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A creak of a step is, ultimately, his death sentence.
“Ah, Shinji-san stepping out for some air-” Kisuke’s joviality cuts off as he’s hit with the realization, probably taking in the sight of the captain’s haori on Shinji’s shoulders.
“You're leaving.”
Shinji cringed, held tighter to the frame of the shoten, he was so close to leaving. To turning away and never returning.
Just one last time is what he had told himself and then he could get over things–
Get over Kisuke.
"You're leaving." Kisuke repeats, it's not an accusation, not a question and that just makes it all the more cutting. Like Kisuke was waiting for this to happen. With his propensity for foresight maybe he was. He still let their little trysts continue.
"Yeah. Gonna stop me?"
"I wouldn't do such a thing."
Shinji shuts his eyes, feels the cold wind on his face, he just has to take another step and he's gone for good.
"Great. I got things to do, don't want to be late after all." He hears the soft rustle of clothes as Kisuke draws closer and Shinji stiffens, and–
–And Kisuke's hugging him. Hands loosely wrapped around his middle. His forehead presses to Shinji's back.
"Have a good day at work." A quiet exhale, those hands recede.
Shinji wants to scream, cry, break something, anything that isn't being here, anything that isn't being unable to have this.
"Yeah, sure." They're awfully bland words, considering. Considering how long, how close they've been. Then again, are words important in something that has remained unspoken so long?
If Kisuke had said anything more Shinji would've stayed, he knows,Kisuke knows it too. For once the chatterbox is keeping quiet. Shinji almost hates him for it.
Even that unspoken goodbye in Kisuke’s feigned levity was nearly enough to draw Shinji back.
Just for a moment she hesitated, tempted to look.
She was certain she wouldn’t like whatever expression would be on his face.
A face flushed, with fluttering eyes and a barely parted mouth, shaking with pleasure.
A glint of teeth and a flash of sharp eyes beneath a hat as they trained.
Muffled laughter hidden behind a fan and shaking shoulders.
None of those looks would be on his face. Shinji didn’t even know if he was wearing that striped abomination. Kisuke hadn’t been when they first tumbled into bed together, would he now?
Shinji didn't want to know. It wasn't important, not anymore.
The silence is Kisuke's mercy, his vengeance. Left forever to dwell in could have beens.
Shinji doesn’t say anything more, there’s nothing left that he can live with.
A jigokucho flutters in his vision with hypnotic dark purple, nearly black wings. Time to go.
They’re a loose thread that when pulled will make the whole thing unravel, a cracked old scab that always itches, that’s all they were supposed to be.
He steps onto the dirt path, the shop creaks one last time as if in protest, a whining thing to try and draw him back in.
Shinji doesn't look back.