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Two years is a long time.
That's what Reo thinks when he sees his ex walk through the revolving door, and into the Corporate Strategy Department of Mikage Corp.
He looks good.
Adorned in a grey pinstripe suit—well-fitted with peak lapels—a crisp white shirt, and… well, there are some comforts that Nagi refuses to trade for professionalism. He's wearing trainers instead of dress shoes. No tie either. It doesn't take away from how beautifully his suit compliments his white hair. It's not something he would ever buy for himself two years ago.
He looks good, Reo thinks again. Though that's not saying much coming from him. Reo thinks… no, perhaps, thought is the more appropriate word now. Reo thought Nagi looked good all the time. In suits, in hoodies, in silk shirts, in t-shirts, in jeans, in crocs, everything. And Reo thinks—no, thought—Nagi looked best in pyjamas with bedhead; sleepily laying in bed, and catching Reo by the wrist to whine that he'd be cold if Reo leaves now, so can’t he stay longer? Even if it's just five minutes longer?
Reo shakes the memory away.
The memory lingers anyway, just like him. Stutters to a stop in his mind like he himself did on the balcony of a higher floor as soon as he caught sight of a shock of white hair walking into the foyer.
The guide assisting Nagi, probably pointing out how to get to the meeting room that Nagi was emailed, must be new. Older employees would recognise Nagi easily and assume he knows the way. His partner—ex-partner—worked from home and he was efficient enough to finish the bulk of his work by lunch time.
Once upon a time, Nagi came to visit Reo regularly: to bring Reo lunches made by Baya; to insist Reo come home when he overworked himself; to drag Reo upstairs to the in-house dining area so Reo could treat Nagi to their lemon tea and bakery. Though, Reo suspects, it was less about the tea and pastries and more about missing Reo.
God, how long has it been since someone missed him? Not for work or pleasantries—just missed him for the sake of it? For him?
He's standing above, with a bird’s eye view of the scene under him, yet he has never felt so pinned down and out of control before. Here he is, two years after that fight, still staring at Nagi’s back like chasing after it will save him.
Maybe two years isn't that long after all.
Not long enough for him to change at least.
Of course, Nagi isn't looking back at him. This was their dynamic: Reo was always watching Nagi, bewitched, and Nagi was too dispassionate to do the same. The years Reo spent vying for that simple reciprocation reflects in this microcosm of their relationship like spoiled meat; ill-formed with rot seeping—
Reo freezes.
Nagi is looking up.
Dark eyes, striking against his light features, rove across the balcony until they land on him. They freeze on his taut frame and Reo wills himself to look away but can’t. He automatically catalogues the miniscule reactions. The way Nagi’s eyes widen a little, the way his mouth sets itself into a grim line, the way his shoulders sag as if weighted down by a hearse. He notes it all down in his mind as if it still matters to him what Nagi does.
In return, Nagi gazes at him with such intensity that it can’t be anything but intentional. Nagi holds the look for a moment. A moment filled with unsaid words and cold distance and the cruel, relentless passage of time.
Reo grips the railing of the balcony to steady himself.
Nagi doesn't look away. Even though the guide next to him seems to be indicating that they should move forward.
In the end, it's Reo who flinches first.
“—ikage, sir? Are you listening?”
The Project Manager is speaking. The chestnut-haired woman furrows her brows at his stiffness.
He recovers quickly, nodding along as she repeats her suggestion. “Yes, that's no problem. In fact, you should go ahead and set up for the 3 o’clock presentation without me.” He lays a reassuring hand on her arm, strong enough to be present but light enough to lack pressure, before handing her the briefcase he’s holding. “I trust you.”
“Understood, sir.” She takes the briefcase in awe, nodding resolutely. “I won't let you down.”
Proud and determined, she marches towards the lift to get to M304. It's a lucky thing that Reo has become so much better at inspiring faith. Even luckier that he's become so much better at covering his real feelings behind a smile and flattery.
It's a good thing.
How would she feel if he told her the truth? If he said he's asking just because he needs a moment alone in his office to recover from the fact that his ex looked at him for a grand total of eight seconds?
—
He speedwalks to his office, waving and smiling at his coworkers and employees as he goes. It’s the usual parade of performativeness but the twinge of apprehension in his spine makes it feel foreboding. He slumps onto his office chair and runs a hand through his hair, trying to get his bearings.
It’s the first time that Nagi and he have been in the same building in two years, much less seen each other. Why is he here? No, that's a stupid question. Mikage Corp. has thousands of projects running simultaneously and Akabane Solutions, the cyber security company Nagi works for, would be lucky to get a contract with an elite name such as Mikage Corp.
In fact, Reo is supposed to be meeting with his boss, Mr Akabane, at two o’clock to discuss such a contract. Maybe that's what Nagi is here for. Maybe he's getting onboarded as one of the major specialists working on that contract. Reo wills himself to keep up with this line of thinking, of work and contracts and the current projects he's managing, to distract himself from the white-haired spectre on his foyer.
But there are memories clamouring to greet him all at once.
Nagi huffing out a rare laugh at a stupid joke he made. Nagi turning big, pleading eyes to him to ask for something they both knew Reo will agree to in a heartbeat. Nagi gritting his teeth, in that way he tends to do when he's trying not to cry, the very last time they saw each other. Nagi wrapping his arms around Reo, big and warm, on the sofa and Reo feeling as though there was no happier place to be. Nagi saying his name in that loving, indulgent tone. Nagi. Nagi. Nagi.
The memories fill Reo up to the brim with sick desire and even sicker reproach all at once. God, he feels like he's going to throw up. Why did Nagi have to look up at him like that?
It was always Reo who had to tilt a doting head up to meet Nagi’s gaze. Nagi was the taller of the two, even when they were kids, and he’s only grown taller since then. It felt strange to have been the one looking down. So strange that he hadn't even realised that he was doing it until Nagi looked back at him.
There's a knock at the door.
It brings Reo back to reality. He’s sitting alone in his office with his face in his hands as if he can't stand anyone seeing him or having to see anyone else in return. The light of the sun is pouring into the space like it wants to throw an ill-timed spotlight on his grim reminiscence.
At the sound of the knock, Reo sits up with an automatic smile on his face.
His Executive Assistant enters the office with a hesitant gait.
“Sir, I wanted to check that you…” He trails off uneasily, clearly unsure how to voice his concern. “Did you get my memo about your 2 o’clock?”
“Of course, Takaba.” The lie is on his lips before he knows it. He's never seen Takaba look so spooked before. Almost as if he just saw a ghost.
Takaba breathes a sigh of relief at his reassuring reply. “Your 2 o’clock is here now so ping me when you want them in.”
Reo nods. He feels rather weary at the prospect of yet another meeting. He still hasn't had lunch. When Takaba leaves, Reo lets himself stare blankly at a wall. He wonders if Nagi also has a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach from being in the same building as him or if he's alone in that.
No.
That's not even a thought worth entertaining.
Of course, he's alone. He’s been alone since Nagi left.
He takes a final deep breath, bracing himself for another droll meeting, before pinging Takaba to let his 2 o’clock in. It's unusual for him to have business meetings in his office since he likes to keep it as a private work area he can focus in, but he wanted Mr Akabane to feel comfortable. He wanted this meeting to work out for Akabane Solutions. It would be good for them. (It would be good for Nagi.)
Reo shakes the stray thought away and reviews his notes for the meeting as he waits for his EA to let the other meeting participants enter. At least, he wasn't the meeting chairperson so he wouldn't have to introduce everyone to each other. He only has to make a couple of his suggestions known once the meeting is really under way.
It’ll be fine.
—
It’s not fine.
It seems fine. He’s shaking hands and making small talk as usual. Mr Takahashi, a new member of the Merger and Acquisition department and the Chairperson of the meeting. Mr Watanabe, the Head of the Technology Security department. Mr Nakamura, perhaps the most egregious member of the Executive Department. A couple of relatively new faces from Red Herring, the most recent company Mikage Corp. has acquired.
And then Nagi Seishirou walks in.
Mr Takahashi indicates to Nagi. “Mr Mikage, I’d like you to meet Mr Nagi who will be stepping in for Mr Akabane as the primary representative of Akabane Solutions today.” And then to him. “Mr Nagi, please meet Mr Mikage, our Chief Restructuring Officer.”
Reo imagines this is what it's like to be shot through the heart; a cruel bullet piercing through the left ventricle. Blinding, overwhelming shock followed by a burst of adrenaline.
Meet Mr Nagi. Meet.
He almost laughs.
Before anyone can notice, he shuts down and defaults to his new normal: a smile and flattery. He even adds a wink to accentuate the playful way he says, “Nice to meet you, Mr Nagi.”
Up close, Reo sees that his shirt is surprisingly ironed. The top two buttons are undone and, from what Reo can see, he also seems to have kept up with his workout routine. He smells nice too, like fresh citrus, labdanum, and cedar. Reo wonders what motivated him to get so dressed up.
The elite heir closes his mouth in a tight-lipped smile and tells himself not to think about it. Overall, it's a good impromptu performance. His hand trembles when he shakes Nagi’s but he hopes his grip is firm enough for it to go overlooked.
Reo doesn't get why Nagi looks so horrified.
Nagi mouths the words ‘meet you’ to himself, appalled. As if he is watching an art restorator paint over a priceless artifact in the wrong shade. His shoulders slump in resignation before they rise again, determined to match the energy. “Mr Mikage.”
The words throw Reo off more than the tone. Besides the odd joke, has Nagi ever called him anything but Reo?
He tries for a smile. It feels strained. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”
The light admonishment only seems to sour Nagi’s mood further. “Actually, according to our last conversation, I know “fuck all about you or what you want”. Sir.” Nagi spits out the last word like it's poison.
Reo doesn't know what he expected but it's not this. Has he ever seen Nagi so… emotional? So willing to immediately set aside his passivity for something more explosive.
Nagi frees his hand to greet the others. The warmth caressing Reo's hand leaves with him. For a moment, Reo simply stands there, unsure of what to do next, in his own office. He's lucky that nobody else heard the interaction. Perhaps that was intentional on Nagi's part, or perhaps it was his usual soft-spoken tone.
“Shall we sit down now?” Mr Takahashi calls, looking to Reo for confirmation. It’s a casual way to get the meeting started but it's also a subtle deference to Reo, since the venue is his office. It's nice of him.
Reo privately makes a mental note of it. He needs competent allies if he is ever to take over Mikage Corp. in full. He indicates to his conference table and its fleet of ergonomic chairs. “Please do.”
Reo lets Mr Takahashi take the head of the table as the Chairperson of the meeting and settles on his left. Nagi follows Reo's lead, almost subconsciously, and takes the seat on Reo's right-hand side.
There is a slight thud sound as Nagi sits down and Reo is almost certain that he is imagining it until Nagi is trying to draw out a diagram to demonstrate how a security feature works and patting his empty breast pocket for his pen. He must've dropped it without realising. It wouldn't be a bad slip-up at the start of the meeting, during the pre-amble, but now that they're in the nitty-gritty and Nagi is being asked to showcase his skills and what Akabane Solutions has to offer, it will definitely be frowned upon.
Narrowing his eyes at the way Mr Watanabe scowls, Reo quietly presses a pen into Nagi’s thigh under the table. It's subtle enough that they could presume that Nagi misplaced his pen in his trouser pocket. Nagi takes the pen, warm hand brushing past Reo’s, and carries on. His eyes linger on Reo’s for a moment in thanks, and Reo is sure that the interaction is far more intimate than he means for it to be.
Reo grimaces.
“As I was saying…” Nagi’s diagrams, like his explanations, are simple and straightforward. He doesn't bother with tech jargon and Reo can tell that the less technologically-minded meeting attendees appreciate it. He presents his proposals without any awkward pauses and lays out the expected outcomes and potential risk factors.
Reo nods along. It all seems to be exactly what they're looking for except, “That timeline seems rather long. Is there a way to streamline the process?”
“No.”
As soon as Nagi says it, he winces. That was clearly more blunt than he meant for it to be.
Reo is still parsing through how to move on from the rejection nonchalantly when Mr Nakamura, an older member of the executive department wheedles into the conversation unnecessarily, “Of course, don't mind Mikage Junior. He’s still new to the company, the finer details don't always register for him.”
Nagi turns to the older man, seemingly half surprised that there are other people still in the room and half aghast at the implication that Reo is unfit for his position. His glare effectively shuts the executive up.
“Isn't it impressive that he's so new but has already contributed so much towards the growth of Mikage Corp. and our meeting today?”
“P-Perhaps.”
“Definitely impressive,” Nagi doubles down.
The man seems sort of lost on what to say. “Of course. Impressive.”
Nagi turns back to Reo, icy stare leaving for something distant but warmer. “Do you have a suggestion for how we can streamline this, Mr. Mikage? I should hear you out.”
Reo flips to his relevant notes on boosting manpower to go over the main points. He keeps it professional and feels Nagi's eyes bore into the side of his head at the robotic parlance.
After his concise overview, Nagi hums sheepishly. “That makes things easier for me too. Thank you, Reo.”
If Nagi notices his own slip-up, he doesn't show it. But, for the rest of the meeting, it almost feels as if they're a double act again. Bouncing off of each other effortlessly, as if it will always be harder to stand against each other than to stand with each other. Reo marvels at how brief their war of attrition was once they were in the same room again.
By the time the meeting rolls to an end, like a moth flying headfirst into torturous flames, he's wondering why he dreaded it so much. But, try as he might to force himself to open that Pandora's box of possibilities, he is too afraid to actually be tempted. This is only a passing fleet of fancy. He’s not in love with Nagi anymore. It’s been too long. Even if it hadn't, Nagi certainly doesn’t love him. Besides, he doesn't even have an excuse to strike up a conversation with him one-on-one.
He waves Nagi and the rest of the attendees off cheerfully without batting an eye. Without thinking about how warm Nagi’s hands are. Without thinking about Nagi's lingering eyes. Without thinking about how Nagi's back is getting further and further away again, just like two years ago.
Alone in his office again, he drags his feet to the table to clear his notes away when his eyes catch sight of something under the table. It’s a blue Bonobono-themed pen that Reo still remembers buying as a gift to this day. It’s the pen Nagi dropped at the beginning of the meeting.
It's an excuse.
He shouldn't. He really shouldn't.
—
He does.
Reo clambers out of his office towards the main lifts when he remembers that Nagi rarely ever used those, preferring Reo’s executive lift instead. He doesn't have the pass for it anymore, but Reo bets that Nagi’s feet automatically led him there anyway.
He's right.
Reo turns into an inner hallway and finds Nagi there. He falls into the space next to him and lifts the pen towards him. “You kept it.”
Nagi turns to him, lips slightly upturned but unsurprised. As if it’s natural for Reo to walk with him, perfectly matching his stride. He takes the pen and puts it back in his breast pocket. “It hasn't been that long.”
Reo moves his hand, seemingly tactless, just to make sure his hand brushes Nagi's in their brief window of closeness. “Hasn't it?”
Reo means for it to be playful, he really does. But his voice is too wistful and pointed; honest in a way that only Nagi can make him.
Reo sees the exact moment that Nagi chooses not to answer the question—the way his eyes flick away and come back to Reo a little more fraught with emotion before changing the subject instead. “Are you heading the same way as me?”
Oh, Nagi must be assuming that he only came to return the pen on the way to another meeting. Reo wisely chooses not to correct him as they stop in front of the lift. “Depends. Where are you headed?”
“The dining area. I haven't been in a while.” Nagi clicks the button to call the lift to the floor. “You can treat me.”
“And, why would I do that?” Reo asks, but he steps into the lift with Nagi in silent approval.
Reo doesn't know why he does it. It’s one thing to make up an excuse to talk and rebuild bridges and another thing to get food with an ex at an old haunt. But, maybe they could be friends again. It wouldn't be the same but it would be something. He wouldn't have to be alone.
He would get to have Nagi in his life again.
Nagi doesn't miss a beat. “I forgot my wallet.”
“No, you didn't.”
“I could've,” Nagi says, but there's no insistence in his tone.
“You're a terrible liar.”
Again, Reo means it lightly but there is a heaviness in the ribbing. It makes everything come out wrong, strained through layers of hurt that weren't there before. By the time the lift arrives, there is a thick silence over them. Without other people to cushion it or an obvious excuse to talk, Reo doesn't know what to say. And, if he doesn't, he knows Nagi doesn't either. The closed off space and proximity doesn't help either.
But Nagi has always been the braver of the two of them. Though, maybe reckless is more accurate.
“So…” Nagi starts. He blinks in that way he does when he knows he's going to say something blunt but he doesn't really know how not to.
Reo braces himself. He's been hurt by this bluntness before.
Nagi carries on unaware, “Are you… seeing anyone? Or…”
Reo can't help it. He bursts out laughing. It sounds a little hysterical, even to his own ears. Fuck.
Fuck.
This was a bad idea.
He hates the way his heart leaps at the little question. He hates the blush on his cheeks. He hates how happy he is that Nagi asked. But, most of all, Reo hates himself. The way his relentless heart holds onto its craving for Nagi like it beats only for that one desire.
Nagi squints as if he's trying to figure out what's so funny. “Is that a yes?”
The reply is sharp. “I'm not answering that.”
The lift arrives at their floor and Reo fully intends to leave as soon as he can. Nagi's straightforwardness scares him. Nobody is that honest about what they want; ergo, there is no chance that Nagi actually wants Reo. The doors take a while to open. He hits the button to open them with unnecessary aggression, trying to get out of this compact space as soon as possible and frowns.
The doors won't open.
He turns to Nagi, hoping his panic isn't obvious. “The doors won't open.”
“Oh.” Nagi is about as helpful as Reo expects him to be, which is to say, he is not helpful at all. He pushes the “open doors” button once, sweeps his eyes across the lift’s cramped walls like they have the solution, and then settles down on the floor.
Reo stabs the open button with his pointing finger a few more times. He tries to budge open the doors himself. He presses the emergency button to let the maintenance service know there's an issue. He calls his EA about his inevitable delay. He breathes a little too fast. He takes deep breaths. He looks down at the floor in disbelief, gesturing wildly at Nagi. “Are you just gonna sit there?!”
Nagi blinks, seemingly unconcerned. “You called maintenance. What else is there to do?”
“You…” Reo holds back his tongue to say something softer. “God, you never change.”
It’s not soft.
It's bitter and impulsive; words torn out of him drenched in resentment like an open wound. It brings him back to that night two years ago. He was bitter and impulsive then too.
For how often he thinks about it, he doesn't remember much about what started it.
He knows that he planned something spontaneous and insisted Nagi come along for the ride.
Nagi had been terse, drowning in a stressful project at work that he was working overtime to solve—he said something blunt about how annoying Reo’s impulsiveness is—and it hurt Reo enough for him to yell. Something about how boring and whiny Nagi is.
And that was it.
It snowballed into something else entirely.
Because it wasn't really about the barb itself, even if it pricked them. What really drew blood was the fact that they knew they had each said it deliberately. They each put the blade right where the other’s fragile heart was and dug it deeper between the ribs. You needed truth for that, because that is what hurts the most. You needed weight for that, to push through the thick surrounding walls. You needed intent for that, to be aware of what the reaction would be and to do it not in spite of it but because of it.
It was a betrayal; cacophonous and ringing in both of their ears.
There was a full-blown screaming match. The deepening of the kind of wound that bleeds and bleeds and never gets the chance to heal because you can’t stop picking at it.
Reo recalls their final words with perfect clarity.
“Get the fuck out then. Just fucking leave!” Reo gestured wildly between Nagi and the door. “I never want to listen to you—or see you—ever again.”
Nagi scoffed. “You don't want me to leave.”
Nagi's reply had been laced with so much arrogance and presumptuousness. It made the needy part of Reo shrivel up in self-disgust and spit back.
“You know fuck all about what I want! You don't even know what you want most of the time.”
Reo remembers feeling triumphant about getting the last word before the slamming door and the crushing grief of what he had just done sunk in. It is this confusing mix of both of those emotions, triumph and grief, that make him tense now.
Nagi speaks, infuriatingly calm. “You seem more… spirited than you did in the meeting.”
“You seem calmer than you were in the meeting,” Reo shoots back.
“I know, I know. It wasn't…” As always, Nagi relents first. He stands up, a reluctant hand on his neck. Nervous but not scared. “It was just the way you acted when he re-introduced us. You made it seem like everything we had meant nothing to you. It made me so…” Nagi seems to realise at this point that he's getting way too personal in an office lift. Somehow, he doesn't seem to mind. Honest to a fault as always, he finishes his thought. “It broke my heart all over again. I got angry.” He looks away as if he's ashamed of the admission. Then, as if he is drawn in by something cosmic that makes him helpless to the action, he looks back at Reo again. “I’m sorry, Reo. For everything.”
Reo takes a sharp breath.
Nagi’s eyes are watery.
It takes all the fight out of him. He can't help but think that this is just like all of their fights before: Nagi always apologising first and Reo not knowing how to respond to the sincerity besides to be sincere right back.
It isn't like that. They aren't together anymore. It's been years.
Still.
Reo’s loyalty to shutting himself off to his own pain despite how bloody wounds stain, strong for a solid two years, breaks down. He can almost hear the way it shatters on the granite floor. He takes a shuddering breath and tries to blink back his tears as he says what he has wanted to say for two years. “I’m sorry, too.”
He folds into himself, guilt so unbearable he can’t look at Nagi. Tears chill his cheeks in waves as sobs wrack his body. Not even a breath later, there is warmth enveloping him. Nagi holds him in his arms and Reo stands there, cocooned inside, undeserving of the comfort they bring. The taller man whispers sweet nothings to him soothingly, until Reo can think past his tears.
Pressed into Nagi’s chest, he feels safe and secure. He's pretty sure Nagi moved an arm to wipe his own tears a couple seconds ago. His hand is laid against Nagi’s breast pocket, against the Bonobono pen he gifted Nagi so long ago.
It’s strange. It's Nagi’s favourite pen, or at least it used to be, and he doesn't like taking it out of the house in case he loses it. He can’t imagine Nagi ever bringing it to a meeting of all things. It gives Reo pause.
Reo pulls away, hands resting against Nagi’s chest. His tears stop at the realisation. “You dropped the pen on purpose.”
“I dropped the pen on purpose,” Nagi agrees.
His voice cracks, raw and vulnerable. “Why?”
“It's the only thing I took from the apartment besides my clothes and a few essentials so…” Nagi trails off and Reo doesn't know if he wanted Reo to give him the pen back, if he wanted Reo to keep it as a goodbye, or if he wanted to see what Reo would choose.
He ignores the elephant in the room: what it means for Nagi to want Reo to give the pen back to him. To want anything at all from Reo. “You didn't take anything else?”
Nagi’s arms go slack. “You didn't even check what I left behind before selling off our apartment?”
Reo shakes his head vehemently. “I didn't sell it off!”
“Oh.” Nagi’s voice rises from drooping misery into hope. “Why not?”
“Your name is on the paperwork too, I can’t sell it off without your signature.”
There's a determined glint in his eyes when he presses for more. He leans in and it is then that Reo notices how intimate their position is. “And?”
Reo, unaware of what he's doing, clutches onto Nagi’s shirt. “In case you come back.”
“Do you want me to come back?”
“You know the answer to that already.” It's an apology and confirmation all at once. “Do you want your pen back?”
“You know the answer to that already.” Nagi responds in kind. Reo sees the way Nagi realises that Reo might misunderstand his words in real time and decides to clarify: “Yes, I do.”
Reo would let himself fall back into Nagi again. He really would. But, he knows now that the honesty drawing him back to Nagi is the same honesty that broke him so easily before. “This isn't going to work.”
“Why not?”
“Because you were right. I am impulsive. And… annoying.” Reo sees Nagi beginning to protest so he lifts a hand, palm forward, to silence him. “What does it matter anyway? I’ll hurt you again and you'll hurt me again too.”
“So what?”
“So what?!” Reo repeats in incredulity. He tries to phrase it in a way that Nagi will understand. “It's going to be a hassle.”
“I know.” Nagi searches Reo's eyes for answers like he genuinely doesn't understand. “So what if it's a hassle? It's worth it, Reo. We're worth it.”
Reo holds Nagi’s piercing eyes until they see through him. He looks down at the floor in misery. “You don't want me.”
Defiantly, Nagi lifts Reo’s face up by the chin so that they're eye to eye again. “Don't I?”
The taller man lets his eyes trail down to Reo's lips. He leans in, an inch away, and stops just before their lips meet. Wordlessly, he gives Reo the choice to close the distance between them or keep it as it is.
Reo takes a shuddering, disbelieving breath.
Is it possible to close this distance? Sure, Reo can scale this meagre inch and touch Nagi. But, if they're really trying this again, can he scale all the time they've spent apart—all the ways in which they've grown apart and alone? Reo can slot their lips together but he can’t change the ways in which they’ve drifted apart. He can’t do anything if their jagged edges don’t fit together anymore.
Reo can kiss him.
Before Reo can think of anything else, he does. His lips brush Nagi’s impulsively. He leans away just as quickly as he leaned in, hesitant.
There is still a chance, Reo’s cynical heart cries, of this being a sick way for Nagi to get back at him. For his partner—ex-partner—to pull away, satisfied at the way Reo still pathetically wants him after all this time. The thought makes him angry all over again. It feels as though his nails are scratching at a relentlessly itchy scab wound until it bleeds.
Then Nagi is kissing him, hard enough to shock his thoughts into silence. This kiss is different from Reo’s brief and cowardly admission; this is fierce and desperate and determined all at once. Reo parts his lips in surprise and Nagi is already slipping into him like he never left; tongue tangling with his in an unrehearsed dance until the bitterness in their hearts melts into something gooey sweet.
When they pull apart, breathless and unkempt, there is still a spit trail connecting them.
Reo can hear the barely-contained joy in his voice when he demands, “Don't leave me again.”
“Don’t tell me to leave again,” Nagi shoots back.
Reo smiles. For real this time; wide and unrepentant. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Nagi murmurs in agreement. Then they are diving back into each other, as inevitable as it is addictive. This kiss is more meandering, reassured in the time they have with each other. Reo roves his hands across Nagi's chest in appreciation. Nagi sucks a hickey above his collar and Reo lets him. It's nice to have proof.
Well, it's nice until Reo sees the lift doors get wrenched open by the building maintenance service and he's looking at three workers clad in reflective safety vests and several of his employees gawking at Nagi kissing a ticklish spot between his neck and his ear.
Reo scrambles to look presentable. He pushes Nagi off of him and straightens his clothes. He cleans up quickly enough that he spots a couple people blink as if to wonder if what they saw before was simply a mirage.
But Nagi is standing right next to him looking just as he did before; crumpled shirt, messy hair, and plump lips. Still only looking at Reo imploringly. “Still think I don't want you?”
“The whole floor can see what you want!”
Nagi dismisses that with a shake of his head. “Can you?”
Reo, in a rare moment of bashfulness, gives up on words and settles for pushing Nagi’s face away with an embarrassed hand. Nagi lets him do it with a fond look even if it's smushing his face into an awkward position. Then, he takes Reo’s hand and interlocks it with his to get Reo to stop.
Reo fumbles his hand away, trying and failing to will himself to stop blushing, and scrambles off. “I’m late for my meeting!”
“Reooo,” Nagi whines, long legs catching up easily as Reo speed-walks away from the scene. “Don't push me away.”
Is two years a long time? Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. Reo is starting to think that it doesn't matter if he and Nagi can fall back together, into each other's arms, no matter what the answer is.