[4 years ago]
As Makoto turned and saw a familiar face, he blinked in surprise. Standing under the fading glow of sunset was Mika, her long hair catching the light as the breeze swayed it gently. She walked toward them with a soft, a knowing smile, her steps calm and deliberate, as if she belonged there all along.
Yukio, who had been quietly sitting on the swing, immediately straightened. Forcing a small smile to his lips, he greeted her politely, though the faint stiffness in his voice betrayed his unease.
Mika's gaze shifted past Makoto, landing on Yukio with ease. "Yukio-kun is here too," she said warmly, her tone carrying a familiarity that made Yukio's chest tighten.
Makoto tilted his head, curiosity flickering across his expression. "How did you know we're here?" He asked.
A small chuckle slipped from Mika's lips, light and certain. "Of course I would know. This playground has always been the secret retreat for you two, hasn't it?"
Her words seemed to hang in the air. For Yukio, they cut deeper than they should have—because she was right. This place wasn't just a playground; it was their place. A space that belonged to him and Makoto, a place where they had spent countless afternoons together, away from everything else. For Mika to know about it, to step into it so casually, felt like an intrusion on something sacred.
Makoto, however, only gave a faint laugh, scratching his cheek as his smile softened. "Oh, well. I guess you're right. You remember more than I thought."
Mika tilted her head with a gentle smile, her eyes never leaving Makoto's face. "Of course I remember."
While Yukio, standing there, suddenly felt the distance between them all widen—as though Mika had effortlessly placed herself in a space he thought only he belonged.
The sun dipped below the horizon, the three of them left together. Yukio trailed just as step behind, watching the two walk side by side. Their silhouettes overlapped in the fading light, fitting each other so naturally that Yukio could only force a smile—a bittersweet, painful smile that never reached his eyes. Deep down, he already knew: this place beside Makoto... could never belong to him.
Yukio and Makoto had known each other since childhood. Though their families lived in different worlds, Makoto never once looked down on him. He treated Yukio like an equal, like family, like someone irreplaceable. That bond carried them through the years, all the way to middle school.
But Makoto's world was not his. Heir to a wealthy household, Makoto's future had already been written. His parents were business people, and when the time came to secure connections, the Hashizawa family appeared—with their one and only daughter, Mika.
The engagement between Makoto and Mika was decided quietly, like a business deal, but for Yukio it changed everything. Even if Makoto never once pushed him away, even if his treatment of Yukio never changed, the knowledge lingered like a shadow. Mika was the one standing at Makoto's side. Yukio was only there because his friend wanted him to be.
He told himself that was enough. That it would always be enough.
Until that rainy day.
Yukio remembered standing by the bus stop, clutching his umbrella and the museum tickets in his pocket. His heart was light, almost trembling with excitement—this would be the first time it was just the two of them, outside of school, outside of responsibilities.
To anyone else it was just a small outing, but to Yukio, it felt like a secret date.
But Makoto never came.
The drizzle turned into heavy rain, and the sky darkened. Yukio dialed Makoto's phone again and again, send message after message. No reply. He waited, convincing himself—maybe Makoto's just running late, maybe something came up, he wouldn't just leave him like this.
Still, as the minutes stretched into hours. Another thought gnawed at him. Maybe he didn't want to come. Maybe he changed his mind.
Just as Yukio's hope began to flicker out, footsteps approached. He looked up, relief surging—only for it to freeze when he saw not Makoto, but Mika.
"Yukio-kun," she said gently, holding an umbrella.
"Hashizawa-san...?" Yukio voice trembled with confusion.
Her smile was soft, almost apologetic. "Are you waiting for Makoto-kun?"
Yukio hesitated, his chest tightening.
"Y-Yeah."
It was the first time they'd ever spoken alone. Yukio wasn't close to her—how could he be, when she was the chosen one.
He didn't know what to say, didn't know what expression to make. Standing there, dripping wet under the streetlights, Yukio realized with painful clarity: no matter how much he wanted Makoto to himself, Mika would always be the one Makoto expected to be with.
Mika's gaze drifted downward, and her sharp eyes immediately caught the edge of a paper peeking out from Yukio's pocket. The corner of ticket stub. She tilted her head, lips curving into a small, knowing grin.
"I see..." she whispered, almost too quietly to catch, though Yukio swore he heard it. Her voice carried strange weight.
"What?" Yukio asked cautiously.
Her smile didn't fade, but it softened into something almost pitying. "He won't be coming."
Yukio's breath hitched. His eyes widened as he quickly looked up at her, shaking his head in disbelief. "What?... W-What do you mean?"
Mika shifted her weight, her expression calm and composed, yet her words cut deep. "He told me that he's hanging out with some friends, and doesn't want to play with you. So, that's why I'm here. I thought I should let you know."
The words sank slowly, but heavily. Yukio felt his chest tighten, his stomach knotting as if the air had been stolen from him.
"I-I..." He swallowed hard, his voice trembling. "I'm sure you're mistaken. He wouldn't—"
"I know you have feelings for him. You think I didn't notice, did you?"
The words pierced him like a blade. Yukio's entire body went cold, his blood rushing to his ears. His lips parted soundlessly as his chest thudded with violent, uneven beats.
"M-My... feelings?" His voice barely escaped, quivering with disbelief.
Mika exhaled sharply, frustration flashing in her eyes. "How can you even have such feelings toward him? Don't you feel ashamed of yourself?"
Yukio's eyes widened further, his vision blurring slightly as his breath quickened. Shame crashed over him in waves, so raw it burned.
"What makes you think you and Makoto could ever be anything more than friends?"
Her words dug into Yukio like poison, each syllable scraping against the fragile hope he had tried so hard to protect. Embarrassment curled in his gut, and guilt crept up his spine, heavy and suffocating.
"Makoto will be the next head of his family," Mika continued, her tone firm and unrelenting. "If you really care about him, if you want him to succeed and achieve everything he's meant for, then you have to support him as a friend. Nothing more."
Yukio's shoulders slumped. He lowered his head, unable to meet her gaze. Deep down, he had always know this. Every word Mika said was a truth he had buried under fragile hope. Still, hearing it aloud stripped him bare, fear seeped in—the fear of being hated by Makoto, of breaking the bond that had carried him this far.
His lips quivered as he whispered, "Then... what do you want me to do?"
Mika stepped closer, her hand firm on his shoulder, her gaze cutting down at him.
"Give up on him."
The words landed like a hammer, crushing what little strength Yukio had left. His chest felt hollow, his heart sinking into a bottomless pit.
"If you want to stay friends with him," Mika added coldly, "then stop all this nonsense. Because no matter what you do, this is wrong."
Right. Yukio thought bitterly. She's right. It is wrong.
His throat tightened painfully as he forced himself to accept it, even though it shattered him from the inside.
But Mika wasn't finished. Her grip on his shoulder tightened slightly, and her eyes narrowed. "Stay away from my fiancé."
Yukio's head snapped up. "What?"
"You can still be friends with him," Mika said calmly, though the warning in her voice was clear as glass. "But know your limit. Support him from afar. Do that, and we won't have any problem, Yukio-kun."
Her words echoed in his mind like a curse, sealing away the fragile hope he once clung to... it repeated again and again, until Yukio could hardly breathe.
His body felt heavy, his eyes stung, and before he knew it, everything faded into darkness.
When he opened his eyes again, his cheek was pressed against the hard surface of his desk. His textbook lay open beneath him, ink from his pen smudged against the page where his hand had slipped. Yukio blinked drowsily, realizing he had dozed off while studying.
A quick glance at the clock made his chest tighten—it was already past midnight. He sat up slowly, stretching the stiffness in his shoulders, only to notice the silence that blanketed the room. Empty. No trace of Makoto anywhere.
Yukio's lips curved into a faint, resigned smile.
Of course. Makoto had left. Most likely because something had happened back home that's why Mika had come to fetch him. Whatever chance Yukio had to speak with him... it had slipped away again.
A soft sigh escaped his lips as he leaned back in his chair. Yet something unsettled stirred deep within him. The quiet wasn't comforting—it was suffocating. As he pressed a hand over his chest, he realized it wasn't confusion clawing at him, but a familiar ache. Loneliness, that same dull pain he had been trying so hard to bury.
His throat tightened as the weight grew heavier. Before he could stop himself, tears welled in his eyes, spilling over without warning.
"Huh?..." He stared down at his hand, where drops of tears dampened his skin. "What is this? Why... tears?"
He hurriedly brushed them away with the back of his sleeve, but more kept falling, endlessly, relentlessly. His vision blurred as his breathing grew uneven. Eventually, his knees gave away, and he slid down from the chair, crumbling onto the floor.
Tears streamed freely now, unchecked, soaking his cheeks as his chest heaved. He pressed both hands against his mouth, desperate to silence himself.
He refused to let even the faintest sound escape—not a sob, not a moan, nothing.
Yet the tears betrayed him, flowing harder, heavier, as if all the words he could never say had turned into silent cries.
Meanwhile, just beyond the dorm's door, Renjiro stood frozen in the hallway. His eyes fixed on the door, as if he could see through it. Though not a single sound escaped from within, he knew—that Yukio was hurting in there. Alone.
His hand hovered for a moment, tempted to knock, but slowly dropped to his side. Concern knitted his brows, though it was mixed with something else—confusion, maybe even anger—after what he had just discovered earlier. His chest tightened with frustration, wishing he could barge in, yet knowing Yukio would never want to be seen in that state.
Renjiro sighed, shaking his head. He clenched his fists once, then reluctantly turned away, his footsteps heavy as he dragged himself back down the corridor.
When he finally returned to his own room, Yugen lifted his head from the desk. His eyes flicked toward him, sharp yet casual.
"Hey, where did you run off to again?" Yugen asked, pen still in his hand.
Renjiro stopped midway, scratching his cheek with a sheepish motion that looked almost rehearsed. "R-Right. Sorry I took so long. Bathroom."
Yugen arched a brow, clearly unconvinced. He set his pen down and swiveled slightly in his chair. "Uh-huh. Sure. But I'm pretty sure you didn't go to the bathroom..."
Renjiro's gaze darted away, but Yugen's stare was already digging into him.
He catches on too fast... Renjiro thought bitterly. What? Does he have a spy on me now?
Instead of hiding behind his usual clumsy grin, Renjiro's expression hardened. His voice lost its lightness.
"About Makoto—I mean, Yano..."
Yugen blinked and turned fully toward him. "Yeah?"
Renjiro swallowed hard before blurting it out, his tone sharp with accusation. "How come you didn't mention anything about him being engaged?"
Yugen's brows shot up. "Huh??? What about it?" He looked genuinely bewildered.
Renjiro's frustration spiked. His lips curled as his voice cracked louder than intended.
"What about it?! That's all you can say?!"
[?!]
"I thought you said you knew those two well?!"
"Well, I don't know them personally!"
Yugen narrowed his eyes, his patience thinning. "Look, first of all, I don't know what's gotten into you—you've been acting crazy lately."
"Crazy?!"
"And second of all," he continued, standing now, "you've been dragging me into things I wouldn't usually do. Don't think I haven't noticed." He stepped closer, his hand shooting out to grab Renjiro's arm firmly.
His tone was low, cutting. "Tell me—why are you so invested in Yukio's business, anyway?"
Renjiro froze, caught off guard. His mouth opened but not words came out.
"...U-Um..."
"Don't you think it's about time you explain things to me?" Yugen pressed, his grip tightening.
Renjiro's face tightened in conflict. He wanted to brush it off, but Yugen wasn't wrong—he'd been demanding too much without giving answers. Slowly, he pursed his lips, gathering courage.
"... Do you remember what I asked you before?"
Yugen tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "You mean when you asked me to talk to Makoto and Yukio?"
Renjiro gave a slight nod. Yes. That day wasn't coincidence—it was all intentional.
[A few days ago]
"What?" Yugen stared at him, brows drawn tight. "You want me to do what, exactly?"
"I want you to talk some sense into Yukio," Renjiro said firmly. "Since you two are pretty close, I'm sure he'll listen to you more than anyone else. Same goes to Yano."
Yugen pressed a hand to his forehead, groaning I disbelief. "Hold on, why? Is something going on between him and Makoto?"
Renjiro hesitated only a moment before answering. "Well... let's just say they're in the middle of a crisis. And by that, I mean a huge misunderstanding. Neither of them is thinking straight, and that's why they can't patch things up."
"So your brilliant idea is for me to get in the middle of it?" Yugen deadpanned.
"Exactly!" Renjiro beamed.
"Nope." Yugen turned on his heel without hesitation. "If it's their business, then I'm out."
"Wha—?! Hey wait!" Renjiro dashed in front of him, blocking his path. His expression wasn't playful this time—his eyes were desperate, pleading. "Aren't you worried about them at all?"
Yugen frowned, taken aback. "Well, I—"
"Because I am!" Renjiro cut in sharply. His voice cracked, raw with emotion. "What would you do if it was us, huh? Would you just stand by and run away again—like you always do?"
That hit harder than what he expected. His jaw clenched, words caught in his throat. For a moment, neither spoke. Finally, with a rough sigh, Yugen muttered: "... Fine."
Renjiro's tense shoulders loosened, relief flashing in his eyes. But as Yugen started toward the stairs, Renjiro called out again.
"Oh—one more thing!"
Yugen glanced back, irritated. "What now?"
"Do you know what kind of family Makoto has?"
"... What?"
"Are they business folks or something?"
Yugen blinked, caught off guard. "Yeah... if I remember right."
"Perfect! Thanks!" Renjiro's face lit up with uncharacteristic excitement, almost too cheerful for the heavy topic.
Yugen, however, lingered a moment longer, his gaze shadowed with both curiosity and unease. Renjiro was hiding something—he could feel it.
[At present]
Renjiro's eyes lit up suddenly, as though struck by a new idea. "You said the academy gates close at ten and only reopen after midnight, right?"
"Yeah, because the chairman usually comes back at that time—" Yugen stopped, eyes widening. "Wait. Don't tell me you're actually planning—"
"Yup." Renjiro crossed his arms, looking far too pleased with himself. "So while I'm out, you'll cover for me, okay?"
Yugen shot to his feet, barking in disbelief. "Like hell I would let you!"
At first, Yugen was immovable. No matter how many times Renjiro pleaded, argued, or even guilt-tripped him. But Renjiro was relentless.
Now here he was, standing before a towering mansion glowing against the midnight sky. The front gates loomed tall, and guards patrolled the grounds with military precision.
Renjiro ducked low behind the hedges, his heart racing. He'd managed to slip past the gate with sheer dumb luck, timing his steps between the guards' rotations, but it didn't seemed easy.
A heavy sigh escaped him. "I didn't thought I'd see the day where I'd trespass into someone else's family estate... all because I'm desperate to witness a happy ending." His muttering barely rose above a whisper as he crouched deeper into the bushes.
Finding the place hadn't been simple either. If not for a friend of a friend—one with questionable connections—he wouldn't even know which mansion belonged to Makoto's family.
But Renjiro wasn't here recklessly. He'd been preparing for this for days. Watching from the shadows, every time Makoto and Yukio brushed past each other in awkward silence, Renjiro's frustation only grew. He'd wanted to interfere so badly—but he'd forced himself to wait.
Butnow? He clenched his fists, determination flashing in his eyes.
Enough waiting. It's time to put an end to this long overdue drama.
"Operation: Kiss the Boy," he whispered with a grin, "officially begins now."
He crept forward, light on his feet, scanning for an opening. That's when he spotted it—the veranda on the second floor, sliding door cracked open just slightly .
"Oh, sweet jackpot."
He scooped up a few pebbles from the ground, then crouched at the perfect angle. One by one, he tossed them up until a soft clink echoed against the railing.
Makoto appeared, sliding open the door to investigate. He leaned out, frowning into the dark—until a hushed voice caught his attention.
"Hey...!"
Makoto squinted, confused.
"Down here!"
His eyes widened as he recognized the face in the shadows. "K-Koizumi?!"
Before he could react, another voice floated behind him. "What's that?"
Mika had appeared at his shoulder, raising a brow.
Makoto startled, spinning around. "O-Oh! It's nothing. Just... a cat. Yeah! Must've been hungry."
"A cat? Poor thing," Mika said softly, peering past him. "Where is it?"
"Uh—it ran off when it saw me."
"Oh. That's too bad."
Makoto let out a nervous chuckle, shoulders stiff.
Meanwhile, down below, Renjiro smirked. Nice save, Makoto.
He excused himself from Mika with the excuse of needing the bathroom.
Slipping past the veranda, he jogged quietly into the shadows of the garden. Sure enough, Renjiro was there, grinning like he had been waiting for this exact moment.
"Hey there, Yano," Renjiro greeted with that casual cheer of his.
Makoto blinked in disbelief. "What are you doing here, Koizumi? I mean, how did you even—"
Renjiro cut him off with a wave of his hand.
"I don't think we should be talking here."
Makoto pressed his lips shut, then gave a small nod. He led Renjiro to a secluded spot in the estate, far from prying eyes or curious ears. Only when they were finally alone did Makoto let out a breath.
"So," he said firmly, "why are you really here?"
Renjiro's playful air faded. He pressed his lips together before finally speaking. "What do you think of Yukio?"
Makoto blinked, completely thrown. "Huh? What do you mean by that?"
"Exactly what I asked," Renjiro said, his eyes sharp. "I've seen the way you two are now... and compared to how close you once were, it looks like strangers passing by. I don't get it."
Makoto froze. His silence was telling, but the confusion in his eyes was genuine.
"I know I sound like I'm meddling," Renjiro continued, "but I'm worried about Yukio."
At Yukio's name, Makoto's expression sharpened. "Why? Did something happen to him?"
"Yeah," Renjiro said simply.
Makoto leaned forward, anxious. "What? What happened—?"
"You happened."
Makoto stared, startled, unable to process what Renjiro meant.
Renjiro sighed. "I'll be blunt, Makoto. I hate your choices. Especially the way you gave up without even trying. You know how hard it is for Yukio to put feelings into words—hell, he's worse than you at that—but instead of trying, you just... folded."
The words hit Makoto like stones. He looked down, lips trembling slightly.
"What I hate the most," Renjiro pressed on, voice low and firm, "is that you quit too easily. You thought that just realizing your feelings was enough? That once you confessed to yourself, everything would fall into place? Did you even stop to consider how Yukio feels? That guy's been suffering alone this whole time, and have been thinking about your sake... but you just went ahead, leaving him just like that."
Makoto's fists clenched at his sides. "I... I don't understand what you're—"
Renjiro stopped himself. Calm down, idiot. You're ranting too much. He drew in a breath, straightened his back, and tried again.
"Let me make it simple. What do you really feel about Yukio? If you had the chance to be with him again, would you take it?"
The question silenced everything. Makoto's heart pounded. He thought long and hard, then finally answered with clenched fists and unwavering eyes.
"Of course I would. I thought it was just friendship before, but... it's not. I didn't realize what it was until Yukio started avoiding me. Until he made me feel like I wasn't needed anymore. That's when I knew." He swallowed hard. "If I was given another chance... I wouldn't waste it. I'd be there for him. No matter what."
Renjiro's lips curled into a small, satisfied smile. "Then... shouldn't you be telling all that to him, instead of me?"
Makoto looked up, startled.
Renjiro stretched out his hand. Resting on his palm was a single dorm key.
"It's late," Renjiro said calmly, "but if you run now, you might make it before Sasaki sensei changes the lock."
Makoto stared at the key. His pulse thudded in his ears. He understood the weight of his choice. If he stayed, he would remain the perfect fiancé Mika expected. But if he took that key... it would mean defying everything, just for Yukio.
Renjiro tilted his head, smirking knowingly. "So. What'll it be?"
Makoto didn't hesitate. He snatched the key and bolted. His footsteps echoed against the stone path as he ran with everything he had.
Renjiro watched him go, a quiet smile on his face. But when he turned back, his smile faded.
Standing in the shadows, Mika watched with wide eyes she had heard everything. Her expression twisted—not of sadness, but of something darker, sharper. She pressed her lips furiously. The air had just changed.
Meanwhile, Makoto's lungs burned by the time he reached the dormitory. His heart was racing—not just from running, but from the weight of the choice he had made. Clutching the key Renjiro had given him, he slipped it into the lock. The metal clicked, and the door creaked open.
Yukio... he thought, his chest tightening. This time, I'll say it. Everything I've been holding back—I won't run anymore.
His footsteps echoed faintly through the empty corridor as he hurried up the stairs. Each step was heavy with urgency, with fear, with hope. By the time he reached their room, his hands were trembling.
He reached for the knob—but before he could turn it, the door swung open.
Yukio stood there, eyes widening in shock. "Makoto? What are you—"
But Makoto didn't let him finish. "Yukio, wait. Please—just let me talk."
Yukio blinked, startled. The hallway was silent, other students sound asleep. Wordlessly, Yukio grabbed Makoto's wrist and pulled him inside, shutting the door quickly so they wouldn't wake anyone.
The room was dim. The air between them was heavy.
Makoto drew in a shaky breath. His voice quivered, but his resolve held firm. "Yukio... I've been a fool. I thought I understood myself, I thought I understood you... but I didn't. I regret every moment I turned away, every time I failed to reach out when you needed me. I told myself it was too late, or that it was better this way, but the truth is... I was just scared."
Yukio's lips parted, but no words came.
Makoto pressed on, fists clenched at his sides.
He realized something only after Yukio started avoiding him. The reason it hurt so much wasn't because he was losing a friend. It was because he was losing the person he love.
"Yukio, it's you. It's always been you. I... I love you."
The words hung in the air like a fragile glass, threatening to shatter.
Yukio's face flushed, his breath caught in his throat. His eyes burned, and before he realized it, tears spilled down his cheeks. "Makoto... don't. You can't say that."
"What? Why... not?" Makoto stepped closer, desperation in his voice.
"Because we live in a different world!" Yukio's voice cracked as he tried to hold himself together. "You have a fiancée. You'll be the next head of the Yano family. You have a duty. If you choose me... you'll throw it all away."
Makoto shook his head firmly, almost angrily. "I don't care about Mika! I don't care about the stupid engagement or the responsibilities! None of it matter if I don't have you. What I need—what I've always wanted is you. And only you, Yukio."
Yukio's body trembled. His tears wouldn't stop no matter how hard he tried to fight them. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to meet Makoto's eyes.
"You don't understand... the reason I avoided you wasn't because I stopped caring. It's because I care too much. Mika... she told me everything. I'd only drag you down. And I don't want to ruin your future."
[!!]
"She's right. You're meant for something greater, Makoto. While... I'm just..." His voice broke. "... I'm just the obstacle in your way."
Makoto's chest tightened painfully. He grabbed Yukio's shoulders, forcing him to look straight at him.
"No, that's not true," he said, "you're not an obstacle—you're the reason I keep moving forward. The reason I want to fight for my future. Yukio, if it's not with you, then it means nothing."
Yukio gasped, his walls crumbling with every word Makoto spoke. His lips trembled as more tears streamed down. For so long, he had buried his feelings, convinced that silence was the only way to protect him.
But now, with Makoto standing before him, baring everything—he couldn't hold back anymore.
"I... I love you, Makoto," Yukio whispered, his voice shaking. "I always have. Every single day, I wanted to be by your side. But... I thought it wasn't right."
Makoto's eyes widened, then softened. Without hesitation. He pulled Yukio into his arms, holding him tightly as if afraid he would vanish.
"No," Makoto murmured against his shoulder. "None of this is not right. So please... don't push me away again."
Yukio clutched onto him, crying openly into his chest, finally releasing all the pain he had carried alone. For the first time in so long, neither of them felt the need to hide.
Yukio's sobs quieted into shaky breaths against Makoto's chest. The warmth of his arms, the strength in his hold—it felt like home, a place Yukio thought he had lost forever.
Makoto pulled back slightly, just enough to see Yukio's tear-strained face. Their eyes locked—his gaze fierce with determination, Yukio's soft and trembling with vulnerability.
Neither spoke.
Makoto then lifted a hand, brushing away the wet streaks from Yukio's cheeks with his thumb. His fingers lingered there, cupping his face gently, as though Yukio were the most fragile yet precious thing in the world.
"Yukio..." Makoto whispered, voice low, almost breaking. "Never again. I'll never let you go again."
Yukio's lips parted as if to reply, but no words came. The emotions in his chest swelled too heavy to put into sentences. His heart pounded painfully, a mixture of fear and undeniable desire.
The air between them thinned. Slowly—hesitantly—Makoto leaned in. His breath bruhsed against Yukio's, their noses almost touching.
"Makoto..." Yukio breathed, his voice quivering. His instincts screamed to pull back, but his heart screamed louder with longing.
And when Makoto's lips finally touched his—soft, tentative at first—Yukio melted.
The kiss deepened as Makoto pressed closer, one hand holding Yukio's face, the other curling firmly around his back though anchoring him in place. Yukio's hands clutched Makoto's shirt tightly, not to push the boy away, but to pull him closer, terrified this was a dream that would vanish the moment he let go.
It wasn't rushed. It wasn't desperate. It was raw, trembling, filled with everything they'd been too afraid to say until tonight.
When they finally pulled away, both breathless, Makoto rested his forehead against Yukio's. His lips curved into a soft, almost relieved smile.
"Everything I am belongs to you now." Makoto murmured.
"I love you so much, Yukio."
Yukio's face flushed deep crimson, his tears spilling again, but this time with a fragile smile breaking through.
He whispered back voice trembling yet steady with conviction—
"... I love you too, Makoto. More than you know."
Makoto tightened his embrace.
In the quiet of their room, under the dim glow of moonlight filtering through the window, two hearts that had wandered apart finally found their way back to each other.