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Three months.
That’s how long it’s been since Nagi ended things with Reo; quietly, almost cruelly, like a light switch flipped off without warning.
One day they were in a relationship, the next Nagi was pulling away, unreadable, silent, and gone.
Reo hated how he still remembered the exact time Nagi walked out. 2:17 PM. A Wednesday. Rain tapping against the glass as if it had the nerve to cry before Reo did.
They hadn’t spoken since. Not a message. Not a glance across campus. Not even a like on social media.
Until tonight.
Reo had stopped checking his phone at night. He’d taught himself not to. Not after the first month, when every phantom buzz made his heart stutter. Not after he memorised the exact way Nagi used to type; lowercase, dry like it didn’t matter. Not after he’d fallen asleep too many nights with one hand beneath his pillow and the other curled around a phone screen that always stayed dark. So when his phone lit up at 1:04AM that Tuesday night, it took him a few seconds to even register the notification. He was already in bed, barely awake, scrolling through an endless feed of people he didn’t care about doing things he didn’t want to see. The buzz had startled him, a small mechanical thrum that somehow shook his whole chest.
Nagi: can i come over tomorrow. want to talk.
Reo sat up so fast his blanket tangled around his legs. He stared at the message, blinking once. Then again. No punctuation, as always. No apology. No “hey” to ease the suddenness, no follow-up message to explain why this was happening now, after three months of absolute silence. Just that. A message that dropped like a brick through the window of his carefully reconstructed peace. He didn’t reply. Not at first. He watched the typing bubble flicker on, then disappear. Then again. And again. Like Nagi was hovering—just on the edge of saying something more, but not brave enough to do it. Good, Reo thought bitterly. Let him squirm. But twenty minutes later, Reo typed
"Tomorrow 6PM"
He didn’t mean for it to sound so casual. But he didn’t want to give Nagi the satisfaction that he cared.
The next day moved like sludge. Reo skipped two lectures and couldn’t remember what he ate for breakfast, if anything. His playlist played the same three songs on loop while he lay on his bed with his arms folded, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling as if answers would write themselves there. He hated that he was thinking about what to wear. Hated it. It wasn’t like Nagi cared about outfits. Half their relationship, Nagi was either in sweats or in that one hoodie he wore too often. He wouldn’t care now, either. He never did.
Still… Reo opened his closet. Then closed it. Then opened it again. He settled on something that said I look good but didn’t try too hard. Grey jogger shorts, a fitted black t-shirt, a silver chain that caught the light when he moved just right. He even sprayed cologne — only once, just on his neck, and then groaned out loud like he’d committed a crime. “Stupid,” he muttered to his mirror. “You’re being so fucking stupid.”
He rearranged the couch pillows twice. Made the bed even though Nagi wasn’t going near it. Hid the crumpled tissue box and half-melted candles on his nightstand. Tidied the dishes. Vacuumed the carpet. Then ruined the vacuum lines just so it didn’t look obvious. When the clock hit 5:30, Reo was sitting on the arm of the couch, phone clutched loosely in his hand, leg bouncing. He kept checking the time like it was changing faster than it should. His reflection in the dark TV screen showed someone too tense, too put together, and trying not to show it. He took one final look at himself before 6. Messed his hair a bit. Then fixed it again. Then cursed himself and left it. At exactly 6:03PM, there was a knock at the door. And suddenly, Reo felt like he was thirteen again, heart thrashing in his ribs, unsure if he wanted to run toward the sound or away from it. He didn’t move right away. The knock came again but slower this time. Not urgent. Not impatient. Just… there. Present. Like Nagi always had been. Reo’s feet finally moved. Each step toward the door felt heavier than it should’ve. His hand hesitated on the doorknob. Not because he was scared of seeing Nagi but because he wasn’t sure how much of himself he’d already lost in preparing for it. He inhaled sharply through his nose, jaw tight. Then he opened the door.
Reo didn’t know what he expected to feel when he saw Nagi again. Rage, maybe. Bitterness. Regret. Something sharp enough to keep him guarded. But when the door opened and there he was; tall, sleepy-eyed, dressed down in a black tracksuit that clung just enough to hint at the body Reo had once known in every detail. All Reo could feel was the rush of breath he forgot he was holding. Nagi looked good. Of course he did. He always had that effortless kind of good looks like he’d just rolled out of bed and didn’t care, because the world could move around him if it wanted something. His hair was tied half-up, a little messy. The collar of his hoodie was stretched, like he’d been pulling at it while pacing. He smelled like vanilla and something darker beneath it; cedarwood, sandalwood maybe. Warm, faintly sweet, familiar. Reo hated how quickly he remembered that smell. How many times he’d fallen asleep to it.
Nagi didn’t speak right away. He just looked at Reo, eyes flicking down once, maybe to the chain, maybe to the fact that Reo looked like he had tried not to try. A slow blink, like he was grounding himself. Then: “Hey.” Reo stepped aside without a word. Nagi walked in like a ghost, quiet and unsure. His shoulders were hunched slightly forward, hands tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. He didn’t look at anything, didn’t snoop. Just stood there in the middle of the living room like he didn’t know where he belonged. “Sit,” Reo said stiffly. Nagi nodded once, moved toward the couch, and sat down without sinking into it. He was perched almost awkwardly at the edge, as if he was prepared to leave the second he was told to. Reo followed him slowly, sitting a full cushion away, arms crossed loosely over his chest. Silence. Not a peaceful one. Not yet. Just that uncomfortable vacuum of too much between them; things unsaid, things said too late, and things that couldn’t be taken back.
Nagi looked down at his hands. “Hi,” he said again, softer this time. Reo swallowed. “You already said that.” Another pause. Nagi didn’t flinch. He just nodded. Reo’s voice was sharp, controlled. “You said you wanted to talk. So talk.” Nagi finally looked at him. His eyes were calm. Not dead, not empty, just… still. But behind them, there was something new. Something that hadn’t been there during the breakup. He looked like he’d been thinking. Really thinking. And not just for a few hours. “I didn’t plan what to say,” Nagi started, fingers fidgeting with the seam of his sleeve. “Didn’t feel right to rehearse it.”
Reo’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t interrupt. “I just…” Nagi hesitated. His voice was low, slow like always, but there was an edge to it. A kind of fragility that made it clear he wasn’t here to play passive. “I’m sorry, Reo. I know I left you with no explanation. I know I hurt you.” “You did,” Reo said quietly. Nagi nodded. “I know.” The room felt colder somehow. Or maybe Reo was just starting to realize how long it had been since someone said his name like that. Like it mattered. “I miss you,” Nagi said simply.
Reo’s breath caught. Nagi said it with the same flat honesty he always used when he told Reo the sun looked nice today, or that a game was too easy. “I thought it would go away,” Nagi admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Missing you. I thought if I kept moving, if I stayed distracted… it’d fade.” Reo was staring at him now, not blinking. “But it didn’t,” Nagi continued. “Everything just got quieter. And lonelier.” He turned his head then, met Reo’s eyes. “I’m not here to ask you to forgive me. I just wanted you to know.” The silence after Nagi’s last words was almost cruel in how soft it was.
Reo stared straight ahead, lips parted slightly, hands curled into loose fists against his thighs. The air between them had shifted. He didn’t speak for a long time. And Nagi, like always, waited. But when Reo finally spoke, his voice was sharp. Controlled. Almost eerily calm. “I don’t forgive you.”
Nagi blinked. Not shocked. But… stung. Reo turned to him fully now, voice low but cutting. “And I never will.” It wasn’t a threat. It wasn’t even said with heat. It was a statement. A truth Reo had sat with for months, rotted in. “You don’t get to disappear and come back with your tail between your legs saying ‘I miss you’ like that fixes anything,” he said. “You left me, Seishiro. Like I didn’t matter. Like everything we had was disposable.” “I didn’t think it was disposable,” Nagi said quietly. “Well, congratulations,” Reo snapped. “You made it look that way.” Nagi’s hands tightened slightly where they rested. His shoulders shifted, not defensive but uneasy. He didn’t raise his voice. “I know I hurt you,” he said. “I shut down. I didn’t talk. I—I didn’t know how to deal with what I was feeling. I thought giving you space—” Reo laughed. Bitter. “Don’t fucking do that.” Nagi went silent. “Don’t pretend it was some noble sacrifice,” Reo hissed. “You ghosted me. You gave up. You couldn’t even say it to my face, couldn’t even explain why you were pulling away.”
“I didn’t how to to tell you at the time,” Nagi said, eyes narrowing slightly. “I felt overwhelmed. I didn’t want to ruin things more.” “You ruined it anyway,” Reo barked, voice rising. “You already ruined it. You just didn’t have the guts to look at me while you did.” The heat in the room built slowly, but steadily like steam filling a kettle, the whistle coming closer and closer.
Nagi leaned forward slightly, frustration creeping into his voice now. “I’m trying to explain—” “I don’t want your explanations!” Reo cut him off, standing abruptly. His voice cracked, raw with the emotion he’d been choking on. “You don’t get to explain your way out of what you did. You think that makes any of it better?” Nagi looked up at him, still seated but more alert now, tension rippling under the surface of his usually slow, relaxed posture. “I didn’t come here expecting you to forgive me,” he said again, slower. “But I thought… if I told you the truth, maybe you’d understand.” Reo scoffed. “Understand what? That you got bored? That you lost interest and didn’t want to deal with the emotional maintenance? That I was too loud for you, too much—what?” “No,” Nagi said sharply, standing now too.
“That I was scared.”
Reo faltered. Nagi’s voice lowered, a beat more steady. “That I didn’t know how to be close to someone without losing parts of myself. That I loved you, but I didn’t know how to do it right. And I panicked.” Reo’s chest heaved, hands clenched at his sides. “Oh, that’s rich,” he spat. “So now it’s my job to feel bad for you? For your emotional incompetence? That’s what you want from me?” “No,” Nagi said, quietly but firmly. “Then what?” Reo shouted. “Why are you here, Seishiro? To get closure? To ease your guilt? You want me to pat your back and say ‘it’s okay’ so you can sleep at night?” Nagi didn’t look away. “No. I’m here because I still care. Because I thought maybe you’d want to hear the truth from me before you hated me forever.” “Well, I do!” Reo snapped, voice cracking again. “I do hate you. I hate that you left me like that. I hate that I waited for you to come back every goddamn day like some pathetic idiot. And I hate that you think you can walk in here and act like you're still the same person I loved.” That last word sat heavy in the air. Like something too fragile to say, too sharp to take back. Loved. Past tense.
Nagi didn’t speak this time. He just stood there, eyes unreadable. No anger. Just the faintest flicker of something Reo couldn’t name. Reo exhaled shakily, arms wrapped around himself now like he was cold. Or trying not to fall apart. He didn’t sit back down. And neither did Nagi. The silence returned; not awkward this time, but dangerous. Like the calm in the eye of a storm. And the worst part? Reo didn’t know if he wanted it to pass, or destroy everything completely “You think you can say I miss you and that makes it better?” Reo’s voice was already rising. His pacing had picked up again, arms moving, hands slicing through the air. Nagi stayed standing, still rooted in place beside the couch. His head was slightly down, voice steady but slower now. “I didn’t come here to fix anything, I came to—” “To what, Seishiro?” Reo snapped, spinning toward him. “To dump your guilt on me? To cry a little, say ‘sorry’ and go home feeling better about yourself?” Nagi inhaled, sharp through his nose. “No,” he said, more firmly this time. “I’m trying to tell you something.” “Then say it properly,” Reo said, biting. “I—” Nagi started, but the words caught in his throat. He exhaled, rubbed the back of his neck, and looked away. “I’ve been… I’ve been struggling, Reo. Not with us, with—myself.” Reo scoffed. “Oh, right. So now it’s a mental health thing? Is that what this is?”
Nagi’s eyes narrowed. “Would you just let me talk?” Reo took a half-step forward. “Then actually say something!” “I am,” Nagi snapped, louder now. “If you’d shut up for five seconds—” “Oh, now you care about talking?” Reo barked, voice cracking with disbelief. “Now that it’s convenient for you?” Nagi’s posture finally shifted. It was tense now, shoulders squared, jaw locked. “I couldn’t get out of bed, Reo.” Reo faltered. Slightly. But it was brief. “That’s not my fault,” he bit out. “You could’ve told me. You didn’t even try.” “I didn’t know how,” Nagi said, and his voice was climbing too. “I wasn’t eating. I wasn’t sleeping. I wasn’t even showering some days, Reo. I wasn’t me. And I didn’t want you to see me like that—” “So you just vanished instead?” “Yes!” Nagi shouted, louder than either of them expected. “Because it was easier than admitting I was falling apart!” Reo’s eyes flashed. “Easier for you, you mean.” Nagi’s voice dropped low, sharp. “Yeah. For me. Because I was the one waking up hating everything. Including myself.” Reo’s mouth opened, but no words came out this time.
“I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” Nagi said, still breathing hard. “But I couldn’t deal with anything. My parents hadn’t called me in weeks. I didn’t even think they remembered my birthday. I’d stopped replying to everyone. Not just you.” Reo stared at him, chest rising and falling fast. “So I was just part of the collateral damage?” he asked, quieter now, but still bitter. “That’s what I was to you?” “No,” Nagi said, taking a step forward. “You were the only thing that mattered. Which is why it hurt more.” Reo blinked, and something behind his eyes flickered like he was caught between wanting to yell and wanting to cry. “I wanted to be okay for you,” Nagi said, lower now but still intense. “I didn’t want you to see me broken. So I broke away instead.” Reo shook his head. “That’s not noble. That’s cowardice.” “I know that now!” Nagi yelled.
The silence that followed was like static in their ears. Nagi’s chest was heaving, hair half-falling from its tie, hoodie clinging to his back with heat. Reo stood a few feet away, arms tense at his sides, lips pressed into a thin, shaking line. “I thought I was doing the right thing,” Nagi said after a long pause. “I thought if I disappeared, you’d be better off.” Reo laughed; short, disbelieving, shaky. “Well,” he said, voice hoarse. “You broke me. And you didn’t even have the decency to watch it happen.” Nagi didn’t speak. He looked like he wanted to. Reo wiped under his eye fast, almost angrily. “You didn’t let me fight for you,” he said. “You didn’t even give me the chance.” “I didn’t think I deserved to be fought for,” Nagi said, barely audible now. Reo turned away. Neither of them spoke again for a long moment.
And for the first time in three months, they were both standing in the wreckage together. It happened all at once. One second, Reo was standing there with his back half-turned, trembling with fury and exhaustion. The next, he spun around and slammed both palms into Nagi’s chest. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but it knocked Nagi back a step; not physically, but emotionally.
Reo’s eyes were wild, red, full of something beyond language. "You ruined me!"
His voice tore through the room like a gunshot. Raw, broken, unfiltered. Nagi froze. "You ruined me, Seishiro," Reo repeated, louder this time, voice cracking on the last syllable. "You were the only good thing I had!" Nagi tried to step closer again, slowly, arms open like maybe he could help. Like he didn’t just hear those words crush the floor beneath them. Reo shoved him again. Harder. “Don’t you dare try to touch me—!” Nagi stepped back, but he didn’t leave. His face was pale, mouth slightly open, like the wind had been knocked out of him. Reo was breathing like he’d run a mile. “You think this is about closure?” he spat. “You think you’re giving me peace by walking in here and finally deciding to say a few fucking words?” Nagi opened his mouth—but Reo kept going. “You left, Seishiro. You walked out and took everything with you! My trust, my sanity, my sense of worth! I spent three months thinking I wasn’t enough. That maybe if I was a little less clingy, a little less loud, a little less me, you would’ve stayed.”
“I never wanted you to change,” Nagi said, and it was barely audible. Reo didn’t hear it. Or maybe he didn’t want to. “I loved you, you asshole!” he screamed, tears finally spilling over. “I loved you so much I would’ve followed you anywhere. I would’ve stayed through anything! I wasn’t going to leave!” He collapsed against the back of the couch like it was holding him upright. His chest heaved, sobs breaking free now, ugly and loud. All the rage had cracked apart, and beneath it was something even more destructive: grief. “I would’ve done anything for you,” Reo whispered, voice shaking. “And you didn’t even ask. You just decided I couldn’t handle it. You decided I’d be better off without you—like I didn’t have a say.” Nagi moved toward him again, hands out. “Reo, please—” “Don’t touch me!” Reo screamed, flinching back like Nagi had burned him. “Don’t you fucking touch me!”
Nagi froze, hands midair, throat tightening. Reo was sobbing openly now. Shoulders shaking, hands curled into fists against the couch cushion. He wouldn’t look at Nagi. Couldn’t. His whole body was vibrating with the aftermath of the explosion. “I hate you,” he choked. “I hate you so much it physically hurts. I hate you because I don’t hate you, and I want to. So bad.” Nagi stood there in silence, eyes wide. His expression had crumbled completely; no more detachment, no unreadable calm. Just devastation. “You should go,” Reo whispered, voice barely there now. “Please. Just go.” But Nagi didn’t move. He stepped closer again. Just one step, cautiously, and spoke gently. “I’m not going anywhere.” Reo looked up, blinking through tears. “Why the hell not?” “Because you shouldn’t be alone like this,” Nagi said, voice firm but soft. “Not again.” Reo laughed broken and bitter, tears still streaking his cheeks. “I want to be alone.” “I don’t believe you.” “Go to hell.” “If that’s where you are, I’ll stay.”
Reo’s face crumpled again, and for a second he looked like a child; vulnerable, overwhelmed, furious at the universe for hurting him this way. “Just go away,” he whispered. But Nagi sat down on the edge of the couch beside him. Not touching. Just there. “I’m not leaving,” he said again, quieter this time.
Reo didn’t tell him to move. He didn’t say anything. He just buried his face in his hands, body wracked with sobs. And Nagi sat in the wreckage he caused; eyes fixed forward, every part of him screaming with guilt but he didn’t look away. The sound of Reo crying was unbearable. It wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t pretty. It was wrecked and unfiltered; the kind of sobbing that came from somewhere deeper than the lungs. Like his entire body had finally given up holding back.
He was still turned slightly away from Nagi, slumped over with his head in his hands, shaking violently on the couch like he couldn’t stay upright without the cushions holding him up. “I hate you,” he sobbed again. “I fucking hate you.” Nagi’s heart cracked with every word, but he didn’t flinch. He shifted slowly, like moving too fast would shatter what was left, and reached out gently.
“Reo,” he murmured, voice so low it barely touched the air. “C’mere.” Reo didn’t move. But he didn’t pull away either. So Nagi leaned in closer, slowly wrapping his arms around him from the side. Not tight, just enough to say I’m here. You’re not alone. “Don’t touch me,” Reo gasped, fists still curled, face soaked with tears. But he didn’t push him off. His entire body shook as he cried, but instead of pulling away, he leaned sideways against Nagi’s shoulder, cheek buried in the fabric of his hoodie. “I hate you,” he whimpered. “I hate you…” “I know,” Nagi said softly, holding him closer. “You’re allowed to.” “I want you to leave.” “I won’t.” Reo’s fingers clutched at the sleeve of Nagi’s hoodie, fist tangled in the fabric like he didn’t realise he was doing it. “I hate you,” he said again, muffled now against Nagi’s chest. “I know, baby,” Nagi whispered. “I know.” Reo flinched slightly at the pet name, but didn’t let go. Nagi tightened the embrace, just a little. His hand found the back of Reo’s head, gentle and slow, stroking his hair the way he used to on nights Reo couldn’t sleep. His other arm wrapped protectively around Reo’s shoulders, grounding him. Holding him through the tremors. “I’m sorry,” Nagi whispered, voice barely holding steady. “I’m so sorry, Reo. For everything.” Reo sobbed harder. His grip on Nagi’s hoodie tightened again. “I didn’t mean to leave you like that. I didn’t know how bad I’d gotten. I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you until I already had.” “You didn’t care,” Reo choked. “You didn’t even check on me—” “I did,” Nagi said softly. “I stalked your socials. I asked Chigiri if you were okay. I watched you from across campus, even when I didn’t have the right to.” Reo’s voice cracked. “Then why didn’t you come back?” “Because I didn’t think you’d want me,” Nagi said honestly. “Because I thought I’d burned the bridge beyond fixing.”
Reo shook his head violently against him. “You did. You did, Seishiro. You destroyed me.” “I know, sweetheart.” “Don’t call me that,” Reo hiccuped. But he still didn’t pull away. He was clutching Nagi like he was the only thing keeping him from sinking through the floor. Nagi’s voice was soft. Steady. Never defensive. “I’m not trying to excuse anything. I’m not here to talk circles around what I did. I just… I want you to know that I didn’t leave because you weren’t enough. I left because I didn’t think I was. I thought I was protecting you from the worst of me.” Reo kept crying, but quieter now. Just sniffling, breath ragged and shallow, face hot against Nagi’s chest. “I used to feel like I was always one step behind you,” Nagi murmured. “Like I couldn’t keep up with your light. And instead of telling you that, I shut down. That’s on me. All of it is on me.”
Reo was shaking again, but his hands had slipped around Nagi’s waist now, clinging to the back of his hoodie like a lifeline. “I hate you,” he whispered one last time. “I know,” Nagi whispered back, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. And Reo stayed there; held, broken, safe — sobbing into the chest of the person who’d hurt him more than anyone else, and who somehow still felt like home. The storm hadn’t passed. Not really. Reo was still shaking. His breath came in ragged bursts, shallow and inconsistent. His face was blotchy, eyes swollen, lips trembling from crying so hard. He hadn’t let go of Nagi. if anything, his grip had only tightened, fists curled in the back of his hoodie, forehead still pressed to Nagi’s chest like the sound of his heartbeat was the only thing keeping him here. But now… he was talking again. Whispering. Questions, between gasps. Words that sounded like they had been choking him for months. “Did you even love me?”
Nagi’s breath caught. But he didn’t hesitate. “Of course I did,” he said gently, hand brushing through Reo’s hair. “I loved you so much it scared me.” Reo’s shoulders trembled. He stayed curled against Nagi’s chest, hands clenched tighter in the hoodie, but he didn’t lift his head. “Then why did you leave?” he choked. “Why did it feel like I was nothing to you?” Nagi pressed his lips to the top of Reo’s head again, breathing in the scent of him “You were never nothing,” he murmured. “You were everything. That’s why it hurt. That’s why I broke.” Reo sobbed harder. “I hate you,” he whispered again, voice wrecked and watery. “I know,” Nagi said. “But I never stopped loving you.” Reo’s breath hitched violently. His body curled inward more, head buried deeper in Nagi’s chest, like he was trying to hide inside him. “Did you stop?” he gasped out. “After—after you left, did you stop?” “No,” Nagi said immediately, holding him tighter now. “Never. Not for a second.”
Reo let out a strangled, broken sob, the kind that came from somewhere deep in the ribs. The kind that shattered all his pride and left him raw. “I thought you did,” he cried. “I thought I meant nothing.” “My baby,” Nagi murmured, voice shaking now too. “You’ve always meant everything to me.” Reo shattered. He didn’t say anything for a moment — just sobbed harder, mouth open, breath failing, whole body collapsing deeper into Nagi’s lap now as if his bones had given out. “I hate you,” he whimpered, again and again, even as he pressed his forehead to Nagi’s chest, even as his arms curled around his waist. “I know, my baby,” Nagi whispered. “Let it out.” “You broke me.” “I know.” “I needed you.” “I’m here now.”
Reo clawed at the hoodie like he wanted to rip it off, like he needed to feel more than just the fabric between them. His words contradicted everything his body did, he couldn’t stop clinging to Nagi, but he kept sobbing about how much he hated him. “You didn’t fight for me,” Reo whispered. “Why didn’t you fight for me?” Nagi closed his eyes, letting his forehead rest lightly against Reo’s temple. “Because I didn’t think I was worth fighting for,” he said softly. “But I was wrong. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my baby.” Reo whimpered again at the name. He hadn’t heard Nagi call him that since forever. My baby. Possessive. Intimate. Like something sacred. Something still his. “I hate you,” he whispered one more time, quieter now, nearly slurred with tears. But he didn’t let go. He held on like Nagi was the only thing left in the world that could keep him from drowning. And maybe, in this moment, he was. Reo’s sobs had dulled to a quiet, broken rhythm,his breath still hitched now and then, but the violent shaking had slowed.
His head was still resting against Nagi’s chest, clinging to the warmth like he didn’t know where else to go. For a long time, neither of them moved. Until Reo finally did. Slowly, shakily, he pulled back. His hands stayed clutching Nagi’s hoodie, but he leaned just far enough to look up at him; eyes puffy and red, lashes wet, cheeks blotched with streaks of tears and heat. His hair was a mess, his lips trembled, and his whole body was still slumped with exhaustion. Nagi looked down at him, gaze soft and reverent, like he was seeing something rare. Something he didn’t deserve to witness. “You look beautiful,” Nagi whispered. Reo blinked slowly like the words didn’t register at first. His breath caught again, but not from crying. Nagi reached up with one hand, thumb brushing along Reo’s cheek, wiping away a lingering tear. “My baby,” he whispered. “You’re so beautiful like this.” Reo's lip trembled again, but he didn’t look away.
Nagi leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his tear-streaked cheek. Then another, just beside his nose. Then one to his jaw. His temple. His eyelid. Each one slow, like an apology written in skin. “I’m sorry,” Nagi murmured between kisses. “I’m so sorry, my baby.” Reo didn’t stop him. His hands stayed twisted in Nagi’s hoodie, holding him close like a tether. His eyes fluttered shut with each kiss, mouth slightly parted as he breathed through the weight of it all. Nagi finally stilled, pulling back just far enough to look him in the eyes again. They stared at each other. No more anger. No more shouting. Just that thick, heavy air; the kind of silence that could only exist after total emotional collapse. Reo’s eyes searched Nagi’s, glassy and tired. His breathing was uneven, but not desperate anymore. Just… soft. Raw.
And then, without warning, Reo leaned in. It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t planned. His fingers tightened in Nagi’s hoodie as he pulled him down, their mouths meeting in a kiss that was slow and desperate and bruised with emotion. It wasn’t about lust. It wasn’t about reclaiming what they’d lost. It was about pain. About months of hurt spilling into something tender. Reo kissed him like he was angry at how much he still loved him. Like the act itself was a betrayal of his pride and he didn’t care anymore. And Nagi kissed him back like he was afraid Reo would disappear if he didn’t. The kiss deepened like it had been waiting in both their mouths for months. Reo pressed harder into it, still crying, still sniffling between breaths, like kissing Nagi made it hurt worse and feel better all at once. His hands tugged Nagi’s hoodie tighter, needing to feel him real, solid, here. Nagi’s lips moved slow but sure against his soft, familiar, trembling slightly with restraint. He held Reo’s face gently, thumbs brushing wet skin, not rushing anything, just… being with him. Letting Reo lead. But Reo wasn’t staying still. He shifted forward, knees sliding onto either side of Nagi’s thighs as he moved into his lap, straddling him without thinking, like instinct had taken over. His chest pressed to Nagi’s, the kiss growing heavier. Deeper. Shaky breath passed between them, the taste of salt and desperation thick in the space where their mouths met. Nagi’s hands landed at Reo’s hips, holding him there, but his grip stayed feather-light as if he was afraid pushing back would make Reo vanish. Reo’s forehead bumped into Nagi’s as they broke apart for air. Their breaths were loud, shaky, tangled. Reo's eyes were still red, still wet. His lips kissed raw. His whole body trembling, even as he pressed himself closer. “I missed you,” he whispered, voice choked. Nagi cupped his cheek again. “I missed you every day, my baby.” Reo’s lashes fluttered. A new tear fell, hot and fast, catching on Nagi’s thumb. They kissed again, slower this time. Softer. Reo’s fingers slid into Nagi’s hair, pulling him closer, and Nagi let him take, let him want. But when Reo rolled his hips once; just barely, uncertain and instinctual — Nagi pulled back. Not far. Just enough. His forehead stayed pressed to Reo’s. His voice was barely there. “I don’t deserve this,” he murmured. “Not from you.” Reo blinked, dazed and teary. “Then why are you kissing me?” “Because I love you,” Nagi whispered. “Because I’d give anything to feel close to you again. But not like this. Not if you’re hurting. Not if you’re unsure.” Reo’s breath hitched. Nagi’s thumbs stroked along his cheeks. “I don’t deserve much more. But if I could ask for anything… it wouldn’t be this. It would be a chance. A real one. To fix everything I broke.” Reo bit his lip. His throat clenched around something he didn’t know how to say. “I don’t know,” he whispered, trembling again. “I don’t know what I want.” “That’s okay,” Nagi said gently. “You don’t have to know.” Reo sniffled, collapsing forward into his chest again. “I hate that you still feel like home.” Nagi closed his eyes, holding him close. “I hate that I ruined that for you.” They didn’t kiss again. Not right now. But they stayed like that; Reo curled in Nagi’s lap, held like something fragile, Nagi’s hands stroking slow patterns against his back. Breathing. Quiet. Together in the ache. And for now, that was enough. The room had finally gone still. No more tears. No more raised voices. Just the steady, quiet sound of breathing; two bodies tangled under the covers, finding rhythm again after months of chaos.
Reo didn’t move from Nagi’s lap.
His forehead was tucked against Nagi’s shoulder, arms draped loosely around his neck, breath still uneven but no longer desperate. He was straddling him still, but it wasn’t about tension anymore,it was just closeness. Warmth. Aftershock.
Nagi didn’t let go.
He held Reo tighter, arms wrapped around his back, one hand carding gently through his hair again and again. It was rhythmic, grounding. The kind of touch you give someone to say I’m not going anywhere right now. “You’re okay,” Nagi whispered, though his own chest still ached. “I’ve got you, my baby.” Reo didn’t answer. He just melted further into the hold, breath evening out slowly as the tears dried into salt on his cheeks. His body stopped trembling. His hands relaxed. The tension in his shoulders dropped, like something had finally given in. He was still sniffling faintly when his breath hitched — not in pain this time, but in sleep. Nagi paused, lips hovering near Reo’s temple. He stayed still for a long moment just to be sure. Then he felt it: Reo’s breathing deepening. Steady. Fragile. He was asleep. Still straddling him. Still clutching his hoodie like it was the last thing he had.
Nagi tightened the hug once, gently. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, resting his cheek against Reo’s hair. “For all of it.” Moving carefully, he shifted under Reo’s weight, one arm sliding under his legs, the other steady around his back. It wasn’t easy. Reo wasn’t heavy, but he clung in his sleep. Even unconscious, he didn’t want to be let go of. Nagi carried him the short distance to the bed and lowered him down slowly. Reo stirred once, murmured something incoherent, but didn’t wake. Nagi brushed the hair from Reo’s face. His lashes were clumped from crying. His lips were parted slightly. Even asleep, there was a slight furrow between his brows — like his body still remembered the pain, even in rest. Nagi leaned down. Pressed the softest kiss to Reo’s cheek. Then another to his forehead. Then one to his lips. He closed his eyes against the moment.
“I love you,” he breathed.
He stood slowly, carefully pulling the blanket up over Reo’s chest. He smoothed the edges around his shoulders, watched him breathe. And then Nagi turned away. He walked toward the door, hoodie still wrinkled from Reo’s grip, hands clenched loosely at his sides. He didn’t want to leave. But he knew he shouldn’t stay. He’d said what he came to say. Held him. Heard him. Let Reo break and stayed through it.
Now wasn’t the time to ask for more.
The soft click of the door handle turning echoed in Nagi’s ears louder than it should have. His fingers lingered on the cool metal, hoodie sleeves stretched over his hands, breath held in the stillness of the night. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t. Not yet. Reo was asleep. Or he had been. And Nagi wasn’t sure he’d survive seeing that face again, peaceful and vulnerable under the weight of everything they’d been through tonight. So he took one quiet breath, cracked the door open—
“Seishiro…”
The voice was soft. Fragile. Barely audible.
Nagi froze.
His heart lurched violently in his chest as he turned around slowly. The door clicked shut again behind him.
Reo was still in bed, blanket clutched in one hand, head barely lifted from the pillow. His hair was messy, cheeks still stained from dried tears, and his voice came out in that half-sleep rasp that made it sound even more raw. “I don’t want to be alone.” The words weren’t angry. Weren’t proud. They just were. Like something Reo had tried not to say, tried to bury, and failed.Nagi stepped closer, slowly, cautiously. “Are you sure?” Reo blinked at him, eyes glassy and tired. “Please.” That broke something in Nagi’s chest. Not because it was desperate. But because it was honest. Reo had fought so hard tonight; screamed, shoved, sobbed, spat venom, and now here he was, looking up at him like the last thing he wanted was for Nagi to disappear again.
Nagi walked back to the bed. He didn’t ask any more questions. Didn’t make a sound. He pulled off his hoodie, left it draped over the chair, and slipped under the covers beside Reo. The mattress dipped gently under his weight. Reo didn’t move away. Instead, he turned into Nagi’s side, head pressing into his chest, fingers gripping the hem of his shirt like he was still afraid Nagi might leave if he let go. Nagi wrapped his arms around him wordlessly. One around Reo’s back, the other resting softly on his waist, fingers splayed. His chin came to rest in Reo’s hair. They didn’t speak. The silence between them wasn’t empty this time. It was heavy with exhaustion, with everything that had been said and everything still sitting in the spaces between their breathing. Nagi closed his eyes, kissed the crown of Reo’s head, and whispered, “I’m not going anywhere. Not tonight.” And Reo, barely awake, whispered back, “Good.”
Reo lay curled against Nagi’s chest, warm under the blanket, his fingers lightly brushing against Nagi’s shirt. He wasn’t crying anymore. Just resting there, blinking slowly, letting the warmth soak into his skin. Nagi’s hand moved in slow circles on Reo’s back, his other tucked under the pillow. His touch was light, like he still didn’t quite believe he was allowed to be doing this. He felt Reo shift slightly, burrowing closer. Then, barely above a whisper, “I missed you so much.” Nagi looked down, gaze soft, voice even softer. “Yeah?” Reo nodded against him. “So much it made me insane.” Nagi smiled ; not big, not smug, just warm. Honest. “That explains a lot.” Reo let out a breath. Almost a laugh. Not quite. Nagi tipped his head, brushing his nose against Reo’s hair. “Y’know, I kept dreaming about you. You’d be yelling at me in the middle of a grocery store. Once you threw a mango at my head.” Reo blinked up at him. “A mango?” “It was very dramatic,” Nagi said seriously. “You look cute angry. The mango exploded on me. Everyone clapped.” Reo let out a real laugh, caught somewhere between amusement and disbelief. “You’re such an idiot,” he said, snorting softly. Nagi grinned against his forehead. “Yeah, but I’m your idiot. Kind of.” Reo didn’t respond to that one. He just sighed — long and slow — and melted into him like it was the first time he’d allowed himself to relax in months. “I missed hearing your voice,” Reo murmured. “Even when you didn’t say much. It was always… there.” Nagi pressed a kiss into his hair. “I missed having someone notice when I was quiet.” They lay there for a while, tangled chest-to-chest, soaking in the weight of each other’s warmth like it was the only thing keeping the night together. Eventually, Nagi shifted, gently guiding Reo to turn from him. Reo didn’t resist. He let himself be turned, arms staying tight around Nagi’s as he was pulled into the curve of his chest. Nagi curled around him like a shield, one arm tucked under the pillow, the other draped over Reo’s waist, pulling him in until there wasn’t a single inch between them. His warm breath on Reo’s neck. Fingers tracing soft lines across his stomach beneath the blanket. “I missed this,” Nagi murmured. Reo’s hand found Nagi’s at his waist, lacing their fingers together under the sheets. “Me too.” And just like that, the night settled. Nothing was solved. Not completely. But for now, there was only quiet.
And Nagi holding Reo like he’d never let him go again.