#uppermoon 1

You would assume that after living for centuries (almost a thousand years, actually), Muzan would have a good grasp at the properties of emotions. Especially with all those hearts. But that was, in fact, apparently not a perk of a long life. Despite staying physically young, around the age where love becomes an appealing road in life, Muzan's emotional knowledge wasn't quite as evergreen. Because humans were seemingly constantly about 'love' and 'friendship' and all that shit he never understood, it was reasonable for him to be panicked about falling for his, per se, employee. Or, to put it bluntly, a man whom he had turned into an inhuman, basically cannibalist, six-eyed demon 3 centuries ago: Kokushibo.

Obviously, he didn't grasp what he felt was attraction for Kokushibo for about a decade before noticing it. It was all a stranger to him, atypical to his lifestyle. He preferred to ignore it. But as the years flew by, he found himself unable to disregard his feelings. Not when his breath hitched almost sensually when Kokushibo's eyes flicked towards him even for a second, not when the tranquil voice murmured his name briefly as a response to an order. It overwhelmed him, all this emotion. He didn't understand himself and he found himself searching for an answer, an explanation to this phenomenon.

He didn't tell anyone, but if you asked the caretakers of the houses he pretended to be a child in? He was drawn to books about botany and, curiously, romance. He sought a confirmation to his feelings, he wished to find a reason for why Kokushibo made him feel so strange in such beautiful ways. The mystery of it excited him, in a way. He was drunk on his love for the man, chasing after it but falling back just enough so he would never notice him, lurking a couple meters away.

This was unlike anything he would've imagined, really. Life had always just been to keep living without too much inconvenience, to find the Blue Spider Lily and simply not die. And this? The unpredictability of it all?

Sometimes, he was unable to decide if he was drawn in by this or pushed away. It was all so alluring yet terrifying because he didn't understand it, he couldn't control it. And it somehow made it all the more captivating. From time to time, he was tempted to stray away. Try to keep Kokushibo far from him for as long as possible, to keep him out of his mind. To see him solely as another stepping stone for his plans. And yet—

And yet he found himself running back to Kokushibo like a lost puppy. In his mind, it was a weakness. Making him pathetic and stupid and—and it didn't even matter anymore. Not when Kokushibo was so close—a breath away—hand in hand—and—and it was all a wish, and it was all a wonder.

Love, was it? According to the thousands of books he had pored over, this was what it was called. He had been referring to it with this word but he had never truly understood it. In a way, every book described it differently. Butterflies, heart eyes, obsessiveness. The beauty of it, the enchantment. Or was it feeling a sort of connection, love at first sight? Soulmates? But what was it? It fit; it didn't. It was far too complicated for him, a poly of brains or not.

He tried to run away from it. It became far too much and over two centuries of pondering it only made him wish he had never realized it. Of course, it was more than that. The longing of it hurt him almost physically. He figured Kokushibo couldn't see him the same. Not the man with the cold exterior, with the stern voice and... and beautiful eyes.

Sometimes, when he went out, Muzan would wander through forests in the dim light of the moon. He would sit by a stream, running his hand through it, letting the water slip through his fingers. When he saw Kokushibo, he wanted to do the same with his hair, let the strands tangle with his hand, let it pull him into the man as if he wasn't already doing that from a single glance.

The intensity of this love was dubiously contradictory, making Muzan want to both run away and run to him, wanting to punch him for making him feel like this, wanting to fall into his arms. He hated it but it pulled him forward and he found himself ordering Kokushibo to his room in the Infinity Castle without thinking.

It was night. The window was open and the illusion of the midnight overhead—the castle was nowhere and everywhere—twinkled as if knowing something Muzan didn't. There was the faint echoing twang of Nakime's biwa before Kokushibo appeared, kneeling to a bow instantly upon his arrival. Muzan had him stand, had him walk over. Neither knew what he was doing. What was he doing? Was he insane? He must be.

His voice was calm, despite the nervous wreck of chaos in his mind. When he spoke, he kept his gaze on the desk, on the floor. He did not dare look at Kokushibo as words slowly slipped from his lips, pouring out in a rush like a tap of water flowing more and more as the handle turned. He told him about how he felt, going into explicit detail because he was unsure if Kokushibo was as clueless about this as he had been; as he was. When he let the final words leave his throat, he felt so exposed. An open book in Kokushibo's hands.

The silence became unbearable but he couldn't bring himself to look up. He had closed his mind, making an effort to not read Kokushibo's mind, to give him a sense of privacy. He was sorry he hadn't looked up, however, when he finally steeled himself for a small glance. Kokushibo's eyes were all wide, the golden pupils setting their gaze on Muzan. His hands were held awkwardly by his side, his cheeks flushing color into his pale skin.

There was a pause in which neither spoke. Then, wondering if he should clarify, Muzan cleared his throat.

"What I meant to say..." he mumbled, "I love you, Kokushibo."

More silence. He didn't understand. Was Kokushibo disgusted? Often, in the books he had read, the main lead and/or character seemed to tend to become a beet red. But it came from embarrassment and attraction, so what was it? Was Kokushibo embarrassed that Muzan was saying this to him and not knowing what to say?

For a moment, Muzan considered reading Kokushibo's mind. He needed an answer and he was growing impatient and feeling humiliated as fuck. He could always force Kokushibo into a relationship with him, but it felt wrong. It wouldn't be genuine and for some reason, that felt like it wouldn't soothe any of Muzan's longing.

In the end, he opted to give the Uppermoon the silently promised privacy. Instead, he spoke again, trying to urge a response from Kokushibo. "Could you respond?" he asked softly. "I will not punish any answer. You're free to say as you wish."

Kokushibo seemed to regain his composure ever so slightly at this and nodded slowly, letting out a breath. "Ah... apologies, master."

Muzan waited. He was forcing himself to be patient. He wanted an answer—needed one. But it wouldn't come with pressure. Besides, if the roles had been swapped, he was sure he would be as dumbfounded as Kokushibo was, so he couldn't blame him. Eventually, after another minute or two of endless anticipating quiet, Kokushibo drew in another breath to ready himself. Muzan glanced back up—he had been staring down at his hands, busying himself to ignore the rising humiliation that reddened his face.

"If I am understanding and interpreting correctly, you're telling me that you love...? me? And wish... to have a romantic relationship with me?" Kokushibo said slowly, more to himself as he tried sorting through Muzan's rant.

"Yes. You understood perfectly," Muzan agreed. In fact, it was quite a fine summary that could've saved Muzan a lot of time in the explanation.

Kokushibo nodded again, seeming to be pacing his own thoughts as if Muzan's weren't racing, too. "Am I to accept or decline?"

"...yes. You are at free will to reject the... question," Muzan said, unsure how to refer to it. Proposal? No, that sounded like a marriage proposal.

"Okay." Kokushibo considered this again, concentrating on his response. He seemed to always choose his words carefully, although that was reasonable given that a single wrong inflection in his tone could probably get him killed (by Muzan). "I would... like to accept."

This stunned Muzan, perhaps more than it should've. But then again, nobody had ever wished to be with him before. Not if you didn't count the masochistic bunch of demons he had, and even a great number of them feared him more than revered him. So Kokushibo accepting him—romantically, might he add—and agreeing to be in a relationship with him, which quite as much hinted that he reciprocated the feelings? Honestly, anybody would be surprised.

"Really?"

"Yes."

There was a moment of processing as Muzan contemplated his next actions. What the hell did couples even do? It wasn't like the books were all that helpful; many contained places far in Europe or America, in the sun, or just relatively unavailable things. But then, it was night. The stars were out and Nakime could simply teleport them to a place without light pollution. Silence was nice when it was comfortable, right?

He nodded to himself. "Kokushibo?"

"Yes, sir...?"

"Don't call me that," he said, more as an order.

"Yes, master."

"...or that," Muzan said with a sigh.

"Apologies..."

"You may call me Muzan, in other presence or not."

If Kokushibo was surprised, he did well in hiding it. "Of course, Muzan-sama."

Growing slightly irritated, Muzan ignored the suffix and let out a breath. "Would you like to accompany me outside?"

"Of course. I would... enjoy that," Kokushibo murmured. There was a hint of content in his voice and it gave Muzan more confidence.

"Very well." Signaling to Nakime, the two demons found themselves in an old building far from any large cities. There was the occasional glint of a lantern from the towns below the hill the building stood on but neither's attention strayed to the lights as they settled down by each other, sitting side by side.

Muzan gazed up at the sky, the stars flickering like the mirage in the window back at the Infinity Castle. This time, they seemed different. Proud, even. Of Muzan? Certainly, he was proud of himself. It wasn't even the fact that he had overcome yet another challenge before him, but the fact that Kokushibo sat only a foot away, his warmth radiating gently in the cool air of the night.

Muzan's hand was resting by his hip, propping him up. Slowly, it slipped towards Kokushibo as he lent his weight to the hand. It wasn't until Kokushibo's hand entwined in his own that he realized their proximity. They were mere inches apart and Muzan felt suddenly hyper aware of his hearts beating quickly. He was sure Kokushibo could feel his quickening pulse, wondering if the heat rising in his face was making the night air warmer. He leaned slowly to the side and his head grazed Kokushibo's shoulder. For a moment, he wondered if Kokushibo would recoil. When nothing happened, he let himself lean against the Uppermoon, feeling the tranquility of the night sooth him again. He let out a gentle breath, feeling the anxiety over everything leave with the exhale. He relaxed, then, for possibly the first time in his life, against Kokushibo. His boyfriend, now.

His eyes fluttered closed and as he sat there by Kokushibo's side, he felt a smile graze his lips. He understood, suddenly, even for just this moment, why humans seemed to go to impossible lengths to chase after love. It really did make it all worth it. Yes. It was worth the wait.

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