Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Aimless wandering had seemed like a good idea when he left the house, but one pack of Advil, two boxes of blister band-aids, and three missed calls from his mom later proved otherwise. 

Kaidou takes his change from the cashier, giving a slight nod of thanks as he grabs his items and exits into the muggy streets of Tokyo. Shibuya has never looked brighter, LEDs casting a glow of pinks and blues across the buildings and people and reflecting off pools of rainwater in the roadways.

The air is thick to breathe, heavy with vapor kicked up by passing cars and mixing with exhaust fumes. A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead, slipping past his ear and tickling his skin. He’s regretting his decision to wear jeans, the humidity mixing with his body heat and making the denim feel unpleasantly moist and rough to the touch.

With a sigh, Kaidou leans against the front of the convenience store and kicks his right shoe off while rubbing at his sore feet. Clumsily, he wraps the blister band-aids around his toes and on the ball of his foot before discarding the wrappers in his pocket.

He goes for the Advil next, peeling away the safety seal with his teeth and dumping three pills in his hand. He’s about to pop them in his mouth, but quickly realizes he doesn't have anything to wash them down with. He stares inwardly, watching people pass and debating whether or not he wants to the do awkward shuffle and repeat to grab a drink, but the thought of the cashier seeing him less than a minute after leaving makes him want to die, so he bites the bullet and swallows the pills dry.

They gag him, and he coughs as the gel gets caught in his throat. He can feel them slowly sliding down, a phantom lump lingering in the spot where they initially got stuck. Eventually, he gets enough spit to pool in his mouth, and he forces the pills the rest of the way down.

“What am I doing?” He asks, chastising himself.

Kaidou pulls out his phone, battery on critical, and checks the time. It’s nearing 10:30, and despite being a college graduate, his mom still expected him home before eleven. While living with his parents had its perks (rent-free living was nice after all), the drawbacks were beginning to weigh out the benefits and take detriment to his psyche. The constant beratement to pull his life together, the comparisons to Sora, the curfew—sometimes it feels like he's been transported back in time, stuck as the high schooler he fears he never left behind. 

Kaidou Shun [10:25 PM]
>> heading home soon
>> will text when im on the metro

Mom [10:25 PM]
>> Be safe.

With that, he puts his phone on low power mode and begins hobbling to the station and wondering if he should consider putting on some more band-aids.

A light rumble of thunder trembles in the sky, and almost immediately following, the hint of a raindrop. Several umbrellas begin to pop up around him, one after another. He rechecks his phone and opens the weather app—something he probably should’ve done before leaving—and clicks on the live radar.

“Of course.” He sighs, watching as a dark patch of yellow rain runs right through his location. Switching to Maps, he looks for the nearest metro entrance… which of course is a fifteen-minute walk away. Great.

With another heavy sigh, he prepares himself to run, but after about 30 seconds, he's got a side stitch and feels like one of his lungs has collapsed. 

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drop.

Crap.

There’s another clap of thunder, followed by a flash of lightning, and Kaidou finds himself scrambling to the nearest door, not liking how the sky lights up around him.

As he enters, he’s blasted with cold air, a heavenly release from the jungle outside. Light music and syncopated rhythms fill the background along with low chatter and the gentle clink of glasses. As his eyes adjust to the soft, ambient lighting, he realizes he’s most likely stumbled into a jazz club.

“Are you here with the Arts and Music Cultural Society?” A hostess greets him.

Caught off guard, Kaidou almost forgets how to speak. He gulps, hastily pulling himself together.

"Sorry, I was just looking for cover."

"Are you over twenty? I could offer you a seat at the bar." 

That's definitely code for "buy something or leave," so reluctantly, Kaidou nods and hands the hostess his ID. After a quick check, she passes it back and gestures for him to follow her to the back of the club.  

“Menu’s on the QR code.” She bows before taking her leave. 

The stool squeaks loudly as Kaidou hops into it, metal base screaming as it scratches against the tile floor. It sends a shiver up his spine, and he can feel passing eyes glaring at him. Shrinking into his seat, he pulls his phone out and scans the QR code. He really doesn’t have the battery life for this, but that exchange has sent his anxiety through the roof, and he could really use a little something-something to take the edge off. 

"Shun?"

Kaidou whips his head around so fast that his sight becomes speckled with dead spots. White floaties cloud the center of his vision, making it hard to see through the dim light. But that voice, low and smooth and oh so recognizable, brings him back to a time of memories passed.   

“A-Aren?" 

Long and soft shadows obscure his face, but he’s still as recognizable as ever. His clean-cut haircut, his black-framed glasses—now with real lenses—and his ever-beautiful smile. Wow, he missed that smile. 

Kuboyasu's nicely dressed, clad in some very appealing business casual wear. His patterned, grey-blue button-down is slightly damp from the rain, clinging to his chest in all the right places, and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, leaving Kaidou to inadvertently ogle at his arms. It’s apparent Kuboyasu still works out, muscles well defined, probably more so than before, which Kaidou didn’t realize was possible.

His eyes travel up to his face, which has also matured slightly—the youthful softness of high school long gone and replaced with something more angular and devilishly handsome. It’s nothing like Kaidou’s own face, which has remained “squishy” as many of his friends like to point out.

Kaidou feels his cheeks begin to tingle the longer he stares, those dark purple eyes burning a hole through his paper-thin disposition. He coughs, trying to free himself from the hypnotic spell that Kuboyasu seems to have him under, but he's staring back with just as much intensity, practically begging Kaidou to stay lost in his trance. When he finally does manage to break away, he turns his head quickly and lets his bangs hide his rapidly reddening face. 

“The rain catch you as well?” Kaidou asks, coughing to clear the butterflies that have settled in his throat. 

From his peripheral, he sees Kuboyasu nod. The stool next to him slides across the floor elegantly, barely a sound to be heard. Without meaning to, Kaidou looks up and catches another glimpse of Kuboyasu, their eyes locking a second time as he sits next to him.

Wonderstruck doesn’t even begin to describe the feeling that Kuboyasu’s stirred within him. Enamored, enthralled… it feels like love at first sight, but really, all it is is the reignition of a passionate infatuation that he fears never really died in the first place. 

He had liked him since high school—had crushed on him for literal years thanks to a certain psychic rewinding the earth six times—but despite all the opportunities he had to confess, he never did work up the courage to say anything. There had been a few times when he'd almost done it, but it felt like circumstances were never in their favor, especially with college looming over them.

And so, he'd resigned himself to keep his mouth shut and hoped his crush would eventually fizzle out on its own. 

“It came on so suddenly.” Kuboyasu shakes his head, droplets of water gently flicking Kaidou in the face.

“Like the sky decided to take a giant piss all over Shibuya.”

Kuboyasu laughs, and Kaidou’s heart skips a beat at hearing it—for causing it.

“And just as I exited the metro too. Stops all over except the one place I need them to be." 

"Oh," Kaidou snaps his fingers. "Are you here for that Art and Music Society thing?" 

"Mmh." Kuboyasu nods. "A bunch of my friends from college are involved. I'm just here to support—force some laughter, fake some smiles—you know the drill."

"All too well." Kaidou agrees mournfully. 

"You have no idea how glad I am to see you." Kuboyasu smiles warmly at him. "I thought I was going crazy, actually. When did you get back to Japan?" 

Kaidou bites his tongue, guilt setting in before he even says anything. He answers trepidiously. “…About two months ago.”

“And you didn’t text me?!”

“I-I’ve been busy!” 

Truth be told, he's actually been quite the opposite. His $200,000 dollar piece of paper is currently collecting dust in a box with his other college things because every time he tries to apply for jobs in his field, he feels like he's going to have a nervous breakdown. 

College had… college had been an experience, to say the least. 

After graduating from Stanford in May, Kaidou had boarded the first flight back to Japan, desperately needing to leave the last four years behind him.

His freshman year, he had found it difficult to make friends, mostly sticking with the other Japanese students, but even then, he felt like he couldn’t connect with any of them. All of them had academic records that put his to shame, and the more he spoke to them, the more he felt his inadequacies grow. Talking to them felt like a “who has a bigger dick" competition since everything everyone always did felt like a bullet point for a resume. It was exhausting trying to keep up. He couldn't keep up. 

Classes were long, difficult, and boring. He definitely grossly overestimated his English language skills, and probably spent more time translating his lecture notes than he did actually studying them. He should've declared an easier major, but at the time, international relations seemed like a good idea—it was the one that made his parents beam the most when he listed his interests, at least.

But, as his first year came to a close, he began to fear the worst: he might actually hate it.

He'd tried talking to his mom about it, but she encouraged (told) him to give it one more year before switching to something else. (Worst decision ever.) 

His sophomore year wasn't any better, and by the start of his junior year, he felt he was in too deep to quit. 

Maybe it was the apathy, but Kaidou had gone wild that year. Parties, bar hopping, binge drinking, hookups, stick-and-poke tattoos—every single college cliche was there. There were more days than he cared to admit to where he'd find himself walking up in some stranger's house with no recollection of what had happened the night before, but then again, alcohol and bad ideas seemed to go hand-in-hand.

His Instagram page had given the perfect illusion of someone with a vibrant social life, but beneath all the filters was a sad college student craving something more than superficial relations.  Regrettably, he had tried to fill that void with cheap love. There had been plenty of attractive people—maybe even a hookup or two—but it was never satisfying. Some helped him forget and some dulled the pain, but none of them could erase the mark he had left on his heart. 

It was sad. It was pathetic.

That irreprehensible crush was supposed to go away.

He should be over it.

“Shun?"

Thought he was over it. 

"Are you okay?" 

But he was so clearly not over him.

“I was embarrassed.” Kaidou finally responds, dejected. “Sorry.”

“Embarrassed about what?”

“Living at home.”

“Nothing embarrassing about it.” Kuboyasu shrugs. “I’ve really missed you, you know.” He says after a beat.

Kaidou feels his breath hitch at the sudden honesty.

“I… I did too.” He mummers. 

There's a dust storm forming inside his lungs as cobwebbed feelings begin to put him in a chokehold. He can't let this get out of control, but his heart is already racing, ready to burst with leftover affections from a worthless collection of memories that probably don’t even mean anything to Kuboyasu anymore. 

Fuck. It hurts. 

He needs a drink. 

“Shochu apple sour.” Kaidou flags down the bartender.

Kuboyasu furrows his eyebrows. “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

"It's not that," Kaidou says heavily. 

"Then what?"

The bartender returns with Kaidou's drink and sets it in front of him. He stares at it with malice. 

"It's just... I don't know. It's hard to talk about I guess."

He pushes the drink away. He can't do this. Not drunk. Not sober. Not ever. 

"Sorry," Kuboyasu says, voice soft and unsure. "You should have your drink though." 

"It's fine." Kaidou shakes his head.

"No, seriously—"

"It's really fine." He tries to insist with sincerity, but Kuboyasu still looks guilty. 

"Then at least let me pick that up for you."

"You really don't need to." 

"But what if I want to?"

"And what if I don't?" 

Kuboyasu sighs. "Please let me do something nice for you." 

"You already do more than enough for me," Kaidou says, poking at his drink. He scowls when he catches his disheveled reflection on the crystal clear, smooth ice. What happened to the quicky kid who used to be so full of energy and potential? “I’m sorry I didn’t call more.” He whispers. He's not even sure if Kuboyasu's heard him, but he continues on, icy sentiments melting the more he thinks about him. “I really did miss you. A lot. So much more than you could possibly know.”

“Then why didn’t you pick up my calls?” 

His aching tone permeates deep underneath Kaidou's skin, and he finds himself scratching at his arm, desperately trying to get the feeling to go away, but it feels like it's spreading to every part of his body. It's especially warm in the spots where Kuboyasu seems to be tracing him with his eyes, and Kaidou squirms in his seat uncomfortably. 

“Same reason I didn’t want to tell you I was home." He digs his nails into his palm. "I was embarrassed. I felt like a failure over there, and I didn’t—I didn’t want you to realize how much of a loser I had become.”

‘Or always was.’ He thinks darkly.

“You were—are—my best friend. You know I’d never think that of you.”

“Well, I thought it of me, so—”

“Aren?”

A man of eccentric style begins to approach them, smiling radiantly. The scent of alcohol is practically oozing from his pores, gait a little wayward, and eyes practically glazed over. Drunkenly, he claps Kuboyasu on the back. The drink in his hand slooshes erratically, and Kaidou pulls his leg back to avoid the splash zone. 

"Thought you had bailed on us." The man leans further on Kuboyasu, and he wraps his arm around his neck for support.

"I thought about it." He pushes him off. "You wreak." 

"Open bar. What can I say." The man shrugs. "Come join us. Hatori, Hina, Takumi, and I all got a table up by the stage."

"Maybe. But I'm actually..." He gestures to Kaidou. The man raises an eyebrow and genuinely seems shocked to see another person there.

"Matsumura Ryu." He holds out his hand and jostles Kaidou around in a very aggressive and enthusiastic handshake. 

"Kaidou Shun." He pulls his arm back and shakes out his hand. Curse his fragile fingers.

Matsumura cocks his head. "Kaidou Shun..." He turns to Kuboyasu. "Oh, is he the guy you—"

"Just a friend from high school." Kuboyasu cuts him off abruptly, and Kaidou feels like he's been stung. 

A friend from high school.

Just a friend from high school.

Years of friendship—a far deeper connection than any he's ever made with anyone—now distilled down into just high school friends? It doesn't nearly convey the relationship they have. The emotional bond that they share. The sacracy of sworn friendship! (And maybe it hurts him more than he'd like to admit.) 

He looks to Kuboyasu for some reassurance, but Matsumara's stolen his attention with flowery words that speckle in the closeness of their relationship. Sweet and flirtatious banter—it's more than enough to make Kaidou red. Whether it's anger or embarrassment is unclear. As a distraction, he pulls his discarded drink closer and uses his fingernail to draw random lines and squiggles onto the condensated glass, gnawing jealously temporarily at bay. 

"You mind if I steal him from you for a moment, Kaidou?" 

But now it's back. And Matsumaru's not really asking, more so telling, and all Kaidou can do is nod uncomfortably. 

"Oh, uh... yeah, sure." 

"Thanks." He leads Kuboyasu away, and Kaidou watches listlessly as they go off to the side to exchange intimacies and whispers. 

That used to be him, sharing secrets with each other they'd never tell. 

Kaidou goes half-lidded, eyes unfocused. Sometimes, it feels like hit he hit pause on his life after high school while the world continued on. He really is the same kid he was in back then, only now he could drink and pay taxes. Far-off dreams, living at home, and crushing on a boy who had captured his heart with one handshake. Sixteen going on seventeen? More like twenty-two going on nowhere.

Why couldn't he get over him?

Kaidou shakes his head. It doesn't matter. None of it matters. 

And yet it matters. So, so much. 

Because there were some nights where he'd be kept up by a plague of what-ifs. What if he had said something? What if he had said yes? What if he had stayed in Japan? What if it were he who was inviting Kuboyasu out to fancy art societies and stealing him away for a private moment far from prying eyes instead of keeping him for just a passing glance? 

When he’d see him pop up on his timeline or when he’d send him some random snap, when he try and randomly FaceTime him or text him some arbitrary meme in hopes of getting a response, that old spark would reignite into a flame, devouring his conscious mind into regret.

Thump.

Matsumaru's placing a hand underneath Kuboyasu's chin. 

Thump.

He tilts his head up.

THUMP.

He leans in.

Kaidou turns away.

He shouldn't have seen that—wishes he didn't see that—and in all fairness, he didn't see much.

He's overreacting. It barely confirms anything, yet his heart is beating so hard he can feel it in his throat. It's aching. Physically aching. He shouldn't be having this kind of reaction—shouldn't be feeling this way in the first place. Kuboyasu was never his. 

And yet. 

He can't.
Stop.
The longing.
In.
His heart.

"Hey." Kuboyasu nearly scares him half to death, popping up behind him, flushed and out of breath. "You wanna get out of here?" 

Kaidou blinks. Once. Twice.

"What? What about your art society thing?" 

"It's not..." Kuboyasu glances over his shoulder, on edge. "It's not important."

"Are you okay?" 

Did something happen with Matsumaru? 

"Yeah, I'm... I'm fine. I'll tell you later." He dismisses him quickly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "But seriously, you wanna leave?"

“And where do you suggest we go?” Kaidou asks, wary. "It's still raining, is it not?"

Sure enough, the street is glistening, practically steaming, and as if on cue, a low rumble of thunder rolls over them, causing the glasses on the countertop to quiver. Kuboyasu seems undeterred. 

“My place isn’t too far from here if you’d like to come over.”

“You have your own place?”

“Yeah, in Nakameguro.”

“That’s…” Artsy? Mature? Attractive? “Really cool.” He finishes lamely. “More than cool, actually. I wish I could say the same.” 

“It helps when a certain someone helps pay your bills.”

Well, that's certainly mysterious. Kaidou makes a mental note to ask him about that later. 

“We’re kinda far from the metro…” He turns back to the door, stalling, waiting for his stomach to settle.

“That makes it all the more fun.” Kuboyasu gives him a coy smile and sets down some money on the bar—1,000 yen, it seems. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” He holds out his hand, and Kaidou’s almost too stunned to take it, but Kuboyasu wiggles his fingers, and very gingerly, Kaidou allows them to intertwine.

He’s melting. Red in the face. Hot with embarrassment. Thank god the rain will hide his sweat.

They step outside. The streets are considerably emptier than they were before. The rain carries on, its loud pounding on the pavement making it hard to hear. Already, Kaidou's shoes feel waterlogged, and his hair is beginning to stick to the back of his neck.

“I told you not to pay for my drink,” Kaidou yells over the roar of raindrops. 

“I was never very good at following the rules, was I?” Kuboyasu says with a glint in his eye. “You ready?” 

Kaidou nods nervously, and Kuboyasu recaptures his hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze before taking off, basically dragging Kaidou along behind him. 

It’s a fast pace, much faster than Kaidou will be able to sustain, and after a few seconds, he’s already feeling it in his legs. His clothes are becoming heavy with rainwater, and for a second, he wonders why they’re even bothering to run.

And then, he finds himself laughing inexplicably. It’s a low chuckle at first, but it turns into a full belly laugh, infectious too, as Kuboyasu soon joins in. Slowly, Kaidou brings his pace to a fast walk, tugging gently on Kuboyasu’s hand to get him to meet his speed. When he does, he pulls him in, and he swears he can feel Kuboyasu's heartbeat in his own chest. 

Kaidou sweeps his bangs up and gently does the same to Kuboyasu, who looks away shyly.

“Hey.” Kaidou brings him closer, letting the moment linger before kicking up a huge puddle onto Kuboyasu.

“Oh, you’re on,” He says before kicking up even more water onto Kaidou, who takes off running. (As if he’ll even be able to escape this watery hellscape.)

It’s ridiculous. Unabashed, ridiculous fun as they chase each other through Shibuya, letting the rain pool in their hands before splashing each other in the face. It feels wrong. Silly wrong. Like showering in clothes silly wrong, but Kaidou loves every second of it. For the first time in months, maybe even years, he feels like he’s finally smiling a real smile.

It’s freedom—a striking realization that he was always meant to be in his life, and he shut out the one person who made him happiest in the world. He feels like that teenager again, only this time, he’s okay with it.

His previous worries about Matsumaru are dissipating, washing away into the gutters now that it's just the two of them, silly and unrestrained like school children without a care in the world. 

A feeling of youthful joy, and the friendship of a lifetime—he is everything he ever wanted.

'Please don't be in love with someone else.'

Kaidou ducks under cover, shielding himself from the onslaught of rain via the metro's entrance. Guard down, Kuboyasu takes the opportunity to strike, wrapping his arms around Kaidou’s waist, scooping him up, and dropping him right underneath the edge of the awning. A cascading tsunami drowns him, water flying into his eyes and gushing down his back. 

Kaidou yelps and instinctively pulls Kuboyasu in with him, letting him take the brunt of the downpour. He lets out a playful scream, and Kaidou laughs. 

“I win,” He says with a cheeky smile.

"That was dirty." 

"No," Kaidou notices Kuboyasu's glasses are missing and an all too wicked grin floods his face. He cups his hands behind his back. "Hey, how's your eyesight?"

“Pretty good—”

Before he can finish, Kaidou throws the water in his face. A direct hit, close range too. It's by far the most devastating blow of the night. 

"That's playing dirty," Kaidou says smugly.

“You bastard.” Kuboyasu laughs, gently shoving his shoulder. “Maybe my eyesight has gotten worse over the years.”

“Wearing fake glasses will do that.” Kaidou chuckles along with him. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Okay, he’s having a little too much fun now.

“Well, I wouldn’t know because I’m not farsighted,” Kuboyasu hunches over and leans in close to Kaidou. He can feel his breath hitting his upper lip, their noses almost touching, and suddenly, Kaidou feels lightheaded.

Should he… should he lean in? Place his hand under his chin? Tilt his head up? Be the one to make Kuboyasu swoon? 

“You um…” Kaidou finds himself stuttering, clumsy with nerves. “You’re eyes are really pretty.”

Dear GOD, please strike him with lightning right now.

Kuboyasu backs away, and yeah, he should’ve seen that one coming. Why couldn’t he have just kept that one in a thought bubble?

“You uh… you too.” Kuboyasu rubs his neck and turns back toward the metro’s entrance. “You wanna head in? Trains in five.”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Kaidou tries to steady his voice, but he feels like his entire body is vibrating. He’ll chalk it up to shivering though because he absolutely does not have the capacity to think about all he just said.

The ride back to Kuboyasu’s apartment is thankfully quick because the two of them are leaving pools of water wherever they go, and the stares do not go unnoticed. 

There’s about another ten-minute walk from the metro when they exit again, but the rain has died down ever so slightly. (Although, not like it matters all things considered.)

They approach a modern-looking apartment complex, balconies reaching up into the sky, and Kaidou finds himself more than impressed, especially when they enter the lobby. White tile floors, bright and clean lighting—it all has an air of sophistication to it.

The actual unit itself is even nicer though with real wood flooring and crisp white walls. It’s well decorated, looking like something out of a home magazine, and Kaidou can’t help but wonder just how much money Kuboyasu’s making. It’s apparent that he’s done well for himself post-college, and it's making him really wish he hadn’t admitted to living at home.

“This is gorgeous.” Kaidou compliments, kicking off his shoes, cringing slightly at the slopping wet sound his socks are making.

“Thanks,” Kuboyasu says, struggling with his own shoes. “I had a friend in college who was interested in interior decorating, so I didn’t really do much. The paintings are mine though.”

He leads Kaidou further into the apartment and slides open a door, revealing a washer and dryer. He tosses his socks in the washer and holds out his hand for Kaidou's. He complies.

“I have some clothes you can borrow if you’d like to come with me.” 

Kaidou nods and lets Kuboyasu lead the way to his bedroom, which is in a state of organized chaos. Half-finished canvases litter the floor, along with tubes of paints and jars of dirty water with several paintbrushes in them. There are a few familiar things from his bedroom from home as well: his old bookshelf, overflowing with old and new manages, his coat rack with his former delinquent attire, and most importantly, and Kaidou’s favorite, a large nameneko figurine.

On the walls are various posters and certificates. Stepping closer, he realizes that they’re art accolades: highest juried in show, judge’s choice, esteemed young artist award—the list goes on. Ribbons and gold keys, a bulletin board with pictures of Kuboyasu and his friends at galleries—the very definition of success is plastered on the cream-colored walls before him.

Another framed certificate catches his eye.

“You graduated with honors?” Kaidou turns to Kuboyasu, who digging through his wardrobe.

“…It’s just art school,” He says bashfully. “I didn’t do anything impressive like you did.”

Kaidou fights the urge to correct him. Kuboyasu thinks too highly of him, probably remembering the work ethic he had in high school. His overachieving, academic prowess had died long ago, and in its place, a ghost walks the hollow shell of a gifted kid who burnt out within the first semester of college.

He didn’t achieve anything great or receive any recognition, and he’d barely salvaged his GPA senior year. A very generous professor had bumped his final paper up from a B+ to an A-, giving him the 3.5 he needed for cum laude. (Although he's pretty sure it was out of pity.)

And sure, honors is honors, but he doesn’t feel like he’s really earned it. In a practical sense, his degree is useless. Everything he’d learned in college had been dumped the moment the tests were over, and sometimes, it felt like he knew less about international relations now than when he started.

“I pulled a few things I think will fit you.” Kuboyasu breaks him from his thoughts and sets a pile of clothes in his hands. “You can change in my room, or if you want, the bathroom’s down the hall.”

“I can take the bathroom."

"First door on your right."

Kaidou nods and scampers off. Once he's done triple-checking that he's actually locked the door, he begins to undress. Even after shedding his clothes, the moisture still clings to his body, clammy from their watery escapades. He searches the bathroom and grabs the first useable thing he sees—a tiny hand towel hanging by the sink—and uses that to pat himself dry. 

Satisfied, he thumbs through the options Kuboyasu's given him and settles on a pair of old sweats and a t-shirt. He slips them on and oh no.

Kaidou catches himself in the mirror, a giant grin there without his permission. Damn it. He’s liking this too much—liking the way his clothes are just slightly too big on him and liking the way they smell of his detergent. He likes the way that he can still picture Kuboyasu wearing this very outfit when they went to view the cherry blossoms with Nendou and Saiki that one year, the scent of spring sticking to soft pink memories and cranberry red fabric.

His face burns, tingling from nostalgia yet embarrassed by his sentiments. He turns the facet on and splashes some water on his face, hoping to calm his nerves. It's cool, but not cold enough to make any real impact, and he finds himself practically waterboarding himself in exasperation.

“Get a grip, Shun.” He stares down his reflection, but all he sees is disdain. “Calm down…”

He takes a moment to breathe, searching for ways to ground himself back into reality. 

Five things he can hear: the water running, the gentle whoosh of the AC, Kuboyasu humming, (a little off-pitch, but adorable), his gentle footsteps pacing around the apartment, and an electric kettle.

Okay… good.

Four things he can feel: the aerated water hitting his hands, the soft fabric of Kuboyasu’s shirt, the cold tile beneath his feet, and the strands of hair that sick to his neck.

Three things he can see: the crumpled-up hand towel, a coffee-scented candle, and two toothbrushes—

Two toothbrushes?

There are two bath towels neatly hung up on a hook, and by the looks of it, both of them previously used. Two razors sitting next to each other on the sink, but only one bottle of shaving cream. One bar of soap in the shower but two different brands of shampoo and conditioner.

The more he looks around, the more he senses that someone else lives here too, but Kuboyasu never mentioned any roommates. And there's only one bedroom, which would probably mean…

Maybe he got a little too caught up with him in the rain. Maybe he let go just a little too much.

Maybe he needs to remind himself that he and Kuboyasu are friends. Just high school friends. 

'Please don’t be in love with someone else.’

“Shun,” There’s a gentle knock on the door, and Kaidou quickly shuts off the water. “You still like green tea, right?”

“Uh, yeah!” He gathers his wet clothes from the floor and emerges, trying to act as casual as possible and not like he was having an existential crisis over two toothbrushes. “Sorry, did you need the bathroom?”

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to rush you.” Kuboyasu takes Kaidou’s wet clothes from him and tosses them in the washer along with his own clothes. “You okay with Attack?”

Kaidou nods. “Thanks for washing my clothes.”

“Don’t mention it.” He shuts the door, and the washing machine hums to life. “But, anyway, I was going to ask if you wanted anything to drink. I’ve got green tea, but there’s also drinks in the fridge if you’d prefer something cold.”

“Tea’s fine.”

Kaidou shoves his hands in his pockets, accidentally tugging his sweatpants just below his hip bones. He tries to subtly pull them back, but Kuboyasu catches him as he's tightening the drawstring and chuckles much to Kaidou's chagrin. 

“Want me to find you a smaller pair?” 

“I don't know what you're talking about." 

"You're right. My mistake." He gives him a smile before turning away to rummage through a cabinet. The bottom of his shirt lifts up as he reaches for the top shelf, and Kaidou averts his gaze proactively, so he won't get caught staring. 

His eyes dart around the living room, silently observing the objects around him and the stories they tell. 

One blanket, two coasters out from a set of three, four little paws—

“You have a cat?” 

“Yeah.” Kuboyasu turns back around beaming. “Her name's Amaya. One of my old roommates found her on the street and brought her back to our dorm. We ended up getting busted about a week before summer break, so I decided to move off campus so we wouldn't have to surrender her, and she's been with me ever since.” He walks over to the pair and gives Amaya a chin scratch before handing Kaidou a mug. “Sorry about the loose leaves, by the way. My strainer broke, so I hope this is okay.”

“Better than bagged." Kaidou takes a sip. God, he missed real tea.

"Is it true that most Americans drink it bagged?" 

"Yes, and it's horrendous." 

"You're a brave soul." Kuboyasu gives him a solemn nod. “If the balcony’s not too wet, you wanna sit outside?” 

“Sure.”

Kuboyasu slides back the door, humidity immediately fogging up his glasses. He pockets them for the time being and gestures for Kaidou to follow him out.

The balcony is nice and spacious, and like the inside of his apartment, the outside is just as well decorated. There are some loose fairy lights that wrap around the balcony’s edge and some faux wood decking and turf covering the otherwise concrete floor. On one side of the balcony are two chairs and a small outdoor side table. On the other side are some planter boxes with herbs and flowers, all thriving he might add. 

It truly is amazing how put together he is. God forbid Kuboyasu see the state of his room anytime soon. 

“If we’re lucky, we might see fireworks tonight.” Kuboyasu leans against the railing. “Not sure if they decided to delay or cancel, but I’m hoping for the former.” He turns to him with that smile, and oh wow, he’s so pretty.

“Stunning,” Kaidou finds himself mumbling, entranced by the golden light haloing his figure. Kuboyasu turns to him, head cocked, his curious stare snapping Kaidou out of his fog. “You’ve got a great view of the city.”

“Remember when we used to sneak onto your roof at sleepovers?” Kuboyasu asks. “I always loved sitting out there with you during the summers in hopes of catching a glimpse of something.”

Kaidou joins him at the balcony’s edge, setting his elbows on the railing and propping his head up with his hands. “And now you can see it all summer long,” He says, a hint of sadness catching in the corners of his eyes.

“Yeah, but it was more special with you.”

Kaidou’s breath hitches. “Is that so?”

Kuboyasu nods. “Maybe it’s teenage nostalgia, but it was the thrill of being somewhere we weren’t supposed to and the anticipation of seeing the expectedly unexpected. And when your neighborhood would light up, it made the hours of waiting feel all the more worth it.” He begins to fidget with his cup, swirling the liquid around inside. “I miss those nights. And, in a way, this kinda feels like that. Hoping for a chance of something.”

"I was always hoping for something."

Kaidou's throat goes dry the moment he says it. That was maybe a little too direct. Or maybe it was too subtle? But there was subtext there. Definitely subtext. He can't look at Kuboyasu, too afraid to see his reaction or if he even picked up on it in the first place. He takes a huge gulp of his tea, scalding liquid burning his throat on the way down, but it doesn't nearly compete with the fire on his face. 

"Do you ever miss it?" Kuboyasu asks. 

"Miss what?"

"High school." 

“I fear I never left it behind.” Kaidou laughs painfully, a weird knot forming in his stomach. "In a sick way, maybe I do miss it. I feel like I had everything figured out back then, but now I've lost it. Some secret wisdom or knowledge or perception. But maybe it's because I didn't even know how the world worked. And I feel I know less now than I did back then. And maybe the world's changed, but nothing about me has." 

"I get what you mean," Kuboyasu says, reflective. 

"Do you?" Kaidou challenges, almost offended. "I mean, look at you. A nice apartment, a good job, a cat, living plants. You've got it all figured out. You're living every new college grad's dream. If I had all this I wouldn't look back for a second." 

"I guess." Kuboyasu shrugs. "But sometimes I miss it. That simplicity of not knowing. Or maybe I miss it because I miss being with you." He sighs, blowing a strand of hair out of his face. “This is all just an illusion though. I barely know what I'm doing half the time, and sometimes, it feels like I just got lucky, you know?" 

“I saw all the awards in your room. If it’s luck, you’re buying me a lottery ticket.”

“You’re sweet,” He says earnestly. “But I’m not anything special. It really is just art school—”

“Stop!” Kaidou yells accidentally. He slaps his hand over his mouth, waiting for his racing heart to calm down. “It’s not just art school. You think I could’ve done what you did?”

“Yes.” 

“Be so real right now.” He's feeling something inside of him start to crack, insecurities barreling toward self-destruction. “We both know I could not have gone through art school, much less receive a bajillion awards for it. You have talent and merit and worth. And please never discredit that.

“I wish I could’ve achieved half of what you accomplished, but instead, I barely got by. I—I hated almost every minute of college. Loathed it. Dreaded going to class and ultimately fell apart until I was nothing but a sobbing mess on the bathroom floor and puking my guts up in some stranger’s toilet almost every night for a year straight. It’s why I couldn’t stand to call you or tell you I was back home. It was embarrassing as hell.

“And I see all the amazing things you’re doing, and I can’t help but wonder if I’ve made a mistake—that I’ve wasted the last four years of my life getting a degree in a major I couldn’t care less about and struggling to even find the motivation to do something meaningful with the rest of my goddamn life.

“I’ve never felt lower about myself—never more like a failure. And I tried. I tried so hard. So please, don’t say it was all luck. Because if that’s truly all it is, then I’ll cry.”

He’s white-knuckling the banister, shaking uncontrollably. An old soda bottle, sealed away and placed in the back of the pantry—never thought about but always there. And now he’s been found. Shaken. Released. Messy self-loathing spewed all over all the walls.

All those dreams he once had—the ideals of success and freedom—were waiting to be chased, but in the end, he would always be following the unobtainable. He wasn’t worthy of anything—of Kuboyasu’s praise, his comradery, his affections.

A single tear falls, but no sooner than it does do a pair of arms encircles him, tight yet gentle. He feels himself stop breathing, a pause before the final crack splits and absolutely shatters him. A broken dam floods the river beds below with pools of silvery tears, and pulverizes walls of grief and anguish until there’s nothing left other than naked vulnerability. It's real. It's raw. And it hurts like hell. 

He finds himself clenching onto Kuboyasu, squeezing him back with just as much force and hoping he’ll never let go. 

“You’re anything but a failure,” Kuboyasu whispers. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

Kaidou shakes his head, burying himself further into his embrace.

"I should’ve picked up your calls." He manages between sobs. “I should’ve—”

Called more.

Said more.

Kaidou tries to pull himself together, counting every inhale and timing every exhale, but his nose is so clogged that he's already out of breath by the time he's finished breathing in. It feels like he's drowning, gasping for air as his lips tingle, chapped and bleeding. He's ruined Kuboyasu's shirt with all his snot and tears dribbled down the front, but despite it all, he still holds him close. And he smells like nostalgia and feels like returning home, so warm and inviting.

How long had it been since he felt this kind of love—real and without expectation.

I should’ve told you I love you.

.

.

.

‘Please don’t be in love with someone else. Please don’t have somebody waiting on you.’

His tears are slowing, but his heart is still hammering. Kuboyasu loosens his grip, and Kaidou forces himself to let go. They part, but it’s oh so slight, arms loosely dangling by their sides and eyes catching like a chance encounter. 

There's a lull between them—an uncomfortable silence with a palpable tension. 

Kaidou speaks first.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For everything.”

Kaidou lets his forehead fall lazily on Kuboyasu’s chest and closes his eyes. The latter runs his fingers through his hair, and he fights off a shiver.

“I’m sorry. About what I said," Kuboyasu mumbles, the resonance of his voice warming Kaidou with an embarrassed yet adarous heat. He can feel Kuboyasu resting his head atop his, lips tickling his scalp and melting him into a pile of mushy goo. 

“I made it about me,” Kaidou says through the brain fog. “But I… I needed that.” His fingers twitch toward Kuboyasu’s hand, aching to have their fingers interlaced once again, but he's afraid. Instead, he grabs the end of Kuboyasu's finger between his thumb and forefinger. “I needed this.”

Kuboyasu places his thumb over Kaidou's. Softly, he whispers back, “I did too.” 

He tugs at Kaidou's hand, silently asking him to sit with him. He obliges, leaning his back against the wall and staring up at the stars. If he didn’t know otherwise, he would’ve never guessed that it had been pouring earlier.

“So,” Kuboyasu asks. “If you could do it all over again, what would you major in?”

“Oh god.” Kaidou balks, caught off guard. “I don’t know. I’ve never really given it much thought.”

“There’s really nothing else you’ve ever thought about doing?” 

“I mean… not really. Maybe one, but it’s stupid.” He chuckles nervously. 

“Say it anyway.”

“I—” He clams up, flashing back to the first time he even suggested the very idea to his parents. Their heated and viscerally negative reaction had created something of scorn within him. Even now he feels like he’s not allowed to say it. “It’s really stupid.”

“Stupider than when Nendou wrote he was going to marry Kanna Hashimoto on our career forms?”

Kaidou snorts. “Shut up. No, it's not that, but it feels like it. It’s… do you… you know our manga we never finished?”

“Uh, yeah.” Kuboyasu lights up. “I still have that sketchbook too.”

"That's—" Adorable. "Amazing. More than amazing. I..." He's getting sidetracked. “Maybe in another life, I'd been a writer. I loved creating that story with you and coming up with all those stupid plotlines that were really just for us. But it was just so silly and fun, and it was the first thing I had felt truly passionate about.”

"It was really fun, wasn't it?" Kuboyasu reminisces. "All the lost hours not doing homework and falling asleep on FaceTime... I wish we had finished it. You would’ve made an amazing writer.”

“Even though you, Nendou, and Saiki basically shat on me the first time I showed you the story?” He laughs. It was painful back then, but looking back, he gets it. It was certainly… rough, but with some refinement, he and Kuboyasu actually managed to put together a decent plot that even Saiki approved of. (Or, at least he read the whole thing. He did give them a thumbs up though!)

“Everyone has to start somewhere.” Kuboyasu shrugs. “Maybe we should start it back up.”

“What, the manga?” Kaidou asks, bewildered.

“Sure, why not? It can be our passion project—" He takes a breath as if he’s going to add more, but stops himself. Kaidou cocks his head. 

"What?"

There’s more hesitation. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“About…” 

“About…?” Kaidou presses.

“About… how… it would… be a good excuse to see you more often.” He brings his hands up to his cheeks, surely hiding a blush, and Kaidou feels himself go all mushy inside.

“You don’t need an excuse to see me, dummy.” Kaidou bats his arm playfully.

“Well, excuse me for not knowing if you were going to run again.” Kuboyasu quips back, and even though it’s meant as a joke, it still hurts them both.

“I really am so sorry about that.” Kaidou sighs. “I won’t do it again—I don’t think I can do it again. I think… I think seeing you tonight really saved me. I really, really needed you. More so than I think even I realized.”

“I missed you so much.” He says. There’s a shine in his eyes, and Kaidou feels his own glaze over.

“Please don’t make me cry again.” 

“I’m sorry!” Kuboyasu buries his face in his hands. “You just—agh! You have no idea the things you make me feel.”

WHIZZZZ…….  

POP.

They look up. Oranges and pinks and purples flicker in the sky, sparks of light and smoke raining down upon them. Crackles and bursts, a whole array of colors lights up before them and douses them in something almost magical. Something indescribable. It’s a night that’s literally sparkling, and Kaidou doesn’t ever want to let it go.

“Stunning,” Kuboyasu says, not breaking eye contact with him. Kaidou’s throat goes dry. 

'Please don’t be in love with someone else.’  

Was this his sign? 

“Can I ask you something?" Kaidou asks, courage waning fast. Kuboyasu nods. Kaidou takes a deep breath. "At the bar I... I saw... I saw Matsumaru grab you. And I don't... maybe I'm reading too far into this, but—I mean not like it matters if you are—but are you guys...."

"Oh." It takes Kuboyasu a moment to catch on. "Oh, God, no. I... it's... he's... an ex." He lets out a deep sigh, and Kaidou waits with bated breath. "I... I broke up with him back in February. We were good on paper, but I don't think we were ever really on the same page. And I think he regrets how things ended. He uh… he wanted to get back together, but… I'm not really interested." 

“Why not?" 

"He's an ex for a reason," Kuboyasu says softly, some kind of longing look in his eyes putting Kaidou in a trance. 

"He... seems like quite the character." 

“Oh yeah. Looking back, there were plenty of signs that we weren't going to work out. Sometimes I don't even know why I dated him. He’s not even my—” Kuboyasu's tenses. 

Kaidou looks at him, curious. Trepidatious. “Not even your what?”

Kuboyasu wavers, eyes jumping around with deliberation. “Remember those soulmate readings Aiura used to do?” He says after a beat.

Kaidou nods.

“It was, like, sometime halfway through senior year, and she did one for me. I didn’t ask her to—she kinda forced it upon me—but uh… when she told me their initials, I thought she was messing with me. Thought maybe she knew.” He bites his lips. “I don’t… I don’t even know if I believe in soulmates or fate or whatever, but it was always something that was in the back of my mind when I’d meet somebody new, and when it ultimately didn’t work, I’d be left wondering if maybe...” Kuboyasu trails off, voice fading into obscurity, and Kaidou’s genuinely worried his heart might burst from his chest.

“Maybe what?” He asks, shaky.

“…Maybe soulmates do exist.” He turns to Kaidou but keeps his gaze downward. “I’ve made some weird choices with partners. Maybe I was lonely. Maybe I was filling some kind of void, but I don’t think I ever really loved any of them.”

“There was always someone else,” Kaidou says without thinking, and when Kuboyasu’s eyes flicker up to his, he feels his hands go numb.

“Yeah…” He breathes out. “There was.”

Kuboyasu closes his eyes, and Kaidou can practically feel the psychic link between them—something pulling at his heartstrings and begging Kuboyasu’s to entwine with his—to make him whole again.

It’s a river, ebbing and flowing, branching off into smaller tributaries, but somewhere along the way, they find their way back home. A guiding star or guardian spirit, perhaps? No matter how hard he tried to avoid it—four long years apart—he still found himself back home. Back to Kuboyasu.

“KS.”

“What?”

“KS,” Kuboyasu repeats. “She said their initials were either KS or SK.”

Back to his soulmate.

Something's drawing him to Kuboyasu. Their faces are close. Very close. Close enough that Kaidou can pick out all the shades of purple in his eyes and count each individual freckle that lightly lines his cheeks. So close he can see his pupils dilate when he looks at him and feel the warmth radiating off his skin. So close that it makes him dizzy, yet somehow, he’s not close enough.

He leans in a millimeter. Maybe less. Kuboyasu licks his lips. Kaidou’s breath hitches.

“Did you ever tell him?”

“No.”

“Do you wish you had?”

“…Yes.”

Kuboyasu moves this time, head tilted ever so slightly. Kaidou’s lightheaded, vision tunneling. He has to remind himself to breathe, but it just sounds like he’s gasping, resurfacing just briefly from a tide that keeps pulling him in.

He’s had dreams like this before. Vivid dreams. Lucid dreams.

He tells himself to fly, but he stays grounded. 

So, this is real.

“Do you still feel the same way?”

He leans in closer.

“I don’t think I ever stopped,” Kuboyasu whispers. Their foreheads are touching. “Can I—”

JUDGEMENT KNIGHTS OF THUNDER.  

Kaidou launches himself backward, ready to throw himself and his phone off the balcony. He’s never been slapped so hard back into reality. It feels like a bullet’s just ripped through his chest, heart completely obliterated. Is this what entering shock feels like?

This can’t be happening.

“Sorry, I—” He fumbles getting his phone out of his pocket, desperately trying to silence it. Why was his ringer even on—

[Incoming call: Mom]

Oh fuck.

“Sorry, I—I have to—” He swipes to answer the call. “Hello—”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?!” Her scream is loud enough that he’s fairly certain Kuboyasu can hear her just as clearly as he can. He taps the volume button down a few times as a precautionary. “I have been texting you and calling you only for it to go straight to voicemail. And why the hell is your location turned off?”

“I—I’m sorry!” He stands and walks to the other end of the balcony, trying to keep his voice at a whisper. “I didn’t get any calls, and I didn’t turn off my location.”

“Get your ass back home right now.”

“Mom!”

“Now.”

He doesn’t get another chance to argue, the line going dead.

“This is kinda a dead zone…” Kuboyasu says awkwardly, standing to meet him. “I’m sorry; I should’ve given you the Wi-Fi.”

“No, it’s not—it’s not your fault.” Kaidou puts his phone away with a heavy sigh. He was close. He was so fricking close. “I—I should probably…” He rocks anxiously on the balls of his feet, hoping that maybe Kuboyasu will stop him—force him to stay and say what he was going to say—but he doesn’t.

“Right, of course.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, unable to meet Kaidou’s eyes. “Do you want me to walk you to the metro?”

“No, it’s fine. I remember how to get back.”

Kuboyasu nods. The fireworks are still popping above them as Kuboyasu opens the sliding glass door back into the apartment. It feels like they’re mocking him as they fade into the background.

A deadly silence hangs between them as they walk to the genken. Kaidou’s whole body is flooded with adrenaline, and he can feel himself shaking—teeth literally clattering from the surge and balance off-kilter as he hops around trying to put on his shoes.

He should say something, but it feels like he’s going to throw up. He gulps, a burning heart of heartburn engorges him. The fire travels up his neck and sits in his face, nipping at his cheeks and eyes. He’s about to cry.  

Is this truly how their night is going to end?

“Thanks for having me over.” Kaidou mumbles, shoes finally on.

“I’m glad I ran into you tonight. I’ll… I’ll see you later?” He asks hopefully.

Kaidou nods. “Yeah.”

He should leave. He should leave before he misses the last train home, but despite everything, it still feels like there’s something holding him here. Cat and mouse? Or maybe mouse and a cheese trap? Whichever it is, it spells disaster. 

Finally, Kuboyasu breaks the deadlock and pulls him into the world’s most awkward hug—too short to be a platonic goodbye but not long enough for it to mean something more. And he doesn’t even get the chance to wrap his arms back around him and instead stands there like a limp noodle, arms dangling weirdly by his sides.

“Text me when you get home?” Kuboyasu murmurs.

“Will do.” Another pause.

Selfishly, he leans in closer, hoping to steal just a little bit more of his stolen time, and he swears he feels Kuboyasu hold him just a little tighter. 

‘Last chance, Kaidou.’

He opens his mouth, a heavyweight at the tip of his tongue. “Good night, Aren.”

Pathetic.

“Good night.”

He lets him go, slipping out before he can slip up.

When the door fully shuts, Kaidou waits for a beat. Once he’s sure that Kuboyasu’s retreated far enough inside, soft footsteps no longer audible, he slides to the ground, brings his knees up to his chest, and screams into his hands.

He should’ve said it. He should’ve just confessed because now he’s going to be plagued with a should’ve, could’ve, would’ve at 2:00 AM when insomnia and dark thoughts refuse to let him go.

Why did his mom have to ruin everything?

"…Kaidou?"

His head snaps up. A thought—no a voice—clear as day, projected into his head in a way that only one person could. Kaidou feels the metaphoric anvil come crashing down on him like he’s the protagonist in some bad western slapstick.

“S-Saiki?” He stands, quickly trying to pull himself together and hoping they can pretend he wasn’t just having a mental breakdown on the floor.

"Didn’t realize you were here." He says, monotoned as ever. Kaidou’s eyes dart to a silver briefcase he’s carrying. "Payment."

Right, telepathy. Kaidou grimaces.

“Sorry.” Saiki mummers, slipping his hand into his pocket.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine. Your private thoughts are your private thoughts.”

Since learning of his abilities their senior year, specifically telepathy, Saiki had tried to make it a habit of wearing his germanium ring around their group of friends out of respect. That also meant, however, that he lost the ability to communicate to them via telepathy as well, and for the most part, he had gone mute that year.

Kaidou had tried not to make it a big deal—everyone else seemed to be handling it just peachy—but it was hard for him to wipe away the feeling of betrayal. The secrecy, the lying. Even worse was knowing Saiki knew his true feelings on the matter; no amount of external validation on his part could erase the relentless inner monologue.

His and Saiki’s friendship had been strained, but it got better. Maybe it never went exactly back to the way it was before, but it was definitely better. At least 95% of the way it was before.

He still didn’t like the telepathy (mostly because even he was embarrassed by his thoughts), but he could get over it. He did certainly feel bad for making Saiki feel obligated to wear the ring even if part of him was relieved. As much as he’d like to be the better person and insist he can take it off, he knows Saiki probably doesn’t want to hear his mess of a mind any more than he wants him listening in.

“I’m surprised you didn’t know I was here.” Kaidou laughs sheepishly. “Couldn’t hear my thoughts?”

Saiki taps one of his antennae. “Upgraded. One-meter radius.”

“Ah…”

Silence.  

Ten seconds.

Twenty.

Thirty.

“I’m going to enter now.”

Kaidou nods. Saiki stares at him, waiting. Expectantly. Kaidou doesn’t dare move, sweating.

“Please move.” Saiki pulls out a key.

“Oh—” It hits him. “You’re…”

“Yes.”

Kaidou feels like the rug’s been ripped from underneath him, and it doesn’t take long for his mind to begin racing with possibilities, replaying the night and looking for where he could’ve misinterpreted the signs.

There was no way he was the idiot, right? Kuboyasu had been flirting with him, right?? He paid for his drink at the bar and then invited him over. They had run through the rain hand-in-hand and soaked each other in playful banter. He’d picked him up, strong arms encircling his waist, surely in an excuse to touch him. And Kuboyasu had said his eyes were pretty.

They had a heart-to-heart—talked about how much they missed each other and needed each other. He made him feel better. Like he was worth something. And Kuboyasu had said he was hoping for a chance of something. And when the fireworks went off, he had said they were stunning but looked at him. And they were so, so close to each other. They were about to kiss. (Probably.)

They had that whole talk about soulmates, for God’s sake. He had regretted never saying anything. It was him. He was KS—

Or SK.

No.

But… but the more obvious signs were there. The key. The rent payment. The two toothbrushes. The one-bedroom apartment. No subtext needed.

Was he an idiot? Had he just made an absolute fool of himself? Had he been so blinded by his own desires that he had failed to see what was right in front of him?

Was he not…

“Sorry, I… uh… I didn’t realize that you and Aren…”

“We’re closer.” Saiki nods. “He’s changed a lot since high school. Easier to talk to. Maybe he’s good for me. Never expected it.”

Kaidou feels sick. Here he was reconnecting with Kuboyasu like they hadn’t even skipped a beat despite the fact that he had missed a whole chapter, yet Saiki was there through the whole writing process—the creation of a story he was no longer a part of. He had been downgraded, no longer the ‘A-plot,’ or even the ‘B-plot,’ but a lowly side character.

“Yeah, he’s the best.” Kaidou turns his head down, determined not to show weakness on his face. Or jealousy. Determined not to show any weakness and jealousy. “I guess won’t keep you.” He finally steps aside, allowing Saiki to properly approach the door.

“Thanks.” He twists the key. “It was good seeing you, Kaidou.” He gives him a smile. It’s small, it's sincere, and it sure as hell does mean a lot coming from Saiki. If only that smile didn’t feel like a thousand knives to the chest.

“Good seeing you too.” He manages to choke out before turning tail and running.

He doesn’t even bother taking the elevator, too impatient and jittery to stand still, so instead, he runs down the eight flights of stairs to the ground floor. By the time he exits onto the street, his legs are shaking, feeling akin to uncooked pasta and cramping with the ever-pleasant reminder that he’s severely unfit.

He hunches over, resting his hands on his knees and giving himself the much-needed pause to breathe. Every part of him aches, physically and emotionally, and more than anything, he wants to collapse in his bed and have a long cry about this.

He checks his phone: 12:21 AM. He’s got about ten minutes to catch his train, which means it’s back to running.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drop.

“Of fucking course.” He feels his vocal cords bleeding, shredded from his melodramatic rage.

If he were fit, the run to the metro would probably only take five minutes, but it takes him closer to eight with his frequent breaks. At some point, he begins to wonder if he should even bother with running, but somehow, walking feels so much worse, like he’s not even making an effort. Whether he tries or not, it always feels like he’s stuck in a losing game. It’s so unfair. So, so unfair.

He thought he had it—thought what they had was special—but unsurprisingly, being absent from someone’s life for four years does not a good friend or potential partner make.

Would he ever know how much he felt? How hard he fell? 

There was always someone else. It just turns out it wasn’t him. And maybe he needed tonight to finally realize that—to finally get over him. To let go of his past. To move on from a stupid high school crush.

When he gets to the metro, he’s soaking, virtually swimming in his shoes. He tries to wring out his clothes before actually going into the station, but it’s a fruitless attempt. The air is so humid and the raindrops clinging onto him like he’s the fuzzy side of Velcro. Even his pockets feel waterlogged. (His poor phone.)

He pulls it out, checking to see how much money is left on his transit card, but the rainbowed effect from the water trapped underneath his already chipped screen protector makes it hard to read. He tries to dry his phone on his pants but immediately feels stupid when he feels a gush of water run down his leg. 

“Nice one, Shun.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, utterly exhausted. It’s time to give up and just get on his train.

Buzz. Buzz.

He checks his phone, undelivered messages finally flooding in. There are several from his mom, all with varying degrees of concern and anger, but the ones that catch his eye are a string of texts from Kuboyasu. 

Kuboyasu Aren [12:17 AM]
>> I forgot I was washing your clothes
>> If you’re not busy, you can come over tomorrow and get them
>> Or I can bring them to you
>> Whichever is easier
>> Also
>> I’m sorry if I was weird tonight
>> I think I was a bit wonderstruck getting to see you again

Somehow those words hit harder more than they should. Their definitions of wonderstruck would appear to be very different because wonder had struck him like lightning strikes the air, electrifying every little thing he ever once felt for him. It had surged through his body until it overwhelmed his system. That phone call and his encounter with Saiki had tripped the breaker, forcing him to shut down, yet the electrical fire still rages on.

No, Kuboyasu wasn’t wonderstruck in the way he was. Because Kaidou wasn’t merely wonderstruck.

Kaidou Shun
>> i was enchanted to meet you

His finger hovers dangerously over the send button, but he knows he shouldn’t—knows he can’t. He didn’t have that kind of liberty anymore, and so, it was best to squash those feelings before the bloom was allowed to get any bigger.

“I’m sorry, Aren.” He whispers.

With great reluctance and regret, he clicks off his phone and leaves him on read.