"Sometimes when I need to think or just be alone. I wanted to share it with you." The fireflies danced around them, creating a magical atmosphere. Giyuus face was illuminated by their glow. "The stars are perfect tonight." Sanemi cleared his throat. "When I said I could make you cry. That you have a breaking point. Than you ask me: 'What if I already reached my breaking point?' What happened to you?" Giyuu's expression became more serious, his usual playful demeanor fading. He stared at the sky for a long moment. "My sister died in an accident. That was my breaking point." He poured tea, his hands steady but his voice quieter.
"But I learned to keep moving forward. Sometimes I still feel that pain, especially when I'm alone here." Sanemi was silent, processing this information. He remembered their earlier argument about breaking points.
"I didn't know." He looked at Giyuu with an uncharacteristic softness, then down at his hands. "I'm... sorry. For pushing you." Giyuu smiled gently and handed him a cookie. "You showed me your vulnerable side too, in your own way. That's why I like you." A shooting star crossed the sky, making Giyuu point up excitedly. "Make a wish, Sanemi." Sanemi made a wish silently, then looked at Giyuu.
"What about you? What did you wish for?"
The air between them felt different now - less hostile, more understanding. The fireflies seemed to sense the shift and hovered closer. Sanemi pulled Giyuu into his arms from behind. He nuzzles his face into Giyuu's crook. Giyuu leaned back into the embrace, surprised but pleased. He whispered. "I wished for more moments like this with you." The garden was peaceful, their breaths syncing as they watched the stars. Sanemi's usual rough edges seemed softer in this moment. Giyuu chuckled softly and reached for his phone. "Can I take a picture? Not for social media, just for us." He held it up, capturing their reflection in the moonlight. Sanemi peeked at the screen and sighed. "Fine. But if anyone sees it, I'll delete it." Giyuu snapped the picture and showed it to him.
"Look at us. Almost civilized."
The camera caught their subtle smiles, a rare glimpse of genuine connection. Sanemi noticed how Giyuu's eyes sparkled in the photo. "Almost. Don't push your luck." Despite his words, he didn't move away from the hug. A cool breeze passed through, and Giyuu shivered slightly. Sanemi instinctively pulled him closer.
"Getting cold? We should head back soon."
He glanced at the time, but seemed reluctant to leave the peaceful spot. Giyuu nodded but made no move to pack up.
"Just a few more minutes. I like how peaceful it is here with you." He pointed at a constellation.
"That's the one my sister used to tell me stories about." Giyuu nodded but made no move to pack up. "Just a few more minutes. I like how peaceful it is here with you." He pointed at a constellation. "That's the one my sister used to tell me stories about." Sanemi followed his gaze, then spoke quietly. "Tell me about her." The invitation was simple but meaningful. Giyuu's eyes widened slightly at the request, touched by Sanemi's willingness to listen. Giyuu began sharing stories of his sister - her laugh, her love for art, how she used to bring him here too.
"She would have liked you. Even if you're grumpy."
Sanemi listened intently, his usual sarcastic comments absent. The night grew deeper around them. "And what was her name?" Giyuu hesitated, then said softly. "Tsutako. She was my hero." He traced patterns in the air, like drawing her name. "I named the fireflies after her. Every time I see them, I think of her." A particularly bright one landed near them, and Giyuu smiled sadly. Sanemi reached out and gently caught the firefly in his hand, then released it.
"She's not gone completely. Not if you remember her like this." His words were surprisingly gentle, showing a depth of understanding beyond his tough exterior.
"And I'm not good at this emotional stuff, but... I'm here." Giyuu sighed knowing he need to tell everything. "I- I lost someone else too but... I am scared that you would be mad." Giyuu turned slightly to face him, his expression becoming serious again. "Who was it?" The question hung in the air as the fireflies flickered around them. Sanemi's jaw tensed, a shadow crossing his features. Sanemi seemed to understand the weight of the unspoken name. He took a deep breath.
"I won't get mad. I know what it's like to lose someone important."
His voice was gruff but steady. "Was he... special to you?" "My boyfriend... He was my boyfriend." Sanemi processed this information, his grip on Giyuu tightening protectively for a moment.
"I see. How long ago?" The stars seemed to dim slightly as the conversation grew heavier, but Sanemi didn't look away from Giyuu's face. Giyuu's voice became barely above a whisper.
"Two years. Car accident. I was driving." The admission seemed to cost him something, his shoulders tensing. Sanemi remained silent, giving him space to continue. After a moment, Sanemi spoke softly but firmly.
"It wasn't your fault. Accidents happen. You can't blame yourself forever."
He'd seen that guilt before in others, recognized the familiar pattern of self-blame.
"He wouldn't want you to carry that weight." Giyuu's eyes glistened with unshed tears, but he managed a small nod. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm allowed to be happy again. With you." He gestured vaguely between them, meaning their developing friendship and the way Sanemi was comforting him. "It feels like betrayal sometimes." Sanemi considered his words carefully, choosing them with unusual care. "He was part of your past. I'm... whatever this is now. Different people, different connections." He paused, then added.
"Sabito wouldn't want you to stop living. He'd want you to find new reasons to smile." Giyuu leaned his head back against Sanemi's shoulder, emotionally exhausted but somehow lighter.
"You're surprisingly wise sometimes, you know that?" A small, genuine smile returned to his face. "He would have liked you too. He was stubborn like you." Sanemi snorted softly. "I'll take that as a compliment. And maybe one day, you'll show me a picture of him."
He looked at his watch again. "We really should go back now. It's late, and I don't want to carry your sleepy ass all the way." Giyuu chuckled weakly and stood up, stretching.
"Fine, but only if you promise to make coffee tomorrow morning." He started gathering their things, the moment of vulnerability passing but the bond between them strengthening.
Sanemi stood up too, stretching his back. "Deal. But it better not be instant crap like last time." As they walked back, Sanemi kept a subtle protective pace beside Giyuu, ready to catch him if needed. The fireflies followed them briefly before returning to their nighttime dance.