” Genya whispered, and Tanjiro’s already stolen breath dissipated completely. “Like a swan.”
“Prince,” Tanjiro mouthed, barely enunciated enough to be a word. He swallowed and tried to breathe and spoke again. “You’re like a prince from a story.”
Genya giggled, a delightful and delicious noise. “Does that make you the super optimistic protagonist I get to fall in love with?”
Tanjiro grinned at him. “Only if you’ll have me,” he answered.
There was a beat of silence then, held tenderly in the air between them as an unspoken wish, Tanjiro’s wish: please, have me.
But it ended when Genya’s gaze was stolen by something behind Tanjiro. He looked away only briefly before doing a double take. From there, his expression grew tighter, into something shy and sheepish instead of confident and calm. He chuckled awkwardly and removed his hand from Tanjiro and shuffled a step backwards.
“I think your friends are waiting for us,” he said, directing Tanjiro to glance over his shoulder. Shame coiled in his chest.
Sure enough, quickly turning away as if to pretend they hadn’t been watching, his four other friends stood at the edge of the students, waiting. And Tanjiro had kept them there, so absorbed in Genya’s arrival he had almost forgotten them. No matter. He shook off the guilt. They’d forgive him, he was sure, and now wasn’t the time to worry about that anyway. He grabbed Genya’s hand.
“Come on,” he urged when Genya wrapped his fingers around Tanjiro’s, “let’s go meet them!”
Genya hummed, already following along with his beckon.
“Lead the way, your highness.”