The bet {Doukaza} | [COMPLETED+ MOSTLY UNEDITED]

15

Douma paced in his room, ignoring the people requesting to meet with the man who could speak to the gods.

If he could speak to the gods, he'd ask how Akaza was doing. He probably knew the answer but he had to know. He desperately wanted to speak to him but was afraid that, if he even so much as approached him, he'd be given the same harsh rejection and be left off to the sun.

Honestly, he wouldn't blame anyone but himself if that were to happen. It was his own fault he'd fucked up his relationship with Akaza. His own fault he agreed to the stupid bet then let Hibiki get the better of him. His own fault for not explaining anything to Akaza and letting everything become a big mess.

Stupid. So fucking stupid.

Fuck the world.

He sighed, sinking to the floor, his eyes closed.

How would he fix it?

Could he go talk to him? Or would that be disastrous? He didn't know. He didn't know what to do. What could he do anymore? Hibiki had ruined this, had ruined everything! But it wasn't even Hibiki's fault anymore. It was all Douma's. He should've explained! Or called off the bet!

Argh, this was so frustrating.

Douma let the emotions brew inside of him. It felt almost nice feeling so desperate and furious. It was actually genuine and the only other emotions he'd ever felt so strongly before were his love and want for Akaza and happiness around him.

But just thinking about that made him fall into a pit of despair, slumping against the wall in defeat. He was restless; he was tired. He sighed, raking his hand through his hair, tousling the blond locks. Akaza had done that once, then complained about how messy Douma's hair had been. Since then, he'd been brushing it every now and then, properly with a brush, occasionally just running his hand through it.

It was calming, in a way. Made him concentrate on the tangled mess and worry about something like that, something insignificant and small, so contrasting to reality it soothed him slightly.

His eyes danced across the room, wondering what he would do.

He so desperately wanted—needed—to talk to Akaza. Like his whole life depended on it. He missed him, though they hadn't even been away for that long.

Perhaps he missed him, knowing that he may not ever be able to hold him again. Be able to love him openly, feel again. Akaza had helped him feel. Feel so, so much.

And perhaps it was selfish of him for a part of him to miss Akaza simply for his own benefit. But it was true. He had to admit it.

He loved Akaza with his whole heart—truly. And he needed him to see that to prove that none of this had been a lie. At least, not towards the end.

He stopped in his tracks, staring at the wall in front of him. He would have to do something. But what? Go to Akaza and beg forgiveness? Try to explain in hopes he would believe him?

Douma sighed, running his hand down his face. He was a mess.

Fine. He would go and try—try—to apologize.

____________________________

Akaza sat in the tree Douma had found him in countless times before, his knees drawn up to his chest and his hands covering his face. Douma approached him cautiously, hoping Akaza wouldn't leave.

When Akaza stayed, Douma carefully lowered himself onto the branch beside him, the silence between them spreading thickly.

"Ak...aza-dono?" Douma mumbled after a beat.