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"Mmn..."
Fuuta groaned as moonlight spread out from behind the door, creaked wide open with Mikoto's arrival.
It was half past six, and Fuuta lied listlessly on the ground, in an undershirt and shorts — an almost direct contrast to the other's work uniform of which he struggled to keep tidy throughout the day. A deep settling worry stirred within him.
That day, he looked tired, but unusually so. There was something in his downturned eyes that shone even while hidden from the moon that would undoubtedly hurt Mikoto if he let himself see Fuuta's appearance, and walk away as it were normal.
Mikoto didn't question him. Above all else, he brought him into a quiet hug, and his lover returned it, like he was welcoming him back home. Against the bitter cold, Fuuta was warm, hush in his body heat. Before, he talked about only being hugged by his older sister once or twice. It didn't make sense that he held so tight, with such familiarity.
"Don't..." his voice came in a strained whisper.
"Don't treat you like a child?" Mikoto asked.
".... Don't let go."
Disconnected from the world outside, not a sound disturbed the soft rhythm of Fuuta's heart. For a long time, this ache was nothing more to himself than the fact he was still alive. He used to let days slip through his fingers without any meaning, having countless reasons why he didn't have anyone.
Someone who worried too much. Someone he had to be honest to. Someone that would burst through the door and disturb his sleep. He would imagine, disgusted.
That day, this heart entrusted to Mikoto beat with his own in their hopeless longings, aware they both despised solitude. Fuuta hoped, if they needed each other so desperately, it meant they both had a reason to exist.
He held impossibly tighter.
"You're still tired." Fuuta didn't need to be keen to know that, but he knew better than to ask why, or when his newest deadline was. Mikoto appreciated that. "Don't move until you're okay."
— But you aren't okay either.
"..." The younger emotionlessly laid his head on his shoulder. "I like your apartment." he said.
"Oh, right. You hadn't been here before." They had went out the day before. Then, they realized it had gotten too late to bring Fuuta home.
The room wasn't anything too special to Mikoto. Just a normal, enclosed space with minimal sentimental objects. Fuuta, however, insisted on staying, and they walked hand in hand to his building.
"What'd you do all day?"
"Slept. Ate."
"What'd you eat?"
"... Candy."
"Is that why you looked passed out on the floor? When you're hungry, you should eat a full meal so you don't get woozy."
"... It was good, though."
"Ugh. Fuuta." Mikoto discreetly placed his palm on the other's forehead, checking his temperature.
"Mikoto."
"Hm?"
"Let's do it today." came his cryptic reply.
"... Huh??"
"You didn't kiss me at all this morning."
"Ah. So, that's what you meant."
His eyes, narrowed tiredly, met Mikoto's. Poisonous was the look on his face as he opened his mouth, his tongue hung slightly between his lips — an invite. Fuuta had his hands on Mikoto's shoulders, appearing faint, like he would actually melt into him if he wasn't careful. He was a liquid glass that could break at any moment — someone with sharp edges that hurt him too deep, who trickled into every crack in his life.
Had it really seen its smile, and wanted to cover its mouth? Had it really thought of its aching as ugly? Had this heart really felt isolated from the world since birth?
Did he know? How much he meant to Mikoto?
"... Can I try something else?"
Fuuta's voice was small as they pulled away. The sight of him being demure was so tantalizing he had to agree.
"I'm glad you're back home.... I-... really missed you." His gaze averted, Mikoto understood he meant every single word.
At his grey cubicle, he spent his time thinking of the color red. "Me too."
If he could ask for anything in the world, he wouldn't come home to nobody ever again. Every second he hugged Fuuta, he forgot a little more — his sadness, his want for something. Want for someone. To make him complete.
Somebody, hug me like I'll disappear. Somebody, show as much cowardice as me. Somebody, make me choose life. Give me a reason to be here.
He hoped he would never have to wonder what his was again.