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It’s supposed to be fun. It’s a party, of course it should be fun. Sanemi had seemed so happy to go with him. Their first official outing with friends as a couple. He was a little excited too, if he was being honest. Spending the night with his boyfriend — he still can’t believe he can call Sanemi his boyfriend — just hanging out with the others and having a good time. They all deserve something nice like this. Of course it should be fun.
And yet, he can’t take it. Just as obviously as parties are fun, Giyū can’t stand them. Everyone else is happily chattering away, gathered in little groups, but he’s off to the side, next to the counter filled with random snacks and drinks.
It was going well at first. He was able to talk with the others for a bit, floating in and out of conversations. He listened to Mitsuri ramble about a new café that just opened, joked a little with Kyojuro about how long it took to finally confess to their respective boyfriends, and simply enjoyed being in Sanemi’s presence. For once, he felt like a functioning human. It was nice. But clearly, his mind had other ideas.
It crept up slowly, unnoticeable in the midst of such a social event. Normally he could catch himself, but this time it slipped past him and only made itself known when it was too late. Conversations start to layer over each other, becoming nothing but muddled, loud noise, and he can’t understand a single thing people are saying no matter how hard he tries to focus. He starts saying the wrong things, getting weird looks just for opening his mouth. His clothes just aren’t sitting right either; he can feel every seam and how wrong they are no matter how he tries to subtly fix them. The lighting in the room feels off too, somehow too bright and too dull all at once. That’s not even getting into the food and drink.
There’s no proper meal, and even with the small amount of food available, he only likes the onigiri. And it’s plum. He hates plum onigiri. He has to eat around the filling, discreetly spitting it into a napkin and throwing it out. And he can’t even drink most of what’s offered, so no option of using alcohol to drown out this hell. He doubts that would even work, it would probably make him even more keyed up if anything. So here he stands, apart from everyone else, feeling just about ready to die.
Maybe he can slip out just to get a breath of fresh air. People do that at parties sometimes, right? And he hasn’t been part of any conversation for a while now, he doesn’t think anyone even remembers he’s here, so he can just escape for a bit. Nobody will miss him anyways, he’s clearly hit a wall when it comes to proper party talk, so if anything they’ll be thankful to not have to deal with his awkwardness. It’s a win-win.
Giyū eyes the door that leads to Tengen’s backyard. No one’s even near it, so he really can just disappear. He casts one last glance towards the others, but they don’t seem to register his existence at all. As much as that stings, it’s perfect. He quietly heads towards the door, opening and closing it as silently as possible before sighing in relief. The air is crisp, a welcome respite from the stuffy rooms indoors, and the darkness soothes his frayed nerves.
He wanders over to the first tree he sees, letting himself drop down behind it so anyone looking out from the house can’t see him. The loud, grating chatter is nothing more than warm mumbles now, and he’s no longer surrounded by the horrible smell of alcohol. He can relax, just wait until Sanemi’s ready to leave, and then he can crash at home.
Ah, he probably should have at least told Sanemi where he was going. He takes out his phone, his hand hovering over Sanemi’s contact, but he can’t get himself to press it. Maybe he should just leave him be for now. Everyone else is really enjoying themselves, and Giyū’s fine out here by himself. He doesn’t want to interrupt and ruin their evening. But is it ruining their evening if he’s just letting his boyfriend know he didn’t up and run out on them? He can say he’s alright, just needs some time outside. But does that even warrant a text? Maybe it does if he doesn’t intend on coming back inside at all. If he does text, does that make it seem like it’s something urgent? It’s not, he really just needs out. But he can’t leave, he and Sanemi drove here together, in Sanemi’s car. He can’t just take his car. He can probably just tell him he’s worn out and needs to leave, ask for the keys and make sure Sanemi has a way back or that he plans on staying the night, but how does he even broach that? How does he do any of this without making it awkward? Every option feels clunky and wrong.
This is why he hates parties. He can be fine for a bit, but then cracks form and he can’t do anything about it. He used to always rely on Sabito to bail him out, to figure out the finer details of the social interactions so that Giyū could just hop on with him and leave tactfully without making a mess of it, but Sabito isn’t here now. And he really, really doesn’t want to mess things up. Any more than he already has, anyways.
Those confused glances still bounce around in his mind. Pauses in the conversations from him merely speaking refuse to leave him alone. Those moments build up in him, pressing against his spine, as if ready to burst out. Is it guilt right now that he’s feeling? Or shame? Merely awkwardness? How is anyone supposed to understand this when they all feel so similar?
Bad. That’s all he can say. He feels bad, awful, horrible, and he hates it. But he can’t do anything about it. He can’t talk his way out of it. Hell, he talked his way into this. He hates this. He hates talking, he hates parties, he hates how he can’t seem to grasp something so simple, he hates how everyone stares before ignoring him. Acknowledging his unknown faux pas but choosing to shame him, as if that will teach him instead of just telling him what he did wrong. Nobody ever speaks their mind, yet they want clear communication. He gives them clear communication, yet they joke and say he’s too blunt and honest. How do you be clear without being straightforward? How do these people function?
But is he really any better right now? He’s just avoiding his problem. He’s not being clear in the slightest. Sure, if someone asked him, he’d give an honest answer, but he’d rather hide away and not face it. Hiding in itself is rife with miscommunication. But he can’t help it, he can’t stop himself when he gets like this. But is that just an excuse? Maybe he should just try harder. But how can he try any harder? He feels like he gives every fibre of his being every day, yet that’s clearly not enough. And he’s giving even more now, but even that’s not enough.
He shouldn’t have come. He should have just told Sanemi he wasn’t feeling up to it. But, he was up to it, at least a little. He wanted to try, even if every attempt is always met with failure. He was too hopeful, wasn’t he? He should just be content with small talk at work, and going out for drinks every so often. He shouldn’t have tried for more. Wasn’t he always telling himself to be satisfied with less anyways? To just be content with whatever sliver of interaction people give him? And he is, most of the time. But he can’t help feeling lonely.
He can be surrounded by his friends, but still be totally alone. Does he even get to call them friends? Is he reading too much into it again? Do they just see him as a coworker to put up with? Do they just tolerate him, and that’s it?
He hates this. He just wants to go home. He wants his mind to shut up and leave him alone, but it won’t. And damn it, he can still feel every seam, and his hair isn’t falling right, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands or legs, the conversation from indoors is intruding even out here, he can see the light from the house interrupting the darkness no matter what way he looks, and he can’t find a comfortable way to sit.
He does his best to bite back tears. Really, crying over this? Stupid. He’s an adult now, he shouldn’t be close to tears just because he doesn’t want to be at a party. He’s acting like a spoiled toddler. Stupid stupid stupid, he should just suck it up and go back in. But can he go back in now, or would that be awkward too? Ugh, why can’t any of this be easy?
The shifting of grass jolts him from his thoughts, giving him just the push he needs to take a deep breath and wipe the tears from his eyes. The sound is as annoying as everything else, but he can at least be thankful that it gives him a chance to not seem like he’s on the verge of a breakdown.
“Giyū?” Sanemi appears around the tree, looking down at Giyū with an expression he can’t decipher.
“Hey.”
“Hey. You alright?” Ah, concern, that’s what it is.
“Fine enough. I just needed some fresh air.”
“You were gone for a while. I couldn’t find you anywhere, I got worried you just up and left.”
“Oh, no, no, sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. I didn’t realise I was gone for so long.” How long has he been out here for? It can’t have been more than a few minutes.
“It’s been half an hour. Half an hour since I noticed you went missing, anyways.”
“Sorry.” That bad feeling is back, even stronger now. Higher up now too, on his shoulders. Has it really gotten so bad so quickly?
“Hey, as long as you’re safe. But, are you okay?” Sanemi sits down across from him, his gaze boring into him.
“I’ll be fine.”
“That’s different from being okay.” He can’t answer. He feels Sanemi inch closer, and it takes everything in him not to lean away. “You’ve been crying…”
“Damn, is it that obvious?” He laughs a little at the end. It feels wrong, sounds wrong, but he does it anyway. It’s easier to make light of things than to let the reality of it set in.
“Giyū.”
“It’s not a big deal, really. I just, I got a little stressed, so I came out here, and I guess I just sort of stayed. It’s fine, I’ll be fine.” Sanemi stays quiet for a moment. It’s horribly awkward, but maybe it’s normal and Giyū’s just making it awkward. It wouldn’t surprise him.
“Can I sit next to you?” He nods, and Sanemi scooches over next to him, leaning against the tree. Giyū shuffles away a little to preserve his personal space. He really can’t be touched right now, that’ll just be another feeling on his skin he can’t get rid of until he either showers or his brain graces him with forgetting about it. Still, it stings to move away from him. He can see it in Sanemi’s face too, it hurts him. He hurt him.
“Sorry.”
“Nah, it’s alright. I get it, Genya needs tons of personal space too sometimes.” Sanemi pauses, gathering his thoughts. “So, what’s going on?”
“Exactly what I said, I just got a bit stressed. Overwhelmed, really. I thought I could handle a party, but no, I still can’t. I should have expected that though, autism doesn’t really mesh well with most social things. But that’s just what it is. A little bit of time and space, and I’ll be fine, so don’t worry.” He tries for a smile, hoping that will smooth away Sanemi’s worries, and maybe his own as well.
“Autism?” Shit. He didn’t even notice he let that slip.
“Ah, yeah. It— it’s not a big deal, though. I manage it well most of the time, just this time it… kind of got the better of me. I swear this is rare, normally I’m fine. And even then, this isn’t a big deal. Nothing life threatening, so nothing to worry about. Just managing whatever my messed up brain decides to do, it’s not that bad. It’s fine.” He’s not good at putting a deeper meaning to his words, but he hopes, he so desperately hopes, that Sanemi can tell he doesn’t want to talk about this. Not now. Not for a long time, ideally.
“Don’t say that.”
“Huh?”
“Don’t say your brain is messed up.”
“Technically, it is. That’s kind of the whole thing with autism.”
“No. Don’t say that shit.” Sanemi shifts to his knees, staring right at Giyū. Giyū’s used to annoyance, even anger, aimed at him. But this feels different, feels much more… bad, to put it simply, which is the best his mind can manage at the moment. That pressure on his spine comes back again, and all he wants to do is shrink away. Ah, guilt. This is definitely what guilt feels like, then.
“Sorry.” Sanemi sighs, and drops his gaze. Was he not supposed to apologise? What else do you do when you feel guilty? Is he already messing this up? No, he doesn’t want to. He just got with Sanemi, he doesn’t want to lose him. He never wants to. What did he do wrong this time?
“No, you’re fine. It’s… I don’t want you talking badly about yourself. I love you, you know that, right?” Giyū nods. “Right. And I can’t stand seeing the people I love talk so poorly about themselves. Okay, you’re autistic, good to know, but that doesn’t mean your brain is messed up or anything. And I don’t care about your technicalities, if those are the technicalities made by scientists then they’re bullshit and those scientists need to seriously reconsider how they phrased it.”
“Well, that’s not how it’s phrased officially…”
“But that’s how you interpreted it.”
“Well, yeah—”
“So their phrasing is shitty.”
“No—”
“You don’t need to defend bad wording just because it’s from professionals. Especially if it’s making you think worse about yourself.”
“That’s not—” Giyū sighs. There’s an itch at the back of his head, a growing frustration that he just can’t shake. He hates how foggy and jumbled it makes his mind feel; he knows he’ll lash out and he really doesn’t want to. But a small part of him does want to lash out, to be rude, to be harsh. Maybe Sanemi will listen then and stop cutting him off. If he’ll just listen to him for two god damn seconds…
“I’ll give you a scenario,” Giyū starts, giving in to the anger. “You are in a room with a group of people. Conversation slowly starts up. You see people doing something, so you copy them. But, for some reason, no matter how hard you try, there’s something off about what you’re doing. You’re doing everything right, as far as you know, yet the only reaction you get is odd looks and exclusion.
“Now, let’s say that by some miracle, you manage to not get immediately excluded. The things you’re doing, all the stuff you do that you see the others do, it feels wrong to you. No matter how much you do them, no matter how much effort you put in, it never feels right. So you copy people, but your performance isn’t right, you don’t feel right, but other people seem to be doing all of this just fine. They’re doing it right, from what you can tell they feel right doing it too. You’re the only one that’s not right.
“Now look at me and tell me in all honesty that you could go through that from the moment you gained consciousness until now and not think that your brain is messed up, or that you aren’t fundamentally broken.” Sanemi doesn’t speak. Instead, a sadness creeps into his eyes; it feels just as foreign as that new anger was, and it washes away that burst of anger, replacing it with guilt. Seems to be the emotion of the evening. “Ah, sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. Don’t– you don’t have to answer, I wasn’t being fair. I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright.” Neither of them speak. They sit quietly instead, letting the moment be. A calmness finally settles in Giyū, and a familiar nothingness fills him up. No more panic, no more guilt, no more swirl of emotions he can’t understand, just a simple presence. He exists, nothing more, nothing less. Anything and everything feels detached now, simply something that he picks up, looks at, discusses, then puts back down without any emotional investment. It’s familiar, calming. Just his existence. He’s okay with this. He can talk properly now.
“Sounds terrible, to be honest,” Sanemi says, finally breaking the silence.
“You learn to live with it. No other choice, really.”
“Fair enough.” A pause. “And you aren’t broken. I really hope you said that just because you were mad, not because you actually think that.”
“Can’t help thinking it sometimes.” That sadness finds its way back into Sanemi’s face, and it stabs right through Giyū’s heart. His nothingness is destroyed as guilt crashes back in, and he can’t help but wilt under its weight.
“Can I touch you?” Giyū nods. It feels like just about all he can do now. Sanemi inches closer, slowly reaching out until Giyū’s face is cupped gently in his hands. Giyū can tell that touch will linger, it’ll drive him insane as soon as Sanemi pulls away, but he so desperately wants to be held by him.
Sanemi tilts Giyū’s head so their eyes meet. Giyū wants to back down, to look anywhere but at him, but he keeps his gaze steady. He refuses to give in to himself. He’ll always give his best effort for Sanemi, even if that best effort is something as little as looking back at him when he’d rather disappear from the world.
“You are not broken. Even if you don’t see it or believe it, I promise, you are not broken. You’re not messed up, there’s nothing wrong with you, you’re just you, and I don’t see anything bad about that.”
“Really?” The single word cracks, scraping along his throat and dragging out a sob with it. “Ah, heheh, don’t mean to cry,” Giyū says, wiping tears away with the heel of his palm just for them to quickly be replaced. “That’s… mm… don’t know what I expected, but, that’s so… nice.” His voice grows more and more pinched before breaking, splintering and piercing the silent night. “You’re so nice…”
“I’m just being a decent human being. I don’t think that makes me extraordinarily nice or anything.”
“Mm… still…” Giyū nestles closer to Sanemi, resting his face in the crook of Sanemi’s neck and hugging him tight. He still feels every stitch on his clothes, feels how his skin just doesn’t fit right, and he absolutely despises how the hug just makes him more aware of it. But he can deal with that later. For now, he just wants to be held, even if it drives him crazy. He just wants that comfort, better than any blanket or pillow can give him; the comfort only a person can give him.
He both bristles and delights at Sanemi returning the embrace, wrapping him up in warmth and love. He wants to pull away and get his senses in check, but he never wants to let go. He wants this to end immediately, but is desperate for just a few seconds more. It’s hellish and heavenly and utterly infuriating, but he doesn’t let go. Not yet.
He sits in this limbo, basking in the comfort while doing his best to push away every unbearable feeling. He wants to appreciate this, to be content, to be okay. His brain won’t let him, but that doesn’t stop him from trying. He wants to be hugged now and for that to be okay, even if he knows that won’t happen. Not truly, anyways.
“Any better?” Sanemi asks. The question is enough to get Giyū to sit up and pull away from the embrace, both mourning its loss and celebrating the slight reprieve. But he can still feel it lingering on his skin, refusing to truly leave, which is a mess in and of itself that he refuses to acknowledge until he gets home.
“Better than before. But I think I’m done with this party.”
“Let’s go home then. It’s not like we’ll be missing much anyways, it was winding down when I came out here. Worst comes to worst, we get any highlights we missed on Monday.”
“Mm.” Giyū gets up, brushing away stray blades of grass stuck to his clothes. Sanemi follows suit, stretching as Giyū gives himself a final once over to make sure he didn’t miss anything. “Hey, Sanemi? How bad is it if I just go to the car while you tell everyone else we’re leaving?”
“How bad is it?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s not bad at all.” Sanemi gives Giyū a confused look. “A little weird, maybe, but not bad.” Giyū can’t help cringing at that. Weird won’t do. He can suck it up for a few more minutes. That’s fine.
“Ah, nevermind then.”
“Are you sure?”
“Mhm, I’ll be fine. Let’s just get this over with.” Mm, maybe he should have phrased that better. Sanemi doesn’t look convinced in the slightest, but he nods all the same and leads Giyū back into the noisy, stuffy, all around hellish house.
The warmth practically slaps him in the face when he goes inside, harsh and overwhelming and completely uninviting. Outside was cold, sharp but light and gentle. Warmth should be inviting after that, but instead he wants to run back outside and away from everything here. He doesn’t, but god does he want to.
The noise isn’t that much better either. There are still way too many voices talking at once, even if they may have gotten a tiny bit quieter than when he left. Everyone is relaxing now, though, sitting on chairs and the sofa. It’s technically calmer, but still so busy. He won’t have to deal with it for long, though. He can handle it. He has to.
Giyū follows Sanemi fully into the living room, standing awkwardly by his side and as close to the doorway as possible. Say goodbye, that’s all he has to do, it’s so simple, but he feels paralysed. He knows how, he knows what to do, but what if he was wrong, or what if he messes up? He feels so stiff and unnatural, so out of place, and he knows he’s just making it worse, but…
“Hey Tengen, Giyū and I are headed out.”
“Aw, already?” Tengen lolls his head back over the edge of the sofa to look at them.
“Look, you wanna wake up with a horrible hangover, that’s your choice. Me, I gotta pick up Genya tomorrow morning and I don’t wanna feel like shit.”
“Ah yes, responsibility. Well you have fun with that, see ya.”
“Yeah yeah, see ya.” Sanemi gives a quick wave before taking Giyū’s hand and leading him to the front door. Was that it? Did he even need to be there? Probably, but… ugh, nothing’s making sense anymore. It stopped making sense about an hour ago, and he’s just been stuck in this jumbled, messy, confusing fog since. Just emotions and random thoughts that for whatever reason can’t be pulled apart and broken down into easier to manage pieces.
The world starts to slip out of focus. Everything blurs and feels fuzzy, and he just can’t get his eyes to focus on anything no matter how much he tells himself to. How far out of his control did this get? When will he snap back and be at least somewhat capable again? Why does his body have to betray him like this?
“Giyū? Hey, you doing alright?”
“Mhm.”
“You look like you’re spacing out.”
“Mm, yeah. I just…” The world snaps back into focus, the blur vanishing and the rest of his senses no longer dulled.
“Just…?”
“Needed a minute, that’s all.”
“Are you sure? You really don’t seem alright to me.”
“I just got overwhelmed for a minute, and sometimes I blank out when that happens. I can get into the details of it all later, but can we please go home first?”
“Yeah… yeah, let’s go.” They walk to the car in silence, and Giyū can’t help but feel awkward. Again. Always and forever awkward. He really should have just stayed home.
He stares out the window, watching the streets go by, and the car remains silent. Normally he loves the silence, craves it and enjoys it after a long day, but now it just feels wrong. Everything feels wrong. Talking, not talking, just… everything feels like the wrong choice. But he might as well speak. Things are worse when he doesn’t. Or worse when he does. Or both. Oh, what does it matter? He’ll manage to fuck it up either way. Just speak.
“Thank you. For… everything, tonight. It means a lot to me that you’d sit and listen and help me with… all of this. I really appreciate it.” Silence follows, but Giyū expected that. He lets the words hang in the air and keeps looking out the window. The street lights are pretty, at least, and can keep him somewhat distracted. Warmly tinted, yet cold and artificial, speeding by too fast for him to fully focus on any single one.
He jolts when he feels the car come to a stop, noticing their tall apartment building out the windshield. He moves to get out of the car, but hesitates when he sees Sanemi stay put. Should he stay? Or does Sanemi want him to leave? Should he ask? Would that annoy him? Is it worth it? Probably.
“Sane—”
“I’m sorry.” Huh? “I didn’t mean for this to be a shitty night for you. I wanted us to have a good time, hang out with friends, maybe get a little too drunk but be able to laugh it off the next day. I didn’t… I never meant for you to be miserable.”
“I wasn’t miserable all of the time. I was having a good time at the beginning, I talked with the others, I… I don’t know, it was fun at the start. I had as much fun as I was ever going to have tonight. I just should have left earlier, that’s all.”
“Is that really it?”
“Pretty much. All I can do is manage my autism, and I’ve gotten decent enough at figuring out how to do that in most situations. You know, certain social rules that I can mostly execute well enough, catching sensory overload most of the time before it actually reaches an overload, so on and so forth. I might not be great at it, but I’m good enough that I have a social life.”
“Your bar is really fucking low.”
“Low expectations means I can only be pleasantly surprised. And I have been. I function well enough at my job, I have friends, and I have you.”
“That… that’s so cheesy oh my god.” Sanemi’s face turns red, and he looks away. Giyū huffs a small laugh.
“It’s true though. I know I don’t exactly show it, but you make me so happy. Happy isn’t even the right word; it’s too small. I… I don’t think I have the words for it, but just knowing you’re my boyfriend makes me so happy. Joyful. No, that’s not it. I…” There aren’t words for how he feels. It’s physical, blooming across his cheeks and bouncing around inside of him. A warm energy that pulls on his lips and makes him smile, something that makes him want to reach out and hold on and be touched and held. Something so all-encompassing that it can’t possibly fit in his body or be expressed with words.
“Giddy, maybe?”
“Maybe.” That’s not quite it either. It’s closer than happy, though. “But, simply put, you make me happy. I don’t care if simply having a boyfriend is a low bar for happiness, because it means so much to me. You mean so much to me. More than I can ever properly express or say.”
“I… god damn it .” Shit, what did he do? Did he talk too much? Should he not have said all that? Shit shit shit— “You’re so fucking sweet I can’t take it. Where did that even come from?” Oh? Is… is he fine, then?
“I just wanted to get my feelings across. Should I have waited for another time?”
“What? No, hell no, why would you?”
“I don’t know. I… thought I might have overshared or spoke too much or… I don’t know, done something.”
“Oh, no, no no no, you’re fine. I just wasn’t expecting you to say something so… well, sweet.”
“Ah, okay.” An awkward pause follows, and neither of them sit well with it.
“Is that also because of autism?” Sanemi asks.
“If it’s anything I do, almost one hundred percent chance it’s because of autism.”
“Almost?”
“If not autism, it’s depression, but I really don’t want to get into that right now. My brain is all messed up and that makes me act weird, that’s really all you need to know at the moment.”
“Don’t say you’re messed up.”
“Right…”
“I mean it.”
“I know, phrasing matters. Tsutako gets on my case about that too. It’s just… effort. And I don’t have the energy to give that kind of effort. Not now, anyways. I can on a good day. It’s just, now is not a good day. Or night, I guess.”
“Yeah… I’m still sorry it went south for you.”
“It’s fine, really. You couldn’t have known. I just need sleep. Lots of it. I’ll be knocked out until noon at least, I can already tell.” Noon is generous. More likely one or two in the afternoon.
“Good thing it’s the weekend.”
“Good thing.” Sanemi fidgets in the quiet between their words.
“And, you’ll really be okay, right?”
“Yes, yes, I’ll be fine. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” Giyū offers a smile. It still feels awkward and wrong, but it seems to finally soothe Sanemi’s nerves.
“Okay… okay, that’s good.”
“Is it alright if I go now?”
“Wha— yeah, yeah, of course. Go, sleep til noon. Rest up, get your energy back. See you tomorrow?”
“I’ll see if I have the energy. I’ll at least text.”
“Alright. Just don’t push yourself too far, please. I can wait if you need the time.”
“I won’t push myself, I promise. I’ll pass out before I even have the chance to anyways.” Giyū laughs a little to himself at that. He looks to Sanemi, hoping he’ll pick up the bit and run with it, but his face remains serious and Giyū wilts a little. “I’ll, uh, save the jokes for another time. But, thank you again for helping me tonight.”
“That’s what boyfriends are for. I mean, you’ve always been there for me with all of what’s going on with Genya, it’s the least I can do to return the favour and be there for you when you need me.” Ah, there it is. That fluttery, jittery, giddy feeling, bringing a warmth and gentle pressure to Giyū’s cheeks and finally pulling a genuine smile from him. It takes every fibre of his being to keep that joy contained to just bowing his head and fidgeting with his hands as he smiles like a kid opening a present on his birthday.
“I… yeah, I guess so… thank you…” That’s probably not what you say to something like that, but his foggy brain has been thoroughly short circuited now so he really can’t bother giving what little energy he has left to caring all that much. He’s loved, he’s so very loved, and he’ll bask in that for as long as he can.
“Let’s get out of this stupid car and actually go home now. You look ready to pass out right here.”
“I could…” He’ll stay in this moment forever if it means he gets to keep this feeling alive.
“Yeah, don’t. That’d be so uncomfortable for you, do you know how bad of a crick in your neck you’d get? And how cold it’d get? Home, bed, now.”
“Okay.” The cold air is sharp, piercing him through his clothes as soon as he steps out of the car. He huddles close to Sanemi, holding on to his sleeve and burying his face in his shoulder. Not the most comfortable thing to do, but he doesn’t care, not when Sanemi wraps an arm around his waist to keep him close.
The warmth of their apartment building is a welcome change, a soft blanket wrapped around them to keep the cold at bay. Giyū really could stay in each and every one of these moments forever. He appreciates every second, every gentle touch, every kind look. He knows he can’t stay in these moments forever, though, so he’ll treasure them for as long as he possibly can.
“Here we are. I’ll see you soon, yeah?”
“Mm, yeah.”
“Sleep well, and take care of yourself.”
“I will, don’t worry.” He leans closer, pressing a kiss to Sanemi’s lips. “I love you.”
“Love you too.” Sanemi shouldn’t be able to pull a smile out of him that easily, and yet here he is, smiling and happy and just absolutely consumed by his love for him. He rides that euphoria as they finally part for the night, letting it carry him to his room until the exhaustion catches up to him and he collapses onto his bed.
He’s utterly wiped out, mentally and emotionally gutted and physically unable to do more than lift his arms an inch or so, but the slight fuzziness of that pure joy stays with him. Tonight completely wrecked him, but Sanemi helped. He helped salvage what little bit was left and made it nice. It wasn’t a lot, but it really did help.
“That’s what boyfriends are for.”
Yeah, that’s what boyfriends are for. And Giyū is so glad Sanemi is his. Maybe he can let him help more. If he’s up for it. He should ask him some time, make sure he’s not asking too much. But he’ll do that another time, when his brain isn’t foggy and he can actually think coherently. For now, he’ll sleep, and revel in the love he’s been given.