Chapter Text
Yushi doesn’t touch anything.
That’s the rule he’s made for himself—unspoken, but strict. If he doesn’t move things, then nothing really changes. If nothing changes, then maybe this isn’t over. Not completely. Not in the way that matters.
The apartment still looks like Riku could walk back in.
His shoes are gone, yeah. His clothes, his charger, the little things he needed every day. But the shape of him is still here. In the couch that dips on one side. In the empty hook by the door where his keys used to hang. In the silence that feels like it’s waiting to be filled.
Yushi stands in the kitchen, staring at two mugs.
He only uses one.
The other stays clean.
It’s stupid. He knows it is. But putting it away feels too much like deciding something.
And Yushi hasn’t decided anything.
He picks up his phone instead.
Riku’s contact is still pinned. Same name. Same picture. No “do not call,” no distance created. Just… there. Like nothing forced it to change.
Yushi doesn’t call.
Not yet.
He opens their chat.
The last message is from Riku.
Take care of yourself.
That’s it.
No heart. No extra words. No Yushi at the end like he used to type, like it meant something more when he said it.
Yushi stares at it until the words blur.
“…You’re so annoying,” he mutters, but there’s no heat in it.
Because Riku is taking care of him.
Just not in the way Yushi wants anymore.
He locks his phone and tosses it onto the couch—Riku’s side. It lands exactly where it always does, like it remembers.
Yushi hates that.
He hates that everything here feels like it remembers.
---
He tries to pack that night.
He really does.
He pulls a box out, sets it in the middle of the living room, and stands there with his arms crossed like that alone might be enough to start.
It isn’t.
The first thing he reaches for is the photo frame.
It’s not even on display—just leaning against the wall, forgotten. Or maybe avoided.
Yushi picks it up anyway.
It’s nothing special. Just a picture someone else took. The lighting’s bad, Riku’s half mid-sentence, Yushi’s not even looking at the camera.
But they’re close.
Too close to be anything but what they were.
Yushi exhales slowly, thumb brushing over the glass.
“You didn’t even want to keep this,” he says under his breath, like Riku might hear him.
Riku liked things clean. Minimal. No clutter.
No unnecessary reminders.
Yushi was the opposite.
He keeps the photo.
Of course he does.
But instead of putting it in the box, he sets it back where it was.
Packing: failed.
---
The nights are worse.
There’s too much space when he lies down. Too much quiet.
Riku used to fill it without trying. Breathing, shifting, the occasional quiet complaint when Yushi stole the blanket.
Now it’s just—
Nothing.
Yushi turns onto his side, staring at the empty half of the bed.
“…You’re really not coming back,” he says.
It sounds different out loud.
Final.
He squeezes his eyes shut, like that might undo it.
It doesn’t.
---
He breaks on the third night.
There’s no build-up. No dramatic moment.
Just Yushi sitting on the floor, back against the couch, phone in his hand, staring at Riku’s name like it might disappear if he looks away.
“You said take care of yourself,” he mumbles. “So this counts, right?”
It doesn’t.
He knows it doesn’t.
He calls anyway.
The ringing feels louder than it should.
One. Two. Three—
“…Yushi?”
Riku sounds the same. That’s the worst part.
Yushi swallows, suddenly unsure why he called in the first place. “Hey.”
A pause. Careful. Measured.
“Is everything okay?”
Yushi almost laughs.
“Yeah,” he lies. Then, quieter, “No.”
Riku doesn’t interrupt. He never does when Yushi sounds like this.
Yushi presses his head back against the couch. “I tried to pack.”
“And?”
“I didn’t.”
“…Okay.”
That’s it. Just okay.
Yushi clenches his jaw. “You’re not gonna say anything else?”
“What do you want me to say?”
I miss you.
Come back.
Don’t leave me here like this.
Yushi doesn’t say any of that.
Instead, he stares at the ceiling. “It still feels like you’re here.”
Silence.
Not the comfortable kind.
The kind that stretches too long, says too much.
“…Yushi,” Riku starts, and there’s something in his voice—something careful, distant, like he’s choosing every word before it leaves his mouth.
“I know,” Yushi cuts in quickly. “I know what you’re gonna say.”
Do you?
Because even Yushi doesn’t know what he wants to hear.
Riku exhales softly. “Then why did you call?”
That lands harder than anything else.
Yushi freezes.
Because he doesn’t have a good answer.
Because the real answer is selfish and messy and unfair.
“…I don’t know,” he admits.
And that’s the truth.
There’s a long pause.
Then—
“I think you should stop calling me.”
It’s quiet.
Gentle.
And it still feels like a slap.
Yushi’s grip tightens around his phone. “…Oh.”
“I’m not saying this to hurt you,” Riku continues, voice steady in a way Yushi hates. “But this—whatever this is—it’s not helping either of us.”
Yushi laughs, but it comes out wrong. “Yeah. Clearly.”
Another pause.
Longer this time.
Final.
“…Take care of yourself, Yushi.”
The line goes dead.
---
Yushi doesn’t move for a long time.
The apartment is silent again.
Too silent.
He looks down at his phone, at the call that’s already ended, like it might come back if he waits long enough.
It doesn’t.
Of course it doesn’t.
Yushi lets his head fall back against the couch, eyes burning but dry.
“…Right,” he whispers.
No more calls. No more pretending. No more us.
The apartment still feels like Riku.
But now—
it doesn’t feel like home.
And Yushi finally understands something he’s been avoiding since the beginning.
This place was never his.
It was theirs.
And without Riku—
there’s nothing left here for him to stay for.