Work Text:
❀⋆｡˚⋆｡⋆❀⋆｡˚⋆｡⋆༄
"Nice to meet you once again
Wind over the flower"
❀⋆｡˚⋆｡⋆❀⋆｡˚⋆｡⋆༄
...Knew he’d be here
Akito thought, staring at the boy standing across from him. The thought came so easily that it almost made him laugh.
Of course he’d be here.
Somehow, after all this time, after everything that had happened between them, Akito had still known exactly where his feet would take him.
He had wandered through the streets without much of a destination, letting the familiar scenery pull him along until the noise of the city gradually gave way to the quieter streets near where they used to spend their time together.
He had told himself it was coincidence when his friends acquaintances had invited Toya too.
He had told himself that there was no reason for his chest to tighten at the sight of that familiar dual toned hair. No reason for his fingers to curl against his palms, nails digging in.
It was a lie.
Akito had spent months—more than a year at this point—trying to convince himself that he was over it.
He wasn't.
Toya stood there like nothing about him had changed.
His expression difficult to read, and those silver-grey eyes were turned toward Akito with an attentiveness that somehow hurt more than if he had looked at him with pure hatred.
Akito hated that he still knew the little things. The way Toya stood when he was waiting for someone. The slight tilt of his head when he was thinking. The way his eyes softened whenever he was listening.
He hated that his brain still remembered all of it.
He hated that he couldn't have just gotten over him the moment he flew to the other side of the world.
He hated even more that he couldn't tell what Toya was thinking anymore.
“So... you’re still singing,” Toya asked, his voice quiet as he looked at Akito.
Akito scoffed, crossing his arms tightly over his chest as though that could keep everything inside him from spilling out.
All his ugly, disgusting feelings—ripping itself out of his chest like an overgrown flower. He can't even hope for them to be blown away by the wind.
It had rooted itself deep inside, unwilling to release its grip in the slightest.
The more Akito tried to ignore it, do something out of character and run far, far away from everything he knew—
The more it stung when he had to finally face it.
“Of course I am." The answer came automatically.
It was almost insulting how easy it was.
What does Toya take him for?
Does he still think it's all childish? A silly tantrum, maybe.
That would make him a hypocrite, no?
Instead of a sneer or a disappointed look that Akito was still playing around—Toya smiled softly, and something in Akito's stomach twisted.
He wanted to vomit. Maybe he could finally get those stupid roots out.
“I’m glad,” Toya said, his expression remaining gentle—almost relieved—as he looked at him.
Akito's eyes narrowed for the briefest moment.
What was that supposed to mean?
He wanted to ask. He wanted to demand an explanation, wanted to know whether Toya understood what those words did to him after everything that had happened.
How could he so easily push him away and expect him not to hurt?
What had crossed Aoyagi Toya's mind that night—he'll never know.
Even if by some miracle of the gods, Toya asked for his forgiveness and they could become partners again—
It was far too late.
He looked away, forcing himself to focus on anything else.
Anything but Toya.
Still, the words wouldn't leave his head.
Liar.
At least, that was what Akito wanted to believe.
It would have been easier if Toya was lying.
It would have been easier if Akito could point to some obvious cruelty behind that expression and decide that he had been right all along.
Easier if Toya had become someone Akito could hate without hesitation.
But Toya wasn't.
That was the problem.
He was still Toya.
The same person who was once his partner—his best friend, his equal, his other half—the same person who used to stand beside him. It was them against the world.
And Akito had no idea what that meant anymore.
❀⋆｡˚⋆｡⋆❀⋆｡˚⋆｡⋆༄
One of the other guys they were meeting up with eventually glanced between the two of them and frowned.
“...Hey—aren’t you and Aoyagi gonna talk about life abroad or something?” the friend questioned, looking between them.
Akito's shoulders stiffened before he glanced toward Toya and then deliberately redirected his gaze toward the table.
“Huh? Where did that come from?” he asked, forcing it out to sound more natural than he felt.
“Come on—” the other friend whined, looking between them again. “You two used to be super close, right?”
Akito stared at the table.
“...Not really,” Toya answered, his voice quieter than before.
The words tasted bitter.
Not really.
That was what he wes calling it now?
Not really?
Akito remembered all those practices, all those walks home together, all those victories and defeats—all shared together.
He remembered how sure Toya sounded when they first partnered up. He really did sound like he was going to stay by his side forever.
He remembered what it felt like to have a partner, finally understanding that feeling.
All that summed up to "Not really"?
Maybe that was all it had ever been to Toya.
Akito's fingers tightened around the spoon in his hand.
Across the table, Toya remained quiet.
Akito couldn't look at him.
He couldn't stand the possibility that Toya might be looking back. Those silver-grey eyes piercing into his soul.
“I’ve already quit music,”
Akito's hand stopped moving.
The words seemed to sink beneath his skin.
“Wait, really!?” one of the others exclaimed, leaning forward in surprise. “But you were insane at singing!”
The other nodded furiously, apparently just as shocked. “Seriously! That’s such a waste! You’re not gonna start again?”
Akito kept his eyes on the dessert in front of him.
He could barely hear the rest.
“Thanks. I appreciate that... but I’ve already made my decision,” Toya explained, his tone unwavering.
Just like that night.
Akito stared at the dessert.
The spoon in his hand slowly moved through the melting sweetness, tracing meaningless circles.
He couldn't decide what hurt more.
The fact that Toya had admitted outloud to someone else that he quit, or the fact that Toya could say it so calmly.
As though music had simply been another thing he had outgrown.
As though everything they had done together could be folded away and put somewhere out of sight.
It was like Toya could move on so easily.
Akito swallowed.
He remembered the way Toya used to look at him while they sang.
He remembered the weight of that gaze.
The certainty of it all.
And now he couldn't even tell whether Toya missed it.
Akito used to pride himself on being able to read him. It had been necessary—Toya had never been particularly expressive when they first met.
Akito had learned to recognize the tiny shifts in his face, the almost imperceptible changes in his voice, the way his posture changed when something bothered him.
He'd learned which silences meant Toya was thinking and which ones meant he was upset. He'd learned when to push and when to leave him alone.
Back then, Akito had thought understanding Toya was one of the easiest things in the world.
Now he stared at those silver-grey eyes and realized he couldn't read a damn thing.
Toya looked at him.
Akito couldn't tell what he was feeling.
Was he sad?
Was he relieved?
Did he regret anything?
Did he miss him?
Did he even think about him anymore?
Or had Akito simply been stupid enough to believe that what they had meant as much to Toya as it had meant to him?
A hand waved in front of his face, pulling him out of his thoughts.
“Hello? Earth to Akito—what's up?” the friend asked, leaning slightly toward him with a concerned expression.
Akito blinked before straightening himself.
“It's nothing... turbulence on the plane, didn't get enough sleep,” he answered, forcing a calm smile.
He hoped it was convincing.
He didn't look at Toya. He was almost certain Toya was looking at him anyway.
❀⋆｡˚⋆｡⋆❀⋆｡˚⋆｡⋆༄
"Don’t throw me away
What can I do?"
❀⋆｡˚⋆｡⋆❀⋆｡˚⋆｡⋆༄
After a while, they decided to part ways.
It was getting late. The others had already left, leaving Akito alone with the person he had spent so much time trying not to think about.
He should have gone home. That would have been the sensible thing to do—he had a flight back to America soon and he still hasn't gotten over jet lag.
Instead, Akito shoved his hands into his pockets and started walking.
He could feel Toya behind him.
He didn't need to turn around to know.
Their footsteps eventually settled into the same rhythm.
For several moments, neither of them spoke.
Akito's heart pounded harder with every step.
Say something.
Ask him.
Ask why.
Ask whether he ever regretted it.
Ask whether he missed him.
Ask whether any of it had mattered.
His pride told him not to.
His anger told him that if Toya wanted to talk, he could be the one to start.
His heart, traitorous and humiliating, wanted nothing more than to hear Toya say his name the way he used to.
Akito stopped.
He turned halfway toward him, forcing himself to keep his expression neutral.
“It's been a while,” he said, looking anywhere except directly into Toya's eyes. “So I'm gonna walk around a bit before heading home. Later.”
The word he almost said caught painfully in his throat. Partner.
He swallowed it down.
Toya looked at him.
“Ah...” Toya began, his brows drawing together slightly.
Akito turned away.
He should leave.
He should just leave.
“Wait, Akito!” Toya exclaimed suddenly, his voice making Akito freeze mid-step.
Akito's shoulders tensed before he slowly looked back. “What?”
“Can we talk... just for a bit? There's something I want to say,” Toya said, lifting one hand slightly asking him to wait.
Akito stared at him.
Of course.
Of course now.
After all this time, after Akito had spent so long trying to scrape himself off the floor and pretend he didn't still want him, Toya suddenly had something to say.
He wanted to know what.
He desperately wanted to know.
He needed the closure.
That was what made it so pathetic.
Akito turned around completely and crossed his arms.
“So? What do you wanna say to me?” he asked, watching Toya carefully.
Toya lowered his gaze.
“...I'm sorry. I denied your dream, Akito,” he began, his fingers curling slightly at his sides.
Akito went still.
The words didn't sound real.
'I'm sorry.'
His chest tightened.
“I’m sure you must be thinking this is a little bit late. I understand that this isn't something I'll be forgiven for, even if I apologise. Even still... I've wanted to apologize to you all this time,” Toya continued, keeping his gaze lowered.
Akito stared.
Then his brows pulled together.
Wanted to apologize?
The question escaped before he could stop it.
“Then why didn't you apologise back then, Toya—!?” Akito demanded, his voice cracking as he clenched his fists.
There it was.
The anger he'd been keeping buried.
The hurt beneath it.
The months of unanswered questions.
Toya reached toward him.
Akito saw the movement. For one horrible second, his heart jumped.
Then Toya hesitated.
His hand stopped halfway between them before slowly withdrawing. That tiny movement hurt more than Akito wanted to admit.
He sucked in a breath and forced himself to calm down. “It's... no big deal,” Akito said, looking away.
That was a lie. He lied to him, just now.
“Akito...” Toya muttered, his expression tightening.
Akito swallowed thickly.
“It's not like I've forgiven you—but... I get that you had stuff going on. That's why... it's fine.”
It would never be fine.
But Akito couldn't bring himself to say that.
Because if he admitted that it still hurt, then he'd have to admit that he still cared. And he couldn't give Toya that. Not anymore.
Toya exhaled quietly.
“...I see,” he replied, his shoulders relaxing slightly.
Akito looked at him.
He wanted to understand him. Gods, he wanted to understand him.
But Toya's expression gave him nothing.
Akito used to know him.
He used to know what every little movement meant.
Now he was standing in front of him like a stranger wearing the face of his partner.
His partner.
The word itself felt too cruel.
That's what this all was.
Cruel.
It was all too cruel. Everything… was so, so cruel.
“Yeah...” Akito replied, looking down at the ground. “Is that all you wanted to say? In that case, I'm gonna—” Go.
A sound interrupted him.
Akito's head snapped toward it.
“That voice...” he said, his eyes narrowing as he tried to place it.
“Did you hear it as well, Akito?” Toya asked, turning toward the source of the noise.
“Yeah. No clue what it said, but—Vivid Street isn't far,” Akito answered, already feeling something strange pull at his chest.
Toya frowned.
“Would someone's singing reach us all the way out here...?” he wondered aloud, his gaze fixed in the direction of the sound.
Akito didn't answer.
Something about it felt familiar.
Not just the voice.
The feeling.
The same feeling that had dragged him toward Toya in the first place.
He didn't understand it.
He didn't want to understand it.
He only knew that standing beside Toya like this was becoming unbearable.
Akito started walking.
“To Vivid Street. You can do whatever you want,” he muttered without looking back.
He didn't wait for an answer.
He didn't know whether Toya followed.
Part of him hoped he wouldn't.
Another part of him desperately wanted to hear footsteps behind him.
That was the problem.
Akito couldn't separate the two anymore.
He had spent so long telling himself that he hated Toya for what he had done.
Sometimes, he believed it.
Sometimes, he almost managed to.
But then a memory of something Toya would say—something simple, something gentle, something that sounded like the person Akito remembered—and all that certainty would crumble.
He wanted an apology.
He got one.
He wanted an explanation.
He got one.
He wanted Toya to admit that he had been wrong.
He wanted Toya to regret leaving.
He wanted Toya to say that he had missed him.
Beneath all of that, beneath every bitter thought and every carefully constructed wall, there was one thing Akito was too ashamed to admit.
He wanted Toya back.
Even though he knew it was probably too late.
Maybe Toya had chosen those words because he knew exactly where to hurt him.
Maybe he knew that Akito would remember every promise they'd ever made.
Maybe this was Toya's way of making peace with the past.
Maybe it meant nothing at all.
Akito didn't know.
He stopped beneath the familiar streetlights and looked down at his hands.
Akito closed his eyes.
For just a second, he let himself imagine it. Let himself be a selfish sinner that prayed to the gods for love.
Maybe that was his sin. He didn't cherish his partner enough. Surely not?
His chest hurt so bad.
He opened his eyes again. Nothing had changed.
Toya was still somewhere behind him.
The past was still the past. And Akito still didn't know what Toya was thinking.
As much as it hurt, as bitter as he was, as desperately as he wanted to convince himself that he had moved on, some part of Akito was still waiting for Toya to make everything make sense.
He hated that part of himself. He hated that even after everything, his heart still yearned for a future that no longer existed.
He was all alone now.
Akito lowered his head and continued walking to Vivid Street.
He didn't look back.
He couldn't bring himself to.
Not yet.
And somewhere behind him, footsteps continued following.
Akito heard them. He said nothing.
He didn't know what they meant anymore.
❀⋆｡˚⋆｡⋆❀⋆｡˚⋆｡⋆༄
"Please wait
I can't be on my own
I want to be with you forever
I want to promise to never check it
But we'll separate in the end for sure
I beg of you, I don't care if it's a lie
Please say that you love me"
❀⋆｡˚⋆｡⋆❀⋆｡˚⋆｡⋆༄