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A chilly autumn night brings Azuma to sit alone outside on the balcony of Mankai’s dorms. It’s late and most of the members are fast asleep in their rooms. Azuma’s not sure why he’s out here. He traces the rim of his half-empty wine glass. The sliding glass door startles him suddenly and he shivers from the cold.
“There you are,” Chikage says, stepping out into the crisp air. Azuma smiles at him. The Harugumi member approaches, a blanket and empty wine glass in hand.
“You were looking for me?” Azuma asks, taking Chikage’s wine glass. “Just for the wine?” Chikage chuckles as he opens the blanket and settles it delicately around Azuma’s shoulders.
“I was looking for you ... and the wine,” Chikage sits and Azuma pours him some, handing the glass back. “Thanks.”
“Did you need something from me?” Azuma leans back into the cushions behind him. He tucks his feet under him.
“Not particularly,” Chikage slides close to him and sips the wine. Azuma watches Chikage lift a hand and gently hold Azuma’s chin. “You seem distant lately.” For half a second, Azuma freezes. Then, he wants to pull away from Chikage’s touch. Chikage holds his eye contact. Chikage’s silver blue eyes soften the slightest bit and Azuma knows there’s no getting out of this. He sighs quietly, smiling.
“So have you,” Azuma chuckles. Now, it’s Chikage’s turn to freeze. He returns Azuma’s smile and drops his hand. After another sip of wine, Chikage shifts so he can press his back into Azuma’s chest, leaning against the older. Azuma sets their wine glasses aside and drapes the blanket to cover Chikage too, bringing his arms around Chikage’s shoulders. For a few moments, they sit in silence. Azuma’s fingers subconsciously stroke Chikage’s forearms, sending chills down Chikage’s spine.
“I think I’m forgetting my family,” Azuma says suddenly. Chikage is quiet. “Sometimes I wake up and can’t recall what they sounded like. I’m scared that I’ll be forgotten in the same way.” Chikage blinks when he feels something tap his nose gently, then again. He glances up. Azuma is staring straight ahead, tears streaming down his face. Chikage doesn’t know what to say. He whispers this as he reaches up, stroking Azuma’s cheek softly. Azuma looks down at him and shakes his head, smiling still.
“I feel the same sometimes,” Chikage admits. He’s not sure how many times he’s woken from a nightmare, unsure of what August used to sound like. It always spirals him. Chikage cannot imagine feeling that way about blood family, let alone more than one person. He wishes he were better with his words. Chikage sits up and presses his lips to Azuma’s forehead. As he holds Azuma close, he can’t help but think about what Azuma has just said. In a world without Mankai, maybe they would have been forgotten. Alone. People only pass through, they never stay. But Chikage knows that in this world, Azuma’s fear is baseless. There are at least twenty two other people in this building that would never allow either of them to be forgotten. It’s in the way there is always someone present to ask how their day has been or what they want for dinner that night. When someone like Taichi or Sakuya looks at them with all the eagerness, respect, and love in the world. When someone like Sakyo or Guy silently hands them a fresh cup of coffee in the early morning chaos.
But Chikage wishes he were good with words, because he doesn’t know how to say this to Azuma as the older cries quietly. He doesn’t know how to tell Azuma that, if not Mankai, then he would not let Azuma be forgotten in the way Azuma fears. Because Chikage knows all too well how that could feel. Because he believes Azuma deserves everything good in the world, and even that would not be enough of a gift for the delicate, unconditional affection that Azuma gives Chikage. Because Chikage loves Azuma.
The next morning, Azuma finds a small note on his desk.
Azuma,
People are not immortalized in the way they sound. They are immortalized in the way they make you feel. And I could never forget the way you make me feel. Seen, heard, loved.
-Chikage