👆👀👂🎹🎧🔊📷🔬🔍💻🎵🎶
Typing can delight the senses. Touch. Sight. Sound. Your fingertips each contain over 3,000 touch receptors. Your eyes see at roughly 576 megapixels of resolution. Your ears hear a range of frequencies from ~20 Hz to 20,000 Hz at a dynamic range of 0dB to 130dB.
With all of these sensory inputs, you owe it to yourself to select some keycaps that feel great to the touch, look beautiful, and sound just right as you clack away on your mechanical keyboard or macropad!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
So I’m going to go with the Britannian coat of arms as the floor mosaic and I’m digging it because it’s irreverent - Suzaku and Lelouch fucking on the symbol of the empire they overthrow. Heavy handed and too literal maybe, but it’s a start. I can’t get out of my head certain notions of what art should be or what art should aspire to after studying it academically. When I made art as a kid, I was just chasing a feeling of inspiration. Some works triggered it and it was always aesthetic in nature and I wanted to make work that could trigger that feeling of inspiration in myself. But then after years of consuming the cultural canon of works deemed important enough to remember historically and then being tasked with aspiring to create work in that same heritage, I have a hard time silencing the expectations behind making art. I feel as if I should write a manifesto, a declaration that upturns the social order, channel all the efforts of constructing a visual language into a doctrine with an -ism (postmodernism, cubism, precisionism, deconstructivism etc...) and that work without this overarching artist’s statement is somehow not meaningful or worthwhile. It also probably ties into much more worrisome ego needs - if a person can’t make art that is “merely decorative” or “merely pretty” because such art pales in importance to art that challenges the status quo of our current times, then that suggests some problematic egocentric needs for importance. Or perhaps not... I suppose it’s not wrong for people to want to feel a sense of meaning or purpose, to feel like the art they make and all the efforts they put into it serves some larger cause than just being easy on the eyes. But this also sounds like feeling the need to justify art’s right to exist (and maybe that is just a personal struggle that comes from parents dismissing art as not important, not worthwhile to begin with...). Why is just wanting to do something for pleasure not enough? Why is it even part of human nature to begin with that a ‘holier-than-though’ complex could arise (I’m hearing parental voices again of “you’re not doing heart surgery”, as if only literally saving lives is the only thing worth doing in life).. I’m going to throw in papal keys into the picture too... not because I have anything against religion but because humans too often manage to twist even good intentions into harmful ones (i.e. becoming doctors not to actually help others but to use it to lord themselves over others with a holier-than-though attitude... not to mention that holier-than-though comes from religion to begin with, so why not just include all symbols of power... irreverence to it all)... of course everything that I criticize in others (my parents most especially) are also the parts of myself I most can’t stand... I don’t know... I suppose what I really want to show irreverence to is the idols I truly worship... there’s a quote that I can’t find right now on how everyone worships something and it’s that something which will consume and destroy you... that’s an extreme way to look at one’s core values but sure, it’s poetic... Much as I would like to give the middle finger to all the social conditioning in various forms I’ve received, I can’t... not really... it’s all jumbled up... this is just a messy stream of consciousness drivel...
Anyhow... a last closing thought... I do like this NC-17 suzalulu fanfic for this great sacrilegious scene where Lelouch, no Julius, uses the imperial scepter as a dildo haha... Julius embodies irreverence, it’s what I love about his ridiculous character... anyhow, here is the fanfic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4730039?view_adult=true
Edit: Oh no... Now I really want to draw the scene of Julius using the scepter as a dildo :O
Hello! Thanks so much for the lovely Natsuyuu icons!! I was wondering if you could release the non-santa hat versions of movie!Natsume with the tiny nyanko on his shoulder? :D I'd love to use them for dreamwidth icons! Will credit of course <3 Whatever you decide, thanks so much for all you've already made!
Thank you so much! Right click and save. Credit will be appreciated c: Enjoy!
oh my gosh, so many great prompts! I hope you don't mind if I just drop a bunch on you for your consideration! 1, 8, 15, 43 & 62 for tanunatsu (i'm yearning most for 43 and 62 if I had to narrow it down!), and when I saw 75 I instantly thought of nishinatsu and cannot unsee it, so that would be just lovely too. 98 for kitanishi or kita+nishi, perhaps exaggeratedly offended on Natsume's behalf at a not-so-nice remark? Bless you and thank you for always writing such lovely fic for this fandom!
writing prompts1: “do you want me to leave?”
x
Natsume’s head is bowed, face hidden in his hands, and although he’s utterly silent Kaname knows he’s crying.
Kaname has never been around to see this part. Natsume has friends among the ayakashi, and Ponta, for all his bark and bluster, is a good and loyal companion to Natsume when it matters most –
but somehow, Kaname has never thought about this. That for all the meetings, there are just as many partings. That even for someone like Natsume, who has already said goodbye to so much, the goodbyes never get easier with time.
Aching for him, Kaname says, “Natsume? Do you want me to leave?”
Natsume’s breath hitches, and he shakes his head furiously. Kaname takes it as permission to sit down beside him. He doesn’t have time to come up with anything comforting before Natsume is leaning into his side, hiding his tear-stained face against Kaname’s shoulder, and then all Kaname has to do is put an around him.
“Was she happy?” he asks, of the spirit he only barely got a glimpse of before she parted the world. Natsume nods a moment later. Carefully, Kaname adds, “Would you mind – telling me about her?”
He hopes this is the right thing to ask. Natsume is so often the only one left to mourn these invisible figures, and there’s nothing Kaname can do with his burden but help him carry it.
There’s a long moment where Kaname isn’t sure what Natsume’s answer will be. Then, without lifting his head or moving out of Kaname’s arm, he says, “Her name was Airi. She was a white jasmine tree.”
He talks about her for the better part of an hour, sitting with Kaname under a starry canopy. More than he’s ever had to say about himself, he talks about a little mountain spirit that no one else will miss, and how much she loved the peaches Taki brought her, and what hopes she held for the future.
She was kind, and she was a bright place in Natsume’s life for the short time he knew her, and despite that her memory will be a painful one. A lot of good things are like that, ending in sorrow because they end at all.
Kaname wonders if there’s such a thing as a painless encounter. He hopes, for Natsume’s sake, that it’s possible to find goodness in someone and keep it, no matter what comes after.
@touchreceptors although I am ABSOLUTELY SCREAMING BECAUSE CONFIRMATION THAT THEY FUCKING TALKED IS SO GOOD, I’m also even more livid because THIS IS A VERY IMPORTANT, PLOT MOVING EVENT AND INSTEAD OF SHOWING US THEY JUST STUCK A LINE IN THERE. IN THE PREVIEW, NO LESS. I swear on everything if the unaired scenes don’t involve the time skip and the suzalulu that came with it I’m going to rage quit sO HaRd.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I’m so sorry @touchreceptors but this AU of your AU won’t leave me alone. That and I wanted to write Suzaku’s mother. But I choose to mostly blame you. (Sequel to this and this.) Same general warnings (A/B/O dynamics and mention of mpreg) still apply.
The training field went silent as Kururugi Tomoe stepped out onto it. Everyone turned to look at her, as she made her way close to the center where Tohdoh was directing maneuvers.
She stopped before him, waiting long enough for the man to bow before she inclined her head herself, Suzaku catching the smile that flitted across her face before his mother settled back into a manner that was more appropriate for a shogun’s mate.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to steal my son away from you, Master Tohdoh.”
“Of course, my lady.”
Suzaku was already sliding off of Arthur’s back and tossing the deer’s reins to Kallen. He didn’t look back to see if she had caught them, it was more important to walk across the field towards his mother.
Even with the careful language she used, it was clear that there was something important that she wanted him for and it wouldn’t do to keep her waiting.
Tomoe gave him a quick glance before turning and walking off, Suzaku waiting for the sweep of her kimono to pass him by before falling into step behind her.
As he went, he could hear the rest of the riders mumbling to themselves, the gossip wheel already turning. He was sure that Tohdoh would stop them soon enough and turn their attention back to their training, but that didn’t stop his own mind from working.
It was no secret that a caravan had arrived in Edo that morning, moving by horse-drawn carriage and wagons that were a strange sight in Ashigaru. Most work in the city was done with human pulled carts or, if the case warranted it and a permit was had, using the shaggy coated, specially bred Serow. Horses were something used in the great plains to their south and east, and even those were small ponies. These were horses that certainly came from Avrupa, and that meant something important. That meant diplomacy.
Suzaku bit his lip, preferring that to flinching.
His father was not the most diplomatic of men. There were plenty of broken and beaten clans in Ashigaru, a ruined country in Avrupa and the recent diplomatic mess in Westros to prove that. It was why most affairs were handled by Kururugi Genbu’s mate or the six Rōjū. Considering the circumstances, Suzaku would have thought that the delegation would have come to find his mother first, but it was obvious that something had gotten mixed up and it was very likely they had met his father first.
He swallowed and stepped up to walk beside his mother, watching her face for a moment before speaking in a low voice. “How bad is it?”
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye before shaking her head. She reached out to pat his arm, letting her hand linger there for a moment before dropping it away. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
That almost made Suzaku laugh, because it was just the answer that he expected of his mother.
Before she had been Kururugi Tomoe, she had been Chōsokabe Tomoe, one of the best onna-bugeisha to come out of the family. Her father had trained the great Tohdoh Kyoshiro and there had been rumors of a marriage between the two of them until one fateful night. Suzaku still heard his grandfather curse that night, although more because he had lost a capable pair of hands around the estate and a strong warrior than because he regretted the marriage.
According to everything he had heard, his parents had met by chance and then Genbu had demanded Tomoe to prove herself with all the brash posturing of a young son of the shogun. Apparently, he had lasted less than a minute every time he had challenged her. Somewhere between the falls and the next challenge, they had fallen in love.
Everyone had expected a tempestuous marriage, as it was well known that two alphas would always butt heads, but the two of them managed and managed well. Suzaku couldn’t remember a time when his parents weren’t in love. Most of the supplicants might see the stern shogun and his carefully reserved lady, but the rest of the palace staff knew the truth. It was in the way that Genbu was always resting a hand on Tomoe’s arm or around her waist if he thought they were alone. It was in the way that Tomoe would sit up with him and help him practice speeches or go over lists until they both had it memorized. It was in the chases through the gardens that Suzaku tried his best not to hear from his window. Under any other circumstances, the entire country would have wondered why Suzaku was an only child, save for the fact that it was notoriously hard for alpha women to conceive.
It had taken Tomoe eight years to have him, and there was a small row of three graves to mark what could have been his siblings. Suzaku still remembered peeking into his parents rooms to see Genbu pressing kisses to his mother’s face as she had cried.
She still called Genbu her stirrup, the thing that kept her steady and allowed her to preform to her best ability, and it never failed to bring a smile to his father’s face.
He shook his head to clear it, trying to study his mother’s face for more clues but it was frustratingly neutral. Suzaku sighed, looking around at the palace as they approached it. “By handled...”
“I stepped in before it got too difficult to solve. Everything had been put into place and we have a guest waiting for us out in the private garden.” Tomoe turned to look at him, her nose wrinkling. Suzaku was taken aback by her expression, surprised when his mother shooed him off. “Suzaku, you reek!”
“I’ve been practicing all day.”
“I can see that.” Tomoe scanned him over, reaching out to pick at the sleeve of his kimono. Suzaku was sure that she had immediately spotted the stain from breakfast when he had rushed to finish and get out to practice. He was glad that he wasn’t on her other side, because she’d see the small bloodstain from where Arthur had gotten him by surprise that morning. But the bloodstain was hardly the most damning. Suzaku was sure that he had a light coating of dust on him from riding with the rest of the Elite Guard and practicing with them on foot. He was sure that he smelled of deer and sweat too.
His mother dropped his sleeve with a despairing sound. “Just like your father, I swear. You were going to let me walk you right in there like this, weren’t you.”
“No.” Suzaku edged away from her sheepishly. “I just wanted to make sure everything was alright.”
“It’s well in hand.” She made a shooing motion towards him again. “Now go, and for gods’ sake bathe. I’ll have someone bring you the appropriate clothes. I’ll entertain our guest until you are ready, but don’t dally or get distracted. I’ll send someone after you and they won’t be as nice as I am.”
Suzaku took a step back, intending to run towards the bathhouse but he stopped. He looked back over at his mother, catching the slight movement in her kimono near the hem that mean she was tapping her foot, a sure sign of trouble. Still, he couldn’t leave until he was sure. “Will you be alright?”
“If you don’t take hours.” There was a spark of mirth in her eyes that she didn’t let show on her face. “I am more than capable of handling this, Suzaku. Now go.”
Suzaku didn’t wait to be asked again, sprinting along the side of the castle as he tried to push down his curiosity. He would meet their guest soon enough and, the faster he made himself presentable, the faster he would be able to satisfy his curiosity.
It was impossible to run in all the exacting layers of the formal kimono, at least not in a way that wouldn’t end up staining it or ruining all the careful folding and tucking. Even in his excitement, Suzaku didn’t dare to anger his mother like that. If she had thought that this arrangement was appropriate, then he wasn’t going to argue, not even when it was similar to what he had wore to the two meetings with prospective mates.
He pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind, settling for a steady walk. He wasn’t running late but he was well aware of the passage of time. His mother couldn’t be expected to entertain their guest forever, and certainly they had to avoid having his father ruin everything that Tomoe was working on. If this was a diplomat from Avrupa or, even better, Westros, then this might be their chance to smooth things over.
Suzaku swallowed and patted down the front of his kimono, his fingers lingering over the delicately embroidered phoenixes that practically blended in with the rest of the fabric. If the formal nature of the outfit wasn’t worrying enough, the particular kimono was, if only because his mother always said that it was the best one he owned because it brought out his eyes.
If she had chosen it for today, then there was a very special reason, and that made him nervous.
He tried to push away his nervousness as he stepped down into the private gardens. He slowed his pace just enough to look around, easily spotting his mother by her colorful clothing. It took him until he was closer to recognize the man kneeling to one side of the table.
Suzaku’s heart skipped a beat, his whole body jerking to a stop as the stared at Lelouch.
Lelouch wasn’t supposed to be here, he was supposed to be waiting back in Westros as bored as he always complained that he was. That he wasn’t made a smile cross his face, the smile only widening when Lelouch looked up at him.
There was no way that the smile that Suzaku saw in response was anything but fond.
He didn’t have long to take it in because his mother was motioning for him to come over, and it was a order he couldn’t ignore. Not when Lelouch was right there.
He walked over, kneeling across from Lelouch without his mother having to tell him where she had placed him in her grand plan. If she smiled at him, he didn’t know because he was too busy staring at Lelouch.
Barely anything had changed since the last time he had seen the prince, save for the fact that he looked more worn. The long trip across the Narrow Sea, then through Avrupa could do that, but that didn’t stop the urge to gather Lelouch into his arms. He wanted to tuck Lelouch against himself and breathe him in, see how well he’d remembered the scent of lavender in the months they had passed since they had last seen each other. It wouldn’t have changed too much, even with the hard travel.
Suzaku hadn’t realized he was leaning over until he felt the prod of his mother’s fan in his side. He glanced over at her, seeing amusement in her eyes before she gave a small shake of her head. That was enough to make Suzaku sit back, trying his best not to slump in disappointment.
So it was to be business then.
He could handle that, but not if it was just going to be business. He wasn’t sure he could be in the same country as Lelouch without wanting.
He swallowed and bowed his head, giving Lelouch a nod of equals. “Prince Lelouch.”
“I thought I corrected you of that habit while you were in Pendragon.” Lelouch gave him a weary smile. “It’s just, Lelouch, please.”
“Lelouch...” Suzaku found he had nothing else to say. He felt a blush rise along his cheeks, quickly ducking his head before he could say anything more.
He heard Lelouch chuckle, the sound just making him want to edge closer because it was a welcoming sound. He held himself in place, only looking up when his mother cleared her throat.
From the look on her face, she expected something more from him, but Suzaku couldn’t quite tell what.
Tomoe could carry out whole conversations with her facial expressions, a skill that Suzaku had never quite picked up. He was more like his father, a straightforward soldier.
She held his gaze for a moment more before sighing and resting her fan on the table. “Prince Lelouch was just telling me that he’s been recently assigned to Ashigaru as official ambassador from Westros.”
Suzaku tensed. “But your father-”
“Is probably glad to be rid of me.” Lelouch took a careful sip of his tea, sighing after he swallowed. “I managed to play a trick on him, one that he won’t appreciate once he finds out.”
Suzaku frowned, trying to work out what Lelouch had meant. He had known the basics of Westrosi politics when he had gone over with his father, but he hadn’t kept up with it. He’d been thoroughly distracted by Lelouch for most of the visit.
Thankfully, Lelouch took pity on him. “There was a matter of her inheritance that needed to be settled and marriage rights. They were settled to both mine and Nunnally’s satisfaction, but not to my father’s. The Hand of the King and I thought it would be best if my...talents were elsewhere. I suggested Ashigaru, since there is much our two countries need to work to understand. Considering my...experience with your people, Schneizel and I thought I would be the best candidate.”
Suzaku was sure that he was blushing now, but he very carefully kept his mouth shut. There was no reason for his mother to find out just what he had gotten up to in Pendragon. Or, at least, not have to acknowledge it. Knowing his father, Genbu had already told her everything that he knew.
He cleared his throat, about to ask after Nunnally when his mother leaned forward. “Would you like some more tea, Prince Lelouch?”
“Please.” Lelouch reached up to rub at his throat. “The road here was very dusty.”
“We’re due for a storm soon enough, if the clouds are threatening right.” Tomoe cast an eye on the clouds, her attention seeming to be taken by them.
Suzaku glanced between her and Lelouch before carefully moving to reach for one of the teapots. He would have thought that his mother would be paying more careful attention to their guest, especially after all the lectures he had sat through.
He eyed both the teapots before taking the one closest to him. From its warmth and the weight to it, it was the freshest of the two. Suzaku eyed the second one, sparing a brief thought to why it was still there. He shifted in place ready to pour for Lelouch when his mother reached out to touch his arm.
“Not that one, Suzaku. That one’s for you.” She nudged his arm back before reaching for the second pot.
Suzaku watched as she poured Lelouch a cup, recognizing the tea by its color and aroma. It was the one that Tomoe used herself and the one was considered the best for the those hoping to become pregnant.
Or those who were already pregnant.
He set the teapot down more roughly than he had meant to, Suzaku ignoring the clatter and the look that his mother shot him. He was too busy trying to count back the months and days, but the numbers were a jumble in his head. It was all he could do to look Lelouch up and down.
There was a lot hidden by the robe that Lelouch wore, Suzaku’s eyes following the lines of phoenixes on it without really processing what he was seeing. All that he knew was that it cast Lelouch’s figure into shadow and it was only by looking that he could really see the soft round to Lelouch’s stomach.
He must have made a sound because he felt his mother’s hand on his arm. But he couldn’t look at her, not when Lelouch had gone from confident to worried.
Lelouch turned his teacup slightly, his gaze fixed on it rather than on him. He remained silent for a moment before speaking slowly and quietly. “I...I don’t mean this as an insult. Or as a snare. I did have to leave Westros for a while, and this was a reason. And I did come here because we desperately needed an ambassador and-”
Lelouch cut himself off, his frown deepening.
Suzaku found himself leaning forward, waiting for Lelouch’s next words. When they didn’t come, he rocked back onto his heels. He stared at Lelouch for a moment, watching as Lelouch looked between his tea and him.
There was something in Lelouch’s expression, and that Suzaku couldn’t read it quite right frustrated him.
He considered the proper course of action for a moment before ignoring it. He couldn’t feel his mother’s restraining hand on his arm, nor could he see her out of the corner of his eye. As long as she wasn’t close, he wouldn’t have to stand by protocol.
Suzaku stood up, watching as Lelouch started, his eyes going wide. He held Lelouch’s gaze as he came around the side of the table, dropping to his knees beside Lelouch.
Lelouch twisted to face him, the prince tugging the robe closer to him. It made Suzaku want to nudge it open, but he didn’t dare. Not yet.
He reached out to cup Lelouch’s cheek, breathing a sigh when Lelouch leaned into his palm. He ran his thumb over Lelouch’s lips, watching his expression carefully. “Why did you come here?”
“For every reason I told you...and then some.” Lelouch paused for a moment, his gaze finally flicking up and holding Suzaku’s. “I missed you.”
It was a costly admission, for either one of their positions, but especially for Lelouch. The prince kept himself so guarded and closed in, and the only time Suzaku had heard anything remotely like it had been when Lelouch was sure of his control on the situation.
This was nothing like those times and there was nothing for him to do but make an admission of equal cost.
“Will you stay?”
It was a plea, Suzaku not bothering to keep it out of his voice. And, from the way that Lelouch’s eyes went wide, he realized that.
Lelouch seemed more flustered by the question, but at least he didn’t look away.
He kept silent for a long moment before dropping his voice to a whisper. “Do you want me too?”
“Yes.” Suzaku moved his hand so he was cupping the back of Lelouch’s head. “For as long as you want to. Forever. For until the sun goes out and the moon cries for loneliness.”
Lelouch smiled at that, the expression wavering somewhat as he reached out to press a hand over Suzaku’s heart. “Were you doing that?”
Suzaku nodded, inching closer. “I missed my sun and stars.”
Lelouch’s smile grew wider, his fingers curling in the fabric of Suzaku’s kimono. “Show me, my beautiful moon.”
Suzaku didn’t need more encouragement. He pulled Lelouch close, wrapping his arms carefully around Lelouch as he kissed him.
Ashigaru - The fictional equivalent to Japan.
Avrupa - The fictional equivalent to the Code Geass AU, situated on Essos.
If you're up for it, I'd love to see more of all 4 of them from the natsuyuu soulmates AU! (it was so good, gosh) Perhaps something from Tanuma's or Natsume's POV this time? I'm curious to know what it was/is like for the two of them too! <3
companion piece to this prompt !
x
When Kaname actually gets the job offer, he almost turns it down. He only applied in the first place on a whim, and it’s such a big move, and he’s not the brave, bold kind of person who would leap on an opportunity like this –
But as if sensing his doubts, the counter on Kaname’s wrist moves. It hasn’t so much as flickered in years, and now it starts to go up instead of down.
And Kaname’s hands move on autopilot, tapping out a return email with his heart in his throat.
Thank you, he writes, and Yes, I can start immediately, and I look forward to working with you.
The numbers still again. Kaname puts his head in his hands and wonders if it eight a.m. is too early to go back to bed. Then he picks up the phone to call his father and closest friends and inform them he’s moving six hours away, by the end of the week actually, and do they know where he should start looking for affordable sublets in Osaka?
Shibata is still looking up at him like he’s crazy two days later, but he helps Kaname pack with only minimal complaining.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” he asks before he leaves, when Kaname’s apartment has been stripped to bare walls and cardboard boxes and Kaname is wrapping the last of his plates in newspaper. “I mean – this isn’t like you.”
Kaname musters a smile, almost sick with nerves. It isn’t like him. But –
He looks at the still numbers on his arm and thinks, somehow, this might be the right move to make.
Or it’s entirely the wrong move.
Kaname gets off the train with his single rolling suitcase and promptly has a panic attack in one of the station bathrooms. He should have thought about this. He’s an idiot and everything is going to be terrible. He’s hours away from his only family, he doesn’t know anyone in this city, he doesn’t know where to go, what is he doing here?
A text to Shibata finds Kaname on a conference call moments later with both Shibata and Taki, who bully and cajole him respectively back into some semblance of mostly functional human being.
“Do you have your inhaler?” Shibata demands, prompting Kaname to pat down his pockets and confirm that he does, in fact, have his inhaler. “Good. You better take care of yourself, idiot. I swear, if I have to come after you I’m going to be severely annoyed.”
But he’ll come after Kaname if Kaname needs him to, won’t hesitate to bail on work and hop on a train if he thinks Kaname isn’t okay, and knowing that is a much-needed comfort. Kaname smiles, and his hands, clenched into shaking fists in the fabric of his jeans, finally loose.
He’s in a new place, and hours away from the people who love him, but he isn’t in another country. He isn’t so far removed that he’ll never see them again.
“We’ll come see you the second you get settled,” Taki tells him kindly. “I’m so excited for you! You’re going to do so great!”
“Of course he is. Call us back when you get to your creepy Craigslist apartment, Tanuma!”
Kaname laughs as he hangs up, and the warmth of the laughter stays with him as he braves the busy station and drags his suitcase after him into the sunny streets. With his friends in the front of his mind, it’s that much easier to breathe.
Kaname isn’t sure when the rest of his things are due to be delivered, so getting settled into his modest apartment is the work of about five minutes. In that it takes him four minutes to get the door unlocked, and once inside he shoves his suitcase into the bedroom, shrugs out of his jacket, and collapses face-first into the musty sofa the previous tenant left behind.
The city traffic is loud even through the closed window, and someone in the hallway is banging violently on a door.
Home, Kaname thinks, and rolls onto his back. He stretches his arms out above him, and tugs back the sleeve on his left arm to see if his counter is still –
“Oh,” he whispers, as the numbers continue to spin lower and lower with dizzying speed.
Kaname sits up slowly, tucking his legs underneath him, and cradles his wrist closer with a careful hand. He sits that way for a long time, until shadows stretch across the floor as noon slinks closer to evening and his phone fills the room with Shibata’s ringtone because he forgot to call his friends back.
The counter finally slows somewhere around the nineteen hour mark, and only the seconds are left ticking by.
19:14:38 and he’s never, ever been this close.
Home, he thinks again, with a hope so heavy it could probably crush him.
Two of his neighbors turn out to be young men his own age, who introduce themselves as Kitamoto and Nishimura. They’re kind and welcoming, despite Kaname’s terribly awkward first impression, and Nishimura is almost relentlessly friendly. Kaname can’t help thinking he and Taki would get along like a house on fire, and the similarities between them have Kaname warming to Nishimura almost immediately.
“If you just moved in, you probably have no food at your place,” Nishimura says with all the certainty of someone having lived this truth himself at one point. “We can show you around and stuff later, but for now you should come over for dinner tonight! We’re making omurice. We’re awesome at omurice.”
“It’s the only thing we know how to cook,” Kitamoto amends dryly, and steers Nishimura away by the shoulders. “Sorry for taking up so much of your time. We’ll see you tonight.”
They’re a soulmate pair if Kaname has ever seen one, and he watches them bicker their way down the hall with a smile. Rubs the numbers on his wrist with an ache and a longing, and only a small amount of light-headed fear.
“I’m not surprised you’ve made friends already,” his father says kindly when Kaname calls him with what little news he has to offer about his first day in Osaka. “You were always a popular boy.”
That is a bold-faced lie, but Kaname was certainly never without friends, and that’s probably what his father means anyway. His eyes are glued to the counter on his wrist, as they always are anymore, and he’s dying to bring it up at the same time he’s terrified of jinxing the whole thing away.
He’ll keep it to himself a little while longer. There’s only four hours left to go, anyway.
Kaname stands outside his neighbor’s door with his fist poised to knock and thinks this is probably exactly where he’s meant to be standing, because the numbers on his arm are still moving, and it’s fourteen seconds, and he knocks, and now it’s nine, and now six –
And the door opens, and Kaname pulls his eyes away from the zeros on his wrist. It isn’t Nishimura or Kitamoto waiting there to greet him, but he wasn’t really expecting either of them. He looks into wide amber eyes and feels the breath go out of his lungs in a rush.
His other half touches Kaname’s cheek reverently, with fingers that tremble. Kaname covers his hand with one of his own and holds on.
It’s been a long and lonely life without him, and Kaname has waited every single day for this moment, for this man specifically, and now he can only stand here and soak up the sight of the rest of his life, greedily and with extreme prejudice.
“I’ve waited to meet you for so long,” he murmurs, and his soulmate’s breath shudders. He looks as terrified as Kaname feels, and every bit as longing, and tragically lovely.
Beautiful, Kaname thinks, with both an artist’s eye and a hopeless heart, beautiful.
Natsume Takashi lives alone, and has always lived alone. Even as a child, he was often by himself. He has no family and no home outside his little one-bedroom apartment, and his only companion is his fat, spoiled cat.
“I came to this city because it was brand-new to me,” Takashi says, “and I wanted a fresh start.”
He’s unguarded as he speaks into the dimly lit room at large. They’re tucked together on his sofa, the window open to let in the autumn breeze, and Kaname pulls him just a little bit closer.
Takashi is fragile, despite the iron resilience that brought him this far, and devastatingly lonely – and worse than that, accustomed to loneliness.
“I wish I had found you sooner,” Kaname tells him quietly, and feels Takashi lean away just enough to look up at him.
“It’s thanks to you we met at all,” his other half tells him firmly. “I would never have had the nerve to do what you did – to make such a big move, on such a small chance.” He shakes his head, admiring and affectionate as he adds, “You’re amazing, Kaname.”
It’s the first time anyone has told him that. Sickly, shrinking Kaname, who could hardly join in PE more than a dozen times a year, who passed through school like a shadow and relied on his two bright and fiery friends all those times he got lost in the crowd or fumbled up his words, who locked himself in a bathroom stall the day he arrived in this new city and wanted nothing more than to run back home.
But Takashi is smiling up at him without cruelty, honeyed eyes like something out of a fairy tale – and if he’s the one saying it, maybe it’s true after all.
Maybe it could be true. Maybe, for Takashi, he wants it to be.
“I can’t believe you uprooted your whole life just to chase your heart like a shojo hero,” Shibata fumes. “You’re ridiculous!”
“He’s wonderful,” Takashi contests immediately, reaching over to smooth the fringe out of Kaname’s eyes. Kaname feels himself flush hotly and aims a stupid grin at the Skype window open on Kitamoto’s laptop.
Taki’s eyes are shining, her hands folded in front of an impossibly wide smile, and even Shibata can’t maintain his scowl for long.
“Ugh, gross,” he says, with the hint of a grin. “You two deserve each other.”
“Oh, and make sure you send over those pictures of the two of you that you promised me. Don’t give me that look, Tanuma, you promised!”
Takashi groans, and Nishimura laughs brightly from the other side of the living room. Ponta waddles over to make himself comfortable in Kaname’s lap, and the apartment smells like the omelets Kitamoto is cooking for dinner, and Kaname’s childhood friends are making plans to come visit sometime soon. Takashi smiles freely more and more with each day, and those smiles make every single minute Kaname waited for this worthwhile.
