Rigel | I Stand With Palestine🇵🇸

It had been a while since he'd cooked dinner for himself or someone else. In retrospect, Kisaki should have expected it would turn out poorly. Fortunately for his guests, he did fully expect that, although the smoke alarm ringing out in the middle of an important phone call was a bit of a surprise. In any case, he made the right choice having a spare dinner delivered to his apartment for tonight. He sets it on the table as if that had been his plan all along, windows wide open to get rid of the vague burning smell still lingering in the air.

The evening is warm but not suffocating, gentle winds suited for the end of spring. Kisaki takes some time to appreciate this, as he will likely forget to do so again for the next couple of months. Somehow, he has to be reminded that life can be good and beautiful despite it all and somehow, he can only remember that lesson when he thinks about his two best friends.

The doorbell rings. He closes the windows, fixes his shirt's collar and walks to the door. On the other side, a man in semi-formal dress. Alone.

"Hinata isn't with you?"

"Sorry, she won't be able to make it tonight. Too much work at the hospital these days," Takemichi scratches the back of his neck apologetically.

"That's too bad," Kisaki replies, acting like those words didn't cause a spike of adrenaline. "I hope she isn't overworking herself."

"Aren't you doing that as well?" His friend playfully scolds him, while setting his contribution to the dinner on top of the table.

Takemichi brought the alcohol, as always. Cheap beer, even though Kisaki has a whole cabinet of the world's best liquors on display, free for him to choose. But his friend simply never drinks expensive alcohol.

Kisaki pretends he doesn't know why. He drinks that cheap beer with him, straight from the can. It warms him just as well as any other spirit, and even the taste of it is something he's grown to appreciate. It is Takemichi's favorite brand, after all.

They catch up on everything, anecdotes from their respective works, movies they've seen recently, books they just started, and of course discussions about their mutual friends.

"Did you know Chifuyu, Baji and Kazutora are officially a throuple, now?"

"Is that what they call it?" Kisaki dubitatively pushes up his glasses, aware of the fact he sounds like a grumpy old man right now. He passes the blame on to his line of business, definitely less up-to-date with cultural shifts than the movie industry. "Most of my collaborators at work can barely fathom the concept of same-sex couples. Hearing that word might give them a heart attack."

"Wait, they don't know about Koko?"

"Inupi always dresses up and wears high heels during parties. Since he never says a word, I suppose they believe he's a very quiet and meek woman."

"Pfft!" Takemichi tries, and fails, to hold back a laugh. Tipsiness gives his face and ears a pinkish glow. It has been months since they last saw each other. Kisaki sometimes wonders if the feelings will fade away, eventually. If one day he'll look at this man laugh and his heart will keep quiet. It would seem today is not that day.

❦

Takemichi sits back against the couch with a sigh and cracks open another beer. Kisaki offers him a cigar, lights up the tip while his friend holds it between his fingers, in front of his lips.

In his mind, the same scene plays out with their roles reversed. Kisaki is the one smoking an expensive cigar. Takemichi holds the lighter. He is the one whose hands shake a little as he brings the flame close to his face.

The visions started early. Dream-like, fleeting thoughts, just on the edge of consciousness. It took him a little while to tame them, make them reveal their secrets.

Sometime in his teens, Kisaki reads a book about the War of Troy, a line about how the cause of the conflict was a woman, and in the back of his mind he can see a girl lying on the concrete, face covered in blood and bruises, legs wide open and more bruises between them. He asks himself Did I do this? but finds no answer as the image fades. He rationalizes. No, I'm not physically strong enough to hurt somebody like that. Then, almost as an afterthought: And besides, I wouldn't want to hurt anyone like that either, he tries to reassure himself.

Days later, as he watches a stupid crime show ― it's cold outside and Hanma crashed in his room for the night ― the answer invites itself into his thoughts while a coroner examines this episode's victim. No, I did not do this. I wouldn't leave my DNA behind as evidence. That's why I made other people do it instead. He accepts that answer, even though he knows for a fact he never did such a thing in his whole life. He is thirteen, and above all terribly afraid his best friends will hate him once they figure out the truth.

Over the years, more visions came to him, more vivid as he learned to recognize their presence, hold them in place and ask them the right questions. While Toman collected victories over rival gangs, while his friends began to grow up and work towards their respective goals, he could see these twisted versions of them, destroying themselves and the ones they loved. They all seemed to curse his name. Takemichi cursed it the loudest.

Sitting next to him, Kisaki watches as he takes a drag and exhales the blue-grey smoke, staring at the ceiling. Taking advantage of this moment of inattention, he swiftly takes the cigar from his hand and fills his lungs with the same poison. Looking falsely offended by the theft, Takemichi tries to get it back, without success.

"Careful, or you're gonna burn the couch." Scolding him, Takemichi dives in an attempt to reach for it, and Kisaki lets him. He falls onto his back, Takemichi falls on top of him. Too easy. Hanma was the one who came up with that trick, and it never failed him. Or so he says.

Takemichi looks at him with an expression that is less one of surprise and more I knew you'd do that. Fondly. He then takes the cigar from his hand, flicks it over the ashtray on the table behind Kisaki's head, before sitting back and taking another drag from it. All the while straddling his waist. His hand resting upon Kisaki's heart. Kisaki may be able to control his expression, but not the way his pulse dances under his fingers.

They shouldn't be doing this. Obviously. Takemichi doesn't want to hurt his wife. Still. He puts away the cigar and bows forward, like an apology. With his hands over Kisaki's chest, he buries his face onto the couch, just above Kisaki's shoulder. A moment passes.

"I told Hina about us," Takemichi finally confesses. "That's why she didn't come today."

"I see."

"Sorry..."

"For what?"

"I made her cry."

Kisaki remembers, then. The words he had said on their wedding day. If you ever make her cry, I'll never forgive you. Half in jest, mostly a stupid attempt to soothe his own broken heart and act like he'd accepted his defeat. Thus ended their decades-long rivalry.

Lying under him still, Kisaki raises an arm and slides his hand over his back.

"I'm not the one you're supposed to apologize to. Besides, I'm just as guilty as you are."

A sigh is all the reply he gets.

"Are you going to cry?"

"I don't really cry anymore these days..."

"Then I encourage you to think of what Draken and Emma will do to you when Hinata tells them what you've done. And they won't be the only ones."

"Ha ha..." A weak laugh reaches his ear. "I'm so boned."

Kisaki moves his hand to the back of Takemichi's hair, running his fingers through the short, curly locks.

"Not necessarily. Isn't there still a way for you to go back in time?"

A cruel question to ask, but his friend cannot resent him for being curious. Still, his body tenses upon hearing the words. The next moment, Takemichi shakes his head. The answer is no. Kisaki feels like it might be a lie. He wraps both arms around his friend. Every comforting gesture, he learned from him.

Kisaki figured out the truth about the time leaps on his own. The memories of things he'd never done were evidence enough, although he could not entirely rule out some delusion of the mind. Takemichi's knowledge about people he shouldn't know and events that had yet to come were tangible proof that something was afoot. So he confronted him about it one day, in their late teens. Takemichi didn't deny it.

❦

In the autumn of 2017, Kisaki invites Takemichi over for a drink. Coincidentally, a new series of visions had been haunting his thoughts at around the same time. Memories from a past life, he knows what to call them by now. Takemichi sets a few cans of cheap beer on his table while Kisaki watches himself-from-another-time spike his glass with soporifics.

He does not ask how the newlywed life goes. He cares very little for how their mutual friends are doing right now. There's only one question on his mind.

"Why did you save me?"

Takemichi seems slightly surprised, which is rare enough. He doesn't reply, though.

"Was that out of pity?" Kisaki insists, feeling something like panic bubble up within. "Did you find me so pathetic you just had to intervene?"

He'd seen right through him, hadn't he? Even after Kisaki pointed a gun in his face, shot him, drugged him, made him kill. Every display of wealth and power, a disguise. His emptiness so richly adorned, no one dared to question him or why he did the things he did. Least of all himself.

Does Takemichi know how it ends for Kisaki each time? With a gun to his temple and a smile on his face. None of that really mattered, did it? He can't even bring himself to look guilty for everything he's done. His contrition is for one man only. That man is gone, now. He was a real hero, it turns out, super powers included. So none of that really mattered. Takemichi will fix everything and then come back to kill him. Another time, maybe.

But it never happened. Instead, his hero came back, took his hand and never let go.

Why in the world would he do that?

Kisaki feels two arms wrap themselves around him. Like breaking a spell, it snaps him out of his thoughts, back into the present, and the tears falling from his eyes make the world around a blurry mess. Was he crying, just now?

"A long time ago, I used to be terribly alone," Takemichi replies, his voice low. "I just kept everything to myself and lashed out however I could, mostly against people who had nothing to do with my own self-inflicted misery. Pathetic, right?"

Kisaki doesn't answer.

"And then I died. The end. Except I somehow survived and got another chance at life. So I decided I'd try to do something worthwhile for once in my worthless existence, and save the life of someone who didn't deserve to die. That's how it all started..."

Kisaki cuts him off.

"I deserved to die, didn't I?" Unlike Hinata. Unlike Draken unlike Baji unlike Kazutora unlike Taiju unlike Emma unlike Izana unlike Atsushi unlike Chifuyu unlike Mikey. Unlike Takemichi.

"Maybe. But I needed you alive." Kisaki shivers as his friend softly nuzzles the side of his neck, holding him tighter. "I saved you because I wanted to understand. I saved you because I thought we might be the same, deep down." A short pause. "And you know what? I don't regret it. I love you."

Vertigo. Kisaki has to hold on to him or else he'll surely fall. Pressed against his chest, Takemichi's heartbeat is just as fast as his own, both drumming furiously as if begging to be let out.

"What..." Kisaki's mouth is dry. "What kind of love are you talking about?"

"I don't know. We've been through so much."

"And Hinata?"

"I love her too. In a much simpler way."

"That's why you married her?"

"Yeah. Two guys can't get married in this country anyhow."

"Give me ten years and I'll change the law."

"Ha ha."

"I'm not joking."

"Yeah, I know."

Holding the sun in his arms would be less overwhelming. Kisaki has killed men with his own hands. They shake harder now than they ever did before.

"You realize... that there's no way I'm going to let you go back home tonight, right?"

"Of course," Takemichi replies. Of course.

Thus started their affair. Takemichi didn't want to lie to Hinata, but Kisaki didn't want her to know the truth. They both knew how important faithfulness was to her. In the end, he managed to convince Takemichi not to tell her anything.

They saw each other every now and then. Both well aware of their transgression, yet unable to put an end to it. So they compromised, swore not to cross certain lines. Barely took off their clothes, never kissed each other's lips. Hands only. This paradoxical distance, these self-imposed rules they somehow never broke, only made their desire stronger. Takemichi kept coming back for more. Kisaki was happy to oblige.

Within these walls, Takemichi belonged to him and him only. And since they couldn't reveal their bodies, they bared their heart instead. They would sometimes talk for hours on the pillow or silently hold each other through the night. Maybe that was an even worse transgression.

❦

Takemichi is lying next to him on the couch, half-asleep in his arms. Resting upon the ashtray, the cigar has almost completely burned out.

"Are you going to stay overnight?"

"I've got nowhere else to go."

"Liar."

"I want to stay here."

Much better. Kisaki enjoys the little spark of pride knowing that between all his closest friends, Takemichi still chooses to spend this time with him.

"What do you want to do?"

"Everything." Takemichi replies.

"What does that even mean?" He chuckles.

"I don't know."

Kisaki disentangles himself from his lover and sits up, smoking what is left of the cigar before crushing it inside the tray.

"Let's find out, then."

❦

The bedroom is as wide as the rest of his apartment, with a large, comfortable bed at the center of it. Takemichi follows him inside and, as soon as Kisaki closes the door, hugs him from behind, breathing him in.

"I missed you so much." Takemichi whispers in his ear. God, he'd missed this, too.

It couldn't be helped. What kept them apart had been a shock to them both, leading them to take the same decision without even needing to consult each other. It was best to end this. Things were messed up enough as it is.

And yet, here they are again.

Kisaki lets his lover's hands distract him from any other thought, tilting his head to the side to receive his kisses.

"Takemitchy," he calls out, almost an order. Does he ever think about that time he was under his command? Takemichi stops.

Kisaki turns around, grabbing his wrists. He looks up. Tired blue eyes look back at him, waiting.

"Can I kiss you now?" Kisaki asks.

"Please."

The fact that they do not accidentally headbutt each other in their precipitation is a small miracle. Reflexes somehow still sharp from their delinquent days, they both pull back at the same time when they notice the other approaching a little too fast. Then Takemichi snorts and starts laughing, and Kisaki leaves impatient kisses on his cheek and next to his mouth until he has caught his breath again. After that, they get to kiss properly. At last.

With shallow breaths, hands over his shoulders, Takemichi guides him towards the bed before gently pushing him over. Kisaki lies back onto the soft mattress, panting. While his lover stands before him, observing, Kisaki holds his gaze, taking a more inviting pose. Opening his legs, he reaches for his jacket's buttons and begins undoing them.

"Are you going to keep staring or do you plan on joining me at some point?" He teases.

"Not sure," Takemichi replies, machinally unfastening his tie, eyes still fixated on Kisaki. "Both sound good."

He still looks torn between the two options as Kisaki is done taking off his shirt, and sits up to begin removing his trousers. Then, lying back against the pillows, he raises his legs towards Takemichi.

"Take them off," he orders, and both his trousers and socks are pulled off of him in an instant.

All that is left are his boxers, now. Takemichi finally looks ready to intervene, kneeling right in front of him on the bed, but Kisaki holds him off, pushing him with one foot against his chest.

"I'll take care of that."

In truth, he wants nothing more than to have them ripped from him in an instant, but knows better than to ruin a good show. Still holding his lover at a distance with one leg, he begins to stroke himself through the fabric, relishing both his own touch and the look on Takemichi's face. Moving his legs to give him a better view, he slowly uncovers the tip of his cock, running his fingertips over it.

"Please..." Takemichi begs, desperate to join him. And Kisaki, who just loves to hear him plead, moans as his cock twitches under his own touch, so close already.

"Not yet," he breathes out. With his left hand, he blindly reaches for the drawer on his nightstand and pulls it open. "Give me the lube."

Takemichi passes him the small bottle. Kisaki decides to get rid of his boxers already, throwing them across the room.

"Take off your clothes, too."

"Let me touch you..." Takemichi protests, watching him coat his fingers with lube and spread it where he needs it.

The cool sensation makes Kisaki whimper, and he has to take a few deep breaths before risking another move. He opens his eyes and notices Takemichi undressing next to him. Maybe a little too fast. That man works in the film industry yet clearly lacks showmanship. He's more interested in what Kisaki is doing at the moment, glancing back at him after he discards each new item of clothing onto the floor.

"Can I touch you, now?" He sits next to him, kneeling, with his hands over his lap. Behind his arms, Kisaki can see his cock stand fully erect.

Sliding his free hand over Takemichi's lap, Kisaki runs his fingertip across the length of it.

"Don't forget to put on a condom first," he teases.

Takemichi is by all accounts a patient man, but he still tears open that packet like his life depends on it.

"Good." Kisaki wishes he could reach high enough to pat his head. "Now come over here and fuck me."

❦

It is still nighttime when Kisaki wakes up, his room lit up dimly by the city lights through the half-open curtains. Feeling parched, he reaches for the glass of water Takemichi left on the nightstand, and drinks it all up. When he slides back under the cover, he notices his partner facing away from him. Kisaki can hear him hyperventilate.

"Takemitchy?"

He calls his name to let him know he's there before placing his hands over his shoulders and massaging them lightly. Takemichi leans back into the touch.

"Sorry, I must've woken you up..." He apologizes with a strained, shaky voice. As if his state was not a good enough reason to wake somebody up.

"I don't mind."

Takemichi doesn't say anything more for a few minutes. His breathing settles into a regular rhythm while Kisaki continues to massage his shoulders, sometimes laying a kiss onto the nape of his neck.

"Hey... Can I say something terrible?"

"Anything."

"If it weren't for you and Hina, I'd have died a while ago. Maybe right after Mikey."

"Hmm." Kisaki had already sort of figured that out.

"I should've returned right away. Should've found a new trigger and saved Mikey before he did it. That was the only thing to do, wasn't it?"

"That power of yours only works if two people have the same desire to change the past, doesn't it?"

"Everybody wants to change what happened that day."

"Why not do it, then?"

"The truth is, I already tried. With Draken and with Chifuyu. It didn't work with either." He turns to lie on his back, eyes wide open. "That means I'm the problem."

"Not necessarily." Kisaki also turns to stare at the ceiling, but reaches for his lover's hand under the cover. Something to keep him grounded. "Chifuyu's living his best polyamorous life, and Draken has a wife and children he would be reluctant to leave behind."

"They'd still do it for Mikey."

"And you wouldn't? Please."

"No, I would. I would, but... When I heard the news, it felt like something just snapped in me. I don't think I lost my power. But... Even if I used it again... Is there even a point? We made it so that everyone would be happy. We saved as many people as we could, we prevented all kinds of horrible stuff from happening. This was supposed to be the best possible timeline. And Mikey still killed himself."

Maybe that was the problem. Takemichi no longer thinks he's capable of saving Mikey.

"People can live in castles, surrounded by everything they could ever ask for, and still shoot themselves in the face. Mikey had plenty of reasons to be happy, too. But maybe there was something else in him that made it all seem worthless."

"Why didn't he reach out if it was so unbearable? I mean... It's not like I wouldn't understand..."

The usual Takemichi would definitely be crying by now. Instead, there is a sort of distance between himself and everything he says. Maybe he got that from him, or from Mikey.

Kisaki holds his hand a little tighter, and turns so that he can drape his other arm over him, shifting closer to feel his warmth.

"Takemitchy. Whatever it is you want, I'll grant it for you."

Takemichi raises his arm to squeeze the hand on his shoulder.

"I want... I want to forget everything. To be carefree again. I want to love people without seeing them lying dead in front of me." His breathing grows erratic again as he speaks through tears he can no longer hold back. "I wanted to die, too, you know! There were times when I thought I couldn't do it anymore, and I'd cry for hours or say nothing all day and make Hina worry, but I still held on! So why couldn't you do the same?"

Kisaki doesn't reply. That question isn't destined to him, anyhow.

"And you know what? Even through the shitty times, it's been worth it, dammit! There's always gonna be another chance if you keep looking for it! But the moment you give up, things will never get better again! Why couldn't you see that, you idiot?!" Takemichi's voice goes shaky with grief, and he turns around to bury his face into Kisaki's chest. "Why couldn't you see how much you meant to everyone? How could you think we'd be fine without you?"

Before his suicide, Mikey had written a note. It simply said Don't look for me.

Kisaki doesn't know what pushed him to do it. Maybe the weight of everything he'd done was haunting him to the end. Maybe it was just a chemical imbalance in his brain. Maybe he simply got bored with life, or disgusted with the world of adults as a whole. Hard to say. People kill themselves for a variety of reasons. Some even do it to save another person.

Within his arms, his lover seems to have cried himself to sleep. At least Kisaki thinks so, until he hears him speak out, a tired whisper: "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Everything."

"Hmm..." Kisaki tries to figure out what he could be alluding to. Telling him he wanted to die? Being mad at Mikey for taking his own life? He doesn't find either option that offending. He has felt that way, too. Saying he wishes he could love people without seeing them dead? Kisaki knows the feeling all too well. "I really don't mind," is what he replies.

He feels glad for everything he shares with Takemichi, although he won't say it out loud right now. This must mean he can be good, deep down. Either that, or Takemichi is capable of sinking to his level. Both are fine.

He holds on a little more tightly.

This life has been a gift. Takemichi has shown him kindness he never thought possible, taught him so much. Kisaki has made a place for himself in this crazy world, he's seen what he had set out to see.

They even became lovers. Surely he would be loath to part from such a life.

But Kisaki cannot ignore a call for help when it comes from his hero.

He asks, "are you awake?"

"Yeah."

"I could grant you your wish. You know the way, don't you?"

Takemichi doesn't answer. Maybe his mind isn't working that well at such a late ― or is it early? ― hour. Maybe Kisaki has to spell it out for him.

"If you gave me your power without acting as my trigger, I could return to a time in which you remember nothing about your past lives."

"Huh?"

"Since the first time leap can be triggered by death, it's most likely the case for subsequent ones as well. Even if I don't succeed the first time, I probably won't need another person to act as my trigger at all."

"Hang on... You're not..." Panic begins to gnaw at his voice.

"Don't you see it? This is the only way someone like me can still be a hero." His own voice comes out a tad unsteady, as well. "I'll shoulder everything. I'll keep everyone you love safe. You won't even know they were in danger."

"You... You're going to lose your mind!" Takemichi pulls away from him and gets up from their bed. He turns on the light and drapes himself in a bathrobe. "Nobody can face this alone. You're not strong enough for this. No one is."

"I won't be alone. I'll get stronger so I can beat those older kids in the park when we first meet. That way you'll definitely want to be my friend again. And I'll be able to protect you."

"I can't let you do that. I'm not letting you kill yourself." Takemichi walks up to the door, putting as much distance as he can between that idea and himself.

"Takemitchy..." Kisaki gets up and stumbles, body still aching from their earlier lovemaking. He holds on to the nightstand for support. His friend has come closer, ready to help but also hesitant to reach out. "You've always been scared of me, haven't you? I felt it from the start, but I didn't mind. I thought that if you saw how good I could be, eventually you'd stop being afraid." How quickly he'd fled from him, just now. After everything they've been through, everything they've shared. "So tell me," Kisaki lets go of the nightstand, his sore legs giving out from under him. "How much more is it going to take for you to trust me?"

Hands onto the floor, Kisaki hears the sound of footsteps approaching. Takemichi kneels before him.

They look into each other's eyes.

"If you die, Hina will never recover," his friend whispers. "What I said earlier... it doesn't warrant throwing your life away. Couldn't you wait a few more years?"

"Can you?"

Takemichi's eyes say it all.

Kisaki raises one hand to cup his lover's face, wiping away a tear from his cheek. He kisses his lips, as gently and lovingly as he possibly can. Perhaps in the same way one might try to reassure a cornered animal. He makes himself unthreatening. Don't run away. Please don't run away. I didn't even get to tell you how much you mean to me. Don't be afraid. All I want is for my life and yours to be so deeply woven together there's no telling them apart anymore. It doesn't matter in which shape or form. I'll take anything you can give me. If that scares you, I'll keep silent for both our sakes.

"Takemitchy, you know I can handle this. Let me be your savior."

Takemichi laughs, feebly. He runs one hand through Kisaki's hair.

"There's just no way you won't be cursed, taking away my power and then killing yourself."

"I know. You'll have to give it to me."

"I've spoiled you too much, haven't I?"

"Maybe." Kisaki buries his face into his old friend's shoulder. He may have wanted more, still. "I know you can't refuse anything to me. But you should know the opposite is true, as well."

There is a short pause, until Takemichi rests his head against him, too.

"Do you think there's a way to love people that'll make them never want to die again?"

"I'll tell you if I find it."

❦

Kisaki picks a green suit from his closet, the one he wore during a certain ceremony. His hand reached for it by chance, or perhaps there was something else influencing his choice. He feels ready to believe in fate.

Takemichi wordlessly gets dressed beside him, in clothes that entirely belong to his lover. He wears a black, striped suit. Strangely pragmatic of him. Kisaki fixes the collar of his shirt for him.

They kiss for a long time, before walking together towards the wide, open window. The sun is rising. Cool winds blow into their hair. It's a lovely day.

Takemichi takes his hand, and Kisaki feels a spark run throughout his body.

It all started with a fall, didn't it?