Chapter Text
Genji must have unlocked his phone about a hundred times by now, written out whole messages, only to delete them seconds later. He’s hovered his thumb over the re-dial button for minutes, before locking his phone, only to repeat the whole process moments after. Hanzo had stopped trying to contact him a week ago, but that didn’t mean Genji had stopped debating how to return his calls and messages, replaying the voicemails his older brother had left him over and over again.
Stuffing his phone in the pocket of his shorts, Genji lifts his gaze, taking in the sight of his hotel room. It’s empty now, but the signs of weeks of non-stop partying still remained. There’s dried up red wine on the floor, dozens of empty sushi trays stacked in the kitchen, and all the chairs have been pushed together in the corner. He vaguely recalls moving them, intent on building a pillow fort, just before he threw everybody out. It had reminded him too much of Hanzo.
He sighs and gets up from the sofa, trying to distract himself from the temptation of digging his phone out of his pocket by gathering empty bottles and wipe off coke-dusted mirrors. He cleans his face of smudged eyeliner and glitter before grabbing his white fluffy coat, a pack of cigarettes, and head for the balcony.
The air is mild and the smell of rain still lingers in the air. The large grey stone tiles are cold and wet underneath his feet, and he spends a good five minutes dipping his toes in the small puddles, before lighting up a cigarette. He watches as the smoke swirls in the wind, trying not to think of how Hanzo would scold him for his unhealthy habit.
Below him Tokyo’s colored lights and big animated billboards shimmer and flicker, illuminating the never empty streets, swarms of people on an eternal journey. Genji enjoys being above it all like this, not because he feels superior, but because he likes watching people. Hanzo doesn’t, but he’d kept him company in countless cafés regardless, working as he let Genji consume unhealthy amounts of iced coffee. He feels a sting of pain in his chest and the familiar prickle of tears in his eyes as he recalls holding his brothers hand underneath the table, his hand warm and dry, thumb brushing over his knuckles in a calming pace.
The knot in Genji’s stomach has gotten tighter over the past few days, gnawing at his insides, despite his best efforts to drown it in expensive alcohol and cheap company. He takes a long drag of his cigarette and wipes his eyes in the sleeve of his jacket. It’s gone on for far too long, and by now he isn’t even sure what started all of this. They’d fought, sure, but what about he couldn’t recall. Their father’s death? The strain of having to keep their relationship a secret? Genji’s wish to move away, to dissolve the Shimada empire, and escape? Hanzo’s dedication to their parent’s legacy, the pressure from the elders to settle down and take his father’s place?
Genji’s hand is reaching for his phone before he even realizes, cigarette flicked into a small puddle on the ground. He hesitates for a second, head spinning from alcohol and conflicting emotions. His brothers face stares at him from the phone screen, stern eyes and soft lips, the worried wrinkle between his brows especially visible in this photo. Swiftly Genji hits the green button and puts the phone to his ear.
His heart is pounding so fast he’s afraid it’ll burst through his chest, the beep from the phone signifying that his brother hasn’t picked up yet. The feeling of regret creeps under his skin, worried that he’s missed his chance to reconcile. Just as he’s about to hang up as there’s a soft click on the other end of the line. His mouth goes dry, swallowing the words as he tries to get them past his lips. There’s a rustle of papers and the sound of a door being closed.
“Genji?” Hanzo says, voice soft and fragile, like he’s scared the wrong word will make his younger brother hang up. Genji smiles at his brother’s obvious concern, bowing his head slightly as he pushes for his voice to come through a little clearer.
“Hanzo,” he starts, feeling the tears burning in his eyes again, “I’ve missed the sound of your voice.”