Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I cannot keep living like this,” Seiji raged, exiting the bathroom with the discarded boxers he’d tripped over. “You’re entirely disgusting, and I won’t tolerate it anymore. I’ve obviously been too accommodating.”

Nicholas look up from his computer when Seiji threw the wadded-up boxers at his head. 

“Right, accommodating, that’s exactly the word I’d use to describe you.”

“I’m serious Nicholas. Start acting like a human being and put away your belongings or there will be consequences.”

Nicholas snorted a derisive sound, dropped the boxers back on the floor, and returned to his computer without a care for Seiji’s warning. 

But he cared Saturday night when he came in from some outing or another with friends. 

At first he didn’t notice, just bulldozed into their room, sneakers and keys and jacket all flying in various directions. But then…

“Seiji,” Nicholas said slowly, scanning the room. “Where’s my stuff?”

“I told you to pick it up. Repeatedly.”

“Seiji, where is it?” Nicholas said again, an edge to his voice. 

“I’m not a maid. I picked up your trash and I took it out.”

Nicholas’s eyes flared. 

“Seiji. Where is all my stuff.”

It was less a question and more a warning, which Seiji found laughable given how Nicholas reacted to all his warnings. 

“Anything I picked up is in the trash now.”

Nicholas was completely still. His jaw clenched. His fingers curled. These and these alone betrayed his anger. 

“I told you. I’m not your maid. I’m not picking up after you for the rest of the year. I did it one more time. I won’t do it again.”

“Fuck.” The word was slow and low. “You didn’t. Fucking tell me you didn’t throw all my things away, Seiji.”

“Everything I picked up,” Seiji repeated, “went immediately into a trash bag.”

Nicholas’s stillness broke. He was across the room in the edge of a breath, shoving Seiji hard. Seiji stumbled. 

“You—” shove “—fucking—” shove “—asshole!” 

One last shove had Seiji pinned uncomfortably against the wall. 

“That was all I had— Fuck! We can’t all buy new shit every day, Seiji, some of us live in the real world.”

“You would think,” Seiji said tartly, peeling at Nicholas’s hands on his shoulders, “that if you have so few possessions, you’d take better care of them.”

Nicholas only adjusted to bend the arm Seiji had fought off, pressing forearm against Seiji’s throat. He looked beyond furious. He looked hateful. And he started applying pressure against Seiji’s windpipes. 

Seiji gasped out a sorely needed breath in surprise, working both hands against Nicholas’s arm, putting his weight against Nicholas’s. But his panic was no match to Nicholas’s fury. 

“What is wrong with you?” Nicholas asked, pushing harder against Seiji, his face a snarl only inches in front of Seiji’s wide eyes. 

“—bathroom—” Seiji choked, pulling at Nicholas’s arm frantically. “In—bathroom—!”

Nicholas let off, shoving away from the wall. And Seiji. 

Seiji stumbled a little regaining himself. He’d never experienced the emotion Nicholas had just evoked in him before. He was resentful to name it fear. 

Nicholas came out of the bathroom a moment later with a black trash bag. Seiji watched him dump it onto his bed and look over the mess. 

“It’s all there,” Seiji said, his voice still feeling strained in his throat despite Nicholas no longer constricting it. 

“Listen,” Nicholas said, turning from his belongings, eyes coals instead of flames, but still mad. “What you pulled was fucked up.”

“And your reaction wasn’t?”

Nicholas’s jaw flexed again. His fingers very intentionally unfurled, stretching out and making veins pop. 

“And now you’ll think twice about leaving your mess for me to trip over.”

“And you’ll think twice before touching my shit again.”

“If you think I’m not reporting you to Coach Williams already, you’re—”

“You seriously don’t get it, do you?” Nicholas demanded, that unfurled fist tugging through his hair with aggravation. “God, there’s just no hope with you. How can anyone put up with you? No wonder your family sent you so far away. No wonder they never show up to events.”

Seiji nodded in acknowledgment of the point. 

“Yes, it is a rather tidy solution for everyone.”

Strangely, this made Nicholas’s brow scrunch. 

“What, seriously?”

“Yes,” Seiji said shortly. Then, at Nicholas’s continued disbelief, “I suppose you’d argue it’s not ideal for you. And perhaps tidy is the wrong word,” he noted with distaste, eyeing the pile of Nicholas’s things on his bed.

“What are you doing at Kings Row, Seiji? Are you here because you want to be or because you aren’t welcome at home?”

“My parents would suffer my company, I’m sure. They did when I was too young to travel. I could be home. I want to be here.”

“Suffer your company?”

Seiji was growing tired of Nicholas’s stupid questions.

“You’ve noticed how hard it is to…enjoy my presence,” Seiji said carefully, changing the direction of his words last minute. Because Nicholas wouldn’t know how hard it was to love him. He’d never tried and he, obviously, never would. 

“Who told you that?”

“What?”

“That you’re hard to love?” Nicholas said, picking the words out of Seiji’s mouth anyway. “Was it me? Fuck, I didn’t mean it if it was me, Seiji.”

“What on earth are you going on about?” Seiji found himself incredibly irritated with the way Nicholas was looking at him. It was a complete inverse to the anger he’d harbored only moments before. “What do you care about any of it?”

“I care because it’s not true. And it’s a shitty idea to have in your head.”

“How would you know if it’s true? You’ve known me not even a year and, need I remind you, you don’t even like me—which is perfectly agreeable,” Seiji clarified. “But it’s absurd that you think you have more authority on the subject than the people who have known me my entire life.”

Nicholas stared at him in a slightly different way than before. Less concern, Seiji thought, and more anger.

“Your parents?” he asked. “They make you think that?”

“You were just sympathizing with them,” Seiji pointed out. Then, perhaps a little sulkily, he rubbed his neck. “And choking me.”

“That’s because you’re fucking awful—to me. Your parents aren’t supposed to say that stuff to you. And I wasn’t going to choke you.”

Seiji stared at Nicholas, aghast. 

“You were quite literally in the process of it!”

Seiji closed his eyes. Took a breath. Composed himself. Then faced Nicholas again, level. 

“You were in the process of throwing out my stuff.”

“I warned you—”

“Seiji—” Nicholas interrupted Seiji first, and then himself in a growl. “I’m not like you. Do you understand? If you’d thrown out my clothes, I couldn’t afford to replace them. I don’t have any extras at home. There’s a fee for extra uniforms, which I’m not allowed in class without, and a full set is expensive. If you’d thrown out my fencing gear, I’d be shit out of luck. Do you know how many shifts I took and how long I saved to get all that gear in the first place? Of course you don’t. Because you hardly know what money is. Expensive private schools are literally throwing scholarships at you and you don’t even know how much that’s worth. You have three sets of uniforms and at least four full sets of fencing whites. You’ve never had to patch your clothes or layer your sweatshirts in the winter because you grew out of your last coat. Seiji, when they call me a dirt poor scholarship kid, they don’t mean just can’t afford private school, they mean can’t afford anything. I’m not like Kally or Eugene. I don’t—everything I have? It’s here in this fucking room, Seiji. And so is my only chance at a better life. And you threatened to throw that away over a messy room.”

“I told you, I…” Seiji began, then gave up. Nicholas was right. He didn’t understand. 

“Hate rooming with me, I know,” Nicholas sighed. “Fine. Fucking—whatever. You made your point. I’ll keep my shit off the floor.”

Seiji meant to say thank you. That wasn’t what came out. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.” Nicholas paused. “Me too.”

Seiji shook his head, dropping his hand from his neck when Nicholas’s eyes fell on it. He hadn’t even been aware he’d been holding his hand to himself still. 

“And I shouldn’t have said what I did about your family.”

“You’re right, you shouldn’t have. You have no business questioning my parents.”

Nicholas looked at Seiji strangely again. 

“No. I meant about saying they were right to send you away. I said it because I was mad, I didn’t want it to be true.”

“Stop looking at me like that,” Seiji snapped. “And you dropped a sock on the floor. Pick it up.”

Seiji was aware of Nicholas’s eyes tracking him for days following their argument. They hadn’t spoken since, which wasn’t so strange. And Nicholas had kept his belongings off the floor. It was an ideal situation. Except for Nicholas’s new and careful attention. 

Seiji wasn’t sure what he expected to see or what he wanted to see or even what he saw, but his skin prickled constantly from Nicholas’s attention. 

Tonight, he felt that prickle acutely. He was already perturbed. Events were never his favorite thing. The bigger and louder they were, the less he wanted to be there. But Kings Row’s family night was inescapable. Seiji’s parents had notified him they’d be in attendance. 

When Seiji left the relative peace of his room, Nicholas wasn’t far behind. And, unfortunately, he didn’t go out with friends. Or, rather, the friends he met up with were Bobby and Eugene. They both called to Nicholas as soon as Seiji slipped into the room, overshadowed, for once, by the boy a few steps behind him. 

Seiji assessed the layout of the event, making note of escapes and responsibilities. Unlike most parties he was required at, there were few of those. No family friends or business partners or deans or politicians to greet and speak to in quiet words he was never sure he got right. 

Tonight, it was only his parents who required quiet, stilted words. 

They weren’t hard to spot. 

“Mother, Father,” Seiji said, coming to them at once. “Would you care for a tour of the school, or would you prefer to sit?”

Father looked at Seiji with dimming eyes. 

“So formal,” he said. “It’s good to see you, Seiji.”

“And you, Father,” Seiji replied with a nod. 

He allowed his mother to place hands on his shoulders and draw in close, a kiss blown against one cheek and then the other. 

“Have you grown again?” she asked. 

“Half an inch,” Seiji reported. “I’m perfectly six foot even now.”

Mother let out a tired breath. A laugh?

“What have you been up to?” Father asked. 

“I’ve got perfect marks in all my classes, and Kings Row has thus far achieved four wins out of six matches, which is less than ideal, but not unrecoverable. We’ve started a new regime to address the weak spots of our team, which involves…” Seiji stopped, noticing the way his parents looked at each other in their secret language Seiji didn’t understand. But he understood that they weren’t interested in hearing about the team’s new regime. “Excuse my manners,” he said, “you’ve had a long journey; let me show you to your seats.”

There weren’t assigned seats, but Seiji had picked out the best ones and led his parents to the table. 

“The buffet is scheduled to start at seven-thirty,” he offered. Mother and Father kept looking at him like they expected more, but he didn’t have anything more to offer. 

“It’s not such a long drive,” Mother said eventually. 

Seiji nodded his acceptance of the statement. 

“How is work?” he asked. 

“Maybe,” Father said, “we should make it more often.”

“What?” Seiji asked politely. 

“The drive. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen you.”

“Oh.” Seiji blinked. “If you want. I’ll send you Kings Row’s visitation policies.”

Apparently, this wasn’t the reaction his parents had hoped for. 

“Wouldn’t it be nice to spend more time together?” Mother asked. “As a family.”

“Of course. I’ll send my fencing schedule with the visitation policies.”

“Okay,” Father said. “We can work with that.”

But Seiji didn’t know what more to say. It occurred to him—not for the first time—that his entire life was fencing. He didn’t know how to talk about anything else. And his parents didn’t know how to talk to him either. So they sat quietly instead of talking.

“We’re trying, Seiji,” Father said after a long stretch of time and a cleared throat.

“You’ve provided me with every opportunity I could ask for since I was a child. Including importing a top fencing coach from abroad, and sending me abroad so often to train. I’m very grateful for that.” Seiji thought of Nicholas’s clenched fists and low, steady beat of words, explaining how their lives were different. “Very grateful. Thank you.”

“We’re trying to connect,” Father clarified.

“How do you mean?”

“I mean that… You were such a distant kid. You always seemed so hard to reach. We thought it would be easier to talk to you when you were older, and—it never was. It got more difficult instead. Love was always easy for me and your mother, and I suppose we believed that it would be easy with our child, too.”

“Oh.” Seiji glanced down at his clasped hands. Back up at his father. “I’m sorry.”

“What the fuck sort of thing is that to say to your kid?”

The voice was loud and laden with ire and it took Seiji until he felt air stirring behind him to realize the voice—the question—was imposing on his table, not making a scene at another one. 

“Nicholas,” Seiji hissed, whipping around in horror to find his scruffy teammate there in his ripped jeans and loosely worn button-up. 

The sharp warning was entirely ignored. 

“We thought it would be easier to love you when you got older?” Nicholas repeated. “And it just got harder? Who the fuck thinks that’s something you get to say? And you haven’t just said it, you’ve lived it. Every day of Seiji’s life, you’ve let him know he isn’t what you expected. That he’s hard to love. Who even has a hard time loving a baby? I know Seiji’s a fencing genius, but even he was too little for it once, before he found a passion you find so boring you won’t even come to any of his matches—he’s nationally ranked and you just don’t care because it doesn’t interest you. Did you ever even try to be involved with fencing for him? Or did you pass that off to Dmytro?”

“Nicholas, that’s enough,” Seiji said, unable to look away from Nicholas’s furious expression and face his parents. “It’s okay.”

Father cleared his throat again. 

“Perhaps we should have tried harder,” he said, taking Seiji completely by surprise. He hadn’t expected his father to tolerate being yelled at by a teenager. 

“No shit,” Nicholas spat. He grabbed Seiji’s wrist and yanked him up out of his chair, almost making Seiji’s seat clatter to the ground. “You should have tried at all.”

“We did,” Father said. “But Seiji shut us out. It was easier for all of us for him to continue pursuing what makes him happy.” Father frowned. “I can’t understand it, and I won’t pretend to. The way Robert criticized him after matches…I couldn’t take it. I tried… But in the end, it was better I left. But I’m here now. We’re here now. Trying.”

“No,” Nicholas said, grip hardening around Seiji’s wrist. “Fuck that. You don’t get to wait for your kid to get easier to love by ignoring him for sixteen years just to come in here with some shitty speech about how it’s Seiji’s fault you can’t love him. Maybe if you cared about Seiji as a person instead of a symbol of your great love with your wife, you’d realize he’s not an extension of you and you can’t just make him be whatever you want.”

“Nicholas,” Seiji hissed once more, quiet and red-faced, “you’re making everything worse.”

Nicholas stopped, finally. But his chest was still heaving. His next words were just for Seiji, quiet but still heated.

“You shouldn’t have to apologize, Seiji. You shouldn’t be expected to learn how to love and be loved how other people want you to.”

Seiji didn’t know how to look at Nicholas right now. And he didn’t know how to look at his parents either. So it was easy to let Nicholas pull him away, eyes on the floor. But when floor turned to grass, Seiji dug in his heels and jerked them to a stop.

“Your dad’s a dick,” Nicholas declared before Seiji could say anything.

“You’re a rude and intrusive nuisance. What do you think you were doing in there? What do you think you’re doing now?” he added, snapping his hand away from Nicholas’s.

“Getting you out of there before I lost my temper?” Nicholas offered it up as a question, submitting it for consideration and hoping Seiji deemed it worthy.

He didn’t.

“That is no way to talk to a man like my father—!”

“That is no way to talk to your kid!” Nicholas made a grunting, sighing sound that, coupled with the hands tugging through his hair, conveyed deep frustration. “Do you get that? That it’s fucked up for him to say that to you?”

Seiji bristled.

“You have a very low opinion of my knowledge,” Seiji said.

“No. Just of your lived experience.”

Whatever Nicholas thought the difference was, Seiji was sure his correction didn’t make it less insulting.

“My parents treat me well. You acted as if they abuse me. And, in fact, they wanted to make plans to see me again.”

“Your parents,” Nicholas said slowly, “are making plans to come see you again? Like it’s not an expected thing. I heard you talking with them. I was with Bobby and his family at the table behind you—you sat down after us, so don’t look at me like that. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.”

“It just happened all on its own, did it?”

“It’s not your fault.”

“No, it’s yours.”

“Asshole, I mean it’s not your fault how your parents treat you.”

“They treat me well.”

“You’re not exactly an expressive guy, Seiji, but you shut down with them.”

“As my father said,” Seiji agreed.

“No! You don’t shut them out, they shut you down. You’re passionate about fencing, but the air goes dead around them whenever you bring it up.”

“It’s not their fault if they’re uninterested in the one thing I like. It would be easier for them if I were more diverse in my interests.”

“Really? You’d think with a kid with exactly one interest, it’d be pretty easy to get involved with it.”

“If I were interested in the right sort of things,” Seiji started, then stopped. 

“If you were just more like them, maybe they wouldn’t make you feel so broken.”

All at once, exhaustion washed over Seiji. 

“Is it really so important to you to convince me my parents dislike me when they said tonight they’re trying?”

Nicholas winced.

“I’m not trying to be a dick. I guess it’s pretty insensitive of me…but, Seiji, you deserve better than that. Saying they’ll come visit while also ignoring this huge part of you and very kindly explaining that it’s not their fault they couldn’t love you—that’s them feeling guilty or wanting to pat themselves on the back or wanting you to comfort and reassure them, to tell them you understand and—”

“I do understand.”

“Fucking shut up,” Nicholas barked. “You don’t. You don’t understand.”

“And you think you do?” Seiji asked incredulously. “What do you know about love? Much less loving me?”

Nicholas inhaled, then caught his words before letting any out. Seiji would have counted himself victorious if not for the intense way Nicholas was looking at him.

“I’ve decided,” Nicholas said seriously. “I’ll love you.”

“Excuse me?” Seiji stared at Nicholas, gobsmacked. “You most certainly will not. I won’t allow it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t like you. You’re loud and messy and irritating. And I’m perfectly content alone. I don’t want love out of obligation or pity, even if you somehow think you can manage it.”

“I can. I’ve decided.”

“You’re an idiot,” Seiji said before leaving Nicholas to his idiocy, dismissing the entire exchange as an absurdity.

“I’m sorry if I scared off your parents last night,” Nicholas said, startling Seiji almost enough to make him jump. 

“It’s Saturday, what are you doing up so early?” 

“Catching you. You were asleep when I got back to the dorms.”

Seiji hadn’t been. Truthfully, he’d hardly slept at all. His mind was an uncomfortable swirl of words and voices. His father’s. Nicholas’s.

He needed to fence. 

“And… If you want to have a relationship with your parents, I’m not going to get in the way.”

“What makes you think you have a say to begin with? And you should be sorry for speaking as you did to my father.”

Nicholas grimaced. 

“Sorry I made you deal with the aftermath. I just—I get so angry sometimes, I don’t always think things through.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Yeah. Well. I still say he deserved to be yelled at and you deserve better than his bullshit excuses, but it wasn’t fair for me to spring it on you like that.”

“No,” Seiji said, “it wasn’t.”

His parents had been quick to say their farewells last night after Seiji’s return. It had been somewhat excruciating, returning to the table without any way to take back all Nicholas had said. 

Somewhere, deep in his brain, Nicholas’s voice had accused them of waiting for reassurances from Seiji. But Seiji didn’t know how to reassure them anyway. And with an awkward clear of his throat and a strained smile, Father had stood. 

We’ll get out of your hair, then. 

Seiji wasn’t sure if he should still send his schedule after Nicholas’s explosion. 

“I’ll do it better next time,” Nicholas said. 

“Next time?”

“Sure. If I’m going to be a part of your life, then we’ll cross paths again.”

“You’re not still on about that, are you?”

“Sorry,” Nicholas grinned, “but I don’t give up on things I’ve decided. Let’s go fence.”

Seiji ignored him. But Nicholas followed after him. At least he stuck to his own space, leaving Seiji largely alone. Until Dmytro left the salle. 

“Wanna keep fencing?” he asked. 

Seiji did. 

“Fencing with you hardly counts.”

“At least I can engage better than a dummy. Come on, I’m getting better.”

“Better doesn’t equate to good.”

“Asshole,” Nicholas said, punctuated with a jab of his épée, but distinctly lacking in bite. 

Anger flared in Seiji. 

“Fine.” He pulled on his mask. “Get in position.”

Nicholas did, and Seiji attacked. Again and again. Beating on his blade, bruising his body with hard, vicious hits. There was no reprieve.

Seiji was furious at Nicholas. 

He hated Nicholas’s pity. 

He hated Nicholas’s righteousness. 

He hated Nicholas’s judgments. 

He hated how Nicholas had disrupted things. Chased away his parents when they were finally interested in him. 

He hated most how everything Nicholas had said made him feel. 

“Again,” Seiji shouted when Nicholas’s form faltered. He was breathing hard. But he wasn’t done. 

“Seiji…”

“Again.”

Nicholas raised his blade again. 

Of all the things his team dragged him to, the clubhouse was Seiji’s favorite. 

He liked the history carved in the walls. He liked being a part of that history. Seiji wasn’t a team player—at least, he wasn’t good at being one. But he was glad he’d come to Kings Row. That he was on this team. 

Even if Nicholas was squished against him on the tiny couch. 

“What are you even working on?” Nicholas asked as he craned his neck to see Seiji’s carefully tilted laptop. 

“The essay for English.”

“That’s not due for ages, why are you working on it here?”

“What else would I do here?”

“Relax?” Nicholas suggested. “Just take a break for a minute.”

“Just sit here doing nothing? I’ll pass.” 

“Hey, Eugene,” Nicholas said, leaning across Seiji to call to Eugene. “Is that detective game still here?”

“Sure is,” Eugene answered, already turning to look. 

In a moment, he produced a truly ancient-looking edition of Clue. 

“Dibs on Miss Scarlet!” Nicholas shouted. “And Seiji’s Mrs. Peacock, of course.”

“Hey! I want to be the beautiful and slutty one, that’s my thing,” Aiden complained. 

“I called dibs,” Nicholas said unsympathetically, plucking out red and blue figurines. 

Eugene grabbed the yellow one. Harvard the purple. 

Aiden made a face. 

“I guess I’ll take Mrs. White. But I want it understood that I’m in a kitty maid outfit.”

“Damn, should have given that to Seiji, then,” Nicholas quipped at once. 

Seiji’s aghast stare was not the only one fixed on Nicholas. 

“You want to see Seiji in a cat-girl maid costume?” Eugene asked. 

“Either you’re deeply perturbed,” Aiden said, “or you’ve got some attractions you need to come to terms with.”

“Actually, I don’t need to come to terms with jack shit,” Nicholas declared, diligently placing his little figurines on the board. 

Seiji could have killed Nicholas. He felt his skin searing from Nicholas’s idiocy. 

Eugene and Aiden hassled Nicholas, and Harvard watched with amusement. Seiji remained resolutely silent and uninvolved. 

Eventually, the others turned to set up the game, shuffling cards and playing with little talismans of weapons and fighting over the mystery envelope. 

Nicholas leaned subtly into Seiji. 

“Sorry,” he murmured against Seiji’s ear. “I shouldn’t have teased. I just couldn’t help it.”

And then he leaned away. 

Nicholas started the game, then passed the turn to Aiden rather than Seiji. 

Seiji had a little slip and tiny pencil for recording clues like everyone else, but he didn’t use it. In fact, he ignored the proceedings—or attempted to—in favor of his essay. 

When the turn order passed to him, Nicholas bumped his shoulder against Seiji’s. 

“You going?”

“No.”

Nicholas didn’t argue. He just went on with his turn. And each time it came around to Seiji again, they repeated the routine. On the seventh round, Nicholas moved into the ballroom and sat back with finality. 

“I accuse Professor Plum of—!”

“No, you don’t,” Seiji interrupted. “No, he doesn’t,” Seiji reiterated. 

“I don’t?”

“No, because you’re not stupid.”

“That’s news to me. Okay then, Detective Peacock, what did I miss?”

“Aiden has the ballroom card.”

“No, he doesn’t! Nobody could refute the ballroom when Eugene was here last turn.” And Nicholas had been the only one to show a card to Eugene to disprove the use of the candlestick. “Maybe you should investigate seriously instead of messing around on your computer.”

“Maybe you should trust Aiden less.”

A beat. 

Aiden laughed, high and punctuated and delighted. 

“What?” Nicholas asked, spinning to gape at Aiden, then back to Seiji. “How do you know?”

“He’s only reliable in showing his cards to Harvard. He doesn’t always reveal his hand to you and Eugene. Harvard came into the ballroom on his second turn and Aiden disproved him. But you’ve got Peacock in your hand, and Eugene revealed last turn that he’s got the rope. Which means Aiden’s proof couldn’t have been either. You’d be a terrible detective.”

“But that’s not fair—that doesn’t count! Aiden’s not playing the game right.”

“I’m adding authenticity,” Aiden trilled. “Real criminals aren’t so forthcoming with their information.”

Nicholas spluttered in indignation. 

“You can still eliminate his cards if you pay attention,” Seiji said. 

“He’s not following the rules. Don’t you love rules?”

“It wouldn’t be permissible if he did it again, but this time the discreet wildcard made things…interesting.”

“You mean fun,” Eugene said with a big smile. He was very enthusiastic about the game. “Get your ass in gear, Peacock. You’re playing for yourself. It isn’t fair if you keep stepping in to save Nick’s ass just because you like him best.”

“I don’t—! He was wrong. I was simply—!”

“Taking the chance to point out I’m wrong and he’s right,” Nicholas cut in, saving Seiji from his fumbling protests. “It’s your turn, Seiji,” he said, turning to Seiji. “Do you want to take it?”

When Seiji didn’t answer right away, Nicholas started to gently ease Seiji’s computer off his lap. 

“Fine,” Seiji relented. 

His cards had already been redistributed, but Seiji didn’t need the extra information; within the next three rounds, he’d caught Mrs. White in the lounge with the revolver. 

He won two out of the following three plays. And then it was getting dark and the game was being packed away. They cut it close to curfew anyway, just making it into Castello dormitory a quarter past nine. 

Seiji had wasted hours playing silly games instead of working on his—

“My computer,” he said in quiet horror, stopping dead on his way into his room. 

Nicholas ran into him, not paying attention from his goodbyes down the hall. 

Seiji stumbled forward and Nicholas swore, grabbing for Seiji’s arm and steadying him. 

“What is it?” he asked. “What’s wrong.”

“My computer. I left it in the clubhouse. You took it from me and I forgot—and now it’s stuck there all night.” Seiji didn’t even try to keep the accusation out of his voice. 

“I’ll grab it. Just hang tight a minute.”

“What? Nicholas—where are you going?”

“To the clubhouse,” Nicholas said, pausing in the doorway again. “I don’t mind breaking curfew. Rules don’t mean as much to me as they do to you, so it makes sense for me to go.”

“You told me that your entire life is in this room—at this school. You shouldn’t be so cavalier about breaking rules that could get you expelled. Especially not for me,” Seiji added pointedly. 

“Sneaking into the woods after curfew isn’t much different from doing it during the day.”

“Then I’m perfectly capable of going myself.”

Nicholas’s eyes trailed on him, then he shrugged. 

“Alright. Then I’ll go with you.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“What if there’s bears in the woods?”

“What are you going to do about a bear?”

“Uh…sacrifice myself so you can get away?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

But Seiji was a little glad that Nicholas came with him anyway. 

At the beginning of the year, Seiji had stood in a salle overflowing with fencers and their families. Alone. And, somehow, next to Nicholas. 

Today was an echo of that day. Another opportunity for eager parents to come fawn over their mediocre children as they fenced in a meaningless school tournament. 

A meaningless school tournament Seiji was undefeated in. 

Somehow, Nicholas was beside him again. Undefeated. Seiji would be his first loss of this day, but their bout wasn’t for another fifteen minutes. Nicholas had sought him out anyway. 

“Today’s my day,” Nicholas said with a wide grin. 

“You can’t be implying you’ll beat me today.”

“No way—that day is still a bit away. But today, I’m going to beat my best score on you.”

“A more realistic goal,” Seiji acknowledged, “but still…”

The words were lost from his mind as his eyes caught on a familiar presence in the open double doors to the salle. 

Seiji’s father had come. It was the first time Seiji had seen him since the disastrous parent night.

“I’ll see you on the piste in a minute,” Nicholas said, eyes locking on Seiji’s father too. 

Seiji was relieved he didn’t insist on coming along. But then he felt foolish for the relief because it betrayed his assumption that Nicholas would want to be with Seiji as he met with his father.

“Father,” Seiji said when he reached him. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”

“It’s been too long since I’ve seen you fence.”

“My next bout will start shortly.”

“Lead the way.”

Seiji took his father back to the strip Nicholas waited by. The current bout was coming to an end, the last point scored neatly. Then it was their turn to fence.

“Good luck,” Father said as Seiji started to move to take his place.

“Thank you.”

Pulling on his mask, Seiji glanced once at his father before assuming position. 

Seiji got first hit. And second. Nicholas swore, but he kept coming. And, eventually, he landed a hit. And another. And another. By the time Seiji won the match, Nicholas had collected four total points.

“Good match,” Nicholas said when they pulled off their masks. 

He held his hand out. Seiji gave it a shake.

“You didn’t beat your best score against me,” Seiji noted.

“Asshole,” Nicholas said the word like a laugh. “Next time.”

“Doubtful. You fall back into bad habits when cornered.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Nicholas was smiling like that was a joke too. “I’ll work on it.”

“See that you do.”

“Nicholas,” Coach Williams barked. Both Seiji and Nicholas jumped and spun to face her. She’d made a spot for herself next to Seiji’s father. Arms crossed and face stern, she seemed ready to launch into a critique. She broke into a smile instead. “Great work. Those hits weren’t just luck and speed. You’re making solid progress.”

Nicholas beamed.

“Thanks, Coach!”

“Seiji, you were sloppy.”

“Yes, Coach,” Seiji agreed, tucking his mask under his arm and stepping off the piste.

“Distracted. I expect better from you. And you’re going to have to be quicker with your parry if you plan to stay ahead of Nicholas. He would have landed his last lunge if his precision was just a little better. You relied on luck today.”

Seiji nodded. Beside him, Nicholas winced in sympathy. 

“I agree,” Seiji started. “I’ll work on—”

“Wait just a moment,” Father said. 

Seiji’s attention slid to the left of his coach where his father stood. His expression was dark in a way Seiji recognized. 

It was happening again.

“Seiji beat that boy by a landslide, and you’re going to criticize him while praising his competitor? That’s ludicrous. Seiji is the better fencer, and I won’t stand here and…”

Seiji’s mind stopped holding properly to the words. 

He was a child again, eager to prove his skill to his father. 

He was a child again, listening to his father rage against his coach for providing notes.

He was a child again, feeling small and embarrassed and invisible.

Father was well-intentioned. He had been the first time he’d stepped in like this, and he was now. But he didn’t know good fencing from great fencing. He didn’t know what Seiji was capable of the way his coaches did. He didn’t know—

“Fencing is intense,” a new voice cut through the heavy clutter of Seiji’s mind and the heated words he’d been tuning out. “To be a champion the way Seiji is, you don’t just get pats on the back. When you’re ready to take on the Olympics, you have to face every mistake you made.”

“Nicholas is exactly right,” Coach Williams said. She sounded as proud of him for this as she had for his four points on Seiji. “If Seiji wants to improve, he has no option but to push himself more than anyone or he’ll stagnate.”

“Father,” Seiji said placatingly when the man looked ready to argue, “I appreciate the critique. I want to improve.”

“You appreciate this sort of treatment because you were taught to. Seiji, don’t you see? This obsession of yours with fencing isn’t good for you. It makes you push yourself too hard. If all you get, win or lose, is abuse, why do you insist on continuing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” It wasn’t Seiji speaking, but the next words rang true. “Because he loves it. And getting tough love from coaches isn’t abuse, you just don’t like listening to it. And if you wanted to play hero more than you wanted to play dad, that’s fine. But don’t blame it on him when he isn’t grateful for your interventions. Maybe if you tried loving him how he needs to be loved instead of how you want him to accept love, you wouldn’t have such a shit time connecting to him.”

“You have an incredible son, Mr. Katayama,” Coach Williams said before the ash of Nicholas’s volcanic words had even settled, yanking the conversation in a new direction with a terrifyingly cheerful voice and matching smile. “As you can see, he’s well-loved on our team. But Nicholas and I will let you two enjoy the rest of the day together.”

There was no question that Nicholas would follow after her when she turned. There was no other option. But he brushed close by Seiji as he did, and the small contact somehow felt like it wanted to linger. To stay. To grow.

Nicholas didn’t linger.

“He’s an enthusiastic young man,” Father said with a tight smile. “He’s on your team?”

“Yes. Nicholas.” Seiji realized too late that he didn’t have any need to offer the name at this point, but his father nodded.

“I think it’s fantastic you’re making friends,” Father said. Seiji was about to correct the assumption they were friends when his father’s next statement diverted his attention.  “I’m relieved to see you with boys your age, getting along.” When Father saw Seiji’s confusion, he smiled in a way Seiji hated to describe as gentle. “I know it’s not easy for you to connect with people. I’m happy to see you get along with other people. But maybe you could find other boys at this school to talk to. Outside of fencing.”

“What’s wrong with fencing?”

“It’s always bred an unhealthy mindset in you, Seiji. It could be good for you to find a life outside it too.”

But it hadn’t. Seiji’s mindset had always been like this. Fencing simply suited it. Suited him.

“Nicholas and I aren’t friends,” Seiji said, nonsensically circling back to his original response. “We’re teammates. I have another teammate who’s fencing now. I’d like to watch his match.”

Father held in a sigh.

“I’ll go find somewhere to sit.”

“I’ll join you once Eugene’s bout is finished.”

Seiji left his father and slipped through the crowds until he landed before a strip with a rowdy audience. Eugene’s friends and family were loud and boisterous and supportive—very much like him. 

“Your dad couldn’t be bothered to come watch with you?”

Seiji’s head jerked to the side to find Nicholas there. Already, he’d found his way back to bother Seiji. Seiji thought about telling Nicholas that it was perfectly reasonable to be uninterested in watching other people’s children at school events.

“Your mother isn’t here at all,” he snapped instead.

“My mom isn’t great at all the mom stuff. I was an accident, but I’m not…” Nicholas trailed off, like he didn’t want to say what Seiji was to his parents. 

“Don’t you deserve better than that too?” Seiji asked impatiently. 

“I have better than that. I have our team. Eugene and Bobby and even Harvard and Aiden. And you too.”

“I don’t like you. You can’t count me.”

“I’ll count you until it’s true.”

“It won’t be. I’m not any better at loving than I am at being loved.”

“That’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

He said it like he honestly wasn’t worried about it—like he was so sure of it that it was no concern at all.

“No, we won’t,” Seiji snapped again. “There’s no reason to figure it out—not between us. We don’t like each other, please come to your senses and remember that.”

“Nah, I’ve decided, remember? I will love you.”

“No, you won’t,” Seiji insisted with increasing exasperation. “I’m mean. You hate it.”

“I’ve decided to find it cute when you’re mean. Like an angry kitty with his tail all poofed up.”

That was such a stupid declaration that Seiji didn’t even bother trying to process it.

“Just leave me alone today.”

“Fine. I’ll see you tonight, then.”

Nicholas easily melted into Eugene’s crowd to laugh and talk with others as they watched the bout. Seiji focused so much on not noticing Nicholas that he hardly noticed Eugene either. He had no useful insight from the match at all, and he returned to his father feeling vaguely frustrated by the entire detour.

He didn’t make any others. Father watched his matches, and between them, they spoke. Filling in empty spaces.

Seiji really wasn’t good at that. At reaching across those spanning gaps and closing them. At connecting. He wasn’t making it easy for his father to reach him either. Here his father was, and Seiji had nothing to offer him. Except for an uncomfortable silence and a guilty desire to sneak back to the piste—any piste—to watch a match instead of stand here failing to talk to his father. 

Seiji knew it wasn’t fair of him to prioritize fencing so much when his parents were so detached from it. He knew he made it harder for them by acting this way when they visited. He wanted to care about the same things they did. He wanted to be whatever it was they wanted. 

He didn’t want to be so hard for them to love. 

“I’m glad you came,” Seiji told his father, trying to fill the silence and the space between them. “I know you’re busy. Thank you for making time.”

“It’s good to see you,” Father said, and Seiji felt some tension within him loosen. “I feel like I’ve missed so much of your life. You practically raised yourself; you were already acting grown up at five, and now you really have gone and grown up without us.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“You never do, I suppose. But it’s lonely having a son like you. But maybe you made yourself lonely too. That’s why I’m glad to make time. And glad to see you’ve made friends.”

Seiji dissected the sentiment and still couldn’t understand it. If he made his parents lonely, why did they so frequently send him away? Was it less lonely when he wasn’t around to remind them of the missing space in their family he was supposed to fill?

“You could come live at home and go to The Taft School,” Father said suddenly. At least, it seemed sudden to Seiji, and he was surprised into providing an honest reaction without filtering it. 

“Taft doesn’t have a fencing team.”

It was the wrong thing to say. The wrong thing to care about. Father frowned. No wonder Seiji made him lonely. 

“You would still have your fencing coach.”

“I want to fence. Here. I like Kings Row.”

Father looked at Seiji tiredly. Always, Father’s eyes were tired when they fell on him.

“You have always been stubborn,” he said ruefully. “Your mother and I would like to have you home, Seiji. We’d like to be a family.”

“You’re always on business trips. I’d only be home alone.” Again. “And without a fencing team. I’d rather stay here.”

“We could make compromises to make it work. All of us. That’s what families do. Your mother and I could limit our business trips to be at home more often.”

“And do what?” Seiji challenged. “All I do is fence.”

“Maybe that doesn’t have to be all there is to you. Or,” Father’s eyes lit up, “you could travel with us more. We could hire a tutor for your schooling.”

“Why?”

“So we can be together. Your mother and I—” he always spoke like that, as if they were a united unit, always, always standing together, “—have missed out on having our son for the past sixteen years. We’d like to change that, Seiji. We’re trying.”

A numbness washed over Seiji slowly as the words sank in. Father said them so sincerely.

We’ve missed out on having our son.

Our son.

That phrase felt more like an abstraction than like any way to describe Seiji.

Our son.

Not you, Seiji. 

Our son.

“You look tired,” Nicholas said when Seiji entered their room that evening. “Where have you been?”

“Dinner.”

“With your dad?”

“Don’t start with that,” Seiji warned. 

“So…it didn’t go well?”

“Father wants me to move home.”

“What?” Nicholas sat straight up, no longer lounging on his bed. “You’re not, are you?”

Nicholas’s voice was too loud. 

“No.” Seiji watched Nicholas’s shoulders relax. He looked relieved. “Father is disappointed. He doesn’t want to send me away anymore. Maybe he never did. I think it might be my fault he thought he had to. And now I’m just reinforcing that. He wants me to move home, but I don’t want to.”

“Good. You’re happier here.”

“How do you know?” Seiji asked, affronted. “How could you?”

“I know because nothing else makes you look so defeated. Not even losing. Nothing but thinking about your parents.”

“You’re the one with a grudge against my parents. I’m exhausted talking to you about them and listening to you convince me I’m miserable.”

“I just think you could be happier.”

“Funny, because that’s what my father says about fencing.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“You condemn him but you do so much the same. You’re trying to play the hero too,” Seiji accused. “You’re intervening where I didn’t ask you to. Where I don’t want you to. I want to be what they want. I just want to fence more. And that’s selfish of me, Nicholas. Not them. I chose fencing. I shut them out. I’m hard to talk to and hard to love and now you’ve gotten in my head about it!” 

Seiji took a sharp breath, fingers bunching into fists that were stark white in his lap. 

“I don’t want to resent my parents, Nicholas. I don’t want to blame them for not understanding me. I don’t want to be mad when they want me in their life.”

“I’m sorry.”

Seiji laughed. It sounded awful. 

“You’re sorry,” he repeated, as hollow as he felt. He shook his head before turning from Nicholas. 

Seiji stood alone on his side of the curtain, for a moment feeling lost. He sat heavily down on his bed and made no move to so much as pull off his shoes. 

When quiet footfalls and a sighing weight joined him, Seiji wanted to be surprised. He didn’t want to expect this of Nicholas. But he was starting to. Starting to assume Nicholas would be there. 

“I spent all afternoon with my father,” Seiji said, voice even by force alone, “and it wasn’t enough. He’s trying—” Seiji pursed his lips. “He’s made it clear it’s an effort. Loving me. It’s—hard for him. Because I’m…everything that I am. But he’s trying, I think. And that would be fine, except, he’s known me my entire life, and in my entire life, the person who’s tried hardest to love me is a boy I met a year ago. And I’ve been properly awful to you.” Seiji’s last confession came in the same whisper his tears did. “I keep practically ruining your life, and you’re still better at being around me than my own parents. And you deserve better than that too. Than me.”

Nicholas was quiet. Then, slowly, he leaned his weight against Seiji’s, pressing in just enough to offer a steadying presence, and when he spoke, his tone was low and quiet and as steadying as his press against Seiji.

“You’re an asshole a lot of the time,” he said first, words at odds with his tone. “But I don’t want better than you because I think you’re already better. I don’t know what did it—the lecture, the throat thing, or saying I’d love you—but you’ve stopped being really cruel.”

“I’m sorry. For threatening to dispose of your belongings. I didn’t understand. I—wish I had.”

“But you do now.”

“A little. Better than before. But that doesn’t undo it.” Seiji glanced at Nicholas. “I was still awful. But you’re still here, even knowing I’m callous.”

“You’re a whole person,” Nicholas reasoned. “How can you love someone if you don’t really know them? And how can you know them if all you see is an idea dressed up in good manners? I think I know you best, don’t you? So I can love you best.”

Seiji thought about that.

“My coach, Dmytro, he’s been with me since I was little. He knows me.”

Nicholas nodded like that made sense.

“Yeah, and it’s pretty obvious he cares a lot about you, now that I think about it. I’ll let him have that.”

“Let him have what?”

“Doting on you like a kid. I’ll dote on you like a boyfriend—as a boyfriend.”

“I don’t need doting on,” Seiji spluttered. “By anyone. And—”

“Certainly not by me,” Nicholas finished, stealing the words from Seiji with a grin. “It doesn’t have to be traditional doting. It can just be, y’know, whatever you want. I could dote on you by being quiet. Or leaving you alone when you need it. Or sharing oranges. Or bringing you food outside when the weather’s nice so you don’t have to deal with the cafeteria. Or carrying your bag, since you let your coach do that too.”

“It sounds like you’ve thought about this.”

“I have.”

Seiji stood up at once. But they’d been on his own bed. It wasn’t as if he had anywhere to go. He went into the bathroom just to get away. In the mirror, his face was flushed brighter than after an intense bout on the piste.

When Seiji’s phone lit up with Koichiro Katayama, a mix of dread and longing pulled at his gut. 

“Father?” Seiji greeted.

“Seiji, how are you?” 

“Well, thank you. How are you? And Mother?”

“Good. Very good. Your mother’s sorry she missed you last week, but we’re hoping you could join us for dinner this Saturday.”

It had only been a week since they’d last seen each other, and usually, Seiji went months without hearing from his parents. He knew he should be better about checking in with them. The longing unfurled just a little more inside his chest.

“Yes, I could do dinner on Saturday.”

“Perfect. We’re hosting a little dinner party at home.”

A party.

“For work?”

“That’s right.”

The dread crept up Seiji’s throat and choked out the longing. Disappointment choked out hope. 

“I’ll dress appropriately,” Seiji confirmed briskly, then said his goodbyes.

Nicholas’s eyebrow rose at him, his body twisted in their desk chair to watch Seiji. Seiji only realized he’d been pacing when he saw how Nicholas’s eyes had to move to track him. He stilled.

“You okay?”

“Perfectly.”

“If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

“I don’t,” Seiji said shortly.

Nicholas nodded slowly and started to turn back to his papers.

“He keeps saying he’s trying,” Seiji blurted without meaning to at all. “But it doesn’t feel like he’s trying for my sake. And it’s a stupid distinction—he still wants a relationship with me, what does it matter if he wants that for himself or for me? It’s selfish for me to want it to be any different, but it bothers me. You got into my brain and now—”

“You’re noticing that you deserve better after all?”

“No. I just want—” Seiji searched for all he wanted to say, reached for all the things he’d always wanted to be for his parents. He found it. “Enough. I just want to be enough for them.”

“You are enough,” Nicholas said. “But they’re blind to it, aren’t they? You’re a dick, you’re too intense, you nag over everything, you’re brutal, you’re so stuck in your routines it’s boring, you’re condescending, and you’re enough. You’re brilliant and passionate and talented. You’re smart and dedicated and dependable. You’re a good teammate, even if you’re a brutal one. You make us all better. You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met, and I love it. And your parents should too. It’s not your fault they can’t see it. It doesn’t make you any less.”

“Isn’t their effort worth something? Isn’t it enough that they’re trying?”

“My mom tries too,” Nicholas said. “She told me she never thought she’d have kids. She’s apologized for it. She says she doesn’t know what she’s doing and she’s not great at all the mom stuff. But she does try, you know. When I was little, she’d put on old shows and watch them with me. As I got older, she’d patch up my hands after a fight and listen about why I got into it without scolding me. When I got into fencing—something she hates because of my dad—she tried to understand it too. She doesn’t come to my matches. It’s not really an easy thing for her to arrange. But when I talk about them, she listens to that too. And she watched the Olympics with me last summer when she was home and let me explain it all to her. And she’s so far away from the perfect mom, but when she tries, Seiji? I never feel like I’m not enough for her. I feel like she wants to be more for me. And that means a lot to me.”

“But that’s not what it feels like for me,” Seiji said.

“Sometimes trying isn’t enough.” Nicholas shrugged, a smile that was a little sad tugging onto his mouth. “Sometimes people don’t try hard enough. Acknowledging they should have put more effort into your relationship when you were a kid isn’t even a proper apology, Seiji. Your dad didn’t even promise to do better. He just…explained why he shouldn’t be blamed for not trying until now. Just because he’s suddenly trying at all doesn’t mean he deserves a Dad of the Year award. Is your dad really trying to love you? Or is he trying to make you what he wants to love?”

The words stayed with Seiji all week. They stayed with him all through the dinner party he’d been asked to attend. Family, his father had said, was about making compromises. Going to fencing matches you had no interest in was a compromise. This was a compromise too. It was fair. But Seiji had always been expected to attend parties and events, and he always felt more like a prop than a person at them. And for all his efforts to connect with Seiji, Father had brought him back to the house to show off for guests.

“Seiji,” Father said, cutting into Seiji’s conversation after making his own rounds through the lingering guests, “I’m sure Mr. Brown doesn’t need to know all the technicalities.” Father’s hand landed on Seiji’s shoulder as he turned to smile at the man Seiji had been speaking with. “I’m sorry about him; Seiji’s very passionate about fencing. A little too passionate at times,” Father laughed. “It’s the only thing he talks about. Thank you for humoring him.”

Seiji hadn’t cornered anyone. He hadn’t started the conversation. He hadn’t brought up fencing. And he didn’t need to be apologized for. Humiliation touched Seiji’s cheeks. Other emotions threatened to boil over too.

He didn’t allow them to.

“Mr. Brown fenced sabre through college,” Seiji said, “he was just telling me about it. We were comparing the merit of the different forms.”

“Quite so,” Mr. Brown agreed, slight surprise turning to the amiable smile he’d had before. “I’m rather partial to sabre myself, of course.”

Seiji nodded once.

“It was nice to meet you, sir. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should…go.”

Seiji didn’t wait to see how the clumsy excusal landed. He just left.

All the way.

Out of the conversation, out of the drawing room, out of the house. In the blessedly quiet night air, Seiji called a driving service. He wanted to go to Kings Row. It was a place that actually belonged to him—and he belonged to it. More than to this house and the couple who lived here. 

“Seiji.”

Seiji’s shoulders stiffened. He glanced down at the phone in his hand. His app said it would be seven minutes before a car arrived.

“Seiji,” Father repeated. His voice was closer now. “Will you look at me?”

There was no winning against that particular demand. Seiji had learned young how to oblige it. So he didn’t fight now. He turned to meet his father’s grimace.

“Come back inside.”

“Why? Because I’m making you look bad by being out here?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean?” Seiji asked. Despite himself, he wanted to know. He wanted to hear Father’s explanation. But Father’s face creased as if Seiji had furthered an argument instead of asking a genuine question.

“I can never do anything right with you,” Father said. It was a rebuke. Or an accusation. It didn’t feel like an explanation. “Every time I try, it only seems to make things worse.”

Seiji didn’t know how to deny it. Because he couldn’t. But Father didn’t offer anything more. He seemed to expect something. He was always expecting something of Seiji. And Seiji could never give it.

Tonight, he stopped trying.

“I’m not what you want,” Seiji said bluntly. “I’ve never known how to be. I know I’m…intense. And I don’t have what it is that makes you and Mother love so easily. I make you uncomfortable. I know I do, and I know I always have. You don’t know what to do with me. Thank you for letting me have fencing even though you didn’t understand. But I’m never going to grow out of it. Not out of fencing. Not out of my intensity. Not out of being distant and cold and hard to love. It’s just what I am.”

“You have to understand, Seiji, your mother and I—”

“I do understand. I understand that I’m an intrusion on your life. When you try, Father, I feel like I need to apologize. I don’t want to absolve you of your absence in my life because you feel guilty. I don’t want to comfort you when you tell me how hard I am to connect with. I don’t want to have to change for you to love me.”

“Seiji, that’s not what I’m saying at all.”

“But it is!” Seiji took a steadying breath against the flaring frustration. “It is. It might sound different in your head. I don’t know. But whatever idea you have of me in your head, I’m exhausted trying to see it. You were right all along. It’s easier if you leave me to my own devices. It doesn’t…hurt as much.”

“I’m sorry if you feel hurt,” Father said, taking a step near Seiji. “It hurts me too that you feel this way about us.”

“I don’t like being touched,” Seiji said, shrinking away from his father’s lifted hand. “And I don’t know if I’m ready to try.”

The hand dropped with a disappointed sigh and a heavy face. 

“I can’t reach you if you shut me out.”

“I never did. I never tried. But there was never any room for me in your and Mother’s life. And the space you’re trying to make now…I don’t fit in it. I’m sorry.”

“I hope that one day, you will,” Father said. 

Seiji held his eyes, then nodded and turned away. 

A worry nagged at Seiji the entire drive back to Kings Row. He wondered if his parents would continue to support his school and fencing expenses. Seiji wasn’t an expert in love or parents, but he didn’t think it was normal to worry about being punished for not doing or being what your parents wanted. 

But, then, maybe it was normal. Maybe it just shouldn’t have been. 

Seiji was exhausted when the car pulled up to Kings Row’s front gates. Each step to his room felt heavy, and yet, strangely, it felt like the last leg of a long journey with the destination in sight. And immense relief washed over him as he pushed into the little corner of the world behind door 108. 

His little corner of the world. 

Nicholas slid off his bed before Seiji even closed the door. The soft brown eyes meeting Seiji’s were filled up with worry and empty of expectation. 

“Seiji?” Nicholas asked, standing before Seiji in his awful pajamas that hardly even counted as pajamas at all. 

“Okay,” Seiji said, falling into Nicholas’s arms—which opened for him the moment he started to fall. “You may love me.” He faltered a moment, suddenly realizing how entitled he sounded. “Please.”

Nicholas’s arms wrapped tight around Seiji. He couldn’t remember ever being enveloped in warmth like this. He couldn’t remember ever wanting to be held close. But there was security in these arms. Belonging. Seiji tightened his grip around Nicholas, pulling in closer. 

“I will. I promise.”

“I believe you.”

“Thanks.”

Seiji hiccuped a startled laugh. 

“You’re really—stupid, did you know that?”

“Hey! Why are we suddenly name-calling?”

“You just thanked me for saying I’d let you—and that’s just such a stupid thing to do. From the very start, it’s been stupid.”

“But it worked.”

Seiji’s fingers curled into Nicholas’s black shirt and he nodded his head into his almost-bare shoulder. 

“Thank you. For trying.”

Seiji didn’t understand the tightening arms or the kiss into his hair, but he didn’t mind them. He liked the way he fit against Nicholas, and he liked the way he fit with him too. It didn’t seem like they had any business at all fitting together, but for the first time in his life, Seiji felt like he fit without having to cram into the spot offered to him. 

He savored the feeling of it for as long as Nicholas let him curl there into his neck. But Seiji recognized when his body shifted to move, and Seiji let him pull away. It was a slow and gentle withdrawal, but it wasn’t a disentanglement. Nicholas’s hands still held around Seiji as he looked him over. And when one left his ribs it was only to wipe against a cheek. 

“Bad night?” he asked. 

“The worst.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m sure you can guess.”

“Probably. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I’m sorry I got involved where you didn’t want it, though. I’m sorry I yelled at your dad and told you your parents suck. I’m right, but your dad probably thinks he’s right too. And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like he does.”

Seiji nodded, and Nicholas wiped more tears away as they poured silently down his face. And he just waited. Not saying anything more. Just staying there with Seiji until he composed himself again. 

“You don’t make me feel how he does,” Seiji whispered, voice quiet enough to sneak beneath his crying unmarred. “Father doesn’t like my coaches because of the way they make him feel. You don’t like him because of the way he makes me feel. But do try not to create so many scenes in the future,” he added. 

Nicholas laughed, then leaned in to kiss under his left eye. 

“I’ll try to behave.”

“You’re not very good at that,” Seiji said on a sigh. Nicholas’s new laugh fluttered through his stomach. “Your mess irritates me and your poor technique frustrates me and your stupidity astounds me and I’ve never felt more myself than when I’m with you. I like who I am with you—who you help me to be. And I like you. Without even trying, I like you a lot.”

Nicholas’s smile was indescribable. And then it was on Seiji’s lips too. He still didn’t understand the gentle and blindingly bright shape of it, but he wanted to keep trying. Adjusting the tilt of his head, Seiji pressed in closer to Nicholas again, letting his mouth part a little for the smile pressed to it. 

The gentle moment lingered and then exploded like a fencer on the piste. A hand was in Seiji’s hair and another hard at his hip. Nicholas’s smile broke, his lips pressing against Seiji’s, kissing them open. 

Seiji had never known anything like this. Not the sensation or the attraction or the affection. From either side of this kiss. And he found all at once that he was desperate for it. He clawed at Nicholas’s back, demanding he fit closer as Seiji tore a path backward through the room in a stumble, hitting heavy against the wall. He dragged Nicholas on top of him, suddenly needing the weight of Nicholas against him. Like the crushing security of a hug but more. Seiji needed so much more. 

He’d never realized before. 

“Seiji—” Nicholas said, smashed against his mouth with a laugh, “be careful.”

“No,” Seiji gasped, shoving a hand up into Nicholas’s hair and pulling him closer with a sigh of relief. 

Nicholas groaned and his warning proved hypocritical. His hold solidified and traveled all down Seiji’s body, wrinkling up his sharp jacket and shoving his waistcoat all out of place. Seiji had been held against a wall fighting for breath beneath Nicholas Cox before, and the memory felt absurd as Nicholas’s mouth slipped to his throat and his hand slipped up his shirt. 

“I admit,” Seiji whispered, trying not to vocalize the way Nicholas’s mouth sucking against his skin made him feel, “I was wrong.”

“About being hard to love?”

Seiji laughed breathlessly and shook his head. 

“No. About not being able to love—I don’t know that I’ll be very good at it, but…”

Seiji’s shrug was swallowed in a new crushing hug, the sensitive spot at his neck abandoned for a dusting of kisses all over his cheeks and nose. 

“You are, Seiji,” he kissed back into Seiji’s hair before pulling away to look into his eyes. “You just need someone to love the way you love.”

Seiji’s fingers twisted harder into hair and shirt. 

“Have you got any suggestions for someone like that?”

“A few,” Nicholas promised with glinting eyes. 

“Really? I can only think of one.”

“There will be others,” Nicholas promised. 

Seiji’s throat was tight. He released his clawing grip on Nicholas to loop arms over his shoulders and notch face into neck. Nicholas’s hands left their occupations—with a touch of regret from Seiji—to rub over back and press into hair. 

“Right now, I just need you,” Seiji confessed.