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The soft, sweet lines of Toya’s expression, twisted into something sharp and painful.
“Let go of me.”
The pitiful weakness in his attempted shove, arms shaking despite his indifferent exterior.
“Why, you—!”
The fleece fabric of Toya’s jacket as he curls his fists into it. The fact that Toya barely fights back against the restraint.
“Fine then, leave!”
The cool dampness of Toya’s soft cheek as his fist makes contact.
“And never show your face around here again!”
Akito wakes with a choke.
His first instinct is to bring his hands up from the sheets, rubbing the knuckles of his right hand with his left. The soreness isn’t uncommon after these nightmares. A cold, bitter version of the years-old pains Toya gets in his wrists and fingers.
…Toya.
As quietly as he can, Akito shifts, turning to his partner– his partner, still– to see his peaceful expression. Soft and unmarred, breaths ghosting almost silently into the night air. Akito sighs in relief. His cheek isn’t swollen; no purples or browns.
One of Toya’s arms is draped over Akito’s stomach, lying on his side. Akito wants to stay here. Wants to nestle close to him, wrap around his partner, cling to him, anything to make sure that he’s okay and he isn’t leaving. He can’t, though. That would be unfair.
Slowly and gently, Akito sits up. He reaches across Toya and grabs a spare pillow. And then, in a smooth motion, he slides out from under his partner’s arm and slips the pillow under in his place. He watches for a moment; Toya makes a vaguely dissatisfied noise, pulling the pillow closer, but doesn’t stir. Akito breathes a quiet sigh of relief.
With a quick pet of Toya’s hair, a final glance, Akito silently steps out of his bedroom.
He hates to do this. He always does; Toya is a heavy sleeper, but there’s always a chance of him waking up, and Akito knows he hates waking up alone. He can’t stay, though.
The imagery is still too strong in his mind. He doesn’t deserve to stay so close to the precious body that he so carelessly pushed and grabbed; isn’t worthy of the sight of that calm and unblemished face when he’s done so much to break that expression. There isn’t a world where he deserves it.
Toya trusted him with the deepest, most vulnerable parts of himself, trusted Akito with his heart. All Akito has done is break it.
Somehow, he ends up on the couch. It’s comfortable enough, good enough to sleep on if he’s too cowardly to go back upstairs. Ena’s light had been off when he passed, so it’s probably past three; chances are he won’t be sleeping at all.
At least Toya is getting the rest he deserves. That’s always been the most important thing.
Time passes. The expression, the push, the jacket, the weakness, his skin. Repeating like a broken record.
Akito has always been jealous of Toya’s skin, his face. Somehow blessed to barely experience acne or blemishes, spotted with beautiful constellations. Akito had liked to connect the stars with a pen. Toya would huff about washing the ink off, but never stopped him.
To hurt such a perfect person is nothing short of unforgivable. And yet, Toya forgives; he’s always been too kind for his own good. Akito takes advantage of that every day by staying here, pretending that he could ever be worthy of this partnership.
The expression, the push, the jacket, the weakness, his skin.
Expression, push, jacket, weakness, skin.
It loops, loops, loops; each time, Toya’s expression appears more broken, the push is more desperate, the fabric tears deeper in his grip. The punch is harder and the bruise darker, more instant.
Over and over and over and over as if he hasn’t learned his damn lesson—
“Akito.”
A broken, hushed whisper, holding barely a trace of the betrayal that it should; “you left me alone in bed”, kind of betrayal, instead of “you hurt, hurt, hurt me”. Akito can’t bear to hear it.
When Toya comes closer, lays a hand on the junction between his neck and shoulder, Akito turns away with a strained exhale; he doesn’t want his partner seeing this. He’s been told that his sadness appears more like anger. Toya shouldn’t be exposed to that ever again.
At the lack of response, Toya just sits down. He settles behind where Akito is sitting sideways, wrapping weak arms around his waist; Akito leans into the touch despite himself. Toya supports his weight.
Soft kisses are pressed to the base of his neck; “I love you, go back to sleep”. A gentle squeeze to his waist, a short and sharp sigh; “I’m worried about you”.
A longer sigh, more of his weight pressed into Toya. “I know, and I’m trying, and I’m sorry”.
A tug, both of them falling back into the couch cushions.
Toya nuzzles against his neck, cold nose pressing against his skin. Beckoning him back into sleep as they curl together.
Akito doesn’t want to give in. He doesn’t want to dream, doesn’t want to relive it again.
But there are kisses against his back, cool hands running under his shirt. It feels like home; it feels like “I’m here for you”, soft and comforting and present, “I won’t sleep until you do”.
He sighs. Gently, Akito catches one of Toya’s hands, pulling it up to his face and kissing the calloused palm. “Thank you,” he tries to say without saying, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“We’re okay,” they both say, with soft squeezes wherever they can.
“If possible, don’t go too far away.
If at all possible, please spare me the pain.”