Chapter Text
Saihara wakes up on the couch, while everyone, except Harukawa and Akamatsu, who went to their own room to do what couples do, were on the floors, sleeping peacefully. Saihara has nothing close to a bountiful sleep, since it was riddled by nightmares of the past and a dying Momota. He shakes these thoughts away as he thinks to himself that coffee would solve all his problems.
Coffee doesn't solve most of his problems, really. It just makes Saihara a little more energetic, like everyday. He and the others were lucky they don't work on Thursdays; Enoshima closes up the company's building every Thurday, due to some 'private meetings'. Hinata says that Enoshima and her sister goes doing shady boss stuff, and that joke sometimes make the others laugh.
He always forget that Akamatsu was rich enough to provide a fully functional coffee machine, damn it Enoshima, and he was still astounded to see the machine. It was stocked with coffee brew (he did not mind if it wasn't black, just any coffee) and turns it on. Saihara takes a glass mug, which was filled with geometrical patterns and was worth more than Saihara's apartment, which makes him feel nervous of breaking it. Nevertheless, he succeeds on pouring coffee to the accursed mug and brings it to his mouth.
Saihara then realizes two things: one, Momota hates coffee, and two, he should really make a fund-raising project for the replacement of that coffee machine who has been working in their servitude for eleven years. And thinks for sure, he did not know why he would find Momota's opinion relevant.
Saihara looks at the clock; it reads eight A.M, meaning that he has much time in the world to do what he wants. And he wants to check on Momota. Then he blinks. Where does Momota live again? Saihara was quite sure that Momota does not enclose his private address to others; only Amami knows. He sighs inwardly, because if he needs to find Momota' s home, he needs to go to Amami's.
He goes back to the living room, and was quite surprised to see that everyone was awake and rest assured. Was he the epitome of wake? Then Iruma sees him, and he stiffens. He does not think ill of the blonde woman, she was just overwhelming to be with, especially the swears and insults she keeps firing at them. What was even worse was her inappropriate gestures and behavior.
"Give me the fucking cup you're holding", Iruma demands, and Saihara has half a mind to just splosh it onto her, but refrains from doing so.
(Okay, maybe he was a bit aggressive to her there, but he has reasons.)
Instead, he stands there, so lost in thought that Akamatsu has to even snap her fingers to get his attention, which prompts him to do so. Saihara looks at Akamatsu in bewilderment, but just from her look, she was worried of what he was thinking about now. He has a habit of doing that in the most inconvenient situations.
"I ordered breakfast for all of us", Akamatsu says. Saihara shakes his head. Akamatsu was a nice woman, but sometimes her niceness can become a weapon for others. He smiles.
"You shouldn't have", he says.
"But I did." Akamatsu guides him over the dining table, which was now full of Chinese food. Everyone was now chewing down on the noodles or pouring a cup of coffee from that godsent coffee machine.
Saihara sighs, knowing that Akamatsu will not be satisfied with him until he eats anything other than coffee, so he takes a seat right next to Ouma, that insufferable little creature, and starts eating.
"Hey, Shuichi", Ouma gets Saihara's attention by pulling his hair. Out of annoyance, he looks at the smaller boy.
"Yes?" He keeps the irritation light in his voice, hoping that Ouma would not see some sign of it.
"Rantaro is acting pretty weird this past day", Ouma says in a hushed voice. "Always tailing around his bestie Kaito, being a little annoyed lately. Is he going through that time of month again?"
Kiibo elbows him, making Ouma huff in response. "Do not talk about such inappropriate topics in front of the food, Kokichi!"
"Yeah, listen to your boyfriend", Harukawa replies. "Stop being an offending little dick."
Ouma hmphs petulantly, but says nothing as he goes back to chowing down his food. Saihara only took little bites of the noodles. Either because he can't stop thinking about Momota or he just really doesn't like Chinese food (he pretty much thinks the noodles were quite tacky, but does anyone listen? No.).
Saihara pretty much doesn't know why he was risking going to Amami's in the first place. And he so happens to know his apartment, and decides to go, no matter how many memories were buried in the past, and how fast they're resurfacing again.
Amami was pretty much bewildered to find Saihara on his door. He had not changed addresses, much to Saihara's relief. He can catch a glimpse of the apartment, which was now littered with pictures.
"Why are you here, Shuichi?", Amami asks with an exhausted look on his face.
"I just want to know Kaito's address", Saihara replies directly; there was no point in answering Amami's questions with euphemisms.
"What?", Amami sharpens his tone, which means he was not buying it. "I think that-"
Before he can say anything that might insult Saihara in anyway, a little hand tugs on Amami's sleeve, causing the latter to turn around, and for Saihara to catch a glimpse of the person who decided to interrupt their conversation. It was a child, just at the age of three.
"Daddy, I'm really hungry", the boy says, insistently tugging on Amami's sleeves. He had the same hair color as Amami, and striking familiar gray eyes.
"Just wait a minute, Seiza", Amami replies, patting the boy's head. "Go to the dining table." The child follows, waddling over to the dining table, climbing one of the chairs to sit on.
"You adopted the boy?", Saihara asks. Amami glares at him, but this time there was something in his eyes.
"No", Amami replies. "I remember the nine months I spent carrying the little kid around and the hours of labor I spent getting him out of my body."
Amami was openly trans, and Saihara does not have a problem with that. He scratches his head, looking to the sides awkwardly. Then he asks the densest question that Amami has possibly heard:
"Who's the father?"
All in an instant, Amami slams the door in front of Saihara's face, leaving him baffled and confused. Saihara looks blankly at the pale green door, wondering if discussing Seiza's father was a sensitive topic, or he doesn't know either. But Saihara can't help that he's seen those eyes before.
He walks out of the apartment building, and decides on the best course of action: message Momota.
From Shuichi: Where do you live?
From Kaito: dude its like 3 am let me get some sleep
From Shuichi:It's morning.
From Kaito: wait rlly? cuz my clock reads 3 idk
From Shuichi: Your clock must've ran out of batteries then, Kaito. My suggestion is you change it.
From Kaito: nah man a broken clock doesnt stop me from being KAITO MOMOTA LUMINSRY OF THE STARS
From Shuichi: Kaito you spelled luminary wrong.
From Kaito: oh whoops
From Kaito: anyway what u want 2 ask me
From Shuichi: Your address.
From Kaito: ...why?
Saihara pretty much expects Momota to hesitate for a bit. Saihara was quite curious and interested to why no one, except Amami, doesn't know his address. Either he does not trust anyone with his apartment (which he doubts), or he moves from place to place and doesn't really know how to settle in.
Then he receives a text from the man.
From Kaito: its a pretty far away place but heres the address ********
From Shuichi: That was quite longer than usual, is this the first time you're giving your address to somebody else?
From Kaito: Because I trust you on not spilling my address to anyone else.
Saihara was dumbfounded. From all his previous texts with Momota, the man did not bother making the first letters capital, putting in punctuation marks or correcting typos. It was a normal messaging style for him. The only times Saihara has seen him write or speak like this was in every case file he's written, defending a client, or making a speech.
He didn't know why his hands were flying over the cellphone's keyboard, not typing any message, just floating over it. He almost drops his phone, and collects his senses by texting a reply to Momota.
From Shuichi: Okay. I'll be there in an hour.
Saihara was there in an hour. He takes a quick look over the surroundings near Momota's apartment. The apartment blocks around his were small and quaint, his apartment just the same texture and size and colour as the others. They were all an ugly firetruck red, which was strange because Momota hates the color red (even though red is one of the reasons why purple pretty much exists). There were bushes full of flowers and small shrubs surrounding the apartments, and a lone window even has a pot of flowers.
Saihara breathes in and out to step on the first step of Momota's apartment's porch. It creaks under him, and Saihara has a feeling that it would fall underneath him due to pressure. It looked so old, and had cobwebs between them. He finally reaches the doorstep of the apartment, which had a wooden door that looked a hundred years old. The wood itself looks to be tearing itself apart for many years, and the door knob and hinges that supposedly was a golden colour before was really rusty and no shine. Saihara knocks on the door softly, trying hard not to cringe.
He waits for a few seconds when the door knob turns, and the hinges squeak as loud as a chalk being scratched on a board. Saihara sees Momota standing in the doorway, with his signature jacket, but his hair was different from all the times he had seen it before.
"Kaito, why's your hair like that?", Saihara asks, pointing at Momota's hair. Instead of his spiky hair stretching all the way up, it was down and seems to look soft.
"Oh, uh, I ran out of gel today", Momota scratches his head. "So, I have to improvise."
Saihara absently nods, looking at his hair, mesmerized by it. He always thought to himself that Momota will never be suited for soft locks and hair smoothed downwards, and he wanted to uppercut his past self (if he knew how to do such a thing) for thinking that hairstyle does not suit him. Momota tilts his head, yawning a bit and Saihara's heart can't help but beat faster.
"Wanna come inside?", Momota asks, nudging the old door with his elbows. Saihara decides this as an incentive to actually step in, and looks around.
It was quite a simple living room, much to his shock. Saihara knows that Momota has been living with his grandparents all his life, but he's pretty sure he has parents and two sisters, they just don't see eye to eye on certain things. For more information, his parents were rich as fuck (so were Saihara's, but they're not renowned astronomers and astronauts).
There was a large television set, which was promptly the only thing not modest in the living room. There was an old sofa that looks like it came from an antique shop, a small coffee table on the corner. It was pretty dusty, which evidently means Momota never got around cleaning his home.
"You eat yet?", Momota speaks up, and Saihara looks at him. He hadn't eaten outside of coffee and Chinese noodles (which he admits that he only took small nibbles of it) so he shakes his head. Momota casts him a smile, reaching his hands towards the cupboards. "You're lucky I fully stocked my shit with loads more of shit."
Saihara giggles, but wonders if Momota actually knows how to cook when he starts turning on the stove. He figures this might be the right time to strike up a conversation with the Hanahaki victim. He clears his throat just tp get some of Momota's attention, who was now setting the flames on the kitchen stove.
"I didn't know Rantaro has a kid", Saihara says. "To be fair, he looks a lot like his father, actually. Except for the eyes."
Momota shrugs a bit, focusing on making their breakfast. "Yeah. Didn't want to tell me who the father was. I get being scared of scrutiny but he still doesn't tell me for over three fucking years."
He finishes his cooking and gets plates and utensils for him and Saihara. Saihara looks at the meal and his eyes water at the sight. For some reason, Momota was an incredibly good cook. What even is that sitting on top of the dining table? Bread with liquid?
"French toast", Momota answers his thoughts. "And spinach with an addition of fruits, highlighting grapes."
Saihara blinks, marvelling at the sight before him. He's never had seen such exquisite food placed next to him. He looks at it like a museum art piece, forgetting it was food that needs to be shoved into his mouth. For all his life he has lived off of coffee and bits and pieces of food from his fridge. He never really learned how to cook properly.
"Wow", Saihara breathes, taling the remaining plate and a fork, wanting to taste Momota's food. He now further realizes that the man in question was looking at him intently, not even eating a single bite. Saihara grips his fork tenaciously and takes a small bite.
In an instant, thoughts about the marvelous small bite he had impacted his brain. He wanted to drop the fork and start eating the breakfast using his bare hands and mouth like a heathen, but resists the urge all he can.
"I never knew you can cook like this", Saihara takes another bite, enjoying and savoring the taste in his mouth. "How'd you do it, Kaito?"
"Oh, ya know", Momota smirks and Saihara realizes what he just said and braces himself for a tangent. But all Momota did was shrug and continue with, "You know more when you study overseas and shit."
It was not really a secret Momota had studied overseas; Saihara was more surprised that he had brought the knowledge he gained from his expeditions and studies back to his hometown. In the form of creating the most wonderous breakfast. Saihara was impressed by his skill and decidedly starts to eat the food thoroughly and with not stopping. Afterwards, Momota takes a pitcher of water from the fridge, and pours water into the empty glass. Saihara realizes he was thirsty and asks for water. Momota gives him the glass and he drinks it all in one gulp.
"I'm surprised you can drink water in a gulp", Momota states, clearly hiding his surprise.
"There is more to me than you don't know, Kaito", Saihara replies teasingly, making Kaito red in the face, something he doesn't see everyday.
Momota's blushing, embarrased, and reddening face was quite adorable to Saihara, he can't help but blush as well as put the glass full of water near his face, pretending to drink. They go back to a silent trance, looking at the other as their cheeks burn down slowly. So slow, that they don't even know if they can strike up another conversation. Saihara's mind churns, thinking of a way to (though not a tense silence) break the silence they've been entranced to.
"That's the first time I've seen you get flustered, Kaito", Saihara notes, and Momota's face is on fire.
"Y-you're a damn menace, Shuichi." Now Momota is stammering and getting embarrassed. What alternate universe is this? Saihara laughs, resuming to eat as the other gets flustered all over. It was a cute scenery, even with the melancholic dining table, and the gray clouds Saihara sees in the windows.
It was almost as if a life-risking situation isn't afoot. They sit there, laughing and having a full-on conversation without awkwardness and tense periods. Of course, things cannot last forever, as Momota-
starts to hiccup. then he starts to cough. it got louder and stronger, and he was still covering his mouth. the tense air is back again, and saihara is horrified at what he was seeing right now. he quietly observes how momota was clutching onto his stomach, like he was going to vomit out everything he had eaten, and desperately covering his mouth, like he didn't want something to slip past his lips. but saihara knows what he's hiding, yet he chooses to play along for momota's own good.
"Kaito!", he exclaims in fake surprise, but true worry, as he sees his friend writhing and trying to choke out flower petals that were growing inside of Momota, and he looks up at him with mouth still covered. "Are you all right?!"
He did not answer. He, instead, tries to choke down all the flower petals in his throat, resisting the urge to throw it up all over the floors, even if the latter already knows. Saihara feels the guilt seep through him, wanting to hold Momota tight, but his body was betraying hid mind, and he just looks at his pained friend, staring at him.
Then the coughing stops, Momota successfully had not coughed up any flower petals, fortunately. Even if Saihara already knew his little secret of his, he thinks vomiting up flower petals to an unaware Saihara (or, aware, in this case) can be more damaging to Momota's pride than it was before. Saihara's seen how Momota is like when he shows signs of weakness in front of many people.
Momota was slow to recover. He sighs and groans, loudly but sounding pained, and Saihara can't help but feel guilty. The purple haired man looks at Saihara, but even when he smiles, there was sadness and longing in his eyes. Saihara gets up, motioning to Momota that he wanted to help him, but Momota refuses as he gets up himself.
"Are you alright?", Saihara tries again with a worried look. "Why did you start coughing like that?"
Momota sits up, and looks at Saihara with a grim expression. He looks down at his hands, but finds nothing on them. After a few seconds of staring, Momota's grim expression changes to one of a smile, a very bright one, to be precise.
"I'm fine!", he says in a hurried tone and starts to eat as if nothing happened, yet he seems to be aware of the thick atmosphere surrounding them both.
Saihara can't eat no more as he sees living proof that he was trying to discover since day one. And he does not like it one bit. Is this what Momota does everyday? Trying to choke petals out of his throat, wondering if his love would ever feel what he feels? Saihara feels sympathy, making him more determined of trying to make him fall out of love.
They eat the rest of their breakfast in silence.
199 days before
Saihara was finishing his entry when there was a knock on the door. He had come back to his own home seeking for comfort after Momota did a double take in his own dining room. Saihara clasps the back of his shirt, and takes it off due to the increasing heat. He was midway through the entire page when they knocked. He stands and walks to the door, opening it in the process.
"Hello, Shuichi!", Akamatsu's bright voice makes his day a little bright, like always.
"Hello, Kaede." Saihara unconciously backs away from the door to his laptop, where he saves his document and turns his laptop off. "What're you doing here?"
It was rare for one of his friends to visit him, especially in such an hour. Saihara glances at the clock, which reads 1:53.
"I'm just going to give you this personally." She rummages through her purse and founds something, as her eyes seemingly light up. She pulls out a pink envelope and hands it to Saihara, who didn't protest.
He already knows what it is: a piano recital. Shs has one once every two months, and she was sponsored by her twin sister, Kaguya. Which is a little weird since Saihara hooked up with her in highschool. He never got to tell Akamatsu.
Saihara smiles. "Of course I'll go to your piano recital. I always go, don't I?"
"But you're always late." Akamatsu pouts, and Saihara can't help but feel guilty for trying to avoid most of the people in her recitals by being late, and therefore decreases the chance of talking to his friend.
"Then I promise I won't be late." Akamatsu snorts.
"You better, Shuichi." Just like that, she leaves the apartment, leaving Saihara alone with his thoughts once again.
Then he finds himself searching through his closet, trying to find a nice clothing in for her piano recital two weeks later. Everything is bleak, as if one touch from Momota's Hanahaki is enough to make everything grayscale.
He was invited by Harukawa to a cafè downtown, in which they chat in a routine manner. Today's subject was Toujou's return.
"It's good to see Kirumi return", Harukawa says. "I haven't seen her in ages."
Saihara smiles weakly, getting rid of the many images running inside of his head. And it was always about Tojo choking those petals up, and him always cleaning them. Now it seems like he's going to do it again, this time with Momota. Harukawa looks at him with those cold red eyes- they see all,they know all.
It was strange to why Akamatsu would date someone of her polar opposite. Harukawa was one of the most intimidating women he had ever known throughout his entire life. She was a fiery flame, one that destroys forests, buildings, make people suffocate on how wild the flames are. But she carries loneliness in her too- the secret lies in her eyes, the way she talks, everything about her is a big mystery in a wrapped gift.
Harukawa raises a brow. "What are you looking at?"
Saihara shakes his head. "Nothing, just thinking about work and the case me and Kaito are supposed to do."
"What was it about, anyway?", Harukawa asks. "The case, I mean."
"Something about a guy being abused by his partner", Saihara shrugs, sipping on his coffee. "His name's Ryoma Hoshi, and he recently had surgery."
"What kind of surgery?"
Saihara's hand trembles, remembering his reaction as he read through Hoshi's files. "Hanahaki Surgery."
Harukawa's eyes seem to look down, downcast. "Oh."
For once in his life, he relates to Maki Harukawa for uttering out once sentence to describe his life right now.
Later that night, he receives a text from Momota. His heart jumps as he sees the text, and immediately reads it. He didn't care how much it hurts, to read a bright message in the dark-especially in the middle of the night- but even if his eyes are hurting, he wants to see if Momota is okay.
From Kaito: hey dude sorry for making you feel uncomfortable
To Kaito: You didn't make me uncomfortable. Not a single bit.
After minutes of waiting, Saihara didn't feel his phone vibrate, meaning that either Momota's asleep, or that he's coughing up those goddamn flowers. Saihara hugs the phone close to his chest, as he waits for the day to hit him like a train track.