Oh, how Ryoji longed to see the cherry blossoms at bloom!
He arrived in Japan in winter, and his memories before that have always been fuzzy. Spring was one of the things he was looking forward to…but it wasn’t spring right now, was it? The calendar on his phone notified him that it was summer. How did he end up skipping an entire season, getting here?
Well. He’ll just have to make it back by the time spring comes once more.
He was so entranced at the picture perfect sight that he doesn’t realize until a familiar voice rang in his ears. As if by reflex, he started grinning from ear to ear, and he was quick to turn and run towards his dearest friend.
“Makoto! I’m so glad to see a familiar face around.” Cool, someone he knew to share the cherry blossoms with! Of course, the issue of going home was still a worry in his mind, but right now he was just happy. And why wouldn’t he? He was always happy whenever Makoto is around.
And yet, by the time he came close he noticed that everything wasn’t alright. The smile faded, his concern very genuine. “Hey, are you alright? You’re shaking.”
He reached forward to hold his hands, an attempt to keep them steady.
what is he supposed to say? lying is impossible, he has never been one to hide his thoughts. his expressions are hard to discern, but his heart is always on his sleeve. escape is not an option — not after everything, especially when Ryoji acts like nothing had happened.
any choice is gone before he realizes it. or, maybe it was never one.
he’s known those hands longer than anyone. if Makoto closes his eyes, he’ll remember a green-lighted room, and the haunting glow of the moon. but if he presses further, he’ll think of gentle laughter and nostalgic blue eyes. anything else beyond is unspoken territory, and he has never forced himself to, regardless of how many times he had dreamed of the other’s blood on his floor.
Pharos. Thanatos. Ryoji, Ryoji, Ryoji—
his breath grows more frantic. instinct is all that prevents him from screaming, but fear threatens to override it. every time he opens his mouth, attempts to muster an apology or avert his eyes, his hands shaker harder. and his heart never, never stops pounding.
“I—” hesitation. doubt. fear. he has never been particularly fond of any, will never be, and everything is too much. eyes closed tightly, his face presses against Ryoji’s shoulder, hands never letting go. “Ryoji, Ryoji, Ryoji—”