Haru mustn't break up with him.

But this, this, this is, why should he care? Why should Yutaka care about Iwasaki Iemasa? That contemptible little worm who has, has, has done absolutely nothing to deserve Haru's compassion and empathy. Why should Yutaka care if he's eaten by a witch or explodes or what the fuck ever?

And honestly, Haru gets no opinion on this, either, he wasn't there. He wasn't there for the past eighteen years, under that man's thumb and heel. If anyone, anyone at all gets to decide this, it's Yutaka. And if Iwasaki Iemasa got to shape and mold Yutaka's brain while fucking him up, then, well, this is fucking just deserts. That man is getting what was coming for him, and Yutaka feels no sympathy.

So fuck that. You know? Fuck that. Yutaka's a magical boy with time powers. He can have his cake and eat it, too. He can have it all. Fuck Iwasaki Iemasa, and fuck Haru for acting holier-than-thou about it, for thinking he's better than Yutaka for it.

For being better than Yutaka in every way. Yutaka isn't that good. Yutaka can't be that good. Yutaka is selfish and small and fucked up and maybe that means that his relationship with Haru is doomed but Haru doesn't have to know and what Haru doesn't know can't hurt him. He will have his cake and eat it, too.

(He's feeling nauseous. That's the part he doesn't like about liking someone, is the nausea.)

But he's going to. Just sit here. For a bit. Wait until the nausea subsides. Wait until he can feel horny again because, because, because he interrupted Haru right in the middle of something fun and Yutaka wants to be able to enjoy himself.

It's fine. It'll be fine. Stopped time is cheap, and the amount of sidereal time he'll rewind is only a few seconds, maybe a minute. It's fine.

It'll be fine.

Is that you on the phone -

Yes it is.

You're alone, right, like, your dad's been and gone -

Yep, all copacetic, to the extent that's possible.

Haru answers the phone. "H-hi."

Oh Yutaka was so correct to do this. "Hey, gorgeous. You sound a bit flustered."

"I'm - haah - maybe a little -"

"I'm so curious about what you're doing, won't you tell me?"

"I'm... thinking."

"Oh? What about?"

"Abouuuut how you have. Hands."

"I do, it's true. And I never got to show you what I could do with them, but maybe I could tell you?"

"- yeah you could."

"Do you want me to tell you what I'd do with my hands to you right now or should I imagine something—else—"

"I-i-um. Dealer's choice."

"What are you wearing?"

"Nothing. I'm going to take a shower a-after."

"Nothing! Just what were you picturing I could do with my hands, gosh? Did you picture me running them all over you, over your chest, down your stomach, to your thighs? Oh, I've pictured myself doing that to you so much, I don't know how patient I could be with my hands between your legs before I finally—"

Haru just breathes raggedly into the phone for a few beats. "Finally -?"

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