Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, cutting faint golden streaks across the wooden floor and stretching over the edge of the bed where Suezawa Seiya sat. The city outside stirred lazily — soft traffic hums, distant car horns, the faint murmur of footsteps against concrete. It was the kind of morning that felt gentle.

But not here.

Seiya’s fingers moved absently, buttoning his shirt without sparing much thought to the action. His gaze drifted to the floor, but he wasn’t really seeing it. Each movement felt mechanical, as if his body carried out the task while his mind lingered somewhere distant, lost in the spaces that had quietly grown between him and the man still lying in bed. Each button slipped through the fabric in a rhythm he barely registered, like clockwork — routine so ingrained it no longer required attention.

Behind him, the blankets shifted.

A low groan broke the fragile quiet, the weight of the sheets rustling as his boyfriend stirred beneath them.

“Shit… what time is it?”

Seiya didn’t turn around. His eyes flicked to the clock resting on the bedside table.

“Almost eight.”

The man in the bed pushed himself up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes in slow, lazy motions. His hair stuck out in uneven angles, a tangled mess that Seiya might’ve found amusing once. Back then, he would’ve teased him, dragging his fingers through the strands to smooth it out.

But now, Seiya didn’t bother.

His boyfriend barely spared him a glance as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, feet hitting the floor with a dull thud.

“You’re late again.”

The words left Seiya’s mouth casually, not laced with concern or accusation — just fact.

His boyfriend yawned, running his fingers absently through his hair. “I’ll manage.”

The response came without hesitation, dismissive as if being late was the least of his concerns.

Seiya’s lips pressed into a thin line.

It wasn’t always like this.

There was a time when his boyfriend would scramble to get up, cursing under his breath while tugging on whatever shirt he could find. Seiya remembered how they used to brush against each other in the cramped bathroom, exchanging lazy kisses between brushing their teeth, laughing as they navigated the tiny space.

Now, even the air between them felt distant.

Seiya stood, smoothing down the front of his shirt as he crossed to the wardrobe. The soft scrape of the hanger echoed louder than it should’ve as he pulled his blazer free, folding it over his arm.

His boyfriend watched from the corner of his eye, but the gaze wasn’t searching — it lingered without meaning, like glancing at something out of habit rather than desire.

“You’re heading out already?” his boyfriend asked, rising to his feet and shuffling toward the bathroom.

“I have to meet with clients today,” Seiya replied, carefully adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. “You’re working late again?”

There was no point in asking. He already knew the answer.

His boyfriend leaned casually against the bathroom doorway, toothbrush dangling lazily from his lips.

“Yeah,” he answered through the bristles. “Overtime. Could be midnight, maybe later.”

The words hung in the air, suspended by the faint scrape of the toothbrush against his teeth.

Seiya’s fingers hovered over his collar, stilling for the briefest second.

Midnight. Maybe later.

He pressed his lips together, finally straightening his collar with slow, deliberate movements.

“Right,” Seiya murmured, voice calm but brittle around the edges.

That was it.

No playful remark.

No tug on his sleeve, telling him to skip work.

No soft kiss against his jaw.

Just right.

Seiya glanced toward the mirror, catching his boyfriend’s reflection behind him as he disappeared into the bathroom. The door didn’t close all the way, left slightly ajar, but the distance felt no less final.

The front door creaked as Seiya slipped on his shoes. His keys jangled faintly as he grabbed them from the table, the noise sharp against the empty air.

He lingered in the entryway.

It would’ve taken no effort to call out — to offer a quick, “See you tonight,” or anything to break the quiet settling around him like a second skin.

But the words sat heavy in his throat.

Instead, Seiya twisted the doorknob, stepping out as the lock clicked softly behind him.

The hallway stretched long and empty, the fluorescent lights humming faintly above. Seiya’s footsteps echoed as he descended the narrow staircase.

The farther he walked, the louder the city outside became — car horns, distant conversations, footsteps briskly tapping against the pavement below.

By the time Seiya stepped out onto the bustling street, the shift was jarring — the crisp morning air biting against his skin, the sharp tang of exhaust lingering in the air. The low hum of engines, hurried footsteps, and fragmented conversations clashed against the quiet weight he carried from the apartment. The city felt awake, alive, yet Seiya remained tethered to the muted stillness he left behind.

But the weight didn’t leave him.

His shoulders still carried the silence, heavy and unrelenting, following him block after block like a shadow.

This was the new routine — mornings tangled in unspoken words and evenings spent waiting for a door that didn’t open until long after he’d fallen asleep.

And yet, Seiya still held onto the quiet hope that one day, his boyfriend might meet him at the door again — the way he used to, with an easy smile and arms open wide. He remembered those early evenings, the scent of dinner lingering in the air as they exchanged stories about their day, fingers brushing in passing. The memory felt distant, but it flickered in his chest, fragile and persistent.

Even if part of him knew better.

***

Seiya sat in his office, the faint hum of the air conditioning blending with the distant chatter of coworkers passing by in the hallway. Sunlight spilled through the large window behind him, casting soft shadows across the swatches of fabric scattered on his desk. Blues, creams, and greys — all vibrant, all carefully selected — but none could hold his attention for long. Not even the black and white fur that caught his eye earlier.

His pencil tapped lazily against the edge of the desk, each soft click counting down the minutes until his shift ended.

But even then, going home felt like a chore.

The apartment had grown quiet, cold in ways Seiya hadn’t expected.

It wasn’t that his boyfriend was hostile — far from it. But the silence between them had stretched thin, strained by late nights and words left unsaid.

Seiya let out a quiet sigh, dragging his hand through his hair as he leaned back in his chair. The office felt too large around him, the empty spaces amplifying the heaviness already sitting in his chest. Going home meant facing the same cold silences, the lingering absence of warmth that once filled his apartment. He wondered how long he could keep pretending that this distance between them was just temporary.

It’s just a rough patch, he told himself for the fifth time that week. All couples go through this.

He had moved in just a few months ago when both of them had been equally excited about the move and Seiya’s transfer to the fashion branch in Tokyo.

His phone vibrated against the desk, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He glanced at the screen, expecting a text or maybe an overdue work email.

But instead, Masakado’s name flashed brightly across the screen.

A grin tugged at Seiya’s lips before he could stop it, his chest tightening with something far too warm for this time of day.

Masakado Yoshinori.

Since their days in middle school and throughout their time at university, they had been a constant presence in each other’s lives. They bonded over their shared love for music, and Seiya even joined Masakado's band as the lead vocalist for a brief period. But when they graduated, Seiya pursued his passion for fashion while Masakado continued with the band. However, despite their different paths, they remained close friends. Their busy schedules didn't stop them from keeping in touch, always finding time to catch up and reminisce about old times.

Now, the band was quite popular nationwide and even had some international success. Seiya always felt a twinge of pride whenever he saw their albums in stores.

Without hesitating, he picked up.

“Calling to tell me how much you miss me already?” Seiya greeted, kicking his feet up onto the desk as he balanced the phone between his shoulder and ear.

Masakado’s laugh burst through the speaker, loud enough to make Seiya lower the volume slightly.

“Miss you?” Masakado scoffed. “Nah, just checking if you finally quit that job and decided to follow me on tour instead.”

Seiya chuckled, twirling his pencil absently. “Sorry to disappoint. Some of us actually have real responsibilities.”

Masakado snorted. “Responsibility? That’s rich coming from the guy who almost set his own kitchen on fire last month.”

“That was one time—” Seiya started, sitting upright.

“One time too many,” Masakado cut in, not missing a beat. “I still don’t know how you survive without me around.”

Seiya smirked, settling deeper into his chair. The teasing was expected — but it was the way Masakado said it, that soft undercurrent of affection beneath the words, that made Seiya’s chest feel a little lighter.

“I manage just fine, thank you very much,” Seiya replied, though the grin on his face betrayed him.

“Sure you do,” Masakado murmured, his voice quieter now, the teasing edge fading slightly. “Anyway… you doing okay? You sound a little off.”

Seiya’s fingers stilled.

Masakado’s words cut through the casual conversation like a thread pulling too tight.

It wasn’t often that Masakado asked things like this outright — not unless he noticed something Seiya hadn’t yet figured out how to hide.

The pencil rolled from Seiya’s grip, tapping softly against the desk as he exhaled through his nose.

“It’s nothing serious,” Seiya said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Things are just… weird.”

A pause hung between them.

“Weird how?” Masakado asked, his tone shifting.

Seiya hesitated.

How could he explain it? That lingering sense of distance? The way his boyfriend barely acknowledged him some nights, brushing past him with nothing more than a quick “I’m late” or “I might not be home tonight.”

It wasn’t like they fought.

Maybe that’s what made it worse — there was no explosion, no breaking point. Just a slow, steady unraveling that left Seiya feeling like a stranger in his own relationship.

He didn’t want to say all that aloud.

Masakado didn’t need to hear it.

“Don’t worry about it,” Seiya muttered, waving his hand vaguely in the air. “I can handle it.”

But Masakado didn’t respond immediately.

The silence stretched, filled only by the faint crackle of the line and the soft rustle of fabric on Masakado’s end.

Then, with that same low, steady tone, Masakado said, “You know I’ll kick his ass if he’s being a jerk, right?”

Seiya laughed softly, shaking his head. “You can’t just beat up every guy who pisses me off.”

Masakado clicked his tongue. “I mean, I could.”

The words were light, but Seiya could hear the sincerity tucked between them — the way Masakado never danced around the fact that he would show up if Seiya asked. Seiya’s grip on the phone tightened for a brief second, warmth blooming in his chest even as he tried to brush it off with a laugh. It was comforting, that unwavering presence Masakado always seemed to offer, but it left Seiya feeling oddly vulnerable, as if part of him longed to take Masakado up on it more than he cared to admit.

And for a second, Seiya let himself imagine it — Masakado standing at his door, sleeves pushed up, eyes narrowed as he sized up the man Seiya had spent the last four years with.

It was ridiculous.

But the image still made him smile.

Seiya's retort was delivered with a playful edge, lacking any real heat. "Oh please, Mr. One-Pack Abs for a whole year," he teased in response.

"Two packs may not be much, but it's still better than nothing!" His lighthearted banter filled the air with laughter and good-natured ribbing.

“Thanks,” Seiya said later, softer this time.

“Don’t mention it,” Masakado replied easily. “But hey, if you do quit your job, you’re more than welcome to tag along with the band. We could use someone with your sharp sense of fashion.”

“Sure, because touring with a bunch of sweaty guys sounds so glamorous.”

“You know you’d love it.”

Seiya didn’t deny it.

“I miss your singing too,” Masakado admitted in a soft, almost melancholic tone that tugged at Seiya's heartstrings. The warmth in his chest bloomed and replaced the lingering distance he felt from this morning, making him happier than he'd like to admit.

The call stretched on for another ten minutes, filled with nothing but quiet banter and laughter.

And by the time Seiya hung up, the weight pressing down on his chest felt just a little lighter.

Masakado always had that effect on him.

***

The city stretched out below Seiya, the soft hum of distant traffic rising faintly to the apartment balcony. The air was cool against his skin, carrying the faintest hint of summer’s end.

Seiya sat cross-legged, cradling a glass of water in one hand, his phone resting on the table beside him. The drink had long since lost its chill, condensation pooling at the bottom of the glass, but he hadn’t touched it in a while.

The lights inside the apartment flickered against the glass door behind him. Empty.

The absence felt louder than the silence, stretching through every corner of the apartment like a presence in itself. It lingered in the empty chair across from him, in the unwrinkled side of the bed, in the faint outline of where his boyfriend’s shoes used to be by the door. No matter how much noise filtered in from the outside world, it couldn't fill the quiet spaces his boyfriend left behind.

His boyfriend had been gone since morning. A brief text around noon — working late again — was the last trace of him.

Seiya sighed, tipping his head back to stare at the stars scattered faintly across the sky. It was ridiculous to feel disappointed.

He should be used to it by now.

His phone buzzed suddenly, the soft vibration against the table jarring him from his thoughts.

Seiya glanced down, blinking at the name flashing on the screen.

Masakado (Video Call).

A small smile tugged at the corner of Seiya’s lips as he answered, angling the phone toward his face.

“Missing me already?” Seiya smirked, leaning back in his chair.

Masakado’s face filled the screen, half-shadowed in dim hotel lighting. His hair looked damp, strands sticking to his forehead like he had just stepped out of the shower. There was a relaxed ease to his features, but his eyes held a quiet curiosity, as if he could sense something lingering beneath Seiya’s playful words.

Masakado arched a brow. “Bored?”

Seiya took a small sip from his glass, swirling the water idly. “More like avoiding reality.”

Masakado grinned, tilting his head slightly as he propped the phone against something unseen. “You should come hang out with me sometime in Osaka. I’ll cheer you up.”

Seiya narrowed his eyes. “By dragging me to every hole-in-the-wall ramen shop at three in the morning?”

“Exactly.”

Seiya huffed, shaking his head. “You really know how to charm a guy, huh?”

Masakado’s grin softened slightly, his gaze lingering for a second longer than necessary.

“Only you,” Masakado replied, his voice quieter but steady.

Seiya’s fingers tightened briefly around the glass.

The banter between them always felt natural — easy. But tonight, something shifted beneath the surface, subtle but unmistakable.

Seiya glanced toward the clock hanging just inside the sliding glass door.

11:42 PM.

Still no sign of his boyfriend.

His chest ached faintly, but he didn’t dwell on it.

Masakado must have caught the way Seiya’s gaze flickered away, because his expression shifted — softer, but laced with something unreadable.

“You should sleep,” Masakado said quietly, his voice cutting gently through the silence. “Don’t wait up for him.”

Seiya hummed, tilting his head slightly as if considering it. But neither of them ended the call.

Instead, Seiya watched the way Masakado leaned back against the headboard of what was clearly some budget hotel bed, guitar in his lap, and the glow of his laptop flickering faintly against the wall behind him.

“You’re working late too,” Seiya pointed out.

Masakado shrugged. “Different kind of late. You know how it is.”

“Yeah,” Seiya muttered. “I know.”

They sat in companionable silence, the quiet stretching comfortably between them.

The sound of Masakado tapping idly against his guitar filtered faintly through the call, soft and familiar, like a quiet lullaby.

Seiya’s eyes drifted shut briefly, letting the calm seep into his bones.

Masakado didn’t need to fill the silence. He never did.

And somehow, just hearing his voice — even through a screen — made the apartment feel a little less empty.

“Masakado,” Seiya said softly after a while, barely louder than a whisper.

“Hmm?”

“Thanks.”

Masakado’s fingers paused over the strings.

“For what?” he asked, but there was no teasing in his tone this time.

Seiya smiled faintly, letting his head rest against the back of his chair.

“For calling.”

Masakado didn’t respond right away, but Seiya could see the way his eyes softened on the screen, his expression easing in the dim light. A strange warmth crept into Seiya’s chest, fragile but persistent, as if Masakado’s quiet understanding filled the spaces his boyfriend’s absence left behind. It was moments like this — brief and unspoken — that Seiya found himself holding onto, long after the call ended.

“Yeah,” Masakado said quietly. “Anytime.”

And that night, with Masakado’s voice accompanying him, the ache in his chest didn’t feel quite as heavy.

***

The apartment felt colder at night. The hum of the refrigerator filled the silence, occasionally punctuated by the distant sound of traffic below. He rolled the empty glass between his hands, watching the condensation fade.

He checked the clock again. 12:48 AM.

His phone screen remained dark, untouched. No messages. No missed calls.

Seiya dragged his gaze to the door, as if staring at it hard enough might make it swing open. The rational part of him tried to reason – It’s just work. But the weight sitting at the bottom of his stomach told a different story.

Leaning back in his chair, he exhaled slowly and let his head tip against the wall. The faint light from the city outside cast shadows across the ceiling. His mind wandered – not forward, but backward.

Four years ago, his boyfriend had been charming. Attentive. The kind of person who made Seiya feel like he was the most interesting person in the room, even when he clearly wasn’t. Seiya remembered those early days with vivid clarity – late-night drives, impromptu movie marathons on the couch, and long conversations that stretched until dawn.

But somewhere along the way, especially after Seiya had moved in with him, those moments had begun to scatter like loose threads. The warmth lingered at the edges, but the fabric of their relationship felt thinner now.

Seiya didn’t know when the unraveling had started. Maybe it was gradual – the kind of thing that creeps in like a draft under the door, unnoticed until the cold seeps deep enough to make you shiver. One day, you’re close enough to brush shoulders without thinking, and the next, the space between you feels like an entire room, too wide to cross without effort.

He wasn’t sure why he still held on. Habit, maybe?

A soft buzzing startled him out of his thoughts.

Masakado.

Seiya hesitated for a second before answering.

"Still awake?" Masakado’s voice greeted him, rough around the edges with sleep.

Seiya smirked faintly. "You’re one to talk. Aren’t you the one who has rehearsals in the morning?"

"Yeah, yeah." Masakado let out a yawn. "Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d check in on you. You sounded weird earlier."

There it was again – that sharp intuition Masakado wielded like a blade, slicing through Seiya’s defenses before he could build them.

"I’m fine." Seiya ran his hand through his hair, fingers tangling slightly at the back of his neck. "Just thinking too much."

"Uh-huh." Masakado’s tone was flat, clearly unconvinced. "I’ve known you long enough to know when you're lying, Seiya."

Seiya scoffed. "And here I thought I was mysterious."

"Sure. Mysterious and as easy to read as a children’s book."

There was something disarming about the way Masakado teased him. It made Seiya’s chest loosen, if only a little.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Masakado’s breathing was steady on the other end of the line, a quiet reminder that someone was still there, even in the silence.

Seiya glanced at the empty seat across from him. "He’s not home yet."

Masakado didn’t respond immediately, but Seiya could almost hear the way his expression shifted – the subtle furrow of his brow, the slight press of his lips.

"You want me to come over?" Masakado asked, voice softer now.

The question hung between them, unspoken but heavy with meaning.

Seiya shook his head, even though Masakado couldn’t see him. "Don’t be ridiculous. You’re miles away."

"I could be there by morning."

Seiya’s grip tightened on the glass. His heart tripped over itself, stumbling into territory he wasn’t sure he was ready to cross.

"You don’t need to do that."

Masakado’s laughter came quietly, but there was an edge to it – not bitter, just knowing. "Yeah… I figured you’d say that."

Seiya lowered the glass, letting his fingers rest lightly against the rim. "I appreciate it, though."

"Anytime." Masakado’s voice dipped, warm and familiar in the dim light. "You know I’m not going anywhere, right?"

Seiya swallowed, the words pressing against his throat, but he didn’t let them spill over.

"I know."

And that, Seiya thought as he set his phone down on the table, is the problem.

Seiya traced lazy circles along the edge of the glass, the soft hum of Masakado’s breathing still lingering faintly in his ears even after the call had ended.

You know I’m not going anywhere, right?

The words were a soft echo, tucked neatly into the back of his mind. Masakado always said things like that — things that felt warm, grounding, like the familiarity of an old sweater or the way the city smelled after it rained.

But that’s just who Masakado was.

He cares about everyone.

Seiya let out a small breath, resting his elbow against the table as his hand propped up his chin. Masakado had always been that way – annoyingly perceptive, effortlessly thoughtful. The kind of person who would stop mid-rehearsal to help a stranger find their way around the venue, or stay up all night listening to Seiya rant about the smallest inconveniences.

Masakado never asked for anything in return. He was just… there. Like he always had been.

That’s just him.

Seiya’s eyes wandered to the muted light of his phone, still resting on the table. The screen remained dark.

His boyfriend’s name didn’t appear.

Of course he isn’t cheating.

The thought rose unprompted, and Seiya straightened slightly in his chair. Seiya exhaled slowly, trying to push the intrusive thought aside as quickly as it had come. But even as he dismissed it, he couldn't shake the faint, unsettling feeling that coiled in the pit of his stomach.

He's just busy with work. That's all.

Seiya repeated the words to himself like a mantra, but they felt hollow on his tongue.

I’m just being paranoid. He’s busy. I’m overthinking this.

It wasn’t like his boyfriend had completely checked out of their relationship. There were still moments — rare, but they existed. Small gestures. The occasional soft touch to his back when passing by. A quick goodnight before bed.

Seiya tightened his grip on the glass, as if holding onto it might steady the wobbling balance in his mind.

Their relationship wasn’t perfect, but whose was?

We’re just going through a rough patch.

The front door remained stubbornly closed.

His gaze drifted back to his phone.

He’s probably just stuck at work.

Seiya closed his eyes, feeling the faint pull of exhaustion sink into his bones.

This is normal.

The faint vibration of his phone startled him awake. Seiya hadn’t even realized he’d dozed off. The screen glowed faintly in the dark, illuminating the night with pale light.

1:34 AM.

A message from his boyfriend.

「Gonna be late. Don’t wait up.」

That was it.

Seiya stared at the screen for longer than necessary, the tension in his shoulders dissolving into something limp and frustrating.

It wasn’t affectionate. Not even a goodnight.

The absence of warmth clung to the words, heavy and distant. Seiya stared at the message, rereading it as if expecting something more to appear, but nothing changed. The silence felt louder, pressing against his chest with the weight of all the things left unsaid. It was such a small thing — just a text — but the lack of tenderness in it stung more than he wanted to admit.

But it was something.

His thumb hovered over the keyboard for a few moments before he typed a simple response.

「Okay. Goodnight.」

He hesitated for a second, adding a small heart at the end.

I’m being ridiculous.

Seiya tossed his phone onto the couch with a soft thud and stretched out his legs beneath the table.

The heart wasn’t acknowledged.

By the time Seiya dragged himself to bed, the faintest hints of morning clung to the edges of the sky. He slid under the covers, alone, the space beside him cold and undisturbed.

As his eyes began to flutter closed, a memory surfaced — uninvited but persistent.

Masakado’s laugh, loud and unrestrained, echoing through his tiny apartment back in Osaka after one too many drinks. Seiya had been sprawled out on the floor, groaning dramatically about something ridiculous — probably work — while Masakado perched on the couch, beer in hand, flashing that easy grin of his.

“You’re hopeless.” Masakado had teased, nudging Seiya’s leg with his foot.

“Yeah, yeah. And yet you’re still here.”

“Guess I’m just drawn to pathetic guys like you.”

They’d laughed until their sides hurt.

Seiya smiled faintly at the ceiling.

Masakado’s always been like that. Just a good friend. Someone who sticks around even when they don’t have to. And yet, as Seiya stared at the ceiling, he couldn’t help but wonder why that loyalty felt like such a contrast. Why was Masakado’s presence so unwavering when the person Seiya shared a bed with felt so far away? The comparison lingered, uncomfortably sharp, though Seiya tried to push it aside.

As sleep finally began to take hold, Seiya didn’t notice how his chest ached — the kind of ache that lingered just beneath the surface, quiet and unnoticed.

The morning light spilled into the bedroom, casting long shadows across the rumpled sheets. Seiya blinked slowly, his eyes adjusting to the brightness as he rolled over. The space beside him remained untouched - no indentation in the pillow, no lingering warmth.

He exhaled softly, pushing himself up into a sitting position. The apartment was quiet, the silence hanging heavy like a blanket. Seiya rubbed at his face, letting his fingers linger against his temples.

Another night alone. Another morning waking up to an empty bed.

It wasn't surprising anymore. But the ache in his chest hadn't dulled. If anything, it had sharpened, carving out a space between his ribs that felt a little bigger each day.

Seiya swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet hitting the floor with a soft thud. He went through the motions of his morning routine - shower, coffee, a quick scan of his work emails. But even as he moved, his mind wandered, drifting back to the conversation with Masakado the night before.

You know I'm not going anywhere, right?

The words echoed in his head, a gentle reminder that settled somewhere deep in his bones. It was a comforting thought - knowing that no matter how much his life seemed to shift and change, Masakado remained a constant. Steady. Unwavering.

***

Seiya rested his head against the cold glass of the balcony door, watching the morning light stretch over the city skyline. The coffee in his mug had long gone cold, untouched since Masakado’s call ended.

The idea of meeting up sounded tempting, but Masakado was in Osaka — buried in rehearsals, barely catching sleep between setlists and travel plans. The last thing Seiya wanted was to pull him away from that.

He’s got enough on his plate. I can handle this on my own.

Seiya took a slow sip of the bitter coffee, grimacing at the taste. He wasn’t sure what he hated more — the coffee or the gnawing feeling that something wasn’t right.

The front door creaked faintly.

Seiya’s eyes flicked toward it, heart lurching despite himself.

His boyfriend walked in, hair tousled, shirt rumpled from a night clearly not spent at the office. He tossed his keys onto the counter with barely a glance in Seiya’s direction.

“You’re back,” Seiya said, keeping his voice even, and it was clear he had taken the first train back home.

“Mm,” his boyfriend mumbled, dragging a hand through his hair as he headed straight for the bathroom. “Didn’t sleep much. I’m crashing for a bit.”

The door shut behind him, cutting off any further conversation.

Seiya remained by the balcony, fingers curling tighter around the mug.

There was no explanation. No attempt to offer one.

It’s fine.

Seiya swallowed hard and placed the mug down carefully, as if setting it too hard would shatter the thin illusion he was holding onto.

Seiya's fingers tightened around the coffee mug, the ceramic almost painfully hot against his skin. He stared blankly at the closed bathroom door, the sound of the shower running muffled through the walls.

This wasn't the first time his boyfriend came home looking disheveled and reeking of alcohol after a supposed night of overtime at the office. But confronting him about it always led to the same excuses - a last minute client dinner, too many drinks with coworkers, falling asleep at his desk. Seiya wanted to believe him, to trust that work was just demanding and there wasn't anything more going on behind his back.

But the gnawing suspicion refused to leave, growing louder with each brush off and half-hearted explanation. How many late night "meetings" could there possibly be? When was the last time his boyfriend looked at him with any real affection or desire?

Seiya sighed heavily and dumped the rest of his cold coffee into the sink. The bitter liquid swirled down the drain, disappearing in slow spirals, much like the connection between him and his boyfriend. It felt too easy to watch it vanish, as if the warmth they once shared had long since diluted into something unrecognizable. The sink gurgled quietly, the only sound left in the kitchen, amplifying the emptiness that had taken root in their home. He couldn't remember the last time they had a real conversation or moment of intimacy. It was like living with a ghost, two people occupying the same space but barely interacting, the warmth and passion of their early days together nothing but a fading memory.

He pulled out his phone, staring at Masakado’s name in his call history. His thumb hovered over it for a second, but he stopped himself before he could press down.

Masakado didn’t need this.

He’s busy. Rehearsing, traveling. He doesn’t have time to deal with me spiraling over nothing.

Seiya let the phone drop onto the couch and rubbed at his face with both hands.

Masakado had always been the type to rush in, even when Seiya didn’t ask. A text at 2 AM just to check in. Showing up unannounced with takeout when Seiya worked late back when he worked in Osaka. It was the kind of care that felt effortless but left a lasting mark, the kind that made Seiya feel seen without having to say a word. It made the contrast between Masakado’s actions and his boyfriend’s absence even sharper, and Seiya wondered how something so simple could mean so much. He didn’t know if it was gratitude or guilt that made his chest feel heavy, but either way, he held onto it. But traveling to Tokyo right before a tour?

It was too much to ask.

He’d lean on him another time.

A few hours later, Seiya sat hunched over his desk at the design studio, sketching patterns onto the tablet in front of him, eyes unfocused due to the lack of sleep. His stylus moved in practiced strokes, but his mind was elsewhere.

“Hey, Suezawa.” One of his coworkers poked their head in, grinning. “Lunch break. You coming?”

Seiya glanced at the clock. Noon already.

“I’ll catch up later,” Seiya replied without looking up.

The door shut softly behind him, leaving him alone with his half-finished designs.

His phone buzzed beside him.

Masakado: Still alive?

Seiya huffed out a soft laugh, shaking his head.

Seiya: Barely.

Masakado: You’re terrible at texting back.

Seiya: You’re one to talk. Last time I checked, you left me on read for three days.

Masakado: I was rehearsing.

Seiya: Exactly.

Masakado: Touché.

Seiya leaned back in his chair, phone resting loosely in his hand.

Masakado: You sure you’re okay?

Seiya stared at the message for a long time, thumb hesitating over the keyboard.

Seiya: Yeah. Just tired.

It wasn’t a lie. The reply was instant.

Masakado: Liar.

Seiya couldn’t help but smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He thought about calling Masakado. About telling him everything — the late nights, the distance, the quiet ache that had been building in his chest.

But Masakado wasn’t just his friend.

He was the kind of person who showed up.

***

By the time Seiya returned home that evening, the apartment felt warmer, like someone had been there for hours. The faint scent of takeout lingered in the air, and a half-empty cup of coffee sat forgotten on the counter.

His boyfriend was sprawled out on the couch, legs dangling over the edge, one arm covering his eyes.

Seiya paused at the entrance, watching him for a moment. The quiet rise and fall of his chest, the subtle furrow in his brow even as he slept — he looked exhausted.

Maybe I’m overthinking things. But even as the thought crossed his mind, Seiya couldn’t shake the weight pressing down on his chest. The apartment felt warmer, his boyfriend was right there — yet the distance between them felt more profound than ever. It was as if he was trying to convince himself that the cracks in their relationship were minor, when deep down, he knew they were growing wider by the day.

The thought whispered through Seiya’s mind, soft but persistent. He stepped inside carefully, dropping his bag by the door. The familiar shuffle of his footsteps didn’t go unnoticed.

His boyfriend cracked one eye open, blinking blearily in Seiya’s direction.

“Oh, it’s you.” His voice was rough with sleep.

“Yeah.” Seiya kept his tone light. “Didn’t think you’d be home this early.”

His boyfriend stretched lazily, letting out a quiet groan as he sat up. He rubbed at his neck, eyes still heavy-lidded. “Finished work early. Figured I’d get some rest.”

Seiya hovered near the kitchen, unsure whether to sit or keep standing. The distance between them felt oddly tangible, like there was some invisible line Seiya didn’t dare cross.

His boyfriend must have noticed.

In one smooth motion, he got up, crossing the room and pressing a kiss to Seiya’s cheek. It was soft, fleeting — the kind of thing Seiya might have missed if he hadn’t been paying attention.

“Missed you today,” his boyfriend murmured, fingers lightly brushing the back of Seiya’s head as he ruffled his hair.

The touch lingered for just a second longer than necessary, and Seiya felt his heart stumble over itself.

See? It’s fine.

Seiya forced a small smile, leaning into the warmth for a brief moment before pulling away to set his keys on the counter.

“You were asleep when I got in. Didn’t want to wake you.”

His boyfriend chuckled softly, collapsing back onto the couch. “You should’ve. I don’t mind.”

Seiya watched him for a beat longer, then finally settled into the armchair across from him. The silence between them wasn’t tense — it felt familiar, like an old sweater worn thin but still intact.

“Want me to make something for dinner?” Seiya offered, knowing full well the limits of his cooking skills.

His boyfriend laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, you’ll burn the kitchen down again.”

“Okay, that happened once.”

“And yet I’m still not convinced it won’t happen again.” His boyfriend grinned, stretching his legs out along the couch. “Let’s order something. I’ll treat you tonight.”

The offer was casual, but something about it made Seiya’s chest lighten.

He’s just tired.

Seiya kept repeating it, almost like a mantra.

He still cares.

They ended up with takeout from the place down the street — cheap, but satisfying. Seiya sat cross-legged on the floor, flipping through TV channels while his boyfriend lay stretched out behind him, absently scrolling through his phone.

Occasionally, his boyfriend would reach over and brush Seiya’s hair aside, or press his foot against Seiya’s back in some lazy, absent-minded way.

It wasn’t grand. It wasn’t flashy. It was the little moments — the way his boyfriend’s foot would nudge his side, the absent-minded way fingers brushed through his hair. Those small gestures, fleeting as they were, felt like lifelines Seiya clung to, as if they could somehow stitch together the gaps that had quietly formed between them.

But it was something.

And Seiya told himself that something was enough.

Later that night, as Seiya lay in bed beside him, his boyfriend rolled over and draped an arm loosely across Seiya’s waist.

“Sorry for being distant lately,” he muttered into the pillow, voice barely audible.

Seiya’s breath hitched, but he didn’t move, his boyfriend's arm heavy across his waist. The words hung in the air between them, quiet but significant.

"It's okay," Seiya murmured, even though part of him wanted to say more. To ask where he'd been, why he came home so late, what was going on.

He wanted to believe that apology. To take it at face value and let the unease that had been growing inside him dissipate.

But even as he closed his eyes, willing sleep to come, Seiya couldn't shake the feeling that something still wasn't right. That this momentary affection was just a bandage over a wound that ran much deeper.

His mind drifted to Masakado, to the easy warmth of his voice over the phone. The way he always seemed to know when Seiya needed him, even from miles away.

Stop it, Seiya chided himself. Masakado is just a friend. This isn't about him.

He forced his thoughts back to the man lying beside him, to the relationship he'd invested four years in. They'd hit rough patches before. This was just another one. They could get through it.

“It’s just work, you know? I’m trying to figure things out.”

Seiya closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of his boyfriend’s hand settle against his side.

I’m just imagining it.

The thought rooted itself deeper.

Seiya nodded slightly, fingers brushing against his boyfriend’s arm. “I know.”

His boyfriend’s lips pressed lightly against his temple. “Good.”

Moments like these made it easier to believe that nothing was wrong.

His boyfriend was already drifting off, his breathing evening out into the steady rhythm of sleep. Seiya stared at the ceiling, watching the shadows play across the smooth surface as a car passed by outside. But the weight at the back of Seiya’s mind never fully faded.

The soft rhythm of his boyfriend’s breathing filled the bedroom. Seiya lay awake, staring at the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through the blinds. The arm draped over his waist felt heavier than it should have — comforting, but suffocating at the same time.

His boyfriend shifted slightly in his sleep, nuzzling closer. Seiya felt the heat of his breath against the back of his neck.

It felt familiar. It felt right.

So why can’t I sleep?

Seiya exhaled quietly, careful not to disturb the peaceful figure beside him. His eyes traced the ceiling as if searching for answers in the faint patterns of light and shadow dancing above.

I’m overthinking it.

The quiet was supposed to be reassuring, but all it did was magnify the questions swirling in his head.

“Sorry for being distant lately.”

Seiya replayed the words, over and over, but something about them didn’t sit right. His boyfriend wasn’t cold, not really. There were moments like this — soft touches, fleeting kisses — that reminded Seiya of the early days, when everything felt so effortless.

But they were just that. Fleeting.

The affection, when it came, felt more like an apology than something genuine.

Seiya shifted beneath the sheets, carefully peeling himself away from his boyfriend’s hold. His movements were slow, measured, as if sneaking out of bed might somehow keep the fragile moment intact.

He padded quietly into the kitchen, flicking on the light above the stove. The faint hum of the refrigerator was the only sound that greeted him.

Seiya poured himself a glass of water, leaning against the counter as he sipped. His reflection stared back at him from the dark window, tired eyes framed by the faint outline of his disheveled hair.

This is fine. We’re fine.

The glass trembled slightly in his grip.

Seiya set it down with a quiet clink, dragging his hand down his face.

A vibration from the counter startled him.

His phone lit up, and for a brief second, his heart lifted — before the name on the screen sent it sinking back down.

Masakado.

1:42 AM.

Seiya hesitated for a moment before answering.

“You really don’t sleep, do you?” Seiya kept his voice low, stepping into the living room.

Masakado’s laugh was soft, but familiar. “Takes one to know one. What are you doing awake?”

Seiya’s gaze drifted toward the closed bedroom door. “Couldn’t sleep.”

There was a pause on the other end, long enough for Seiya to picture Masakado’s expression — slightly furrowed brow, lips pressed together in that way he always did when he was concerned but trying not to show it.

“You okay?” Masakado’s voice softened.

Seiya’s fingers tightened around his phone. “Yeah. Just—” He swallowed the rest of the sentence. Lonely? Restless? Suspicious?

“Just thinking too much,” Seiya finished.

“Mm,” Masakado hummed knowingly. “Sounds like you.”

Seiya smiled faintly, sinking onto the couch. “I can hang up if you need sleep.”

“I called you, remember? Don’t pin this on me.”

Seiya let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah.”

There was a comfortable silence between them, the kind that Seiya had always appreciated. Masakado never rushed him to speak, never pressed for answers he wasn’t ready to give.

“Hey.” Masakado’s voice broke the quiet. “I meant what I said earlier. If you need me, I’ll come over.”

Seiya’s grip on the phone tightened.

“You’re in Osaka. I’m not dragging you across the country just because I’m bad at sleeping.”

“You wouldn’t have to drag me.” Masakado’s tone was light, but the sincerity behind it was unmistakable. “I’d show up on my own.”

Seiya’s heart did that stupid fluttering thing again — the one he always brushed off.

Masakado had always been like this. Loyal to a fault. It was a grounding presence Seiya couldn’t help but notice more these days — a stark contrast to the fading gestures from his boyfriend. Where Masakado stayed present, even through a screen, his boyfriend drifted further away, his affection feeling more like a distant obligation than something freely given. And yet, that loyalty made Seiya feel conflicted, grateful but also acutely aware of what was lacking in the person he should have been able to rely on the most.

But he’s like this with everyone.

“I appreciate it,” Seiya said quietly, leaning his head against the couch cushion. “But I’m fine. Really.”

Masakado didn’t argue, but Seiya could hear the doubt in the way he lingered for a moment longer than necessary.

“Alright,” Masakado said finally. “But don’t think I won’t keep calling to annoy you.”

Seiya smiled, his eyes drifting toward the window. “I’d expect nothing less.”

They stayed on the line for a while, the quiet presence of Masakado’s breathing enough to calm the restless ache in Seiya’s chest.

But even as Seiya ended the call and returned to bed, the lingering warmth from Masakado’s voice felt more tangible than the faint kiss his boyfriend had left on his cheek hours earlier.

***

The next morning, Seiya stirred awake to the faint sound of running water. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, warm against his face. For a brief moment, he thought maybe his boyfriend had already left for work — until the bathroom door opened, and he emerged, towel draped loosely around his neck.

“Morning,” his boyfriend said casually, running a hand through his damp hair.

Seiya sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “You’re still here.”

“Figured I’d go in late today. I’ve been pushing too hard.” He offered a half-smile, leaning down to brush his lips lightly against Seiya’s forehead. “Besides, I don’t see you enough.”

Seiya blinked at him, caught somewhere between disbelief and cautious relief. His heart lifted slightly at the gesture, but doubt lurked beneath the surface, shadowing the warmth he wanted to feel. It was moments like this that reminded him why he stayed — yet part of him couldn’t ignore how rare they had become. The softness of his boyfriend’s touch felt reassuring, but Seiya couldn’t shake the fear that it was temporary, like holding onto sunlight that would inevitably fade behind the clouds.

See? It’s fine.

He felt his chest loosen, just a little.

“Want me to make breakfast?” his boyfriend asked, straightening and pulling on a shirt.

Seiya laughed softly, shaking his head. “You cooking for me? What’s the occasion?”

His boyfriend grinned over his shoulder. “Call it guilt. I haven’t been around as much lately. I know it’s been bothering you.”

The words were light, but they struck deeper than Seiya expected.

He noticed.

Seiya shifted beneath the sheets, suddenly feeling exposed. He hadn’t meant to let his restlessness show — not enough to warrant this.

“I’m not bothered,” Seiya lied. “I know you’ve been busy.”

His boyfriend didn’t argue, but Seiya caught the flicker of something in his eyes before he disappeared into the kitchen.

They ate breakfast together, sitting across from one another at the small table. His boyfriend filled the silence with talk about work, upcoming projects, the usual office drama.

Seiya listened, nodding at all the right moments, but his mind drifted.

"You sure you're not bothered?" his boyfriend asked suddenly, eyes searching Seiya's face.

Seiya hesitated, caught off guard by the direct question.

"Of course not," he replied, offering a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I understand how demanding your job can be."

His boyfriend studied him for a moment longer before nodding, seemingly satisfied with the response. "I'll try to be around more. I know I've been distant."

Seiya's grip tightened on his chopsticks. The words sounded sincere enough, but something about them felt hollow, like a promise made out of obligation rather than genuine desire.

Still, Seiya forced himself to relax, pushing down the doubts that threatened to resurface. "I appreciate that. But really, don't worry about me. I'm fine."

His boyfriend reached across the table, covering Seiya's hand with his own. The touch was warm, familiar, but it didn't chase away the chill that had settled deep in Seiya's bones.

"I have to head out soon," his boyfriend said, glancing at his watch. "But let's do something this weekend, just the two of us. It's been a while since we had a proper date."

Seiya nodded, mustering a more convincing smile this time. "Sure. That sounds nice."

His boyfriend smiled back, giving Seiya's hand a light squeeze before standing up from the table.

The coffee was good. Warm, familiar — much like the atmosphere between them. For the first time in weeks, the air didn’t feel heavy.

His boyfriend reached over, brushing a crumb from Seiya’s lip with his thumb.

“You’ve got to stop zoning out,” he teased, ruffling Seiya’s hair again. “It’s cute, but I can’t always rescue you.”

Seiya swatted his hand away, laughing. “I’m not zoning out.”

His boyfriend smirked. “Right. Sure.”

It felt normal. Comfortable, even.

But that quiet weight in the back of Seiya’s mind refused to fade.

Later that afternoon, Seiya found himself in his studio, sketching rough designs for the next season’s collection. His pen moved almost on autopilot, but his heart wasn’t in it.

Masakado’s name still lingered at the top of his recent calls.

I’d show up on my own.

Seiya sighed, leaning back in his chair.

You’re just being paranoid.

His boyfriend had been affectionate this morning. Attentive. Maybe not in the same way he used to be, but things changed over time. That was normal, right?

Seiya ran his hands through his hair.

He hated how much space doubt was beginning to occupy in his head.

Seiya couldn't focus on his designs. His thoughts kept drifting to Masakado - his comforting presence, his unwavering loyalty, the way he always seemed to know exactly what Seiya needed to hear.

It wasn't that his boyfriend was cold or cruel. There were still glimmers of warmth and affection between them. But lately, those moments felt more and more fleeting, overshadowed by the growing distance and doubts plaguing Seiya's mind.

He glanced at his phone again. Part of him wanted to call Masakado right then, to hear his familiar voice and easy laughter. But he resisted the urge.

I can't keep leaning on him like this. It's not fair.

Seiya forced himself to focus back on his sketches, trying to pour his restless energy into the swirling lines and patterns taking shape. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the quiet ache settling deep in his chest.

Hours passed in a blur of half-hearted sketches and scattered thoughts. By the time Seiya finally left the studio, the sun was already sinking low on the horizon, painting the city in shades of orange and gold.

He took his time walking home, letting the cool evening air clear his head. The streets were bustling with the usual after-work crowd - salarymen heading to izakayas, groups of friends chatting and laughing, couples strolling hand-in-hand.

Seiya watched them pass with a twinge of envy. When was the last time he and his boyfriend had gone out together like that, carefree and content in each other's company? He couldn't remember.

As he approached their apartment building, Seiya's steps slowed. Part of him dreaded going inside, unsure of what he would find - an empty apartment, or his boyfriend passed out on the couch again, too tired to even acknowledge his presence.

He took a deep breath before unlocking the door and stepping inside. To his surprise, the smell of cooking food greeted him, along with the sound of his boyfriend humming softly in the kitchen.

"You're home," his boyfriend called out, poking his head around the corner with a smile. "I thought I'd make dinner tonight. Surprise you a bit."

Seiya blinked, taken aback by the gesture. "Oh. Thanks. That's...really nice of you."

His boyfriend shrugged, turning back to the stove. "I figured I owed you. I know I haven't been around much lately."

Seiya set his bag down slowly, unsure how to respond. This was the boyfriend he remembered from their early days - attentive, thoughtful, going out of his way to make Seiya feel cared for. But now, after so many weeks of distance and doubt, the gesture felt almost jarring.

He joined his boyfriend in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and watching him cook. For a moment, it almost felt like old times - the domestic comfort, the ease of being in each other's presence without the weight of unspoken tension. Seiya wanted to let himself sink into it, to believe that maybe this was a turning point, that his boyfriend was finally making an effort to close the growing gap between them.

But even as they sat down to eat, chatting lightly about their respective days, Seiya couldn't fully relax. The meal felt fragile, as though one wrong word could shatter the temporary ease between them. Each smile his boyfriend offered seemed like a carefully measured response, and he found himself second-guessing every gesture, unsure if it was genuine or just another effort to keep things from falling apart.

Despite the warmth of the food and conversation, Seiya’s shoulders remained tense, bracing for the familiar weight of disappointment. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for his boyfriend to suddenly remember some urgent work he needed to attend to or for his phone to buzz with a message that would pull him away again.

It didn't happen. His boyfriend remained present throughout the meal, attentive and engaged in a way he hadn't been in weeks. And yet, Seiya couldn't shake the feeling that it was all a temporary reprieve, a brief flash of the man he'd fallen in love with before the distance inevitably crept back in.

After dinner, they settled on the couch together, some mindless variety show playing on the TV. His boyfriend draped an arm around Seiya's shoulders, pulling him close. Seiya let himself lean into the touch, trying to soak in the warmth and familiarity of it. But his mind kept wandering, replaying Masakado's words from the night before.

"If you need me, I'll come over."

The offer had been so genuine, so freely given.

Seiya closed his eyes, trying to push the thought of Masakado from his mind. He was here, now, with his boyfriend - the man he'd built a life with over the past four years. Wasn't that what mattered? One attentive evening couldn't erase the weeks of growing distance and doubt, but it was a start. Maybe things could get better. Maybe his boyfriend really was trying.

As if sensing his distraction, his boyfriend shifted, pressing a soft kiss to Seiya's temple. "Hey. Where'd you go just now?"

Seiya blinked, forcing a small smile. "Nowhere. Just...thinking about work stuff."

His boyfriend frowned slightly. "You've been doing that a lot lately. Zoning out on me."

Seiya's chest tightened. He wanted to deny it, to insist everything was fine. But the words stuck in his throat.

"Sorry," he murmured instead. "I don't mean to."

His boyfriend sighed, pulling Seiya a little closer. "I know I haven't been around as much. Work's been crazy. But I'm trying, Seiya. I don't want you to feel like I'm pushing you away."

Seiya swallowed hard. Isn't that exactly what's been happening? He wanted to say it out loud, to finally give voice to the fear and loneliness that had been steadily growing inside him for weeks now. But for some reason he couldn’t.

It wasn’t that he was afraid of the confrontation, he had never been scared. Heck, he was even known at work for his rebellious attitude. It had been one of the reasons why he had charmed his boyfriend back when they worked on set for dramas back in the days.

Seiya hesitated, the words he wanted to say heavy on his tongue. His boyfriend was trying, making an effort to bridge the distance that had grown between them. And yet, Seiya couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't enough - that these moments of attentiveness were just temporary bandages on a wound that ran much deeper.

"I know you're trying," Seiya said finally, his voice quiet. "And I appreciate it. I do. But..."

He trailed off, unsure how to put the tangled mess of his thoughts into words. How could he explain the lonely nights, the growing doubts, the way his heart seemed to ache for something he couldn't quite name?

His boyfriend waited, his arm still draped around Seiya's shoulders. But the silence between them felt heavy, weighed down by all the things left unsaid.

Seiya sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just...I miss how things used to be. Before work got so crazy, before we started drifting apart. I miss feeling like I'm actually a priority in your life."

The words hung in the air, raw and honest in a way Seiya rarely allowed himself to be. He felt vulnerable, exposed, like he'd just peeled back a layer of skin to reveal the tender flesh beneath.

His boyfriend was quiet for a long moment, his expression unreadable in the flickering light of the TV. Then, slowly, he reached out and cupped Seiya's face in his hands.

His boyfriend's fingers were gentle against Seiya's cheeks as he held his face, forcing Seiya to meet his gaze. "Seiya. You are a priority to me. I know I've been distracted lately and I haven't shown it well, but you're important to me. This, us - it matters to me."

Seiya searched his eyes, wanting desperately to believe him. The sincerity in his boyfriend's voice tugged at his heart, making him want to just sink into his arms and let the doubts melt away. But a small, stubborn part of him held back, unwilling to be placated so easily.

"Then why does it feel like you're slipping away from me?" Seiya asked softly, hating the way his voice wavered. "Why do I fall asleep alone more nights than not, wondering where you are and when you're coming home?"

His boyfriend's thumb brushed lightly over Seiya's cheekbone, a tender gesture that felt at odds with the tension between them. "I'm sorry. I never meant to make you feel that way. Work has just been so demanding and I...I guess I got caught up in it. But that's going to change, okay? I'm going to be better, be here for you more."

Seiya sighed, leaning into his touch despite himself. He wanted to trust those words, to let himself be reassured by the conviction in his boyfriend's voice. He closed his eyes and let his boyfriend's words wash over him, their warmth comforting but unable to fully quiet the doubts lingering just beneath the surface. He wanted to believe him, to trust that things would change and the distance between them would finally start to close. But a small, stubborn part of him held back, unwilling to be placated so easily.

"Okay," Seiya said softly, opening his eyes to meet his boyfriend's gaze. "I want to believe that. I do. But..."

He trailed off, unsure how to voice the lingering doubts still swirling in his mind. The late nights, the missed calls, the growing sense that something just wasn't right - it all felt too heavy to simply brush aside with a few sincere words.

His boyfriend's hands slid from Seiya's face to his shoulders, squeezing gently. "But what? Don’t worry, it’ll be better."

Seiya bit his lip, hesitating. Part of him wanted to just let it go, to accept his boyfriend's reassurances and move on. Pressing further felt like prodding at a bruise, painful and unnecessary.

But the image of Masakado's name on his phone screen flashed through his mind, a reminder of the one person who always seemed to sense when Seiya needed him most.

If Masakado was here, he wouldn't let Seiya hide from this. He'd push, gently but persistently, until Seiya found the right words — not because he wanted to pry, but because he cared enough to see through the walls Seiya built around himself. Masakado had always been the person who noticed the cracks before they widened, who offered a steady hand without needing to be asked. It was the kind of attentiveness Seiya never had to question, and part of him wondered why that quiet reliability felt like such a stark contrast to the person sitting beside him now.

Seiya took a deep breath, steeling himself. "But I need more than just words. I need to see it, to feel it. The late nights, the distance - it's been going on for so long now. I don't know how to just flip a switch and trust that everything will suddenly be different."

His boyfriend's expression tightened, a flicker of frustration passing over his features before smoothing out again. "I understand. And I'm not asking you to just forget everything overnight. But I am asking you to give me a chance to make this right. To show you that you're still the most important person in my life."

Seiya swallowed hard, torn between wanting to believe him and the stubborn ache of doubt that refused to fade. "I want to give you that chance. I do. But I'm scared, okay? Scared that I'll let myself trust this and then in a few weeks or months, we'll be right back where we started."

"That won't happen." His boyfriend's voice was firm, almost fierce. "I won't let it. I know I've given you reason to doubt me, but that ends now. From this moment forward, I'm going to prove to you every single day how much you mean to me."

Seiya searched his eyes, looking for any hint of hesitation or insincerity. But all he saw was determination, a steely resolve that made him want to believe, despite everything.

"Okay," he said softly, letting out a shaky breath, letting sleep take over.

***

That evening, when Seiya returned home, his boyfriend wasn’t there.

There was no note. No message. Again.

But a text came through at 9 PM.

「Working late. Don’t wait up.」

Seiya stared at it for a long moment before typing back a quick, simple:

「Okay. Be safe.」

The message was marked as “read” almost instantly.

He tossed his phone onto the table, dragging a hand over his face.

It was fine.

It had to be fine.

Seiya sank onto the couch, curling his legs beneath him as he scrolled through his contacts. His finger hovered over Masakado’s name again, but he didn’t press it.

Not yet.

He couldn’t call Masakado over nothing.

Seiya slumped in the dimly lit room, his gaze fixed on his phone even after the screen had faded to black. The weight of defeat and disappointment hung heavy in the air around him. So much for trying, he thought bitterly. All those words he had spoken last night were just a facade, carefully crafted lines from a script that held no real meaning or intention behind them.

Seiya sat curled up on the couch, a blanket draped loosely over his lap. The television flickered softly in the corner of the room, its glow the only source of light as the evening stretched on.

He hadn’t meant to watch anything — just background noise to fill the silence. But when the familiar theme song drifted through the speakers, his attention snapped toward the screen.

That drama.

The one he’d worked on as a fashion intern, fresh out of school and barely scraping by in Tokyo. The same set where he met his boyfriend — the sharp-eyed, fast-talking director who had once pulled Seiya aside to comment on his clothing choices for the lead actor.

“Your designs aren’t bad,” he’d said, arms crossed but a smirk tugging at his lips. “But they’re not exactly leading role material.”

Seiya remembered bristling at the remark, ready to snap back with some witty retort. But then, the same director showed up two days later wearing a shirt from Seiya’s personal line, one he’d sketched in his free time.

That was how it all started.

Seiya stared at the screen as those early memories resurfaced. The leads were arguing in a dimly lit hallway — a scene he’d watched live during filming. It was strange, watching it from the couch now, with so much distance between that version of himself and the person sitting here.

The drama tugged at something he’d been trying to ignore.

We were different back then.

Before late nights at the office. Before unspoken silences at the dinner table.

Before the distance that crept in without either of them noticing.

Seiya wasn't sure how long he sat there, staring blankly at the TV screen, his mind a tangled mess of hurt and frustration. The memories felt sharper tonight, like the echoes of conversations he couldn't quite grasp. He thought of the days when coming home meant laughter filling the space, when the weight of his boyfriend's gaze made him feel grounded, not adrift. But those moments had slipped away, leaving behind a silence that no amount of background noise could drown out.

The more he tried to push the thoughts aside, the more they pressed in, tugging at the edges of his exhaustion. He wanted to be angry, to let the resentment burning in his chest boil over into something hot and explosive. But all he felt was a dull, aching emptiness, like his heart had been hollowed out piece by piece over the past few months.

His phone buzzed again, startling him out of his gloomy reverie. For a fleeting second, hope flared in his chest - maybe his boyfriend had changed his mind, decided to come home after all. But when he glanced at the screen, it wasn't his boyfriend's name that greeted him.

Seiya blinked, glancing down.

Masakado.

9:27 PM.

He hesitated for a beat before answering.

“You have some kind of radar for this or something?” Seiya’s voice was light, but his grip on the phone tightened just a little.

Masakado’s familiar laugh filtered through the line. “I was just calling to complain about rehearsal. But… you sound weird.”

“Do I?” Seiya glanced at the TV, where the scene had shifted to a rooftop confession.

The sound from the TV filled the air, and Masakado paused, as if deciding whether to push. “You watching that drama again?”

Seiya’s lips twitched. “You say that like I watch it on repeat.”

“You do watch it on repeat,” Masakado countered. “Or at least, you always bring it up when it’s on.”

Seiya leaned back into the couch, his gaze softening. “It’s nostalgic. Can you blame me?”

“I guess not,” Masakado admitted, quieter now. “Still… You sure you’re okay?”

Seiya opened his mouth to brush it off, but the words got caught somewhere along the way.

“I’m fine,” he said after a pause, but even he could hear how unconvincing it sounded.

Masakado didn’t press. He never did.

“Funny,” Masakado said, changing the subject. “I remember you raving about how annoying that director was. Now look at you.”

Seiya laughed softly, running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah… Guess things change.”

Masakado hummed in agreement, but something in the silence afterward lingered — heavier than the words that had been said.

Seiya’s eyes flicked back to the phone, half-wishing Masakado would say more.

He always knows when something’s wrong.

“Thanks for calling,” Seiya said quietly, letting his head rest against the back of the couch.

Masakado’s voice softened. “You don’t have to thank me. You know I don’t need a reason.”

Seiya smiled faintly, his chest tightening in that strange, familiar way.

He’s just a friend.

Just a friend who always seemed to show up — whether Seiya asked for it or not.

"So, about rehearsals, tell me more," Seiya asked, wanting to distract Masakado from... Caring. He hoped this conversation would distract Masakado.

Masakado chuckled softly, as if he could see right through Seiya’s attempt to shift the focus.

“You’re not that subtle, you know.”

Seiya sank deeper into the couch, tugging the blanket up to his chest. “I wasn’t trying to be.”

Masakado let out a dramatic sigh. “Fine, if you insist. Rehearsals are hell. There. Happy?”

Seiya smirked, relaxing a little. “Sounds like someone’s out of practice.”

“I’m not out of practice,” Masakado shot back. “The new setlist’s just kicking my ass. The pace changes feel like a trap. One second we’re flying through a guitar solo, the next, it’s a ballad, and I’m supposed to switch gears like it’s nothing.”

Seiya could picture him — pacing the rehearsal room, guitar slung over his shoulder, sweat dripping from his temple but still managing to flash that cocky grin at the younger members.

He grinned, imagining Masakado's frustrated expression as he ranted. "Ah, the struggles of a rock star. You should write a memoir."

Masakado snorted. "Sure, I'll get right on that. Maybe you can be my ghost writer."

They fell into an easy back-and-forth, trading jabs and jokes like they always did. For a little while, Seiya let himself forget about the empty apartment, the unanswered texts, the growing ache in his chest. Talking to Masakado was like slipping into a well-worn sweater - comfortable, familiar, soothing in a way few things were these days.

“You’re getting old,” Seiya teased.

“I’m two years younger than you,” Masakado retorted immediately. “You don’t get to lecture me about age.”

Seiya laughed softly, the tension in his chest unwinding bit by bit. This was normal. This was them.

“Still,” Seiya added after a moment, “you’re lucky you’re the guitarist. No one’s really watching you during ballads.”

“I’ll remember you said that next time you mess up during a live show.”

Seiya could almost hear the grin in Masakado’s voice.

“Hey, vocals are different,” Seiya shot back, warmth flickering behind his words. “People actually care if I screw up.”

Masakado hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah, I guess. But they’d probably just forgive you since you’re cute.”

Seiya’s breath caught for half a second, but he played it off with a scoff. “Flatter someone else, Masakado. I’m immune to your charm.”

“Sure, sure,” Masakado said casually. “Just doing my part to keep your ego in check.”

The banter came easily, filling the quiet in a way that felt natural — grounding.

For a few moments, Seiya almost forgot about the cold spot next to him on the couch. Almost forgot the unanswered questions lingering at the back of his mind.

“Anyway,” Masakado continued, voice dipping slightly, “I’ll survive. Just got to power through until the tour starts. Then I’m off the hook for a while.”

Seiya shifted, adjusting the blanket around his legs. “Looking forward to it?”

Masakado was quiet for a beat longer than expected. “Yeah… I guess.”

That pause — short, but noticeable — made Seiya frown.

“You guess?”

Masakado let out a short breath. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited. But touring’s… different, you know? It’s fun, but it pulls you away from things. People.”

Seiya glanced toward the kitchen, where his boyfriend’s empty coffee cup still sat.

“Yeah,” Seiya murmured. “I know what you mean.”

The unspoken weight of those words hung between them, but neither chose to acknowledge it directly.

“Anyway,” Masakado said, shifting the mood with a lighter tone, “you better show up to at least one of the shows. I’ll personally drag you out of that office if I have to.”

Seiya smiled faintly. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

And for a while, that was enough.

The conversation drifted into easier topics—music, old band stories, and Masakado’s usual complaints about rehearsals running too long. Seiya let himself relax into the flow of it, the weight in his chest easing just enough to feel normal again.

But eventually, Masakado’s voice softened, as it always did when the hour stretched past ten.

“You should get some sleep,” Masakado said, though there was no hint of him wanting to hang up.

“I’m not tired,” Seiya lied, stretching his legs out along the couch. His toes barely brushed the armrest. “And I know you’re still pacing your apartment with that guitar strapped to your back.”

Masakado laughed quietly. “You know me too well.”

“Hard not to when you call every night.”

Masakado didn’t respond right away, and Seiya regretted how the words came out—too raw, too honest.

“…Sorry,” Masakado said after a beat. “Am I bothering you?”

Seiya’s grip on the blanket tightened.

That’s not what I meant.

“No,” Seiya said quickly, shaking his head even though Masakado couldn’t see him. “I just— I appreciate it.”

The line was quiet for a moment, save for the faint sound of Masakado shifting in the background.

“I figured you could use the company,” Masakado finally said. His tone was light, but there was an unspoken depth beneath it, one that Seiya chose to sidestep.

Seiya could sense Masakado holding back, wanting to ask the questions that hung unspoken in the air.

"He's working late again, isn't he?" Masakado said finally, his voice gentle but direct.

Seiya closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. "Yeah. He is."

There was a pause, and Seiya could picture Masakado choosing his next words carefully. "Seiya... I know you keep saying it's fine, but... Is it really?"

“I am now,” Seiya admitted softly.

Masakado hummed in response, but he didn’t press any further. He never did.

It was one of the things Seiya liked most about him.

“Alright,” Masakado said, letting out a yawn loud enough for Seiya to hear. “If you’re really not tired, stay up and watch the rest of your drama. But don’t blame me if you’re dead at work tomorrow.”

Seiya chuckled, curling further into the blanket. “I won’t. I’ll catch you tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Masakado replied without hesitation. “Night, Seiya.”

Seiya let the warmth in those words carry him as he ended the call, the quiet hum of the TV filling the space Masakado left behind. But as the minutes stretched on, that warmth faded, replaced by the familiar hollowness that often crept in when his boyfriend wasn’t around. The room felt bigger, the couch colder, and the comfort Masakado offered felt distant — like a hand reaching out but unable to fully pull Seiya from the emptiness left by someone else. He clung to that brief connection, but the ache lingered, reminding him of the gap that even Masakado's voice couldn't completely fill.

The apartment felt heavier after the call ended.

Seiya set his phone down beside him, eyes drifting back to the screen. The drama was already nearing its end, the leads finally standing side by side beneath the dim glow of city lights.

He remembered that day on set—the way the director (his boyfriend, back then just an aloof stranger) paced behind the monitor, scrutinizing every angle while Seiya fussed over a jacket that wouldn’t sit right on the actor’s shoulders.

“It’s not about the jacket,” the director had said, pulling Seiya aside. “It’s about the way they stand together. Clothes can only do so much.”

Seiya had been annoyed by the comment at the time. But now, sitting alone on the couch years later, he understood exactly what he meant.

It wasn’t the things that made a relationship feel whole. It was the space between two people—the unspoken connection that couldn’t be sewn into a garment or fixed with a kiss on the cheek.

Seiya rubbed at his chest absently.

Maybe that’s what I’ve been missing.

A faint rustling from the entrance pulled him from his thoughts. The front door creaked open, and his boyfriend stepped inside, his keys jingling faintly as he dropped them onto the counter.

“You’re still up?” his boyfriend asked, glancing at the TV.

Seiya nodded, offering a small smile. “Just watching this old thing.”

His boyfriend’s eyes flicked toward the screen, recognition flickering in them for the briefest moment. But instead of joining him, he stretched with a tired sigh.

“I’m gonna shower. Don’t wait up.”

Seiya watched as he disappeared into the bathroom, the faint sound of running water following soon after.

The couch suddenly felt colder beneath him.

Seiya leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling as the closing credits rolled.

Maybe I’m just expecting too much.

His phone buzzed softly on the table, drawing his attention back down.

A message from Masakado.

Masakado: Don’t think too hard about it. Just get some sleep.

Seiya stared at the message, his lips curling faintly into something soft and bittersweet.

He always knows, doesn’t he?

Seiya typed a quick response.

Seiya: Yeah. Night.

But even as he set the phone aside, Seiya knew sleep wouldn’t come easily that night.

As Seiya lay in bed, his mind was plagued with nagging doubts and uneasiness, despite his boyfriend's impending arrival. The soft light from his phone screen cast a faint glow over the dark room, creating shadows that danced along the walls. Outside, the rain tapped against the windowpane in a soothing rhythm. Seiya turned to his side, facing the door as he awaited his boyfriend's entrance. After what felt like an eternity, he heard the sound of a shower turning off and then the creak of the bedroom door opening. His boyfriend's damp hair glistened in the dim light as he climbed into bed beside him, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces.

But Seiya barely noticed. His eyes lingered on the message Masakado had sent — simple, reassuring, and somehow the highlight of his night.

Masakado: Don’t think too hard about it. Just get some sleep.

Seiya's thumb hovered over the keyboard, debating whether to send another reply, but he settled for a simple heart reaction to the message, and got a funny gif back in response. A quiet laugh escaped him, barely audible.

"Him again?"

Seiya turned his head slightly, catching his boyfriend’s gaze in the dim light. He didn’t sound annoyed. Not even curious — just mildly observant, like someone commenting on the weather.

“Yeah,” Seiya replied casually, slipping his phone onto the nightstand.

His boyfriend let out a soft hum, ruffling Seiya’s hair as he shifted under the covers. “That guy still hangs around, huh?”

Seiya blinked. “That guy?”

His boyfriend chuckled lightly, leaning back against the pillows. “I just mean… you two have been friends forever. I forget he’s still in the picture sometimes.”

Seiya sat up slightly, resting his weight on his elbow. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation sparking in his chest.

“You’ve met Masakado, like, a dozen times,” Seiya said carefully. “He’s been my friend since before I met you.”

“Yeah, I know,” his boyfriend replied, brushing it off with a shrug. “I’m not saying it’s weird. It’s just… I don’t know. He’s never really stood out to me.”

Never stood out?

Seiya stared at him, trying to process the words.

Masakado wasn’t flashy. He wasn’t the kind of person who demanded attention when he entered a room. But he was the person who always stayed late to help clean up after events, the person who remembered small details about everyone he met.

Masakado was the person who showed up.

When Seiya’s boyfriend canceled plans or stayed late at work, it was Masakado who filled the empty spaces — unprompted but always welcome. His presence wasn’t loud, but it was dependable, a steady thread woven through the fabric of Seiya’s life. And perhaps that’s what unsettled Seiya the most. The consistency Masakado offered felt like a lifeline he shouldn’t need to rely on, but did anyway. The more his boyfriend drifted, the brighter Masakado’s unwavering closeness became, highlighting the quiet absence in ways Seiya couldn’t ignore.

And somehow, Seiya’s boyfriend barely remembered him at all.

How is that even possible?

“He’d at least remember you,” Seiya muttered under his breath, sinking back down onto his pillow.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

His boyfriend didn’t press further. Within minutes, his breathing evened out, his arm loosely draped across Seiya’s waist like it was automatic — a habit, not an intention.

Seiya lay awake, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

The lack of jealousy didn’t bother him as much as the indifference.

If the roles were reversed — if his boyfriend was texting someone late at night, laughing softly at their messages — Seiya knew he’d feel something.

Jealousy. Possessiveness. At least something.

But instead, his boyfriend dismissed Masakado with the same energy he’d give to an acquaintance Seiya met at work.

Seiya lay awake for a long time, his boyfriend's words echoing in his mind. The casual dismissal of Masakado stung in a way he hadn't expected. It wasn't just that his boyfriend seemed unconcerned about their closeness - it was the fact that Masakado, someone so vital and irreplaceable in Seiya's life, barely registered as a blip on his boyfriend's radar.

How could someone who meant so much to Seiya be so easily overlooked by the man lying next to him? The dissonance made Seiya's chest ache in a way that was becoming all too familiar these days.

He turned onto his side, watching the steady rise and fall of his boyfriend's chest in the dim light. Even in sleep, there was a distance between them, an invisible gulf that Seiya wasn't sure how to bridge anymore.

The affectionate touches, the casual intimacy — it all felt rehearsed, like lines read from a script, lacking the warmth and spontaneity that once existed between them.

Seiya closed his eyes, trying to will himself to sleep. But his mind kept drifting back to Masakado, to the easy warmth of his voice and the way he always seemed to know just what Seiya needed to hear.

Does he really think so little of the people important to me?

The thought settled like a stone in Seiya’s chest.

He didn’t need his boyfriend to be possessive. That wasn’t the issue.

But maybe — just maybe — Seiya wanted to know he mattered enough for someone to care about who shared his quiet moments.

Masakado had always cared.

And for the first time, Seiya wondered if that difference was bigger than he realized.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Seiya woke up to the faint shuffle of his boyfriend moving around the apartment. He lay still, eyes half-open, watching the silhouette drift between the closet and the dresser.

His boyfriend was getting ready for work — quietly, carefully, as if trying not to disturb him.

It wasn’t comforting. The quiet felt less like consideration and more like avoidance, a careful sidestep around the growing space between them. Each gentle movement only made Seiya more aware of how far apart they’d drifted, leaving him stranded in a room that no longer felt like it belonged to both of them.

It felt distant.

Seiya shifted, sitting up slightly as he ran a hand through his hair. “You’re leaving early?”

His boyfriend glanced over, already halfway through buttoning his shirt. “Yeah. Meetings stacked today. Won’t be home until late again.”

Seiya swallowed the irritation rising in his throat. “Right.”

His boyfriend crossed the room, leaning down to press a light kiss against Seiya’s forehead. It was soft — like clockwork, like something practiced a thousand times.

“I’ll text you,” he said, brushing his fingers briefly through Seiya’s hair.

Seiya forced a smile. “Sure.”

The front door closed softly behind him, leaving Seiya alone with the faint hum of the city outside the window.

He lay back down, staring at the ceiling.

It’s not enough.

The thought slipped out before he could stop it.

It wasn’t the hours his boyfriend worked, or the late nights. It wasn’t even the growing physical distance between them.

It was the absence that followed him through the quiet moments.

Masakado had noticed it immediately — the slight edge to Seiya’s voice, the way he hesitated when talking about home. It was the kind of attention Seiya wasn’t used to anymore, the kind his boyfriend had stopped giving long ago. Masakado’s ability to read between the lines — to catch the weight behind Seiya’s words — stood in stark contrast to the surface-level exchanges Seiya shared at home. It left him wondering why the person closest to him seemed so far away, while someone miles apart could feel closer than ever.

His boyfriend, on the other hand, had barely noticed. Or if he had, he didn’t seem to care enough to ask.

Seiya reached for his phone, scrolling through his messages.

Masakado: Don’t think too hard about it. Just get some sleep.

His finger hovered over Masakado’s name, considering calling him.

No. Don’t drag him into this.

Masakado was busy. He had his own life, his own rehearsals to worry about.

But somehow, even knowing that, Seiya’s chest tightened at the thought of Masakado dropping everything without hesitation if Seiya simply asked.

I can’t keep leaning on him.

Seiya set the phone down with a sigh, rolling onto his side.

Hours slipped by in a haze. Seiya made coffee. Half-heartedly worked on a few design drafts. But his focus drifted in and out, and by mid-afternoon, he found himself staring blankly at his tablet.

The apartment felt too quiet.

He glanced at his phone again.

Masakado: Doing anything tonight?

Seiya hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek.

Seiya: Not really. Just working late.

Masakado: Boring. Let’s grab dinner.

Seiya blinked at the message, reading it twice as if to confirm it wasn’t his imagination.

Seiya: Aren’t you in Osaka?

Masakado: Yeah. But I’ll be in Tokyo for a few days. Rehearsal break.

Seiya’s heart lifted unexpectedly.

Seiya: You could’ve told me earlier.

Masakado: Where’s the fun in that?

Seiya smiled despite himself.

Masakado: Seven sound good? I’ll come by your place.

Seiya paused. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitation creeping in.

He could almost hear his boyfriend’s voice in his head — the dismissive tone he used whenever Masakado came up.

But the thought of spending the evening alone felt unbearable.

Seiya: Yeah. Seven works.

Masakado’s reply was immediate.

Masakado: See you then.

Seiya set the phone down, exhaling softly.

It wasn’t like he was hiding anything. Masakado was just a friend.

Still, that didn’t stop the quiet hum of guilt lingering at the back of his mind. It wasn’t that he felt like he was doing anything wrong — Masakado was his friend, nothing more. But the ease he felt around Masakado, the way the weight in his chest seemed to lift, made him question why those moments felt more fulfilling than the time he spent with his own boyfriend. It left him unsettled, unsure if the guilt stemmed from his actions or from the widening gap he no longer knew how to bridge.

The text Seiya sent to his boyfriend was simple — nothing he thought twice about.

Seiya: Hey, I’m grabbing dinner with Masakado tonight. I’ll be home late.

The reply came fifteen minutes later.

Boyfriend: Okay. Have fun.

That was it.

No questions. No teasing remarks.

Seiya stared at the message, waiting for something more — a second text, maybe, or even a call. His eyes lingered on the screen, hoping for a flicker of attention that never came. The emptiness behind the brief reply felt heavier than if his boyfriend hadn’t responded at all, as though the lack of curiosity said more than words ever could. He told himself it was trust — or indifference — but neither sat comfortably in his chest.

But his phone stayed silent.

He should’ve been relieved.

Instead, the indifference sat heavy in his chest, pressing against something he didn’t want to name.

Maybe he trusts me. Maybe I’m overthinking it.

Seiya pushed the thought aside as he threw on a jacket, grabbing his keys from the counter.

It’s just dinner.

Tokyo at night had a way of making everything look softer — the way the lights blurred along the streets, the faint buzz of life humming just beneath the surface.

Seiya spotted Masakado waiting outside the restaurant, hands tucked casually into his pockets, leaning against the wall as if he had all the time in the world.

He wasn’t doing anything special — just standing there, glancing at his phone. But somehow, in the dim glow of the streetlights, Masakado looked… different. His posture, relaxed yet grounded, made him seem more confident than Seiya remembered. There was an ease in the way he carried himself, a quiet self-assuredness that seemed to draw the light toward him. It wasn’t just the way he stood — it was the way his eyes softened when they met Seiya’s, like he was fully present, fully seeing him in a way that felt rare these days.

Maybe it was the way his hair fell naturally over his forehead, or the subtle way the light caught his profile. More refined. Sharper in ways Seiya hadn’t noticed before.

Or maybe Seiya had just been away too long.

Masakado noticed him immediately, slipping his phone into his pocket as he pushed off the wall with an easy smile.

“Look who finally made it.”

Seiya rolled his eyes, closing the distance between them. “It’s not like I was late.”

“Close enough.” Masakado grinned, nudging Seiya’s arm lightly with his elbow. “You forget how to walk in the city or something?”

“Not everyone spends their life running to live shows,” Seiya shot back, but there was no bite to his words. If anything, he was relieved to see him — more than he’d expected.

Masakado held the door open for him, and the warm bustle of the restaurant greeted them. It wasn’t fancy — one of those hole-in-the-wall places Masakado always seemed to know, tucked between taller buildings as if hiding from tourists.

They found a seat near the back, tucked away from the crowd. The atmosphere was cozy, the kind that felt more like someone's home than a restaurant.

Masakado ordered without hesitation, rattling off familiar dishes that Seiya hadn’t realized he’d missed until now.

“You remembered what I like?” Seiya teased, leaning against the table with a smirk.

Masakado shrugged, resting his chin in his hand. “I figured your taste wouldn’t change much. Besides, I doubt your boyfriend lets you eat this much greasy food.”

Seiya laughed softly, but the mention of his boyfriend made him pause.

His phone sat face-down on the table. No messages. No missed calls.

“You told him about tonight, right?” Masakado asked casually, pouring them both tea as he spoke.

“Yeah,” Seiya replied, swirling his cup absently. “He didn’t really care.”

Masakado arched a brow. “Not even a little jealous?”

Seiya’s lips quirked into something faint — a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Guess not.”

Masakado didn’t say anything right away, but his gaze lingered on Seiya a beat longer than usual.

“Maybe he just trusts you,” Masakado offered, voice light but careful.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Seiya took a sip of tea, letting the warmth settle in his chest. But even as the conversation drifted into easier topics — tour plans, mutual friends, old inside jokes — that heavy silence from his boyfriend’s lack of reaction lingered at the edges of his mind.

By the time they left the restaurant, the streets were quieter, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights.

Seiya shoved his hands into his pockets, walking alongside Masakado as the cool night air nipped at his skin.

“You staying in Tokyo long?” Seiya asked, glancing sideways at him.

“Just a few days,” Masakado replied, stretching his arms behind his head. “Then it’s back to Osaka.”

Seiya nodded.

A part of him wanted to ask Masakado to stay longer — to make up some excuse to keep him around. The words hovered on the tip of his tongue, but something held him back. Maybe it was the fear of what that might mean, of crossing a line he wasn't ready to acknowledge. Or maybe it was simpler — the quiet recognition that Masakado, without needing to be asked, always seemed to know when to stay just a little longer.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he slowed his pace, letting the walk home stretch just a little further.

And Masakado, as always, matched his steps without question.

The walk back to Seiya’s apartment stretched on, quiet but not uncomfortable. The air between them carried the kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled — easy and familiar, like the soft hum of a song you didn’t realize you’d been humming along to.

Masakado walked half a step ahead, his hands in his pockets, eyes flicking toward the buildings lining the street. Seiya trailed just behind, his gaze fixed somewhere in the distance, thoughts drifting.

It’s fine.

He trusts me.

Seiya repeated it over and over in his head, trying to convince himself the weight sitting on his chest wasn’t as heavy as it felt.

They stopped at the corner near Seiya’s apartment. The streetlights flickered faintly overhead, casting long shadows along the pavement.

“This where I leave you?” Masakado asked, glancing up toward the familiar building.

“Yeah.” Seiya stuffed his hands deeper into his jacket pockets, shifting his weight slightly. “You don’t have to walk me all the way.”

“I’m not in a rush,” Masakado replied with a casual shrug. His eyes lingered on Seiya for a moment, something soft and unreadable behind them.

Seiya felt the corners of his mouth tug upward. “Thanks for tonight. I needed it.”

Masakado’s gaze softened further, and for a second, it almost felt like he was about to say something — something serious, something that might linger between them if spoken aloud.

But instead, he smiled, reaching out suddenly.

“Hold still.”

Seiya blinked as Masakado’s fingers brushed against his temple, tucking a stray strand of hair back into place.

“There was a bug,” Masakado said casually, as if the gesture hadn’t sent a strange shiver down Seiya’s spine.

“A bug?” Seiya arched a brow, skeptical. “Right. Sure.”

Masakado grinned but didn’t argue. His hand lingered just a second too long before he dropped it, stepping back into his usual comfortable space.

It should’ve felt normal.

It was normal.

This was Masakado. They’d always been like this — casual, teasing, the kind of comfort that didn’t require explanations.

But tonight…

Tonight, Masakado felt softer. More careful in the way he moved, in the way his eyes lingered on Seiya like he was looking for something he wasn’t ready to find.

And for a fleeting moment, Seiya almost let himself get swept up in it — almost let his heart believe there was something more in the way Masakado reached for him.

But he didn’t.

This is just how he is.

Masakado had always been like this. He cared too much, stayed too long, and looked after Seiya in ways no one else did.

He’s like this with everyone.

Seiya shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, shaking the thought away.

“Well, thanks for saving me from the dangerous hair bug.” His tone was light, teasing.

Masakado snorted, rocking back on his heels. “Anytime. Don’t get used to it, though.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare.”

Masakado glanced at his phone briefly, sighing. “I should probably head back. Rehearsal starts early.”

Seiya nodded, though part of him wished he didn’t have to watch Masakado leave just yet.

“Yeah… Don’t be late.”

Masakado grinned. “I'm always early.”

Seiya rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

“Night, Seiya.”

“Night.”

Masakado hesitated for half a second, his gaze lingering like he wanted to say something else — but instead, he turned, slipping his hands into his pockets as he walked down the quiet street.

Seiya stayed there for a while, watching until Masakado disappeared around the corner. The street felt quieter in his absence, as if something had shifted in the space between them. Seiya’s feet remained planted, his heart tugged by the faint warmth that lingered even as Masakado faded from view. A part of him didn’t want to go inside — didn’t want to return to the cold, quiet apartment where the weight of absence would settle over him once again.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

Boyfriend: Don’t forget to lock the door.

Seiya stared at the message, feeling nothing at all.

Later that night, Seiya lay awake in bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling. His boyfriend was asleep beside him, arm loosely draped over Seiya’s waist.

But Seiya’s thoughts weren’t here.

His mind kept drifting to the soft brush of Masakado’s fingers against his hair. The way the streetlights had caught on the edge of his smile.

It wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

And yet, it lingered — just barely out of reach.

***

The routine settled in gradually, like the slow fade of a familiar song. Seiya woke up to an empty bed, the sheets beside him cold and undisturbed. His boyfriend was already gone, off to another early meeting without so much as a goodbye. It had become their new normal - brief texts, rushed mornings, and a growing distance that stretched between them like an uncrossable chasm.

Seiya's eyes flickered over the subtle changes in his boyfriend's behavior. At first, he didn't pay it much mind - just brushed it off as the usual work stress. But as the days passed, his boyfriend started staying late more often, always with a flimsy excuse of deadlines and last-minute projects. The overnight bag became a regular fixture in their apartment, packed with clothes and toiletries for extended stays away from their shared bed. Seiya couldn't help but wonder what was causing this sudden shift in their relationship, and a gnawing feeling of unease settled in his stomach.

It felt normal. Expected.

But soon, the overnight bag became a permanent fixture by the door, half-packed and ready to go at a moment’s notice.

“I might stay at the office tonight,” his boyfriend would say casually, barely looking up from his phone.

Seiya only ever nodded.

“Don’t overwork yourself.” It was the closest thing to concern he offered.

His boyfriend would flash a tired smile, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I’ll be fine. Don’t wait up.”

Seiya told himself he wouldn’t. Yet, he always did.

One night, long past midnight, Seiya woke to the sound of the front door creaking open.

The faint shuffle of shoes against the floor followed, along with the rustle of fabric as his boyfriend dropped his bag by the entrance.

Seiya lay still, eyes half-lidded as he listened to the soft movements from the other room. The faint clink of a glass. Water running briefly in the sink.

His boyfriend never turned on the lights.

A minute later, the bed dipped slightly as he slid in beside Seiya, his weight barely disturbing the sheets.

The faint scent of stale cologne and exhaustion lingered between them. Seiya kept his eyes closed, feigning sleep as his boyfriend settled in beside him. He could tell his boyfriend was trying to be quiet, not wanting to wake him. But even in the darkness, Seiya could sense the distance between them - the way his boyfriend stayed carefully on his side of the bed, not reaching out to pull Seiya close like he used to.

Seiya's heart clenched painfully in his chest. He wanted to roll over, to press himself against his boyfriend's back and wrap an arm around his waist. To feel the warmth of his skin and the steady beat of his heart, reminding Seiya that they were still connected, still together despite the growing space between them.

“Hey,” Seiya mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

His boyfriend hummed in acknowledgment, pressing a brief kiss to Seiya’s shoulder. “Go back to sleep.”

Seiya closed his eyes.

In the dark, the kiss felt more like habit than affection. The brief press of lips carried no warmth, no lingering trace of intimacy. Seiya kept his eyes closed, pretending not to notice how automatic it felt — as if they were simply going through the motions, maintaining the shape of something that had long since unraveled. The realization left a hollow ache in his chest, one he wasn’t sure how to fill.

When morning came, and Seiya woke alone. He reached for his phone, blinking against the morning light filtering through the blinds. No new messages. No missed calls. Just the empty space beside him and the fading scent of his boyfriend's cologne on the pillow.

He sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair as he tried to shake off the lingering unease from the night before. But even as he went through the motions of his morning routine - shower, coffee, a half-hearted attempt at breakfast - the weight in his chest remained, pressing against his ribs like a physical ache.

The spot beside him was cold, the sheets still faintly creased. His boyfriend’s bag was gone from the corner, replaced by a short text on his phone.

Boyfriend: Gone early. See you tonight.

Seiya stared at the message for a long time before tossing the phone onto the bed.

At first, Seiya tried to fill the space with work.

He spent long hours at the design studio, sketching and redrawing patterns that didn’t need fixing.

He told himself it was fine.

That the distance was temporary.

Everyone gets busy.

But Masakado noticed.

Masakado: Busy tonight?

Seiya glanced at the message, fingers hesitating over the keyboard.

He wasn’t busy. His boyfriend wouldn’t be home until late — if at all.

Seiya: Not really. Just work.

Masakado: Liar. Meet me for dinner.

Seiya let out a soft laugh, shaking his head.

Seiya: Are you always this persistent?

Masakado: Only with you.

Seiya froze, thumb hovering over the reply.

He told himself it was a joke — just Masakado being Masakado.

But his chest felt lighter.

Seiya: Fine. Your treat.

Masakado’s response was instant.

Masakado: Deal. 7 PM. Don’t be late.

Dinner stretched into late-night coffee, and before Seiya knew it, they were lingering by his apartment building again, the same corner where they always seemed to part.

Masakado shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “You sure you’re okay?”

Seiya smiled faintly. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

Masakado didn’t look convinced. His brows knit together slightly, and his gaze lingered on Seiya for a moment longer than necessary, as if he could see straight through the thin layer of reassurance Seiya tried to wrap around himself.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Masakado said softly.

Seiya’s chest tightened. The sincerity in Masakado’s voice felt heavier than the quiet reassurance his boyfriend gave him — like Masakado was offering something Seiya didn’t know how to take.

“I know.”

And he did.

But for now, Seiya wasn’t ready to explain the things he hadn’t even admitted to himself.

So, instead, he smiled, nudging Masakado lightly with his elbow. “Thanks for tonight.”

Masakado’s grin returned, easy and warm. “Anytime.”

But as Seiya watched him walk away, that lingering weight in his chest stayed exactly where it was. It pressed down with the realization that even Masakado’s warmth couldn’t dissolve the growing emptiness waiting for him inside. He wanted to hold onto the comfort Masakado brought, but it slipped through his fingers the moment he was alone again — a reminder of just how much he longed for something that felt out of reach.

***

Seiya stood at the sink, scrubbing plates from last night’s dinner with slow, deliberate movements. The apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the soft drip of water from the faucet.

His boyfriend’s shirt hung over the back of the chair — the same one he had tossed there early this morning after coming home late.

Seiya had picked it up without thinking, ready to toss it into the laundry pile. But the faint, unmistakable smear of red on the collar made him pause. His breath hitched, fingers tightening involuntarily around the fabric. It felt small, insignificant — yet the sight of it hit him harder than he expected. The red stood out sharply against the white, a glaring reminder of something he’d long suspected but never wanted to confront. In that moment, the weight of every late night, every distant touch, settled heavily on his shoulders.

The plate in his hand trembled slightly.

Red lipstick.

He almost laughed.

How cliché.

Not even subtle. Not hidden in the scent of perfume or suspicious late-night calls. It was right there, stark against the white fabric.

A woman.

Not a man. Not even the possibility that this was something Seiya could compare himself to.

He rinsed the plate, placing it gently on the drying rack.

I knew.

He wasn’t sure when he first realized it — maybe long before the late nights and overnight bags. Maybe even before his boyfriend stopped holding him with the same care he used to.

But Seiya never asked.

Not when the kisses felt rehearsed. Not when the warmth in his boyfriend’s voice grew thinner by the day.

And not even now, as the evidence practically stared him in the face.

It doesn’t matter. Maybe it should have — maybe he should feel angrier, more betrayed. But the truth had been circling him for so long that by the time it finally surfaced, it felt inevitable, like a crack he’d been waiting to see widen. There was a strange comfort in knowing he had been right, even if that knowledge did little to fill the growing emptiness between them.

Seiya pressed his fingers into the counter, feeling the cool surface beneath his palms.

His heart didn’t break. Not the way he thought it might.

There was no explosion of anger, no desperate urge to confront or accuse.

Just… acceptance.

This was always going to happen.

Seiya grabbed the shirt, folding it neatly before tucking it into the laundry basket.

Out of sight. Out of mind.

Later that evening, Seiya sat curled up on the couch, scrolling absently through his phone.

A message from his boyfriend came through.

Boyfriend: Working late. Don’t wait up.

Seiya stared at it for a long time.

His thumb hovered over the keyboard. For a moment, he thought about replying, thought about asking the question that had been sitting in the back of his throat for weeks.

Where are you really?

But instead, he typed something else.

Seiya: Okay. Be safe.

It was simple. Non-confrontational.

The message was marked as “read” almost immediately.

Seiya set his phone down on the table, leaning back against the cushions.

The apartment felt too big — too quiet.

His eyes drifted toward the empty spot beside him.

His boyfriend’s absence no longer felt temporary.

It felt permanent.

Seiya knew he wouldn’t come home tonight.

And somehow, that was easier to accept than the thought of him walking through the door and pretending nothing was wrong.

His phone buzzed again.

Masakado: You eating tonight or are you surviving on air again?

Seiya exhaled softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Seiya: Air is fine.

Masakado: You’re impossible.

Seiya: I’ll grab something later.

There was a brief pause before Masakado replied.

Masakado: I’m coming over.

Seiya stared at the message, heart sinking and lifting at the same time.

Seiya: You don’t have to. I’m fine.

Masakado: I know.

Masakado didn’t ask. He never did.

Seiya closed his eyes, letting the weight of the day sink in.

Somehow, he didn’t feel the need to stop him.

Seiya cracked the window open, letting the cool Tokyo night breeze drift into the apartment. The faint hum of the city below filled the silence that had settled in for far too long.

***

Masakado sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning back against the couch, a can of beer dangling from his fingertips. His posture was loose, almost careless, the kind of ease that came from familiarity. There was a lightness in his eyes, a quiet amusement that softened the edges of his usual sharp gaze — as if being there, in that moment, was exactly where he wanted to be. His jacket was slung over the armrest, discarded the moment he walked through the door.

They hadn’t done anything special — just ordered takeout and thrown on some old variety show reruns.

But the apartment felt different tonight.

For the first time in weeks, it felt alive.

Masakado laughed loudly at something on the TV, tapping Seiya’s knee with his can as if to say, Did you see that?

Seiya huffed out a soft laugh, resting his chin in his hand. “You know, it’s probably been years since I heard you laugh like that.”

Masakado grinned, tilting his head toward him. “Maybe you just haven’t been around enough to hear it.”

“Maybe.” Seiya’s eyes drifted toward the half-empty takeout containers scattered on the table. “But I forgot how loud you are.”

Masakado nudged him lightly with his foot. “That’s rich, coming from you. You used to out-shout everyone during karaoke.”

Seiya smirked. “Yeah, well. I’ve mellowed out.”

Masakado arched a brow. “I’d say you’ve aged, but I’m trying to be polite.”

“Two years younger, Masakado. Two.”

Masakado laughed again, and Seiya let himself sink into the easy rhythm of it — no walls, no tension, just the weightless simplicity of being with someone who didn’t expect anything from him.

It was rare these days.

For the first time in a while, Seiya didn’t feel the pressure to be fine.

By the time midnight rolled around, the apartment was comfortably messy — blankets strewn over the couch, beer cans scattered on the floor, and a half-eaten bag of chips hanging precariously off the coffee table.

Masakado lay sprawled out across the couch, one arm dangling lazily over the side.

Seiya sat on the floor, legs stretched out, leaning back against the opposite side of the couch.

The TV played quietly in the background, some late-night drama neither of them were paying attention to.

“You know,” Masakado said, his voice softer now, “I don’t really want to leave tomorrow.”

Seiya’s hand froze midway to grabbing another chip.

He glanced over, catching the faintest shadow of something lingering in Masakado’s expression.

“Since when do you get homesick for Tokyo?” Seiya teased lightly, though something about the way Masakado’s eyes didn’t quite meet his felt different. It wasn’t just the way he glanced away — there was a quiet tension in the way Masakado's fingers tapped lightly against the fabric of the couch, a subtle restlessness that didn’t match his usual laid-back demeanor. Seiya felt a flicker of unease, the kind that crept in when you realized you’d missed something important but couldn’t quite name what.

Masakado rolled onto his side, resting his head against the couch cushion. His gaze drifted toward the window, watching the faint lights of passing cars below.

“It’s not Tokyo,” Masakado said quietly.

Seiya felt his throat tighten.

He looked away, pretending not to hear the weight in those words.

Instead, he shoved a chip into his mouth, crunching loudly enough to cut through the silence. “I bet you’ll forget all about this once you’re back in Osaka.”

Masakado chuckled softly, his smile returning, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Yeah,” Masakado murmured. “Maybe.”

By the time Masakado finally stretched and sat up, the clock had already crept past one.

“I should head out,” he said, grabbing his jacket and slinging it over his shoulder.

Seiya stood, stretching his arms behind his head. “You could crash here if you wanted. Couch is free.”

Masakado looked at him for a long moment, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

For a brief second, Seiya thought Masakado might accept the offer - might settle back down on the couch and let this night stretch on just a little longer. But instead, Masakado shook his head with a faint smile.

"Nah, I shouldn't. Got an early train to catch." He paused, his gaze lingering on Seiya's face. "Besides, your boyfriend will be home soon, right? Wouldn't want to impose."

Seiya felt a dull ache in his chest at the mention of his boyfriend. He glanced away, unable to meet Masakado's eyes. "Right. Yeah, of course."

It was a lie and they both knew it. His boyfriend wouldn't be back tonight, and maybe not even tomorrow. The apartment would remain as empty as Masakado left it, void of the warmth and life he brought with his mere presence.

Seiya walked Masakado to the door, an uneasy silence settling between them. He watched as Masakado slipped on his shoes, straightening up to his full height. In the dim light of the entryway, Masakado seemed taller somehow, his shoulders broader, his presence larger than the cramped genkan could contain.

"Well," Masakado said, turning to face Seiya. "Thanks for letting me crash your night."

Seiya huffed out a laugh, leaning against the doorframe. "Anytime.

Masakado straightened, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. “I’ll be back soon. You better not ghost me while I’m gone.”

Seiya smirked, crossing his arms. “I’ll think about it.”

Masakado hesitated, like he wanted to say something else.

Masakado's gaze lingered on Seiya's face, tracing the lines of his features as if committing them to memory. The usual playful glint in his eyes had faded, replaced by something softer, more serious. He reached out, fingertips grazing Seiya's cheek lightly.

"Seiya, I..." Masakado began, voice low and thick with an emotion Seiya couldn't quite place.

Seiya's breath hitched at the contact, at the way his name sounded falling from Masakado's lips. His heart stuttered in his chest, skin tingling where Masakado's fingers brushed. He wanted to lean into the touch, to let himself get swept up in the tenderness of the moment. And he waited for Masakado to continue.

Instead, he reached out, brushing his knuckles lightly against Seiya’s hair — the same teasing gesture he always used. The touch was brief, but it lingered in a way that felt different, grounding Seiya more than he wanted to admit. It wasn’t just playful this time; it carried a quiet reassurance, like Masakado knew the weight Seiya was carrying without needing to ask. The simplicity of it, that small reminder that someone saw him, brought a warmth Seiya hadn’t felt in a while.

“Take care of yourself, Seiya.”

Seiya rolled his eyes, swatting his hand away. “Yeah, yeah. Go home, Masakado.”

Masakado’s laugh echoed faintly as he stepped into the hall, hands in his pockets, disappearing into the elevator without looking back.

Seiya stood there for a long while after the door clicked shut.

The apartment felt quieter, colder now.

His gaze drifted toward the empty couch, where the cushions were still indented from where Masakado had been sitting.

Seiya lay in bed that night, staring at the faint outline of the ceiling. His boyfriend still hadn’t come home.

But for once, the empty space beside him didn’t feel as lonely as it usually did.

***

The half-empty beer can wobbled slightly as Seiya set it down, the condensation leaving faint rings on the coffee table. The warmth from the alcohol had settled comfortably in his chest, softening the edges of the room, the hour, and the company.

Masakado was still sprawled on the couch, one arm tucked behind his head as he gazed lazily at the ceiling. His jacket had long since fallen to the floor, and his shirt had ridden up slightly, exposing the faint sliver of his stomach.

Seiya’s gaze flickered toward him briefly before looking away.

That lingering phrase — “It’s not Tokyo.”

The way Masakado said it hadn’t left Seiya’s mind. The quiet weight behind it felt too deliberate to ignore, even if Masakado hadn’t pressed further.

Seiya grinned faintly, deciding to poke at it.

“I get it, you know.” He stretched his arms above his head, leaning casually against the couch as he smirked. “I’m irresistible. Hard to leave me behind, huh?”

Masakado’s eyes slid toward him, slow and deliberate. Seiya expected the usual snark, the same playful sarcasm Masakado always threw back at him. But there was something different in the way Masakado held his gaze — softer, more lingering, as if he were measuring his words before speaking. It wasn’t the typical lighthearted banter. Instead, it felt like Masakado was waiting for Seiya to notice something unspoken, something that tugged at the air between them.

But Masakado didn’t laugh.

Instead, his gaze softened in a way that felt different — heavier somehow, like he was seeing through Seiya rather than at him.

“You are,” Masakado said simply, his voice low and uncharacteristically serious.

Seiya’s smirk faltered. “Don’t flatter me, Masakado. I might actually believe you.”

Masakado sat up slowly, resting his forearms on his knees, beer can dangling loosely between his fingers. He leaned forward just enough that the distance between them felt thinner, the space they usually kept unspoken narrowing into something more intimate.

“I’m not joking, Seiya.” Masakado’s voice dropped to a quiet murmur, his eyes not leaving Seiya’s.

Seiya blinked, heat creeping up his neck despite the casual grin he tried to maintain. His hand tightened subtly on the blanket across his lap, heart thudding just a little louder than before.

It wasn’t like Masakado to be this… open.

Maybe it’s just the alcohol.

Still, something about the way Masakado looked at him stirred something strange and unfamiliar inside Seiya — something he thought had dulled out a long time ago.

Masakado shifted closer, his hand brushing lightly against Seiya’s knee, fingers lingering for a second too long.

Seiya swallowed. The room felt smaller.

He could push away, make a joke, steer the conversation back to safe territory.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he stayed frozen, watching as Masakado’s face inched closer, slow and careful as if waiting for Seiya to stop him.

The space between them dissolved.

Masakado’s hand slid up slightly, fingertips pressing gently against Seiya’s thigh.

And just as their lips brushed—

The front door creaked open.

Seiya’s heart leapt into his throat.

Masakado froze immediately, pulling back just as Seiya’s boyfriend stepped through the doorway.

His boyfriend barely glanced their way, his tired eyes dragging toward the floor as he kicked off his shoes.

“You’re still up?” His voice was flat, disinterested.

Seiya’s pulse raced, panic clawing at his chest. He wasn’t sure what terrified him more — the intimacy of the moment exposed in plain sight, or the quiet, indifferent glance from his boyfriend that cut deeper than confrontation ever could. The absence of recognition felt more damning, as if Seiya and Masakado’s closeness didn’t even register as a threat. It left Seiya feeling hollow, the weight of his guilt battling an inexplicable ache for something unspoken and unresolved.

Masakado shifted awkwardly, clearing his throat as he leaned back against the couch, hands slipping into his lap as if nothing had happened.

“Yeah,” Seiya’s voice cracked slightly, but he masked it with a light cough. “Masakado came by. We were just hanging out.”

His boyfriend barely reacted.

“I’m going to shower,” he muttered, walking past them without another word.

The bathroom door shut behind him with a dull thud, and the faint sound of running water followed shortly after.

Seiya exhaled sharply, realizing only then that he’d been holding his breath. His shoulders dropped, and his grip on the blanket loosened, but the tension coiled in his chest refused to fade. Even as the danger passed, his pulse still thrummed with the weight of what almost happened — the proximity, the lingering touch, the unspoken desire that neither of them fully acknowledged. The room felt colder in the aftermath, as if the air between them had shifted irreversibly.

Masakado stared down at his hands, quiet and unreadable.

“That was close,” Seiya joked half-heartedly, trying to shake the tension lingering in the room.

Masakado didn’t laugh.

Instead, he stood, stretching his arms above his head with a forced yawn.

“I should probably get going,” he said lightly, as if nothing had happened.

Seiya hesitated but didn’t stop him. “Yeah… Thanks for coming by.”

Masakado smiled faintly, but his eyes didn’t quite match it.

“Night, Seiya.”

He left without looking back.

Seiya woke up with a jolt.

His chest rose and fell sharply, his heart pounding loud enough to drown out the faint hum of the morning traffic outside.

He sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair.

A dream.

It was just a dream.

Seiya glanced at the empty spot beside him. His boyfriend was already gone, a note left on the nightstand.

Working late again. Don’t wait up.

Seiya swallowed the bitter taste lingering in his mouth. It wasn’t just the remnants of the dream, but the realization that the dream felt more honest than his waking life. The weight of Masakado’s touch, the fleeting sense of being seen — it lingered in a way his boyfriend’s absence never did. The guilt twisted alongside a longing he didn’t want to name, leaving him staring at the empty side of the bed longer than he should have.

What would have happened if it hadn’t been a dream?

The worst part wasn’t the panic.

It was the fact that, in the moment, Seiya hadn’t wanted to stop it.

***

The sound of the front door clicking shut echoed through the apartment. Seiya glanced up from the kitchen table, surprised to see his boyfriend standing there, tossing his keys onto the counter.

It wasn’t late — just past eight — but Seiya hadn’t expected him home at all tonight.

“You’re early,” Seiya said, keeping his voice light.

His boyfriend shrugged, loosening his tie with one hand. “Wrapped things up sooner than I thought.”

Seiya watched him carefully. It felt strange, the way his boyfriend moved through the space — detached, almost distant, as if he was treading lightly in someone else’s home. The apartment didn’t seem to hold him the way it used to, and the absence of familiarity between them felt louder than the silence.

The awkwardness lingered as his boyfriend poured himself a glass of water.

Seiya fiddled with the edge of his sleeve, debating whether to speak. The words sat heavy on his tongue, but something about tonight felt different — like the silence had stretched too thin, fragile enough to break.

Say something.

“Are you staying tonight?” Seiya asked, trying to sound casual.

His boyfriend glanced at him, brow slightly furrowed. “Yeah. Why?”

Seiya hesitated. His fingers curled tighter around the mug in his hands.

“You’ve been gone a lot lately,” Seiya said carefully. “I just… wanted to know.”

His boyfriend set the glass down a little harder than necessary, the faint clink punctuating the space between them like a warning. The gesture wasn’t aggressive, but it carried a weight that Seiya couldn’t ignore — a subtle edge, sharp enough to cut through the silence. It felt like a quiet, restrained frustration, the kind that built slowly over time and left traces in even the smallest of actions.

“Work’s been busy,” he replied, but his tone was flat.

Seiya nodded slowly, feeling the weight settle deeper in his chest. This wasn’t just another empty reassurance — it felt like the quiet unraveling of every promise that had already faded into distant memory. The promises of change, once hopeful, now felt more like echoes of things left unsaid.

“I get that,” Seiya said softly, “but you’re barely here anymore.”

His boyfriend sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Seiya, we’ve talked about this.”

“No,” Seiya replied, a little sharper than he intended. “You brush it off every time I bring it up.”

The words hung between them, heavy and unspoken until now.

His boyfriend’s gaze hardened, though his expression stayed unreadable. “What do you want me to say? I can’t quit my job just because you feel lonely.”

Seiya’s grip tightened around the mug, knuckles turning white. He already knew about the woman, he just didn’t say anything about it. Didn’t feel the need to, even when it felt like the world was suffocating him.

“It’s not just about being lonely,” Seiya said, his voice dropping. “You’re not here, and when you are, it feels like you’re somewhere else. Like you don’t care anymore.”

For a brief moment, his boyfriend didn’t say anything.

Then, with a sigh that felt more dismissive than tired, he leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

“If you want comfort, Seiya,” he said casually, “ask Masakido, Masaki… whatever his name is.”

Seiya froze.

His boyfriend’s words cut deeper than Seiya expected, the nonchalant tone twisting something sharp and cold in his chest.

“Masakado,” Seiya corrected quietly, not meeting his eyes.

His boyfriend smirked faintly, like the name didn’t matter. “Right. Him.”

The conversation could’ve ended there — Seiya could’ve let it slide, let the weight of it sink into the usual silence between them.

But this time, he couldn’t.

“You barely know him,” Seiya said, his voice trembling slightly. Because you never cared to get to know him in four years.

His boyfriend met his gaze with a calm, almost indifferent look. “I know he’s always around. Always calling, always texting.”

Seiya’s heart skipped, panic flickering to life in the back of his mind.

“It’s not like that,” Seiya said quickly, standing as if to close the distance between them.

His boyfriend didn’t move.

“Relax,” his boyfriend said, taking another sip of water. “I don’t care.”

And that hurt more than anything else he could’ve said. The casual dismissal, the way his boyfriend didn’t even pretend to care, struck deeper than anger ever could. It felt like the final confirmation of something Seiya had been dreading — that the distance between them wasn’t just temporary. It was becoming permanent, an unspoken agreement neither of them dared to confront. The hollow ache in his chest only grew, filling the spaces where words used to live.

Seiya stood there, fingers curled at his sides, feeling the weight of those three words press down on him like bricks.

I don’t care.

For a moment, Seiya thought about pushing further — about asking if his boyfriend cared about anything anymore. If he cared about him.

But the exhaustion in his boyfriend’s face said enough.

Seiya swallowed the lump in his throat and turned away, heading for the sink. The clatter of the mug against the porcelain felt louder than it should have.

“Forget it,” Seiya muttered under his breath.

His boyfriend didn’t respond.

Later that night, Seiya lay in bed, staring at the empty side where his boyfriend usually slept. The sheets were untouched, cool against his fingertips as he traced the space absent of warmth. It felt bigger than before, like the distance between them had expanded in the dark. His mind drifted, circling the same unspoken thoughts that lingered in the corners of the room — the questions he no longer asked because he feared the answers wouldn’t matter. The silence felt heavier than his boyfriend’s absence, pressing down on him until even sleep seemed reluctant to come.

His phone buzzed softly on the nightstand.

Masakado: You awake?

Seiya reached for it, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

For a second, he thought about replying.

But instead, he set the phone down and pulled the blanket tighter around him. The warmth Masakado offered through the screen felt too distant, too fleeting to reach for in that moment. A part of him wanted to hold onto it, to let Masakado's presence ease the emptiness beside him — but doing so felt like admitting something he wasn’t ready to confront. So he lay there, wrapped in silence, letting the weight of his loneliness settle in.

***

Seiya sat at his desk, stylus in hand, but the tablet in front of him had been blank for the past half hour. The open design software stared back at him, cursor blinking idly as if waiting for him to catch up.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms above his head. His eyes drifted toward his phone, resting face-up beside the tablet.

No messages.

His boyfriend hadn’t texted all day. Not even the usual brief “working late” update.

Seiya's fingers hovered over the screen, debating whether to send something first.

Instead, his phone buzzed suddenly, lighting up with a familiar name.

Masakado: Rehearsal’s killing me. I think I’m legally dead.

Seiya couldn’t help but smile. It was strange how something as simple as Masakado’s texts could shift his entire mood. The weight he hadn’t even realized was pressing down on him lifted, replaced by the familiar warmth that always came with their conversations. Lately, it felt like Masakado was the only one who could pull him out of his head, a stark contrast to the cold silence that lingered between him and his boyfriend.

Seiya: Good. It builds character.

The response was immediate.

Masakado: Says the guy sitting at a desk eating snacks.

Seiya glanced at the half-eaten bag of chips on his desk, narrowing his eyes.

Seiya: You don’t know that.

Masakado: I know you, Seiya.

Seiya rested his chin in his hand, the subtle weight in his chest easing as their usual banter filled the space.

Masakado: I bet you haven’t touched your designs either.

Seiya smirked.

Seiya: I’m taking a creative break.

Masakado: Creative break or existential crisis?

Seiya laughed softly, tapping his stylus absentmindedly against the desk.

Seiya: A little of both.

Masakado: Thought so.

It was ridiculous how much better Seiya felt after just a few texts.

Masakado had a way of making the day feel lighter — like he was standing next to Seiya, arms crossed with that familiar teasing grin, dragging him out of his own head.

His boyfriend used to feel that way too. Seiya's smile faded slightly at the thought. He could still remember the early days, when his boyfriend's texts brought that same flutter to his chest. Now, even the memory felt distant, like something from a past life he could no longer touch.

But lately, even their conversations felt like small talk with a stranger.

Seiya pushed the thought aside.

His phone buzzed again.

Masakado: You still there?

Seiya blinked, realizing he'd been staring blankly at the screen.

Seiya: Sorry, yeah. Just thinking.

Masakado: About?

Seiya hesitated. He couldn't exactly say "you" without sounding strange. But lately, his thoughts kept drifting to Masakado more often than he wanted to admit. The dream from last night still lingered at the edges of his mind, the phantom sensation of Masakado's touch making his skin prickle.

Seiya: Nothing important.

Masakado: Liar.

Seiya huffed out a laugh. Even through text, Masakado could read him too easily.

Seiya: Don't you have a rehearsal to get back to?

Masakado: Trying to get rid of me?

Seiya: Never. But I don't want to be responsible for you getting yelled at again.

Masakado: Worth it.

Seiya's heart skipped a beat. He stared at the message, reading it over again as if to confirm he hadn't imagined it.

Seiya: Shut up.

Masakado: If I survive rehearsal, ramen’s on you next time.

Seiya: Deal.

Seiya tossed his phone onto the desk, smiling faintly to himself.

Even if Masakado wasn’t physically there, his constant messages kept Seiya grounded — a reminder that someone saw him, even when he felt invisible.

***

Later that night, Seiya sat curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over his lap, as the faint glow of the TV flickered across the room. His phone buzzed periodically, and every time, he knew exactly who it was without even looking.

Masakado: Still alive. Barely.

Masakado: Our drummer tripped over his own kit. Highlight of the day.

Masakado: Send help. My legs are staging a revolt.

Seiya chuckled under his breath.

Seiya: You’re so dramatic.

Masakado: I suffer for my art.

Seiya could almost hear Masakado’s voice in his head — that playful lilt that never failed to make him feel at ease.

His boyfriend still hadn’t texted.

But somehow, Seiya didn’t feel as lonely as he thought he would.

As long as Masakado’s messages kept coming, the apartment didn’t feel quite as empty.

Seiya lay stretched across the couch, the faint hum of the TV playing reruns he wasn’t really watching. His phone rested on his chest, buzzing intermittently with Masakado’s messages.

Masakado: Rehearsal finally ended. I think I left part of my soul on that stage.

Masakado: You better appreciate my suffering when you see me live.

Seiya: I’m not coming if you’re going to whine the whole time.

Masakado: You’d miss me if I didn’t.

Seiya smirked, his thumb lingering over the keyboard.

Before he could type something snarky back, another message popped up.

Masakado: Seriously though, you okay?

The question caught him off guard, as if Masakado had slipped it between the lines, quiet but deliberate.

Seiya stared at the screen for a long moment.

His eyes flicked toward the door — the one his boyfriend hadn’t walked through for two nights now.

I’m fine.

The words sat heavy at the tip of his fingers, but somehow, Seiya couldn’t bring himself to send them.

Instead, he typed something else.

Seiya: I’m alive. I’d say that’s good enough.

Masakado’s reply was instant.

Masakado: Barely counts.

Masakado: I’m coming back to Tokyo next week. Let’s grab dinner.

Seiya blinked, surprised.

Seiya: Thought you were stuck in Osaka.

Masakado: I’ll make time.

Seiya hesitated, thumb brushing lightly against the edge of the phone.

Masakado always said things like that — I’ll make time. It was the kind of promise that felt light, tossed out casually, but this time it carried a different weight. Seiya couldn’t ignore the sincerity tucked beneath the words, the way Masakado never hesitated to offer his presence. It was a quiet reminder of how little effort it took for someone to show up — and how much he’d grown used to expecting nothing from the person he shared his home with.

It was so casual. Effortless.

Why does it feel different now?

Seiya: Alright. Your treat, remember?

Masakado: I’ll think about it.

Seiya laughed softly to himself, the weight in his chest loosening just a little.

Even as the apartment stayed quiet around him, Masakado’s words seemed to fill the empty spaces.

But as Seiya set the phone aside and pulled the blanket tighter around him, the thought lingered —

Would it feel this empty if I stopped waiting? The thought pressed down on him, heavy and persistent. It wasn’t just about tonight — it was the accumulation of every unanswered message, every late night spent alone. The emptiness felt predictable now, like part of the routine. But Masakado’s presence, even through a screen, disrupted that rhythm in a way Seiya couldn’t ignore. And maybe that was what scared him the most — the realization that waiting felt lonelier than being alone.

***

The next day, Seiya woke to the sound of the front door closing softly. He lay still for a moment, listening to the faint shuffle of shoes being kicked off in the entryway. His boyfriend was home, moving quietly through the apartment as if trying not to disturb him.

Seiya kept his eyes closed, feigning sleep even as he heard his boyfriend slip into the bedroom. The mattress dipped slightly as he sat on the edge of the bed, but he made no move to reach for Seiya. Instead, Seiya listened to the sound of clothes rustling as his boyfriend changed, then felt the covers lift briefly as he slid beneath them, keeping carefully to his own side.

Seiya's chest tightened. It wasn't just the physical distance - it was the silence that came with it. The lack of a gentle hand on his waist, or a murmured "I'm home" against his hair. The absence of those small intimacies felt louder than if his boyfriend had slammed the door.

Seiya lay awake long after his boyfriend's breathing evened out into the steady rhythm of sleep. His mind wandered, replaying Masakado's messages over and over.

"I'll make time."

The words echoed in his head, soft but insistent. It wasn't a grand declaration, but somehow, it felt more significant than any promise his boyfriend had made recently. Because Masakado followed through. He showed up, even in the smallest ways.

Seiya rolled onto his side, staring at the dark silhouette of his boyfriend's back. The space between them felt wider than the mere inches separating their bodies - a chasm Seiya no longer knew how to cross. His fingers itched to reach out, to brush against his boyfriend's shoulder the way he used to. But something stopped him. A heaviness. A hesitation born from too many nights spent wondering if his touch was still wanted.

He closed his eyes, trying to will himself to sleep. But Masakado's words continued to circle in his mind, a whispered reminder of what it felt like to be seen. To be chosen.

The guilt twinged, but it was quieter now. Muffled beneath the ache of something else - a longing he didn't want to put a name to. Because naming it would make it real. It would force him to acknowledge the slow, steady shift that had been happening without him realizing. The way his heart lifted at Masakado's name. The way his body responded to even the slightest brush of Masakado's fingers. It was dangerous territory. A line he knew he shouldn't cross.

But in the stillness of the night, with the weight of his boyfriend's absence still lingering, Seiya let himself imagine. Just for a moment. He pictured Masakado's crooked smile. The mischievous glint in his eye when he teased Seiya.

In the quiet darkness of the bedroom, Seiya let his mind wander down the dangerous path of "what if". He imagined Masakado lying next to him instead, strong arms pulling Seiya close against his chest. Gentle fingers carding through Seiya's hair, tracing the curve of his cheek. Hot breath ghosting over his ear as Masakado murmured "I'm here".

Seiya's skin tingled at the thought, a shiver running down his spine despite the heavy blanket. His heart thudded traitorously, yearning for a touch he shouldn't crave so deeply. But alone in the still of the night, he couldn't deny the way his body reacted, the way heat pooled low in his belly imagining Masakado's hands on him.

With a shaky sigh, he slipped quietly out of bed, careful not to disturb his slumbering partner. He padded to the bathroom on unsteady legs, flicking on the light and wincing at the harsh fluorescent glare.

Seiya braced his hands on the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror. His cheeks were still flushed, hair mussed from writhing against the pillow. He looked thoroughly debauched. Guilt churned in his gut, warring with the lingering traces of pleasure still humming beneath his skin.

Since when did it get this far? When did things change?

Seiya turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face, trying to wash away the evidence of his indiscretion. But even as the water cooled his heated skin, it couldn't extinguish the fire Masakado had ignited inside him. A fire he knew he could no longer ignore, no matter how much guilt threatened to consume him.

He dried his face with a towel and took a deep, shuddering breath. His reflection stared back at him, eyes dark with a tumultuous mix of shame and longing.

When had Masakado become more than just a friend in his mind? When had those playful touches and teasing words started to feel like something more - something charged with a tension Seiya couldn't deny?

He thought back to that dream, about the night on the couch, before his boyfriend had interrupted. The way Masakado had leaned in close, fingers brushing Seiya's thigh, eyes flickering to Seiya's lips. In that charged moment, Seiya had wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them, to discover if Masakado's mouth felt as good as he imagined.

The desire had been there, simmering just beneath the surface. An unspoken "what if" hanging in the air.

But reality had shattered the moment, leaving Seiya reeling with the realization of what he'd almost done. What he still craved, even now.

Especially now.

Seiya gripped the edge of the sink, knuckles turning white as he fought against the urge to break down. He was torn between wanting to stay and face his emotions head on, or run away from them and pretend everything was fine.

In the end, running away seemed to be his thing.

Seiya opened his eyes, blinking against the bright morning light filtering through the curtains. He shifted slightly, feeling the body beside him stir. At first, he thought it was his boyfriend getting up to use the bathroom, but as he heard the quiet footsteps moving away from the bed, Seiya realized with a sinking feeling that he had left.

He lay there for a few moments, staring at the empty space where his boyfriend had been just hours ago. It was a familiar feeling by now – waking up to an empty bed and knowing that his partner had left without saying goodbye.

He knew that his boyfriend didn't have work today, yet he hadn't said anything about leaving. Just like the shadows disappearing in the morning light, his lover had disappeared too.

Seiya sighed and rubbed at his face tiredly. He didn't even bother reaching for his phone to check if there were any messages from him. They both knew that there wouldn't be any.

It wasn't always like this – their relationship used to be full of warmth and affection. But ever since Seiya started spending more time with Masakado, things between them had changed.

They fought more often and their intimacy had all but disappeared. Seiya couldn't even remember the last time they had sex without it feeling forced or mechanical.

He didn't know if it was because of his growing feelings for Masakado or if they were just growing apart naturally. All he knew was that their relationship was falling apart and he didn't know how to fix it anymore.

But as much as he wanted to blame Masakado for causing this rift between them, Seiya couldn't deny that it wasn't entirely true. He had been withdrawing from their relationship long before Masakado came into the picture. And maybe, Masakado's presence only made him realize how unhappy he truly was with his current situation.

The weight in his chest felt heavier than usual — the kind that settled deep and didn’t leave, even after a full night’s sleep.

His hand instinctively reached toward the other side of the bed, but his fingers brushed against cool, undisturbed sheets.

He didn’t come back.

Seiya sighed quietly, sinking further into the mattress.

The faint buzz of his phone broke the silence. Without thinking, he reached for it, thumb swiping across the screen.

It wasn’t his boyfriend.

Masakado: Morning. I survived rehearsal, in case you were worried.

Masakado: Barely.

Seiya let out a soft breath that almost resembled a laugh, but it faded as quickly as it came.

He stared at Masakado’s name at the top of their chat, scrolling absentmindedly through the messages they’d exchanged over the past few weeks.

There were a lot.

Late-night jokes, photos of questionable takeout, rants about rehearsals, and gentle nudges Masakado slipped in when he thought Seiya was having a bad day.

Seiya hadn’t realized just how much Masakado had filled the empty spaces.

His thumb hovered over a message from two nights ago.

Masakado: I’ll make time.

The words lingered, heavier now in the quiet of the morning.

Seiya exhaled slowly, letting the phone rest against his chest.

He didn’t want to compare them.

Masakado had always been his friend — someone who teased him, stuck around when things got rough, and filled the silence with loud laughter and ridiculous stories.

But now… now it felt different.

Seiya wasn’t sure when it started — when the way Masakado looked at him felt warmer than it should, or when his words felt like something more than just friendship.

Maybe it was always there. Seiya had just been too blind to see it.

Or maybe… maybe this was just what loneliness did to people.

His boyfriend hadn’t done anything terrible. There were no shouting matches or bitter accusations.

Just distance.

And in that distance, Masakado felt closer than ever.

Is that love, or is it just because I’ve been left alone too long?

The thought gnawed at him, persistent and unwanted.

Seiya didn’t want to confuse comfort for something more. Masakado deserved better than to be a placeholder for the emptiness his boyfriend left behind.

But the lines felt blurred now, too tangled to pull apart.

His phone buzzed again.

Masakado: You alive? Or did you actually suffocate in your sheets like I warned you?

Seiya smiled faintly.

Seiya: Barely breathing. Send help.

Masakado: I’ll be there in five.

Seiya knew he was joking, but part of him wondered if Masakado really would show up if he asked.

And that realization was what scared him the most.

Seiya lay there for a while, scrolling aimlessly, his boyfriend’s name sitting untouched at the top of his contacts.

The last message between them was two days old.

Boyfriend: Working late. Don’t wait up.

Seiya read it twice, waiting for something — anything — to stir inside him.

But there was nothing.

Not anger. Not sadness.

Just… indifference.

His fingers hovered over the screen, but instead of typing, he switched back to Masakado’s chat and sent one last message.

Seiya: Let’s grab lunch soon. Your treat.

Masakado’s reply came instantly.

Masakado: Deal.

Seiya set the phone down, closing his eyes as the quiet settled in around him.

The line between what he felt and what he wanted blurred a little more.

And Seiya wasn’t sure if he wanted to stop it.

***

The sun had long since set by the time Seiya returned home from a long day at the office. The city lights twinkled in the distance, casting a warm glow over the streets. As he stepped inside his apartment, exhausted and weary, his hand instinctively reached for the light switch. But something made him pause, a feeling that something wasn't quite right.

The faint scent of jasmine lingered in the air, and he could hear the sound of distant traffic drifting through an open window. With a sense of unease, he moved further into the darkened space, his heart beating faster as he searched for the source of his discomfort.

He didn’t bother turning on any lights. He didn’t want to disturb whatever was waiting for him in the dark.

He wasn’t ready to face it yet.

He walked through each room slowly, taking in every detail with heightened senses. The kitchen looked no different than how it always did - dishes piled in the sink and counters cluttered with appliances. The living room was empty except for various pieces of furniture and stacks of books scattered around - no sign of life or movement.

But Seiya couldn't shake off that disturbing feeling that something was off.

His eyes eventually landed on their bedroom door - slightly ajar with faint light seeping out from within. His heart skipped a beat as he stepped closer, hesitantly pushing open the door.

And there she was - lying peacefully on their bed as if she had always been there.

Seiya's breath caught in his throat as he took in her figure - her long hair splayed out against their pillows, her skin glowing under the dim light from their bedside lamp. She looked so peaceful and serene...as if she belonged there...and yet...

The sound of the shower echoed in the background, pulling Seiya back from his thoughts. His boyfriend was also here. With her.

Seiya stood frozen in the doorway, his heart pounding painfully against his ribs as he tried to process the scene before him. The woman - beautiful and serene, her dark hair fanned out across his pillow. His boyfriend's pillow. Their bed, their most intimate space, now tainted by the undeniable presence of another. The distant sound of the shower running only made the betrayal cut deeper, an almost casual reminder of how little his boyfriend seemed to care about hiding this from him.

Seiya's fists clenched at his sides, fingernails digging into his palms. He wanted to scream, to throw something, to drag them both out of the bed and demand an explanation. But he remained rooted to the spot, a cold numbness seeping through his veins and freezing him in place.

This couldn't be happening. Not so blatantly, not when Seiya had spent so long convincing himself that the growing distance was just a rough patch - that if he just tried harder, loved more, things would go back to how they used to be. But seeing her there, in their bed, shattered that illusion with the sharp sting of reality.

How long had this actually been going on? How many nights had his boyfriend spent in her arms while Seiya lay alone, desperately clinging to the fraying threads of their relationship? The questions churned in his mind, but Seiya wasn't sure he wanted the answers. He already knew. The lipstick stains. The overnight bag. The empty promises. Having it confirmed, hearing the words fall from his boyfriend’s mouth would be the end of it.

The shower shut off abruptly, snapping Seiya out of his daze. Panic seized his chest as he heard his boyfriend moving around in the bathroom. He couldn't face him, not like this. Not with the undeniable evidence of betrayal lying right in front of him.

Seiya stumbled back from the doorway, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to escape. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. All he knew was that he needed to get out, to put as much distance between himself and this shattered illusion he once called home.

He rushed through the apartment, not even bothering to grab a jacket as he fumbled with the front door lock. His vision blurred, hot tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. But he blinked them back furiously. He wouldn't cry, not here. Not where they could hear him.

The door finally yielded and Seiya practically fell through it, gulping in the crisp night air. It burned his lungs but he relished the pain, letting it ground him as his world tilted off its axis. He took the stairs two at a time, needing to put as much space between him and that apartment as possible.

When he burst out onto the street, he realized he had nowhere to go.

Once he stopped running, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket pulling him back to the moment.

Seiya pulled out his phone with shaking hands, wondering who could be calling at this hour. His heart nearly stopped when he saw Masakado's name flashing across the screen.

Hesitating only a moment, he answered the call.

"Hey," Seiya said, trying and failing to keep his voice steady. "What's up?"

There was a brief pause before Masakado replied, his voice laced with concern. "Seiya? Are you alright? You sound...off."

Seiya swallowed thickly, closing his eyes against the sudden swell of emotion rising in his throat. Of course Masakado would pick up on it immediately, even through the phone. He always could read Seiya like an open book.

"I..." Seiya started, but the words died on his tongue. What could he even say? That he'd just caught his boyfriend cheating? That their relationship was likely over? The reality of it crashed over Seiya anew and he felt his knees buckle. He quickly steadied himself against a nearby wall, taking a shuddering breath.

"Seiya, talk to me. What's going on?" Masakado's voice was firmer now, worry bleeding into his tone.

***

The train ride was a blur, the only thing Seiya was aware of was the rhythmic click-clack of the wheels on the tracks and the churning emotions in his chest. He couldn't believe how quickly his life had fallen apart. Just a few hours ago, he had been blissfully unaware, planning their future together. And now...now it all felt like a cruel joke.

He got off at Masakado's station and made his way to his apartment, his feet carrying him automatically as he navigated through familiar streets. When he finally reached Masakado's building, he took a deep breath before pressing the buzzer.

There was a moment of silence before Masakado's voice sounded through the intercom. "Seiya? Come on up."

As Seiya entered the building and made his way up to Masakado's floor, he wondered what he would say when he saw him. Would Masakado be able to see just how broken he was? Would he offer any words of comfort or simply let Seiya cry?

Before long, Seiya was standing in front of Masakado's door, hesitating for just a moment before knocking softly. The door opened almost immediately, revealing Masakado's concerned face.

"Hey," Seiya said weakly, not knowing what else to say.

"Come in," Masakado said, stepping aside to let Seiya enter.

The apartment was warm and inviting, with soft lighting and comfortable furniture. Masakado led Seiya into the living room and gestured for him to take a seat on the plush couch. Seiya sank down heavily, feeling exhausted both physically and emotionally. He couldn't believe this was happening.

"Can I get you anything?" Masakado asked kindly as they settled onto the couch.

"No...no thank you," Seiya replied quietly. He didn't know if his stomach could handle anything right now.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Masakado watching him carefully. Seiya fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, struggling to find the words to explain what had happened. But everything felt jumbled, the hurt and confusion still too raw to articulate.

Masakado waited patiently, not pushing Seiya to talk before he was ready. His steady presence was a small comfort, a reminder that Seiya wasn't completely alone in this. Finally, Seiya took a shaky breath and met Masakado's gaze.

"I...I caught him cheating," Seiya said, his voice barely above a whisper. "She was in our bed, Masakado. In our home."

Saying it out loud made it feel more real somehow, the weight of it settling heavily on Seiya's shoulders. He saw Masakado's eyes widen slightly, a flash of anger crossing his features before it was replaced by deep concern.

"Seiya, I'm so sorry," Masakado said softly, reaching out to place a comforting hand on Seiya's knee. "You don't deserve this."

At Masakado's gentle touch, something inside Seiya finally broke. A strangled laugh tore from his throat, bordering on hysterical as the absurdity of the situation fully hit him. The laughter quickly dissolved into choked sobs, hot tears spilling down his cheeks as his body shook.

Masakado didn't hesitate. He gathered Seiya into his arms, pulling him close against his chest. One hand rubbed soothing circles on Seiya's back while the other cradled the back of his head, fingers threading gently through his hair.

"I've got you," Masakado murmured, his deep voice rumbling through Seiya's body. "Let it out. I'm here."

And Seiya did. He clung to Masakado like a lifeline, fingers fisting in his shirt as he cried harder than he had in years. All the pain, the betrayal, the loneliness he'd been holding back came pouring out, soaking Masakado's shoulder with his tears. But Masakado just held him tighter, whispering words of comfort as Seiya fell apart in his arms.

They stayed like that for a long time, Seiya's sobs gradually quieting to shuddering breaths and sniffles. Through it all, Masakado never let go, his strong arms anchoring Seiya, reminding him that he wasn't alone. Eventually, Seiya pulled back, apologizing for the sudden visit.

Seiya pulled back slightly, wiping at his tear-stained cheeks with the back of his hand. He felt raw, exposed in a way he hadn't allowed himself to be in a long time. But with Masakado, it didn't feel as terrifying. There was a safety in his arms, a steadiness that made Seiya feel like he could fall apart and still be held together.

"I'm sorry," Seiya said, his voice hoarse from crying. "I didn't mean to just show up like this and..." He gestured vaguely, embarrassed by his breakdown.

But Masakado just shook his head, reaching out to brush away a stray tear with his thumb. "Don't apologize. I'm glad you came to me."

Seiya managed a weak smile, leaning into Masakado's touch without thinking. It felt natural, like his body craved the comfort only Masakado could provide.

"I just...I don't know what to do now," Seiya admitted quietly. "Everything is such a mess."

Masakado was quiet for a moment, his hand still cupping Seiya's cheek. His brow furrowed slightly as he seemed to search for the right words.

"You don't have to figure it all out tonight," he said finally. "For now, just focus on taking care of yourself. The rest can wait until you're ready."

Seiya nodded, feeling some of the tightness in his chest loosen at Masakado's reassuring words. He was right - Seiya didn't have to have all the answers yet. For now, he just needed to breathe and let himself process the shock and heartbreak.

"Thank you," Seiya whispered, placing his hand over Masakado's where it still rested against his cheek. "For being here. For...everything."

Masakado's eyes softened, something tender and unguarded in his gaze as he looked at Seiya. "I'll always be here for you. No matter what."

The sincerity in his voice made Seiya's heart clench. He knew Masakado meant it - through all their years of friendship, he had never once let Seiya down. A steadfast presence, even from a distance. And now, with his world crumbling around him, Seiya was more grateful than ever to have Masakado by his side.

Without thinking, Seiya leaned in, pressing his forehead against Masakado's. He heard Masakado's breath hitch slightly, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he slid his hand from Seiya's cheek to the back of his neck, fingers threading gently through the short hairs there.

They stayed like that for a long moment, just breathing each other in. The air between them felt charged, the lines of their friendship blurring into something new and undefined. Seiya's heart pounded in his chest, hyper-aware of every point their bodies connected - forehead to forehead, Masakado's hands in his hair, his own fingers still clutching the fabric of Masakado's shirt.

Slowly, hesitantly, Seiya tilted his head, his nose brushing against Masakado's. Their lips hovered a hairsbreadth apart, breaths mingling in the scant space between them. Seiya's eyes fluttered closed as he felt himself being drawn forward by an invisible force, the magnetic pull he'd been fighting for so long.

But just before their lips could touch, Masakado pulled back slightly. Seiya's eyes opened, a flash of hurt and confusion crossing his features before he could hide it. Did Masakado not want this? Had Seiya misread the signals?

“Let’s get you some hot cocoa,” Masakado said, ruffling his hair as he stood up. “I have some strawberries in the fridge too, if you want them?”

Part of Seiya wanted Masakado to ignore the warnings of the world and do as he pleased, while another part of him was thankful that Masakado was still trying to maintain a casual relationship between them.

Seiya felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment at his own forwardness. Of course Masakado had pulled away - what was Seiya thinking, trying to kiss him mere hours after catching his boyfriend cheating? He was clearly not in his right mind, emotions too raw and all over the place. Masakado was just being a good friend, trying to comfort Seiya without taking advantage of his vulnerability.

"Y-yeah, hot cocoa sounds good," Seiya replied, ducking his head to hide his burning face. "And strawberries would be great, thanks."

Masakado smiled gently and squeezed Seiya's shoulder before heading to the kitchen. Seiya leaned back against the couch cushions, rubbing his hands over his face with a shaky sigh. His heart was still racing, skin tingling where Masakado had touched him. The almost-kiss replayed in his mind and he groaned softly, equal parts mortified and disappointed that it hadn't happened.

Get a grip, he scolded himself. Masakado's just being nice, don't make it weird.

But even as he tried to rationalize it, Seiya couldn't deny the way his body had reacted, how much he had wanted to close that final distance and discover if Masakado's lips were as soft as they looked. It wasn't just seeking comfort, though that was certainly part of it. No, this felt like something that had been building for a while now.

Seiya sat on the couch, trying to gather his swirling thoughts as Masakado prepared their drinks in the kitchen. The clink of mugs and gentle hum of the microwave provided a soothing background noise, grounding Seiya in the present moment.

He knew he shouldn't have tried to kiss Masakado, not when his emotions were so raw and his judgment clouded by heartbreak. It wasn't fair to either of them. Seiya didn't want to use Masakado as a rebound, a band-aid for his shattered heart. Masakado meant more to him than that, their friendship too precious to risk on an impulsive, emotionally charged whim.

But even as he tried to rationalize it, Seiya couldn't shake the feeling that this ran deeper than just tonight's events. The way his heart raced around Masakado, the constant pull to be near him, the little moments of intimacy that felt charged with something unspoken...it was all adding up to a picture Seiya could no longer ignore.

Somewhere along the way, Seiya's feelings for his best friend had shifted into something more. Something terrifying and exhilarating all at once. And almost losing himself in Masakado's arms tonight had only confirmed what he'd been trying so hard to deny - he was falling for him. Hard.

Masakado returned, two steaming mugs in his hands and a plate of sliced strawberries balanced on his forearm. He set everything down on the coffee table before settling next to Seiya again, close but careful to maintain a bit of distance between them.

"Here you go, just how you like it - extra marshmallows and a dash of cinnamon," Masakado said, handing Seiya one of the mugs with a soft smile.

Seiya accepted it gratefully, wrapping his hands around the warm ceramic and inhaling the comforting scent. Masakado always remembered the little things, those small details about Seiya that made him feel seen and cared for. It made his heart ache in a different way, a longing for something he wasn't sure he deserved right now.

"Thanks Masakado, this is perfect," Seiya replied, taking a careful sip of the rich, sweet liquid. It warmed him from the inside out, soothing his frayed nerves.

They drank their cocoa in companionable silence for a few minutes, the heaviness of the night settling around them. Seiya popped a strawberry in his mouth, savoring the burst of freshness. Leave it to Masakado to know exactly what he needed to feel just a bit more human again.

"You know you can stay here tonight, right?" Masakado said eventually, breaking the quiet. "Couch all yours.”

Seiya glanced at Masakado, a grateful smile tugging at his lips. "Thanks. I really appreciate it. I just...can't go back there tonight." The thought of returning to the apartment he shared with his boyfriend, to the bed where another woman had lain, made Seiya's stomach churn. He wasn't ready to face that reality quite yet.

Masakado nodded in understanding. "Of course. Stay as long as you need." He reached over and gave Seiya's knee a comforting squeeze before standing up. "Let me grab you some blankets and a pillow."

As Masakado disappeared down the hall, Seiya leaned back against the cushions and closed his eyes. Exhaustion weighed heavily on him, the emotional toll of the evening combined with the late hour making his limbs feel like lead. Part of him wanted to stay awake, to cling to Masakado's soothing presence for as long as possible. But the larger part of him longed for the oblivion of sleep, desperate to escape reality for a few blissful hours.

Masakado returned a few minutes later, arms laden with a fluffy comforter, pillow, and an old t-shirt and sweatpants. "Here, I thought you might want something more comfortable to sleep in," he said, placing the folded clothes on the coffee table.

Seiya's heart swelled at the thoughtful gesture. "Thanks Masakado. You're the best, you know that?"

A soft smile graced Masakado's handsome features. "I try." He grabbed the empty mugs and plate, carrying them back to the kitchen. "Bathroom's down the hall if you want to change and get ready for bed. Towels are under the sink if you want to shower, or well, you know that already."

Nodding with slight smile, Seiya pushed himself up from the couch, swaying slightly as a wave of fatigue washed over him. He steadied himself and gathered up the clothes Masakado had provided. "I think I'll just wash my face and crash. I'm beat."

"Sounds good. I'll get the couch set up for you."

Seiya padded down the hall to the bathroom, flicking on the light and shutting the door behind him. He braced his hands on the cool porcelain of the sink, taking a few deep breaths as he stared at his reflection. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy from crying, face pale and drawn. He looked about as wrecked as he felt.

Turning on the tap, Seiya splashed some cold water on his face, hoping to reduce some of the puffiness. He brushed his teeth with the spare toothbrush he found in the cabinet, then quickly changed into the clothes Masakado had given him. The shirt was soft and worn, the fabric infused with Masakado's clean, masculine scent. Seiya couldn't help but bring the collar to his

Seiya couldn't help but bring the collar of the shirt to his nose, inhaling deeply. Masakado's scent enveloped him like a comforting hug, instantly making him feel a bit more grounded. He pulled on the sweatpants, tying the drawstring snugly around his hips. They were a bit long on him, pooling slightly at his feet, but he didn't mind. It was just another reminder of Masakado's larger presence in his life, always there to support and protect him.

After finishing up in the bathroom, Seiya made his way back to the living room. Masakado had transformed the couch into a cozy looking bed, complete with sheets, the fluffy comforter, and plump pillow. The sight of it made Seiya's heavy eyelids droop even further.

Masakado emerged from the kitchen, a glass of water in hand. "I thought you might want this, in case you get thirsty during the night," he said, setting it down on the end table.

"You think of everything," Seiya murmured appreciatively as he sat down on the edge of the makeshift bed.

Masakado just shrugged, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I have a lot of practice taking care of you."

Something warm and tender unfurled in Seiya's chest at those words. It was true - Masakado had always been there for him, through thick and thin. A steady, reliable presence that Seiya had come to count on more than he realized. And now, in his darkest hour, here Masakado was again, offering shelter from the storm.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," Seiya said softly, looking up at his friend with tired but grateful eyes.

Masakado's expression gentled, a rare openness and vulnerability shining through. He reached out and smoothed Seiya's sleep-mussed hair away from his forehead, fingertips grazing his skin and leaving tingles in their wake.

"You'll never have to find out," Masakado promised quietly but fiercely. "I'll always be here for you, Seiya. No matter what."

Seiya's breath caught at the intensity in Masakado's gaze, at the unspoken depths of emotion swirling in those captivating eyes. His heart stuttered and swelled, aching with a longing he could no longer deny. In that moment, all he wanted was to bury himself in Masakado's arms and never let go, to lose himself in the safety and surety of his embrace.

But he held himself back, knowing it wasn't the right time. They were both raw and vulnerable tonight, Seiya especially. He didn't want to do anything rash, to risk ruining their friendship when he was at his lowest point. Masakado deserved better than to be a grief-fueled mistake, an impulsive decision made in a moment of weakness. As much as Seiya longed to close the distance between them, to seek solace in the warmth of Masakado's touch, he knew he needed to process his own emotions first. To untangle the threads of his shattered relationship before reaching for something new.

So instead, Seiya simply leaned into Masakado's hand where it still cupped his cheek, savoring the comfort of that small connection. "Thank you," he whispered, hoping those two simple words could convey the depth of his gratitude. "For everything."

Masakado's thumb brushed lightly over Seiya's cheekbone, a ghost of a caress. "Anytime," he murmured back, voice low and thick with unspoken feeling.

They stayed like that for a long moment, eyes locked and hearts laid bare in the quiet intimacy of the night. But eventually, reluctantly, Masakado pulled away, letting his hand fall back to his side. He cleared his throat softly, breaking the charged silence.

"Get some sleep," he said, nodding towards the pillows. "Things will feel a bit more manageable in the morning."

Seiya knew he was right, even if the prospect of facing reality again made his stomach clench. But for now, he would let himself sink into the temporary refuge of Masakado's couch, let his battered heart rest and recover within these safe walls.

"Goodnight Masakado," Seiya said as he crawled beneath the covers, burrowing into the softness. "And thanks again. For taking me in tonight."

Masakado's lips quirked in a small, tender smile. "I'll always have a place for you here, Seiya. Don't ever forget that."

With those words wrapped around him like a protective charm, Seiya let his heavy eyelids drift closed. The last thing he saw before sleep claimed him was Masakado's silhouette outlined in the doorway, watching over him, a silent guardian against the darkness.

Chapter Text

Seiya woke slowly the next morning, consciousness filtering in like hazy sunlight through cracked blinds. For a disorienting moment, he couldn't place his surroundings - the unfamiliar lumps of the couch cushions beneath him, the foreign scent clinging to the blankets tangled around his body. But then the events of the previous night came crashing back and he squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught of memories.

The woman in their bed.

His boyfriend's betrayal laid bare.

Masakado's arms around him as he fell apart.

Seiya groaned softly and rolled onto his back, throwing an arm over his face. The pain was still there, throbbing like a raw, open wound in the center of his chest. But it felt a little less overwhelming in the soft light of morning, tempered by the strange comfort of Masakado's apartment.

He heard movement from the other room and tensed, unsure if he was ready to face his friend after breaking down so completely the night before. But he needn't have worried. Masakado appeared in the doorway a moment later, two steaming mugs in hand.

"Morning," he said simply, padding over to the couch. "Thought you could use some coffee."

Seiya sat up gingerly, accepting the mug with a grateful nod. He cradled it between his palms, letting the warmth seep into his skin. "Thanks. And thanks for...you know. Letting me crash here last night."

Masakado waved off his gratitude, sinking down beside him. "Don't mention it. That's what friends are for, right?"

His gaze was full of understanding and Seiya had to look away, and he took a sip of coffee to steady himself. The rich, bitter flavor was grounding.

Fortunately, Masakado didn't mention anything else about the previous night, and simply went about his usual routine.

"I'll be at rehearsals all day, but let's have dinner together later, okay?" Masakado had a tinge of regret in his expression for not being able to spend more time with Seiya, knowing that the older man needed the company.

"It's fine, I have some work with me. I can visit the old office," Seiya reassured him.

Masakado nodded and gave Seiya a quick hug before heading out the door. Seiya sighed as he watched him go, feeling a familiar loneliness settle over him. He gathered up his briefcase and laptop, then made his way to the train station.

The old office was quiet when he arrived, most of his former colleagues either at lunch or in meetings. Seiya settled into an empty desk and tried to focus on his work, but his mind kept drifting off. A few hours later, in the middle of some lazy sketch, it struck him.

A surprise visit at rehearsals wouldn’t hurt. He could go just a few hours before they’d meet for dinner anyway.

And Sano Masaya, their mutual friend and drummer, was more than happy to help when Seiya contacted him about it.

“He’s been a nightmare during rehearsals,” Masaya had said over the phone, laughing. “Honestly, I think seeing you might calm him down. Or break him. Either way, it’ll be entertaining.”

Seiya figured it was worth a shot.

The studio was tucked away in the heart of Osaka, small but bustling with energy. Seiya could hear the faint hum of bass and the echo of drums as he made his way down the hall.

Masaya met him at the entrance, grinning ear to ear as he led Seiya toward the main rehearsal room.

“They’re in the middle of a break,” Masaya whispered, cracking the door open just enough for Seiya to peek inside.

Masakado stood by the far end of the room, wiping sweat from his forehead with the hem of his shirt, exposing the sight his stomach, a little bit more toned than last time he’d seen it. The aim to get a six-pack wasn’t that farfetched after all. His guitar rested against an amp, and he was mid-sip from his water bottle when Seiya stepped in.

“Yo,” Seiya greeted casually, hands tucked into his pockets.

Masakado glanced over, the bottle still at his lips.

He froze.

For a solid three seconds, Masakado didn’t move — his eyes wide, brows raised in disbelief.

Then, as if his brain finally processed what his eyes were seeing, he choked.

Water sputtered from the side of his mouth, and Masakado doubled over, coughing violently while Masaya burst into laughter behind Seiya.

Seiya grinned, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe. “Didn’t know I had that effect on you.”

Masakado thumped his chest with one hand, glaring between coughs. “What the hell—” he rasped, setting the bottle down with an unsteady hand. “Why are you here?”

Masaya, still laughing, clapped Seiya on the back. “Surprise.”

Masakado wiped his mouth with his sleeve, straightening with a glare directed squarely at Masaya. “You told him?”

“Of course,” Masaya replied, smirking. “He contacted me, and I thought you could use a little motivation.”

Masakado opened his mouth to argue but faltered, his eyes flicking toward Seiya again as if checking to make sure he was real.

“What about…work?” Masakado asked, his voice quieter now, hinting at the bigger elephant in the room he didn’t want to mention aloud.

Seiya shrugged. “You’ve been whining about rehearsals for weeks. Thought I’d see it for myself.”

Masakado’s eyes softened, the corners of his mouth twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile but close enough.

“You’re insane,” Masakado muttered, shaking his head.

“You’re welcome,” Seiya shot back, grinning.

Masaya slung an arm around Seiya’s shoulders. “He’s staying for the rest of rehearsal, right?”

Masakado groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I guess I can’t kick him out now.”

Seiya chuckled, crossing the room to lean against the amp next to Masakado’s guitar.

Despite the teasing, Seiya noticed how Masakado’s hand still lingered over his chest — the faintest remnants of nerves that didn’t seem to fade even after the initial surprise wore off.

Seiya perched himself comfortably on the edge of an amp, arms crossed as he watched Masakado try — and fail — to act like nothing happened.

Masakado busied himself with tuning his guitar, fingers sliding over the strings in a way that would have looked casual if not for the telltale flush creeping up his ears.

Seiya smirked. “You’re still red, you know.”

Masakado didn’t look up. “It’s hot in here.”

Seiya leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping into something more teasing. “Is that why you almost drowned yourself with a water bottle?”

Masaya snorted from behind the drum kit, not even bothering to hide his laughter.

“Shut up,” Masakado muttered, eyes fixed on the fretboard as if it held the answers to all his problems.

“You’ve been blushing for the last five minutes,” Seiya pressed, tilting his head. “What’s the deal?”

Masakado’s fingers faltered slightly over the strings, and he shot Seiya a sharp glare — but the redness only deepened, spreading from his ears to the back of his neck.

“I’m not blushing,” Masakado grumbled, turning his back toward Seiya in a futile attempt to shield himself.

“Oh, you definitely are,” Masaya chimed in, grinning. “This is the first time I’ve seen him that flustered without messing up a solo.”

“The great Masakado dethroned,” Seiya snickered, his voice dripping with mock arrogance, resting his chin in his hand as he watched Masakado shuffle awkwardly by his pedalboard. It was a welcome change from last night. Their usual back-and-forth banter brought a sense of normalcy to the situation. Even though they both knew there was something between them, at least this was familiar and comfortable.

Masakado’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing in a not so threatening gaze. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Seiya only laughed harder. It was a nice change from reality.

But even as he teased, something about Masakado’s reaction tugged faintly at the edges of his mind.

Why is he even this embarrassed?

Masakado had never been shy about much — not his playing, not his loud jokes, and certainly not his ability to trash-talk Seiya at any given moment.

But now…

The red creeping down his neck wasn’t just from surprise.

And the way Masakado kept stealing glances, catching Seiya’s gaze before quickly looking away — that wasn’t normal either.

Seiya’s smirk faded slightly as the realization crept in.

Is he actually nervous?

The thought lingered, settling like a glowing ember in the comfortable warmth of Seiya’s chest. He briefly recalled the moment from last night when he had leaned in, the air between them charged with an unspoken understanding. Everything about Masakado up until now had seemed to shout, almost like a silent cry carried on the wind, 'I have feelings for you, Seiya.' Yet, despite the clarity of these cues, Seiya remained uncertain if all those signs were truly pointing in the right direction.

Masaya, clearly enjoying the entire exchange, leaned forward on his drumsticks. “Hey, if you two want some privacy, I can take a break.”

Masakado groaned loudly, dragging a hand down his face. “For the love of— Sano-chan, stop talking.”

Seiya continued to laugh but didn’t miss the way Masakado’s gaze flickered toward him again, softer now — like he was waiting for Seiya to say something more.

But Seiya didn’t press.

Instead, he leaned back against the amp, letting the moment stretch as Masakado tried to regain his composure.

And even though the teasing eventually died down, Seiya couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe — just maybe — he wasn’t the only one noticing the shift between them, despite yesterday.

Rehearsal eventually resumed, but the atmosphere in the room felt… different. Lighter. Charged in a way Seiya couldn’t quite put his finger on. Maybe it had been obvious from the start, and he hadn’t seen it until now.

Masakado stayed focused, eyes glued to his guitar, but every now and then, Seiya caught him sneaking glances — quick, fleeting, like he didn’t want to be caught but couldn’t help himself.

He told himself it was just part of their usual dynamic — the teasing, the comfort of familiarity.

But the way Masakado’s ears still burned faintly under the stage lights suggested otherwise.

You’re overthinking it.

Seiya shifted on the amp, crossing one leg over the other as Masaya counted in the next song.

The band eased into a slower ballad, the kind that made the entire room feel heavier with each note.

Masakado’s guitar was softer this time, his fingers moving effortlessly across the strings of the acoustic guitar he had switched to, but there was something else in the way he played — something deeper, more deliberate.

Seiya closed his eyes briefly, letting the melody sink into his chest. When he opened them again, Masakado was watching him.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, it felt like the room had shrunk around them — like the quiet hum of the bass and the faint tap of Masaya’s drums had faded into the background.

Masakado didn’t look away this time.

Seiya felt his heart stutter.

He opened his mouth to say something — anything to break whatever this was — but Masaya’s voice cut in.

“That’s the vibe, huh?” Masaya grinned from behind the drum kit, clearly oblivious to the tension crackling in the air. “You were really feeling that one.”

Masakado blinked, shaking himself out of it like he’d been snapped back to reality. “Just playing what fits,” he replied smoothly, though his fingers had lingered a second too long on the last chord.

Seiya watched him carefully, the weight in his chest refusing to settle.

After rehearsal wrapped, Masaya disappeared to pack up his kit while the others had scattered like leaves in the wind, leaving Seiya and Masakado alone in the room.

Masakado crouched by the amp, winding cables around his arm in neat loops as Seiya hovered by the door, hands tucked into his pockets, trying to find the right words.

Say something.

But before he could, Masakado spoke first.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Masakado said, his voice softer now. “You could’ve just waited until dinner.”

Seiya shrugged, leaning against the doorframe. “Figured you’d appreciate the distraction.”

Masakado glanced up, his eyes flickering with something unreadable.

“Yeah,” Masakado muttered, setting the cables aside. “I guess I did.”

The room grew quiet again, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. Seiya shifted, hesitating.

“About earlier…” Seiya started, watching Masakado carefully. “You okay?”

Masakado straightened, brushing the hair out of his eyes. His expression was unreadable for a beat, but then he let out a small laugh — not forced, but not entirely natural either.

“You really like pushing that, don’t you?” Masakado smirked, but there was a faint nervousness lingering at the edges. “I told you — I wasn’t blushing.”

Seiya stepped closer, arms still crossed. “I didn’t say you were.”

Masakado’s smirk faltered for just a second before he looked away, fiddling unnecessarily with his guitar strap.

Seiya watched him carefully, feeling the weight of the moment settle between them.

He could push further.

Ask the question sitting heavily at the back of his throat — why Masakado had looked at him like that during the ballad, why he hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away. But instead, he let out a soft sigh and dropped it.

“You’re impossible,” Seiya muttered with soft affection, grabbing his jacket from the chair.

Masakado’s eyes flicked toward him again, and for a brief moment, Seiya thought he saw something like disappointment flash behind them.

But Masakado only smiled, slinging his guitar case over his shoulder.

“See you at dinner later?” Masakado asked, like nothing had happened at all.

Seiya hesitated but nodded. “Yeah. You’re still paying.”

That got the other laughing, and Seiya was already heading for the door.

“Fine by me,” Masakado said over his shoulder with his usual gentle smile. “As long as you stop staring at me during rehearsal.”

Seiya stopped in his tracks, eyes narrowing. “I wasn’t the one staring.”

Masakado shrugged, but he didn’t deny it. And Seiya didn’t press the topic any further.

* * *

The streets of Osaka hummed softly under the faint glow of the streetlights, the evening air crisp against Seiya’s skin as he wandered aimlessly. He had hours to kill before dinner — Masakado insisted on freshening up, half-joking that Seiya’s surprise visit had "knocked years off his life."

Seiya smirked at the memory, but the smile faded as he slipped his hands into his jacket pockets and let his thoughts drift.

The rehearsal kept replaying in his mind — the way Masakado’s gaze lingered just a little too long, the faint redness that had crept up his neck.

It felt eerily similar to that night.

The night Seiya tried so hard to forget.

It was just a dream.

But the feeling hadn’t disappeared, no matter how many times he brushed it off.

Seiya turned down a quieter street, the muffled sounds of the city settling into the background. His reflection followed him in the glass of the closed storefronts, faint and ghostlike.

What am I even thinking?

Masakado wasn’t supposed to feel like that. He was just Masakado — the same friend Seiya had teased relentlessly since the day they met. The same person who’d slept on Seiya’s floor after too many late-night drinking sessions.

But now…

Seiya kicked a stray pebble along the sidewalk, watching as it skittered out of sight.

This is ridiculous.

He stopped at a vending machine, slipping in a few coins and letting the hum of the machine pull him back into the present. A can of iced coffee tumbled down, and Seiya cracked it open with a faint hiss.

The bitterness settled on his tongue, grounding him.

But the loneliness didn’t fade.

Maybe I really am just that starved for affection.

It felt pathetic — imagining things, twisting casual gestures into something more just because his boyfriend barely acknowledged his existence anymore.

“If you want comfort, ask Masakido, Masaki… whatever his name is.”

Seiya swallowed hard, staring down at the can in his hand.

The words echoed louder than they should have, sharp and careless in a way that left bruises behind.

Was that why?

Had he been looking for something in Masakado? Some kind of substitute for what was missing at home?

Seiya hated the thought of it.

Masakado didn’t deserve that.

Seiya took another slow sip, sighing softly as he leaned against the edge of the vending machine.

His phone buzzed.

Masakado: Done. Meet me by the station?

Seiya stared at the screen for a long moment, the glow of the message illuminating his face.

Masakado always made things feel easy. Effortless.

Seiya’s lips twitched into a small smile.

Seiya: On my way.

As he pushed off the vending machine and started walking, Seiya told himself that whatever this was — whatever strange feeling kept lingering between them — he’d figure it out later.

Tonight, he just wanted to enjoy the company.

Seiya spotted Masakado near the station entrance, leaning casually against the railing. His hair was slightly damp, pushed back in a way that made him look far more put-together than usual. The black jacket he wore sat just right on his shoulders, like he’d actually put effort into his appearance for once. Cleanly shaven.

Seiya slowed his steps, one brow arching as he took in the sight.

Masakado noticed him almost immediately, straightening with a small wave. “Took you long enough.”

Seiya stopped a few feet away, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Didn’t realize dinner was such a formal event. You trying to impress someone?”

Masakado blinked. “What are you talking about?”

Seiya gestured toward him, circling a finger in the air. “This. The hair. The jacket. You definitely freshened up more than usual.”

Masakado scoffed, but Seiya didn’t miss the way his hand instinctively ruffled through his hair, messing up what was probably fifteen minutes of effort.

“I just didn’t want to look like I crawled out of rehearsal,” Masakado muttered, clearly more flustered than usual.

Seiya stepped closer, eyes narrowing playfully. “Uh-huh. Sure. And I’m guessing the fact that you smell like actual cologne for once is just a coincidence?”

Masakado’s neck turned red almost instantly.

Seiya grinned. There it is.

“I didn’t—” Masakado’s words faltered, and he groaned under his breath. “You’re impossible.”

“You make it too easy.” Seiya laughed, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Masakado shifted awkwardly, adjusting his jacket in an attempt to shake off the teasing. But the blush creeping across his skin only deepened, betraying him entirely.

It shouldn’t have meant anything. Seiya told himself it didn’t.

Masakado always had thin skin (they both did) when it came to teasing — that wasn’t new.

And yet, as Seiya watched the faint flush linger, something about it felt different this time.

Don’t read deep into it.

Still, the thought sat at the back of Seiya’s mind as they made their way to the restaurant.

* * *

Dinner was loud and familiar, the kind of place Masakado always picked. The two of them sat tucked into a corner booth, talking over grilled skewers and cheap draft beer.

By the time the second round came, Seiya had almost forgotten the strange tension from earlier — almost. It was almost as if yesterday never happened. As if his boyfriend had never cheated.

Masakado leaned back in the booth, nursing his beer with a lazy grin. "So, did I meet your expectations at rehearsal today?"

Seiya snorted. "You mean besides nearly drowning yourself when I walked in?"

"Shut up," Masakado grumbled, his ears turning pink again. "I was just surprised, that's all."

Seiya smirked, taking a sip of his own beer. The cool bitterness slid down his throat. "Uh huh. I'm sure that's why you kept blushing like a schoolgirl every time I looked at you."

Masakado choked on his drink, sputtering. "I did not!"

"Oh please, your face was as red as Taisei’s bass. Sano saw it too, they all did."

"They’re all idiots," Masakado muttered into his glass.

Seiya laughed, the sound coming easier now with the alcohol buzzing pleasantly under his skin. He propped his chin in his hand, studying Masakado's flustered expression with an amused glint in his eye.

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were actually into me or something," Seiya teased.

He meant it as a joke, maybe. The same back-and-forth ribbing they always did. But the words hung in the air a second too long, the weight of them suddenly palpable. Maybe he wanted to hear it from Masakado. Maybe he wanted to confirm it for real.

Masakado stilled, his eyes flicking up to meet Seiya's. There was something unreadable in his gaze, a flicker of vulnerability that made Seiya's chest tighten.

"And what if I was?" Masakado asked quietly.

Seiya blinked. His heart skipped, then started pounding too fast against his ribs. "What?"

Masakado held his stare for a long moment before dropping his eyes, a wry smile tugging at his mouth. "Nothing. Forget it." He took a long pull of his beer.

After a moment of consideration, Seiya decided to drop the topic and let them return to their familiar routine.

By the fourth round of skewers and drinks, Masakado leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms behind his head with a content sigh. “See? I told you I’d treat you.”

Seiya smirked, raising his glass. “I’ll remember this next time you try to guilt me into paying.”

Masakado clinked his glass lazily against Seiya’s. “I only guilt you because it works.”

The conversation drifted into old stories and inside jokes — the kind of comfort Seiya hadn’t realized he’d been missing until now.

And yet, no matter how much he laughed or teased, his eyes kept wandering toward Masakado, catching the way his fingers tapped nervously against the table whenever Seiya leaned in a little too close.

It’s nothing.

That’s what Seiya kept telling himself.

But the red lingering on Masakado’s skin said otherwise.

Seiya leaned back in the booth, arms crossed, as Masakado polished off the last skewer with a satisfied sigh. The restaurant buzzed with low conversations and the occasional clatter of plates, but the space between them felt warm, comfortable in a way Seiya hadn’t felt in a long time.

“You’re staring,” Masakado said, not bothering to look up from his beer.

Seiya scoffed, snapping out of his thoughts. “Am not.”

Masakado finally glanced at him, one brow raised, and Seiya immediately regretted engaging.

“Right,” Masakado said, leaning forward slightly with that infuriating grin. “If you want to compliment me, Seiya, just say it. No need to hold back.”

Seiya’s hand twitched around his glass. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not complimenting anything—anyone.”

Masakado tilted his head, eyes narrowing mischievously. “But you were looking.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were. And I get it. I do look good tonight.” Masakado ran a hand through his hair for emphasis, the teasing practically radiating off of him, and maybe the alcohol was starting to get to him.

Seiya felt his ears heat up almost instantly. Damn it.

“I— That’s not—” Seiya stammered, words tangling into each other as he struggled to recover.

Masakado’s grin widened. “You’re really bad at this.”

Seiya groaned, rubbing the back of his neck as if that might cool the rising heat. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Masakado replied smoothly, propping his chin on his hand. His gaze lingered, and Seiya hated how casually he could say things like that — like it didn’t mean anything.

But to Seiya, it did.

Masakado always knew exactly how to push his buttons, especially when it came to things Seiya wasn’t good at — accepting compliments, for one.

His boyfriend used to have the same effect, back in the early days when everything felt fresh and exciting. But somewhere along the way, the teasing had stopped, replaced with indifferent nods and the occasional “Yeah, you look fine.”

Now, it was just Masakado.

And Masakado had never stopped.

“You should really learn to take a compliment,” Masakado added, finishing the last sip of his beer. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

Seiya froze.

He felt his face heat up so fast he thought for sure it was noticeable, but Masakado was already looking at his empty glass like he hadn’t just dropped that casually in the middle of dinner.

Cute?

Masakado had called him many things — ridiculous, impossible, annoying — but never cute as a compliment.

Seiya cleared his throat, trying to sound unaffected. “You say that to everyone?”

Masakado’s eyes flicked to him, and for a split second, there was something different behind them — softer, less teasing.

“No,” Masakado replied simply, eyes soft before turning into crescent moons. “Just you.”

Seiya felt his heart trip over itself.

He quickly grabbed his glass, taking a long sip to cover the redness creeping up his neck. Calm down. He’s messing with you.

But as much as Seiya tried to convince himself otherwise, the lingering warmth in Masakado’s gaze didn’t feel like a joke. And it left Seiya feeling more flustered than he had been in a long, long time.

Seiya stirred his drink absently, eyes fixed on the table but not really seeing anything. His mind kept drifting — unwelcome, persistent — back to that dream.

The way Masakado’s hand lingered too long on his thigh. The warmth of his breath, the faint brush of lips that felt too real for something conjured up in sleep.

It wasn’t just the dream itself that haunted him. It was how easy it felt.

Now, sitting across from Masakado, Seiya couldn’t stop wondering what it would actually feel like — if it would be as effortless as the dream, or if his heart would race the way it was now, painfully obvious and impossible to control.

He shouldn’t be thinking about this.

He has a boyfriend. Or did he?

But his boyfriend hadn’t kissed him like that in months. Instead, he kissed… her.

Seiya’s grip tightened around the glass.

Masakado, blissfully unaware of the storm churning inside Seiya, leaned back in his seat with a lazy grin, one arm slung over the back of the booth. “You’ve been staring at that drink for a while now. Trying to read the future in it or something?”

Seiya’s eyes flicked up briefly, catching the faint amusement in Masakado’s gaze.

He scoffed, feigning nonchalance. “I’m just ignoring you.”

Masakado smirked. “You’re doing a terrible job.”

Seiya took a sip, mostly to keep himself from responding too quickly. The ice rattled softly against the glass, but it did nothing to cool the heat creeping up his neck.

Masakado’s teasing had always been easy to brush off before — just harmless banter. But now…

Now Seiya couldn’t stop thinking about how Masakado’s lips had looked, how close he’d been in the dream, how much Seiya hadn’t wanted to pull away.

He stole a glance at Masakado, and that was a mistake.

Masakado was running his hand through his hair, the faintest sheen of sweat still lingering from rehearsal. His shirt hung loosely around his shoulders, collar stretched just enough to reveal the faint line of his collarbone.

Seiya looked away quickly, heart hammering.

Damn it.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Masakado said, tilting his head slightly. “That’s not like you.”

“I’m just tired,” Seiya muttered, swirling his drink to avoid eye contact.

Masakado raised a brow but didn’t press. “If you say so.”

But the teasing didn’t stop.

Masakado leaned in slightly, elbows resting on the table, his voice dropping to something softer — playful, but almost dangerously close to something else.

“You know, if you keep staring at me like that, I’m gonna start thinking you’re the one who’s trying to impress me.”

Seiya nearly choked on his drink.

He set the glass down with more force than necessary, his cheeks burning. “I’m not staring.”

Masakado laughed, that stupid, carefree grin widening. “You totally are.”

“I’m not.” Seiya’s voice cracked, and he cursed under his breath as Masakado’s laughter only grew louder.

It wasn’t fair.

Seiya knew he blushed easier than Masakado — always had. He was the one who got flustered over small things, the one who stumbled over his words when teased too much. Masakado thrived off of it.

But now, Seiya wasn’t just flustered. He was frustrated.

Frustrated because somewhere, deep down, it all suddenly made sense.

Masakado’s warmth. His constant presence. The way Seiya felt more at home with him than in his own apartment.

It wasn’t supposed to mean anything.

But the more Seiya sat across from him, the harder it became to ignore the way his heart twisted at the thought of leaving for Tokyo.

You’re lonely. That’s all this is.

Seiya clung to that thought, gripping it tightly like it might pull him out of the mess he’d fallen into.

Masakado didn’t notice any of it.

He kept teasing, kept leaning into Seiya’s space like he always did, blissfully unaware of the war raging behind Seiya’s eyes.

And Seiya let him — because if he acknowledged the truth, even for a second, he wasn’t sure if he could stop it from unraveling everything.

The station was quiet this late at night, the usual crowds thinning to a handful of people scattered along the platforms. The faint hum of the vending machines and the distant rumble of incoming trains filled the empty spaces between Seiya and Masakado as they lingered near the ticket gate.

Seiya shifted the strap of his bag over his shoulder, glancing at the overhead schedule. The last train to Tokyo would leave in fifteen minutes.

Masakado stood beside him, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, rocking slightly on his heels as if debating whether to speak.

The atmosphere between them felt heavier now, the easy banter from dinner slowly fading the closer they got to the station.

Seiya exhaled quietly, his breath visible in the cool night air.

“Thanks for dinner,” he said, offering a faint smile.

Masakado met his gaze, and for a second, Seiya thought he saw something flicker behind his eyes — something that felt softer than the usual teasing glint.

Masakado shrugged, shifting his weight. “You’ll owe me next time.”

Seiya smirked. “I always owe you.”

Masakado’s lips twitched into a faint grin, but it didn’t linger. He glanced at the empty platform, the faint sound of a train approaching in the distance.

Seiya thought that was the end of it — that Masakado would crack another joke or push him toward the gate with some sarcastic comment about how Tokyo would fall apart without him.

But instead, Masakado’s voice dropped, just barely audible over the hum of the station.

“You could stay.”

Seiya froze, eyes flicking toward him. “What?”

Masakado straightened, clearing his throat and shaking his head quickly. “Nothing. Just—” He gestured vaguely toward the platform. “Figured you’d be too tired for the trip back. That’s all.”

Seiya narrowed his eyes. “You just said something. What was it?”

Masakado waved him off, his shoulders stiff in a way that didn’t match his usual carefree demeanor. “Forget it. I was just messing around.”

Seiya stared at him for a moment longer, waiting for Masakado to meet his gaze.

But he didn’t.

He looked everywhere else — at the vending machine, the map above the ticket gates, even the stray poster half peeling off the station wall. Seiya’s heart twisted painfully in his chest.

Ask me again.

The words sat at the tip of his tongue, burning behind clenched teeth.

He wanted Masakado to mean it. To say it again, but louder — without brushing it off, without pretending like it was a joke. Seiya wanted him to try harder.

Because if Masakado asked, if he really meant it, Seiya wasn’t sure he’d say no. Because going back to the empty apartment in Tokyo… he didn’t want that.

But Masakado stayed quiet. And Seiya hated himself for not pushing it.

When the train pulled in, Seiya adjusted the strap on his bag and stepped toward the platform. Masakado followed, standing a little too close as if he was debating something.

Seiya felt it — the unspoken weight that lingered in the narrow space between them. He half-wished Masakado would grab his arm, pull him back before he crossed the gate.

But Masakado’s hand never moved.

Seiya stepped onto the train, the door sliding shut between them with a soft hiss. He didn’t look back.

But deep inside, as the city lights blurred past the window, Seiya wished he had.

And behind him, Masakado stood alone on the platform, fingers curling faintly at his sides — the lingering ghost of a gesture he stopped himself from making.

* * *

Masakado’s POV

“You could stay.”

Masakado watched as Seiya froze, eyes flicking toward him. “What?”

He straightened, clearing his throat and shaking his head quickly. “Nothing. Just—” He gestured vaguely toward the platform. “Figured you’d be too tired for the trip back. That’s all.”

It was a slip-up, a stupid mistake to let his thoughts get the best of him. He knew that Seiya had to go back to Tokyo, even if there was nothing waiting for him there, but it was inevitable. Masakado wasn’t stupid, but knowing the situation between Seiya and his boyfriend, he just wanted the best for Seiya.

Seiya narrowed his eyes. “You just said something. What was it?”

Masakado waved him off, his shoulders stiff in a way that didn’t match his usual carefree demeanor. “Forget it. I was just messing around.”

Seiya stared at him for a moment longer, waiting for Masakado to meet his gaze.

Masakado knew that Seiya was staring at him so he avoided his gaze on purpose because if he did look at him… he’d crumble and give in. And he couldn’t do that. Not now.

So, he looked everywhere else — at the vending machine, the map above the ticket gates, even the stray poster half peeling off the station wall, and he stayed quiet.

When the train pulled in, Seiya adjusted the strap on his bag and stepped toward the platform.

Masakado stood there long after the train disappeared down the tracks, hands shoved deep into his pockets as if to anchor the restlessness swirling inside him. He had wanted to reach out, to stop Seiya from leaving. He had wanted to pull him into a tight embrace, telling him how he shouldn’t go back and be miserable, that he could stay. Stay with him.

The platform emptied around him, leaving nothing but the distant echoes of station announcements and the soft hum of vending machines.

You could stay.

The words replayed in his head like a song stuck on loop, each repetition tightening the knot in his chest.

He hadn’t meant to say it. Not like that.

But the moment had slipped through his fingers, as quick and fleeting as Seiya’s glance, before Seiya stepped onto the train. Masakado rubbed the back of his neck, cursing under his breath.

You’re an idiot.

It wasn’t the first time he thought about distancing himself from Seiya — wasn’t the first time he told himself to let it go. But somehow, Seiya always found a way to pull him back in, even without meaning to. Masakado shifted, his gaze flickering toward the empty stretch of tracks.

It’s fine. This is how it’s always been.

And that was the problem.

He could handle the teasing, the late-night calls, the accidental brushes of hands that lingered too long. That was easy — safe. They were friends, really good friends, and even if Masakado had been wanting more for years, he was fine with what they had. He thought he had been dealing with it pretty okay.

But the moment he let his guard down, even for a second, it all unraveled. Masakado had been friends with Seiya long enough to know when to keep his distance. Even if every part of him wanted to close it.

The weight of it sat heavy in his chest — heavier than it had any right to be.

Seiya wasn’t his to hold onto.

But that didn’t stop Masakado from wanting to.

His fingers twitched at his sides, that faint ghost of a gesture still lingering as if his body hadn’t quite caught up with the fact that Seiya was already gone.

Masakado let out a slow breath, his eyes drifting toward the far end of the platform.

He’ll be back.

He told himself that as if it would lessen the ache clawing at the edges of his heart. Seiya would be back, even if it was just as a friend.

Turning away from the tracks, he stuffed his hands deeper into his jacket and started walking toward the station exit, footsteps echoing faintly against the tiles.

The city stretched out ahead of him, bright and busy in ways that didn’t match the quiet unraveling inside his chest.

And somewhere far down the tracks, Seiya sat alone, watching the world blur by, probably not realizing he had left behind more than just an empty platform.

Masakado walked aimlessly through the station, the cool night air slipping through the open doors as he stepped outside. The city lights shimmered ahead, but he barely registered them.

His mind was still back at the platform — still with Seiya, standing close enough that Masakado could have reached out and stopped him.

But he hadn’t.

He never did.

Masakado shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, shoulders hunching as he drifted toward the nearest vending machine. He wasn’t thirsty, but standing still felt unbearable.

He had known for a long time.

Seiya’s boyfriend wasn’t good for him.

It wasn’t just the late nights, the forgotten plans, or the way Seiya’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes anymore. It was everything — the small, almost imperceptible shifts Masakado noticed long before Seiya ever would.

He saw it in the way Seiya’s voice softened when he talked about him, as if he was trying to convince himself things were fine.

Masakado had hated the guy from the start. He remembered the first time Seiya introduced him.

Some trendy rooftop party in Tokyo — loud music, too many people. Seiya had dragged him along, wanting his friend to be with him as they celebrated the wrap-up party for the drama Seiya had been working on and he had been practically beaming as he looped his arm through Masakado’s and pulled him into the crowd.

His boyfriend had been charming. Polite. Smiling too much but in a way that felt rehearsed.

Masakado hated him almost immediately. But Seiya had been happy, and for Masakado, that was enough.

So, like the good friend he pretended to be, he smiled. He let Seiya talk about the dates, the new restaurants his boyfriend took him to, the impromptu gifts — even if the stories always felt thinner, stretched like they might break if pressed too hard.

Masakado knew the truth. But he didn’t say a word.

Because it wasn’t his place.

Because if Seiya was happy, Masakado could endure it.

Even if it chipped away at him piece by piece.

He sighed, pausing near the vending machine outside the station. The screen flickered, casting faint shadows across his face as he leaned against it.

It was easier to pretend. To tell himself Seiya was too smart to let things drag on like this. But Masakado wasn’t naïve.

He remembered the night he saw Seiya’s boyfriend at a bar, standing too close to someone else. Masakado’s fists had curled at his sides, his chest tightening with the overwhelming urge to march over and say something — anything.

But then he thought about Seiya.

The way he laughed that night, even if it was quieter than usual. The way he bumped their shoulders together as they walked home, like he was just glad Masakado was there.

Seiya hadn’t needed another burden to carry. So Masakado let it slide.

He watched from the sidelines, pretending not to notice the cracks spreading beneath the surface, waiting for Seiya to realize them on his own. Until it was too late.

Now, standing alone under the glow of the city lights, Masakado wondered if he had made the right choice.

Would it have hurt less if he had said something sooner?

Maybe.

But Masakado wasn’t sure if sparing Seiya from heartbreak had been the kindness he thought it was.

All he knew was that Seiya had boarded that train — headed back to Tokyo, to him — and Masakado let him. Despite knowing that there was absolutely nothing waiting for him there but an empty apartment and empty promises. But Seiya had insisted he had to return.

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared out at the distant lights.

Because Seiya always saw the best in people, even when they didn’t deserve it. And Masakado had been standing right there, the entire time.

Seiya just hadn’t looked hard enough to see him. Masakado’s fist tightened faintly at his side.

The streets felt colder without Seiya walking beside him. Masakado wasn’t sure if the temperature had actually dropped or if the absence just settled on his skin differently, but either way, he kept his hands tucked deeper into his jacket pockets as he walked.

The train station was long behind him, swallowed by the lights and distant hum of the city, but he hadn’t shaken the weight pressing against his chest — the words he should have said, the ones he almost did.

Seiya wasn’t stupid. He had to know, or at least suspect.

But Masakado had seen that look enough times to know Seiya wasn’t ready to let go, no matter how obvious the truth became. It wasn’t ignorance that kept him tied to that relationship; it was hope. The same stubborn hope Seiya always carried, the kind that made him believe things could be fixed if he just held on tight enough.

Masakado admired that about him.

And he hated it.

Because Seiya never knew when to stop.

Masakado crossed the street without much thought, his feet carrying him in the general direction of home. The faint reflection in the storefront glass caught his eye, but he barely glanced at it. His mind was elsewhere — still on the platform, still standing in the narrow space between Seiya and the edge of something Masakado couldn’t bring himself to step over.

The ramen shop down the road caught his attention as he passed, light spilling onto the sidewalk. It was the one Seiya liked, the one they’d gone to more times than Masakado could count. He slowed for a second, considering stepping inside.

The last time they ate there, Seiya spent more time staring at his phone than at the bowl of noodles in front of him. He’d smiled between bites, laughing at Masakado’s complaints about rehearsal, but every few minutes his gaze drifted down, waiting for a message that never came.

“He’s been busy,” Seiya had said casually, though his voice wavered just enough for Masakado to notice.

They drank more than usual that night. Masakado remembered ordering another round just to keep the conversation light, to fill the silence neither of them wanted to acknowledge.

Even then, he had known. Seiya’s boyfriend really wasn’t good for him.

But Seiya had been happy. Or maybe he just wanted to be. Either way, Masakado hadn’t said anything, it hadn’t been his place to do so, but maybe he should have said something.

He exhaled quietly, tipping his head back to stare at the sliver of sky above the city. The stars barely flickered through the haze of lights, faint and distant like they were somewhere else entirely.

It was easier to stay quiet, to let Seiya figure things out on his own. But that didn’t make it easier to watch.

The weight of it sat in his chest, heavy and persistent, but Masakado had grown used to it.

Eventually, Seiya would see the cracks for what they were. At least, Masakado hoped he would.

The lights from the ramen shop faded behind him as Masakado kept walking, each step slower than the last.

Later that night, Masakado sat on the floor of his apartment, the soft glow from the window pooling onto the tatami. His guitar rested against his leg, but he hadn’t played anything yet.

His phone vibrated against the low table beside him. Seiya’s name lit up the screen, but it wasn’t a call.

Thanks for today.

That was all the message said. Masakado read it twice, even though the words were simple.

He wasn’t sure why it felt heavier than it should have.

Seiya never asked for much. Even now, when Masakado could see the exhaustion in him, when his eyes softened just a little too much in the quiet moments between conversations, Seiya still smiled like he didn’t want to trouble anyone.

Masakado leaned his head back against the wall, staring at the message until the screen dimmed and the room faded back into soft, humming silence.

He wanted Seiya to ask. To stop pretending everything was fine.

Masakado’s hand drifted to the strings, plucking out a soft chord. It hung in the air for a moment before fading, leaving nothing but the faint hum of the city outside.

It was fine.

Masakado could wait a little longer.

He always had.

* * *

The train rattled softly beneath Seiya’s feet as he stared out the window, watching Osaka slip further and further away with each passing light.

The hum of the train filled the empty car, but Seiya barely heard it.

His mind was elsewhere — back at the station, replaying the moment Masakado’s voice dipped low, the faintest trace of hesitation in his words.

“You could stay.”

Seiya closed his eyes, tilting his head against the window as the ache in his chest tightened.

What if I stayed?

He let himself drown in the thought, eyes fluttering shut as the possibilities unfolded in the darkness behind his eyelids.

He could imagine it — following Masakado home instead of stepping onto the train. The rhythmic scuff of their shoes on pavement echoing in the quiet Osaka streets, the distant buzz of neon signs bleeding color into the dark. The scent of Masakado’s cologne still lingering from dinner, mingling with the cool night air. He could imagine the warmth of his friend’s elbow brushing against his own as they walked in companionable silence, tension humming quietly beneath every step. The familiar jingle of keys as Masakado unlocked the door, the soft creak of the apartment welcoming them back. Seiya could feel the shift in the air already — intimate, heavy, tender — as if even the walls held their breath, waiting to see what would happen next. The quiet walk through Osaka’s streets, the tension simmering just beneath the surface but never addressed.

Masakado would pretend it was casual, like nothing about Seiya staying the night meant anything at all.

But it would.

Seiya could see it clearly. The small, cluttered apartment that Masakado always complained about but never really tried to clean. The faint glow of streetlights bleeding through the thin curtains, painting shadows across the floor.

They’d sit, probably on that old couch that sank too much on one side, with Masakado flicking through channels without really paying attention.

And maybe — just maybe — Seiya wouldn’t sit on the opposite end like usual.

Maybe he’d sit closer. Close enough that their shoulders brushed, that Masakado would shift slightly but wouldn’t move away.

What if I leaned in?

The thought made Seiya’s stomach twist painfully.

Masakado wouldn’t pull back.

He’d let Seiya close the distance, let him cross the unspoken line they’d both pretended wasn’t there.

And Seiya could feel it, even if it hadn’t happened — the warmth of Masakado’s breath against his lips, the faint hitch in his throat when Seiya whispered his name too softly.

Masakado’s hands wouldn’t be hesitant.

No, they’d cradle Seiya’s face, brushing the stray hairs off his forehead. His fingers would feel electric against his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

And then — then — their lips would meet.

Slowly at first, tentative and questioning.

But it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

Masakado always immersed himself fully into what he cared about most. And Seiya knew, deep down, that he would be no exception.

The thought of Masakado’s strong hands roaming beneath his shirt sent a shiver through Seiya’s body. If only his boyfriend—

His boyfriend.

This was a fantasy, nothing more. Masakado might have flirted with the idea of more, but he’d never actually do it — at least, that’s what Seiya kept telling himself. It was easier to believe Masakado wouldn’t cross that line than to admit how much he actually wanted him to. Not really.

Seiya's eyes snapped open, the fantasy shattering as the train screeched to a halt at the next station. He blinked rapidly, his chest tight and aching as he tried to shake off the lingering warmth of an imagined kiss, his reflection staring back at him from the train window.

His chest felt too tight, his heart pounding as if the dream had been more real than the seat beneath him.

He ran a hand down his face, exhaling slowly.

It’s just loneliness.

That’s all this was. Masakado wasn’t his boyfriend. And he wasn’t supposed to want him to be.

Seiya glanced at his phone, hoping for some distraction. But his messages were empty.

No texts from his boyfriend.

No missed calls.

Nothing.

Seiya dropped the phone onto his lap, head tilting back against the seat as the weight of it all pressed down on him.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stay next time.

And for the rest of the ride back to Tokyo, Seiya let the thought linger.

The Tokyo skyline greeted Seiya with the usual flicker of neon lights and distant traffic, but tonight it felt muted — like the city itself was holding its breath.

What am I doing?

He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling shakily.

This isn't real. He's your friend. Your straight friend.

But even as he repeated the words like a mantra, willing his pulse to slow, he couldn't ignore the heaviness settling in his gut. Because as much as he wanted to pretend otherwise, to chalk it up to loneliness and too much alcohol, Seiya knew the truth.

He wanted Masakado. Wanted him in a way that went beyond teasing and late night dinners. In a way he had never let himself consider before, because acknowledging it made it real.

And now, alone on a train back to an empty apartment, Seiya couldn't run from it anymore. He leaned his head back against the seat, staring blankly at the ceiling as the train lurched forward again.

You have a boyfriend, he reminded himself weakly. Or do I?

But even that thought felt hollow now. Because what kind of boyfriend left him alone night after night? What kind of boyfriend kissed someone else in their bed and then had the audacity to tell Seiya to seek comfort from a friend instead?

Seiya's fingers curled into fists at his sides.

He deserved better. He knew that, deep down. Had known it for a while now.

But it was Masakado's voice — soft, uncertain, and so achingly sincere — that finally broke through the noise in Seiya’s head. It cut through the doubt and denial like sunlight piercing storm clouds, making him believe, truly believe, that he deserved better.

"You could stay."

Four words. That's all it took for the cracks in Seiya's resolve to splinter and break.

Because Masakado wanted him there. Maybe not in the same way Seiya craved, but it was something. It was more than he had waiting for him in Tokyo. Seiya closed his eyes again, letting out a shaky breath.

I should have stayed.

The regret sat heavy on his tongue, bitter and sharp.

But it was too late now. The train was already pulling into Tokyo station, the familiar skyline looming outside the window like a cruel reminder of the life he was returning to.

His stop arrived too quickly, the shrill ding of the train doors jolting him back to reality. Seiya grabbed his bag and stood, legs stiff from the long journey.

The train doors slid open with a soft hiss, and Seiya stepped out onto the platform, the weight of the evening still sitting heavy in his chest. He followed the trickle of late night passengers off the train, steps heavy as he made his way through the station.

Each step felt like a mistake. Like he was moving in the wrong direction, away from where he truly wanted to be.

For a brief moment, he considered turning around, hopping on the first train back to Osaka and to Masakado.

But he didn’t.

He hadn’t expected anything when he returned. Maybe the quiet emptiness of his apartment, the kind that had become so familiar it no longer felt out of place. But as he descended the station steps, he saw them.

His ‘boyfriend’ — standing just across the street, leaning casually against a lamppost.

And beside him, her.

Seiya didn’t freeze. He didn’t gasp or stop in his tracks.

Instead, he slowed his steps, standing just far enough away that they wouldn’t notice him.

The woman laughed at something his boyfriend said, and he smiled — that small, affectionate smile Seiya hadn’t seen in months.

Her hand brushed against his arm, and his boyfriend didn’t pull away.

Seiya already knew. He had known for a long time. Back in his mind, he had convinced himself that the scene he saw before leaving for Osaka abruptly was just a figment of his imagination. That it was just something he had imagined because everything pointed at it being true.

The faint red lipstick stains, the overnight bags, the careless “I don’t care” thrown at him like it meant nothing.

Seiya had known. But knowing and seeing were two very different things.

Seeing them again, like this out in public, he expected anger. Pain. Something that would twist and burn inside him.

But as he stood there, watching his ‘boyfriend’ slip his arm around her waist, all Seiya felt was… relief.

His breath left him in a quiet exhale, and the weight he had been carrying for so long seemed to lighten — just slightly.

He wasn’t sure if that made him pathetic or if it just meant he had already let go long before this moment.

Seiya didn’t linger. He crossed the street in the opposite direction, keeping his head down as he disappeared into the crowd.

By the time Seiya unlocked the door to their apartment, the emptiness felt different.

It wasn’t louder or heavier.

It just was.

He toed off his shoes, dropping his bag by the door before sinking onto the couch. The room was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of his phone screen resting on the coffee table.

Seiya picked it up, scrolling absently through his messages.

Nothing.

His boyfriend hadn’t even bothered to text.

Seiya’s thumb hovered over the contact for a long moment, but instead of typing, he swiped left and deleted the thread entirely.

The silence that followed felt like closure.

It was over. They were done.

All he had to do was to actually say it aloud.

His phone buzzed, bringing him back to the dark, empty reality.

Masakado: Made it back yet?

Seiya stared at the message for a moment, a soft breath escaping his lips. The message flickered in the dark like the only tiny guiding light he had.

Seiya: Yeah. Just got home.

A pause.

Masakado: Want to talk?

Seiya hesitated. His eyes flicked toward the window, where the Tokyo lights stretched endlessly across the skyline.

Seiya: Not tonight. But soon.

Masakado’s reply was immediate.

Masakado: Alright. I’ll be here.

Seiya set his phone down and leaned back against the cushions, eyes drifting shut as a complicated mix of exhaustion and quiet longing settled over him. It wasn’t peace, not quite—but it was the closest he’d felt to it in a long while.

For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel alone.