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Ritsu doesn’t know how this happened.
Well, no, that isn’t strictly true; he remembers everything. He remembers stumbling home in a daze--Hell Week was especially hellish this month--with Takano following behind. Takano had asked him if he’d eaten anything, and Ritsu, too busy thinking about bed to think about lying, had said no.
Which was how he ended up in Takano’s apartment with a plate of gyuudon in front of him.
The problem isn’t the food. The food is delicious every time, which is something of an issue for Ritsu because it almost makes him want to come here. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to be in this apartment, alone with Takano, and it’s not because the man can’t cook.
No, the problem is the inevitable. The awkward silences that fall whenever he is alone with Takano, the silences that Takano only ever seems to know how to fill with sex.
So when he leans over the table and kisses Ritsu, it’s not a surprise. When Takano makes his way around the table to pin Ritsu to the floor, that’s not a surprise either, because Ritsu’s half-finished Takano-san--!s have never been enough to stop him.
And when Takano fucks him on the floor of his apartment, maybe that’s okay, because at least it’s more comfortable than the front seat of his car, and it feels good, it feels better than he’ll ever admit, and he knows he loves Takano, and he knows that Takano loves him, and--
But. Lying on the floor with Takano’s semen leaking out of him (onto the floor of his apartment--there’s no way Ritsu’s sticking around for the clean-up) and his own covering his stomach and chest, he doesn’t feel good. He feels dirty and used and even the warmth of Takano’s arms around him can’t stop the quiet anger that’s been bubbling up inside him for months.
Ritsu shakes himself free of Takano’s grasp, waking the man from his doze as he pulls his pants back up, ignoring the now familiar soreness in his ass. He takes a step forward, ready to go back to his apartment and take a shower that won’t wash away the memory of this incident no matter how hard he tries, but he stops when Takano catches him by the wrist.
“Ritsu,” he says, and Takano has no right to sound that gentle. “Stay.”
“No.”
“Ritsu.”
“Takano-san.” Ritsu’s voice is hard. Takano has always been unfortunately convincing to him, but he has to stand his ground this time.
“So you’re just gonna go running off again, are you?” Ritsu turns around. Takano is sitting up now, his arm propped up on one raised knee. He doesn’t look angry. He looks tired, maybe. Or sad.
“I’m not running anywhere,” Ritsu says, and he thinks he’s telling the truth. “I’m going home.”
“Stay here. Make this your home. Move in with me.”
Ritsu grits his teeth. The offer is too casual, too inconsiderate, too tempting. “What I need,” he says haltingly, “is space. And time. So I can think.”
“You’ve been thinking for almost a whole year. Isn’t that enough?”
“Will you just listen to what I say for once?” Ritsu isn’t even shouting. He knows that he should be, that normally he would be, that he deserves to be loud, but when has yelling at Takano ever gotten him anywhere? So he speaks with a quiet but undeniable intensity, and he ignores the fact that his voice is shaking because yes, he’s angry, but he’s also a little bit scared. “You can’t do this. You can’t just keep trying to fuck away our problems because it’s not working, Takano-san. And it’s never going to work.”
“Onodera, if you would just hurry up and tell me you love me--”
“And what if I did?” Ritsu asks, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “What if I do? What changes?”
“Everything.”
“Nothing. Takano-san, I’m not asking for the world here. I’m asking for a little distance and a little respect. If you love me so much, why can’t you give me that?”
Silence. Then, “This is the most honest you’ve been with me all year, isn’t it?”
“I suppose it is.” Ritsu turns his back on Takano and takes a step forward. This time, Takano doesn’t stop him. “I’m leaving now. I’ll see you on Monday.”
He’s got the door open when Takano speaks again. “Onodera. I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
Ritsu doesn’t look back.
The silence of the hallway feels heavier than usual.