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Harua hopped into the seat and placed the bowl on the table between Nico and Maki.
"I'm cringing so hard, dude. Why do you act like this?"
Maki's irritated voice came from his left making Harua pause, a lone fry halfway to his mouth.
"Huh?"
Maki grabbed the bowl and retraced Harua's step, his hips swaying dramatically, he loudly hopped on the sofa before screaming in a high pitched tone,
"NYYYYAAAAAA! Harua-chan is hungry!"
Nico and Maki cackled as if it was the funniest joke of the year, but Harua couldn’t laugh. He physically couldn’t. The sound of their laughter pressed against his chest like a punch he hadn’t taken in years. He sat dazed for the rest of the livestream, his bandmates chatting as though nothing had happened. Harua stayed quiet in the background, his mind racing through old memories.
Harua's childhood friends were always girls. He remembered his first birthday party, running around the garden before cake time, the gifts, the stories, the gossip, and playing with dolls; God he loved his dolls. But he also remembered the parents’ confused whispers, asking which girl was celebrating, only for his mother to point at him. He never felt judged among his friends, never felt out of place. It was always the world outside them: the so-called friends in middle and high school, the boys during the survival show, and now, his current bandmates.
"You're not leaving?"
Maki stood in the doorway, his face backlit by the stark white glow of the hallway lights. Harua slumped further into the mattress, raising a hand to gesture for him to leave without a word.
"Damn, not you shooing me like that. Come on."
Harua didn’t move, taking out his phone and swiping at the home screen. He needed Maki gone. He needed to be alone.
"Harua-chan!"
A weight pressed into the mattress, and hands wiggled beneath him, trying to trap him. Harua groaned in protest.
"Get off me—" He turned his face away from the screen to see Maki inches from him.
"Oh, your hair and makeup look really good today," Maki whispered, his eyes squinting as he analyzed every part of Harua's face. Harua felt his ears heating up, his breath quickening.
"Maki, you're crushing me." Harua pushed against him, or at least tried to. Maki’s body was surprisingly firm, almost unyielding against his hands before he finally rolled off, letting Harua catch his breath.
"Come on, we need to leave. The car's waiting outside."
"Leave me here. I’ll take a taxi home." Harua couldn’t deal with him right now. Every second Maki lingered made his anger bubble higher.
"Is everything okay?"
"Yeah."
"Okay but," Maki’s voice grew closer, and Harua felt the light press of Maki’s lips against his head. "don’t come back too late." It was something he began recently and Harua hated how much he liked it.
Moments like these reminded Harua of his very first crush. It was a boy he played chess with back in middle school. Harua hadn’t cared about chess or its strategies; he just loved the time they spent together, sitting close, sharing quiet moments, or playing games on their Nintendo consoles. It took him years to understand those feelings for what they truly were.
That same energy hit him when he first met Maki and he knew what it was this time. The youngest member was clingy, affectionate, and unguarded in a way that made Harua feel something he never truly experienced: wanted. For the first time, it felt like someone genuinely liked him. But being 16 or 17 was hard. Your body changes, your emotions spiral out of control, you're overworked and overwhelmed. Between trying to figure himself out while making everyone else happy, Harua had pushed Maki away. He regretted it back then, but at the end of the day, Maki was still a boy— angry, judgy and cold like everyone else.
“Do you care about me?”
Harua waited until Maki was halfway out the door before speaking, stopping him in his tracks.
“Where’s this coming from?”
“Answer the question.” Harua’s calm façade was slipping.
“Of course I care about you. Is this a trick question—”
“Do you really care about me?” Harua’s tone sharpened.
“Harua, what are you saying?”
“You know damn well what I’m asking!” Harua’s voice rose as he waved his hand dismissively. “Why are you playing dumb? I feel insane right now.”
Maki stood frozen in silence.
Harua stood up and popped his hip remaking the simulacra Maki created earlier. It was dirty recreating this, a parody of himself, a costume made to clown him, each movement directed at Maki until he screamed out in anger at him.
“Stop making fun of me! Don’t act like you care about me if you do stuff like that!” He was heaving now, his breath shaky, his head buzzing. “ Don’t cuddle me when I’m down. Don’t compliment my hair or makeup. Don’t kiss me goodbye if you don’t like me!”
“I’m just being nice.”
Harua’s laugh came out wild, almost deranged.
“Nice?” He stepped closer, pressing a finger into Maki’s chest. “You know you’re playing with my feelings. So, fuck you, Maki!”
“Wait—”
A hand reached for Harua’s shoulder, but he swatted it away with a loud crack.
“FUCK YOU!”
Maki grabbed him, arms locking around him tightly. Harua struggled, thrashing and kicking.
“Maki, let me go!”
“Please, stop. Harua, stop!”
Harua stilled. It wasn’t Maki’s strength that stopped him—it was the crack in his voice, the warmth of tears dampening Harua’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry,” Maki said, voice trembling.
Harua’s heart didn’t slow, but he finally caught his breath.
"Please believe me I'm sorry. I- I don't think I did it to spite you or maybe I did, I don't freaking know."
Harua wanted to cry, Maki truly didn't care.
"Every day you look so cute and perfect, sometimes it feels like we live two different lives. You got everything figured out, and I don't," he paused and Harua held his breath, he wanted to get out. "You don't look like you suffer at all, we see and experience horrible things all the time and you're the same. Happy."
"It's making me angrier Maki-"
"Let me finish." Maki took a deep breath " I'm still sorry for what I did and I know it's selfish, but I love seeing you like this because you look fucked up like me right now."
Harua blinked, stunned. He couldn’t process the words.
"What?" he said his voice now tired almost out of breath.
“You can go now.." Maki choked out softly before releasing his grip. Harua turned to face him, seeing the younger boy’s head bowed low, tears streaking down his face and pooling on his chin. Slowly, Harua placed a hand on the back of Maki’s head, guiding it to rest on his already damp shoulder. Maki let out a shaky breath, his arms gently wrapping around Harua’s lower back.
“I’m jealous. I’m so jealous of you. You’re amazing, Harua, and it messes with my head,” Maki sobbed.
Tears rolled silently down Harua’s face.
“I’m not perfect, Maki. I’m just trying to survive like everyone else and you don’t get to make it harder for me. I should feel safe, not belittled or hated.”
The youngest cried harder, his face pressing deeper into Harua’s shoulder as if trying to hide. Harua closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of Maki’s shirt, the cologne mixing with the scent of his tears.
“Was it just that? Jealousy?”
Maki’s grip tightened at the word, their bodies pressed closer together. Harua held his breath.
“You—” Maki sniffled. “You’ll hate me if I keep talking.”
“Maki, just say it. Stop hiding.”
The youngest pulled back slightly, lifting his tear-streaked face. His lashes were clumped together, and the rims of his eyes were red and swollen.
“It’s worse. I like you. I like you a lot. Like… a lot.” He laughed bitterly, blinking rapidly to suppress more tears. “God, Harua, I made peace with it a long time ago. When we couldn’t even talk to each other, or when you avoided me outright, I felt like shit. I left you alone because I knew I wasn’t good enough. I’m mean, and every time I’m around you, I obsess over you and I hurt you." he closed his eyes and took a big breath "I want to be you, but more than that—I want to be with you.”
Maki’s grip on Harua tightened further, his nails digging into the fabric of Harua’s shirt like a child clinging to their favorite toy. His strength pulled the shirt taut.
“Please, Harua, don’t hate me for loving you.”
Harua exhaled slowly, his chest heavy with the weight of everything that had happened. It was too much, too fast. The world felt like it was spinning out of control.
“This," Harua took his time, his brain slowly catching up "would have been so cute if the circumstances were different.”
Maki’s head slumped low, a single tear sliding from the tip of his nose to his lips.
“I’m so sorry,” Maki whispered, his arms falling to his sides.
“I really hope you are,” Harua replied softly. He stepped closer, his nose brushing against Maki’s. “And Maki… don’t mess this up.”
He reached out, swiping the tear from Maki’s cupid’s bow with his finger before pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
The kiss was chaste at first, tentative, like Harua was testing the waters—waiting for Maki to pull away, to regret everything he had just confessed. But Maki leaned in deeper, tilting his head as he nipped at Harua’s lower lip. His hands cupped Harua’s face, and his movements grew more desperate, as if trying to erase every doubt in Harua’s mind.
The oldest opened his mouth cautiously, and Maki slipped his tongue inside with eager intensity. Harua’s hands gripped the front of Maki’s shirt, anchoring himself as his legs threatened to give out under the weight of the moment.
“Please, Harua.” Maki only pulled away long enough to whisper before diving in for another kiss. “Please.” Another kiss. “Please forgive me.” Another kiss.
Maki’s lips were swollen and flushed, but he didn’t seem to care, and Harua didn’t care either. Harua kissed him back, his tongue exploring Maki’s lips, tasting the salt of his tears. Maki’s eyes fluttered shut, soft moans escaping his parted lips.
“Don’t stop, and I might consider it,” Harua teased breathlessly. In truth, he had already forgiven Maki, but he wanted more. More of Maki’s desperation, more of his yearning. He wanted him to beg.
Maki crashed his lips against Harua’s again, fervently, not letting go for a single moment.
“I won’t, Harua. I’m yours.”