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kyo drops his bags to the ground with a loud thud, a deep sigh pushed out of his lungs, heavy and wrung out. the tour wasn’t only a mess, but a disaster. An embarrassment, a wreck. A fuck up so horrible even the crowd wouldn’t cheer besides those in the front.
his mind would drift back to small fragments of the show, his minds usual way to fuck with his mood. His eyes would catch the crowd—dull, uninterested. And he was almost overwhelmed with the feeling of wanting to disappear from the stage—once the show was finally over and they all stepped away, tears wet his eyes, hurried and stinging.
withal, he can’t be bothered to talk to anybody, let alone share his feelings with others. The familiar feeling of failure, defeat, and self loathing is where words fail.
His movements carried a sharp edge, every gesture tight with restrained anger. His glare was heavy, almost vicious, and his eyes shimmered as though they might spill over at any second. He dragged a hand through his dark hair, releasing yet another weary sigh that dissolved into the quiet around him.
The quiet seemed louder than the gentle ticking of the clock, heavy with everything untold—until a voice sliced through. Calm, steady—unfamiliarly gentle. “Hey, everything alright?” Die asked, his tone laced with concern, impossible to dismiss.
for a brief moment, kyo was quiet, thinking through how he wanted to answer, he was beyond exhausted, his anger flared up into something abstract that sunk profoundly into his chest, So dense and stubborn. And murmuringly, he responds, “I’m okay.”
Die sensed his frustration in his laboured breaths, in his efforts to utter anything, in his wilted face, in his sharp movements.
he wished he could cradle his heart and kiss it’s obstacles and hassles away. But he knew there was little to no space in his suffocating, tightened heart.
“is all you do lie?” He teased, his grin was able to vivify an entire room, which earned him a small, yet noticeable smile from Kyo.
“shut up,” he uttered, however, the reprimand didn’t convey any pierce—only his usual mischief.
The taller man drifted a few steps closer, folding his arms as a warm glint of affection lit his eyes. “Come on,” he murmured, nudging his shoulder gently. “What’s going on?”
He already knew the shorter man wouldn’t give in easily—answers were never handed over so simply. He knew him well. Still, that didn’t stop him. If it took teasing, nudging, or relentless spurring, he’d find a way to coax the truth out of him.
“I’m fine, really,” he responded, There was a weight in his chest that language simply refused to convey. It lingers, quietly and immensely. his feelings were too vast to bleed into syllables.
He’d search for the right words the way someone might try to rescue themselves from drowning, in between life and death—but death tugs the rope harder. everything he captured felt petite, fragile, incapable of moulding the shape of his profound emotions. So the feeling remained—dense, unyielding, and aching—dwelling in the hollow of his chest, and in the depth of his scars. Where he chose his sorrow to dwell, when silence seemed to understand it more than speech ever could.
deliberately, a pair of two warm hands slither onto his waist, drawing him closer until the gentle brush of warm breath ghosted along his neck, a shiver rippling down his spine. “Come on,” he murmured, tightening his brace. His soft lips hovered delicately by his ear, the words scarcely more than a breath.
Kyo didn’t protest. Instead, he softened into the embrace, a tranquil, relieved sigh slipping from his lips. His hands drifted upward, looping gently around his neck as he tilted his face up to meet him—and die didn’t hesitate for even a heartbeat before the distance withered between them, colliding his lips with his.
Their kiss was flawless in the stillest way. No haste, or hunger—only their lips converging like a measured vortex, tasting and intertwined in warmth with a kind devotion. Of when he enveloped his arms around his waist, it felt less of an embrace. and more of a pledge, an assurance. as if he could perceive what is unvoiced: "your heart will never need to endure this worlds grief alone, and you don’t need to wander in this world as if submerged and sunken in feeling. I’ll carry your heart that still beats for the loss."
their lips unhurriedly departed, The sudden absence of touch left him vulnerable, aching, craving more. And without missing a heartbeat, he could feel warm tears glide down his cheeks without permission. he could feel his face heat up in a scarlet tint, and quickly, he shifts his head with rue.
die furrowed his eyebrows with concern, his grip once so firm, now uncertain. loosened their hold around his waist, and he muttered softly, "hey ..what’s going on?”
“it’s just.. so stupid—“ he mutters, tears blurring his words and making them almost inaudible. "the sound engines weren’t working— it was horrible,” his voice squelched, holding his two hands to his face as if to save himself from falling apart, that familiar feeling of humility creeping up his spine making him feel raw and vulnerable, if anything else were to unravel, he may as well shatter.
“Oh, kyo,” he muttered, his tone laced with a kind of ruth, he secures his arms looped around his waist once again, in a way to reassure him, a promise to soothe his restless mind. But seeing the one he cherished most crumple in despair, tears gliding down his face, tore at him in a way where words failed. “Better days will come," he murmurs softly, though his heart ached with doubt.
Kyo descended his hands from his tear veined face, and die carefully cupped his face with profound tenderness, serenity dancing onto his fingertips as he wipes them away unhurriedly with sentiment. the glide of his thumbs as soft as the clouds, before he draws his face forward to plant another kiss gently against his lips.
Kyo didn’t inveigh, rather, he swathed his hands around his neck slowly, drawing himself closer until the distance between them faltered, fitting incomparably so with the taller man like he’d always known how.
And as die’s hand found excuses to wander aimlessly under the fabric of his shirt, Kyo tipped his head just a fraction, spine curving into the warmth and tenderness of his touch. His hands cruised reverently, tracing each line and curve as if he were following a guide—every path felt familiar, every destination renowned.
his hand wandered—drifting to his hip, then daring a deliberate descent. Then his restless fingers settled back up with quiet confidence, as though they had always known their place. His thumb traced slow, synchronized circles along his back reverently.
Gradually pulling away from each other, their tongues left a string of destiny, breaking onto his chin, and die didn’t waste a tick to wipe it off slowly, “die," Kyo began murmuringly, his eyes lucent with a kind of gratitude and reverence. "I- thank you ..for being here,” he utters as he averts his gaze. a light scarlet hue tinting his cheeks.
He gazed at him with a fondness reserved for no one else. with a devotion that bloomed quietly in the spaces between heartbeats. his fingers ran lazily through his hair, holding him near, sheltering him from the world. “No need,” he murmured, a faint shake of his head, “I can’t bear to see you shatter. I know the weight feels heavy… but maybe, kyo—someday, things will get better.”
With a gentle nod of his head, kyo relaxed into the warmth of his embrace, soft, writhing gestures traced his back, a sorrowful lullaby. each curve a whispered, fragile pledge. each touch a quiet hymn of reassurance.