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Entry tags:
Your happiness
Your happiness
Fujigaya/Yokoo (Kis-My-Ft2)
Angst, 100 words x 8, G. Children
Yokoo has what Fujigaya can't give him.
Fujigaya loves to play with the children, with Yokoo watching from the couch with a fatherly smile, resting a bit now that he isn't the center of attention. And Fujigaya likes that hint of attention on himself, even though he is aware Yokoo is mostly looking at his kids.
However it's only fun until the door opens and the older child runs towards it. The younger stays in Fujigaya's lap, warm and heavy, but reaches out for his mother as soon as he sees her. Fujigaya doesn't like her; she has given Yokoo the only thing he can't. A family.
Their wedding had been the worst. Probably. Fujigaya had been asked to be the best man, of course, and there was no way he would say no to Yokoo. Even though it broke his heart to see him so beautiful next to his bride, just as cruelly beautiful, even as she cried with happiness. And he could have sworn something broke inside of him when they kissed, breaking apart with beaming smiles and teary eyes.
Fujigaya cried too, but not until later, after throwing up thanks to the anxiety buzzing inside him, sobbing in the semi-privacy of a bathroom stall.
He still wishes he had said no when Yokoo asked him if he should propose to her. But then again he can't live with himself being so selfish. Yokoo is happy, with a wife and two ridiculously cute kids, and Fujigaya's despair isn't Yokoo's to deal with. So Fujigaya keeps telling himself, over and over, that as long as Yokoo is happy, it's okay. That that's all that matters.
And so he visits, preferably before the wife gets home, fools himself into imagining it being his and Yokoo's children. Their family, in their house. Even though he knows he shouldn't.
At some point, the son, who only just turned two, calls him “papa”. Yokoo laughs at him, a calm and soft laughter, but he clings to Fujigaya's arm and repeats it, and he can't help but take him into his arms. He's smiling, he's adorable, and Fujigaya hugs him until he starts laughing and squirming.
“You'd make a fine dad,” Yokoo comments, and everything breaks apart, again. The next time he calls him that he isn't as happy; it still makes his heart skip a beat in happiness, but it also makes him want to burst out in tears.
They're by the dinner table the next time it happens, Fujigaya next to the two-year-old, his mother the opposite side, Yokoo by his side and the older sister across the table. He refuses to let his mother feed him, instead he waves his tiny little hands and says “papa”. Yokoo gets a glance, but he just smiles in response, because the toddler isn't looking at him.
“He calls Taisuke that, too,” he explains, makes Fujigaya's heart jump at the usage of his given name, and then he gets to take over the feeding, under constant glares from Yokoo's wife.
“You're always here,” the five-year-old says one day, when she sits in Fujigaya's lap while they read a book. Yokoo is having coffee next to them, the youngest is sleeping.
“Do you want me to leave?” he asks; she just leans back against him, tilts her head so that she can see his face. And Fujigaya can't help but smile.
“No.” She looks at him for a moment, as if thinking. “Do you love dad?”
It's such a sudden question, but even though it hurts, he knows what to answer.
“I do. He's my best friend.”
He regrets ever saying that, though, when Yokoo's wife comes home one day and immediately starts muttering about something that likely has to do with her finding his shoes by the door. He can't pick out the words she's saying, but she sounds irritated, and it's not the first time.
The five-year-old goes to meet her, and the thought of what she could tell her mother makes everything inside Fujigaya go so cold that it feels like the squirming toddler in his arms is the only thing that keeps his body at a normal temperature.
“Because he loves dad.”
Fujigaya hugs the smiling five-year-old goodbye, watches her run back into the living room where her mother is, when she considers himself done with him. Once he stands up Yokoo hugs him instead, like he always does when Fujigaya's about to go. And like every other time Fujigaya leans into it, pulls and holds Yokoo close, tight, for just a couple seconds longer than necessary; the feelings inside him must be showing on his face when they pull apart.
“Taisuke,” Yokoo both sounds and looks sad, and it's like another weight attaches itself to Fujigaya's heart. “Taisuke, I'm sorry.”
Fujigaya/Yokoo (Kis-My-Ft2)
Angst, 100 words x 8, G. Children
Yokoo has what Fujigaya can't give him.
Fujigaya loves to play with the children, with Yokoo watching from the couch with a fatherly smile, resting a bit now that he isn't the center of attention. And Fujigaya likes that hint of attention on himself, even though he is aware Yokoo is mostly looking at his kids.
However it's only fun until the door opens and the older child runs towards it. The younger stays in Fujigaya's lap, warm and heavy, but reaches out for his mother as soon as he sees her. Fujigaya doesn't like her; she has given Yokoo the only thing he can't. A family.
-
Their wedding had been the worst. Probably. Fujigaya had been asked to be the best man, of course, and there was no way he would say no to Yokoo. Even though it broke his heart to see him so beautiful next to his bride, just as cruelly beautiful, even as she cried with happiness. And he could have sworn something broke inside of him when they kissed, breaking apart with beaming smiles and teary eyes.
Fujigaya cried too, but not until later, after throwing up thanks to the anxiety buzzing inside him, sobbing in the semi-privacy of a bathroom stall.
-
He still wishes he had said no when Yokoo asked him if he should propose to her. But then again he can't live with himself being so selfish. Yokoo is happy, with a wife and two ridiculously cute kids, and Fujigaya's despair isn't Yokoo's to deal with. So Fujigaya keeps telling himself, over and over, that as long as Yokoo is happy, it's okay. That that's all that matters.
And so he visits, preferably before the wife gets home, fools himself into imagining it being his and Yokoo's children. Their family, in their house. Even though he knows he shouldn't.
-
At some point, the son, who only just turned two, calls him “papa”. Yokoo laughs at him, a calm and soft laughter, but he clings to Fujigaya's arm and repeats it, and he can't help but take him into his arms. He's smiling, he's adorable, and Fujigaya hugs him until he starts laughing and squirming.
“You'd make a fine dad,” Yokoo comments, and everything breaks apart, again. The next time he calls him that he isn't as happy; it still makes his heart skip a beat in happiness, but it also makes him want to burst out in tears.
-
They're by the dinner table the next time it happens, Fujigaya next to the two-year-old, his mother the opposite side, Yokoo by his side and the older sister across the table. He refuses to let his mother feed him, instead he waves his tiny little hands and says “papa”. Yokoo gets a glance, but he just smiles in response, because the toddler isn't looking at him.
“He calls Taisuke that, too,” he explains, makes Fujigaya's heart jump at the usage of his given name, and then he gets to take over the feeding, under constant glares from Yokoo's wife.
-
“You're always here,” the five-year-old says one day, when she sits in Fujigaya's lap while they read a book. Yokoo is having coffee next to them, the youngest is sleeping.
“Do you want me to leave?” he asks; she just leans back against him, tilts her head so that she can see his face. And Fujigaya can't help but smile.
“No.” She looks at him for a moment, as if thinking. “Do you love dad?”
It's such a sudden question, but even though it hurts, he knows what to answer.
“I do. He's my best friend.”
-
He regrets ever saying that, though, when Yokoo's wife comes home one day and immediately starts muttering about something that likely has to do with her finding his shoes by the door. He can't pick out the words she's saying, but she sounds irritated, and it's not the first time.
The five-year-old goes to meet her, and the thought of what she could tell her mother makes everything inside Fujigaya go so cold that it feels like the squirming toddler in his arms is the only thing that keeps his body at a normal temperature.
“Because he loves dad.”
-
Fujigaya hugs the smiling five-year-old goodbye, watches her run back into the living room where her mother is, when she considers himself done with him. Once he stands up Yokoo hugs him instead, like he always does when Fujigaya's about to go. And like every other time Fujigaya leans into it, pulls and holds Yokoo close, tight, for just a couple seconds longer than necessary; the feelings inside him must be showing on his face when they pull apart.
“Taisuke,” Yokoo both sounds and looks sad, and it's like another weight attaches itself to Fujigaya's heart. “Taisuke, I'm sorry.”