In Kubota's dreams, Tokitoh wears the glove as an affectation, and he lets Kubota pull it off with his teeth, lets Kubota intertwine their bare fingers, pulls Kubota down with his other hand tangled in Kubota's hair. In Kubota's dreams, Tokitoh never pulls away, smiles and laughs and goes to school with him, and neither of them know anything about any experimental drug. Neither of them have killed.
It's stupid, really. Kubota wouldn't want to live like that. He hasn't bothered to attend school since finding Tokitoh, and he likes the challenge of Tokitoh's prickly nature. Likes that neither of them really have anyone, or interest in having anyone, beyond each other. Likes that they come and go as they please, and when they come home, it's to each other.
It must be the glove thing that makes him wake with that pricking sensation in his eyes and an ache in his throat he has to swallow against several times.
"Kubo-chan?" Tokitoh murmurs sleepily beside him, woken by his muscles tensing, no doubt. He rolls over onto his side.
"It's nothing," he says. "Don't worry about it."
Then he reaches across Tokitoh's body to touch his hand to Tokitoh's glove, to gently press their fingers together. Tokitoh's still asleep enough to let him, just for a moment, maybe thinking it's a dream.
Don't wake up, Kubota thinks, and leans in for a kiss.