"aghhhnn." 

tadashi's groans hit a higher note of desperation, the sound bouncing off the dusted walls. his fingers in his hair, wildly tousling his messy hair. the crumbled paper littering his room feel like decorations for the starved artist; of sadness and crippling despair. his tattered jeans hang loosely from his thin legs. a half-eaten apple lays ontop of the oak desk, ridden with scars filled with venomous anger. 

the door creaks open, to the shock of tadashi. he jumps in his seat, proceeding to bang his knee on the leg of his desk. he squeaks. 

"what happened here?", hajime gingerly picks up a boxer from the floor. tadashi's freckles brighten red. he rushes over and snatches the boxer from hajime, throwing it behind him and into the abyss of dirty clothes on top of tadashi's bed. 

"w-why are you in my room?" he forces faux anger into his voice, pushing it from his chest, which ends up in a yell. hajime shakes his head as he drudges over to tadashi. he presses his palm onto tadashi's thin chest. 

"breathe."

tadashi listens. his chest expands with hajime's hand still on top of it. he pictures himself on a bed of cerulean flowers, his fingers dirtied with the nectar of the lilies. he pictures his left fingers intertwined  with hajime's fingers. he slowly feels the anxiousness seep away, compressed onto the gut of his stomach. 

"if i help you clean", hajime's eyes glint with generosity, "will you calm down?" 

tadashi nods, his cheeks widening for a detailed smile. 

-

"oi tadashi", grandpa turns to the pair as the walk past him, "bring your boyfriend over and help me with these darn plants." 

"he's not my boyfriend." tadashi whines, his fists clenching as he rushes over to berate his grandpa. hajime lifts his face for a smirk, which only turns tadashi more flushed and angry. 

tadashi grabs a pot of roses and places it in a well dug hole. his fingers brush against hajime's as he bends over to help. the sun bakes their fingers as they continue digging and filling up the holes. tadashi has done this many times, it's second nature. 

"dig in more circular motions, the flowers will grow better." tadashi says with wilted confidence. he swallows harshly before placing his hand onto hajime's, wrapping around the small shovel. his fingers immediately feel warm, his fear pulsating at his veins. "you dig like this." 

hajime tilts his head toward tadashi, his nose inches from tadashi's red lips. he relishes in the red glittered around tadashi's freckles, like icing on a red velvet cake. he gently breathes onto tadashi's lips. 

"continue teaching me." 

"n-no, i'm done." tadashi slowly lets go of hajime's hand, shaking his fingers as if to get rid of hajime's touch. it's a facade that tadashi generates to not display the desire in his starved lips. 

"ah, sucks." 

the grandpa looks at the two of them, dirt littered around his round glasses. his wrinkles fade slowly to give way to a cheeky smile. 

"focus on the garden, young'ins." 

hajime notices the little detailed dolls sitting on top of the soil. their colours streaked with the brown of the dirt. he picks one up gingerly. "do i throw these out?" 

"of course not, they represent the family." grandpa's eyes crinkle, the sunlight brightening his worned cheeks. he slowly picks the dolls from hajime's confused fingers. "the old one is me. the ugly one is anko-" 

"i heard that dad!" an indignant yell from probable flushed cheeks echoes across the acre. 

"and the cute 'lil critter is mr. tadashi." he glints belligerently at tadashi, willing him to argue. tadashi hungs his head in defeat, his back arched with phony sadness. 

"where's your your freckles?" hajime furrows his eyebrows, his thumb pressed onto little tadashi's right cheek. he lowers his gaze to tadashi's startled face. 

"t-they're not that important, it's fine." he insists, his chest puffing up with all the sincerity he can muster. 

ever since she was a child, everyone has showered her for praises. her hearing was heightened; like a wolf. she can hear the tremor in her son's voice. she sighs, her chest contracting with melancholy. 

anko just craves for her son to be beaming with pride; to love himself. than her ears twitch as she hears a deepset voice croak out. the voice is filled to the brim with annoyance. 

"your freckles are pretty, shut up." 

she smiles. (thank god for hajime) 

relief.