thatanimewriter

a frantic cry cuts through the soundtrack of the city, but no call warrants any response. metal crashes against asphalt, and a distant crunch of broken glass in time to a calm gait follows.

"get away from me!"

a bottle shatters against stucco.

"i'll kill you if you take another step."

the same voice again.

shinsou's lilac eyes peer over the lip of the rooftop at the commotion below with uncharacteristic interest. a scarred eyebrow arches as a large man presses himself against the walls that hold him hostage. your figure stands in the entryway of the alley with a peculiar nonchalance. with your hands hidden by your pockets, your gaze traces over the obstacles between you and the man cowering before you.

"i'll slit your throat like i did those useless mutts," he breathlessly hisses. your eyes flicker to the knife in his shaky hold, then to the rooftop where shinsou perches. his muscles lock when your blank irises bare into his, but you simply turn away.

"is that supposed to convince me to let you go?" the distance between you and your victim closes as you leisurely approach.

"what's it matter to you, freak?" he raises his blade to chest height. "i'll see you in hell either way."

you hum thoughtfully. "you believe in shit like heaven and earth, yet you abuse animals?"

the man scoffs and pushes away from the wall, but his feet barely stray from their place. "is an animal that different to a human? you've killed plenty. don't act like you're above me."

he garners no response as you continue to advance. with clumsy steps, he lunges for your figure. the stained blade glints faintly in the limited streetlights. a sigh leaves your lips before you side-step his attack. your naked hands grasp his wrist and your nails dig into his delicate skin. your knee meets his soft stomach, but his groans of pain fall on deaf ears. nimble fingers swipe the knife from his grip, and you lodge it in his neck with practiced precision.

a string of incoherent curses spill past the blood that rapidly pools in his oesophagus. the thick liquid sinks into the concrete below, waiting to be erased over time. you lazily rip the blade from his flesh and wipe it with the tail of his coat. a tired groan erupts from your vocal cords as you squat beside the man's dying form.

"see you in hell." you half-heartedly pat him on the shoulder when you notice the muscles in his face relax and the gurgle of blood cease.

as you rise from the ground and roll your neck of the knots, the quiet pad of footsteps against concrete joins the unsynchronous ambience of musutafu. your focus sweeps over the rooves of the neighbouring buildings, then you kiss the inside of your teeth.

"figured i'd save you a cell in prison for someone else," you say, turning and taking in shinsou's purple locks and matching eyes. "there's other people on the priority list, i'm sure."

"you, namely," he responds, readying his capture weapon. "don't make this harder than it needs to be."

you purse your lips and look past his broad shoulders at the bustling city streets. "this 'cause of the guy behind me, or the stuff before that?"

shinsou hesitates, attention averting to the fresh corpse at your feet. "...i'm going to pretend that didn't happen, if that's alright with you," he decides, meeting your eyes again.

"don't care about your fellow citizens?"

"not the ones that abuse animals or children, to be honest."

you cock your head at his lenience, but offer your wrists regardless. "fine, then."

shinsou's head mirrors yours. "that easy?"

"i'm satisfied with my resume. early retirement doesn't sound too bad right now," you reply.

a pregnant pause befalls you as he narrows his eyes and gives you a thorough scan. your arms go limp by your sides, and your head droops with disappointment as you wait for him to restrain you.

"just leave me to my devices if you're not gonna take a wanted criminal on a silver platter," you grumble, scuffing your boots along the ground.

"i'll take you in for an interrogation," he answers. his calloused hands reach for your wrists, but you intervene.

"one thing," you begin. "don't touch me."

"why? not really something you can opt out of."

you shrug your shoulders and search for a pair of handcuffs around his utility belt, but find none. "quirk related."

"you won't obliterate me, i'll be fine," shinsou insists, stepping forward again only for you to step back.

"it's not that i'm cautious of."

"i can't trust you to just follow me."

"let me tie myself, or get some bullshit police officer to do it," you compromise. "pick your poison."

"...fine."

the soundtrack of musutafu replaces the discordant banter as you absorb the cityscape from the backseat of the police car. the temporary documentary from within the vehicle fades while the officers guide you to the interrogation room that somehow feels colder than the mouldy alleyway you were taken from.

your fingers play with the short chain linking your cuffs, and despite you competing in a staring contest against yourself, shinsou feels as if you're looking past his soul. within the frame of the window, you could fool a civilian into assuming it's an art installation. your gaze never wavers, your eyelids never twitch, and your chest barely rises with each shallow inhale.

shinsou waits to enter. now it felt like a competition that you weren't even aware existed. the icy air bites at his cornea, luring the moisture into the atmosphere until he inevitably blinks. still, you remain a living tableaux.

he runs a hand down his masked face and groans in resignation. this is going to be a difficult interrogation.

the door clicks open and echoes through the near-empty room. your head doesn't turn, but your gaze follows him through the mirrored glass until he sits opposite you.

"fancy seeing you here," you mumble.

he hums half-heartedly. "name?"

"you have it already."

"i want to hear it from you."

you sigh and drop your gaze to your handcuffs. "[last name] [name]."

"age?"

"26."

shinsou leans back in his iron chair thoughtfully. "same age, i see."

you copy his posture and make a poor attempt at replicating his voice. "relevance?"

a dry laugh slips through the holes in his mask. "touche."

outside the room, heroes file in to observe the questioning. heavy boots scuff against smooth concrete until bakugou and izuku hover by the officers sitting at the table littered with files.

"care to tell me what your quirk is now?" shinsou asks firmly, folding his arms over his chest.

you tilt your head and swing a leg over the other. "what're you doing with that information?"

"you don't get to ask questions," he counters. "what is it? it's something to do with touch, obviously. you didn't let me make contact."

"i let the cops touch me."

"frankly, i can't be fucked with the semantics of who. i just want to know what it is."

you watch your distorted visage in the steel of the handcuffs as you weigh your options. "emotional manipulation."

"...interesting." the quiet rattle of chain links fills the momentary break in the interrogation. "care to explain why you're killing random people?"

a knowing grin barely possesses your cracked lips. "are they that random though?" the lilt in your voice replays in shinsou's mind.

"some kinda backwards justice then?"

"eh, you could say that. not everyone is worth saving." you uncross your legs and rest your elbows on the table dividing you from your inquisitor.

"...one of them was a member of an underground organisation with ties to human experimentation," he continues.

"a couple of them were," you correct casually.

"know the organisation?"

"assuming we're talking about the li'l' human enhancement program, i know a thing or two."

"so you know of project kaleidoscope?"

you nod once, but your miniscule smile doesn't dissolve. the onlookers stiffen at your revelation, and their brows furrow at your suspicious neutrality.

"so, you confess to your crimes?"

a single shrug. "sure. i'm not sorry."

shinsou ignores the pull at his heart that says you shouldn't apologise, then he rises from his seat. "please be patient while i deliberate with my colleagues about what we do with you in the meantime."

your face relaxes as he exits the frigid room, and your fingers return to the chain between your wrists. your attention doesn't return to the window, but you seem exceptionally collected for someone likely about to go to jail; or worse.

"i was expecting a gruelling amount of hours in that freezer of a room," bakugou comments.

"they did admit everything suspiciously fast..." izuku mumbles, chewing his bottom lip.

"they know about project kaleidoscope though. that's more than we've ever gotten in a long time," shinsou reasons. "we've been looking into it for months."

"well... half of our leads have been murdered by them." bakugou gestures to you with his chin. "we didn't have time to look any further."

several sets of eyes stare at your languid form through the one-way glass before a diabolic idea leaves shinsou's throat.

"maybe they can help us out then."

everyone's necks snap to the masked hero with varying displays of shock and disbelief.

"what makes you think they'd agree to that?" izuku wonders, though bakugou refuses to be as polite about it.

"that's fuckin' crazy. it's not about them agreeing to it or not, it's about us getting played like a game," the blonde protests. "emotional manipulation quirk. we don't even know how it works."

"it's touch-based is all we've gathered," shinsou answers.

"is that true, or is that the narrative they want us to believe?"

izuku ruffles his hair nervously. "i don't think we have much of a choice not to believe if this mission is getting dire..."

"i agree, more kids keep going missing each week." lavender eyes wait for bakugou's response.

his crimson gaze falls to the floor as he ponders other potential options and contemplates on the interrogation process.

"ok, but they need precautions if they come with us on scouting missions."

shinsou nods curtly. "i'll accept those conditions."

the next time the door to the concrete ice box opens, your head remains locked in place and your attention stays on the mirrored surface before you. the underground hero doesn't sit, but leans against the windowsill with his hands guarded by his pockets.

"figured out which dumpster i'm being thrown into?" you prod, observing the back of his head through the reflection.

"more or less."

"when's the trial?" your focus slides to shinsou's face.

"a couple months." his expression doesn't waver, even under the intense scrutiny from your narrow stare. "as much as we don't wanna admit it, we need your help in our investigation of the kaleidoscope project. after that's finished, you'll be tried."

"and where would i be held between scouting?"

"a liminal space between jail and a shitty university dorm." he answers lightly, but you know there's truth to his sad excuse of a joke.

"alone?" your fingers drum against the table.

"alone."

the frosty air punctures shinsou's lungs when silence suffocates the conversation prematurely. the lack of motion sends bugs scuttering beneath his skin and his muscles beg for reprieve, but their pleads go ignored.

your open hands hover above the table.

"deal."

notes: it's probably gonna be a while before the whole thing is released, but please enjoy this teaser until the full fic is published! this project has slowly been returning my motivation to write (outside of deadlines for uni) ;v;

the delicate aroma of wonton noodle soup kissed sunday's consciousness awake. his wings shielded his eyes from the lights, though they weren't nearly as bright as the ones at home. when he begrudgingly arose from the blanket nest he'd made on your sofa, his eyes landed on the steaming bowl on the coffee table.

he'd never stayed the night with you before, not even when you were kids. there was something off-putting yet heavenly about being wrapped in your scent the morning after a sleepover. sunday's clothes showcased innumerate wrinkles compared to yesterday, though the shadows beneath his eyes seemed lighter than before.

you were nowhere to be seen. well, you were everywhere from the photos on your walls to the note you left beside his breakfast, but your physical form was gone.

had to go to work, made breakfast for you before your daily duties.

his naked hands reached for the utensils beside the bowl, but only hovered for a moment. they retreated to find his shoes instead in loud silence as his lips pursed and his brows furrowed. the gloves he'd abandoned on the armrest deprived his fingertips of their senses as he slid them on once again and straightened his suit. he lingered on the doorknob to take a final glance at your home, then he left it behind as if he was never there to begin with.

your feet scuffed along the ground until you met your front door, fatigue clinging to your clothes and weighing down your eyelids. a relieved sigh left your lips when you entered your living room, then the fatigue transfigured into disbelief.

the bowl of soup you woke up early to make for him sat untouched, and had you been drunk the night before, you would've thought you made it for yourself. the blankets had been folded and draped across the furniture as you usually did and the pillows had been fluffed and returned to their original places.

you swiped a note from the table, but was met with your own handwriting.

"...are you serious?" you muttered through clenched teeth. "again?"

you threw your note away and burst out of your house to stalk the streets for any sign of the halovian. your eyes never connected with his, even after scouring every nook and cranny. your nails dug into your palms as you stared blankly at the landscape before you.

vignettes of your recent interactions flickered in your mind, and the bubbling rage you thought had been taken off the heat started to simmer once again. your younger self of at least a week would laugh at your expense should they see you now. perhaps they'd even be disappointed by how easily you offered a second chance.

blood pooled in the wrinkles of your lips from incessant gnawing, though your tongue never nursed the wound. the crescent indents in your hands had faded, but the hurt burned itself into your heart.

a gentle ding from your phone disrupted your ruminating, though the folds from your frown only deepened when you read the message.

TRAILBLAZER 9:43 pm meet us at golden hour. bring your gun.

your footsteps created a disorganised rhythm with the nameless as you wandered through penacony's grand theatre. despite the numerous battles with anonymous mannequins, you hadn't taken the safety lock off your handgun. now, your finger still evaded the trigger when sunday's voice echoed through the air with a practiced tranquility.

"THEY imbued the world with meaning, perfecting all things in the heavens and on earth. then, THEY rested from the labours of creation. yet, all beings cried out to ena — 'under the banner of order, you have defined all things in the cosmos... but this made us realise that we are but puppets in your hands! thus, on that day, all beings united and cast the aeon into the abyss of oblivion."

your jaw locked at his monologue, though your hands never wavered.

"this grand theatre looks totally different..." march noted. "is this the power of the order?"

"everyone, get ready. this could be a tough battle," himeko forewarned. you absentmindedly checked your ammunition as you descended the stairs to the main stage.

"that marked the seventh day," sunday continued. "cheers and chants reverberated in unison..." a discordant choir of voices replaced his to praise the great one.

as you climbed the stairs to the stage, his resolve crumbled microscopically when he caught the weapon in your hands. his eyes met yours, and a chill crawled up his spine. when you were his bodyguard, you never let him see your face on the job, for you swore you'd only look at danger with such scorn.

this was his first time being your prey.

"that concludes everything related to the order. what are your reflections on this, my dear guests?" he inquired. "nevertheless, this is but a trivial blip in the annals of galactic history. what truly matters is the course this river shall take in years to come..."

"we'll see about that," you muttered. he glanced your way again, but didn't bite.

"you've arrived at the perfect moment. the charmony festival is about to commence, and it would be a shame if you were absent for the harmony's prologue." his hand came to rest above his heart. "allow me to extend my warmest welcome once more. welcome to penacony theatre, the very core of the sweet dream, the abode of the stellaron, the grand stage of the charmony festival... and... the very place where the future of penacony shall be determined through conflict."

"allow me to point out that falling into a permanent slumber is not happiness, especially when those people are driven by someone else's will in their sleep," himeko objected.

"do you still believe that the order only seeks to control the universe as THEIR puppet, himeko?"

"your version of paradise may be 'perfect', but a cage is nothing more than that," you countered.

"people will never achieve true happiness in a world like that!" march added. "they would just be toys for the aeon."

sunday sighed. "it seems you have misunderstood my intentions. allow me to clarify — my desire is not to resurrect a fallen aeon or become one myself..."

"really? sounds like you hit the jackpot to me." your thumb flipped the safety lock off, but your fingers stayed away from the trigger.

"my sole objective is to create a paradise free from aeons, where the order ensures the dignity and happiness of all humanity. a paradise exclusive to us human beings."

"that's not the case. if people are to live with dignity, there must be nothing and no one above them," himeko argued. "in your so-called paradise, you would be the one reigning supreme."

the halovian laughed dryly. "looks like we won't be able to convince each other. now that our conflict has been destined, let's unveil our paths and reveal to the universe the true path. however, before the prelude begins, please take a moment to ponder the questions i've posed..."

you resisted the urge to roll your eyes, though you could've with sunday's back turned to you.

"is darkness equal to daylight?" mechanical conductors landed before you. "are sinners equal to the righteous? if you are born weak, which god should you turn to for solace?"

a frustrated sigh rushed out of your nostrils as you danced around and among the nameless in almost wordless synchrony. the gun in your hands fired like it had never been retired, and the muscle memory held your body hostage like a marionette.

your finger stuttered over the trigger as the conductors ceased their advances and hung lifelessly in the air.

"i already know your decision," sunday's voice rang out. "i, now, permit you to gaze into the sun."

"what the..." you squinted as the curtains drew open and light obscured your vision.

"on these 107,336 stones, the almighty and powerful strings of harmony are at my disposal..." the mannequins disintegrated in elegant wisps of fire. "...the supreme tuner, harmonious choir, dominicus!"

you looked incredulously at the large machinery that had now become sunday. "you've got to be kidding me."

"o, lost souls! come and meet your master!" little angel-like beings took their place at each music stand before sunday as if they were his orchestra to conduct.

"the embodiment of harmony? so, the true purpose of the charmony festival is to... usurp it?" himeko wondered, readying her weapon once again.

empty bullet shells clinked around your feet as you reloaded. "what a hassle," you groaned.

a reprise of the previous battle sung throughout the air as you exchanged attacks with the mechanical director like a physical debate.

its arm rose to point the baton between its metallic fingertips elegantly. "the time has come. creation will be reborn from the remains of the gods..."

as you lifted your gun to fire again, a large stream of water burst through its chest. your jaw fell open as the conductor fell forward and a fleet of ships dotted the sky. you had no clue who the duo of men were floating alongside the aircrafts, but the nameless seemed relieved to have the back up. you covered your eyes with your hand when light abused your retinas, then everything went black.

gravity felt heavier than usual. after forcing yourself awake, you found yourself wrapped in your comforter. the dull ache in your temples pulsated, and even though you tried to massage it away, the sensation persisted.

for a suspiciously peaceful minute, you wondered if what had happened was just a dream your subconscious had curated in retaliation to sunday's silent betrayal. while gravity felt weightier than normal, your toolbelt was twice as heavy. your fingers pried open one of the pouches, and you bit your lip at the sight of unused ammunition.

you hummed curiously and slipped your shoes on before exiting your home. the streets seemed the same, yet nothing could shake the paranoia fossilising in your bones. you turned a corner and gasped as you came face-to-face with black swan.

"jesus fucking christ, you scared me." you clutched a hand to your chest to settle your heartrate.

"apologies, i just wanted to check in on you after the battle," she said gently. "how are you feeling?"

"like i've got the weight of the world on my shoulders."

black swan smiled knowingly. "you seem to catch on fast. indeed, we haven't left the dreamscape."

"sunday's plan worked, then?"

"more or less. the nameless have been awakened and are with robin and acheron at this moment. shall i explain the intricacies of our predicament?"

you shrugged. "tell me on the way. we should move as fast as possible if we're to escape this mess."

the soreness in your joints faded as you rose from your position on the main stage again. you rolled your neck and loosened your shoulders as you stared at sunday's mechanical form looming above you.

"...have you broken free from the dream of order?" he asked, rising to full height.

"fuck off," you spat under your breath.

"we've done enough sleeping already," march protested. "let's show them a wake-up call!"

by now, you're confident that whatever unspoken choreography controlled these battles had embedded itself into your brain. if you were cocky enough, you might've been able to do it with impediments.

the onslaught of attacks continued like steady percussion until a lone feather drifted from the sky. sunday's advances halted, and for a moment, the sky was ethereal. a smile slipped onto your lips when you spotted robin, and the astral express glided through the air before slamming into the robotic conductor.

"robin, is that you singing...?" he asked.

"brother, you have heard their cries... this is not the paradise they hoped for," she pleaded.

"even so, they don't know where they should be heading. that's why... i had to become the lone star in the sky to guide them."

"even if that star... must hang in a perpetual night of solitude?"

you'd lost count of how many times you've reloaded, but you winced when you saw you only had this last round.

"if we had never experienced solitude, how could we have embarked on different paths?" sunday proposed. "now, our final talk has concluded. all the work of the creation has been completed. the inevitable day has arrived..." the angelic musicians merged to create a new form for the director. "the embryo of philosophy... will reshape us for all of reality!"

golden arms folded protectively over the porcelain face of the 'embryo of philosophy'. "if your 'paradise' can save more people, sever my path with your hands."

"if you say so," you mumbled, rejoining the nameless in their efforts.

you attempted to ignore the dread that was building as sunday's new form glowed brighter, but it was to no avail when a large hand appeared in the sky to touch fingertips with his. the surge of energy threw you off balance, and a sickening crack from your ribs made you cringe uncontrollably. you inhaled deeply, but what should've been a calm exhale became a pained groan.

you shifted on your knees to find a more comfortable position for the time being and checked your ammunition. one bullet left. beside you, the nameless were slowly losing momentum, but you also saw how the arms guarding the embryo slackened under the relentless blows it'd taken. with practiced ease, you lifted your weapon and fired for the final time. the bullet pierced the embryo's forehead almost soundlessly, then the large figure fell forward.

"so... why does life slumber?" sunday asked breathlessly.

"because... someday..." the trailblazer's hat dissipated into golden specks. "we will wake from our dreams!"

the stage crumbled, and sunday's grip loosened. he fell like a shooting star that was tumbling for the earth, soon to be a treasure discovered by a lone explorer willing to see the value in what others deem useless.

TAGLIST: (if your name is in bold, i couldn't tag you in the post-)

@galagarts @junyueyin @no-hearts-included @caeruslumiere @abyssmal-skies @jellofishuu @axerrri @the-cottage-dragon @qwnelisa @velovicy @sweetistic @zuoran03 @jar-03 @ukiyo-ikigai @violetisreadinghush @tamikahoshiko @b1loop @queenothegeeks @shadowypeachsweets @name-less-666 @bubblegupyy @evan-trand @nellqzz

your voice was the soundtrack to mirio's life as of his first year at ua. the unique harmonisation of your vocal cords echoed through his eardrums for months before he finally asked you on a date. it murmured him to sleep — he always snuck into your house or dorm at nights — and chimed him awake without fail.

people used to talk about the angel on their shoulder as a guiding voice, but mirio always thought of you as his compass. not an angel, not a devil, just you; a melody that eased his aching heart and whisked away his fears when he needed it most. even when you weren't by his side, your voice reverberated in his skull.

"lemillion? that's a cool hero name."

"you're improving so much! i'm so proud of you."

"i love you, quirk or no quirk."

your touch warmed his skin regardless of how many layers he wore, though not as hot as when you first seared his hand with your kindness. the absence of your fingers intertwined with his dampened his signature smile.

the knots in his shoulders dissipated beneath your hands, and the fatigue from training took their place. he once thought to buy a weighted blanket, but your head on his chest overrode that decision. the pins and needles in the morning was worth every millisecond that you remained in his arms the previous night.

mirio relished every gentle squeeze of your hand before a crucial battle and each tender kiss when he came out alive. a pout occupied his features every time you gave him a peck on the cheek until you kissed him properly.

despite the affection you had given him that morning, a smile failed to cross his lips. the chaos of war competed with his inner voice — your voice — as all for one's forces clashed with heroes. you were nowhere to be seen, but he wasn't granted the privilege to fight by your side.

he would perpetually regret not fighting for that honour.

a sharp ring possessed mirio's eardrums as a hush finally fell upon the city. the adrenaline coursed through his veins despite the peace that settled throughout the decimated streets. a relieved sigh nearly escaped his lungs, but his stuttering heartbeat blocked it.

the ringing grew louder when he spied your figure being carried by deku. his hurried footsteps drowned out the sound of your name falling from his lips.

"i'm sorry..." deku mumbled when your weight transferred to mirio's arms. "i tried to save them, but-"

"it's ok."

the comfort your skin would normally provide mirio triggered an isolated chill beneath his torn hero costume. the pros stared on in sorrow, but said nothing, even when his knees collided with the fractured bitumen.

"can you hear me?" he asked weakly. a thumb caressed the side of your face and smudged the blood along your face like a stroke of paint. "we can go home now."

your face remained statuesque, and your larynx failed to sound again. the quiet percussion of your breathing didn't join his, but the deafening silence said more than he wished for.

"it's over..." he rasped, holding your head to his with an unmistakable tremor. "it's over..."

onlookers weren't sure if that was a reprieve or a burden. they didn't know you properly, but they wouldn't deny the tragedy that was your untimely fate. mirio planted a prolonged kiss to your icy lips to distract from the deep gash that tore your side open. the tendons and veins nearly spilled onto the ground had his hand not held onto your waist for dear life.

"i love you." he twisted the promise ring on your finger absentmindedly. "always will."

mirio reluctantly slid your ring from your hand and pulled his necklace out from underneath his costume. a matching ring rested against his chest, and he added your blood-stained one to the chain dangling around his neck for safe keeping.

your corpse was lifted from his arms, but your weight had yet to free his mind as he stared at the blood-stained road beneath his knees. tamaki hesitated from behind mirio before reaching a light hand to grasp his shoulder in solidarity. nejire sniffled quietly and knelt beside them, wrapping her arms around the usually smiley boy's still shoulders.

the days following were a blur for everyone, though mirio wasn't certain a day had even passed when you weren't there to greet him each morning. by now, the blood that coated your ring had been washed off and forever rested beside his heart. he changed the chain for a sturdier one, for he refused to take it off even to shower.

tears hadn't fallen from his eyes still. they didn't until he graduated ua and became a pro hero.

there was a party that night celebrating their successful promotion to pro heroes, but he didn't stick around long. he exchanged the rowdiness of freshly graduated students for the ambience of the cemetery. he always visited every week with a new bouquet of flowers — god forbid there were no flowers on your grave for more than a few seconds — and a story about his week.

"hi, my love," he began, crossing his legs as he sat before your headstone. "i graduated ua today... wish you were here to graduate with me."

the wind rustled his hair, but your voice didn't grace his ears.

"i miss you," he admitted to the breeze. "i keep waiting for you to walk into the classroom at any moment and tell me it's ok, that it was just a dream." calloused fingers adjusted the flowers wrapped in tissue paper. "we always talked about what we'd do when we were pros," he continued. "all of my plans included you, so i'm not sure where to go now."

he could imagine the words you'd say to him so clearly he thought you were truly there for a fleeting moment. mirio's blue eyes met yours in the photo he'd chosen to leave at your grave, then your visage blurred. a broken sob seized his shoulders and air hiccupped through his esophagus in irregular beats.

"i wish you didn't go alone," he wailed. "i'm sorry i wasn't there." his lips quivered uncontrollably as his burdened tears fell to the granite slate that barricaded your body from him. "wait for me, please. i'll make you proud, then maybe we can finally be together again... forever this time."

still, no response. there never would be one ever again.

he knew who you were. it was impossible not to when you catered most of, if not all of his family functions and club activities. naturally, you were also made aware of the ootori's existence since you were in elementary school. your faces were imprinted into each other's retinas, yet you never conversed beyond business exchanges.

"my father wanted me to thank you for your assistance last night," kyoya informed monotonously. "you truly are one of the best."

you nodded politely as you stashed your belongings into your bag. "i appreciate the recognition, ootori. it's always a pleasure to help loyal clients such as yourselves."

he smiled gently, but you saw through the artifice. "speaking of which, the host club have an upcoming ball next month," he began. he opened his mysterious black notebook, and you refrained from sighing at his predictability.

"platters or a course dinner?"

"platters will do."

for years, this was the peak of your relationship. as a family of professional chefs, you always stood behind the ootori's at innumerate conferences and fundraisers. despite growing up within proximity your whole lives, a friendship never blossomed. not even when you signed the contract that sealed your marriage. admittedly, you didn't know who your partner was when your signature tattooed the paper, but you'd learnt not to ask questions anymore.

comparatively to your peers, you got engaged rather late. prior to your first meeting with your fiancé, you had shed the graduation robes that signified your completion of tertiary education. the clothes that donned your form beneath the cloak remained as you pushed open the large double doors to your drawing room. a lean figure turned away from the window, and you would've laughed at the way kyoya's mouth hung agape if not for your mirrored expression.

"you." your voices harmonised as you acknowledged each other's newfound presence in your lives. a silence befell the room, and the sun's rays illuminated your faces as it dipped below the horizon.

"didn't you buy the company back in our ouran days? i don't understand why you would agree to such an arrangement," you wondered. you folded your arms over your chest, and kyoya hummed in thought before sitting on the chaise lounge.

"i did, though it seems my father is quite set on meddling with my life even into my adult years," he said. you sat on the armchair beside him and threw your legs over the arm. he eyed your posture with a raised brow that would've been microscopic had you not grown up with him. "making yourself comfortable, i see."

"my house, my rules," you retorted casually.

"fair enough."

"did you read the contract, then?"

he nodded, twisting his body to face you better. "indeed. i thought it was intriguing that we are to be affianced for a year before the wedding ceremony."

you laughed dryly. "publicity stunt. they want to promote a 'secret romance' that began from childhood."

"how tedious," kyoya muttered. "are we going to address the part where an apartment is chosen for us?"

"fine," you relented. "know that it's going to be a single bedroom apartment. they won't allow us to sleep separately." his eyes flicked to your shadows cast along the parquet floors. "don't worry, i wake up early and come home late because of work. we likely won't be sleeping at the same time as it is."

he smirked, but kept his focus on the floor. "very reassuring. i probably work later than you anyway."

"knowing you, i'll be waking up by the time you retire to bed."

"a bold claim knowing we've never spent the night together."

"i don't have to, i see the eyebags even from across the room," you said, resting your head on your hand with a shit-eating grin. "consider it an educated guess, if you will."

kyoya's lips curved into his typical sly smile. "can't argue with that."

even if he wanted to combat your teasing, his evidence was severely lacking. this was only made more obvious when you moved into your shared apartment not even a couple months later. he would've liked to say that this manufactured love story was made easier due to your long history, but he barely knew you past your professional career. this incredible oversight on his part — he had a suspicious amount of information about you at his fingertips and never looked at it properly — slapped him in the face when you started turning the apartment into a 'home'.

"opinions on a moss green feature wall? no, not the weird lime green, the darker one," you asked, staring at the large blank wall in the living room.

"wouldn't it be nicer to just decorate with colour instead of painting a wall?" kyoya countered, holding a hand to his chin.

you scoffed and waved his comment off. "don't you work in healthcare? we don't need a house to look like a hospital or a doctor's office."

"so long as the place looks cohesive and clean, i generally don't care what you decorate it with."

"really? mr. micro-managing-vice-president-of-the-host-club ootori?" you pushed, giving him a sidelong glance. "are you sure?"

he sighed and turned to inspect a different area of the apartment. "don't make me regret it."

in hindsight, perhaps he shouldn't have rescinded his autonomy in how his own apartment was decorated. thankfully, you seemed to have a brain between your eyes — he was partially worried he would marry a brat — and while initially he was indifferent to working late, the need to come home at the end of the day ate at his brain each passing week.

house plants accumulated in the corners of your living spaces and an assortment of lamps occupied cabinets and side tables due to your resentment of the overhead lights. he used to roll his eyes at such a trivial demand, but his eyes thanked him by the time the sun had risen and his eyelids threatened to close for the foreseeable few hours.

truthfully, your apartment looked much better with the stupid moss green wall, infinite lamps and plants. yet, he almost never saw you. the apartment was shared between the both of you, but it felt as if he was intruding on your space each time he unlocked the door. his shoes sat beside yours, but you were usually nowhere to be seen.

he ran a hand through his hair and blinked his fatigue away as he switched his work shoes for his fluffy house slippers you forced upon him. he paused in the entryway when he saw the lamps still illuminated the living room and a savoury smell drifted through the air. kyoya padded down the hallway and eyed you curiously as you hovered over a little pot on the stove.

"what are you still doing up?" he inquired, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "it's 3:27 am, you can't be working on a couple hours of sleep."

"i have a day off tomorrow, mum," you responded, turning the stove off. "i can sleep in for once."

he watched as you ladled soup into a bowl and pushed it into his hands before forcing him onto the velvet couch he claimed he didn't like. "are we sure you're not the mum here?" he questioned.

"definitely not," you grumbled, washing the leftover pots and leaving them on the drying rack. "i'm more like the nurse in a hospital who forces you to eat even when you don't want to."

"mother adjacent."

you brought another tray over with rice and chicken. "rice, 3/4 white and 1/4 black, that's why it's purple. crispy scallion chicken. you're holding your miso soup." kyoya opened his mouth to thank you for your efforts, but blinked owlishly when you turned on your heel to head for the bedroom. "i'm going to bed now. good night. enjoy the food."

you waved behind you as you disappeared behind the door and he was only faintly aware of his bewildered expression until his stomach growled in dissatisfaction.

"thank you for the food..." he mumbled.

for the next half an hour, he ate in silence. a shiver ran up his spine at the foreign warmth that settled in his stomach and he wondered if this was how haruhi felt growing up as a commoner. he pulled a fluffy blanket from the arm of the sofa and draped it over his lap with a pensive expression. kyoya looked at himself in the reflection of the full length mirror you wedged into a corner 'for style' and internally sighed at his disheveled hair.

the quiet was off-putting without the never ending bustle of maids around the family estate. much of the house keeping was up to him to complete between the long hours and unfortunate necessity for sleep. sometimes he would come home to it finished already and you snuggled beneath the comforter.

thus begun a habit he only saw the product of.

later that morning after an insufficient amount of sleep, kyoya groaned to himself when his alarm sounded. he rushed to silence it under the guise of the beeping being obnoxious, but he knew it was because he didn't want to disturb your well-deserved rest. he sat upright with an unshakable drowsiness and glanced at your sleeping form. his dark eyes waited for a sign that you'd woken up, but there was none.

kyoya reluctantly trudged into the living room for a subpar cup of coffee and cringed when the sunrise blinded him more than he already was without his glasses. perhaps he'd developed an immunity to caffeine, because it didn't do much to wake him up before he showered and prepared for work again. between rooms, he always checked that your eyes remained shut and your head was still buried into the sheets. as he inspected the fridge for a quick morning snack, he thought he was hallucinating the little bento box in the fridge with a sticky note on top. he rubbed his eyes and frowned when it didn't fizzle out of view.

when he opened the lid, his gaze softened slightly. a bed of rice was accompanied by an assortment of vegetables and protein in an intricate design he'd never seen before. kyoya's attention moved to the note stuck haphazardly on the lid.

morning! made you lunch, 'cause i know you don't eat >:((

he cracked open the door to the bedroom one last time to look at your figure tucked beneath the blankets. his eyes returned to the note, and a genuine smile crossed his features.

"i appreciate it," he whispered into the early morning air, closing the door behind him as quietly as possible.

this soon became a pattern. you would awaken before him to head to your restaurant and leave behind a lunch for him to take to work. in the back of his favourite black notebook — you soon found out he had multiple of the same notebook — he had a museum of each of the little notes you'd graced him with to compensate for your absence.

despite the abhorrent amount of work assigned to him each day, his overtime hours gradually lessened in favour of the cozy abode you had curated. it was never complete without you, though. a dull wave of disappointment settled in his lungs each time he was greeted by a dark apartment, but he found himself thankful for the dimmable lights that would ensure your slumber remained undisturbed.

though his culinary abilities were much lower than yours, he found himself making you simple breakfasts in exchange for the lunches you bestowed upon him. he noticed how often you would reach for the yaki onigiri at host club events back in school, so he always left some plain for you to fry when you arrived at the restaurant. the practice seemed to pay off in the end.

"kyoya," you called as the apartment door clicked shut. "why are you awake at this hour?"

he froze in the kitchen as you padded into the living space. "doing some... future husband duties."

you suppressed a smirk and nodded slowly. "i see."

his dark eyes focused on the bowl of filling, but his attempts to ignore your lingering gaze were futile. "i don't need your criticisms, please. i'm trying."

"i wasn't going to," you defended.

"i can feel you staring."

"i'm simply observing."

"with your professional head chef eyes, no doubt."

you scoffed lightly and lifted yourself to sit on the kitchen island. "so dramatic..."

"i can hear you."

a hush blanketed the room as you watched kyoya assemble the onigiri, and you arched a brow in surprise. you swung your legs lightly as you scrolled on your phone while he kept his back to you as he slaved away in the kitchen.

"how was your special event tonight?" he asked, breaking the mildly awkward silence.

"it was good, i think whatever investors hosted the dinner got what they wanted," you said. "it doesn't matter to me, i just serve food."

"you do more than that," kyoya argued gently.

"not as much as you."

"i mainly sit behind a desk or go on site visits. you work from 5 til 11 in a kitchen commandeering dozens of chefs. they're incomparable."

you rolled your eyes at his insistence. "maybe we should make it a dozen and one. your onigiri shaping skills have improved since the first time you made them."

kyoya chuckled softly. "respectfully, i'm not cut out for that kind of work."

"never know until you try," you offered. "if you ever get fired, i can make a place for you on my staff."

he turned to look at you disapprovingly. "i'm the owner of the company."

"you might get overthrown," you shrugged.

"you have no faith in me."

"i haven't seen you work yet. maybe you could be overthrown."

"i ran a tight ship with the host club, show me some respect," kyoya huffed. "don't bite the hand that feeds you."

"i feed you most of the time," you objected.

he couldn't fight that. not when you never failed to prepare him lunch, sometimes even dinner, every day. if he ever woke you up when he came home late, you'd groggily make him a quick meal despite his protests. you always made plenty of meal prep in the case that he was still hungry, but couldn't be bothered to make anything. he'd never seen the soy marinated eggs run out, and he certainly never saw fried rice missing from the fridge once in the months of living together.

your presence beside him had almost been a constant since ouran, but he never knew he would miss the silent snark and unsaid care that followed you day in and day out. a business trip was nothing new to him. he'd gone on plenty of his own, but for once, it wasn't him going overseas.

the bed was perpetually empty for the next month and despite having all the space of a king size mattress, he kept to his side. his weight almost certainly dropped without your premade lunches and the midnight snacks. unexpectedly, he missed the self-imposed necessity of making onigiri each night. so much so that he made them for himself one night to pass the time. he soon realised he should've played music in the background to drown out the irrationally horny upstairs neighbours that only served to remind him what he didn't have.

perhaps he wasn't so good at change as he thought, for the host club raided the apartment unannounced to boost his morale that weekend. kyoya wasn't even sure how they managed to find out when he had a rare day off, but their intrusion was unwelcomed on this particular day.

"tamaki, i would appreciate if you didn't cause a ruckus," he grumbled.

"we haven't seen you in months, you can stand to tolerate us a little bit," the blonde dismissed.

"today of all days is not ideal," kyoya said, scooping a blanket from the floor and draping it over the sofa once again. just the way you liked it.

"why? it's not like you do anything but stare at a computer all day," hikaru accused, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table.

"how's the living arrangement going?" haruhi wondered. "i can't imagine you'd willingly share a bed with [name]."

kyoya sighed and pushed his glasses up. "our work schedules prevent us from sleeping together more than a few hours."

"bet you wish it was more, huh?" hikaru shot him a mischievous grin that earnt him a playful shove in the shoulder.

"i don't know what you're talking about."

"you're extra grumpy than normal," tamaki observed. "isn't [name] on a business trip in china?"

"...indeed, though it can't be helped," kyoya responded reluctantly.

"ah. the woes of long distance love."

"there is no such love. this is an arranged marriage."

the twins eyed each other suspiciously, but miraculously chose not to speak on it. mori grunted in acknowledgement, but also remained silent.

"so, when is [name] coming back?" honey asked.

"they will be returning tonigh-"

the door unlocked, and the host club froze. as you pushed it open and pushed your luggage through the opening, kyoya trekked across the room to greet you.

"welcome home," he began. "please excuse the buffoons in the living room, they will be leaving shortly." he shot them a dirty glare over his shoulder, though no one budged.

you laughed half-heartedly and tried to stifle a yawn. "it's fine, i can cook a small feast for them. your friends are always welcome." as you shuffled to the bedroom to abandon your luggage for tomorrow, you waved at the host club lazily.

kyoya tailed you and leaned against the doorframe. "that is unnecessary, you've just come back from a big trip. you should rest."

"it's not that long of a flight, don't worry too much," you assured.

"the sun is setting, i insist you rest."

"i'm fast, you've watched me cook before. it won't take long," you argued, though he didn't miss the carefree smile on your lips.

as you continued to debate the likelihood of you catering for the host club, they sat in the living room wide-eyed. who was this man, and what had he done with the real kyoya?

"i've never seen him so... domestic," haruhi mumbled.

"it's creepy," the twins agreed.

"the woes of love..." tamaki lamented.

"maybe it'll be good for him," honey proposed.

kyoya disagreed with this sentiment entirely. he, too, was wondering where the real kyoya had vanished to. he'd never craved 'home', not even when he was living in his family estate. he'd never wanted to cook for anyone, and he'd never willingly cleaned for anyone other than himself. he'd certainly never wanted to hug someone. or kiss them. maybe it was the flu he'd caught.

it was impossible to sleep away the sickness with the snot pooling in his nostril, but he wasn't super keen on sitting upright with a tissue semi-permanently lodged in his nose as he lets it drip. instead, he'd rather restlessly flip sides as the mucus slowly trickled from one nostril to another. the incessant sneezing didn't prove to be any help either. still, he refused to notify you.

not even when the moon hung high in the sky and you eyed the lump of blankets from the doorway.

"i know you're not sleeping," you said monotonously.

"no you don't," kyoya croaked.

"if you were, you wouldn't have responded as clearly as you did. you slur your words when you sleep talk. those are the words of a conscious man."

"i sleep talk?"

"oh, yeah."

"do i dare ask what i've said?" he grumbled.

"i advise against it," you grinned.

kyoya opened his mouth to spout a half-baked comeback, but the overwhelming urge to sneeze replaced the words. then another. and another.

"you're sick, aren't you?" you walked to the bedside and pressed a hand to his forehead. "did you go to work today, or did you take a day off?"

"i've been here since 2 am last night."

"responsible," you mumbled. "alright, stay in bed tonight. i'll get you something to eat."

"you don't have to," he replied.

"what's the story with textures today?"

a pause consumed the room, then the dark-haired man covered his face with the comforter. "just nothing too chunky."

"yes, chef."

the door clicked shut behind you, and he removed the covers from his head. kyoya attempted to sigh, but a series of coughs heaved from his throat. maybe the redness in his cheeks could be excused with his fever.

what am i thinking, why else would my face be red if not for the fever?

a gentle aroma crawled beneath the crack in the doorway and tickled his sense of smell. he'd never been so disappointed in his life to lose the ability to sniff the air.

a chill caressed his skin from underneath and tucks itself between his tendons. a groan escaped his chapped lips as you knocked on the door, but entered without permission.

"i didn't say 'come in', you know," he protested weakly.

"you're in no position to be giving orders."

you slid the tray of food onto the bedside table — the one on your side, of course — and lazily helped kyoya sit upright against the pillows. he groggily glanced at the food nearby, and a faraway stare possessed his irises. the steaming bowl of okayu sat beside a little glass of shogayu, and as you brought the tray to lay across his lap, he swore he saw the image of his mother in the reflection of the glass. he lifted the spoon to his lips and resisted the audible sigh that simmered in his lungs when the warm porridge travelled into his stomach.

his lips parted, then his vision blurred.

the icy embrace of kyoya's cold retracted when the tender heat of your cooking lined his stomach. his mother's image emerges amidst his limited sight, and in the fog, he sees a mirror. he doesn't remember his mother very well, but her memory lives within his closed-lipped smile and the curious tilt of his head.

"earth to kyoya?"

he blinked the visage away when you waved your hand in front of his face. a cough clawed past his throat when he offered you a grateful smile. worry etched itself onto your features, and he found he hated the way it drew creases along your face. yet, he let himself indulge in your rare concern.

"it tastes just like my mother's," he noted. "i haven't had okayu since i was a child."

your eyes darted along the wall behind him momentarily before returning to his. "criminal, truly," you mumbled.

"i don't usually receive such hospitality when i'm sick." kyoya took another spoonful of his food. perhaps it'll kill him with kindness for admitting something oddly personal.

"bet you didn't tell anyone."

"...not since my mother passed."

a stray tear slipped down his chiseled cheekbone, and against your better judgement, your thumb brushed it away. he tensed, just barely, and you instinctively leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to his forehead.

"eat well, then. get some more rest." you forced yourself to look away when kyoya looked at you with such vulnerability as you walked to the door. "i'll, uh, be in the living room. if you need anything, let me know."

his doe eyes disappeared behind the door as you left, and so did the lack of impulse control as you rested your head against the wall in shame. unfortunately, he never did ask you for more. a couple hours had passed and you never heard more than a sneeze, sniffle, or a cough.

you shyly cracked open the door, but you only saw an unmoving mass of illness beneath the sheets. his name echoed through the room gently, but this time there was no sarcastic response. your figure lingered by the door, then you retreated to the linen cupboard where you sourced some miscellaneous blankets.

your phone flash replaced the overhead lights as you padded back to the sofa and rearranged some of the pillows. the darkness of the sky beyond the walls of your humble abode faded as the sun crept above the horizon. it didn't seem to matter, for your eyelids provided the shadows necessary for your consciousness to slip into.

the bright morning rays seemed to disturb kyoya's much needed sleep. he blearily opened his eyes, though the dryness in them wasn't a good incentive to keep them open. a stifled cough erupted from his throat, and he unenthusiastically sat up to reach for the glass of water at his bedside. a deep sigh left his blocked nostrils when he saw it was empty.

the warmth of the bedsheets clung to his skin as he shuffled to the kitchen, but his trek was swiftly halted as he spied you on the couch. the floor beneath his feet soon matched the temperature of your shared bed before he abandoned his glass on the kitchen counter. he sat on the fluffy carpet beside your peaceful face, and he shook his head disapprovingly.

"you're gonna get a sore back sleeping like that," he said in a hushed voice, though there was no bite to his tone as he readjusted the blankets around your shoulders.

"hm?" you stared at him through half-lidded eyes, but he could see you weren't fully there yet.

"don't you have work?"

you snuggled further into the blankets and shut your eyes again. "i called off. you're sick."

"why are you sleeping out here? we didn't fight," he probed.

"you're sick."

kyoya could barely hear your slurred response, but chose not to ask any more of you in your deprived state. the dim lighting in the living room cast a soft glow that convinced him you were an angel sent from above. his original mission in the kitchen was long forgotten as he traced your sleeping features with his eyes.

"you still here?" he whispered, fiddling with the edge of the blanket that dangled near the ground. no response. not even a tired hum. he slowly leaned forward to press his forehead against yours. "...i'm glad it's you who i'm marrying."

you never knew a silent presence could add so much fulfillment to your life. since your first year of middle school, ikuya's company joined the noisy chorus of your pre-existing friend group. his quiet and perhaps awkward charm wormed its way into your synapses and burnt itself into your hippocampus to join you even in sleep.

your friends always rolled their eyes whenever you'd slip his name into every possible conversation, and you never failed to indignantly deny your feelings. longing looks from across the classroom weren't missed by classmates and teachers alike. late night calls reverberated in your eardrums and replayed in your head to fill the silence he left behind.

ikuya was your first boyfriend if you could even consider the 9 months of unspoken recognition of reciprocal feelings and the 2 months of official dating a real relationship. the mere melody of each other's names brought a youthful grin to your faces and your friends swore dimples would permanently imprint themselves onto your features. you shared clumsy hugs and rushed pecks on the cheeks more times than you could count on both hands and feet, but the tooth-rotting sweetness created a cavity that never truly healed. neither of you noticed, for the nerves had been eaten away and the sensitivity dissipated until it was too late.

the moon was witness to the undeniable affection you shared, but the sun observed the affection transform into an obsession that soon died and reincarnated as love, however that may be defined by a teenager who still has much to learn. the desire that obscured your reality loosened its hold on your neck and heart as the juvenile romance dissolved into platonic sentiments and haunted its counterpart.

the break up was sudden, but you maintained your friendship because you couldn't fathom the other suddenly disappearing from your rigid routines that possessed your bodies and minds. there was never a fight, never a conflict, just a desire to go back to being friends that ikuya reluctantly agreed to.

the bond you shared solidified over the next few years despite the heartbreak. as his jawline sharpened and you matured far past the oblivious child you were back then, a newfound understanding rooted itself between you. it was as if he was the only one who truly comprehended your personality and accepted the flaws you fought for your life to hide. he felt that he could tell you anything and regardless of whatever he spilt, it would be met with warmth.

a new equilibrium had been established until you graduated to senior high. excitement vibrated between the students as the ceremony came to a close, then a gentle hand grasped your wrist.

"hey, um... can we talk? privately?" ikuya asked, avoiding your gaze as much as possible and hoping you couldn't see the redness in his cheeks. your smile faltered, but you allowed him to take you to an isolated corner outside. he sat on a wooden bench and you noticed his knee bouncing, but chose not to comment.

"are you ok?" you inquired. he didn't respond immediately. his mouth opened and closed numerous times, though you didn't prompt another question.

"the feelings came back," he said.

"oh."

a sigh left his lungs and he pursed his lips. "yeah... i just wanted to let you know."

"i'm really sorry," you began as you picked at your fingers behind your back.

"it's ok. i know you don't feel the same anymore," ikuya interjected. he smiled despite the disappointment, but it didn't bring you the same reassurance it used to. "we can still be friends, that won't change anything."

"i sure hope not," you mumbled. he stood as he got a text from his father and you gave him a hug before he walked away into the new year.

true to his word, your friendship didn't change, at least not for the worse. lunch time rendezvous were never missed for the world and class time inside jokes were constantly being formed each week. your camera rolls became a museum for your friendship more than anything else, especially as your high school days were coming to a close. even as you continued onto university in differing prefectures, you made the time for each other between the bustling social life and incessant homework. a stream of late night shower thoughts and nonsensical instagram reels occupied your chats, and though your mutual friends didn't share group chats with you, there was something special about your personal bond. that was until a fateful train trip that changed your perception of your friendship.

"ikuya is visiting in winter," asahi said with his usual easy smile.

you gave him a sidelong glance. "what?"

his smile faltered and he turned to look at you properly. "didn't he tell you?"

"nope, apparently not," you muttered, leaning back into your seat.

"i'm sure he'll tell you soon."

a month had passed and you continued to interact with ikuya over social media and engaged in the odd conversation here and there. he never told you he was visiting, though you never told him you knew of his eventual travels. he had returned before without informing you, though it was for a swim meet that robbed him of any leisure time. you convinced yourself this was a similar situation. asahi still swam, perhaps that's how he found out first. then he spilled the reason ikuya was visiting.

ASAHI 9:43 pm IKUYA HAS A GIRLFRIENDDDD oh, i wasn't supposed to tell you that- YOU 9:44 pm i know, i heard from makoto i thought it was a joke at first, but i guess not ASAHI 9:44 pm he really didn't wanna tell us, but that's why he's coming to visit make it official i think YOU 9:45 pm interesting

the cycle repeated itself after that. a multitude of conversations happened since asahi spilled ikuya's secret. still, you never heard anything from ikuya himself. in fact, you noticed the slow, nearly microscopic decline in your interactions. he never commented on whatever meme you'd send and he often left you on read or simply liked the message and continued with his life until the next meme. sometimes he would send one first, but a conversation never progressed beyond that.

the silence gnawed at your brain, but you excused it away with the understanding that life has started picking up and he didn't have the same freedom he used to have. this was plausible for a year or so until the communication fizzled out entirely. the typical animosity behind friendship break ups was nonexistent and for years after, you were wrangling with the notion that you were simultaneously friends and strangers. admittedly, you didn't have much time to ponder this unfamiliar territory with full-time work and an apartment to maintain.

one late night doom scroll calmed the water's surface and a clear image of what your relationship had become finally formed. once again, asahi had come to deliver the news.

ASAHI 11:23 pm you know ikuya's girlfriend?? YOU 11:23 pm yeah ASAHI 11:23 pm he PROPOSED tonight he made me go ring shopping with him and i must have an eye for jewellery cause she loved the ring YOU 11:24 pm huh, never would've thought ASAHI 11:24 pm what is that supposed to mean >:(( but how excitinggg

your phone screen went black and you rolled to lay on your other side. it was late, but you weren't remotely tired. it stung that you were never involved in the plans, nor were you clued in to ikuya's goals for the future, but it had been years since you even spoke. and so, you closed your eyes and slept with the bittersweet comfort that you weren't going to be included in the wedding preparations either.

despite the initial hurt, you moved on with life. it was the only thing you knew how to do. it was sealed in your subconscious that you no longer held a place in ikuya's life, and though you knew you weren't replaced, you acknowledged that someone else had filled the radio silence between you. the crisp autumn air cleansed your lungs and relieved the tension in your shoulders as you closed up shop. you gently pulled on the door to check if it locked properly and let a content smile decorate your features as the setting sun warmed your flesh. as you stepped back to make the trek home, a body collided with yours.

"ah, i'm so sorry, i wasn't looking where i was going," a deep voice said. you froze for a moment and you didn't need to turn your head to know who bumped into you.

"it's fine." as you moved to walk away, his hand grasped your wrist. maybe the gods or some other fates above felt evil for this awkward parallel to your younger days.

"[name]?"

you resisted the urge to sigh and opted for a tight-lipped smile. "that's me."

ikuya's lips pulled into a large grin — a stark juxtaposition to your expression — and ran a hand through his dark hair. "wow, i haven't seen you in years. how have you been?"

you blinked owlishly at him and your brain screamed at you to stop buffering. "uh, yeah, i'm doing good. heard you got engaged. congratulations, that's... exciting, i'm sure."

a soft hue spread across his cheeks and he gently released his grip. "never thought i'd be here, but it feels good," he confessed. feels good without me here, you thought bitterly, but maintained your composure.

"well, i've got to head home now, i hope the rest of your life is fulfilling and you're happy."

that wasn't a lie. while you may not be the same as you were when you were teenagers, you never wished anything unfortunate to befall ikuya. he returned your sentiments and as you gazed into his chocolate irises, you realised you were almost meeting him again. the thoughts that seemed to visibly swim in his eyes never faded, the curve of his lips was a spitting image of his teenage self, but you could no longer read what lay beneath his skull and hid beneath his thick eyelashes. you didn't know him at all.