meyers

Satoru's hand caressed his cheek, those blue eyes staring at him in a daze like an oasis in the middle of the desert. Toji felt it slide down his chest, squeezing, scratching, running down his torso with a mix of curiosity and lust. He grabbed him by the wrist when Satoru started touching his crotch.

"I'm not the fruit of a market, Satoru," he scolded.

"... sorry."

That was the horrible result of having ghosted his psychologist months ago, the same one he was forced to visit after the accident, because Satoru pressed himself closer to Toji, noticing how he finally put an arm around his shoulders; he thought Toji wasn’t going to fuck him and grab him by the neck, threaten to break his trachea, or make him gasp and whimper until he asked for forgiveness.

He wouldn't gently caress his back, running his fingers down his spine as if it were all a joke. Satoru shuddered at the thought of Toji leaning over him to whisper, “Are you crying, honey?” and kiss his tears away.

“I wish you loved me,” he whispered, closing his eyes as tears rushed down his face and his lips pursed to hold back a sob. His mind spun, his body feeling heavy and useless.

Toji tensed immediately. Oreo mewled.

“…but you would never agree to a date with me, would you?” Satoru continued, sniffling. “Because I’m an unpleasant jerk. And you don’t even trust me.”

And he didn’t say anything, the room remained silent as Satoru sobbed softly and struggled to stop crying. The bottle fell to the floor, but didn’t break. It was hard to break something that was already completely empty. Toji, what could he say, perhaps? That he didn’t plan on falling in love with anyone? That he had spent years bouncing between beds feeling absolutely nothing only to end up there, wondering if that was really happening? Could he say it was true he thought about him more than he would like, that he inspired tenderness and that he felt they had connected from the first moment? No, he couldn't. He had a lump in his throat, responsibilities. Satoru was a lost child, and he had more duties, like his own son.

Although Satoru was the person who had made him remember what it was like to not feel completely alone. He had the impression they were, somehow, on the same page, on the same side of the coin, or on the edge of it.

Balaclava, chapter 13

“Samurai don't have much life expectancy, unfortunately.”

"Yes, but Toji and I will be together for a long time." Satoru's voice became a thread as he realized what he was saying. “I want it to be like this. He has helped me... a lot.”

He pushed the vegetables aside, mashed them, put them under the rice in the bowl. The rice on his clothes was sticky and hot. He couldn't get much food out when it was just them. He had accepted he would go to sleep hungry.

Satoru became nervous when he noticed the silence. He looked at Toji, finding that he was looking at him too.

"His life expectancy and mine..." he frowned in anguish.

They were different.

Satoru was vaccinated against diseases that could kill Toji. He had developed resistance to viruses thanks to the fact that in his time there were enough means to make people survive and thus develop antibodies, while Toji would surely not have a second chance if something happened to him.

Perhaps Toji would die at thirty, while he would be able to reach ninety.

He was speechless, with a lump in his throat. The monk waited attentively for him to say something else. Toji looked at him curiously.

Suddenly, he wanted to pull his hair and cry. How weak. He was just a lost child without him, right?

“I really don't care if he's annoying or if he jumps on anyone who tries to get close to me. That doesn't matter," Satoru sighed, lowering his gaze. “He brings out the best in me and, without knowing it, helps me continue getting to know myself. I appreciate him.”

“I see.”

"I'm strong, but I guess I also like to be protected," he smiled to himself, pained by something that was only happening in his head. Nobody lasted forever. “I like him to be by my side and I wouldn't choose another, in the same way kids refuse to be cared for by a nurse who isn't their favorite.”

Toji felt sick when Satoru's hand brushed his under the table. It was a subtle, soft touch, enough to make his heart leap into his mouth.

Koi no Yokan, chapter 13

"My job is to make sure we both arrive alive, and yours is to make sure we're both okay," he reminded Satoru. “Don't forget. It's a matter of time before you get used to the hardest part, but I'll take care of that, and you'll stay safe, little prince.”

"I don't want to be just a weak little prince," Satoru protested, his voice quiet.

“Fantastic, I don't give a shit.”

Always the same. Satoru wanted to complain, to ask him to help him hone his skills, but he was completely speechless when Toji touched his head and then patted him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He frowned, not knowing how the hell to respond to that. It was the same thing he did with the fucking horse.

“Well, are you stupid?” Toji responded, with a grimace, as if it were obvious “Touch you to calm you down.”

“No... I'm not an animal.”

He had seen that gesture so many times that he felt horrible shame. However, he didn't move away. Tension filled his muscles and Toji looked at him with those jungle eyes, an undomesticated, feral animal that was clumsily learning what a caress was.

So Satoru took his wrist and moved his hand gently towards his face. Toji's hand delicately adapted to the shape of his cheekbone, his jaw, and those wild irises softened with a spark.

"If you want to touch me, do it like this," he told him, letting go.

His heart was pounding. His cheeks were dusted with reddish fruit and a handful of unbearable anxiety in his chest. He was choking in the proximity of Toji's body, his black hair falling across his forehead, framing a blood-weathered expression.

"You're warm." Toji moved his thumb gently, but not as gently as he touched his katana. It was different, velvety, forbidden. “Like... the Sun after the rain. It feels good.”

He ended up caressing Satoru's lips, while his gaze oscillated between that pink, half-open flower and sky-colored irises, eyelashes that fluttered with romantic confusion.

Koi no Yokan, chapter 11

"You've been looking like shit all morning," Toji pointed his finger at him accusingly. “You're supposed to be filling the silence with your nonsense, not pouting like a fucking moron. So cheer up before I decide to beat you up.”

Toji sounded so stressed it was comical. He left Satoru with his mouth open and a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Satoru had had a rude awakening and he couldn't stop thinking about the day before. But, it was true, he was the happy friend, right? The capricious and spoiled boy. It was his duty to act as such.

“Toji,” he called, drawing out the vowels of his name gracefully. He oscillated around the man, in his orbit. “Do you miss me when I don't talk? Do you feel distressed?” He bit his lip, flirtatious “Is a beating the only thing you’d give me? Because I think I need a massage right now…"

Toji moved to the side before he could latch onto his arm.

"Keep your nonsense away from me," he growled, turning his back on him.

Satoru surrounded him, laughing like a child with a prank on his hands. A pink patch stained the man's cheeks.

“But didn't you miss me? Wouldn't you miss me if I were gone?”

“Look, you know what? It suits you much better to be silent.”

“Did you just call me pretty?” Satoru touched his chest with his mouth open, feigning surprise “You finally admit it.”

Toji wondered what kind of monster had awakened in Satoru as the boy fluttered around, happy. He gave him a punch on the arm that was meant to be friendly, but Satoru stumbled and fell to the ground awkwardly.

Laughter built up at the back of his throat as he watched Satoru stand up with as much dignity as he could muster and dust himself off.

"You're mean to me," he pouted, offended. “Toji, you're a bad one…”

"Shut that mouth, for gods' sake," Toji rolled his eyes, hearing a laugh come from the other. “You are unbearable. I'd rather put up with you being drunk a thousand times than this.”

He could spend a lifetime annoying Toji just to see that expression. The way the scar on his mouth curled in annoyance and his eyes turned hard, gemstone green that focused solely on him. He could see himself reflected and find, deep down, a hidden bit of affection.

Koi no Yokan, chapter 11

And then, the usual. They were something like secret lovers, holding back the desire to continue throughout the night and the next morning as well. They connected like two damaged cables could, chaotically but, somehow, maintaining a meaning only they could understand.

Toji fell next to Satoru, both of them on that messy bed, a mess. Toji retrieved the cigarette and took a long drag, his bangs sticking to his face, his skin glistening, his bare chest heaving.

"You smoke a lot." Satoru smiled, looking like a movie star, snuggling up next to him and resting a hand on the center of his chest. “Can I?”

“Whatever you want, honey.”

Satoru propped himself up on one elbow and raised himself slightly towards the other. Toji grabbed his chin and joined his lips in a brief kiss, filling his mouth with smoke. Gray threads escaped everywhere, Satoru coughed and returned to his seat, listening to the man's hoarse laugh.

There was something different this time. It certainly wasn't that ashtray that Satoru had bought at a souvenir shop that said to the best father. Toji had wrapped his arm around his body, keeping him close and warm against him. And Satoru was happy like this, sleepy, tired and still trembling, with his cheek pressed against his chest and his legs tangled in damp sheets.

That kind of affection, real or fake, calmed his thoughts. It appeased the speed of his thinking, it was an analgesic for the real and imaginary world, it sent him to another place, a safer one. Then, Toji placed a kiss on his temple and everything was fine. Fixed up.

He couldn't ask him to stay. Toji wasn't his that night, or any other—he wasn't meant to be, in the first place. He would eventually leave and the feeling of loneliness would hit him like an unpleasantly wet cloth on his face.

"... Seems I'm left wanting more," he whispered, feigning disappointment.

“Hasn't it been enough?” Toji raised his eyebrows, looking at the ceiling.

“No. It hasn't been like other times…”

Just there. In the ego.

The cigarette is gone. It was crushed against the ashtray, crumpled and consumed. Abandoned.

“I'm sorry” Toji felt really bad at that moment. He thought he had acted selfishly, that he had only focused on himself because of how tired he was from work and everything. Of course, he was willing to make it up to him. “Tell me exactly what you want, Satoru. I'll make sure you never forget it.”

Satoru smiled. He always got what he wanted.

Balaclava, chapter 10

yikes

He pulled his legs up against his chest and hugged them, watching him silently. The way Toji delicately treated the tantō and polished it with gentle movements.

Suddenly, he wanted to jump on him and shake him. Grab him by the navy blue kendogi and make him wake up from that fucking automaton dream. It was stupid.

Since they had met, Toji had smiled a couple of times. He'd even laughed, dammit. He could swore he took care of him sometimes, and Satoru felt safe next to him. However, the rest of the time...

“Do you even have feelings?”

"I wish I didn't have them." Toji put the dagger back in its sheath and handed it back to him harshly.

“Why?” Satoru put the tantō to one side, attentive.

“Because weapons don't feel.”

Toji had always done his job well. Every mission had been successfully executed, every reward had been worthily collected. He had lost count of the murders, the robberies and the chases, of all the roles he had to play to get what he wanted.

They had raised him by tearing every bit of him out of him, just like they did with all the shinobi of Iga. Nothing mattered if it wasn't his job.

“Feelings, emotions, make you lose your mind and make hasty decisions. They consume you and then leave you stranded, because they are nothing more than an illusion. What you feel is not what you see," he explained. “It's a filter.”

Emotions never interfered with his work. Toji was the epitome of war in every sense. Violent, sarcastic and bloody. But—

“Are you worried about emotions?” Satoru interrupted, before he could send him to bed once and for all.

What a son of a bitch. Toji wanted to laugh. He had found himself the worst partner. He wished he were mute, so he couldn't say what he thought.

“Yes” it may have been the most sincere response anyone had gotten from him in years. He sat up, ending the conversation. “Now, go to sleep. Critters like you should be tucked in by now, don't you think?”

Satoru pouted. Toji noticed the pink watercolor on his cheeks

Koi no Yokan, chapter 9