Chapter Text
Gakushuu rings the doorbell, Ikeda in tow, after he had made a quick detour to the bridge on the way to his friend’s house.
A few seconds later, Ren’s mother opens the door, a bright smile lighting up her face upon seeing him. Before Gakushuu has the chance to greet her, she already ushers him inside, talking a mile a minute.
“Gakushuu, dear, great to see you. It’s been a while. How have you been? Any problems? Come inside, come.”
The door closes behind him as Gakushuu toes off his shoes, muttering a quick, “Sorry to intrude.”
She waves his words off. “Nonsense, you’re always welcome. It’s been far too long. Say, have you been well? I thought I told Ren to invite you more often.”
She walks down the hallway, raising her voice. “Ren! Come down, Gakushuu is here!”
Soon after, footsteps thunder down the stairs, and Ren’s head appears behind the corner.
“Ah, Gakushuu, you’re the first. The others said they’ll be a bit late.”
At this, Gakushuu suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. Figures that none of his friends manage to be punctual, except for the one already living here.
He follows Ren into the living room, the couch already overloaded with far too many pillows and blankets, while Mr. Sakakibara sits at the dinner table, reading a book. They greet each other, and a few minutes later his wife joins them, purse in hand and makeup impeccable.
“Honey, I’m ready.”
Ren’s father makes his way to their front door, while she turns back to the two teenagers.
“We’re going now. Have fun tonight. Drinks are already on the counter. And sweetheart, you know, if you need anything, just call.”
She’s already halfway down the hallway when she looks back.
“Oh, and Gakushuu, be a dear and keep the boys away from the kitchen. You know how Ren and the others get. I’d like to keep it a bit longer.”
“Hey, what do you mean by that? I’m your son, I live here!”
But Ren’s indignant protest is only met with light laughter and a quick, “Love you!” before the door falls closed. He grumbles under his breath, and with a sigh his eyes land on Gakushuu.
“She never changes, huh?”
A small smile tugs at Gakushuu’s lips at the memories of Ren’s mother barreling through life like a whirlwind, a stark contrast to the quietness of his own home.
“I don’t think she does,” he answers Ren, walking off to the kitchen.
“But she’s right. We should prep everything before the others come. Or do you want Koyama to step foot into your kitchen?”
Ren follows him, sticking out his tongue in a grimace.
“She’d kill me if Nat’s concoctions didn’t.”
A shudder runs down Gakushuu’s spine at the reminder, and he rummages through the cabinets.
“Don’t even remind me. Once is enough trauma for a lifetime. I think some of my taste buds still haven’t recovered from that.”
With a chuckle, Ren lightly bumps into him, and helps prepare the bowls Gakushuu pulls from their cupboard.
-----
An hour later, Gakushuu finds himself smushed between Ren and Araki, as all of his friends huddle on the small couch, watching a mediocre horror movie.
It is uncomfortably warm with all the blankets piling on top of them, and he feels as if one wrong move could send them all tumbling to the floor, their bodies and the multiple pillows fighting for space on the sofa.
A cheap jump scare appears on the screen, and Koyama and Seo devolve into a new screaming match as they cling to each other. Gakushuu glances to his right, just to see Araki covering his face with both of his hands. He’s quite certain the other boy hasn’t looked at the TV for the past half an hour.
On his left, Ren has his arm in a vise grip, most likely cutting off some of his blood circulation. Even Gakushuu can’t stifle some of his flinches at the sudden loud sounds, and in the corner of his eye he sees Ikeda smirking, completely unbothered by the gruesome murder.
A sudden weight falls on his right side, just as the axe murderer on screen slaughters his next victim, and Gakushuu is pretty sure Araki has just fainted. The shrieks of Koyama and Seo accentuate the scene, ringing in his ears.
Despite the rising warmth, unable to feel half of his body, and enclosed by far too much noise, Gakushuu knows no place he would rather be in.
-----
Gakushuu yawns and lets the cool wind hit his face in an attempt to repress his fatigue. The sun is high in the sky, its reflection off the water blinding him, as he blinks a few times. After a sleepless night, he has parted ways with his friends an hour ago.
Ikeda stands next to him, smiling with a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes.
“Slept well?”
Gakushuu groans, and if he could, he would chuck his bag at the other.
“You know exactly how well I’ve slept. Not at all.”
A chuckle escapes Ikeda. “But it was fun.”
“If you forget about the future headaches, no doubt thanks to two of my very vocal friends, yes. It was fun.”
“Aw, come on,” Ikeda sidles closer to him, “you always say that. Just admit it without any of that. Hearing their reactions was half of the fun.”
“It’s a miracle the neighbors haven’t complained about us.”
Gakushuu lets out a sigh and shifts his weight, brushing Ikeda’s arm in the process. A shudder runs down his side and all his hairs stand up.
“And you too,” he gives Ikeda the stink eye and points an accusing finger at him, “what was that tonight?”
Laughter bubbles out of Ikeda, watching Gakushuu seething.
“What? I couldn’t help myself, it was the perfect opportunity. Plus, everyone needs a small fright once in a while, don’t they?” he teases him.
Gakushuu’s cheeks erupt in flames as he recalls the past events.
“Not if it involves feeling like you were dumped into the Arctic Ocean while walking through a pitch-black hallway in the middle of the night!”
He will, for the rest of his life, deny the high-pitched shriek his friends claim to have heard. As well as his stuttering while trying to explain that no, he wasn’t haunted by an evil spirit, that’s just the ghost he’s been hanging around with for the past few months. Just without mentioning the latter.
Ikeda snickers, the edges of his jacket blending with the painted railing.
“Come on, admit that it was hilarious. They were totally ready to fight whatever scared you.”
Ikeda’s gaze drifts over the water, a small melancholic smile on his face before he turns back, grinning.
“Even though I don’t know what they planned to do with a poetry book and a stapler.”
“Maybe,” Gakushuu replies as the corners of his lips tug upward, and warmth fills his heart.
They stay silent for a while, listening to the rushing river and the distant sounds of the city.
“You know,” starts Ikeda after a few minutes, voice low, “you should keep them close. Friends like this are,” he pauses, a wistful look in his eyes as the breeze blows around them, “they’re rare.”
“I will.”
-----
“Aren’t you afraid of falling down?”
Gakushuu eyes Ikeda, the horizon line shining through the ghost’s body, and stomps down the nauseating feeling in his stomach. It has been a few days since the sleepover, and the ghost’s transparency has only gotten worse.
A lump clogs his throat, and Gakushuu can’t pinpoint the reason for it, as a heavy feeling weighs him down.
Ikeda glances at him, sitting on the railing, legs dangling multiple meters above the running flow, before looking back down.
“Falling?” He scratches the back of his head, gaze unfocused as he thinks about the question. “To be honest, I haven’t really thought about it. Probably have just suppressed it. I, you should never experience it.”
Through Ikeda’s sheer form, Gakushuu watches the old paint on the metal flake off, small scraps fluttering to their watery demise. He feels it crumble under his own palms as he carefully leans over the balustrade.
“I know I,” he heaves a sigh, “but sometimes I can’t help but wonder. I know about, I care for my friends, I know I shouldn’t, and I won’t, never will, but sometimes there’s just this voice, this urge, and I don’t know how to silence it.”
“Don’t do it.” Ikeda faces him, his voice steady. “I think sometimes we just need to hear it. And…” he trails off, worrying at his lip as he lets his gaze drift back to the stream, his hands fumbling with crusted green flakes.
“I know it isn’t my place to say, but you saw what my suicide did to him. What would he do if he lost you, too?”
Gakushuu lets out a dry laugh.
“It shouldn’t matter, he lost me years ago.” He tightens his grip around the bar. “It shouldn’t matter, he shouldn’t, with everything he’s done, but I can’t keep myself from thinking about him. Who would he even hurt? There’s no one left, but—”
A deep breath to ground himself, and he steps away from the railing.
“It’s different. I’m just a student, the walking proof of his stupid ideology. This man, he, he hasn’t loved me for years.”
And Gakushuu doesn’t know what exactly it is that forces tears to his eyes.
Maybe it is the chance to voice his thoughts after burying them for all these years or the admission that it hurts differently, knowing that he once felt loved and is now nothing more than a student. It could be the hurt, conceding that he hadn’t been enough, that his own father had replaced him with some boy from his cram school, that he would never love him as much as some random kid. Perhaps it is the inexplicable weight pressing down on him with an unknown sadness.
Or it could just be everything at once, breaking the dam he had so painstakingly built up over all this time, piece by piece.
Hot tears drip down his face as Gakushuu rubs his sleeve over his eyes, and his voice fights through his taut throat.
“He never loved me enough.”
So why is it now that he still doubts the inevitable? That memories of inscrutable expressions, awkward dialogs and cut fruit mix with the bitterness of his childhood, with the sting of failure. Sudden changes, as if his father cared despite everything that has happened before.
What does it mean?
He hugs himself, unable to stop crying.
“Gakushuu…” Ikeda’s soft voice waves through his racing thoughts, one arm outstretched.
Gakushuu takes another shuddering breath, walking back to the ghost as his tears continue their journey. He tries to concentrate on his breathing, slowly regaining control and calming down.
All the while, Ikeda waits patiently for him until he can muster up a wobbly smile.
“Sorry, I’m,” inhale, exhale, “it’s fine.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Gakushuu swallows around the lump in his throat. If he’s honest, he really doesn’t want to, but every time his eyes fall on Ikeda’s fading form, a looming dread of something floods his head. He reaches out for the other’s hand, and while the unpleasant sensation of freezing water still creeps up his arm, it is no longer the all-consuming vortex he once felt.
Deep down, Gakushuu knows this might be his last chance before the unforgiving hands of time run their course.
So he lets the numbing feeling in his arm ground him and talks.
“I just don’t know what to make of all of this. My father, he…” Gakushuu grips the railing tightly, focuses on his respiration. And little by little he finds the words to describe his conflicting emotions and all the confusing changes, as well as his difficulties in making sense of them.
After the last of his thoughts, Ikeda stays silent for a while, contemplating his next action. Time passes by, and it takes a few minutes before the ghost rises to speak again.
“I know it isn’t my place to say this, but back when he was my teacher, you were everything for him. I’ve never seen him as happy as he was when he talked about you or when you visited our school.”
Ikeda looks back at the water.
“But obviously I can’t speak for anything after that. You know what I think about some of his actions, and I know I could never convince you. It sounds like he’s trying to atone for his errors, or at least be a better father, but…” he trails off and sighs.
“Look, I know you don’t want to just leave him, but I really think you need some distance to sort out all of your feelings. Both of you. Plus, you need to talk with each other, like really talk, because I don’t think you should just carry on as if nothing happened.
“I won’t and can’t tell you what to do. In the end, it is your choice if you forgive him or not, no one else’s. But I really think you should have some space away from your father while you make your decision. And no matter what I personally think, I’ll support whatever you want to do.”
“Thank you.” Gakushuu’s expression softens, and he hums, considering Ikeda’s advice. His contradicting feelings fight each other, but he closes his eyes, recalling the past weeks, months, years. The emotional turmoil rages inside him like the untamable sea, and deep down, Gakushuu knows what he has to do.
“You’re right, I need some time to sort out my thoughts. I, it’s all still a lot.”
He watches the other’s side profile for a few seconds, his outline intermingling with the background as he observes the river. The undeniable awareness that this is goodbye suddenly hits Gakushuu, and a bittersweet feeling fills his veins as he leans closer to the ghost in a futile attempt to get a hold of his hand.
“But really, Ikeda. Thank you. For everything.”
And Ikeda faces him, his expression barely tangible, as it bleeds into the sky above. A bright smile graces his features before they blur together.
“Every time.”
-----
“Father.”
Gakushuu steps into the living room, approaching his father with determined steps, his holdall slung over the right shoulder.
Gakuhou looks up from his files, eyes flitting from the bag to his face.
“Gakushuu.”
The sound of his given name makes him want to squirm, but Gakushuu doesn’t waver. He swallows his qualms and clenches his fists to keep himself in place.
A sense of loss is still filling his heart, but a calming feeling, a kind of peace, accompanies it. This is something he has to do, and the knowledge of Ikeda’s unconditional support gives him the confidence he needs to speak.
“I’ll be staying at Ren’s for the foreseeable future.”
He puts down his bag and sits down in the chair across from his father, who’s watching his movements in silence.
“And…” Gakushuu takes a deep breath, clasping his hands together. This is it, this is what Ikeda would have wanted.
What Gakushuu wants.
“We need to talk.”
He observes his father’s face, nerves on fire. It changes slowly, as Gakushuu clutches his hands, wishing desperately for his father to accept this olive branch. To give his attempt, to give him a chance.
Gakuhou’s expression softens, almost looking sad, and for a moment Gakushuu thinks he can see the father he has lost all these years ago. He shifts with slow motions, eyes focused on his son and documents forgotten, as a frail smile turns up the corners of his mouth.
“We do.”