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Yuuya doesn’t get many visitors. People offer, sometimes, but as much as he may flirt, he has no real inclinations to ask anyone to join him in bed. He’s perfectly fine being there on his own.
The rest of the apartment, though--that’s a rather different story.
He thinks the Dove Party thought they were doing him a favor, getting him an apartment this big. Two bedrooms, a huge bathroom, an extremely fancy kitchen, and more square feet than he will ever know what to do with; do they have no budget in the organization at all? Still, Yuuya doesn’t want to seem ungrateful, so he accepted the apartment with great ceremony.
It doesn’t suit him.
When he came to Japan, he believed--foolishly--that this job wouldn’t take that long. How could a doctor hide this many deaths without leaving some traces? The folly of youth, Yuuya supposes, is to believe oneself to be up to any task, no matter the difficulty.
It’s been a year since Yuuya moved in here, and he still hasn’t had the heart to put anything on the walls. The shelves are sparsely decorated as well. Most of what he has lying around are books for school (untouched; Yuuya is not at St. Pigeonation’s to study). The things that are truly important (his files on Shuu, his supply of weaponry and ammunition) must be kept carefully hidden in case anyone ever breaks in.
The walls are white and blank, the furniture dusty. His is a lonely home.
He does admit to keeping the little sack of beans Hiyoko gifted to him last Legumentine’s Day. She’s a sweet girl, that Hiyoko, but Yuuya knows that she was never for him, and she thinks of him as nothing more than a friend.
His brother, though, loves her as if she were the sun itself. In some ways she is: the way she lights up a room when she enters it, the way she makes Sakuya’s eyes brighten when he sees her. Yuuya hasn’t seen his brother smile in years, not since they still lived together at the Le Bel mansion in France, not since they were children and Sakuya hadn’t yet been taught to sneer. Yuuya will never be able to express just how grateful he is to Hiyoko for allowing him to see Sakuya smile again.
Two months have passed since Monsieur Le Bel evicted his most prized son. A disaster, he called it, a great offense to the family name, that a member of the pure bloodline of the Le Bels would choose to pursue a life of music. Yuuya can almost hear the disdain in Monsieur Le Bel’s voice now, but his mother’s letter expressed no such displeasure. Yuuya hopes that she is proud of Sakuya. He knows their father would have been.
Their father. It is this truth, this secret, which brings Sakuya to Yuuya’s door now, though he does not know it yet. When Sakuya left home for the first and final time, Yuuya sent Hiyoko a letter asking her to tell Sakuya that there is something they must discuss. In truth, Yuuya is glad it took Sakuya so long to finally come; it’s taken Yuuya all his life to gather up the courage to tell him.
Few people have the privilege of seeing Sakuya silent. He is an aristocrat, after all, and no aristocrat is taught to sit in silence when they can be expressing their opinions. Loudly. Regardless of whether or not anyone in the vicinity wishes to hear those opinions.
But upon hearing the secret that Yuuya has kept close to his heart for as long as he can remember, Sakuya has nothing to say.
It’s almost refreshing. Yuuya had been expecting him to call him a monster, or a meddling peasant at the very least; but those words can still come. He waits, but Sakuya doesn’t even look at him. The silence is heavier than any Yuuya has ever known before. He thinks it might drown them both if he doesn’t break it.
“We’ve got one more thing in common now, you know,” Yuuya says, watching Sakuya sit, shaking, with the mug of coffee clutched tightly between his hands. “We’ve both been kicked out of the Le Bel household by a man who isn’t our father.”
Still Sakuya says nothing. He seems paralyzed. Yuuya forges onward because he doesn’t know what else he can do.
“You’re a proud young man, little brother, and as annoying as you may be, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I will always be here for you. So, please, if you ever need help, rely on me.”
Yuuya doesn’t know if it was the offer or his proffered hand that does it, but the next thing he knows, Sakuya’s coffee mug is on the table and the boy himself is gone. He hadn’t even taken the time to close the door properly behind him.
Yuuya sighs.
A week later, someone rings Yuuya’s doorbell. He looks up, confused; Leone isn’t set to come for their weekly briefing until tomorrow. As it is, he has no idea who will be standing on the other side when he answers the door.
“Sakuya!” Yuuya’s eyes are wide when he sees his brother on his doorstep. His usual half-smile slips away for a moment before he remembers himself. “Come in! I must admit, I wasn’t expecting to see you again.”
“I thought about not coming back,” Sakuya says. The old haughtiness is still in his voice, but it’s cut, somehow--with sadness, maybe. Or with freedom.
“But you did, and I’m very glad.” They stand in the entryway for a moment, neither exactly sure how to proceed, before Yuuya seizes on a topic that won’t force them into introspection this early in the morning. “Here, let me show you around. You only got a chance to see the living room the last time you were here.”
Sakuya flushes. If he thinks the same way that Yuuya does, he is remembering the way he ran out the door as soon as Yuuya finished his story. “Saka--Yuuya. I apologize for--”
“It’s alright,” Yuuya says, cutting him off. “I don’t blame you.” His brother’s world had just been pulled out from beneath his feet. Who would stay for a pleasant chat after that?
“Still,” Sakuya presses on. “It was very rude of me.”
“I’ll forgive you if you let me give you a tour of my apartment.”
“Very well then. Let us proceed.”
“You know, I haven’t heard you use my first name in ten years,” Yuuya says, almost casually. Sakuya flushes again, but Yuuya beams at him. “It’s nice. Almost like being home again.” He continues speaking before Sakuya can even begin to be embarrassed by that comment. “This, as you saw, is the living room, while over here is the kitchen, which I rarely use. Cooking is rather a hassle, you know? I take it you’ve found that out, living with Hiyoko?”
“Unfortunately so. Have you ever seen a teenage girl skin a rabbit before? It was almost traumatic.”
Judging from the haunted tone of Sakuya’s voice, he isn’t exaggerating. Yuuya laughs. "I trust she's keeping you fed, in any case? I'm sure you would have mentioned it if you were starving."
"I have eaten more udon in the past few weeks than I ever even imagined possible. She wasn't exaggerating about how much she loves that dish."
“Surely not as much as she loves you?”
“She might prefer the noodles. Have you merely invited me inside to embarrass me, Yuuya?”
“No, I invited you in here to show you my bedroom,” Yuuya answers, the lilting note of flirtation slipping into his voice with practiced ease. He smiles as Sakuya splutters, refusing even to look into the room whose door Yuuya has so graciously opened for him. The flirting never leads to anything, of course, but Sakuya doesn’t know that he is the only person besides Leone to set foot in this hallway.
They continue down the hall to the parts of his apartment that even Yuuya does not enter, the parts which stand dust-covered and unfurnished. But for the first time in two years, he has an idea of what to do with the space. He opens a door with a flourish, stepping into the empty room with a spin.
“And this is the room where I’ll put the piano, if you let me.”
“Where you what?” Sakuya asks, blinking.
“Where I’ll put the piano. The school closes most of its facilities, including the music room, over the summer, and you can’t exactly practice in Hiyoko’s cave, can you?”
Sakuya stands there with his mouth slightly open for a good minute before Yuuya takes pity on him.
“You don’t have to answer right away. It would be nice to hear you play, though, Sakuya.” Another pause. “Well, that’s the end of the tour, little brother,” Yuuya says airily. “You can stay and have some coffee, or you can go home, if you’d prefer.”
“Ah. Yes, I suppose I ought to--I didn’t actually tell Hiyoko I was going anywhere, if she gets back before me she might worry…” Sakuya’s voice drifts off. For someone so used to speaking his mind, he seems to find himself stunned into silence an awful lot in Yuuya’s apartment.
“I’ll see you out, then.”
Sakuya is two steps down the walk before Yuuya calls out to him again.
“It can get awfully cold up in those caves, Hiyoko tells me,” he says. Sakuya turns around, frowning slightly.
“Yes, I’m well aware. I ran away in the winter, remember?”
“Well,” Yuuya says, “if you ever crave a little indoor heating, I have a spare bedroom for you, too. If you’ll have me for a roommate."
Yuuya keeps his face carefully casual. This is how he ensures that Sakuya has no idea he is terrified. For all he knows, Sakuya could be walking out of his life permanently right now. He’s a free man; he has no obligation to come back here if he doesn’t want to.
Every time Yuuya sees his brother, he knows that this might be their last meeting. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to take it when he finds out he's right.
But then Sakuya says “I’ll think about it,” and Yuuya feels himself smile.
(Sakuya has never seen someone smile that brightly. It’s even warmer than Hiyoko's grin; he had no idea that was even possible.)
“Alright,” Yuuya says. “Maybe I’ll see you soon, then?”
“Maybe,” Sakuya replies, but they both know it’s a promise.
To his credit, Yuuya doesn’t start crying until Sakuya is out of sight.
It’s strange, Yuuya thinks, to be walking home with the knowledge that someone else will be waiting for him there. He’s become accustomed to being alone; a couple of weeks have passed, but he still has yet to acclimatize to the constant presence of another person.
He steps through the door with a greeting on his lips, but the words fly out of his mind, replaced by a very different thought once he sees the interior of his apartment. “What on earth have you done?” Yuuya asks, dropping his bag in shock.
Sakuya glances over at him. “Ah, good timing. Is this straight?” he asks, adjusting a picture frame.
“Yes, it is, but where did all of these come from?”
Yuuya’s apartment walls, once so bare, are now tastefully decorated with beautiful artwork. It all looks rather expensive.
“The storage houses. Trust me, Fath--Monsieur Le Bel will never notice they’re missing. I had Albert bring them. I may not be a Le Bel anymore, but there’s no reason to leave the place looking vacated. Besides, you used to like this painter when you were younger, right? Is that no longer the case?”
Yuuya can’t help it; before he knows it, he’s grinning from ear to ear. “I love them.”
Yuuya has lived in this apartment for over two years now. This is the first time it’s ever felt like home.