Chapter Text
He should be happy for him. Chikage is okay. Chikage is alive, and didn’t… just go somewhere and do god knows what, (which, well, he already did, didn’t he.) but at least it isn’t anything bad, he’s safe and sound and maybe the troupe members will be overjoyed to hear how he’s been doing.
Out of respect, no one has ever taken their spots in their respective troupes.
He observes him even harder from the lounge area in the office, a good break, he thinks, as he grinds some gacha game with his husbando, a little tired from staring at the stupidly “gendered” pink UI with the characters flying across the screen.
He’s happy. He looks healthy— maybe skin even glowing brighter than ever.
And it’s good for him. It’s amazing to see how happy Chikage looked, “laughing” with his friends, almost heartwarming to see Chikage doing just fine. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s talented, strong, mentally adept, better than h—
He stops that train of thought immediately.
He was happy. So then Itaru should be happy. Even if he was that stupid, unromantic senpai that always was offstandish with just a bit unromantic caring for others when he felt like it.
At least, should be.
He watches as his coworkers walk around him, slinging their arms around each other in camaraderie, as one of them asks him out for drinks after picking up lunch. His smile is almost as wide as he remembers when he figured out Hisoka was alive. And innocent.
He watches Chikage and he doesn’t look back, walking into the elevator without him, because he works on this floor. It’s fine.
But it’s just so fucking funny, when all he wants is just another word, just a reason why he left without even asking Spring Troupe, or literally anyone else for help. He would even trade his life for Hisoka’s, even though he knows that wouldn’t make anyone happy. Well, maybe Chikage. He could go off into some sunset with him and run away from whatever responsibilities he wanted to not deal with. Like Itaru. Izumi. The others.
He wants to scream out so bad, just for him to come back, but he can’t, like that stupid horror novel that made him feel like shit and all existential for no reason. He feels like he can talk to him about everything, in a sense. Which would make sense, of course, if they were still close. Roommates. But he could only do that in a world where Hisoka is still alive.
—
Chikage knows he’s here.
Why?
Intuition.
Not really. He looks at him, but chooses not to “look”.
But when he sees his face, almost heartbroken, which is almost questionable. He wants to ignore him so bad. Just move on. Easier said than done, when every week you see him share out information with the company execs. A Chikage-senpai, no more.
He wants to move on so bad.
But everytime he goes to bed, he can’t stop thinking. He crosses another day off the calendar, it’s been three years, almost three and a half years.
He tears down his calendar. Who the fuck uses those anyways?
He tries to move on.
But of course, when you have something good, and it gets taken away, you want it back, right? You throw a tantrum like a little child at first, like a baby crying for their pacifier their mom took away from them. Then, you silence yourself, deny you ever wanted it in the first place. But you can’t stop wanting more, wanting it back. You yearn for it so hard that it hurts, almost twists your heart into a fucking pretzel, your stomach bubbling like the filter of the damn fish tank in your too-large-for-one-person office— thanks Boss, not complaining— but you can’t have it. You ignore it.
He knows he wouldn’t be able to deal with it again. It was all his fucking fault. He slams his hand on the desk again, before opening up his work computer.
His vision is hazy, like the only thing he can see is his hands, just a foot in front of him, trying to find his ground, but all that runs through his mind is, “it’s your fucking fault you idiot stupid you shouldve worked harder to protect everyone, cant even do that” it turns out harder than expected.
But it’s not his first time at the rodeo, of course. He picks up the stack of paperwork, straightening it all into a neat little tower of paper, before typing away with a nasty scowl on his face.
He can’t accept this.
—
It’s his anniversary.
Chikage is on “vacation”. If your definition of “vacation” is sitting in a fancy car in suburban Tokyo, near Veludo Way. He already regrets his decision. Closure, my ass, he thinks to himself as he drives his car.
He’d already picked up tickets to their show in a month. Itaru is the lead this time. He searched it up, but it seemed not to have anything that Spring Troupe would do. Minagi always changes it up.
Maybe visiting his grave today wasn’t the best idea, Chikage asks himself with a slight melancholy in his inside head voice which he wants to shut up— so he tells it to shut up with its own voice (which of course, would never work, because he’s telling himself to
shut up).
Chikage doesn’t know what to say. Do people speak out loud to their graves? No disrespect to them, but not for him.
In their head? He tries it, kneeling down a bit to the headstone, setting down a bag of marshmallows.
Hisoka. I don’t believe in God or reincarnation, or whatever religion. But I want to give the universe, no matter how little it cares, the benefit of the doubt. I hope you’re in nirvana, heaven, or reincarnated into some “cute” baby in whatever country, eating marshmallows. I never understood that. It’s not like I needed to. I guess. But wherever you are, I hope you’re up there. With August.
He shakes his head, like a dog shaking off water, except instead of water, it’s a somber liquid covering him, coating him in some syrupy hotness that feels like the embodiment of orange with speckles of blue.
He gets up and turns around to head back to his car.
“...Utsuki. It’s been quite a while.” He pulls up the cuffs of his outfit.
He’s not surprised to see him here. Arisugawa. He looks the same, the same haircut, the same outfit, same everything. He’s happy to see he’s been doing well.
“...I’m not surprised to see you here. You were his roommate, after all.”
“Yes, yes, indeed I was. Was is the word I want to put emphasis on.” It’s like he reminded himself of what happened. “Why? Why come back here after all this time?”
“I was just… reminded.” He straightens his back, as if it wasn’t straight in the first place, almost scoliosis levels of effort into “straightening” posture, as if to become more defensive.
“Are you going to interrogate me, at least? Inquire about the troupe? How well has it been faring?”
“... I don’t think I need to.” He’s reminded of the last time he went to watch a play. Around Christmas time— where he could take enough time off.
Minagi always does well. Sakuma is always just so passionate you can feel it through the character. Usui is always perfect, staring back at the Director in approval. Chigasaki… is…
He interrupts his own thoughts just to respond to Arisugawa, who’s been waiting for another word for 3 seconds at least. “I saw the play around Christmas. Well done. Very much so.”
“We are all aware Minagi-san always does an amazing job. Why, he is at the same level as me. But of course, I must come here and mourn every once in a while.” He walks past Chikage to look at Hisoka’s grave. “These marshmallows were his favorite brand, Chikage.”
“I know.”
A moment of silence ensues as Homare places a bouquet of anemone on the grave.
“Come back.”
“What?” Chikage is almost startled as he looks down at Homare, squatting at the grave.
“Come back.”
“You know I can’t.”
“You can, and you have always been able.”
“I can’t. Arisu. What am I meant to say to everyone? ‘Oh, I left for 3 years, haha big surprise now I’m back!’ They’re them. I’m me. They don’t need me.” Chikage laughs nervously. Nervously? He calms his nerves— at least tries to, conflicted on what to do, because it’s been a while since he’s been like this.
“It’s what Hisoka would have wanted. We all need breaks.” The mention of Hisoka alarms Chikage, and makes his voice venom tipped.
“Don’t even try to bring up that fucking sleepyhead.”
“My, your language. This place is sacred.” He doesn’t even seem phased by his biting tone or his venomous words, just continuing to talk to him as normal— at least normal to him. “But you must admit… he would want you to keep acting. He was very, practically fully aware that you enjoyed what you did immensely.”
“I don’t care. It was good to talk to you again. See you around.” He storms off before Homare calls out for him again.
“Just… take this.” He hands him a card, Chikage acquiescing halfheartedly, already thinking about throwing away that flimsy card. “Call the number if you ever yearn for us too much.”
Chikage doesn’t say anything back— at least doesn’t feel the need to.
—
“Itaru?” The rest of the Spring Troupe knocks at his door, mostly Sakuya’s voice piercing through the little symphony of voices piping up just in an effort to wake up Itaru. (If he’s asleep of course— sleeping now to save energy for ranking all night.) “We have pizza?” Masumi looks at the noticeable lack of pizza in their hands, which, knowing Itaru, would make him close that damn door again.
Tsuzuru knocks on the door again, Izumi coming by, looking at them with a puzzled look on her face. “...Can I ask what you guys are doing or is it private?”
“Itaru hasn’t come out of his room in like… a week.” Tsuzuru takes out his phone to check the phone date to see if he’s actually not come out of his room for a week. “Yeah. A week.”
“And why is that surprising? He’s probably ranking.” Izumi almost has a visible question mark hovering over her head, that would be drawn over her if they were in an anime. “Although he should be working on his role… he is the lead after all.”
“Yeah, but I know that he has no thanking to do for this week!” Citron looks almost frustrated, going to the door to bang on it before Sakuya holds him back, calming him down. “I wanna play with him…”
“Ranking.” Tsuzuru mumbles through the word, correcting him.
“Ranking!”
Izumi parts them into two to make her way to the door, knocking harder. “Chigasaki! Get out of the room before I break in!” No response. “...Itaru?” Izumi grabs a keychain from her pocket, with the master key. “I’m coming in.” She unlocks the door quickly, opening the door, being blasted with a rank scent— the scent of body odor (which isn’t surprising now that he’s alone) but when it’s festered and accumulated for a month. Which is terrible considering he’s only been in there for a week.
“...Yes?” Itaru sits up in his loft bed. “...Oh.” He gets down from the loft bed, his hair almost matted to his face, with oil stains and chip crumbs all over his t-shirt. “...Hi.”
“Itaru.”
“Director…?”
“Take a bath. Come back here. We are going to talk, because you haven’t let it get this bad in a while.”
“...Whatever you say.”
When Itaru takes a shower, he doesn’t feel refreshed— rather just a clean feeling taking him with the same unidentifiable emotion. Probably a mixture of disappointment, discontentment, and self-loathing; which isn’t a particularly new mixture but it’s almost defeating this time, for no damn reason. Well, he does know the reason, but he refuses to acknowledge the idea, even entertaining it. Calling in sick to work because he just didn’t feel like going isn’t going to last forever, especially when He is practically his boss. He doesn’t want to get fired of course. He did just lose another job, so getting fired now isn’t the best idea.
Itaru picks up his phone on his way out of the bath, and turns on his phone to check his waifus this time, at first checking out his Best Girl. Humans are complicated, he says to himself, as he taps though some loading messages and downloading messages. He thinks back to work before getting interrupted by Izumi, who’s staring at him from inside his dorm, picking up trash and stuffing them into her makeshift trash bag, which is really just a plastic bag from the convenience store. “Itaru, come in. It’s your dorm after all.” He walks in unwillingly, hit by the smell he produced himself. He even wonders how he can take it.
Izumi wants to talk, he knows that much, as he feels the type of anxiety coming on when he gets the message, “we need to talk”. He hasn’t gotten it that often, but he does definitely freeze up. He definitely isn’t that stupid to not get a hint. Maybe. Izumi starts speaking after a moment of silence.
“So… Can we talk about this? You’ve never let it get this bad… even you have standards.” She glares at the side of the room that’s basically caked in chip bags, surrounded by an anime summoning circle made of chip crumbs.
“Do I have to?”
“Listen… this can’t go on forever. Just… talk about it. My lips are sealed!” She “zips” her mouth shut and throws away the invisible key from her hands. Itaru knows she isn’t going to leave without an answer— which is just the type of person she is— determined for no good reason. He can’t understand why Izumi is still here, even “helping” him clean. Helping in quotation marks because Itaru’s splayed out on his couch, head hanging off an armrest.
He holds out his phone to tweet something on his streamer Twitter, like “sorry for not streaming i was sick” which is convincing, until he realizes Banri follows him. Fucking NEO. Whatever. He sends it anyway.
“Can you keep it down? I don’t know what emotion you’re gonna feel when I tell you whatever has gotten me so… down. But I know you’re gonna scream about it, which I don’t want to hear.” Itaru scrolls through his personal, looking at fanart of his main games staring at a couple to just appreciate the artistry. Talent.
“I told you. Lips are sealed!”
He adds a snarky tone to his voice. “Someone with their lips zipped together wouldn’t be able to talk.” Itaru smirks.
“Shut up, you know what I mean.”
“LOL. Do you seriously, most definitely, want to hear me out?”
“Yes. Obviously? I’m cleaning your room just to buy myself time so you don’t kick me out.”
“Good strat. Whatever.” He goes to the training section, sacrificing some of his cards in the name of evolving his best girl. “I got laid off, remember?”
“Yeah.”
“And I got a new job, remember?”
“Mmmhm.”
“So I got hired as an assistant to this high up exec, which is like… hell yeah. Level up from that old company.”
“Didn’t you just get hired? I don’t think being absent for a week is a good look for your Refreshing Handsome Man persona. Trademark.”
Itaru laughs.“I— Well… Yeah? But I just didn’t want to go because of a certain person.”
“Do we have to beat someone up?”
“No. But guess who it was.”
“... Was it someone from highschool?”
“It was Chikage-san.”
“...Chika—“ Izumi puts her own hand over her mouth to shut herself up because of the up and coming scream that is about to pierce the skies.
“You heard me right.”
“...Yeah, I definitely did.” Izumi almost has a solemn tone, a tacit agreement of how they should be feeling about this.
“I just… I don't think I’m ready to see him. Mentally preparing for what shitshow might go on. Seeing him drained all my LP in a split second. And this week is me recharging, and a little more. Like I need it to overflow this time, like when I claim daily login quests for them.”
“Makes sense. Well… nothing you can do about it, right?” Izumi sounds a bit defeated, tying up the trash she’s picked up in the convenience store plastic bag, taking out another one and cleaning up again. “Just… deal with it till you can find a new job. Or… you could bring him back here. I want to— need to talk to him.”
“Mmm. I don’t want to do it.” Itaru sounds even more defeated, like he was born with that stupid Archeops abiltity. 50% HP lost already, and he’s not ready to lose that other half. “But if it comes to that… Sure. I’ll try. Not very hard of course.”
“Yeah, yeah, Itaru. You keep doing that.” She picks up some more trash before Tsumugi looks through the door.
“Director-san?”
“Tsumugi?”
“Someone is at the door.”
“I’ll get it.” Tsumugi leaves quickly to his dorm. “Itaru. Finish cleaning. Get the broom and sweep that damn pile of chips. We can’t deal with another infestation. Sakyo is gonna get so mad at you and me, and we don’t want another wifi outage caused by him. Also… please remember the play. I know that we aren’t super close to opening night, but this one has to be one of our more intricate ones, okay? Study your role well.”
“Yeah, of course. I’ve been doing that in here too.” Itaru follows Izumi out of the room, heading to the lounge to grab the dustpan and broom lying in the corner of the kitchen. Itaru takes it, wondering how much money it would cost for Itaru to get a damn maid around here.
But he wouldn’t want anyone to see his room, of course, as he gets almost scared of someone walking in, and seeing his shelf of games, and his cute and sexy gamer setup. Not the right choice of words, but it’s cute and sexy to him. (He also doesn’t want anyone to wash his body pillow of his waifu, or see it, matter of fact. Plus, he’s worked to make it so comfortable he can sleep instantly with it.)
Itaru heads back to his dorm, the door still open, sweeping up the chips, and spraying some damn Febreeze in there. Hawaiian breeze, or some other tropical scent will do. He hears frantic footsteps from the lounge, Izumi holding onto the doorframe.
“Itaru!” She stands up straight. “Chikage… is here. At the dorms with us.”
“What?”
Chikage pops up behind her, with a small suitcase in hand. Less of popping up, but more of fully revealing himself behind her.
“Please don’t tell me he’s moving back in.”
—
Chikage is less than aware of the reasons he’s here, before regrouping himself and making some stupid mental list in his mind. Thanks, self-help/business book that his boss gave him. He leads up the events in his mind.
- Chikage gets a call from the landlord of his apartment building.
- The landlord tells him that the rooms are flooded because some guy on the upper floor took such a big shit that it flooded the entire apartment complex. How does one even do that?
- He is distressed. He goes to book a hotel.
- All the hotel rooms are booked again.
- Chikage, understandably, gets angry. He drives back to pick up some non-wet stuff. He can sleep in a car for a night.
- He starts it up, and it doesn’t start. His car is broken.
- He kicks the tire in frustration, and the side metal plate just falls off. He sighs in the ultimate defeat.
- He now has nowhere else to stay— hotels are all booked and reserved for the waves of plays about to be released. His hideout is not an option— he doesn’t have much of a bed in there, or actual facilities he needs. No wifi.
- Chikage is reminded of the conversation he and Arisugawa had back at… there.
- He comes back with a damn Uber.
He sits down at the couch, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in more than frustration at what situation he’s gotten himself into, already regretting his decision.
Izumi runs back, opening the lounge door. “...Chikage-san!” She goes to the kitchen. “It’s… a pleasure to see you back here. It’s pretty late. Almost everyone has gone to sleep. Tea?”
“Sure. Lavender, thank you.” Chikage is fidgeting, which is super out of whatever character he plays, almost struggling to not have a tone when he says his next words. “I’d… hope no one else is awake.” He thinks back to Itaru, but forces the thought of him out. “How has it been?”
“Not the same without you and… yeah.” Izumi looks down at her own cup, the teabag soaking. “Why are you here anyways? You just… disappeared.”
Chikage swallows his pride for just a little bit longer. “My apartment is flooded. My stuff is fine but I can’t stay there for now. Every hotel is booked here. My car is broken because I’ve been forsaken. I can’t stay anywhere else. I need to stay here.”
“...Well… you’re always welcome here anyways. You’ll always be a part of us, even when you don’t think you are.” Izumi takes a sip of her now finished tea. “Well… I know this might be uncomfy but for now, our only open room is 103.” He gets flashbacks to the number, when he got assigned it the first time he came here. “I don’t want to put you in 205. Homare has been doing a lot of stuff in there ever since.” Izumi pauses. “...And I know how you might feel about it.”
“I see. Well… I’ll take what I can get, no?” He sighs. “Beggars can’t be choosers.” He takes a long sip of his lavender tea. Nothing has really changed, he observes, as he looks around slowly taking everything back in. The smell is even familiar, which might just be the smell of lavender tea, but he doesn’t really think so. But an air about it doesn’t have as much life as it used to— which he might attribute to the fact that it’s now 12:30 am, but he knows deep in his subconscious the real reason.
Izumi smiles wide. “Great. I’ll lead you there. Itaru is cleaning right now.”
—
Yes, it is awkward, Itaru confirms to himself— something he doesn’t even need to do when Chikage is literally just typing away at his computer, as Itaru fiddles with his phone up in the air, playing some new KniRoun thing. Great. Lancelot is idly whacking at some large dragon on his phone screen, while Chikage’s loud typing begins to fill up more and more of his headspace until Itaru finally gets over the air that’s as thick as butter. “Can you type… quieter? Please?”
Fuck. That is not how he meant to say it. “...sure.” Itaru is surprised, doing a little “Oh.” to himself. He expected more resistance, especially with his tone.
Chikage can almost feel Itaru’s eyes burn into the back of his skull, which would almost be fitting for him and those damn carnelian eyes. “If you want me to leave, I can leave. I understand you have to do that ranking thing, or whatever.”
“Don’t act like you care, Utsuki.” Itaru just keeps fumbling with his tone, always going a little too biting. Which he should probably stop, when he’s basically talking to his boss. Technically. Not really his boss, because he’s been appointed to Chikage. They’re supposed to be working together. But it’s not like Chikage has power in a setting that is now his. He’s in Itaru’s domain. “You never cared about my ranking in the first place.”
“Can we fucking not today? Be happy I’m even dealing with you.”
Itaru shuts up immediately. He isn’t going to do this today. Or ever. He turns on his side to try to ignore whatever that cabbage head is doing on his laptop. But he doesn’t. He looks at the laptop, already looking for hotels to stay at, and sending out emails, with some decryptor on the side. Itaru isn’t one for confrontation. He knows he’s less than welcome with Chikage’s presence— which he can’t understand.
But Itaru is already tired— be it from the event that just happened, or the fact that it’s 1 am. Which is baby hours for him. He goes to do some final things, use his stamina, the sorts, and lets his body drift away.
—
Itaru wakes up midday, as usual for a weekend, and for some reason, Chikage is still there, typing away. He climbs down from his loft bed, stretching a bit and going to turn his computer on.
It seems like a normal weekend to Itaru, except for the fact that he’s here now. For whatever reason.
“Have you been awake this entire time?”
“...What’s it matter to you?” Chikage doesn’t even look back or stutter in his typing.
“Nothing, I was just wondering. Jeez.” Itaru doesn’t even want to try to fight back with the man who could snap his neck in 0.5 seconds. He walks out into the atrium, heading to the kitchen to grab some food from Omi, who had probably covered some leftovers from breakfast in plastic wrap, and probably already getting lunch ready.
“Itaru. Good morning to you!” Omi speaks to Itaru from the counter, giving him a smile.
“Thanks.” He grabs the leftover breakfast for a nice brunch. Izumi comes through the door with some bags of groceries for the next week.
“Itaru! Let’s talk later, okay? Practice is soon. We don’t want you to be absent this time. As the lead, you have the most importance for the play, and we need you to—“
“I know. I’ve been studying this role, okay? I just can’t seem to wrap my head around it.”
“And that’s why we should talk.” Izumi looks serious again, the look she gave him last night when cleaning his dumpster room. “It’s nothing serious. Just sit down here.”
“I have things to attend to, Director.” Itaru looks smug, and walks towards the door, plate in hand.
“I swear it’ll be quick!”
“Can’t we just do it in my room? Omi is here, and if it’s so serious, we should talk about it in a private place.”
“You’re gonna be distracted if we do it in your room. Just follow me to mine.”
“Ugh…” He walks over to Izumi, and follows her to her room, pulling out a chair for Itaru and she sits on her bed. “So…?”
“So… guess what…” Izumi’s voice is light, like she’s trying to break something to him slowly but surely.
“Don’t tell me. Is he going to be staying for a while?”
“...Damn.”
“You have to be kidding me, Izumi. Like I can’t believe you would do this to me. Rooming me with my boss.” He puts his back over the chair he’s sitting in, like a standard damsel in distress, woe is him. “Woe is me! All I know is pain and suffering.”
“You might be an actor but that was not an opening night performance.” Izumi laughs. “It might be for a while so bear with me. It’ll be until at least closing night.”
“... At least closing night?” Itaru is confused. “Why does he even need to stay in here?”
“Well… His apartment is flooded. Some guy took a fat shit in the toilet on the upper floors and now his apartment is flooded with toilet water. Hotels are booked for a while, Godza n’ all the other performances. People do book hotel rooms months in advance here.”
“Well, that’s tough. Why not put him with Homa—“ He stops and realizes what he’s going to say. “Oh.”
“Right.”
“Well, can’t he drive? Like… to a place with hotels?”
“Well, his car is broken. Listen, even if he did get it fixed, it’s the least we can do for him. He tried his best, Itaru. Everyone… grieves differently and it’s not in our place to judge him, no? Even if it was self-destructive…”
“Yeah, by hurting us? That’s his grief? Why’d you even let him stay? He doesn’t act, he wouldn’t do shit around here. Do you think he’ll come back? After three and a half years, no goodbye, just a complete disappearance? I don’t see how you can forgive some old cabbage head like that. He’s not even part of MANK—“
“Itaru, can you shut the fuck up? Like, actually.” Itaru immediately shuts up in almost prey-like fear. ”You of all people should know what it felt like when he left, and after everything that went down.” Izumi is absolutely fuming, like steam is coming out of her ears, getting up and turning away and looking at the bookshelf. “Do you know what it feels like? I worked so hard for this— to build this up from when it was failing to a place where we can stay and lean on each other and you… you of all people should know what the hell that feels like.”
“Izumi, I—“ He gets up, reaching out for a bit.
“I’m not finished.” Izumi is tearing up and getting more red by the second, like she’s going to burst. “How do you think I feel about all this? Chikage is back. It’s overwhelming, Itaru. It reminded me of Hisoka, and what would MANKAI be if he was still here but he isn’t. He’s not back. He won’t ever, and when we find an old member like Chikage, I will always accept him back in, even if he’s not committed to the acting gig. It’s almost like we’re completing ourselves again.”
“I understand that, but—“ Itaru can barely get a word in.
“He’s staying there. I don’t want any backtalk from you, Itaru. Have a good evening.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Just go.” She sits back down, her back turned to Itaru as he walks out.
Itaru feels bad. I mean, who wouldn’t, but he didn’t expect Izumi to take it that hard. Itaru has every right to say that he doesn’t want him in his room, feeling no remorse for making Izumi almost cry from pure anger, walking slowly back to the room. Omi stares at him as he goes through the kitchen.
“...Food?”
“Nah. Not hungry, I want some chips.”
“Don’t overindulge. It’s almost dinner anyways.”
“Yeah, yeah, thanks Omi.”
He walks out of the kitchen and back to his room, still thinking about Izumi. Izumi is angry. Izumi is more than angry at him and it was because of him— which has never happened before and he is distraught.
He walks back into the room and no one is there. Bless. Today his room feels a bit more lonely, even though there’s more stuff in it, looking to his left to see the duffel bag of clothes with his desk underneath the loft bed already set up with tons of electronics. What is he even doing? He takes a look at Chikage’s stuff before he comes back.
Another laptop? A walkie-talkie… and the thing that catches his eye the most is a picture of MANKAI, and behind that, a picture of Hisoka and Chikage. Itaru remembers taking this photo, looking closer at it. Okay, now he really feels bad, he thinks as he looks at the photo more and more.
If he missed us that much then why didn’t he come back?
The door opens and he shuffles as fast as he can to the couch, posing in one of the most awkward positions.
“...H-hey, Utsuki-senpai.”
“Hm.”
He quickly walks past, suspiciously looking at Itaru as if he was a cat that pushed something off a desk while their owner was gone. Itaru quickly skitters to his desk, starting up his computer. The room feels a bit more lively with both of them in it, even if they’re both just trying to ignore each other, something within the room metamorphosing, like something is changing. He shakes the thought out of his head quickly before he slumps into his chair to get into the Gamer Position (trademarked by Itaru himself) and getting his software up.
Itaru needs to stream today. Not really— he didn’t announce anything, but he has to feed his fans some sort of content. He gets ready to film something, anything. He picks a random game and starts filming a bit, Chikage in the room completely tuning Itaru out and vice versa.
Chikage slowly drifts off to sleep for once, but this time, it’s a deep sleep.