Chapter Text
Yuta has never been a fan of big events. He prefers smaller groups- a handful of close friends, an intimate assortment of his most loved ones. Tonight, though, he sets his preference aside.
There’s dozens of people, music just a little too loud to be comfortable, dizzying colors of dress. It’s almost too much.
But he’s grown from the anxious boy he once was. He takes it all in, adapts, adjusts. He seems effortless. Controlled. Confident in that quiet, gentle way.
He’s proud of you. Another creative work finished, shown to the world, adored by a niche audience and appreciated by many more.
Months spent laboring over your passion, ensuring every detail is perfect. He was there the entire time. Tonight is no different. Your smile makes all those late nights worth the lost sleep. The world appreciating you- almost like he does- brings him joy.
You encourage him to catch up with his friends, meet some new people. There are a few folks looking to talk to you about your latest work. He obliges, trailing to the edges of the crowd. He finds Toge, and they catch up for a bit. Yuta’s eyes never stray from you for long.
Every peer offers their congratulations, every acquaintance smiling and happy to catch up. He watches as they all come and go, your company always shuffling.
Eventually, a man walks up to you. He seems almost sheepish, but greets you with anxious familiarity. Yuta stops midway through his sentence- he suddenly doesn’t recall what he and Toge have been reminiscing about.
Your eyes light up, you smile- that dazzlingly earnest smile you rarely ever show. Something in him stutters.
The other guy is perfectly respectful, never getting closer than an arms length to you. But the way he laughs, the way your shoulders finally relax just a bit- it stirs an ugly feeling in Yuta. He struggles to push it down. He assures himself the guy is just an old classmate or coworker.
Minutes tick by. Toge has given up restarting their earlier conversation, instead settling for watching Yuta watch you.
Yuta tells himself everything is fine. Toge knows from the fiddling of his hands that it’s not.
The guy hands you his phone.
You take it.
Yuta’s mouth goes dry. His throat feels like sandpaper.
You hand the mans phone back.
You hug him.
You hug him.
Yuta knows it’s probably nothing. You’d never do anything like that.
But what if you’ve been lying all these months?
Toge reaches out, a tentative hand resting on Yuta’s shoulder.
“Salmon?” Are you okay?
“Huh-? Oh. Y-yeah. I’m fine. Thanks, Inumaki.”
Yuta can’t rip his eyes from you. An ugly torrent is rising within him.
I should be stronger than this, he thinks.
Bitter envy, choking greed, sour betrayal. He’s walking before he can stop himself.
He shears through the crowd, slipping between every gap without so much as a draft following him.
He slips his hand into yours, causing you to flinch in surprise.
You smile- bright and earnest, eyes so full of affection- and he matches it despite his perpetually pitiful and tired eyes. He gestures- barely noticeable to anyone but you- and you follow him out of the crowded room.
The hallway is dim, the chatter muted.
“Hey hon! How h-“
Yuta has you pinned to the wall before you can finish the question. His hands are gentle- so, so gentle- around your wrists. His eyes are overflowing with turmoil as he searches your gaze.
His voice is quiet. Soft.
He sounds like he’s about to shatter.
“Who was he?”
Your cheeks flush slightly.
In Yuta’s mind, it’s his worst fear come true.
Truthfully, you’re struggling to decide how to relay the exact relationship you once had with him without sounding like a cringy kid.
“He’s an old friend.”
Yuta knows he should drop it. He knows you’re loyal and honest and so, so, genuinely, intrinsically good.
So why can’t he trust you?
Why is there a roiling storm inside him every time he remembers the way you smiled at that man, with the same smile only your dearest ones see?
The way you looked at him, with stars in your eyes, with enough love to shatter the earth?
“An... old... friend?”
His voice is wispy, eyes strained as he holds you there.
“That’s... all?”
Silly you. You should’ve known Yuta would be able to tell. Should’ve known he would’ve been paying attention to you more than anyone else all night.
You sigh before you chuckle.
“That’s the short way to put it, I suppose.”
His puppy eyes demand the full explanation before his lips do.
“Who was he, really?”
“Yuta, do you remember telling me about.. about Rika?”
His heart stutters. What does that have to do with anything?
Unless...
He doesn’t answer- not really. There’s too much inside him now. Normally so collected, so composed, something has taken its toll on him. He’s sputtering questions before you can finish explaining.
“You only love me, though, right? You know I only love you. Please, it’s only me, you wouldn’t do this to me?”
He sounds pathetic. Whimpering and simpering, practically whining like a kicked puppy while he smothers you in the dim hall.
You kiss him. Softly at first. Gently. Reassuring.
You feel the nervous energy evaporate from him with every subsequent meeting of your lips.
“You know I do, Yuta.”
You think you hear him choke a bit. It’s only then you notice the awkward way he’s standing and shuffling, almost pressing into you.
“Please-“ he sputters, “I need to- fuck, I need to hear you say it.”
His hips meet yours against his own volition. He can’t hold back. He’s been holding back so much already. You’ll understand, surely? You’re always so kind and patient and forgiving. Certainly you won’t stop now?
His grip on your wrists has loosened- it was never tight, but you know him, you know how broken he can be. You knew better than to break his hold on you- it would be like breaking his control of himself.
You press your lips to his cheek, and softly, lovingly, honestly whisper the words he needs most right now.
“I love you, Yuta. You, and only you.”
That shatters his last shred of decency. His breath hitches, and the needy movements of his hips grow more feral.
You gently shush him, fingers tangling in his inky hair as you hook your legs around his desperate hips.
You kiss him again, swallowing the whimper he lets out as you accept him like this. Accept him so honestly, so completely.
His lips slip from yours, and his slate eyes get lost in yours. His pupils are blown, his ivory skin flushed.
If you knew he would get this worked up, you’d do this more often. You love seeing him like this- so pitiful, so desperate, so utterly perfect.
“You’re mine, and only mine. You know that, though, right? Know I’d- I’d give you the stars.”
He’s rambling, breath hitching and choking every time his hips meet yours.
“Only yours, love, only yours.”
Your voice is soft. Reassuring. Comforting.
“You- fuck- you know I’d burn down the world for you.”
It’s almost shocking how quickly his composure has evaporated, leaving him a pitiful and whimpering mess. Almost.
“He wouldn’t. Not like I could. Not like I would. No one- no one else can. Only me.” He draws in a shuddering breath, swallowing back a whimper. “Only I can have you.”
You reassure him, fingers ghosting over his white shirt, gently scratching his back through the fabric.
“I only want you, hon.”
He doesn’t bite back the whine this time.
The sound stokes the embers of your own needy heat.
You capture his lips in yours again. It’s messy this time, leaving you each breathless. He’s mumbling into the kiss, proclamations of belonging- to him, to you, to each other. It’s an endless chant of ‘mine’ and ‘yours’ that reaches into your soul.
Your voice is pitchy and thin when you whisper in his ear.
“Show me I’m yours, then.”