Chapter Text
The days after his initial rumination proceed with the same tactics of evasion, a splendid calm that is proportionately duplicitous: he involves himself in work which he does not have to, attends more of the incredibly tiresome events various companies hold despite previously deciding not to, and spends his spare time delving into the art of calligraphy but his strokes are turbulent and his mind dull rather than serene. The whirlwind of emotions that struck him suddenly in that baneful night has now distilled into a calmly smouldering frustration under the careful watch of his domineering pride that leaves no room for discussion or bouts of depression. If he was to describe it in a single sentence: life has become insipid.
The minutes that felt like uneventful centuries pass regardless and finally comes the New Year's eve. Unfortunately there is no corporate event to waste time with on the actual day. Neither does he wish to join his friends' celebrations despite the invitations. Hence, lethargy rules his soul and body as he spends the day idly, finally around afternoon he berates himself for laziness that does not suit a person of his calibre and forces himself out for a stroll. On his way back as he passes in front of the grocery store that seems to be still open, at least till late afternoon based on the holiday hours written on its door, he pauses to reminisce. It is on a whim that he enters the shop that is almost barren; despite not having anything in mind to buy, he ends up buying matcha ice cream which seemed to be running low at home (he will not admit even to himself that his intake of sugary foods has increased in the recent days, given the implications this would raise) as well as some vegetables. When he arrives home, he gingerly sets the various foods in his fridge and action leads him to recall a passing remark by Nijimura from weeks ago:
“Why is it that you are so meticulous even in organising your fridge? You don't even do grocery shopping normally but when there is something inside, they are always so flawlessly organised. It is not home decoration, you know.”
“Whatever I do, I try to do perfectly, even if they are mundane tasks.”
“Ugh... It is hard though, when I put things back, I mess it up.”
“I don't mind.”
“You don't? Why do you organise them so scrupulously in the first place then?!”
“I am not obsessive compulsive, I am fine with chaos as well actually. The whole reason why I arrange them so neatly the first time is because, as I said, I tend to do things thoroughly when I do them, even if they are insignificant. I wouldn't mind you messing it up.”
No, he did not mind Nijimura messing it up.
Not at all.
Oh and just how too many things senpai messed up about his life; now that he thinks about it, the list is quite long. He honestly does not mind though; whatever was lived was lived in all its modest glory and subtle pleasure. Now that the initial bite of the loneliness and loss stings less, the pain is numbed and he can think clearer, he is content in having experienced it, even if experiencing it has ended in hurt and instilled a new kind of need in him.
Dare he say it, he has liked what he experienced with Nijimura to the point that he now desires comfortable intimacy with trust, beyond just sex – but he does not dare, he does not dare say it.
Like a thousand other wants of his, it is now cautiously buried somewhere deep in his heart so that once in a while he, and only he, can reveal it to himself alone to ponder but never to actually realise or share with another.
It is not as if he won't be able to have sex with others – his libido has not been diminished and will not be so, he still finds many people attractive, he is aware of that, nor does he feel any particular pain about Nijimura's immediate absence – him not being right here right now is not the cause of his placid distress and thinly veiled sorrow. It is the knowledge that he won't be able to have the same kind of intricate understanding, the same kind of comfort with his stranger bed partners. It is the knowledge that he will not have Nijimura as once he had and instead at a distance of civility, cold and unfeeling, uncaring.
Why?
He snickers to the courageously innocent part of him that actually dares ask 'why', even if only in his mind.
Why?
Because, it has been named. Nijimura loves him and has named it as such, declared it, claimed it. To continue this unidentifiable intimate bonding they have so nonchalantly shared so far would hurt Nijimura, either now or in the future, and Akashi does not wish to hurt him. They will have to fall back into the confines of what constitutes a 'friendship' for most or even less perhaps, a hierarchical relation of 'senpai-kouhai' that never truly fit them to begin with.
The ideas float in the back of his mind like a subtle background noise as he focuses on prosaic tasks. After several hours spent going over study notes, new year plans, and finally some shogi, he decides to do something about the hunger that is rioting in his stomach. This is also how he realises the late hour; it is almost midnight. He smiles at the prospect of not even realising the start of the new year; why does it matter anyway? Why do people make celebrations out of things so mundane? Watching it closely or counting down the last seconds will not change anything about the inevitability of the passing of the time nor does it allow them any benefit for the future or present... If anything, it is dreadful; to watch time slip by so easily, like sand out of one's hands – ultimately, those are minutes of their frivolously mortal lives fading away... At times like this, he feels like an alien facing this species that he is supposed to be a part of and the feeling is oddly both comforting and disquieting.
Strutting to the open kitchen, he regards at the lavish boxes of osechi awaiting him on the counter; they arrived early in the evening per his previous order, but he had been too full (thanks to too much ice cream consumed in the hours before) and spared it for the late night. Somehow, despite its certain delicacy, the food does not elicit any want in him, which is especially bizarre considering the grumbling state of his stomach. He opens his fridge instead. His eyes wander over to the measly amounts of vegetables he has bought earlier in the day for no reason whatsoever. An idea comes to his mind and suddenly he feels a craving for the most banal – and perhaps his subconscious had predicted this and thus led him to buy the ingredients in the first place?
He chops the various veggies in a monotone fashion, somehow finding peace in the even rhythm of the strikes. Sizzling of the oil and the steam of the cooked rice, the scent rising from the delicious spices... They calm him down and he feels the hollowness inside him that he has so purposely and successfully ignored for days to shrink and his mood improved. It is the first time he cooks like this, he has never even learnt the steps or a particular recipe, nevertheless watching Nijimura execute them haphazardly and in a hectic order countless times, he still understood the basics and what needed to be done.
When he sits down in front of his table and takes the first mouthful from the meal, he feels his hunger disappear. Not disappear in a literal sense, he is sure he is still hungry physically, that his body still demands food, needs nutrients, but his appetite is gone. It is not that the food tastes bad. On the contrary, it tastes good, it tastes familiar, yet something seems wrong and eating like this feels tedious. Akashi knows exactly what is the problem here and it is not about food, no, it is not about food at all. His craving itself, he pauses to wonder for a second, was it about the food at all in the first place?
He does not stop eating though, his silent feeding turns into a ritual of sorts, he is thinking but not thinking at the same time as he gracefully eats, not savouring the food at all but tasting it deeply. It is paradoxical. Like he himself is. Then abruptly, his bizarre ritual is disrupted by a peculiar ringtone, his phone vibrating and screaming. He knows precisely whom this sound refers to and ponders for a second whether to receive the call or not. But this is a conversation long overdue, so he relents.
In all honesty, he had given it more chance that the man would want to talk face to face, not via phone, which Akashi actually prefers. So perhaps this is his gain.
“Hello, Nijimura-san.”
“Hi.”
“How are you?”
“I'm good... Yourself?”
“I am all right.”
A bout of silence comes into fruition as both wonder what to say next or perhaps whether to say anything at all.
Nijimura, however, is bad with such refinery and games, his short temper fuses at his own confusion,
“Really? Are we not even going to talk about this?”
“Talk about what exactly?”
“Us?”
“Was there an 'us', Nijimura-san?”
It stabs the other right where it counts, deep in his heart, and Akashi is aware of its effect; it is exactly why he has uttered it. He would like to spare no compassion for Nijimura now so that the older man can fully grasp their current predicament and how more awful it can be in the future. It is for his own good. It is okay if he does not understand. If need be, Akashi is fine with being the villain.
“I would like to think there was.”
“I do not remember promising you a loving relationship.”
“You do not love me at all?”
“I do not.”
“Bullshit.”
“What? Nijimura-san, you know I--”
“Romantically, I understand that you do not. But there is love beyond that, wasn't it you who were going on and on about it? And I am certain that you love me in some way.”
Akashi has to concede on that point, brutal honesty is one thing but lying is another. Sincerity is better than deception in such matters, nor has he ever felt compelled to lie to Nijimura, in fact he has often strangely felt the need to be honest with him,
“Yes. I am fond of you in myriad ways, none of which are romantic.”
“So, you can say it. Say that you love me.”
“This... this is rather childish. What will it change? It will not make me 'love' you, romantically that is.”
“And I am not asking you to lie, to tell me that you love me romantically, that you're head over heels for me or something. I want you to tell me how you love me, perhaps in other ways, but do tell it in all its clarity. It is not as if I will forget that you are aromantic, if you do not add that disclaimer, you know. So stop adding it as a cautionary note.”
“Don't you think it will be torturous?”
“Why should it? Why would being loved by your beloved and hearing it be torturous?”
Nijimura's voice is tinted with bashfulness that would greatly amuse Akashi any other day but his mind is captivated and stuck hovering over a single word instead:
“Beloved.”
The word brings a bitter-sweet taste to Akashi's mouth as it echoes in his mind; he has been called many things from 'magnificent' to 'nutcase' but never 'beloved', he has never been a 'beloved' perhaps... He closes his eyes, a small smile finds its way to his lips but he would prefer to crush any unnecessary hope before more such effervescent words are pronounced,
“For it is not the kind of love you desire. That's why.”
“And not me, but you know what I desire? For God's sake, I am fine with whatever you give me. I was happy as we were. If it can never be romantic love on your side, whatever, it shall be so then.”
“I don't doubt that you truly feel like this right now but it is only the beginning. It will frustrate you eventually.”
“Many things could frustrate me 'eventually'; your bottomless pride or enormous vanity could frustrate me. I could be frustrated due to my own inadequacy compared to you. I could be frustrated about growing old or getting bald, God knows what!”
“They are all probabilities whereas what I am saying–“
“Is 'certainty'? Are you seriously gonna play the clairvoyant now? I do not believe you are sure of it. In fact, I know it is very much only a probability, because you have never experienced it with me, this has never been realised, and till then it will be a probability, never a certainty.”
“Maybe you should switch to philosophy or law...”
“Maybe you should switch to science so you can take that godawful probability and stats course in the first year? Or the second year quantum physics and learn the physical basis of the uncertainty of our very perception of reality? Or better yet, for our case here, switch to neurochemistry and study the physiological make-up of feelings of love... So what if I'm high on serotonin but you completely skip it?”
There is a particular kind of amusement Akashi has always felt watching Nijimura get angry and frustrated in a sarcastic manner, he cannot help but succumb to it now, a quiet chuckle escapes his lips,
“Don't tell me you actually grew interested in biological basis of love after associating with me?”
“Maybe I did, so what? The point is, I want to continue... I mean...” Nijimura pauses for fraction of a second, an anxious sigh is heard from the other end of the line and then he continues in a softer tone tinted with timidity, “loving you, yeah I want to continue to that and that is the whole reason I stayed in the kind of relationship we had even after realising my own feelings and that is the reason why I still would like to continue... if you let me.”
Akashi remembers the innumerable moments he was embraced with all kinds of love that exist out there by Nijimura's body and soul, and he also remembers the much ominous words he once uttered to Reo in this topic at hand... There is a strong pull forming in him and it takes all his strength to resist and ignore this whimsical magnetism.
He cannot bear the idea of hurting this man though; once there was a time he could, they were barely friends, more like distant acquaintances, but not any longer. How things have changed. Here he is now, assessing the damage he could induce in Nijimura's life and how to minimise it.
Quite surprising.
Perhaps more importantly, he seems to be surprised with Nijimura quite often; perhaps Nijimura has a special way of digging up tunnels in his chest and find secret pathways to his heart and steal unknown amounts of the very limited compassion and affection that Akashi holds.
He chuckles silently, dryly at his own musings – it must sound horrible to Nijimura though, a terribly rude of an answer to his genuine emotions.
The anxiety in Nijimura's voice, sincerity of his words only hurt Akashi more though, for he has only ever known the confident, unwavering side of this man; for he has become remarkably fond of this man... He does not want to hear Nijimura ever sound so desperate or despaired; yet continuing their affair could very well lead to that.
“Nijimura-san, I have too many issues and complexities, both about myself and my life. It is already difficult. It will only be a series of difficulties for you. Trial after trial.”
“Do you think I am stupid to not have realised that? I made it to Tōdai you know...”
“Which is a surprise in itself, by the way. Look... Even if you are willing to bear it now, things will change...”
“Things change all the time Akashi. There is no guarantee for anything not to change, ever. I could fall in love with somebody else tomorrow, or you could decide that you are suddenly into blonds and reject me. Why do I have to abstain from what I want here and now, out of a worry for a future that has not come and perhaps will never come?”
It is a sound argument and uttered steadfastly. He sighs as he fails to find a proper logical come back. This loss of words causes his shells to crumble slightly, his intentions are exposed in a small voice barely audible,
“I do not want to hurt you.”
It is a last weapon of sorts as well, for Nijimura has probably never heard him speak as such. Not many people have actually; only two, ever. How ugly, he thinks, to use his sincere compassion for the man as a weapon, to induce guilt, which Nijimura has always been susceptible to, especially so when his mind is muddled by the fever of Eros. But perhaps not so surprisingly Nijimura does not waver, he does not give into guilt nor thus he succumb to insecurity,
“I know you think grand of yourself and you deserve to think so, but give me more credit; I will not be hurt easily and if I am, I will find a way out of it. If it does not work out, then it does not, we are both mature enough for that. I would rather experience this relationship than to agonise over ending it like this now, regrets and 'what if's for years to come... Obviously I cannot and will not force you into a relationship with me. But I want you to know that I would like to give it a chance. Not for what future might bring, but for what we can have, here and now.”
Akashi smiles bitterly, it is strange if he has to be honest – somebody talking about regrets over not pursuing him for a relationship, even his brilliant mind has never predicted this happening with a person who actually knows the bare godawful reality of Akashi Seijūrō.
“Why would you even love me, in all honesty?”
“Gee, I don't know, you are cute, suuuper intelligent, oh and you count amongst the wealthiest in the world?”
“Yes and none of which has to do with why you love me – and thus the sarcastic tone of your voice in the first place. Well, perhaps except the looks part. That might be why.”
“I like beauty, so what?! Sue me! What is it with people attacking me for this... Tch.” Nijimura replies hurriedly in a partially amused voice, then continues in a smaller voice that is more serious,
“Look, I don't know. It is hard for me to say this, so let me say it once and once only. I do not know why but I do love you. As a lover. As a friend. As a kouhai. As... family, almost. It is a mystery how you achieved to become all that; you are indeed formidable. Do I have to know the reason? Is there ever a single reason? Should I be able to express this? Because I have no clue. But frankly, I don't care why or how, because it is what it is.”
Akashi can visualise the touch of pink that must have settled on Nijimura's face; words are spoken bluntly but each one is tinged with humility and bashfulness, he can feel it.
Long ago, he had read lines from a poem that tried to illustrate how being loved is different than loving and they have equally wonderful yet distinct flavours. It had given him some ideas regarding his own nature as well as possible futures at the time. Now, he remembers the lines and realises that he likes the idea of being loved by Nijimura, even if he cannot return all the kinds of love dedicated to him. It is strange yet he finds comfort in it – in being loved like this. Unconditionally and nonchalantly. Generously and in various shades.
The stubborn “why”s of his particularly childish side resurface and something innocent and enthusiastic flinches in the depths of his heart, it germinates and is so bravely hopeful that Akashi cannot bring himself to crush it. The rational and calm part of him that chastises the others for being harsh on himself rises his voice,
What is the worst that could happen?
Years ago, he could have talked with Kuroko openly instead of watching him cunningly from afar and making conclusions on his own about the young 'shadow's romantic orientation and concocting ideas of a possible future that promised a mutually understanding relationship. Years ago, when he needed help, he could have revealed it to Kuroko or Midorima or Kise or any others among his friends and they would have tried, even if unsuccessful, they would have tried. Years ago, when he felt himself sink deeper and deeper into his own menace, he could have shared his fears or issues with his teammates in Rakuzan, they would never shun him for it, they would stand by his side and he would learn to trust them rather than merely acknowledge their capacities and skill-sets. Years ago, when he felt helpless and weak, he could have faced it and asked for help than to lose himself in his own grandiosity...
Years ago, when his mother died, he could have cried...
Years ago, he could have mourned and accepted that loss is inevitable...
What Akashi Seijūrō has never admitted to another soul and keeps securely secret and silent in his heart is that even he has regrets.
He never wants to pine away and struggle to hold down his demons solely over a regret or ever feel an obsession creep up and dominate his sight and insight solely over a regret.
He closes his eyes, he can hear the wind howling in the backdrop of their call... He realises it then, smiling, how stupid, why didn't he realise this before...
“Nijimura-san, you are outside my apartment, aren't you?”
The other gasps a little, pauses for a second and then replies in a bothered tone as if caught committing a crime,
“Across the street, yeah.”
“Why?”
“You would laugh.”
“Make me laugh, then; is it such a bad thing, I thought one would want to make their beloved laugh?”
It is cheeky and affectionate and is meant to warm Nijimura despite his understandable doubts and despair, it succeeds too, for when the other speaks, his voice is much calmer and relieved,
“Initially I kind of thought we would just... go back to what we were. Silently drift apart again. And I thought I was okay with it. Since I always thought it would end like this anyway. Then the boxing gloves I had ordered for you arrived the other day. And this morning in my laundry I found a pair of your boxers. And I wanted to see you. And I thought just... why not give it a try. Why leave it at this. And I wanted to talk. But I didn't want to see you. But I wanted to see you... So...”
“That is awfully corny in a way.”
“Yes. You are not laughing though so not too bad, I guess.”
“Oh, I am smiling truly sheepishly though.”
Nijimura sighs audibly and Akashi smiles impishly and before the older man can respond, he continues,
“Would you mind joining me? I know it has passed the midnight, but it is the New Year,” he pauses for a second, his brilliant mind calculating probabilities of the diverging futures at the speed of light and then he internally snickers at his own need for control when precisely knowing that some things are beyond control, so he decides to continue despite the odds, muting the various results already popping up in his mind and stubbornly grasping the moment – this moment, here and now, to hell with tomorrow, he can deal with tomorrow tomorrow. He finishes with a crisp voice, determined and daring, not to Nijimura but to himself, to his own selves and demons,
“I don't think I would mind spending it with you.”
…
Only four minutes later, when Akashi opens the door and Nijimura comes in mumbling the required words of courtesy for entering the house of another, an awkward feeling has overtaken Nijimura and he is not sure how to act or what to say to the redhead. It is as if he has fallen down into the Limbo and he is unsure what kind of a state they are in or how he should act. Then there are the words... said.
The man he has slept with, consumed countless times in the wildest ways, ate together, bathed together, literally spent days and the most intimate moments with... Yet all of a sudden, after it has been said out loud, after the feelings has been revealed in words, it is different. It is different to look at Akashi now.
Words are powerful, Nijimura confirms in his mind and concentrates on what to say or do next, but is still utterly clueless. Then Akashi calmly breaks the silence,
“Would you like to eat? I made some fried rice, it is still warm. There is also some prime quality osechi.”
Nijimura blinks, surprised that Akashi actually cooked something, his gaze shifts towards the table on which they ate many times in the past and he finds a plate of half eaten vegetable fried rice.
A pause.
A silent realisation.
Suddenly floodgates open inside him and he is drenched with a deluge of infinitely many emotions, the awkward aura strips away from him in an instant, and he knows, he knows now, even though Akashi has not said it he knows, and his hand reaches for the redhead near him almost on instinct, his arm snakes around the beautifully proportioned waist and pulls the smaller male to himself; it is a strong pull but in no way forceful, instead almost graceful and soft.
They look into each other's eyes for fraction of a second and for the first time in his life, Nijimura witnesses hints of confusion in Akashi's gaze, the ever-knowing glint is replaced with a cloudy mix of curiosity and bewilderment. Then, Nijimura's desires flinch and roar, his heart decides to sample the flesh of the man before him in full acknowledgement of the myriad of feelings and wants and hopes attached to this fragile bond they have... It is not a secret now, it is all bare now, and thus the very act carries a different meaning. A burdening meaning. A liberating meaning.
By the power of the words that pledges one's will and reveals one's soul, the kiss bears a gravity it never held before. His lips are swift and aggressive like an arrow out of the bow of a skilful archer; this new craving overcomes the hunger in his stomach, his mind slips and as his lips move he is not even thinking any longer.
A million times he wondered, how does Akashi feel when kissing?
A thousand times he felt insecurity creep up his spine, can Akashi see through what my heart holds through the touch of our lips?
That moment, he does not, because it is okay, as long as they revel in it, it is okay to revel in it in different ways. It is okay if the colours Akashi sees are different, it is okay if their lips tremble under the effect of different neurochemicals, it is okay if their bodies heat up for different reasons, it is okay if Akashi can see him as he is, it is okay if he sees Akashi as he is, it is okay, it is all okay...
Now that he has Akashi in his arms and his lips on his, it is all okay.