An Analysis of Haruka’s MVs: Distance and Disability
Hello! I’ve recently fallen down the rabbit hole that is Milgram and I have been itching to make some completely normal and sane analysis posts. My silly alternate title for this was gonna be “Things About Haruka’s MVs That Just Make Sense: A Hyperfixation-fuelled Analysis”, because honestly my autistic brain has been having a field day over here.
I am in awe with just about every single music video in this project; the animation is incredible and each one packs so much carefully laid out information. But I have been rotating Haruka’s in my head constantly since I first watched them, and I have a lot of Thoughts. Not about whether he’s guilty or innocent/forgiven or unforgiven. Not about whether or not I can justify his murders. Just some straight up imagery and symbolism analysis, through the lens of disability.
Haruka’s disability has not been specified, but I am confident we can at least say he is neurodivergent. I feel like the cultural differences in names for several things e.g. ‘learning disability’ vs ‘learning difficulty’ will just invite unnecessary drama, and is a little pedantic. What does matter here is that Haruka's experience as a disabled person is heavily intertwined within his story and his motives.
So, without further ado... let’s get into this!
Trigger warnings/TW: I will be discussing ableism, eugenics and harm towards disabled people. Everything else will be related to the music videos ‘Weakness’ and ‘All Knowing and All Agony’, so any triggering content within them may also be mentioned. Read at your own discretion and stay safe!
Disability: some brief (important) historical context
It is only within the last few decades that those who are disabled have been ‘seen’ for the first time. A modern society is (ideally) expected to be built to include and accommodate for disability, and to acknowledge disabled people’s existence. But for many countries (even the ones making steps outlined above) this is still not the case. For a very, very long time, globally, that has not been the case.
For most disabled people, society makes it very clear that they are a burden to it and are better off not existing.
I’m going to make this section as succinct as possible because...it’s heavy stuff. But it’s important, and I want you all to get the gist of what I’m saying. The weight of it.
Let’s highlight a piece of history regarding IQ and eugenics, surrounding the publication and subsequent worldwide reception of ‘The Kallikak Family: A Study in the Heredity of Feeble-mindedness’ by Henry Herbert Goddard in 1913:
“In 1927, it was used as evidence in the case of Buck v. Bell, which culminated in a Supreme Court ruling that the involuntary sterilization of ‘mentally defective’ persons was not unconstitutional in the United States. By 1938, thirty-three US states had passed laws allowing for the forced sterilization of women with learning disabilities and twenty-nine had made sterilization compulsory for people who were thought to have genetic conditions. Many European countries followed suit: Denmark in 1929, then Norway in 1934, and after that Sweden, Finland, Estonia, Iceland, Czechoslovakia, Yugoslavia, Latvia, Hungary and Turkey.”
— Limburg, J. (2021) Letters To My Weird Sisters: On Autism and Feminism, p. 126
This history of a ‘sterilization law’ includes Japan, who between 1948 and 1996 enacted the Eugenics Protection Law which “authorised the sterilization of people with intellectual disabilities, mental illnesses or hereditary disorders.” According to the government, about 25,000 were sterilized.
SO. It’s important to bring this up. To establish how much disabled people are not wanted, just from their governments. Let alone society. To this day, disabled people are hidden away from the public by families that are ashamed of their existence.
Japanese culture values collectivism, and maintaining the harmony of a group...to the extent of excluding those that don’t fit into the mould. That are different.
The question is: where do they go? The ones that are publicly rejected?
Haruka and The Curious Case of Distant Waters
Okay that’s enough of the heavy real-world stuff! Time to delve into some...*checks notes*...heavy fictional stuff. Fun!
Haruka’s MVs prominently display themes of distance and separation through the motif of water, specifically being submerged underwater.
The name Haruka reinforces this concept as the specific kanji used (遥) translates to ‘distant’, ‘remote’ or ‘far away’. As there are many, many kanji choices for the name (including but not limited to: ocean/sea, eternity/permeance, clear/distinct/obvious, and spring/growth/cherry blossom) it feels like a particularly cruel and intentional choice to go with that one.
Through the exploration of this motif, we can see the extent in which Otherness/the state of being ‘Other’ drives Haruka to great lengths to close the distance and escape it.
What I noticed throughout both MVs (particularly AK&AA but note the beginning scene of Weakness), is that whenever Haruka looks at himself in a reflective surface (e.g. the vanity mirror, the fish tank), water either begins to rise and overwhelms him, or is already there and he appears submerged:
I think this is the “All-Knowing” part of AK&AA. He knows he’s different, and he knows there’s a huge ocean between him and his peers, his family, everyone. A disconnect when trying to listen and understand, but also when trying to be understood by others and listened to himself.
You know when you submerge your head in water, and your hearing gets all muffled and incomprehensible? And have you ever tried speaking underwater? You can’t, because if you open your mouth you’ll drown. It’ll just come out as bubbles rising to the surface.
I also think the bubbles symbolise rising tension, between what he wants and what he currently has. Bubbles are everywhere in these MVs, even in places where they shouldn’t logically be? Such as this scene, following the line “don’t wipe me out, don’t wipe me out”:
Immediately pans up to Haruka gasping for breath, droplets of water rising from...somewhere. For about a split second, and they’re gone.
This boy is really going through it. I’m getting an ‘emerging from the ocean before I drown’ vibe from this one folks. When the line that follows this scene is “I can’t stop, I can’t stop”, what I’m REALLY hearing is “I can’t stop (killing) or I’ll drown”. This is his lifeboat, pulling him out from the depths of being neglected and hidden away, into the spotlight.
Some interesting images from Weakness in relation to that (of spotlights):
Anyways, onto the next point:
Blue to Orange: Water to...Nectar?
So, the orange liquid. It’s clearly representing blood, but I don’t think this is just a “danganronpa pink blood” situation of censoring/getting this video onto youtube without restrictions.
I think it’s most likely honey, specifically nectar.
The etymology of the word nectar shows its compounds translate to “death” and “overcoming”. Nectar is also called the drink of the gods, so it would make sense for it to be a ‘death-defeating’, immortalizing liquid.
For Haruka’s victims to contain nectar is very interesting. It reinforces that necessity to kill, to take the life of another, to sustain himself. To overcome the ‘living death’ he is experiencing by being hidden away from society.
This is his means of escape from drowning.
However, as we all know, things don’t turn out great for him. By the end of AK&AA Haruka is rejected once again by his mother, after which the door is shut (the light with it is gone too) and we’re met with this imagery:
The nectar floods the room, engulfing him much like the water from earlier.
There are many things we could take from this. One being that the nectar-gathering/killing-spree has clouded his vision; it’s so sweet, so sickly sweet and he’s addicted to the taste of attention, even if it’s very bad attention.
Who else has honey imagery in their MV again?
Oh, right.
Anyway, the nectar/honey situation could also be representing submerging into an even further level of distance. All that murder is gonna push people away, despite his motive being to close the gap between him and normal people. The 'ocean’ has lost clarity and become a maddening, delusional substance. After all, there is a type of honey literally called ‘mad honey’ known for its medicinal and hallucinogenic properties.
That’s enough about honey, though. Let’s move onto less unfortunate... oh, sorry, what was that? *checks notes*...Ah, yes. I meant to say, let’s move onto even more unfortunate symbolism:
The Necklace
So, this necklace. Haruka steals it from his mother’s belongings, and is his only material, physical connection to her. It is taken on the declaration of “making (her) love me again” and getting her attention once more, now he is no longer a child but a teenager closer to adulthood (at least, that’s what I consider the ‘shirt with a vest sweater and tie’ to represent. child him = the blue polo, teenager him = this one, adult him = an amalgamation of his teenager clothes).
I wasn’t sure if this was an opal or pearl/mother of pearl, but I’m leaning towards opal from the other depiction of it in Weakness:
Opals are fun because they can symbolise both good luck and bad luck, usually to do with whether it’s your birthstone. There’s something to be said of Haruka’s belief in his ‘misfortune’ and the superstition surrounding these gemstones.
But they are even more interesting for the powers they supposedly have; in medieval times the opal was considered the ‘patron of thieves’ for their ability to grant the wearer invisibility.
There is a deliciously sad irony to Haruka’s theft with that titbit of information.
Now, if this isn’t an opal, and it’s a pearl/mother of pearl there’s still some fun interpretation to be had! A little less sad, even. Pearls invoke strong imagery of the sea, of purity, and of a connection to the maternal. If this is the last thing he has relating to his mother, I can see this necklace representing a lifeline when he’s deep in the ocean. A reminder of why he’s doing all of this killing, and who it’s for.
His mother’s attention (or the idea of having a mother at all, any mother) is his driving force in life.
Speaking of that...
So We Really Need To Talk About That Fish Tank: AKA, Why Haruka’s Mom Wins ‘The Worst Parent of The Year’ Award
This fucking fish tank.
Okay, I’m gonna start by saying: I don’t think this is reading too far into things. When it takes an animation team months, sometimes years to create a 3-5 minute music video, and one as detailed as this...you don’t just wing it. There are storyboards, there are key frames and there are choices made down to the smallest of details.
From the sheer volume of animal/insect/fish décor that resides in the Sakurai household, you bet I’m gonna pay attention to what type of fish are in that fish tank.
For one thing, they live in saltwater. This is a marine tank, aka the harder choice of aquarium to have. I mean, way, WAY harder. For the experienced only.
These fish right here? One is a clownfish, and the other is a yellow boxfish.
Boxfish are a nightmare to keep alive. This article goes into more detail than I will, but all you need to know is: if there was ever a fish out of all the fish you could possibly want in your tank, this is the one to avoid like the plague.
They release deadly toxins when stressed, as a survival instinct. Boom. All your fish are dead. They need to eat a shit ton of food, but are notoriously clumsy swimmers and slow eaters. Boom. Starving, stressed out boxfish. Boxfish either dies from starvation or dies from stress and toxins.
For Haruka’s mom to have not just one of these fuckers, but a tank consisting ONLY OF MULTIPLE BOXFISH AND CLOWNFISH...
This is a high-maintenance tank. And it shows how much time and effort, how much care she puts into the things she loves.
How neglectful she is as a parent of a disabled child in contrast.
There’s something about the last scene between Haruka and his mother that reinforces this for me:
Haruka’s relationship with animals and himself: AKA, “why don’t I just become the damn fish tank?”
Let me backpedal a little bit. This subheading will make sense in a minute.
So, like I said earlier we have a lot of décor in this house relating to insects and fish. We also have a lot of pets. Both living and dead, taxidermized creatures in one household, proudly on display.
I think this may have created some confusion for Haruka regarding the value of animals being alive or dead, as in his perspective his mother values both equally. The fish in a tank may be full of alive creatures, but they’re still on display as if it’s artwork. Isn’t breaking the glass of a framed picture of a fish equal to breaking the glass of a tank with a ‘picture of living fish’?
(This isn’t to say Haruka is clueless to the impact of his actions, nor to justify any harm to animals. I just find the train of thought to be intriguing.)
So when considering these ‘objects’ are proud trophies of his work:
This is a carefully arranged display, which by the way, doesn’t contain a single fish. In fact the only piece of that moment visible here is the...large piece of driftwood? Okay. Keep that in mind.
We proceed into Haruka’s mother opening the door and seeing her son, for the first time in any of the MVs. Note the way they composed this shot:
I’m obsessed with this scene. The blue eye framing Haruka, with a literal fishbowl effect on him...
He is the goddamn fish in the aquarium now. His mother’s full attention is on him and him alone, with only the dead animals, the books, the lamp and the driftwood as window dressing to this wonderful display.
Doesn’t it just scream “Look at me! Look at what I did, mom!” to you?
That blue spotlight is on him once more. He is not just drifting deeper into an endless ocean, but contained in a vessel to be stared at.
One Last Observation
I didn’t know where to fit this in but I think the end feels appropriate.
His clothing here:
Is a frankenstein-esque mash up of clothes from his younger years. He wears this throughout AK&AA, and as I mentioned before it signifies him as an adult. However, I should clarify what I mean here as Haruka says “he thinks he’s 17″ and “doesn’t care about his age”. So... not an adult, but on the cusp of adulthood.
But I think he actually does care about his age, and quite a lot too.
This outfit feels symbolic of refusing to let go of the past, and of himself as a child. He’s literally grown out of his clothing, but he still clings onto it. He’s attached to the past because it not only contains his happiest moments, but the change from being loved to becoming neglected.
As a disabled person, you’re often treated with a lot more forgiveness when you’re younger. That is to say, some people don’t realise that children with disabilities grow up into adults with disabilities. There is a point where even support from medical and social services drops off like a cliff edge once you turn 18.
The ill-fitting clothing in this context becomes more than a reflection on Haruka’s feelings, and extends to reflecting society’s feelings on disabled adults ‘refusing to grow up’.
I don’t blame Haruka for holding onto his childhood like this. He’ll be even less publicly visible and seen once he is no longer a pitiful child, but a ‘weird’ adult in ill-fitting, children’s clothes.
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Hii!! :3
First of all, LOVE YOUR BLOG!!Your writing is so good!! May I request Rodolfo Parra x reader who is touchy? Like, they won’t if he doesn’t like it, but it’s a safety thing, like him being taller than me (even not by much) makes me secure, feeling his arm muscles to know he can protect me, holding his hand until he pulls away.
thank you!! :3
I don't think you understand the extent to which my Rodolfo is touch starved, he really wants a hug, and the ones that Alejandro give him don't really cut it, at all! Mans wants to be hugged and cuddled, so this is sort of just ideal to him!
Rodolfo with a Touchy!Reader
In all honesty, he’s hit the jackpot with you if you’re a touchy person. While he may not initiate too much physical touch himself in fear of coming off as clingy and annoying, he’s actually so touch starved, it’s unreal. If there weren’t some mental barriers there, then he’d absolutely love to touch and cuddle you whenever he could. Would love to kiss you, would love to hold you. He’s one of the biggest cuddlebugs on the planet in theory, but in practice he’s holding himself back due to the aforementioned reasons. However, he has no qualms whatsoever if you’re the one touching him, in fact, he’ll revel in it for as long as he can, or until you pull away. He gets a bit sad when you do, but he knows you’ve got better things to do as well from time to time.
Please do hold onto his arm when you’re walking somewhere, it makes him feel like the stronger guy out of the two of you. He just wants to make sure you feel safe and sound with him, and if he can accomplish just that? Heaven on earth, literally. Hold his hand, he’ll squeeze it every once in a while to make sure you know he’s still with you. You can even give him a hug in public where everyone can see you, he’ll shield you with his entire body and make sure to catch every single bullet that could come flying at you. While he’s not too big of a fan of kissing in public, thinking such a thing should be reserved for when the two of you are alone, he loves feeling your lips on him just about anywhere. Wanna kiss his cheek? His forehead? His lips? He’ll give you twice as many kisses back.
From time to time he might get a bit overwhelmed with all the affection, that’s when you might want to tone it down a bit. When he’s just downright pissed at someone or something, he’s less prone to being cuddly, but he’ll calm down eventually. Distract him, help him, give him some loving words, and he’ll be back to his usual self. Once he’s calmed down he might be a bit tired from all those emotions, so he might want some cuddles. Likely won’t ask for them, but he knows you’re always eager to cuddle him anyway.
While he does love holding something, or someone, when relaxing, nothing, to him, feels better than being held. That’s his guilty pleasure, being the little spoon, but you won’t catch him dead admitting that. In fact, he won’t even hint at wanting to be such, but he would absolutely never turn you down when you offer. Feeling your warmth against his back is nice, doesn’t matter if you can wrap yourself around him entirely or if you’re a backpack, he just wants to feel protected for once too. However, if something ever were to happen, then he’s the first to jump into action and beat the living daylights out of anyone who dares to intrude on such a sacred moment.
Hell, you can even put your head in his lap. He’ll lovingly stroke your back or your head, looking completely lovestruck at you. It’s a major sign of trust for him, especially when you’re slowly dozing off. Won’t move an inch if you do and will just continue to pat your hair, staring at you instead of the tv monitor. If you want, you can also adjust him so his head is in your lap instead, he would never say no to that either. In fact, if he’s comfortable enough, he might nuzzle into your hand, realize what he’s doing and get a bit embarrassed. He usually feels the need to be the big, strong man in your relationship, that he really shouldn’t be showing so much weakness, but how could he resist your tender, gentle touch when it’s right there? Showing you a glimpse of how touch starved he is is just about one of the most mortifying things out there, but he can’t help it. It simply feels so good.
He absolutely adores the fact he can make you feel safe. Again, he won’t really initiate much physical contact himself, but he will stand fairly close to you so you may, if you feel like it, just grab his hand and swing it around a bit as you’re walking around. You can lean into him, there’s a chance he might wrap an arm around you to make sure you won’t fall over. He loves that he can be your support system in a way that makes him happy as well. You get to touch him, he gets to be touched, it’s the most perfect symbiotic relationship out there.
At the end of the day, you both get to feel safe and sound with one another, because of your presence and because of your love. You protect each other and make sure the other is thriving, what thing in this world could possibly be more pure than that?
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could you write dialogue prompt #1 ("marry me") for post canon nick&charlie? maybe you could also include hug #13 or #22 ♡
Anonymous asked: 42 of the dialogue prompts with nick and charlie please 💛 I love your work
these prompts felt like they worked well together, so i’ve merged them—hope you don’t mind! (i’m assuming you’ll mind more that these requests were sent over a year ago, and all i can say for that is i’m sorry, i should have been more informative about the fact i am useless)
1. “Marry me.”
42. “You’re a complete moron!”
22. can’t stop yourself from hugging
The injury knocks Nick out—quite literally. It’s only brief, but the gap in his awareness is there; he comes to on his back in the mud, the shouts around him drowned out by his own groan and the pound of his blood in his ears. His stomach roils, and he gasps so he doesn’t heave, then gasps again at the sharp pain that pangs from his left ribs. He twists his body to press a hand to the sore spot and lets out a shout as pain zips through his right leg, seeming to span from toe to hip and back again. For a few seconds, all he can hear is ringing, and then the cacophony of panic overwhelms him.
“Nick! Nick? Can you look at me? Hey. Can you focus on me?”
Nick blinks, then blinks again and again until the black fades out to the edges and he can make out the blurry lines of Reid’s face. His mate-slash-captain-slash-coworker looks more distressed than Nick has ever seen him, which is to say he remains fairly composed.
“There you are, mate.” Reid musters a weak smile. “Just stay put, alright? Callum’s run to get Rogie.”
“Fuck me,” Nick breathes. Sharon Rogers is the school nurse, and Nick knows that despite her job being mostly limited to scraped knees and seasonal bugs, she’s got a fountain of knowledge at least far beyond any of his teammates. Still, the reassurance is lost on him; he barely hears the words before they’re forgotten again, blocked out by the pain shrouding him.
He registers her arrival and responds to her questioning with mostly grunts and swear words. He finally clocks in when she tells him the ambulance is on the way.
“Fuck,” he repeats, eyes widening and then clenching shut as his head throbs weakly.
“You’ll be alright, Nick,” Sharon assures. “But you’re not getting up on your own. You haven’t broken anything in your leg, but you might have torn or sprained something. Nothing that can’t be fixed, but it hurts like a bitch. If you’ve done damage to your ribs or there’s any possibility of a head injury, it’s better to wait on someone more medically trained to move you.”
Nick makes a noise to show his understanding and focuses on managing his breath, which aches with every rise and fall of his chest. He’s glad to not be moved further yet—the thought alone makes his teeth grit against a wash of pain. Sharon mainly works on keeping him conscious for the next while. Her approval leads him to believe they succeed, but his awareness spaces out enough that his memory of the period is spotty. The paramedics arriving escapes his notice, and the next thing he knows he’s swearing in pain as he’s being loaded onto a stretcher.
~^~
Nick’s ribs aren’t broken, but they are badly bruised. They ache with every rattle of his breath, and it sends the message of pain down his leg in zips and jolts. His leg isn’t broken either, but it is sprained. He’d pulled a ligament in his ankle and almost torn one in his knee. Thankfully, neither are severe enough to require surgery, but Nick isn’t finding much comfort in that at the moment. As Sharon had put it, it hurts like a bitch.
It’s eased considerably by whatever they’ve doped him with, and where he felt overly aware of his body before, it’s become somewhat detached. Now, his mind is allowed to drift away and give him moments of rest. He loses time in fits and starts, only aware because nurses will appear at his bedside when he had been alone in the room the last time his eyes were open. Everything is hazy and dreamlike and he welcomes it. Anything is better than the nightmare of that initial fall.
They’re keeping him overnight for further observation, which doesn’t overly bother him. When he catches a nurse with enough time to speak before they bustle away, he only asks her one question. “When can I have visitors?”
“Visiting hours start at six. You have family you want to see?”
Nick shakes his head, then stops, furrowing his brow. “I mean, yeah, but—I just want to see my partner. Charlie. He’ll be panicking about me.”
The nurse brightens, her smile warm and indulgent. “Husband?”
It comes out without any real thought. The idea of not seeing Charlie is unbearable. Nick doesn’t even consider it for a moment. “Yeah,” he lies.
“I’ll send him your way as soon as I can.” She winks at him and bustles away still smiling, which makes him feel sort of nice. The days of doubting his sexuality and feeling scared any time he had to say words like ‘boyfriend’ are long behind him, but their effects will always linger. Getting such a warm response about his husband from a stranger is uplifting. He smiles dopily in response before he catches himself.
He isn’t seriously thinking about that. Is he?
The medication must be strong.
He drifts in and out in the time between speaking to the nurse and, apparently, the start of visiting hours, because before he knows it, Charlie’s rushing towards him.
“Nick!” Charlie’s at his bedside in a blink, and there he hesitates. Nick reaches out, and it’s apparently all the permission Charlie needs. Just like that, he’s lurching forward like he can’t stop himself and giving Nick a fierce hug.
Around the head, at least. He is, thankfully, clearly aware of Nick’s injuries and trying to refrain from touching him in any way that will hurt. Hugging Nick’s head to his chest is a compromise, Nick’s sure, from Charlie not being able to hold himself back entirely.
Nick, personally, has no complaints. He reaches his arms to embrace Charlie in return before there’s an explosion of protest from his ribs. With a wince, he lowers his arms back down and settles for pushing his head against Charlie’s sternum.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Nick murmurs, slightly slurred. Despite the flare of pain, the drugs are still clearly working.
Regrettably, Charlie pulls back, but Nick is content enough to be able to look at him fully. That is, until Charlie deals a sharp flick to his forehead.
“Ow,” Nick says. “That could be dangerous. I could be brain damaged.”
“You’re a complete moron!”
“Wow. Love you too.”
With a huff of exasperation, Charlie shakes his head and snatches up Nick’s hand. Charlie threads his other hand through Nick’s hair, and it’s only when Nick notices it trembling that he further notices the tears threatening at the corners of Charlie’s eyes.
“Hey,” Nick says softly. “I’m sorry. It’s nothing serious. It’ll take time to heal, but then I’ll be completely fine. I am fine.”
Charlie swallows and briefly takes his hand from Nick’s hair to scrub over his eyes. Then he nods. “Tell me what happened?”
“Bad tackle. Mainly my own fault, though. Slipped in the muck and went down funny.”
“God, Nick.” Charlie pulls the chair from the corner to the side of the bed and sits, grasping tightly to Nick’s hand once he’s settled. “I thought when you went from playing to coaching, I could worry less about you getting injured. I thought when you went from coaching to primary teaching that I wouldn’t have to worry at all.”
Nick closes his eyes. “I know, I know. I just…you know I still love it. I thought just having the friendly matches wouldn’t be much to worry about.” He sighs. “But maybe I just have to accept I’m getting too old.”
Charlie huffs softly, leaning forward to card a hand through Nick’s hair again. “I think that might be a bit of an exaggeration but I also have to agree.”
“Wow. Thanks, love.”
“You were the one that said it!”
“Yeah, and I was joking. It’s the drugs talking.”
Charlie snorts. “Strong stuff, hm?”
“Must be.” Nick hesitates, then decides it could end up much more embarrassing if he doesn’t admit the rest. “I, uhm, might have already lied about some other things.”
Nick realises his mistake when Charlie’s eyes widen and he clutches a little tighter to Nick’s hand. “What? Is it worse than you’ve said?”
“Is—oh, no, no. I’m fine, Charlie, I promise. Well, okay, not perfectly fine, but it’s nothing serious. I wasn’t talking about that.”
Charlie leans back in the chair. “Okay…”
“I just, uh, might have said something stupid. To the nurse. About you?”
Charlie’s expression grows increasingly confused. “Why were you talking about me?”
“I was asking about having visitors and explaining I just wanted to see you, and like, she just kind of assumed.” Nick flicks his gaze away. “I just didn’t correct her.”
“Nick, I honestly have no idea what you’re trying to say.”
“She thinks we’re married,” Nick blurts, and Charlie blinks. “She—I told her I just wanted to see my partner, you, and she was just like, husband? And I thought if I said no maybe you wouldn’t be allowed in to see me because you’re not, like, family—even though we are regardless of that—and so I said yeah and—”
“Oh my god, Nick.” Charlie cuts Nick off, covering his face with his free hand. Nick’s heart dips towards his stomach, and then he realises Charlie is laughing.
And suddenly Nick’s offended. “What’s so funny?”
“You’re not dying, you idiot.” Charlie huffs. “Of course I can come see you. It’s not restricted to family only.”
Nick frowns, defensiveness bubbling somewhere amongst the drowsiness from the drugs. “But, like, Covid and everything.”
“Nick, that was literal years ago.”
“Yeah, but, it changed the hospital restrictions.”
Charlie nods, eyes wide and amused. “Years ago.”
Nick opens his mouth, then closes it again. He squeezes Charlie’s hand. “I didn’t want to risk not seeing you.”
Charlie’s following sigh is much softer and, Nick likes to think, more fondly exasperated. It’s with loving laughter that he reiterates, lovingly, “You’re an idiot.”
“Well, if you’re going to be like that—”
Charlie silences him with a kiss, which is, honestly, fair. Nick has no arguments or complaints. He has said enough stupid things today as is that it’s probably safer his mouth is otherwise occupied, at least for a time.
Then, with Charlie’s mouth still only a breath from his, he’s saying, “And, honestly…when she said it, I didn’t want to say no.”
Nick categorises the words as a mistake the instant they leave his mouth. It isn’t because they aren’t true; it isn’t even because he thinks Charlie will react badly to hearing them. It’s because he isn’t supposed to say them here, like this. It’s because it’s nothing they haven’t implied before, but it cannot become more than implication, not in any way less than Charlie deserves. The shiny silver band residing in a velvet box in the depths of Nick’s underwear drawer—the only item of Nick’s clothing Charlie does not make a habit of digging through—is less than Charlie deserves, but it is at least more than this.
Nick’s sure, as the distance grows between them, that Charlie agrees, but Charlie surprises him. He strokes a thumb over Nick’s cheek and offers up his softest smile. “It does have a nice ring to it,” he murmurs.
Oh. Nick swallows. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Charlie nods. “Don’t you think so?”
That’s an obvious enough tease that Nick huffs. “You know exactly what I think.”
Charlie rests his arms on the bed and his chin on top of them, gazing up at Nick sweetly while remaining careful of Nick’s injuries. “Tell me anyway?”
“Charlie,” Nick groans, rolling his head away. “This is unfair. I’m not in my right mind.”
Charlie snorts. “Are you ever?”
“Oi.” Nick glares at him, but there’s no heat in it. He drops the expression completely when Charlie leans in and kisses him, another short peck that draws another slew of idiotic words from him. “I’d like you to be my husband,” he whispers, comforted that the words don’t have to travel far, leaving his lips to be almost immediately swallowed up by Charlie’s. “I’d like to be your husband. To marry you, someday. You know that. You’ve always known that.”
Charlie’s gaze burns against Nick’s, and his next kiss is sure and insistent. Nick loses himself in it. His sore ribs strain and he doesn’t care, can’t find it in him to be bothered by the pain, can barely acknowledge it under the all-consuming want. He has always considered Charlie a safe place, the one place he could turn to and immediately feel soothed, and it’s proven now. Charlie is a more sufficient balm than any drug.
“You should,” Charlie murmurs as he pulls away, and Nick furrows his brow. “Marry me,” Charlie clarifies. States, really.
Asks, Nick realises.
He stares and stares and Charlie simply waits, nervousness lurking in the deep blue of his eyes but the hints to a sure smile on his lips.
“You mean it,” Nick says, realising it’s true as he says it. “You’re actually asking me right now.”
Charlie nods, smile simultaneously growing and becoming more hesitant. “I swear it wasn’t how I planned it. You deserve the best proposal ever and now I don’t even have your ring with me. But honestly, I haven’t been able to figure out how I should do it and I have no idea what would be considered the ‘right time’ and you’re kind of proving either of us could die at literally any time and I don’t want to miss—”
“Yes,” Nick cuts him off.
Charlie blinks. Pays back Nick’s long stare. “Yes?” he questions.
“Yes, of course I’m going to fucking marry you,” Nick says. “I can’t believe you stole the proposal and you have a goddamn ring too and neither of us have them on us, but yes. Obviously yes.”
The joy that lights in Charlie is instant, laughter falling from him in chimes of disbelief. “You got me a ring?”
“You damn well know I did.”
“Yeah.” Charlie beams. “Yeah, I figured.”
Nick grabs Charlie’s hand and squeezes. He runs his thumb familiarly over Charlie’s knuckles and imagines the feel of metal under his skin. He looks up from their hands to find Charlie watching him, equally enamoured. “Fiancé has a pretty nice ring to it, too,” Nick says.
Charlie squeezes his hand in return. “Yeah. It does.”
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