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Iori didn’t expect to get so attached.
Sure, he had always been kind to people and enjoyed making others happy, but attachment? That was something else, something unexpected. He was a servant, not meant to make friends, only to serve—especially with someone like Kei Sarukawa, a wild guy who attracted attention without even trying. Friendship was a tough sell.
Kei had a certain reputation: always getting into trouble, being rude and sharp, his biting tongue able to wound easily. But from the very first moment Iori saw him, he knew that this guy would become important in his life.
“Saru-chan,” Iori said with a smile during their first meeting, deciding right away that the name "Kei" was too long and formal for someone like him.
“Hey, don’t call me that,” Kei snapped, glaring at him angrily. “I’m not some pet monkey, got it!?”
But Iori just smirked.
“Too late. You’re Saru-chan now.”
Kei didn’t particularly like the new nickname, but Iori wasn’t planning on calling him anything else. That’s how it all began—with one nickname, a playful challenge between them.
But soon they started spending more and more time together, gradually getting closer.
Iori began leaving classes early, slipping away with his usual quiet disobedience just to meet Kei. Kei, for his part, rarely attended school anyway—he skipped more classes than he showed up to. So, they’d meet up, run through the streets, and act like kids.
“Io! You’re late again,” Kei grumbled one afternoon when Iori came running up, breathless but smiling.
“Had some stuff to finish up,” Iori shrugged. “You know me. Gotta keep everyone happy.”
“You’re too soft,” Kei muttered, crossing his arms. “Stop running around trying to please everyone. It’s annoying.”
“Oh, come on, Saru-chan, you like it when I help you, right? Other people like it too,” Iori teased, ruffling Kei’s hair as he came closer.
Kei swatted his hand away, his cheeks tinged slightly pink.
“Stop calling me that! Especially in front of people.”
Iori just laughed.
“Why? It suits you so well.”
“Because it’s embarrassing! People think I’m... I don’t know, like your pet or something.”
“And would you refuse that?” Iori asked with a mischievous smile, his straightforwardness cutting through the playful atmosphere.
Kei froze for a second, his expression unreadable, before he snorted and gave Iori a light shove in the chest.
“Damn dog.”
But that was their friendship—simple, easy, full of teasing and jokes. They ran around the streets, got into trouble, and laughed about it.
For Kei, it was an escape from fights and street life, a chance to be himself without extra pressure. But for Iori, it was different. With Kei, he didn’t have to serve anyone (though he tried), didn’t have to make sacrifices (he tried again).
Kei didn’t need his help; he just needed someone who saw him for who he truly was beneath all his sharp edges.
They ran through the streets, climbed fences, and collapsed in parks, breathless from laughter. Kei would tell Iori stories about the dumb things he did, the fights he got into. And Iori mostly just listened, sometimes scolding him but mostly enjoying the time spent together.
One evening, after a particularly long day, Kei looked at Iori with a serious expression.
“Why do you hang out with me, Io?”
The question caught Iori off guard, making him blink in surprise.
“What do you mean? You’re my best friend.”
“Yeah, but... I’m always getting into trouble. I’m a pain in the ass. Doesn’t that bother you?”
Iori smiled softly, a rare break from his usual teasing demeanor.
“No. You’re fun, Saru-chan. And anyway, you’re not a pain. You’re just... you.”
Kei didn’t reply right away. He just lowered his gaze, a flicker of vulnerability in his grey eyes before he hid it behind a smirk.
“You’re weird, Io.”
“Maybe,” Iori agreed, lying back on the grass. “But you still love me.”
“Fuck you,” Kei muttered, but there was no real anger in his voice.
***
High school complicated everything. The carefree days of running through the streets started to change. Iori could feel it. There was an uneasy energy that hadn’t been there before. And it wasn’t just the upcoming exams or hormones—it was Kei Sarukawa.
The way Iori’s heart would race when Kei laughed, how his stomach would twist when their eyes met for just a little longer than necessary.
It was a strange feeling that had crept up on Iori gradually. For years, they had been inseparable—Io and Saru-chan, running around like little kids, causing chaos wherever they went.
Kei was the only one Iori could talk to, the only one he could rely on. Kei didn’t care about his grades or what was expected of him. And Iori? He cared too much—about making people happy, about being useful.
But Kei?
He was different. He didn’t need someone to take care of him or fix anything.
That’s when Iori realized he was in trouble.
One evening after school, Iori felt it more strongly than ever. He watched Kei from a distance, hiding behind the school building, waiting for him to finish talking with some guys.
There was something about Kei’s lazy confidence, his effortless cool, that made everything he did look perfect. He was laughing at something, probably some dumb joke, and Iori felt a warmth spread through his chest, followed by a pain he couldn’t explain.
“Hey, Io!” Kei called out, spotting him in the corner. “What are you hiding for? Let’s go!”
Iori forced a smile, pushing down the growing knot in his stomach, and ran over to him. But as they walked home together, the feeling wouldn’t leave him. It followed him all the way back, gnawing at him in silence.
That night, Iori lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
He couldn’t talk to his family about this. In fact, he hadn’t really talked to them in months, even to his beloved older sister. He had distanced himself from their suffocating expectations, the constant pressure to be the perfect son.
With no one else to turn to, Iori did what any confused teenager would: he turned to the internet. He sat at his desk, the soft blue glow of his phone screen illuminating his face, and started typing furiously into the search bar.
I think I’m in love with someone.
Seconds later, thousands of results appeared. He scrolled through forums, searching for answers, some sign that he wasn’t losing his mind. Most of the comments were cliché, almost laughable in their irrelevance to his reality.
Just buy her flowers!
Girls love gifts—show her you care!
Take her on a romantic date!
Iori sighed and leaned back in his chair. None of it helped. Everyone assumed he was talking about a girl, and the advice was always the same—flowers, chocolates, romantic dates under the stars.
But Kei wasn’t like that at all...
He wasn’t a shy girl who’d blush at the sight of a bouquet of roses. The thought of giving Kei flowers was already unbearably funny. Iori could imagine the raised eyebrow and sarcastic comment Kei would throw his way, probably telling him he’d lost his mind.
No, that wasn’t it. This rebel didn’t need grand gestures or flowery words. He didn’t need romance. Kei was sharp; he understood actions more than words. He wasn’t the type to get embarrassed or flustered, except maybe when Iori called him “Saru-chan” in public, earning him a punch in the arm.
But despite his tough exterior, Iori had seen moments—brief glimpses where Kei let his guard down. A soft look when they sat alone on the swings in the park after dark. The rare smiles, not confident or sarcastic, but genuine, the kind that made Iori’s heart skip a beat.
In those moments, Iori realized this wasn’t just some fleeting crush. It was something more, something he couldn’t ignore.
I’m in love with Kei.
This thought echoed in his mind, heavy and persistent. Iori was terrified to admit it, even to himself, but it was true. He couldn’t stop thinking about Kei—about his goofy smile, the way he always smelled like tobacco despite claiming he didn’t smoke, his reckless way of living as if he feared nothing.
Iori tried to convince himself, tried to suppress these feelings, but it was like trying to hold back a flood. The more he tried to ignore them, the stronger they became. But now what? What was he supposed to do with this?
He couldn’t just say it out loud.
The rebel would probably laugh, thinking it was a joke. And even if Kei didn’t laugh, Iori didn’t want to ruin what they had. Their friendship was the most important thing in his life. He couldn’t risk losing Kei over his selfish desire.
Iori stared at the screen, frustrated. The internet offered no answers. It didn’t understand his situation. He closed the tab and snapped the laptop shut with a quiet thud, then collapsed onto the bed.
His thoughts drifted back to their earlier days, when everything was so simple. Running through the streets as if they owned the world, sneaking into local arcades, reckless antics just for fun. He missed that simplicity, the ease with which they could just be.
Now, everything was different. He couldn’t look at Kei the same way anymore; he couldn’t be near him without his heart doing that strange leap, as if it was about to explode. But the worst part was that Kei didn’t know.
He was still the same Kei—laughing and smiling as always, still slapping Iori on the back when they met in the hallway. For him, nothing had changed. But for Iori, everything had.
The next few weeks passed in a whirlwind of confusion and tension. Iori tried to act normal, but it was getting harder. Kei, being the observant guy he was, noticed right away.
“What’s up with you, Io? You’ve been acting weird lately,” Kei asked one day after school. They were sitting on the steps near the gym, the sun low in the sky, casting long shadows on the pavement.
“Nothing,” Iori muttered, tugging at a loose thread on his sleeve. “Just tired.”
“Tired, huh?” Kei snorted, nudging him with his elbow. “You’re too quiet even for being tired. Did someone say something to you?”
“No, it’s not that,” Iori quickly said, trying to brush it off. The last thing he wanted was for Kei to think someone was picking on him.
Kei looked at him with a long, studying gaze, his brow furrowed like it always did when he refused to believe some nonsense.
“If someone’s messing with you, I’ll—”
“It’s not that!” Iori interrupted sharply, too quickly. His voice wavered, and he mentally cursed himself for it.
The rebel’s eyes narrowed.
“Then what is it? You can tell me, Io. You know that, right?”
Iori swallowed hard, his chest tightening. He couldn’t. Not yet. He wasn’t ready. So instead, he just smiled—a weak, strained smile—and nodded.
“Yeah, I know. I promise, if it’s something important, I’ll tell you.”
Kei didn’t look convinced but didn’t push further. He just gave Iori a sidelong glance and leaned back, folding his arms behind his head, as if signaling the matter was closed.
But Iori knew it wasn’t over. It wouldn’t be over until he dealt with the growing feelings threatening to consume him whole. The only thing he was certain of: he was in love with Kei Sarukawa.
And for now, that had to be enough, even if he had no idea what to do next.
***
It all started as a joke—like most things between them. Kei, sitting on the edge of Iori’s bed, tossed it out casually, as if it didn’t matter.
“I’m thinking of dyeing my hair pink. Just for the laughs.”
Iori blinked, surprised, but the corners of his lips quickly started to turn up into a smile.
“Pink, huh? If you’re gonna rebel, might as well go all out?”
Kei just shrugged, his fingers lazily tracing the edge of Iori’s pillow.
“I’m bored. Need something new,” he muttered, raising a hand to ruffle his dark hair. “Besides, no one here has pink hair. It’ll piss people off.”
The last part—pissing people off—was classic Kei. He always sought to stand out, always looked for trouble, even if it was something trivial. Iori couldn’t help but chuckle softly, shaking his head.
“You’re ridiculous, Saru-chan,” he said, the nickname slipping out naturally, as it always did.
“Enough with that stupid nickname,” Kei frowned, like he always did when he heard it, but the irritation quickly faded. He shot Iori a sidelong glance, his lips twitching into a playful smirk. “So, you gonna help me or what?”
Iori hesitated for a second. His heart did that thing it had been doing lately—skipped, stalled, clenched. The thought of touching Kei’s hair, being that close to him, sent a warm wave through his chest.
But he pushed the feeling down, pulling on the usual carefree smile he always wore when emotions got too loud.
“Can I choose ‘or’?”
“Idiot, I’m serious!”
“Alright, alright. Let’s go buy the dye. My treat.”
“Not like I have any money anyway.”
***
By the time they finally sat in Iori’s bathroom, it was late, probably around ten. The bright pink hair dye lay between them, like some forbidden object.
Kei had taken off his hoodie, now in just a tank top, his bare arms relaxed. His hair, messy and freshly washed, was ready for Iori’s touch.
“Just don’t screw it up,” Kei muttered, eyeing the dye suspiciously.
Iori just giggled.
“Relax. I’ve dyed hair before.”
“Just don’t make me look like a complete idiot. I still gotta show up at school,” Kei grumbled, crossing his arms.
“I think pink suits you just fine, Saru-chan,” Iori teased, mixing the dye in a small bowl.
Kei rolled his eyes, but the slight twitch at the corner of his lips told Iori he was trying not to smile. The bathroom was quiet, save for the low hum of the fan and the sound of Iori’s hands working through Kei’s hair.
Iori tried to focus on the task, making sure the dye went on evenly, but it was hard when all he could think about was the softness of Kei’s hair under his fingers and the warmth of his skin beneath his hands.
“Are you sure you want pink, though? I thought it wasn’t really your style,” Iori asked, trying to distract himself from the closeness between them.
“Who cares? Gotta entertain myself somehow,” Kei replied, leaning forward slightly to give Iori better access to the back of his head.
Iori chuckled softly.
“Well, pink hair is definitely gonna be a strange addition.”
Kei glanced at him from under long, dark lashes, a smirk playing on his lips.
“You’d look good in pink too, you know.”
“I’m fine with my color. Not everyone wants to stand out like you,” Iori replied. “I’m supposed to be the servant, remember?”
“Come on, do it for fun,” Kei teased.
Iori rolled his eyes.
“No, that’s your thing. I’ll stay boring. Besides, dye wouldn’t take on dark hair.”
“Boring? No way,” Kei muttered, but his voice had softened a bit. “You’re not boring, Io.”
Something in Kei’s words struck Iori.
His hands froze for a second, suspended in Kei’s hair. In that moment, he almost found the courage to say everything that had been building up inside him for months. But the fear of what might happen if he did was too strong.
So instead, he just smiled, softly, almost with a touch of sadness, though Kei didn’t notice.
“Thanks, Saru-chan.”
Kei didn’t respond, but the silence between them felt… different. Not awkward, not tense, but charged, like something unspoken hung in the air. Iori continued dyeing Kei’s hair, trying to ignore the way his heart was pounding.
When they were done, Kei’s head was a bright, explosive pink. He looked at himself in the mirror, turning his head from side to side as if checking the result.
"So? What do you think?" Iori asked, leaning against the sink, trying to sound casual even though his heart was still racing.
Kei’s reflection smiled, his eyes sparkling with genuine, childlike joy.
"Fucking awesome."
After a pause, Kei turned to face Iori, lazily leaning against the sink with his usual confidence.
"You did a good job. Guess I won’t have to beat you up after all."
Iori laughed, lightly shoving him.
"Oh no, what a shame! That would’ve been the best payment!"
Kei smirked, but there was something softer in his eyes, something that made Iori’s breath catch. It wasn’t his usual cocky grin or playful challenge. It was something less guarded, something more vulnerable.
"Thanks, Io," Kei said quietly, almost as if hoping Iori wouldn’t hear.
Iori shrugged, trying to keep the mood light, even though his heart was thudding in his ears.
"Anytime, your loyal servant is at your command."
The rebel didn’t reply immediately; he just kept staring at him. And for the first time, Iori began to wonder: what if Kei could actually see right through him? What if he knew?
But before Iori could get lost in these thoughts, Kei pushed himself away from the sink, ruffling his hair with his usual grin.
"Alright, let’s go show everyone my new look," he said, heading toward the door.
***
High school overwhelmed both of them, as it did many others, but for Iori and Kei, it felt like a storm they weren’t ready for. The carefree days of skipping class, dyeing their hair pink, and acting like kids running away from the world were long gone.
Everyone around them seemed to be growing up so fast that Iori felt like he was standing still. People were starting relationships, romance was blooming, and conversations about parties and flings filled the hallways. And he was still in love with some rebel. A boy. Not even a girl.
Kei, however, remained just as strange. While the other guys in their class were already boasting about their love lives, and some were even beginning to talk about intimacy, Kei didn’t just stay out of those conversations—he openly despised them.
"Yo, Aki went out with Reina again yesterday. Third date, and he finally managed to... well, you know, have sex with her. Gotta cheer for her not getting pregnant," one of the guys in class bragged to the group during lunch.
The rebel, leaning back in his chair with his usual indifference, snorted loudly, catching everyone's attention. Iori, quietly picking at his food next to him, looked up in surprise at the sudden sound.
"What’s with you, Saru-chan?"
Kei shot him a dark look before shifting his gaze to the group gathered around the latest gossip.
"You’re all idiots, you know that? What’s the point, anyway? Who even cares about dates or whatever? You’re just following some script like a herd of sheep."
The conversation froze, and a few guys exchanged confused glances. One of them—Taro, a guy who prided himself on his "ladies' man" status—raised an eyebrow.
"So you’re saying you’ve never wanted to hook up with a girl, Kei?"
Kei just leaned forward, his eyes flashing with something sharp and defiant.
"I’m saying girls are boring. All of this is boring. You think sleeping with someone makes you more interesting? Pathetic."
Taro snorted.
"You’re talking nonsense, dude. Everyone knows you’re just trying to stand out. Or are you gay, huh? Is that why you dyed your hair?"
The group laughed, and the rebel’s patience was wearing thin. Who do they think they are, anyway? Typical normies, only caring about cool hats and bragging about condoms. Disgusting, filthy idiots.
"What’s it to you, fucking ladies’ man? Fuck off, is dyeing hair a crime now!?" Kei said loudly, as usual. "I couldn’t care less about your opinions."
After that, the conversation quickly died down, and the guys returned to their food, muttering under their breath. But Iori couldn’t shake the unease that had settled in his chest.
Later, as they walked home together, Iori finally mustered up the courage to ask.
"Do you really hate girls?" he asked, trying to keep his voice casual, though the question had been bothering him.
Kei shoved his hands into his pockets, looking ahead as they walked.
"It’s not that I hate them. They’re just… boring, you know?"
Iori blinked, trying to understand.
"Boring? How?"
The rebel shrugged, his face returning to its usual expression of indifference.
"They’re all the same. Trying to be cute, expecting you to do dumb stuff like carry their bags or listen to their problems. I don’t have time for that. What’s the point? Dates, flings... it’s all bullshit."
Iori was silent for a while, weighed down by his friend’s words. It wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed before—Kei never talked about girls, never showed interest when their classmates bragged about dates or crushes.
But he always assumed it was just because Kei wasn’t interested yet or maybe was waiting for someone who would catch his eye.
"Is that why you’ve never dated anyone? You think it’s just a waste of time?"
Kei stopped and turned to Iori, his expression unreadable.
"Yeah, I don’t get why everyone’s so obsessed with it. It’s like… they’re all following some script. You date, have fun, break up, and do it all over again. What’s the point?"
Iori swallowed, suddenly feeling anxious. He wasn’t sure why, but this conversation felt heavier than he had expected.
"So… you’re never going to date anyone?"
Kei scoffed and rolled his eyes.
"If it means not being a puppet like everyone else, then yeah. Screw that."
A thought flashed through Iori’s mind, almost too fast to catch: was he doing this just to rebel? It wouldn’t be the strangest thing Kei had done to stand out. He was known for breaking expectations and hating anything that seemed normal.
But this… this felt like something else.
***
By their third year of high school, everything had changed in ways that Iori and Kei had never expected. The carefree days of running through the streets were long gone, replaced by the looming weight of adult life.
Exams, universities, family pressure—everything hung over them like a storm cloud, and no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't escape it.
Iori was always the more anxious one. He tried to keep up appearances, staying just close enough to his family’s expectations to avoid unnecessary trouble. But now, those expectations were suffocating him. University applications, career counseling, endless talks about the future—it had all become unbearable.
Kei, on the other hand, seemed as distant as ever. He had always been a rebel, never caring about rules or what others thought. But even Saru-chan noticed that something in him was changing. Lately, the rebel had grown quieter, his usual sharpness dulled under a burden of worries he had never felt before.
They both knew what was coming. Graduation was just a few months away, and with it came the inevitable separation.
It happened one of those late afternoons after school, sitting on the roof of an abandoned building they used to visit as kids. It was the conversation neither of them wanted to have.
Kei sat at the edge, swinging his legs, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. Iori sat beside him, leaning back on his hands, staring at the sky. The setting sun painted everything in shades of orange, turning the city below into something almost magical.
“I’m leaving after graduation,” Kei said suddenly, breaking the silence.
Iori blinked, his heart stopping for a moment. He knew this was coming, but hearing it out loud still felt like a punch to the gut.
“Yeah, I figured.”
Kei didn’t look at him, just kept staring into the horizon.
“I’m not going to college. I don’t need that crap.”
Saru-chan sighed, the tension in his chest growing stronger.
“And where will you go?”
“Does it matter?” Kei shrugged. “I’ll probably just leave the city. Get as far away as possible.”
Get away. That had always been Kei’s answer—to run, to escape, to leave before anything could tie him down. Iori knew that about him, had long accepted it.
But the thought of him actually leaving, of not seeing him every day anymore, made Iori feel like something important was slipping through his fingers.
Why did he tie himself to him, not even with a contract?
“You could stay,” Iori said softly, surprising himself with how vulnerable his voice sounded.
Kei finally looked at him, and his sharp eyes softened, making Iori’s heart ache.
“Stay? And do what, Io? Play the good boy, like you?”
The corners of Saru-chan’s mouth twisted into a sad smile.
“I’m not that good.”
Kei snorted, but there was no real amusement in it.
“You’re better than me, by a long shot. At least you’re not an idiot. But I’d rather be an idiot than be like everyone else.”
They lapsed into silence again, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on them. Iori could feel the tension in the air, like something was about to break, but neither of them wanted to be the first to acknowledge it.
“Io,” Kei said after a long pause, his voice unusually soft. “Why do you do all this? Follow the rules, go to college, do what your parents want... You don’t really give a damn, do you? Anyone can see you don’t care.”
Iori swallowed hard, his chest tightening at the question he couldn’t even ask himself. He wasn’t happy—not truly. But he didn’t know what else to do. He wasn’t like his friend. He couldn’t just run away, leave everything behind, and start over.
“Because... that’s what people like me do.”
Kei only frowned, his gaze growing more intense.
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
Iori sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I don’t have your freedom, Saru-chan.”
Kei flinched at the nickname before turning away again.
“It’s not about freedom. It’s about not being a puppet,” he muttered, lowering his voice. “You’ve always been too good at doing what other people wanted. You’re too...”
“Too what?” Iori pressed, feeling a strange urge to dig deeper, to finally get to the heart of what was between them.
Kei didn’t answer right away. He stared ahead, jaw clenched, and when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter and more uncertain than Iori had ever heard it.
“You’re too important to everyone, Io.”
Iori froze. It was a simple statement, but coming from the rebel, it sounded like a confession. Kei had never been one for big words or gestures. He didn’t like sentimentality and certainly wasn’t someone who easily opened up about his feelings. But there it was—honest and raw.
Saru-chan’s heart was pounding in his chest, and he struggled to say something.
“Saru-chan...”
Kei suddenly stood up, his movements sharp, like he needed to move before the moment became too heavy. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and turned away from Iori, staring down at the street below.
“I don’t know how to deal with this,” Kei muttered, his voice almost too quiet to hear. “I don’t know how to be... like them. I don’t get this whole dating thing or whatever it’s called. But you... you’re different.”
Iori’s breath caught, the words slowly sinking into his mind. It was like a puzzle piece suddenly falling into place, an answer to something he had struggled with for years. Kei wasn’t like the others because he didn’t want to be a dumb puppet in someone else’s hands. He didn’t want to fit into the mold they were supposed to follow. He didn’t want to pretend.
“I think...” Kei’s voice wavered for the first time, and Iori saw the tension in his shoulders. “I think I might love you, Io.”
The world seemed to stop. Iori stared at Kei’s back, the words ringing in his ears like a bell, impossible to ignore. His throat tightened, his chest overflowing with emotions he had tried so hard to suppress.
Kei didn’t turn around.
He just stood there, tense and awkwardly holding his breath, as if he didn’t know what to do next. For someone so confident, so reckless in everything else, this was the one thing he couldn’t handle.
Iori slowly stood up, his legs feeling like they might give out beneath him.
“Saru-chan,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “I...”
But what was he supposed to say? He had known for years that he was in love with Kei, but hearing it out loud, hearing Kei admit it, was something entirely different. The reality of it was overwhelming.
Kei let out a sudden, sharp laugh, shaking his head.
“Forget it. It’s stupid. I...”
“No,” Iori interrupted, stepping forward. His heart was racing, his palms sweaty, but he had to say this. He had to make Kei understand. “It’s not stupid.”
Kei turned around, his eyes wide, filled with a mix of confusion and vulnerability.
“What...?”
Iori swallowed, his voice barely louder than a whisper.
“I think I love you too.”
For a moment, neither of them moved. It felt like time had frozen around them, the city fading into the background, leaving just the two of them standing on the rooftop. Then, slowly, Kei’s expression softened, the tension in his shoulders easing, and he took a hesitant step forward.
“So... what do we do now?” Kei asked quietly, almost uncertainly.
Iori smiled gently, the weight in his chest lifting slightly.
“I don’t know. But we’ll figure it out.”
Kei nodded, his lips twitching into a small, uncertain smile. For the first time, the usual angry bravado that always surrounded him seemed to disappear, leaving behind the boy Iori had always known—the boy who was so much more than the mask he wore.
But as the reality of their confession settled in their minds, the harsh truth of their situation returned. Kei was leaving. Iori was staying. Their paths were diverging, and no amount of love could change that.
“I have to go,” Kei said after a long pause, his voice filled with regret. “I can’t stay here, Io. Not with all this...”
Iori nodded, his chest tightening again.
“I know.”
They stood in silence for a while, neither of them wanting to move, neither of them wanting to face what came next. But eventually, Kei took a step back, and his usual hardness returned.
“I’ll come back,” Kei promised, though they both knew it might not be that simple. “I’m not just going to disappear.”
Iori smiled, though it hurt more than usual.
“I’ll be waiting.”
And with those words, Kei gave him one last long look before turning and walking away, leaving Iori alone on the rooftop, watching as the boy he loved disappeared into the shimmering city lights.
Iori knew that nothing would ever be the same again.
***
Two years had passed since that confession on the rooftop—two years of distance, silence, and sleepless nights filled with ghostly memories. To Iori, those years felt like an eternity. He enrolled in university as planned, and the days blended into a monotonous rhythm of classes, assignments, and the emptiness left by Kei.
But in quiet moments, when the noise of his new life died down, the absence of his Saru-chan hit him like a punch in the gut. He often wondered if Kei ever thought about him at all, or if the words they exchanged on the rooftop had been forgotten in the whirlwind of new experiences.
They barely kept in touch. Kei wasn't the type to send messages or call often, and Iori feared the awkwardness that might arise after everything that had happened between them.
But here he was, two years later, standing on a familiar street in front of the station where the rebel had told him to meet.
His heart was pounding as he scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar face. His palms were sweaty, and the anticipation pulsing in his chest was almost unbearable. What if Kei had changed? What if he no longer cared? What if—
“Io.”
A voice came from behind, and Iori froze. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was. That voice, that slightly high, casual tone, had haunted his thoughts for years.
Slowly, he turned, his breath catching.
Kei stood a few steps away, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, his hair a little longer, freshly dyed, his posture just as relaxed as ever. But there was something different about him—something more mature, more grounded.
His face had grown a bit more defined, eyelashes long, features sharper, the signs of youth slightly softened. But those eyes—the same deep, piercing eyes—remained unchanged.
Iori's heart did a flip.
“You haven't changed,” Kei said, a familiar crooked smile appearing on his lips. It wasn't a big gesture, but it was enough.
“And you... you've changed a lot,” Iori replied, trying to keep his voice steady. Kei had grown up (but still remained little to Iori), and Iori suddenly realized that time had passed for both of them, not just in years, but in ways they couldn't measure. Kei shrugged, taking a step closer.
“Yeah, well... two years will do that to you. Change you a lot. I even gave myself a manicure just to spite everyone.”
For a moment, they just stood there, not knowing what to say. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, unfinished sentences, and the weight of everything they hadn’t discussed over the long two years.
“That's cool and all, but... why didn't you call more often? I would've done it for you,” Iori asked before he could stop himself. He had promised not to push, not to bring up the past right away, but here they were. He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze dropping to the ground.
“I didn't know what to say,” Kei admitted, his voice unusually quiet. “I didn't want to drag you into the mess I was in. It was... embarrassing, you know?”
Iori frowned.
“Mess? Saru-chan, you could've talked to me.”
“Maybe. But I wasn't ready. I needed to figure myself out. Surprisingly, yeah.”
Silence settled between them again, the awkwardness creeping back in. But then Kei took another step closer, and this time, when he looked at Iori, his eyes were softer, more vulnerable than Iori had ever seen them.
"I didn’t forget," Kei said, his voice barely audible.
"What?"
"That day on the rooftop. What I said. What you said. I haven't forgotten a single word."
Iori felt his cheeks burn, his breath becoming uneven. "I haven’t forgotten either."
Kei smiled faintly, almost hesitantly, without the usual confident edge.
"I thought about you, Io. A lot more than I should have."
Those words hit Iori like a jolt of electricity, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to do with them. This was his Saru-chan—his reckless, stubborn, impossible Saru-chan—standing here, confessing something Iori had only dared to hope for in his teenage years.
"What do you mean?" Iori asked softly, afraid of what the answer might do to him.
Kei stepped even closer, so close that Iori could see the uneven eyeliner on his left eye, could hear the slight hitch in his breath as he spoke.
"I thought if I left, it would get easier. That if I distanced myself, I’d stop feeling... this."
"What exactly?"
"Feeling like I’m in love with you."
Kei met his gaze, and the intensity in his eyes was so strong that Iori’s heart pounded. The words washed over him, overwhelming him, leaving him breathless. His mind raced to process what he had just heard.
They had confessed to each other before, but back then it had been wrapped in uncertainty, fear of the unknown. This time, there was no hesitation, no ambiguity. Kei had laid it all out, clear and raw.
Iori opened his mouth but couldn’t find the words. Instead, he just stared at Kei, feeling everything he had suppressed for two years come rushing to the surface. The loneliness, the longing, the hope—it all crashed down on him at once.
Kei took another step, and now they were standing so close that Iori could feel his breath, could see the slight tremor in his fingers.
"I had to leave," Kei whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I’m sorry, I couldn’t stay here with what I felt for you. I thought I could just run, but you… you got under my skin."
Iori’s throat tightened, his eyes stinging with unshed tears.
"You could’ve just stayed with me, not left me," he whispered. "You made me feel selfish. You made me think there was something wrong with my slave vision. Why?"
Kei exhaled sharply, as if he had been holding his breath for years. Then, before Iori could say anything else, Kei closed the remaining distance between them, his hands gently cupping Iori’s face as he leaned in, their foreheads touching.
For a moment, they just stood there, feeling each other, the world around them fading away, leaving only the two of them, standing on the edge of something they had long been afraid to name.
"I’m here," Kei said softly, his voice filled with sincerity Iori had never heard from him before. "If you still want me."
Iori closed his eyes, his heart overflowing with everything he had tried so hard to bury. He had spent two years convincing himself that Kei was gone forever, that he had moved on. But here he was, standing in front of him, offering himself in the only way he knew how.
"I never stopped waiting for you," Iori whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "And I never will."
Kei’s breath hitched, and then, without another word, Iori leaned in and kissed him.
At first, the kiss was soft, tentative, as if they were both afraid to break the moment. But then Kei responded, wrapping his arms around Iori’s neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss, filled with all the things they hadn’t said for too long.
When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless, and Kei rested his forehead against Iori’s again, his eyes half-closed, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"I love you, Io," Kei whispered, his voice rough but steady.
Iori smiled, his heart, for the first time in years, full of love instead of the usual emptiness.
"I love you too."
And for the first time in a long time, everything felt right.