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Four months. It’s been four months since Shinsuke last saw Aran, since he called Aran and told him they should figure out who they are without each other.
It’s been four months, and Shinsuke isn’t quite sure he knows yet.
It was a lonely four months in Tokyo. He spent his first night there crying on and off. He barely slept. It didn’t get much better from there. Making friends has never been a skill of Shinsuke’s, and being in a new place, forced out of his usual routine, right after losing his biggest support pillar doesn’t make it any easier.
The change in routine was harder than he expected. Shinsuke relies on routine. It’s easy. It’s methodical. It’s familiar. He knew moving to a new city would be hard, but not only was he in a new city, he was surrounded by strangers in a completely new environment. Shinsuke is used to the quiet countryside, not the loud bustling city.
Most of his days are spent alone in his dorm. Cleaning, studying, anything that helps him pass the time. His grandmother helped him pick up knitting as a hobby before he left for Tokyo and he finds himself spending most of his time practicing new stitches and trying new patterns. It’s straightforward, planned, and predictable; everything Shinsuke seems to be lacking.
The nights are when he feels particularly lonely. The other students in his dorm building are loud, music and voices blaring late into the night. It takes him what feels like ages to get used to falling asleep without the quiet of home, without the warmth of someone next to him in bed.
Tokyo is colder than he expected. The wind in the city bites, harsh and dry. The first thing he notices when he steps off the train in Hyogo is how soft the breeze is.
It’s his first time visiting home since he moved. It’s just a weekend trip but as much as he hates time spent with his parents, he’s glad to be out of the city.
He’s standing at the bus stop when he gets a text.
from: atsumu (11:34am)
HEY did ur train get in yet??
definitely not for any particular reason definitely not haha what nooo
Shinsuke smiles softly at his phone. As much as he hates to admit it, he’s missed Atsumu.
to: atsumu (11:34am)
Yes, it just arrived a few minutes ago.
from: atsumu (11:35am)
omg yay
aran is too much of a coward to ask himself but he hasn’t shut up about you coming to town this weekend. do us all a favour and talk to the boy before his head explodes
Shinsuke nearly drops his phone. He knew there was a possibility he’d see Aran this weekend. He’s still living in Hyogo—in fact, he just started playing for a local pro team—and he knew that his other old teammates may want to see him and if they were there, Aran likely would be too. But Aran wanting to talk to him? Enough that he goes through Atsumu? That's certainly not something Shinsuke was expecting.
With a deep breath, opens up his text conversation with Aran. It’s almost second nature to him now, he can’t count how many times he’s scrolled through old messages over the past four months, searching for some semblance of what he felt before things ended between them. He’s never sent a text, though. He was always too scared.
to: aran<3 (11:37am)
Hey, I know it’s been a while and we didn’t exactly leave things off on the best note, but I’m in town for the weekend and I think it’d be good for us to talk.
He sends the message and waits. For a moment, he wonders if sending that message was a bad idea. He doesn’t know if Aran even does want to talk to him. For all he knows, Aran wants nothing to do with him. He wouldn’t blame him after everything that happened.
The reply comes when Shinsuke is sitting on the bus home.
from: aran<3 (11:49am)
yeah, that sounds good
you can come over to my house, i figure doing this away from your parents is probably for the best
The relief that washes over Shinsuke as he reads the messages from Aran is indescribable. They exchange a few more texts figuring out logistics, and soon enough Shinsuke has plans to take the trip to Aran’s house once he’s unpacked.
Shinsuke tries his best not to overthink things as he unpacks his bag for the weekend. He focuses on getting things organized. Everything is in its right place. Simple. Predictable. Reliable. The thoughts aren’t that easy to stop, though. They never are.
He starts to wonder why Aran would even want to talk to him in the first place. Shinsuke wasn’t exactly kind to Aran during their last few conversations. He’s had plenty of sleepless nights over the past four months to think over exactly what he said. Aran is probably only agreeing to see him out of courtesy. Maybe he just wants closure. Or maybe he wants to give Shinsuke a piece of his mind, tell him what a dick he was to break up with him over the phone and not even send a single text for four months. Shinsuke wouldn’t blame him.
But of course, there’s another possibility. It’s one that Shinsuke doesn’t want to think about too much, but there’s also the possibility that maybe Aran wants him back. He tries not to get his hopes up too much, but the more his mind wanders, the more he thinks that maybe something will come of this.
It feels like both an eternity and a fraction of a second before Shinsuke is borrowing the keys to his parents’ car and driving to Aran’s house.
Maybe it’s the guilt of the things he’d said, the things he’s sure haunt Aran in the same way they haunt him every time he’s alone for too long, or maybe it’s the anxiety that builds with his uncertainty—he has no idea what Aran is going to say, what he’s going to want to talk about, if he’s even going to let him in—but Shinsuke is a little queasy as he approaches Aran’s house.
Hesitantly, Shinsuke rings the doorbell. He remembers the days when he could let himself in; early in the morning when they’d walk to class together (he often had to drag Aran out of bed) or late at night when Shinsuke heard his parents fighting in the kitchen and climb out his first-floor bedroom window (to go somewhere else, anywhere else). The feeling that creeps over him while he waits for someone to answer the door is completely unfamiliar to him. It’s not helping with his nausea.
After what feels like an eternity, the door opens.
“Hey, Shin.” Aran greets him with a smile. “Come on in.”
It’s a warmer reception than Shinsuke was expecting. Surely it’s more than he deserves. He walks in quietly, just a silent nod for a greeting. He isn’t quite sure what to say.
Aran tells him they can go to his room and Shinsuke follows him there. It’s almost uncanny being in the Ojiro house again. He remembers Aran’s mom telling him stories about Aran when he was a kid in the living room, he remembers accidentally running into Aran’s sister in the kitchen in the middle of the night the first time he slept over, he remembers sitting in Aran’s bedroom trying to talk him down while his father screamed at his mother in the next room. He’d forgotten how many memories he has in this house and how much he missed being here.
Aran’s room is almost the same as the last time Shinsuke saw it. The shelf above his bed is still covered in trophies and ribbons from sports tournaments and competitions he’s been in, dating all the way back to when he was a kid.
Aran sits down on the edge of the bed and gestures for Shinsuke to join him. Hesitantly, he takes a seat.
“So, uh,” Aran starts. He’s clearly a little unsure of what to say as well, but he doesn’t seem as blatantly terrified as Shinsuke is. “How’s Tokyo been?”
“Good.” He lies. His eyes are fixated on the ground, but he can feel Aran watching him. Eye contact is hard enough for him as it is, but it’s harder when he isn’t sure if Aran even wants Shinsuke to be looking at him. “Classes are good.”
“You can relax, Shinsuke.”
“What?”
“I can tell you’re nervous.” Of course he can. Of course even after months of being apart, he could still tell when Shinsuke was upset about something. But then again, Shinsuke is sure if it came to it, he could still read Aran like a book. Four months couldn’t erase what they had. A lifetime couldn’t do that. “You don’t have to be. I don’t bite.”
Shinsuke should laugh at his joke. He should smile, start to feel more comfortable, relax, and just have a good time. Instead, he stays tense, and says a quiet, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“Everything.” Shinsuke says. He doesn’t know where to start. The guilt hasn’t relented over the past four months, nor has the sorrow. All he wants now is to repent for what he did. To apologize, and to hope that Aran doesn’t hate him. “For what I said. For leaving. I was being selfish and stupid and I shouldn’t have done any of that.” Shinsuke can feel his emotions building, forming an all too familiar lump in the back of his throat. He doesn’t dare look at Aran. He’s scared to see the look on his face. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I’m so sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry, Kitashin.” It’s the old nickname that makes Kita break eye contact with the floor and actually look at Aran. He doesn’t look upset or angry, and the contempt Shinsuke was expecting to see in his expression isn’t there. His expression is soft, somewhere between concern and comfort, and Shinsuke finds it hard to believe that he deserves it.
“Yes, I do.” He argues. “I know I hurt you, Aran. I never stopped feeling guilty and I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know how you don’t hate me right now.”
“I never hated you. I was hurt, but I never hated you. I don’t think I could hate you.” Aran says. Shinsuke isn’t sure how much he believes him. “It’s okay, really. I think we both said things we regret. I should’ve been better about showing you that I care and I’m sorry I didn’t. You’re not the only one at fault here, okay?”
“Okay.” Shinsuke says, even if it doesn’t really make sense to him. He was the one who ended things. Why should Aran have to apologize? “Okay,” He repeats himself, taking a breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak out.”
“You don’t need to apologize, Shinsuke. Really,” Aran smiles softly, just the slightest tug at the corners of his mouth as he speaks. “You can ask the twins, I didn’t handle it very well at first either.”
Shinsuke nods. He’s glad Aran had support after everything, even if it stings to know that the universe didn’t extend him the same courtesy.
They dissolve into small talk; Aran tells Shinsuke about the team he’s playing for now, Shinsuke tells Aran about his classes and the boba shop down the street from his residence building.
“I’m, uh, actually seeing someone else now.” Aran tells him.
“Oh.” is all Shinsuke can think to say.
He planned for every possible opportunity. Every possible thing he thought Aran could say, everything he thought could go wrong, he had planned out a solution for like the answer to a math problem. It’s easy to react when you know what’s coming. But this? Shinsuke hadn’t planned for this.
He knew getting his hopes up was stupid. He knew Aran wouldn’t want to get back together with him. Why would he, after everything Shinsuke had said? It was only natural for him to move on. That's what happens when your plan changes—you calm down and you move on. You step back, take a breath, and start on your backup plan. But that’s the thing, though; Shinsuke never made a backup plan.
“That’s good.” The words burn in Shinsuke’s throat. “I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks, Shin.” Aran smiles. He seems relieved. “I should’ve told you sooner, I just… didn’t know how, I guess.”
“It’s okay.” He says. It wouldn’t be fair of him to say anything else.
Shinsuke wants to be happy for Aran. He really does. He’s glad he was able to move on, he’s glad Aran isn’t still hurting like he is. But still, all Shinsuke wants to do is scream. He wants to scream and cry and sob until he can’t breathe anymore. He wants to go back in time to see himself from four months ago and tell him how stupid he’s being, how he’s about to lose the best thing in his life and he never has the chance to try and get it back.
“He’s on my team,” Aran tells him. Shinsuke really doesn’t want to hear about this, he doesn’t want to hear Aran talk about his new boyfriend, but he doesn’t think it would be fair of him to refuse. He broke up with him. He doesn’t get to tell him what he can and can’t talk about around him. “Captain, actually. Guess I have a type, huh?”
Shinsuke fakes a laugh. He thinks he might throw up.
He forces his way through small talk until he can come up with an excuse to go home. He hardly wants to—he’s sure his parents aren’t happy with him going to see Aran right after he arrived—but he figures even that would be easier to deal with. Aran seems a little disappointed when Shinsuke says he has to leave and Shinsuke wishes he cared more. He feels selfish.
“Take care of yourself, okay?” Aran tells him on his way out. Somehow, despite all the times Shinsuke has said goodbye to Aran here, this time feels more like a farewell than any of the others.
Shinsuke forces a smile. “I will.”