Chapter Text
“Yo.”
Kai waves, leaning on the dining table. Small, Kei thinks, the apartment is smaller than his house but bigger than what Kei could ever have afforded by himself. Entrance, kitchen, main room. There probably aren’t even any separate rooms, and it only makes everything feel even smaller.
“How’d you find this place?” Kei says, in lieu of a greeting, because anything he can think to say now will only come out awkward, distant from years of silence. Kai doesn’t seem to mind, pushing himself off the table to walk closer.
“I take my motorcycle around here a lot and saw this place. Was lucky enough that it had been at a pretty good price.”
“It’s nice,” Kei says, pathetically. Even to his own ears, it’s insincere, empty, but Kai looks him in the eyes and smiles, a small quirk to the corner of his lips. He picks up the single duffel bag Kei brought with him without being asked, hefting it over his shoulder like it’s nothing. It’s sad how most of what Kei had to bring with him had been textbooks, books, clothes. Nothing else.
“Well then, Kei,” Kai says, pressing a set of keys into Kei’s palm. “Welcome home.”
“So I heard you’ve moved, Nagai-kun?”
Kei sits sullenly, forcing the scowl off his face. Satou steeples his fingers together, undeterred and eternally smiling. There’s a way of looking friendly without smiling, Kei thinks, but Satou manages to look suspicious even when he does.
“Not a bad place, either. It’s in a bit of a high-end neighbourhood, though, isn’t it? A lot closer to your university. Are you living there by yourself?”
“It doesn’t say on the change of details form.”
“Which is why I’m asking you, Nagai-kun.”
Satou leans forward, elbows making the aged wood creak. Kei’s short fingernails click agitatedly against the metal arms of the seat – then stop, Satou eyeing him thoughtfully. The clock ticks, far too slow in the quiet. It’s a waste of time, being here and not saying anything. Kei has nothing to say, not to him.
“You’re a smart boy, Nagai-kun. An adult now, with a promising future – if everything goes right. It’s not my hobby to make assumptions, but, well, it’s my job. As I understand it, your financial situation at the moment isn’t – stable. And I’m worried about you.”
Kei stares, blankly. The words are nothing but a polite lie – he can’t fathom them anything otherwise. Which is exactly why he’s in this situation in the first place.
“Unless you do something, find a stable support system, you may not be able to continue your studies.”
This time, Kei doesn’t bother to try hiding his scowl. “That doesn’t matter to me.”
Satou raises his brows, smile widening. Kei wishes he could’ve kept his mouth shut.
“Well, well. That’s new. One of the first things you’d told me after coming here was that you wanted to be a doctor, find cures for incurable illnesses. I’d been of the understanding that… perhaps the motivation behind that was your sister, Eriko-san, was it?”
The ceiling has discoloured patches, as though they’ve been stained, Kei thinks absently, chair tipping back. He takes a noisy breath, almost a grumble, and he closes his eyes.
“No.”
He says nothing else.
Eventually, the pen clicks gently against the table, the sound of papers shuffling as Satou files them away. He stands slowly, and Kei makes to stand, too. Satou doesn’t move away from his desk.
“Nagai-kun,” Satou says. “Obviously, I’m not expecting you to tell me every single detail of your life story. I’m not being paid enough for that. But if there’s something that’s affecting you, it helps to talk to me about it, even if you think that I can’t help you with it.
“And your circumstances seem to have drastically changed – you have, too. For better or for worse.”
“Changed how?”
“Well, I don’t know. Distancing yourself, from friends, family, yourself – it feels like you’ve given up.”
“I haven’t given anything up.”
Satou shrugs, amiably. He pushes one of the drawers closed. “In a sense, I suppose… Alright, how about this. Nagai-kun, what is it that you care about? Who is important to you? What is it that you want to do?”
Kei says nothing.
Then, “I just want to live peacefully, that’s all.”
Satou laughs. He finally moves, walking over to the door and turning it open. Kei pointedly ignores the boy waving furiously at him outside. “You’re an interesting person, Nagai Kei. Giving up isn’t always a bad thing. People can give up pretences, on things weighing them down. You just need to make sure you’re throwing the right things away.”
“You’re not from this department.”
Kai shrugs, sipping through his straw. He pushes himself off the wall, tossing his juice box into the bin beside him.
“No? Which department am I from?”
Kei stops, bag half-off his shoulder. Kai pats him on the shoulder, grinning.
“Hey, calm down. I’m not expecting you to know. It’s been a while since we’ve talked.”
More than ten years, to be more precise. For all intents and purposes, prior to all this, they couldn’t even be considered acquaintances. If, perhaps, it was simple distance keeping them apart, then maybe all this would be easier. It would be much harder, for example, if Kei had been actively avoiding Kai for the past decade, making him as good as non-existent in his life.
“Sorry,” Kei says, quietly, instead of asking, why are you helping me? Kai shakes his head, letting go of his shoulder.
“What’re you apologizing for? It’s fine. We’ve got all the time to make up for it, now. Anyway, I was going to ask if you have any lectures left today.”
“Why?”
“Good enough,” Kai says, tossing him something. Kei only barely manages to catch both it – a motorcycle helmet – and his own bag. “I was thinking we could stop by somewhere to eat before I headed for my shift.”
Kei remembers the half-empty cupboards back in his apartment, the bareness of the room. “Are you sure you can afford that?’
“It’s why I’m working, isn’t it?”
“Where do you work?”
“Part-time at a convenience store nearby. I’m thinking of looking for another job, though – on top of this one, I mean. I can afford to feed you every once in a while, y’know.”
“I wasn’t doubting that.” He can still maintain his bike, after all – the question is whether he can support two people. Kei needs a job, too, he knows – especially with the situation being what it is. Still, he can’t afford to have it cut into studying, and it may be more trouble than it’s worth.
Kai stops, and he throws his bag onto the back of his bike. The walk it took to get to his motorcycle was almost as long as it would’ve taken to get to the bus stop. Kei says nothing about it, though, and Kai spins his keys around his index finger.
“I do have another lecture, you know,” Kei says, belatedly, even as he’s buckling the helmet around his head. Kai looks at him, craning his head over his shoulder to stare at the boy sitting behind him.
“You need to take a break sometimes, Kei. You can always go take it if you want, though.”
“I didn’t bring my wallet. I must have left it back at the apartment.”
The engine revs loudly as it starts, fumes spilling out behind them. Kai puts his own helmet on, flipping the visor down and gripping the handlebars. Kei gingerly wraps his arms around his waist, and Kai doesn’t turn around. His voice is almost lost beneath the sound of the motor, ribcages shaking and heads rattling.
“Kei. You’re my friend. I’m not gonna abduct you from your class and then not even feed you. Don’t worry about it.”
He takes his feet off the ground.
“Also, I’m studying engineering, just so you know.”
“We could always use more hands at the construction site, but, well, you don’t really look like construction work material, Nagai.”
“Why are you even talking to me,” Kei groans, burying his face into his hands. The boy next to him balances a pencil on his upper lip, leaning back. Kei hopes he hits his head on the wall.
Kou yelps as his skull thumps against the plaster, pencil clattering to the ground.
“Ow! Well, we’re both gonna have to suffer through Satou, so I figured, why not? Plus, I overheard you talkin’ with that blond guy.”
“It’s rude to eavesdrop, Nakano.”
Kou shrugs. He starts bouncing his left leg. “I’ve never seen you come in with anyone, of course I was gonna listen in. I was sure you didn’t have any friends.”
Kei doesn’t say anything to that. At this point, there’s no use trying to argue.
“Look, just forget about it. I’ll figure something out myself.”
Kou hums, leg bouncing that little bit faster, but thankfully he says nothing. The receptionist is hunched over some papers, tapping her pen at the edge of the table – Kou is purposefully tapping his fingers out of beat with it. Kei closes his eyes.
“Y’know,” Kou starts, slowly. Kei exhales silently. “Wasn’t there a woman that came ‘round here a lot? Really pretty and long eyelashes? What happened to her? Does she come to see Satou, too?”
“She used to work here,” Kei says, not opening his eyes. The back of the chair is doing its best to cut his neck off, plastic digging in and making him thoroughly uncomfortable. He doesn’t budge. “Now she works for someone else. Some guy called Tosaki.”
“Tozaki?” Kei doesn’t bother correcting him.
Then Kou pauses. “Hang on, you talked to her?”
Kei slumps forward, neck cracking as he rolls it around. He rubs his face with his hands. “I wanted to know if there were any good psychologists in the area. Then she told me her life story. Next time, I’m reading pamphlets.”
Kou frowns at him. He’s stopped bouncing his leg, but now he’s bouncing his whole body in his seat, leaning down in an attempt to look Kei in the eye. The receptionist is looking warily at him, tipped far too forward for it to be safe.
“I know you’re always about not caring about people and like, murdering them in your mind’s eye or whatever, and while I’m pretty sure that you would actually let me die in a ditch, don’t even pretend you weren’t smiling when that blond guy was talking to you.”
Kei’s hands freeze on his mouth. He says, automatically, “I wasn’t smiling.”
Kou snorts. “Coulda fooled me. It’s the first time I’ve seen you look like you didn’t want everyone to drop dead on the spot. Admit it – that guy is totally your best friend and you totally care about another human being!”
Kei ‘accidentally’ hooks his foot around the front leg of Kou’s seat, and ‘accidentally’ pulls it backwards. Kou hurtles forward with a yell, and it takes a minute of chastising from the frazzled receptionist before they finally sit down, away from each other, Satou opening the door with an expression of befuddlement.
“You don’t go here,” the boy observes, gaze cutting into Kai’s. He shrugs.
“Waiting for a friend.”
“Huh,” he says, disinterestedly. His stare lingers, a moment, then he goes back to staring through the white walls in front of them. A boy with short brown hair is sitting a few seats down from them – sound asleep, if his snores have anything to show for it. The sound of keyboard keys clicking fills the hallway, echoing.
“You’re not that Nagai’s friend, are you?”
Kai looks at him.
“Nakano likes to talk,” he says, nodding his chin in the direction of the sleeping kid. ‘Nakano’ is starting to drool on his shirt, and is slowly sliding into the seat next to him. “And I’ve seen that guy come in every once in a while. Doesn’t smile or anything.”
“Is that so.”
He grunts. The clipped conversation left too much tension in the air, another hour left for it to fester. The sound of keys tapping becomes blunted, distant and muffled. Nakano’s snoring gets louder. Finally, Kai extends his hand.
“I’m Kai.”
The other boy eyes it distastefully. Kai doesn’t flinch.
“Kotobuki,” he says, anyway, until Kai retracts his palm. He’s staring at Kai apprehensively, abradingly even, as though he’s a particularly large bug that may or may not be poisonous. “When Nakano said he’d come in with a ‘friend’, I thought it was a prank. Someone like him isn’t the type to have friends.”
“Hm,” Kai says, noncommittally.
“You’re really annoying, you know that.”
“Is that so.”
A bespectacled man ambles by on his walking stick, knocking boredly at a door further up the hall. He nods when the pair looks at him, but otherwise pays them no heed, disappearing into the office as a muffled voice goes through. Someone is yelling, clearly trying to keep it under control but failing. It must be normal, though, because the receptionist pays no mind.
“You must be a saint, being friends with someone like him,” Kotobuki says, closing his eyes. He rests his hands on his stomach as he slumps in his seat. “That, or really fucking naïve.”
Kai hums. He doesn’t do Kotobuki the favour of looking over at him. Kotobuki doesn’t do him the favour of opening his eyes.
“I heard he lives with you, isn’t working or anything. Why are you letting him leech off you? Are you expecting anything in return? People like him, he’ll drop you the moment you stop being useful to him.”
“I’m helping him because I’m his friend,” Kai says, quietly, eyes trained on the wall.
“You know he doesn’t care, right? About you, or anyone – not even his family. It’s probably why he’s here. It’s like people stop existing once they’re out of his line of sight – he drops his polite smile the moment they’ve turned around. I’ve known people like him, self-absorbed and callous. You’re better off getting rid of him, before he doesn’t need you.”
Kai lets his eyes slide shut.
“That’s just how he is.”
Kotobuki finally looks over at him.
“Honestly, he’s probably always been like that, ever since I’ve known him. It’s not something that’ll ever change. And that doesn’t matter to me. I’m not sticking around because I want something – anything from him. I just want to help him.”
“With what? He’s just using you. He doesn’t feel anything. The most excited I’ve seen him is when he was explaining to Nakano how easy it would be to get Satou fired, even at the expense of others’ jobs and wellbeing, and Nakano punched him for it. He probably doesn’t even care that you’re helping him.”
Kai would make a mental note to talk to Nakano later, but Kei probably deserved it. He sags into his seat, letting his head loll over the back. He says, tiredly, “being happy, caring about other people – those are two different things. And I know he can be happy. Right now, he isn’t happy at all. If he ever needs me – I’m there. I’ll always be there to help him. Everything else you’re saying – that doesn’t matter.”
Kotobuki says nothing. The clicking has stopped; Kai reminds himself to buy a clock.
“You’re real brainless, aren’t you?”
“That so.”
Kotobuki huffs, short and amused through his nose. The two sit slumped in their chairs, breaths deep and quiet. Nakano has slid into the seat next to him completely, and is one roll away from meeting his untimely end on the floor.
The door swings open, someone who is presumably Satou smiling as he holds the door open for Kei, who looks just a smidge less pleased than usual. His eyes widen slightly in surprise when he sees Kai, though.
“Don’t you have work?”
“Shift got cancelled,” Kai says, standing up. He presses the spare helmet into Kei’s hands; Kei takes it reflexively. “Let’s go.”
“Thanks, Kai.”
Kei can’t stop himself from kicking Nakano awake though, apparently, sending the boy crashing into the ground with a shout. The receptionist still doesn’t bother to look over, though she does look exasperated. Kotobuki chortles – mouths ‘good luck’ as he disappears behind Satou. Kai tries not to sigh.
“C’mon, Kei. We’ll stop by the supermarket to buy food.”
“You’re not going to go see your family? It’s been at least a month.”
“They kicked me out, Kai,” Kei says, blandly, flipping through the channels on the TV. Kai blinks at him. “I don’t think they’re going to want to talk to me, and in any case, I don’t want to, either.”
“You didn’t tell me anything about your family kicking you out when you asked for a place to stay.”
Kei settles on a channel. “You didn’t ask.”
Kai looks at him wordlessly. After a moment of silence, the words of the news anchor inaudible over the noise, Kai moves to sit down across Kei.
“Why’d you get kicked out, Kei?”
Kei doesn’t say anything, eyes still on the screen and taking none of it in. It’s a channel that he hates, says the news is inaccurate and the shows are appalling – he prefers to watch one of the children’s shows on another channel whenever he can be bothered.
“I want to help you.”
Kei turns off the TV. Kai waits.
“Maybe ‘kicked out’ is too strong a word,” Kei says, eventually, still not looking at him. “It’s not like there was a singular, terrible incident bad enough to warrant them driving me out – you’d think I’d committed murder, or something. It was just a lot of little things building up till they couldn’t take it anymore.”
Kei pinches the bridge of his nose, and he sighs. “It was my sister, at first. It doesn’t seem like she has a lot of time left. Every time I went to see her… she’d get mad, irritated. Said I was never there for her and only ever went if I needed something. She threw out the flowers I brought – I just stopped bringing them.
“It was my mother, after that. She noticed I wasn’t buying flowers anymore, barely even talked about my sister. Told her about how Eriko was whenever I visited – she asked me if I was worried about her and if she’d die. Whatever I told her must not have been good enough.”
“And?”
Kei rolls his eyes to look at him exasperatedly. “I told her that it didn’t seem like she had long to live, and it would be troublesome clearing out her belongings. I said there was no point visiting anymore, since Eriko didn’t even want to see me, and it wasn’t a question of if but when she’d die. I suggested we start sorting out her things so it’d be easier later on.”
Kai stares. “Are you serious?”
“I may have tacked on ‘it’s really going to suck when it happens’ at the end.”
“Kei, that’s…” Kai pauses, takes a deep breath. “Why did you say that? I’m not saying that what you feel – or don’t feel – is wrong, but… that doesn’t sound like something you’d do. It’s too – tactless. What happened?”
Kei stares back at him. In the yellow light, his eyes are almost red, set ablaze by the setting sun. His gaze is unreadable, and he swallows. He looks away.
“Y’know, Satou once told me, after I started realizing, that everything I said, about finding cures and helping my sister – he told me that they sounded like pretty lies. I started seeing him before because I thought – maybe I was depressed. Because suddenly I couldn’t muster the energy to care about people, my sister – studying became tiresome, a way of keeping at bay boredom. I was wrong.”
The bag Kei brought in on the first day is sitting by the bed, still half-full with unpacked belongings. The belongings he has unpacked are neat, separated, easily discarded – a toothbrush kept in a separate container, a pile of clothes kept in a clearly labelled bag. Outside, the wind rustles the futon, airing out on a laundry rack.
“It wasn’t sudden. I’d always been that way, and was only starting to realize it then.”
He ducks his head down, fingers intertwining above the nape of his neck. “All that time – I was just pretending to care about other people. Pretending I did things for others, or that there was any good reason behind the things I did. And you can’t go back to pretending, once you’ve realized it. It’s not even the fact that I don’t care about people that bothers me – you can’t miss something you’ve never had, after all. But everything is pointless, a chore.
“I’m so tired about it. Pretending when I wasn’t getting anything for it in return, expending effort for no reason. I couldn’t be bothered pretending anymore, lying about what I thought.”
Kei stops, then, saying nothing. Kai stares at the crown of his head. His shoulders slope, evidence of the exhaustion he spoke of, and his words were halting, breaching territory he was unfamiliar with. Kai wants to reach out – but it’ll just make him feel uncomfortable, when even talking is already too much.
“Is that when they kicked you out?”
Kei actually snorts, elbows knocking on the table.
“God, no. The dog had been terminally ill and I said I was going to go get him put down, since he could barely get around anymore and it would have been a mercy, both on the dog and our wallets. My mother accused me of being heartless and not caring about anyone in that house, saying I wasn’t human and how could I even think of getting the dog put down? Would I do the same for my sister? I told her of course not, and if she was really against spending money on putting the dog down, I could put it down myself if I had to.
“That’s when they effectively kicked me out. My mother had gotten Eriko on the phone - said they didn’t want... well, someone like me in the house. I was ungrateful, didn’t contribute, and if I didn’t change I was as good as an embarrassment. So I left. There you go. That’s the whole sad story.”
The apartment is dim, sun sinking and crickets beginning to chirp. One of them must not have turned off the faucet properly – water drips, an incredibly slow syncopation into the bottom of the sink.
“Kei. Are you happy here?”
Kei closes his eyes.
“Just yes or no. I won’t get offended or anything.”
Kei wishes he’d kept his hands under the table. Against his forehead, they tremble too obviously, refusing to stay still despite having no good reason to be moving at all. Eventually, Kei says, levelly, “no.”
“Do you not like it here?”
“It’s not about that,” Kei says, wearily, bringing his hands down to clasp them together on the table. Kai mirrors him, and his golden gaze is like a spotlight scrutinising every movement. Kai is the only one he doesn’t want to disappoint. “It’s just exhausting. The people here, school, my family, appointments – I don’t know why I’m doing anything anymore. It doesn’t matter where I am. It’s always going to be like this. It has nothing to do with whether I like living here or studying or whatever – it’s just…”
His forehead comes down with a soft ‘thunk’. The lights are still on him, but at least this way, he’s given a brief reprieve in a comforting darkness. “It’s just hard.”
Everything is silent. Kai’s breathing is quiet, uneven. Kei realizes that there’s no clock in his apartment. All there is left to keep time is the irregular beating of his heart.
“Kyushu.”
Kei looks up. Kai isn’t looking at him anymore.
“What?”
“Kyushu. My granddad lives there, in a small town where no one will bother you. It’s nice, quiet, far away from anyone that knows you and all that other stuff. It’d be a good change of pace – or at least worth a shot.”
“Kai, what are you saying?”
Kai turns and looks at him. His eyes are no less determined than before. “I’m saying we should move there. If living here isn’t good for you, or everything here is dragging you down – we could live there, start over. You could leave all this behind, start a peaceful life.”
“Kai, that’s – you can’t just drop everything and move to the other side of the country!”
“Is it me?”
Kei jumps.
“Am I making it hard, too?” And it should sound like an accusation, but it’s a genuine question, wanting nothing more than to help him, and Kei wishes he could understand why. “If I’ve been making you pretend. I won’t go with you.”
“You don’t,” Kei starts, words spilling out. He catches them at the last second, filters them out as Kai stares at him. “I don’t pretend, Kai. Not with you. At least, I try not to. And that’s not the problem. I can’t just uproot your whole life because I can’t deal with something properly.”
Kai smiles, crookedly. “You’re not forcing me to do anything – I want to help, like I said. This place – there’s nothing tying me here, either. If it’ll make you happier – make you feel better – to move, then I’ll do it. As long as you need me.”
Then he leans back, lets Kei have the space he’d forgotten was there. Lets him catch up, breathe, be there. Kei works his mouth soundlessly, no appropriate response making itself known to him. There are things he could say, things he feels he should say – that it’s a bad idea for Kai, that it’ll just stifle him, that Kei is just getting in the way and has nothing to give back – but nothing that could ever deter the absolute surety in Kai’s gaze. Nothing that implies Kei doesn’t want to.
“Obviously, I’m not saying drop everything and leave right now. I just,” Kai says, still smiling, eyes soft in a way that confuses him. “Well, the option is there. Just tell me whenever you decide ‘to hell with it’, and I’ll be there for you.”