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Kaiser's fifth bottle of beer is sweating on the floor, half-empty and untouched for the last ten minutes, surrounded by others already drained and tipped on their sides.
He's slouched at the edge of the bed, head tipped against the frame, hair messy from running his fingers through it too many times. His gaze flickers toward the ceiling like he's searching for answers up there. He doesn't find any.
Across from him, Ness sits cross-legged on the floor. His Seidel glass is still half full, and the beer is flat by now as the midfielder hasn't touched it in a while. He just watches Kaiser silently.
Kaiser's gaze drops to his own glass, still refusing to meet Ness's eyes. The liquid inside sloshes gently with every twitch of his hand. "You should go." His voice is rough at the edges, like the beer's made something loose inside him.
Ness doesn't move. "You said that last night. And the night before."
"And I meant it every time."
"You also looked like shit every time for me to leave you alone," Ness replies softly.
That stings. Kaiser doesn't need to be reminded that he barely looks a human right now. He already knows. But somehow, hearing it from Ness, someone who usually at his beg and call and speaks to him with nothing but devotion, hurts more than it should.
"Yeah. Because I am shit," he says anyway, spitting it out like it's a fact he's repeated to himself too many times.
He swirls the beer in his glass without drinking. "I thought I could improve and win if I left you behind," Kaiser mutters. "I thought I'd get sharper and meaner. That if I hurt enough, I'd finally be someone worth fearing again."
Ness stays quiet, but his eyes don't leave him.
"But I lost anyway," Kaiser laughs without humor. "Turns out I'm not the emperor. Just trash who makes excuses."
He reaches for the bottle again, tilting it toward his glass. Ness reaches out and gently takes it from his hand.
"You're not trash," Ness says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "You're a human with flesh and blood."
Kaiser scoffs. "You don't know anything."
He doesn't fight to get the bottle back. Instead, he just stares into the beer he already has.
"I need to suffer for it to mean something. Comfort would just rot me," Kaiser continues rambling. Ness's words are nonsense. They don't match what Kaiser knows to be true. "People like me don't get to win and be loved at the same time."
Ness's voice softens. "You're not rotting. You're just tired."
Kaiser doesn't reply. He just downs the rest of his glass in one go. The alcohol makes his limbs feel warm, but it does nothing for the weight in his chest. His next words come slower, slurred more by raw emotion than alcohol.
"You're a fool."
"Maybe I am."
Kaiser lets the silence hang between them for a short while before breaking it.
"You know what I am, Ness," he murmurs dejectedly.
Ness just won't give up, even when there's no way to bring things back to how they were. Kaiser has to end this.
"You know what I've done. To you. To others."
"It disgusts you," he continues, voice flat and distant like he doesn't care. "Or it should. Your 'love' is wasted on someone who doesn't know how to return it." A bitter laugh escapes him. "God knows you'd be better off throwing your affections at the nearest stray dog. At least they'd lick your hand in gratitude."
Ness doesn't flinch. He looks at Kaiser like he's heard this all before, and maybe he has. He gets up and shifts closer.
"Then it's a good thing I'm not asking for anything back," he says firmly, so there's no room for misunderstanding. "I'm not here because you deserve it. I'm here because I choose to be."
"I know what you've done. I know what you are. And I'm still here." He lifts a hand, hesitant, then touches Kaiser's sleeve. "It's not because I'm stupid nor because I don't see the mess of whatever we are. I'm here because I believe there's still something worth holding onto. Even if you don't."
Kaiser's breath catches. His gaze falls to the floor again in hope it'd swallow him whole. "I hate your stubbornness."
Ness just smiles. "I know."
Kaiser's fingers tighten around the glass handle. "I'll get rid of you some day."
"I'll make sure it won't happen, then.”