𝑳𝑬𝑺 𝑭𝑹𝑨𝑮𝑰𝑳𝑬𝑺 •𝒃𝒙𝒃•

who we want to be ~ 40

Gently, Shouto's heart beat against his own.

He didn't know for how long they sat there, but he didn't care much for time either way. To say that he was relieved would be an understatement. He was feeling like the whole world was within his reach. There was no harsh rejection, that was what mattered most.

On the other hand, there was no acceptance... but this was enough.

Both of them have a lot on their mind and Yuma wasn't expecting an immediate reply.

He was content with the silence and the closeness, with the way Shouto's hair felt soft beneath his fingers and the way he fully leaned against him. Softly, his breaths brushed against Yuma's exposed skin. He was solid and real and warm and what else could Yuma ask for? There's only so much selfishness he can express, there was no need for more of it.

The roughness of Shouto's shirt caught onto the band-aids on his knuckles, lightly pinching his skin as it pulled at them.

He ignored it.

The silence was welcoming and the pure intimacy of their position was somewhat startling. Never before had they been so close, so...

Shouto moved and Yuma instinctively tensed up, carefully moving his hands so that they weren't touching the other boy anymore, yet Shouto didn't pull away, he even shifted into a different position, one that somehow felt more comfortable. Soundless words left Yuma's lips and he put his hands back to where they previously were, only to feel Shouto relax against him.

He wasn't a selfish person by nature, but having the boy he liked in his arms made him feel bad for he wanted even more. He found himself struggling more, not with the fear, but with the desire, and to describe that desire the best he could... it was so tender and desperate that it felt like being torn apart.

For so long, he'd had very efficient defences put up, but Shouto didn't even notice them. It was as if those defences were only meant for other people, and Shouto had his own door to casually stroll through.

When they met, Yuma had nothing—he was left with nothing—yet Shouto kept on giving away piece after piece. How had he continued doing so when all that Yuma had was a never-ending abyss? How does on continue pouring more and more into something that cannot be filled?

Ever so slightly, he gripped tighter and tighter at the boy in his arms, afraid that he would somehow slip through his fingers.

And then, the sound of his ringtone pierced through the silence.

It was as if the bubble of comfort and intimacy around them popped, and the reality of everything sunk in.

Slowly, almost as if it pained him to do so, Shouto leaned away, expression hidden by his hanging bangs. Yuma hesitated, hands clenching into fists as the ringtone rang out again and again. The phone ceaselessly vibrated against his thigh. With a silent inhale, he stuffed his hand inside his pocket, ignoring the way the band-aids pulled at his skin when they caught onto the fabric of it, and pulled out the phone. The screen was lit up and the name of the caller flashed in bright letters: Chikara.

Swiping the screen, he turned his head away and spoke, "Yes?"

There was an immediate response, "Why aren't you answering the door?" She sounded a bit annoyed.

Typical Chikara.

Yuma hesitated once again, not really knowing what to tell her, "I'm out..."

"Huh...?" Chikara muttered, "You do realise it's almost time for curfew, don't you? Where are you?"