『Morning』▷ mashikyu。

cake

"Are you sure you're okay now?" Mashiho queried, gazing tenderly at him.

Junkyu nodded in response. "Yes," he murmured.

The two of them were sat across each other in the dining room, with Junkyu furled up in his chair as he held onto the warm tea that the home owner had prepared for him. The calming aroma of the green tea made him feel relaxed, and so did the cotton blanket that Mashiho had wrapped him with.

They stayed like that for a while, with Mashiho watching Junkyu patiently as the latter settled onto the comfort of the blanket and the tea.

Nearly twenty minutes had passed when Junkyu heaved out a sigh of relief, and Mashiho found the right timing to ask, "How long has it been?"

Junkyu was afraid, but acquiesed nonetheless.

"Eight years."

Then as if they could relay hundreds of words through their breaths of trepidation and cognizance, they settled into quietness and listened to every sound that one another made. And perhaps they could, because Junkyu knew that Mashiho had understood what he was going through, and Mashiho could recognize that the former was still shaken.

After those twenty minutes of collecting themselves and finally talking, they spend another ten minutes in silence. It was already a few past four, and all that was left was the quivering of Junkyu's gaunt hands.

Comfort was offered in the form of a cake.

Mashiho smiled, and instead of asking for more answers he simply said, "Lemon goes well with green tea."

Junkyu had never been felt so much gratitude for a single sentence before. Because in that one sentence, Mashiho had made himself clear— that he head no intention to put pressure on Junkyu and force him into answering questions that would do nothing but hurt him, that he was there not to offer empty words but to be a pillar he could lean on.

The Korean held back a sniffle, tears welling up in his eyes. Mashiho chuckled soundlessly when he saw this, not knowing whether to see him as cute or pitiful.

Junkyu didn't utter as much as a thanks but Mashiho didn't really care. The former dug his fork onto the slice of the cake, propping the small portion into his mouth and came bursting a taste he had not had since long ago. The flavor of lemon exploded on his tongue, satisfying both his taste buds and his nose as it was blessed by the refreshing scent.

He took a sip of the newly poured tea upon Mashiho's usher, and the taste of lemon and green tea blended together like yellow and blue, creating a whole new flavor. He saw Mashiho watching him with a subtle smile on the corner of his eye and he turned, offering the younger a fork full of cake.

"Don't worry about me," Mashiho said. "Just keep eating."

"I can't do that," he retorted. "This is yours. I can't just... I feel like you've done so much for me."

"What are you talking about?"

Mashiho asked, looking at him with stern and stubborn eyes. He crossed an arm over the other, clearly about to respond in a way that Junkyu would ultimately not be able to retaliate against.

"We're friends now. It's normal for me to help you."

Junkyu blinked.

"Friends?"

"Yes, friends," the other grinned. "You live in my house now. Wouldn't it be weird if we weren't even in that level?"

The older's face bloomed with red. "Y-yes," he sputtered. "I guess so."

"Great!" Mashiho exclaimed. "My friends don't really visit me at my house, so it's great to know that there's a friend who'll be with me most of the time."

It was embarrassing, Junkyu felt. At his age, people made friends naturally without establishing the label first; it was almost as if they were on kindergarten, declaring each other friends like innocent children.

Nevertheless, he found himself nodding to Mashiho's words somewhat understandingly. Surprisingly enough, the idea of them being kindergarten students made a smile light up on his face even after what he had just experienced half an hour ago.

"Junkyu."

"Yes?"

"It's okay now, isn't it?"

His eyes widen the littlest bit, wondering what the boy meant.

"Huh?"

"It's not 3 o'clock anymore," Mashiho spoke. "So you don't have to be afraid any longer."

His words had Junkyu looking down to his still quivering hands, and he realized that despite the comfort he had been given, it wasn't enough to dispell what had been eight years of his sufferings. The warmth that washed over his, however, had him questioning this thought.

Mashiho looked at him with the kindest gaze he had ever seen— no pity, no mocking; simply understanding and patience. His hands were taken into the Japanese's much smaller ones, and despite being small his hands seem to embrace Junyku's whole and envelop it with mellow solace.

"Junkyu," he spoke. "From this day on, you won't be going through these things all alone."

Junkyu stared at him with flabbergast.

"I'm here with you, so let me help you."

It took a while before he could, but in the end he still mustered an answer.

"Then, I'll depend on you from now on."

Hands in each other's grasp, they build a warm friendship from fear and loneliness, gazing at each other with starry eyes that they never did realize what had looked to be until much later when they return to their own quarters, hearts beating erratically and faces oddly flushed.