Work Text:
It starts.
And it ends.
And it starts again.
And so on and so on, for all eternity, for as long as they love each other like that.
It starts.
And it ends.
And it starts again.
And it ends again.
And so on and so on, for all eternity, for as long as they don’t love each other like that.
It starts.
And it ends.
And it starts again.
And it ends again.
And Fukuzawa abandons his lone existence because of that person.
At that moment, Fukuchi doesn’t say a thing. He watches as Fukuzawa throws away his resolve because of that person and he doesn’t say a thing.
Fukuzawa, the lone silver wolf. Fukuzawa who would never work with others. Fukuzawa who would never be part of an organization.
That’s no more. Suddenly, it’s Fukuzawa and that person.
Don’t you know Fukuzawa and that amazing ability user? Don’t you know the director of that newly founded organization? Don’t you know the detective, too? Isn’t that your childhood friend? Isn’t that Fukuzawa?
It is, it is, and, at the same time, it isn’t, it isn’t. What’s wrong? What changed? Fukuzawa found companionship. Not in his old friend. Not in his almost lover. That’s over, anyway. So, what’s wrong?
Fukuzawa finds companionship in that annoying person and Fukuchi is thrown aside. How many times did he refuse to join you before he create an organization for that brat?
Fukuchi gets invited into their apartment. It used to be just Fukuzawa’s but it’s their apartment now.
Fukuchi walks in and everything is the same. Haven’t they fucked there? Isn’t this a place full of memories? Haven’t they kissed and touched and at one point hasn’t Fukuchi sucked Fukuzawa off against that door where that person is leaning now while watching Fukuchi with a knowing expression?
Does he know? Does he know in detail?
For a moment, Fukuchi hopes he knows in such filthy detail that every gesture feels haunted. He hopes so, but he knows better.
Fukuzawa’s apartment is a small place. Comfort and practicality meet in a simple way. Fukuchi has always thought it suited him. It doesn’t suit that loud brat but it’s still their apartment now.
It’s been years. Fukuchi wonders when it was that Fukuzawa surrendered his heart to him. It’s been years. How long has it been? It’s Ranpo’s birthday and Fukuchi has no idea how old he is now. Twenty? Twenty-one? How long since Fukuzawa found love in someone else’s arms?
Fukuzwa found love in the arms of another.
Fukuzawa found love.
Isn’t that wrong? Someone else’s arms around Fukuzawa, isn’t that wrong? Someone else’s lips against Fukuzawa’s, isn’t that wrong? Someone else’s body in his arms, someone else’s pleasure along with his, someone else entirely.
Isn’t that wrong?
It’s Ranpo’s birthday. They are drinking and Ranpo is complaining and complaining and complaining. He hates beer, he hates sake, he hates the bitter taste of alcohol and Fukuchi wants him to shut up.
“You get used to the bitterness,” he says, and wouldn’t he know?
Fukuzawa found that person and he still holds on to him.
He holds on in a way he never did with Fukuchi.
Ah.
Fukuchi is jealous. Fukuchi has been jealous for years now. Fukuchi is jealous and Ranpo knows. He doesn’t say a word about it, but he knows. How humiliating to have been found out by that brat. How humiliating to be spared by him.
A little drunk like this, Fukuzawa smiles at Ranpo’s complaints. A little drunk like this, Fukuchi’s heart aches at the sight.
Maybe it should have been a concern from the start but, at the time, when Fukuzawa threw away his resolve to save that person, it had been fine. He felt responsible, Fukuchi thought then: it was an obligation to save that person. It had been fine.
It isn’t fine now and it’s too late to do anything about it.
Fukuchi watches from the corner of his eyes as Ranpo stretches his arms up. Fukuchi wonders what it is about this person that has such a hold on Fukuzawa. Fukuchi is a little drunk.
Fukuzawa gets up.
“Will you drink a little more with me?” he asks.
Fukuchi is a little drunk, but he laughs loudly and unbothered. He agrees. Fukuzawa is a little drunk, too. Years ago, before this person showed up, this night could have ended in sex.
Now it won’t.
Fukuchi watches as Fukuzawa moves to the kitchen. He’s indulging himself in what-ifs and could’ve beens when Ranpo suddenly asks in a quiet but calm voice:
“Do you hate me?”
Fukuchi freezes for a second. He glances at Fukuzawa who doesn’t seem to have heard it, Fukuzawa who would feel hurt if Fukuchi said yes. Fukuzawa who would take this person’s side. He looks at Ranpo sitting across from him. Each of them sitting on one side of Fukuzawa.
Fukuchi considers the question, but he knows the answer: he doesn’t hate him. Even back then, he didn’t hate him. Fukuchi must have made some sort of expression because Ranpo nods and doesn’t ask again. Fukuchi reaches out for his cup. It’s empty. He wonders what sort of answer he gave Ranpo but Ranpo is quick to clarify:
“You look at me like I stole something precious.”
Fukuchi doesn’t hesitate.
“You did.”
Fukuzawa returns and the conversation ends. Fukuchi is aware Ranpo is watching him. He ignores it. How humiliating to be confronted by this person. How humiliating to be pitied by him.
The night doesn’t go on forever. They have work in the morning. Fukuchi has to work in the morning, too. Fukuzawa walks him to the door. They are both a little too drunk. Fukuchi could kiss him. He wonders if Fukuzawa would kiss back. He wonders, if he did, if it would be out of habit.
Probably.
Ranpo watches them from the living room. He doesn’t bother to get up. He doesn’t thank Fukuchi for showing up to celebrate his birthday. He was always a rude brat like this.
When did it start?
Fukuchi doesn’t know the details. He doesn’t know when or how or even why. What he knows is that it started and it’s obvious that Fukuzawa doesn’t intend for it to end.
Fukuchi looks past Fukuzawa and he looks at Ranpo, comfortable inside Fukuzawa’s apartment that is now their apartment, and he thinks:
You thief .