☯ the feel better date with tatsumi :')
drabble meme ! | accepting
Tsuzuki turns his head to meet the sound of Tatsumi’s voice. The shop is warm and bright, and the two of them stand almost a head taller than the sea of teenage girls. Tatsumi’s broad shoulders are silhouetted against the lit-up display case as he pores over the contents inside.
“The famous Yojiya brand aburatori paper,” Tatsumi says in response to Tsuzuki’s questioning look. He holds it up; a simplified cartoon of a woman with a vacant expression serves as the shop’s logo, staring soullessly back at him.
“Hey, Tatsumi…” Tsuzuki finally speaks up, feeling more and more out of place as beautiful young women brush past him on their way to sample different perfumes. “What are we doing in a place like this?”
Tatsumi compares two different versions of the same product. To Tsuzuki, they look identical. “Isn’t it obvious, Tsuzuki-san? We are shopping. Shopping.” The repetition is slow and deliberate, like scolding a small child. “When I said I was going to Kyoto in place of Gushoushin, I was flooded with requests for souvenirs. This was requested by our female employees.”
“Yeah, but…” Tsuzuki waves a hand uncomfortably as though that’ll help him put words to the discomfort he’s feeling. “Two male friends in suits… out shopping together… It’s gross.” His face heats even thinking about what other people might see; yet, despite his worries, it doesn’t seem like the young women surrounding them are paying much attention at all.
Tatsumi walks him to the register. “I use this merchandise as well. An eyeglass cloth would be fine.”
Their total comes to 5,760 yen. Tsuzuki looks at the total on the receipt in mild bafflement – if he’d spent close to 6,000 yen on souvenirs out by himself, Tatsumi would have his head. The door chimes when they leave the store and the crisp air makes his face flush again.
“Tatsumi, I’m fine now, aren’t I?” Tsuzuki jogs the few steps to catch up with Tatsumi’s stride. “I’ve got to get back to work.”
“You won’t, Tsuzuki-san. You’ll be spending today with me.” Tsuzuki feels the familiar touch of Tatsumi’s fingers on his upper back, between his shoulder blades. His heart skips.
“I’m not finished shopping yet.” A soft smile, and Tatsumi’s touch disappears as quickly as it had come. “And since it took me so much trouble to come here, I’d like to do some sightseeing as well.”
Tsuzuki sighs; he thinks of Hisoka and wants suddenly to be close to him. It’s not a new feeling by any means, but it’s distracting. The worry he feels makes it difficult to enjoy the day.
Not to mention last night. Hisoka had seen him like that, on his knees and terrified and halfway out of his own body. What will he tell Hisoka the next time they meet? Is he going to pretend it never happened, business as usual? Will Hisoka address it even if Tsuzuki doesn’t?
(Muraki had known. It’s like he’d seen straight into Tsuzuki’s soul and knew exactly what strings to pull to get him to collapse.)
“You’re not a child, so it’s all right for you to go alone, isn’t it?” Tsuzuki’s voice takes on an edge of desperation. “And if it’s sightseeing, we’ve already gone around and around with Watari the tour guide.”
“You may have, but I have not,” Tatsumi reminds him, suddenly cold and firm. “Stop making excuses and accompany me.”
That sharp glare makes his blood freeze. Tsuzuki nods, saying quickly, “Okay, okay,” with his hands up like he’s surrendering. Maybe he is.
But his agreement makes Tatsumi perk up like a happy little kid in a candy store. “Right! Next let’s buy Kitayama sweet potato, and the senmai-zuke of Daitou that the Chief asked for. Afterward, we’ll go to see Kinkakuji… Ah! Let’s pay a visit to Fushimi Inari as well.”
“Aren’t those all related to money,” Tsuzuki mutters under his breath, at which point Tatsumi turns and pinches both of his cheeks until he agrees to stop complaining.
“Once we’re done,” Tatsumi continues, “let’s have Chionin’s imobou for lunch. We already have a reservation for dinner.”
That makes him pause. Tsuzuki stops rubbing his sore cheeks to look at his friend in surprise. “Really?”
“Mm. Enjoying the autumn hues of Kodaiji at night… and partaking in cha-kaseki in the Shimogamo tea ceremony room. It’s a perfect plan.”
“Shimogamo tea ceremony room?” Tsuzuki repeats, suddenly unable to curb his enthusiasm. That costs a lot of money; in fact, he doesn’t recall the last time he ever partook in something so expensive, if in fact he ever has. “Then can I have Kyo-Yuba too?”
And Tatsumi seems almost happy to be doing this, not berating him about his spending habits, keeping him pleasantly distracted from the dark, destructive void swirling just under the surface layer of Tsuzuki’s calm.
“Yes,” Tatsumi says with a smile. “If you wish to.”
Tsuzuki’s mind races with thoughts of expensive foods he’s never gotten the chance to try, of the changing leaves, of Tatsumi’s kindness in the way he looks at him – not like he’s a monster or something to be feared and hated, but like he wants him there, if only for now. Tsuzuki knows better than to want this again, this only always. They had their chance and failed. But Tsuzuki cannot stop himself from linking their arms, leaning against his former partner (former lover) heavily, affectionately, excitedly—
“Thank you, Tatsumi!” He means it. Gratitude wells up inside of him and spills over until the next thing out of his mouth is entirely instinctive. For a split second, it is 1945, and they are both younger in spirit if not in body, and Tatsumi wants him still. For just a moment, the world around them bleeds away and it is just the two of them, two men in out-of-date suits, clinging to the what-might-have-been.
Without thinking, he blurts out, “I love you.”
He blames it on the blind enthusiasm, on his appetite, on anything but the sudden touch-starvation he feels, that urge to be close to someone, anyone. He presses his face into Tatsumi’s shoulder and buries a grin there like he won’t regret these words later. (He won’t. There is nothing to regret. They had their chance and failed, and now they are starting anew, as something different, as something softer and stronger. Not lovers, but friends. Always friends.)
Tatsumi says nothing, but as they walk, Tsuzuki swears the affectionate hold on his arm subtly tightens.
