Work Text:
“Kyoya…?”
Sousei leaned around the door, scanning the recently emptied office space.
In which he found, standing alone, Kyoya Asahina.
His childhood friend wasn’t looking at or doing anything in particular; if there were any furniture in the room he may have been mistaken as part of it, with how natural he looked stood there.
Kyoya turned to the voice, with a sheepish smile on his face. Admittedly, he had been here for slightly too long.
In his defense, it wasn’t like he could just leave without saying a proper goodbye. The group had decided to leave the venue they had been in for the past 3 years; Madoka was able to find an even bigger, more futureproof building for them at a similar to price to what they were paying right now; so of course the move was a no brainer. Their musical groups popularity had exploded since first moving here, and popularity meant more fans. More fans meant more demand for new kinds of shows. New kinds of shows meant a need for more advanced sets, props, stages…
But this was where it all started. Where uncertainty and tension blossomed into conviction and camaraderie.
“Ah, Sousei. Sorry. Is everyone waiting?”
“Yes…but everyone knew that you would be here, so they’re not complaining.”
“I see.” Kyoya smiled again, this time soft and calm.
In the interests of the future of the company, he had been all for the move; but something about leaving here made him feel forlorn and nostalgic. It was a bittersweet feeling that he had hoped to be able to hide from his co-workers, and had evidently failed to.
As Iori had often chastised him for, he was much too soft for a director. But if there was any group of people that he didn’t mind exposing sentimentality to however, it was this group.
“Were you worried that I was going to chain myself to the floor and refuse to leave?” asked Kyoya, stifling a grin.
“If I’m honest, I didn’t rule it out.” replied Sousei. From the look in his eyes, it was uncertain whether he would join drag Kyoya away if he did such a thing, or lie down and join him.
If there was anyone who was going to be as sentimental as him about this it was Sousei after all. Everything that Kyoya dealt with, more often than not Sousei was also dealing with. There were solemn few problems where Kyoya’s first thought wasn’t “I should ask Sousei for advice.”
From how Sousei had worked hard to sort the necessary paperwork, expenses, and everything that Kyoya would be lost if he had to deal with in order to make the move happen, it might have seemed like he had no particular attachment to this place.
But if that was the case, he wouldn’t be standing next to Kyoya, his face a mix of loneliness and a euphoric nostalgia.
The sunset that bled through the now curtain-less window bathed the space in an orange glow; it was warm, but the atmosphere of the venue had always been warm. Even at winters coldest, this place where the 7 of them gathered and stood on the stage was always the warmest of all.
“Sousei.”
“Hm?”
Kyoya hesitated, as Sousei’s eyes met his.
“Do you think my father would be…”
“Yes.”
It was obvious what he was going to ask, and so Sousei didn’t wait for Kyoya to finish. His gaze focused on the others face, a certain firmness to it.
This was a question that Kyoya asked sometimes, often after a lengthy production had finished. Hell sometimes he even asked it in the middle of the night, wherein the only reply Sousei could manage was “Please go back to sleep.”
This time however, regardless of all the others, Kyoya believed him.
He believed that his father was proud of him for carrying on his – their – dream, he believed that he was proud of the friends he had made, the rivalries he had seen through.
All of it has taken place in this building. His father’s memory lived on in here.
And as he realized this Kyoya could do naught but cry. It truly was weak, for a director to cry over something as simple as moving, but it was all he could do.
“I always hated that part about you!”
Sudden and sharp, the exclamation tore through Kyoya’s thoughts, and stopped his tears before one could even fall down his face.
If he wasn’t so surprised, hearing that from his best friend would probably have made Kyoya cry more; but when he looked at Sousei’s face, there was no malice. He was grinning, and looking at Kyoya with expectancy.
What did he want as a reply? An apology? A rebuttal? What kind of …
Oh.
Kyoya knew exactly what this was.
His face formed into a taunting simper, the very definition of cockiness.
“Ha, is that jealousy? That’s what makes me different from you!”
These were the lines they had shouted to eachother in the park that night, in full view of the public; it was a miracle that they hadn’t been arrested before Madoka found them and threatened just that. He told Sousei that practicing outside wouldn’t be a good idea, but Sousei insisted that they did – because just minutes prior, Kyoya had complained that the office wasn’t ‘real’ enough.
And here, in the empty office space that Kyoya had been dragged out of 3 years ago, Sousei was asking him a question with those lines. A question that he didn’t need to actually ask, for his face, and his reference of that scene said it all.
‘Do you remember?’
Kyoya did.
The pair burst out laughing, at themselves, at eachother. Kyoya’s tears of melancholy turned into mirth, the sunset illumination providing warmth that was now second to that which Kyoya felt from Sousei.
This wasn’t an end.
Yes, part of his father lived in this room. But so did part of Kyoya. Part of Sousei, Madoka, Iori, Hinata, Subaru, Kaito, Jin.
By leaving here, they weren’t losing a part of themselves; it was how they kept the place they started in their hearts. It wasn’t a goodbye, not even a ‘see you later’.
It was an ‘I remember’.