It Must be Idiocy

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It must be insanity.

That was why Wakatoshi had a game plan; to show Tendo the early mornings and the faded rainbow flags hanging in windows and the couples which settled in the alcoves of the park to watch the fountain sputter.

That was why the fact that Tendo was inhuman didn't bother him in the least. Why Wakatoshi's eyes lingered on lips, stray strands of hair, and the constantly moving sinew and muscle beneath Tendo's skin.

He wasn't a complete idiot, though he'd never felt it like this before. He'd seen the way people behaved in Tendo's dramas. Irrational, lovesick, as Tendo called it, glee sparkling in his eyes. He was lovesick now, in the way that all those people had been. He even felt sick; feverish when they made eye contact for too long, his stomach doing flips when Tendo lay on him in the evenings, as he always did but now Wakatoshi was far more, far too, conscious of it.

The mornings came first, and Tendo followed him curiously out the door. He'd seen the whole city before, of course, but somewhere in him was a lingering hatred of the world and Wakatoshi wanted him to see past it more than anything.

"You didn't bring your volleyball." Tendo pointed out as they neared the park.

Wakatoshi chuckled, "why wait until now to tell me if you thought that was my intent?" He said.

"Then why are we here?" Tendo asked. Wakatoshi frowned. He wasn't sure if he could give a straight answer.

"I like this," Wakatoshi settled for, "other than volleyball."

"Oh." Tendo looked at him for a long moment, and Wakatoshi nodded to the sky. "Just... the morning?"

"Yeah..." It seemed kind of stupid now he was actually thinking about it, but Tendo sat down on the dewy grass and patted the place beside him.

Wakatoshi had dragged Tendo outside early, so there were few other people around. The park was wild enough to remind him of home and the sun was just rising, the remnants of the fiery dawn still painted on the sparse clouds. Even the air

"I've been thinking," Tendo said after a long moment, "about what I wanted most before I died."

Wakatoshi turned to watch him. There was a lot to see on his face, and Wakatoshi often felt like he missed most of it.

"I think I wanted someone to love me." Tendo drew his arms into his chest.

"What happens if they do?" Wakatoshi asked, breath catching in his throat.

"I'll disappear, I suppose," Tendo said.

Wakatoshi found himself nodding, the thought a disturbing one. Suddenly he wondered how love was defined, if it had to be said out loud.

"How did you die," he found himself asked, though he didn't want to know the answer.

Tendo shrugged, "I moved out when I was fifteen – my Dad threw me out. I made it several years but I still wasn't streetwise, apparently. I went home with a man, the wrong man, although at the time any man was the wrong man."

He did not offer any more detail.

"I'm sorry," Wakatoshi told him and hoped the sincerity showed in his eyes as much as he felt it. He'd been told he was difficult to read.

"Yeah, it was... well... it was a long time ago."

"It still happened, and it shouldn't have."

Tendo hesitated a long time before agreeing. Wakatoshi wanted to shake him into submission because Tendo had to know that it shouldn't have happened at all. All he could do was hold Tendo's gaze and wait for him to nod again.