Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sae got out of the uber and took his two massive suitcases up the drive. He hated this and everything about it, so he just tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. If he focused on this moment, just what was in front of him, the worst problem in his life was whether to knock or ring the bell.

He opted for knocking. They were expecting him, so it didn’t take long for the door to open. Suddenly, the problems in his life were returning and forcing him to confront them.

Rin stood there, looking blank faced, which he appreciated. His normally overactive husband, who was peeking around his arm, looked awfully solemn. Which he did not particularly appreciate. 

“Hi, Sae-chan,” he greeted him. His voice matched his face.

Rin didn’t greet him in any respect. He just looked down at the suitcases. “You need help with those?”

“No,” Sae answered, even though it would have been nice.

He was here for help of some kind, was he not? Still, it seemed near impossible to accept it. He figured it would be a work in progress and left it at that.

“Alright, then,” Rin said, stepping aside to let him in. “Make yourself at home.”

At Meguru’s insistence, Sae left his bags at the door. Because he didn’t immediately need anything from them, he figured it was a kindness he could provide.

The air was tense in the living room. Rin told him to make himself comfortable. Sae got a sudden knee jerk urge to stay standing just out of spite. He forced himself to sit. Meguru asked if anyone wanted tea, and left before anyone responded. The silence was all the kindness Sae really had in him. Rin seemed to pace a little, uneasily, and then forced himself to sit as well.

Rin didn’t know what to say, and Sae didn’t particularly feel like saying anything, so neither of them spoke.

Meguru came back with the tea. One cup, which he handed to Sae. He almost looked cheerful. This is for you, Sae-chan! But it was so painfully fake, that Sae couldn’t bear to say thank you. He couldn’t bear to say anything, so he didn’t. He just took the cup. When it burned his fingers, he told himself that he didn’t care.

He left and returned with two more cups, one for himself and one for Rin. This time, he sat. Next to Rin, so close they were pressed into each other. Like they needed each other for warmth. Or protection against Sae. Like his bad luck was contagious. They were both seated across from him too, which made Sae feel like he was about to be interviewed. Or interrogated.

“How are you?” Meguru asked.

So, this was an interrogation.

“I’m fine,” Sae answered. It was automatic.

“It’s okay if you’re not,” Meguru said, almost offensively softly. Sae was only semi-successful at keeping the look of distain off his face. “No one would judge you. Anyone would have a hard time going through a divorce.”

“I’m not going through a divorce,” Sae snapped. It was true, but just barely. Still, it was a truth he clung to with all the ferocity he had. “We’re doing a trial separation. We’re still married.”

Meguru nodded. He sipped his tea, and then said nothing else.

That was all the noise in the room for a while. The lifting of glasses off of the coffee table, the placing of them back down. The sipping, the swallowing, the breathing. The noises of shifting and throats clearing. Every other sound of discomfort in between.

The first sound in the room was Meguru asking if anyone needed a refill. Sae shook his head.

“I’ll take one,” Rin said, handing his cup over. “With honey this time, if you don’t mind.”

“Okay, honey.” Meguru said. Sae tried not to cringe.

Sae felt a little more relaxed once he’d left, knowing Rin was much less likely to ask after his feelings than his terminally upbeat husband. But Rin looked over his shoulder until the door to the kitchen swung shut, and then leaned himself across the table.

“Listen, asshole,” Rin hissed. “I’m letting you stay here out of the goodness of my heart. But if you’re going to stay here, you have to do the shit your therapist told you, and you can’t be a fucking dick to Meguru.”

“I’m not being a dick to him,” Sae said back.

“You’re not being nice.”

“I’m not nice.”

“Well, you are now,” Rin said harshly. “Or you can go spend your trial separation with mom and dad and they can teach you about the blissful existence of high functioning alcoholism within a loveless marriage.”

Sae didn’t know quite what to say to that. The whole statement slapped him across the face a hundred times over. He knew Rin was right. As right as he could readily admit Rin being. He knew that he needed to do his homework from couples therapy. And he knew that he definitely didn’t want to spend the next six weeks with his parents, which had been the main motivation for his swallowing his pride to ask Rin in the first place.

He also knew that he couldn’t take these feelings out on the people around him. But that was the hardest part. He had so many of them, none of which he knew how to identify, let alone what to do with.  

He still didn’t really know how he’d gotten here. The first two years of marriage had been awesome. The next two, after they’d taken different contracts, had been alright. Manageable. Doable. Survivable. But the last year, after Ryusei’s injury, which had been career ending but not life ending and not necessarily marriage ending, they hadn’t thought so anyways, had been awful. In so many different ways that Sae couldn’t even really unravel. And despite the route they’d taken, here they were. On a trial separation. Suggested by their couples therapist six months into seeing them twice a week.

Translation: you guys are fucked, but I can’t legally tell you that you should get divorced.

Sae had wanted to do his trial separation somewhere hot and secluded. Since he was taking an extended break for it anyways, he felt he deserved a vacation. Somewhere he could go to do yoga and swim laps and ignore his untouched journal – which he’d bought for the sole purpose of doing his therapy homework – and just clear his head. But their therapist had ruled it out. She said they should both act as if they were really indeed separating and go stay with family or friends for emotional support. Even a hotel room in the city was ruled out.

It had left him with very few options.

Down in his pocket, his phone buzzed. It was surprising, seeing as he told everyone he was on leave and not to fucking bother him, but he checked it anyways. It made his stomach twist to see Shidou Ryusei flash across the screen. He hadn’t seen that in so long. Ryusei had set his own name in Sae’s phone. It had been My Little Demon <3 since they’d been married.

He’d changed it back for the trial separation, though not expecting he’d see it, seeing as they weren’t supposed to talk to each other.

Still, he slid his phone open like muscle memory.

What’s the code for the safe in the closet?

The thought of Ryusei being at the apartment made him sick, but the message itself was so much worse. Because he knew what it should have said.

Saeeeeeee <3333

love of my life

what’s the code for our safe

I forgot :(((

He wondered if it was even him sending it. Or if he had tossed his phone to whoever he’d roped into helping him move his stuff out and said, text Sae for me, he knows the code. Then, he wondered who he might be with. He hadn’t asked. According to their therapist, it wasn’t Sae’s place anymore.

Or maybe it had been him that sent it. And that sending Sae emojis and taking way too long to get to the point wasn’t Ryusei’s place anymore.

Now he was spiralling. He punched the code into the text message bar, hit send, locked his phone, and tossed it onto the free chair next to him. Rin looked over at the phone and then back at Sae. It looked like that, anyways, through the water that was pooling up in the lower half of his eyes. Rin noticed this. It was clear from the way he averted his gaze. The Itoshis hadn’t grown up especially emotionally intelligent, and while both of them had somewhat managed in different contexts, it had been a while since they’d had to confront or deal with each other’s emotions.

When Meguru came back into the room, Sae averted his gaze. He looked out the window as he heard him hand Rin his mug back, take a seat, wait to see if either of them would say anything. They sat for a while in silence. Sae blinked his tears out of his eyes and managed to look back at them with his regular expression.

Meguru smiled at him. Sae loathed it.

They sat in silence a while before Meguru once again broke it.

“I’m going to head out for a while,” he said, standing. He leaned over to kiss Rin on the cheek, which he didn’t fight.

“What?” Rin said. “Where the hell are you going?”

Meguru looked over at Sae, not at all hiding the uneasiness on his face, and then smiled. Rin seemed to understand. Despite Meguru’s minimal efforts, so did Sae.

“I love you,” Meguru said.

“You too,” Rin said. “Bring some dinner home on your way, would you?”

“Sure,” he agreed.

With a click of the door, they were alone. Sae wanted to just put the homework off. It was the first fucking day. He needed at least a little buffer time. He thought he should just say he was exhausted and force himself through a nap. But Rin wasn’t moving. He was gripping the one armchair so tight, you’d think he was holding on for dear life.

Rin wasn’t really much more for feelings than Sae was, but regardless of everything, he had a better chance of getting an answer out of him. Sae had always tolerated Meguru. Keyword being tolerated. Meguru was not Sae’s cup of tea, but overall, he was fine. That being said, it didn’t take a genius to know Sae would feel uneasy around him throughout this whole thing.

He’d always been much better friends with Ryusei than Sae. Case in point: where he was heading right then was very clearly Sae’s old apartment with said safe in the closet.

“So,” Rin said after a long while. He then paused so long, Sae was halfway convinced he was not going to say anything else. But finally, he did. “How are you really?”

“I’m,” Sae started, but the words trailed off. He knew he wasn’t doing anyone, himself especially, any favours by pretending to be fine.

But the truth was, he didn’t really know how he was. There was a lot going on inside of him, and he didn’t know how to put any of it to words. Mostly, though, he figured he was sad. It seemed an appropriate emotion.

“I’m sad,” Sae forced himself to say.

Rin nodded once. “That sucks.”

That only annoyed Sae more. Moment of vulnerability gone. Walls back up.

“That sucks? Seriously?” Sae said. “Some emotional support you are.”

“Well, I’m not a fucking therapist,” Rin said back, throwing his hands up. “What the fuck do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know,” Sae said, equally exasperated. “Something more human than that.”

“Fine.” Rin looked right at him. “I told you so.”

“Wow,” Sae said, a long, drawn out, offended word.

“I did,” Rin said. “I told you this would happen because you wanted to marry a fucking psycho. And then it did. And now you’re sad. Which sucks. But it’s not like it was unavoidable. Or surprising.”

“You’re the asshole,” Sae said. He stood, but left his mug on the table. The barest amount of rebellion he could manage while still avoiding six whole weeks with his parents.

“Do you want to be babied or do you want the truth?” Rin called after him. “You can’t have it both ways!”  

By the time Sae was heading into his first solo therapy session of the trial separation, he wanted to puke. It was just an automatic reaction at this point, after this many months. At least when he was coming here with Ryusei, even at their ugliest, he had someone else he was in this fucking mess with. This time, it was just him. Part of him wanted to head back to Rin’s house, collect all of his things, head to the nearest hotel, and say fuck it, let’s just divorce, if only to avoid all the bullshit that came with this trial separation.

After a few breaths, he managed to climb the steps and pull the door open.

Their couples therapist was quite possibly the oldest woman Sae had ever seen in real life. He had been truly dumbfounded when he saw her, thinking it was somebody’s grandmother who was waiting on a ride back to hospice. She had a white bun tied at the nape of her neck and everything she wore smelled like mothballs. But when she introduced herself as the name that matched the internet ad they’d found, he’d been forced to check that bias at the door. She was old, and worked solely because she loved it and not because she had to, and for someone who moved about the speed of molasses, she still had her wits about her. Sae would not go as far to say he liked her, but he had to admit that she knew her stuff and he thought she was alright.

“Sae,” she greeted him in the waiting room.

It was as professional as she always was. Not too eager, but sounding like she was pleased to see him. He didn’t bother trying to smile at her like he had the first time, but he offered an arm to her and helped her into her armchair, because for the first time since showing up, Ryusei wasn’t here to do it.

“Thank you, sweet boy,” she said. Sae wondered if she had him confused, partially because that was the same thing she said every time to Ryusei’s help, and partially because if anyone knew how little he deserved the nickname, it was her. As he took his seat, she smiled as if she stood by it. “So, how are you?”

Sae wouldn’t bother with I’m fine. Not here. He knew better at this point.

“I’m sad,” he told her.

“Yes, I’d imagine you would be. This is no easy thing,” she said with a soft smile. “Why don’t you elaborate on that.”

He thought about it for a second. Then, he shrugged. “How? I’m just sad.”

“Well,” she said. “Why are you feeling sad?”

“Are you joking?” he said, his tone sharpening.

“I don’t believe I am,” she said, refusing to yield. Sae’s jaw clenched. This was why Ryusei liked the old hag so much. They were exactly the same in how they went about irritating him. “A trial separation is difficult, and it stirs up many difficult emotions. If you’re sad, I understand. But you don’t seem particularly sad right now. Though, I’m not you. So, if you’re sad, tell me what you’re feeling sad about in this moment specifically.”

He thought about that for two seconds and then brought his brows together. Maybe he didn’t feel particularly sad in this moment specifically, but he didn’t feel all that inclined on backing down, because he already said it.

“I’m sad,” he said. “Because of everything.”

“Well, if you can’t identify why you’re feeling sad, maybe that’s not quite the right word for what you’re feeling.” She smiled at him. A cruel, vicious thing. He loathed it. “Maybe we should consult the emotion wheel.”

Sae had gotten better at controlling his scoffs of distain inside this suffocating office, but as she leaned down into the resource box on the table beside her, he did allow himself to roll his eyes. Sae loathed the emotion wheel. It was the very bane of his existence. She pulled it out every single session without fail. Sae had never known there existed that many emotions. Why couldn’t people just stick to happy, sad, and angry? Why did humans need any more than that?

She located it and pulled it out, showing it to him in all of its mocking rainbow glory. He knew the emotion wheel by heart at this point, and knew well enough how to bullshit his way through it. However, part of that tactic had been depending on Ryusei to shift the focus, and it’s not like he had that to fall back on or hide behind this time around.

“Is there anything here that better describes how you’re feeling?” she asked.

He pretended to peer at it. “Gloomy, I guess.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Feels right.”

“Let’s try another one,” she said. “And see if we can get closer.”

“I’m feeling pissed off,” he said. “Is that on there?”

“I don’t believe so,” she said. “But there is enraged. Or irritable. There’s even hostile. Are you feeling hostile, Sae?”

He knew she was mocking him in that way that she did, so he said nothing. He just glared.

She chuckled. “Why are you feeling so pissed off?”

“Because I fucking hate the emotion wheel,” Sae said.

“I’ll take it,” she said, setting the emotion wheel back down on the table at her side. He took comfort in that. She met his eye. “So, how has this week been for you?”

Sae could talk about the facts much more than he could talk about feelings. It was easy to tell her about how he’d packed up his things from the apartment and moved into Rin and Meguru’s. He was staying in their guest room. He got on with them fine. They were hospitable. It was better than staying with his parents.

The feelings were harder. He didn’t know how he felt about staying there. Or about Meguru and Ryusei being friends. Or about the looming threat of having to stay with his parents if he didn’t behave, like he was just some child in his younger brother’s house. It sucked. It all sucked. It was doable, but it sucked. And no, they didn’t have to consult the fucking emotion wheel.

When she announced they had five minutes left, he felt his body start to relax. Sure, he’d get some bullshit homework assignment, but he’d be free of this office, where he could choose whether or not to do it and he could be free of the fucking emotion wheel for another week.

“I’d like you to work a little on emotion identification this week,” she said, ruffling through her worksheet package. Sae’s face fell when he saw that her hands came out with a black and white, unlaminated version of the fucking emotion wheel. “In your journal, I’d like you to pick an emotion and write I’m feeling [emotion] because and see what it stirs up. If nothing comes to mind, skip it and go to the next one. You might surprise yourself.”

“Sure,” Sae said. He took the emotion wheel, folded it three times, and stuck it in his pocket, where he was planning to leave it all week.

He went to help her out of the chair, but she said she didn’t have another client right away, and she would sit for a while, so he left. He stuck his hands in his pockets, and upon finding the emotion wheel, groaned. He thought about tossing it in one of the wastebaskets on the street, but decided against it, in case he needed to prove to Rin that he was doing his therapy work.

This whole fucking thing sucked. He didn’t need to know why it sucked to know that it did.

He let himself into Rin and Meguru’s house with the key they’d given him. The house was suspiciously quiet. He was surprised to find Rin at the dining room table, a book lowered into his lap. Sae didn’t think too much about it. He nodded once. Rin nodded back in response. It was all the greeting they needed.

On his way into the kitchen, Sae plucked an apple out of the fruit bowl on the table and took a bite out of it.

“Hey, asshole!” Rin shouted after him.

“What?” Sae asked, genuinely confused.

“I was drawing that,” Rin snapped back, motioning towards the bowl of fruit.

“What?” Sae said back. A little less confused, but not much. “What the fuck? Did you just say you’re drawing?”

“Not anymore,” Rin said.

He lifted the book in his lap just enough to flip the cover closed. When he smacked it into the table, Sae saw that it was indeed a sketchbook. He placed a pencil on top of it, just as angrily.

“I didn’t know you drew,” Sae said.

“I don’t,” Rin said. Sae eyed him. Rin sighed. “Yuu is teaching a class down at the community centre. She didn’t think anyone would sign up, so I did.”

Sae had met Rin’s mother in law before, but he knew of her more than he knew her.

“That’s,” Sae started. Sweet? he thought. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“But they did,” Rin said. “So, it’s just me and a bunch of retirees and high school kids and I’m still somehow worst in the class.”

Sae looked right at him. “That sucks.”

“Touché,” Rin said with an eye roll. “You want a beer or something?”

Sae scrunched his face up. “No.”

“Well, there’s wine on the rack too, your majesty,” Rin said sarcastically. “Get me one, would you?”

Sae was annoyed, but he went into the kitchen regardless and pulled out one of the long necked bottles and poured himself a glass of wine. He handed the beer to Rin and they shared a glance of this doesn’t mean we’re friends between them. But not knowing what to do with himself, Sae lingered.

“Go ahead and sit,” Rin said, motioning to the chair across from him.

Sae did. “Fine, whatever.”

They sat in silence a while. He wondered if he should ask more about Rin’s drawing, or his marriage, or his life in general, but everything felt so awkward, so he just said nothing. Rin didn’t seem to keen on speaking either, so Sae decided all was well.

Until Rin cleared his throat and asked, “How was therapy?”

“Fine,” Sae answered.

“Alright,” Rin said. He sipped his beer.

Sae took a massive sip of wine and let it go straight to his head. “Do you know the emotion wheel?”

“The what?” Rin asked.

Sae rolled his eyes. Kind of at Rin, mostly at himself. Of course Rin didn’t know about the emotion wheel. What the fuck had he ever needed to go to therapy for? Still, he reached into his pocket, pulled it out, and unfolded it.

“This,” Sae said, shoving it at him.

In his free hand, Rin took it. He looked it over a while, and then looked up at Sae, one eyebrow raised. “Rapturous? Enchanted? Serene? Who the fuck made this thing?”

“I fucking hate the emotion wheel,” Sae said.

“Do me a favor, would you?” Rin said, tossing it back across the table. “Don’t show that to Meguru. He’d have a fucking field day with it.”

“Deal,” Sae said, pulling it back. He went to fold it back again, but paused, looking it over again. He thought it must be nice to be Rin, to have automatically gravitated towards the emotions that stemmed from love and joy. “I’m supposed to work on emotion identification.”

Rin snorted a single beat of mocking laughter. Sae glared.

“What?” Rin said. “She’s right.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Sae said. “It’s not like you display the full spectrum of emotion.”

“How would you know?” Rin asked. Sae figured it was a decent point, and said nothing. “Why don’t you do some now?”

“No,” Sae said, mostly out of habit.

Rin shrugged. “Do or don’t. It’s not my trial separation. Just seems like it might be better to get it out of the way. Plus being a little drunk seems decent, too.”

Sae conceded. This wasn’t a half bad point either. “I have to go get my journal.”

“You mean your diary?”

“It’s not a diary,” Sae said. Rin looked doubtful. Sae figured he wasn’t all the way wrong. He motioned towards his glass. “Get me a refill, would you?”

Rin scoffed. “Only because I need one.”

When Sae got back from the guest room with his journal tucked under his arm, his wine glass had been refilled, one of the spindly potted plants had been moved over onto the table in the space between them, and Rin had his sketchbook opened back up to a blank page. He didn’t look at Sae as he sat back down, which he appreciated. He opened his journal to the first page, which was still blank, took a breath, and tried not to hate the emotion wheel as much as he looked down at it. It was semi-successful at best.

He wrote I feel enraged because

And then nothing. He sighed in frustration and went to the next line.

I feel hostile because

Nothing.

Sae closed his eyes and shoved the heels of his hands into them. This was fucking stupid. He felt it with every fibre of his being. This was never going to go anywhere. He took another massive gulp of wine. Rin didn’t look up. He was fully focused on his own task, which seemed to be peering at the plant on the table. Sae appreciated this too.

He put his pen down again.

I feel confused because he started, and then his pen didn’t stop. I don’t know how we got here and I don’t know how to fix it.

“Oh my god,” he whispered to himself.

Rin looked up. Sae ignored him and went to the next line.

I feel spiteful because the world has been so fucking cruel to me and I want to lash right back out at it.

Progress. This was progress.

I feel scared because everyone, Rin especially, warned me about getting married this young, and if we do get divorced, it just means that everyone was right and I’ll have failed at this just like I’ve failed at everything else I’ve ever tried.

He stared at that sentence a long time. Where the fuck had that come from?

Chapter Text

Ryusei had spent a lot of time in the apartment he and Sae owned, especially after he’d retired from soccer and wasn’t travelling as much as Sae was, but now, it felt like a place he didn’t recognize.

He had been mentally preparing for this, but he still felt like the wind was knocked out of him entirely the second the door closed behind him. He didn’t get dizzy too often anymore, but he found himself stumbling over to the kitchen island, holding onto it for support and dear life, closing his eyes until the nausea passed.

It’s fine, he assured himself. You’re fine. This sucks, but you’re not dying.

It felt a lot like he was, though.

It really wasn’t supposed to be a long trip. Get in, get all the stuff he would need for six weeks, get out. He’d planned for this. He’d had an airtight list in his head, knew where everything was, and had the exact order of which he would retrieve and pack everything.

However, the entire plan was going out the window at that very moment. The room was spinning, even as he stood there, leaning over the island counter, eyes squeezed shut, and all he could think was this is it, it’s all over, I’m going to die of a broken heart induced brain aneurism right here on our kitchen floor.

He didn’t die, though. Eventually, the room stilled and his eyes opened. The dizziness was gone but the overwhelmingness of it all remained. Once again, there he stood, alone in his and Sae’s kitchen, missing his husband in a completely different context.

Ryusei was well used to missing Sae in smaller, more manageable doses. Across an ocean and in another time zone, but nothing more than a few hours or a phone call away. This was something else entirely. For once, they were spending six entire weeks in the same city, and he’d never felt further away from him. It was difficult to ignore otherwise, but here in their apartment, it felt impossible.

Get a fucking grip, he demanded of himself, in Sae’s voice. It was easier that way. More effective.

He forced himself into the bedroom. This was according to plan. All he needed was to shove six weeks worth of clothes into a bag and toss a few of his best hair and skin products in and leave. He had been strategic with who he’d asked to put him up for the next six weeks. His first choice would have been Bachira, of course, regardless of the fact that it meant that Rin would have been part of the package deal. But that was off the table for obvious reasons. Instead, he’d asked Mikage, because in addition to being a fairly decent friend, he would have anything and everything Ryusei would need, which would lessen the chance of him rationalizing to himself he’d just stop by the apartment to grab [insert item here].

Even though the housekeeper had definitely been by since, he knew this house, their house, like the back of his hand, so he could see every single absence of Sae. He’d taken the robe from his side of the bed and the collection of chains he tended to hang up on his lamp rather than putting them away before bed. However, this curse was a double edged sword. He could see the ghosts of Sae that remained. He hadn’t taken his pillow, the one he refused to share under any circumstances. He hadn’t taken the framed wedding photo from his side of the bed, either.

Didn’t think he’d need it, Ryusei figured.

It was too hard. Instead of going over to his own closet, he did what he’d spent the entire Uber ride here promising himself that he wouldn’t, and ducked into Sae’s.

The absences and ghosts were here too. Ryusei could see at once everything that Sae figured he’d wear and need over the next six weeks and what he knew he could live without based on which hangers were empty and which drawers had space and what remained. He couldn’t help but feeling a sense of kinship with everything he saw.

He too, had been left behind.

Another thing he had promised himself not to do, because he had indeed secretly expected himself to fail at staying out of Sae’s closet, was to smell any his things, but yet again he found himself shoving his face into one of Sae’s winter coats. He hadn’t worn it in months, he wouldn’t need it for a few more, but still, the scent of him remained.

Ryusei started filling the jacket in his own mind. He could remember one winter night when they’d both been home for at least a week and they were out getting dinner when they got caught in a snowstorm. Sae had called a cab and they’d gotten into it, but made it just two blocks before an accident had shut down the entire road. Sae had sat there, complaining in the backseat for ten whole minutes, and then Ryusei paid the fare and pulled Sae out of the cab, knowing it would be faster to walk. Sae reluctantly agreed, and Ryusei was feeling triumphant, until they made it no more than two more blocks before Sae wiped out right in the sidewalk. Ryusei had laughed, until Sae didn’t get up right away, and his face looked more horrified than pissed off.

“Hey,” Ryusei said, hustling over and shifting the food. “That was quite a tumble, pretty boy. You good?”

“I’m fine,” Sae said, exhaling sharply. “Just fucking surprised me.”

“Come here,” Ryusei said, offering him his free arm. “You can hold onto me the rest of the way.”

Must have been before the injury, then. When he was the steadier one.

Sae had then shifted into pissed off mode and kept rambling complaints, and Ryusei was happy to hear it. He did take him up on the offer to clutch to his arm, and when Sae had mumbled to himself fuck the snow, Ryusei had replied I wish I was snow so bad right now and Sae hadn’t looked at him like everything he said was unbearably dreadful, so the memory was happy.

Yes, the memory was happy. But that was the thing about Sae and the place the two of them had gotten to. It wasn’t remembering him that was so hard to do. Ryusei took another inhale of Sae’s scent and let the jacket go. These days, Sae was so much easier to love when he wasn’t around.

His back hit the wall where a mostly empty rack sat and slid to the floor. He couldn’t even blame it on the dizziness this time. It was just despair, and he knew that.

He caught sight of the safe. It had been Sae’s idea and took up residence in his closet, but it was indeed theirs. Ryusei thought it was stupid, he always had. Who the fuck is going to break in and rob us? Us? I would have them knocked out in two seconds flat if they even tried. But Sae, who used safes religiously in hotel rooms, had insisted. So, as usual, he agreed. And then he handed over his passport and birth certificate and a few other bullshit tokens for Sae to stick inside without a fight.

“There,” Sae had said, upon punching in the code and locking it for the first time. “Now we’re safe.”

And it was fucking stupid, and Ryusei knew this metal box was doing absolutely nothing in terms of keeping them safe, but he understood this action for what it was, Sae’s personal contribution at protecting them and what they had, and said nothing. Instead, he’d just grabbed him by the face and kissed his surprised expression and then they’d fucked right there on the floor of the walk in.

He grabbed his phone and opened his messages without even thinking. Without rationally thinking, that was. He was justifying this decision to himself under the guise of plausible deniability. He never used the safe. He never had a reason to. It was perfectly reasonable that he didn’t know the code.

Even if it was bullshit.

He typed out the text to Sae asking for it and then threw his phone across the closet like a teenage girl who’d just texted her crush something risky. The guilt came crashing in immediately. He knew Saichi would be disappointed in him. To get the most out of the trial separation, you guys should avoid speaking to each other. He’d get a talking to about it. But he just couldn’t help it. He was too weak.

The reply came quickly. Just the four numbers. Nothing else.

It brought with it shame and stupidity. If everything was as it should be, he would have been reprimanded. Oh my god. Seriously? Ryusei, it’s the fucking day we met. Remember? You got all teary eyed about it? I must have told you a million times. I set it in front of you, for fuck’s sake.  And then he’d respond, haha, right!! sry, guess I was distracted thinking about what happened after ;) And then Sae would send the eye roll emoji and Ryusei would know he was flustered on the other side of it.

But nothing was as it should have been.

He exited those messages and went into his calls, clicking on the number right at the top. This was stupid and risky too, and he knew it as he did it, but he really needed a friend. He stared at the light at the top of Sae’s walk in closet and cleared his throat, begging his breath to steady itself.

There was a click as the call connected on the second ring, then a breath, and then a soft, “Hey.”

“Do you have a second?” Ryusei asked, his voice somewhat normal sounding.

“Yeah,” Bachira said back, knowing full well what he meant by it. “I’m, um, in the kitchen. Alone.”

Ryusei let out a long breath of relief, and on the other side of it, his voice was much less composed. “Meguru, I’m at the house right now. I can’t do this. I feel like I’m suffocating in here. I know you guys have things going on over there, but do you think you could swing by? I swear this isn’t a tactic.”

He felt horrible about tacking on that last bit, but he knew full well that it was needed.

“I’ll be right there,” Bachira said, the ever dependable friend. “I’m, um, I don’t think I’m needed over here.”

Ryusei was saddened by that, but he didn’t let himself ask after it. He just said thanks and hung up. He then slumped over onto the floor of the walk in, closed his eyes, and pretended everything wasn’t so incredibly fucked up beyond belief.

When Bachira got there, he let himself in, as he was used to doing and as Ryusei knew he would. He heard him come in and start looking around. Ryusei didn’t call out for him. He knew he’d stumble upon him eventually.

Which he did. He seemed disappointed to find him in Sae’s closet, but not surprised. He didn’t reprimand him or anything. He just held out a hand, helped him up, and said, “Let’s get you out of here.”

Ryusei didn’t fight. He didn’t make a fuss when Bachira closed Sae’s closet door, either, even though he very much wanted to.

“Thanks for coming,” Ryusei managed.

 “Of course,” Bachira said, wearing quite possibly the world’s most pained smile.

Ryusei paused to see if he would offer up any information of his own accord, but when he didn’t, he was forced to take matters into his own hands. He looked away, hoping it would make the whole endeavour casual and inconspicuous. He knew better, he really did, but he just couldn’t help himself.

“How is he?” Ryusei asked.

The entire apartment was so quiet, Ryusei heard the way Bachira had stopped breathing. It made his stomach lurch, and he knew he should regret it, but he didn’t. He wanted to know.

Bachira was clearly pretending he hadn’t heard him, and Ryusei knew that he should perhaps leave well enough alone, but he didn’t have it in him. It was like a wound he couldn’t let heal.

He looked right at Bachira and asked again, “How is he, Meguru?”

Bachira averted his eyes and sucked his lips into his mouth. Ryusei might have been embarrassed, if he had it in him to hone in on the part of him that was indeed embarrassed, but he couldn’t. His eyes were already welling up with tears. All he was aware of was how he drowned in everything else.

“I’m not supposed to tell you that, am I?” Bachira asked him.

Ryusei sighed. Rin had really ruined him in how reluctant he was to break rules these days.

“You can tell me basic things,” Ryusei lied, knowing that if he got Bachira talking, it would be easier said than done to get him to stop. “As long as it’s not about me or anything.”

Bachira paused and thought that over. It very much looked like he was going to believe him, but then he reached down for his phone.

“I’m just going to call Rin quick and ask,” he said.

“No!” Ryusei reached towards him, lunging, and it was only for the agility Bachira had maintained that he got out of the way. Bachira shot him a look for good measure. Ryusei sighed. “I lied. I lied, okay? I just want to know.”

“Ryu-chan,” Bachira scolded, shaking his head. “The trial separation isn’t going to work if you don’t-”

“Take it seriously,” Ryusei said, finishing the sentence and waving him off. “I know, I know. It’s just so fucking hard.”

“It’s meant to be difficult,” Bachira said. “That’s how you grow.”

It comforted Ryusei to hear. And not just because it was true. “You really read all that stuff?”

“Sure did,” Bachira said proudly. “Rin didn’t. Obviously. He was all like, What do I need to learn about support? I don’t have time for this. I’m letting him stay here, aren’t I?”

“Classic Rin-Rin,” Ryusei said, trying to find it in him to see that as funny, when really, the thought of going from two brother in laws (Bachira counted, of course) to none overwhelmed him.

“Yeah,” Bachira said, shrugging. “But I really just want to do anything I can. I even emailed her to ask for any other resources she might have. I love her, by the way.”

“Sachi’s a gem,” Ryusei agreed. “Sae hates her, obviously.”

“What?” Bachira said, eyes wide, mouth open. “Why?”

Hook, line, and sinker.

The thing about Bachira was that he was a deeply compassionate friend, the kind that would read the shameful how to support your friend/family member as they navigate a trial separation literature their couples therapist had provided for them, as well as email her asking for what else he could do, but, much to Ryusei’s benefit, he was also easily distracted and couldn’t resist any ounce of gossip.

“Big time,” Ryusei said. “He doesn’t take well to being called on his bullshit.”

Bachira was very clearly resisting the urge to audibly agree.

“From what I can tell anyways.” Ryusei shrugged nonchalantly. “Has he said anything about her?”

Bachira opened his mouth to respond, and then stopped, caught himself, and closed it. He then shot Ryusei a look, all the scolding he really needed to dish out for almost duping him.

“I have to grab Rin dinner on my way home,” Bachira said. Ryusei noticed how he took the effort to leave Sae out of that comment. “Let’s get started. How can I help?”

Ryusei sent Bachira into the bathroom to gather anything useful looking from his side of the vanity and he tackled his own closet. It was still an awful task, but it helped having Bachira there. Among the ghosts of memories, there was a friendly spirit, humming to himself and knocking stuff into the sink, shouting out I didn’t break anything! each time. It made the task manageable. It made it so that he was just packing, no ominous reason, just packing and folding, instead of preparing for what might be the rest of his very lonely Sae free life.

They were finished in just under a half hour, and when Ryusei’s hands started shaking in the hallway, Bachira locked the door for him. He was going to leave it unlocked. Go ahead and rob us. Trash the fucking place. I’ll help you! But this was better. It was only a trial separation, after all. There was a chance, however small, that they would come back here, together, and everything would be okay.

“Thanks,” Ryusei said again, mostly because he didn’t really know what else to say, and took his keys back.

“No problem,” Bachira said. “Seriously.”

“Well, see you around,” Ryusei said, before catching himself. “Or not, I guess.”

“You might,” Bachira said. “Or, what I mean is, you could. We’re still friends, you know. I’m not on anyone’s side.”

“Ouch,” Ryusei said.

He knew he was being practical and impartial, but still. He wanted someone on his side. It was easier to think about if he could frame it as him being right and Sae being wrong, and it would help tenfold if he had an ally.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Bachira said, shrugging. “I more meant, I’m on everyone’s side.”

Ryusei didn’t respond. That was hardly better.

Bachira waited outside with him for the Uber to show up before leaving, which Ryusei both appreciated and didn’t. Because as much as he appreciated the support, or tried to anyways, there was a very primitive and childish part of him that resented Bachira for not telling him everything about Sae and immediately taking Ryusei’s side and promising to give Sae a good kick in the shin when he got back home for good measure.

But he knew this was irrational, so he didn’t voice it.

“Say hi to Reo for me,” Bachira said as the car pulled up.

“Will do,” Ryusei said, knowing full well he wouldn’t.

Bachira lingered on the sidewalk even as Ryusei loaded his bags into the trunk and climbed into the backseat. When the car started to pull away, he waved. Ryusei didn’t wave back. If he called him out on it, which he wouldn’t, he’d blame it on his shaky hands, when really, he was just so damn tired.

He’d texted Reo that he was on his way, to which Reo had responded exactly the proper amount of polite and receptive. In classic business coon manner. Ryusei wondered briefly if it was a bad idea, but considering the situation and how little alternative options he had, he let it go. Or tried. All he was doing these days was trying and failing to let things go, it seemed.

The Mikage residence was fucking massive. Which he’d known, going into the whole thing, but he’d never really seen it up close before, so he was surprised anyways. Even the Uber driver started eyeing him in the mirror once they’d gotten through the security gate and started the long drive up to the front door of the manor house. Ryusei ignored it. He had no explanation to give. This entire thing was nowhere near as impressive as it seemed.

He got out, tipped him well, grabbed his bag, and the car took off back down the drive. Ryusei considered, just for a second, bolting. He didn’t know why or where he would go or even how far he’d make it with a duffel bag in tow, but the urge gnawed at him. He didn’t want to face it. But there wasn’t much choice, so he walked up the front steps, and rang the bell on the massive wood door.

Even the sound the bell made was up its own ass. It rang out with pompousness in some type of melodic alternative to the old reliable ding dong. Ryusei rolled his eyes. Then, he noticed the security camera. He didn’t have it in himself to feel bad.

Some uniformed staff member opened the door, but Reo was indeed waiting for him right inside the massive, marble foyer. He looked uncomfortable. Ryusei had expected that. But he was trying to be nonchalant about it. It was just as well. Nobody really knew how to handle him these days. He was used to it.

“Hey man,” Reo said. He looked like he might hug him, but then didn’t. He just motioned a hand and a staff member stepped towards them to take Ryusei’s bag, which despite being both designer and expensive, seemed horribly dingy in contrast to everything else. “You found the place okay?”

“It’s the only place on the block, so it’s kind of hard to miss,” Ryusei said. Reo laughed. Ryusei didn’t. It made things awkward, so he tried to backtrack. “I just gave the guy your address. It was fine. It’s a nice place.”

“Well, it’s home and office, so I’ve made sure of that,” Reo said.

Neither of them bothered mentioning how it was a little about the place doubling as home and office and a lot about nepotism and generational wealth. It was better than way.

Under normal circumstances, truth be told, Ryusei really liked Reo. He’d since retired from soccer too, and so when Nagi and Sae were both out of town, they tended to get together for lunches or activities or events or functions. Their friendship was nice. Understanding. Eventful. Practical. It wasn’t necessarily emotional, though.

“Thanks again for letting me stay here,” Ryusei said.

Because it’s just what he did these days. It had been the same when he’d first gotten injured and retired. The trial separation was the same. It made people uncomfortable. They didn’t like to feel pity, and pity they did. So in return for showing him human decency and putting him with him, he thanked people and thanked them and thanked them.

“No problem,” Reo said with a wave. “Seriously. And if you need anything, just let me know. I can’t imagine what it’s like going through a divorce.”

“It’s just a trial separation,” Ryusei said, trying to ignore the taste of blood in his mouth. “We’re not getting divorced.”

Yet, the air around them seemed to fill in. But Ryusei did not say it.

“Right,” Reo said. “Of course.”

Ryusei couldn’t look at him for a few seconds. It was so painfully clear that Reo didn’t believe him, and if he was being honest, he wasn’t quite sure if he believed himself either.

“Why don’t I show you where you’ll be staying?” Reo suggested, in an ever so tactful way of changing the subject. “I’ve had Ba-Ya prepare the entire west wing for you. You’ll have a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, spa, gym. And you can have one of our housekeepers and chefs. So you can just focus on…well, you know.”

Ryusei had started off appreciative, but quickly became bewildered. It was somewhat the content, but mostly it was the casual tone with which he said all of this. Of course I’ll lend you a housekeeper and chef. And I can do without one of the spas and gyms. It’s not like each wing doesn’t have it’s own! Ryusei and the rest of them had more than enough money, often more than they knew what to do with, but Reo had always been on this entirely different level in that regard. Like a broken record, Ryusei thanked him, but for one of the first times, he genuinely meant it. Maybe he could use a good workout and steam room and a chef cooked meal. Saichi would surely have something to say about this arrangement, but he figured that maybe he just wouldn’t mention it.

Maybe this trial separation wouldn’t be all bad.

After showing him through the west wing that would be his home for the next six weeks, and introducing him to the housekeeper and chef, Reo took him back down into his own personal wing of the house where Nagi was sprawled across one of the couches, playing some type of racing game on the big screen. He didn’t look up to greet them, which he also barely did. More of a hmpt noise and head nod if anything. Reo went over and touched his head, beaming at him affectionately, like he was just the most precious thing in the world. Ryusei couldn’t help but think the whole thing weird, but seeing as he had an anti social husband of his own, he could hardly judge.

“Ryu’s here,” Reo told him.

“Cool,” Nagi said indifferently, his eyes never leaving the screen.

“I didn’t know you were back in town,” Ryusei said.

He’d never really liked Nagi. He didn’t really dislike him, but he hadn’t really talked to him much, and barely enjoyed what little he interactions they did have. Still, Reo liked him, so he always made an effort. The effort was minimally returned and rarely matched. Again, as someone with a fundamentally unlikeable husband, he could hardly judge.

“I’m between contracts,” Nagi said.

“Cool,” Ryusei said.

“I’m going to see if lunch is ready yet,” Reo said. “And I’m gonna grab some champagne. Ryu? My treasure? Champagne?”

“Whatever,” Nagi said.

“Isn’t champagne normally for celebrating?” Ryusei asked. It was half a bad joke and half a genuine question. Reo paused and had to catch himself.

“Any day we’re above ground is a reason to celebrate,” Reo offered, waving a hand while he left the room.

Slippery little bastard, Ryusei thought to himself.

After Reo left, Ryusei took to watching the screen too, because he had pretty much expected the conversation to have died after their extremely brief conversation. But then, much to his surprise, Nagi cleared his throat and said, “You guys going somewhere?”

Ryusei was more surprised by this question than the fact that Nagi had spoken at all.

“Not that I know of,” Ryusei said.

“Oh,” Nagi said. “Just hanging around here then?”

Ryusei eyed him. He didn’t seem to have any idea.

“I’m staying here for a few weeks,” Ryusei said.

Nagi’s eyebrows lifted in his version of surprise. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Ryusei said.

“Why?” Nagi asked, seemingly genuinely curious.

“Sae and I are doing a trial separation,” Ryusei said.

He watched the car on the screen take a corner too close and flip over. It went up in flames and the screen flashed Game Over! Whether it was because of the loss or the comment, Nagi put aside his controller and looked up at him.

“Oh,” he said. “That sucks, man.”

It was weirdly comforting.

“Yeah,” Ryusei agreed. “It does.”

Nagi looked back at the screen. “Wanna play two player? We have another controller in the console.”

Ryusei wasn’t sure if he should be offended by the sudden swerve in the conversation or touched by the odd invitation, but he was surprised by how appreciative he was of both. It seemed this nonchalance and distraction was exactly what he needed.

“Sure,” he said.

He headed towards the cupboard Nagi motioned towards and rifled around through the never ending electronic accessories until he found the matching controller and took it to the other side of the massive sectional. Nagi took the controller and started changing the game settings to accompany him, even doing as much as to explain the strengths and weaknesses of every car, customization setting, and track. It was all gibberish as far as Ryusei was concerned, but he let him ramble on. He was pretty sure it was the most he’d ever heard Nagi speak in all their time of knowing each other.

“I’m probably going to be shit at this,” Ryusei said.

“So is Reo,” Nagi said. “It’s fine.”

Ryusei started picturing Sae and Rin at each other’s throats, exchanging digs at each other with every chance they got, just like they always did, and Bachira really dialling up the positivity to combat it, and couldn’t help but think that he’d gotten the better deal.

Staying with Reo was good. Great, even. He used the gym, for as much as he could physically manage, and sat in the steam room, and let the staff launder and press his clothes, cook for him, tidy up after him as swiftly and eerily as ghosts. Nagi wasn’t in town for long, and flew out a few days later, but Reo would pop in every so often and say what are you up to? waiting for Ryusei to say nothing so he could take them to lunch or for pedicures or golfing, and he started to feel better.

The thing about that was that it was all fake. It was nothing more than an effective distraction. He’d started to see the point Saichi was making when she’d forbidden them from staying at hotels or spending the separation on vacation.

Because as he was on his way to see her for his first solo therapy session, everything he’d covered in cucumber slices and champagne and fresh linen came rushing back in and punched him in the stomach at full force. He felt sick as soon as he left the fantasy land of the Mikage gates, and he was once again drowning in every negative emotion imaginable.

When he finally arrived at Saichi’s office, his head was spinning again. He felt nauseous, and paused outside, in case he was going to throw up right there on the sidewalk. It didn’t happen so much anymore, but it’s not like it never happened. The nausea eventually passed. Everything else did not.

He got himself inside, signed in, and waited in one of the stiff chairs in the bland, empty waiting room. No sooner than he’d made himself comfortable was Saichi at the door to her office, pushing her rimless glasses up the bridge of her nose, smiling at him.

Ryusei stood and bowed to her. He always did.

“Hello, sweet boy,” she told him. “Shall we?”

He took her arm like he normally did and helped her across the room. As she lowered into her armchair, she smiled appreciatively, and Ryusei felt saddened by it.

“Sae had better be doing this for you when he comes alone,” Ryusei said, even though she was a much harder case than Bachira was. She wouldn’t say a word, and they both knew it.

“Don’t be naughty,” she told him.

That made him sad, too. Because if everything was as it should be, or even if it wasn’t, and they were just here for a regular therapy session, he’d go ahead and say that’s a tall ask, unfortunately. Just ask this one over here! And Sae would scoff, and he’d get a talking to in the car on the way home and asked why he insisted on acting that way in public, and maybe it wouldn’t matter if they were fighting as long as they were talking to each other.

He'd spent a lot of the last two years making that justification. Unlike Sae, Ryusei had always preferred fighting over silence.

But things were not as they should have been and he was there alone. He might have made the comment anyways, but he just didn’t have it in him. He was so tired.

“Sorry,” Ryusei said, taking his own seat. “It was worth a shot.”

She asked him how the week had been. Even though he’d sworn he wouldn’t, he told her pretty much every single thing about staying with Reo. The gym, the spa, the endless champagne, the fact that he hadn’t felt an emotion basically the entire time. She was less disappointed than he thought she would have been. However, he could see that she wasn’t pleased.

“It sounds to me like you might be using all of this extravagance to run away from your feelings,” she said. “Would you agree with that statement?”

“Big time,” Ryusei said. He didn’t have that much of an ego. He could admit his own faults, even if he regularly indulged them. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“At least you’re aware of it,” she praised. He tried to appreciate it. “I did warn you against this.”

“I know,” Ryusei said. “But I can’t help it.”

Which was true. And how could she blame him? He had no other choice. She knew better than anyone how many emotions he had, how they consumed him, how easy it was to get bowled over by them. Ryusei never felt anything any reasonable amount. It was all or nothing. It always had been.

“Well, seeing as we only have a few minutes left,” she said with a smile. Ryusei fought off a sigh. He felt like he could sit in here six hours a day and it would never be enough. “This is a great segue into what I’d like you to work on this week.”

She leaned over into her resource box and pulled out a black and white version of the emotion wheel. That, on the other hand, filled Ryusei with great joy. Unlike Sae, he didn’t loathe the emotion wheel. He very much liked it. Saichi said that he didn’t use it right, but it hardly affected how much he liked it. Her gripe was that he tended to feel entire sections, big clumps of the wheel. He’d draw a circle with his finger. I feel everything here, every single one from inadequate to agonized. She handed him the wheel. He had one at home already that he’d found on the internet, but he happily took it anyways.

“Let me guess,” Ryusei said. “I should practice feeling my feelings?”

“You should have been doing that already,” she said. Her tone was sweet, but Ryusei knew how to identify a subtle scold when he heard one. “So, no. I want you to work on identifying which feelings you feel. When you feel something, which yes, I’d like you to try to do more of, I want you to write down a label for it, and if you have one, a reason.”

Reasoning his feelings seemed simple enough. Labelling them, however.

“Just one?” he asked, looking down at the wheel.

“Just one,” she said.

“How about two?” he asked, looking for any leeway he could get.

“One,” she said again, just one finger up to drive home her point. “You’re a smart, capable boy. I know you can do it. You don’t need shortcuts.”

Ryusei wanted to believe that. But unfortunately for the both of them, this conversation was making him feel everything from inadequate to agonized. He folded the emotion wheel and put it in his front pocket.

“Did Sae get the same homework?” Ryusei asked, lifting from his chair. “I bet he’s pissed.”

He fully expected her to scold him or give her a tells no tales smile. But she did neither.

“I’m giving you both activities that, if practiced properly, will make you better people and better partners, whether than be to each other or to other people,” she said. “The two of you are similar, but you have your differences, so sometimes they’ll overlap, and sometimes they won’t. Don’t worry too much about that. You should focus on yourself. That’s what this trial is for.”

Ryusei swallowed her very insightful and reasonable answer down. That too was something that was much easier said than done. Ever since Ryusei had met Sae, he’d been a main point, if not the main point, of focus of his. All he’d done for the past six years was think about Sae, pursue him, cherish him, love him, hate him, scream at him, fight with him, cry about him, think about him some more. Before Sae, it had been soccer. Before that, nothing. Ryusei’s life had never really been his own.

Maybe he had a lot more work to do than he’d thought.

“Do you think there’s hope for us?” Ryusei asked.

“Do you mind if I give you the same answer I give you every time you ask this question?” Saichi asked back. There was a softness to it.

“Not at all,” Ryusei said. And he meant it.

“In all my years of doing this job, out of all of the couples I’ve met, I’ve never lost hope in a single one. Not one,” she told him. Ryusei liked this part of the spiel very much. The rest, he liked less so. “But my hope is not what matters. Marriages fail when couples lose hope in their relationship or in each other. There is an idea that love is all that’s needed to make a marriage work, but that’s just not true. Marriages take work, and they take sacrifice, and they take commitment, and they take adjustment. Some people get very discouraged by this. So, to answer your question, of course I think there is hope for the both of you. But whether your marriage succeeds or fails or hardly up to me.”

“Thanks, Saichi,” Ryusei said. Even though he wasn’t feeling all that thankful.

He didn’t know if it was insanity or what, they way he kept asking her that question, hoping the answer would change, knowing it wouldn’t. Maybe it was some form of self inflicted injury. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was his own personal way of preparing for the inevitable, because sometimes it felt like love was all he and Sae had left.

And sometimes it felt like they didn’t even have that.

Chapter Text

As Sae helped Saichi into her armchair, he couldn’t help but think that this might be the first therapy session that he didn’t dread entirely.

He had done his homework. Every single day since last session. He had made a number of horrifying discoveries about himself and his feelings, but he was less concerned with that and more focused on how much he liked to win and succeed.

Which was probably the wrong mindset when it came to therapy, but whatever.

“So, how has this past week been?” she asked him.

“Good,” Sae answered. And it wasn’t even a placeholder answer or a lie.

Staying with Rin and Meguru was good. Well, better than he’d expected it to be. They were very loving and very involved and very around, but it wasn’t as hostile as the visits they’d been forcing themselves through the past six years usually were. Sae didn’t quite enjoy the difference, but he noticed it. Maybe it was because they were all growing up, and this was the difference between your teens and your twenties, or maybe it was because Sae, who’d always believed himself (and Ryusei) so high above the two of them, had finally been knocked down a very significant peg and levelled the playing field.

Saichi was waiting for him to elaborate. Sae reached for the bag he’d brought with him, pulling out his journal.

“I did my homework,” he said.

“Good for you,” she said. It was a phrase he so very regularly associated with sarcasm that he had to mindfully remind himself that it was indeed praise. “How’d it go?”

“It went okay,” he said.

“Did you surprise yourself?”

“I guess.”

By which, of course he meant yes, but was still a little too prideful to say so.

“Is there anything you’ve found that you feel comfortable sharing with me?” she asked.

“No,” Sae answered.

The word was out of his mouth before he even really thought about it. It was the first time he’d thought about how automatic of a reaction that was to most things. And then, even more horrifyingly, he wondered, how do I feel about that realization?

He shook the thought away.

“Well, that’s alright,” she said.

“Seriously?” he asked her. “You’re not going to make me tell you?”

“What?” she asked, genuinely seeming surprised before smiling again.

In that way that she did. The way that made him feel like an unruly grandson who knew nothing of the world but thought he knew it all. It stabbed at him every time, including now.

“No,” she continued. “I’m not going to make you tell me. I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to. All of this is for you, Sae. I don’t get any benefit out of it. Unless you count what you’re paying me, and the internal satisfaction I get out of knowing I spent this session trying my best to help you. So, if you’d like to share some of your feelings so we can discuss them or work through them, that’s what I’m here for. But, if you’re getting more out of it by keeping your thoughts to yourself, that’s quite alright.”

Sae thought that over. The journal felt like it was burning his hand and his lap, both.

He flipped open the first page. “I guess I’ll tell you some of it.”

“Alright,” she said.

“Don’t laugh,” he said.

“That would be extremely unprofessional of me,” she told him. “And I take my craft quite seriously. As I’m sure you can relate to.”

He did. Then, he stared down at the words he’d written over the past week for a few seconds, trying to find his nerve again. He’d already said he’d tell her some, so there was no going back on it now. He needed to find at least two of these to say out loud. But he hadn’t remembered them being this telling. He had surprised himself, and felt so much, when he’d been doing to activity, but then afterwards, he locked all of those feelings back up in a box to stuff on the top shelf of his mind and forget about it until the next day.

And so he decided it was easier if he just pretended these were someone else’s words, someone else’s feelings.

“I feel insecure because I’m a lot of different things and I’ve accomplished a lot, but I still feel like all anyone sees is my relationship problems,” Sae said, his voice coming monotone, feeling so disconnected from the words he saw there in his own handwriting that he was delusionally wondering who had written them while he read them aloud. “I feel shameful because I think a lot of this is my fault. I feel annoyed, because I don’t think all of it is my fault.”

Saichi watched him quietly, no change in her expression, her nodding the only indication that she was listening. Sae flipped the page. The rest of it was just too much to say out loud, even if he was pretending all of these thoughts belonged to a stranger.

“I feel inadequate because every time I try to do something to fix it, I end up making things worse,” Sae said, his disillusionment falling away. “I feel miserable because it feels like I’ve lost the only person I’ve ever cared about like this.”

Sae shut the journal closed with a smack. The last one was perhaps the most his out of all of them. It was definitely among the ones he felt the most intensely, he all of a sudden realized.

“That one is the most bullshit,” he told Saichi, looking up at her. “Because most people have, like, exes or whatever. Other people they’ve liked or been attracted to. But for me, it’s just.” He couldn’t bring himself to say Ryusei’s name out loud. “There was never anyone else. I don’t even like anyone else. Even platonically.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Saichi said.

“It is,” Sae fought back, because that’s what he did when he took a stance on something. He fought tooth and nail for it.

“Let’s circle back to that in a minute,” she said, waving one of her wrinkled hands lightly. “But first, I want to comment on how seriously you took this activity and how well you did.”

“You told me to do it,” Sae said. And so did Rin. But that was besides the point.

“And you did marvellously,” Saichi said, refusing to entertain his nonchalance. “I’m very proud of you.”

In the name of old habits dying hard, Sae was very unsure of how he felt about that. So he didn’t say anything in response.

“Did you find it easy?” she asked next, once Sae’s silence was proven deliberate.

“Sometimes,” Sae admitted. “Sometimes I didn’t. Sometimes I couldn’t think of anything, and sometimes none of the words felt right.”

“Well, this is all a process,” she assured him. “If you found it easy even some of the time, I’d say that’s rather spectacular. Not that I’m surprised. I know you’re fully capable of completing difficult things you set your mind to.”

Sae didn’t respond to this either. After she realized this was the case, she smiled at him. A smile as clever as it was kind, just like it always was.

“So, shall we discuss your homework for this week?” she asked.

Sae fought the urge to roll his eyes, loathing how this was worded like a question, as if he had an option. As if he could say, nah, I’m good, thanks.

Which he could, he supposed. But he wasn’t yet ready to commit to that alternative.

Even so, he said, “It’s not like I have a choice.”

“You always have a choice, Sae.”

This time, he did not fight the urge and rolled his eyes. “On with it, then.”

She didn’t mind his poor attitude. She never did.

“You say that Ryusei is the only person you’ve ever loved or even liked,” she started. In Sae’s desperation not to cringe, he stiffened instead, his hands tensing around the armrests of the chair. He thought it had slipped her mind when she said they’d come back to it. “I think that’s maybe true in some respects, but not all.”

Sae opened his mouth to fight her on it, but right before he formed any words, she shot him a look to think better of it, and he closed his mouth. His hands tightened more around the armrests, like he’d go flinging into this endless void of unknown if he let go.

“Us humans are a social species, and we all need connections to live. Yes, to live. It’s a fundamental need for all humans, and yes, that includes you, whether you like to think it or not.” She paused and looked at him, waiting for him to fight, but because of this, he did not. When he realized this trick for what it was, he could appreciate she did indeed take her craft seriously and was well skilled at him, as much as he loathed being on the receiving end of it. “And there is never a time we need these connections more than when we are going through a difficult time, which, according to your journal anyways, you are, Sae.”

He could hardly deny that. Not to her and not to himself, anyways. Two of the only people he had been going out of his way to admit to being something other than fine. He didn’t say anything. He was so very mindful not even to flinch in his face.

“This week, I want you to utilize some of these connections,” she said, conjuring infinite images that horrified Sae down to his very core. “I want you to reach out to some of the people in your life for support.”

He knew she would smack the effort down just as fast as he shot it over, but he couldn’t help it. The wood of the armrests were digging into his hands so hard, they would surely leave bruises. He needed to fight back. He needed to get out of this.

“I already did that,” he said. “I talked to Rin.”

“Oh?” she asked, her barely there eyebrows lifting.

“About feelings and everything,” Sae said, unsure of whether he was trying to convince her or himself. “So, let’s just go onto the next one.”

“About feelings, huh?” Saichi asked. Her surprise was morphing into knowing, and Sae could sense the loss in the air the same way you could tell when it was about to rain. “Well, aren’t you ahead of the curve, my star pupil?”

If it wasn’t for the fact that it would almost certainly earn him an accusation of becoming defensive, Sae would have crossed his arms across his chest.

“I’m proud of you, Sae. You really are doing the work.” Once again, he didn’t respond. He just waited ever patiently for the other shoe to drop. “If you’ve gotten a head start on this week’s assignment, that’s excellent. You already know what to do, so keep on with it. Extend your circle.”

“If I’ve already done it, why can’t I skip it and move on to the next thing?” Sae challenged.

“Well, as with last week’s homework, reaching out for support is a lifelong practice. What are you so worried about?” Saichi asked. “You do have friends besides Rin, don’t you?”

Sae loathed how she did this. Used his own pride against him like a weapon. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of kinship with her, thinking that this must have been how he too had made a career of making people feel. She too, in her own way, destroyed beautifully.

“I feel resentful of what you’re insinuating,” Sae said, his voice flat and just short of hostile.

“Well, look who’s taken to the emotion wheel like a fish to water.” She chuckled. “I’m not insinuating anything. If you’ve already started to open up about feelings, that’s great. You don’t have to do that with everyone, if Rin is someone you feel you can confide in.”

He wasn’t, and he wasn’t a friend either, but Sae wasn’t going to say any of that. He’d suffered enough blows in the past hour as is.

“So, call a friend. Do something with them. Go for a walk. Ask them to lunch.” She said all this while smiling. Sae listened to it all while fighting off a grimace. “Show up and talk about soccer scores or the mating cycles of salmon or the mysteries of the universe. Talk about yourself or don’t. But reach out and connect, however feels best for you.”

Sae, if he would have spoken freely, would have said that the way that felt best would be not to do it at all, but like the mind reader she was, Saichi noticed, and the mood in the room turned significantly grim.

“If this trial separation becomes permanent,” she said. And that sentiment hit Sae with full force without there needing to be an end. If this trial separation becomes permanent. Because that was the alternative to doing all this bullshit and fixing things and both of them deciding to stay at the end of it. “You’re going to need those connections.”

Sae left the office and kicked the first rock he found square into the mailbox on the corner. It hit with an aggressive clang that more than did justice to his frustration. It made him feel a bit better. Something had been dispelled. Not all of it, though.

“You do have friends besides Rin, don’t you?” Sae mocked under his breath, his voice both condescending and sarcastic, knowing that it hadn’t been either when he’d heard it the first time. “Fuck off.”

One hardly needed a psych degree to know that this question and task felt like an accusation and an attack because it was based in truth. Sae did have friends. Well, he had acquaintances. Okay, he had teammates he was kind of friendly with and knew things about because of their incessant desire to open up to him in the name of bonding. People he could tolerate spending more than five personal minutes with.

But those people were multiple time zones away. He didn’t have any friends here. Which was both his fault and not his fault. He wasn’t particularly social, but he hadn’t spent any significant amount of time here since his teens.

He got into the backseat of the car he called and watched the landscape fade into blurs while he thought it over. It’s not like he didn’t know people here. He knew people by association. This activity was stupid, but if he wanted to just get it out of the way, he was sure he could ask, or trick rather, Meguru into going somewhere and ask him about one of his niche interests and listen to him ramble for an hour before he called the mission a success.

That did feel pathetic in its own way, however. You do have friends besides Rin, don’t you? suddenly became You do have friends besides Rin and your brother in law, don’t you?

He started going through the contacts in his phone. Sae would readily admit that the options were limited; he had expected them to be. They weren’t nonexistent, though. He started weeding through them. Obviously, his manager was not an option, filed under the same reason as Meguru. What remained weren’t great, but they were annoying at best and nauseating at worst and Sae considered that at least half a victory.

This was just homework, he assured himself. A means to an end. A box to tick.

He clicked the name before he could change his mind. It was best to get this over with. Better to have the stranger driving the car as a witness than Rin. Why the hell are you hanging out with that tool? He listened to it ring, wondering if he’d get lucky and just hit the voicemail.

He was not so lucky.

“Hey, superstar,” came through the phone. “I was wondering when I’d be hearing from you.”

The benefit of this being over the phone was that Sae was free to cringe without being seen. So long as he didn’t let it show in his voice, which at this point, would be a tall ask. He could think of no fathomable reason why he of all people would have been waiting to hear from him.

“Hey,” Sae said flatly. No nickname, no pleasantries. “Look, I was wondering-”

“Where I’ve been all your life?”

Sae grimaced. “I’m hanging up.”

“Oh, lighten up, obviously I’m kidding,” the voice said. “What can I do you for?”

He sounded almost normal about it, so Sae forced himself to proceed.

“I was wondering,” he repeated, hiding any amount of disgust beneath his infamous don’t interrupt me tone. He then paused, running through Saichi’s suggestions and what he could possibly stomach. He figured he should at least get a meal out of this ordeal. “If you wanted to go to lunch-”

Sometime this week is how Sae would have finished that sentence, had he not been interrupted.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he heard in response. As he was free to grimace, Sae continued to do so. “I’m free right now. I’m in the city at the moment but I could grab a car.”

No, Sae had not meant right now while he was fresh off his therapy scolding. But then, he thought it might be better to just get this over with and spend the rest of the week basking in his triumph and licking his wounds, whatever became more relevant after this absolute dumpster fire of a lunch was over.

“Now’s fine,” Sae said. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll come to you.”

He hung up before he could hear anything else that might very well be the final nail in the coffin of his thinking this was even remotely a good idea.

“Change of plans,” Sae said, making a point to meet the driver’s eyes in the rearview. “Take me down into the city.”

“That’ll be extra,” the driver told him.

Sae was horribly offended and didn’t respond besides a scoff, but the driver did as he was told and they headed out of the quieter area and into the heart of downtown.

Sae didn’t mind downtown. Not really.

He had been fairly committed to his I hate Japan narrative in his younger years, but buying property here and coming back for semi regular visits, he’d learned to foster a fondness for it. He tried to hone into that now as the car went towards the address Sae had read out of his phone, because he needed any stroke of positivity he could get.

You do have friends that you actually like spending time with, don’t you? he heard in his head, in Saichi’s voice. In his own mind, he ignored it. He wondered what it meant for his psyche that he was imagining his therapist in his mind just so he could be cold to her and decided that was a problem for next session and pushed it away.

Sae couldn’t speak on Oliver Aiku’s taste in soccer teams, game plays, clothing, or women, but he would begrudgingly admit he had good taste in restaurants. Came with the territory of being a serial dater, Sae supposed. You learned which places impressed. Not that he was impressed, but he was hungry and had expensive taste and so this place would do well enough.

It took him two steps past the hostess stand to decide this had been a mistake. If it wasn’t Aiku’s unironically wearing sunglasses inside the restaurant, it was definitely the grin and the way he winked as he waved him over. Sae very seriously considered turning right around, but resisted. He was starving, he had homework to do, and besides, he was already there.

Not only did Aiku look like an idiot, from the bad dye job to the sunglasses, but he smelled like a dive bar, bathroom cologne and all. It felt like walking on hot coals taking the seat across from him. The cucumber lemon water almost softened the blow, but the way the waitress’ hands shook when refilling Aiku’s ruined any progress than had been made almost immediately.

“Well, look who it is,” Aiku said by means of greeting him.

“Your much more talented and well groomed ex-teammate?” Sae asked.

“Ouch,” Aiku said with a laugh. “I was going to say jewel of Japanese football.”

“Maybe let’s skip the pleasantries,” Sae said.

“Sure, sure, whatever you say,” Aiku said, like this was all just one big joke to him.

Which, Sae realized, it probably was.

“Are you already drunk?” Sae asked, not sure which he was hoping for.

“Are you crazy?” Aiku asked. “It’s not even noon.”

Sae didn’t say anything. He just waited for the answer. Both of them knew that they could hardly put the assumption past him.

“No,” Aiku answered for real. “I am pretty wickedly hungover, though.”

“Wow,” Sae said.

“Did the sunglasses not tip you off?” Aiku asked.

“I thought you were trying out another poor taste fashion trend,” Sae said. “I’m still haunted by your fedora phase.”

“Look who’s talking, man jewellery,” Aku shot back. Sae got a small glimpse into why he had once considered them something akin to friends. He took everything on the chin and could toss it right back. “Don’t tell me you invited me out to lunch just to insult me the whole time.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t know I would and accepted anyways,” Sae shot back.

Aiku grinned and leaned back in his chair. “Are we flirting right now?”

This too, was another thing Aiku was making a big joke out of. He was like this. With everyone. Always. But still, the accusation, even in jest, hit Sae like a glass of ice water thrown right into his face. He wanted to reach for a harsh denial. Of course not, you fucking idiot. This is nothing but a fucking therapy assignment to me. But before he could, Aiku laughed it off, downed his second glass of water in three massive gulps, and waved the waitress back over. Then, the moment had passed.

Aiku downed his third glass of water just as fast before setting it back down. He didn’t reach for the menu. Sae didn’t either. He’d looked up the menu on the way and knew what he wanted and recognized the same in the seat across from him. That, at the very least, he could respect.

“Seriously, though,” Aiku said. His voice had returned to some semblance of normal. “It’s good to see you.”

Though Sae would not go as far as think the same, let alone say it out loud, he could interpret that comment as friendly enough and left it alone. “Uh huh.”

“So, why the sudden urge to get lunch with yours truly?” Aiku asked.

Sae decided it was probably best if he did not admit this was a therapy assignment. He heard Saichi in his head again. If this trial separation becomes permanent, you’re going to need these connections.

“Just had some free time,” Sae said.

“I didn’t know you were back in town,” Aiku said.

“It was kind of a sudden thing,” Sae said. Which was true. True enough.

“Oh?” That piqued Aiku’s interest in a way Sae was hoping it wouldn’t. “Don’t tell me. You missed playing with us, so you’re back for a few games?”

“In your dreams,” Sae scoffed. “But if I ever get tired of winning, I’ll let you know.”

Aiku laughed. “You lost that game too, superstar.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sae said, hoping they could just drop it.

“But seriously,” Aiku said, very clearly not dropping it. He leaned his head forward and peered at him over his aviators. “I know you hate it here. Did someone die or something?”

Me, maybe, Sae thought. Or, that’s what it feels like sometimes.

He took a few seconds to rifle through his head for an excuse, any excuse, anything to tell Aiku that would just get him off his fucking case, but he didn’t find one before he ran into his neuronal projection of Saichi, wagging a finger at him. This exercise is about connection, Sae. Lying and hiding has no place in it.

He could have changed the subject, he figured. But he just didn’t have the energy.

“Ryusei and I are doing a trial separation,” Sae said.

His tone was low and shameful. Aiku didn’t even flinch. For a second or two, Sae was convinced he’d spoken too quietly to have been heard. But then, Aiku nodded. Once. He reached for his glass, drank out of it, put it down, and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“Ah, yeah,” Aiku said. “I heard about that.”

“From who?” Sae asked.

Aiku shrugged. “People talk.”

Sae frowned. Aiku didn’t seem all that keen on giving him any other answer. He found himself searching for the version of Saichi that he carried around in his head with him and held a hand out, exasperated. He’s hiding and lying! So why the hell can’t I?

She didn’t miss a beat. This isn’t about him. This is about you.

Sae scoffed to himself inside his mind and decided Aiku could benefit from some therapy. And by some, he meant a lot of it.

The food came. Two bites in and Sae had decided this entire thing had been worth it. It was better than he’d expected it would be, and found himself thanking all the girls Aiku had brought here only to dump or be dumped by two weeks later, because this place really was excellent.

They didn’t talk much as they ate. Sae could finally see the finish line. Triumph started growing within him. It was the first day of his homework, and he’d not only done the assignment, but refused the urge to lie, opened up, and only voiced about half of the terrible things he thought about Aiku. Passed with flying colours, basically.

They finished eating and they folded their fabric napkins across their plates to be cleared. The waitress caught sight of them and headed over.

“You wanna share a dessert with me?” Aiku asked.

“No,” Sae answered.

“Aw, come on,” Aiku said.

And then capitalized on the fact that the waitress would clearly murder for the chance at taking Sae’s seat and he ordered one anyways before Sae could ask for the bill.

Which, whatever. Sae could watch him eat his lava cake or whatever the hell he’d ordered. It irritated him, but it wouldn’t kill him or anything.

Famous last thought, as it so turned out.

“How come we never hooked up?” Aiku asked, his lopsided grin widening with the question.

Sae wasn’t necessarily surprised by the question, but he was a little taken off guard with the way that Aiku waited, like he genuinely expected an answer. Sae then considered stifling his scoff, thought better of it, and then did so aloud.

“Because you disgust me,” Sae told him. Before deciding that didn’t really paint the whole story and adding on, “And I’m married.”

“You ain’t married now,” Aiku said.

“First one still applies,” Sae said. “And yes I am.”

“You’re separated,” Aiku said.

“Trial separated,” Sae corrected.

“Keyword being separated,” Aiku said, scratching his neck as he shrugged. Still grinning.

“Keyword being trial.”

Sae’s hand hit the table before he even realized what he was doing. He surprised even himself.

Aiku had this quick look of shock come over his face. He leaned over one shoulder, looking at the rest of the restaurant and all the eyes locked on them, and chuckled nervously. Sae didn’t care. About any of it. Not the prying eyes and not how uncomfortable this idiot felt about it. Aiku raised his hands defensively.

“Alright, alright. Have it your way,” he said, still trying to laugh the whole thing off. “Anyways. We’re having some people over this weekend. Like old times. You should come.”

Sae loathed almost every word that had left his mouth in the entire few seconds it took to voice that acceptance and the invitation that followed. So much, in fact, that he already had his refusal sitting on his tongue, locked and loaded. As easy as it would have been to just use it, drop his card at the hostess stand, and catch a car back to Rin’s, he didn’t.

Curse his innate statistical nature. Or thank it. Either way.

He couldn’t help but imagine how it would look. Or, more specifically, how he could brag about it. Oh, remember that homework? Connect with friends? Well I met an old friend for lunch, and not only that, I went to a party! How do you like that effort, you old bag of bones?

“It’ll be fun,” Aiku said, and Sae tuned back in to the fact that he was taking his pause for hesitation. “Most of the old team is coming, and they’re all bringing people. It’ll be good for ya. Lots of new people. You can mingle.”

Sae had taken to the emotion wheel like a fish to water, apparently, because he knew immediately that he resented what Aiku meant by that.

But still, the refusal didn’t come.

“Sure,” Sae said. “Why not?”

That didn’t mean he was all that inclined to stick around, however. That was about all of Oliver Aiku that Sae could stand for one day. He grabbed his phone off the table and his jacket off the coatrack beside them.

“Text me the details,” Sae said. “I gotta go.”

“You’re going to miss the cheesecake,” Aiku said.

“I’ll survive,” Sae said, wondering if he should make the effort to wave over his shoulder as he walked off, and ultimately decided against it.

He did stop by the front desk before he left, settling up the tab. His half only. He was hellbent on doing absolutely everything in his power to make it so that there was absolutely no way that Aiku, or anyone else for that matter, could get the idea that this had been a date.

Sae was hoping that he was just inviting him to be nice and he wouldn’t actually hear from him again, but a few hours later, there it was, the text with the party information. Sae was back in his room at Rin’s, so he could groan freely, and took the opportunity. Like old times. By which Oliver had meant the one and only U20 pre game mixer his manager had insisted he go to. He’d left twenty minutes in. Maybe, if he was lucky, this would be like old times.

The night of the party, Rin caught him on his way out. Or rather, he was sitting at the dining table again, drawing a skull with some grapes and a candle beside it. Sae was too distracted to mock him for it. If Rin’s scowl was any indication of anything, it seemed like it was going just about as well as the last time.

That, and the way that Sae hadn’t even said anything, or intended on stopping, and Rin set the sketchbook aside as soon as he saw him.

“Where the hell are you going?” Rin asked. “It’s ten pm.”

“Thank you, keeper of the clock,” Sae said. “And none of your business, mom.”

He didn’t know why he was so defensive. Probably because the answer was so humiliating and nauseating. You know that loser from the U20 team with the bad dye job and the creepy eyes? I went out for lunch with him and I think he hit on me and then he invited me to a party. And, wouldn’t you know it, I’m going!

This week may be about reaching out for support, but this, Sae was keeping to himself.

“Seriously,” Rin said. “It’s late. Shouldn’t you be moisturized and in bed?”

“Not tonight,” Sae said. “I’m going out.”

“Where?” Rin asked again.

“Jesus, Rin!” Sae snapped. “I’m twenty six, for fuck’s sake. I can go out if I want.”

“I’m not saying you can’t go,” Rin said, peering at him. “I’m just asking where you’re going.”

“What’s it to you?” Sae shot back.

And then, they stared at each other a while. Sae didn’t understand Rin’s inquisitiveness, aside from it being usual little brother bullshit mixed with some holier than thou bullshit, but whatever it was, he wasn’t backing down. He might be stuck at his little brother’s house, going through a trial separation, and about to head to what very possibly might be a glorified frat party, but he was not weak.

“Fine,” Rin said, relenting, taking his sketchbook back up. Sae was about to leave it at that until he added, “Don’t even think about bringing anyone back here.”

A chill ran down Sae’s back at the same time that nausea rippled through the front of him. “What?”

“You heard me,” Rin said. “You’ll be on the streets so fast-”

“You too? Seriously?” Sae hadn’t meant to go from zero to a hundred that quickly. He needed to go back to week one. What emotion was this? Pissed off, definitely. But surely there was a more precise was to label this brand of rage. “Why the hell is everyone treating me like I’m some whore? Does nobody seem to understand that trial separation means I’m still fucking married?”

Rin’s eyebrows raised. Not by much, but enough to tell he was surprised. Whether he was surprised by the content of the outburst or the outburst itself, both of which were just as likely, Sae wasn’t sure, and he didn’t care to know. Rin didn’t seem too keen to explain, either. He just let the silence hang in the air for a few seconds before clearing his throat.

“Alright,” he said. “Lock the door when you come back in.”

Sae recognized the dismissal for what it was, and he was both offended and relieved.

“I will,” he said before leaving, as an act of goodwill.

Oliver Aiku’s party was pretty much the worst place on earth that Sae could imagine. He genuinely considered the possibility that he had died and gone straight to hell and this was payback for all the terrible things he’d done in his rather short life. Not that he was particularly religious or even believed in hell, but if he was, and if he did, this was spot on what he would have pictured.

It was indeed a glorified frat party, but worse, and a lot more pathetic, because it just automatically was when you have what could only be described as techno-rap blasting out of massive speakers and a beer pong table set up and you’re on the wrong side of twenty five. Sae felt like he needed a shower two steps into the door.

But he was going to a party filled with old teammates. People he could very reasonably, albeit untruthfully, refer to as a whole bunch of friends who weren’t Rin. Take that, Saichi.

Everyone was hammered, which was almost better. Because everyone was doing their own thing and paying him very little mind. To those of them that did seem to notice him, they were easily distracted, and he could slip away and leave them questioning what they saw in the space he’d once occupied. It was a trick that he’d mastered very early in his soccer career, and one he was very grateful to have in his back pocket.

Oliver was, as expected, just as hammered. He was also, unfortunately, much less easy to dodge. After what was quite possibly the worlds grossest and longest lasting hug, Oliver pulled back, his hands clutching Sae’s shoulders, and laughed.

“Holy shit, you came!” he said. “I didn’t think you would. I thought you were just fucking with me.”

I wish I had been, Sae did not say. I wish I could have told you to fuck off right to your face. But I have keyword-trial separation homework to do.

“Yeah,” is what he did say. “Well.”

“Great, great,” Oliver said, in a way that made it seem that he would have said that regardless of what Sae said. “I’m fucking thrilled you’re here.”

Gross. At least he took his hands off his shoulders.

And immediately wrapped one of his arms around them instead. Making it yet another situation Sae wondered if divorce would be worth it if he meant avoiding it.

“And you remember Sendou, right?” Oliver asked. Sae cringed away from Oliver’s touch. Oliver did not notice. “From the U-20 team. Hey, Shu, look who’s here.”

He then extended the arm that was not holding Sae in a death grip towards some strawberry blonde that Sae was almost certain  he had never seen before in his life.

Still. He might not have been at this party with the intention to make actual friends, but the goal wasn’t to make any enemies either.

So, he said, “Yeah. Of course.”

The guy at the other end of this introduction barely concealed a scoff and said, “Yeah, how could I forget?”

Oh, good. During their apparently forgettable prior meeting, Sae had obviously been a dick to him, and as such, he probably wouldn’t be interested in any chit chat. Ideal.

Sae was just biding his time until Oliver pulled his arm back and got distracted by something else and he could find some excuse to slip away from both of them. But, as usual, the universe, which was hell bent on mocking him at any and every opportunity, had other plans. Someone did call out to Oliver from the front door, and he had to take his arm back to turn around and investigate, but didn’t forget about Sae that easily.

“Shit, I should go say hi,” Oliver said. Sae did not protest. “I’ll be right back.”

Sae didn’t say anything to this, either.

“Watch him, would you?” he yelled at Sendou as he walked off, like Sae was some child or fragile thing, in need of supervision to avoid some ominous outcome. Before either of them could protest, Oliver was gone. And before Sae could slip away, this guy was turning to him.  

“So,” Sendou started.

“You really don’t have to,” Sae said.

“It’s fine,” Sendou said. “You may have ripped my entire career apart in the span of maybe five seconds, but that was like, seven years ago. I’m over it. Water under the bridge. I can be hospitable to my guests.”

“Your guests?” Sae said, taken aback. “I thought this was Oliver’s party.”

The words were out before he realized. Sendou answered anyways. “Uh. I live here too.”

“Oh,” Sae said. “I see.”

Because it was as kind as he could really manage. It only really made it more pathetic when they were as old as they were, making the kind of money they did, and you still had some random teammate you weren’t fucking as a roommate. But then again, it fit with everything else Sae had seen so far, so he couldn’t really be surprised.

He could judge, though. And he did.

Sendou was still standing next to him, avoiding looking at him like it might burn him, and shifting his weight from foot to foot. Sae was about to tell him he could just fuck off, they obviously didn’t have anything to talk about, but Sendou found somewhere to pick the conversation back up before he could.

“I heard about the divorce,” he said.

The worst possible fucking place. Sae resented it as much as he did every time. He was a fucking prodigy, an international star, and had near unmatched stats, but all he was these days was a fucking divorcee, apparently. And he wasn’t even really that.

“I’m not getting a divorce,” Sae snapped back.

“Oh, sorry,” Sendou said, not sounding all that sorry, and as much as Sae resented it, he figured he probably deserved it. “Just what people said. Is Ryusei here?”

Is Ryusei here? Who the fuck was this loser that Sae didn’t even remember meeting calling his husband by his first name in the middle of this shitshow?

Or maybe the shame was more due to the fact that he didn’t have an answer that didn’t wound him.

Inside his head, Saichi had him by the shoulders this time. Open up and connect!

“We’re not divorcing,” Sae said, still clinging to that truth. “We’re just trial separated.”

“Oh,” Sendou said. And there was an air of satisfaction to it. Sae thought so, anyways. Until he shrugged and followed up with, “Well, I’m fucking a guy who’s also fucking anything that breathes and looks his way, so I can hardly judge.”

Sae didn’t have to ask to know who he meant. The roommate thing suddenly made a whole lot more sense.

The thought of saying you could do better crossed Sae’s mind, but because that was out of a desire to dig at Oliver and not to form any kinship with this guy, which it probably would, he did not.

“Huh,” Sae said.

“Yeah,” Sendou said.

He sipped his beer. Sae’s hands suddenly felt noticeably empty and restless, so he shoved them in his pockets.

“So, are you going to get divorced?” Sendou asked, breaking the silence. “Is that why you’re here?”

Sae was cold at the best of times, but his viper bite answer was strictly instinctual. “I’m not interested.”

Sendou’s face crumpled in disgust. It impressed Sae as much as it surprised him. “Neither am I.”

“Oh,” Sae said.

“No offense,” Sendou said, but then paused, thinking that over. “Or, actually, maybe some offense. Being into you would require a unique taste.”

Being an expert in them, Sae recognized an insult when he heard one, and he only respected him more for it.

Not that it stopped him from scoffing. “Good taste, you mean. Which obviously you don’t have. Are you going to stay in your situationship until you’re in your thirties, or are you planning on getting some self respect?”

Sendou didn’t seem offended. He barely even flinched. He just sipped his beer again, shrugged again. “Jury’s still out. When it’s good, it’s good, but…”

He trailed off without finishing and Sae felt some type of way that he not only finished the sentence in his head but deeply related to it. He needed to get out of there. The walls were closing in and it was getting hard to breathe.

“You?” Sendou then asked, circling back to the place Sae thought he’d weaseled himself out of.

“I don’t know,” Sae said, surprised by his own honesty. Sendou nodded.

“Oliver’s trying to fuck you, you know,” he said.

Sae wondered if they should be talking about this. Then, he decided he didn’t really care.

“Yeah,” Sae said. “I figured.”

Sendou didn’t say anything else. He finished his drink and didn’t move to refill it. Sae felt more uneasy the longer he stood there. He wasn’t really enjoying this conversation. He’d spent most of it either dishing out wounds or licking his own. Yet, somehow it still seemed preferable to playing beer pong or dodging Oliver. And on that note, he decided that maybe this was enough reaching out for support for one week. Or a year. Or the rest of his life, actually.

“I’m gonna go,” Sae said.

“Cool,” Sendou said, rather indifferently. “You gonna find Oliver, or should I tell him you took off?”

“You can tell him I said to fuck off and lose my number,” Sae said.

Sendou’s mouth lifted at one side. “Alright.”

“Good luck with all that,” Sae said, by means of dismissing him. He’d meant for it to sound sarcastic, but it ended up sounding like he kind of meant it.

“Yeah,” Sendou said. A tense, pained word. “Good luck with your not-divorce too.”

He sounded undoubtedly sincere. Sae tried to shake it off his shoulders like a bird does to water but he was semi-successful at best.

Sae could have gotten a car back, but he wasn’t in the mood to be alone in a confined space with some stranger and he decided to walk. He thought it would clear his head and he’d get some steps in, because it’s not like he was doing much with everything else going on these days. Going back to soccer was going to be hell.

It took him two blocks before the nostalgia hit. In another life, when he’d gotten his shit together earlier, when he hadn’t fucked anything up at all, Ryusei had come to that party with him. He would have been the one to suggest it and probably would have dragged him there. That defender with the creepy eyes from the U-20 team is trying to fuck you? That’s hilarious! Obviously we’re going! And maybe in this life, fighting didn’t come to them as easy as breathing, and laughter was still on the table. Maybe they were walking back home together, Ryusei’s cackling filling the street. Did you see the look on his face when you told him off? I wish I had a picture. And isn’t that friends with benefits roommate situation fucked up? God, I’m so lucky to have you all to myself.

Sae shook Ryusei and all of his imagined sweet nothings out of his head. He was on this dark street alone, and he needed to accept that. He took a breath, and then another, and then another, and then he reminded himself of his annoyance and walked on.

He got a fair bit into the city before he stopped in his tracks, horrified by himself and what he’d done. He wasn’t walking back to Rin’s. He hadn’t returned to real life at all. He’d stepped into some other timeline, drunk on his annoyance, taking it all the way to their old living room where he’d surely find Ryusei on the couch in the dark living room with a cold towel laying over his eyes, not yet asleep because he was waiting up for him. Did you have fun? Ha. I didn’t think so. Sorry I couldn’t go. Come sit and tell me all about it. Quietly, though.

Sae couldn’t believe he’d walked most of the way home without realizing what he was doing.

He gave up on the night and called a car. When the driver picked him up, he lied and said he had a horrible migraine and didn’t want to talk. Then, he spent the entire drive with his temple rested on the cold window, shame swirling through the rest of him. He felt stupid for his mishap in a way he couldn’t quite put logic to. Like he’d been tricked by his own mind and felt small for having fell for it.

But maybe that was just a defensive emotion, because as he started to pick that feeling apart, the emotion wheel hanging in his peripheral like a phantom, he realized that beneath the shame, he felt this deep sadness that what he’d delusionally thought he was going home to didn’t exist anymore.

Which, oddly enough, made him feel a little better. Because surely that didn’t count for nothing.

Chapter Text

When Ryusei got his next week’s assignment, he couldn’t believe his luck. Saichi was wary, and she was trying to explain it in some type of way, but all he heard was that he was to spend an entire week hanging out with his friends. Which, luckily for him, was what he spent most of his free time doing anyways.

“Listen to me, Ryusei,” Saichi said.

And he was listening. But he was also picturing the way he was planning on calling Bachira the second he got out of this office. Guess what, Meguru? We’re having a guys night! And it’s not even suspicious, because Saichi told me to!

“I’m serious, Ryusei,” she said. At that, he put the daydream on the backburner and tuned back in. “I want you to do this properly.”

“Hang out with my friends…” he started, tried to make sense of it, and then failed. “Properly?”

“Yes,” she said, pointing a stern finger at him in a way that told him she meant business. “Properly. I don’t want you gallivanting all around town like you have been this week.”

He deserved that. He could admit that. He had, in fact. Then, he tuned back in all the way because he thought that maybe he could benefit from the explanation.

“So, here’s what I want you to do.” He was listening, and he was ready to obey. “I want you to see your friends this week, and when you do, I want you to pretend that you are indeed going ahead with the divorce.”

“What?” Ryusei had listened, but he didn’t understand. “You want me to lie to my friends?”

“You don’t have to,” she said. “You can tell them a fib, enjoy the visit, tell them the truth at the end and tell them I told you to do that, if you prefer. Or you don’t have to do any of that. The important part of this exercise is that the divorce is real in your own mind while you’re reaching out for support.”

“Does Sae have to do this?” he asked. It was instinct. He knew it as soon as the words left his mouth, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it or feel ashamed of it.

“See his friends?” Saichi asked. “Or pretend the divorce is real?”

“Either,” Ryusei answered. “Both.”

Saichi let out a deep sigh. Then, much to his surprise, she answered.

“Yes, he has to see his friends,” Saichi said, and Ryusei almost found that humorous, until her tone took a turn for the knife-sharp. “No, he does not have to pretend the divorce is going ahead.”

“Then why do I have to do it?”

Her voice stayed like that while she answered. “Because, unlike you, he has already accepted that as a genuine possibility.”

It stung where it intended to. But she wasn’t done.

“I’ve been seeing the both of you a while, and I’d like to think I know the two of you pretty well. You’re not without your problems, both individually and as a couple, and the same goes for your strengths.” She delivered these most forceful blows all while she had her frail hands clasped and rested on her itchy looking skirt. “Sae can be cold and calculating, but out of the two of you, he is very much the realist. You’re open and optimistic, but there is a point where that becomes a fault.”

All of this, they’d heard before.

“And I know that you think that if you move out for six weeks and show up to every session and do the homework, everything will go back to the way it was when your marriage was good,” she said. And of course, this dumbfounded him. Because wasn’t that the case? Or else, what were they spending all of this money and putting in all this time for? Was that not the guarantee? “But that’s not necessarily the case. You may stay together, and your relationship might get to a new place which is as good or even better than it was. But the opposite is also true. You may see that despite the break and despite the work, the two of you just aren’t compatible, and you may want something different.”

“I won’t,” Ryusei said.

“Sae might.”

And that was the devastating blow this had all been leading up to.

The worst part about it was that she was entirely right. Ryusei knew, abstractly and conceptually anyways, that divorce was a possibility. But it wasn’t really. They both loved each other! They’d made vows! For better or for worse! And that’s all this was. A particularly bad, although entirely temporary, patch of worse. That’s what he thought anyways. Though, hearing it, out loud, from somebody else, made it infinitely more solid in his mind.

There was a chance that at the end of all of this, Sae would decide that he didn’t love him anymore. Or, worse yet, that he did but still didn’t want to be with him anymore.

“At that point, it’ll be out of your control,” she told him, and the way her voice was so soft and casual in its sharpness. “And you will need your friends beyond just a distraction or a waiting game.”

“Fine, whatever,” Ryusei said, not even attempting to hide his defeat. “I’ll do it.”

“Good boy,” she said. She took note of his dejected demeanour. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”

“Still funny though,” he said, despite the fact that he’d just gotten a very clear scold against this sin of making Sae his entire life and every waking thought. “Sae having to hang out with his friends. He doesn’t really have any. I bet he hates that.”

“Ryusei,” Saichi said. This tone was one he was much more familiar with and recognized immediately. It was her own personal brand of concern. “Why is it so important to you that Sae struggles with these activities?”

“It’s not,” he said quickly.

“You keep commenting on it.”

He was quiet for a long while. First, it was because he was trying to find an answer, and then it was because he was gathering up the courage to say it aloud.

“It’s just a nice change of pace,” Ryusei finally conceded. “Sae’s better than me at everything.”

What Ryusei did not tack on at the end was and he never misses a chance to remind me of it.

Not in so many words, though. Which was perhaps the most aggravating part about it. He did it in a way that Ryusei couldn’t even quantify, let alone explain to another person or call him on. He did it in ways that included what did you do all day? or why can’t you? or what else do you have going on? He said things like do you need someone to help you? Can you do it by yourself? Do you need me to pay for that?

So condescending. It’s not like Ryusei didn’t make money. He just didn’t make as much anymore. It’s not like he fucked around and did nothing all day. It’s just that he couldn’t do as much without getting dizzy or tired or sore. He loathed the questions. He knew he snapped back whenever Sae dealt them out. But what else was he supposed to do when he was constantly being reminded that Sae had just gone on and continued his career and his life and Ryusei had been forcibly left behind and rendered a burden? Sae started it. Every time. He couldn’t help but want to finish it when it was one of the few things he felt he could do.

“Do you really think that’s true?” Saichi asked.

“Yes,” Ryusei said.

“What is Sae better than you at?” she asked him.

“Soccer,” Ryusei answered.

“Has it always been that way?”

“Yes.”

She sighed. “What else?”

Everything. He shouldn’t have to explain anything else. Sae was better at soccer which meant he was better at everything the two of them deemed important. He was better at making money. He was better at giving interviews. He was better at being a star. He was better at building them a life. Ryusei was better at failing. He was better at being forgotten. He was better at being left behind.

“Giving head,” Ryusei answered, hoping for an easy out of the conversation.

“Don’t be naughty,” she said, having none of it. “I don’t believe Sae is better than you at everything, and I don’t think you do either. We tend to pick partners that are complimentary to us. Studies show this. Even if we have our differences, our partners are typically just as skilled, just as smart, and just as attractive as we are.”

Ryusei knew there was more to the speech, and he wasn’t much in the mood for fighting.

“Sae is better than you at some things. This has to be true.” She had a way of speaking that made him believe her over himself so easily. “But you have your own strengths.”

“Not anymore,” Ryusei muttered.

“Even now,” she said firmly. There was the scolding finger again too. “Who’s the better friend, you or Sae?”

Ryusei couldn’t even bring himself to consider lying. “Me.”

“Who’s the better cook?” she asked.

“Me,” Ryusei answered again.

“And who dresses better?” she asked.

He couldn’t help but smile. She was asking things with predetermined answers, and that was a compliment he held quite dear as he pictured his bespoke shirts he’d gotten as gifts from jobs and Sae’s many, many pairs of identical black athletic pants that he wore absolutely everywhere.

“Me.”

“See?” she said. And he did. “So spend this week with your friends and let them help you. Let them lift you up and let them support you. Let them show you that you’re perfectly capable and wonderful just the way you are and that being with Sae doesn’t and won’t change that.”

Ryusei nodded. He wasn’t all the way there, but he was trying. “Sure.”

“And Ryusei?” she said finally. He looked up at her straight on. “Maybe the most important friend you need to spend time with this week is yourself.”

“I don’t know about that,” he said. “We don’t get along all too well.”

“Well, you have to spend an awful lot of time with yourself,” she said kindly. “So maybe you should try and change that.”

He did make good on his word to himself and called Bachira the second he stepped out of the office. It didn’t have quite the celebratory tone, though. Still, he wanted to see him and said as much and didn’t even have to explain it was a therapy homework assignment before he accepted. Ryusei said he was heading home and Meguru said he was heading over. Then, he realized he wasn’t technically supposed to be going back to the apartment, but was too lazy to clarify.

There was a forest trail nearby and he told him to meet him there. Ryusei quite liked it. It was quiet, and walking was often good on his mind as well as the rest of him, plus the trail was filled with benches so he never had to go far to rest if it got too much for him. It was one of the few safe spaces the city had to offer.

“I’m getting a divorce,” Ryusei said to himself as he waited. It felt bitter and weird on his tongue. He didn’t quite believe it, but he supposed it was good practice.

And Meguru was forever a good sport. He parked, got out, handed Ryusei a caffeine free tea and off they went. Ryusei knew full well that he couldn’t lie to him. Not only because he’d go right home to Rin, mouth full of concerned whispers about how the divorce was going forward, and the two of them would proceed to act like  complete basket cases in front of their housemate. But also because he would be hurt, even if it was for a good cause. So for this activity, it was real in Ryusei’s mind only.

Meguru dove right into his own ramblings, as he usually did, and Ryusei sipped his tea and burned his tongue as he listened. It was nice, hearing him talk about everything he had going on. Rin still played for Japan’s national team. Meguru took international contracts, but only short ones, and only sometimes. I like being a househusband. And it’s not like they were having kids. So they weren’t hurting or anything. His mom was still busy, still doing well, but not getting any younger, and he wanted to be around before that wasn’t the case anymore.

“And basically, we might need to get a new washing machine,” he finished up with a sigh. Ryusei sighed in acknowledgement. He much liked the mundane things. They felt stable. Stepping stones on his path through the endless unknown. “Anyways, I’m so sorry. I’ve just being going on and on. How have you been? How’s Reo? Is staying with him alright? I bet it is, in that crazy house of his. Maybe I’ll come visit you there next time. You had therapy today right? How was it?”  

“It was,” Ryusei started, and then paused. Good, was what he wanted to say. But that wasn’t really what it has been, was it? “It was hard.”

“I’d imagine,” Meguru said. “Hard today, or just hard in general.”

“Hard today,” Ryusei said.

“You want to talk about it?” Meguru asked next.

And knowing exactly the kind of lovely friend he had at his side, he knew he was well within his authority to say no. But that wasn’t what this week was about, was it? It was about connecting. And lying. And pretending. And coping. Or something along those lines.

“I just have a lot to think about,” Ryusei said.

“About what?”

“About after.”

“After what?” Meguru asked. Because as good of a friend as he was, he was a little scatterbrained too.

“After the separation.”

“Oh,” he said. “That.”

“Yeah,” Ryusei agreed. “That.”

“Well, it’s still four weeks away. A whole month,” Meguru said. His voice was upbeat, but there was a shakiness to it. A protective seal over it. “Anything could happen between now and then. Things could right themselves in that time. Saichi’s great. Nobody knows what’ll happen.”

It was fake, Ryusei realized. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d always sounded this way. If he’d always thought that Sae was eventually going to leave him.

Because that was what he thought, wasn’t it? He was being falsely hopeful, and he didn’t really want to talk about it, and he was dancing around this for Ryusei’s sake. That was different when he did it to himself, inside of his own mind. Because of course he’d always secretly believed that the marriage wouldn’t last, that Sae would leave him eventually, and he’d enjoy having him in whatever way he could before his whole life fell apart.

Had he managed to project those same beliefs onto his closest friend?

So, you know what? Ryusei could lie, and he would lie. To himself, anyways. He would do the activity the way he was supposed to. He would go through this conversation pretending as if the divorce was a sure thing. The key change, however, from how he’d imagined the task back in Saichi’s office when it was being explained to him, was that he was going to pretend that he was the one pulling the trigger.

“Maybe,” he said, shrugging. “Maybe not. The separation is fucking hard, but there’s, you know, clarity in it.”

“Yeah?” Meguru asked.

“I’m so fucking codependent on Sae,” Ryusei said, not even really having planned to. Meguru would not meet his eye. “He’s all I think about, he’s all I talk about, he’s basically my whole life. I’m obsessed with the guy. Have been since I bet him. Like, fuck, when we started this whole thing, I thought if he left me, I might die. Legitimately die. That’s fucking psychotic. That’s…no way to live.”

“I don’t think it’s that bad,” Meguru said softly, after some time.

“I do,” Ryusei disagreed. “I think it’s awful and I think it’s pathetic. It’s a problem, Meguru.”

“Well.” More pause. He sipped his drink for a long while. “That can be fixed too. I mean, that’s what therapy is for, right?”

“It’s a problem, but it’s not the problem,” Ryusei said. “We have lots of problems. We always have. We’re just very, very different people. And it’s not getting any better as we’re getting older. It’s just getting worse. Like, fuck. We can’t talk to each other for five minutes without fighting. And I used to think that because I loved Sae, I loved fighting. But that’s not true. Fighting is fucking exhausting. And it’s painful. And we’re not twenty anymore. And maybe…”

“Maybe you can learn to communicate better?” Meguru guessed gently.

“Maybe I just want to stop fighting,” Ryusei said.

They were quiet a while, the only sounds being the wind blowing through the leaves in the woods around them and the ground beneath their footsteps. Meguru didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t all that great with sad stuff. Least of all now, when his perfect fucking life complimented his bottomless optimism.

“This might actually end in a divorce, Meguru,” Ryusei said out loud, and this time it felt significantly more true.

“It might not,” he said back.

Nothing else was said for another stretch. Ryusei, on the other hand, found himself content in the silence. Or, maybe not content. Or maybe content, but also calm and satisfied, and maybe even a little astounded. Because he was still lying to himself, was very much pretending, and very much believed that if Sae really did leave him that he might die, but he also knew that everything else he’d said had been just as true.

That was what this activity had been about, he realized.

And maybe that would indeed be the light at the end of the tunnel. He’d always thought it would be that therapy would fix them, teach them how to be better, better inside themselves and better to each other and then they’d ride off into the sunset. It pained him to think that maybe that wasn’t how this ended. Therapy was fixing them, for better or for worse, piece by piece and play by play, but that didn’t have a definitive outcome. Therapy might fix them to the point where one or both of them might realize that they were actually better off without the other.

After the walk, he got a car and headed back to Reo’s, where he was continuing to stay under the promise of being a good boy. Which he felt was already off to a semi-decent start. Reo was in the lounge when Ryusei got in there, helping himself to some kind of snack plate, most of which Ryusei would not even attempt to identify. That was the thing about Reo. He worked a lot and had a lot to show for it, but he also had an almost ridiculous amount of free time. Ryusei wondered if he ever even slept or if he just got expensive facials and streamlined specialty coffee into his veins to counter the effects.

“Hey,” Ryusei said.

“Hey,” Reo said, reaching for one of his linen napkins, with which he wiped his hands before pushing away the miniature charcuterie board. That was his specialty. He was always happy to see him, and painfully polite. “Did you just get in? I thought you were awfully quiet today.”

“Therapy day,” Ryusei confirmed. “Then I met up with Meguru. He says hi, by the way.”

“As always, hi back,” Reo said. He watched Ryusei a while longer. “You okay? You seem a little off. Even, you know, considering.”

That was another thing he was always good for. Being pinpointedly observant.

“Yeah,” Ryusei said, wondering whether or not he was lying. “It’s just…”

He trailed off. Reo didn’t try to fill in the blanks himself or even fill the silence in any way. He just watched him, blank faced, other than his eyebrows slightly raised, eager and willing to welcome whatever Ryusei was to throw at him.

Reo, Ryusei could lie to.

“I think I might be getting a divorce,” Ryusei said.

“Hmm,” Reo said, nodding a couple times. “Champagne?”

Ryusei threw his hands up. “Why is that your answer to everything?”

“Champagne is the answer to everything,” Reo said, already pushing his way off his stool. “Especially when we’re celebrating.”

Ryusei hadn’t really decided if they were celebrating before Reo left the room and dipped back into his chef’s kitchen, leaving him at the glossy marble island alone. He sighed and looked over the half finished snack plate, the only thing out of place in the entire space. Now that he was closer, he still didn’t know what most of those things were.

He slid into the stool next to the one Reo would take when he returned. Damn, they were comfortable. He was always surprised by this house, the way it swallowed him up and cradled him at every turn.

Reo returned with two flutes, handed one to Ryusei, and tilted his own forward in cheers, before saying, “Tell me all about it.”

“You’re a little morbid,” Ryusei said, clinking the glasses and downing near half of it in the first gulp. “I don’t know if a divorce is something to celebrate.”

“Nothing morbid about it,” Reo said. “People get too upset about endings. I’m not saying they shouldn’t be upset, but they get too upset, because they don’t realize it’s also a beginning.”

“Is this about to turn into a business lesson?” Ryusei said.

“No,” Reo said, though it was clear that he had been thinking about it. “It applies to everything.”

“Huh,” Ryusei said.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Reo offered.

“I don’t know if there’s much to talk about,” Ryusei said, unsure of how exactly to elaborate on his lie. “But do you actually feel that way, or are you just being a jackass because you have a perfect relationship?”

“Perfect relationship?” Reo raised a single eyebrow this time. “Have you met Sei?”

“Barely,” Ryusei said. “But he seems like he’s kind of like a goldfish. Not a lot of trouble.”

“That.” Reo pointed a finger at him. “Is a double edged sword, my friend.”

Ryusei supposed that was true. True enough, anyways. He’d often wished Sae was more easygoing, but figured that if he did, he’d probably only end up getting bored.

“And he has his moments,” Reo said. “But to answer your thinly veiled condescending question, yes, I really feel that way. I’d feel the same way if I was in your shoes.”

“Really?” Ryusei asked. Openly doubtfully. “Because I met you during the second selection and you were pretty messed up. And you weren’t even together together. You were messed up over a soccer fight.”

“So what?” Reo said with a laugh. “We were teenagers. Didn’t you tell Sae playing soccer with him was going to make you bust and try to move in with him the first time you met him? Things change. And so do people.”

“I still think you’re full of shit,” Ryusei said. “Are you seriously telling me that if Nagi walked in right now and said, I’m done with you forever, Reo, goodbye, you’d be fine?”

“What? No,” Reo said. He lay his glass aside and shook his hands, like the idea was preposterous and he was clearing the air of it. “Of course not. I’d be devastated. I’d spend a couple days crying in the shower, probably burn all of his stuff, treat myself to a new…I don’t know. Whatever I wanted at the time. I’m not saying I’d be fine, I’m just saying I’d get over it. I mean, I’m young, good looking, successful.”

“Hmm,” Ryusei hummed, but it sounded distinctly defiant.

“And so are you,” Reo tacked on. “Really, the timing is excellent. Could you imagine going through a divorce in your thirties instead? When everyone half decent is already taken? Seriously. This is a blessing in disguise.”

“Yeah,” Ryusei said, trying to believe a lie of his own creation, but fact of the matter remained that he didn’t quite believe his words quite as much as Reo believed what he was saying.

And he continued to believe it halfway at best for the rest of the conversation until it exhausted him and he was tipsy enough to make his leave without feeling apologetic about it. Then, it was goodbye Reo and back to his allotted wing of the house where his belongings, though nice, still felt a little, or a lot, out of place surrounded by the endless extravagance.

“Hello, room,” he said to no one, before catching view of himself in the mirror in the ensuite. “And hello, good looking.”

He felt stupid about it immediately.

“I’m a fucking idiot,” he said, under his breath, moving into the bathroom anyways, because maybe he was due for a little crying in the shower.

But instead of moving right to it, he put his hands on the counter, and faced himself in the mirror. Saichi’s words returned to him. Maybe the most important friend you need to spend time with this week is yourself. As stupid as that sounded, she’d never been wrong before.

He looked at himself, really looked at himself, for the first time since he could really remember. He’d become largely dissociated from himself, especially lately, and found himself wondering who he was looking at. He knew his face, but it had aged without his noticing. Other things had changed too. He looked exhausted. He hadn’t done his makeup in weeks. His hair too, could use a touch up. The roots and the ends. He tied it up at the nape of his neck most of the time, just to keep it out of the way, but upon untying it, it hung pathetically, as defeated as the rest of him. He’d been slacking on the skincare. He hadn’t even used exfoliant in maybe a month.

Sae would be horrified, he thought. Before forcibly changing it to, I should be horrified.

“You’re not an idiot,” he told his reflection. “You’re just going through a bit of a hard time.”

It didn’t make him feel any less stupid. It felt awkward to be speaking to himself, to watch himself speaking back.

“And maybe you’re a little psychotic,” he mumbled. Before catching his own eye in the mirror and saying, “Sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

Both ends of the seesaw felt equally awful. He rolled his eyes, hoping that might shed some of the self judgement, from either side, but it didn’t. He lifted his hands from the countertop.

“Take a shower,” he told himself. “You could use it.”

And so he did. But there was no crying. No pity party under the rainfall showerhead or on the heated shower tiles. It was mechanical and methodical. He did what he was supposed to. Every step. And much to his surprise, he did feel better afterwards.

Good enough that after he got himself dried and dressed, he moved for his phone. He always got his hair done at the same place, and checking his calendar, he noticed he was about three weeks overdue. Which was about right. Considering how long it had been since everything had gone to shit. So, he found the salon’s number in his contacts and dialled.

Akane answered. He knew it the second the salon’s name came through the phone. He’d largely forgotten about her, with everything going on, but he’d talked to her plenty. He’d been going to the salon for years, and she’d been working at the desk since before he had. They’d always gotten along pretty good.

“Hey Akane, it’s me,” he said, remembering all at once the routine. “I’m trying to see about paying you guys a visit. What do you got for me?”

“Ahh!” she said excitedly. “You know, I was just thinking about you this morning and how I hadn’t seen you in a while. You’re a bit overdue, aren’t you?”

“And looking like a fucking gremlin,” he said back. “So, the sooner the better.”

“I’ll work my magic,” she said. “Can you hold on?”

“I got all day,” he said.

He knew from his time at the studio that she would and did put people on hold, but not him. She just lay the phone down on the desk, and he could hear the conversation.

“Haruuuuuu,” Akane called. “What’s your schedule like this week?”

“Who is it?” Haruki asked.

“Shidou Ryusei,” Akane told her.

Wow. Was that ever a blow right to the stomach. There weren’t many places or instances that Ryusei still used his old name, his own name, his non Itoshi Ryusei name, but he was recalling in this moment that besides the specifically Shidou Ryusei-esque jobs he did every so often, the salon was one of them. Normally, he didn’t think much of it. He’d legally taken Sae’s name, as a symbol and act of love, but it was nothing to use his old one every now and again.

Hearing it in this new context, however, felt pretty fucking devastating all of a sudden.

“Pfft,” Haruki snorted. “What is he, like three weeks overdue? I bet he looks like shit.”

He couldn’t help but smile at that, recalling why he liked it there so much.

“Put him in as soon as he can get here,” Haruki said. “I’ll figure it out. Even if I have to dump someone on Sayu.”

“Hey!” he heard from further off.

Then, shuffling. Then, she was back.

“How soon can you be here?” Akane asked.

“What?” he asked. “Today?”

“If it works,” she said.

He did say that he had all day. That was hardly a lie. And maybe it would be good just to get it over with.

It would be nice to start feeling like his old self again.

“Give me an hour,” he said. Because surely that would be enough time to get presentable enough and head over there.

“We’ll see you then!” she said. “Hey, are you still a tea drinker?”

It had been enough time. Well, enough time to go ripping through the toiletries he and Meguru had packed up, find his liquid eyeliner, contemplate it, apply it, realize his grip was kind of shit as well as being out of practice, poke himself in the eye, poke himself in the other eye, and remove it. He was grateful he’d given himself enough time, because his eyes were just passably normal when he was stepping through the glass from door of the salon.

Akane was there at the front desk, freshly brewed tea at the ready. She took his coat. He asked how her school was going. She didn’t answer beyond a grimace. She asked him about work, saying she hadn’t seen much of him on the TV ads lately. He mimicked her face. It was a type of homecoming.

Akane was a sweet girl. Haruki, not so much. Which Ryusei did find endearing, it its own way. Her hair, ever changing, was a dark blue teal, a baggy black beanie atop it. Her nose ring and eyebrow ring had changed since he’d seen her last. She crossed her arms and pursed her black lipstick covered lips.

“So.” She lifted a gloved hand and motioned to his general head direction. “This is why we don’t try to push touch up deadlines.”

“Well, hello to you too,” he said back. She kind of smiled.

“I’ve premixed everything,” she said, walking the few steps back over to her chair, tapping the back of it. “Come make yourself comfortable.”

Her overall personality was a bit of a kick in the teeth for most people, but her skill level was pretty much unmatched. Never met a bleach or colour dye or difficult job she didn’t like. If I ever get a middle aged woman asking for highlights, I ban them from the salon. Which worked more than perfectly for Ryusei. She started with the roots, applying the burning blue in sections. It was a while before she spoke.

“So.” Her hand forced his head to tilt the way she wanted. “You’d better have a good reason for ghosting me and then showing up looking like this.”

Ryusei snorted. “How’s a divorce for ya?”

“Ha.” A solid, intentional sound. “Sae finally came to his senses, did he?”

“Ouch,” Ryusei said, trying to joke as he swallowed the jab. “Maybe I left him. Do you really think that little of me?”

She was quiet a minute, and then her hand was coaxing his head up. Not for any hair related reason, but so she could peer at him in the mirror. He just looked back at her.

“Shit,” she said. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Serious as a long term concussion,” Ryusei said back.

She just kept peering, brush in her hand, frozen in the air. “You’d better not be fucking with me.”

“My sense of humor isn’t that sick.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I just hadn’t heard anything. Don’t they normally announce celebrity divorces?”

“We’re hardly celebrities,” Ryusei said.

“Then why can I buy an iced coffee with your face on it?” she asked. “How many endorsement deals have you done over the past few years?”

“Touche,” Ryusei said.

Haruki dipped her brush back into the bleach, the shock having apparently passed. “So, is this the start of your hoe phase?”

“My hoe phase?”

“Or your get back out there phase?” she asked. “Or whatever you wanna call it.”

“Uh,” Ryusei said. Because he hadn’t really thought that far into the lie. It was already hard enough dipping a foot into the waters of possible divorce, let alone the frigid, unforgiving lake of someone after Sae.

“My brother is gay,” she said. “And pretty much eternally single. Not in like, a loser way. But I could probably hook you up if you’re interested.”

Ryusei shot her a look in the mirror. “Do we have anything in common besides the fact that we’re gay?”

He wasn’t interested. It was just the principle of the matter.

She laughed in that barely there way that she did. “I don’t know. Isn’t that for you guys to figure out? We’re pretty similar. You’d date me if I was a guy, wouldn’t you?”

Yes, Ryusei was tempted to answer. Simply because the longer answer was: I basically did, you wickedly talented and emotionally stunted asshole.

But he did not.

“I think I’m just going to take some time to myself,” he answered.

“Suit yourself,” she said, finishing up with the bleach and heading over to the sink to put the bowl and brush aside. When she came back, she was looking over her work. She plucked a chunk of his hair, examined the faded pink, and held it up. “We’ll let this sit a while, and then I’ll tone everything, and do the ends at the end. But what about the length. It’s getting long. You want me to clean it up, or just leave it?”

He honestly didn’t know. “What do you think?”

“You could benefit from an eye mask, a lip scrub, and a lint roller,” she said, grinning into the mirror. “Oh, about the hair, you mean? I want to chop it. Some of it, anyways. You look like a sad housewife.”

“Chop away,” Ryusei said, not bothering to acknowledge the rest, but telling himself that he’d keep it in mind.

She was good. He watched the rest of the process, patiently and enamoured the way anyone could be watching someone else fully immersed in their craft. For all of her harshness, Haruki was wholly invested in never burning his scalp, making sure the water temperature was alright, never ever getting anything in his eyes or on his clothes. And at the end of it, it looked as good as it always did. So good that he knew it would never look that way again until he was here next.

“You really are gorgeous,” she said. It was more a compliment of herself than it was of him, but he took it anyways. “I’m obsessed with you.”

“Too bad you’re a girl,” he joked with her.

“I don’t even have a brother,” she said back. “I was just going to show up to the date in a wig.”

He laughed, swallowed her bad joke about how she hoped his next marriage would last longer, and tipped her well when he paid up front. He gave Akane the mug back. She traded him for his coat. And after a threat of being forced to eat his own hair trimmings if he went this long without coming in again, he booked his next appointment in advance.

It ended up being a really great afternoon.

When he got back to Reo’s, he was on the porch this time, with a perfectly handcrafted cocktail courtesy of the personal chef Ryusei knew existed but never saw. He let out a low whistle when he saw him.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Reo said.

“I do feel a hell of a lot better,” Ryusei said, running a hand through his own hair, which felt soft and cared for for the first time in a long while.

“We should go out tonight,” Reo said. Ryusei was about to scoff at him, but he saw Reo was genuinely excited by his own idea. “I’m talking limo, I’m talking bottle service, I’m talking private booth.”

“You’re talking crazy,” Ryusei said.

“What’s so crazy about that?” Reo asked. “We’re young, good looking, and successful, remember?”

“You know you’re not single, right?” Ryusei asked, knowing that was technically true of the both of them, but remaining committed to his lie. For Saichi’s sake.

And his own too, maybe.  

“Jesus,” Reo said, his eyes going wide. “I didn’t say let’s go to the brothel. I just said, let’s go out. Come on. I never get to do anything fun.”

Ryusei did not mention that he went to business parties and functions that seemed very fun very regularly. He just conceded and agreed.

When he was back his the ensuite of the room to get ready, he found himself in front of the mirror again. Haruki had barely styled his hair. But what she had done to it looked good. He changed into something he would have once called a going out outfit, which he’d thought himself stupid for packing at all but now felt grateful for, and decided to take one more stab at the eyeliner. It went better. Effortlessly, almost.

The person looking back at him now was fundamentally different than the one he saw earlier.

“Now you’re someone worthy of being called good looking,” he told his reflection, feeling significantly less self conscious about it. In fact, he smirked and winked at himself. “Thanks, hot stuff. You’re not too bad yourself.”

That felt a little stupid, but he let himself laugh about it, and then let the laugh die out.

He was still staring himself down. The him that he was and the him that was over there. One in the same and yet separate somehow. His greatest enemy. His best friend.

“And you deserve to be happy,” he told himself.

That was where the disconnect became wholly apparent. Because he watched his face shift into surprise and then get a little glassy eyed. He watched it happen before he even felt it. It was so weird. It really was like talking to a friend, one that he did indeed believe deserved to be happy, and once he did truly fathom that he was talking to himself, he found that he didn’t believe it any less.

So, he looked himself right in the freshly lined eye and said, “I know.”

And he did.

Chapter Text

“Fucking asshole!”

Rage was not a portion of the emotion wheel that Sae was particularly familiar with, even now. His personal brand of anger was a cold, mutable thing. Something he could always weaponize and handle like a seasoned master. This explosive, blue hot version of rage, however, he had no idea what to do with.

Not knowing what to do hardly stopped the fact that he needed to do something.

After taking the stairs two at a time, he found Rin at the table, coffee in one hand, his own phone in the other. Alone and seemingly having a good morning thus far. Neither of which Sae felt calm enough to preserve. He threw his own phone at him.

“Have you fucking seen this?” he demanded of his brother.

Rin was no more used to this sudden anger on Sae’s part, but it didn’t mean he let it affect him. He finished the sip of his coffee he was halfway through and slowly reached for Sae’s phone after putting his own on the table. Sae was enraged by the casual nature of the action all over again and started pacing back and forth on the other side of the table.

Rin studied the screen, and when he looked up, he hardly matched Sae’s expression. He just lifted an eyebrow and slid his phone back.

“Are you supposed to be reading this?” he asked.

“We’re not supposed to talk to each other or milk anyone for information,” Sae admitted, protecting himself with plausible deniability. “Tabloids are kind of a grey area.”

“Stop reading them,” Rin said, like it really was even that simple.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sae said back, just narrowly avoiding making the windows shake. He was tempted to smack Rin’s mug right down the front of him.

“What are you so worked up for?” he asked, motioning at Sae’s phone, which had since gone black. “He’s out with Mikage. I don’t know if this is news to you, but he does that all the time. What the fuck is the issue?”

“Did you even read it?” Sae said.

The issue was not that Ryusei had gone out or that that he was out with Mikage, which yes, Sae was well aware of the fact that he did regularly. The issue was that he hadn’t been wearing his wedding ring, and not only had he not been wearing it, but people were noticing. And commenting on it. And the whole internet, the corners of it that Sae occupied anyways, were a speculation filled PR nightmare.

First and foremost, he’d been trying to avoid it. They’d both agreed it was best. It was hard enough to talk about their issues amongst themselves, worse with Saichi, and worse even branching out with the closest confidants. Neither of them needed the world as a whole to comment in on it, and neither of them had wanted it, either.

Things had changed, apparently.

But the second and more shameful matter at hand was that he’d taken it off in the first place. Sae was aware that they were separated, trial or not, but it’s not like there was a set destiny at the end of this. Things were still up in the air. This whole process was about figuring things out, to decide what they wanted to do.

And even when things were at their very worst, Sae had never, ever taken his ring off.

As he reached down and started fiddling with it, something he hadn’t done regularly since the wedding when it was all of the sudden on all the time and he was getting used to it, he realized that it was the first time it had ever felt like a shackle. It was keeping him bound to something that maybe only he thought was worth saving.

Rin still wasn’t getting it. His face was still emotionless. Irritated and judgemental, if anything.

“You do know that you’re separated, right?” he asked.

“Trial separated!” Sae yelled back. “Still married!”

“I don’t see how it’s a big deal,” Rin said, going through the effort of rolling his eyes. “If I was going through a separation, I wouldn’t wear my ring.”

“You have no idea what you would do until it’s happening to you,” Sae said.

And though he was still angry, that was the cold, knife sharp brand of anger. He was speaking the truth, and he was speaking from experience.

The door that lead to the kitchen swung open and Meguru’s messy haired, concerned filled head stuck through.

“Everything okay in here?” he asked. “I heard shouting.”

“Did you know about this?” Sae demanded, motioning at his still black phone screen on the table, right back to the explosive rage.

Unlike Rin, Meguru was both not used to seeing this much emotion from Sae and wholly surprised by it. He just looked at him for a few seconds, as if trying to figure out how to react, and when nothing came, he just looked over at Rin.

Who was already busy shooting daggers at Sae with his eyes. “Watch. It.”

Sae had barely settled himself down, but he understood when he was pushing his luck. He shoved his fingernails into his palms and reminded himself that he wasn’t even halfway through this separation, and he would not be able to bear four weeks with his parents.

“Sorry,” he managed, even if it was through a clenched jaw. Even if he couldn’t look at anything besides his own feet when he said it.

“He’s having a tantrum,” Rin told his husband. “Just let me handle it.”

“Okay,” Meguru agreed. “Do you want me to make you another coffee?”

“God, yes please,” Rin said. And even though Sae understood that was a subtle dig at him, he was still disgusted by it. His easy use of the word please.

“Okay,” Meguru said again. “Love you.”

“You too,” Sae heard, before the door swung shut.

Yeah, those two had no fucking clue. Couldn’t even begin to imagine.

“Oh, hey,” Rin said, and Sae understood and loathed the swerve when he heard it. They had barely scratched the surface when it came to this new betrayal. He was still furious, and they were nowhere near finished discussing it. ”I’ve been meaning to ask you-”

“What should I do?” Sae asked. “Fuck it. I’m going over there.”

“No,” Rin said, finally reacting somewhat, putting his mug aside and getting up from the table. “You’re not.”

“He can’t just fucking do that,” Sae said, motioning yet another accusatory hand towards his phone on the table.

“Yes,” Rin said. “He can.”

Sae wanted to fight back. He was undoubtedly angry enough to. But hearing it that way, calm, collected, matter of fact, made it not worth fighting against because it was true. It just hadn’t been a truth that Sae was aware of until that very moment.

Because so much of this relationship had been his choice and his doing. Their meeting had been by his hand. Yes, Ryusei pursued him tirelessly and mercilessly, but it had been up to him when to give in. Every significant beginning of theirs that you could point out, highlight, draw a circle around, had his name written all over it in permanent ink.

It had been Ryusei’s suggestion to start therapy, his pestering, and Sae’s giving in. It had been Saichi’s suggestion to do a trial separation, Ryusei’s defeated silence, his own we’d might as well. It’s not like anything else is working.

He didn’t even realize that he’d been assuming the ending would be the same.

Now he had to face that brutal truth that Rin was right. He could do that. He could go out without his ring on and have people take pictures and let people talk about it and embarrass them both. He could do whatever he wanted during this trial separation of theirs. He had no obligation to follow Sae’s unsaid agenda he’d mapped out for the both of them. He could behave and feel entirely different about the entire thing.

He could leave Sae, if he really wanted to.

And as devastating as that realization was, it didn’t feel devastating. He was furious about it all over again.

“I’m going out,” Sae said, grabbing his phone off the table.

Rin smacked the table. It was such a harsh action, it made his coffee spill. The sound filled the room.

“Do not go over there, Sae!”

And that surprising outburst from Rin almost jolting Sae out of his own blinding rage. Almost.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do, then?” he found himself yelling back.

Rin was not committed to his own anger, however. Because he shot him a look, took a deep breath, and motioned to the chair across from the one he’d been sitting in. Sae wanted to grab the back of the chair and toss it across their picture perfect dining room in an act of pure defiance, but again he thought of their parents and how much poorer this conversation could be going.

Then, he took the chair and tossed his phone back down on the table, not caring whether or not it broke. It didn’t.

That was about all of the good faith actions he had in him, though. He glared up at Rin, who was looking back down at him like a pathetic little thing, a teenager caught trying to sneak out of the house that he was trying to figure out how to scold. I am a whole eleven months older than you, fuckwad, Sae did not say, but wanted to.

“What?” Sae did say, spitting the word into the air.

“Do you,” Rin said, and then paused. Sighed again. “Can I make you a coffee or something?”

“How about a drink?” he countered.

Rin just stared back. “It’s nine in the morning.”

“So?” Sae said. “I don’t have anything else to do today.”

“Oh, right.” Rin tapped his forehead, like that had simply slipped his mind. “Sound reasoning, mom. I’ll get right on that.”

And as he turned towards the kitchen, both the sarcasm and the point washed over Sae with horrifying intensity. “Wait. No. I’ll take the coffee.”

Rin kept walking right into the kitchen, and Sae appreciated that he did not look back to showcase whatever smug expression  he’d been wearing.

Rin and Meguru did have a great coffee maker. Sae would give them that. He sipped out of the white mug for no reason other than it was something to do other than seethe in the back of an Uber all the way to Mikage’s compound of a house and bang on the door until he was let in to…do what? Commit a felony, most likely. Which one, he’d have to decide on the way.

It didn’t calm him down. Nothing would, most likely. They’d agreed to be quiet about this to avoid this exact fucking thing. What the hell was this besides a personal attack on him? He was so tempted to grab his phone and go straight into that forbidden inbox. You want a fucking divorce so bad? Have one. Go clubbing every day for the rest of your fucking life. See if I care!

PS: I’m keeping the house. Fuck you.

His hands were shaking around the coffee mug. He was tempted to knock his phone right off the edge of the dining room table, hard enough to break it, to avoid doing yet another thing he desperately wanted to yet knew he’d regret.

“Feeling better?” Rin asked after some time.

“No,” Sae said, solid as his resolve. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“Husband of the year,” Rin muttered into his mug.

“Worlds better than he is!”

Sae was yelling again. But he couldn’t help himself. And he hardly thought anyone could blame him.

Rin blamed him. And judged him. It was all over his face and he did not try to hide it.

“Fuck you,” Sae said in response to this.

“How is any of this my fault?” Rin shot back.

Sae didn’t answer. He knew that none of it was Rin’s fault. That he was only lashing out at him because he was around and the person he really felt deserved the full force of his wrath was across town and someone he was forbidden from speaking to.

Any longer, and he would be pushing his luck. He was self aware enough for that, at least.

“I’m going to my room,” Sae said, getting up from the table. He hurled it like an insult, but it wasn’t lost on either of them how childish it sounded.

Rin only made it worse when he said, “Not to sound too, you know, but don’t you fucking dare slam that door.”

Sae scoffed, like he wouldn’t have, but they both knew full well that without the reminder, he absolutely would have.

He sat in his room until it made him restless. He knew there was no benefit to looking at the tabloids or what people were saying about them, it only served to piss him off, but it hardly stopped him. He kept looking over them, refreshing the sites, scrolling through the comments. Nobody had anything much original to say. Most people claimed they had seen this coming. Most people figured it was Sae’s fault. Lots of fans were commenting on the “fortunate” event that the two of them were back on the market. Subject of comments of this kind were about fifty-fifty, depending on what their type was. Sae scoffed at how delusional they all were, as if any of these nobodies had a chance with either of them.

Maybe he ditched the ring because he’s already moved on, his thoughts snaked into his head.

Sae closed the internet browser. He was already halfway down into the spiral. Any further down and a few horrible text messages or even a felony committed at the Mikage residence would hardly be the worse Sae would be capable of.

He checked his email. Something that kept his phone in his hand and figured would be kind of a safe space. Wrong. An email from his manager was right at the top. Subject line: divorce allegations. He clicked on it. He couldn’t help himself.

I know we said we were keeping this under wraps…but maybe you guys changed your mind. Care to comment so we can get ahead of this, or should we just keep quiet about it? Your call.

No question about how Sae was doing or feeling or whether or not he was on the verge of doing something that might land him in prison. It wasn’t really the type of relationship they had, but still, where was the human decency? Sae exited out of the app, leaving the email opened and unanswered.

Social media, as expected, was no better. The thing about being famous, Sae had realized early on, was that people were often more than comfortable talking about you in a public setting but had zero guts to say anything to you directly. As such, his notifications were flooded. Even on his own sparsely posted posts. People tagging their friends and writing things like look at his face here, do you think they already broke up??? The picture in question being a promotional soccer photo, photoshopped and airbrushed to shit, so any dead look in his eyes was entirely the fault of the design team and not his personal circumstance. Sae remembered the picture. It had been taken in early afternoon, prime nap time, and the photographer was an irritating perfectionist who much have taken two hundred snaps of an easy shot. Ryusei had been thousands of miles away and, for better or for worse, barely a thought in his mind at the time.

His messages on the other hand? Largely untouched. Nobody was checking in on him. Nobody was taunting him directly. Nobody was hitting him up like they all joked they were going to do in the comment section of every gossip website. That was the thing about being a commodity and not a person. That had been his reality for so long, he almost forgot the truth of the matter himself, sometimes.

As it turned out, he did have one new message. In his requests. From a person he didn’t follow but did, in fact, follow him. And Rin. And Aiku.

This person had sent him a post from one of the soccer gossip accounts, showing Ryusei and his zoomed in hand with arrows all drawn on and pointing to his bare ring finger. Sae almost scoffed, thinking, oh, great, someone is mocking me to my face. What an interesting turn of events. Until he actually read the message, that was.

Kind of fucked up…

You good?

Who the fuck was this person? Sae clicked on the actual profile. It was a decently well known account. Soccer adjacent of some kind. He started scrolling through the posts, trying to figure out if this was genuinely a good Samaritan or some type of weird stalker, until he came across a picture of him and Aiku. That’s when he recognized him.

The roommate.

Sae didn’t even have the emotional capacity to consider that he’d forgotten him a whole second time. He didn’t even really register who this person was in relation to him or the world. Sendou Shuto simply found himself in the unfortunate position of showing Sae a slight amount of human decency, as well as not being Rin, in a particular moment of weakness.

When Sae replied, it was pure rage and nothing else.

No, I’m not fucking “good”. This is SO fucked up. Who the fuck does he think he is?

Sae almost found himself repeating his intentions to kill Ryusei, but thinking that and saying it to Rin in private was an entirely different matter to typing it out into a message box on social media, and Sae had managed to maintain at least that much sanity.

Like I said…fucked up…

Anyways

I’m on my way down to the practice arena

Might not be as fancy as your highness is used to but

Come through if you wanna kick a ball around

Sae’s face shifted with his offense. So many things to be offended by. The brush off, the sly dig, the invitation itself. Before he could respond, the green circle denoting his online status disappeared, and this fucking tool who was pining after Oliver of all people had left him alone in his message inbox?

He scoffed a few more times, but his restlessness didn’t cease. It only got worse, actually. And he figured that actually, maybe he did need to put in some training time, and it’s not like he had an actual practice field here, and it’s not like he was going to ask Rin to take him to wherever he spent most of his training time, so fuck it. It had nothing to do with this guy, he told himself, getting into real training clothes for the first time in almost a week.

Rin caught him again on the way out. “Where are you going?”

“I’m not going to see him,” Sae snapped. “So never fucking mind, alright?”

Rin shot him an unimpressed look, but Sae was protecting his own agenda and he was hiding something embarrassing, not stupid or against anyone’s rules, so it did not have the desired effect. He let himself out guilt free.

He only started to feel stupid again once the car dropped him off in front of the JFA practice arena. It did feel like insult to injury, to be willingly stepping into a place like this, somewhere that represented everything he’d ever hated, and doing it of his own free will.

Oh well. He had something he hated more at this particular moment.

When he got into the main space, he could see a few people dicking around with of all the caliber that he’d come to expect from Japan’s national team. It took him a bit of squinting before he actually caught sight of the roommate. And then when he got close enough, the guy actually had the nerve to look surprised to see him.

“What?” Sae snapped, dropping his bag on the sideline.

“You came,” Sendou said.

“You invited me,” Sae said.

“Didn’t think you’d take me up on it,” Sendou said, leaving Sae feeling like maybe he shouldn’t of. “Well, pick your poison I guess.”

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Sae asked.

“Well, do you wanna scrimmage, or you wanna…” The trail off set off some type of knee jerk reaction in Sae. “Talk?”

Which was almost a worse answer than what he was expecting.

“I want to kick your ass,” Sae said. He meant both at soccer and in general, but figured that was an unneeded thing to tack on.

“Shocker,” Sendou mumbled, before retrieving the ball from the net. “Alright. Sure.”

They went three rounds. If you could even really call those pathetic excuses for scrimmages rounds. Sae had been feeling slightly, slightly, shaky about his having slacking on the training, and he was not feeling that way anymore. Oliver’s dumb roommate was heavy breathing and needing a water break before he was even breaking a sweat. Sae could see why he hadn’t liked the guy back in that instance his brain hadn’t bothered making memories of.

“You’re way better than you were back in the day,” Sendou told him, water falling down his chin and onto the front of his shirt.

“I’d make a comment about how you’re just as terrible or even worse,” Sae said. “But I genuinely still don’t remember you.”

It was harsh. It was rude. It was fucking uncalled for. Especially considering that this guy was a stranger and pretty much the only one who had bothered to check in on him and be nice to him after the whole Ryusei ringless tabloid debacle, but he couldn’t help it. He was furious and he was irritated. A deadly combination for anyone in earshot distance.

“Wow, I cannot believe you’re in the middle of a trial separation,” Sendou said, the sarcasm subtle, but easily recognizable. “You’re such a pleasant guy. What happened?”

“That’s rich,” Sae said. “Considering you’re going to spend your life begging for Aiku’s scraps behind his wife’s back and playing nice to her face.”

“Okay, ouch,” Sendou said. “But I think the real miracle in that scenario would be that any girl willingly decided to spend more than three days with Oliver.”

Sae scoffed. It was a little too close to a laugh for his liking.

“And you don’t know I won’t be the wife,” Sendou added.

“Whatever you say,” he said, by means of agreeing and mocking both. He wanted to leave it at that, but then Saichi was snaking back into his head and not only scolding him, but actually managing to calm him down a little. Last week was about reaching out for support, and he did have the decency to check in on you. Maybe call a truce? Extend the courtesy a little? “How is all that, anyways?”

“Ah, you know,” Sendou said.

There was more to it, and if he was being honest, hearing about this dumpster fire made him feel a hell of a lot better about his own circumstances.

“How was the party?” Sae asked.

“Uh, shitty,” Sendou said, as if that was the only real way it could have gone. “Not only was he pissed at me for letting you leave, as if I could have stopped you, but then he struck out with not one, not two, not three, but four different girls, and in a shocking turn of events, he then came on to me and I let it happen. So, yeah. Really great night for us.”

“That’s.” Sae genuinely tried to wrack his brain for any truce-friendly word. He really, really did. But he came up short. It was just too pathetic. “Pathetic.”

Sendou shrugged.

“Sorry,” Sae said, which he considered quite big of him. “But you can hardly blame me. That story is impossible not to pity.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sendou said. “It’s not like I don’t know it, alright?”

“Count your blessings, I guess,” Sae said.

He knew he was being an asshole, but he really just couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to talk and he didn’t want to kick a ball around. He wanted to beat the shit out of something. He wanted to scream until the sheer force of it broke glass. He wanted to break his knuckles on every single thing testing his patience these days, either that or by keeping his grip on everything he held dear and wanted kept close. He was being quite pleasant, all things considered. By his own standards anyways.

Even so, Sendou didn’t seem offended. He was just looking at him with some kind of emotion he couldn’t read.

“What?” Sae asked.

“Do you talk to everyone like this?” Sendou asked.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Sae snapped.

“Just a question,” Sendou said, shrugging.

It was not lost on Sae what he meant by it, and he didn’t want to answer, because he was sure that he’d either have to hand over a lie or an answer that he wouldn’t be proud of.

So, he decided to drive Sendou’s point home even further by continuing to go for the jugular. Something about old habits and all that.

“Well, pretend it’s Aiku’s dick and eat it,” Sae said. “I don’t have to answer your stupid questions.”

“That was pretty good, actually,” Sendou said, his face displaying his amusement. “And by the way, I know you’re purposely trying to hurt my feelings. Which is fine. But, it ain’t gonna happen. I don’t really care that much what you think of me. I’ve been to therapy.”

That made Sae pause. It flipped the whole conversation on its side.

He eyed him. “You have?”

“Yeah,” Sendou said, like it really was no big deal.

“Huh,” Sae said. “For all that Aiku bullshit or…?”

“No,” Sendou said, which was a good answer, as far as Sae was concerned, because he was about to tell him that it clearly wasn’t working. But then Sendou sighed into the pause that followed. It made Sae deeply uneasy. The laugh that followed was worse. “I went about you, actually.”

“Me?” Sae said. “What the fuck? We don’t even know each other.”

“Yeah, well, I know you think that,” Sendou said. His words continued to be hinted with hesitation and shame. “But for me, you know, I was on the national U20 team and I thought I was kind of alright, and then some dickhead superstar shows up out of nowhere, who’s not even a striker anymore by the way, and just tears me and my entire career apart. I felt like shit after the U-20 match. I mean, we lost to a bunch of soccer prison bred teenagers got the entire team disbanded and I had it in my mind that it was singlehandedly my fault. I got to a really dark place. I could barely function, let alone play. So, it was either quit soccer, or go to therapy and try to fix it.”

Sae didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t even know what he felt about it. It was so murky, he might not even be able to identify in on the emotion wheel.

“And I’m glad I went. Not that I’m thanking you, which I’m not. You should really learn how to talk to people. But I learned a lot in therapy.” Sendou flashed him a smile that was undoubtedly sarcastic. “Like your self worth isn’t dependent on what some dickhead says about you.”

Sae recognized the malice heavy smile and returned it.

“Point is, I’m healed or whatever, and yeah, we don’t really know each other, so I don’t care what you say to me,” Sendou continued. But his tone was becoming more solid, and they were venturing towards some significantly shakier ground. “But if I loved you, and you were supposed to love me, and that’s how you talked to me all the time, it would eat at me for sure.”

Sae considered it, for half a second anyways, before he didn’t want to anymore.

“Well, fuck you, and fuck off,” he said. “We don’t love each other, so I don’t give a fuck about your opinion.”

Sendou just laughed. “And thank God for that.”

Sae rolled his eyes. Sendou didn’t notice. He considered repeating the action, to make sure he saw his annoyance, but that felt like overkill, so he resisted the urge.

Sae would have rather pulled each of his teeth out, one by one, no anaesthetic, than admit to Sendou’s smug Oliver loving ass that he was right, but he could think it in the safety of his own mind. He had already been thinking about it. So, it’s not even like it was some new revelation and he was not giving all or even most of the credit for it.

He knew some of these problems were his fault. He knew a lot of them probably were. He wasn’t built for love. He wasn’t built for respectful communication and healthy connection. He never had been. It was just a matter of time until he failed the one attempt he’d ever made at testing fate.

I mean, hell, was it not already a terrible fucking sign that he was more concerned with the fact that the world knew they were having relationship problems than he was about the problems themselves? He deserved this. Maybe it was exactly what he deserved. This falling apart in the public eye. A fall from grace people could watch and applaud.

Or maybe that was a defense mechanism too. Those photos, the ringless hand, the headlines. It just made it feel so final. And that ate at him regardless of whether or not people could see it.

Whatever. No matter what was coming, he’d get through it. If nothing else, he’d continued to nail the reaching out for support assignment, and he’d take a win where he could get it.

So, he checked in at the front desk and was told he could go in and he helped Saichi into her chair, and then he knew he had a date with the emotion wheel coming soon to a therapy office near him because he was full to the brim with every negative emotion known to man.

“It’s good to see you, Sae,” Saichi told him. “How has this week been for you?”

“It’s been bullshit, actually.” Sae had not planned on exploding like this, but now that he’d started, he could hardly stop himself. He’d managed to keep it at a respectable volume, but his voice was a wretched, hurting thing. “This isn’t fucking working. At all. I mean, I’ve been doing everything I can. I’m fucking trying. I really am. But Ryusei-”

And Sae had to stop himself, because he heard his voice break when he said his maybe future ex-husband’s name and he would not cry. Not this early on in the session, anyways, when he was fifty plus minutes out from a facial wipe and moisturizer.

“I wasn’t aware that you two had any contact,” Saichi said.

“We haven’t,” Sae said, once he calmed himself enough. “But.”

Saichi waited patiently. Sae didn’t know where he should begin. The tabloids? The articles? The comments? How much of this would make any sense to her?

“There were these pictures in the tabloids,” Sae started. “Which are basically magazines that talk about the lives of famous people.”

“I know what tabloids are,” she told him softly. “I’m not in the ground yet.”

“Have you seen them?” he asked.

“I’m not going to pretend I haven’t,” she said. “But I have tried to keep it to a minimum. You are both my clients and I prefer to hear the story from the two of you rather than outside sources. Which is easier said than done here. You two are a very unique case.”

“Right,” Sae said. “Anyways. I thought we were keeping quiet about the whole thing, but then all of that happened, and it’s fucking embarrassing and it’s disrespectful and…”

“And?” she probed.

“I want to kill him,” Sae said.

“That is troubling,” she said.

“I don’t really,” Sae said.

“I figured,” she said. “You don’t strike me as the type.”

Which Sae supposed he could take as a win. He could only imagine the awful things Saichi thought about him, but he would take the win of knowing that out of all the horrible things Saichi considered him capable of, murder was not among them.

“I’m just so pissed at him,” Sae said.

“I take it that you still wear your ring?” she asked.

Sae didn’t answer. He just covered his left hand with his right, as if it was something shameful that he did.

“And then Rin was telling me about how that was his choice and if he was going through the same thing, he wouldn’t wear his ring either, which is a fucking lie, I bet he’d take the whole thing hell of a lot worse than me.” Sae was just rambling at this point. “And everyone is talking about it now. And it feels like an attack. What other fucking reason would there be to do that?”

“Is that what you genuinely think?” she asked. “That Ryusei planned this whole thing? The going out, the forgetting his ring, having it photographed, etcetera, specifically with the goal of hurting you in mind?”

Sae knew that she was trying to put logic to the whole thing, but he didn’t have any of his own logic with which to meet her. He didn’t know, he didn’t know, just didn’t fucking know.

He put his head in his hands. “I don’t know.”

“Well, think about it,” she said. “Nobody on this planet knows Ryusei quite like you do.”

It’s was enough to calm him down entirely, but it got him some of the way there. She was right. They’d spent years together, trapped in each other’s orbit, wrapping themselves in a world that contained nobody but the two of them. Sure, they sometimes brushed upon others, out of obligation, out of social contract, but for the most part, it was the two of them. Sae knew Ryusei and Ryusei knew him right back. For better or for worse.

If he had done all of this with the goal of hurting him, it would make sense, because he would know better than anyone how to jab right into his chest. On the other hand, in all the years Sae had known Ryusei, he’d never known him to be malicious. He could be an idiot. He could fail to read the room. He could let things slip his mind. But out of the two of them, the one most likely to take things too far was himself. Ryusei was the arm that reached out across the passenger seat when he slammed on the breaks.

But things were different now. Sae was hurting bad and he was learning all these horrible things about himself he’d never even known were there. If I loved you, and you loved me, and that was how you spoke to me all the time, that would eat at me.

Maybe Sae had driven him to the brink of maliciousness just like heartbreak had driven him to the brink of murderous rage.

“I don’t know. I hope not. But maybe,” Sae said. The worst part about it all was that he sounded calm. Like he really had thought it over. “It would surprise me. But I wouldn’t blame him. Maybe he’s learned through this trial separation that he absolutely fucking hates me. And I wouldn’t blame him for that either.”

“You’re being awfully hard on yourself,” Saichi commented.

“It’s not like I don’t deserve it,” Sae said with a sad laugh that snuck its way up his throat. “I must really be god fucking awful. Did you know that only one person, one, actually said to me, hey, that’s kind of fucked up.”

“Who was that?” Saichi asked.

Sae paused. For longer than he needed to.

“Does it matter?” he asked.

“I’m just curious,” she said, in a way that made Sae feel as if it did indeed matter.

“Just, some guy,” Sae said. He suspected she was trying to get him to admit that Sendou was his friend, but he wasn’t, so he wouldn’t. “We don’t really know each other. Just some guy who also thinks I’m an asshole, so you’d probably get on great with him.”

“I don’t think you’re an asshole, Sae,” Saichi said. The fact that she cursed was almost more shocking that her sudden admission.

Sae scoffed. But he didn’t even have a chance to fight back on it before she continued on.

“I think you’re a man with a complicated relationship with his own emotions,” she said. Sae felt struck by that. He never knew that a softened blow could sting like that. “And I think that’s largely due to the fact that you were a talented kid who was forced to grow up too fast. I think the world expected and demanded a lot from you at a young age. I think you rose to the occasion, but I think it came with a price. I think you care about others and that you have a lot of love to give. I think you struggle with the execution of your good intentions because you were not shown how to care about others and how to share that love in your fundamental years. I think somebody, or multiple somebodies, showed or told you that it was a weakness to do so, and you internalized that. But ultimately, I think you’re a good person, and even if it did happen under these circumstances, I personally am glad to have met you, and I’m sure a lot of other people feel the same way.”

Sae did not speak. Sae could not speak. What was he supposed to say to that? What part as he supposed to focus on? That was so many horrifying things one after another and he could barely wrap his head around any of it because he was still tripping over the first phrase.

Saichi either noticed his inner storm, or required no response, because she kept speaking. “None of this is meant to offend or attack you. We all have our flaws and scars we carry from our upbringing. None of these traits are inherently bad until they start to harm us or others. And considering the fact that you find yourself in my office, I think they have become inherently harmful to you and the people you love. You don’t want to hurt yourself or others, do you?”

“No,” Sae said, because that at least, was easy, and it was also the truth.

“I know you don’t,” she said.

“Can I fix it?” Sae asked. The words were out before he could think to be horrified by himself. “Or am I just stuck like this?”

She smiled at him. It didn’t seem to mock him. It seemed warm.

“People tend to think that people get stuck in their ways, and in some cases, that’s true, but I tend to think that that is a very small way of thinking,” Saichi said through her smile. “Because experiences, good and bad, change us, and because we’re always experiencing things, we are always changing. Always. All people do is change, little by little, for better or for worse.”

Sae thought that over, and decided it sounded right enough to be true.

“This is all a long winded way of saying that you’re absolutely capable of change,” she said. “If that’s what you want and you’re willing to work for it.”

Sae just kept looking forward. He managed a single nod. It was all the agreement he could muster after so many blows, one after the other. He did want to change. He just didn’t know how.

“And this is a great transition into your homework for this week,” Saichi said. “Are you familiar with the saying those who do not know the past are doomed to repeat it?”

He was. He’d grown up playing sports, after all, and sports teams tended to overuse that idiom almost as much as world history buffs. He told Saichi as much. She seemed pleased.

“Good,” she said. “Before change, we have to truly understand what needs changing. So, this week is going to be difficult and uncomfortable, perhaps the most difficult and uncomfortable so far, but it is fundamentally important. Still with me?”

Another nod. Sae hoped the dread was not sitting on his face in the same way that Saichi’s sympathy was sitting on hers.

“Don’t worry too much,” she said. “You’re going to do great.”

It hardly reassured him.

“You’ve mentioned before that you’re aware that some of the problems in your relationship are your own fabrications. Which is an excellent observation. Some people come to me for months and still can’t admit any fault of their own, when the truth of the matter is, it’s almost impossible that every single problem is directly caused by only one partner,” she said. Sae already loathed where this was going, because it was going to a very self worth shattering place. “So, this week, I want you to look back through your relationship, and list down any and every instance you can think of where your behaviour has had a negative impact.”

“I don’t have enough notebook space,” Sae said.  

“You could always buy a new one,” Saichi said. It took Sae a long, painful second to realize she was joking.

“Or time in the week,” he added.

“Just do your best,” she told him. “And Sae? This activity is not meant to shame or embarrass you. Not excessively, anyways. So, if you find yourself beating yourself up, take a break. Go for a walk. Call your new friend. This is only meant to identify areas that need work so we can come up with solutions for change. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

“I understand,” Sae said, even though he very much wished that he didn’t.

“I love working with intelligent clients. It really does make my job easier.” She smiled, and then raised a hand out to him. “If you would.”

Sae got up and went across the room. He held out his arm to her and let her pull herself up on it. Once she had gotten to her feet, she didn’t make any attempt to walk or give him any direction.

“Can I take you somewhere?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “I’d like to give you a hug, if you’ll let me. I have the feeling you need it.”

He hated how offended he was by that. So he swallowed that shameful feeling and leaned down to hug her, carefully, because maybe she wasn’t in the ground yet, but she was a hell of a lot closer to it than he was. Her grip was tight and solid. It pricked at the corners of his eyes in a way that surprised him. She was the first one to pull back and he found himself mourning it.

It had been an awful long time since he’d had one of those.

“You’re a good boy,” she told him as he helped her back into her chair. “And Sae? If I could leave you with one thing to remember this week.”

“Don’t beat myself up?” he guessed. “I’ll try to keep it to a minimum.”

“That too,” she said, her head moving through a couple slow nods. She was waiting until he met her eye again. It felt painful to do so, but somehow, he managed. “I want you to remember that even though you are a work in progress, just like the rest of us are, that doesn’t make you any less deserving of love. We all deserve love at every stage in our journey. You and everyone else. So, try to be kind this week. To the people around you, and to yourself.”

He nodded in response.

He didn’t have to say anything else. He understood it as the dismissal it was. That would be the monumental feat of the week. Worse even than the journal writing of all of his numerous unforgivable mistakes.

And what made it even worse was that he didn’t want to be deserving of love. He didn’t want love, comma, general. He wanted the love that he knew, the love he had had and had taken for granted and disrespected. The whole way home he fought off tears, distracting himself with prayers to no one and everyone all at once that it was not too late to get it back.

Chapter Text

“Fuck.”

Ryusei had been stuck in the same cycle for the better part of an hour. He’d go on his phone, open quite literally any app, become bombarded with allegations of his own not-even-happening-for-sure divorce, he’d lock his phone, roll over in bed, eyes shut and head throbbing, and hope it was all nothing but a most unfortunate dream.

He was disappointed every time.

Once he finally rolled around to the point of accepting his fate, he didn’t feel any less horrible about it, not that the drinking nor the migraine really helped, but he was immediately on panic and repair mode.

Not that he knew where to go from there, in these current circumstances.

He could all but picture Sae seething. They had promised to keep the whole thing quiet. One part to give them the space and freedom to figure everything out for themselves, three parts not to embarrass them of put their (read: Sae’s) careers in any jeopardy.

Ryusei had gone and done what he did best and made an unfortunate mistake with big consequences for the both of them.

Worse yet, he had no idea what to do about it. First instinct was to do what he normally did and ask Sae. Call him. On second thought, no. Texting would be safer. Drown him in apologies, beg for forgiveness, ask what demands he could meet to set things right. Their version of setting things right anyways. Saeeeeeeee I’m sosososososo fucking sorry :’,’,’,’((( I just forgot and I didn’t mean anything by it and I know I fucked up pleeeeeeeeeease tell me what I can do to fix it :’(((((((((

But they weren’t supposed to be talking. So that course of action was off the table.

It was time to move to the next best idea his half hungover, half long term concussed brain could manage and call his own manager. She’d know what to do. By which Ryusei really meant that he’d figured she’d talked to Sae’s manager. I’ll have my people call your people wasn’t the idea scenario here, but it was the best he could do.

“Ryusei,” Nana answered. Her voice was all business and no apologies. Was that a good sign? He couldn’t tell. “Hi.”

“Morning, Nana,” he told her.

“It’s two in the afternoon,” she informed him.

“Shit.”

“I figured I’d be hearing from you,” she said. “And I assume I know why.”

“What do we do?” Ryusei asked, before immediately backtracking. “What did Davidi say?”

“I haven’t heard from him,” she said. “So either they’re still figuring out what they want to do, or they haven’t seen it yet.”

He’s fucking seen it, Ryusei thought to himself and then didn’t say. He had no proof for this, no way of knowing for sure. It was just something he knew in his bones. What he didn’t know was whether it was good that they hadn’t done anything about it yet.

It was just barely halfway through the trial separation, but Sae wasn’t accessible to Ryusei in the same way he had been just weeks before. Not even physically or logistically. Psychically. Cosmically. Cellularly. The way that Ryusei could just read him, know what he was thinking, know what he was doing, even halfway across the world. That was how well he knew him. Everything had changed and flipped on its side.

The first thought that came to mind was that maybe Sae had seen it, shrugged, and told Davidi, who cares? I’ve already decided I’m divorcing the idiot. Everyone’s going to find out sooner or later. Don’t bother doing anything.

It struck Ryusei right in the chest.

“Ryusei?” Nana said, clearly not for the first time. “Any thought to what you want to do?”

“Ugh, fuck, no. I don’t know,” he said. “Just leave it for now, I guess. Bye Nana, love you.”

He’d meant to say thank you, but his mind was still split between worlds, and he’d hung up too fast to correct himself. She probably wouldn’t think it that strange either, considering how much she put up with from him.

Ryusei needed to change tactics. Or rather, same tactic, different avenue. He couldn’t break break the rules, but surely a little bending was alright, in very, very special circumstances?

He texted Bachira.

Is he pissed?

The reply was near immediate.

:( !!!

stop trying to break the rules!!! you’re making it really hard to stay impartial

Yeah. He deserved that.

He had exhausted himself in that whole span of fifteen minutes, so he decided he was done with it for now. After a whole lot of water to wash down whatever designer painkillers Mikage had lying around, breakfast, and maybe a shower, he’d be right back in working order. Maybe a statement would be out already, and Nana would know exactly how he was expected to respond to it.

Ryusei found Reo down in the main kitchen, once again at the island, his tablet open to something that looked a whole lot of gibberish to Ryusei. He was already dressed in his regular business attire, hair done and shiny, skin glowing, as if he too had not been absolutely gone not ten hours earlier.

“Hey,” Reo said, looking up at him. “I was wondering when you’d rise from the dead.”

“Dude, what the fuck?” Ryusei said, motioning a hand over the whole of him. “Why the fuck do you look like you’ve just emerged from a nap in a meadow where birds serenaded your very existence. I feel like I’ve just been run over.”

“That bad?” Reo laughed. “Ba-Ya was here earlier with the IV drip. I would have offered, but I didn’t want to wake you. Want me to call her back?”

Ryusei flicked a wrist at him. “Could I just get a couple of advil? And some water? Like a whole fucking jug of it.”

“On it,” Reo said.

Though he did not move from his stool. He did little more than snap his fingers and it was some man in a tie and vest who eventually brought him his requested items, lemon and cucumber in the water and all, and told him lunch would be out soon.

What a life.

“Well, all things aside, I had a great time last night,” Reo said. “We should do that more often.”

“Fuck,” Ryusei said, rubbing the back of his forearm against the water trickling down his chin, as he remembered what task he was still very much in the middle of. Damn his wretched, scrambled brain. “Reo. Have you seen those pictures from last night?”

“Of us?” he asked. “Of course. I posted some myself. I don’t love them, but you look really hot in them, so I took one for the team.”

“Ugh. Fuck. No,” Ryusei groaned. “Wrong reaction! I fucked up, dude.”

“Fucked up?” Reo asked.

“We were supposed to be keeping quiet about the whole trial separation thing,” Ryusei said, putting his face in his hands.

“I don’t follow,” Reo said. “Last night, you said, and I quote, fuck Sae and his stupid face. We’re super, super, super getting divorced.”

“Oh my god.”

Ryusei had not remembered that. Good on him, though, maybe? For committing to the bit when inebriated instead of getting honest and sappy? Maybe he’d get a pat on the back from Saichi and it would ease his aching idiocy a little.

“I was lying,” Ryusei said.

Reo didn’t often get that deer in headlights look about him, but in a moment of rarity, there it was. “Why?”

“It was a fucking therapy assignment,” Ryusei said, tossing his hands up. “I haven’t been taking this separation seriously, apparently, so I was supposed to pretend we were going forth with it to get used to the idea.”

“Wow,” Reo said. Still surprised, not offended. Nobody in business really could be, Ryusei supposed. “I wish you would have told me that before I spent an hour talking you up to that hot bartender.”

Ryusei scoffed. “That bartender was a four at best.”

Now it was Reo’s turn to scoff. Ryusei knew well enough what he meant by it. He understood what had happened to his perception over the course of his marriage. That was the curse of marrying Itoshi Sae, having him, even standing close enough to him for long enough. Nobody else even came close in comparison.

“Regardless,” Reo said, pivoting. “I’ll delete the pictures if that’s what you want me to do.”

Ryusei was overcome with the urge to massage his already thrumming temples. Yeah, this was going to be a whole day migraine for sure. “God, yes. Do that.”

“What are you going to do?” Reo asked.

“I have no fucking clue.” He could hear the defeat in his own voice. Reo had a good face, but Ryusei could see him cringing away from it. “I just want to know what Sae wants me to do, but I can’t exactly ask him. So, I have no idea.”

“What do you want to do?” Reo asked.

Ryusei glared at him. “I want to not fuck up my marriage any worse than it already is. Whatever that looks like.”

Reo met him with a look of impatience of his own. “That’s not what I meant.”

Ryusei didn’t say anything else. He knew that wasn’t what Reo meant, but that hardly mattered. It was his answer either way.

Ryusei then proceeded to spend three entire days hiding out in Mikage manor, too afraid to be outside, to run into anyone, to have anyone ask him anything, to give himself any opportunity to say something else stupid and make things worse.

He’d been silent on social media too. Following Sae’s lead. Not to say he wasn’t on it. He was. Almost obsessively. He was refreshing the internet browser and Sae’s profiles constantly, through the one eye he could manage to open through his pain-killer-bypassing migraines, just waiting for the shoe to drop. Itoshi Sae speaks out: “We are getting divorced. Not that any of you should be surprised.”

How fucking humiliating would that be? To find out about his own divorce via the internet? I haunted him.

Therapy was a welcome distraction when it finally came. He needed direction. If Sae wasn’t going to give him anything, Reo was being helpful in all of the wrong ways, and Meguru was switching sides, maybe Saichi could give him something to go on. He basically ran into the office from the car. His leg shook through the entire three minute wait until she appeared in the doorway to invite him in.

He had to be mindful to be slow about guiding her across the room. He wanted to throw her right into the damned chair and start on what was sure to be an incoherent spiel before he’d even sat himself down. By some miracle, he kept himself together.

“It’s good to see you, Ryusei,” she told him from her chair. “How are you doing?”

He heard it in her voice. At least she wasn’t going in blind. She’d had the opportunity to brace herself.

“This has been such a fucked up week, Saichi,” Ryusei said. “I really fucked up.”

“You did?” she said. It was feigned surprise. He was sure of it. “How’s that?”

“Don’t give me that,” Ryusei said. “I know you know how to work a computer better than I do. I know you’ve seen the tabloids.”

She just smiled. “I’d prefer to hear it from you.”

“There’s not much to tell,” he said. “If you saw it, you already know what I did. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. I wasn’t, I guess. I took my ring off to put gel on, and I didn’t want it to get all sticky underneath, and then the car was there, so I just finished up and left without grabbing it. I didn’t do it on purpose. But that fucked up my whole entire life.”

“How so?” she asked.

“Well, Sae’s obviously seen it,” Ryusei reasoned. He felt ashamed even to say his husband’s name after this betrayal, like it didn’t even belong in his mouth. “So I’m sure he thinks I did it on purpose. And now we’re probably actually going to get a divorce and it’s all going to be my fault.”

“Do you think you might be overthinking this?” Saichi asked.

“Wait,” Ryusei said. “Have you already seen Sae this week? Did he say anything?”

Across the room, Saichi crossed her arms.

“Come on!” Ryusei pleaded. The urge to drop out of the chair and onto his knees, to pray and beg as he pleaded was just narrowly resisted. “The rules can’t apply here. I need to know. This is a special circumstance!”

“How so?” she asked again. But she was not looking for an answer this time. “From my perspective, you followed the guidelines of your assignment. The special circumstance is public opinion, but you two are celebrities, not gods, so that’s a hardly a reason to put you above the rules I also give to my other very human clients. This is the nature of this week’s assignment, Ryusei. You’re forced to consider the divorce as a real possibility. How is that registering for you?”

“It’s fucking terrifying,” he said.

“Why?” she asked.

He caught himself right before his answer slipped out. Thank fuck. It was too shameful, too pathetic. Even for him.

Because I don’t want Sae to be mad at me.

“I don’t want to get divorced,” was the answer he gave in its place.

“Why not?” she asked.

Her words were slow. She was looking for something beyond. Trying to pick up clues in his answers that he was not giving because he was lying.

“I just don’t,” Ryusei said. “Listen Saichi, I can be good. I won’t talk to Sae, but can you just tell me how to fix this?”

She just looked at him for a while. It became so long it bordered on staring.

“Are you trying to bargain with me?” she asked after some time.

“Yes?” he answered, slowly, testing the waters.

She scowled. Wrong answer.

“No?” he asked, trying again. It seemed no more correct. “Fuck, I don’t know! How do I fix this? What do I do?”

“In this moment?” she asked. He nodded, desperate for something, anything. She got up from her chair with some effort. Suddenly, he was worried he was getting abandoned by her too. “You take a breather. Remember your exercises? I’m going to make you a tea. Don’t worry, I’ll make up for the lost time at the end of your session. I have no one after you. Do you still drink chamomile?”

Ryusei managed a weak nod. He felt horrible the entire time she walked over to the door. When she left and closed the door behind her, he felt a little calmer, but just barely.

He did the exercises. Box breathing, visualization, tapping his knuckles on his collarbones and knees and picturing roots growing out of his feet and into the floor. It helped. Or maybe it didn’t. He couldn’t really tell. When Saichi came back, he was feeling well enough to get up and take the mug from her hands. He tried to help her across the room, but she shook him off.

“Just because I enjoy the brief time I get to spend on the arm of a handsome young man,” she said. “It doesn’t mean I can’t manage on my own.”

“You player,” he said. He was feeling a little better at least.

And the scent of chamomile was helping. Back when he’d first gotten injured, when the migraines were awful but also somehow the least of his problems, chamomile tea was one of the only things he could drink that wouldn’t shove him out onto a sea of nausea and general hell of unwellness. It had been a safe haven for him. A lot had changed, but those feelings lingered and sparked back up.

“Shall we start again?” she asked.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“No need to apologize,” she said. “I do not expect perfection from humans in the outside world. I can hardly expect it in here.”

“You’re a real one,” he told her. Whether or not she understood what he meant, she smiled.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to stop focusing on this tabloid event,” she said, and it sent panic through Ryusei. “I do think it was a helpful piece in this week’s activity, even though it was distressing, but this separation is supposed to be distressing. A little, at least. That is the point. But it’s not worth the energy you’re putting into it, and honestly speaking, it’s not that significant in the grand scheme of things. All they’re going on is speculation. There is no set future from this event.”

That did, admittedly, make him feel a little better. He nodded. Mindfully. So she’d know he meant it, that he was really absorbing her words, their meanings. She smiled.

“And besides,” she said. “This week is not about the right now. This week is about looking back.” 

And there was the dread again. It had been building up a while. He knew it would come. That he’d be forced to meet his demons, the ones much bigger than him.

Ryusei would be the first to admit that his relationship with Sae had once been great, but it hadn’t been that way for a long time. He remembered it actually, clear as day, the moment where everything started to fall apart. His mind was fuzzy at the best of times these days, but that memory remained. He wondered if Sae remembered it the same way. He wondered if Sae also knew that moment had been the beginning of the end. He tried his very best to block it out, but in moments like this, it was summoned forth. He hated thinking about it, because it was so much easier to blame all of their relationship problems on his being injured and Sae’s poor reaction to it.

But things had been going from bad to worse long before then. He remembered where the bad had begun. He remembered how it had been his fault.

“How long have you and Sae known each other now?” Saichi asked, breaking him out of his own head.

“Huh?” he said. He needed a pause, so he took the opportunity to blow on his tea, try to sip it, and burn his tongue. “Oh. Right. We met when we were eighteen.”

“So, seven years,” she said, nodding to herself. “You know, some people might think that’s not a long time. Especially at my age. But I beg to differ. A lot can happen in seven years. A lot.”

“Yeah,” Ryusei agreed, feeling like was on a tightrope.

“Are you agreeing?” she asked.

“Yeah, I mean, I guess,” he said.

“You’re not the same person you were when you met Sae, are you?” she asked.

“Hell no,” he said. “I’ve gotten way hotter, but I also have nothing but scrambled eggs where my brain should be.”

She did not laugh at his half joke.

“And Sae is not the same person he was when he met you, is he?” she asked.

Such an insanely easy question to answer in comparison.

No. Not even close. Other people might think so, but Ryusei knew better. The boy who had come into that dungeon room in the Blue Lock facility was just as beautiful and just as closed off to the rest of the world as the man he now was, but he had unravelled himself in front of him over these past seven years. He had not only opened himself up, but let him inside. He’d seen Sae cry, both from laughing too hard and legitimate weeping. He knew his fears. He’d heard him say that he loved him. He’d watched him fall in love, be in love, stay in love. He’d watched him fight back instead of leave. He’d watched him finally agree to therapy. Ryusei tried to picture the Sae he’d first started dating, what he’d say. He could hear him, even now.

Hell no. I don’t need some quack to tell me what’s wrong with my relationship. Nothing’s wrong with me. If you can’t handle me, you’re not worthy of my love. Not that Sae would have even admitted himself capable of being in love back then. Beat it, worthless.

“No,” Ryusei answered.

“And your relationship isn’t the same either, is it?” she asked.

“No,” he said.

“And who’s fault is that?”

Ah, there it was. The cutting of the guillotine rope. The bear trap on the forest floor.

This was a question with a predetermined answer. Ryusei knew the answer. She’d told him, both of them, during one of their very first sessions. It was both of their faults.

Or rather, as Saichi preferred to word it, it was nobody’s fault.

That’s what she’d said. Most people come into my office ready to blame all their problems on their spouse. I have yet to find a conflicting couple who have problems that stem from only one partner. These couples do exist, of course. But when there is one partner at fault and one without fault, that is an abusive relationship, not a conflict ridden relationship. Abuse can exist in conflict, definitely, but there is a difference. I’ll talk to you both a while, and deem whether or not that’s the case. If one of you is undoubtedly abusive and the other is a victim, I’ll have no choice but to suggest you part ways and explain how I am unable to see you further. But seeing as you’re here, I doubt it’s the case. Abusive partners are very unlikely to suggest or agree to therapy.

Ryusei remembered meeting Sae’s eye during that spiel. Another thing stark clear in his mind. It was a glance of dark understanding. And as twisted as it sounded, Ryusei remembered getting a strange feeling of hope from that look they shared. The one that said, that’s not us. Your worst goes toe to toe with my worst.

“Nobody’s fault,” he answered dutifully.

“Good boy,” she said. “I know how you tend to get stuck in the past, and I will once again emphasize about how dangerous a place that is to spend too much time. The past is a great place to visit from time to time, in small doses, to learn from, or to reminisce, but I don’t want you to fall into that trap. This week is not about beating yourself up.”

“That’s a tall ask,” Ryusei said, reaching up to rub his temple in his tea free hand. He didn’t even feel a headache coming on. It was just an action of comfort.

“I have faith in you,” she said. “So, if you’ll indulge me, I want to talk a little bit about this week’s homework, and if you’re good, I’ll give you a bit of advice on how to handle the tabloid incident. Sound fair?”

Ryusei looked at her, wide eyed and amused. “Saichi…are you trying to bargain with me?”

“I’m allowed,” she said. “I’m the boss.”

“I’ll be good,” he said.

“This week, I want you to comb over your relationship with Sae,” she said. “And I want you to look over instances that had a negative impact on your relationship. The relationship. Meaning the bond between the two of you. No assigning blame. Just identify the incident and then write down how you could have or wish you had handled things differently. Does that make sense?”

“I’m going to be honest,” he said. “Not really.”

“I’ll give you an example,” she said. “I’ll tell you about the first big fight that me and my first husband had.”

“I didn’t know you were married,” Ryusei said.

“I’ve lived lives before you were ever born,” she said.

He nodded. He was trying to be good.

“My husband had asked me scrape the ice off his car one morning because he was running behind and he had an important meeting that morning. I started to make myself my morning coffee, and I completely forgot,” she said. “Oh, how mad he was! He yelled at me the whole way out of the house, calling me names, cursing, the whole thing. He was late to his meeting. He didn’t lose his job or anything, but he did get reprimanded. I felt bad for him, and I felt shame because of my forgetfulness, but I also felt upset, because of the things he’d said.”

“Sounds like a prick,” Ryusei said.

Saichi wagged a finger at him. “That’s assigning blame. That’s not what we’re doing here.”

“Is he still alive?” he asked, suddenly motivated to change that if the answer was yes.

“The rest of the story is that we did not resolve it,” she said, not bothering to entertain him. “That night, I cleaned up and made dinner, as I always did. He came home and ate it, as he always did. I washed up after the meal, we barely spoke or looked at each other, and then we went to bed. The next morning, we woke up, and it was like the whole thing had just reset itself. We spoke to each other like normal.”

“Sounds like a happy ending then, right?” Ryusei asked hopefully.

“In the short term, yes,” she said. “But what happened there was that it set up this dynamic between us that silently said that was a fine way to deal with conflict. By ignoring it and not settling the problem. So, that’s what we taught ourselves to do. We would have a disagreement, and then we would pretend nothing happened. We had many arguments, as marriages do when they last long enough, but that one stands out in my mind. I could say that it was my fault for forgetting, or that it was his fault for being so cruel about it. But that’s assigning blame, which helps no one, least of all me, who can’t change the past. But I can learn from this experience, by telling myself that I wished I’d just gone and scraped the car right away, or else I wish I would have apologized and spoken up about how being spoken to that way made me feel. Which is what I did going into my second marriage.”

“Second marriage?” Ryusei said, whistling. “You are a player.”

“Does that example clarify things for you, Ryusei?” she asked.

As much as he wished it hadn’t, it did. He nodded to tell her so.

“Do you want to try?” she asked softly.

“Okay,” he said, sifting through his brain, trying to form the images he saw there into coherent thoughts. “Our relationship got really fucked up when I got injured. Which isn’t Sae’s fault, or mine, but I wish I would have been better and not gotten injured.”

“Hmm.” She shifted in her chair. “Try again.”

“What’d I do wrong?” he asked.

“Ryusei.” Oh brother. Not her scolding voice. “There are things in this life that we can control and things that we can’t. Your example, that’s not helpful. That’s rewriting fate. That’s like saying you wish you could go back and be at Hiroshima so you could warn everyone. Think smaller. Repeatable. Controllable. What happened as a result of your injury that we could focus on instead?”

“I became a burden,” Ryusei said.

“That’s assigning blame,” she said.

“I changed,” he tried again.

“Rightfully so,” she said. “Trauma does change us.”

“I needed more from Sae than he had to give,” Ryusei said.

“That’s nobody’s fault,” she said.

“And I could have tried to get those needs filled another way,” he said.

The room suddenly felt like it was spinning. He had to close his eyes now, but then he was drowning in looks of distain and pity and teal eye rolls and scoffs and Sae’s back as he left room after room. The sound of the shower from the other side of their bathroom. It didn’t matter how long they’d been together. Ryusei had seen Sae cry, but Sae didn’t like to be seen crying, even by him. If the shower was on, water running and untouched, Ryusei knew what was happening. It was almost worse than seeing it, hearing it, being close enough to comfort him. He had to open them again. He needed something to ground himself to. He looked right at Saichi.

“Or I could have tried to take care of him better so he had more to give,” Ryusei said. It burned his throat as it came out.

Saichi didn’t notice. “Now you’re getting it.”

But was he? It didn’t feel like it. He felt like he was losing his grip on reality and drowning in the full spectrum of the emotion wheel all at once, and yeah, he was pretty sure another migraine was coming on too.

“But isn’t that bullshit?” he went off. He needed to put his tea aside. “No offense. I’m not doubting you or anything, but isn’t that just fucking bullshit? I was hurting. I was the one who lost everything, my entire fucking life all at once. Isn’t that what we signed up for? For better or for worse? In sickness and in health? Not sometimes or whenever it’s convenient? I needed him, and he wasn’t there.”

He knew his mistake the second those words left his mouth. He crossed his arms across his stomach, like he was bracing for the impact.

“Tell me, Ryusei,” Saichi said. “Over the course of the past seven years, were you there for Sae every single time that he needed you?”

The blow landed. He didn’t answer. It was answer in and of itself. He hadn’t been. There had been a lot of times where he could have done more, or done the bare minimum, and had chosen not to for one reason or another. Most often than not because he was married to The Itoshi Sae, and The Itoshi Sae didn’t need him. The Itoshi Sae didn’t need anyone. That justification was easy to fall back on even when he had evidence to support the opposite.

He felt nauseated with himself. He was lying to Saichi and himself, even here and now.

If he was being honest, he would have met Saichi properly and offered up his own beginning. The inciting incident that set the rest of this into motion. But how could he bear saying it out loud? He could barely revisit it in his mind, and nowadays, it was easier to pretend it had just slipped his mind.

But he supposed that was the same avoidance she was trying to shake them of.

Truth was, Sae was an imperfect partner, but Ryusei had been imperfect first. After Blue Lock, when they were taking contracts together, everything was perfect. Easy. They had nobody else but each other and nothing but their careers and their love to fill their lives with. Sae had made the first strike. Ryusei, listen, I want to talk to you about next year. I got an offer, and I’m really interested. The thing is though, they just want me. If you want me to turn it down, I will. But I don’t want to.

Ryusei had understood, logically, but it hadn’t stopped him from taking it as an attack.

The hurt associated didn’t manifest then. Not right away, at least. He’d gotten his own offers, picked one out himself, hired Nana instead of piggybacking off of Sae’s manager, and got on a plane all alone. And his new team wasn’t bad. They were decent dudes, they wanted to utilize him, and they seemed alright taking him at face value. He had something else to wrap himself in. A new team, a new manager, a new life, new friends, things that were just his and not tokens of Itoshi Sae’s leftovers.

Things between the two of them hadn’t gone sour yet. They were still married, still in love, and still dedicated to each other, despite the hard feelings. Had Sae also felt some type of way about being apart? Ryusei wasn’t sure. He just figured Sae would tell him if there was something to tell, so he’d never asked.

They had agreed to carve out time for each other each week. They had a time zone issue to work around, but they managed to find a time slot that aligned up with their joint calendar every week and they had it blocked off to do video chat dates.

Sae never missed one. He was doing well on the new team. Obviously. Didn’t like the members or the coach any more than he normally did, but they all loved him, he was given pretty much free reign, and he always had something impressive to report from the week. Ryusei was doing fine, too. He was happy-ish, was making friends, his team won more often than not, and it was usually his doing. But he felt horribly jealous, and underneath that, lonely.

One week, Ryusei missed a date. Which would be one thing if it was due to forgetfulness, but it hadn’t been. He’d known what he was doing.

He’d wanted Sae to know that he was important and valued, too.

And it’s not like he missed missed the date. He just showed up late. Halfway through the allotted time. After three whole texts asking where he was, which was basically the Itoshi Sae version of putting out a missing person’s report. He still remembered how stressed Sae had looked when he connected.

“Is everything okay?” he’d asked, his all seeing eyes moving all over the background of Ryusei’s window, looking for clues. “It’s not like you not to answer.”

“Of course,” Ryusei said. “Everything’s great over here. Was just out with some friends and lost track of time. Sorry, hot stuff. Anyways, what’s going on?”

Sae’s face just stared back at him, entirely unmoving.

“Shit, did you freeze?” Ryusei asked, leaning forward to check his internet. “Hold on.”

But before he could even check anything, the call dropped, and Sae’s face disappeared. Ryusei reached for his phone.

give me a sec to restart my computer pretty <3333

somethings up with our connection :(

Sae’s reply was immediate.

Apparently.

Ryusei felt the weight of the moment, even then. He told himself that his panic was nothing to worry about, but he was proven wrong when he restarted his computer, resent the video call, and got no answer. He then followed up with ten of his own texts. None of which got a reply.

None of which had included an apology, either.

Sae didn’t talk to him for three whole days. Radio silence. Was that a little excessive? Who fucking knows. Was it uncalled for to miss a date because you were jealous of your own husband? Probably. So who the fuck was he to judge? When Sae finally did text him back, it was casual. About something entirely different. When the next date day came, they both connected on time, but they didn’t discuss it.

They should of. He should of.

He should have apologized. He knew that now. He should have done it right away and told him how he was feeling instead of being childish about the fact that he felt like he’d been left behind. Sae had been putting into the effort, hadn’t he? He’d given him all he’d had to give. Ryusei had taken that for granted, knowing full well how talented Sae was when it came to holding a grudge.

They were civil to each other. Spoke of their weeks and filled in their blanks that hadn’t been sent in texts and pictures over the past week. It was nice enough. But Ryusei felt the distance between them. The coldness he’d once known from Sae and had spent so much time thawing was back full force, and instead of watching it melt, he was getting frostbite. He was watching Sae close himself back up, Ryusei on the outside now. How could he call him out for it knowing it was his fault?

They went on like that for two years. Sae subtly keeping Ryusei at arm’s length, Ryusei pretending nothing was wrong at all. They still visited each other, went home for the holidays, went on dates, even fucked each other, but whatever distance had come between them had remained, lingering like some ominous spirit that they could not exorcise. Probably because they were both pretending it wasn’t there. Back then was when Ryusei figured they were probably headed towards a divorce, that it was just a matter of time, and he would just enjoy Sae while he could, but it was easier said than done. The shift in their dynamic ate at him and the longer it went on, it just felt more impossible to fix.

And then the injury happened.

Which Ryusei did loathe. He really, truly did. He hated the fact that he lost soccer, his teammates, his career, everything he’d been using to distract himself for two whole years all at once. He hated that it was still following him around, making it so that he couldn’t work, go to concerts, be in the sun too long, remember much of anything, drive for too long, stand for too long, drink alcohol or caffeine (which he still did, he just put up with the effects), and made him pill and botox and routine dependent for the rest of his life. He hated almost everything about it.

Save for maybe the fact that Sae was still his husband and emergency contact, and as soon as he got word of it, he was on the first plane he could catch, showing up in the doorway of Ryusei’s hospital room, suitcase in hand and looking worse for wear from the trip and lack of sleep. Save for maybe the fact that it had brought them back to each other, in a way.

Sae’s reaction and handling of Ryusei after his injury hadn’t been great, sure, but things between them hadn’t been either. Maybe he’d just been paying him back for Ryusei’s poor handling of Sae when they had nothing to deal with but distance and the emotions associated.

That’s probably what he should have said. But he’d save that for the journal. He was shoving that back into the recesses of his mind for now.

“At the end of the day, we’re just people, Ryusei.” Her smile was soft. Understanding. What he could see of it through his blurring vision in his stinging eyes. “You and Sae included. And people make mistakes. Nobody is perfect, regardless of the pedestals we place them upon. Marriage is a promise, but it doesn’t make one any less human or fallible. Some mistakes, we can’t get past. It happens. Nobody can change any of that, and if you can’t get past each other’s mistakes, well, that’s that. It might cause difficult emotions, but it’s still nobody’s fault.”

Ryusei’s head was back in his hands. “Is this even worth it?”

“That’s really up to you,” she said. “Both of you.”

That was the horrifying part. “What if I’m not what he wants anymore?”

“What does Sae want?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Someone easier to be with. Someone he can control. Like everything else in his life.”

“Is that what Sae wants?” she asked.

“Have you met the guy?” Ryusei asked. “He’s the posterchild for control issues.”

“I have met him, and I’m not denying that,” Saichi said. She paused only long enough to push her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “Sae indeed has massive issues with control. He needs to be in the driver’s seat of anything he even considers doing. It’s a miracle the man can even take an Uber.”

Ryusei snorted in laughter. “That’s a good one. Can I steal that?”

“But is it not just as miraculous,” Saichi went on, without even missing a beat. “That he married you?”

That hit Ryusei like an arrow right through the chest. He felt the breath in his lungs forcibly escape them. He choked on it on the way. He took a second to catch his breath and sat up straighter on the couch.

“I know I’m not much now,” Ryusei said. “But back in the day, I was a fucking super badass. Total smokeshow. I’m serious. Plus, I got my hair done this week, thank you for noticing.”

“I did notice,” she said. “These lenses are thick but the eyes haven’t gone yet. It looks nice.”

“Thanks, Sai.”

“But that’s not what I’m saying,” she said, back to serious. “From what I’ve seen and heard from the two of you, you strike me as quite a wildcard. And considering that Sae has had his notoriety almost longer than he hasn’t, I believe that if he did want someone small and controllable, he could find it quite easily. So the question isn’t why did he marry you, it’s why he went out of his way to marry someone so entirely out of his comfort zone.”

Ryusei hadn’t really thought about it like that. He figured their relationship was one of pestering and convenience and familiarity and eventually love, sure, but soon followed by obligation. He didn’t think the whole thing had been a twisted joke on fate’s behalf.

“Oh,” Ryusei said. “So, you’re saying it’s a miracle I even had a chance with him to begin with.”

“Not at all,” she said. “I think Sae loves you because you’re uncontrollable. I think he has control issues because he’s been hyper-managed his entire life, and I think you give him permission to lose himself a little and you are the safe space within which he can let go, not be judged, and not have anything bad happen to him for it. And I think that’s quite lovely, don’t you?”

“I-” was all he could manage.

“And when one partner goes through a major life change, things are bound to change. Like I mentioned, some things are within our control, and some things are not. You were mourning for all that you had lost, and that is understandable after a loss like you suffered,” she said. “But like you said, you changed. You lost your career, a big part of yourself, but you didn’t lose Sae. I think that he was the one thing you had to cling onto, and in the midst of the rest of your losses, you put a lot of pressure on yourself to be quiet and obedient and, as you put it, codependent, as not to disrupt his life and lose him too. But that in and of itself is a loss, you see? For both of you. I know he’s hard to read, but try to consider the fact that he might have been mourning too.”

“Aren’t people supposed to change?” Ryusei asked.

“Absolutely,” she said. “But just like mistakes, some changes we can handle, and some we cannot.”

Ryusei knew that he wasn’t supposed to be spending this week beating himself up and assigning blame, but he couldn’t shake the nauseating realization that the whole reason they were coming to this office twice a week and spending six weeks in separate houses barred from talking to each other was entirely his fault, and he hated himself for it.

He couldn’t let himself get caught in that, though. He was still trying to be good. He still needed guidance.

“Yeah,” he said. Getting that word out was like throwing up glass. “Maybe.”

Had they both been doing nothing but mourning the other and how things had once been for the past few years?

Was there anything left to salvage?

“Ryusei,” she said. Scolding voice again. “None of this is anyone’s fault.”

“I know,” he said, even though he didn’t believe it for a second.

“We’re almost out of time,” Saichi said next. Once again, Ryusei was jolted out of his head and back into the room. He took his tea back up. It had gone cold, but he drank it anyways. “And I’d say you’ve been pretty good. Are you ready for your advice?”

“Yes, please,” Ryusei said. This whole hour had been haunting enough. He could stand to end it on a good note.

“Well, I regret to inform you of this, but I have tricked you a little,” she said. Her smile was clever but it seemed kind too, so Ryusei tried not to let the dread in, no matter how hard it knocked at the door. It took significant effort to keep the door closed. “My advice comes in the form of another homework assignment.”

“You don’t think I have enough on my plate this week?” he tried to joke, but it came out half harsh, half pathetic.

“I believe in your ability to challenge yourself, I suppose,” she said back. “This week is about looking back, for both of you.”

Oh fuck. So Sae was sifting through the graveyard of their love this week too? On the heels of Ryusei’s tabloid mishap? Awesome. That was just fucking awesome.

“But we’re going to deviate again here,” she went on. “Sae is able to touch his own flaws without wounding himself on them, so he’s focusing on looking back. But you, you are a special boy, so you’re going to get a head start on next week’s theme.”

Ryusei had the feeling that special had a negative connotation on it, and he didn’t say anything about it, because he did not wish to be proven right.

“I want you to do your looking back homework, no blame, just observations, as best as you can,” she said. “But next week is about looking forward. So, to give you a head start, and to make sure you’re not spending too much time in the past, here’s your assignment. In terms of this tabloid thing, this is what I want you to do.”

Finally, some guidance.

“I want you to take some time, however long you need, whether that’s a few hours or a few days, and really think about what you want to do,” she said. Ryusei did not like the sound of this. “Not what Sae wants, not what you think he might want, but what you want to do about it.”

“Okay,” he said.

“And then I want you to do that.”

“What I want?” Ryusei protested, a finger to his temple. “There’s no way. I can’t trust that guy. He’s a psycho! All scrambled in the brain and stuff!”

“You think so?” Saichi said back. “Because I’ve met him, and I think he’s got quite a good head on his shoulders. Most of the time, that is.”

Ryusei’s shoulders loosened at the compliment. Slightly. “What if I don’t know what I want to do?”

“Then keep thinking about it,” she said. “But if you do make a choice, commenting on it, keeping quiet, ignoring it completely, I want it to be your choice.”

“Now you’re trying to sabotage my marriage?” Ryusei groaned. “Could you hold off? I’m doing well enough on my own, thank you very much.”

“You and I both know that’s not the truth,” Saichi snapped.

“I don’t want to lose Sae,” Ryusei fought back.

“Do you not consider losing yourself a bigger worry?” she asked.

No, Ryusei almost said, but did not. Because no, of course that was not a bigger worry. Losing Sae, after losing everything else, was the biggest worry. He’d go insane before he could bear that.

“Because either way, I see this as me trying to help you, Ryusei,” she said. “Looking forward, I want you to start remembering and discovering who you are as a person and acting in accordance with that. Sae can’t love an empty shell of you any more than he can a reflection of himself with your face,” Saichi said. Ryusei resisted the urge to scoff and tell her that maybe a clone of himself with Ryusei’s face was Sae’s soulmate, but he was still trying to be good. He was still trying to trust she knew what she was talking about. He also still wanted to believe that he was Sae’s soulmate. “So, this activity is either good for helping mend your relationship, or, if it so happens that’s not how it works out, it ensures that you have a person to retreat to, because you can’t find solace in a ghost of yourself either.”

It was a smack across the face, but it sounded like it made enough sense. He swallowed her words, the associated emotions, and the rest of his tea, before telling Saichi that he’d see her next week.

The office felt suffocating. Outside felt a little better. He couldn’t bear the thought of getting in a car, so he walked a while, figuring he’d call for one once he got tired. But he didn’t fell tired. Whether it was the tea or the emotional shakedown or the thoughts that being out in the world offered him enough space to sort out and organize his thoughts and feelings, it felt better. More manageable. It probably helped that he was also feeling pretty wired. Probably all the adrenaline and cortisol.

What did he want to do? What would he have wanted to do before? Saichi was right. He had lost himself. Which was neither of their faults. Allegedly. Just a matter of circumstance. But how did he get back? What was the right answer?

He tried to remember all the way back. It strained him, but it was worth the oncoming headache. He’d been such a wild kid. An even wilder teen. He’d met Sae in jail, basically. Locked up for trying to crack the other players’ heads open. Maybe he should try to fight Rin. He could probably take him. And that might jog his memory.

Nah, scratch that. That’s where Sae was. That was breaking the rules.

Oh, and they were adults now. So that could land him in real life jail.

Okay, no. New plan. But his mind lead him nowhere but dead ends. Where the hell were all his thoughts? He swore he used to have them. Was this seriously what he’d been brought to? When the fuck had all this happened? Had he just been wasting away all this time? For fucking fuck’s sake. How fucking pathetic. No wonder Sae didn’t think he was worth the time of day. He couldn’t stand himself either.

He should have shown up to that fucking video date.

Ryusei sighed. Sae, how had things gotten so fucked up?

He was getting no answers from figment of his imagination Sae. So he went into the photos on his phone and scrolled all the way up to the top. They had been happy, once. They had been happy a long time. And maybe things hadn’t been as bad as he remembered. Was he remembering wrong? He found lots of pictures of their texts, their posts, pictures they sent each other when they were doing long distance. Sae even seemed kind of happy in the pictures from their visits post missed video date. This was fucking his head up. He was not closer to an answer, and now he definitely had a migraine coming on.

“Ryusei,” he heard, out of nowhere, by a person suddenly at his side. They had snuck up on him while he was in his head. They were holding a phone out in him. “Do you care to comment on the recent divorce allegations?”

Oh, for fucking fuck’s sake, seriously? He was being forced to deal with this before he even had a chance to really think about it? It was his fault he supposed. This tended to happen when he wandered into the city on a normal day, let alone one when he was someone people were talking about for an actual reason.

He hadn’t had time to think about it and he still didn’t. He had no choice but fall back on old reliable, to go on instinct and hope he wouldn’t hate himself for it later.

“Uh, no?” he said, lifting his left hand, showing off the ring he was wearing and had been nonstop since the story broke. “Seriously, fuck off with that shit. That bullshit isn’t worth commenting on.”

“So, you’re saying there’s no basis?” the person urged, phone still faced towards him. “Why were you photographed without your ring?”

“Are you stupid?” Ryusei asked the person and everyone else who might be watching. “I wasn’t wearing my ring because I forgot to put it on. It’s a fuckin’ miracle I make it out of the house with pants on most days. You know why I had to quit soccer right? Got nothing but scrambled eggs up here.”

He tapped his temple, stuck his tongue out at the camera, and then flipped it off. The person seemed stunned by that. Ryusei walked off, and they didn’t follow.

He all of a sudden kind of found himself wishing that they had. Or that they at least tried to.

“Uh, so, there you have it, I guess,” the person started saying to their camera.

“Oh, and by the way,” Ryusei called back to them over his shoulder. They were frantic in tapping their screen, trying to catch the rest of this impromptu statement. “Anyone who’s thinking about making a move on my man can go ahead and try, but just know that red cards didn’t scare me then and jail doesn’t scare me now.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked away and, without thinking about it, started whistling. That whole thing was kind of batshit, but it felt good to be a little batshit. It did feel like old times. Was that behaviour a little pathetic now that he was twenty five and not eighteen? Maybe. But he wasn’t overwhelmed by the thought in the moment, so it could be a problem for later if it was to become one.

New articles were being posted even before he’d made his way back to Reo’s, and Ryusei was still riding his high. That had felt good, but he wasn’t done. He got inside without seeing anyone, not an especially difficult thing to do in a house that big, and got into his room. He found himself grateful that he’d been a little sentimental. He grabbed his and Sae’s wedding photo off the nightside, set up his phone, and stripped down.

He'd had his share of fucking insane ideas. This was definitely among them. But it was fun and felt stupid in a way that didn’t make him want to fall through the floor, so he was going through with it. Besides, maybe it was a choice based on his mood swings or some type of psychotic break, but nobody would be able to say he hadn’t made it for himself. The picture he ended up with was him, stripped down entirely, the framed wedding photo held over his crotch, ring fully visible. Set against a plain white wall, so nobody would be able to clock him for being at Mikage’s. See, he was thinking things through! Best of all, he looked good. He’d thought he’d really lost it without being able to train all the time, but no. He was still a smokeshow. Especially with the new hair. Thank you, Haruki.

Without a second thought, or checking with anyone, even Nana or Reo, he posted the photo with the caption: everyone writing these articles needs to get off my dick!! I already got someone for that, and he’s the best in the game <333

And before he could regret it, he got off the app. Then he turned off all of his notifications except for a few. He didn’t care what anyone else had to say about it. He’d done the assignment to Saichi’s specifications. Psychotic and batshit as it had been, it had been his choice. He was proud of that. That being said, there were only three people whose opinions mattered, and as such, those were the only ones he allowed himself. Now it was just a waiting game. Who was going to be first to reach out to him? Nana, Davidi, or…?

His phone screen lit up, a bar across the screen. There it was. Best case scenario.

itoshisae liked your post

“Fuck yes!” Ryusei yelled to no one, his voice echoing off the walls of his massive bedroom. “That’s right, my pretty little rulebreaker. We’re not going out without a fight, are we?”

And it did feel kind of like old times. There was a lot more work to do, but there was still hope for them yet.

Chapter Text

“Are you ready to hate me?”

Sae was absolutely taking that question seriously. Saichi, on the other hand, was not. She smiled at him from her chair across the room. He tried to figure out if she was being condescending about it. Not likely, given what he knew about her, but it looked like it, no thanks to his own bias. He would readily admit that he was more than a little on edge.

“I don’t hate anyone, Sae,” is what she told him back.

“Get ready to turn over a new leaf, then,” he said.

“I’ve had people objectively far worse than you in that chair over my many years doing this,” she told him. “Of that, I can assure you.”

He was tempted to ask for details to serve his fragile and soon to be wounded ego, to soften the blows he knew he was about to take, at both of their hands most likely. But he also knew he was more likely to get a reprimand than an answer, so he did not.

“Well, I hate me,” he said. And worse yet, he meant it.

“This activity wasn’t about being hard on yourself,” she said.

“How else am I supposed to feel?” he asked, exploding in a way he hadn’t expected from himself. “I am fucking horrible person and I’ve done fucking horrible things to someone I’m supposed to love, someone I do love, and I don’t know if there’s any coming back from this.”

“So long as you’re still breathing and walking this earth,” she said. “You can come back from anything.”

“I don’t believe you,” he said, fact of the matter, crossing his arms.

“Don’t believe me all you want,” Saichi told him. “I’m right.”

“You are, are you?” he challenged. Because that’s just what he did, most reliably when he felt his back was against the wall. “You’re saying I could murder people and still come back from that?”

“Depends on your definition of coming back from that,” she responded without missing a beat. “You’d probably never gain the forgiveness of your victim’s families, probably not even the general public, but I used to work a little in the prison system, and I’ve met a few death row inmates who have managed to find faith or themselves or other kinds of inner peace at the ends of their lives. And that’s not something that excuses or erases what they’ve done, and they certainly deserve to be in prison for mistakes of that caliber, but inner peace is something I believe everyone deserves, no matter how many mistakes they’ve made. That’s a type of comeback, is it not?”

He didn’t have an answer for her, nor did she expect one.

“As it applies to your situation, I think it’s a much easier comeback and you have more than enough a capacity for it,” she said. “Even if this trial separation turns into a permanent one, that’s not a failure, Sae. That would just be the state of things. That wouldn’t make you any less deserving of inner peace or take away any of your inherent value.”

For lack of anything else to say, Sae just scoffed. How did she always manage to flip even the points he was surest of right on their heads?

“But, considering you’re both still here and committed to the process,” she said. “I wouldn’t say any of us can tell what the future holds.”

Sae didn’t often think that Saichi lied to him, not openly or deliberately anyways, but he doubted those words of hers. He was not a gambler, never really had been. He loved sure things, definite outcomes. But he would have bet a substantial amount of anything, money, fame, his own soul maybe, that she had an idea of how all of this would end.

He wished that he could ask her and get an honest answer.

She smiled and looked down at his notebook. “Shall we?”

“I guess we’d better,” he said, flipping it open to the page he’d last used.

He couldn’t focus his eyes on the words. Not yet. They were bound to make him sick. They had when they were just thoughts, worse when they were being written, and worse of all when he read them back for the first time. There was so much ugliness in this journal, so much shame. He’d have to burn the damn thing in three more weeks when this whole thing was done. If anyone got their hands on it, they could skin him alive from anywhere in the world.

“I used to think…” he started, before trailing off. The nausea ripped through him. Getting through this sentence suddenly felt the most unbearable thing he’d ever faced. “That Ryusei faked his injury symptoms just to annoy me.”

“Well, that’s certainly not a pleasant thought,” Saichi said. “But the goal here is to focus more on words and actions-”

“Oh, I accused him of it,” Sae admitted, looking right at her when he did, because at least it got his eyes off of his notebook. “Right to his face.”

“I see,” she said. Sae was definitely surer that he felt the condescension, or at least some judgement, coming off of her then. But he didn’t call her on it, because he more than deserved it. She clasped her hands in her lap. “Why don’t you tell me more about that?”

Which time? Sae was tempted to ask. Because he didn’t remember the beginning and hardly remembered the end. He knew that there had been one, though. Both. A beginning and an end. Because he hadn’t thought that right away, and he eventually stopped thinking it. But he just couldn’t distinguish either from all of the fucked up shit in between.

There had been the time they’d gone grocery shopping. He was going to go on his own, but Ryusei had begged to tag along. He’d spent all fucking day on the couch watching bad reality TV, so Sae thought it was safe enough, and he’d might as well get some fresh air. Oh, how wrong he’d been. They’d barely made it through half the list before Ryusei was clutching shelves as well as Sae’s arm to get through the aisles. Sae, who had been carrying the basket, had been pissed.

“You’re going to knock me right over, you idiot!” Sae hissed. “Would you stop?”

“I’m going to throw up,” Ryusei said back. He didn’t see the scowl Sae threw his way. “No, seriously, I’m going to throw up.”

Sae remembered how he’d considered shaking him off. He hadn’t, which was barely a point for him considering what he’d done instead was throw venom in the form of:

“Really convenient that you can watch TV all day and then the second we do something actually productive, you fall apart.”

The blow had struck exactly how his more spiteful self had intended.

“I can’t control it, Sae.”

Sae remembered how soft and small his voice had sounded. Even so, he hadn’t believed him. He remembered that too. But he was so frustrated and annoyed and embarrassed that he just dropped the basket in the middle of the aisle and dragged Ryusei out of the store. He didn’t throw up. Halfway through the drive home, he started feeling better. Sae then ordered dinner for himself, only himself, and ate it in the bathroom. Whether due to exhaustion, sensing of Sae’s unwelcoming, or some other third thing, he found Ryusei passed out on the couch when he finally emerged and Sae didn’t wake him before he put himself to bed.

And the worst part of all of that? None of it even stuck out compared to the day before or the day after. That’s just how they lived back then.

He threw out a few more similar examples, at his own expense, to further drive the point of his atrociousness home. The fight that lasted the entire day about the weird smell Ryusei swore was causing a migraine that Sae never found and had eventually miraculously gone away on its own. The time Sae had swallowed his own feelings and put in effort to make them anniversary plans that they never even made it to because Ryusei couldn’t make it through the car ride. Saichi just watched him, nodding, her face telling no tales.

“So?” Sae demanded, once he was sufficiently refilled of his own self hatred. “Do you hate me yet?”

“Hardly,” she said, flicking a wrist with the minimal amount of effort. “What that sounds to me, which is an issue we’ve gone over already, is about trust. It sounds to me like you didn’t trust Ryusei.”

“I don’t,” Sae said, horrifying himself with his instinctual present tense. “Or I didn’t. Not about that, back then, anyways.”

Too late. She’d caught his Freudian slip.

“Tell me,” she said. “When do you think that started?”

Sae thought that over, but no concrete answer came to him. His silence was long enough to make that obvious.

“Did you trust Ryusei when you married him?” she asked.

“Yes,” Sae said.

That answer was much more simple, which kind of complicated everything else.

When had the mistrust begun? Sae had never been more sure of anything when they’d first gotten married. He was so in love and so sure that this person was the person, and there wasn’t a thing he could imagine that would change that. But it had changed, apparently. And it had been something worlds more mundane than the injury. He knew that for sure, because that hadn’t been when it had started.

Things had gotten fucked up when they started doing long distance. That, Sae could admit, but he didn’t really know exactly when or how or why. Things had changed between them, and he had felt Ryusei slipping away from him. Changing. Becoming someone he didn’t recognize. Not in a way he could identify or put into words, just in a way he could sense. He didn’t think that way about it then, though. He forgave and excused and shrugged off so much of it because of the distance. Of course we’re changing when we’re away from each other. We’re now just slivers of each others lives rather than massive happenings in them. Whatever. It happens. We’ll just focus on ourselves for now. It’ll work itself out when we get back to each other. He believed that wholeheartedly. They’d eventually take a contract together, or maybe even a whole year off, and they’d get everything back on track and it would all work itself out.

It's just that Ryusei injuring himself was not what Sae had pictured when it came to how they’d find their way back to each other. By then, something was already off. Because Davidi had been tasked with calling him with the news, and he’d barely been paying attention. He couldn’t remember what he’d been in the middle of that he had the phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder, but it hadn’t been worth stopping, apparently. He just remembered not thinking it sounded that bad.

“Okay, so he has a concussion,” Sae said. “So what?”

“Well,” Davidi said, pausing to compose himself. “It’s more complicated than that. It was a major hit. They don’t know how much damage he suffered or what the effects might be. They say he might go into critical condition.”

“Critical condition?” Sae asked, still barely giving this conversation the barest amount of attention. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Davidi paused again, and then let out an exasperated breath. “It means have a heart and get on a plane, Sae!”

Sae stopped what he’d been doing then and took the phone in his hand. It was unlike Davidi to speak to him like that.

“Your flight’s tonight,” Davidi said, his tone returning to some semblance of normal. “I’ll send you the itinerary and talk to your coaches. Just pack. Everything.”

“Everything?”

“I don’t know when you’ll be going back.”

That was the note they hung up on, and it had left Sae feeling shaken, empty, and confused.

The panic eventually did hit. When he was packing up his entire life that had found its way into his hotel room, when he was on the way to the airport, when he was waiting to board, when he was sitting in his first class seat, thinking about the term critical condition. He’d made the unfortunate mistake of looking it up before he got into the air. A serious medical condition in which an individual displays abnormal or unstable vital signs and typically requires short term life support.

Translation: your husband might fucking die, Sae.

And yeah, having it put that way, that did it.

But even that waxed and waned. They were far away from each other at that point. Sae had had every opportunity to spin all the way around the emotion wheel multiple times without ever even knowing what it was during that flight. It had left him exhausted. When he got to the airport on the other side, a car picked him up and it had been his choice to go right to the hospital instead of stopping at the hotel. He remembered that much.

Although, he also remembered getting to the hospital front desk, being escorted to the room instead of just directed, and standing in the doorway of the hospital room. It was being kept dimly lit, for obvious enough reasons. Ryusei wasn’t awake, though. He was slack in the bed, hair all over the pillow, covered in little wires that connected to a screen of his vital signs. Sae did not know if they were abnormal or unstable. Nobody had said critical condition though, and he didn’t have the words to ask. He just looked on at what lay on the other side of the doorway.

And Sae’s first thought wasn’t panic. It was: well, fuck. There’s no getting out now. This guy is going to be my problem for the rest of my life.

He hadn’t thought it voluntarily. He hadn’t thought so anyways. Because as soon as that thought had finished, he became horrified with himself. As he took in more of the scene, he caught sight of the ring on Ryusei’s left hand and his thumb found the matching one that sat on his own finger. And he began to reprimand himself. Yeah, Sae, you fucking idiot. He is. He already was. That was the fucking promise you made.

It was only in that moment that Sae realized how fucked up things had gotten between them.

“But I don’t know when I stopped trusting him,” Sae told Saichi. “I just know that I did.”

“Well, sometimes issues in relationships happen by a thousand cuts rather than a single fatal wound,” she told him, like the answer didn’t really matter all that much. “We can always continue to look over that. For now, let’s keep on discussing last week’s activity.”

Sae raised an eyebrow at her. “You haven’t heard enough yet?”

“I can see that you’ve written more,” she corrected with a smile. “So I feel like you might have more to say.”

It didn’t feel that way. Sae actually felt like he could have said less. But this was the nature of the activity. The whole trial separation. And he could do hard things, damn it. If nothing else, he could see this thing through. He’d done a lot of falling short. He didn’t need to do that when he could otherwise prevent it.

But he didn’t have that much left in him before failure, so he decided to skip right to the worst to make it his last.

“During our last big fight before we came to see you.” Sae had the urge to squeeze his eyes shut, like he was going back to the rules of childhood, and if he couldn’t see the consequences of this admission, they could not hurt him. Which was stupid, because it was excruciating, even to carry around with him. “I told Ryusei I had better things to do with my life than to bury him.”

“I remember this fight,” she said.

He believed her. It had come up a few times when they were seeing Saichi together. It had been their absolute rock bottom. It was Ryusei’s ultimate failsafe. Well, yeah, that’s bad, but Sae once told me that he had better things to do with his life than to plan my funeral! Isn’t that special? Love of my fucking life right there! It was a constant challenge that Sae was being tasked to defend himself against and one that he never could.

It was a fucking awful thing to say. Sae knew it. He knew it sitting in Saichi’s office during his third solo session and he had known it when the words were coming out of his mouth. But the thing was that he hadn’t meant it that way.

The thing about Sae was that he was emotionally inept, but he wasn’t an idiot. He could see how some things connected to others. He didn’t believe Ryusei’s injury was that bad, and he’d been open about it. But he eventually came around. He hadn’t retaken his contract. He was trying to have a heart. He went to physiotherapy sessions and went to appointments with the neurologist. He’d seen scans of Ryusei’s brain next to a normal one and eventually came around.

Thing was, the damage was already done. And his best efforts to turn things around were being thrown back in his face. Can you do that by yourself? Can you afford that? Should I just pay someone to do that instead? Can you handle it? Those were him trying. The questions had good intentions behind them. Ryusei didn’t see it that way, and Sae could hardly blame him for how he snapped back. Yes, I can do it by myself. I’m not some fucking invalid. I do still work, oh beloved soccer prodigy. I’m not fucking useless.

They were at each other’s throats more often than not and it felt like they were nosediving towards some fiery end and he didn’t know how to recover the trajectory or if there was even hope for doing so.

Another more unfortunate consequence of this whole pattern of speaking to each other and treating each other was that Ryusei went into overdrive trying to prove that he wasn’t useless. Or something along those lines. He was always pushing himself and he was falling apart just as often. He was working a lot and then spending days in the dark, Sae periodically and spitefully making the cloth for his head colder. He was going out a lot and coming home with missing parts.

He wasn’t making recovery progress anymore.

The neurologist was confused. He pointed out how things had been going well, but he couldn’t understand how the progress had stopped so long as Ryusei was following his recovery plan. Sae glared at him. Ryusei wouldn’t look back at him. Instead, he just shrugged, and said he was following the plan to the letter, he didn’t know what was going on, honest! Maybe his brain was scrambled more than they thought. Ah well, ah well.

He lied straight to the healthcare professional’s face and out of solidarity to whatever version of his husband he was now stuck with, Sae hadn’t said anything. But to say that he had been pissed was the understatement of the year.

And then the neurologist called him a couple days after that meeting. He’d never done that before, and Sae did not imagine it meant anything good.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Sae,” the neurologist opened with, which only solidified his suspicions. Sae moved into the bathroom and turned the shower on to drown out the noise. “I’ll make it quick.”

“No bother at all,” Sae said. “What is it?”

“I’m concerned about Ryusei’s recovery pattern,” he said. “It’s a very abnormal trajectory.”

And Sae had had more than enough at that point.

“Yeah, well, that’s because he lied,” Sae said. “He doesn’t follow the recovery plan at all.”

“I figured as much.”

“Could have said something when he was lying to your face in his office,” Sae shot back. “But whatever.”

“Well, and I don’t mean to speak ill of him.” There was a pause on the other line, and Sae was tempted to say go ahead. Badmouth him all you want. I’ll fucking join you. But he didn’t. He just waited for the pause to end. “But Ryusei is a difficult patient.”

“He’s a difficult fucking person,” Sae snapped back.

“I know, I know.” And it did somewhat seem like he was being consoled. But Sae neither needed nor deserved the consoling. “It’s just that I worry about his recovery. It’s not that he runs the risk of never getting better, it’s that his condition might actually worsen if he keeps up whatever he’s doing.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Sae said. He hadn’t meant to sound so spiteful, but he had so much spite and so few places where he could put it.

“Maybe even fatal,” the neurologist said. It did sound like it pained him to say it. “I was thinking that maybe you could talk to him.”  

Me talk to him? Are you fucking kidding me? I’m the fucking problem! Sae was tempted to shout.

But that wasn’t this guy’s problem.

“Yeah,” Sae said. “Sure. I’ll try.”

“I appreciate it,” he heard back. “I’ll see you guys next time.”

Sae hung up the phone, but he did not go talk to Ryusei. Instead, he put his phone on the counter and took a seat next to the tub, listening to the running water in the shower until he felt himself go numb. He didn’t even realize he was crying until his eyes were significantly swollen and the entire front of him was soaked.

He wasn’t just going to push his husband away and lose him. He was going to kill him too.

It did eventually come to a head during their next run of the mill fight. Ryusei had agreed to another photoshoot that involved little more than standing and flashing lights but went on much longer than he and his deteriorating brain could handle. He came home a mess, stumbling in in the way that he did, heading towards the bedroom and asking Sae to bring him a cold towel.

“No,” Sae said, for what must have been the first time in a long while. “You do this shit to yourself. Get it yourself.”

“What the fuck crawled up your ass?” Ryusei said, stopping in his tracks. . And it kind of sounded like he was joking, or being playful about it. He may have been, but Sae couldn’t remember.

“Maybe I’m just fucking sick of you,” Sae said. He finished the thought there, but knew he’d gone too far, even then. “Doing this stupid shit day in and day out.”

“Stupid shit?” Ryusei said. “I’m not doing anything. I’m just doing my share. Paying my half, and all that.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sae was not a yeller. Never really had been. He could cut to the bone at normal tone just fine. But he was so exasperated, so exhausted, so done. “Is that what you’re fucking killing yourself over?”

He reached into his pocket then, pulled out his wallet, and out of that, the small stack of credit cards that sat there. He threw them at Ryusei, across the few feet that sat between them. They hit his chest and fell to the floor.

“I have more fucking money than I know what to do with!” Sae continued yelling. “If this is all about money, just fucking take it!”

“Well isn’t that convenient for you?” Ryusei, on the other hand, had always been a yeller. Not consistently or anything, but when he wanted, he could fill a room with noise better than anyone. “I don’t need your fucking money, Sae. And I don’t need you either.”

“Yes. You. Do.”

And there it was. The cut deep coldness.

“No. I. Don’t,” Ryusei said, matching his tone. “I bet you like to think I do, though. You’re so fucking desperate to be better than everyone, including me, aren’t you?”

“No!” Sae said, once again rendered exasperated.

Because he wasn’t? He liked it, sure, but it wasn’t a need. And it didn’t precede his desire for a living husband with whom he still had a chance to fix things with, either.

“Liar,” Ryusei said.

Because Sae wasn’t the only one who’d lost trust at this point, apparently.

“Your neurologist called me,” Sae said, hurling it like an insult.

“You guys are talking behind my back now?” Ryusei said back.

“Get back on your plan and start taking care of yourself,” Sae warned. “Or else.”

“Or else?” Ryusei laughed, and Sae was horrified with how ugly it sounded in that moment. “Fuck off, Sae. Or else what?”

And that’s the moment when he covered everything in gasoline and lit the match.

“Or else I’m fucking done with you,” Sae said. “I have better things to do with my life than to bury my husband.”

He turned on his heels then, walking right out the front door, slamming it with such a force that it shocked him it didn’t fall right off its hinges. He walked down the hall and into the elevator and into the building lobby and then just kept going. He put himself up in a hotel in the city that still had one of his cards on file and ordered himself room service and drank from the mini bar, all the while knowing he’d left Ryusei to burn in the carnage he’d left.

Oh, how deeply he understood why they said that the road to hell was paved with good intentions.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he told Saichi, closing his notebook shut. That was quite enough of a stroll down memory lane. “I should have gone about it better.”

“What do you wish you had said instead?” she asked him.

“I wish I would have told him that I love him and care about him,” Sae said. “And that I wanted him to take care of himself because I wanted us to have more time together. Or something like that. I don’t fucking know.”

“It sounds like you do know,” Saichi said. “You’re very self aware, Sae.”

“Very aware that I’m an asshole,” Sae said. “Yeah.”

“I still don’t think you’re an asshole,” she said. “Like I said last week, I think you’re a work in progress. And I think you’re quite smart too.”

Sae did not feel deserving of the praise and didn’t really know what to say, so he said nothing.

“Let me ask you this,” she said, pivoting. “How much of what you just told me can we change?”

Sae fought the urge to roll his eyes as he said, “None of it.”

“Exactly,” she said, patting her leg once. “We can’t change the past nor can we undo any of our mistakes. All we can do with them is recognize them as such. Which is a skill I think you excel at.”

“Jeez, thanks,” he said. Sarcasm was not the best look, but he was exhausted from all of that all over again.

“But recognizing mistakes means little if we can’t learn from them,” she said. “Which is what we’re focusing on this week.”

“Hooray,” Sae said. It must have come across as genuine enthusiasm, because she smiled at him, and it seemed encouraging.

“Now, the past is an important tool in this activity, but it’s not the main focus,” she explained. “We have looked at past mistakes last week, and this week, I want you to make a list of ways you want to be a better partner moving forward.”

Sae nodded. He still didn’t have the energy to say much, but he understood the assignment. He wanted to be a better partner. There was so much that he wanted to do less and more of.

“Sae, I have every faith that you’re going to do tremendously well in this activity,” she said. “But even so, I would like to give you some further guidance.”

He just kept looking at her, leaving space for her to continue. Whatever she had to give, he would take. He would take whatever he could get at this point.

“In this activity, I want you to keep your items realistic,” she said. “I have many people who come in the week after this activity with things like I want to take my partner on a date every day, but in reality, that’s just not feasible. Life happens, and we are people as well as partners. Make sure to keep your items manageable.”

“Sure,” Sae said.

“And it’s also important to keep them specific,” she said. “I just as often get people saying things such as I want to be a better partner or even I want to help around the house more. What does this mean? It could be anything! How do you know how to reach a goal if you can’t define it?”

Sae knew this too. They taught this in sports. Everyone wanted to be a better player or the best, himself included, before they grew out of it. After a time, you learned how to improve based on statistics and skills. Measurable things. This was just the same thing.

“Got it,” Sae said.

He understood what she’d meant, but put to practice, Sae was having a lot of trouble. He was sitting in his guest room at Rin’s, notebook open on his lap, homework on the mind, but he kept running into the two problems he was trying to avoid. I want to say fewer dickish things. That wasn’t specific. I never want to say anything cruel ever again. That just wasn’t realistic. I don’t want to throw credit cards at my husband to prove a point. That one was alright, but considering it was the first out of ten that he hadn’t crossed out, it wasn’t exactly a flex.

After getting sufficiently annoyed with himself, he closed the notebook, set it aside, and traded it for his phone. The tabloid rumors had been more or less put to rest, so his phone felt less of a warzone, and what’s more was the reason behind shutting them down had become a bit of a safe haven for him.

That picture of Ryusei was fucking ridiculous. It was definitely something that Sae would have gotten him to take down if they were just married and working and their images were one of the biggest worries they had between them. But things being as they were, Sae kind of liked it. It reminded him of how things had once been. It made him feel like they might still have a fighting chance.

everyone writing these articles needs to get off my dick!! I already got someone for that, and he’s the best in the game <333

Maybe Ryusei didn’t hate him as much as he’d convinced himself he did or otherwise should over these past few weeks.

He’d liked the photo. Mostly because he knew it would look good publicly if they liked each other’s stuff. Him not liking it would cause its own fuss. As he never used his own social media, commenting or posting something of his own would be overkill and suspicious. Not to mention the start of a conversation, which was a breach of the rules. Liking it looked good. Liking it was good.

It was also his own way of saying I see you, I’m still here.  

The picture itself, the ridiculousness of it, the wedding picture, the wedding ring, not the mention the rest of him within the photo (and sure, Sae would readily admit he wouldn’t have been pissed to have received a second private photo minus the wedding picture blockage, but whatever), seeing the heart beneath it filled in like his own was when he looked at it, was a safe haven to which he could return and anchor himself to something that felt a lot like hope.

He felt like he could look at that photo for hours and never get bored.

“If you’re sitting there gawking at that picture of your ex with that stupid fucking look on your face,” Sae suddenly heard. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

He was already locked and loaded to protest in the same way he had been the past three weeks. He’s not my ex. We’re still married. Only with more ferocity. But then he looked up and actually saw Rin standing there. Sae wasn’t sure what the fuck was going on with his brother, and was in too decent of a mood to really care, but it was clear that it wasn’t nothing.

“Uh.” Sae raised an eyebrow at him. “Hi?”

“I’m serious,” Rin said.

For no reason other than perhaps to spite him, Sae turned his phone around, the screen displaying the weather app.

“I saw you switch the screen,” Rin said.

“Prove it,” Sae said.

Rin was looking at him like he genuinely wanted to kill him. But Sae didn’t really care. He had issues with his own anger, but he’d never really felt any type of way about anyone else’s, least of all his twenty four year old kid brother who had just reprimanded him for having a temper tantrum the previous week.

Sae rolled his eyes. “Someone’s in a mood.”

“Fuck you,” Rin said. “And would you wash your fucking dishes?”

That question required no answer, apparently, because Rin finished it and stepped back out of Sae’s doorway. Sae rolled his eyes again, listened to see if he would come back, and went back to the picture. It reset everything that Rin had (barely) managed to dislodge with his foul mood.

Sae tried to go back to therapy homework and had no further success. He did a little yoga and a few laps around the room and was in no better position. He went downstairs with the journal tucked under his arm, ditching it on the table to wash his fucking dishes, and then tidied up the rest of the kitchen a bit too, if only to avoid going back to the journal. Once the kitchen was spotless and he had nothing left to fill his time, he realized how quiet it was. No sign of Rin and no sign of Meguru either.

Which was weird, but not that weird. He figured they’d just gone out. Sae didn’t even hang out with them that much, but the amount of times that he’d heard Meguru yell surprise date, Rin-chan! was pretty alarming. He thought nothing of it and picked his journal back up.

He got the idea to take it out onto the patio. It was past sunset and dark out, but the patio was somewhat lit, and Sae figured that the dim lighting might be something effective to hide behind just like the occasional pre homework glass of wine was. He slid the door open, stepped onto the patio, and closed it behind him. He pulled out a chair for himself and tossed the journal down on the table with a smack.

“Hi, Sae-chan,” he heard from the dark.

Which scared the ever loving shit out of him.

“What the fuck are you doing out here?” Sae hissed at Meguru, who was curled up on one of the patio chairs that sat by itself in the darkest corner of the patio. There was no mention about how this was his house, his patio, and he had every right to be out here. It was just reactionary. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” Meguru said. “I thought you saw me.”

Sae didn’t say anything else while he caught his breath. He did reconsider sitting down, however. He’d come out here to get a clear head and be alone, not for an impromptu hangout with the brother in law he never really quite understood. But he knew that was a dick move, and maybe this was good practice. Fewer dick moves. To everyone.

That’s not specific, Sae.

Can it, mind Saichi.

Sae took the seat he’d pulled out.

Meguru glanced down at the journal on the table. “Homework?”

“Yeah,” Sae answered.

“Mmm,” Meguru said. Acknowledgement, nothing more.

Yeah, this was going to be awkward. Sae didn’t get Meguru, and that was hardly a one way street. Not that he’d been particularly welcoming or friendly or easy to get.

“Where’s Rin?” Sae asked.

Meguru shrugged. “Are you looking for him?”

Sae shook his head. Meguru nodded, accepting the answer. Neither of them said anything else. Which was weird in a different way than he thought it would be. Rin’s husband was typically a lot more intolerant of silences than this, and it left Sae being the one scrambling the fill the ever lengthening stretches. 

“I’m supposed to come up with a list of ways I want to be a better partner,” Sae told him.

“Ah,” Meguru said, as if thinking that over.

“I’m having trouble with it,” Sae offered.

“Oh,” Meguru said.

Sae was fucking drowning out here. He was throwing lifeline after lifeline and this kid was just not catching on. Or, was he a kid? He was pretty sure they were the same age, actually. Or nearly. He was older than Rin, right? Not that it mattered. Sae was then left wondering if he’d spent every interaction being so wildly unpleasant that Meguru was actually scared of him.

“Maybe you could help me,” Sae said. Because who didn’t like being asked for help. But he swore he saw Meguru flinch. “Or maybe not. Do you and Rin ever even fight? Kind of seems like-”

Sae cut himself off, because in the deer in headlights look he was getting, the answer came to him in the split second before Meguru even said it.

“We’re fighting right now,” he said.

“Oh, shit.”

Not his best, sure, but Sae wasn’t particularly skilled when it came to emotions nor comfort, and he was trying, was he not?

“About what?” he tried again.

“It doesn’t matter,” Meguru said, looking away from him and out into the night. “It’ll pass. It always does.”

“Seems nice,” Sae couldn’t help but comment. “Our fights just blend into each other. It feels like it’s all we ever do.”

Sae then caught himself, wondering if he was stepping into dangerous territory. He shouldn’t be opening up to him like this. He and Meguru weren’t friends. More importantly, Meguru and Ryusei were friends. There were dynamics at play here that Sae had absolutely zero capacity nor willingness to unravel.

“How do they end?” Meguru asked after some time.

“End?”

“Yeah,” he said. “How do you resolve them?”

“We don’t.”

“Oh.”

Sae couldn’t tell if it was judgement or if it just felt that way.

“I guess that’s why we’re in therapy,” Sae said, because once again he found himself needing to say something to fill the silence that seemed hell bent on eating him alive.

“It feels wrong to talk badly about your brother to you, Sae-chan,” Meguru said after another long while.

It surprised Sae to hear that string of words, in that order, coming out of his mouth. It was a little ridiculous to him, actually. Because when it came to Rin, well, it was obvious, to Sae anyways, that he was Meguru’s husband far more than he was Sae’s brother. And even if the opposite was true, what did he care if anyone spoke badly about him?

Maybe he should care, he then realized.

“But,” Meguru said, slowly, carefully. “Our fights aren’t usually my fault.”

Sae might have let himself crack a smile if the moment wasn’t so dark and tense.

“Somehow, that doesn’t shock me,” Sae said.

“I don’t know what gets into him sometimes,” Meguru said, and this was when Sae realized the floodgates had opened. “But he can get into these moods and say these things that are just so cruel. Like, not I can’t believe you just said that cruel, I’m talking, I can’t believe you just said that and you’re looking at me like you mean it instead of being horrified by yourself cruel.”

Sae felt a pang of nausea forming itself inside of him not quite unlike the one he felt during therapy. Because Rin, the Rin that had once been Sae’s brother anyways, had not been cruel. He’d been many things. Annoying, constantly around, irritatingly good at winning popsicle games, but never cruel. That had been Sae’s domain. It did sicken him in that moment to think he might have been the one who had taught him cruelty, or at the very least awakened it in him.

There was more blood on his hands than he even realized.

“And I know he doesn’t mean it,” Meguru said next. “Deep down, I really, truly know that in my soul. And we do move past it. It’s not all the time. Not even close. He’s gotten a lot better. But I’m not used to it. I don’t really think I ever will be.”

That struck at Sae in a way that was both different and the same.

“And that’s not saying I don’t love him.” Sae heard the shift in Meguru’s voice then. The way he was going on the defensive. He was taking Sae’s silence for judgement. The same way he had been. “I do. I love him more than anything in the whole world. Always will. It’s just-”

“Is that enough?” Sae asked, cutting him off.

“What do you mean?”

“Knowing he doesn’t mean it,” Sae clarified. “Is that enough?”

Meguru’s eyes found Sae again, wide, and a little shaken.

“God, no,” he said. “I mean, it helps, sure. But if we counted on me just knowing that, I don’t know how long I would have lasted. I’ll give credit where credit is due, whenever this happens, he always, always, apologizes. And that goes a long way.”

Sae didn’t know what to feel about that. He might have brought out the emotion wheel, if he hadn’t promised Rin not to show it to Meguru.

“He doesn’t like to talk things out right away,” Meguru went on. “It used to drive me insane. I always just wanted to finish things and get back to normal as soon as possible, you know? But he’s not like that. It took a while for us to, like, learn to understand each other. I know I made things worse for a while. I’m a lot. It’s not like I don’t know it. But now, I give him space, and eventually, he’ll apologize. And then we just move on.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Sae found himself saying.

Was there an edge of bitterness to it? Probably. But he was a work in progress.

“Apologizing and forgiveness are things that take practice,” Meguru said, shrugging. “But I think they’re important to get good at if you want a marriage to work.”

Sae got the strangest feeling, like he was talking to Saichi in another body. Or maybe he’d just found another person who had something that he realized he had no fucking clue about all figured out.

Meguru smiled a bit. “Speak of the devil.”

And before either of them said anything else, they were interrupted by the sound of the patio door sliding open.

“Meguru, you out here?” Rin said. Meguru twisted around in his chair, looking over his shoulder. Sae did not, and suddenly felt like he was interrupting an intimate moment, even if he was here first. Or second. Or whatever. “Oh, uh, hi, both of you.”

“Are you ready to be friends again?” Meguru asked Rin.

Sae was just taking blow after blow out here in the dark, because fuck, did that ever strike him in a way he never thought possible. Are you ready to be friends again? Ryusei was his husband, sure, or his partner, or whatever, but was he his friend? Had they ever been friends? Did they even know how to be? It suddenly felt very important in that moment, and he felt small in light of it.

“Can you come inside please?” Rin asked.

Meguru looked over at Sae quickly and then back at Rin. “I’m good where I’m at.”

“Do you seriously want me to…” Rin started. He did not finish the sentence and Sae had no idea what he might have even put there. Meguru and his grin did, though. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Fine.”

Sae wasn’t sure why, but he felt a strong desire to jump off the balcony.

“Meguru, I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier,” Rin said.

And it dawned on Sae. This was kind of condescending, but also kind of decent of them?

How do you resolve your fights?

We don’t.

Oh, well why don’t we show you how it’s done!

“I didn’t mean it,” Rin went on. “I said it because I was pissed, but it wasn’t you I was pissed at. It had nothing to do with you at all.”

Sae could hear the discomfort in his voice, but it wasn’t overwhelming. It was just there. It was born out of the fact that some third party was sitting there, not from the situation himself. They were good at this. Well versed in the practice of apologies and forgiveness.

“I’m really trying to be better, and today I wasn’t,” Rin said. “I’m going to keep trying. You didn’t deserve that. You don’t deserve that. I love you more than anything, and I’d be lost without you.”

There was a pause. It hung in the air.

“I guess that was pretty good,” Meguru said from his chair. But it was light. Playful.

And Rin’s smile cracked. “Would you fucking come to bed already, then?”

“Hmm.” Meguru made a big show out of contemplating this. “Only if you carry me.”

“Are you kidding? I’m not wearing shoes.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

“You little brat,” Rin said, but it didn’t stop him from stepping onto the patio.

He traversed the small space and went over to Meguru’s patio chair, where he was waiting for him with open arms. He reached up towards him, and Rin scoffed as he leaned down towards him, but there was something childish about the whole thing. He was Meguru’s husband, sure, but Sae’s brother Rin still lived somewhere in there.

“How long have you been out here?” Rin scolded as he took him up in his arms. “You’re freezing.”

“I love when we fight,” Meguru said back, nuzzling his neck. “I’m going to warm my feet up on you, and you’re not going to be able to stop me.”

Rin made some noise of fake distaste. How quickly they could joke about it and just be done with the whole affair. Sae could hardly comprehend what he was seeing. This was the art of apologies and forgiveness hard at work.

“Night, asshole,” Rin said upon their departure. “Thanks for doing the dishes.”

Yeah, that was an Itoshi to Itoshi apology if he’d ever heard one. It was one that required no response.

“Night, Sae-chan.”

“Night,” Sae said, because he could manage that much thanks.

The two of them disappeared inside and closed the door behind them. Sae didn’t know what to do with himself as he sat there alone in the darkness. He just contemplated everything rapid fire, dots connecting to each other in his mind in complex, weaving paths, the same way he’d always been able to do with soccer plays and strategy. It was overwhelming, but it didn’t feel as nauseating as it had before.

He flipped the notebook open to the next blank page.

I want to apologize more.

He realized his mistake as soon as he finished the sentence, and quickly crossed it out, rewrote it, and finished with a single, intentional line beneath it to make his point.

I want to apologize every single time I say something fucked up, as soon as I’ve realized I’ve said something fucked up.

Chapter Text

Ryusei had not heard from Sae since he’d liked his photo the previous week. And while, yes, it was technically against the rules, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised. Maybe it was a little delusional, maybe a little too hopeful for their circumstances, but he’d kind of thought Sae would like the photo, let the tension and wanting foster a little, and then slide into his text message inbox with a message that began with I know we’re not supposed to be talking, but… and maybe it would even finish with Ryusei, I need to see you, and then they would meet up under the guise of “just talking”, but they wouldn’t be able to keep their hands off of each other and they’d fuck for the first time in – oh god, had it been almost a year already? – and they’d email Saichi and say thanks, you’ve been a gem, but we’re good now. Everything would go back to the way it was and things would be perfect until the rest of forever.

But maybe that was exactly the kind of thing Saichi was talking about.

In reality, Ryusei had heard from everyone but Sae. Which was fine. Everyone was still talking about them, but it was worlds better than when the divorce allegations were all anyone could talk about. Instead, they were talking about his risqué new picture and how it squashed the divorce allegations. His friends were quick to pat him on the back, either out of sincerity or pity, and his professional team was quick to tell him that he’d done well, but, you know, don’t overdo it.

Not that he really cared about any of that. None of it mattered. All he could feel was Sae’s absence.

He’d been trying to do his homework, but he struggled. Everything in his mind really was all jumbled up. He had bits and pieces of memories, but as soon as he even started to put fragments to paper, they escaped him, or they became something else entirely, or he’d realize, yes, that did happen, but we weren’t in Spain, not at all, we were walking along the coast in France when we’d had that fight, how could he have forgotten? Yes, he had said that, and Sae had said that, but those two things hadn’t existed in the same conversation. They’d been said six months apart from each other. Why had he thought one had been in response to the other?

Eventually, he scribbled over the entire journal page and simply written: all I think about is Sae and all Sae thinks about is himself, no wonder we’re fucked and slammed the thing closed.

He wasn’t very good with the past, but the future, he was comfortable with. It was all a blank slate. A canvas waiting to be painted over. Nothing to jumble up and misremember. Just him and his daydreams. And because he was a special boy, he knew what challenge was coming, so that’s where he decided to dedicate his time. They’d fucked up, both of them, in more ways than they could remember, but Ryusei could wash all of that away and decide how he wanted to move forward. He would be the star pupil. Preparing instead of reacting.

He wanted to think about himself a little more. Like anything Saichi ever handed him, it was good advice. He may not be able to remember it properly enough to trace one event to another in a nice, cohesive timeline, but he knew even in his day to day that he didn’t think much about himself or his own wants or his own needs. He could see it in the way he woke up whenever the hell he wanted, scrolled on his phone, checking his email and Sae’s socials obsessively, until he got the first whisper of a headache, and only then did he drag himself out of bed to undergo the most basic amount of self care. Which sometimes consisted of splashing water on his face, mouthwash, five jumping jacks in front of the mirror, and shoving his body into whatever clothes were clean and available.

“You didn’t used to be like this,” he scolded himself in the mirror.  

And as soon as those words were audible and out in the open, he realized in a very concrete way that it was true.

He stared himself down in the mirror, teetering on the line between distain and pity for who he saw staring back. He didn’t used to be like this. What did he used to be like? He closed his eyes, not needing the distraction as he tried to remember. He rewound the tape all the way back as far as he could remember, through his childhood and teenage years, before Sae and before anything had gone wrong. He only got pieces there too, but he didn’t try to make them cohesive. He just let the fragments come and fall away.

Ryusei used to be selfish. Thinking of absolutely nothing but himself to the point where nobody even broke into his awareness. People weren’t people to him, they were just NPCs, observers and objects of observation, aiders and hinderances, means to an end that got him, the star of the fucking universe, from point A to point B.

He used to be like Sae.

His eyes shot open and he was met with their pinkness in the mirror.

“Holy shit,” both Ryuseis said in unison.

That’s right. He fucking remembered.

He used to be like Sae. Ryusei had a few memories he’d never lost even bits of. The missed video date, that was one of them. Most of the first times he’d had with Sae, kissing, fucking, I love you. Thank God. But another one he’d never, ever lost was meeting him in person for the first time. He’d never forgotten, but he was seeing it in a new light.

He’d seen him before. Ryusei hadn’t been much into soccer as a fan more than a menace player, so he’d known of him in the barest amounts. And then they’d shown all the bluelockers his image on a massive screen before the U-20 match as if he was some big bad they were all going up against. Ryusei hadn’t thought much of him then. Hot shirtless guy, cool. He’d been surrounded by hot shirtless guys for weeks before that. One more was just that. Cool. But then he’d just moved on.

But when they’d met for the first time? Holy shit. Ryusei had felt it then, even if he hadn’t understood it. This is another person who’s just breezed through life as the main character and never wavered from it. He couldn’t exactly remember what Sae had even said, but the sentiment, he remembered: I want you as a means to an end to get what I want. And he’d just said it right to his face. He hadn’t dressed it up or pretended his motives were something they weren’t. Sae wanted him as a means to an end and Ryusei had still been selfish then because his first thought hadn’t been, woah, this guy is hot. Or anything even to do with Sae at all. His first thought had been this guy is like me.

And after that, he wanted him everywhere, every way, all the fucking time.

He remembered. Sae was the first person he’d ever let into his orbit. The first person he’d ever thought as being able to stand beside him. Not that he thought of everyone else as beneath him or himself so high above them, they were just irrelevant, black and white images moving in silence, and finally, he’d met someone who had effortlessly walked into his life in vibrant colour. Teal, maroon, and louder than his monotone and eternal stoneface let on.

And Sae had taught him even more selfishness. They had cultivated that trait together like two farmers working their crop. It wasn’t so much selfishness that Sae had been the master teacher of, but the precision with which he wielded it. Use this cream. It’ll fix the blotches on your face. If you’re going to wear eyeliner all the time, you could at least invest in a waterproof one. Are you seriously going to wear that with those? All of those were fragments, but it didn’t matter. Ryusei didn’t have to piece them together into a cohesive narrative. He just needed to put them in a row to look at the big picture. Sae had let him into his selfish little world too. He had been the first person that the prodigy had forced his ideals and sky high standards upon instead of just writing them off.

Was that not caring in his own way?

“You used to want to meet those standards,” he told himself. Ryusei couldn’t tell if the voice was informing him or patronizing him. “You used to want a place in Sae’s world.”

Those words struck. It wasn’t the ideal way to love, not even the usual way, but it was theirs, and he wanted it.

“I still do,” he defended to himself.

He could hear his own desperation.

It did feel like he had split in two. He wasn’t crazy. He knew that for sure. Pretty sure. But he did feel like the person he was on this side of the mirror and the person looking back at him were two entirely different people. The reflection him lay a hand on the counter, tilted his head, shifted his weight, and grinned.

“Are ya sure?” it sang back.

There was just one reflection. He knew that. He wasn’t losing it. But in it, he could see both of them. His old self, the one that was definitely patronizing him, with the new hair and the grin and the dickhead posture. The one who had flipped off and threatened that guy with the phone back in the city. The one who had taken the picture of himself with his framed wedding photo and posted it for all to see. But he could also see the him that he had become, the one who hadn’t styled his hair, the one who poked his eye with his eyeliner a few weeks ago and not tried since, the one who hadn’t washed his face in a couple days. The one who couldn’t make a decision to save his life. The one who was a breath away from getting onto his knees in Saichi’s office and begging her to tell him what to do, because he had no idea.

Pathetic.

He put both his hands on the counter and leaned into himself. “Hey! You listen to me. You are me. And I know me. So if I say something, I fucking mean it, especially when it comes to Sae. Got it?”

His own reflection widened his eyes and raised his eyebrows.

“Ooh, scary,” he said back.

He understood it for the victory it was. His mind started spinning and churning out thoughts.

“Shit, fuck,” Ryusei said, hitting his shoulder on the doorframe as he scrambled his way out of the bathroom, trying to get to his notebook before all of these thoughts were lost forever. “Fucking shit that hurt.”

But he managed. The notebook was right where he left it, the pen tucked into the page he’d last used. All I think about is Sae and all Sae thinks about is himself, no wonder we’re fucked still sat there on the page. He crossed it out with a single line. Shut up, you fucking idiot, he wrote underneath it. And after that, We’re fucked because I let Sae into my world and then pushed myself out.

And after that, And I started to resent him for being what he’d always been.

And after that, what I loved him for being…

And after that, And then I resented him for resenting me for being what I would have resented him for becoming too.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Ryusei said to himself. “I’m a fucking genius.”

He really had felt like he’d cracked a code. He felt the hum of electricity all over his body, his cells activating one by one, filling with an energy that he had no idea what to do with. He stepped back from the journal, fully convinced he’d absolutely nailed this assignment, and hopped on his feet a couple times. Normally, this was a one way street to headache city, but if one was coming on, he was entirely clueless.

“Okay, okay, okay, shit,” he went on, just to dispel some of the energy. He flipped open to a new page. He smacked his hands on his cheeks a couple of times. “Where the fuck do we go from here, big guy? How are we moving forward? How the hell are we getting out of here?”

I want to start being selfish again, he wrote.

“Okay,” he said, already knowing the reprimand he would get for it. Saichi mocked him in his own voice. ”But how Ryusei? That could mean anything.”

I want to start looking hot again, he wrote. And then underneath that, you know, clothes and makeup and that stupid skin cream and shit.

He laughed to himself. I want to start doing that screaming naked on the balcony thing again. That was fucking fun.

I want to start jerking off again, he wrote, disgusted with himself.

Not because he wrote it or because he knew he’d have to read it out to Saichi, which he would, knowing full well she’d either tell him to stop being naughty or applaud him for his healthy sexual outlook, but because, god, had it really been that long? When had that stopped? He groaned audibly. That was probably most of his problem right there. A good session would probably fix a decent amount of his entire life.

And finally, without really thinking about it, he wrote, I want to start breaking rules.

He stared down at it, shaking off the thoughts that had come with the last one and letting this wash over him. He had done an awful lot of that back in the day. And he’d liked it. When had that stopped, and why? Sae wasn’t a rulebreaker, really. He did whatever he wanted whenever he wished it, but he liked to do things precisely and properly, which meant that he just naturally kind of behaved for the most part. Ryusei, not so much. But Sae hadn’t been the one reprimanding him for any of that. He’d been the one still getting into bed beside him every night, rolling his eyes as he cleaned up his messes, scolding him half-heartedly while fighting off a smile.

He thought to himself, I am the chaotic safe space in which Itoshi Sae can lose himself in. So, what the fuck did anything else matter?

Ryusei continued riding that high for three whole days. All the way until it came time to leave the house to go to therapy. He wandered out a little bit before with the thought of getting a luxurious chef cooked meal from the Mikage kitchen, when he ran into the man of the house himself.

“Damn,” Reo called out, a long word, lower than his normal tone of voice. “Why are you walking like that?”

Ryusei stopped in the doorway. “Walking like what?”

Reo pushed his tablet out of the way and got off of his tool to demonstrate his point. His strut, if you could really call it that, was all hips and shoulders, the mockery of something Ryusei couldn’t even begin to imagine, and left him genuinely unsure whether or not he himself was being mocked.

When that failed to clear up his confusion, Reo laughed. “Like you just got laid.”

“Oh,” Ryusei said. At least that he understood. “Great fucking week. Major epiphany.”

“Good for you,” Reo said, sounding like he genuinely meant it. He took his stool again and raised his eyebrows. “Are we back on the divorce incoming train? I wouldn’t hate another excuse to celebrate.”

“Man,” Ryusei said, a scolding and denial both.

“I’m kidding,” Reo said. “Kind of.”

“You’re a terrible friend,” Ryusei said.

“I know,” Reo said, without missing a beat, laying the back of his hand on his forehead dramatically. “I could have given you two spas. A house to yourself even! I’m awful. I don’t know how I even look at myself in the mirror.”

“Probably like this,” Ryusei said, before mockingly kissing the air.

The blow didn’t land. Reo’s face was overtaken with a very knowing look.

“Okay, now I know you have Sae on the brain,” Reo said. “Because you sure as hell aren’t talking about me going all mwah mwah mwah in the mirror.”

“Touche,” Ryusei said with a shrug.

“So?” Reo asked. “Care to share?”

“No,” Ryusei said. “I don’t think so.”

“Alright,” Reo said, eternally unbothered. “Well, hope you aren’t breaking any rules.”

“Not yet,” Ryusei said, shrugging again smirking.

“That’s my guy,” Reo said, smiling back, offering his fist out to Ryusei, who hit his own into it. He was full of shit. They both were. Reo was a great friend. “And I know this goes without saying, but I’m here for you and whatever you need.”

“I appreciate that, man-“

“After the weekend,” Reo added on.

“What?” Ryusei said. He hadn’t particularly planned on calling on Reo or needing anything that could fall under the umbrella of his helpfulness, but it seemed an odd think to tack on.

“I’m going out of town this afternoon,” he said. “I’ll be back in a few days.”

“Okay,” Ryusei said, still unsure of where he was going with this.

“Sei has the weekend off,” Reo said. There it was. “And I don’t really have anything going on, plus I’m bored, so I pushed all my things back and I’m flying out there. Jet’s fuelling up as we speak.”

“Oh, sick,” Ryusei said. “Have fun.”

“You’re not mad, are you?” Reo asked.

“Mad?” Ryusei asked.

“About, you know, abandoning you in your time of need, or whatever?” Reo asked. “Or having a husband I’m allowed to see.”

“Unnecessary,” Ryusei said. Reo kind of shrugged, almost apologetic, and it didn’t really help, but as always, picturing the helpless little baby deer that he’d been over said husband that he’d been when Ryusei first met him helped quite a bit. “And no, I’m not mad. I’m an adult. Kind of. I get it. Life goes on, people are in love, and they need to get their dicks wet.”

“They really, really do,” Reo agreed.

“Gross,” Ryusei said.

“You said it,” Reo said. “And I thought you were an adult?”

“I said kind of,” Ryusei corrected. “And it’s not sex I have a problem with, it’s picturing your sex life.” He shuddered, a little for show, mostly genuine. “Like, seriously. Does he even like, move?”

Reo looked at him head on. “Do you genuinely want an honest answer to that question?”

“Nope,” Ryusei said, lifting his regret filled self from the table. “Anyways, gotta go absolutely win at therapy.”

“Because it was designed to be a competition,” Reo joked back.

“Isn’t couple’s counselling kind of a competition?” Ryusei asked.

“I’m going to let you ponder that one yourself,” Reo said. His answer was clear enough in it. No. “Either way, it’s good to see you feeling better.”

“It feels good too,” Ryusei said. And he believed that.

Reo swivelled his head either way before looking back at his friend. “Did you come in here for something? “Or did you just want to insult your incredibly generous friend before taking off?”

“I came in here to eat,” Ryusei said. “But your gross sex life made me lose my appetite, so I’ll grab something on my way home.”

“Ha-ha,” Reo called after him sarcastically as he headed towards the door. And Ryusei almost thought he was in the clear when he heard from behind him, “I’m the one who barely has to do anything!”

And Ryusei found himself caught between gross and good for you, Reo, before shedding himself of any thought of Reo at all and instead basking in the endless light that was his absolutely healed self, preparing to be endlessly praised by Saichi for all of his god-like insight and wisdom.

“Hi, sweet boy,” Saichi said, as they sat across from each other in her office. “Can I just say, you’re looking awfully dapper today. You even did your makeup. Is it too presumptuous to assume someone might be in a good mood?”

“I’m in a fucking killer mood,” he told Saichi. “Thank you for asking.”

She did not tell him to mind his language. She just beamed at him, like the proud parent he’d never been able to fathom, let along wanted for.

“Is there a reason behind this mood?” she asked.

“I just,” he started, but didn’t quite know how to word it. Everything he’d come to just felt like an unfathomable feeling, impossible to put into words. “I’m awesome.”

“I can’t disagree with you there,” she said. “What was it that made you feel this way?”

“Just, everything,” he said.

“Everything?” she asked. And suddenly, Ryusei sensed her tone drop off. She was still smiling, but warily, less so. “Care to elaborate on that?”

His hands found the arms of the chair and started clutching them without really thinking about what he was doing. Saichi’s eyes flickered behind her glasses. She definitely noticed. But Ryusei still felt like he was bracing himself for something, so he couldn’t bring himself to let go.

“I, uh,” Ryusei started, desperately trying to form some type of coherence. He’d felt amazing all day, for days now. He couldn’t bear to let this go. His thoughts had been moving a mile a minute for just as long. Yeah, he had scrambled eggs for brains, but surely he could come up with a few coherent thoughts. “I did my homework.”

“That’s excellent,” Saichi praised, and she sounded like she normally did. Was it possible that he’d imagined the deviation? “Would you care to discuss it?”

“Yeah,” Ryusei said, looking down at himself, only to find there was no bag at his feet. He’d forgotten it, and not realized until right this second. “I, uh, I forgot my journal.”

“I noticed,” Saichi said.

No. He hadn’t been imagining it at all.

“Well.” Ryusei laughed at his own expense. “Classic.”

Across the room, Saichi did not laugh.

“Forget my damn head if it wasn’t screwed on,” Ryusei tried again, tapping his temple. Again, she did not laugh.

“Ryusei,” Saichi said, his name coming slow. He felt his stomach drop. “Should I be worried about you?”

“Worried about me?” he asked.

The question took him off guard. Of course not. He’d forgotten his journal, but so what? He was doing better than he had in weeks. She’d commented on that. He’d gotten his hair done, he’d done his makeup, the outfit he was wearing was brand new. He was pretty sure anyways. He looked down to investigate, to prove it to himself.

His fly was down.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, reaching to fix it. How long had it been like that? But once fixed, it was over. Whatever, right? The outfit was still fire. “Guess everyone who saw me on my way here got a bit of a show. Lucky them, right?”

“Are you avoiding my question?” she asked him. Point blank.

“What question?” he asked. Because his shock over the question had wiped the question itself and everything else from his mind.

She just looked at him a second. So briefly, but long enough to sting. “Should I be worried about you?”

“No more than usual,” Ryusei said with a shrug.

“Ideally, I wouldn’t have to worry about you at all,” she said.

Hidden between the spaces in her words lie what she meant by it. Wrong answer.

“I don’t think you do,” he told her, trying to back pedal. “I mean, I forgot my journal and to do my fly up. Whatever. I can barely remember things as it is. That’s not going to change. You taught me that. Focus on the things we can control, right?”

“That’s true,” she said. And he was almost feeling triumphant about it, until, of course, she went on. “However, it begs the question. When coming to therapy, why was your focus dedicated towards your aesthetic more than your homework materials?”

“Well,” he started, but no answer came.

“What are you trying to tell me with this façade?” she asked.

“That I’m hot,” he said. “And that I’m still, you know, that guy.”

“What guy?” she asked.

“The one I was before,” he told her.

“But you’re not,” she said. “You’ve changed. We discussed this, right?”

“Well, yeah, but.” He was stammering now. How quickly he’d lost his footing. His glass castle of euphoria was coming crashing down around him. “Do you only want me to change for the worse? You’d rather me some ugly sad sack if I remembered to bring my journal?”

He hadn’t meant to get so defensive, but there the words were, flung like weapons.

Not that they landed. They never did.

“Not at all,” Saichi told him. “I would have preferred you show up with your journal, however it is that you looked alongside it, because that would have told me that you’re taking what we’re doing seriously enough to allow it the attention that I know you do have. I applaud your change, and I do genuinely prefer when it’s for the better. But I also prefer when it’s for the sustainable. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“No,” Ryusei said. Because that was a whole lot of words. Way too many for his scrambled eggs brain, especially when he suspected that he’d just been delivered a most devastating blow.

“You look wonderful,” she told him. Which he wanted to believe was genuinely kind hearted, but knew it was just the beginning of a back handed compliment. “And I really am thrilled to know you’re feeling better. But let me ask you, is this just a good day?”

“No,” Ryusei said, throwing all caution to the wind. “I’ve had an incredible few days. Like, seriously. I feel like there have been all these explosions in my mind, like constantly, just psh, psh, psh.”

Ryusei lifted his hand to either side of his head, opening and closing his hands to illustrate. Saichi did nothing but watch him and nod.

“They’re making me super fucking smart,” he said. “I’m not even kidding. They’re, like, clearing out my head and leaving major insights.”

“Like what?” she asked.

He hesitated. Where the hell were they? He’d had them, he knew that much. But he’d felt them more than he’d realized them. He’d written them down, he realized. He should have brought the damn journal.

“I’m actually kind of awesome,” he eventually landed on. “Smart too.”

Saichi didn’t even crack a smile. Ryusei became desperate, clawing at the inside of his own mind.

“Oh, shit! I remember,” he said. “I have to start taking care of myself.”

“That’s not new,” she said. “We’ve discussed this previously.”

“I-“ Was that true? Ryusei tried to sift through. Eventually, he gave up. He sighed. “I got nothing, okay? Can we just stop the run around and get to whatever point you’re trying to make?”

Saichi did smile then. “Of course.”

Ryusei watched her as she contemplated, organizing her words into bite sized pieces, just for him.

“I can see that you’ve put a tremendous amount of effort in today, and probably for the past two days, and I want you to know how genuinely happy that makes me,” she began.

Uh oh. Ryusei recoiled. It was never good when she started talking to him like he was a child. Which was usually warranted, but it only ever meant she was laying out a cushion onto which he could fall when she shoved him over the cliffside.

“But, tell me,” she went on. “When you come down from this high you’re on, tomorrow, or next week, or whenever, and you have a bad day, will the clothes and the makeup and the hair be enough to pull you out of it, or will they only serve as a method to mask the problem?”

“Well, that won’t happen,” Ryusei said, without really thinking about it.

“Why not?” she asked. And he almost answered, but he caught the stupidity of his words just before, and closed his mouth back up. Saichi gave him another smile, but this one was sympathetic, and a little sad. “Because you’re healed now?”

Ryusei couldn’t meet her eye.

“That’s not how this works, sweet boy,” she told him. “And I’m not upset about you working on your self care this week. In fact, I encourage it. But it’s only a piece of what we’re doing here. I know you struggle with memory, and I don’t blame you for that either. Is there anything you can remember from your homework that we could discuss?”

There wasn’t. Because he hadn’t really done it. That, he knew.

“I did have a hard time remembering,” he admitted.

The rush that had been sweeping through him for the past three days was settling inside him, Saichi the antidote, and only then did Ryusei realized that it had been exciting, but it hadn’t exactly been pleasant. For the first time in possibly days, he settled into his chair, relaxed his jaw. It hurt. Give it one hour and it would be Welcome to Migraine City! Population: You, Dumbass!  

“But I figured that if we were focusing on the past last week, this week would probably be about the future, what we wanted to change,” Ryusei said, trying to save his pride and his own skin. “I did a little of that.”

“You were absolutely right, you know,” she said. “That is what this week is about. So, let’s discuss that, shall we? What kind of partner do you want to be moving forward?”

Again, Ryusei hesitated. That question slammed into him like a soccer ball right to the fucking head. Not what kind of changes do you want to make moving forward? But what kind of partner do you want to be moving forward? Ryusei could see his journal in his mind now, the shame seeping in with it. A selfish one. One that jerks off. One that washes his face. One that doesn’t care about anything other than what he can do for himself.

Not a partner at all, basically.

“I, um,” Ryusei said, trying to stall for time so he could make something up on the fly. He could do this. He’d been a fucking husband for five years, hadn’t he? He could do this.

“Did you write anything down that was about you as a partner?” Saichi asked softly. “Or anything that wasn’t superficial?”

“I think I fucked up, Sai,” Ryusei said.

“It’s all part of the process,” she assured him. “Let’s work on it now. You can think about it.”

Ryusei did take time to think about it. All he could see in his mind was Sae. The things he’d written down, they had been selfish, but they’d also been a little about Sae too, hadn’t they? Being selfish was being a good partner for Sae. Mostly. That’s what they’d originally liked so much about each other.

“I do want to take better care of myself,” Ryusei said, doubling down. “Because Sae-”

“No,” Saichi said, cutting him off. Ryusei jerked back like she’d slapped him. She didn’t flinch. “This isn’t about Sae. Not at all.”

“But,” Ryusei said.

“No,” she said again, just as solid. “This is about you as a partner. Yes, you have spent years as Sae’s partner, but for the sake of this activity, I want you to focus on yourself, just in the role of partner. I want you to leave Sae out of it.”

It made him a little sad, hearing of himself as Sae’s partner, past tense.

“But I don’t want to do that,” Ryusei said.

“I understand that,” Saichi said, but it didn’t sound all that understanding. It was more like a scold. “But that’s not the way the world works, and that’s not how this activity works either. We’re focusing on connection, not servitude. This isn’t about what Ryusei can do for Sae. This is what Ryusei can and will do for his partner, whether that’s Sae, or someone else.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” Ryusei said.

But he caught his mistake as soon as he said it. He remembered something else he’d written too, and even if it had been during a fit of mania, it still bit at him to recall.

We’re fucked because I let Sae into my world and then pushed myself out.

“But that’s not what we’re doing here,” Ryusei said, waving his mistake out of the air with his hands, before Saichi could scold him. “I know, I know.”

“So?” she asked.

“But it’s hard,” he said. “Sae is Sae. I can’t do this activity thinking about him or someone else. If I’m thinking about being with some random, the answers will be completely different.”

Saichi was looking at him with something that looked a lot like pity.

“Is that true, Ryusei?” she asked.

“Of course it is,” he said. “Sae is unlike anyone else in the entire world. I have to be a very specific person in order to be with him. I have to be attractive, but not outshine him. I have to be crazy, but not too crazy, and not the wrong kind. I have to be selfish, but like, not too selfish. I have to be selfish about him and selfish about me at the same time. I have to-”

“Do you have to be all those things?” she asked. “Or do you have to be all of those things in a caricature of yourself in order to impress the caricature of Sae that you’re carrying around with you?”

Ryusei hadn’t the slightest idea what to respond to that.

“Because I’ve met Sae, and I will say, the two of you rival each other in terms of the masks you wear.” She chuckled a bit to herself, like she wasn’t delivering horrifying truths that he himself hadn’t even stumbled upon. “But you have been married for five years, together even longer. You’ve seen each other grow, change, fall apart. You two have been through some real hardships together. You have public images, public personas even, and that complicates things, but I don’t believe that you two behave like that behind closed doors. In fact, I know you don’t. At the end of the day, you’re both just as human as the rest of us, Sae included.”

They didn’t act like that. Ryusei knew that too. He could see Sae’s crying face, his mouth form the words I’m scared, his bangs fall over his forehead all stupid after he was out of the shower, long after he’d stopped scolding Ryusei for looking at him in such a state. He knew all of this, even if he didn’t remember it all, he knew all these things had happened. He was questioning himself too. Where the fuck had all that come from?

Oh.

Oh, he realized, understanding where Saichi’s pity stemmed from.

He was trying to go back to their caricature versions, the ones they had been at the start when they didn’t know each other, because that was Ryusei’s way of going back and resetting the game, wiping the slate clean, and giving himself a chance to get Sae all over again, mistakes and mishaps excluded.

“I get it now,” Ryusei said. He still couldn’t look at Saichi head on.

“We’re almost out of time,” Saichi told him kindly. “But before we wrap things up, give me one example. Just one. What kind of partner do you want to be moving forward?”

“I don’t want to put myself before my partner,” Ryusei said, without really having to dig for it. “But I don’t want to put my partner before myself either. I want find a balance.”

Saichi smiled. Right answer, it seemed to say.

“Remember your journal next week,” she reminded him on the way out.

“I will,” he promised.

Ryusei left the office feeling like Saichi was right. She usually was. That being said, he was also a little right. The things he wanted to work on, sure, they were superficial. But he was a little superficial. I mean, hello. His husband, present tense, was the hottest man who had ever walked the face of the planet. It wasn’t the only reason he loved him, but it didn’t fucking hurt, that was for sure.

His partner, future tense, whether Sae (ideally) or someone else (disgusting), would probably be a little superficial too. Healthy? Maybe, maybe not. But it was what it was.

So what if he wanted to break a few rules? Which he still did, even after he’d come down from his high.

He grabbed his phone. No hesitation. He didn’t mind Saichi. No, scratch that. He actively liked her, was eternally grateful for her, and understood that she knew worlds more than he ever could. But she didn’t know everything. Her rules existed, sure, but somewhere else, outside of himself, where the rest of the world was, not inside his own little bubble of colour and light and electricity and himself. Only one other thing existed there.

Ryusei texted that person: Sae, I fucking love youuuu

The response, as usual, didn’t take long.

We’re not supposed to be talking.

Shockingly, Ryusei found himself smiling at the message. It wasn’t the rejection he might have seen it is last week. Why bother replying then, hot shot? It reminded him of when they’d first met, when he’d first gotten his number. Saichi was right, about this at least. Sae’s outside persona was nothing like who he really was, the version of himself that he allowed Ryusei, and nobody else, to see.

He responded: I won’t say anything else…just wanted you to know <333

Which, for the record, was the truth. Ryusei wasn’t insane. Not like he used to be. Not entirely. Things weren’t like they used to be, either. Sae wasn’t some guy who was like him that Ryusei wanted everywhere, every way, all the fucking time. Well, he was, but he was also his husband of five years, and hopefully, still as in this as Ryusei still was.

His phone buzzed in his hand.

I love you too.

He didn’t even have to tell him not to tell Saichi. It was just implied, in that unspoken way the two of them could still speak, when the situation demanded it. Reading those words weren’t the hellish rush that they had once been. When he was convinced Sae was driving him crazy, in the best way, but crazy nonetheless. They provided him with a sense of calm, actually. Reading them made him feel sane. Like all was right in the world.

But he wasn’t quite done breaking rules. Against his better judgement, or perhaps in spite of it, he exited Sae’s messages and went into Meguru’s.

M, party at Mikage’s tonight. tell every1!!!

Chapter Text

Sae didn’t consider himself a particularly emotional person, even after becoming well acquainted with the emotion wheel, so he didn’t know what exactly he was feeling, just that he was feeling a lot of it.

He looked down and reread those text messages over and over and over, so many times that he not only knew them by heart but the words all mashed together and became some amalgamation of something red hot and demanding of his attention. Four texts, the first exchange they’d had in weeks, the longest they’d spoken without fighting in god only fucking knows how long.

The associated emotions threatened to burst right out of Sae’s chest, and because it was wholly unfamiliar to him, it made him wonder if he was coming down with something, if not outright dying.

It didn’t feel all that unpleasant, however.

Though he did get off his guest room bed at Rin’s house and head downstairs, if only for a distraction or something to do. As he made his way down the stairs, he heard the intonation of a heated exchange and made his footsteps ever lighter as he continued to approach. This would be good, he decided. For him, that was. He could use another win of this caliber, stumbling upon one of Rin and Meguru’s fights instead of just walking into the aftermath, to even out the score even the slightest amount after all of his most recent losses. Slowly and quietly he approached the living room until coherence slipped in and the sentiments became words.

“For the last fucking time, Meguru,” Rin snapped, his voice like a whip. A cold, cruel thing that might have lashed at Sae as well if he hadn’t been so entirely protected by the emotions that his text message inbox elicited. “I’m not going.”

“Would you at least think about it?” Meguru whined back. “Pleeeeeease? It could be fun.”

Sae stepped into the doorway. He had no real reason to make himself scarce, other than a sense of respect for either of them that he didn’t necessarily value. He had every reason to be taking up space here. He was a guest in their home, it was the middle of the day, a guy needed to eat didn’t he?

Plus, he was a nosy fucker looking to stroke his own ego.

“What could be fun?” he asked.

And was filled with immediate regret. Rin’s face became pinched with silence, and due to his regular annoyance at anything, may not have meant anything, but Meguru’s face fell like he’d been caught in something awful by the worse possible person to have done so, which told Sae enough about what they were talking about.

“Sae-chan,” Meguru said, smiling once he regained his composure. “I didn’t know you were home. You were so quiet! Are you hungry?”

That only annoyed Sae more. Whatever protective emotions he was harboring in his chest were dwindling and going out fast. But, unfortunately, he was a glutton for punishment.

“What are you guys talking about?” he asked again.  

“Did you sleep okay?” Meguru tried again, despite it being well into the afternoon. Sae offered him a face he knew he would recognize because of how he and Rin shared it. Unimpressed neutrality. Meguru held his hands up defensively. “Nothing, okay! Nothing. I promise.”

“Damn right nothing,” Rin mumbled under his breath. Meguru turned back to him, mouth opened, speech just on the tip of his tongue, but Rin held up a single finger to him. “Meguru, I am so fucking serious. Fuck off before I stop being nice about it. The last place on earth you’ll ever find me is some bullshit party being thrown by my soon to be ex brother in law.”

And that hit Sae in the chest harder than he cared to admit.

Meguru huffed but he heeded the warning, rolling his eyes at Rin, giving Sae an apologetic look, unaccepted by Sae, if anyone cared to know, before ducking out of the room. Leaving the brothers together. Sae wasn’t quite sure what he should say about it. He certainly wasn’t going to test Rin’s patience any by pressing the issue, nor was he going to hand him some form of win by attempting to bend the rules, and the fact that Sae was feeling more hopeful about reconciliation over divorce was not something that Rin particularly needed to know.

It was Rin who spoke first.

“I didn’t do that for you, by the way,” Rin said.

“No, of course not,” Sae said.

It was deadpan, but Rin would catch the sarcasm in it.

And with that, he left the room too. Everything he’d been feeling giddy and hopeful about it was gone and replaced with something quite dark and shameful. He didn’t want to think of Ryusei throwing some party that he wasn’t allowed to attend. He didn’t want to think of him having a life outside of him at all. He wanted to think of him sitting in his guest bedroom at Mikage’s, doing nothing but going to therapy and doing his homework and thinking about him and texting him and waiting for them to get back together.

Why the fuck was he throwing a party anyways? It involved all the things that Ryusei couldn’t tolerate. Loud music, alcohol, standing for lengthy amounts of time. Was he self sabotaging? Sae wanted to go right over there and smack him upside his stupid head and ask what the fuck he was thinking. Are you trying to fuck up the rest of our lives too?

But then he had to remind himself that it wasn’t his place anymore.

Maybe this was his way of telling him that. Maybe he wasn’t thinking about Sae at all in this scenario. He’d texted him that he loved him just a few hours ago, but so what? Two people could love each other and not be together. Had that been a goodbye of sorts? I love you, but…

Okay. Now he was spiralling.

He was broken out of it only once his phone started ringing. Was he grabbing for it the second he heard the first sound of vibration, thinking it might be another text saying I love you…but nothing. I just love you!!! <33333 or maybe even I know we’re not supposed to be talking, or anything, but I’m throwing this thing tonight… He couldn’t go. No. Of course not. That would be psychotic. But at least he’d be able to find solace in the fact that maybe his relationship wasn’t completely over.

But it wasn’t Ryusei. It wasn’t even a text. Some unknown number was calling him. He considered ignoring it, but admittedly, he desperately needed the distraction.

“What?” he answered.

“Jesus, dude,” he heard back. “Do you seriously always answer the phone like that?”

The voice, he recognized. Despite his best efforts, this guy was slowly carving out a place in his memory. The roommate.

Wait, what the fuck was Aiku’s pathetic roommate doing calling him?

“How’d you get this number?” Sae asked.

“Swiped it off Oliver’s phone,” Sendou said back. Impressively unapologetically.

“I thought I told you to tell him to delete it,” Sae said.

“I did,” Sendou said back. “And guess what? He didn’t. Shocker.”

It sounded like he had meant it as a joke, but Sae couldn’t hear it as anything besides pathetic.

“Whatever,” Sae said. “What do you want?”

“Well, I was just wondering,” he said. In the privacy of his own guest room, Sae grimaced. Surely nothing good could come of this. “If you wanted to come over tonight.”

“Gross,” Sae said. It was just automatic. “No.”

“Jeez,” Sendou said, sounding unwounded. “I’m not that bad, am I?”

“It’s not so much you,” Sae said, throwing the guy a bone. Sendou had been decent to him at least twice, and considering the state he’d caught Sae in during this interaction, every interaction really, he figured he could at least try to be decent back. “I’d rather spend the night sticking needles under my toenails than hanging out with you and Oliver in the unrequited love den.”

“Oh, uh.” Sounded more like a stumble than Sae cared to admit. “Well, actually, Oliver’s not going to be here. He’s got a thing tonight. It would just be, uh, you and me. That sounds weird. Whatever. You already know I’d rather stick needles under my toenails than touch you, so.”

And with that, Sae was falling back down the spiral. “He’s got a thing tonight, huh?”

“Fuck it, fine,” Sendou said, a sigh following it. “He’s going to a party. I’m sure you know the one. Our circle isn’t that big. Whatever. I figured you wouldn’t be going and just wanted to throw out an alternative.”

Sae scoffed. He didn’t much enjoy being pitied, and this felt fatally close.

“You’re not going?” Sae said, in a tone he didn’t mean to sound to snide but not one he necessarily tried to correct either. “Surprising, seeing as you follow Oliver and his dick around like a dog with a bone.”

“Okay, rude,” Sendou said, but again, unwounded. Almost upbeat, like the two of them were just joking around. And then, ever more horrifically, he added, “Fuck no I’m not going to that thing. I’m your friend.”

Sae almost dropped the fucking phone upon hearing that.

This was solidarity that he didn’t need and allegiance that he hadn’t asked for, but it had been easily given to him without as much as a second thought. He didn’t consider Sendou Shuto a friend, he didn’t even really consider him an acquaintance. They’d had all of three conversations that Sae could remember, and it wasn’t like the ones he couldn’t remember seem to cast him in a very good light. They didn’t even have each others numbers in their phones. But once again, here he fucking was, being the only decent human being in his life.

Which was especially wounding, considering his own blood hadn’t even shown him the same courtesy. Rin hadn’t even had the decency to lie, even by omission. I didn’t do that for you, by the way.

“Come on dude, come over. We can, well, I don’t know…” Sendou trailed off, searching for something to end off with. Sae was no help. He was in no place to be making any suggestions, especially when he was still dumbfounded by the last thing he’d said. “Do you watch TV?”

“I watch soccer,” Sae managed.

“Ha. Right,” Sendou said. “I forgot I was talking to a robot. Well, okay, we can watch a game and…do you drink beer, or your body is a temple or something?”

“I’m really more of a wine drinker,” Sae said, again surprising himself. It was just an answer. Not a sarcastic remark or a denial of one altogether.

“Wow. Okay.” If Sendou had meant to insult with his surprise, Sae didn’t feel it. The whole thing was too foreign for him to feel wounded. He was still trying to figure out what the fuck was happening. “Well, I can work with that. Red or white?”

“Red.”

“Ooh. Let me guess. Pinot Noir?”

“Please,” Sae said, rolling his eyes. Even if Sendou couldn’t see it. Just reflex. “I said I drink wine, not juice.”

“Ha. Sorry, your majesty,” Sendou said. “Okay, noted. Well, see you in a bit.”

And then he just hung up on him.  

Some nerve, Sae thought. He hadn’t even agreed to go. But then again, he kind of had. And now, he supposed he had no choice.

Or at least, that was how he decided to justify it to himself.

Rin caught him on his way out, and as usual, decided to be a complete pill about it. Sae found himself wondering if his brother had much of a life, because Sae having absolutely no life, being off work and all, and there were only so many hours that eating and self care and working out could occupy, and Rin just always seemed to be around and on his case.

“Where are you going?” Rin asked.

“For fuck’s sake, Rin,” Sae shot back. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” Rin said, shrugging a little. And for the record, Sae did actually believe him. “Just trying to make sure you’re not breaking the rules.”

“Are you actually a fucking idiot?” Sae asked him. “If I wanted to break the rules, why the fuck would I show up to a party that I wasn’t invited to, that I know I’m not allowed to go to, in front of all our friends, who also know I’m not supposed to be there? Like, seriously. Were you dropped as a baby?”

“You tell me,” Rin said. “You would have been the one doing the dropping.”

A comment as true as it was sad. They weren’t even that far apart in age, but still, Sae had done more caretaking of Rin than either of their parents had.

And Sae didn’t need the roles to switch. He could take care of himself, just as he’d always done.

“Fuck you,” Sae said. “I’m going out with a friend.”

Rin looked doubtful. “You don’t have any friends.”

“Not that you know of,” Sae said back.

He was unsure of why he had this need to justify himself. Especially to Rin. Probably because he knew that unlike Rin’s relatively true statement, Rin did have friends. He might have gotten them the same Sae had most of his non work acquaintances. Through his husband. But still. It was a sore spot.

“Oh my god,” Rin said, his face changing. Half surprise, half mockery. “Are you going to hang out with that loser Sendou?”

Sae didn’t even have it in himself to be surprised. “How did you know that?”

“Oh my god,” Rin said, no longer surprised. All mockery.

“How do you even know who that is?” Sae asked, the answer smacking into him as soon as the question was in the air. Of course. He should have put two and two together.

Rin raised an eyebrow. “He’s on my team.”

Rin had started playing for the local team once him and Meguru had settled down, and Sendou still played and lived here. Of course they were on the same team. Of course they knew each other.

“He mentioned you guys had been talking,” Rin said, shaking his head. “I thought he was just trying to play some kind of head game with the creepy eyed whack job. Huh. To each their own, I guess.”

Sae rolled his eyes. He was done with this conversation.

“Yeah, well, he’s the only person who hasn’t been a total shit ass to me through this bullshit,” Sae said, turning towards the door to slide his shoes on.

“The only one?” Rin said. “I’m letting you live here.”

Sae didn’t respond. He left, making the rebellious move not to slam the door behind him, and even locking it behind him. Yeah, Rin had been letting him live with them, and he’d been a fucking grade A prick about it the entire time. Maybe it was Sae’s fault that Rin had become a shitty teenager, and maybe he was in no position to judge, but he could be kind of a shitty adult sometimes.

When Sendou answered the door, the first words out of his mouth were I’m sorry, which Sae didn’t take to be an especially promising sign, and it was ever worse when he heard is he here? from somewhere behind him, followed by footsteps, which eventually gave way to Aiku, dressed like a fucking idiot, fedora and all, arms outstretched.

“Itoshi!” he yelled, the pregaming obviously already well underway. “Did you miss me as much as I missed you?”

“Aiku,” Sae said, stepping inside. He decided since he’d come this far, he wasn’t turning back now. But the thought did cross his mind. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

“Aw, don’t give me that,” Aiku said. “Don’t you go acting like you’re not excited to see me.”

Sae didn’t bother denying it any more than he bothered acting. He shot Sendou a look, who just shrugged like, I said I was sorry.

“Nice hat,” Sae said, in such a tone that made it clear that was hardly his true thought on the matter.

“Thanks, gorgeous,” Aiku said back. “Are you guys totally sure you don’t want to come tonight? Mikage has a fucking insane place. It’s going to be a rager. If I have anything to do with it, that is.”

Sae was disgusted by the wink that followed and he made no effort to keep it off his face. Sendou, on the other hand, looked disgustingly charmed by the action, and Sae had to look away from the both of them.

“Nah,” Sendou answered for both of them. Sae sure as hell wasn’t planning on giving him any kind of answer. “You go have fun.”

“Oh, I will,” Oliver said, suggestive of something that Sae didn’t have the slightest interest in interpreting. “You guys don’t have too much fun without me, huh?”

Sae made no effort to hide his eye roll. They were too fucking old for this.

“And don’t worry, Itoshi,” Oliver said directly to him. “I’ll be sure to give you a heads up if I see your ex man chatting up any ladies.”

“You do that,” Sae said flatly.

The brief strike of panic was immediately alleviated when Oliver tacked ladies on at the end of it. The only lady, if you could even call her that, which Sae wouldn’t, that Ryusei let touch him for any extended amount of time was Haruki, and the only person he ever let him touch him like that wasn’t going to the party, and didn’t have a shred of ladylike-ness in him.

Unless…

No, Sae scolded himself sharply. We’re not doing this right now. Save it for when you’re alone.

“Would you get the fuck out of here already?” Sae snapped at Oliver, who was lingering, as if the two of them really were going to turn around and change their minds.

“Relax, I’m going!” Oliver said, holding his hands up in defence. He then went over to Sendou, wrapped an arm tightly around his neck, and gave him a kiss on the cheek that had absolutely no business lasting that long. “Bye, Shu. See you later.”

Sendou mumbled something out of Sae’s earshot and attention and then Oliver left. When Sendou locked the door behind him, Sae was awaiting him with a look he was truly putting copious effort into coming across nonchalant.

It was clearly unsuccessful.

Sendou held his hands up in much the same way. “I know, okay? I know. You don’t have to say it.”

“I need a drink,” Sae said.

“Yeah, me too,” Sendou agreed. “Follow me.”

As promised, the two of them settled onto the couch with their drinks. The game, some game, not one that Sae was particularly interested in, was already on. Sae tried to focus but found that he couldn’t. He was overtaken by the strangeness of it all. Here he was in Sendou Shuto’s house, gulping down his wine as quickly as he could get away with without coming across like a full blown alcoholic, while somewhere across town, the husband he was separated from was throwing a party that he wasn’t invited to.

He finished his glass despite his efforts. Sendou eyed it.

“You worried?” he asked.

Sae scoffed. “About what?”

“About the party?” Sendou said. “About what Oliver said?”

“Fuck no,” Sae said. “Dude’s an idiot. I don’t trust anything that comes out of Oliver’s mouth.”

Only a half lie, really. He would have been on edge about Ryusei’s moving on or even just his impulsive behaviour whether Oliver had brought it up or not.

“No offence,” he tacked on. In some attempt to be friendly.

“Uh…none taken?” Sendou laughed, sipped his beer. “I live with the guy. I do know who he is.”

“I hate that guy,” Sae said unapologetically.

Which was true, but also not quite the point. He hated a lot of people and a lot of things. But in this circumstance, Oliver was more collateral damage than he was the true subject of the hatred. Sendou refilled his glass and said nothing, leaving Sae to be the one to fill the silence. Sae picked the glass up.

“I hate when people do that,” Sae clarified. Though he wasn’t quite sure why. In response to Sendou’s raised eyebrows, he said, “Treat us like this is already over. Rin does it to me too, the fucking idiot. Where are you going? Don’t you dare bring anyone back here. I’ve slept with one person my whole life, but now that we’re going through a rough patch, it’s just a fucking free for all, apparently.”

Sendou, who had been mid swig, spat beer all over the top of the glass coffee table.

“That’s disgusting,” Sae said.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sendou asked, his head whipping towards him.

“You’re the one who just spat all over your house,” Sae said, bringing his glass closer to his chest. At least the wine bottle had been closed and had been spared the cruelty.

“I’m sorry,” Sendou said, shaking his hand rather than making any effort at cleaning up after himself. “That just broke my brain a little bit. Are you serious? Ryusei’s the only person you’ve ever slept with?”

Sae looked at him, stone faced. “Why is that so surprising?”

“Because.” Sendou stumbled a bit before finding his footing again. “You’re Itoshi Sae.”

“So people keep reminding me,” Sae said.

“I know you guys have been together, like, forever, but seriously?” Sendou asked. “You never have a fangirl phase? They must have been all over you.”

Sae raised an eyebrow.

“Right, shit, sorry,” Sendou said. “Fanboy phase even?”

“For the record, I got plenty of offers for both,” Sae snapped, suddenly embarrassed over something he had never thought of as much of a big deal. Or thought of period. “It never interested me.”

“Not even when you were like sixteen and full of hormones and drunk on fame?” Sendou pressed. “Never?”

To his credit, Sae tried to think about it. Had he ever been a sixteen year old boy full of hormones and drunk on fame? Maybe. A version of that, anyways. But, come on. He’d just learned how to identify his own emotions four weeks ago. He wouldn’t have been able to distinguish complex things such as being simultaneously pissed at the world yet deserving of its entirety or an absolutely debilitating need to win from being turned on.

“Never,” Sae said.

“Wow,” Sendou said.

Sae didn’t especially appreciate that.

“I didn’t know you liked girls,” Sae said in a nonchalantly desperate attempt to get off the subject.

“I mostly like girls,” Sendou said with a shrug.

“And Oliver was your exploration?” Sae said. Or rather, scoffed. “Or just your poor lapse in judgement?”

Sendou threw up his hands. “I don’t know, man. You weren’t there.”

And to be fair, he was right. Sae wasn’t there.

But he understood nonetheless.

Because he had been his own version of there. He’d had his own Saes. Are you sure about this? You’re so young. Just think about this. Him? Really? Marriage is forever, you know.

That last one being especially cruel. Because of how untrue it was.

But Sae had been there. He’d seen what they’d seen but he’d also gotten to see everything else. He saw Ryusei in his moments when he would drop his eternally horny and violent act and just let him in. Take his hand without trying to rip it off. Kiss him without it turning into a bite. His lips form a compliment without it being about his abs or his ass or his mouth. You really are my soulmate, did you know that? I’m so fucking grateful I found you.

And it’s not like he hated it when it wasn’t tender either.

“You’re right,” Sae said. The words felt strange on his tongue, but he let them live in the air regardless.

They turned back to the game. They watched until it faded into another. It wasn’t all that bad, Sae found himself thinking. This doing nothing with another person. It had been a while. His life kept him constantly moving, and that had bled into his social life. Whenever he’d forced himself into double dates with Rin and Meguru, they always had to be doing something so that Meguru and Ryusei were entertained and that Rin and Sae would stay their version of civil. His teammates had to rope him in with team activities because he considered hanging out to be a massive waste of his time.

You do have friends besides you brother, don’t you? Uh, no. And this was probably why.

After a while, Sendou broke the silence.

“It’s getting late. You should probably take off before Oliver comes home and tries to facilitate a threesome,” he said. Which took a somewhat tipsy and sleepy Sae entirely off guard. He thought it a weird joke until he realized it wasn’t a joke at all. A sigh followed. “Because he will.”

“Why the hell do you put up with him?” Sae said, easily abandoning his empathy from a few hours ago. “You just need to say it. Flat out. Only me or no me. Pick.”

“As if!” Sendou said, laughing, even though Sae was far from joking. “I know what he’d pick. I’m not an idiot either, you know.”

“And you’re fine with that?” Sae challenged.

Sendou’s face said it all.

Finally, his mouth did too. “Look, I’ve thought about ending it. Whatever it is. Moving out. But I can’t. He’d stop me mid sentence and say, Shu, stop being such a girl. Would you relax? You know you’re my favourite, right? And then I’d say fine, you’re right, whatever. And let it go. And nothing would change. There’s no point, really.”

Sounded like that was a little beyond hypothetical. And while Sae understood that Sendou was telling him all of this as some form of justification, he couldn’t help but think it sounded pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.

“This is toxic,” Sae found himself saying. It felt an appropriate substitute word. The Saichi in his head, who had been put to the rest for some time, popped back up to give him a thumbs up. “And it’s not going to change if nothing else does.”

“Okay, therapy superstar,” Sendou said.

Sae looked at him head on. “That’s exactly how I know.”

Sendou just blinked at him a few times.

“Wow,” he said finally. “Look who’s sharing.”

Sae understood that what he was saying was true, but he also understood that it was very much not the point.

“You’d be better off,” Sae said, like it was fact, because in his mind, it was. Then, he resurfaced some words he’d pettily refused to hand over during their first re-meeting. But he was tipsy and grateful enough. “You could do better.”

“Don’t I know it,” Sendou said. “But, I don’t know. It’s not that easy.”

“You could go stay at my place,” Sae said without really thinking about it. Once he did think about it, he was horrified with himself. That was unnecessarily kind. Something he didn’t think himself capable of. “Not forever, obviously. I’m moving back in in two weeks. But, you know. That’s enough time to figure your shit out. I know how much Rin makes, so I know you’re not poor.”

“Rin is a better negotiator than me,” Sendou said. Sae almost laughed.

“Even so,” Sae said. “None of the national team players are hurting.”

Sae would blame it on the wine, because he could. He reached into his pocket, took the keys to his fancy apartment that he, and Ryusei, hopefully, were moving back into in two weeks off his keychain, and tossed them onto the coffee table. He looked at them and then at Sendou. An ice cold challenge, because of course Itoshi Sae had to be a little Itoshi Sae about the way he conducted kindness.

“Why are you even doing this?” Sendou threw back. More resistance than he expected, and he found that he respected him for it.

And then, with Sae’s most deliberate attempt to be decent of the night, he said, “We’re friends.”

Slowly, Sendou reached out for the keys.

“But I know my closet like the back of my hand,” Sae tacked on. “And if I find out you touched a single damn thing-“

“Oh, please,” Sendou said. “As if your closet would be the one to steal from.”

A few days later at therapy, Sae was still feeling kind of decent about the whole exchange. In a way he was trying not to judge himself too hard for. He was toeing the line. But even that was progress by his standards.

He’d also done his homework and come up with a few good resolutions at how he wanted to be a better partner aside from the original breakthrough he’d had on the dark balcony with Meguru.

“Sae,” Saichi greeted him from her chair. “So good to see you. How are you, sweet boy?”

“I’m good,” Sae said, realizing at the sound of them that it was actually true too.

Saichi noticed too. “Oh?”

“I had a good week,” Sae said.

“Tell me about that,” she said.

For obvious reasons, Sae couldn’t tell her about the whole I love you text message exchange, not that he would of even if he could have. He was still flip flopping back and forth between whether it made him feel hopeful or like it was a goodbye. The party hadn’t helped, but for other obvious reasons, he wasn’t going to be bringing that up either. He had had some wins, however.

“I did my homework,” Sae said. “And I hung out with a friend.”

Despite the fact that Saichi had initially seemed to buy his lie about having friends, it appeared as if she understood that confession for what it was. Because of course she did. She was looking at him like that was just the most wonderful thing.

“We’ll get to the homework in a bit,” she said with effortless nonchalance. “Was that your new friend you were hanging out with?”

“Yeah,” Sae said.

“What did the two of you do?” she asked.

“Had a couple drinks,” Sae said. “Watched a game or two.”

“That sounds nice,” she said.

He could not agree. Not out loud. He’d made strides, but he wasn’t healed or whatever.

“We’re both kind of going through it right now,” Sae said. Because dragging Sendou and his pathetic situation into this room against his will or knowledge made Sae’s feel a little more bearable.

“I’m really proud of you, Sae,” she said.

Which made him sick to his stomach in more ways than one. He used to think he wanted to win at therapy, but he wanted her praise, her results, her validation that he was correct and living life exactly how it was meant to be lived. He didn’t want her pride, offered as a gift as a consolation for realizing all the numerous ways he was constantly fucking up.

She seemed to notice and didn’t push it.

“Let’s go onto the homework,” she said. “What have you got for me?”

He went into his notebook. This part was infinitely easier. His answers were exactly what she’d asked for. Measurable and specific. Mostly. Much less vulnerable that the emotion identification or the embarrassing fucking confession of him having hung out with his first really friend since…never mind.

“I want to start apologizing,” Sae recited for her. “Every time I do something fucked up, as soon as I realize I’ve fucked up.”

“Wow,” she said. “That’s excellent work.”

“I also want to be an average of 20% less condescending,” Sae said, to which Saichi burst out laughing so hard that her glasses fell right off her face and against her chest, the chain swinging.

“20% less condescending?” she asked, returning her glasses to her face. “How do you imagine you’ll go about measuring that?”

“I’m good with numbers,” Sae said, which to some degree, was true. “I’m sure I’ll manage.”

She didn’t fight him on it. “I believe you.”

“I also want to be…” Sae trailed off. It took him a minute to find the path again. “More understanding. Of what my partner is going through. I know that’s vague, but I don’t really know how to go about it. I want to work on it, I guess. I want to really think about their position and what that might feel like…if you, you know…feel things. Normally.”

Saichi just looked at him, and in that look, Sae feared the worst. He knew he shouldn’t have fucking said anything and kept that one to himself. He’d just really been thinking about it. Since Sendou’s. Oliver was the world’s worst fucking human being. There was no changing his mind about that. But maybe, in a mind that wasn’t Sae’s, nowhere near, he wasn’t all that disgusting or annoying. Maybe. Probably not. But maybe. And then he’d gone home and spiralled further, because he got the sudden thought that of course it was really easy to be annoyed by someone’s constant complaints of headaches and dizziness when you didn’t have any of your own.

“I can try to make it more specific,” Sae said.

“Sae,” Saichi said, cutting him off. “I am so, so proud of you.”

It struck him like a slap to the face. It took him a second of lag before he realized that looking at Saichi was excruciating and another second passed before he could make the move to look away.

“Thanks,” he said, staring at the floor.

“I really mean that,” she pushed. “I’ve really seen great strides from you. I haven’t seen many people make the same amount of progress in such a short time like you have.”

“I’m sure you say that to everyone,” Sae said.

“I assure you that I do not,” she said.

And despite himself, he believed her.

“Now, I think this is a good transition into this week’s homework,” she said, the worlds softest clap forming between her small, wrinkled palms. “This week is all about you.”

Sae was no longer…whatever it was that had had been for a few seconds. He looked at her, straight on, so he could best showcase his skepticism.

“Haven’t they all been?”

“No,” she said. “Well, yes. But also no. We’ve been focusing on you, yes, but the you that is actively a partner. This week’s focus is on Sae the person.”

He didn’t quite know what to make of that. He also wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. So he kept to himself and let her keep going.

“Next week is our last session of the separation,” Saichi said, and that slapped him in the face worse than her pride had.

He needed a second to take that in. She was right. Next week was the last session, the last homework assignment, the last week in Rin’s guest bedroom. He hated the separation, god, he fucking hated the separation, but he couldn’t help but feel, in this moment anyways, like he needed more time.

“So I’d like you to start thinking about the separation coming to an end, and maybe we should talk about it a little bit too,” she said, giving him a smile. He wanted to fight. No. I don’t want to talk about it and I don’t want to think about it either. I’m not ready. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I don’t know what the fuck I’ve been doing for the past twenty five years of my life. “Don’t be scared, Sae.”

“I’m not scared,” he lied.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” she lied back. He was sure of it.

Because there was everything to be afraid of. He had been thinking of little but Ryusei and the shambles their marriage had been reduced to over the past five weeks, longer, surely, but the thought of seeing him again made Sae want to be sick. How was he supposed to see him? To look him in the face, a face he loved, now that he was aware of so many awful things that he’d done to him? How was he supposed to talk to him without the bile of that awareness crawling up his throat?

“Not this week,” she clarified, which felt no less scary, but a little more honest, and that calmed him. “We have been discussing you in a matter of you being a partner, focusing on skills and tools that will make you better in that respect, but the truth of the matter is, life is about more than love. Fairytales will have you thinking otherwise, but it’s true. It’s important to be good partners, but it’s also important to be good people. As best we can be anyways. And it works both ways, you see? We want our partners to be good people as well, right?”

“Right,” Sae agreed, even if he didn’t quite understand, let alone agree.

“This week, there are no new skills or exercises,” she told him. “Not really. I want you to focus on really integrating the skills you’ve learned over the past few weeks into your life. This week is about creating your own self contract. How you want to exist inside of your own life, which can include being a partner, but mostly around being a person. Does that make sense?”

And he found that it did. This was coming at quite the opportune time. He nodded.

“So, for this week, forget the journal,” she said. “The time for intention and planning is over. It’s all about action. Take those skills that you’ve learned and the ones that you’ve expressed wanting to practice and, well, put them to practice! Identify your emotions, talk about them with someone, show someone some compassion, be twenty percent less condescending. And then next week, when we have our last session, we’ll discuss how you did. So, write it down if you prefer, but you can just tell me about it if that’s easier. It’s up to you.”

“Okay,” Sae said.

It sounded easy enough and painstakingly difficult all at the same time. But he’d come this far, and that would give him a whole lots of things to fill his time with before their last session next week.

“And Sae?” she said. “This part is really not mandatory, but sometimes, it’s easier to let someone else hold us accountable rather than having to do it all ourselves. So, if you want to, only if you want to, share this activity with someone and let them cheer you on. Maybe your new friend. Or Rin, if you two are still getting along.”

“That sounds like a test,” he said. And he knew that was slipping into bad habits, but that had struck a sore spot, and he hadn’t said he wanted to be 100 percent less condescending.

“It’s not a test, Sae,” she said. “No more than anything else so far has been.”

Sae left the office relatively unconcerned with the activity for the week ahead and chock full of every type of anxiety about the separation coming to an end. He had no idea what the hell to expect from it. He used to think he had a good idea of what was waiting for him at the end of this tunnel, but he’d flipped back and forth so many times that he could hardly rely on himself for an answer, and now that it was looming on the horizon, it was only making him more scrambled.

But then, as things tended to do when he left then too long, they flipped.

What kind of person do I want to be? The question was haunting him. He’d spent over two decades of his life simultaneously being a little shit and believing that he was God’s own gift to the world, or if not the world, soccer, which had been Sae’s whole world for just as long, but now that he was realizing that he kind of fucking hated that prick, he didn’t really know what to do with him. He was stuck at a crossroads. Down one lane, the comfortable and blissful ignorance, down the other, dragging himself through glass for however long it took to get to some promised other side where happiness perhaps wouldn’t be so fucking conditional and fleeting.

Despite the fact that he knew it was a test, and knew what the right answer was, it still felt like a hard choice.

He wanted to be a decent person, he decided. Not Ghandi or anything, but, you know. Not Satan either. If he could be reliably decent, that would be good enough for him.

When he got back to Rin’s, the house was quiet. He let himself in and wandered around, not sure what to do with himself, this version of himself that was working on autopilot while living mostly in his own head. He figured he could start with a drink. Not the best habit, but whatever. He was on vacation and he was a work in progress.

He got jump scared by Rin, who was sketching at the dining room table, before he even got there. He really should have known better by now, but then again, work in progress.

“Jesus,” Sae said. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Need better eyes, then,” Rin said without looking up.

Sae rolled his perfectly functional eyes. Rin didn’t see it. Which meant that that action cancelled itself out.

“Sketching for Yuu’s class?” Sae asked.

“Yep,” Rin said.

“Cool,” Sae said. “I’m going to get a drink. You want one?”

Rin scoffed. “Why? So you can spit in it?”

It’s just the decent thing to you, you insufferable waste of Itoshi genes. Sae felt the words forming on his tongue, and he just barely held them back.

This was it. The first test.

“Just trying to be nice,” Sae said. He hated it. Every fucking word and the itchy feeling that followed.

Rin looked up then, abandoning the sketchbook and pencil entirely in a single swift movement.

“Why?” Rin peered at him. When Sae didn’t fill the single second of pause he left between them, he went wide eyed, then furious, and then stood. “What the fuck did you do?”

“What?” Sae took a jerky step back. “Nothing! Fuck!”

“I swear to fucking God, Sae,” Rin started.

“Why are you like this?” Sae spat back.

“Why am I like this?” Rin pressed a hand into his chest.

Sae understood the jab he hadn’t meant to make. He threw his hands up, very exasperated Sendou-esque, and tried again.

“Why are we like this?” he asked.

That stunned Rin into silence. He was still standing, but he moved to press both his hands into the dining room table. He was still regarding Sae with some type of suspicion, but it didn’t feel so sinister or punitive.

“Go get me a beer,” Rin said, shoving his already closed sketchbook even further from him. “If I have to look at this thing for even one second longer, I’m going to jab that pencil straight through my eye.”

Sae did just that. And then he poured himself a tall glass of wine, sipped a few gulps off the top, refilled it, and tried not to think about how this might be evidence of the apple not falling far from the tree. He went back into the dining room and slid Rin’s beer across the table.

“I do appreciate you letting me stay here,” he tried. Again, fucking horrible. It came out sounding almost sarcastic, which he was both surprised and saddened by, but then again, work in progress.

“Are you sick or something?” Rin asked.

“I’m fine,” Sae said.

Rin didn’t believe him. His eyes became suspicious slits. “Were you with Ryusei?”

Sae did not fight off the urge to roll his eyes again. “I was at therapy.”

“Marginally better,” Rin said.

“It was good, actually,” Sae said.

Rin didn’t have anything to say to that.

“Why are we like this?” Sae asked again.

“Like what?” Rin said back, mimicking Sae from a few seconds ago in the kitchen by taking quite the generous swig of his bottle.

“Like,” Sae said. “So fucking awful to each other.”

“I don’t know,” Rin said. Like he really wasn’t bothered. “But you started it.”

“That’s probably true,” Sae said.

“No probably about it,” Rin said. So matter of factly that it stung. “You left for Spain some version of decent and came back a fucking nightmare.”

Which.

Was.

True.

They both knew it, but in the near decade since all of that had happened, the two of them had never discussed it. They danced around it, alluded to it, got close to touching it, but only when the barrier of social or time constraints were hanging over them so that they couldn’t cross that line so completely. Instead, it had become a wall over which the two of them were constantly tossing grenades. Sae had been some version of decent once, according to Rin anyways, but he knew that had ended when he’d laid that wall’s first bricks.

“Yeah,” Sae said.

“So, there’s your fucking answer, Nancy Drew,” Rin said, laying on the sarcasm thicker than was probably required, but Sae let it go.

“I’m sorry about that,” Sae said. It felt like it took a whole year to deliver those words.

To which Rin just shrugged. “Uh, okay. Whatever. I’m obviously over it.”

Sae held his tongue about the fact that, from where he was sitting anyways, he doubted that Rin was obviously over it.

“Still,” Sae said. “I’m sorry, Rin.”

“And I still don’t care,” Rin said, but Sae didn’t believe that either. There was something in his voice. Like a floodgate about to break.

“But listen, Rin, you have no idea what that was like,” Sae started.

“And why’s that, Sae?” Rin yelled across the table.

Which was both sudden and more than well deserved.

Neither of them had to say it. Because you fucking shut me out. And it had been shitty. Sae had known that even when it was happening, but just like everything over the course of his marriage, his intentions had been good. Or if not good, some version of decent. He’d thought what he was doing was kindness via cruelty. A little bit of tough love.

“I hated you when you came back,” Rin said. “But it wasn’t because you were a fucking prick. You always had been, and I never minded. I hated you for coming back after becoming something we both hated.”

Rin didn’t have to say that either, which Sae considered a kindness in and of itself. He remembered what they’d both hated more than anything else back then. Pathetic. It was their most detested thing to be, their most devastating slur.

“You gave up,” Rin said.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Sae said.

“I don’t believe you,” Rin said.

“That’s,” Sae started, but then stopped himself. “That’s fine, Rin. You don’t have to believe me.”

Rin didn’t fight him. Out of anger or left without a direction to stab.

“But you really don’t know how awful it was,” Sae said. Maybe too little too late, but maybe also just the decent thing to do, even if it had taken ten years. “To just go into the middle of nowhere where I didn’t know anyone and everyone I met was just counting me out. I had a good track record, but not good enough. I spoke English, but not good enough. I thought that maybe I could ignore it and make them eat their words if I could just be better than the rest of them, something that had always come so easy to me.”

Sae had to pause to swallow a lump forming in his throat.

“But I couldn’t.”

Rin just watched. Maybe it was an illusion, or a trick of the light, but he seemed to soften. Just a little. Sae didn’t look at him long enough to investigate.

“I threw everything I had into training. It was pure spite. I got good, sure, but never good enough,” Sae said. “That was what it was like. Years of losing and coming up short. Over and over and over again. Yeah, I came back broken and pissed about it, but I also came back to you not having grown up at all. Which I couldn’t blame you for, because I’d been cradled by the same soccer you’d stayed to play, but you wouldn’t listen to me.”

Neither of them were looking at each other, but they did manage to take a simultaneous drink in perfect unison.

“And you’re not me,” Sae went on. “So maybe it would have turned out different for you. I can’t say for sure. Clearly you did fine for yourself. But just know that maybe I didn’t go about it the right way, but I just really didn’t want that to happen to you too.”

More silence. Sae was done speaking and Rin was doing whatever the fuck it was that he was doing on his side of the table. Sae finished his glass of wine. Rin didn’t move. Not a single muscle. They just sat in silence for what felt like a really long time.

“Your English was pretty shit back then,” Rin said, finally. “I’m not surprised they bullied you for it.”

Sae smacked a hand to the table. Not harshly, but not exactly playfully. “Is that seriously all you got out of that?”

“No,” Rin said. “But it needed saying anyways.”

“Look Rin,” Sae said. “We’re both adults now. We have our own careers and our own lives and our own way of doing things, but I’d like things to be decent enough between us. Don’t you?”

“I let you stay here, didn’t I?” Rin said. “Not to mention forced myself through endless fucking game nights.”

“That was not us pressing for the game nights,” Sae said. As gently as he could manage without completely throwing Rin’s erratic husband so mercilessly under the bus.

Rin shrugged. “I have to blame someone.”

And Sae decided he could live with that. He leaned as far across the massive table as he could manage, stretching his hand out. “Truce?”

Rin looked at it for a few seconds like it was some cursed thing, and for a few seconds, Sae really did think that Rin was going to scoff at it, or else tell him to stop with this fucking bullshit, or maybe that the truce wasn’t even worth his time, once the separation was done, Sae should get the fuck out and never speak to him again.  

But then he took it. “Truce.”

And Sae still hadn’t figured out whether this really was a test, but if it was, he knew that he absolutely fucking nailed it.

Chapter Text

So, yeah, throwing the party had been a bad idea. Which Ryusei might have known had he thought more than a half second about it. And failing that, he could have looked at the signs. Which included, first and foremost, a string of texts from Reo.

Dude?

What the hell???

Did you seriously think that I wouldn’t find out you’re throwing a party?

Okay.

Whatever.

Don’t do more than a mil in damages.

Or I’ll kill you.

For real.

Which told Ryusei a lot about how Reo saw him as well as how menial he himself was treating the friendship itself. During his great epiphany, he’d thought that he wanted to be wilder, break more rules, care less about everyone else and more about himself, and by some extension of himself, Sae, even if that was toxic, even if it would get him a harsh scolding look from Saichi, but in this action, as he was putting it into practice, he found that he felt bad. Reo had been letting him stay at his place rent free, and sure, he had the means to do so, but he hadn’t had to. And Ryusei was thanking him by putting himself right back in the position of having to apologize for his chaotic existence and knowing that one of his closest friends was on the other side of the phone, shaking his little purple bun head, tolerating him more than he was liking him.

Which was something he hadn’t minded when he was eighteen, hadn’t thought to. At twenty four, well. Shit looked and felt different.

But it was too late and things had gone too far. Meguru, his other close friend, was on the exact opposite side of the spectrum, texting him a play by play of how he’d told everyone, sent blasts into every group chat he was a part of, which was a horrifying amount, social butterfly that he was, alongside every thought going through his mind, including how they were going to have an awesome night. So, whatever. He’d get through it.

And he didn’t end up having any fun. Which, again, he could have predicted had he spent the slightest amount of brain power trying to do so, because from the time the first non-Meguru person showed up, Ryusei realized who he was waiting to walk through that door. Every new person, every pair of athletic pants or even the slightest flash of anything remotely pink, and he found himself looking for Sae, Sae, Sae. Who, of course, wasn’t coming. He knew that, and yet he was forcibly reminded with every new disappointment. He didn’t want anything to do with the party without Sae, and then he felt not only depressed, but stupid.

Saichi was right. He’d come down from his high, realized the mask had been heavy, and there was nothing underneath.

So, he snuck off. Nobody was all that interested in him, anyways. Not once the party was in full swing.

He trusted his friends. Enough, anyways. Not to go over a million in damages.

Ryusei went back to his wing of the house, the one he was currently doing some version of living in, the one with his things all thrown everywhere. Towels on the floor, because he could never remember to hang them up, so he used a new one every shower. Laundry on the floor, some of which had been kicked into a heap. The bed all unmade from when he’d rolled out of in late this morning. Not even Reo’s house’s magnificent architecture softened the blow of how depressing it all looked. He was getting tired of these realizations, a series of instances where he was reminded how terribly he was failing at life.

And then, the cherry on top, la piece de resistance, his journal sat on the nightside table. Mocking him.

“Okay!” he yelled at it. “I get it! You were right!”

The journal, predictably, said nothing.

“God.” Ryusei sat on the bed, his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

Inside his pocket, his phone buzzed. He checked it. Just Meguru, asking where the kitchen was, and then asking where he was, and then saying never mind, he figured it out, and then saying about the ice, not him, LOL, but seriously, where was he? And then, as he was gathering the nerve to answer, to tell him he was hiding out in his room because this whole thing had been a terrible fucking idea and he’d lost control of his life and now he was hell bent on making it worse apparently, he got a text from Haruki.

Just got here. Brought my brother. You around, hoe phase?

And it chilled him to the fucking bone.

He tossed his phone away from him, Sae style, horrified. It kept buzzing, more than likely Meguru, but he didn’t want to risk it, so he shut his phone off, and then crept over to the door that led to his suite, as quiet as he could manage, and locked the door. He lowered himself onto the floor, taking a few deep breaths, until he finally felt like his head was screwed on about right.

But without his phone, he didn’t know what to do. He was just alone with his thoughts. He considered taking a shower, but he was too wired, too on edge, he didn’t need to be naked and vulnerable too. He crawled his way over to the bed and pulled himself up onto it, resting against the headboard, tapping his palms on his knees and looking around for something, anything to distract himself with.

He almost let the TV seduce him into grabbing the remote, but the therapy was working, apparently, because he reached for his journal instead, flipping to the first blank page.

I don’t really care what the rules are, he wrote. I want Sae and no one else. And when I get him back, when, not if, I’m going to make sure I’m still his safe space to let loose.

He lowered his head onto the journal, drunk on the frustration coursing through his entire body. It took a few long, slow breaths before he could lift it again. If he got a migraine from this, so be it. He’d fucking deserve it.

No luck. He brought his shaky hand that the pen was in back to the page.

I want to start breaking more rules.

But just small ones.

I also want to start following more rules.

I don’t want to do this shit anymore.

I want to be a better partner. I want to be an adult. I want to be someone to depend on.

Someone who can be trusted.

He read over what he wrote, and everything that was written there, he genuinely meant.

And so he tried. He was calm enough. He tried to picture Haruki’s brother. Not his image, whether he was hot, which he probably wasn’t, seeing as he wasn’t Sae, just the idea of him. The space of possibility. The question mark becoming an ellipsis.

But if Sae leaves me, he wrote, having to catch his breath. And I mourn for a million years, and then somehow feel ready to move on, I still want to be the fun partner.

Ryusei started smiling to himself. Halfway at least.

Like, adult fun, Well, not like that. I mean, not NOT like that. Just, you know. Mature fun. That doesn’t sound any better. Fuck. (Rewrite this shit before reading out to Sai.) I just mean no career ending, reputation ruining fun. Just ha-ha fun.

But I want to be more responsible. If I can’t be with Sae, or fuck it, even if I can, I want to be more like him. I want to just have shit figured out. I want to make my own appointments. I want to write shit down. I want to stop being so surprised by shit just because my brain doesn’t work and I don’t do shit to help myself.

And I still want to take better care of myself. Because I deserve it and my partner deserves a hot partner.

And because my partner deserves an alive partner.

My partner deserves the peace of mind not to have to bury me in my twenties (so long as I can help it).

He’d be lying if he said it didn’t still hurt, remembering back to that fight. How fucking insane Sae had looked. Not figuratively, literally. Ryusei had seen Sae lose it, albeit rarely. Though, when he really flew off the handle, he was often ice cold angry. Sometimes, even rarer, upset. That fight was the only time that Ryusei could remember Sae looking desperate. Eyes wide and bloodshot. Spit coming out with his words. His entire body trembling against his normally unshakable will. It had stung to hear I have better things to do than to bury my husband, but that’s because Ryusei had heard planning your funeral would be a fucking waste of time to me. Which hadn’t been what he’d been saying at all, he realized, for possibly the first time ever. Because Saichi was right, he did know Sae, and he knew him well enough to know he would do it. Himself.

He would go to the appointments and dress appropriately and pick out a casket and a tombstone and decide what to write on it and get Ryusei’s corpse made up and give them a fucking earful if he had as much as a hair or eyelash out of place and he would send out invitations, to everyone, even those of Ryusei’s friends that he himself didn’t like, because Sae didn’t like most people, but he loved him, and if he had to bury him, he would do it properly and to perfection, no matter the cost to himself. That’s just the kind of man he was.

All this time, all he’d meant was, please don’t fucking make me bury you.

The temptation crept back up inside him. He reached for his phone, about to break down over a string of sappy text messages, consisting of apologies and love confessions and anything else that came out once he’d started, but then he found his phone turned off, and figured that was probably for the best. For a number of reasons. He did want to start breaking rules, little stupid ones, but that didn’t apply to therapy rules. Couples therapy wasn’t this nothing fucking thing, it was everything. It was the difference between saving his marriage and ending it. So, he decided then and there, even in the morning when he turned his phone back on, he wouldn’t text Sae anymore. He wouldn’t text Sae until he had explicit permission.

But he also couldn’t wait that long, so he stripped down, added to his laundry pile, turned off the lights, got into bed, and went to sleep.

The party was long over by the time Ryusei woke up. He was pleasantly surprised with the condition in which he woke up. Which was to say, not hungover. Not exactly a win of epic proportions, but he’d take it.

Actually, he’d entirely forgotten about the whole thing. He woke up in his room, journal on the nightside, laundry and towels everywhere, and chuckled to himself about how the staff was really slacking in his wing on his way into the bathroom to take a shower.

It wasn’t until he was clean, dressed, and downstairs in the carnage that he remembered there had even been a party. Nobody was there, which Ryusei was grateful for. But there were cups everywhere, a few broken glasses half-heartedly swept up into the corner, sticky spots on the floor and the counters. Someone had ordered take out and abandoned the containers and the uneaten food all over the kitchen island where Reo liked to eat his breakfast, read the news, and mock Ryusei at. There was a bra on the light fixture. That, he didn’t even want to know about.

But that was the worst of it. And again, he’d take it.

He took his phone out of his pocket, intending to text Reo a genuine apology, to be followed by an in person one the second he was back, but found it off. Which triggered a whole new slew of memories.

Ryusei was tempted to keep the phone off. But he scolded himself out of it. He’d made his choices, and now it was time to face them.

There were a lot of missed texts from Meguru. Mostly about where he was, fading into how he was doing, and then fading into incoherence. There were a few okay, fuck you too I guess, texts from Haruki, which he felt like he deserved but also did not have any reason to apologize for.

There was one text from Sae.

I’m letting a friend crash at our place for a couple weeks. Just in case you showed up there and freaked out.

The text itself was what had Ryusei freaking out. He wanted to go ballistic on the text, ripping it apart like a rabid dog did anything he got in his mouth. What the fuck? Who? You don’t have any friends? Do you mean a boyfriend? Do you have a new boyfriend? Are you letting him move into our place? If this is the end, could you just fucking say that? But he didn’t. It took everything in him, but he didn’t.

He sent a thumbs up emoji. Message received. Nothing more.

He ignored everyone else and texted Reo.

I’m sorry dude. I fucked up. Shouldn’t have done that.

Nothing got broken. Well, maybe a couple glasses. Definitely not a mil.

Love you man. I’ll make it up to you.

There. Adult apology. Proper punctuation and everything. No bullshit emojis either.

Who the fuck is this????? Reo sent back.

Ryusei forced a laugh and dropped his phone back into his pocket. Then, he took another look around the main room where the party had taken place. Once he was properly guilt ridden and disappointed in himself, he set off in search of cleaning supplies. This was his mess to clean up. He would leave the Mikage manor staff out of it.

It took him a while, but he didn’t consider it any fault of his. They were tucked into some tiny little closet off a tiny little service hallway, the door so subtle that he almost missed it.

“You little fuckers,” he scolded the mop, bucket, and bottles upon bottles of fucking…chemicals? Or something. “You were hiding out on me. But guess fucking what? Horny Demon’s here to clean house.”

He had to read everything so carefully. The backs of the bottles. To make sure he didn’t kill himself by mixing things that shouldn’t. Luckily, most things had pictures. Along the lines of a bathroom or kitchen or a skull or a hand being dissolved. And he found gloves, so what do you fucking know? Another win that he’d gladly fucking take.

And then he got to work. Cleaning was brutal fucking work. It wasn’t something he’d ever really known or thought about. It wasn’t really something he’d ever had to know or think about. But it was fucking awful. He couldn’t wipe a damn thing down without leaving streaks. No matter how many times he mopped, little pieces of whatever the hell and hairs remained. That. and he couldn’t figure out how to do the whole room without inevitably getting his socks wet.

The fumes were the worst part. Right to his fucking head.

He had a killer fucking migraine when he was finally satisfied with how the place looked. Not perfect, the staff would definitely mock him behind his back, but he would deserve that. And it was the effort that counted, wasn’t it? Ryusei thought so.

Ryusei hoped so.

Once he had finished all the cleaning and putting away all the supplies he’d commandeered and was making his way back to the living room to lie down, because it was just that much closer than his bedroom was, and he was starting to lose sight at this point, he almost crashed onto a passed out Meguru, who was clutching onto one of the throw pillows, and had clearly been there all night.

It startled him so much that it gave him the final push of energy to stagger over onto the other couch. Ryusei felt dumbfounded that he had spent the entire day cleaning and mumbling to himself and hadn’t realized Meguru was there, but then he blamed the scrambled eggs in his head and moved on. He grabbed one of the throw pillows beside him and whipped it at him.

Meguru woke with a gasp, his eyes popping open and the rest of him coming to life all at once. He clutched his arms around the pillow so tight Ryusei thought it might pop, but sanity came in a moment later, and then his brows lowered. He let go of the pillow and whipped it right back. Ryusei barely managed to stop it, sending it onto the floor. The guy should have taken up baseball as well as soccer.

“What the hell?” Meguru said. “I was sleeping!”

“I noticed,” Ryusei said. “It’s also like two pm. How long have you been here?”

“Since last night,” Meguru said. “You weren’t around when I was getting tired, so I stayed over so I could check on you in the morning.”

Ryusei had to admit that was decent of him. But he was too migraine ridden to be too sentimental or appreciative. Besides, Meguru was Meguru. He would get it without it being said.

“When did you go to sleep?” he asked instead. Meguru shrugged. Ryusei sighed. “Late?”

“Party went pretty late,” Meguru said, thinking to himself. “What happened to you? I didn’t see you even once. I texted you a bunch too.”

“I,” Ryusei started, and then stopped.

He didn’t know what to say. He was a coward. Or an asshole. Or a heartbroken loser. Or all three. He’d realized that he hadn’t actually wanted to have a party once he realized he’d only thrown the damn thing hoping a nonchalant eighteen year old Sae would waltz through the door, looking drop dead gorgeous and eternally unimpressed, and when Ryusei thanked him for coming between bouts of hitting on him, he’d put his hands in his pockets and shrug and say, well, I had nothing better to do. And Ryusei would just know.

But then he had to remind himself that neither of them were eighteen anymore.

“I changed my mind,” was what Ryusei eventually decided on.

“Cool,” Meguru said. Eternally unbothered, eternally accepting.

“Who’s bra is that on the light?” Ryusei asked. He’d left it. Not out of annoyance, or disgust, but out of mere self preservation, and that fact that his migraine was already alive and well and he didn’t want to risk reaching for it and slipping and smashing his head open before he’d even gotten a chance to fix his stupid marriage. “Do you know?”

Meguru turned to look over his shoulder, and when he looked back at Ryusei, his face was lit right up. “Oh yeah! It was that girl. What was her name. Black and green hair. Lip ring. I think she was a hair stylist? She was so crazy. Like, fun crazy. I liked her a lot.”

“Haruki?” Ryusei asked.

He didn’t think she seemed the type for anything that involved her bra ending up on the light fixture at the party of a guy she was only moderately friends with, but he supposed that people could always surprise each other.

“Yup,” Meguru said. “At the end of the night when she was leaving, she took it off and hung it up and there was said since you couldn’t bother to come down and say hi to her, she’d leave your gay ass that present to deal with in the morning. Her words, I swear.”

Yeah. Well, that made a lot more sense.

“Well, joke’s on her,” Ryusei said. “I’m just going to throw it out.”

“Not give it back?” Meguru asked.

“She went through the trouble of leaving it here,” Ryusei reasoned. “I’ll tip her well next time I see her.”

“That might send the wrong message,” Meguru said.

“From my gay ass?” Ryusei asked in mock offense before scoffing. “I doubt it.”

“True,” Meguru said, remembering. And then, “Her brother was here.”

“I know.” Ryusei really didn’t want to talk about it. “She was trying to set us up.”

“You guys?” Meguru’s eyes went saucer wide. Ryusei just nodded. It wasn’t any of his doing, but he felt ashamed anyways, and made no effort to keep it off his face. “Did you ask her to?”

“Are you seriously asking me that right now?” Ryusei asked. It didn’t sound harsh. It wasn’t mad. It was a little small. A little hurt.

“I don’t know, dude,” Meguru said, his own type of apology. “You’ve been doing a lot of crazy stuff lately.”

“You noticed too?” Ryusei asked. Meguru’s face was answer enough. He felt pretty ashamed about that too. “Well, I’m trying to stop. Or cut back, at least. Everything in moderation.”

“Including sanity,” Meguru agreed.

They were quiet a minute or so.

“Was the brother hot?” Ryusei asked.

“Oh my god,” Meguru said.

“I’m not interested,” Ryusei said. He was, again, surprisingly undefensive. He didn’t have anything defend. It was the truth. “I’m just wondering.”

Meguru seemed to think that over. Or make the effort to pretend, at least. It wasn’t a long contemplation.

He shrugged and said, “Meh.”

Ryusei trusted Meguru’s taste in men wholeheartedly, because he was the only other person on the entire planet that had managed to bag an Itoshi brother. As such, he was the only other person who had his same skewed sense of reality, the same awareness of how short the rest of the world fell compared to them.

But, you know, way less than Ryusei, obviously, because Meguru had ended up with Rin.

“Yeah,” Ryusei agreed.

“You want me to climb up on the island and grab the thing down?” Meguru asked.

“Nah, I got it,” Ryusei said. Meguru again looked very doubtful, almost scared. “What? I’m not afraid of girls or their clothes. I’m a grown man.”

“Yeah,” Meguru said. “I wasn’t insinuating you were afraid. I was offering to alleviate the risk of you climbing up there and bashing your skull clean open.”

Ryusei sighed and lifted himself off the couch, throbbing temples be damned. He was tired of being babied. “Rin-chan’s been teaching you too many big words.”

Meguru scowled, audibly, and followed after him. Once Ryusei had come to the island, he found he was a lot less sure of himself than he’d been in the living room. Damn Reo and his infinite money and his sky high ceilings. The risk of him climbing up there and smashing his skull clean open, especially in this state, wasn’t exactly ridiculous.

“Second thoughts?” Meguru asked.

“Can it,” Ryusei told him. “I was just thinking, damn Haruki.”

“I know, right?” Meguru said. “I mean, it’s not like I was looking, but that thing’s massive.”

That had been the furthest thing from Ryusei’s mind, however, now that it was brought to the forefront, he was reacting from a very horrified and Sae-like place inside himself.

“Are you fucking high?” Ryusei said. “She’s like a hundred pounds soaking wet. That thing’s tiny.”

Meguru’s eyebrows dropped again, his eyes darkening. “Has your concussion started to make you go blind?”

“You’re fucked,” Ryusei said. “I doubt I could even close that thing around my thigh.”

“You’re the one who’s fucked,” Meguru said back, shaking his head. ”I could wear it.”

And suddenly Ryusei thought of a way he might be able to kill two birds with one stone. Having fun and keeping himself off the deathtrap that was the kitchen island, that was.

He peered at Meguru. “Wanna bet?”

“Terms?” Meguru asked, ready for any type of mischief or foolery at a moment’s notice.

“Loser buys lunch.”

“Oh, you are so on,” Meguru agreed immediately, scrambling up onto the island.

This guy had no shame. Something that Ryusei had known about Meguru since they were teenagers and had not had many opportunities to forget. Meguru grabbed the bra right off the light fixture and immediately wrapped the thing around himself, twisting every which way to try and get the clasp on the back closed. Right there, standing on the island in the middle of Reo’s favourite kitchen. Ryusei just watched, halfway entertained, halfway thinking about how this might be the easiest lunch he’d ever gotten.

“Give up,” he eventually called.

“Never,” Meguru said, looping one strap around his wrist and yanking at his shirt. “I just forgot to take my shirt off. You’re going down.”

Ryusei was, in fact, very much not going down. He watched his friend for a while longer, eventually laughing through his migraine until it calmed down to a headache, until Meguru finally relented. He threw the turquoise heap of straps at Ryusei.

“Fine, whatever,” Meguru said, getting off the island. “It won’t fit around your leg either.”

“We’ll see about that,” Ryusei said.

Which he was immediately unsure about, but he’d already basically won, so he was uninvested in the outcome. But still. He was a good sport. And it’s not like he was entirely counted out yet. He looped the thing around his leg, quite a bit of wiggle room, he’d lost a fair bit of muscle density over the past few years, but he might be alright if he flexed.

“No flexing,” Meguru said.

“Whatever you cheat,” Ryusei said, clasping the thing up, watching it fall to his ankle. “You stretched it out.”

“Pfft,” Meguru said, a long doubtful gust of air.

Ryusei grabbed the bra and tossed it out. Shoving it way to the bottom of the garbage bag, just in case one of the very diligent Mikage manor staff members noticed and might mention that to Reo. And then he returned to the thought of lunch. There had been no winners and no losers and as such, lunch was very up in the air.

“I’ll buy you lunch,” Meguru said with a shrug when Ryusei got back into the living room. “It’s the least I could do.”

“You don’t have to,” Ryusei said. “You gave me a pretty killer show.”

“Down boy,” Meguru said, full of fake offense, hand to his chest. “I’m a married man.”

“Me…” Ryusei said, before the words got caught in his throat. He noticed too late to hide, but too soon to stop it. “Too.”

That word came heavy, laced with sadness. A sentiment which, of course, had found it’s way onto Meguru’s face.

“You are,” he assured him.

“Yeah,” Ryusei said. “I know.”

Meguru was quiet. Averted his eyes. Swallowed nervously. Looked back at him.

“How is all that going?” he asked. Painfully softly.

“I don’t know,” Ryusei said.

And it wasn’t even a therapy mandated lie this time. It was just the truth. How was his marriage going? How was the trial separation going? How was he dealing with his impending divorce? All questions that could very easily be answered with I don’t know. Because he didn’t know. How could he know? Everything he’d known about his own marriage was getting flipped on its head basically daily. The separation sucked, because it just did and also because he had no idea how Sae’s separation was going, which was kind of crucial for him to judge the quality of his own. And his impending divorce, well. That was one he kind of made up. He could recognize that. But he still didn’t know he was coping with the hypothetical anyways.

“Well,” Meguru said. “There’s still time.”

Ryusei didn’t really feel like talking about the fact that no, there wasn’t. There was two weeks left of separation. Less, actually, considering that they were halfway through this week and there would be one more full week before he’d have to face Sae, and in that, face himself, face themselves and their marriage in all its beauty and its flaws and that thought fucking terrified him. He wanted to see Sae right now, that was a given, it was his baseline constant, but he just wanted to see him behind bulletproof glass. Behind a two way mirror. He needed a year or a decade or maybe more before he’d be ready to face him, to face this.

“Alright, this bummed me out and I feel no guilt about spending Rinny boy’s money,” Ryusei said. “So you can buy me lunch.”

On the way to therapy a few days later, Ryusei was fighting for his life trying to avoid an extra charge in the uber, because he felt like he was surely going to be sick. It wasn’t a long drive, twenty minutes at most, however, he’d spent an entire two days freaking out about his trial separation, which, hello, had been going on for the past five weeks, and dozing in and out of consciousness from his migraine meds, and by the time it was by for therapy, it had caught up with him.

In other words, he was not doing well.

Saichi noticed but didn’t comment on it. She got to her own chair herself, let Ryusei bring the little trash can over to himself, and watched as he collapsed into the chair and put his face in his hands.

“You don’t look too well, sweet boy,” Saichi said after a time.

“I’m not contagious,” Ryusei said.

“I didn’t suspect that you were,” she said.

Ryusei needed a minute to gather himself and he selfishly took it. Taking soft, slow breaths, trying to focus on anything and everything but the pounding in his head. He knew it was just leftover panic and stress. He knew it was entirely in his head. But shit, that didn’t make it any easier.

“I’m just,” Ryusei said. “I’m not doing too well, Sai.”

“Because the trial separation is coming to an end next week?” Saichi asked. “And you’re nervous about having to come face to face everything?”

Saichi’s psychic powers and her lack of hesitation in speaking on them comforted Ryusei in a way. Even his very physical symptoms seemed to be tamed by her. He was suddenly calmed enough to lift his head, to look right at her, in awe as well as bewilderment. She was giving a look like she was telling him to get real.

“Lots of people go through this as we near the finish line,” she assured him. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Let yourself feel your feelings.”

Ryusei would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted to ask, is Sae? Is he as afraid to face me and us and our fuck ups as I am? But he fought the urge, and he was proud of himself for it. If Saichi had gotten divine revelation about his almost faux pas, she didn’t let on. She let the air between them breathe.

“I’m fucking terrified,” Ryusei said.

“Rightfully so,” Saichi said. “Humans tend to get invested and comfortable in their surroundings, even if they are not ideal. Which explains why we can let ourselves stew in people and places so long. A change is coming, Ryusei. For better or for worse. It’s entirely natural that you would fear such a change.”

“I don’t want to fear it,” he said. “It just feels so insanely intense.”

“You’re a sensitive boy,” she said. It was not an excuse; she was not apologizing for him. It was just fact. He was sensitive. He felt a lot. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. What are you so afraid of?”

“That we’ll divorce,” Ryusei answered, before adding, “Or that we won’t. But we just go back to doing the same shit and can’t break out it.”

“Those are valid fears,” Saichi said.

“I don’t want that,” he said.

“Which one?”

“Either?”

“Well, that’s excellent,” Saichi said. “It’s important to know what you want and don’t want. And it might also bring you some comfort to hear that you have a lot of say in the matter.”

“I thought I didn’t have a say?” Ryusei asked.

“You don’t have all the say,” Saichi said. “You’re part of a partnership. Your partner also has a say. But nobody else does. Not if neither of you allow it. Neither of you quite strike me as the type to be easily influenced by others. Doesn’t that seem much better a situation than, I don’t know, trying to get an entire soccer team to agree on something?”

Not really, Ryusei wanted to say. Because at least in soccer there was a common goal they were working towards and a team could usually get to the point where they acknowledge the best path to get there. But he wasn’t in the mood to fight.

“I guess so,” Ryusei said.

“You don’t believe me,” Saichi said.

“I can’t tell if I do or not,” Ryusei said. “I’m sad and I’m scared, so everything feels wrong and fucking hard to understand.”

“I hope you know that that is incredibly insightful of you, Ryusei,” Saichi said.

That softened the blow ever more than her reading his mind. He took a deep breath and then another. He felt the thumping in his chest slow.

After a time, she asked, “How was your week?”

“It was fucking stupid,” he told her, before telling her about the party, waiting for Sae to show up, locking himself in his room, the bra, the sadness, the panic, the headaches and the headaches and the headaches. He got a chuckle about the bra bet, but everything else she listened to calmly and quietly, her face giving away no clues as to what she might have thought about any of it.

“It sounds like you had an eventful week,” she said.

“It was definitely emotionally eventful,” Ryusei said.

He delivered it like a bad joke dripping with sarcasm, but Saichi just smiled at him and said, “You really have made great strides this week.”

Ryusei laughed. Just as sad, just as sarcastic. “Thanks.”

“Let’s revisit last week’s homework, shall we?” she asked. “You struggled with it. How are you doing with it now?”

“I brought my journal,” Ryusei said, standing so he could grab the journal he’d rolled up and shoved into the back pocket of his pants out. He waved it around a couple times, sat back down, and set it on his lap. He had brought it, he had used it, but he didn’t need it.

How refreshing. He didn’t need it.

“Moving forward, right?” Ryusei asked. Saichi smiled and gave him a nod. He didn’t touch his journal. He didn’t need it. He remembered. “Yeah. I thought a lot about that, actually. During the party especially. I realized I didn’t want to be a fucking idiot anymore. Or, you know, not an idiot. Maybe a doofus is a better word? I don’t want to be an irresponsible piece of shit anymore. I want to grow up, Sai. I want to be a man.”

“What does that mean for you, Ryusei?” she asked. “Being a man?”

“I want to be responsible for myself,” he said. “I want to make my own appointments. I want to stop apologizing to people for forgetting shit. I want to write shit down, because I know my stupid broken brain can’t be trusted. And you know what? I don’t want to do these stupid jobs where I put my face on drinks I can’t even drink because they might give me a heart attack. I don’t want to be this child that everyone around me has to baby. I don’t want everyone to worry about me and check in on me because they know I won’t remember or won’t think or that I will think, and I’ll think doing something stupid is a great idea. I still want to have fun, I just want to have more grown up fun. Like, haha fun, not this might do a million yen in damages kind of fun.”

He paused. He’d said quite a bit. His examples were specific. Concrete. Some of them, he’d written down, some of them, he’d just thought of. He didn’t need the journal. His brain worked sometimes. There was a lightness that came with it, but it also made him deeply emotional. His eyes stung and then blurred.

“Not this might force my husband to bury me fun.”

When he looked up at Saichi, her eyes looked glossy too. He thought it might be her glasses, or his own tears, or a trick of the light, but then she pulled off her glasses and patted the edge of her frilly sleeve at her eyes. She took a breath and then another and put her glasses back on and smiled.

“I’m very proud of you, Ryusei,” she said.

It made his own circumstance much worse. “Don’t you go doing that shit.”

“I truly am,” she said, doubling down. “I don’t often get the honor of watching clients make as much progress as you have in such a short time, but when I do, it is a delight. You really are quite intelligent and insightful, and I don’t worry about you in the slightest.”

“I bet you say that to everyone,” he joked.

“I know that you know that I don’t,” she said.

“I’m gonna try, Sai,” he said. “I don’t want to just say all this shit and not change. I mean, I’m still me, and odds are good that I’m gonna fuck up now and again, but I’m gonna try.”

“I know you are,” she said. “And that’s good news, because this is an excellent segue into our last assignment.”

“Shit,” Ryusei said.

“Don’t be naughty,” she scolded him, which was indication that the mood had finally gotten lighthearted, and Ryusei liked that too. “The last week is an easy one. You’ve been through more than enough at this point, and I don’t want you burnt out as you cross the finish line.”

“Sounds promising,” Ryusei said.

“The last week is just about fulfilling the self contract you’ve outlined for yourself,” Saichi said. “You have given excellent, concrete examples about the kind of person, the kind of man you want to be going forward. All I want you to do is follow through, and then keep track of the things you’ve done that align with that person you want to be. Simple enough, right?”

“Kind of makes me think we’re gearing up for something awful next week,” Ryusei joked.

“Simple enough, right?” Saichi repeated.

“I can do that,” Ryusei said.

“I have every faith in you,” Saichi said.

“But seriously,” Ryusei said. “I’m a special boy, remember? Give me a heads up. What are we doing after the last week?”

“The man in front of me doesn’t need a heads up,” Saichi said back. Ryusei found it difficult to fight her on it. It didn’t align with the type of man he wanted to be. “We’ll go over it next week.”

That was that. Then Ryusei was spat back out into the world. He could have called a car to take him right back to Reo’s, but instead, he headed back out to the main street and started walking down. Saichi must be good at what she did, which she was, but lots of people must think so, because her office was prime real estate in a pretty sick neighborhood. He walked down the street, enjoying the fresh air and moving his old decaying bones, ignoring all the people giving him side glances on the street, checked that his ring was in place, it was, bought himself a tea, and sipped it as he went on. He kept walking until a stationary shop across the street caught his eye. He'd literally never thought much about them. Never even stepped foot in one. He’d bought his therapy journal online. Cheapest one he could find. The paper tore constantly and the spine was ripping despite it being a whole five weeks old.

But he’d been thinking a lot about it recently, and thought why not get his first win of the week out of the way?

The employee inside was this tiny girl, clearly in high school if not just out of it. She looked at him, then down his tea, and then back up at him, and then just stood there, stunned. He wasn’t sure if it was because she recognized him or if she was just taking him in. He was a pretty odd looking person, semi-celebrity status aside. But then she caught herself and cleared her throat, keeping the mystery to herself.

“How can I help you, sir?” she said, fighting off the shakiness in her voice.

He couldn’t just ignore her, but she looked so petrified, Ryusei wondered if the kinder move was to just leave.

“Uh, well, I’m looking for a planner,” he said. “You know, with all the dates and shit.”

The girl only looked more stunned, and Ryusei only felt worse.

“I mean,” Ryusei said. “Dates and stuff.”

The girl nodded a couple times quickly before turning. “Right this way.”

She led him to the right section, pointed with an unsteady hand, and fucked right off as quick as her tiny little feet could take her. He didn’t blame her and he didn’t mind. He could have used the help, because he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing, but he wasn’t going to dare ask until he was planner in hand, ready to pay. He was a man. He could figure this out himself.

Which he could, apparently. It wasn’t really that hard. Most planners were basically the same, had monthly and weekly layouts, to do lists, areas to write notes. All he needed, really. He grabbed one with a sick looking cover and grabbed a pack of pens on his way to the till. For the trouble.

Better for both of them really, but the girl didn’t return when he got to the front desk. Instead, a small woman with greying hair and glasses on a chain came out from the back room. She reminded him of Saichi, the way she was slow moving, the kindness in her face. He was grateful for it.

“Did you find everything you need alright?” she asked.

“I did,” Ryusei answered. “Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome,” she said.

She didn’t scan his items or check them. She just looked them over and punched some numbers into an old school calculator. Endearing, he thought. He was grateful to have come in here.

“Great shop you got here,” he said.

Right at the same time as she said, “You’re that soccer player, aren’t you?”

She didn’t hear him. Ryusei had no choice.

“I’m one of them,” he tried to joke. “Or, I used to be. I retired a few years back.”

“Ah,” the woman said. “My granddaughter is a big fan of all that. You made her very nervous. I hope she did not offend you.”

“Not at all,” Ryusei said. It was a little shocking to him, the thought of having fans instead of observers. It had been a while. “I could sign something for her. If she’d want that.”

“If it’s no trouble,” the woman said back, already reaching off to the side of the wooden till, as if she was hoping he’d offer because she was too polite to ask.

It was no trouble. Ryusei asked for the granddaughter’s name and spelling and signed the scrap of paper, being extra sure to be careful about it. To make it look good. It brought back a lot of memories. It had been so long since he’d signed something. He’d never cared about it back in the day. He’d just been looking to get it over with as quickly as possible, to be done as soon as he could be. More often than not, his signature had been gibberish. Some scribble that could barely pass as his name, or even characters. He hadn’t cared in the slightest. The person who bothered me would know it was authentic, and it was their fucking problem if they felt the need to prove it to anyone else, he’d think.

This time, it was undoubtedly his name. He looked down at it.

Shidou Ryusei.

Fuck. He looked away and blinked so he wouldn’t start crying all over again. He hadn’t even thought about it. The fact that that wasn’t actually his name. Not legally. Not anymore. It had been, when he was in the prime of his signing it everywhere, but it hadn’t been for years.

“There,” he said.

“I really appreciate it,” the woman said. “Mei will cherish this.”

“How much do I owe you?” Ryusei asked.

“Take them,” she said, pushing them towards him.

“I can’t,” he said.

They were in a stalemate for almost a whole minute before she relented. She gave him a price. Ryusei had the inclination that she was lying, but paid it anyways. She packed his things in brown paper and tucked them into a bag without asking. He wished her a good day and left the store with his purchases.

And that was enough exploring for one day. He called a car to take him back to Reo’s.

Speak of the devil, Reo was waiting for him at the very island that Meguru had stood on while trying to jimmy himself into Haruki’s bra just a few days earlier. Ryusei knew he’d come back, but he hadn’t seen him since before the weekend and hadn’t spoken to him since the sappy texts the night of the party. Reo looked good. Like he always did. Well dressed, refreshed, unbothered, not pissed, which Ryusei thought was especially awesome A folded newspaper sat in his lap and a platter of food and a glass of champagne were set out in front of him.

“Well, well, well,” Reo said. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

“Meow,” Ryusei said, moving to join him and setting his bag on the table. “Or, shit, I guess I’m not the cat in that joke.”

“Close enough,” Reo said. “Blame the broken brain.”

“You look good,” Ryusei said. “How was the trip?”

“It was good, thank you for asking,” Reo said. He left out any slyness, which Ryusei appreciated, because he wasn’t going to comment on it, but he still did find Reo’s sex life very gross. “Sei says hi.”

“Oh,” Ryusei said. “Cool.”

“No, seriously,” Reo urged. “He did.”

“Oh?”

“He said he hopes you’ll come over next time he’s in town,” Reo went on. “Play more video games.”

“Oh, shit,” Ryusei said. “Well, yeah, alright, you can tell him I’m down.”

“Cool,” Reo said. “I’ll let him now.”

“If only he had a husband who could play with him,” Ryusei said.

“If only,” Reo said back.

“I’m shocked you’re so bad at them,” Ryusei said. “I’ve never known you to be bad at anything.”

“I’m not,” Reo said simply. “I just don’t enjoy them and I don’t like to fight. I’m also not a fan of temper tantrums. It’s good for us for me to be ‘bad’ at them. Any strong relationship needs a little bit of lying to stay healthy.”

“You know,” Ryusei said. “I don’t think that’s true.”

Reo shrugged unapologetically. “Sure it is. Everyone is a little bit fake when they meet someone new. More so if you’re into them. You try to make yourself seem a little bit cooler, more impressive, whatever. Loving someone, or being loved, just the way one is, that’s great and all, but there’s always parts of us we keep to ourselves, especially after we know someone well enough to know what they need from us, and what they need hidden from them.”

Ryusei thought that over. He didn’t often question things Reo said; he didn’t often have to. And this explanation sounded good. It’s just that he didn’t really want it to be true. Ryusei was many things, but he wasn’t really a liar. Never had been. He’d walked right up to Sae and said, I like you. Give me your number later. And he’d never stopped letting it all hang out. Then, on the other hand, Sae had so many masks, Ryusei found it hard to remember which face was his real one unless he was looking at it. That’s how rarely he saw it. He saw it a little when they were dating, slips of the mask. He saw it a lot during their first few years of marriage. The past couple years, well. He didn’t feel great about coming to the conclusion that the only times he remembered seeing Sae over the past few years is when they were fighting.

What had Sae been keeping to himself over all these years? Had it been for him or for them? Were those things one in the same? And on the same note, what should Ryusei have been hiding from Sae, for him, from them?

“I don’t know,” Ryusei said, still lost in a slideshow of big truths and little lies and trying to come to a solid conclusion.

“No offence,” Reo said, shrugging again. “But who’s crashing with who?”

Ryusei could hardly battle that logic. “Touche.”

Reo dug into his pocket and pulled out a little keychain shaped like a clock tower. He tossed it onto the counter in front of Ryusei.

“Here,” Reo said. “I got you a souvenir.”

“Gee,” Ryusei said, lifting the keychain in front of his face. “Thanks, big spender.”

“I would have put more effort in,” Reo said. “Had I not had to take the extra time to call my staff in a day early because someone tried to bleach the marble.”

“What?” Ryusei said, dropping the keychain back to the counter. “I thought bleach was like the master of all cleaners. Good for everything.”

“Oh my god,” Reo said, his face overcome with genuine horror. “That’s not even kind of true.”

Ryusei rolled his eyes. “And how would you know? I doubt you’ve ever cleaned a day in your life.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t know,” Reo said, not even trying to deny it. “And you didn’t even try to dilute it. Honestly.”

“Sorry,” Ryusei said. “I didn’t know.”

“Clearly.”

“How much do I owe you?”

Reo sighed. And then scowled. “Once isn’t going to hurt it. Never try to clean my house again and we’ll call it even.”

“Deal,” Ryusei said. “I was just trying to be nice.”

“A favor done wrong isn’t a favor,” Reo said.

Ouch. That stung particularly effectively because Ryusei could hear those words all over Sae’s lips. Maybe that was why Reo had become such a good friend, why he kept going to Haruki, why Saichi was so good for him. He gravitated towards people who would keep him in line because that’s really what he needed, if it he’d only started realizing it recently.

“So, how was the party?” Reo asked.

“Wouldn’t know,” Ryusei said. “I had a panic attack and holed up in my room the entire time.”

“Yeah, I saw that,” Reo said. Ryusei was shocked, and it must have come over his face, because Reo raised an eyebrow. “What? Do you not know this entire place is bugged? I’m a Mikage. I need to have a record of everything that goes on in my house.”

“You spy on me?” Ryusei asked.

“Jesus,” Reo said. “No. I live a very full life and have much better things to do than watch you take three showers a day. I was on vacation with my husband, remember? I just pop on from time to time and make sure you’re still alive, or that nobody was trashing my house.”

“Nobody but me,” Ryusei said.

“Failed attempt,” Reo said. “I’ll let it slide.”

“Well, I’ll be out of your hair soon enough,” Ryusei said.

“Yeah,” Reo said. Thoughtfully. “That is coming up, huh?”

“Next week.”

“Hmm.”

“You don’t think we’re getting back together, do you?” Ryusei asked, plain out.

Reo paused. He didn’t try to hide his thoughts exactly, nor the fact that he was having them, and allowing himself the time to sort through them.

“All I’m saying is that I don’t mind if you have to stay longer,” he said.

“Well, thanks and fuck you, I guess,” Ryusei said.

“No problem and right back at you,” Reo said. He tilted his chin towards the bag. “What’s that?”

“A planner,” Ryusei said. “I’m trying to grow up, so I’m going to start writing things down.”

“That’s somehow easier than using the very free and portable planner that comes in your phone?” Reo asked.

“I never look at that thing,” Ryusei said. “Besides, therapy kind of got me in the habit of writing shit down, so I figured might as well. And screens and little texts hurt my eyes.”

“Little texts?” Reo asked. “You ought to get an eye exam. When was the last time you had one?”

Honest answer? When he was still playing soccer. The teams he played on booked and paid for the appointments for the players. All Ryusei would have to do was show up. Not Sae. Despite his absolutely perfect definitely-could-have-been-a-pilot-in-another-life vision, Sae had a yearly eye exam done by an optometrist he was fiercely loyal to. Ryusei mocked him mercilessly for it. What the fuck did it matter? Weren’t all eye doctors the same? Why bother flying all the way out to Spain just to identify some letters and get air blown in your eyes? It was important to Sae, apparently. And, yeah, Ryusei had not had one since he retired. He hadn’t even thought about it.

He reached for the bag and started unwrapping the pens and the planner from their brown paper. “I’ll put it on my to do list.”

And as he was writing that into the little to do list set aside on the page for this upcoming week, Ryusei paused and thought about Sae. Thought about thinking about Sae, that was, and how little of it he’d been doing that day. I want to grow up. I don’t want to be babied. I want to be a man.

Shidou Ryusei, he’d signed.

He’d thought about Sae but he hadn’t really been thinking about him in that all consuming way he tended to after getting so good at it the past five or six years. At first, it brought a pang of sadness right to his chest, because maybe that meant he was getting over him, against his own will, but still, and he didn’t want that. But Saichi’s lessons must have crept inside him and changed him for the better, because just a beat later, he calmed. And thought, huh, well no matter the circumstance that comes at the end of this, the fact that he could think about Sae these in manageable, healthy amounts was probably a good thing.

Chapter Text

When it came to the mundane things, Sae felt that sticking to the self contract was shockingly easy.

Or maybe disgustingly easy was a better way of putting it, seeing as once he’d started, it felt like such basic, simple shit that it was himself he was disgusted with for not figuring it all out sooner. It wasn’t second nature or anything. He still had to think about it. Pause. Breathe. Catch his automatic reactions, when he could, which wasn’t always. But he was doing better. Much better, he assumed, than the twenty percent condescension reduction that he’d been aiming for.

Sendou had moved into his apartment. And he felt, well, some type of way about that. If he had to consult the emotion wheel, perhaps he’d land on satisfied. Or relieved. Or whatever.

They didn’t talk about it. They didn’t talk much at all. They weren’t really that kind of friends, and besides, Sae didn’t have much experience with friends of any kind. But they’d started this type of game of sorts. It had started when Sendou texted Sae a picture of Sae’s own fridge, the water dispenser on the front of it. The accompanying text read: Sixteen settings for ice? Three different grades of crushed? I’m in heaven. And instead of texting him back uh, yeah, obviously I’m the one who fucking bought it or what, Oliver’s only good enough for bagged ice from the corner store? or even, don’t get too comfortable, it’s only one more week, all of which would have been very kneejerk Sae reactions, he texted him back a picture of Rin and Meguru’s fridge, the no water dispenser on the front. With a text that read: And I’m in hell.

Sendou texted back a whole string of laughing emojis. And Sae felt some type of way about that too.

It went on like that. Sendou sent him a picture of the showerhead in the guest bathroom and said, legit forgot I wasn’t in the rainforest, and Sae sent one of Rin’s guest bathroom showerhead and said, never forgetting I’m in Peasant Town.

And there was more to it. Sae wasn’t that much of an idiot; even he could see that. This was Sendou’s way of saying that he appreciated what Sae had done for him and Sae’s way of not making a big deal about it. He didn’t really care that he was personally digging at people he was harboring his own brand of reluctant appreciation for. As far as Sae was concerned, what Rin and Meguru didn’t know couldn’t hurt them.

Plus, there was the time he caught Sendou pacing back and forth in the living room, staring into his phone. Sae couldn’t see the screen, but he didn’t have to. The guy was alone, and as such, had no motivation to keep it off his face. It’s not like Sae was spying. He’d gotten cameras put into the house, as a precaution, after Ryusei had retired and he’d gone back to work. Like the ones you can buy for pets, just higher grade. He’d never told him about it. About the cameras or the fact that they were technically for spying on pets. But that’s just because he’d wanted to spare them both the fight of Sae not trusting him to take care of himself or keep himself alive or whatever, even though that was true. But he would be a whole continent away, so he didn’t feel bad. He hadn’t been spying on him. He’d check in from time to time to make sure Ryusei wasn’t sprawled out on the kitchen floor in a puddle of his own blood or vomit and he was doing the same thing when he was making sure Sendou wasn’t sleeping in his bed or wearing his clothes.

But instead, he saw, well, whatever the hell this was.

He watched him just long enough to get a pretty good idea of what the hell this was, and then he rolled his eyes to himself and pressed the microphone button. A feature he’d never used, but was using now.

“Sendou.”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Sae watched the Sendou on his screen gasp, jump, and drop his phone right out of his hands. He didn’t seem too concerned, however. Instead, he was looking around into the corners of the room. “Sae? Is that you?”

“No,” Sae said. “This is your conscience.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Sendou said, leaning down to grab his phone off the floor and slide it into his pocket without looking at it. “Are you seriously so paranoid that you have your whole house bugged?”

“Like I said, I’m your conscience,” Sae said again. He was making no effort to disguise his voice. That would be the one thing that would make this go from being a decent person to being a creepy pathetic weirdo. “And I’m here to tell you that you’re too good to fall for whatever bullshit Aiku is texting you right now.”

“Oh, you are, are you?” Sendou was still looking around, following the sound of the noise, approaching Sae on the screen. He eventually found the camera, and Sae was forced to face a real smug looking Sendou. “Ha! Found you, you prick. Did you seriously get a nanny cam to spy on your husband? This trial separation is making a lot more sense.”

“Stop texting him,” Sae said, and then he disconnected.

As far as things with Rin went, they were fine. They weren’t spectacular or anything, but there had been a shift, and that was good enough. They’d agreed on a truce, not an inseparable best friendship. They were being decent to each other.

Well, they weren’t being dicks to each other. And Sae was putting in some effort. After a realization that he really had been doing the work over the past six weeks, which meant he had been doing the exact opposite of barely thinking and barely feeling so he could throw his entire self into training constantly, he asked Rin if he could join him for his training sessions. And Rin had said sure. Monotone and with no real enthusiasm, but it was affirmative, and even Sae could see that that was big for them. Yes, sometimes that meant tagging along with the entire team, which meant fielding Aiku and having to showcase his friendship with Sendou, which felt so fucking embarrassing for some reason he just couldn’t place. And things between the two of them were icy, which was more difficult to ignore than usual, likely because he was more aware of everyone's emotions as well as in the unfortunate position of being in the middle of it. But it was irritating, not unbearable.

All in all, Sae was getting his life together. Bit by bit. Or at least that’s what kind of what it felt like. His career had been the only thing he’d ever really gotten right, and that had been more so his skill than his actual doing. But now, he was learning about his own emotions. How to take the emotions of others into account. He’d made a friend. Gotten to the point where he could admit it. And he’d gotten things with Rin to a much less hostile place.

Things were good. Mostly.

It turned out that Sae hadn’t lost much of his skill or his stamina. He never really did. But it didn’t stop him from always spiralling convincing himself that he had or that he would. It was never far from his mind, that bone chilling fear of losing the one thing he held dear, the one thing that had given him purpose for as long as he could remember. Or one of his reasons. The one he still had left.

He was already deep in one of his infamous spirals when he felt himself being pulled down deeper into the darkness by the ankle, the only thing audible being a thought that stated, shocking, that it’s that big of a fear for you, yet you’ve never really thought about what it would be like for someone to have that suddenly yanked away from them…

He hated those moments. Sometimes he could shake them off, rid his head of them. Sometimes he got so enveloped in them that he suddenly found himself standing in the guest bedroom or in the gym changing room or in the shower or on the fucking field even to find a significant amount of time had passed with nothing to show for it but his own deep despair.

Actually, if he was being honest, which he was trying to be, he was regularly being overtaken by this deep sense of guilt. When he was busy or distracted with something, it was managable, kept at bay, but as soon as he was alone with his thoughts for more than five seconds, it crept up on him and overtook him.

And the worst part was, worse than the fact that it was his own doing and he was entirely deserving of it, was that the guilt looked like him. It was personified by his own face and spoke to him in his own voice. His voice from seven years ago. His voice from seven weeks ago. There wasn’t that much difference, sometimes. Suddenly, he was just in the middle of some room, being strangled by his own hands, being told things like who cares if you weren’t taught how to love? You weren’t taught how to hate, how to strike, how to wound, and you figured all those out just fine. You’re rotten at your core. You were made wrong. It doesn’t matter how much you learn or try to better yourself, it’s all fake, it’s all fake, it’s all fake.

You’re just fake.

And that’s worse than being cruel.

You’re pathetic.

These moments clutched him with such an intensity that Sae felt physical pain once he’d managed to shake himself free. He was short of breath and felt a little disoriented. He was always looking around, to see if someone had seen him in this state, and reaching out, for a glass of water or something to steady himself on. Like he might fall right over if he wasn’t careful. And that could bring the guilt right back up full force.

I can’t control it, Sae. Sae couldn’t control it either. It was only now that he truly understood.

It's not like there was any lack of things Sae had to feel guilty about. It was like a wound he’d picked at and severed an artery in the process. He’d started to feel bad about Sendou. I went to therapy about you, actually. Do you talk to everyone like that? Even though he couldn’t concretely remember the things he’d said, he knew himself well enough to imagine, and cringed away from the images of his own fabrication.

He felt bad about Rin. Awful, really, if he let himself think about it too long.

Twenty minutes into some practice scrimmage with the team, he’d boredly made this pass to some unnamed irrelevant, and then Rin was there, out of nowhere, taking it for himself, and Sae was brought right back to the moment where Rin had stopped being his annoying kid brother and had been someone worth paying attention to. As awful as that sounded, soccer had brought them together in a way blood and proximity had never been able to. Being brought back there meant Sae was also forced to confront every way in which he’d pushed him away and ripped them apart, and unlike with Sendou, he remembered them all.

During the next water break, he fell back on old habits and announced that he’d gotten bored and was leaving and then he did.

It sounded a lot better than saying he was having a fucking panic attack or whatever the hell it was.

But worse than any of that, worlds worse, was thinking about Ryusei. In any moment, in any respect. Sendou was his friend, but he was also just some guy. Rin was, well, Rin. They were brothers. There was an area of grace there. But Ryusei was Ryusei, and Ryusei was different.

He could barely even brush the surface of that lake without drowning. If I loved you, and you were supposed to love me, and that’s how you talked to me all the time, that would eat at me for sure. And now it was eating Sae alive in a much warranted act of revenge. He didn’t even really think of the big things. The I have better things to do with my life than to bury my husband things. The really convenient that you can watch TV all day and then the second we do something actually productive, you fall apart things. The there’s no getting out now, this guy is going to be my problem for the rest of my life things. It was the little things. The you’re being so stupid things. The stop, you’re annoying me things. The why do you act like that things.

The fact that there was no starting and no end. He was born awful and had become an awful kid and a worse teenager and grown into a properly despicable adult. His cold upbringing hadn’t done him any favours, and he couldn’t imagine that skill or fame had either. He’d had moments of semi-decency, sure, but all in all, he’d been a pretty shitty husband. He’d been an even worse boyfriend. It was a fucking miracle he’d gotten married in the first place.

It was a fucking tragedy that he’d managed to manipulate someone into letting him drag them through hell like he had.

Not just someone. Ryusei. Sae might not have really understood it, or maybe he just had his own version of it, but he loved him. Wasn’t that a fucking horrifying thought? Sae had never really figured out how to love anyone, but the closest he’d gotten, marriage and all, had still been something he’d done with a stone cold heart. If not even love, not even Ryusei, had motivated him to become better, well that just proved it. He was made wrong. Truly rotten at his core.

He couldn’t quite bear thinking about it. He couldn’t bear the sight of himself, if he was being honest. He had just started getting his life together and figuring things out at the pathetic age of twenty six. And he deserved to do that from scratch.

He didn’t know how long it would take him to get himself all sorted out. How to make it to that he could integrate into life as a normal-ish, decent-ish human being who wasn’t constantly sending people to therapy or emotional unavailability or the grave just by existing the only way he’d known how. But he deserved to do it alone.

And so he made up his mind. At the end of this trial separation, he’d file for divorce.

Ryusei deserved so much more than Sae could ever hope to give.

It brought the illusion of calm, having come to a decision. As such, Sae didn’t feel nearly as unsteady as he thought he would for his last therapy session of the trial separation. Before, when everything was up in the air with no trajectory he could confidently predict, he felt loss and frustrated and ready to strike. But now, having come to a decision, even if it was a devastating one, and Sae was indeed devastated by it, at least he knew where things were going.

Saichi greeted him in the waiting room and allowed him to escort her to her chair. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but she seemed to be handling him delicately too. Her smile was softer. Her voice too. She took a second before speaking.

“Hi, Sae,” she said after a time.

“Hi,” he said back.

“So,” she said. “Last week.”

“Right,” Sae said.

He felt calm. Or he thought he did. But when he was confronted with the fact that yeah, this was the last week, and he would never have to step foot in this office ever again, it hit him in the same way everything had seemed to over the past week. Suddenly and without mercy.

“How are you feeling about that?” she asked.

“I’m alright,” Sae said.

“Oh,” she said. “Well, that’s good to hear.”

Sae didn’t consider what he was doing lying. It was lying by omission, sure. But whatever. It was mostly a self preservation thing. Everything he felt, every ugly label from the emotion wheel, he deserved, and he didn’t need to burden Saichi with it during their last week. But it was also kind of a respect thing. He knew patient confidentiality existed inside the office and all that, but still, he needed things to play out in a certain way just to justify it for himself. On his path to being a decent person and all. And the way that things needed to play out was that nobody, no exceptions, could find out about this divorce before he told Ryusei.

He owed him the world ten times over, but that much at least.

“How have you done with this past week’s homework?” she asked when he didn’t say anything else.

Sae had his journal resting on his lap. He had, despite his constant bouts of guilt and anxiety, written down most instances when he had been proud of his actions. From the mundane to the significant. Doing dishes right after eating went into the journal, as well as was definitely closer to 40% less condescending in my interactions this week.  

“I did well,” he answered.

“Good,” she said. “Let’s talk about some of that, shall we? Who does Sae want to be, and how has he done adhering to that?”

Sae talked about Sendou, how he was staying in his apartment, the game they had been playing. She seemed very endeared by that, and as someone who had seen right through his lie about having friends, he could understand it well enough. He talked about Rin. Meguru too, actually. The three of them had managed to watch an entire movie one night without as much as one snide comment, on behalf of the characters or each other. She looked proud of him and voiced those thoughts.

“I think it’ll be harder when I go back to work,” Sae admitted.

“Why’s that?” she asked.

“I’m trying to be less coldhearted,” Sae said. “But my career kind of needs that version of me. I think it’ll be a challenge. Or adjustment. Or whatever.”

“That’s very insightful of you,” she commented. “Do you mean soccer itself or interacting with your teammates?”

“Both,” Sae reluctantly admitted. “On the field, obviously. But…” He took a breath. “Part of why I’m so good is because I consider myself so much better than everyone else.”

“Well,” she said. “There’s no harm in believing that quietly, is there?”

It surprised him. He did not do well at keeping it off of his face.

“Sae, you are better than most,” she said. That only surprised him more. “That’s why teams fight for you, and it’s why you make the money that you do. That is just an objective truth. There’s nothing wrong with believing that objective truth, and there’s nothing wrong with being a little egotistical about it, especially when it helps you maintain the skill level necessary to maintain your livelihood. Last time I checked, you didn’t mention wanting to become humble.”

Sae snorted, almost laughter. “Yeah. That’s probably not going to happen.”

“I sincerely doubt it,” she said. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Sae said, even though there kind of was. But he didn’t think too hard about it. He was just unnecessarily fragile these days.

“So?” she asked. “What’s the problem?”

“I just,” he started, and then had to stop. A breath, and then another. “I don’t know how to walk this line.”

“What line?” she asked.

“Between good and bad,” he answered. “I’m trying to be good, or better, at least. But I just don’t know how far is too far. And I feel awful with every slip up. I kind of hate you for pointing this all out and making me aware of it.”

Saichi’s eyebrows raised and her eyes widened behind the lenses of her glasses, but it was all her personal brand of soft mockery. She was just as unbothered as she always was.

“Me?” she asked. “You think all of this is my doing?”

Considering current company and circumstances, Sae did not resist the urge to glare.

“Maybe I did help by clarifying some things and providing some skills and tools, and if you’d like to hate me for that, you can feel free to go right ahead,” she said. “But it would be beneficial to remember that you were the catalyst. Both of you. I didn’t come knocking at your door. You two sought me out because there was a problem you wanted help with. You guys wanted this.”

“Yeah,” Sae said, trying to mask his dejectedness.

“And I think you’ve done exceptionally,” Saichi said. Sae did indeed fight the urge to roll his eyes. “Really, I do. I said it last week and I’ll say it this week too. You’ve made exceptional progress, and I’m very proud of you.”

“Uh huh,” Sae said.

“You’re shutting down,” Saichi said. It was not an accusation, more of an observation. One that Sae could not readily deny. “But try to listen to this, Sae. You’re just a work in progress. These skills that you’re learning, they can take years to master. I’m sure that’s tough to hear, especially as a prodigy yourself, who is used to mastering skills quickly, but matters of the heart and mind are very different. You’ll get there.”

“Yeah,” he said.

But he did still hate her, because as horrible as he’d been, it had been a hell of a lot easier coasting through life without caring about anyone but himself or thinking about his feelings or his actions or anything besides what he wanted.

“And listen,” she said. “Try not to get caught in the trap of thinking it’s easier to go about life not caring and closed off to it.”

Sae hated the way she did this, read his mind and commented on things he was mindfully keeping to himself, but he especially hated it now.

“It may feel easier in the day to day,” she continued. “You don’t feel as much pain or sadness or embarrassment. But keep in mind that if you close yourself off, you don’t get to do that selectively. You close yourself off to everything or nothing. You don’t get to pick and choose. So it might feel easier to go without the difficult emotions, but trust me, it’s harder in the long run to go without joy, without connection, without love. Don’t you think so?”

He didn’t know what he thought. She’d been right when she said he was shutting down.

“I guess,” he said.

She smiled. But it was not exactly happy. “Now why don’t we talk about something that might get your attention.”

That in itself got his attention.

“Your last homework,” she said.

“I have homework this week?” he said, feeling the fog in his head clear a little bit. “But I’m not seeing you next week.”

“That’s correct,” she said. “This is indeed our last session together. So let me just say one more time how much of a pleasure it was to meet you. But also how much of an accomplishment this is. Congratulations. You’ve officially graduated therapy.”

“Couples therapy,” Sae corrected.

“I don’t just do couples therapy,” she said. “And this hasn’t been couples therapy, has it?”

Sae didn’t answer. Felt no need.

“This is my roundabout way of saying that I genuinely have faith in you to do the rest of your work on your own,” she said. “That being said, if you do need me, your name will forever be on my shortlist, so please don’t hesitate.”

“Why would you word it like that?” Sae asked, sensing something afoot.

Her smile did nothing to dispel his suspicion.

“Because,” she said, before sighing. “Since this is the last week, I will begin to speak openly with you both, as a regular couple rather than a trial separated one, because that is indeed the transition that follows.”

Sae felt his chest lock. He could feel it. His lungs collapsing. Oxygen hard to come by.

“And I feel it important to mention that when I see Ryusei in a few days, I am going to suggest he continue to see me one on one,” she said. “This is not a means to insult him, and this is not an opportunity for you to think yourself better than him because I am not asking the same of you. I just think he has more to learn and would benefit from having the added support.”

Sae, for the record, did not feel at all better than Ryusei. All he felt was tenderness of a very sad variety. Because this shortcoming of his husband’s was, not unlike his first injury, probably somehow Sae’s doing.

At least he’d have someone like Saichi going through the rest of the hell their relationship was to bring upon them both before the dust settled.

“I see,” Sae said.

“I’m also going to tell him that the communication ban between the two of you is lifted,” she said. “Which brings us to our homework.”

Sae was still statue still. His sense of calm was nowhere to be found. He was just flailing through deep, dark waters, no way of knowing which way was up, back to the surface. How did this feel worse at the end than it had at the beginning? How was that fair?

It wasn’t, Sae realized. Which was the point, he supposed.

“Alright,” he managed.

“This week is about sharing with your partner,” Saichi said, holding her palms open and facing up, like she was both offering and ready to receive. “You have both done work over the past six weeks to better yourselves as people and as partners, and this week, once the communication ban is lifted, your task will be to meet up with each other, wherever you see fit is just fine, and discuss what you’ve learned. Skills, revelations, emotions. To speak and act within your self contracts. To see where the other person is coming from. And, ultimately, to try to come to a decision about what the future holds.”

About what the future holds. Worded that way, Sae was even more solidified in his decision when he heard that not even Saichi had faith in the two of them. About what the future holds. He could hear the ellipsis in it. The ominousness. She could sense it coming. She could probably smell it on him.

She was probably thrilled to be getting rid of him too.

At least Sae knew what the future held. Not all of it, but the next big step. At least that was handled. One less thing to figure out.

The rest, getting there, would be infinitely harder. These past six weeks, Ryusei had been but a concept. A figment of his imagination living in his memories and in the corners of his peripheral vision. Sae didn’t know what it would be like to face him. To have him as a real life human being across a room or across a table. Sae felt like he’d died and come back to life every week, six entire times, since he’d seen him last. But every past version still lived inside of him. Had he gone through the same? What would he be like? How would this collective version of Sae handle him? Especially in these delicate circumstances?

“You seem deep in thought,” Saichi said, noticing Sae had not said anything in quite some time.

“I’m fine,” Sae said.

“I highly doubt that,” Saichi said. She held a threatening hand in the air, towards the side of her, where the laminated, full colour version of the emotion wheel lived. “You’ve done the work, Sae. How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling hostile,” Sae threw across the room.

He was lying. They both knew it.

Saichi was not the type to let that lie. “Are you sure?”

No. Sae was just being defensive. Even he knew that.

“I’m scared,” he said.

Saichi softened very much. “That’s very understandable. Being in this situation is scary, isn’t it? But you have all the tools required to make it to the other side. It’s just a matter of facing it head on.”

Sae nodded. Said nothing.

They sat in silence a while longer before Saichi said, “What are you so scared of, Sae?”

And it shot into his mind like it had come from divine revelation, or somewhere entirely outside of himself. I’m scared that there’s no going back, no fixing this, even by removing myself from the situation. I’m scared that no matter how this goes, it just gets worse. That knowing me was going to destroy Ryusei either way, and that was a predestined future set into motion the very first time I saw him on a screen and requested to have him on the U-20 team.

“Everything, I guess,” Sae said.

“Anything in particular?” she asked.

“Not really,” Sae said.

“You seem especially troubled today,” she told him.

“I’m not,” Sae denied.

He was. He just didn’t know what to do about it. It felt neverending and insurmountable and he didn’t have the words to say it and besides, he’d fucking graduated therapy. He was at the finish line. Now was not the time to fall apart. He had to push through.

He had to push through.

“I think it’s just the end, and I’m feeling a lot,” he said. “I don’t really know how to identify them. The feelings or where they’re coming from. I guess I need more practice. I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

Saichi accepted the answer, mulled it over a little, looked at the clock, and then back at Sae.

“I’m not going to probe any further,” she said. “It doesn’t seem to be doing you any good, and our time is almost up anyhow. But Sae, if you take one thing away from this session, please let it be that you’ve done exceptionally well. You’ve done the work, you’ve made vast improvements, and you are a good person.”

Sae scoffed a sound of deep sarcastic doubt. He didn’t even mean to. Just reflex. Or a deep, innate version of himself come alive to rebel against that obvious lie.

Saichi gave him quite the sad look, but she’d already effectively dismissed him, so she didn’t push it any further. She just watched him, waved her hand as if to tell him she didn’t need any help getting to her feet, and then said, “You are. Take care of yourself, sweet boy.”

The two days that followed therapy, Sae was operating on complete autopilot. He watched himself converse with people, train with Rin, wash his dishes, pack up his things back into his suitcases, but entirely outside of himself. From a corner in the room. Like a ghost haunting his own body.

He didn’t return back to himself until he was standing outside the door of his own apartment, and everything horrible that had been outside of his dissociative barrier came crashing back in full force. He was picking up the keys from Sendou, who’d found his own place. Finally. He was also dropping most of his own things off to spare himself the headache of doing it later. He began to wonder if he’d keep this place. It was the only option, really. Ryusei probably couldn’t afford to keep living here on his own. But Sae would offer, to be nice. To be decent. And if it turned out that was true, he’d buy him an apartment, somewhere comfortable to live alongside the allowance he’d give him. He wasn’t a complete monster. Then, the question became whether Sae could even bear to live in this place by himself, somewhere that he’d only ever shared with another person. The only place he’d ever owned, the ghosts of his mistakes hanging around like ghosts. Probably not, he decided. Yeah, it was better to sell it and split the profits and then just figure the rest out with their lawyers. Fresh start. Clean slate.

“Hey man,” Sendou said, answering the door in a horribly backwards exchange. Sae scolded himself harshly to keep all of his thoughts and troubles off his face, but Sendou’s face fell anyways, and his voice softened. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Sae snapped. Since this was his own house, he did not bother waiting for an invitation in.

Sendou stepped out of the way. The weighted door clicked shut behind them. Sae shuffled his own things in and left them by the doorway to the bedroom. Sendou’s stuff was packed up and sitting by the kitchen island. And Sendou had taken to lingering by his things, tapping a few fingers on the kitchen island, as if trying to gather his thoughts.

“You sure?” he asked after a while.

“What is this?” Sae asked. “An interrogation? Where are my keys?”

Sendou patted his pockets, found them, and tossed them over. Sae caught them, feeling the weight of them, and looking down at them like something he didn’t recognize. This was another soon to be goodbye. He couldn’t think about it too long. He shoved them into the pocket of his soccer jacket.

“Thanks,” Sae said. In an attempt to be decent.

“I won’t push it,” Sendou said. Sae was about to snap back and say good, don’t, but then he was caught off guard by the unmistakable pity all over Sendou’s face. “It’s just, you really don’t look so good.”

Fuck you, Sae almost snapped, but caught himself.

“I just have a lot on my mind,” Sae said. Coldly, like a warning.

One that Sendou did not heed.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he said. Before adding, “You want to talk about it?”

Sae was deeply offended by the question until that was overpowered with this overwhelming realization that yeah, he did. He resented it. Felt hostile towards it. The entire red portion of the emotion wheel was dedicated towards that thought. He had done so well during therapy. Which was easier, because Saichi was good at what she did, and had helped him plenty, but she was also a conniving little manipulator and a double agent, who of course, could not be trusted. Sendou, on the other hand, was Sae’s friend. Sae’s only friend. It made it significantly harder.

“I’m filing for divorce after the separation ends,” Sae found himself saying.

Which wasn’t really a big deal, not to him anyways. It shouldn’t have come as too much of a shock. They were trial separated after all. It was one of two ways in which this entire experiment was to end. But even so, Sendou’s face went pale and fell.

“Oh god,” he said, slowly making his way over to Sae, like he was this wild animal ready to strike. “O-Okay…”

When he got to him, he put his hands on each of his arms and slowly started guiding him over to Sae’s own living room couch. This, he was not at all touched by and deeply offended by. His face twisted in disgust.

“Why are you touching me?” Sae asked.

“I’m just sitting you down, buddy,” Sendou said, gently, like Sae was some unruly, unpredictable child.

This only served to offend Sae more. “I don’t need to be manhandled.”

“I’m not manhandling you,” Sendou said, in the very same irritating tone, before placing Sae on the couch and giving him quite the condescending pat on each arm before letting go. He took a seat on the chair a few feet away, lay his face in his hands, sighed deeply, and looked back up. “Okay. Say that again.”

“Don’t be condescending,” Sae snapped.

“Okay, fine,” Sendou said. “What the fuck, Sae?”

“Don’t be…whatever that is either,” Sae said, his glare intensifying. “Patronizing.”

“I’m not.”

Sendou lowered his face into his hands and sighed again before lifting it. Sae didn’t know why he was being so fucking dramatic about the whole thing. It wasn’t his relationship. It wasn’t his divorce. He sighed again, swallowed, and met Sae’s eye.

“Have you told anyone else about this?” Sendou asked.

“No,” Sae said.

“Oh Christ,” Sendou sighed.

“I wasn’t planning on telling anyone not immediately involved,” Sae said, wording it as such because he could not handle Ryusei’s name in his mouth right now. “But then you started interrogating me.”

“Interrogating you?” Sendou asked. Not mad, exactly, but a little exasperated. Which Sae did not feel particularly deserving of. “Dude, you showed up here looking like you were about to cry.”

“I did not,” Sae snapped.

Sendou just stared at him before his face fell in annoyance. “Agree to disagree.”

“No,” Sae said.

Just to be difficult. But he wasn’t being particularly condescending or cruel, so he decided that he could live with difficult.

Sendou didn’t fight. “Are you sure?”

And that one just sounded like a question. Not meant to attack or judge, just to receive an answer, whatever that may be. Sae was a little taken aback, to be honest.

“This is what you want?” Sendou urged.

No, Sae thought to himself quietly. But this isn’t about what I want.

“Yes,” he said.

Another long, painful silence.

“Just,” Sendou started, before needing once again to collect himself. Which, again, Sae wondered why the fuck was happening. “Will you just take some time and think about this?”

“I have thought about it,” Sae answered without hesitation.

“And what brought you to that conclusion?” Sendou asked.

The kindest thing I can do for the person I love is to protect them from me.

But Sae couldn’t say that. So instead he said, “It’s better for everyone.”

Sendou sighed again. “Well, alright.”

“I don’t need your permission,” Sae said.

“I wasn’t,” he started and then stopped himself. “I know. It’s your life. I just want what’s best for you.”

“Okay,” Sae said, because it was the most decent response he could think of that didn’t make his stomach churn.

“And look,” Sendou said. “My new place is decently sized, so if you need to come crash with me for a while and get out of Rin’s hair, that’s cool.”

“I can afford a hotel,” Sae said, deadpan. “Besides, I’m going back to work soon.”

Sendou sighed again, undeniably a scold. “I was just being nice. Obviously I didn’t expect you to take me up on it. It’s called being a friend. Just say thanks and that you’ll think about it and then we don’t have to follow up, okay?”

Sae found that he wished he was more overtly offended by that obvious condescension, but under these circumstances, he was actually a little grateful for the concrete instructions.

“Right,” Sae conceded.

When Sae didn’t say anything else, Sendou still looked deeply troubled by it, but his threshold for pushing an envelope that was dead set on remained sealed shut had been reached, so he patted his hands on his knees and stood. Sae did as well, watching as he gathered his things and led him to the door.

“Thanks again for this,” Sendou said, motioning around the apartment. Sae just nodded. They were friends, sure, but he wasn’t going to go ahead and say something like you’re welcome.

But he had to say something. Something decent.

“It was nothing,” Sae said. Which was the truth.

“I’m sure it wasn’t,” Sendou said. “Anyways.”

He was lingering. Standing outside in the hallway and not walking away. Sae was wondering if the protocol was just to close the door and force an end to the interaction, but then he spoke again.

“You have my number,” Sendou said. “You know, if you need it.”

“Thanks,” Sae said. “I’ll think about it.”

Sendou walked off. He closed the door behind him. Now Sae was left alone in the empty apartment. It was strange, how odd it looked. How devoid of life. Sendou had left it pristine and unlived in. There weren’t dishes on the counter or cutting boards left out. Even the stupid little throw pillows on the couch were fluffed and placed properly.

Sae felt very lonely inside the apartment all of a sudden, and hyperaware of how he’d left Ryusei here for months on end, barely bothering to check in on him, probably feeling this exact way.

He decided he’d unpack, get it over with, give himself something to do with his hands, but then his phone buzzed inside his pocket. He thought little of it, having too much on his mind already, but started drowning in the middle of the living room when he saw Shidou Ryusei across his screen.

Hey.

Sae felt very overwhelmed and very conflicted. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t this. The very normal looking text message with a regular greeting and proper punctuation and a complete lack of emojis. His heartbeat quickened and he had to become mindful of his breathing to make sure he was capable of it at all. He suddenly had the terrifying feeling that he had absolutely no idea who this person on the other side of the phone was, who he had become.

Maybe this was a good thing, Sae reasoned. Maybe we’ve both come to the same conclusion, and that explains the formality. It would make things easier.

Eventually. Right now, it just fucking hurt such a horrifically unbearable amount.

Hey, Sae texted back.

And so the beginning of the real end began.

Chapter Text

As it turned out, Ryusei’s eyes were shit.

He was kind of shocked. He didn’t really think much of it, but by the end of the eye exam, he had an entirely new professional masking his displeased surprise of his behaviour and being very tactful in explaining how disappointed he was in him.

Ryusei’s eyes had been perfect his entire life. He’d never struggled. He’d never even thought about it. In his teens, he fell asleep without washing off his makeup more often than not, washed his face with cheap bar soap, and never got a single stye or infection. He’d never felt like he couldn’t see. His eyes were just there, looking at shit, and he’d never had any soccer club doctor say anything about it.

But vision can change with injury, apparently.

“Your prescription isn’t intense,” the doctor told him. “Though you definitely have one. You’d benefit from glasses either way. But I’m surprised you’re not experiencing more issues. You have quite a high astigmatism.”

Ryusei didn’t know what that meant, but he’d had enough terrifying medical words thrown at him over the past year and a bit that he was conditioned to assume the worst.

“Am I going to go blind?” he asked. “Or lose my eyes?”

“From…astigmatism?” The doctor looked shocked, and Ryusei started to feel better. “Um, no. It just means your eyes aren’t quite shaped right.”

“Nobody ever said anything before,” Ryusei said.

“Well, it can develop after injury,” the eye doctor said.

Ah, well that explained it. Lots could fly off the rails after an injury. Eyesight, relationships, life in general.

“I’m surprised this doesn’t bother you,” the doctor said again. “Especially at night.”

“Well, I can’t see shit at night,” Ryusei said. “But nobody can. That’s when it’s dark out. Duh. Things just get all fucked up and blurry.”

The doctor just watched him, struggling with there to go with that.

“Right?” Ryusei asked.   

The doctor just stared at him for a few seconds before saying, “They don’t have to.”

“Oh,” Ryusei said, trying to fight the embarrassment that summoned.

Normally, not knowing things didn’t have such power, but when it came to things he felt he genuinely should have learned in his twenty six years of living and had every opportunity to, he was starting to feel downright sick about it. It was a new development.

“Well, I guess that’s why you’re the doctor,” he tried to joke through it.

The doctor did not laugh. “And you mentioned your headaches. That’s probably largely related to the injury, not much we can really do about that. But after you get used to your glasses, it might help. If not in frequency, at least in severity. If your eyes aren’t straining to see, it would help.”

“Can’t say I’d hate that,” Ryusei said.

The doctor finally smiled. Which signalled to Ryusei easily enough that this appointment was over. He handed him the prescription.

“Enjoy the rest of your day, Mr. Itoshi,” he said.

A slap in the face of a new variety. It felt like a sick joke all the same.

Still, Ryusei swallowed his pride and embarrassment and impulse and went out into the main area of the office where the walls of glasses sat. Another thing he hadn’t any experience with and never had much thought to. But at least this part could be fun. This part was just fashion, right? He could handle that.

Or so he thought.

“Hello, my friend,” Reo answered within ten seconds. As always. When the face time connected, he was sitting at a desk in what Ryusei assumed was his office, perfect posture in his black leather chair, hands rested on the desk. His phone clearly propped up on something. Or connecting from his laptop. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Save me the business pleasantries,” Ryusei said. “Are you busy? I need help.”

“I have a bit of time,” Reo said, peering into the screen. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I just can’t see,” Ryusei said. “I need help picking glasses.”

“Don’t they have staff for that?” Reo asked.

Ryusei dropped to a whisper. “The hag tried to put me in creeper aviators. Can’t be trusted.”

“Well,” Reo said with a laugh. “Have you narrowed it down?”

Answer: barely. But Reo was a good sport. As he always was. And he was taking the task seriously, taking his time with each option, requesting Ryusei move his phone to show different angles, even going as far to say you need a wider frame or the bridge looks like it would kill after a couple hours.  

They’d narrowed it down to three options before Reo said, “Get all of them.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ryusei said. “I’m not getting all of them. Don’t give up this close to the finish line. That’s why you never made it in soccer.”

“Newsflash. You’re retired too. And dude, be real,” Reo said. “You’re going to lose at least one pair in the first week, if not on the way home from the store.”

Ryusei thought that was good enough reasoning. But still. His voice dropped again. “Dude, I can’t afford that.”

It was true enough. Ryusei had decided he was done doing whatever job came his way and offered to pay. A budget was another thing that was largely uncharted territory for him and another thing forced upon him as a result of trying to grow up.

“I’ll spot you.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Why would I do any of this?” Reo said, motioning around his office, by which Ryusei knew he meant his house, his friendship, everything he’d done for Ryusei for the past six weeks and for years before then. “And besides, I’m bored. This conversation is giving me brain damage.”

“Low blow,” Ryusei said.

Reo just smiled. “Gotta go. Bye.”

That was Reo for you. A good friend. Within reason.

Ryusei went back and forth in his mind for a while there. Reo wasn’t kidding; they both knew that. But they’d go back and forth a while and Reo would try all of his business sly methods to get Ryusei to take the money and he knew full well that his pride wouldn’t let him. So he had to be logical. On one hand, he wasn’t really working. He could make money when he really tried, but then again, he probably shouldn’t be trying as much as he had been before all hell had broken loose, so he wasn’t really in any position to be dropping money on three pairs of glasses when he could just get his shit together and take care of one pair.

On the other hand, Saichi would say that it was important to be realistic. And the reality was, he had a head full of scrambled eggs.

And. Besides.

He and Sae were going to fix their marriage. They were returning to their shared apartment, their shared bed, their shared life. Ryusei would fix himself to the point where he wouldn’t be as much of a burden anymore. He could let Sae shoulder the financial burden like he’d so generously and viciously offered so many times before. That’s what love was about sometimes. Letting your legs give out so the other person could catch you.

Within reason.

Ryusei bought all three pairs. Listened to the staff member once again explain it might take a while to get used to them and he could come in and get them adjusted if he had any problems, whatever the fuck that meant, and then paid for them all on his credit card that he was never quite paying off entirely.

The thing about a long term concussion was that it was easy to put the cost and the accumulating interest out of his mind. That might not have been very functional adult of him, but hey, he needed to pick his battles.

Boy, was it ever a fucking adjustment. It was like looking at an entirely different world. And having something on his face was so fucking annoying. It reminded him of when he and Sae first got married, and he had something on his hand, suddenly permanently fixed out of love and obligation both, that gave the same sensation as having an insect crawling on him. He was always trying to slap it off, or he was fiddling, or he was strongly considering just wearing the thing around his neck or getting Sae’s name tattooed on his hand instead. Don’t get him wrong, he loved being married, but the ring was an adjustment.

The glasses were the same. That, and a painfully sad irony. Ryusei felt like he hadn’t done anything over the past six weeks but see things clearer and clearer and give himself headaches, and that’s exactly what these damned things did. It made him dizzy and it made his head throb, but he could see. He had no idea that’s what the world was supposed to be like. That he could see people from that far away. That he could read signs at that distance. That the world at night was actually kind of beautiful instead of just some dark, blurry hellscape.

He found himself wanting to ask Sae, is this what the world has always been like for you? But just like he hadn’t been, he wasn’t there to ask.

Ryusei took that as a good sign. That he was still reaching out for him.

He just hoped Sae was also reaching back.

When his last therapy session of the separation rolled around, Ryusei had this deep, insistent urge to skip it. He could see it for what it was. He knew it was just him being mindfully avoidant. But he wanted to anyways, because there was some childlike part of him that truly believed that if he didn’t step foot in Saichi’s office for their last session, that she couldn’t end the separation, that he wouldn’t have to stop seeing her, and he could stay in this limbo and figure himself out and not be forced to face the music when he felt like he was still flailing.

But saner minds prevailed and he forced himself up the steps and into the office.

Leading Saichi into her chair felt like a death march. Everything looked different through these stupid pieces of plastic. Or maybe it was just his perception that was changing. He took his seat and they sat across from each other, and Ryusei still felt like maybe if he fled before she had the chance to say anything, he’d be safe.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” Saichi told him.

“I don’t,” Ryusei said. Before remembering himself. “I didn’t. I just got them. Apparently my eyes are shaped wrong.”

Saichi laughed, like that was just the most wonderful joke. “Ah, well. Things could be a lot worse.”

“Could they?” Ryusei asked.

Before noticing, for the first time, that Saichi wore glasses. Or rather, he’d noticed, and thought nothing much of it. But now, it was something he saw. Yet another instance of the world changing in front of his very misshapen eyes and making him question how much he didn’t know.

“Is your prescription pretty bad?” Ryusei asked. Because he could do this. Be an adult, converse about intelligent, adult things.

“Oh, I’ve been basically blind my entire life,” Saichi said. Her voice was so light, untouched by self pity. “And I had surgery for cataracts a few years back.”

Ryusei was stunned. “That sounds bad.”

“It could always be worse,” she said.

“I guess,” Ryusei said. “You could be fully blind.”

“Or dead,” Saichi said, shrugging like her mortality meant nothing to her. “That’s just the nature of things. Growing old means falling apart.”

“Is that what it is?” Ryusei joked. “It feels like I’m getting quite the head start. Am I halfway to the grave or something?”

“Who’s to say?” Saichi said. “Life is unfair to us all. Life is a gift, but it’s not promised.”

Ryusei was once again rendered the child in the conversation, as well as he was made to remember that she was not an overly optimistic therapist, but an honest one.

“How have you been?” Saichi asked him when the silence lingered.

“I’ve been okay,” Ryusei answered honestly. He had been. The separation had been a trying time, every week its own battle, and only now was he starting to feel genuinely, and not artificially, okay. He took a breath and released it. “I’ve been okay.”

“How has this week been?” she asked.

“Terrifying,” Ryusei whispered, because that was what was required to answer without his voice breaking.

It all happened so fast. The emotion, the tears. He took his glasses off, folding them up nicely, setting them on the side table, and the tears fell right onto his lap. Saichi offered him a tissue from the box that sat beside her. He took it. Wiped his misshapen eyes and the flood of feeling that fell from them. And he just couldn’t stop. He was like that when it came to crying. It was one of the rarities that he and Sae had in common. He rarely cried, but when he did, did he ever.

Saichi waited for the affair to come to a natural close. He appreciated that about her. Because Ryusei needed to focus on this heaving in his chest. He knew the end had been coming, but actually being here made it so real. For so much of his life, he’d been fearless, and over the past few years, he’d been faced with rude awakening after rude awakening that there were really so many horrible things in life to fear.

Once he was finished, he didn’t apologize for it. He knew she’d just tell him there was no need. He just sat there, knowing he looked a mess, and let himself. He was a mess. A mess in progress, but a mess nonetheless.

“What are you afraid of, Ryusei?” Saichi asked.

“I’m really scared of getting a divorce,” Ryusei answered. But then, without really thinking about it, he added, “But, you know what? I think I’m more afraid that we don’t get divorced and just go back to doing the same thing.”

Saichi’s eyes widened a bit behind her thick lenses. “Oh?”

“I mean, we’ve been doing work,” Ryusei said. The rambling was starting. He let himself go. “Over the separation. I assume. But what if we get back together, stay together, maybe for the wrong reasons, and then just fall into bad habits? And just keeping fighting all the time because we can’t fix things but we can’t let it go either?”

Saichi nodded a few times, as if thinking his words over, wondering where she might like to go with them.

“That’s quite a mature perspective,” she said. Like always, Ryusei didn’t trust her compliments. “And it’s possible. Us humans, we are creatures of habit. We are also creatures of our surroundings. We’re deeply influenced by the people and places around us. It’s like when we go back home to visit our parents in adulthood. It doesn’t matter who we are out in the world. Under their roof, we’re rendered a child of sorts, no matter how we might try to fight it.”

“Yeah,” Ryusei agreed, although he didn’t really know.

Or rather, he did and he didn’t. Ryusei didn’t talk about his childhood much, hadn’t here, it hadn’t seemed relevant. But he hadn’t seen either of his parents since his early teens and thought about them even less. They weren’t a terrible family by any means, just a poor one, a hands off one. One with little emotion and lots of freedom to roam.

But Ryusei had seen it in Sae. They didn’t make a habit of going to visit Ryusei’s in-laws or anything, but they had, occasionally, and he’d seen Sae become an entirely different person in their presence. Not that anyone else would likely notice, but he knew Sae inside and out, so he did. He could see how his eyes were intentionally glassy with disinterest, actively disengaging, giving even shorter, more monotone answers that was typically of him to anything they said. Another similarity they shared was that they didn’t talk about the past much. Their shared past, sure, but their separate pasts were murky waters that didn’t get much exploring. Ryusei had never really minded. He could imagine well enough from these interactions alone, and he didn’t especially like what he saw.

Not to mention who Sae became around Rin.

“But it’s not a lost cause,” Saichi said. “It will just take practice. You’ve both done the work, that’s for certain, but it hasn’t really been that long, compared to all of the time you’ve spent interacting with each other and building up your dynamic. It will take practice. And communication. And adjustment. But if that is the route the two of you choose to go, perhaps it’s important to go into it with the realistic expectations that you’ll slip back into old habits sometimes.”

“And what if we go too far?” Ryusei asked. “Say something we don’t mean, or that we can’t take back?”

“Have you not done that already?” she asked. And Ryusei supposed that was a fair point. “Your journey has not been an entirely pleasant one, but you’re still putting in the effort, still fighting. That accounts for something. Everyone goes too far sometimes, says things they don’t mean, that they can’t take back. Apology and practice go a long way. And if it’s not enough, it’s not enough. And if it’s not enough, that’s life.”

Ryusei forced a small type of smile, nodded.

“Let me ask you this, Ryusei.” Saichi shifted in her chair a little, like she was settling in for a most uncomfortable conversation. Ryusei braced himself. Grabbed the handles of the chair. Did not put his glasses back on. “The end of this trial separation is not your only opportunity to end things in this relationship. A decision has to be made, but that decision can be made or unmade at any point. As is the beautiful complexity of life. Do you genuinely believe that if you and Sae continue in your marriage, and things do not change, that you would simply stay, even if it brought you deep unhappiness?”

Ryusei knew, of course, that the right answer was no, haha, of course I’d leave. He also knew that his knee jerk reaction was well, it’s Sae, of course I’d stay. But as he sat there, loosening his grip on the chair, he found that he didn’t know how he felt. He was between answers, in a limbo of sorts. There was a beauty in that. Proof that he’d grown. But there was also a very deep confusion. He used to be so sure of things. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. And before Saichi could flash him any type of unimpressed look, he went on. “I want to say no. I want to say that I’ve grown and of course I’d leave, but I really don’t know. I think I just have too much hope. I’d keep hoping that things would get better. God knows I’ve been doing that for the past year or two, thinking that every bad fight was the last one, and that things would just get better. Why give up? Things are about to get better! And I don’t know how much of that would be my fault. It’s like you said, it takes two, every time. How would I be able to walk away, not knowing if I changed a little more, practiced a little harder, things would be fine? How would I know how much is me?”

“Put your glasses on,” Saichi said at the end of his rant. Ryusei was openly taken aback. And when his back hit the back of the chair, the room opened. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been squinting. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“You really care about me, don’t you?” Ryusei joked.

He did as she said. He did start to feel better. Less headaches from a couple pieces of plastic. Who knew?

“As if you were my own blood,” Saichi said. It was delivered with very little emotion, but Ryusei had every inclination that she was telling the truth. “And let me say that you are looking at things from a very different perspective from when I first met you. I am still very proud of you. But it’s not very easy to be in the middle of a big transition, is it?”

“I feel like I’m fucking drowning,” Ryusei admitted.

“This brings me to something I wanted to bring up this session,” she said. She gave him a very intentionally kind smile, and Ryusei braced himself for another fall. “I think you and I should continue to see each other.”

The crash never came. Ryusei felt instead like he’d landed in a safety net. He felt his entire chest relax.

“You just can’t bear to get rid of me, can you?” he joked. Saichi gave him a smile, almost a laugh, like she was acknowledging the joke and waiting at the same time. “Thank fucking god. No, seriously, thank fucking god. It’s a relief. Seriously. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I just feel as if you could use a little more guidance and direction and grounding,” Saichi said. “And I think we’ve built up a good foundation upon which we can continue to build a collaborative relationship.”

“Understatement of the year,” Ryusei said. He clutched at his chest. “Jesus, I feel like I’m having a reverse heart attack. Like an explosion of calm or something. Yeah, I don’t want to bother finding another therapist. I’d be like, where’s Sai? And you’d better not die on me, either.”

“You insult me,” she said. And he knew just from her face that it was a joke. He laughed. “I’m not that old. I’ll see you through your first grey hair yet.”

“First grey hair?” Ryusei exclaimed. He’d been a professional athlete from his early teens and then forcibly not one in early adulthood. He’d been going grey since twenty three. He pointed up at his head. “You know I’m not a real blonde, right?”

“You’re a naughty boy, that’s what you are,” she said. Ryusei understood the subtle suggestion to settle down for what it was. He leaned back in his chair, rested his arms on the sides. Like a real adult. “Let’s see each other every two weeks, how does that sound? Though you’re always welcome to call if you’re needing to come in sooner.”

Ryusei wanted to make a joke about how every two days might be a more fitting schedule for him, but he realized what she was saying in that suggestion. He wasn’t as useless and hopeless as he thought, and he owed her the kindness not to joke as if he was.

“Sure,” he agreed. “Sounds good.”

“Now,” she said. Harsh as a whip. Back to business. “Let’s talk about the week to come, because it’s going to be a big one.”

Ryusei left the office with open permission to contact his husband and a stone in his chest. He thought back to a few weeks ago, when he would have been bombarding Sae with text message after text message, heart after heart, anything ranging from the amorous to the overtly sexual, calling him even, over and over, until he picked up. But now, he felt that he didn’t exactly know what to say to him. Or how to interact with him. He didn’t want to fall back into old patterns, and as such, he found himself scared to say anything at all.

Ryusei took a car back to Reo’s, found the house empty. He poked through the kitchen, ate a few things out of the fridge. Ate a few things out of the pantry. Did a few laps around the island, watching his phone on the counter, because he just felt so fucking jumpy about what was to come. He found champagne in the fridge, five whole bottles, because you had to be prepared, of course, according to Reo. Prepared for what? Well, prepared for anything! Did this count? He considered popping one and downing a glass to settle the vibration in his chest. But he didn’t. If he couldn’t do this sober, he didn’t deserve to do it at all.

Eventually, after much deliberation, he texted Sae, Hey.

And Sae texted back, Hey.

Ryusei put his phone back down on the island and then leaned down and put his forehead down next to it. This was so painfully difficult, so fucking awkward. How was it that they’d spent years together, pressed up against each other, inside each other, and had no fucking idea how to talk to each other?

He grabbed his phone off the counter and shoved it into his pocket and made his way back to his room. He was going to shower, jerk off, and then he’d revisit this painful fucking experience with some clarity.

It helped. It made things a little clearer anyways. But he found himself staring at those text messages so long that he knew he was being stupid about it. It felt all at once like there was a first date and an enemy on the other side of the screen. He knew Sae was probably on the other side, glaring in confusion, wondering why he bothered texting in the first place if he wasn’t going to reply for an hour. But maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was just as anxious. Ryusei didn’t know how to read him anymore. He’d become an entirely different person. Maybe Sae had too.

Which was terrifying in its own way.

Ryusei shook the thoughts out of his head. He couldn’t go down that road, or he’d end up hiding out at Reo’s until he was entirely grey haired. He considered texting him what’s up? But smacked himself for it. You’re not kids anymore, he scolded himself. This is your husband. Be a fucking adult.

He took a breath and started typing.

We should meet up this week, he said. Talk things out.

Yeah, Sae said.

Ryusei couldn’t help but smirk. Dry as ever. Maybe some things hadn’t changed.

Where do you want to go? he asked.

He almost asked if they wanted to go home? But he stopped himself.

Anywhere, Sae said. You pick.

Ryusei didn’t know where to go with that. Sae was so fucking hard to read, it was so much worse over text message. Was that a anywhere, you pick, because you’re the fucking broken one who ruins any plans we have so at least this way I won’t be on the hook for this bullshit? Or was it a anywhere, you pick, because I really want to see you and I don’t care where that happens?

Can I call you? Ryusei typed.

No, Sae said. I’m out.

First one, Ryusei decided. And then his heart clutched in panic.

But then, another message popped up.

I’ll call you later. We can talk about it.

Ryusei didn’t do much of anything for the rest of the day. He was too paranoid of missing the call. Sae hadn’t specified a time, and he was too terrified to ask. He knew it wouldn’t be a huge deal. He’d see the missed call and call him back. But it felt like an attack. And now, more than ever, he needed to be pliable, open armed.

Ready to fix things. Or ready to practice, at least.

The house stayed still and quiet around him. Ryusei was the one who couldn’t sit still or focus. This was bad, he knew it. Sitting around, waiting for Sae, doing not much of anything but thinking about every possible direction in which this conversation could go. He tried to do other things. Watch TV. Do push ups on the floor. Splash water on his face. Nothing helped. His mind kept going back to the same place. He was so consumed with his own thoughts, that when his phone finally did ring, he screamed.

And then laughed. At himself and his stupidity.

And then panicked, because holy fuck, he was about to hear Sae’s voice for the first time in six weeks.

He nearly dropped the damn thing with his scrambling hands trying to answer it. But he managed. Pressed the thing to his ear. Took a breath. And without putting on any kind of show, he said, “Hey.”

“Hey,” came back.

Did he sound different or the same? Ryusei couldn’t tell. He could hear the home he’d made out of the voice on the other side of the phone, but at the same time, it felt distant. Like being an adult out in the world and then being rendered a child under your parents’ roof.

“What’s up?” Ryusei asked, and immediately kicked himself. How fucking stupid could he be? He closed his eyes, put his hand on his face. Refused to make things word by scrambling to correct himself.

“Nothing,” Sae said. “Just got home.”

Bad habits came rushing in. Their urges, anyways. Ryusei wanted to ask if by home he meant Rin’s, or if he meant the apartment. If his friend was still there. Who that friend was. If he could come over. If he could just come home and sit there on their couch and if Sae had some new boyfriend or something, fine, but could Ryusei at least get the chance to fight for him or knock his lights out or something? Or could he at least see him too, sometimes? Because scraps were scraps, but they were better then nothing.

He was disgusted with himself, but not surprised. He’d have great material for Saichi in two weeks.

“How are you?” Ryusei managed to ask, because it felt nonthreatening and adult and it wasn’t any of the much worse things he wanted to say.

“I’m fine,” Sae said.

And it was so painfully obvious that he was lying. Which made things worse. Ryusei was spiralling again. He wanted to call him on it, ask him how he really was, where he was, if he could just come over and hold him, because shit, things were bad, but they were still married, he didn’t have to lie to him.

But he didn’t know how to do this anymore. Navigate things between them. Maybe he never had.

“Good,” he said. “Great. Yeah.”

It was as much as he could manage. It was also not lost on Ryusei that Sae didn’t ask how he was doing in return.

Which was fine. Sae was so much more an adult than Ryusei in a number of ways, but emotionally was not one of them, probably never would be. He could be the adult here.

Or he could try, anyways.

“Anyways,” Ryusei forced. It felt so awkward. “About talking.”

Sae waited for a few seconds before he said, “About talking.”

“Do you want to go for dinner?” Ryusei asked.

Because it was the first thing he thought of that wasn’t, should we just meet up at home? Plus he wanted a neutral playing field. Nobody’s home turf. Definitely not their shared home turf. Where so many terrible things had happened.

But he realized it also kind of sounded like he was asking him out.

Which he couldn’t figure out if he was doing. If that was appropriate.

“That’s fine,” Sae said. “When?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

“Okay,” Ryusei said. He took a breath that didn’t feel excruciating. “Where?”

“I don’t care,” Sae said.

Another painfully obvious lie. Sae had harsh, aggressive opinions about so many things, and restaurants and food was as close to the top of the list as it got, right up there with soccer teams, soccer coaches, eye doctors, Uber drivers, how irritating Rin was, and Ryusei himself. During their ruined anniversary plans a year or two ago, Sae had been painfully annoyed, partially at Ryusei, and partially, as he admitted under his breath but not quietly enough, I really wanted to try that place.

“You pick,” Sae said.

Again, Ryusei didn’t know if this was disengagement or surrender.

“Sure,” Ryusei said. “I don’t really know anywhere off the top of my head. Can I look around and text you?”

“That’s fine,” Sae said.

This was so awful. The lying, the awkwardness, the shakiness. The fact that they were not joking about how yeah, he’d text him, now that they were out of separation jail and could text, the fact that they were not gushing about everything that had happened over the past six weeks, about how excited they were to see each other, about how it was so fucking good to hear the other’s voice. Instead, Ryusei was struggling finding things to say, and almost looking forward to getting off the phone just to get away from the horrible emotions that were coming from this conversation. Was this what being an adult meant?

Or was this just what falling out of love looked like?

“Alright,” Ryusei said. He didn’t know where to go from there. “Well. I’ll, you know…”

“Ryusei!”

The door to his room swung open with a sudden harshness.

“Fuck!” Ryusei said, his phone falling out of his hands.

He wanted to be mad. He really, really did. But there, in the doorway, stood the one person he could not possibly reprimand for barging in without knocking, or any warning or any kind, seeing as he was the owner of said door, room, and the rest of the house.

Reo stood there, his cheeks already a little flushed, holding two glasses of champagne. One close to himself, one in an outstretched arm.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ryusei said anyways.

His hands scrambled for the phone, which had wedged itself somewhere in the messy comforter he hadn’t bothered making up, taking his husband with it.

“Not kidding,” Reo said, either oblivious to Ryusei’s real distress, or entirely unbothered by it. He came over to him, still holding the glass out. “Congrats on being done with your separation. I gotta say, I’m gonna miss having you around. Let’s go out for dinner tonight. Maybe afterparty. We’ll play it by ear. Are those the new glasses? Looking good.”

Ryusei found his phone, shot Reo a look, and as an act of good faith, took the glass of champagne. He set it down on the nightside and pressed the phone back to his ear. “Sorry about that. Can’t you see I’m on the phone?”

“It’s fine,” Sae said.

Still there. Not a bad sign.

“Are you?” Reo used his newfound free hand to reach over for the phone. Ryusei was so horrified, he couldn’t even manage to snatch it back before Reo was pressing it to his own face. “Hey Meguru. We’re going out tonight. Want to come?”

“Reo,” Ryusei started.

Reo pulled the phone away from his ear, shrugged, and threw it on the bed.

“He hung up,” Reo said. He lifted his glass to his mouth and finished half of it in one go. “Invite him though. Today’s a day for celebrating.”

“What’s up with you?” Ryusei asked him.

He was still suspicious, but not able to find it in himself to be too angry. He’d apologize to Sae when he saw him tomorrow. He was, in all shameful honesty, kind of grateful for Reo for getting him out of that painful conversation, regardless of the childish tactics.

“I can’t just be happy for a friend?” Reo asked.

“You can,” Ryusei said. “But you’re not.”

Reo laughed. Finished his glass. “I just closed a big deal. Massive, actually. So, we’re both celebrating. Let’s go out.”

“For dinner,” Ryusei agreed. “Sure.”

No afterparty. Because he was going to try to be better. Take care of himself a little more. Not give himself more migraines that would already be bestowed upon him by things out of control. And also because he did not need to be hungover tomorrow. He needed to be as clearheaded as possible, and that was already a tall ask when it came to him.

At Reo’s already tipsy insistence, Ryusei got ready and got himself in the car. He listened to Reo’s rambling about the deal, which included a lot of business jargon that Ryusei didn’t really understand nor care about, and how life changing a client it was to have secured. Ryusei nodded along and feigned excitement, but he couldn’t really commit, because what was life changing when someone already had billions to burn? But Ryusei was a good friend, so he tried. And Reo was a good friend, so he eventually reined in his excitement and got back to other topics.

“So,” Reo said. “Is Meguru coming?”

“He’s busy,” Ryusei lied, not really wanting to explain any of what had transpired during that encounter.

“Shame,” Reo said. Though he didn’t really mean it.

“Where are we going, anyways?” Ryusei asked.

“Mmm,” Reo said, suddenly made aware that he hadn’t explained that at all. He’d just forced his friend into clothes and into the car. “I got an exclusive invitation to try a restaurant that just opened up. VIP table, personal wine connoisseur, private room. Sei isn’t in town, so who better to take? No offence, obviously.”

“I’m not fucking you,” Ryusei said, shrugging. “I can’t compete with that, so none taken.”

“Speaking of which,” Reo said.

“Hate where this is going already,” Ryusei said.

“Have you talked to Sae?”

Ryusei really, really didn’t want to talk about it. Because what was there to say? Yeah, kind of. That’s who I was talking to, before your drunk ass invited him to celebrate the end of our separation. But don’t worry, it was a conversation straight out of hell before then. So, thanks for that. But he couldn’t do that to Reo, tonight, when there was so much to celebrate, and he couldn’t do that to himself either, when he was really trying his best just to keep it together.

“A bit,” he said. “We’re seeing each other tomorrow.”

“Shit,” Reo said.

“Yeah,” Ryusei agreed.

“How do you think that’s going to go?” Reo asked.

“Good question,” Ryusei said. Reo looked at him, eyebrows raised. Ryusei shrugged. He didn’t want to fall apart in the back of a car on the way to some fancy restaurant, but he didn’t want to prolong this conversation any either. Which he would if he continued to be intentionally evasive. “I guess I’ll see when I get there.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have to see where his head’s at.”

“Where’s your head at?” Reo asked.

Ryusei almost laughed at the painfully tragic question. “Another great question.”

“You’re not just waiting to see what he says so you can go along with it, are you?” Reo asked.

Ryusei wanted to be offended, but it was a decent enough question.

“No,” he said honestly.

“Do you want a divorce?” Reo asked.

“No,” Ryusei said. That was just as honest. “I still want him.”

“At any cost?”

“No,” Ryusei said again. “Only if things are good.”

Reo hummed a bit and smiled to himself.

“Oh hey,” Ryusei said. He was well aware the conversation was coming to a close, but the present circumstances made him think of something else. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Anything,” Reo said.

“You don’t even know what it is yet,” Ryusei said.

“You don’t ask me for impossible tasks,” Reo said. “You don’t really ask me for much. You should ask me for more. Lord knows I drag you to enough events that melt your brain more than it already is.”

“You really are kind of a dick,” Ryusei said.

“You’ll get over it,” Reo said. “Now, what’s the favor?”

“I need a dinner reservation,” Ryusei said. “For tomorrow. Somewhere nice, private, new, somewhere for sure that neither of us have been before.”

Reo sucked his teeth. “I don’t know. With those specifications…and that timeline…it might be tricky.”

“It doesn’t have to be that nice,” Ryusei conceded.

“Shut up,” Reo said, already pulling out his phone, texting one of the million assistants he seemed to have, Ryusei assumed. “Obviously I’m kidding. I got you.”

Not thirty seconds had passed before Ryusei got a text confirmation. From a place he’d never heard of before. Welcoming him, and thanking him for purchasing their VIP package. Ryusei read the details over, and without wondering if it was too romantic, or sending the wrong message, he texted the details to Sae alongside a text that said Sorry about earlier.

It’s fine, Sae texted back. See you tomorrow.

See you tomorrow, Ryusei texted back.

He thought about saying he couldn’t wait, or to have a good night, or even to include a heart in the text, but Sae felt so distant and the entire situation felt so hard to read, so he didn’t.

Chapter Text

Sae didn’t particularly know what it said about him that he was heading into what he considered to be the last meal he’d share with his husband of five years with numb indifference, but he figured it didn’t mean anything good. He decided to add it to his list of proof as to why this was the right answer and leave it at that.

Sae’s worst problem when it came to preparing for their meeting was, ironically, clothes. He didn’t think much about clothes at the best of times. Clothing, like anything else, was a realm in which he did not pay attention to rules and did pretty much whatever he pleased, but still. It felt a little or a lot wrong to dress up to tell someone they were divorcing them. Besides, he didn’t want to send the wrong message. He still loved Ryusei, still liked him even, despite everything. He didn’t want to knowingly make it worse by opening the conversation up to any kind of hey, looking good hot stuff, you clean up real nice, which I already knew, but still, I can’t wait to get you out of that getup when we get home.

Joggers it was. The chances of that exchange taking place was still high, but this would make it so the blame was shifted.

Sae had gone over every item in his head. There wasn’t really much to go over. It surprised him a little and made him a little sad. He’d pay alimony, however much he was asked to, maybe then some. If Ryusei didn’t want the apartment, they’d sell it and split the profits. They didn’t have any kids, they didn’t have any pets, they didn’t have any real assets besides the house. They paid their own phone bills. They had their own bank accounts. They’d take their own things and their own friends and go their separate ways.

It was a little sad to think that they’d been living rather separate lives almost the entire time.

And then there was the matter of civility. He’d been practicing that one ruthlessly. His biggest feats to date had included two full length hang outs, one with Sendou, one with Rin, in which Sae did not say a single thing that he himself deemed worthy of apology and had not caught the pinched brow of something even remotely offensive he might have said by accident. They were two of the most exhausting endeavors of his entire life, his entire soccer career included, but it was worth it.

Because he was going to get through this conversation, in which in inherently had to be the bad guy, without being a monster about it. That was the goal. Straight to the point, minimal collateral damage.

He still hadn’t spoken to a single other person about what he was going to do. Besides that one brief conversation with Sendou, which had gone pretty much as well as he could have expected. He hadn’t brought it up again. He and Rin were still keeping things mostly surface level.

The closest they’d gotten to digging into it was when Rin noticed Sae was taking deliberately long pauses in conversation, thinking over his words carefully, and Rin, annoyed, asked him, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Did therapy give you brain damage too or something?”

And instead of lashing out, Sae said, “Nope. I’m just an asshole. Always have been.”

Rin snorted a laugh and dropped it. Sae didn’t bother elaborating.

Nobody else had bothered asking. Divorce was a delicate subject, and one that everyone tended to cringe away from. He already knew what they’d say. Sae wasn’t a romantic, never had been. He didn’t think love triumphed after all. It didn’t slap him across the face when Saichi told them that love wasn’t enough. It was a lesson he’d learned early. After all, he’d loved soccer with his entire being, and it had still refused him and kept him at arms length. Allowed him to stand in that world, to a degree anyways, but he wasn’t the best, and never would be. He’d had to accept that. Sometimes just love wasn’t enough. Sometimes love didn’t change anything, regardless of how much of it there was.

Ryusei’s biggest problem as he prepared for dinner was, incidentally, also about clothing. He had torn apart his entire wardrobe trying to find something appropriate for a dinner in which he was planning on winning back his husband, and felt like he was rendered but a child as he looked through everything.

He was an adult now. Or trying to be. He was on thin ice, either way. When he was in a relationship that was not teetering on the edge of destruction, it was completely fine to wear a bright pink button up covered in pineapples wearing sunglasses, it was expensive too, but it didn’t exactly send the right message.

It said this is definitely the man that fucked you well enough to tolerate him and not so much I’m still who you want and need, despite everything, and I will continue to be that no matter what versions of ourselves we become. Which was kind of what he was going for.

He eventually had to call in reinforcements. Which is to say, Reo.

“Ryusei my friend,” Reo answered the phone. From the office, obviously, the way his voice was so painfully business casual. “What can I do for you?”

“Are you home?” Ryusei asked.

“I’m in the office,” Reo answered.

It was a little sad to Ryusei, the way that six weeks had made it so he could read Reo like an open book and Sae was an entirely different language.

“Can you come here?” Ryusei said, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder, peeling off yet another pair of pants that were almost okay but had aggressively pink stitching and zippers and still missed the mark. “I need help.”

“Nature of the help?” Reo asked.

“Uh,” Ryusei said, narrowly missing the corner of the bed with his hopping shin. “Fashion emergency.”

“You never want me for clothes. I’ll be right there,” Reo said, disconnecting.

Classic Reo. Of course he would.

Now Ryusei was sad again.

When Reo showed up, he came upon a scene of utter chaos. Ryusei had taken the guest bedroom kindly bestowed upon him and turned it into a warzone of fabrics and colours and everything that just wasn’t quite right sprawled around the room like dozens of corpses. Reo leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed, his eyebrows raised. Ryusei motioned around and shrugged helplessly. Reo laughed.

“Someone’s a little nervous for their big date, huh?” Reo joked.

“Man, fuck off,” Ryusei said. “I’m seriously freaking out.”

“You wear this stuff all the time,” Reo said. “What’s the issue?”

“I’m not really going for useless fucking scrambled eggs husband here!” Ryusei pleaded.

Reo’s brows furrowed a little. “And that’s what all this portrays?”

“Pretty much,” Ryusei said.

“Hmm,” Reo said. “So, what are you going for?”

“Hot mature adult husband who hasn’t graduated from therapy yet but not because he’s crazy, just because he’s still working on bettering himself and isn’t a threat to himself or his equally hot husband in any way shape or form,” Ryusei answered, motioning to the abandoned clothes again, once more showcasing his helplessness. “Maybe a side of god, I can’t fucking wait to rip that off of you.”

“Are you planning on seducing your way out of a divorce?” Reo asked.

Ryusei’s head whipped up and he felt a migraine immediately tickling at his temples as the panic flooded in. “Do you seriously think Sae’s going to file for divorce?”

“Okay,” Reo said, uncrossing his arms to raise his palms in surrender. “Easy. Let’s take a breath.”

It was good advice. Ryusei took his mostly bare body and sat himself on the side of the bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He closed his eyes and begged and pleaded with his head, not tonight, please not tonight, if there was ever a night that he needed not to ruin, it was tonight. It helped a little. So did breathing.

“You good?” Reo asked.

“No,” Ryusei said. He lifted his head. “But finding an outfit would help.”

Reo raised a doubtful little eyebrow. “Really?”

“It’s all I can really control right now, okay?” Ryusei said back.

It wasn’t frantic. It was just the truth. Reo’s gaze turned surprisingly neutral. He understood that this was not the type of comment that needed a response, just understanding. His mouth lifted in the slightest ghost of a smile and he nodded a couple times.

“Whatever happens tonight,” he started.

“I know, I know,” Ryusei said, flicking a hand in his direction. Because he did know. He just didn’t exactly need it said.

“I just think things tend to happen the way they’re supposed to,” Reo said.

“I think it’s easy to think that when everything’s always worked out for you,” Ryusei said.

“I think you’re a shitty friend if you think that of me,” Reo said. Ryusei gave him an apologetic look and nodded. He was right. A moment of understanding passed between them and then the moment did too. “Nepotism aside, I’ve had my share of shitty days. And you’ve been there for most of them.”

True enough. Ryusei appreciated it, but couldn’t say it, so he let his face do the talking again.

“I’ll be there for yours too,” Reo said with an easy shrug. And then a smile that Ryusei didn’t particularly appreciate. “Besides, you never know. Your real soulmate could be out there somewhere, just waiting for you to finish all this up.”

“Dick.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Reo said, still smiling.

Ryusei understood what he was doing. He was being a dick, but deliberately, and not without reason. He was presenting an undesirable option, showcasing exactly what was on the line and what all of this was for. It was another thing Ryusei was appreciative of but could not voice.

“White button up and basic black dress pants,” Reo said.

“What?” Ryusei said, his mind jerking back into focus.

“You heard me,” Reo said. “Add a jacket if you want. I’d keep the accessories simple, but if you want to add some personality, that’s where to do it.”

“You’re joking,” Ryusei said. “Are you trying to turn me into you? What kind of narcissistic bullshit is this?”

Reo looked down at himself, smiled, and rolled his eyes. “There’s a reason I dress like this.”

“Oh, so it’s chicken before egg, not egg before chicken, huh?” Ryusei said.

Reo sighed. “It looks good without making it look like you’re trying too hard. This look has gotten me respect in board rooms despite the fact that I still have the face of a twelve year old.”

“You sure it wasn’t the last name?” Ryusei threw back. “And don’t say that, buddy. You look at least fifteen.”

“Dick,” Reo said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ryusei said back.

He did feel better. And it was good advice.

“Plus, it’ll make you look very fuckable. It’s a win win.” Reo snapped his fingers on one hand and pointed at Ryusei. “And wear the glasses.”

“Duh,” Ryusei said, not really wanting to touch the whole fuckable comment. It was what he was going for, sure, but he didn’t need another person in on that thought on the off chance this night went sideways and off the rails entirely. “I can barely see without the things now. Shit. Where are they?”

Ryusei looked around for a little while before Reo started chuckling to himself. “Are you like, a hundred years old?”

Ryusei reached up for his head, and lo and behold. “Ha ha.”

Reo wasn’t laughing anymore.

“You nervous?” he asked, his tone shifting into something that was nearly gravely serious.

“Am I wearing it that well?”

“No need for sarcasm. It was just a question.”

One that Ryusei didn’t know how to answer. One that he didn’t really want to talk about anyhow. He didn’t want to say that yeah, of course he was fucking nervous, this was the singlemost nerve wracking thing he’d ever had to do in his life, possibly the most nerve wracking thing he’d ever have to do, only for Reo to tell him that everything works out in the end, that he’d be there no matter what, that whatever outcome came of this night was the best one, because what did that help? Ryusei would still be legs trembling, stomach churning, on the verge of a migraine level nervous and Reo would still be comfortably removed, pouring a glass of champagne the second Ryusei was out the door.

“Instead of spiking my hair up,” Ryusei said, eager to change the subject. He ran both hands through his hair to showcase the idea. “What if I slick it back? You know, mafia boss style.”

“God, yes, do that,” Reo said. He understood the aversion to the question for what it was. He pushed himself off the doorway, took a half step back, and put both hands over his heart. “Come see me before you go, alright? Gah, I’m so proud. I feel like my son’s going to prom.”

Ryusei knew Reo meant that as a joke. He was pretty sure, anyways. But as soon as he backed off and down the hallway and Ryusei was once again left alone with his thoughts, he was drowning in them. He knew he was running out of time, so he tried to focus on the tasks at hand and forced himself to his feet. He just needed to get ready and dressed. He could worry about the rest later.

He took himself into the bathroom, not bothering to turn the lights on. The daylight of the quickly fading afternoon was spilling in through the window anyhow, and it was both a dimmer and more flattering light. Ryusei leaned on the bathroom counter and stared at himself. He’d been working out as much as he could manage, his hair still looked decent from his most recent touch up, and he’d been using the skincare products he’d so strategically placed in the shower where he couldn’t ignore them. In short, he looked good. Objectively. But when he was looking at himself through his own eyes, all he could see was a terrified man trying to play adult games for which he was entirely unequipped.

“You’re fine,” he tried to tell his reflection.

But the reflection didn’t shift. Didn’t mock him. Didn’t speak back at all. He just stood there, face full of doubt, looking back at himself.

“You’re going to be fine,” he tried. Minimal shift in wording, major shift in meaning.

His face didn’t change.

He turned the tap on and splashed some cold water onto his face. He really should be getting into the shower and putting it on full cold and standing there until his system was properly shocked to deal with the evening in front of him. But he was running out of time. This would have to do.

It did well enough. He gelled back his hair, mafia boss style. Stared at himself a little whole longer. Washed his hands until they started to get raw. Pulled the eyeliner out of the drawer where it sat and applied it with his shaking hand. It turned out pretty good, but anyone close enough to him would see it for the nervous action it had been.

He hoped Sae might at some point be close enough to notice.

He had to close his eyes and grip the edge of the counter when that thought washed over him. He tried to let Reo and Saichi into his head, rest a hand on his shaking shoulder, assure him that everything would be alright, no matter the outcome. But he didn’t believe it. It’s not like he didn’t try. He did. With his eyes closed, he tried to picture going to dinner, Sae sitting across from him stone faced, pulling a stack of papers out of a folder and handing them over, telling him it was over. He didn’t have any choice in the matter. His mind was made up.

He pictured himself not eating, because how could he? He pictured himself taking a car back to Reo’s. Staying for another week, maybe two, and then moving all his things from Reo’s guest room and their old apartment into some new place. How he’d decorate it (barely) and how he’d sleep in it (also minimally). He pictured how he might pretend to let Sae go. Deleting his number from his phone. Maybe blocking it. Deleting every single picture they had together. Maybe not.

He pictured there being a time, maybe a year later, maybe more, when he would be on the set of some job, or in some coffee shop, and he’d meet some lighting guy or someone’s assistant or some barista or some patron and get to talking over, fuck, he didn’t know, what do people even talk about these days besides soccer and headaches and clothes and being so fucking obsessed and slash or infuriated with each other they can’t breathe? But they’d talk and things might feel okay and then this guy would ask Ryusei for his number and he’d shrug and say…

Dude, fuck off. I’m married.

His eyes snapped open. No. He couldn’t do it. That entire visualization exercise was not grounded in reality. It was forced and unnatural and wrong. The mere thought of it made him sicker than the thought of seeing Sae’s face did.

He didn’t want anybody else. And he didn’t think that was in the unhealthy, codependent way that Saichi was always trying to shake him of. He just thought it was the mere truth of the matter. Things had gotten a little complicated along the way, and they were in a bad spot, had been in a bad spot for a while, but he still had the hope he’d always had. The hope that Sae had sown and cultivated into his chest when he first met him. The hope he’d probably never shed himself of. He already had someone, best of the best, and he didn’t want anybody else.

That was his last thought before he shoved every single thought and emotion out of his mind and just went onto autopilot. He went into the rest of the room, picking through the discarded fabrics until he was dressed to Reo’s advice, put his glasses on, and somehow made it into the car with his wallet, phone, and keys. He’d been dreading this night for six whole weeks, and now, for better or for worse, he was entirely numb to it.

Meanwhile, Sae’s numbness had faded. He’d made it into the car and halfway to the restaurant, and then his leg started shaking. It was a bad habit he used to indulge in when he first left Japan, one that he’d mostly curbed, but he couldn’t do a single thing to curb it now. It wasn’t just his leg. It was the fidgeting. If he moved his leg to where it wouldn’t shake, he’d started tapping his fingers on his thighs. If he sat on them, he started biting the inside of his lip. He needed to get a fucking grip, but that was a lost cause. Sanity was so far out of his reach.

Sae knew that Ryusei was late for everything, and he was looking to avoid sitting at the table where his divorce was to start by himself for any extended period of time, so he made the move to show up on time. Ryusei, who knew Sae was reliably a little early, and was also trying to be more adult and fix his bad habits, made his best effort to show up early, and was still a little late. As such, they ended up walking into the restaurant lobby within fifteen seconds of each other, before either of them had the chance to speak aloud to any staff member who they were or what they were there to do.

The second they locked eyes, Sae’s panic exploded inside him, and he genuinely thought he might have a heart attack and die, right there in the middle of the restaurant lobby. Ryusei, on the other hand, was all at once stripped of his numbness looking into the face he’d loved for so long, and everything came rushing in all at once.

It might be important to note that it was not voiced, but an identical train of thought was going through both of their minds. They were looking at the other, someone they were both married to and had not seen in six weeks, finding it unbelievable that they’d forgotten just how beautiful the other really was. And then there was a heartbreak that followed, because they simultaneously realized they were dressed for entirely different occasions.

Which was where their thoughts diverged.

Ryusei barely fought off his face falling. He felt his jaw clench so hard, the migraine was almost instantaneous. He’d never felt any truly malicious urge towards Sae. Even at their worst, in the middle of their screaming matches, it still always kind of felt like a game, short of real, summoning half emotions at best. But he felt it now. After everything they’d been through, over the past six weeks and the past six years, Sae had shown up here in his fucking joggers to tell him he was filing for divorce.

Meanwhile, Sae’s heart shattered inside his chest. He was getting used to being wrong, little by little, but his hatred for it seeped in full force now as he realized it was nothing but delusion that told him that maybe they were on the same page about going their separate ways. He thought it would be easy. But Ryusei had shown up dressed up, looking like that, good god, looking like that, to tell him that he wanted him back. He was going to have to destroy the heart of the person he loved most in the world and the only beautiful thing about it would be that his own would be in a worse off state from it.

The two of them gravitated towards each other, closing most of the distance, but not all of it. The space between them lingered like an entire third person, one they were both grateful for. Ryusei acted as if this space was stopping him from grabbing Sae and fucking shaking him, and Sae was treating it like something he could cower behind.

“Hi,” Ryusei said, but it sounded like a threat.

“Hi,” Sae said, but it sounded like an apology.

“I got us a table.”

“You mentioned.”

When they got up to the hostess stand, they both hesitated, and then ended up speaking over each other. It was awkward. Ryusei was too livid to speak, too focused on biting his tongue. Sae was, for one of the only times in his life, feeling too meek to speak, words too hard to grasp. The hostess led them to their private room and they did the walk in absolute silence.

Both of them felt bad for the poor girl.

Clearly. Because they both thanked her, again their words all over each other, unable to leave space for the other or understanding how to do so. She looked relieved to be leaving. It was another awkward dance to take their places at the table. Across from each other, no other people around, no distractions. Sae unfolded his fabric napkin and lay it across his lap, adjusting it, for lack of something better to do.

“What the fuck, Sae?” Ryusei spat across the table.

Not the best start, he knew. But seriously, what the fuck? Screw being an adult if his a-whole-year-older-than-him husband was going to handle this entire affair like a child.

Sae looked up, eyes wide, horrified. His mouth twitched a little, and then he said nothing, Ryusei didn’t know what he wanted out of him. Seeing it made him feel a little bad, just a little, because he knew Saichi would be disappointed in him, but it just didn’t dispel his anger enough to calm himself down.

“What?” Sae eventually said back.

And it genuinely looked like he didn’t know.

“What do you mean what?” Ryusei said back.

He gestured across the table, just at Sae in general, but he realized he didn’t have anything to grasp onto, to slide into the place of an explanation. Sae hadn’t said anything yet. It was just the way they knew each other on a fundamental level that he was basing this reaction off of.

He stumbled for words. “The, you know, shit, the fucking joggers.”

That jerked Sae a little out of his stupor.

“What’s wrong with my joggers?” Sae asked, his brows furrowing a little his voice becoming a touch harsher. “It’s not like there’s a dress code. And nobody’s going to dress code us when we’re paying this much.”

“Don’t treat me like I’m a fucking idiot,” Ryusei said. Colder than Sae thought him capable of. “You think I don’t know you wore your fucking I’m about to ask for a divorce joggers?”

Sae didn’t deny it. He might have thought it a little funny if it wasn’t just so fucking sad. The way they still did know each other to that extent. The way Ryusei could read his mind over a pair of pants.

He just watched his husband’s face. So gorgeous, but also how much older it had gotten while he hadn’t been paying attention. Not in a bad way, not at all a critique, just a sad observation. He wasn’t sure what it was. Their skincare and botox routines had made it so that neither of them had lines in their face. Maybe it was his eyes. Behind the lenses of Ryusei’s new glasses, Sae could see them better. Maybe that was it. Maybe. He couldn’t tell. All he could see was how shaky his eyeliner looked.

And then there was the anger in it. He had such malice in his eyes. Sae knew he was deserving of it. He could hardly deny that. What they had built hadn’t been perfect or entirely pleasant, but it had been theirs, and he was the one ripping everything apart at the seams. The one who was going to make it so they had to pick up their own pieces and figure out what to do with them without the other.

“Should we at least order before we talk about it?” Sae asked.

Ryusei hit the table. Kind of. It was more of a harsh tap. “Is there any fucking point? If you’ve made up your mind already, shouldn’t you just tell me and we can leave it at that so we don’t waste any more time. Do you seriously want to sit across for me for an entire meal?”

“Yes,” Sae answered, no hesitation.

Because it was the truth. And also because he was selfish. He desperately wanted to sit across from Ryusei for an entire meal, because he still believed he was doing the best thing for them both, but as far as this last sliver of time they’d get to spend together before things really fell apart, he wanted it, he wanted it, he wanted it.

But he didn’t do much with it. The two of them sat in silence until there was a soft knock on the door to their room, followed by a waitress entering. She was no more than two sentences into her spiel about the specials and the wine selections before her words started to become softer and awkward, and Sae couldn’t help but thinking great, our unhappiness is contagious. He ordered himself a sparkling water and averted his eyes. Ryusei ordered himself a gingerale. She left.

The door closed, and in the same movement, the two of them eyed each other.

“You’re not drinking,” Ryusei said, an eyebrow raised.

“Neither are you,” Sae spat back, horribly defensive. But then he caught himself, swallowed, took a breath. “I’m, uh, I’m trying to cut down.”

“Me too,” Ryusei said. And then, “It’s not good for my head.”

Sae did feel something inside of him soften then. It wasn’t something selfish, but selfless. This person he loved, deeply and desperately, who he had never been able to inspire to get better and in fact had actively made worse over their years together, was getting better.

“That’s good,” Sae said, barely able to choke out the words.

Ryusei didn’t respond. But he gave Sae quite the pointed look, like he wanted him to know that his choice not to do so was intentional.

The waitress came back with their drinks, setting them down on the table with expert swiftness. She took note of their closed menus and picked up for herself that they hadn’t even looked, that eating was the last thing on their minds, they were still figuring out how to talk to each other, and left. Sae sipped his drink, to give himself something for his hands, mouth, and mind to do that wasn’t just fuck up and flail. Ryusei remained still, watching him, with this judgemental intensity that Sae could hardly bear.

He gave up after a while, and instead turned to the windows. It gave Sae the opportunity to look him over. He couldn’t do it head on. Eeye to eye, that was much too painful, but he could admire Ryusei’s profile, his distracted face. He could see all the effort that had been put in, his hair semi freshly done, styled in a way he hadn’t seen before, the way the lenses of his glasses distorted. They were real. He had come a long way in the past six weeks, obviously, and Sae couldn’t help but admire him.

And feel inadequate beside him.

Ryusei looked back. Their eyes met.

“You look good,” Sae said, without really thinking.

Ryusei scoffed and threw his hands up. “Oh, could we just fucking not?”

The sentence slapped Sae, and he figured he deserved that too. He didn’t know what to say to that. It was a fair request, that they not sit here and act kind and pretend that things were fine when things were anything but, but Sae still wanted to. Do this. As in, have one night where they just pretended they could go back to the way things were before.

He would have acted a lot differently with the time they’d had together if he’d known how little of it they’d actually have.

He had to say something.

“I,” he started, but couldn’t continue. “I just…”

“Do you seriously just not love me anymore?” Ryusei asked him, point blank. “Six weeks, that’s all it took?”

Sae shook his head. “It’s not about that.”

“What is it about if not that?” he asked.

Sae looked down at the table, down at his shaky hands resting in his lap beneath it. He’d been digging his nails into his hands without realizing it and they left little indents in his palms when he released them. He focused on his breathing, hoping to dispel the sting at the corner of his eyes. It didn’t work. He’d gotten so good at burying himself, every part that was undesirable or too vulnerable or too much, but he couldn’t help it anymore. He was going to cry at this table, and it felt like the entire world was watching.

“I just,” Sae started again. But that’s as far as he got. The tears sat in his eyes, blurring his vision but refusing to fall. So far so good. Ryusei watched, eyebrows raised in pointed challenge, but Sae still didn’t know how to go about it. He’d practiced, and yet it was all for nothing. “I don’t…”

“You don’t what?” Ryusei asked after another lengthy pause. “You don’t want to be with me?”

“No,” Sae said. “I,”

“There’s someone else, then?” Ryusei asked.

“No,” Sae said, the word coming quick and cutting, spat like vile. “Fuck. No.”

“You’re tired of me,” Ryusei guessed next, his voice noticeably softer.

“No,” Sae said, his voice noticeably more desperate.

“What then?” Ryusei whisper pleaded.

Sae saw it then. The tears that were pooling up in the eyes across the table from him. He was making things worse by refusing to answer, by being unable to find the words. He’d never been so frozen before. So incapable.

“Because you decided this before we even got the chance to talk, before I could even show you,” Ryusei trailed off, his own voice catching. “Before I could show you all the work I’ve done. I’ve done it, okay? I really tried, and I’m not perfect, I’m going to keep seeing Saichi, but you were right, Sae, okay? You were right about everything.”

“No,” Sae said, forcing it into the conversation where there was no space. “No, I wasn’t.”

“And I should have listened to you more, okay?” Ryusei went on, as if he hadn’t even spoken at all. “I know that now. And I want to listen to you more, but I can’t do that if you’re not around. I just. I know, I’ve made things hard for you, but I don’t want to. I just. Please. Give me a chance to show you that I can be better.”

“No,” Sae said.

That word was perhaps the coldest one spoken so far.

And it slapped Ryusei just as forcefully. He was well aware that he was forgetting everything he’d learned, that he was falling back into old habits, from the lashing out to the pleading, but he just hadn’t expected things to fall apart this quickly or make so little sense. He couldn’t read it on Sae’s face either. He looked sad, or confused, or something, but Ryusei didn’t know for sure what that something was.

But that no. That had been personal.

He let out a single beat of sad laughter. “You really hate me that much, huh?”

“I could never hate you,” Sae said, refusing to meet his eye.

“What then?” Ryusei said, trying not to make it sound like he was pleading even though he very much was. “I don’t understand what I did.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Sae said.

Ryusei closed his eyes and forced himself to take a breath. Had Sae always been able to lie to him this easily?

“You’re,” Sae said. And it sounded shameful. Ryusei opened his eyes again. Sae still wasn’t looking at him. “Perfect.”

Now it was Ryusei who had no words. “I…don’t…”

Sae looked right at him and said, “I don’t deserve you.”

“What?” Ryusei asked, a little stunned.

“I’ve been a terrible husband,” Sae started, and much like Ryusei had just minutes before, he couldn’t stop. “I’ve been awful to you. Since the beginning. I don’t know why you ever put up with me, honestly. I just can’t bear thinking about some of the things I’ve said to you. And I handled your injury so poorly. I just…I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Ryusei said.

“Do you know that I wasn’t even going to come?” Sae asked him. “To the hospital, I meant. After. Davidi had to tell me to. He yelled at me. Yelled at me. I was just so focused on my own shit. And then when I got there, I just…”

Thought you were going to be a problem for me for the rest of my life. Sae couldn’t say that out loud. He just couldn’t. He couldn’t do that to either of them.

“You didn’t know how bad it was,” Ryusei said, shrugging a little.

“I didn’t not know,” Sae fought back. “Are you listening? I didn’t care.”

“You were just scared,” Ryusei said.

“Stop making excuses for me!” Sae said, just barely below a yell.

And he thought maybe he’d get a slap on the wrist from Saichi when he saw her next, but even so, he looked his husband dead in the eye and said, “No.”

Sae looked dumbfounded. “No?”

“No,” Ryusei said. He adjusted on his chair, sitting up a little straighter, and then he rested his elbows on the table, leaning towards Sae. “I’m not making excuses for you, and if I am, you deserve it, because that was my fault.”

“Your injury?”

“Your reaction.”

“Ryusei, don’t be,” Sae said, just barely catching himself before cutting himself off.

“Stupid?” Ryusei guessed. “Or an idiot?”

Sae visibly cringed. Because neither guess was far off.

“It’s fine,” Ryusei said. “But I’m not. How can I blame you for that reaction when I pushed you away first?”

“What?” Sae said, his head shaking from the conversation, trying to piece together things that just didn’t fit. “You didn’t push me away. Long distance sucked. That wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

“Sae,” Ryusei said, but that’s all he could manage before he needed a minute.

A minute to put his head in his hands and collect himself before he admitted that everything had actually been his fault. And how. When he lifted his head again, his eyeliner was smudged from the tears that had fallen.

“I’m so sorry I missed that video call,” Ryusei said, with the tone one might use in a confession booth.

But what fell out of Sae’s mouth was, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The video call date!” Ryusei pleaded, ready to lay all his sins bare. “During that year of long distance, we had a video call every Thursday, I don’t, I don’t remember what time it was for you but it was four pm for me, every Thursday, and one day, I just didn’t show up.”

Sae did remember that. Vaguely, and not until this moment. He tried to fish it out from the lake of his memories, but it was so elusive and blurry even when he did catch it. He remembered it being annoying, sure, but also brushed it off as Ryusei being Ryusei, social butterfly, eternally forgetful. He hadn’t taken it as an attack.

Not mindfully, anyhow.

“I,” Sae started, but he got annoyed all over again. “Who cares about that?”

“You did,” Ryusei said.

“No, I didn’t,” Sae said.

“You didn’t talk to me for two days afterwards,” Ryusei said. “I knew you were mad. I just didn’t know how to bring it up.”

Sae paled at this recounting on the memory. He could vaguely remember that part too. He couldn’t even doubt it, because that sounded exactly like something he would do if he felt slighted, but he felt like this memory was acting to showcase his own viciousness, not Ryusei’s.

“You got weird after,” Ryusei said. Sae wanted to beg him to just stop talking, because he knew he was awful, okay? He didn’t need to be reminded even more. “Things between us got weird after. And I didn’t know how to fix it. I just knew you didn’t trust me anymore, and that was fair enough, because I missed our date on purpose.”

“What?” Sae said. He still barely remembered the instance, and this confession was only confusing rather than clarifying.

“Because I was jealous of you.”

Sae felt like he was going to be sick. Either that, or start screaming.

“Jealous of me?” he asked. Ryusei nodded. Shamefully. “Why?”

“Because you left me,” Ryusei said. “It was different when we were playing on the same team, but then you left me, and you were having this amazing life on this amazing team and I just felt like I was left behind.”

“Are you actually a fucking idiot?” Sae asked.

He was forgetting his therapy lessons too, but in this instance, he felt it a genuine question needed to be asked.

“Sometimes,” Ryusei said, shrugging. “But…”

“I didn’t fucking leave you,” Sae spat. His hands had found the table and they were clutching it now as he seethed. “I got an offer from a team that wanted to build themselves around me. I’m sorry they didn’t want you, but I asked you about that, and you said it was fine. And honestly, I didn’t want you there either!”

Now it was Ryusei’s turn to be slapped by words. He was more used to it, but still, it burned.

“The whole reason I wanted to go in the first place was because they were willing to showcase me as more of a talent than I actually was,” Sae went on. He was still furious, that fact highlighted in every word, but he couldn’t gain to control to censor himself. “I wanted to solidify a professional career out of it because you were always fucking joking about how you were eventually going to get injured and have to retire early and just in case it did end up all falling on me I wanted to make sure I’d laid enough groundwork to…”

Sae’s words trailed off. Their eyes met. It was not a look of hatred the way only lovers could share. There was a softness it in, a fondness.

“To take care of me?” Ryusei said.

Sae looked away. Rested his fist in front of his mouth. “You’ve always been more talented than me. I wanted to make sure I could do it alone. In case I had to.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?” Ryusei asked.

“Jesus, Ryusei, why the fuck else would I have gone?” Sae asked. “Things were good.”

Ryusei got very quiet and tried to turn that over in his mind. It was true. He’d always seen Sae as painfully selfish, and to some extent, he was right, and had always loved that about him. But he was so used to seeing himself as inclusive of that fact that he forgot that he was occasionally the exception. Had he really joked that much about the injury before it even happened? It felt inevitable, sure, with the chaotic way he tended to play and had built a brand out of, but he didn’t think he’d brought it up more than once or twice. Surely not enough to actually worry Sae.

Then again, he couldn’t really trust his own memory.

The two of them fell quiet. It lasted a long time.

Until Ryusei said, “No.”

“No?” Sae asked. “What do you mean no?”

“No divorce,” Ryusei said. “I’m not letting you.”

“You’re not letting me?” Sae tossed back. “I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

“Oh?” Ryusei said. “You were that serious about it that you looked that deep into it, you know all about how it works?”

“Well, no,” Sae said, slightly stammering. “But I know you file. I’m pretty sure you can’t just say no.”

“Too bad,” Ryusei said. “Because I just did.”

“Ryusei,” Sae said. “Would you just stop-”

“Being an idiot?” Ryusei guessed again, his eyebrows raising. That was not what Sae was going to say this time, although not horribly far from it, and rolled his eyes while he huffed. He allowed the action. “You’re being the fucking idiot. Oh my god. You’re really so down on yourself over a couple of mistakes that you’d throw everything away? No. You know, I’d let you divorce me if you have halfway decent reasoning for it. Seriously. But you don’t. So, no divorce.”

Sae was the one to put his face in his hands this time. A barely muffled sound of deep frustration took place behind them. When finished, his hands moved to his temples and rubbed them, before dropping back to the table.

“Listen to me,” Sae started.

“No,” Ryusei said. “You listen to me.”

But he didn’t say anything else. He just stared at Sae in challenge. Sae wasn’t especially in the mood to play. He just looked back waiting.

“I’m not hungry,” Ryusei said.

“Yeah,” Sae agreed. “Me neither.”

Both of their glasses were heavy with condensation, mostly untouched. Ryusei stood, his chair sliding back behind him with a screech. He took the napkin that was sitting on his lap and tossed it onto the table where his untouched place setting sat.

“Fuck this,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Sae was a little dumbfounded. A little because he didn’t think he’d ever seen an instance where Ryusei hadn’t stuffed his napkin down the front of his shirt and make a big mockery out of it, let alone use it properly, but also because he didn’t understand the situation.

“Go where?” Sae asked.

“Anywhere,” Ryusei said.

This wasn’t good. They were going off script. They were just supposed to show up to this dinner and sit across form each other and let Sae one last night of staring into his dearest face before they parted ways forever. But it’s not like they had any script they were required to stick to. It wasn’t against the rules.

Nothing was anymore.

Sae didn’t have any idea how to fight, nor did he have the desire. He folded up his own napkin, placed it on his own empty place setting, where it sat like a deflated ghost, and followed Ryusei out of their private room.

“We’re leaving,” Ryusei was telling the lady at front desk when Sae finally caught up to him. “No, no, nothing to do with you guys at all. Something just came up. Feel free to charge the minimum spend and a good tip to the card on file.” He tapped the hostess stand once with his palm. “We good? Cool. Have a good night.”

“I could have paid,” Sae said as they were on their way out.

“Oh, I didn’t pay,” Ryusei said, holding the front door open and letting Sae step through. “Reo made the reservation. It’s his card on file.”

“Oh my god,” Sae sighed. “That looks so bad. Let’s go back.”

“No way,” Ryusei said. “He won’t even notice.”

When he felt Ryusei’s hand find his back, Sae jolted and then froze. He’d never been excellent at physical intimacy, had gotten used to it over the first few years of their relationship, and had gotten used to it once again when it had tapered off the past few.

But it had been a long six weeks of having absolutely none, and even he was surprised by how much it shocked him.

And he had not played it off well. Ryusei pulled his hand back like it had burned him.

“Shit,” Ryusei said. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Sae said.

“You jumped.”

“You can,” Sae said. “I’m just not used to it.”

“Thank god for that, I guess,” Ryusei said. “But ouch.”

He kept his hands at his sides. Sae felt the urge to reach back out, but maybe it was for the best that what could have been a nice moment was ruined before it turned absolutely devastating.

The walk was awkward. It was awkward in that it started because neither of them really knew what to do with the other. It was true when they were sitting across the table from each other, with a well laid out plan of what they were supposed to do while tolerating each other, but now that they had ventured out into the world and had limitless options, all they could really think to do was wander. It reminded Sae of what things had been like when they first started dating, another time when they had little idea what to do with each other, but that had been made tolerable by the fact that they’d craved the other’s company. Now, it just felt directionless, and they weren’t holding hands or reaching out for the other, so they had to be diligent in watching each other to make sure they understood where they were heading.

It wasn’t dark yet, but almost. The day was fading fast and it felt like a warning. At the end of the night, Sae would have to go find himself a hotel room, something he had not done beforehand because he’d needed to focus his entire mental preparation on this dinner, and he’d fall asleep in it, thinking about how tomorrow, he’d actually have to start proceedings.

He wanted this night to last forever as much as he wanted it over.

“Oh, hey!” Ryusei said suddenly, breaking a silence that was suffocating them both. “Here’s somewhere we can talk.”

Sae didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. Before he could even swivel his head back and forth to look around, Ryusei was behind him, hands on his shoulders, guiding him. He’d managed not to jump this time around. There was a hesitation to it, Sae could feel it in his palms, but he didn’t comment on it, didn’t breathe, didn’t do a single thing but keep walking, and they forced themselves through the action until Ryusei eventually released him.

They were standing in front of a soccer field.

“Are you serious?” Sae asked.

“Why not?” Ryusei said. “This is where it all began. The reason we even met in the first place. What better place do we have to speak freely than this?”

Not a nice one or a professional one by any means. All the practice arenas were closed to the public and an injured retiree and an international player certainly didn’t have keys. It was just a park one, smaller than regulation size, illuminated by aggressive overhead lights and entirely abandoned.

He’d had his fair share, by which he meant one, which had been more than enough, of difficult conversations on low grade soccer fields at night. But if he was about to destroy something, a relationship or otherwise, he supposed there wasn’t any place more fitting.

Just like he’d been doing his entire life, he stepped onto the field, prepared for a war.

All they were doing here was delaying the inevitable. And if they were, that was fine by him. He was the number one advocate for delaying the inevitable.

“I wish there was a ball,” Ryusei said, looking from one netless goalpost to the other.

“Why?” Sae asked. “You can’t even play.”

“I can pretend,” Ryusei said. He jumped from foot to foot a couple times, some mockery of dribbling that would get the ball stolen from him in a second and a half at most. “I can play a little. I just can’t be bicycle kicking all over the place.”

“That’s most of your playstyle,” Sae said.

“I know. Tragic.” Ryusei did a little more fake dribbling, and then he kicked a foot out. “Here.”

Sae didn’t bite. He stayed entirely still. “You missed.”

“It was right at you,” Ryusei protested. He huffed and threw his hands up. “Okay, fine. I’ll try again.”

He kicked another fake ball. Once again, Sae didn’t move.

“That one went through me,” Sae said. “Ghost ball.”

“Ghost ball,” Ryusei repeated, cackling with such force that it filled the entire field. “Are you kidding me? You’re funny now? Who taught you humor when I wasn’t around?”

Sae was immediately offended and felt it like a wound. His blood was immediately boiling, his vision seeing red, his mind twisting towards the violent. His mouth moved. He barely caught it.

“You,” he said, and then stopped.

“I’m what?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re nicer,” Ryusei said. “Than before.”

“I’ve been working on it,” Sae admitted. Because who could he admit it to besides his most practiced punching bag?

“I figured,” Ryusei said. “Maybe we should talk about that. What did you have to do for your first week?”

It was a little surprising, how easy conversation started. Once they had some common ground and many directions with which to go with it. They’d both done the emotion wheel, and practice as he might have, Sae still had plenty of opinions of the emotion wheel, most of them negative. Ryusei had come over to his side, and admitted that he had found it overwhelming, and maybe neither of them had ever been very good with emotions, just in different ways.

“That’s probably true,” Sae said.

“Do you think we’re more balanced now?” Ryusei asked.

“I don’t know,” Sae answered.

Because he didn’t know. Six weeks wasn’t a long time, objectively speaking, but it was also an eternity.

Ryusei intentionally didn’t ask about week two when they were reaching out for support and Sae found himself a little disappointed, because out of all the activities he’d been tasked with, that was the only one he truly felt that he could brag about. He’d made a friend, a decent guy actually, been honest with him, helped him out. But he was a little grateful. He didn’t really want to hear Ryusei brag about his full roster of friendships and how easy that week had been for him, so maybe some things were better left to the imagination.

“I’m sorry, by the way,” Ryusei said.

“About what?” Sae asked.

“The…” Ryusei averted his gaze. “The tabloids.”

“Oh.”

Admittedly, Sae had forgotten entirely about that. It was a little funny, actually, recalling how fucking angry he’d been. How he’d come flying down the stairs at Rin’s and nearly broken his phone. It was less funny, how desperate he’d been to start drinking in the morning hours, so he pushed that out of his mind.

“It’s fine,” Sae said.

“And everything that came after,” Ryusei said.

Sae tried to remember. He didn’t really remember any other fallout. Until he realized that’s not what he was talking about at all.

“You mean the picture?” Sae said.

“And the interview,” Ryusei said. “It wasn’t very…mature of me.”

“It’s fine,” Sae said again. Before realizing he sounded like quite the broken record. “I liked it.”

“I saw that,” Ryusei said.

Right. Yeah. Because he’d actually physically gone and liked the photo. But that wasn’t what he meant. Though he didn’t correct himself, because he figured the misunderstanding was probably for the better.

“So, how was staying at Rin’s?” Ryusei tried.

Another loaded question. At least it was one he was ready for. Sae did notice that he didn’t say Rin and Meguru’s, because of course, that’s not what he was asking.

“It was fine,” Sae said.

“Really?” Ryusei let out a couple beats of shaky laughter. “Because I’m surprised you’re both still alive.”

“We’re getting along, actually,” Sae said. “Better, anyways.”

“No shit,” Ryusei said. “Seems to have done you some good, then.”

“I guess.”

What the fuck was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he land on any other answer? But he really didn’t want to talk. He just wanted them to stare at each other for a few hours, silent so they had no chance to ruin anything, to call it quits on a good note. 

“What did you say you wanted to work on?” Ryusei asked, continuing his weird fake dribbling.  

Sae was reluctant, but he had no reason to lie. “I want to be 20% less condescending.”

Much like Saichi had, Ryusei burst out laughing. It filled the entire space they were standing in, and it just kept going. Eyes closed, head tilted back. His laughter continued until his eyes popped open and he got himself off balance and muttered some combination of shit fuck shit and barely caught himself as his dress pants covered ass fell right onto the real grass field.

“Fuck,” Ryusei said, taking a breath once he’d landed. “That could have been worse.”

“Are you serious?” Sae said.

“20% less condescending,” Ryusei mused. “You really have gotten hilarious. Or have you always been and I just didn’t notice?”

“I’ve been working on that too,” Sae said, both a shield and a lie.

He was about to continue his scolding, to tell Ryusei he should be careful, take better care of himself, but he caught himself. It felt dangerous territory. Not necessarily his.

And he realized that he hadn’t been asking any of the questions. “What did you want to work on?”

“I want to grow up,” Ryusei said.

Sae did not manage to stop the scoff that escaped his lungs.

“Okay, yeah, I deserve that,” Ryusei said. “But I do. I know it took a little while. I just, I don’t know. You’re such an adult. You always have been. And I think that’s part of the reason that I’m not, because I felt like there wasn’t ever any reason to be. You were already the adult.”

Sae was about to fight back, but wasn’t given the chance.

“But I didn’t mean to become such a burden for you.”

Sae didn’t know what to say. That had gotten very serious, very quickly, and this was another thing that he was just not used to. For as long as they’d been married, before that even, he’d known Ryusei as someone entirely unable to take a single thing seriously. He’d loved it as much as he’d loathed it.

Nowadays, he wasn’t quite sure where he stood.

Ryusei still hadn’t gotten up, so Sae followed suit and took a seat a few feet away from him.

“You shouldn’t have thought that I was going to be a fucking shackle for you when I got injured,” Ryusei said. Sae’s throat caught. He had forgotten about this. He hadn’t said as much, but Ryusei could read it somehow anyways. Sae didn’t confirm or deny it. He felt that was the kindest thing he could do. He couldn’t meet his eye. “That’s my fault. You should have had confidence that we could have figured it out together. I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s not your fault,” Sae said. “You literally had a brain injury. You’re not responsible for my shitty thoughts.”

Ryusei looked him right in the eye. It was so chilling, so calm, it was like looking at a familiar stranger. “Stop making excuses for me, Sae.”

He wasn’t making excuses for him, but he stopped nonetheless. Because he understood the irony and also because that was what a decent person would do.

“I’m fucking tired of this,” Ryusei said, lifting himself back to standing. “It’s getting cold and this hair’s giving me a fucking headache and this shirt is super expensive but it’s still itching the shit out of my nipples.” Once to his feet, he held a hand out for Sae’s. “Let’s go home, Sae.”

Sae was just about to take it, but upon hearing that. he snatched his back. Got himself to standing on his own. Drew a line in the sand.

“Ryusei,” Sae said. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh, fuck off, Sae!” Ryusei said, almost yelling. He was giving him this intense look, and Sae genuinely wondered if he was about to beat the shit out of him. “You’re not fucking divorcing me, alright? If you’d fallen out of love with me, fine. If you weren’t attracted to me anymore, fine. If you genuinely hated the idea of a life with me, whatever, okay? I’d let it go. But I’m not letting you put pity party of the intense variety as justification for our divorce on official documentation, alright? So just fucking drop it and let’s go home.”

Sae didn’t have the words with which to fight. Or maybe he just didn’t have it in him at all.

A quiet, haunting understanding came over the two of them. Neither of them called a car, neither of them said a word. They just started walking. Side by side, not touching, but just barely. The space between was both necessary and unbearable. They didn’t touch because they didn’t need to. They didn’t speak because they didn’t need to. It wasn’t a short walk to their apartment, but it wasn’t an impossible one. They did the entire thing in silence.

As they walked up to the building, they both reached for their keys in unison.

“We’ve still got it,” Ryusei said, shaking his keys.

Sae said nothing. Couldn’t manage.

He didn’t want to go upstairs. It felt final. Like a decision was being made. And he felt, in that, like he was betraying himself. He’d made a choice, and he’d felt so sure about it, but now it felt so murky. Maybe that was a fault of his. That he should be a little more mutable, adaptable. Open to things changing. But all he felt was sick. The lobby felt a horrible hellscape, even though he’d just walked through it on his way to the dinner. The elevator was big enough to hold the both of them, but it still felt suffocating.

And Ryusei was keeping a respectful distance inside it. Sae had never known this side of him. The one that wouldn’t attack him the second the elevator doors closed. Didn’t matter which elevator, whether there were cameras, whether it was made of glass. This time, they just stood on opposite ends, and Sae couldn’t decide whether he was impressed or mourning.

Ryusei was impressed with himself, mourning what was. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t felt the urge. It was embedded deep inside him. But he resisted. Like a proper adult. He only wished he knew if Sae was mourning too. He wasn’t ever the initiator, but he never resisted. It had been something fun for both of them.

Right?

He couldn’t be sure. He just looked into his blank face and found he had absolutely no ability how to read it.

If the elevator was bad, the apartment was worse. It was bigger, sure, enough space to run off and hide, but it was theirs in a way the rest of the building was not. Full of their things, full of their words, full of their memories. Years and years worth.

“I fucking hate this place,” Sae said as soon as they stepped inside.

He hadn’t meant to. He wasn’t trying to be negative. He wasn’t trying to be condescending. He wasn’t trying to be spiteful. But he couldn’t help it. He fucking hated this place.

Sae’s hand found the counter of the island. He hadn’t gone in far. He hadn’t even kicked his shoes off. He just stood there, in the kitchen, hanging on to the side of the counter like it was the only thing keeping him steady.

“Let’s sell it then,” Ryusei said.

He was kicking his own shoes off, unbuttoning his itchy shirt, tossing it on the floor in a heap. He was having no issue making himself at home, apparently. Or not right away. After a few seconds, he went over to his shoes, righted them. He picked his shirt up and took it to their room. Sae heard the laundry basket lid open and close for the first time in six weeks.

“Yeah,” Sae agreed when he came back. “We probably should.”

“Cool,” Ryusei said. Like they weren’t making some big financial decision like nothing had changed. Like they weren’t making some big financial decision like nothing had changed. Sae felt like his throat was closing. “Do you wanna use that same realtor we did last time? I thought you said he was a prick.”

Sae didn’t answer.

His grip on the counter wasn’t just keeping him steady, it was keeping him sane, it was keeping him there. He wanted to run. It was almost laughable, or it would be, if it wasn’t so sad. But it was. He saw it then. That urge to run was nothing new; he’d been carrying it around for a while. He’d been indulging it regularly, every time he locked himself in the bathroom, every time he took a new contract without checking how long it was, every time he got some time off and chose not to come home.

It was sourced from the same place that his desire to get a divorce came from.

“Hey,” Ryusei said, after what felt like forever, turning to him. “Who was staying here, by the way?”

He’d taken his belt off too. Messed up his hair until it was wild instead of gelled back. He was trying to be inconspicuous, but Sae could hear it in his tone, see it in his eye. The jealousy. The way he was trying to suppress it.

“Sendou Shuto,” Sae answered, without really thinking about. “From-”

Sae was planning on finishing that sentence with from Rin’s team. Just seemed easier to explain it that way. But before he could, Ryusei burst into loud laughter. Hands on his knees. Bending at the waist and everything.

“From the U-20 match?” he said through his amusement. “Are you fucking serious?”

Jealousy gone. That was clear enough. What also was is that unlike Sae, Ryusei remembered him.

Sae shrugged. “He’s on Rin’s team. We’re…friends.”

The word had to be forced, but it was true enough, and it was out there.

“How did that happen?” Ryusei was all interest now.

Another shrug. “We ran into each other at a party.”

“And what?” Ryusei asked. “You got down on your knees and grovelled? That guy fucking hated you.”

Wow. So Sendou’s hatred had not only been true and well deserved, but well known. It stung more than Sae cared to admit. He hated the feeling, even if it did probably indicate some growth was taking place inside him. He wanted to snap back. It was taking everything to fight to urge. Who the fuck cared if he hated him? He was so sure he was so great anyways. And if Sae was a dick to him, he probably, no, definitely deserved it. Besides, they were over it now, so what the fuck did it even matter?

Sae’s internal turmoil didn’t last nearly as long as he felt it did, but however brief it was in reality, Ryusei saw it. He didn’t know how, couldn’t explain it, never had really been able to when it came to Sae. But he saw it. This awareness, this understanding. Just like they used to have.

“Holy shit,” Ryusei said. “You didn’t remember him, did you?”

Sae’s face fell. His version of it anyways. “How did you get that? I didn’t even say anything.”

“You seriously think I can’t read you anymore?” Ryusei said through his smirk.

It didn’t really make sense, but Sae didn’t feel so attacked anymore.

He felt more confused, if anything.

“So, what party were you at?” Ryusei said, walking over to their couch to take a seat on it. Ankle resting on his knee, arms outstretched over the back of it. “You have to tell me all about that.”

It felt like old times. Sae didn’t know what to make of that either. He stayed firmly placed behind the island. Both hands were clutching the edge of the counter now. He couldn’t really make sense of what he was seeing. What he was feeling. At least the conversation was easy enough.

“Aiku’s,” Sae said, really not wanting to elaborate further. But to save himself the shame and embarrassment, added, “Week two.”

“Gross,” Ryusei said.

“Agreed,” Sae said, appreciating that Ryusei had not called him out on the very obvious fact that he hadn’t had any better options.

“That guy has always wanted to fuck you.”

“Still does.”

Ryusei’s eyes widened. Not in jealousy. He wasn’t that brain damaged to even consider that being on the table. Appropriately, he found it fucking hilarious.

“Him and Shuto are fucking,” Sae said, trying to save himself. “Or were.”

“Well, that was just a matter of time,” Ryusei said. That caught Sae’s attention in a brand new way. Ryusei could clearly tell. “What? Come on. The way they were back- oh, right. You don’t remember.”

Ryusei’s laughing filled the living room.

Sae had always had the distinct feeling that he was the one with the tight grip on reality, the view of the world as it was. Ryusei was the one floating through it careless and unaware. But in his subjective experience of filtering everything out he deemed unimportant, he’d missed so much. Important pieces that his counterpart had had the entire time and he never knew.

His counterpart. How tragic a phrase. Was that true anymore? He couldn’t really tell. Ryusei was still sitting across the room, arms outstretched across the back of the couch, shirtless, pants undone, like they’d just walked in from any other night. Like six weeks of horrifying discoveries and long swims in deep dark waters didn’t now exist between them. Could he really just step back into everything so easily?

Could it be that easy? Could they both do it.

No.

Sae had made a decision. He was not getting sucked back in. No matter how it felt now, how it might feel later tonight, how it might feel tomorrow, going back on it would be a bad idea. He never should have come here. He should have gotten himself a hotel. Hell, going back to Rin and Meguru’s would be better than this.

Why hadn’t he planned ahead for that?

It didn’t matter. He could do it now. He felt the need to be easy with it, gentle, but it wasn’t really his nature. What he wanted to say was, so, what do we do now?

But what came out of his mouth was, “I should go.”

“Where are we going?” Ryusei said, pushing himself to standing. He motioned towards their bedroom. “Can I grab another shirt first?”

Sae’s eyes couldn’t help but dart to that dark doorway. He’d been in there just earlier today, but in this context, it looked entirely different. A fate worse than death. Something there was no coming back from.

“Ryusei,” Sae started.

“Stop,” he said back.

There it was again. The urge to lash out. Sae shoved the tip of his tongue against his bottom teeth and kept his jaw clenched. He didn’t want to be here. He shouldn’t have let things go this far.

“Why are you doing this?” Ryusei said, taking advantage of Sae’s silent rage.  

To his credit, it just sounded like a question. A genuine curiosity. But Sae knew better than that. He knew it was a mockery, or else a questioning of his sanity. There was something malicious lurking underneath. Or did he know better? Did he really? Or did it just feel like an attack because everything did? Because he didn’t want to be questioned on something he wasn’t even sure he was sure about anymore?

He was wavering. This was a dicey situation.

“Because you don’t deserve me?” Ryusei said. That was mockery for sure. “Because you’ve made mistakes? If that’s all the reasoning you have, you’re being a fucking idiot. And you’ve said that a million fucking times to me, and most of the time you’re right, but this time, I am. You’re being a fucking idiot.”

“You can’t fucking say that me,” Sae snapped back. This was not good. He could tell, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Ryusei shrugged. “I can say it if it’s true.”

Sae clung to his last bare shred of sanity and said, “We’re getting nowhere.”

“Who’s fault is that?” Ryusei said.

Sae’s hands released the counter and his palms found the top of it in a sudden, aggressive smack. “Saichi would have a fucking heart attack if she knew we did all that bullshit just to abandon it day one.”

“Then talk to me!”

The entire place fell silent. They were still staring at each other, looks of challenge. Stubborn pleading versus stubborn pride.

He was right. They were both right. They were getting nowhere. It was Sae’s fault. He was being a fucking idiot. Saichi would hate to see them locked in this interaction.

It felt like such an easy request. Talk to me. But where to start? It felt so impossible. There were so many thoughts, so many feelings. Sae found himself wanting to reach for the emotion wheel to ease the turmoil, but that was too much of a loss. Better to stick to the facts.

“I don’t know what I want to do anymore,” Sae admitted.

And of all things, Ryusei said, “Liar.”

Which brought him right back to their last bad fight. The bad fight. The last time he’d called him that. Sae couldn’t snap back. He couldn’t make this worse than it already was. He needed to fight it, fight it, fight it, and if this fight dragged out because he needed to take ten minutes of cool down time between every idiotic thing they said to each other, fine.

Or was it fine? It didn’t feel like it.

“I know you,” Ryusei said, his voice softening. His hands raised, like an apology. Sae’s spine released the tension it was holding. The room cleared, albeit fractionally. “You don’t do anything you don’t want to do. You didn’t have to agree to go to dinner with me. You didn’t have to come here. But you did. You didn’t look into divorce proceedings. You didn’t file. You don’t even have somewhere else to stay tonight. You can’t tell me that you don’t want me anymore.”

“Of course I still want you,” Sae said. The words fell from his mouth before he even thought about it, and he thought that maybe that was the best tactic, and he could stop it if he felt himself going too far. “I don’t want to hurt you. And I don’t know if I can help myself. I don’t want what we’ve been doing. That’s been bullshit. I want you. Of course I want you. I just don’t know if that’s possible anymore, or if it is, what that looks like.”

“Can’t we find out?” Ryusei asked. Like that was really such a simple question. “We did six weeks of trial separation. I don’t know if that sucked the big one for you, but it did for me. Can’t we do a trial getting back together? See how it feels? If it works?”

“What if it doesn’t?” Sae asked.

“Then we can say that we tried,” Ryusei said.

Sae didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t lasted long, but that was still more vulnerability than he was really used to, and he felt it was a considerable feat. He took his time, trying to figure out if he should agree or protest. Everything just felt so muddled and he didn’t know what the right answer was. What was he feeling? How much was pride? What was the right answer?

Across the room, Ryusei took a step forward. Towards him.

“Don’t,” Sae snapped.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not going to stop you,” Sae answered honestly. “And I feel like that’ll end in something we can’t come back from.”

“Okay,” Ryusei said, rolling his eyes as he took another step. “Now I know you’re lying, or else you wouldn’t be standing there looking so good and saying such hot shit.”

And then Ryusei took off his glasses, folded them up, tossed them on the couch, and closed the rest of the distance between them. He took his husband’s face in his hands, and kissed him for the first time in six weeks. The first time it felt meaningful in over half a year at least.

When he closed his eyes, Sae could see it in the dark. How the rest of this would play out. The way they’d dip back into the dark doorway of their room, not turn on the lights, spend the night there. The way they’d talk to each other, fight with each other, apologize, try again. Rinse and repeat. The way Sae would indeed call a new realtor, because Ryusei was right, the last one had been a prick, and they’d sell this place, or else rent it to Shuto if he hadn’t figured his shit out yet, on the condition that Oliver never set foot in it, and Sae and Ryusei would buy something new. A fresh start. Somewhere comfortable for Ryusei to live, somewhere beautiful to Sae to come home to between contracts. Or on breaks. Or whenever we could. Somewhere neither of them haunted. Somewhere they could come to haunt in different ways.

That was the right answer.