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Touma knows that he doesn’t deserve this.
Not Tai’s feelings. Not Tai’s beaming smile. Not even the first kiss they had shared years back, clumsy as they were, as if his Tai had not been pressing his lips onto someone else’s, with the memory of his confession coming back in the most painful yet beautiful way possible through the other’s slurred words.
Tai. His Tai—because it’s only until after the first date in their shared favourite family restaurant that reality finally crash lands into his face, that his one and only childhood best friend is his ; all his with no one else to call him his boyfriend but Mita Touma alone —caresses the newly applied bandaid wrapped lovingly onto his finger. His Tai, so gentle in the moments that call for it, always considerate through the calming silence they shared. He carefully flattens the creases of the bandaid, cautious enough not to brush over the cut Touma had just recently received from the kitchen knife by accident.
His Tai—and he still couldn’t and will probably never get used to calling him his —grazes his lips onto the bandaid before flashing his signature smile at him. And Touma, for all the years he’s drowned himself into accepting that his love will always be kept within the recesses of his mind, finally learns what it’s like to see the sun beyond the waters.
Touma doesn’t know what he did to deserve this.
Doesn’t know what he did to have the smaller man’s star-filled eyes stare at him as if he is his world. Doesn’t know what he did all those years ago for his Tai to brush the surface of his bandaid using his thumb, when all he could think of was the distraught formed in his lover’s face after he confessed under the lamplight, even if he knew that he should have left him long ago. Doesn’t know what saintly deed he had done for Tai to stay when Touma knew well enough that he had only imposed himself onto him out of his own selfishness.
He thinks of the what-ifs, of what could’ve happened had he not confessed his own sins to Mami on that cloudless afternoon. Would Taichi have remained as happy with Futaba? Would he have actually stopped himself from falling into the temptation of telling him that she’s not what he needs? Would he have learned to move on and master the art of being normal? Or would he have run away in success if only to avoid the sight of Taichi being whisked away by someone that’s not him ?
And yet Taichi seems to show no awareness of what Touma has been harbouring for the years they’ve spent together. His Tai, always so clueless and oblivious even if the evidence is right in front of his face. Touma is so blessed that his Tai is an airhead for all his charm as a wonderful being, else he would face the wrath of his words about how he has always loved him, about how the absence of everyone else in their high school would’ve sped up the realisation of his feelings for him (even though Touma doubts it), about how Taichi has never one doubted his decision to confess on the way home and that he’d love him forever if he would let him.
Yet the other side of Touma knows better than to underestimate his longtime best friend and lover, especially now with the way his Tai’s face has been leaning closer to his own, fingers still on his injured hand.
Touma could only stare. Since when has his Tai become so mesmerising and blinding to look at?
“You know,” Taichi’s voice comes out like a giggled whisper, one that Touma knows is only reserved for his ears. “It’s almost like I’m putting a wedding ring on your finger.”
And it doesn’t take even a second for Touma’s world to turn upside down for the millionth time since he first saw Taichi alone in his seat all those years ago. Because for all that he’s done to Tai, for all the selfish wishes he’s shoved to him— anything for his friendship-breaking secret not to be revealed to the world—he’s still here. And he doesn’t plan on leaving anytime soon. And Touma slowly comes to the acceptance that maybe his Tai earnestly wants this. That Tai has always wanted Touma. And that Tai, if Touma allows it, wants to marry him.
He recalls the smile on Tai's face when he brushed his lips with the bandaid And he thinks back on the smiles he had given to Futaba a long time ago. They were the smiles of someone who has found their true love, childish and innocent at the sight of their love. They were sheepish and careless, sometimes rooted from a particular embarrassment Touma could never understand.
But then he stares at his Tai, who laughs at the lighthearted joke he just made. His smiles were warm, all the while lacking the childlike innocence and carelessness all for Futaba. For all the months Touma had to tango with the reality of his Tai and Futaba being together however, he knew that his sheepish grins lacked the genuity and warmth the other had once given to her before. Yet here is his Tai, with all his radiating warmth and flushed cheeks only showing a lopsided grin at what Touma only recognises now is his reddening face. It is dazzling. It is madness in the form of light even more superior than that of the sun. Touma can’t bear to tear his eyes away even as the grin disappears into a small smile.
“You…” Touma slips out his own embarrassed smile. And his Tai leans in to kiss him, whispering promises of being together forever no matter what. It’s all childish. It’s all too idealistic for Touma’s plagued mind or Taichi’s pessimistic outlook. But he caves into his words anyway, out of a possible growing hope that the two of them will stay together to face their harsh realities no matter what. Taichi never backs out of his words anyways. And that's what Touma has loved about him for so many years.
Touma knows that he doesn’t deserve this. But the warmth of his Tai’s flushed cheeks nestling onto the crook of his neck tells him that in the midst of his own selfishness and sin, he must have done something right to have him in his arms.