Denial
Mar
05
“Early stages,” the doctor went on and Chuuya barely heard him, still stuck on such completely unexpected results.
It was his second annual hanahaki screening. Kouyou had insisted from the time he hit puberty that he use a fake identity and show up dutifully at the hospital a city over to get them.
He also wasn’t in love.
“There isn’t anyone,” he cut impatiently into the doctor’s rambling. “I’m not in love with anyone.”
The doctor blinked. “Well, you’re a teenager. It may be puppy love and go away.”
“Familial love?” he asked hopefully. Maybe it was Kouyou.
But no.
His mouth went dry, as if he were suddenly parched.
Saruhiko had seen Misaki without his shirts before, had yanked the collar down himself to see what was going on with the mark of Mikoto’s aura, but this was the first time since they’d reconciled that Misaki had tossed off all the layers aimlessly, complaining of summer heat, and padded barefoot into the kitchen to make dinner.
Saruhiko watched as he had always watched his friend, but there was definitely something different than just “summer” heat making him flushed and thirsty.
“What do you want?” Misaki asked.
Saruhiko shrugged. You.