Work Text:
Yuma leaves the office with his head bowed, his expression negative — though it's a mystery to Shu exactly what he's feeling, other than betrayal and disappointment. Shu swallows, hard, avoiding the gazes of the rest of SKIP; "I... have to make a phone call," he lies, with a white-knuckled grip on his briefcase as he walks too quickly out of the room and into an empty closet. He doesn't look back at Chief Ban or Rin — he's sure of what their faces say without having to look at them.
He shouldn't feel this upset. He can't let his emotions get the better of him — hadn't that been what he'd told Yuma moments ago?
But Yuma had made his feelings clear. You’re just like everyone else at the GDF. Shu's almost certain he's never heard Yuma talk like that — it almost sounds wrong, such a harsh tone coming from him. The Yuma that he's... grown so curious about, in his time at SKIP, was always smiling, making Shu feel like — like he was a part of the team. Like he was a part of Yuma's life.
Like maybe, just maybe, they could've been... something more than just two coworkers.
Perhaps he was hoping for too much. Someone like him (rigid, cold, a professional to the core, because that's what GDF agents are — what they have to be) and someone like Yuma (naive and childish and too emotional, perhaps, but so bright, with so much kindness and imagination — someone who sees the best in everyone, someone who even saw the best in Shu, at least — at least before today) would never have worked out as — as —
Shu pauses. As... what, exactly? A team? Friends? Did he — did he want more than that? Is that why this hurts so much? Because somewhere, inside of Shu, there had been the selfish, unrealistic, childlike hope that somehow, against all logic, he and Yuma could be...
There's no point in dwelling on it, and yet, now that Shu has made the connection, he can't stop dwelling on it. The reason Yuma's smile always brightens his day, why his good morning is so refreshing, why the simple things he says always manage to worm their way into Shu's heart and stick there —
It's too abrupt a realization, and yet, Shu's more sure of it than he has been of almost anything since coming to Hoshimoto city. He's — he has feelings for Hiize Yuma.
And Yuma, clearly, doesn't come anywhere close to returning them.
He bites his lip and blinks rapidly. Ishido Shu will not tear up at work over this, because he does not tear up at work. Even if he feels incredibly hurt, there's nothing he can do about it; there's much that has to be done before the GDF can launch its attack on Givas, and that's where Shu's focus should be. (The thought of following their orders now, though, makes Shu feel almost as awful as he did when he'd processed Yuma's words; damn it, he doesn't want to attack Givas if it's not necessary, either. He wants to be on Yuma's side, it's just — it's just that he can't, not without concrete proof that Givas isn't here to harm anyone.
It all starts with a little bit of trust — Yuma taught him that. It hasn't steered him wrong before. But now, but now...)
As is, he's probably spent too long in this closet. He's sure that the others are whispering, worried about him, about Yuma — assuming Yuma's not back from that breather, which... means that the sooner Shu gets back to the office, the less time he'll have to spend with Yuma, and with the weight of the heartbreak he's now carrying.
He wipes at his face and takes a deep breath. This is... just something else he'll have to hide, along with everything else he hides from SKIP. He's handled worse. He's handled more permanent goodbyes than Yuma taking a walk to clear his head. He can handle these illogical, difficult, painful emotions.
It's not like he has a choice in the matter, anyway.