They tell him that he can't fill the space left in his heart, that he can't find new things to occupy all the gaps that have been left cold and empty, but that doesn't stop Hayato from trying.
It's been months since Yasutomo has left and all the promises to stay in touch don't mean a thing with the distance between them feeling like a yawning chasm. It's quieter in Hayato's life, duller, and he misses the warm touch and easy affection of someone that he loves.
He takes the first two kittens in because they remind him of Yasutomo so much that his heart aches with it. The same narrowed eyes, the same tendency to shy away from affection when he's willing to give it, but then seek it later, silent but without hesitation. He lets them curl up with him on the couch and it doesn't feel quiet as lonely any more. They purr softly, reassuringly, rubbing their faces against his like they've claimed him as much as he's claimed them.
It's a nice feeling. He takes photos, sends them to Yasutomo, with a long winding recount of how he found the two of them and immediately realised that they're smaller, softer versions of the real thing, on the other side of the computer screen, so far away that Hayato tries not to think about it because it only makes him feel lonelier.
He takes photos of himself with the two of them, spread out in the double bed, grateful that he no longer has to sleep in it alone. He finds one of Yasutomo's ties among his own clothes and ties it around one of their necks, sending off a photo of that, too.
Two kittens eventually turns into three, then four, and the apartment feels lively again. It's no longer as quiet as it used to be, even if the kittens sometimes choose to stay to themselves. That's no different to Yasutomo either, Hayato thinks with a sad smile. His heart aches again.
The weeks turn into months, and Hayato lifts his head from his pillow one afternoon, when he hears the front door opening. He sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, only to be greeted with:
"Hayato, what the fuck."
His breath catches in his throat and he gets to his feet, walking out into the lounge room. Yasutomo is there, his black suit jacket already covered in at least two different kinds of cat hair.
"Yasutomo," he greets, with a warm smile.
"I was away on a business trip for two months," Yasutomo says, and indicates the couch, which has been claimed by kittens, now numbering six. "What the hell."
"I missed you," Hayato explains with a smile.
"That's not an explanation," Yasutomo sighs, but crosses the room, pulling Hayato into a kiss. "I think I have cat hair in my mouth."
"They reminded me of you," Hayato murmurs against Yasutomo's lips.
"Yeah," Yasutomo rests their foreheads together. "You told me. I clearly can't leave you on your own, ever again."
FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G
word count: 515
They tell him that he can't fill the space left in his heart, that he can't find new things to occupy all the gaps that have been left cold and empty, but that doesn't stop Hayato from trying.
It's been months since Yasutomo has left and all the promises to stay in touch don't mean a thing with the distance between them feeling like a yawning chasm. It's quieter in Hayato's life, duller, and he misses the warm touch and easy affection of someone that he loves.
He takes the first two kittens in because they remind him of Yasutomo so much that his heart aches with it. The same narrowed eyes, the same tendency to shy away from affection when he's willing to give it, but then seek it later, silent but without hesitation. He lets them curl up with him on the couch and it doesn't feel quiet as lonely any more. They purr softly, reassuringly, rubbing their faces against his like they've claimed him as much as he's claimed them.
It's a nice feeling. He takes photos, sends them to Yasutomo, with a long winding recount of how he found the two of them and immediately realised that they're smaller, softer versions of the real thing, on the other side of the computer screen, so far away that Hayato tries not to think about it because it only makes him feel lonelier.
He takes photos of himself with the two of them, spread out in the double bed, grateful that he no longer has to sleep in it alone. He finds one of Yasutomo's ties among his own clothes and ties it around one of their necks, sending off a photo of that, too.
Two kittens eventually turns into three, then four, and the apartment feels lively again. It's no longer as quiet as it used to be, even if the kittens sometimes choose to stay to themselves. That's no different to Yasutomo either, Hayato thinks with a sad smile. His heart aches again.
The weeks turn into months, and Hayato lifts his head from his pillow one afternoon, when he hears the front door opening. He sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, only to be greeted with:
"Hayato, what the fuck."
His breath catches in his throat and he gets to his feet, walking out into the lounge room. Yasutomo is there, his black suit jacket already covered in at least two different kinds of cat hair.
"Yasutomo," he greets, with a warm smile.
"I was away on a business trip for two months," Yasutomo says, and indicates the couch, which has been claimed by kittens, now numbering six. "What the hell."
"I missed you," Hayato explains with a smile.
"That's not an explanation," Yasutomo sighs, but crosses the room, pulling Hayato into a kiss. "I think I have cat hair in my mouth."
"They reminded me of you," Hayato murmurs against Yasutomo's lips.
"Yeah," Yasutomo rests their foreheads together. "You told me. I clearly can't leave you on your own, ever again."
Hayato grins. "Better not risk it."