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‑ˏˋ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ˊˎ‑
𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 sounded in Eijun's ears ― heavy and slow and taunting. He almost didn't recognize the rhythm of his own heart that beat in his chest until minutes ticked by. Staying silent, Eijun merely watched Kazuya with a blank stare as he sat on his bed.
Kazuya was chewing on his bottom lip, his fist pressed against his lips; he cautiously watched Eijun as though he were a deer in headlights ― ready to flee if the threat of danger presented itself. But he didn't have much time to wait around forever.
"Eijun?" he whispered.
He seemed to snap out of his shocked state, refocusing his attention on Kazuya and not on an empty space. "I don't think I understand."
"I'm actually glad you don't." A small, relieved smile spread across Kazuya's face but was replaced with a thin line as he stared out the window. Eijun followed his gaze, turning back when Kazuya spoke. "But that also complicates things a bit."
"Complicates what?"
He sighed before looking Eijun in the eye. "I have a confession to make, Eijun. And it's one that I took to my grave." He could hear Eijun gulp from where he stood. "But I need you to promise me something first. Whatever I tell you, I forbid you from thinking that it's your fault because it's far from being your fault. Can you promise me that you won't blame yourself?"
Eijun tried to swallow his nerves, but they stuck to the back of his throat to make his palms sweatier and had his heart crashing into his ribcage harder. The wrenching feeling in his stomach was trying to tear away at his insides. He could throw up any second; it was attempting to make him fall apart ― piece by piece ― but somehow, the fragile strings held him together long enough to let him nod slowly.
"No, Eijun." Kazuya dragged a hand over his face. "This is a promise you can't break. You have to keep it because what I need to tell you ― " He broke off his thought when he glanced at Eijun, nearly breaking at what he saw.
Fear.
Kazuya let out a shaky breath before biting down on his knuckle. There was no turning back once he began ― no turning back the clock that only ticked forward. Second by second, the clock ticked and not even Kazuya had the power to turn it back.
And how he wished he could.
"About two years ago" ― he closed his eyes, unable to watch as he was about to tear Eijun apart by the seams ― "was when we had our fight. I had brought up the idea to tell people about our relationship, but you were against it."
