Chapter Text
The state of the art elevator operates smoothly and soundlessly, only the floor numbers flashing by as it ascends. They have long passed the top floor of the house Tenn lived in until today, but still continue to rise. Tenn looks away from the display, his head spinning. The reflection he catches in one of the mirrors lining the wall is somber and sickly pale; he can barely recognize it as his own. In front of Riku, he could smile no matter how bad the situation was, but now, when he tries to lift the corners of his mouth, his expression only becomes strained, his eyebrows scrunching together. The tingling sensation of being watched makes Tenn break out in a cold sweat. Kujo’s figure looms in his field of vision. The suited man stands just an arm’s reach away, one hand resting nonchalantly on his hip. Unlike Tenn, shivering in a thin, off-brand shirt, gripping the strap of his worn out backpack like a lifeline, Kujou-san fits right in the luxurious interior. He doesn’t say a word, but the stillness creates a sense of pressure threatening to squash Tenn flat. He can’t tell what Kujo’s silence means; is the judgement positive, or negative? Afraid to meet Kujo’s eyes in the mirror and see disapproval, but unable to hide from his scrutinizing gaze without making it obvious, Tenn can only stare ahead and try to get his expression under control. If he’s not charming enough - if he doesn’t meet Kujo-san’s expectations, he could end up back on the doorstep of the Nanase household, the money for Riku’s treatment vanishing like smoke. Maybe his parents would hug him, saying they can find another way - but Tenn overheard enough hushed, desperate conversations in the dead of night to know that Nanase’s debt was much more serious than they let on in front of their sons, a quicksand trap that would only pull them deeper as Riku’s condition worsened. Maybe Riku would smile and forgive him - but that is exactly why he can’t allow it to happen. Because Riku would use all of his dwindling strength to hug the twin who doomed him out of selfishness, and he would smile, happily, in relief, even as he was dying, as long as Tenn was by his side. Tenn presses his lips into a thin line, steadying his jaw. There is no other way.
“We are here.”
Tenn looks up briefly, taking in the floor and apartment number. There is no nameplate.
“You will have your spare key for emergencies, but I would prefer you don’t wander outside too much. We wouldn’t want the press to catch the sight of you, yet.”
Tenn closes his fingers around a small piece of metal his mother pressed into his palm just before he left, when Kujo-san wasn’t watching. A little rusted from falling into a puddle, with a keychain he pulled out of a gachapin capsule together with Riku - his old house key. Riku had a matching charm, though his keys were shiny and nearly unused. Slowly, Tenn lets the key fall into his pocket.
“Understood, Kujo-san.”
The lights are out when Kujo opens the door. Kujo doesn’t say ‘I’m home’, even out of habit; Tenn’s ‘Sorry for intruding’ dies on his lips with the stomach-flipping realization that he isn’t a guest - he’s going to live here. Tenn glances at Kujo from the corner of his eye, waiting for the switch to flip and reveal Kujo’s private face. but neither the man’s expression, nor the set of his shoulders changes coming home, the air about him as distant as ever. Even as they step inside and remove their shoes, Kujou-san doesn’t take off his suit jacket. Tenn realizes he’s never seen Kujou without it; it’s as if the suit was a part of his body, a second skin.
The interior doesn’t reveal much about the man’s personality, either. Designer furniture of a kind Tenn has only seen in magazines fills huge, open space decorated in neutral beige and white, the only splash of color coming from a plant near the stairs and a red coffee maker. Spotless surfaces, free of clutter natural to the life of a family with two children, create an image straight out an ad. On the kitchen island, Tenn spots a standing callendar - a commercial sample, advertising a company Tenn doesn’t recognize. Though almost every square is filled with notes, the month displayed is wrong, as if no one had been around recently to turn the page. The apartment doesn’t feel lived in.
“You may use the living space on the first floor at your leisure. I only ask you don’t raise the blinds. The paparazzi may be watching from the nearby buildings.”
Tenn’s eyes dart to the metal blinds, similar to the ones Tenn’s parents’ club would pull down against robbery after closing. Even though they’re this high up, and it’s the middle of the day, they’re tightly shut.
Kujou catches his gaze. “Worry not. The air conditioning is well maintained. I would never have you breathing stuffy air”
“...I understand, Kujo-san. Thank you.”
Kujo goes on about the security in the building, but Tenn can’t focus on the words. His attention is stolen by a peculiar sight. Next to the staircase, a small tree grows within a glass cylinder reaching from floor to ceiling, illuminated from all sides and perfectly isolated. Though from afar, it looks real, it’s hard to imagine how it could survive without water and sunlight. Tenn reaches towards the glass without thinking, but his hand soon drops to his side. A chilling sense of hopelessness creeps up on him. He can’t help but feel like he’s looking at himself.
The first floor is so spacious Tenn nearly forgets there is a second. Kujo-san walks with confidence that he will be followed, and despite himself, Tenn finds himself trailing behind, slowly scaling the wooden stairs. Just like the entrance and the elevator, the entire floor is shrouded in eerie, unnatural silence. Neither the wind that was blowing before they came in, nor ambient noise from the busy streets below, nor any, even the faintest conversations from the outside reach the apartment. Even Kujou-san’s voice is muffled, seeming to come from far away. He opens another door - more beige and wood, a flash of white tiles - the bathroom. It’s at least as big as the room Tenn used to share with Riku. Tenn could almost see Riku running in, with wide, sparkling eyes.
“Look, Tenn-nii! It’s like a pool! You could stretch your legs and splash around! We’d both fit inside - “
Tenn shakes his head, dispelling the illusion. Riku isn’t here.
“I took the liberty of choosing some beauty products based on the effects and recommendations,” Kujo-san says, “But if you have any preferred scent or brand, just say a word.”
Kujo’s tone is smooth and kind, as if Tenn could really ask for anything he wants - and yet, something about it still makes him tense up and try to inch away. Tenn is overcome with guilt. What right does he have to demonize the man? Kujo-san only gave him an option.
It was Tenn who packed his backpack, working with mechanical efficiency that scared even himself; it was him who convinced his parents to let him go, that he’d be okay. It was him who didn’t take it back, even when he realized Riku was listening at the door. It was Tenn, who didn’t turn around when Riku cried and coughed, his voice not coming out right anymore -
“Tenn? Are you not feeling well? Your room is right next door. You ought to rest. You’ve had a tiring day.”
A part of him wants to stomp his feet and scream, “Whose fault is that?”, but another, weak and needy, can’t help but cling to the kindness in that voice, no matter who it comes from. He can feel his guard crumbling.
The first thing Tenn notices is that his room isn’t as dark as downstairs was; the neon lights of the city below seep through a crack somewhere, dissipating the darkness into a dim gray. Turning on the light reveals that the windows are covered by black curtains rather than blinds; the curtains are black and thick, but at least, not as unforgiving as metal. Tenn takes in the row of bookshelves lining the wall, several shelves full of CD and DVD cases at the other, a sound system, an armchair. Gray and black rule the space, with only the colorful spines of books livening it up somehow. There is nothing to suggest that the room is intended for a middle schooler. It could easily belong to an adult. The bed is adult sized, as well, so wide that Riku could comfortably sleep next to him. Tenn’s vision blurs; he blinks in confusion, belatedly realizing it’s tears. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to will them away while he still has his back turned to Kujo-san, but his memory works against him. It supplies the sensation of Riku’s warmth as he curled into his side, asking for a story; the way Riku’s breath tickled his face as they talked in whispers about everything and nothing in the middle of the night, hidden under the covers, their noses nearly touching; the softness of Riku’s hand in his as Riku slept, feeling for the reassuring thump of heartbeat in his wrist. All at once, he recalls the way Riku cheered when, after studying movies, Tenn build their first pillow fort; the sparkle in Riku’s eyes as Tenn sung for him, standing on top of the bed like on a stage, or, dressed in sheets, acted out scenes from Riku’s favorite books. Tenn’s fingernails dig into his palms. Not now. For Riku’s sake, not now!
Kujo clears his throat.
“I would like to get a head start on the procedures for your adoption, but you don’t have to accompany me. Unless you’d like to…?”
Kujo gives him a look that makes him feel like he’s being tested.
Tenn shakes his head stiffly. “I’d… I will leave it to you, Kujo-san. If that’s okay.”
“Very well.” It seems the test has been passed. “Get used to this place for now. You will stay here until your transfer is complete.”
“A… transfer?” Tenn repeats..
“You will be transferring to a school overseas. Rest assured, the quality of education is top notch. Same for the security and discretion on campus. ”
The faces of few classmates who still bothered to keep in touch and bring him printouts when both Tenn and Riku missed school flash through Tenn’s mind. Their homeroom teacher, asking after Riku’s health and suggesting books he would like - their classroom, decorated for the school festival - the framed photos from competitions in Tenn’s club’s room - “It’s not the same when we’re without you, Nanase” -
He would never see them again.
“Thank you, Kujo-san,” Tenn can barely recognize his own voice. “Can I… sleep now?”
“Good night, Tenn.”
The door closes with a click.
Tenn collapses onto the bed, burying his face in a pillow, but to his frustration, tears refuse come again. His chest heaves painfully, his breath coming in short, shaky wheezes, but no matter how he tries to will tears on, no matter how much his eyes burn, they remain dry. Though the lamp isn’t too bright, it soon begins to bother him.He drags himself across the room to turn off the light, but in the darkness, he finds himself listening for Riku’s breathing, wanting to get up and check on him, as if Riku was sleeping in the other room. He ends up rifling through the CD shelf, looking for anything to fill the silence. It’s only when one of Zero’s rare ballads starts to flow from the speakers, Tenn falls into shallow, restless sleep. He dreams of wandering through an unfamiliar hospital with endless, winding corridors, knowing that Riku needs him but unable to reach his room in time.