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Kiriya tugged at his coat, adjusting it for what felt like the hundredth time that day. When his assistant asked him about his new habit, he made up something about the garment being new and oddly fitted. It was kinda true, it was new, and it did feel strange.
But all clothing felt odd to him now. Bugsters didn’t really “wear” clothes. He’d spent months imagining whatever outfit he’d wanted and watching it appear on his body, fitting exactly to his standards. It’d been nice and cheap. Very convenient really.
But he wasn’t a Bugster anymore, just a regular old human. Something he’d been working towards ever since he’d been wrenched back into consciousness in a haze of fire and confusion that’d been even more painful than his death. He spent hundreds of hours working late into the night to become human again. But now that he'd succeeded, he was constantly reminded of all the things he didn’t miss.
He scratched at the back of his neck. The tag in the back of his shirt felt like it was tearing at his skin. He could cut it off, but he knew that would only end with his focus shifting to how rough his jeans felt against his waist or how uncomfortably hot his feet were in his socks. He’d never noticed how uncomfortable clothes were before he’d experienced life without them.
“Are you busy? I was gonna grab lunch and thought you might like to join.”
Kiriya’s eyes shot up at the familiar voice. Emu leaned in the doorway, doing his best attempt at a casual smile. They both knew it was fake. Kiriya felt a stab of guilt for avoiding Emu, but he just wasn’t ready. His humanity was still too raw to restart the relationship they’d built when he was a Bugster.
“Yeah, sorry,” Kiriya lied easily as ever, “I’m swamped.”
Emu’s smile fell. “I know you’re lying,” he said, brows furrowed, “I just watched you messing with your clothes for three minutes.”
“I was thinking,” Kiriya replied, not dropping the act, “Don’t act like you’ve never been stuck on a problem.”
“That’s perfect. We can talk out your problem at lunch.”
Emu’s answer was quick and pointed, and Kiriya was suddenly reminded of the danger of challenging Emu to a game. Kiriya might be the master of lying, but once Emu put his mind to something, he could outmaneuver anyone. And it seemed that Emu had made up his mind about lunch. Any more attempts to weasel out of it were doomed to fail.
But Kiriya didn’t let his frustration show as he jumped up, putting on his best disarming smile. “Good point. Shall we?”
Lunch consisted of sandwiches made by Poppy in the CR. Another stupid clever decision on the genius’ part. There was no way Kiriya could turn down anything from Poppy. Even if it meant being alone with Emu in the CR instead of the busy hotel cafeteria.
They were pretty good, the sandwiches. Food was good. It was one of the best parts of being human.
Less good was the way that Emu watched him eat. Emu's gaze would be gentle, disarming even, if it wasn’t so constant. It was the same intense expression he’d had the night the two of them kissed the first time.
Kiriya hadn’t expected it back then, thinking Emu was just interested in the curiosity that was a human turned Bugster. It’d taken him off guard when Emu cut him off mid-conversation with a searing kiss. Sometimes at night, Kiriya would close his eyes and remember the way Emu’s hand felt as they slipped into his hair and the way he’d laughed against Kiriya’s lips. How he’d fit his body against Kiriya's so confidently.
The memory made Kiriya’s cheek warm, so he tried to distract himself as best he could. He rambled at Emu about all the research he was doing. There was plenty to talk about, especially since Kiriya had been avoiding Emu. It'd only been two weeks, but they'd been busy.
Emu responded to the information, but his expression remained unchanged. And he didn’t offer any follow-up questions or offer any new topics. It was a bit unnerving and made Kiriya yearn for the old times when all this tension could be ended with a kiss.
Emu was waiting for something, Kiriya could tell. Waiting for an explanation, most likely. Kiriya didn't want to have that conversation. He knew they needed to, but every time he wanted to talk, the words didn't want to come. It was easier to lie and push off the truth for later.
As soon as Kiriya finished his sandwich, he stood and stretched. One of the joints in his shoulder cracked, and he bit back a wince. It wasn’t painful, but it certainly wasn’t a feeling he’d missed.
“Thanks for the food, tell Poppy it was delicious, but I have to go,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. He turned to go, refusing to turn back as he heard Emu stand up abruptly.
“That’s it? You’re really not going to say anything?”
Kiriya didn’t turn back, but he stopped. Emu voice was soft for the amount of emotion in it. Sadness and hurt, wrapped in betrayal that made Kiriya’s gut twist. It wasn't that big of a deal. He should just explain... later. Not now.
“You don’t need to explain everything,” Emu said, voice even softer, “But either break up with me or talk to me.”
Kiriya was aware of far too many things as he processed the ultimatum. His palms were sweating, his stomach was starting to digest his lunch, and his chest hurt. It felt like someone was trying to pull his heart from his chest.
That didn’t happen when he was a Bugster. He hadn’t needed to breathe. And he certainly hadn’t needed to struggle for air, despite not even exerting himself. His eyes were wet, and he suddenly remembered what crying felt like. He’d laugh if he had the breath for it. But he didn’t, and he found more and more of his energy going to trying to get his heart to slow and his breath to level out. He tried to move forward, but his legs felt like jelly, and they gave out as his knees hit the ground.
“Try to hold your breath.”
Kiriya jolted out of his spiral to see Emu in front of him, eyes wide and full of concern. Kiriya was vaguely aware of the other man’s hands, one on his shoulder, on cradling his face gently, but everything felt like blinding static, so loud and intense that it sounded like nothing.
“Kiriya, you need to breathe.”
He realized just how fast he was breathing. His chest heaved against his will, even as he did his best to calm himself. It'd been so long since he had a panic attack, and it was much worse than he remembered. It felt like he was drowning and every gulp of air was just pushing him further underwater.
“You’re hyperventilating. Try and slow down your breathing.”
Kiriya focused on Emu who was demonstrating deep breaths. He tried following, but it was so hard. Every breath he took felt like it was being knocked out of him. Like something slamming him in the chest, desperate to push the air out of his lungs.
“It’s okay. You’re safe. Just breathe.”
Kiriya forced himself to hold each breath as long as he could and slowly, but surely, each one became easier. Everything started coming more and more into focus as he was able to start taking long, if shaky, breaths. Emu’s hands dropped away, and it was simultaneously a relief and a painful loss.
“Are you okay?”
Kiriya looked at the ground, lie jumping to his lips without thought. “Of course.”
“Kiriya, please." Emu was staring at Kirya again. "I thought we had something, but I had to hear that you got your body back from Taiga. Fucking Taiga! And then you started avoiding me. Please, just tell me why."
Taking a deep breath, Kiriya mumbled, “I’ve been having a hard time adjusting. To being human again.”
Emu was quiet. It stung, Kiriya didn't quite know why, but he'd hoped for more of a response. Really, he'd been hoping for validation, sympathy.
"Everything is so loud and so bright," Kiriya continued, honesty suddenly ready to flow, "And everything feels rough. Clothes are really uncomfortable. And I'd gotten so used to not having to sleep or eat. It's hard to refactor that into your schedule. Not to mention that I can get sick again. I hadn't even been alive a week before getting catching a cold, and I did not miss that. And I miss..."
The words caught in his throat. He couldn't say it. Couldn’t admit that the problem with getting his human body back was that it was his body. And his body had never been the way he wanted.
The problem was Emu had only ever seen his Bugster body. The body that Kiriya had made to be exactly what he wanted.
Emu knew. It’d never been a secret, but they'd never discussed the details. Emu hadn't asked any questions, and Kiriya hadn't volunteered any information. The idea of returning to a human form had felt like such a pipe dream that the discussion hadn't even felt relevant.
"I miss you," Emu said quietly. Kiriya looked up to see Emu staring at the floor, hair hanging in his eyes, fists tangled in his coat. "I just want to help with whatever you need."
Kiriya reached out slowly, placing a tentative hand over one of Emu's. It was warm. Not just in terms of temperature, Kiriya also felt a warmth in his chest that made his fingers itch to grab Emu and pull him close. That need hadn't been there when he was Bugster. Everything had felt cool and controlled, no messy human needs.
"Just give me some time," Kiriya said, running his thumb over Emu's tight knuckles, "Two days, just two days."
Emu didn't say anything, but he nodded.