Takao hated the future. He had decided, taking a swig of shochu and grimacing almost immediately as the hot liquid ran down his throat.
He didn’t want to think about it any more than he needed to. And at the moment he didn’t think there was any need for contemplating it at all.
They had just moved in together. They had just started uni. The future, or rather more specificall
, was still at least six or seven years away. Even longer depending on whatever specialty Shintarō decided on.
And yet here Takao was at a bar late in the evening, brows furrowed, worrying about just that.
Takao was more than a little miffed with himself. He was 18. He'd started his first semester of college and he'd just moved in with his boyfriend and love of his life. He should have been giddy.
Celebrating his good fortune. And for the most part, he was.
The month or so he and Shin-chan had been living together had been bliss.
But it was that last part -- his relationship with Shintarō and to be exact, the uncertainty of where they would end up when the convenient cover of pursuing higher education had run its course,
that kept gnawing at the back of Takao's mind and kept the contents of his stomach churning uncomfortably.
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