all the time we need (w1, M1)

 

Prompt: Futuro

Missione: M1 (week 1)

Parole: 1672

Rating: gen

Warnings: missing moment

It’s been a long year. Somehow this is the first thought that crossed Keito’s mind just before the graduation ceremony started and it still feels that way even now that all that’s left is taking pictures, having some kohai… he doesn’t want to think about Kanzaki’s strong reaction to Keito and Kiryu’s graduation. He can almost imagine him swinging his sword around, too emotional to avoid it.

“Aren’t you going to make your kohai sad by hiding here?” a voice asks and even though he doesn’t need to look at him to recognise it, Keito still does it. Eichi is walking slowly, taking advantage of his own pace to enjoy the view of bloomed flowers. 

For a moment, Keito wonders if Eichi ever thought of this day or if, instead, being able to graduate is a surprise to him. A miracle, even. If he has to be honest, Keito thought it would be hard on several occasions: the war. Everything after that. Eichi’s health. Words he once eavesdropped by chance.

“Are you being nostalgic, maybe?” Eichi asks him, amused. Keito lets a sigh out and slightly shakes his head; he knows that behind Eichi’s amused voice and sentences there’s always more― uncomfortable truths, unspeakable strategies, good intentions under the pretence of tyranny. After years, Keito supposes he can finally see most of the hidden things Eichi offers to those who can observe. Sometimes, though…

“Aren’t we all?” Keito asks back, an indirect ‘aren’t you too?’

Eichi lets a smile bend his lips as his blue eyes wander around, stopping on the sakura tree. In the past, Keito wondered if the symbolism of those trees, so connected to their culture and traditions, was something Eichi hated. If, from a hospital room, he ever thought of being the same― beautiful but extremely fragile, bound to die too soon after blooming. Without a future.

“I met Wataru before coming here,” Eichi says, even though that doesn’t answer Keito’s question, “he was with Yuzuru and Tori. Tori was trying so hard not to cry, it was very cute,” he adds with a small chuckle. Keito can easily imagine it. Himemiya and Kanzaki could surprisingly get along about this, in a sense. 

“And that made me think,” Eichi keeps talking, “who knows if there’s some third-year who was asked for their second button. It’s usually about confessions, but maybe some kohai or some fans?”

Keito stares at him, mentally trying to figure out if he saw something like this, quite sure he didn’t (he would have noticed if someone’s uniform was not properly worn). What’s the point of Eichi’s question is out of his understanding, at the moment. Eichi, though, doesn’t seem to mind his silence as if Keito is nothing but a quiet audience to his monologue. At least, until he stares directly at him.

“What do you want to do from now on?” “Do you mean after graduation?” Keito is not good at this. He’s made more of questions that have easy answers or, better said, rules that allow him to find the answer no matter if it’s considered too strict. It’s the best solution, the good thing to do for an achievement. Airy conversations like this are what he’s bad at, idealistic considerations nobody can completely grasp.

“I mean in the future,” Eichi replies, patiently, “I never really thought about it much until now. To be honest, it hurt to do it. So I gave myself small steps, you know? Stop the nonsense. Give this academy an order. Make it so that the business world outside would want to employ Yumenosaki’s students. Become an idol. Be the best. I couldn’t afford to think ‘ten years from now I want to be there’, after all.”

It pains him, almost physically, to hear this. Because Keito, more than anyone else, knows that what Eichi is not saying despite thinking it is that he couldn’t bear the idea of having plans for a future that wouldn’t come for him. But he managed to do everything he wanted to achieve, even more than that― not without sacrifices of all sorts, but he did. 

“So this isn’t the future you wanted?” “It is. And it isn’t, in a sense,” Eichi admits, reaching out with his hand towards Keito as if suggesting him to come closer. Keito doesn’t take his hand, for now, but closes the distance. He stays quiet, in case Eichi wants to elaborate that thought for him, doing his best to not ask. There have been― and there are probably going to be― times when Keito literally had to keep himself in control despite the frustrating feeling of not knowing everything. Now, though, he can wait for Eichi to decide if he wants to share this or not.

“I want more than this,” Eichi speaks and Keito couldn’t be more focused on someone else than he is now, “I want to see many things. Try many things. Sing more songs, see what fine can do after this academy. I want to have you by my side, not as a screenwriter but as a person. It took us a long time before our words and feelings could reach the other, after all.”  

He knows it. How hard it’s been for both of them and Keito never thought about just leaving after graduation. They didn’t really talk about it, but he believed there was no reason to. Seems like he was wrong all this time.

“I want to gamble,” Eichi says and that simple sentence catches his attention and makes him slightly frown, “A gamble?”

Eichi smiles fondly, and Keito doesn’t know what to expect anymore, especially when the other closes the distance more to the point of his hand taking Keito’s. It’s cold, he notices as he clearly focuses on the wrong thing― Eichi never was the kind of guy with warm hands to begin with, not since Keito can remember anyway. Yet, how many times have they actually held hands until now?

“A gamble,” Eichi repeats, “if my feelings can reach you, this time. After all you did to make it happen once, now it’s my turn. Since I have a future, it doesn’t matter for how long, I want to grab whatever chance is within my grasp. I have never been good with relationships and I messed up with people I could have a loyal friendship with… and this is not something I can mimic just because I saw it closely,” he adds with a small sigh, half amused and half resigned. 

Keito understands who he’s referring to, yet decides to not name him for now. He believes it’s not what Eichi is trying to say, not the main reason why he’s wearing his heart on his sleeve for once.

“I want a future where you are there. My ally, my friend, my most important person,” Eichi says and it’s so out of character of him, in a way. Yet somehow it’s also very Eichi-like― telling him something but not everything he should speak of to make him understand. To not make Keito misunderstand.

“Give me your second button,” he adds, not as an order but as a pleading.

“You are not my kohai,” Keito observes. Eichi looks at him like he wants to ask him really? This is how you are going to reply? and Keito wants to tell him that yes, this is how they are going to face whatever Eichi is throwing at him because words haven’t done them justice, not even once.

“I’m not,” Eichi concedes, “Are you a fan?” “I am,” Eichi admits, “but I’m not asking because of it. I’m not even asking. I’m confessing.”

Confessing. Eichi Tenshouin is telling him to be something for him now but, above all, in the future. With no time limit, something more than anything else they have ever been. 

“...You really are embarrassing,” Keito blurts out, because despite everything they are nothing but two highschoolers who just graduated. 

Eichi takes his hand and Keito knows he has no intention of stopping him. He wants to hold it back (he does) and wants to tell him properly that there are at least ten reasons to not give to this confession a positive reply― but he doesn’t manage to voice even one of them. Because he’s holding Eichi’s hand and he’s not denying him anything he asks for: to be with him, to be more than a screenwriter, more than a friend. 

To build a future. Keito doesn’t know of what kind, but knows that he wants it as much as Eichi. Only, he’s worst than him at saying such things.

Eichi’s smile, though, is enough. As the other comes closer, and Keito’s eyes wander everywhere, part of him wondering if this is appropriate and what if Hibiki of all the people that could witness this comes out of nowhere with his stupid doves and―

Soft lips are on his own, erasing all suspects and fears and embarrassment. It’s a clumsy kiss and that’s not surprising, all considered. But there are so many unsaid promises and maybe some apology too. It’s short and it feels too brief yet, at the same time, the way Eichi holds his hand tighter when they both look at each other once the kiss is over is something else. 

Keito breathes, noticing only now that he held his breathe during the kiss. Inexperienced and surprised. He hears Eichi thank him and wants to tell him that this is not something that deserves a ‘thank you’, but he holds it in.

There will be time to reprimand him. They have all the years that will come in the future.