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It’s been a while since Hiyori felt like this.
Unsettled might be a word he would use if he were someone else, but Hiyori Tomoe does not feel unsettled, does not feel anything other than perfect.
At least, that’s what he tells himself.
So as for the reason he’s currently sitting on his bed with his duvet wrapped tightly around his shoulders and Mary in his lap, his phone in his hand and his left leg bouncing restlessly, that’s neither here nor there. He was supposed to have a photoshoot today, but the photographer got sick, so it was cancelled last minute. Nagisa already had work scheduled with Ibara, and Hiyori had sent Jun five messages and called him twice, but there had been no reply.
If there’s one thing Hiyori hates more than a cancelled photoshoot, it’s being ignored. It’s the worst kind of weather when Jun isn’t immediately there at his beck and call. He’s pretty sure he raised Jun better than this. Jun would probably tell him that he’s overreacting and say, ‘I have my own life too, now, Ohiisan, I can’t be by your side all the time,’ and the grown-up part of Hiyori would be inclined to agree, but right now, he just wants Jun in his room, on his bed, wants to forcibly drag him away from whatever nonsensical, unimportant thing he’s doing and make him hug Hiyori instead.
He’s not sure if it’s a bad or a good thing that he hasn’t gotten past these possessive urges. It’s a fact that Hiyori tries to ignore, but even the sun has sunspots. Even the sun gets eclipsed sometimes. It’s a rare occurrence, but it does happen.
It doesn’t happen as often as it used to when he was still at Yumenosaki, or when he’d only just transferred to Reimei, but Hiyori has never been good at being alone. It might be some aftereffect of always having been left alone as a child because someone or something was always more important than he was. He was always just the spare, and until Nagisa came into his life and looked at him like he hung the sun and the moon and the stars, not even his tutors had given him their full attention.
Thinking back to his childhood doesn’t make Hiyori feel any better, so he picks up his phone again to magically wish it to light up with a new message or a voice call. But he’s not Natsume or Wataru. He can’t do magic, and his shoulders slump when his lock screen remains unchanged—a picture of Mary playing in the cherry blossoms. It isn’t enough to cheer him up today, as his fingers cramp up with how tightly he’s gripping the phone.
He hates feeling like this. And he hates that he hates it, because he’s supposed to be perfect. These thoughts spin round and round, a vicious cycle that he finds himself trapped in.
Unlike what Jun might think, Hiyori knows that he wears his idol persona like a shield. He’s trained himself to hide behind it for the full 24 hours each day. He knows the role he’s playing to perfection. It’s only when he’s alone that he slips up, that darkness creeps in through the cracks that inevitably form. Hiyori hates it, because it reminds him that no matter how hard he tries, he can’t always feel confident and full of love, he can’t always be the inspiration to others that he wants to be. He isn’t perfect.
Feelings like these remind him of his parents saying “Don’t be such an attention seeker,” and curling up in his too-big bed under his too-heavy blankets, tiny fists pressed tightly against his chest to calm down his sobbing breaths.
It’s Nagisa who had seen him, who had followed him, who had loved him. Until Hiyori, inevitably, ruined that too when he signed Eichi’s contract—and Nagisa, innocently, trustingly, with him.
And then, he met Jun. At first, when Hiyori and Jun first met, the dark parts inside of Hiyori were grating against each other like stones, slowly hollowing him out like a river eroding a canyon over time.
Hiyori had thought that getting away from Yumenosaki would allow him a fresh start. And in a way, it was, starting from the bottom and building himself up again, but doing so was like being stuck riding out the tsunami after an earthquake—inevitable, powerful, and impossible to run from. He tried to ignore the darkness, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. It slipped out every day—in the way he casually ordered Jun around, in the way took pleasure in the idea of owning him, shaping him into who Hiyori wanted—needed—him to be: the one thing in his life he had control over.
Hiyori’s time in fine had only strengthened the notion that he didn’t have control over much of his life. Sure, his parents let him do what he wanted, mostly, if he just stayed out of their way, and out of his brother’s way. But that was a finely balanced line to toe, and it was exhausting to mind every word, to be called on for parties, to fit into their mould for him. On top of that, being in fine was more exhausting than he’d ever admit, even to himself.
But with Jun, Hiyori didn’t have to hold back. He lashed out because the hurt he felt over what he’d done at Yumenosaki was killing him, threatening to spill over and that could never happen. He was supposed to be bright and happy and perfect. But Jun owed him, Jun did what he said, and Jun had darkness inside of him, too.
Hiyori figured it was just a matter of time before Jun left him, too, especially with the way he was treating him.
But, against all odds, Jun stuck with him. He never complained, he worked hard, and he was always there when Hiyori felt sad or alone. Moreover, Hiyori saw that same sadness and loneliness reflected in Jun’s eyes whenever he thought Hiyori wasn’t watching him. Jun stayed by his side, even when the dark parts of Hiyori overwhelmed him. Even when his shoulders felt heavy under the guilt and he couldn’t make himself get out of bed in the morning. On mornings like that, Jun would slip under the covers with him, and just hold him, and that was enough.
And slowly, Hiyori started feeling brighter. He felt more like the sun that everyone was always telling him he resembled. He felt special when Jun looked at him and smiled. Nagisa came back into his life, and for the first time in as long as Hiyori could remember, he felt like his bright persona started to carry over into himself.
That’s why it hits him even harder when, every now and then when he least expects it, he is thrown back into his mindset from only last year. It makes him feel like he has no control, like the 4-year-old boy still inside of him who was only told, “Keep quiet, stay out of the way.”
Hiyori suppresses the urge to throw his phone against the wall, and he swallows the painful lump in his throat. Sitting here alone with Mary isn’t helping. It just makes him feel more powerless, more out of control. If Jun doesn’t pick up his phone, that means one of two things. One, he’s in a practice room to do some extra dance training. Or two, he’s at the gym.
And so, picking up Mary in one arm and holding his phone in the other, Hiyori decides to check the gym first.
He was right. The first thing he hears when he opens the door to the gym is Jun’s laugh. In spite of himself, it makes the corners of his mouth turn up. He stuffs his phone in the pocket of his slacks, and he just stands there for a moment, Mary in his arms. Jun hasn’t noticed him yet, and something inside of Hiyori makes him stay back. Jun isn’t alone, and Hiyori feels too hollowed out to deal with other people who aren’t Jun or Nagisa right now.
Hiyori recognises the kid that Jun is with as the dark-haired kid from that hero unit, Ryuseitai. He thinks for a bit. Tetora Nagumo, that’s the kid’s name. He’s insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but something tight curls in Hiyori’s stomach as Tetora laughs at something Jun says, as he reaches out and touches Jun’s upper arm.
Hiyori chooses to focus on Jun instead. His hair is curling with how damp it is. He’s wearing black shorts and a white t-shirt, that he raises the hem of to wipe his face. Even from where Hiyori is standing, on the other end of the gym, he can see the outline of Jun’s abs, and he can see Tetora’s gaze dropping down.
Something snaps inside of him that has probably been inevitable with how today has been going.
He puts Mary down with a softly muttered “Stay here, good girl,” and makes his way to the corner where Jun and Tetora are apparently discussing the best exercises for building abdominal muscles. Something about kettlebell Russian twists that Hiyori could care less about. It’s just frustrating how Tetora looks at Jun all starry-eyed as he nods along to every word.
“Your abs are amazing, Sazanami-senpai. Do you think I could get abs like yours if I follow your workout regime?”
Hiyori once again compliments himself on not throwing his phone against the wall. Really, he deserves a medal. And an afternoon of shopping while Jun carries his bags.
Tetora notices Hiyori before Jun does, and Hiyori can’t help but give a satisfied smirk when Jun yelps as Hiyori drapes himself over Jun from behind. Jun’s shirt is wet, and he smells, but weirdly enough when Hiyori inhales, the sweet natural scent of him and the familiar smell of his stupidly-boyish cheap deodorant are an unexpected comfort. Aware of Tetora’s gaze on him, Hiyori closes his eyes and turns his head to nuzzle the skin behind Jun’s ear. Jun lets out a tiny gasp that feels intensely gratifying.
The damp curls of Jun’s hair make Hiyori’s nose itch, but it’s a small price to pay for the way Tetora’s eyes go round and his mouth falls open when Hiyori opens his eyes and looks—glares—at him.
“Ohiisan,” Jun says, his voice rough and shaky, and something inside of Hiyori preens at the sound.
“You’re sweaty,” he complains, and he’s pressed close enough to Jun that he can feel the shudder running down Jun’s spine when he talks with his mouth so close to the skin of Jun’s neck. Close enough to feel the goosebumps on Jun’s skin, and it takes all of Hiyori’s self-control not to stick out his tongue to lick, suck, claim.
Jun swallows audibly. “You could always just step back,” he replies dryly, the barest tremor in his voice.
But then how would Nagumo-kun know that you belong to me, and only me, Hiyori thinks. Instead, he wraps his arms tighter around Jun’s chest from behind.
“I don’t think I want to,” Hiyori says.
“Ohiisan—” Jun starts, and Hiyori can hear the protest in his voice, and that just won’t do, so he steps back to wrap his fingers around Jun’s wrist instead.
“Let’s go.”
“Go where?”
Anywhere but here. “My room.”
Without sparing Tetora a second look, Hiyori turns to go, dragging Jun with him. Jun calls a see you later over his shoulder and then tries—not very forcefully—to pull his hand back. Hiyori doesn’t let go.
“You gotta carry Mary back. She’s tired.”
Jun picks her up without protesting, holding her with one arm because Hiyori refuses to let go of his wrist. She settles with her head against Jun’s chest, and just the sight of that makes Hiyori’s darkly coloured heart brighten a little.
“Really, Ohiisan,” Jun complains as Hiyori leads him out of the gym and towards the elevators. He stops, making Hiyori stop as well because Hiyori isn’t strong enough to drag Jun along when Jun digs his heels into the linoleum of the hallways. “What’s gotten into you?”
Jun turns his head to look at Hiyori, and Hiyori turns his head away because he doesn’t want Jun to see. Even though he does want Jun to know. That’s a funny conundrum, isn’t it?
Hiyori Tomoe, master of not saying what he really wants.
And so they just stand there, at a standstill. Hiyori wants to say something funny, something clever, something to make Jun understand. But his tongue feels heavy in his mouth, and his throat is dry, and no matter how many times he blinks, the itch behind his eyes doesn’t go away.
“Please,” he says, in the end, and even when Hiyori isn’t looking at Jun, he feels something inside of Jun soften.
“Okay,” Jun agrees, and this time, he turns his hand so he can entwine his fingers with Hiyori’s. “Okay.”
The elevator ride from the 15th to the 3rd floor has never felt so long. Hiyori can feel his heart beating an uncomfortable rhythm against his rib cage, and the palm of his hand turns sweaty against Jun’s. Normally, he would fill the silence with insignificant chitchat, but the words won’t come, and so he focuses on the rhythm of Jun’s and Mary’s breaths instead.
Hiyori’s room is, thankfully, still empty. Jun puts Mary down without letting go of Hiyori’s hand, and she swirls around Hiyori’s feet in an affectionate circle twice before going to her little dog bed next to Hiyori’s bed.
Jun turns his hand a little to run one slightly calloused thumb across Hiyori’s pulse point. It sends a nice little jolt up his arm. When Jun tries to release Hiyori’s hand, Hiyori won’t let him go.
“Ohiisan… I’ll just take a quick shower, and—”
“No,” Hiyori says, surprising himself with the vehemency in his voice.
A flash of confusion flits across Jun’s face, because he’s never learned to keep his emotions from Hiyori. “At least let me put on some clean clothes. I thought you hated it when I’m sweaty.”
And Hiyori used to, didn’t he? Funny, when did that change?
Hiyori shakes his head. There are words in his chest, somewhere, that he wants to say to Jun, but they’re buried somewhere deep and he can’t get them out. His breathing goes shallow, and Jun—his precious, perfect Jun—notices.
“Hey,” Jun says, and he steps in front of Hiyori and cups Hiyori’s face with his free hand. “Hey, look at me. What do you need?”
I need you. But that’s a vague and stupid thing to say, so Hiyori shakes his head again. He glances towards his bed, at the duvet he left in a crumpled heap.
Jun nods.
“Come on, then.”
It’s nice to let Jun guide him, to raise his arms so Jun can remove his sweater, and to let Jun shake out the duvet and cover Hiyori with it. It’s even nicer when Jun, wordlessly, slips under the covers as well, and Hiyori can roll into his arms and close his eyes and finally, finally, he can breathe again.
Jun wraps one arm around Hiyori’s waist, and the other cups the back of his head, and instantly Hiyori feels himself relax.
There are only two people in the world that he could be this vulnerable and unguarded with, and still feel safe.
Jun’s fingers start to card through Hiyori’s hair as he starts humming a melody under his breath, something low and unfamiliar. The shadows inside of Hiyori settle down. The guilt, the jealousy, the insecurity, all feelings that he shouldn’t have, but he does.
And Jun knows. Not everything, because Hiyori doesn’t tell him. But some things. Enough things. Because you can’t live together for a year in the same dorm room and not know. Because you can’t be someone’s partner and not know.
And Jun, more than anyone else, has seen Hiyori’s darkness firsthand, and he didn’t run from it. Instead, he stayed, and he took care of Hiyori, and over time, the dark pleasure Hiyori felt when he ordered Jun around turned into something warm and comfortable and bright, something that nothing could eclipse. With every smile Jun gave him, with every time he wordlessly made him tea, with every time he talked back to Hiyori because Hiyori knew that meant he was able to feel safe with Hiyori. Jun liked being with Hiyori.
And then somehow, the way Hiyori felt about Jun turned into something it was never meant to become. Jun was beautiful when Hiyori first saw him training on his own, in a dark place like Reimei. But Jun coming into himself, learning who he was and what he wanted, was even more beautiful. And one morning Hiyori woke up and opened his eyes to see Jun watching him, and he thought: It’s you. I choose you.
Hiyori is pretty sure Jun doesn’t know because he’s a little oblivious like that. And also maybe because Hiyori isn’t very good at talking about his feelings honestly. But ever since that early morning, with the cicadas buzzing outside and the sunlight filtering in golden rays through the blinds, and Jun blushing because he’d been caught staring, Hiyori was in love.
And every day now, he feels so much love for this boy. This boy who knows him, has seen him at his lowest and his best, who relies on Hiyori but also lets Hiyori rely on him, who says “Okay,” when Hiyori says “Please”. Before Jun, Hiyori had forgotten what it felt like to love so completely, so overwhelmingly.
Ibara once said that Hiyori’s brightness was drawing out Jun’s darkness moment by moment, but that wasn’t true. It was the other way around, surely, because every day Hiyori spent with Jun at Reimei, he felt a little less like a dissociative mess and a little more like himself. A little more radiant.
Together, they build each other up. Jun makes him feel better, always.
Jun’s humming has finished, and Hiyori misses the soft vibrations of his chest, so he wraps his arms tighter around Jun and whispers, “Sing me a song.”
Jun is quiet for a long moment, and usually Hiyori isn’t this patient, but today, here in Jun’s arms, it’s different. Jun always needs a little time to get over his self-consciousness, and Hiyori can wait. He already has what he needs anyway. Anything more is just a bonus.
Eventually, Jun starts singing, his voice high and melodious, and a little melancholy. It’s a lullaby that Hiyori recognises the melody of, although he’s not heard the words before. The lyrics go: “You’re a good boy, go to sleep,” and something about Jun singing those words to Hiyori makes Hiyori feel…at ease. It’s easy to get lost in Jun’s tenor and the gentle fingers still stroking his hair.
Jun repeats the song, over and over, until the last of Hiyori’s shadows have vanished. There’s warmth inside of him again, good weather without a cloud in the sky, when Jun’s voice goes hoarse and his hand stills.
“Better?” Jun asks softly.
Hiyori nods against Jun’s chest and hums in affirmation. Maybe Hiyori can’t do magic, but Jun definitely can, because what else is it about Jun that makes Hiyori feel like this?
“I’m glad,” Jun says. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier. I didn’t have my phone with me.”
“Bad weather,” Hiyori says, his voice muffled. “You know I should always come first.”
“Yes, yes,” Jun says, and there’s a fondness in his voice that makes Hiyori melt into him even more. It’s hard to believe during the times when he feels like he did today, but he knows Jun loves him, too. It may not be the same all-consuming love that blazes inside Hiyori’s chest every day, but it’s enough.
Maybe one day, he’ll be able to tell Jun. Maybe one day, Jun will realise.
But for now, this weather is good enough, bright enough. After all, even though the sun has sunspots, it’s still the most radiant star in the solar system.