#and i want a girl to pat me..maybe...like...a certain..workaholic..

Higgs collapsed onto the bed in his private quarters. Exhaustion and fatigue plagued his body as he managed to pull himself up and took the back straps off his porter uniform. He couldn’t wait to get out of it entirely, having not showered in almost two weeks because of a spike in BT activity at his point of delivery. It had been hell trying to get back to the colony in one piece. Even with his DOOMs at such a high level, the amount of BTs were unfathomable this time around. A couple top side folk not wanting to be involved with any of the Knot communities unfortunately paid the price for freedom. Higgs tried to push the deaths out of his mind. There was nothing he could have done. He had a job to do.

When he finally got to take a shower, Higgs felt like he reached nirvana. The warm water soothed all the tender spots in his joints and muscles. Even though he had become quite fit since taking up mentor ship with the old school porters, Higgs never thought his body would get used to the strain. If the weight of the packages didn’t hurt his back, the terrain on the outside of the colonies sure did. Everywhere he went there were cliffs to climb, rocks to jump from, and even enemies to outrun. Not to say Higgs didn’t like his work. He liked feeling a part of the community, a part of something bigger than himself. Since he left his daddy all those years ago, Higgs struggled to fit in and finally had found his calling.

Higgs loved the independence of the porter life. He got to see the world and wasn’t confined to the typical rules most colonists had to endure for the sake of mankind's survival. He also didn’t have to deal with the caste system in place. Higgs mostly kept to himself, stayed out of trouble, and kept his head low. He’d need to do that if he was going to make his break having a porter business of his own.

Getting out of the shower, Higgs grabbed a towel nearby and pat down his body, saving his hair for last. He sighed and sat back down on the bed, quirking a brow as he noticed someone had been trying to contact him on the big screen across the room. He grabbed a small remote, clicked a button and on the screen was a familiar face. His elderly boss Patrick “Pat” Atomic greeted him with a grumble, white mustache covered in soot and god only knows what else.

“You in one piece Monaghan?” Pat asked as Higgs nodded tiredly.

“I’m crystal.” Higgs said nonchalant as Pat murmured something along the lines of ‘good’. Higgs was too out of it to pay attention, not to mention steamed because of the shower.

“After that void out back East I was starting to get worried. I thought you would have gotten caught up in that mess.” Pat said as Higgs scratched the side of his nose and shrugged.

“There’s nothing I could have done to save anyone. So I didn’t bother.”

“Sounds a little heartless.” Pat said suspiciously as Higgs smirked, fiddling around with a drawer near his bed and taking out a pack of cigarettes. Lord knows he needed to smoke.

“Aren’t you the one that told me it comes with the job?”

“Point taken. Listen kid, I know you probably want to get ready for another route, but I’m going to give it to you straight: we don’t have anymore deliveries.”

Higgs sighed, looking up at the screen with contempt.

“You gotta be kidding me. What about the deliveries going to port?”

“Your little shit weasel of a friend Monty took care of that. Higgs, with these BT breakouts happening at a high rate on the normal routes, we can’t afford to take any risks. I know you got DOOMs, and you have no problem getting past the likes of those awful things, but we can’t risk losing you out on a job just because you’re a workaholic. You don’t want to end up becoming a pack MULE, right?”

Higgs couldn’t argue. He was too tired, not to mention he knew it was futile. Pat always had a way to shut him up, even if Higgs had the best intentions at heart. Pat was from the older generation, one of the first groups that ever experienced the Death Stranding first hand. No one argued with him since he had unconventional wisdom among other skills.

“What do you suggest I do?” Higgs asked, watching at how Pat rubbed the back of his neck. Truth be told, the old man wasn’t certain. As a porter, there wasn’t much one could participate in when it came to colony life. People couldn’t just mingle with others, and most didn’t want to.

“Take it easy. Sleep. Jerk yourself off. Get your nails done. I don’t fucking know.”

Higgs stifled a laugh from his bosses remark as Pat sighed.

“I know how much these big league jobs mean to you kid, but you gotta be patient. You’ll have your own joint in no time. Hell, it won’t be long until you’re bossing around lazy ingrates like Monty and telling them to quit fucking up packages or it’s gonna put us out of business.”

Once more, Pat got a laugh out of Higgs. Higgs didn’t open up to many people, but over the years of working with Pat since he was a kid, he had taken a liking to the older man. Pat was somewhat of a father Higgs wished he could have had. Out of most old timers in the colony, Pat was one of the few that respected Higgs for wanting to become a porter at such a young age. He saw that Higgs had grit and wasn’t afraid to take risks like most folks in the business nowadays. Having DOOMs was a plus for the job regardless if people within the colonies judged one for it.

“How long of a wait time do you think I’ll have, sir?” Higgs asked curiously as Pat fumbled around on the other side of the screen, running numbers no doubt.

“Probably a good two weeks. If anything comes up, you get first dibs. Why don’t you go check on Monty? The little shit should be back from Lake Knot.”

“Do I get a bonus if I babysit him again?” Higgs asked sarcastically as Pat rolled his eyes on the other side of the screen.

“You just might. Take it easy Monaghan.” The screen faded and once more, Higgs fell backwards onto the bed and took in a deep breath. Sleep was starting to sound pleasant. He hadn’t had a good nights rest in a long time. If the DOOMs didn’t get the best of him, contending with MULEs and other creeps that somehow survived topside killed whatever sleeping regiment he developed in Middle Knot. Higgs rubbed his head, debating with himself before he sighed in a defeated manner. He leaned up, tossed the bath towel into a hamper nearby then searched for some normal clothing. As much as Higgs didn’t want to deal with Monty and whatever shenanigans the guy always schemed up, he needed some company.

“Hey, Higgs, up here!” Monty, the tall and lanky blond shouted towards Higgs from one of the balconies leading into the delivery terminal. Higgs gave a wave and then found his way to the staircase. He was greeted by a tackle of a hug from Monty, almost knocking the wind out of Higgs as he gently brushed his colleague back.

“Are you trying to dry hump my leg, what’s gotten into you?” Higgs asked teasingly as Monty laughed, swinging his arm around Higgs’s shoulder and having him follow. As much as Higgs had issues with physical contact, he didn’t mind Monty’s antics. He had grown used to it over the years since they both left the orphanage back in the day.

“I got word from the boys up top that there’s going to be a party in Central! A big one! Me and you can cruise on through and have some fun. I think we’ll be the only two out of five porters there cause everyone else is MIA on deliveries. You know what that means?”

“We end up losing our jobs cause you piss off the wrong guy at this event?” Higgs countered as Monty rolled his eyes.

“Damn you’re no fun. Anyway, it means that we can mingle with some of the big league guys or girls. Whatever you’re into!” Monty gave Higgs a wink, only earning an eye roll from Higgs.

“Monty, I think we should discuss what’s been going on with your delivery routes. The boss mentioned you had another damage deduction.”

Monty made a face at Higgs, letting go of Higgs’s shoulder as he sighed.

“Can we talk about work later? C’mon. I just got back, you just got back, lets relax and talk shop later alright?”

“Monty--” Higgs began to protest.

“I promise! Look Higgs, I haven’t seen you in what, over three weeks just about? I miss my only bro here at this godforsaken job. Try to lighten up a little bit for me, will you? I bet you wouldn’t appreciate me asking you what happened with that void out on your delivery.”

Higgs furrowed his brows, glaring a bit at Monty. He had unintentionally rubbed salt in a wound for Higgs that had yet to heal. Despite acting nonchalant about the ordeal to Pat, Higgs felt guilty for what happened on this last route. His sensitivity to BT’s having triggered the deaths to happen in the first place.

“Higgs I’m sorry I didn’t mean to push the envelope.” Monty began as Higgs shook his head, letting out a tired sigh.

“Don’t worry about it. Care to tell me more about this event you want to go to?” Higgs asked, trying to change the subject back to something he could tolerate. Monty was grinning from ear to ear, and Higgs couldn’t help but compare him to a clown with a huge smile. His colleague always had a comical vibe to him, charisma was his forte. Higgs had his moments of fun too and being free spirited, but with how badly he wanted to start up his own porter business, Higgs didn’t have much time to goof off.

“I never thought you’d ask!” Monty began as Higgs and him both started to walk around the balcony. Higgs took out a cigarette he kept in his pocket and him and Monty began to smoke once Monty provided the lighter.

“Now don’t get upset, but the party isn’t sanctioned.”

“Shit, really?” Higgs was already getting nervous hearing that as he took a long drag from his cigarette. Monty nodded, acting like nothing was wrong.

“What kind of stuff are the hosts of this soiree stealing from the vaults?” Higgs asked curiously as Monty grinned once more, the excitement in his features was hard to miss.

“All the good shit you can only dream of. There’s gonna be aged booze, weed, some other drugs I don’t even fucking think we’ve heard of, and some other temptations.”

“You know we’re royally fucked if we get caught right?” Higgs asked, as Monty waved him off.

“That’s a big if. I know my way around the top levels of this damn colony. If anything happens we can be out of there in a pinch. Boss won’t know, and nobody else will. Trust me. I’ve done it a dozen times.”

While Monty took a moment to inhale another puff from his cigarette, Higgs was beside himself in thought. Because of how bad the Death Stranding had become, certain novelties like alcohol and the like had to be rationed. It varied from one colony to the next in the Knot cities, with some having more strict rules than others. These types of guilty pleasures were only reserved for special occasions, where everyone could celebrate an accomplishment together. Until such a time, items like booze and drugs were kept under lock and key in the vaults along with seeds, and DNA of animals that had perished into extinction because of the BTs and Timefall. Higgs had no idea who kept managing to break into the vaults to steal these things, but this was the sixth illegal party he had heard of this year. Whoever was doing it had balls, Higgs gave them credit for where it was due. The penalty for screwing around with rare items among other things in the vaults was equal to jail time, job loss, or if a repeat offender, kicked out of the colony and sent to one of the other Knot cities. It was permanent too, no get out of jail free cards available.

Despite most of the colonies adopting something akin to the courts of the fallen United States, Higgs knew that if you were not particularly liked or cared for, your odds for getting bailed out were slim to none. Porters like Higgs and Monty, although valuable, were not seen as important as say the scientists in the SUNFLOWER district who could get slaps on the wrists for such actions. Porters were a dime a dozen in some colonies, and transfers for new ones could be negotiated with other Knot cities.

As the large and powerful machines behind Monty and Higgs sorted through packages among recycled goods, Monty finished off the last of his cigarette and flicked the butt end into a trash can nearby where it was incinerated.

“Is this a formal event by chance?” Higgs asked as Monty laughed.

“Nah, its come as you are. The only people that are invited to this gig are young people like us. Old fucks be damned. I take it you’re thinking about it? Does Higgs want to live a little?” Monty’s voice sing songed like that of a child, trying to convince his parents to get him a treat from the store.

Higgs would be lying if he didn’t say the temptation didn’t get to him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had anything hard to drink, not to mention smoking marijuana sounded like paradise. Higgs had only had it a few times, but he remembered it calmed his nerves down when the nightmares from his DOOMs got the better of him. Higgs also knew that if he had something like pot on his person while making deliveries, he could easily trade it in for either credits or better equipment. It was something in the end he couldn’t pass up.

“Look, if we do this--”

“Hell fucking yeah!” Monty exclaimed.

“Monty, let me finish.” Higgs said firmly as Monty’s excitement grew more by the second. He was like a dog being told he was going to get the chance to go outside and play fetch. Higgs could only imagine Monty being a golden retriever in a past life. It made sense given their larger than life personas.

“We only stay long enough to get some beers and weed and then we book it.”

“Can we stay for at least two hours? There’s some really cute guys I wanted to check out that I missed out on at the last event.”  Monty begged.

“Fine, but if any of us catch wind that this event is going to get busted, we get the hell out of dodge. You said there were some other porters going too right?”

Monty nodded at Higgs. “Oh for sure! I met up with the guys earlier and figured we could go in as a pack. That way we have double the scouts to make sure we don’t get caught. Oh, are you gonna reach out to that chick what’s her name, Dame, Diana?”

“Dana.” Higgs interrupted as Monty nodded.

“Yeah, that chick. You still sweeting on each other?”

Higgs shook his head. “No. I broke it off. I’m too busy for that shit.”

“Bummer my bro.”

Higgs nodded and shrugged. He was indifferent to the whole thing. The relationship had been one sided as far as he was concerned. While Higgs went out of his way for the gal, she didn’t return the favor nor did she seem to understand his goals were important to him. Higgs nipped it in the bud before a huge fight would happen. He settled for not getting involved further with relationships, intimate ones like that. Higgs was used to it by now.

“Well, we should be getting ready.” Monty chimed in, snapping Higgs out of his thoughts. He was more or less confused as to what Monty meant by getting ready.

“Pardon?” Higgs asked.

“Oh yeah, forgot. I said it wasn’t formal, but there’s a theme to the party. Ancient cultures or some shit like that. I’m sure if we put our heads together, we can do something simple and blend in. C’mon! We should go round up the guys and make a solid game plan! It starts at eleven pm but we should prep.”

Monty once more swung his arm over Higgs’s shoulder as Higgs himself finished off his cigarette and put it into the incinerator. Some part of him knew this was probably a bad idea, but an opportunity to get ahead was an opportunity to get ahead. Most porters didn’t get such shots. Higgs didn’t want to wait another two to three weeks for a job when there was money to be made in the very place he resided. Higgs could only hope there wouldn’t be too many distractions at this illegal get together.

_____

This week’s worth of paperwork laid scattered on your desk before you took the initiative to organize them. Stacking all the memos, business proposals, and reports according to urgency and folder size. You left your desk in its neat state, standing up and grabbing your black leather handbag and putting your moleskine planner inside. It’s quite hard to understand why heels are considered mandatory attire in an office environment. Does it even help you produce better marketing ideas? Or does it increase the sales of the condominium units you try to sell? You don’t think so.

With your painful feet and four inch heels, you walked outside the room on the 21st floor. Taking a quick peek on your wristwatch, it read 8:00 in the evening. You’ve been working overtime the past few days due to the struggle of a new release of a product. Working marketing in a corporate company can be rewarding in terms of salary but sure is a huge pain in the ass when it comes to stress.

You let out a yawn just after you pressed the down button of the elevator. Seeing that it came from the 25th floor, you know that some higher ups must’ve been grinding the extra hours too.

A little chunk of your fatigue evaporated into thin air when the elevator doors opened. It revealed a man of your own age, his soft yet feline-like features masked his own tiredness. He wore his circular eyeglasses, and a pinstriped white dress shirt that was tucked in his slacks. His whole aura just spoke of class, superiority, and poshness. And his mere presence is enough to bring a tint of pink on your cheeks.

“How are you? Overtime?” Minseok asked as you entered the confined steel box ready to enclose the both of you.

You nodded, “The new product release made marketing become busy bees.” You explained accompanied with a tired laugh.

“Yeah, finance ain’t having it easy either.” He also let out a worn out chuckle.

Ah, yes. You belong in the two factions of the company that never seem to understand each other. You belonging in the group of people that try your hardest for a product to sell, as a Product Manager. And Minseok belongs to those who just want the company to sell and sell, and sell - Finance. You remember how you both started almost at the same time, him only being ahead of you 6 months in the company. But here he is now, awaiting the revered promotion of being Chief Financial Officer. Minseok works hard, real hard.

You’ve always had a sense of admiration for him and his commendable work ethic. Remembering how often it is you see each other like this, tired and burn out from all the requirements, paperwork, and demands your bosses give you. But Minseok never fails to show and do his best, partnered with his gummy smile.

It was needless to say that your admiration for Minseok is more than just a simple appreciation. You still have the stirrer you kept from the coffee he bought you one busy night. Not even remembering why he gave you nor how he knew that Caramel Macchiato was your favorite. But you knew you had to keep remembrance of the wonderful memory, and the small plastic stirrer still lied in the drawer of your dresser. Like a letter a teenage girl received during high school

Yet, your interactions were always limited to casual pleasantries. A nod on the hallways, a wave you exchange when you see yourself in the lobby, and his never ending “how are you?” It has always been a how are you.

It was the yearly gala night of the company, where hard working staff and committees were recognized and rewarded. You dressed to the nines, as it was one of the few opportunities for you to show how much you could take care of yourself. Clad in a deep blue satin dress, a color you chose probably due to the knowledge that it was his favorite color and there’s a high chance for you to look matching with him. Extra efforts were took for you to look your best, to probably nudge Minseok a little bit and wake him up. But no, the moment you socialized with their table, it was the same old how are you.

You even took your skepticism to another level when you went and approached Yixing, one of his close friends in marketing.

“You think Minseok knows any other sentence except how are you?” You blurted out during lunch, looking out to the far table where the man in question sat alone.

“Yeah, he’s a bit of a talker, actually. Why?” The Chinese man knotted his forehead in confusion - to which you just shrugged your shoulders. You earned a bit of a chuckle from Yixing and a pair of suggestive, teasing eyes.

“Looks like someone’s interested in my workaholic of a friend.” You just laughed in denial.

“It’s not that. We’ve known each other for two years now. But I don’t remember him saying anything to me except those three words. It’s almost like talking to Siri.” You laughed your last sentence off.

“You mean to tell me you haven’t heard the majestic stories of the college party boy yet?” Yixing’s small eyes widened in confusion, to which you could only shake your head to.

“I swear, it’s only how are you. Or asking how my day has been. And then nothing, crickets, silence, black hole for sound.” You even used your hands to gesture for exaggeration.

“Darling, trust me when I say Minseok never shuts up. Oh shit, I know why.” Yixing cackled a loud laugh. “You’re in for a treat. Just give him a little push.”

You tried to force Yixing to tell more on what he meant, but you only earned a couple of laughs, a pat on your head, and a just go for it. All of which you vaguely understood. What was he trying to get you to go for?

That very same day, you found yourself in the office pantry the same time Minseok is there. He was getting probably his umpteenth cup of coffee for the day, as he’s well known for abusing the caffeine stock in the office. Minseok’s attention was set on his phone until your closing of the door made a sound and made him look at you. You flashed him a smile, the sweetest kind you could show.

“Oh hey, how are you?” There’s it, his answer machine approach to you.

“Nothing much, just craving an apple to fuel the long hours.” You spoke as you made your way to the refrigerator. He didn’t even bother procuring a follow up question after you responded, he just let awkward stillness expand in the small room. So you tried and follow Yixing’s words and push him a little more.

“How do you make your coffee?” Minseok was caught off guard by your sudden query and turned around to you. “It looks like I need a boost but I’m not really the best when it comes to making one.”

Minseok stood up and walked to the empty space beside you, just right in front of the coffee maker. “I can make one for you. I don’t give out my secret coffee recipe, it’s highly coveted and confidential.” He proclaimed with a chuckle.

“Don’t make it too good, then. Looks like I might have a hard time imitating your confidential recipe.” You said with a pout, slightly poking fun at him.

“Well then, you might have to sync up your coffee breaks with mine.” Minseok looked at you with a teasing smile as he pressed on the coffee maker. It could be your mind playing games with you but you saw his right eye wink at you.

It’s safe to say that you’re highly alert and awake the moment you left the pantry. But you’re not sure if that’s thank to the caffeine boost by coffee.

Back to present time, you heard him humming to a certain song you also know in the back of your head. His muted crooning was all that’s audible in the enclosed space of the elevator. You raked through and through your brain just to remember the song. And when you finally did, you didn’t hesitate on singing along.

“I’ll stop the world and melt with you.” You sang, almost in a whisper. “You’ve seen the difference and it’s getting better all the time.”

You looked to your side and caught Minseok’s eyes that were now also on yours. “You know the song?” He said with a smile. You felt lightheaded and giddy by the way his small teeth shows and his cheekbones protrude when he smiles.

“Of course, Mr. Kim. Who in this world doesn’t know the classic that is Melt With You?” You said with a chuckle. “There’s nothing you and I won’t do…” You continued singing, even closing your eyes in the feeling.

“I’ll stop the world and melt with you.” Minseok finally sang along with you, and it was when you just had to flash your eyes open. He was looking intently at you, a small smile painted on his face. You’re sure that you looked like an idiot with your mouth slightly agape and a slight shock plastered in your face.

And in that moment, all that’s left to do was to stop the world. Because you’re certain that all your insides have already melted with the way Minseok’s gaze met yours.

No matter how much you counted sheep jumping over the fence, sleep just wasn’t just in your favor that night. You can’t help but keep on smiling like a high school girl in the way he smiled and sang with you. Overthinking didn’t help, too. You tossed and turned in your bed, thinking about Yixing’s advice. What did you need to push Minseok exactly for? You already thought that maybe he liked you back, that maybe he needed a little encouragement to actually be aggressive and persistent and pursuing you. But all expectations do is lead you to disappointments and heartbreaks, so you shrugged it off.

The company was already at a calm sailing state a week after the new product release. The marketing team can now lie low after the hectic months and gruelling overtimes you’ve all put yourselves through. So now, you’re just chilling in the cafeteria with Yixing, chatting over his burger and your bowl of salad.

“I can’t even understand how much she looked different from his pictures. I thought I was in a blind date!” You laughed at the way he illustrated his recent botched Tinder date. Poor guy just couldn’t get a hold of himself on being single, Yixing’s just in a constant need of someone to date.

Safely separating the olives on a tissue, you used chopsticks to get rid of the tacky fruit from your store bought salad. You just couldn’t stand the taste of black olives mixing with the vinaigrette.

“Are you aware of the olive theory?” Yixing suddenly says, taking your attention out of your salad bowl.

“Lily and Marshall.” You just answered with a smile as you took out the last piece of olive in your food.

“Exactly. And do you know who’s a sucker for olives?” You just looked at Yixing with confusion, before he nodded to somewhere behind you. Looking to that direction, you saw Minseok holding a tray of his own food. “Boy would place olives on anything and everything.”

You struggled to take in how good a black button down can look on Minseok. Today, he skipped his thick oculars for a reason you’re not aware of. And you made sure to memorize the detail of his cat like eyes without his glasses covering it.

“Minseok!” Yixing called over to him and gestured to the seat beside you. “The two of us are kinda lonely here, we wouldn’t mind another company.” A hint of annoyance sparked within you in Yixing’s tone and suggestive smirk, headed to the both of you.

He put down his tray on the table and slowly sat down on the chair beside you, making you sit straight yourself. He just smiled at you with pursed lips, the same way you did. And out of no reason, you just felt the atmosphere constrict around you and it’s suddenly harder to breathe.

“Hey, how are you?” You almost choked out your lettuce when you heard those three words again. Earning a chuckle from the man seated in front of you, and all you could do was lightly kick Yixing’s shin beneath the table.

“Same old, same old.” Was all you could muster to answer.

“Same old olive hater.” Yixing answered for you.

“Who in this world can hate olives?” Minseok suddenly blurts in confusion, a mocking look on his face. Yixing used his right index finger to point at the small pile of black olives lying on a clean tissue paper beside your bowl of salad.

“Can’t stand ‘em.” You answered, shrugging your shoulders.

“You can’t be serious, gimme that.” Minseok just tugged on the tissue and you just let him.

“I don’t think you’re aware that me and Minseok used to be in the dance troupe when we were in college?” Yixing spoke in front of you. You exchanged looks from the both of them. With Yixing smiling proudly, his arms spread over the two chairs beside him. And Minseok just slightly laughing with his head down, embarrassment flashed all over his demeanor.

“I wouldn’t have guessed. You two, dance troupe, really?” You even put hands on your chest to fake being shocked. “I somehow fail to comprehend that.”

“We’re the masters of dancing to Backstreet Boys back then. All the girls could do was scream. Man, I miss college fame. Don’t you, boy?” Yixing nodded off to the man sat adjacent to you.

“I prefered Nsync, obviously. Had a lot of fun being Justin Timberlake with Tearin’ Up My Heart.” Minseok answered with a chuckle.

“I need to see that, or else this is all fake news and you’re all just losers in college.” You dared them.

“Possible, Johnny from Operations actually plans to go out clubbing this weekend. In celebration of the successful launch? Maybe you could come and join us, (Y/N)” Yixing had little too much of excitement in his voice. It’s an obvious reason why he wanted to go out, boy needs to get laid so much.

“I certainly would go.” You answered with a smile.

Friday that week, you saw yourself again on the elevator with the same guy that makes your cheeks turn a shade of a washington apple with his catlike eyes. Minseok looked sleek with a plain white button down, fitting him in the right places just enough to give you a glimpse of how toned his body is beneath all those clothing.

He just opened his mouth to speak when you already spoke. “I’m doing good, great actually.” You answered with a chuckle.

Minseok’s face contorted in amusement to your answer, even without his question. “I already know what you’ll tell me Minseok, the same old how are you. I’m starting to think you’ll have those three words engraved in your tombstone.” You joked.

“Well, I’m not sure on what other things to ask you. So that’s what always comes out.” He defended himself while slightly shaking his head.

“Hmm, how about ask me when I’m free for dinner? I’m sure that’s a good start.” To hell with it, if you’re going to follow Yixing’s words, you better push him so hard that he could fall to a cliff and down to your arms.

You looked beside you and saw Minseok with a smile and a hint of confusion in his eyes. “I mean, just if you want to. If not, you could stick on the same old how are you.” You looked away from him, afraid from the possible rejection to your advances.

“It’s not that.. It’s just..” He chuckled awkwardly as he massaged his forehead with his fingers. “It’s like you took out the words from the tip of my tongue.”

You chuckled at his implication, “How long have you been holding that back?”

“Quite a while now, actually.” Minseok returned honestly.

“And I’ve been waiting for it for quite a while now too.” You confessed.

“But now that the cat’s out of the bag, you going tomorrow?” Minseok asked, pertaining to the night out Johnny basically invited everyone to.

“Absolutely. You and Yixing busting your asses to Shape of My Heart? I wouldn’t miss that for the world.”

“Great. Get ready to be blown away. You’ll see why they’re so head over heels with me back in college.” Minseok even grooved a little bit in attempt to show you how much of a dancing king he can be.

“You don’t need to dance for me to see that.” You slightly teased, which made you blush yourself. Sometimes you do speak before you think and just realize how clumsy you can be when the word’s already out of your mouth.

“I’ll pick you up at 6.” Minseok declared the moment the elevator opened on the ground floor. He didn’t even sound as if he’s asking you, it’s more of like he’s just letting you know.

“Thought you’d never ask.” And the both of you parted with a smile.

You prepared a little bit too early for your common practice, as you finished taking a bath at exactly 4 in the afternoon. But you know that this day is going to be a little bit more than just clubbing with officemates so you took extra steps and exerted extra efforts on making yourself look not just presentable, but wonderful.

You spend a good half hour contemplating if you should wear your classic little black dress or a red jumpsuit. But looking in the mirror, you realized that you didn’t need to be as eye catching as the pair of eyes you wanted to captivate would already pick you up at your porch. So you went for the timeless black ensemble that never failed to make you feel confident.

Making sure that your eyeliner and lipstick is on point and at its best, you paired the black dress with your favorite classy gold pieces of a necklace and a simple earring.

At exactly 6pm, on the dot, Minseok showed up on your front door. As dashing as he always looks, with a black shirt and leather jacket - deviating from his usual smart casual look. But all you need to see was your favorite pair of eyes that was enough to make you melt. Before he even opened his mouth to speak, you already opened yours.

“I swear to God, Kim Minseok, if you ask me how I am I’m going to shut this door at your face.” You held an index finger in front of his face.

“I was actually going to tell you how gorgeous you looked, but I guess I should ask first how you are.” He joked in return.

“Oh fuck you.” You responded as you grabbed your bag and closed the door.

“We’ll save that for later, we’re gonna meet them at the club first.” He retorted cheekily.

The first couple of hours at the bar was all fun and energetic. You saw Yixing and Minseok finally dancing their shoes off to a random 90s boy group song, and you had to admit that they’re really swoon worthy on the dance floor. Pretty sure if you attended the same college as them, you’d be one of the girls who screamed their lungs out as they performed.

But you all are not in your early twenties anymore, not the same enthusiastic, hormone driven youth that you are that can stand the club until 4 in the morning. It only took you three rounds of margarita to feel woozy, and you’re certain that most of your friends have already found their prey for the night. The last time you saw Yixing was when he was busting it out on the dancefloor and was approached by a hot brunette. God knows where he is right now, probably busting some other thing at somewhere else. And you’re pretty sure you got your eyes set on your own prey too, or maybe he’s the predator here. One that you’d let devour you, without a doubt.

The two of you were silently swaying in the dance floor, somehow off beat to whatever song off the charts was playing due to the hit of alcohol in your system. Minseok leaned over closer to your ear. “I’m going to have to ask you something.”

“Just not my three dreaded words from you, please.” You answered, putting your hands on his shoulder to get him scoot over closer to you.

“No, it’s actually four.” He sounded too sexy with his voice in a haze. You just nodded in anticipation. “Your place or mine?”

“I like that so much better than those three words. Yours.” And all it took was a couple of minutes for him to pull you out of the confined and loud bar.

Not even noticing the fifteen minute drive it took for the both of you to get to his apartment, all that’s in your mind was how to get him out of his clothes. And you wanted to accomplish that task fast.

The moment you’re inside his pad, you’re already pinned to the door. His lips aggressively meeting yours, as if it was all on his mind all day. But to be fair, it was a feeling you’ve already been contemplating on the past few weeks.

Minseok’s hands were frantic and hurried as it slided on your bare thighs, eventually meeting the hems of your small dress and pulling it upwards. You pulled away from the kiss when you realized that the end of your dress that previously was on the middle of your thighs were now bunched up in your waist. And the lace underwear you’ve made sure to wear was already on display.

“I’m sure you wore this in purpose.” Minseok exclaimed before he dived onto where your neck and shoulders met.

“I’m no risk taker, Minseok. I always make sure that things go smoothly as planned.” You chuckled a little when he hit a ticklish spot on your neck. His hands still wandering its way on your thighs. Your hands fumbled from carressing the back of his neck to his front, putting away his leather jacket and eventually locating the hem of his v neck shirt.

“I don’t think anything would go smoothly tonight, darling.” He answered as he rested his hand beside your head. And you let your eyes immerse and take in the wonder that is in front of you. You just knew it in you that something delectable was hidden in all his decent and modest clothing.

“Then have it your way, sir.” You answered with a wink. An action that made him part from the last restraints he had in his mind. He then gripped your thighs, signalling you to jump and let him carry you to wherever he deems to take you.

“You see what happens when you stop asking me if I’m just okay?” You chuckled in between your kisses.

“I’m glad I found out. But tonight, baby, I’m going to make you feel more than okay.” Minseok last answered before he laid you down on the bed and having his way with you. His wonderful way, you were quick to find out. His class and soft attitude doesn’t exactly translate on how he is on bed, and it was surely something you prefer.

In a semi-dark bar in Brooklyn, there is a man sitting somberly with a beer at hand. A piece of paper in front of him that he keeps staring at every couple of minutes. He looks heartsick for a second, like he had been waiting with a longing that had lasted years. However, the mood slightly picks up when a redhead comes his way, bright smile but tired green eyes as he smiles back. She asks for her favorite cocktail, as his name’s rolls easily of her lips.

“How have you been in, James?” Nat pats his shoulder, as if two soldiers leaning into together in the defeat of the week now behind them.

“Fine, the merge is going through smoothly,” Bucky declares with a bit of agony at the end because while he loved his company --in the family for generations-- he couldn’t compete with someone like Tony Stark, though he would make sure all of his employees made it through to the next step safely.

“How is the baby doing?”

“Colics, she’s been keeping me up all night this week,” Natasha laughs, already asking for another drink, “Sharon finally told me to take a break, kicked me out to meet with you.”

“That’s good,” Bucky laughs, because if you had asked him which one of his friends would be married with a baby, he certainly wouldn’t have said Nat, who always seemed to distant emotionally in their own relationship to make it work.

It just took one pretty blond from her graduate courses to change all that.

“But, you aren’t here to talk about Rose, are you?” Nat finally speaks up, as she stares at the little card in front of him -- 15th high school reunion.

It leaves a sour taste on both their mouths, much like anything that might remind them of their past failures, of her.

“No,” Bucky answers back, his drunken haze allows the sorrow to enter his tone more than it might’ve, “I was wondering if you got it too.”

“Two days ago,” Nat states, still pushing to get to the truth of what he wants, “But, that still isn’t what you want to talk about.”

“Do you think she’ll be there?”

Woop, there is it , Nat can’t help but think.

“I don’t know, James. It’s been almost fifteen years,” she tries to stay distant, nonchalant about the whole affair, “Maybe, she’s forgotten all about us.”

Bucky frowns, but Natasha had always had a slightly harder heart than his -- maybe, it came due to her family background, but she was fine with hiding what she truly felt about the the destruction of their trio. However, James had a soft heart for all his girls --his sisters, Nat, and the one that had broken it off-- he knew that even if seventy years passed from the last time he had saw her, he would still find himself thinking of her once a day, everyday.

He knew Natasha missed her too, but in a different and more sort of detached way, she couldn’t hide it especially with baby Rose’s middle name.

“I just want to ask one thing,” Bucky takes a sip of his drink, green eyes staring and waiting for what he would want, “If I found her, would you help me get her back?”

“Anthos can never heal from Milady, huh?”

 On the other side of town, bright and upscale SoHo, there is more of a celebration. Friday night usually meant girls’ night in a certain apartment, as Darcy brought the snack, Jane brought the movies --which couldn’t be science films after Darcy got nightmares that one time-- and you brought the drinks. Everything was going as plan, as you pop into the room with the biggest grin on your face and three of the most expensive champagne bottles you could buy on the way back from work.

“Ohhh, what are we celebrating?” Darcy can’t help but giggle out, as she stares at the bottle before getting the cork opener. Jane smiles since she already knew a bit due to working in the same building as you -- word traveled fast in Stark Industries.

“Philips is retiring,” you declare while taking off your heels and taking a seat, “Ms. Potts has already declared the two people that are going to overlook the upcoming merger with a small company.”

“You and--?” Darcy can’t help but question only the last part because she knew you too well.

As workaholic lawyer that dedicated yourself in the mergers and acquisitions department of Stark Industries who had been looking for a roommate after your last --Jane-- had decided to get married. You worked weekends and overtime, only really taking Fridays off for them. Sometimes, there was a stray crush or date here and there, but you were solely focused on one thing and by the looks of it you were close to claiming it.

“--Rumlow,” you groan and lean back on the couch as two pairs of wide eyes look at you, “Ms. Potts wants us to personally court this CEO and see if we can sign the deal.”

“What do you know about them?” Jane asks, while leaning in just a bit as you shake your head.

“A complete mystery until Monday,” you state, while grabbing a glass, “Though I think that’s it’s more of a Mr. Stark idea. He likes keeping the whole attorney branch on their toes.”

“I could see that,” Darcy smiles before she starts drinking herself, “So more and more good news for you.”

You look at her confused for a moment, as she grins and gives you a small card that had an address from Brooklyn that you have not seen in a long while. You frown and immediately they know something is up because as much of a hardass that you might be at work, you were one of the kindest, stubborn people they knew. You showing fear or some type of negative emotion was usually rare and definitely a cause for concern.

“Oh, there’s story behind this,” Jane states with a nod, knowing better how your head worked than Darcy did. It was five years compared to the year and half of living together that you had.

“There’s no story, but I’m not going,” you huff out, as you throw the card onto the coffee table.

Both of them still watching you like they don’t buy it, though they just have to be patient -- they knew if you drank enough, you would become a tell all drunk. It was a bit mean, but sober you kept everything under lock and key with a safe underneath the seat.

They get their answer an hour and a few drinks later, as you let out a heartfelt sob: “I don’t wanna see them again.”

“Who?” Jane says softly, as she comes over and starts cradling you like a mother.

The rest of the house felt unreasonably quiet when Yata slunk out of the bathroom. Not that it was ever quiet there – the sound of some kids’ program on the TV and the shuffling of movement in the kitchen were like nostalgic background noise. But considering everything that had just happened, he was kinda feeling self-conscious.

Somehow, despite it being irrational, he expected everyone to be able to tell what happened just by looking at him.

That thought caused a tingling rush of mingled pleasure and embarrassment and something that felt like release. The entire conversation with Saruhiko – with Fushimi, he corrected himself; they were starting fresh, after all – had felt like it lifted something crushingly huge from his shoulders. He couldn’t even really sort out just how he felt right then. Even just the little act of making small talk – of exchanging glances here and there as they washed – made him feel like his body had started to tremble. It was kinda like when they’d first met, but with the enormous wealth of their shared history behind it. Somehow it didn’t seem right to just describe the sensation with something as simple as ‘excited’.

He was fucking happy. So happy he could’ve cried. It was overwhelming, but he welcomed it.

Despite all of the painful things that Fushimi had said, and the knowledge of just how much he himself had missed back then, it was an incredible feeling to finally have everything out in the open between them. Yata hadn’t even realized he was still carrying some of that shit with him, but he was relieved to have it aired. He felt oddly light now, dazed and maybe sorta confused despite the pleasure.

Where did they go from here? What should his next step be? He still didn’t really know.

That was mostly why he’d gotten dressed and left the room while Fushimi was still in the bath. He needed some space to process. And from the look they’d exchanged, he got the sense that the feeling was mutual.

Sharing an understanding again… That was another one of those strange but amazing things. Yata felt the grin building on his face as he stepped out toward the kitchen area, letting his feet carry him on their own carelessly. They weren’t totally in sync – that’d never be a thing again, and he was okay with it – but they didn’t have that feeling of disconnect any more.

It was… awesome. Seriously.

His mother was in the kitchen, humming lightly as she chopped vegetables, with her cooking tools arranged neatly in front of her and meat spread out already in the saucepan with the heat still turned off. The arrangement was so familiar that he had another wave of nostalgia, momentarily distracted from his earlier thoughts, and blinked as the realization hit him that this was the exact same kind of setup he used when he got ready to cook.

Guess it's normal. She was the one who'd taught him, after all. Still, he hadn't thought about that in a long time, so it seemed weird now.

"Done already?" She didn't even slow her hand, much less turn, but he could hear the smile in her voice. "You could've taken your time. Minoru's not home yet, and your father won't be back for a while."

"Yeah, well." He aimed a sheepish grin at her back, reaching up without thinking to rub the back of his neck. "Thought I'd give Saru – Fushimi more time in the tub. He's kind of a workaholic; he could probably use the extra relaxation, y'know?"

At that, she did pause, knife stilling momentarily. It was only for a second or so, and then she abruptly started up again. "Hm, all right." Her tone was oddly speculative. "Did you grab the basket with your dirty shirts?"

"Ah..." Right, that. "I forgot."

"Honestly, Misaki." The reprimand in her tone was mild and laced with humor. "Well, go get it, and you can meet me in the laundry room."

"R-right, yeah." Feeling properly chastised, he turned to head back. "Be right there!"

Retrieving the basket didn't take too long, but she still beat him to the tiny laundry room, and was setting up the rack when he came in.

"We'll still get a few hours of daylight, I think," she mused as he set the basket down on the washing machine, stepping back for a second to inspect her handiwork and giving a little nod of satisfaction before turning to offer him a smile. "I'm not sure if they'll be dry by the time you leave, but..."

"It's okay." He shrugged. "If we gotta leave 'em, I can bring dad's shirts back and pick up our stuff later."

Now that he was here, it didn't really feel like such a big deal to come back once in a while.

She shot him an approving look. "Thank you, Misaki." A fond little smile spread on her lips. "It's comforting to see that you managed to grow into a reliable adult." The curve of her mouth took on a teasing edge. "With how little you call home, I'd wondered, you know."

He choked a little at that, sputtering. "H-hey, hang on a – "

"Ah, but then, I know my son." She patted his shoulder lightly. "I didn't have any real doubts. It's just that a mother can't help but worry, you know?"

Yata squirmed a little, feeling that tendril of guilt worming its way into his thoughts. "Sorry. It's just that I'm sorta – "

"Busy, right? It's fine." There was a tiny hint of something wistful in her gaze. "One day I'd like to hear more about your life. If you feel like sharing it, I mean."

He blinked at her, a little surprised. Truthfully, he hadn't explained much to his family the few times they'd been in contact. It was kinda hard to admit 'hey so I joined a gang, but they're really cool' and even harder to come up with something like 'oh and we all have powers and there's these underground clan wars going on'. Even if he'd wanted to, he wasn't sure they would've bought any of it.

Still... she hadn't asked many questions. And now that she'd made that small admission, it struck him that she'd probably held off because she sensed his reluctance to go into detail in the first place.

Mom's always one step ahead... Yata shrugged awkwardly. "Eh, well... It's sorta complicated."

"I guess it must be." She gave his shoulder one more pat, and reached over to take the basket, turning her attention to the machine. "Don't worry too much about it. Take your time, and when you feel up to it, just tell me the parts you feel like can. All right?"

There it was again - she saw through him. Damn, she's sharp... Seriously, this was just like when he'd tried to sneak out of the house to move in with Fushimi.

That brought up a recent memory. "Oh right.” Yata cleared his throat, feeling a little awkward about it as he watched her measure the detergent with casual ease. “I wanted to thank you for... those flowers. Y'know, in the book you gave me?" He scratched at the back of his head, offering a sheepish grin. "I kinda just opened it a few months ago, but it actually helped me out with some stuff. So, yeah, thanks."

“Flowers? Oh.” After a moment of confusion, his mother tilted her head with a responding smile. “You seemed so happy when you brought those home, I thought it’d be worthwhile to save them.” A hint of something rueful slipped into her expression as she bent to load their dirty shirts and jackets into the machine. “Now that you’re an adult, I feel like you should know I assumed you got them from a girl you liked.”

He blinked, taken off-guard. “Eh? A…” The words sunk in; he gaped, incredulous. “Huh? A girl?”

“Honestly, it never crossed my mind that it might be Saruhiko-kun instead.” Shutting the washer door and straightening, she he reached out to squeeze his shoulder again. “It seemed so obvious after you said so. You two really were close.” A funny sort of look crossed her face, the smile shrinking to something more lopsided as she tilted her head.  “Sorry to ask out of nowhere, but… you and he… are you…?”

With the conversation from earlier still on his mind, Yata caught her meaning without much trouble. “Soulmates?” Without waiting for confirmation, he offered a rough grin. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. And no. Well” – at that, he shrugged a bit awkwardly – “actually, more like I dunno yet.”

She let out a slow breath. “I see.” One eyebrow arched. “‘Yet’, hm?”

Goddamnit. Yata felt heat rising fast on his cheeks. “I – well – that is – ” He eventually gave up trying to fumble through an excuse and settled for a muttered, “It’s complicated, okay?”

“Ah, another ‘complicated’ thing.” His mother smiled with fond tolerance, letting her hand fall from his shoulder. “Well, we all have secrets.” At that, she pressed her lips together, studying him with uncharacteristic hesitance. “I know I haven’t ever mentioned it, but the truth is, I have a soulmate mark myself.”

“Eh?” Yata blinked at her, surprised by the sudden and unexpected confession. True, he hadn’t known for sure, but… “A-ah, well, I sorta guessed that maybe… y’know…”

“It’s under my right armpit,” she continued patiently, and then exhaled slowly, offering a small half-smile. “Your father has one, too – on his left hip.”

That took a little while to sink in, but the obvious implication – soulmate marks that didn’t match – struck him like a sucker punch. Yata gaped at her, incredulous. “Wait – wait, they don’t – ?”

“They don’t match,” she supplied, voice calm and even. Turning to face him fully, she crossed her arms casually over her chest, leaning her hip against the active machine. “Your birth father was my soulmate.” As if that wasn’t enough of a shock on its own, she added, “Your step-father has an ex-wife as well.”

He hadn’t heard much about his birth father – next to nothing, actually. Yata preferred it that way. The handful of knowledge he did have didn’t inspire a lot of confidence in that half of his lineage. His mother had been granted full custody of him and a restraining order on top of that, which he hadn’t understood until he was a bit older. She didn’t talk about his birth father much, and the simple knowledge that he was a ‘bad guy’ had stifled any curiosity Yata might’ve felt.

He hadn’t minded, because… he was his mother’s son. Not his father’s. A good guy, not a bad guy.

It was something he’d almost forgotten, it had been so long ago. Back then, he’d been so desperate…

Yata shook his head, trying to clear that confusing series of thoughts from it. Never mind that. “But… if you were soulmates…?”

“Why did I decide to leave?” she filled in, when he left that hanging. Her smile turned a bit wistful. Without warning, she reached over to cup his cheek. “Because of you.”

The gesture had his skin prickling up; it had been years since he’d felt his mother’s touch. Yata blinked, startled and a little overwhelmed with a mixture of embarrassment and nostalgia. “Me?”

She nodded. “He would sometimes… well. Nothing that seemed serious, at first. He was impatient. Maybe a bit harsh. It wasn’t personal – that’s what I told myself.” That came with a sharp inhale, her eyes taking on a pained look. “One time he shoved me – I hit a door frame – and I had a bruise on my face. I remember sitting on the couch, trying not to cry and thinking of how I could cover it up, and you tried to sneak out of your room before your nap was up. You were only just two.” The pain seemed to fade out into a kind of fond remembrance. “Such a handful, even then. You looked up and saw me, and did that little laugh of yours and ran over – you were already running, even though you fell a lot. And when I stood to pick you up, I had this thought…” She pressed her lips together, eyes a little too bright as she smiled. “I thought, what if he does this to my baby? What if one day instead of laughing, my little boy is sitting here and trying not to cry, trying to think of what he did wrong?” Her thumb stroked his cheek lightly. “I couldn’t stand to think that, so… in the end, I left.”

He wasn’t sure how to react to that story. Yata stared back dumbly for a moment, his mind reeling as it sunk in. True, he’d always known that his birth father was no good, but it seemed to mean so much more now. The revelation felt like it shocked him to the core. Even though they were soulmates…

It was just like Mikoto and his soulmate – the match that ‘couldn’t have worked’. It really wasn’t that simple, was it? This shit happened all the time, and he knew, he’d heard about it – but it didn’t feel real when it was other people whose matches ended badly. This was right in his face though, and he couldn’t ignore or deny it any more. Not with his mother standing here telling him every painful detail. There were a lot of people – good people; people he knew – who went ahead and did what they had to in order to be happy.

In the end, he and Fushimi weren’t the only ones who wanted to be together no matter what ‘fate’ or whatever had to say about it.

“And if you’re not my soulmate, then – then fuck soulmates!”

“If that means a cheesy picture on my forehead, then fine, I’ll take it.”

Yata shut his eyes, feeling the helpless edge of a smile forming on his face even as his shoulders slumped a little. He let out a soft, rueful ‘heh’, and then opened them again. “So that’s what happened…” He made an effort to straighten. “Sorry. Guess me talking about soulmates and all didn’t help much, huh?”

She shook her head. “I came to terms with it a while back. And you were so young… I didn’t want to spoil your excitement.” Her eyes were intent on his face, as if searching for something; there was a brief pause before she continued. “I wanted to tell you when you left, but part of me thought maybe it’d be better if you didn’t know. There wasn’t much time to decide, but…” That came with a helpless little shrug. “I’ve wondered since then if that was the right choice. It’s the hardest part of being a mother. ‘Should I intervene or let him be?’ ‘Am I doing this for my sake or his?’ I ask myself those questions a lot.”

It was kinda unnerving to have his mother now talking to him as if he were an adult on equal footing with her. What am I s’posed to say to that? Not once had he really thought about her being a normal human with flaws like everyone else – but that reality was hard to avoid now, with all those facts out there. Yata cleared his throat, feeling awkward about it, and managed a weak, “O-oh.”

His mother gave a soft, amused huff. “I guess I should stop embarrassing you, huh?” She patted his cheek softly before pulling her hand back. “Still, it seems like you’ve become a good man all on your own. Maybe I didn’t need to worry so much.” Her accompanying smile was bright. “I’m proud of you, Misaki.”

A good man… He’d been so sure he knew what that meant, but somehow after today it felt like a shakier foundation than he’d thought. His definition kept changing, anyway. What the hell really made you a ‘good’ man? And did he really have what it took? What was it about him that made her think that?

Somehow, at the back of his head, he could hear the clear memory of Kusanagi’s voice: “If you haven’t yet, you should start thinking about what kind of man you want to be.”

Yeah, fine, but what the hell kind of man was he now? Now that he thought about it directly, he wasn’t sure. Not Homra’s Yatagarasu. Not Saruhiko’s soulmate. Not his mother’s son. Or – well – maybe all of those things, but not just them.

It was kinda too much to try and sort out right then. Yata pushed that stuff aside and reached up to scratch at the back of his head, still feeling a little bit of a pleasant buzz from the praise despite his embarrassment. “Heh… thanks!”

“You don’t need to thank me.” Her smile widened even further, lines forming at the corners of her eyes and open fondness in her gaze. “Though I wouldn’t object if you came back to see me once in a while. I can’t help but worry, you know!”

Weirdly enough, he thought he kinda did know. Yata swallowed, just starting to process now that she’d admitted to leaving her first husband – her soulmate – for his sake. If he thought back to what he remembered about those years before her new husband came into the picture, she’d always seemed content. It hadn’t felt like they’d needed anyone else to him, so when she’d brought in someone new, he’d felt… not good enough. As if he couldn’t make her happy on his own. And it had seemed at the time like he’d been left behind for the new family she was going to make. But hearing the whole story now, he thought he felt the force of her love bearing down on him in a way he couldn’t ignore.

He hadn’t been the only person to make his mom happy, yeah, but he’d given her the strength to make herself happy. And even if she hadn’t needed him like she had when it was just the two of them, she’d definitely wanted him.

Some small, persistent sore point that he’d long since gotten used to and forgotten about felt like it eased a little within him. “Yeah.” Yata swallowed around the ache rising at the back of his throat in response, and felt the same wide smile spreading on his own face, a perfect mirror for his mother’s. Feeling fully confident and enthusiastic about it for the first time, he responded, “Yeah, I will.”

Dinner was not as awkward as Fushimi had anticipated. If nothing else, he’d expected a certain amount of uncomfortable small talk, but the familiar, chatty nature of Yata family dinners came back to him as they set in. It brought on a set of strangely conflicting feelings. When he sat down at the table, the sharp nostalgia gave him the sense that it had barely been any time at all since he’d been an awkward teenager, unsure of how to act in the face of their overwhelming closeness. But at the same time, it felt like it had been a lifetime since the last dinner he’d had there.

Well, something like that, I guess. Fushimi had to resist the urge to click his tongue, the aftereffects of his conversation with Yata still lingering in his mind. Mingled bafflement, uncertainty, and a strong sense of release overlaid his thoughts, making him vaguely light-headed. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling – after all of it, he felt strangely refreshed – but to be honest, he was getting a little tired of going through these life-changing events.

Right then, he thought he’d take a week of nothing but fixing the mistakes on his co-workers’ reports over another emotional upheaval. Enough was enough.

Yata’s family home was worn and warm, unchanged by the passage of time that had noticeably altered its inhabitants. It was a little on the stuffy side and there was a cramped feeling with the small amount of space and the large number of people crammed into it. Or… not really ‘large’, especially when compared to the amount of staff at Scepter 4. But with the level of energy and lack of breathing room, it felt like a lot more.

I guess that’s to be expected, huh?

The conversation was… busy. If Minoru wasn’t firing out a series of questions, switching direction almost at random between himself and Yata, Megumi was chiming in with starry-eyed comments on the answers. Occasionally, they’d get into arguments over who got to speak, which Yata’s mother would break up sternly with an order to eat quietly. In those brief periods of respite, she and her husband would fill the sullen resulting silence with warm chatter about jobs and daily life happenings.

It was… not exactly unpleasant, even if the loud voices of the kids left him with a bit of a headache by the end.

Still, the highlight of the evening was being able to surreptitiously watch Yata’s face when he was engaged in conversation. As usual, his emotions came through in his expression without any kind of filter: embarrassed, annoyed, proud, cheerful, and even the occasional sad moment. It was entrancing, particularly with the knowledge of their earlier conversation sitting not far from the forefront of Fushimi’s thoughts. The rush of affection that would surge through him at the slightest motion or change in expression was still a touch bewildering, but he couldn’t say he minded it. Having the weight of that shared understanding behind it made the overpowering emotion a lot less intimidating.

Not to say it wasn’t still, but he at least felt capable of facing the implications squarely.

As the only other person there who knew what had happened during the time being asked about – or at least, more about what had happened than everyone else at the table – Fushimi found himself running interference based on Yata’s reactions. If something on Yata’s face registered those sad or unpleasant emotions, he would redirect the conversation to prevent any prodding. It was a surprisingly gratifying, even if it just meant that he could see the discomfort lift from Yata’s shoulders and his expression clear. That he could do something for Yata, even if it was simply sparing his pride in front of his family, gave him immense satisfaction.

The times when Yata caught on, he’d met Fushimi’s gaze long enough to give him a smile, eyes bright and warm, and it had sent his heartbeat into a frenzy. Which was stupid, but… also not unpleasant.

Despite all of that, he was still relieved when it came time to leave. There was only so much he could take all at once, and Yata’s family was as exhausting as they were welcoming.

“That’s it, huh?” Yata was clearly in high spirits as they walked down the street away from the house. In the dim light left by the rapidly dying day, the outline of his face seemed sharper. He was grinning to himself, looking content; when he turned to meet Fushimi’s gaze his eyes were bright. “Thanks for coming with me!”

“It’s not a big deal.” Fushimi shrugged his shoulders just a bit, feeling vaguely uncomfortable with the gratitude. “I don’t really mind.”

“Right, that’s what you said.” Yata accepted that without question, his expression and posture relaxed. He turned to face the street in front of them as they walked side by side, unhurried. “Kinda nice to see everyone again, actually. Minoru and Megumi are getting pretty big…”

“That generally tends to be the case,” Fushimi responded easily, content with the new direction to the conversation. It was a relatively warm night, though he could feel the edges of a chill in the slightly damp places left on his shirt and jacket. It wasn’t terribly uncomfortable, though – and he had to admit, he wanted to draw this out purely for the pleasure of having that familiar presence beside him. They didn’t have to be heading anywhere particular or talking about anything specific. Just the simple reality of being together was enough.

At this point, it was impossible to deny how much he’d missed this kind of thing. It wasn’t exactly the same as it had been, but he was fine with the changes. There was something extra to their interactions now… something new, and awkward, and exciting…

Something he wanted to cherish, if he could figure out exactly how.

“Smartass.” There was a grin in Yata’s voice as he answered. He nudged Fushimi’s arm lightly with his elbow. “Come visit again with me sometime, huh?” The invitation was barely out of his mouth before he was hastily adding, “Ah – I mean – actually, you might be expected more, if we – y’know – ugh…” When Fushimi turned to look at him, he was grimacing, a slow spreading flush visible on his cheeks even in the poor lighting. “Damnit… you know what I mean!”

“Do I?” The tease earned him a glare; Fushimi hummed lightly, and then smiled. “Well… I guess I do.”

Yata’s eyes seemed to glow, illuminated by the growing dark. “Yeah, you’d better.”

The buzz of anticipation and pleasure in his stomach heightened even as they turned to face the road in front, their conversation turning to something inconsequential. It was easy like this, despite the fact that they’d so recently unloaded the burden of their broken relationship back in Yata’s parents’ bathroom. Or maybe because they’d done that. Fushimi felt comfortable, despite the vague discomfort that came with his awareness of the awkward attraction between them. That wasn’t something he was particularly unhappy with, anyway. And the air between them felt clearer – more open. He could breathe properly. There was nothing left to wonder any more either, other than the obvious.

So where do we go from here?

It turned out that question hadn’t only been on his mind, because when they came up to the point where they’d have to separate – Scepter 4 headquarters being in the opposite direction of the Homra bar and the apartment he hadn’t seen yet – Yata took in a long breath and let it out, clearly gathering his nerve. He turned as they came to a stop at that crossroad. “So? What’re you gonna do now?”

Fushimi shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets as he turned to meet that expectant gaze. “Nothing much. The usual.” He let out a short sigh. “There’s a lot of work to be done still. I’m going to be busy most of the time.”

“Right, yeah.” Yata reached up to rub at the back of his neck. “I… got some stuff to figure out, I think. I mean, pretty soon there’s gonna be no more clans.” His lips quirked up into something of a rueful smile. “I only just got thinking about it now, but outside of being Homra’s Yatagarasu, I dunno who the hell I even am. Kinda weird, huh?”

Oddly, it wasn’t. “Not really.” If he stepped back and looked at it, this was yet another area where the two of them were the same – and complete opposites at the same time, as improbable as that sounded. They were both trying to define themselves in a larger world, after all… just somehow starting at opposite ends. “Believe it or not, I might know a thing or two about having ‘stuff’ to sort out.”

Yata looked startled for a second, and then his face softened again as he huffed out a short laugh. “Yeah, true! What the hell, huh?” The grin that spread on his face was sharp. “Maybe you could teach me a thing or two by now.”

Fushimi clicked his tongue, without much real irritation behind it. “Don’t count on it.”

He got another huff of a laugh for that. “Right, got it.”

There was a short but mostly comfortable silence that spread between them after that; it was like the moment itself held its breath, in some weird way. A strong feeling of anticipation seemed to hang in that brief pause.

“So…” As usual, Yata was the first to break it; he let his hand slide free of its hold on his neck, stuffing both it and its counterpart into his pockets. “Let’s – let’s keep in touch, huh?” His eyes were bright again. “I’ll definitely call you, so…”

That look was doing some funny things to Fushimi’s stomach. He raised an eyebrow to cover it. “I’ll be ready for more attempts to rupture my eardrums, then.”

That earned him a disgruntled scowl. “Look, that’s different, okay? Anyway, you guys need to keep off our turf! But never mind that now!” The glare that accompanied it was piercing. “You could call me sometimes too, y’know.”

He could – although he wasn’t sure if he wanted to make that promise. Fushimi frowned back, caution urging him to give a noncommittal response. “I don’t exactly have all that much free time, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Abruptly, Yata’s expression turned up in a brash grin. “Sounds like something you’d say when you wanna do a thing but might not in case it makes you look too much like you care.”

The unexpectedly sharp response had his skin prickling up. Annoying. Fushimi clicked his tongue, deliberately not answering.

“Heh! Thought so.”

“Shut up.”

Yata made a soft, amused huff, but obligingly let it drop. “Anyway, don’t be a stranger, huh? If you see me around, make sure you stop and say hi or something.” His grin turned a bit crooked. “You’re not gonna say you’re too busy for that, are you?”

Fushimi let his eyes go lidded, offering a slow smile in return. “I guess I can manage that much.”

“Right?” The grin widened out again. As that hung between them, Yata shifted on his feet . “So…”

“It’s late, huh?” Despite the reluctance he felt tugging at the back of his mind, there was still practicality to be considered. He did work the next day, after all. Fushimi half-turned, not quite breaking their shared gaze. There was no real point in dragging this out if they’d said everything they needed to, but some small indulgent part of him wanted to hold onto the moment just a tiny bit longer. “See you, Yata.”

“Y-yeah.” There was a beat of obvious hesitance, and then Yata let out a huff, reaching up to scratch the back of his head as his face split again in a rueful smile. “Fuck, I just can’t get used to that. Y’know what, screw it!” The smile widened out into another bright grin. “Since we got a – a thing between us, I’d say we’re close enough to be using first names, right?”

Fushimi blinked, thrown off of his pace by the sudden declaration. Despite the seemingly flippant manner it had been tossed out, the look in Yata’s eyes was serious. First names… As the reality of that sunk in, he briefly shut his own eyes, unable to quite process the feelings settling in his chest. It was similar to the remembered sensation from the first time they’d done this, but somehow deeper. As if there was a wealth of meaning behind it now that hadn’t been there when they were younger. Close enough, huh? Fushimi let out a small, amused huff to cover the confusing emotions, opening his eyes again. “Speak for yourself, Misaki.”

“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?” Misaki’s eyebrows furrowed, a puzzled little frown replacing the previously confident expression. “You’re still gonna let me call you ‘Saruhiko’, right?”

“Who knows,” Fushimi responded breezily. There was warmth building within him, pleasant and promising, and he didn’t bother to suppress the smile building on his face. “I’ll think about it.”

Misaki scowled at him. “Asshole.”

“Mm.” Fushimi drew out that hum, savoring the mood between them in that moment – after everything, he felt more content than he would’ve anticipated. “Well, maybe ‘Saruhiko’ is the better alternative.” He met that fiery gaze with his own lidded one. “Since it’s you.”

The pleasant buzz that passed between them in that moment was more than promising enough.

“A skateboarding competition?” Kusanagi blinked, momentarily taken aback, and then his expression settled into something of a rueful smile. “Didn’t know that kind of thing existed. Sorry, I guess I haven’t paid much attention.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” Yata waved a dismissive hand, grinning across the counter as he pulled back the flyer. It was still early in the morning, so the bar was mostly empty, but he hadn’t felt like waiting for the others to show up before bringing up his news. “Same here, anyway – only reason I got this is because my new boss gave it to me.”

“New boss, huh?” Kusanagi raised a good-natured eyebrow at him. “Should I be worried?”

“Ah – ” The guilt he had halfway harbored since taking the job flared up again; Yata stared back helplessly. “No, I mean – I’m still gonna help out here, just – ”

Kusanagi held up both hands to forestall that. “I was kidding, Yata-chan! Seriously, don’t let it worry you.” Lowering his arms, he leaned against the counter. “So? What’s the new job?”

The rush of enthusiasm that came with the mention of it was enough to bury that initial guilt. “It’s at a sports shop – you know that one that I go to, up by the park?” Yata braced his elbows on the counter, leaning forward without thinking. “Well, last time I went to get wheel bearings for my board they had a sign looking for people, so I gave it a shot and the owner hired me.” Once he was going, he ended up blurting the rest eagerly. “He’s actually really cool, saw me skateboarding a couple times and that’s why he brought up the competition and all!”

It was the interest that got him more than anything – the fact that this person he barely knew had been impressed enough by something Yata had worked to get good at all on his own that he brought up a competition. He couldn’t really describe how gratifying it had been. Skateboarding had always been his thing, something he’d picked up without the help of red aura or Saruhiko’s intellect. It was just something he’d wanted to do, something he’d sweated and swore over, trying again and again until he could land the jumps and pull the tricks. Having someone without any stake in it tell him he might be good enough to compete and have a real chance of winning, of going somewhere with it…

Hell, he didn’t know what to think, but it felt good.

“That so?” The look in Kusanagi’s eyes as he straightened was somehow knowing. “Don’t know much about skateboarding personally, but I’ll make a point to come cheer you on either way.” He offered a searching smile. “How’s the job, by the way?”

“Great! They really like me there!” First time he’d felt like he could sorta make friends on the job – that it would be something more than just a place to earn cash until he had to ditch it to deal with Homra business or get laid off in the off season or something. It was a weird feeling, but he didn’t mind being greeted heartily when he walked in the door and asked about his life as if his boss actually cared. “The owner even wants me to teach his kids skateboarding. It’s kinda cool, y’know?”

“Glad to hear it.” That came with a nod. “Sounds like those two things should keep you busy for a while, then.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Yata reached up to rub at the back of his neck, a mixture of pride and excitement brewing within him. That tiny remaining edge of guilt compelled him to add, “I’m still gonna be around, though – I mean, I won’t be that busy.”

“No more or less than the rest of us, you mean.” Kusanagi shook his head. “I meant it when I said not to worry about it, Yata-chan. This place isn’t going anywhere any time soon – it’s fine to just come by to hang out. Most everyone here is balancing work, hobbies, and friends the same way.” He raised an eyebrow before adding, “And maybe a love life too, in some cases.”

There was no indication that he meant anything particular by that, but Yata felt his face growing hot all the same. “R-right.” His fingers curled at the back of his neck, the reminder of that other recent development in his life spinning slowly to life within him and bringing mingled pleasure and embarrassment with it.

He hadn’t exactly talked much with Saruhiko these past couple of weeks, but the times that they had talked had been… different. Not so much what they said – they still fucking argued, sometimes over stupid shit or even just for the hell of it – but the underlying tone of it had changed. He felt a lot more certain than he had before, and he got a sense that it was mutual. It was amazing how much it had helped to find out Saruhiko felt the same about him – how much of a boost it had given him to feel the answering desperation in that kiss and the way that Saruhiko had looked at him…

“There’s nothing else I’ve ever wanted as much as you.”

Those words still made him shudder, even now. It was hard to believe it was even real, that someone had really said it to him and meant it. That Saruhiko had said it. The look on his face was still etched into Yata’s brain, and his heart raced when he thought about it even for a second. From the tense line of Saruhiko’s jaw to the way his eyebrows had bunched and even in how his eyes had wavered… The open vulnerability in that expression had left Yata stunned. He would never have guessed that Saruhiko could make a face like that if he hadn’t seen it for himself.

He wouldn’t have expected his own feelings to be answered that strongly. It was… sorta overwhelming, even as he selfishly took pleasure at being the focus of that look. He couldn’t help it.

Then again, Saruhiko always had that effect on him, so he shouldn’t be surprised.

Kusanagi seemed to pinpoint his thoughts accurately, to Yata’s mortification. “How’s Fushimi these days?”

“Eh? Uh. G-good. I guess.” His fingers twitched against the uncomfortably warm skin at the back of his neck. Yata let them slide free, slouching forward in his seat. Unbidden, the remembered sight of Saruhiko’s lazy smile and lidded eyes from when they’d last parted rose in his mind, and he had to swallow, mouth suddenly feeling dry. “Haven’t really seen him much since that one time.”

That was mostly his own fault, though it wasn’t like Saruhiko wasn’t busy all the time, as usual. Yata was starting to get some of that old confidence back – when he brought up that familiar contact, there wasn’t so much nagging doubt that his call might not be welcome. Aside from a few bland comments about being having work to do, Saruhiko seemed content enough to take his calls. And despite his earlier words, there had been one or two calls from his end, too. It was obvious he was trying, and that knowledge felt like it sat warmly in Yata’s heart, forcing a helpless little smile out of him whenever he thought about it.

So yeah, it was on him. He’d kinda been holding back, and he thought Saruhiko was probably following his lead and waiting for a cue. And it wasn’t like he didn’t wanna give that cue – he was gonna do it one of these days, because he wanted to be with Saruhiko. More than anything else right now, he wanted them to be together – wanted to date, wanted to kiss, wanted to touch and go further, to finish up what they’d started back in their shitty shared apartment when they were barely old enough to give it a go. All of those things were never really far from his mind. He wanted them, badly.

But there was all that other stuff too, the things he hadn’t quite sorted out. The thoughts that had started to form at his family house, when his mom had praised him.

What kind of man do I wanna be? He didn’t think he’d find the answer without having a chance to sort it out in his head. And he was doing that – working through it slowly, trying out things that appealed to him here and there and figuring out where Homra’s Yatagarasu ended and the rest of him began. With the new job and the competition and more frequent calls home in between Homra’s business, it really felt like he was starting to piece it together.

If he’d started something with Saruhiko, he didn’t think he could’ve made it this far. Somehow, he got the feeling if he’d given in to that impulse right at the start, he’d have lost himself in the rush.

Never needed to be soulmates for things to be that strong between us, huh? It was kinda scary how deep those feelings ran, but at some point he wanted to give in and get swept up in it. He just had to build himself up first so the current didn’t rip him to pieces in the end.

It was really fucking hard not to be impatient, though…

“Hm.” Kusanagi gave him something of a thoughtful look. “Well, I guess Scepter 4 keeps him busy too.”

“Y-yeah. Right.” Yata laughed a bit nervously. “Th-those Blues don’t know how to take a break, that’s all!”

He got a pair of raised eyebrows for that, but fortunately was spared any further comments by the gentle step that signaled Anna’s descent from the upstairs rooms. “Good morning,” she greeted them, stepping into the room with quiet grace.

“Anna!” Yata stood hastily, seizing on the excuse to drop that subject with more than a little relief. “Morning!”

She smiled at him, that warm little upturn of her lips. “You look happy today, Misaki.”

“A-ah, really?” He reached up again reflexively to scratch at the back of his head, still edgy from the recent conversation. “I guess I did get a new job and all… and, well, y’know, some things happened…”

“Yata’s competing in a skateboarding competition,” Kusanagi cut in easily. When Yata stole a startled glance at him, he was smiling with a certain amusement. “It seems like it’ll be before you start your school semester, Anna, so if you want I’ll drive you to watch it.”

“Thank you, Izumo.” Anna’s smile widened; she glanced over to meet Yata’s gaze again, and when she spoke again, her words were sincere. “I want to see Misaki compete.”

“A… hah… Right?” Feeling more than a little flustered, Yata straightened, drawing himself up as much as possible. Her enthusiasm left him with a giddy sort of pride blooming in his chest. “I’ll make sure to put on an awesome show, then!”

Anna nodded, stepping across the room towards him. “I’m glad,” she added, voice quiet and clear, “you found so many things to be happy about.” As always, it felt like her eyes stared directly into his soul, reading everything and still smiling back quiet acceptance of all his flaws. “You’ll always have a place to belong to here, so don’t worry.”

A place to belong to. Even now, those words held a significant meaning for him. Yata felt the familiar warmth building at the core of his being, and smiled back at her without holding back. This was a place he belonged, yeah. But he was getting a bigger picture now – that he was a person who existed separate from this place and all the others who belonged here just the same. And he could have other places he belonged to – his family home sometimes, or even his new workplace. In the rink at a skateboard competition, if he managed to keep at it and do well.

At Saruhiko’s side too, some day in the future.

And outside of belonging to all of those places, he was still himself.

In front of him, Anna’s eyes crinkled with the widening of her smile. “Me too,” she said cryptically, and then turned to climb into a seat at the bar. “Can I have some orange juice?”

“Orange juice it is,” Kusanagi responded easily, picking up a glass. “I’ve got hotcakes in the back too, if you’re ready for breakfast.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

“Pleasure to be of service.” He brandished the glass with a bit of a flourish. “Yata-chan, can you do me a favor and go get them for me? They’re just in the warming tray of the oven.”

He was already moving before the sentence even finished. “Got it!” As he pushed through into the back room, he added over his shoulder, “Be right back!”

There was a mirror on the wall when he entered the kitchen, right beside the door – probably something used to check the presentation and all when serving customers – and Yata's eyes caught on the movement made by his reflection. As the door swung shut behind him, he paused, coming to face his image head-on.

The guy in front of him had angry-looking eyes, a down-turned mouth, and raggedly cut hair poking out from beneath a somewhat lumpy hat. His shoulders were a bit hunched and his gaze was dubious, as if he wasn't quite sure about what to make of what he was looking at.

Fucking figures. Yata felt a reluctant smile tug at his lips, and watched his reflection smile ruefully back at him. On a whim, he muttered, "Hey."

It felt stupid – even dumber when he could see the pink spread on his cheeks as they warmed in response to the useless action – but at the same time there was something weirdly satisfying about it. Yata cleared his throat and went on, keeping his voice low. "Yata Misaki, right? Heard you're a pretty cool guy."

The reflection gave him a halfway-embarrassed grin, as if it didn't know what to do with the compliment. Hell, he wasn't really sure himself, but...

Not Homra's Yatagarasu. Not Saruhiko's soulmate. Not my mom's kid.

Yata Misaki.

The grin became less self-conscious with that thought. Yata reached out and lightly fist bumped the frame, feeling a little less foolish somehow, before moving to head further into the kitchen.