A Confession

"Why am I not drunk?" Takumi wondered.

"You are," Keigo informed him drily.

"No. I haven't passed out. Doesn't count."

He was still awake, which meant that he was acutely aware of every single sickened suffocation spreading within.

Keigo rolled his eyes and helpfully poured another glass for him.

"You aren't asking questions," Takumi accused, taking another swig.

"You can tell me if you want to," Keigo said evenly.

This was a friend who probably didn't even know what a human connection meant. Keigo thrived on the chase and hated being tied down to anything.

Takumi was too tired to care. He confessed miserably.

"I'm in love with someone."

The look of shock on Keigo's face, which was rare, made Takumi all the more angry.

"I shouldn't be. But I just can't let him go. Damn it."

"Have you told him?" Keigo asked.

"No. Not possible. I'll just lose him completely." Takumi downed another glass. The mere thought of losing Akira was enough to set his heart in a panic. No, that must never happen.

"It's not me, is it?" Keigo quipped.

Takumi glared. "No, it's not. Your ego is a turn-off."

Keigo shrugged. "That's just too bad. What sort of person is he?"

A million thoughts and pictures flashed in Takumi's mind. Precious memories he stored. All the times Akira held him together. The joy he had when he made the usually taciturn man cracked a smile or laugh.

"He's dependable, smart, expressionless. A quiet idiot," Takumi gave a humorless laugh. "That's it. I'm in love with a quiet idiot."

"What happened tonight?" Keigo asked.

The question depressed Takumi. "I think he's getting married."

"Is that a fact?"

"I THINK, damn you. But there's an offer," Takumi muttered. "He'll be stupid to turn it down."

"You are sure it's not me?"

Takumi lost it. "I just told you he's dependable! Quiet! Which damn part of you is quiet?"

"Fair point," Keigo conceded.

Takumi knew what Keigo was trying to do, in his own way.

"Stop trying to make me feel better. Just make sure I don't throw up over my couch."

"As you command," Keigo noted wryly.

Takumi's glass was dutifully topped up as they drank mostly in silence for the next hour. Keigo, for all his arrogance, kept his mouth shut. He knew what Takumi needed. A moment to wallow in the sadness and with the hope that oblivion would claim him.

By the end of it, Takumi was vaguely aware that he was indeed inebriated, but the devastating feeling wouldn't leave.

It just wouldn't go away. Dear god, he needed it to go away.

"Fuck, Keigo. I want to forget him."

"Clearly not possible," Keigo murmured.

"Why not? What's so damn great about that fucking idiot?"

"Apparently a lot," Keigo commented.

That was true. It was Takumi who was fucked up. Akira was everything that was right and good. His next words were light but inside, Takumi wanted to cry.

"No, you're right. I take that back. Not his fault that he's awesome. Fucking nice body as well."

"Perhaps you should call your quiet idiot and tell him," Keigo suggested.

"That he has a nice body?" Takumi was confused.

"No," Keigo explained patiently. "That you love him."

"What do you know about love?" Takumi shot back and then groaned. "Sorry, no offense."

"None taken," Keigo assured him. "It is the logical move."

"What if he hates me?" Takumi whined but a bit of recklessness seeped into blood. Suppose he could lay the blame for any actions on alcohol? Suppose he could throw years of friendship out of the lovely ceiling high windows adorning his apartment?

"Then you can move on."

Takumi took another gulp of the alcohol and picked up his phone from the table. Something about tonight, about the possibility of having to watch Akira walking down the aisle with an equally perfect heiress, and him having wish them well, drove Takumi over edge that he was always hovering over.

"You know what, you're right."

He dialed the number he committed to memory.

It was picked up soon after.

"Takumi?"

The unfailing quiet voice he adored. Takumi's eyes watered when he pictured the man on the other end of the line.

He broke.

"HEYYYY! I love you! You hear that? I fucking love you! I've been pining for you for YEARS. Because of you, damn you, my sex life is fucked up! So take the fucking responsibility for what you've done and love me back already, you idiot!"

All these years of pent up emotions. The sheer will he had to hold onto sometimes not to throw himself at the man. The depressing knowledge that no matter how much he loved Akira, he would probably never be anything more than a best friend.

Takumi hung up and threw his phone onto the couch.

"There. Done," he announced almost proudly.

Keigo stared at him in shock.

Then it hit Takumi what he had just done.

His blood iced over and his heart stopped a beat.

Petrified.

"Oh shit! Fuck! What have I done! Oh my god!"

"Not quite what I had in mind," Keigo muttered under his breath.

"It's over. I've fucking screwed it up. Well, at least I can move on, right?"

Takumi buried his face in the pillow and started to laugh hysterically. No coherent thought in his mind. The sheer horror of what he just did.

Stupid. Idiot. What would Akira say?

Could he disclaim everything?

A stubborn part of him asked why should he? It wasn't wrong for him to love Akira.

But you are wrong for him, a voice of sanity called out.

Keigo picked up a call on his phone and was speaking to someone. Probably Akira.

Takumi hugged the pillow and sobbed.

When Keigo returned, he poured another glass for Takumi, who downed it in an attempt to pass out. Hoping to escape now was cowardly but he was not going to fake brevity.

He didn't know how much time passed. Everything hurt. Everything hurt so damn much.

He could hear the doorbell rang but everything around him beginning to feel like a dream. Hazy and unreal. Keigo got up.

But he didn't return. Someone else did. Takumi hugged the pillow tightly.

"Takumi," Akira's quiet voice cut through the haze of his drunken stupor.

For a moment, he could see the face so clearly, looking at him with concern.

"You came," he managed, aware that his voice was raspy and shaking. He was a mess.

He had always been such a mess. There was a part of him which was so cold that Takumi sometimes wondered if he was missing a part of his heart. Then whenever he was with Akira, that part woke up and went into overdrive, as if released from a cage.

"Of course I would," Akira reached out and brushed through his hair.

A simple gesture. Takumi hadn't touched him for so long.

Takumi threw his arms around him and cried. He didn't care if he was pathetic. At this moment, he didn't care what would come tomorrow.

"Idiot," Akira's murmured. "I told you, I'll always be here for you."

Similar words. A long time ago. Akira had held onto his word since.

He would always be here for Takumi, whoever he married or ended up with. That much, Takumi knew.

If only he could be contented with only that. If only he wasn't greedy for more. What right did he have?

"I'm sorry," he drew back and whispered. "I wasn't thinking. I…."

His vision swirled and Takumi felt light-headed. He gasped.

Akira steadied him. "Close your eyes. We can talk later."

Takumi allowed the darkness to claim him. The last thing he remembered was a pair of arms scooping him up, holding him close.

And all he could think of was, please don't ever let me go.