Work Text:
Something was terribly, horribly wrong, this was not how they were supposed to feel. Not ten minutes into their fusion and already were they fucking it all up for something neither of them had taken into consideration. Albeit the fusion was unexpected with no time to think, the fact that their emotional baggage was larger for either of them to handle was never come to mind. It was all crumbling around them as they stared at their sweaty palms -- the alley distorting into darkness.
Purple and grey ebbing in on them as if all the depression and anxiety from them both were purposefully trying to attack their new form;
You’re father did that to you?
You truly feel this way about people?
Their stomach twisted, gurgling to the point that it felt like stomach acid was turning into a beast trying to escape through their throat;
I-I never knew.....
I only assumed but….
Both of them recognized the beginning of a panic mixed with anxiety attack tighten their muscles, causing them to double over on to their knees.
It was freezing in the alley; they were sweltering hot under the peacoat they had fused into. Sweat dripped from their temples and onto the floor where their forehead had cemented itself; breathing had become difficult as well, as if no oxygen would enter their mouth. Were they dying? Part of them wanted it -- embarrassed beyond words that they now knew one another’s mental illness on an intimate level; the other part fought back, unable to calm themselves as they had before. No, they could make this work, they had to calm down and breathe.
“FUCK! I’M SO SORRY, THIS IS MY FAULT.”
“No, no, no, this is no one’s fault, this --”
“You never told me ANY of this shit! How can you keep living with so many scars?!”
“I...I just….how can you go on with life with no much hate ?”
“I feel so -- I never wanted --”
At the first drop of tears, they were thrown apart as if the elastic on their fusion had snapped . Heavy grunts, the rattle of metal garbage cans knocking together, it was near silent for a few moments if Ichimatsu had not been sniffling. Atsushi sat there with his upper back pressed against the wall and his head uncomfortably supported, his eyes glassy as he thought over the sensation of such an unstable fusion -- of the realization that he did know Ichi as well as he thought. Those flecks of dark emotion, a slimey feeling of utter disgust for himself -- never before had the businessman felt them like Ichi did; had it felt similarly strong for Ichi? Had the sextuplet felt those hidden emotions Atsushi took every step to hide? The burning sensation of loathing and disgust for his father, the empty pit in his heart? Then surely both of should have felt the better emotions too…
At the sound of skin hitting brick he looks up to find the purple sextuplet trying to stand on unsteady legs, as if his nerves had been so fried by their fusion that now he could not control his muscles. Without another thought Atsushi’s eyes widen and he leaps forward to catch his boyfriend by the shoulder and waist before Ichi slumps. Sluggishly the other man places his hands on Atsushi’s opposite shoulder and back to steady himself, but in a matter of seconds he gives up on himself and falls into the taller man’s arms like a heavy sack..
“M’sorry.” He utters, burying his face into Atsushi’s clavicle.
The arms around him tighten, embracing him lovingly. “No, no, let’s not apologize, we both messed up. Let’s forget...no...let’s….” They could not just leave this in the past, the fact that their relationship could cause such failure of a fusion was serious business. They had to work on them together, no matter how long it took -- that was what people in a good, healthy, serious relationship did.
“Your place, order food, nap.” His boyfriend offers; warmth blooms in Atsushi’s heart, understanding that Ichi was thinking the same as he. They can talk about it more at his apartment and put effort into them.
Combing his fingers through the dark locks in front of him, Atsushi places a gentle kiss to the top of them, happy to know that his partner cared about their relationship; was there any doubt? Perhaps a smidgen, but with how lazy of a NEET with sadistic tendencies Ichimatsu could be, the businessman thought he had a valid reason. With their current situation though, that is all gone, replaced with thrice the confidence he had in them before.
“Great idea.”
Opened containers of noodles, rice, sauces and what not laid across the coffee table by two foam cups of fountain drinks. The television was set to whatever had been on before Atsushi left the house that evening, and the blinds were open to let the bright moonlight the late hour provided. Curled into one corner of the sofa with a throw blanket draped over his lap and plastic container of noodles in his hand was Ichi. He idly played with his food, chopsticks clinking together as noodle after noodle was picked up then dropped elsewhere. Atsushi in the meantime was bent over his lap, elbows on his knees as his feet tapped for no reason in particular. If anyone were to come in on that exact moment, they would have thought a fight had taken place, which may have been accurate with how violent their fusion had been.
Just three hours ago they had arrived at his apartment, ordered Chinese, Ichi had taken a shower, and before either of them knew it they were now here, mildly full and well aware of what had to be spoken of. This would not be their first confrontation, but it was their biggest so far; too many cats in one’s apartment held no candle to this. Not a stranger to making things work and talking about issues, Atsushi is awkwardly aware that this is most likely a first big issue for his boyfriend who has never been in a relationship before. With that in mind, it’s not expected when Ichi speaks up.
“I’ve never asked you about your past...maybe we should have brought it up more.”
“Mmm, that isn’t your fault, I don’t talk a lot about it to most people.” It had taken a year or two (time has flown so much) before even his closest of friends were told, but even then he had been drunk enough to become emotional.
“I’m not most people though….” The reply is a murmur; looking at the sextuplet Atsushi can tell he is embarrassed, as if knowing and bringing up the fact that they are in a relationship is too demanding to ask of someone.
Now he feels guilty, practically insulting his boyfriend. “Of course, of course...I’m sorry, I just...I do my best to ignore my past, that isn’t my life now -- everything is better.”
Today is just filled with silence as they are together -- the scary kind in anycase. Usually Atsushi is either giving a flirtatious joke, or Ichi is rubbing against him -- his own personal way of being social, but they are not sitting very close currently, not even are toes are pressing on Atsushi’s leg like his boyfriend tends to do. He just wants to pull the other man in his arms and tell him everything will be better, but there is a sloppy line where personal space is for Ichi and Atsushi does not want to risk passing it.
“I’ll tell you, but you already felt it: I loathe my father. He is disgusting and pathetic, he’s merely an old man to me.” He has practiced this little speech in his head a dozen times. When he was younger he would hope someone would ask about his father, because then he would have the answer right on the tip of his tongue. But in the end, when it the subject did come up he only repeated those words thrice in his life -- to his maternal grandparents, his best friends, and once to a therapist who he saw for two sessions before he never went back. Now, for a fourth time, he is saying them to his boyfriend.
“Yeah….I also saw.”
Atsushi snaps his eyes up -- pupils shrinking in horror, but his jaw tight with anger. “ What?”
“I...I saw a few memories.”
Ichimatsu shrinks into the sofa corner, hoody rising over his cheeks like a turtle’s shell; Atsushi knows better than to lose his cool in front of anyone, but his old man is a tender topic that he resorts to drowning in alcohol. The ashamed shift in the sextuplet’s eyes are what helps him keep the threads of his emotions under control. Ichimatsu already feels like shit, no need to risk him running away by upsetting him further. Ichi is feeling violated aswell, Atsushi has felt his true thoughts and feelings, both of them are having a difficult time with their suddenly extreme intimacy.
The businessman sighs, face sagging with exhaustion. He could use a shot of whiskey. “Go ahead, tell me what you saw, we might as well get it out in the open.”
“...H-He…” the voice chokes, low and almost an incomprehensible murmur. “Hit you... a lot ….slammed you into walls….called you ugly….For fuck’s sake Atsushi, your face was black and blue under the make-up you covered it up in. What the fuck -- no one would even guess this sort of shit about you. ”
He sounds frustrated with Atsushi now, as if he is offended that it all happened; the older man does not blame him for feeling that way, he never told Ichi anything about his complicated past, and he has worked his damn hardest to cover it up. Had the sudden fusion not happened, Ichi would have never known better (Atsushi would have focused on covering it up while properly fused).
“Yeah, well you hide your baggage pretty good too. Everyone knows you’re depressed to the core, but no one would ever guess how much you truly hate yourself.”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Might as well keep going into the land mine. “How you are disgusted with the way you fear being judged, being humiliated, can’t show the true you who loves so much and now is far too used with being this ‘dark’ entity. You know what….you are so much like Karamatsu -- !”
His back hits the sofa arm with a loud THUD! Weight is on his pelvis, pinning him down with nails digging into his shoulder. Beside the furious snarl that is Ichimatsu’s face a raised, white-knuckled, fist ready to break Atsushi’s nose.
“Don’t you fucken say that!”
His eyes are opened more than usual in mild shock, but a small (craze-like) smile in on his lips. “You envy him, you want so badly to have that same sort of courage to be yourself like he has, but guess what.”
“ What?!” Ichi growls, muscles twitching in his raised arm.
“You don’t need it -- we all already know who you are.”
It takes a second, but the tightness is released from the topping man’s body. His snarl goes slack while his fist unfurls itself. This is not what Ichi was expecting, this was not something he ever thought needed to be said. With no danger in the way now, Atsushi begins to sit up with the help of his elbows -- the sextuplet slumping on his lap.
“They know you love them, even if they do not realize how much you feel like shit in all its immensity -- your brothers are always telling me how much they adore you and the little ways you’ve shown you care for them….”
“Shut up…” It’s a weak reply that Atsushi knows means nothing.
“ I know how much you love me. I see it everyday, in the way you hold my hand, when you press your fingers against me when it’s silent, the way you bury yourself in my arms, but most of all, when you look me in the eye -- even when you shy away a bit. And I love it, every inch of you, I adore it. There are of course things that get on my nerves, stuff you do that are unfamiliar with me, but I love you so much, I could never imagine you, or my life, without them.”
“You bastard....”
There is a stutter of breath, the tremble of his chest as it tries to stay steady, and a small choke to keep it all in, but it’s not use. Tears begin to stream down those round cheeks, flushing the pale skin a gentle red. Ichimatsu closes his eyes and once again tries to shrug into his sweater once more. Atsushi caresses the tears away as he holds one of his boyfriend’s cheeks, bringing their faces closer to press foreheads; he can feel the heat radiating off the other man and the shake of his body as sobs wrack it over and over again.
“You think you’re trash but you aren’t, you may act like it at times, but that’s not you -- it’s who you think you are. Even then that is not even how I would describe it, it’s more like you being a jackass, which is me as well, heh. I wish I could just make you feel good everyday, but I can’t and I just have to deal with it. I can do my best to help, but depression can’t always be remedied -- it’ll always come back. I love you though, so don’t worry, I’ll hold you when want to just lay helplessly.”
“You’re so brave Atsushi.”
He was not expecting those trembling pink lips to say something back -- surely not so coherently as well. “Huh?”
“You put up with that bullshit everyday of your childhood, you got help when you needed it from those people -- I couldn’t see much aside from the abuse, but I felt it: your desire to help your mother. Help yourself. And now look at you; I’m so happy….you’re you. That you’re here and doing so much better. ” Ichimatsu hides himself into his boyfriend’s neck -- hands curling into Atsushi’s shirt like he never wants to let go.
“You’re not ugly, you’re not pathetic, you’ll never be like your father. You’re my Atsushi, so please -- please, please, please, please, please --” He continues, voice muffled from burying his mouth on his boyfriend’s tee-shirt.
Atsushi realizes too late that he too is crying, silent and unmoving until now as he coils his arms around the sextuplet’s body -- their bodies tight together. Ichimatsu does not need to continue his sentence, his pleas are more than enough for them both: Please don’t keep it bottled up.
“Now you’re the bastard….” He sniffles.
“ Fuck off.”
The apartment is filled with sobs, shaky and small, and the television going on in the background. It feels like only minutes have passed, but when both men are limp against the sofa’s back (hot, red, and sweaty from crying), Atsushi see’s that almost a hour has passed since he last saw on the television before everything escalated.
It has been months since he last cried with someone in this manner; this is the first time Ichimatsu has broke down in front of him. The worst is over even though they have more to talk about and explain, but now he knows they can overcome it. Their relationship is an anchor for the both of them, a beacon of light in their lives that drag on. To think he is most likely the only one outside of the matsuno family to have witnessed, and joined in, Ichimatsu crying means the world to Atsushi.
They are going to be just fine. They can make it.
Snorting up the snot in his nose childishly, then rubbing his nose and sleeve together, Ichimatsu pulls away (the both of them shivering from the lost warmth their emotional cocoon made). “Who were those people you went to? You didn’t seem to know them.”
“My mom’s parents, they are wealthy so I went to them for help. I had to pretty much sell my future to them.” He laughs.
“You’ll tell me more later?”
“Yeah, as long as you can tell some stories of your own childhood.”
“It’s more comical than you think, like some sort of gag-anime.”
“Hey, atleast it’s not some sort of Korean drama like mine.”
Yes, their relationship is going to be even better than before.