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1.
“I think you should tell him.”
Tamaki retreated into his hoodie, facing away from her. Nejire wasn’t deterred though, leaning into his field of vision anyway. “Come on, Amajiki! You can’t just keep all this bottled up inside forever!”
“Yes I can,” he insisted.
He should have seen this coming. Ever since he’d let his secret slip to her (there had been rum involved – her idea, not his), she’d been bringing it up almost daily. Never in front of Mirio, thank God, but even so, Tamaki wondered how much longer he could take this.
He was in love with Mirio.
He’d been in love with him for longer than he’d realized, he figured. That was the only thing that made sense. It had only been recently that it had truly hit him, the realization that what he was feeling every time he looked at his best friend had a name. A big, terrifying name that made him shiver just at the thought of it. And after three shots of horrible rum at Nejire Hado's insistence, he'd blurted it out to her while he'd flopped over her lap, and she'd petted his hair and told him she wasn't anywhere near surprised.
Not one of his proudest moments, but here they were.
“I don’t like seeing you like this,” she sighed. “What are you so scared of?”
“He doesn’t feel the same way, Hado.”
“Everyone who’s ever fallen in love has wondered whether the other person doesn’t feel the same way-“
“I don’t wonder that. I know it. He doesn’t feel the same way.” Tamaki shoved his hands into his pockets. Maybe if he could manifest a clam shell big enough he could disappear inside of it and spend the whole evening there.
She was frowning. “But what if he does? You’ll never know if you don’t-“
“Hado, I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” he sighed.
“But look where we are! A spring festival!” She grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him toward the entrance just a few paces away, grinning at the brightly-lit arching entryway into the festival grounds. He could already hear the murmur of voices from inside, the smell of cooking meat and sweets wafting out from the stalls lining the path. “There’s food and lights and a ferris wheel! And fireworks later! You know Mirio loves fireworks!”
“Fireworks are too loud,” Tamaki groaned.
“They’re romantic!” she insisted. “This whole places is romantic! Come on, Amajiki – I know there’s got to be a romantic bone somewhere in that body of yours. Just imagine it, you two sitting out on the grass watching the fireworks, holding hands and snuggling together…”
Tamaki made a sound in the back of his throat that he thought made him sound like he was dying, because just the thought of that made him feel like he was going to pass out.
A second later, she released him and spun on her heel, waving with a bright grin. “There’s the man of the hour! Hey, over here!”
Tamaki’s entire body stiffened like a metal rod had been lashed to his spine.
“Tamaki?” God, that voice. He’d heard it almost every day since he’d been a kid but it still made his heart stutter. “Uh…are you okay?”
“Oh, he’s fine,” Nejire said, turning Tamaki around again. He forced himself to look up and smile. Somehow.
“Hi…Mirio.”
“Hope I didn’t keep you guys waiting!” Mirio laughed. “You know you could have gone on without me. I would have caught up.”
“Like we’re gonna go in without you,” Nejire laughed. “Besides, I want to get a picture!”
“P-picture?” Tamaki muttered.
“Yeah! With the three of us!” She was already pulling out her phone, tugging Tamaki close and nudging him up against Mirio’s side. “Come on, before the light gets too dim!”
So here he was, sandwiched between Nejire Hado and Mirio Togata – two of his oldest friends, who knew him better than anyone, who pushed him to be his best. But it was just one of them that was making his heart pound and his palms sweat. He’d been close to Mirio plenty of times. He’d seen him naked more times than he could count for God’s sake.
But feeling the slow rhythm of his breath against his shoulder, Mirio’s resting against his back, a puff of breath against his neck as Mirio laughed – Tamaki felt like he was going to die right then and there.
“Smile and say cheese!” Hado chimed with a grin, and Tamaki did his very best, but he suspected it looked pained.
“You sure you're okay, Tamaki?” Mirio chuckled as he stepped back, putting more distance between them again. It was a relief, but there was also a small part of Tamaki that wanted to blurt don’t go. “Sorry, hope I didn’t step on your toes or anything!”
No, it was just that he was so in love it hurt and being so close made Tamaki feel like he was going to burst into flames. No big deal.
He managed a smile – a real smile this time, albeit one that took some effort – and said, “I’m fine.”
He wasn’t. But he was used to that by now.
2.
Hado left them about two strides through the festival entrance with a smile and a wave. “I’ll meet back up with you boys later,” she sang, shooting them a wink. Shooting Tamaki a wink, more like. “Good luck, Amajiki!”
Traitor.
“Good luck?” Mirio chuckled. “Something you need that for?”
“Nothing,” he sighed, tugging on the strings of his hoodie. “I was just…hoping to win a prize later. That’s all.”
“Sounds like a great idea!” Before Tamaki could get out a single word, Mirio was taking his hand – taking his hand – and leading him down the path until they stopped in front of a stall topped with a sign that read TEST YOUR STRENGTH!
“One of these, huh?” Tamaki muttered, studying the tall tower beside the stall, topped with a round bell. He’d always been hopeless at them – the first time he’d tried when he’d been little he hadn’t been able to lift the hammer off the ground, and he hadn’t worked up the nerve to try again since. “I figured they were always rigged.”
Mirio waggled his eyebrows at him. “Think you could manifest something to give you an edge?”
“Wouldn’t that be cheating?”
“Yeah, you’re probably right…still, you’re stronger than you look, Tamaki. Why don’t you give it a shot?”
Tamaki stared at it, the carnival worker’s voice ringing in his head from years and years ago: Can’t play if you can’t even lift the thing, son – come back when you’re not quite as scrawny.
He sighed, tugging on his hoodie drawstrings again. “Maybe you should try it instead.”
“Ya think?” Mirio said with a grin. “Yeah, okay – I’ll give it a go! I’ll win you a prize!”
“Wh-what?”
But Mirio didn’t say anything further – just grabbed the hammer and readied his stance, bringing it over his head.
Tamaki had known for a long time that Mirio was strong in more ways than one. He’d trained his body just as much as he’d trained his quirk. Maybe even more. Still, it made something flip in Tamaki’s stomach as he watched Mirio’s biceps flex against his sleeves, knees bent and thigh muscles bulging under his jeans.
He gulped.
A second later the hammer hit its target, and the clang of the bell rang out across the festival grounds. Mirio cheered, spinning on his heel to face Tamaki with a grin. “Would you look at that!” he laughed. “First try!”
Oh God…Tamaki was a goner. He was a complete and utter goner for this guy, so much that he could hardly believe it. He barely even noticed Mirio picking out his prize until he held up a stuffed red octopus in front of Tamaki’s face.
“Look!” Mirio sang, laughing brightly. “It’s you, Tamaki!”
Tamaki stared at it, into those goofy, beady eyes stitched a little crookedly onto the fabric. “It’s…me?”
“Because of the tentacles! It reminded me of you!” Next thing Tamaki knew the octopus was being pressed into his arms. “Why else do you think I picked it for you?”
“But you won it!”
“Nah, I’ve got enough stuffed animals cluttering up my room back home. You should take it home for me!” Giggling, Mirio reached out and grabbed the two plush tentacles sticking out from its body, hooking them around Tamaki’s neck. “See? He likes you already.”
Tamaki could already feel his face turning about as red as the octopus as he shoved his face into the fabric. “You seriously won this thing for me?”
“Well yeah! You don’t have to keep it if you don’t want to-“
“No! No…I…love it.”
The words were muffled between the octopus tentacles, making him feel even more ridiculous. But it wasn’t a lie. The thing was cute in a goofy, misfit sort of way. And Mirio had won it for him…
Mirio said it made him think of him.
Why did that make Tamaki’s heart race like he’d just run a mile at a dead sprint? No, he knew why – his damn heart had been betraying him for what felt like forever now. It felt like it was never going to let him be. Not when Mirio kept smiling at him like that.
“I love you,” he sighed before he could help it, and thank God the words got lost against the toy’s plush head. It also hid the raging blush that cropped up along his cheeks when he realized what he’d just said.
“So what are you gonna name it?”
“H-huh?”
He snapped back to reality so fast he swayed on his feet. “This little guy needs a name, don’t you think?” Mirio said, tapping Tamaki on the forehead with one of the stubby tentacles.
“Oh…I don’t know…” He glanced to his right until his eyes landed on a stall just a few paces away from where they were standing, and the moment he did a familiar scent hit his nose and made his stomach growl.
Huh…he was surprised he could feel hungry despite how tightly his guts were tying themselves up in knots.
Mind wandering, he muttered “Takoyaki…”
“Thinking with your stomach, huh?” Mirio laughed. “Sounds perfect for an octopus!”
“Wha- no, I didn’t mean-“ He glanced down at the goofy octopus eyes staring up at him. “Well…actually, that may work.”
“Takoyaki it is then.” He shot Tamaki a grin. “What do you say we get some for good measure too? Then you and your new friend can match!”
That made Tamaki let out a giggle of his own, even if it was hidden behind the octopus. “Yeah…okay.”
3.
Mirio bought him takoyaki. He didn’t have to – Tamaki had enough money in his pockets, but Mirio insisted and paid so quickly that he didn’t even get the chance to reach for his wallet. Honestly, Tamaki figured it might have been silly of him to expect anything different.
“So,” Mirio mused, fingers entwined behind his head as they walked, “What do you think you’re gonna do after graduation, Tamaki?”
“Fatgum’s already offered to take me on as a sidekick,” Tamaki said around a bite of takoyaki. “So I guess it won’t be all that different, actually. Just won’t have to worry about classes anymore.”
Thinking about it sent a stab of pain through his chest. Because leaving U.A. meant so much more than leaving behind classes and dorms and regimented training schedules. All that he could do without just fine. But after all this time watching him grow and shine and rise to the top, Tamaki felt like he was rushing toward the next chapter of his life and leaving him behind.
It didn’t feel right, graduating without him. There was a gaping hole where he knew there should be excitement and joy. Suddenly the takoyaki tasted exceedingly bland.
But Mirio just kept on smiling as they walked. “I know what you’re thinking, ya know.”
“Huh?”
“You don’t have to worry about me, Tamaki.” He stopped, hands lowering to his sides and planting themselves on his hips. “I may not be graduating when I thought I would, but that doesn’t mean I’m giving up. Things are just on hold for a bit for me.”
Tamaki stared at his shoes, frowning. “They shouldn’t be,” he sighed. “It’s just not fair.”
“I don’t think fair really matters. That’s part of what being a hero is about. It's part of life. Sometimes you just have to take what comes, even if it doesn’t feel fair.”
“But that’s just it…most people wouldn’t think like that. Most people would be angry or depressed. Most people would give up, but you don’t, and that just makes me more upset for you.” He forced himself to look up and meet Mirio’s gaze, even if it was uncomfortable. Mirio deserved that much, at least, even if he felt ridiculous holding a stuffed octopus in one hand and a plate of takoyaki in the other while his whole body pulsed with righteous indignation. “If I could switch places with you, I would. You deserve it more than anyone…getting the chance to achieve your dreams.”
“Nobody has to switch places with me,” Mirio said, and there was something in his voice – something behind the cheerful optimism in his eyes. A hint of sadness that somehow, Tamaki knew he wouldn’t let show to anyone else. “I told you, it’s just on hold for a bit. My dreams aren’t going anywhere. But you’re getting ready to graduate from U.A., Tamaki! You’re going to work for a great hero agency, and soon you can have one of your very own, and you can become one of the top heroes in Japan! And I can’t wait to see what you do, even if I’m watching from the sidelines for a little while.”
Tamaki stared down at the wooden skewers on his plate, feeling like someone had jabbed them between his ribs. “Mirio…”
“I won’t be watching from the sidelines for long, though!” he continued, that grin of his back in full force. “I can promise you that! Someone I trust told me I’d become a great hero one day, and I believe him.”
Somehow, Tamaki believed that too. Mirio was good at that, making people trust him. Making them smile no matter how impossible it felt. “You’re going to be an amazing hero, Lemillion,” he said, and Mirio’s eyes shined. “You’ve always kept your promises, so I figure there’s no reason for you to stop now. That’s what I’ve always loved about you.”
The moment it was out of his mouth, his thoughts came to a screeching halt, the last of his takoyaki falling on the ground at his feet.
“I-I mean – it’s what everyone loves about you! What everyone admires about you. And I admire it too.”
Mirio was laughing, picking up the plate and patting Tamaki on the shoulder as they kept walking. “Thanks, Tamaki,” he said, and if he noticed the blush raging on Tamaki’s cheeks, he didn’t mention it. “And I’ll promise one more thing – I promise I’m going to come to the graduation ceremony, and I’ll be right up front cheering for you and Hado as loud as I can!”
Tamaki believed that too. How could he not? Mirio hadn’t broken a promise to him yet.
“Hey-“ Tamaki stopped short when Mirio faced him, one hand reaching out to wrap gently around Tamaki’s fingers. “What do you say we get on the ferris wheel? I bet the view is great up there.”
“F…ferris wheel?”
“Yeah! Come on, Tamaki, I know you’re not afraid of heights.”
When Mirio’s eyes were lit up like that and his smile was so wide that it made Tamaki’s stomach flip, how could he deny him anything? “Y-yeah,” he said. “Yeah, okay. You’re probably right about the view.”
4.
“Wow…look at that,” Mirio sighed, leaning forward against the handrail in front of him with a dreamy little smile as the ferris wheel car stopped right at the apex, high above the festival grounds. He laughed. “I think I can see my house from up here.”
Tamaki could do this. It was easy. Just sitting quietly, taking in the view, next to his best friend. It was simple. But at the same time it wasn’t, because his heart was doing flips as he watched Mirio rest his cheek on the palm of his hand.
“Ya know…tonight’s been kind of perfect so far, Tamaki.”
Tamaki blinked as he came out of the trance he’d fallen into mapping the line of Mirio’s profile. “Perfect?”
“Yeah! It’s a beautiful night, all the food’s been delicious, and I even got to win you a prize!” He chuckled, nudging the stuffed octopus perched between them on the seat. “Seems like a pretty perfect evening to me.” When Mirio turned and directed that smile toward him, Tamaki thought he was going to go blind. “And it’s even better because I got to spend it with you, ya know!”
Tamaki let out a quiet snort. “I thought I’d just ruin the mood.”
“Nah, you could never do that.”
“I figured I was too gloomy for a festival like this.”
“You’re perfect as you are, Tamaki,” Mirio said, and Tamaki’s heart lurched.
Why did he have to go and say things like that? Things that made Tamaki fall for him more and more with each passing minute? He didn’t think he could be any more in love with him, but Mirio kept proving him wrong, over and over.
“Hey Tamaki, can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” Tamaki forced out, almost automatically.
“You ever been in love?”
He felt like he’d gone tumbling straight out of the seat, like he was plummeting toward the ground and hitting every crossbeam on the way down. “Wh-what?”
“I’m curious!” Mirio laughed. “Been thinking about it a lot tonight…feels like everyone from the other classes is pairing off these days. So I guess I was just wondering…is there anyone you have your eye on?” He nudged Tamaki gently with his knee.
“What makes you think that?” Tamaki choked. He couldn’t know, could he? Was he really that transparent? Oh god, if he figured it out, Tamaki really would throw himself right off the ferris wheel. Maybe manifest a pair of wings and fly off somewhere far away. He could live as a hermit in the mountains where nobody would ever hear from him again-
Mirio was grinning at him, wide and excited, his eyes gleaming. “It’s okay if you if there is, you know! And you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to…guess I’ve just always been curious what kind of person would catch your eye.”
Fingers curling against the seat, Tamaki swallowed. “There is…one person…”
Oh god help him, was he doing this? Was this happening?
“Really?” Mirio gasped. “Oh, wow, you’re serious?”
“But they’re…they’re not…um…I mean, they don’t know.” He prayed he didn’t, at least. “I don’t…I don’t think I want them to…”
“Why not?”
Tamaki bit his lip. “I’m pretty sure they don’t feel the same way.” Even just saying that out loud hurt so much it almost took his breath away. He hadn’t realized just how painful it really was, confronting the reality of that possibility. It felt like a hundred needles jabbing between his ribs. “It’s better if I just…leave it be.”
“Tamaki…” Mirio’s hand pressed against his wrist, and Tamaki stopped breathing altogether. “Come on…anyone would be lucky to have you. Besides, you can’t be sure how anyone really feels if you don’t ask them!”
He couldn’t do this. He wasn’t strong enough for this emotion welling up in him. It was going to knock him straight over and send him plummeting to his untimely demise. “There’s just no way,” he said, more to himself than to anyone else. “They’re…they’re so amazing. And I’m-“
“Just as amazing!” Mirio insisted. “You’re Suneater! The great Tamaki Amajiki! You’re intelligent and kind and brave-“
Tamaki snorted. “I’ve never been brave.”
“You face your own fears every day and make yourself stronger despite them. That seems pretty brave to me.”
Looking up and meeting Mirio’s eye was a mistake. Tamaki knew that before he did it. But he did it anyway, and maybe that made him reckless instead of brave. Because the moment he locked eyes with his best friend, something in him shifted, and suddenly he knew he was going to kiss him.
Oh no, Tamaki was going to kiss him.
He couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop it. It was like his body had made up its mind and nothing he told it would change what was happening. The tug he felt in the pit of his stomach was overpowering, forcing him to lean in, just an inch or so-
Before the ferris wheel lurched and started moving again.
“Huh,” Mirio mused. “Guess the view was nice while it lasted.”
The moment they were on solid ground again, Tamaki stammered out an excuse to rush to the bathroom and fled.
“Come on, Amajiki, it can’t have been that bad,” Nejire said.
“It was that bad,” he insisted, quivering as he pressed his forehead against the back of a candied apple stall. At least it was quiet here, dark and out of the way. The perfect place to fade into the shadows and hide. “It was worse, Hado. So much worse.”
“Well you can’t just stay here forever.”
Sure he could.
“Amajikiiii,” she sighed. “Don’t be so glum! Aren’t you going to tell me what happened? I bet Mirio is waiting for you to come back.”
He groaned. “Don’t remind me…”
He wondered if it was a blessing or a curse that she had seen him scurrying for cover and followed him. It felt like both. As much as he wanted to stay here with nobody but a few moths for company, it was comforting to have her there. Her cheerful warmth had always been comforting, even if it tended to exhaust him much more quickly than Mirio’s.
He squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to think about Mirio right now. He wanted to think about anything but him, but he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him for months now. And tonight was no different.
Nejire was more gentle and quiet as she put a hand on his shoulder. “Amajiki, please just tell me what happened. Did you…did you tell him?” She squeaked, eyes wide. “Oh my god, did you tell him?”
“No!” he insisted to the wall. “No, of course not. But I…I almost did. I almost…” He pulled up his hood and tugged on the drawstrings, closing himself inside as he muttered, “I almost kissed him.”
“You what?”
“I didn’t mean to! He was just looking at me and smiling at me and I…I couldn’t help it…”
“You kissed him?”
“Almost. The ferris wheel started moving again and I didn’t get the chance…” He sighed. “Thankfully.”
She was beaming at him, eyes bright and gleaming with excitement as she bounced on her heels and let out a peal of laughter. “Amajiki, that’s amazing! Oh, I’m so proud of you!”
“You shouldn’t be…I just keep making a fool of myself…”
“Don’t start with that, mister gloomy.” Her hand pressed between his shoulder blades, rubbing gently and coaxing him out of his hoodie-turned-hiding-spot. “I know you don’t think he feels the same way, but I’m not so sure, Amajiki. He adores you.”
“He adores everyone.”
“No, he gets along with everyone. You’re different. I can just tell. I have a woman’s intuition about this stuff, ya know.”
Despite the knot twisting in his gut, Tamaki managed a laugh. “Thanks, Hado…”
“Now, are you gonna spend the rest of the festival standing here like a sad gargoyle, or are you gonna go enjoy the fireworks?”
Oh god, the fireworks. Mirio had been looking forward to them all night. Tamaki couldn’t back out now. He groaned, wrapping his arms around his stomach. “I don’t know if I’m going to make it through tonight alive.”
“Sure you will! And if you play your cards right, maybe you’ll make it through tonight with a boyfriend too!”
“Hado-“
She giggled. “Just go back out there, okay? And try and relax. It’s just Mirio. No matter what happens, you know he’ll never hurt you.”
Yes, in spite of everything, Tamaki did know that. It was one of the few things he had never questioned. So maybe for now it would be enough to get him through. At the very least, it was enough to coax him out of hiding and back to Mirio waiting on the path for him.
Tamaki saw him before Mirio noticed, and for a moment, Tamaki just waited and studied him from halfway behind the candied apple stall. Mirio was under a lantern, octopus plushie tucked in his arms, rocking on the balls of his feet and whistling. Waiting patiently, like he always had…
Mirio was always so patient with him.
Tamaki felt himself smile, his heart doing a little flip in his chest. Normally it felt like an ache, like a vise in his chest that made it hard to breathe. But this was warm and gentle, enveloping him like he was sliding into a hot spring.
It was just Mirio…The one person he could never be afraid of.
“Hado,” he whispered, fingers curling against the stall wall.
“Yeah?”
“I love him so much…”
She blinked at him, staring silently before she matched his smile with a bright one of her own. “Then go get him, Suneater.”
5.
Fireworks.
Mirio loved fireworks. He had ever since they’d been kids. Tamaki had always thought they were too loud and too bright and always drew crowds that were too big. But Mirio adored them, so Tamaki tolerated them whenever he got the chance.
Usually, Mirio watched the fireworks, and Tamaki watched Mirio.
Just the thought of it now, though…it filled Tamaki’s stomach with anxious butterflies as they settled down on a blanket at the edge of the field where a crowd had already gathered. He couldn’t get Nejire's words out of his head – fireworks were romantic. And if Mirio caught him staring and hit him with one of those smiles of his, lit up and colorful, Tamaki didn’t know what he might do.
Probably something stupid. And that thought scared him.
“Tamaki?” Mirio asked. “You feeling okay?”
No, he wasn’t. He felt like his head was going to spin away like a top. All night…all night he’d been trying and failing to say something so simple but so complicated, and thinking about it made him feel like he was going to explode.
Mirio’s voice sounded far away, muffled like he was listening to it underwater. Getting lost in the murmuring of so many voices around them. So many people…
“Tamaki.” A hand on his arm brought him back. Warm pressure against his shoulder, grass under his calves, the soft blanket against his palms. He glanced up and caught Mirio smiling at him. “This place is pretty crowded, huh? Guess everyone wants to see the fireworks.”
He swallowed, or tried to anyway. His throat was too dry to do much. “Y…yeah…”
A moment later Mirio was on his feet, grabbing his things and offering him a hand. “I got an idea. Why don’t we go somewhere else? I know just the place.”
“Don’t you want to watch the fireworks?” Tamaki heard himself ask as he numbly took Mirio’s hand and stood. He didn’t let the touch linger, as much as part of him wanted to.
Mirio just laughed as he gathered up the blanket and gestured for Tamaki to follow him. “We will! Just trust me on this – I know what I’m doing.”
Something in his voice made it easy for Tamaki to command his legs to move and follow him. Mirio had always had this uncanny way of making him believe anything he said, and now was no exception. So he followed behind him, walking in comfortable silence, breathing out a sigh of relief as the voices of the crowd faded behind them. Absently, he wondered where the hell they were headed, but he didn’t bother asking. It was easier to just keep quiet, and Mirio let him. He didn’t try to fill the silence with words and conversation just for conversation’s sake. The only thing he said was “This way!” as he turned and smiled at him before leaving the path and cutting through a line of trees, making his way up a hill.
Mirio spread the blanket out there on the grass, plopping down on it with a heavy, contented sigh. “This is way better, don’t you think?” he asked as Tamaki took in the view. The hill overlooked the field below, the murmurs and excited laughter of the sprawling crowd filtering up and around them, but it wasn’t so deafening with the distance between them. It was little more than background noise breezing past their quiet little perch.
“We should still be able to see the fireworks from here,” Mirio told him, folding his hands behind his head. “Maybe even better than down there.”
“Yeah,” Tamaki breathed. “It’s perfect.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
Tamaki drew his knees up to his chest, resting his chin against them. How had he failed so many times to say what he wanted, when Mirio could go and do something like this – something effortlessly perfect that could put Tamaki’s mind at ease like it was nothing? Why was he so good at this? Why was it so easy for him to make Tamaki adore him so much it hurt?
Mirio’s knee nudged against him. “Hey…Tamaki.”
“Hm?”
“Is something wrong?”
Tamaki shook his head out of habit. “No,” he lied.
After a moment of silence, Mirio sat himself up and leaned a bit closer. It made Tamaki’s stomach flip, his arms tightening around his shins. “If something’s going on…you know you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But…something’s been going on with you all night. It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.” He offered Tamaki one of those bright, gentle, impossibly warm smiles of his. “But you know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
He couldn’t look at that smile. It only made it hurt so much worse. He closed his eyes tight. “I’m fine,” he insisted. Another lie. He couldn’t keep lying to him. “No…you’re right. There is something going on.” He tried again to swallow past the lump in his throat. “But I…I don’t want to talk about it. I mean, I do, but…I can’t. I just…I just can’t…”
“Hey, that’s okay.” Mirio pressed a careful hand against his shoulder. “We can just sit here…enjoy the fireworks…and if you decide you want to talk about it, you can. Okay?”
Tamaki nodded. That was for the best. It was how it had to be. He just couldn’t force himself to face what had his insides twisting inside of him. He wasn’t strong enough.
So why did he still want to? Why did he still so desperately want to keep trying?
“I’ve had a lot of fun tonight, Tamaki,” Mirio said, head canted up toward the sky.
“R…really?”
“Yeah! I’ve had a great time with you. I know this place is really crowded and loud, and I’m really glad you still decided to come with me.” He shot Tamaki a wide grin that made something clench in his chest. “Thank you, Tamaki. It’s probably been one of the most fun nights I’ve had in a while.”
He could feel it bubbling up inside of him again – that urge to try and get the words out. No matter how many times he’d tried and failed, Mirio made him want to keep trying. That smile made him want to scream it at the top of his lungs. It made him want to be brave.
Heart pounding in his ears, hands trembling against his knees, Tamaki opened his mouth: “Mirio…” His voice was raspy, shaky, barely audible, but Mirio looked at him expectantly anyway.
“Yeah?”
“I…” Half of him was screaming at him to stop. The other half was clambering for him to say it. To get the words out. To tell Mirio everything he felt so it would stop squirming around inside of him like a hooked eel. “I…I lo-“
Overhead, a burst of bright color scattered across the night sky with a bang, flooding the grass with orange and pink and drawing a gasp out of the crowd below. Mirio looked up, beaming, his face stained with bright color. “Wow!” he breathed. “The view really is even better here!”
Mirio’s gaze was fixed on those fireworks, but Tamaki barely noticed them. They were dull compared to Mirio’s face, lit up as brightly as the night sky, changing from orange to blue to yellow to red as light spread across the sky above them. It shone in his eyes, in his grin, making him look like a beacon against the backdrop of stars and the shadow-covered horizon.
He was beautiful. He was a vision. And Tamaki was moving before he could stop himself. Grabbing Mirio’s hand over the blanket, leaning closer, catching a glimpse of Mirio’s wide, curious eyes when he turned to look at him-
Tamaki kissed him.
He kissed him, and for the first time in a long time – as long as he could remember – his mind went quiet.
He’d tried and failed to get the words out so many times that it felt hopeless. But now none of it seemed to matter. He didn’t care if he never spoke a single word for the rest of his life. For now, for a few short moments, he could say everything he wanted to and more without hesitating or stuttering over one syllable.
And then he pulled away, and felt like everything around him was shattering, crumbling.
“Wow…Tamaki…” Mirio breathed, but Tamaki barely heard him. Before he could get out another word, he was on his feet, leaving the fireworks and the crowd below behind and stumbling toward the trees. Mirio was calling his name – at least he thought so – but he couldn’t be sure. He pressed a hand over his mouth, lips still tingling from that kiss. A kiss. What had he done?
Footsteps in the grass behind him made him pick up the pace. “I need to go,” he stammered, a pair of clumsy, asymmetrical wings manifesting below his shoulders. He had to run. He had to fly away. He had to get out of here before-
“Tamaki!”
Mirio’s hand closed around his wrist. No, no, no, he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t look at him. He wasn’t strong enough to face what he’d done. “I need to go,” he sobbed again, chest burning. “Please just let me go.”
Mirio released his hand, but at the same time pleaded, “Please don’t run away, Tamaki.”
But he had to. His whole body was vibrating, quivering, feathers falling on the grass by his feet.
“Could you look at me?” Mirio asked, so gentle it hurt. “Could you do that?”
Tamaki shook his head, pathetically, shoulders shaking as he tried and failed to tamp down the ache in his chest and hold back the tears gathering in his eyes. They were already eking out past his tightly shut eyelids, leaking down his cheeks.
“Tamaki…”
“I ruined everything,” he forced out. His voice barely sounded like his anymore. It as a rough, shaking mess. “Just like I knew I would. I…I don’t know what I was thinking…I just…ruined everything…”
“You didn’t ruin anything – Tamaki, please look at me?”
The fireworks were still bursting overhead, light and color filtering through the trees as Tamaki slowly, meekly, turned his head just enough to glance at Mirio’s face. That smile was gone, replaced with a crease in his brow and concern in his eyes. It just made Tamaki shake even more, until he felt like he was going to collapse right there in the grass.
But then a moment later, that smile was back. Just as warm and welcoming as ever. “There you go,” he said. “Hey…come on, Tamaki…breathe, okay? Just breathe.”
Oh, that must have been why his chest was burning so badly. Every time he tried to pull in a breath it turned into a muted sob that made him waver on his feet. Even trying to now, it was felt impossible – his chest was on fire and his head was swimming, but everything just blurred together – the voices below the hill, the popping fireworks in the sky, the breeze through the trees, Mirio’s voice…
His voice…for a moment, it cut through everything else: “Can I touch you?”
Shaking, Tamaki nodded, and a moment later Mirio’s fingers were clasping his.
“Try and take a breath…you can hear me breathing, right? Nice and slow…”
In…and out…
He could hear Mirio sucking in a careful breath through his nose, letting it out through lightly parted lips. Even as he shook, tears rolling down his face, Tamaki mimicked that. Slow and steady. One at a time. In and out…in and out…
“Now,” Mirio said with a smile. “Can you tell me what you see?”
Tamaki swallowed. Racing as it was, he forced his focus onto the ground under his feet. “Uh…fallen leaves,” he breathed. “And…tree roots…and…” Tears dropped onto the ground between them, but the vise in his chest started to loosen just enough for him to breathe. “…your shoes…your shadow…” He wiped his eyes. “Mirio, I’m sorry…”
Mirio’s hands clasped around Tamaki’s, thumb brushing his wrist. “Do you still want to leave?”
He could. He knew that. Mirio was giving him a choice – a real choice, not a trap masquerading as one. If he wanted to, all he had to do was nod and Mirio would let go of his hand and let him flee back home and hide for the rest of the night.
But he didn’t want that. He shook his head, gaze still planted firmly on the ground, watching as the leaves and dirt were stained purple and yellow by the light above.
“I…” Tamaki bit his lip, shoulders shaking even though the tears had stopped flowing. “I’ve been trying to tell you…all night. I kept trying, and I…I just couldn’t…”
“That’s what’s gotten you so worked up?” Mirio asked on the edge of a warm laugh, hands squeezing Tamaki’s between his palms.
Tamaki nodded. “I don’t know what happened to me. I don’t know why I did that. And now I…” He choked on another sob. No, he didn’t want to start crying again. If he did, he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop. “Now it’s just a mess…I didn’t want this to happen…I don’t want to-“
He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t force it out. Even just thinking it made his entire body feel so heavy he could have collapsed right there into the dirt.
“Tamaki…what were you so scared of?”
He tried to speak, but all that came out was a whimper as his fingers curled against Mirio’s palms. “I…” He clenched his teeth, dug the nails of his free hand into his own palm. The wings extending from his shoulders drooped pathetically, slowly disappearing again. “I can’t…can’t…lose you…”
Mirio let out a breath. “Lose me? Why do you think you’re going to lose me?”
“Because I know you don’t feel the same way,” he forced out, voice cracking. “And if I told you then…then this would all be over…and I know it’s selfish, but I don’t want to lose you…Mirio…”
Mirio’s hands squeezed his. So warm and soft. He wanted to feel that touch forever, selfish as it was. He could hear the smile in his voice as he said, “Tamaki…what makes you think I don’t feel the same way?”
Tamaki’s breath caught in his throat, and his head whipped up to meet Mirio’s gaze before he could even think twice about it. “Wh-what?”
He’d been right – Mirio was smiling. “I’m assuming you have feelings for me, right? That’s what you’ve been trying to tell me this whole time?” Tamaki just stared, mouth hanging open. “So what makes you think I don’t feel the same way?”
“I…you…” Dammit, his eyes were filling with tears again, but Tamaki forced them back. “Why…why would you? You’re…and I’m…”
“Even if I didn't, you couldn't lose me if you tried," Mirio said with a little chuckle. "It was really brave of you to try and tell me, you know? I don’t think I could have managed it.” He maneuvered Tamaki’s hand gently against his palm, until he could entwine their fingers. “I’d…really like to kiss you again, actually. But it’d probably be a lot better if we wait until you’re feeling a little more like yourself. So…do you wanna come finish watching the fireworks with me?”
Tamaki felt like he was floating. No, like he was dreaming. He followed Mirio back to the blanket, sat back down next to him, and looked up at the fireworks still soaring up and exploding overhead. They sat there, shoulder to shoulder, watching in silence as the sky lit up like multicolored daylight, Mirio’s hand layered overtop of Tamaki’s on the blanket.
Before he knew what he was doing, Tamaki felt himself smiling despite the burning in his eyes and the thumping in his chest. And he carefully leaned against Mirio’s side, rested his head on Mirio’s shoulder. Mirio’s head nudged against his, a comforting weight against his temple.
As the fireworks ended, leaving the night sky dark navy once again, Tamaki finally drew in a slow, calm breath, closed his eyes, and sighed, “I’m in love with you.”
“Wow!” Mirio laughed. “You finally managed to say it!”
Tamaki couldn’t help it – he laughed right along with him at the absurdity of it all. Look at him, after all this, confessing like it was nothing. Like it was the simplest thing in the world.
Mirio made everything seem so incredibly easy.
Their faces were so close when Tamaki looked up again that there was no way he couldn’t kiss him. But this time, Mirio beat him to it. He pressed a palm against Tamaki’s jaw, shooting him a smile, like a question that Tamaki didn’t even have to think twice about to answer. And then he was kissing him, slow and gentle, stroking Tamaki’s arms as they swung up to wrap around Mirio’s neck.
Next thing he knew they were tipping backwards onto the blanket, breaking the kiss to laugh in each other’s faces just for a moment before Tamaki pushed himself up on his hands and hovered over Mirio at arm’s length.
You’re so beautiful, Tamaki thought, but a moment later, those exact words were coming out of Mirio’s mouth.
Tamaki’s face burned. “Huh?”
“I said you’re beautiful!” Mirio said with a grin. “Cause you are, Tamaki. You’re really, really gorgeous.”
“Mirio…” He hid his face in the crook of Mirio’s neck, hoping that would quell the heat in his cheeks at least a little. It didn’t do much to help that, but Mirio’s hand carding through his hair distracted him.
It was so easy, leaning up to kiss him again. Kissing him over and over, until the crowds had dispersed in the field below and the festival lights had dimmed.
They walked home in comfortable silence far later than either of them had planned on staying out, stopping in front of the dorms and lingering on the steps. “Guess this is your stop,” Mirio said, fingers curling around Tamaki’s. “I’m gonna take the long way back to my folks’ place. I can text you when I get there, okay?”
“Yeah…” Tamaki stared down at their hands. “Uh…Mirio…”
“Yeah?”
“What…happens now?”
Mirio blinked. “Well, I figure I’ll probably fall right into bed when I get home. I’m beat after tonight.”
“No, I meant…what happens tomorrow? In the morning. What do we…what do we do?” He tangled his hands in his hair, like he could contain all his thoughts in his head just by pressing them down into his skull. “I didn’t even think about that. I never…I never thought I’d get this far.”
Mirio leaned his head back and let out a laugh. “I haven’t really thought about it either! But that’s okay.” He grabbed both of Tamaki’s hands, waiting for Tamaki to meet his gaze. “We can just figure it out as we go. Together. That sound good?”
“Yeah…” Tamaki managed a smile of his own. How could he not when faced with Mirio’s infectious, bubbling positivity? And it sounded good…moving forward together. One step at a time.
Every part of him believed without a doubt that Mirio would be right there beside him every step of the way.