Obanai rested his head against Giyuu's chest, the warmth of their closeness grounding him in a way that nothing else ever had. The soft rustling of Giyuu's haori as Obanai absentmindedly played with the fabric was the only sound in the quiet room. It had taken so much time for both of them to get here, to this fragile but precious place where silence didn't feel uncomfortable. They shared more than just quiet moments; they shared wounds, scars that ran deeper than any blade. They understood each other in a way that words couldn't always capture.
"So you hated me?" Giyuu's voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the calmness like a ripple in still water. He never spoke much, but when he did, it was always deliberate. His words, like his emotions, were carefully measured. Obanai, still snuggled against him, didn't respond right away. He let the words hang in the air, considering them as his fingers continued to toy with the hem of Giyuu's haori, feeling the familiar texture under his touch. He didn't hate Giyuu — not really. But there had been something about him, something that always unsettled Obanai, pulled at him in ways he couldn't explain.
"I... didn't hate you," Obanai finally said, his voice soft, almost fragile. He paused, his fingers stilling for a moment. "You just... irked me in some way." He couldn't even put it into words. Giyuu had always been this quiet, unreachable figure, someone who carried so much pain and yet never let it show. It had frustrated Obanai, seeing so much of himself in Giyuu but not knowing how to reach him. It had stirred something in him that he didn't know how to deal with.
Giyuu stayed quiet, his fingers slowly combing through Obanai's hair, a gentle and repetitive motion that calmed Obanai's restless thoughts. Obanai let out a small sigh, as if what he was about to say cost him some of the pride he held onto so tightly. "Maybe I did hate you," he admitted, his voice quieter now, the weight of the confession pressing down on him. He looked up at Giyuu, their eyes meeting, and for a moment, the world outside them ceased to exist. "But all of it was just an excuse to talk to you, or about you." The shy smile that crept onto Obanai's lips softened the sharpness of his words. It had always been more than hatred, more than irritation. Giyuu had unknowingly consumed his thoughts, made him feel things he had long tried to bury.
Giyuu's hand paused for a moment in Obanai's hair, as if taking in the weight of the admission. Then he resumed, his fingers threading through the soft strands again, his touch so gentle it almost made Obanai melt further into his chest. Giyuu was silent for a long time, as he often was, processing, feeling, but not always saying. And then, finally, with a rare trace of warmth in his voice, he whispered, "I'm glad you hated me so much." There was no bitterness, no irony in his words — only the quiet gratitude of someone who understood how precious their connection had become. The quiet that had once kept them apart was now the very thing that drew them together.
Obanai's grip tightened slightly on Giyuu's haori, holding on as if letting go would somehow undo the years that had led them to this moment. He closed his eyes, his head still nestled against Giyuu's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It had been hard for both of them — life, love, survival. They had both lost so much, endured so much pain, but they had found something in each other that softened the edges of that suffering. They shared a deep, unspoken understanding. Their scars, both visible and invisible, were like mirrors of each other's pain. But here, in this quiet moment, they weren't alone in that pain anymore.
"I'm glad too," Obanai whispered, his voice barely audible as he pressed closer, the weight of his own heart easing just a little. The world had always been cruel to them, but for the first time, it felt like they had something the world couldn't take away. Something soft, something warm. Something like love.
