Chapter Text
Tatta’s over.
He brought a game and asked if Arisu wanted to play it—something with skulls and swords, so Arisu obviously immediately said yes.
“Yes! In your face!” Arisu yells, all pumped up as the screen shows his character raising his sword in victory—
Until Tatta’s character drop-kicks him into the void below.
Arisu’s arms, raised in victory, slowly lower. He aims accusing puppy eyes at Tatta.
“Awh, is your ego bruised?” Tatta coos. “Want me to kiss it better?”
Arisu makes a sound between a scoff and a sneer.
Tatta puckers up his lips comically and opens his arms. Arisu doesn’t move. Tatta does. He practically launches himself at Arisu on the couch (still careful of his arm) and Arisu shrieks in laughter as he tries to get away to no avail. Tatta leaves a number of loud, exaggerated pecks on the crown of his head and cheek, and smacks one last kiss on his temple as Arisu squirms, he belly-laughs so hard his stomach muscles actually hurt.
They fall back on the couch cackling, catching their breath.
God, I love this bromance, Arisu thinks, trying not to poison the light-heartedness with the sadness tied to the memory of two very dear people.
They resume playing, and it’s nice.
But Arisu has been waiting for a specific question that isn’t coming. So he’s the one to ask. “Aren’t you gonna ask me how’s roommate life?”
“I feel like the girls have already run that question to the ground.”
Arisu smiles. “You would be right.”
Tatta pauses the game, turns to face him. “But seriously, you good?”
“Yeah.” Arisu answers automatically. “I mean, I think I’m still getting adjusted to the whole…”
“...living with the guy who allowed Niragi—the worst piece of shit this earth has ever seen who should burn in the unforgiving fire of a billion suns and that still wouldn’t be punishment enough—to torture you and Usagi, and then agreed to live with you like none of that ever happened?”
Arisu blinks. Twice. “Okay. Yeah. You summed it up pretty well.”
Tatta cracks a grin. “Is my absolute hatred for Niragi coming through? I was actually thinking of making a hate-campaign back at the Beach, pitchforks, the angry crowd, a doll with a picture of him waiting to be burnt at the stake, the works.”
“I would have supported you 100 percent.” Arisu grins back.
The dark-ish humor leaves room to something more serious.
“You don’t have to just accept it, you know that, right?” Tatta says in a low voice. “Like yeah, Chishiya’s my bro, he’s actually a good guy deep down. But it doesn’t change the fact that he did something real shitty. You can hold him accountable for what he did, it’s okay to say he should face consequences for his actions.”
Arisu’s fists have clenched so tight against his knees, he hadn’t even noticed the tension coiling through his body. “Yeah, but…” Even the protest dies on his lips.
“You don’t have to heal through it. You can heal around it.” Tatta says importantly. “That’s valid too.”
Arisu has to suddenly blink the tears out of his eyes. He didn’t know this was exactly what he needed to hear.
He smiles, his chest slowly untightening. “I love you, man.”
Tatta grins. “Love you too, bud.” He claps him gently on the shoulder. “Now, let’s get back to the game, I’m gonna obliterate your ass.”
Arisu chuckles, blinking the wetness out of his eyes.
The washing machine lets out its cheerful little victory jingle—the one that had scared Arisu shitless the first time he heard it and spent a full minute spinning around the apartment like a confused cat trying to find the source of the music until Chishiya, who looked it up online, explained to him what it was.
“Laundry.” Arisu groans, pausing the game mid-battle.
He’s come to hate laundry with a passion. Sorting, loading, folding, all of it sucks one-handed. All of it sucks, period.
“Oh, I can help.” Tatta offers immediately, already pushing himself up from the couch.
Arisu could kiss him right now. “God, thank you. Doing this one-handed is not exactly great.”
“No problem, dude. I’m here for ya.” Tatta grins, all easy sunshine, and follows Arisu into the ‘luxurious’ bathroom, as Tatta calls it.
“I love your bathroom.” He marvels at it as if it’s the first time he’s seen it. “Even your toilet is gorgeous.”
Arisu snorts. “Thanks, I like it too.” He crouches to get the clothes out.
Tatta does the same, and the warm, soapy scent fills the space.
Then, Tatta pinches a black item that Arisu recognizes as boxers between his forefinger and thumb, and pauses.
He stares at Arisu with an intensity that borders on uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry, man.” Tatta says solemnly.
Arisu lifts an eyebrow, confused. “About what?”
Tatta sighs theatrically, holding the boxers to his chest like a heartbroken maiden. “I didn’t know you felt this way for me.” He clutches the underwear tighter.
It takes Arisu exactly one (1) second to realize Tatta is doing a bit.
“Oh my god.” Arisu says.
Tatta continues, completely unperturbed, voice dropping into a mock-gentle rejection. “I just…I don’t love you that way, bro.”
Arisu face-palms. “Stahp.”
“You’re a little too male for me.”
Arisu groans into his hands. “Tatta, shut up.”
“I mean, obviously you fell for me—just like everyone else does—but I just don’t see you that way. My heart belongs to…well, not you. Sorry, dude. We can still be friends, though.”
Arisu scream-laughs into his palms, the sound echoing off the bathroom tiles. “You’re the worst. I hate you so much right now.”
“I’m flattered, I really am, but—”
Arisu chucks the first pair of boxers he finds at Tatta’s head.
They land with a wet ‘plop’ on his face.
Tatta flails his arms wildly, staggering back dramatically like he’s been shot.
“EUGH! GROSS!”
Arisu bursts out laughing.
It’s the dead of the night and Arisu still can’t sleep because Chishiya hasn’t come back yet.
He sent a text a while ago, but Chishiya didn’t even see it—so yeah, he’s been staring at the ceiling like an idiot waiting for his roommate to be back and trying not to worry about him. Hospitals make Arisu’s skin crawl, hopefully everything’s okay.
Five endless minutes later, the front door finally opens, letting Arisu know Chishiya is finally back, and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
There’s the tingle of keys and shuffling of feet and in a matter of seconds Chishiya appears at his door.
“Hey.” Arisu tries.
He can’t see Chishiya clearly because it’s night and the lights are off, but from the slow drawl of his “hey” Arisu can clearly hear the exhaustion in his voice.
Chishiya disappears into his own room and Arisu’s chest feels tight because—then Chishiya walks to the bathroom and turns on the light, it washes everything in an artificial white.
Arisu remains lying in bed, heart going thud-thud-thud because did Chishiya forget they have a deal? Oh god, what if he actually forgot? Or worse, what if he doesn’t want to spend his nights with Arisu—what then? Will Arisu be forced to spend all his nights companionless and insomniatic and die from lack of sleep—
The light clicks off and Chishiya slowly steps into Arisu’s bedroom.
Arisu’s heart skips a violent, relieved beat.
Chishiya flops face-first onto the bed, not unlike a corpse, and Arisu can smell the mint of toothpaste on him.
“Rough day?” Arisu asks cautiously.
“Long.” Chishiya’s voice is gravelly with exhaustion. “Nine-hour surgery.”
“Holy shit.” Arisu sits up a little. “Hey, you okay?”
“M’fine.” Chishiya mumbles and the tiredness stretches through his words. After a second, he revises, “I can’t feel my legs anymore. And my arms. And my back—no, I can definitely feel my back…my spine is crumbling into dust.”
Arisu has the very abrupt instinct to touch him, but doesn’t know if Chishiya would appreciate that right now, especially with how drained he is. “Do you want a massage? I’m amazing at them, ask Usagi.” He offers, only half-joking.
Chishiya makes an unintelligible sound. “Next time.” He mutters into the pillow.
He takes one deep breath, then shifts on the bed, getting more comfortable. Chishiya then turns his face so they’re looking straight at each other.
“How was your day?”
It makes Arisu’s chest ache the tiniest bit that Chishiya, despite his fatigue, would still be willing to ask, to focus on Arisu. Chishiya is nice, and Arisu knows that, but Chishiya is nice, and Arisu likes that.
“It was good.” Arisu says sotto voce, not wanting to break the fragile little spell they’re under. “Today was Tatta’s turn to ‘babysit’ me. It was fun. Also, I might have traumatized him with a pair of boxers.”
Chishiya raises a brow.
Arisu shrugs. “Don’t ask.”
Chishiya chuckles, and Arisu is a little struck, of course it’s not the first time he hears it, hears him, but…
He can’t get Chishiya’s voice out of his head.
Ever since the first time Chishiya spoke to him, Arisu unconsciously memorized the cadence of his voice, the shape of it, low, cool, husky, a little boyish.
It’s the most beautiful voice he has ever heard—and it should come with a warning.
The words slip out before his normally-inexistent-anyway-mouth-to-filter can stop them.
“I like your voice.”
Chishiya blinks, caught off guard. A moment slips by, the quiet pressing in on them.
“...thank you.” He says finally in a small voice.
It’s only for a second, but Arisu thinks Chishiya is being shy. Adorable.
“You should be an actor.” Arisu decides all of a sudden.
Chishiya’s lips tip upwards (he’s been doing more of this around them lately: smiling). “From what I can tell, actors are supposed to convey all kinds of emotions through their voices, faces and bodies. My range of emotions feels rather…limited, and so do my expressions.”
He marvels at how self-aware Chishiya is. He’s always been, after all you can’t take life-altering decisions without knowing yourself down to the thread.
Arisu shrugs again. “Fake it till you make it is a thing, you know? Plus, you’ve got the looks, you’d make it onto the big screen in, like, a heartbeat. People would lose their minds.”
Chishiya makes a small, embarrassed sound, and looks away, almost squirming in place. “...you’re making fun of me.”
“Nuh-uh, I’m serious!” Arisu insists, reaching out to give Chishiya’s shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze. Chishiya actually leans into the touch instead of pulling away. “You’re the most handsome guy I’ve ever seen.” Arisu pauses, then adds with a shit-eating grin, “Myself excluded, of course.”
Chishiya snorts delicately, and pushes Arisu’s shoulder (the good one) gently.
Arisu chuckles and moves a little, body curling towards Chishiya, he places his elbow on the pillow and holds his chin up with his palm.
“I’d watch all your movies.” Arisu continues. He feels chatty tonight.
Chishiya raises a brow. “Even the boring ones?”
“Especially the boring ones. I’d sit through three-hour art-house dramas where you just stare meaningfully at a wall for two hours straight.”
Chishiya’s shoulders start shaking with silent laughter.
Arisu grins wider, giggles bubbling up because everything is hilarious at this hour. “I’d stand outside the theater handing out tickets for free. Like, ‘Please, sir, my roommate is in this movie, he’s very talented and also very tired—’”
Chishiya hides his face completely in the pillow, muffled chuckles turning into full, helpless laughter when Arisu continues—
“I’d beg on my knees!” Arisu whisper-shouts through his own laughter. “Tell people we’re poor and starving and we need this—”
Arisu swears he can feel the vibrations from Chishiya’s laughter throughout his own body from the shared mattress, and Arisu’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much.
He likes this, Chishiya laughing without a care in the world, because of Arisu.
Yeah, he likes it.
Arisu grins. “Don’t forget to thank me in your speech when you’re famous.”
Chishiya grins back a little, catching his breath. “I’d like to thank the academy, god, and most importantly, my roommate—”
Arisu wheezes, he has to bury his face in his own pillow, laughter spilling out uncontrollably.
The two of them lie there shaking, trading stupid giggles back and forth like they’re 14 and have stayed up way past curfew.
Eventually, the laughter tapers into soft, tired breathing. Arisu wipes at his eyes with his finger, still grinning.
“You’d make it big.” He concludes.
“I’d get kicked out on the first day for making the lead actress cry with my deadpan commentary.”
Arisu snorts, pressing his cheek into the pillow as his shoulders shake a bit.
“...still, it’s a nice thought.” He murmurs, the humor fading and leaving behind a shallow, hollow space. “I happen to like those.”
Chishiya hums, seemingly giving the words weight, before he reaches up and smooths a crease in the pillow, not meeting his eyes.
“Someone once told me there’s no such thing as bad thoughts.” Chishiya whispers, night-drawn dark feathering his tone, heavy are his words. “Only your actions talk.”
They let that sink in like ink on a page.
Did you think about the consequences of your actions before using me?
Was it truly worth it in the end?
Did you ever stop for a single second and allowed yourself to regret it?
The questions burn like acid in the seams of his stomach tissue, aching to be let out.
“Are you okay?” Chishiya asks softly.
No.
The word jerks inside his brain, an unignorable impulse. He almost said it out loud, shit.
“Yeah.” Arisu covers up the gap in his answer with a nervous smile.
Chishiya observes him, carefully so.
“You promise?”
Arisu blinks, caught off guard. “What?”
“Promises matter.” Chishiya mumbles as an explanation.
And Arisu remembers Chishiya telling him something similar on the sunlit rooftop just days ago.
“Do you promise you’re okay, Arisu?”
I can’t.
Because how can he, when it feels like his whole world is collapsing inward?
Arisu suddenly wants to cry.
Instead, he forces a tight, fragile smile.
“...I promise that I think so.”
Chishiya looks into his eyes, searching for something, for confirmation perhaps—then nods seriously, trusting. “Okay.”
“Okay.” Arisu echoes him.
But the lie swells like a storm brewing, a few wrong turns in the making.
.
.
.
In the dream, Karube is occupying the passenger seat, Chota is in the back, Arisu is warming the driver’s seat. He can almost taste the gray in the tension stifling them.
Arisu is seventeen again—he can’t remember why this is so catastrophic, why it matters so much, but something monumental happened when he was 17, something that turned his life upside down.
Chota and Karube, instead, are their own age, in the same clothes they wore the day the meteor swallowed them whole.
The car is rumbling beneath him like a predator lying in wait.
“You don’t have to think about it.” Karube says confidently. “You just…do it.”
“What if it hurts?” Arisu asks in a feeble voice, gripping the wheel nervously; his heart’s been already beaten like a drum.
“Oh, it’s going to hurt, so much.” Chota whispers quietly from the back. “Isn’t that the point?”
Is it?
“Does that scare you?” Karube asks, a clinical, unsettling calm to his voice.
“I don’t want to__”
Arisu slowly frowns at himself.
Why won’t the word come out?
“What?”
Arisu tries again. “I said I don’t want to...”
“You can’t even say it out loud.” Karube murmurs, almost disappointed.
Arisu fidgets, nervousness leaking from his pores like blood out of a wound. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Arisu.” Chota says calmly, every word measured, tender almost. “Why do you think we’re here?”
And suddenly, it makes sense.
...oh.
The car starts moving in reverse.
Arisu’s grip falters, his hands slip off the leather. The car doesn’t stop—if anything, it starts picking up speed.
Arisu, for some reason, wants to say it out loud, wants his words to be a testimony to his actions.
I took my hands off the steering wheel...
“...what’s the worst that could happen?”