Archive of Our Own

1.

   Nagi shows up on Reo's doorstep one night at approximately eleven.

   Even three years later, he still looks the same—a little taller, a little broader, but there's a familiarly mellow haze in his eyes and it takes Reo right back to high school. "Reo," Nagi says, and his suitcase rattles over the floorboards as he rolls it forward. "Can I stay over for the night?"

   Reo rubs his eyes. Nagi drags his feet across the ground, clearly impatient. "Why?" Reo finally asks. There's a whole host of things they should be saying to each other, really, and Reo has half a mind to shut the door right now, but Nagi looks exhausted and Reo still feels bad for him, after all these years. "Did something happen?"

   "The power went out in my apartment building."

   "Stay with Isagi, then."

   "He’s out of town."

   Reo bites his cheek. He says, "Just for tonight," but Nagi's already toeing his shoes off onto the carpet and setting his suitcase down by the wall, as if Reo's compliance is a given. "Don't leave your shoes there."

   Nagi kicks them carelessly into the corner. "I'm hungry," he says. "Give me your leftovers."

   "You're not going to thank me?"

   "You'll let me in anyway."

   It's mean, and it's true. Reo scowls at Nagi's retreating back, standing stiffly in the hallway while the other man beelines for his fridge and begins rooting around inside—the sight is so intensely nostalgic that Reo can't do more than simply observe as Nagi drifts over to the microwave and shoves a plate of leftovers inside. "You could have gotten a hotel room," Reo says distantly as Nagi jams his fingers into the buttons with violent ferocity.

   "No hotel near here has any open rooms," Nagi grumbles. He slams the microwave door and whirls around to face Reo, and he's always been so painfully impassive, but Reo recognizes the seething frustration swimming beneath his skin as he says, "Look, I know the situation isn't ideal, alright? Stop complaining about it."

   Reo laughs. It's fucking ridiculous, because they were like this the last time they talked, too—he doesn't know what he expects from Nagi anymore. "You can leave right now, then," he says.

   "It's too late to go out."

   "I don't care."

   "Reo," Nagi says, low and tense, and Reo stiffens at the sound of his name. "I'm not leaving. I don't have anywhere else to go."

   "But you think your ex's place is an option?"

   "You're not just my ex. You're my best friend."

   Some kind of best friend he is. Best friends don't date and break up and ghost each other for three years and act like strangers at every reunion party they cross paths at—but Nagi's always been so fucking stubborn, and Reo's come to accept that as a fact over the lonely months. Having him near again so suddenly after so long is unsettling, in a heated sort of way that leaves him jittery and overwrought. "I hate you," Reo mutters, because there's nothing left to say between them now.

   Nagi looks through him with tired eyes. He says, "I hate you, too," and Reo cracks a smile at that, because he's heard it so much that it's nothing but laughable now.

   The microwave goes off. Nagi opens the door like he's trying to rip it off of his hinges and lowers the bowl out onto the counter. Reo leans against the doorframe and watches, spitefully determined to make the other man as uncomfortable as possible. "You're sleeping on the couch," he says as Nagi peels the plastic wrap away from the bowl and begins searching around in the drawers.

   Nagi's back is turned, so Reo doesn't get to see his face when he says, "Your couch is too small. I’ll sleep with you.”

   "Like hell you are."

   "The couch is uncomfortable." Nagi finds a pair of chopsticks and turns back around. His expression is so unfairly untroubled. Reo feels himself tensing, heat rising to the back of his neck, and he drags his gaze away. "We slept together all the time before we dated. What's the big deal?"

   "It's not the same," Reo says stiffly.

   "It's not," Nagi agrees, and doesn't elaborate. He stabs his chopsticks into Reo's stir fry and starts eating. Reo's always been the more impatient one out of the two of them, then and now, and he steps away from the kitchen with a sigh and a glare that Nagi fails to meet. "You sigh too much," Nagi calls as Reo backs away.

   "Go fuck yourself," Reo spits. He storms to his bedroom and slams the door as viciously as he can when he enters. The entire apartment smells like food and smoke, now, and Reo hates it. He tears the covers away so fiercely that he feels his shoulder pop, and then he collapses back onto his mattress, squirming into his sheets until he nestles himself into the dark and he feels something close to normal.

   Nagi sneaks his way inside after less than ten minutes, pushing his suitcase gingerly ahead of him. Reo's already resting so far away on his side of the bed that he's nearly hanging off of the edge, and he allows himself a moment of relief when he feels Nagi mimic him, settling into bed with an insurmountable distance between their bodies. "Thank you," Nagi whispers. He's got the same voice. Reo's almost surprised he can remember it. "Goodnight, Reo."

   Goodnight, or something. Night, love you, see you tomorrow, whatever it was, Reo hears it echo in Nagi's words like a bad habit. "You're a piece of shit," Reo says, just to stop himself from saying goodnight back.

   Nagi huffs and doesn't reply. Reo tips his chin over his shoulder and watches the other man out of the corner of his eye as he pulls his phone out, holding it delicately over his face. He draws an invisible line over the screen with his thumb and sets an alarm for dawn.

   Reo shoves his head into his pillow. He hates himself. He starts thinking about breakfast plans.

   (Nagi will be gone by the time the sun rises, anyway.)

2.

   Got a hotel room.

   It's the first and only text they've had for three years. Reo can see their last conversation without scrolling—Take your clothes and leave the keys, and Nagi had said okay, and then nothing for about a thousand and some hundred days. Reo's not sure if Nagi wants him to reply or not, but he's saved from having to decide because Nagi sends him another message right away.

   Can I come to your place to borrow some stuff?

   It's harmless. They're not associated anymore. Reo's apartment is probably close and Nagi's probably missing stuff like toothpaste and shampoo and they probably won't have to talk to each other that much even if Nagi needs to come over, and Reo feels just a little emptyheaded this morning, so he sends an affirmative and drops his phone and his head onto the kitchen table with a painful thunk.

   Their breakup was messy. Reo's sitting at the same chair it happened at—it'd been over homemade lunch, and Nagi was on his phone and Reo had said Let's break up, or something equally brusque, and between that moment and the next, something between them had snapped and suddenly they were both screaming terrible, terrible things at each other. They'd never quite talked about it afterward, but it's not like they had to. Reo knows they both remember the root of their problem, in their last words to each other before Nagi left the apartment for the next few years.

   You don't even act like you love me anymore.

   You're such a hassle.

   They know each other too well. They know exactly how to hurt each other, and it's even worse because they were both telling the truth. They'd been miserable together for those last few months, but breaking up hadn't helped, really. Reo's still miserable, after all.

   Breakfast, Reo thinks. He runs a hand through his hair. He'd just trimmed it, so it's nice and light and falls right past his ears. If he wasn't so afraid of letting go, he thinks he'd cut it shorter, but it reminds him of high school and high school reminds him of Nagi, and Nagi is Nagi. Reo cannot quite let him go no matter how hard he tries, so he keeps everything else close and tries not to remember him every day.

   If Nagi was here, Reo might've made something. The eggs are at the back of the bottom shelf. Too hard to reach. He's tired this morning.

   The doorbell rings, eventually. Reo drags himself out of his chair at the kitchen table and down the hall, frigid all the way to the tips of his ears, and when he finds the doorknob and grabs it, he simply stands and presses his forehead to the wood and tries to hear Nagi breathing on the other side.

   "I know you're there," Nagi says, muffled. "Let me in, Reo."

   Reo finds the lock. He flips it and opens the door. "Good morning," he says.

   Nagi looks exceedingly awkward. He's combed his hair and his shirt is straightened into something passably presentable. It's far more effort than he usually puts into going out, and that's enough to have apprehension pooling in the pit of Reo's stomach. "Reo," Nagi mumbles, and then he drops his gaze to the ground and keeps it there. "I, um...I'm really sorry about last night."

   "What?"

   "I was mean to you," Nagi murmurs. He's holding a paper bag, and it crinkles as he clenches his fingers around it. "I didn't mean it. I don't hate you."

   Reo shrugs noncommittally. "Why did you say it, then?"

   "...You said it first. You always say it first."

   Reo knocks his fist against his thigh. Wonders if he presses hard enough, what would break first—his wrist or his femur? His ears are ringing. Maybe he has tinnitus.

   "Um," Nagi says. Reo looks at him, wonders where all his backbone from yesterday went. "Can I come inside?"

   "Of course." Always. What the hell is he thinking?

   Reo steps back and Nagi tiptoes inside like the walls are made of sand. He takes his shoes off and laces his fingers nervously. "Do you have any extra toothpaste?" he asks timidly.

   Reo hates it. He hates the way Nagi looks like a wounded animal, all pleading eyes and drooping shoulders, slouching so he's eye-level with Reo. He hates that Nagi's so passive, because he's always been this way and it's why they broke up in the first place. He hates it because Nagi seems like he expects to be thrown out at any second and it makes Reo feel like some kind of villain.

   Reo doesn't say any of this. He says, "Check inside the bathroom," and Nagi nods at him before heading down the hall.

   He's hungry. Maybe he'll treat himself to something nice after Nagi leaves.

   Reo's moved things around since they broke up, and when he follows Nagi to the bathroom he finds the other man rooting around in the towel cabinet. "They're not there anymore," Reo says awkwardly, and they both wince. "Here."

   Nagi turns to watch as Reo opens another drawer and pulls out a couple of new tubes. "Isn't that where you put the towels before?" he says.

   "There wasn't enough space."

   "Oh."

   Nagi takes the toothpaste from Reo. He stares at the ground, and Reo stares at Nagi's reflection in the bathroom mirror. "Thanks," Nagi says, too late, and Reo just sighs because Nagi's always late at everything, anyway. "Um. Do you have a jacket I can borrow?"

   "Do you want me to buy you a new one?" Reo says.

   "No, just...I think I left one here, anyway, I can just take it back now."

   It's true. Nagi had left a whole myriad of odds and ends behind when he'd finally untangled himself from Reo's life, and Reo had decided it would be too much of a hassle to keep calling him back to the apartment to retrieve them. He glares at Nagi's reflection some more and mutters, "I hate you," and then he turns on his heel and storms out of the bathroom with his hands deep in his pockets.

   Nagi follows close behind. He says, "No, you don't. Stop messing around."

   Reo digs his fingernails into his leg. His knuckles crack. His wrist would probably break first. Of course it would.

   The closet in the hall is full of expensive jackets Reo hasn't worn more than twice. He shoves them aside, fumbling in the dark for Nagi's old clothes. Nagi watches him struggle for about half a minute, and then he ducks down beside Reo to help him search, pressed close against his shoulder. "Thank you," Reo says as Nagi holds the coats aside, reluctantly quiet.

   Nagi tilts his head against Reo's wordlessly. Reo thinks he sees him smile out of the corner of his eye.

   His heart aches.

   "There it is," Nagi says. He reaches out and closes his fingers around a puffy sleeve, and they both step back as he drags out a fluffy gray jacket. It's definitely Nagi's—it's far too big for Reo, anyway. His gaze flits to Reo for a split second, and then he tugs on his jacket and stuffs the toothpaste into the pocket and says, "I should get going, then."

   "Bye," Reo says flatly.

   Nagi's eyebrows furrow. He frowns at Reo expectantly, and Reo stays stubbornly silent. "You're not mad at me, are you?" he asks.

   "Of course not." Reo shakes his head. "Just...go home, Nagi."

   Nagi wilts. Reo sees it in the way his shoulders drop, the way his eyes darken gradually, and it's so immensely unnatural that it knocks the breath from his lungs. Nagi zips the coat up to his chin and takes a step down the hall, and Reo whips his head away before they can make inevitable eye contact. "Hey," Nagi says. "Have a nice day, okay?"

   "...You too."

   "I think we can be nice to each other now," Nagi adds. Reo keeps his gaze fixed on the wall. "We're good now, right? It's been long enough."

   Long enough for what? For Nagi to stop being listless? For Reo to forget what it felt like to kiss Nagi between classes in high school? Some things will never change no matter how much time passes, and he wants to say so, but he makes the mistake of looking over and there's an odd glint in Nagi's eyes and all Reo can do is go limp and murmur, "If you really want to, Nagi."

   He's weak to Nagi. That's something that won't change either, he supposes.

   Nagi lifts a hand and presses the paper bag he'd brought with him into Reo's chest. "Breakfast for you," he says. Reo catches it with fumbling hands before it can fall. By the time he manages to open it, the sound of the front door slamming behind Nagi is echoing through the apartment.

   It's a chocolate croissant from the bakery down the street. He used to go out in the mornings and buy two for himself and Nagi for breakfast. He'd stopped because they broke up and he only ever pretended to like them because Nagi liked them. They're a bit too sweet and they stick to his teeth and Reo prefers to stay at home to eat, anyway.

   There's a little heart drawn on the bag with a marker, though.

   Reo eats the croissant.

3.

   Nagi texts Reo a lot now.

   It's trivial stuff. Good morning, how was your day, what did you eat, goodnight, talk to you tomorrow. It's almost like how they were before they broke up, and Reo's still not used to Nagi being back in his life at all, so to talk to him so often is something like torture.

   There's something nice about it, though. Nagi still has the same dry humor and Reo has missed him, no matter how much he wants to deny it. It's awkward but Nagi will send him something silly at one in the morning, and because it's funny and he's tired so late at night, Reo will laugh and reply and almost forget that they're not even supposed to like each other anymore.

   Nothing changes much, other than that. Nagi doesn't press. He just texts a meme or cat video every few hours, and Reo will respond accordingly. The peace between them is carefully balanced, precariously vulnerable to any disturbance, and Reo deigns not to do anything to topple it. He'd forgotten how nice it is to talk to Nagi when they're not yelling at each other.

   Nagi is fun. Nagi's great, actually. He's fine until he shows up at Reo's apartment again, this time unannounced, with his gray jacket wrapped snugly around his shoulders.

   "Hey," Nagi says. Reo's eyes go straight to the other man's head. His hair is combed again and slicked back messily. It looks awfully good on him. "Sorry. Is this a bad time? I can come back later."

   "Not really," Reo says distantly. "Do you need something?"

   "Um..." Nagi sighs uncomfortably, raises a hand to rub the back of his neck. Reo watches the tips of his ears redden. "Can I, uh...eat dinner with you?"

   "Why?"

   "I lost my wallet."

   Reo blinks. "You lost your wallet," he echoes.

   Nagi stares at him, wide-eyed and beseeching, waiting patiently for an answer.

   "I haven't had dinner yet," Reo admits reluctantly. He'd actually been planning not to, since he wasn't hungry or in the mood to cook, but—"Do you want to go out to eat?"

   Nagi blinks at him. He almost looks boyish like this, startled and blushing, lips parted to draw in a short breath. "Like a date?" he asks hesitantly.

   "Don't make it weird," Reo mutters. "I just haven't cooked anything yet, and it's a hassle." He shakes his head and takes one step back, then another. "This is a one time thing, okay? I'll go get my jacket."

   Nagi's beaming. Reo stops in his tracks.

   "Okay," Nagi says, and he sounds so impressively unbothered, but he's grinning from ear to ear and he's gazing at Reo with the softest fucking look in his eyes and it's awful. "I...I can wait for you in the hallway?"

   Reo swallows thickly. He waves a hand and chokes out, "Go and do that," and then he bolts back into his bedroom.

   He dresses casually. He doesn't want to bother going anywhere fancy and he's sure Nagi would find it a hassle as well, so there's not much of a point. He finds a jacket in his closet and pulls it on, and then he stumbles to the bathroom to splash some water on his face and stare at himself in the mirror. What the hell are you thinking, he tells himself. Puts his fist to the glass, pushes tentatively. It'd break before his knuckles do.

   Nagi looks cute today. He looks good, with his hair done like that and a genuine smile on his face. Nagi looks nice, and that's probably what made Reo suggest this idea, because he could have just given Nagi some money and been done for the night. Nagi himself makes Reo reckless and having him all charming like this is ten times worse, and Reo has half a mind to just lock himself inside his apartment and leave Nagi waiting out there, hungry and cold and alone.

   Nagi, hungry and cold. Alone.

   Reo could never do that to him.

   (He wishes he could.)

   It's a beautiful night, cloudless and ink black. Reo sees it through the windows just before he leaves his apartment. Nagi's waiting by the elevators, and he holds out a hand for a brief moment before he snatches it back, apologetic and sheepish as he pats Reo's shoulder instead. "You look nice," he mumbles.

   "You too," Reo sighs, bitten and reluctant. What else is he supposed to say? You look like shit? It'd be mean, and it wouldn't be true, anyway. "Let's hurry up. I don't want to be out too late."

   They step inside the elevator, and Reo punches the button to the ground floor. About halfway down, Nagi stops staring blankly at the security camera to say, "Hey, if you really don't want to do this, you can just stay home."

   "Huh?"

   "You're not happy."

   Reo puffs out his cheeks and drops his gaze. Nagi leans a little closer, a gentle pressure against his left shoulder. "It doesn't matter," Reo says. "We're just getting dinner. Aren't we friends now?"

   "Are we?" Nagi asks.

   Reo lets his exhale trickle out through his teeth. The elevator begins to slow. Nagi taps his foot and tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling, looking unfairly attractive under washed out fluorescent lights. "We are," Reo decides. "We are friends. We're good now. Just like you said."

   Nagi smiles again. Reo clenches his fists until his thumbs crack. The doors slide open, and this time, Nagi reaches for his hand and takes it. "It's cold outside," he says softly. "Stay close to me."

   Just like high school. Reo closes his eyes and sighs, and because he's just as happy to fall into old habits as Nagi seems to be, he locks his fingers securely around Nagi's and leans into his side.

   It's freezing. The wind is fierce enough to lash Reo's hair right out of his face, and he squints into it as it sweeps past. Nagi is warm. Reo feels the heat burning from the press of their palms, joined hands swinging between them easily like they'd never parted in the first place, and he wishes he would die of hypothermia.

   "We'll grab something quick and come home as soon as possible," Reo says, breaking the silence, mostly to quell the churning nervousness in the pit of his stomach. Nagi hums and squeezes his hand in response. He's lovely, and Reo hates him just a bit more.

   There's a noodle place just down the street. Nagi holds his hand the whole way there. Reo still remembers his usual order, both of them do—it's near-empty at this hour, and they find a table easily and sit there with their hands still intertwined, and Reo's getting ready to pay for both of them, they're on a fucking date and he wants to cry a little.

   Their food arrives fast. Reo lets go of Nagi's hand as soon as he can. He ducks into himself and eats and pretends he doesn't notice soft gray eyes locked firmly on the top of his head.

   "Hey, Reo," Nagi says to him, some two minutes later. He hasn't touched his food yet. "You're beautiful."

   Reo's not beautiful. Reo's tired and disheveled and his eyebags are the worst they've been in weeks. "You're fucking blind," he says, pushing his noodles around in his bowl. "Stop flirting with me."

   "I'm not flirting. I'm being honest."

   "We're not dating anymore."

   "So?"

   Reo clicks his tongue. Nagi props his head up with a hand and stares at him. "I thought you were hungry," Reo says. "Eat your food."

   Nagi takes a bite and sets his chopsticks back down immediately. "You said we could be friends now," he says, and there's a bit of a quiver in his voice that makes Reo's heart seize up. "Why are you being so mean to me?"

   "I said we could be friends. I didn't say you could...do whatever you're trying to do."

   Nagi shrinks into himself. "Sorry," he mumbles. "I didn't mean anything by it."

   Reo's noodles are cold now. He sets his chopsticks down and lifts his bowl to taste the soup, and as he does, he hears Nagi, distant, from the other end of the table—"I want to go back to how things were before, Reo."

   Reo drops the bowl down to the tabletop and, with a bite edging his voice, says, "Before what, exactly? Before we broke up? Before we dated?"

   Nagi reaches for his wrist and his fingertips land right on Reo's pulse, and Reo simmers down before he can begin to boil over, sinking slowly back into his chair. "I just want whatever made you happiest," Nagi says gently. "I want you to be happy, and I want to be the one to make you happy."

   Reo dares to meet Nagi's gaze. "And what about you?" he asks.

   "You're all I need," Nagi says, earnest, the slightest smile gracing his face.

   It's so romantic of him to say. Reo would have cried tears of joy if it had come three years ago. He's spent too long learning how to hate Nagi, though, and it's easy enough to turn away and tell him, "You're so weird."

   "Am I?"

   "We broke up. There's no reason for you to say stuff like this."

   Nagi is silent across from him. He drops his hand away from Reo's wrist and lets it rest on the table, and Reo almost thinks they've finished their conversation when Nagi speaks again, low and full of such quiet hurt that Reo almost flinches. "I never wanted to let you go, Reo."

   "But you did."

   His soup is cold now, too. Waste of dinner. Reo stares down into his bowl and watches his soft-boiled egg sink to the bottom. Across from him, Nagi breathes quick and shallow with his hands balled into loose fists on the tabletop and his head turned to the side. "I only did it because you wanted to," Nagi finally protests, weak, and Reo heats up because he knows it's true. "You—you said we should break up, and you're always right, and—"

   "Don't blame this on me," Reo snaps, unable to stop himself from flaring up. He's raising his voice, and Nagi flinches back even more. "You made the choice too, I didn't force you to do anything—"

   Nagi's open palm collides against the table with a harsh slap. "I know, okay?!"

   Reo grabs his bowl to stop it from rattling. Nagi jumps in his seat and lifts his hands gingerly off of the table, spooked as if even he hadn't expected such a violent outburst from himself. "I know," he repeats, softer, eyes downcast. "But you were so unhappy with me. I didn't want you to be with me if it meant you were miserable."

   Reo takes a breath to reply and lets it out in a gusty sigh. "I broke up with you because we didn't love each other anymore," he says. "It was logical."

   "I never stopped loving you," Nagi insists. "I still love you now."

   "No, you don't."

   "You can't just say that."

   "Even so," Reo says, raising his voice just a little. "I don't love you, either. So it doesn't matter."

   "You're lying," Nagi mutters.

   Reo's hand twitches on his bowl. He clenches it into a fist, digs his nails into his palm. "Stop putting words in my mouth," he hisses.

   "That's what you're doing to me."

   Here they are, pressing against each other. Reo almost wants to throw all his weight into it, see if he'll be the one to break, or if Nagi will. There's something dark in Nagi's gaze, something heavy, and then he's opening his mouth to speak and Reo is struck by a sudden primal fear deep in his gut. Don't, he wants to say, but his throat is closing up and Nagi is already talking and Reo realizes he could never really completely forget Nagi, anyway.

   "I miss you," Nagi says. "I miss you so much."

   Reo stares at the cracks in the skin on the back of his hand. Nagi extends a hand and nudges Reo gently and he breaks, and then he makes his quiet confession; "I miss you too."

   It's kind of pathetic how quickly Nagi lights up at his response, and it's pathetic how fiercely Reo's heart flutters in tandem. "Reo," Nagi says, all bright and eager and reverent. He leans in and takes Reo's face in his hands. "Can I kiss you?"

   "Fuck off," Reo says as he pulls away. "I'm not interested."

   Nagi sits back in his seat and crosses his arms and simply stares at Reo for a minute, eyebrows raised. There's a new spark in his eye, a slight curl to his lips, and Reo can't help but feel that Nagi seems a little too pleased with himself as he says, "You're lying again, Reo."

4.

   Even after knowing him for so long, Reo has never seen Nagi lose his temper. Frustration isn't uncommon for him, but Nagi never gets angry—he just sort of deflates over time, and he's back to normal the next day.

   Reo never sees Nagi mad. He never sees Nagi mad at him, either. He learns that there's a first time for everything when he spots Nagi in the lobby one evening.

   It's pouring outside and it's late enough that it's nearly empty in the apartment building. Reo rushes inside with an umbrella over his head and a sopping bag of groceries hanging from one hand and his eyes shoot right to the smudge of white in the corner of the room—Nagi, slouched on one of the couches, facing away from him.

   They're okay, now. They talk sometimes. They watched a movie together last week and it was nice enough, because Nagi has stopped trying to kiss him over dinner and Reo has stopped being petty enough to bite back at everything. They're friends, but there's still an indomitable kind of tension between them—because Nagi watches Reo so carefully now, and Reo had forgotten what Nagi looks like when he makes such a gentle face.

   It's easier not to think about it. Reo is fine and so is Nagi, so there's no reason to ruin anything again. He's just preparing to raise his voice and call for Nagi when the other man whips around and stares straight at him. "Reo," Nagi says, and he's barely audible, but there's a strange fury in his eyes that sends a chill down his spine. It's reminiscent of that first night they met again, with Nagi cold and stony, forcing his way into Reo's apartment—but Nagi's not making any effort to hide his agitation anymore, and Reo can't help but balk a little as he approaches.

   "Hey, Nagi," Reo says awkwardly. "Why are you here?"

   Nagi glares at him. "Come here," he says. Reo can see his fingers digging into the back of the couch. "Where were you?"

   Reo makes his way over, the soles of his shoes squeaking against the wet tiles under his feet. "I was just out shopping," he says. "Didn't expect the rain to start coming down so hard."

   "Shopping for what?"

   "What's your deal?" Reo's eyes land on the wetness staining Nagi's shoulders, then the way his hair clings to his forehead. "Hey, were you out in the storm?"

   There's real irritation in Nagi's face, and Reo flinches back a little. "I was waiting for you," he grumbles. "I didn't know where you were, and you weren't answering my calls. I thought something happened to you."

   "My phone died," Reo says. "Why? Is something wrong?"

   Nagi's gaze finds his and stays there. He’s a little softer now, deflating. Maybe Reo knows him better than he thought. "I'm going home with you," he says stiffly. "Come on."

   "Do you need a ride back to your hotel?"

   "I want to go to your place," Nagi says. "I'm not going back there. I'm staying with you." He tries for a smile, but it's so blatantly forced and Reo only falters more when he sees it. "Reo?"

   Nagi. Reo opens his mouth and takes a shuddering breath, and all he smells is cold rain and smog and Nagi, all soft and gray in front of him. He's intense like this, leaning right into Reo's space with reckless abandon—he's a little stubborn and a little bold, that's what it is, and Reo has always loved that about him.

   "You must be cold," Reo offers. Nagi drinks his words in and then some, curling his fingers into Reo's arms, dragging against his skin. "You can come up and dry off."

   "Good," Nagi says. "Thanks, Reo."

   There's something unreadable in his expression. Reo has known him for long enough—knows that Nagi's quiet but never silent, and he speaks in every glance, every breath he takes. He knows that the way Nagi is looking at him right now is his way of telling Reo something, and Reo doesn't quite know what that is.

   (He's afraid to look closer. He doesn't know what he wants to find.)

   The ride up the elevator to the apartment is stifling. Nagi puts his hand on Reo's nape about halfway there, and he's still startlingly cold. His presence isn't quite oppressive, but it's obtrusively there—as if he's afraid of Reo running away, or afraid of letting go. A raindrop slides down Reo's neck, tracing a cold line along his spine, and when he shivers he feels Nagi press back against him, reassuring and disquieting all at the same time.

   "You could have called me tomorrow if you needed something," Reo says, just to fill the air between them. The elevator doors open, and he steps through first.

   Nagi's palm stays right on his skin. “I need you," he says.

   It's cold, today. Reo shudders again. Nagi drags his hand down and hooks his fingers into Reo's shirt and tugs gently. "Can I stay for the night?" he asks. Reo knows he won't take no for an answer.

   Something is so unsettling about the way Nagi worries, wordless but excruciatingly tangible. It leaves Reo on edge, too—if you're so wound up, just fucking leave—but he's not going to say that, because Reo has learned that he needs to stop snapping before he speaks. "Make yourself at home," he says instead as he opens the front door, far too stuck on the way Nagi's eyes track his with terrifying closeness, glassy in the dim hallway lights. "You can take a shower if you like."

   Nagi contemplates him for a moment. He takes two careful steps forward and then he falls, collapsing against Reo's shoulder with a heavy sigh. "Reo, carry me," he says, and it's so reminiscent of Reo's teenage days that he almost complies, driven by an instinct etched irreparably deep into his bones.

   There's an overwhelming tension stretched taut between them. Reo bites the bullet hard and says, "You're upset, aren't you?"

   "Yeah," Nagi says, a little ragged around the edges. He sounds apologetic, at least. "You can tell?"

   "I know you best."

   Nagi presses his forehead into Reo's neck. "You do," he agrees. "Carry me."

   "You can walk by yourself," Reo says. He tries to back away, and Nagi pulls him back, locking one arm around his waist. "Let go of me, Nagi."

   "Don't want to."

   Nagi's stubbornly childish, too. He's more mature but he'd never quite grown out of his old pettiness, and Reo knows firsthand that when Nagi wants something, he'll chase it to the ends of the earth. It's what compels him to bend down, curling against Nagi's body to reach for his thighs. Nagi relaxes as soon as he feels the movement, and he winds his arms around Reo's neck just as Reo hoists him into the air. "You're so annoying," Reo says into Nagi's ear, and Nagi laughs a little, dripping rainwater all over Reo's skin as he trembles.

   Reo's not out of shape, but it's been years since he had to carry the weight of another person in his arms. Nagi doesn't make it any easier with the way he sags off of Reo's neck, lifelessly heavy. Reo begins to walk and Nagi slips and digs his nails into Reo's shoulders, and Reo likes it—it hurts and Nagi's cold and wet and Reo can't look at him without the sting of their breakup pricking at his eyes, but they're pressed against each other, and Reo has missed this closeness, no matter how much he tells himself he doesn't.

   "Did you miss this?" Nagi asks halfway to the bathroom, his mouth hot against Reo's ear, because there aren't any one-way streets with them; Reo knows Nagi best and Nagi knows Reo best, too. "Just like high school, right?"

   Reo doesn't reply. He feels Nagi smile against his cheek, as if he'd read Reo's thoughts right off of the top of his head.

   He kicks the bathroom door open and leaves Nagi sitting on the edge of the bathtub. "Wait here, and I'll get you a change of clothes," he says. Nagi nods and leans his head against the wall, eyes already closing. "Are you okay?"

   "Sleepy," Nagi says. "Hurry up. I want to take a nap."

   Nagi's so rude. Reo has known him long enough not to take offense at it, and he only shakes his head as he leaves and crosses the hall to his bedroom. There are enough of Nagi's things left in Reo's dresser drawers from back then for him to find an old shirt and pair of sweats that belong to him. He takes an extra moment to fold the clothes on his bed, and as he does, he hears the muffled rush of water echo through the walls.

   When Reo returns, Nagi's slouched in the bathtub with the water rising up to his shoulders and the tap on. His clothes are already discarded in a pile in the corner. "Reo," he says. "I'm hungry."

   "You can eat after you clean up," Reo sighs. "Why are you taking a bath?"

   "Felt like it."

   "At least wait for the water to heat up properly."

   Nagi drops his head to the edge of the bathtub and groans. "Too much work," he says.

   Reo clicks his tongue and sets the clean clothes on the counter by the sink before moving to turn off the tap. "I'll go heat some leftovers for you," he says, almost instinctually. Nagi straightens up at his words, eyes gleaming, and Reo forces himself to look away. Old habits die hard. At this point, it's not as much of a habit as it is a lifestyle.

   "Stay here," Nagi tells him. There's a strange intensity written in his expression. "I want to talk to you."

   "I'm not getting in the bath with you."

   Nagi holds his hand out anyway, and Reo goes without another word, dropping down to sit on the ground by the tub. Nagi hooks his fingers into the neck of Reo's shirt as soon as he gets close enough, and Reo has seen him act like this enough to know better than to leave him be. He shoves a hand into Nagi's face and says, "What are you doing?"

   "Wanna kiss you," Nagi mumbles, his lips moving lazily against Reo's palm. "I haven't kissed you in years. Just one."

   "Nagi, we're not together anymore."

   Nagi's eyes meet Reo's through the spaces between his fingers, electrifyingly bright. "I don't know why you keep saying that," he says. "Can't we just try again?"

   Reo lets his hand fall away. Nagi stares into him, brows furrowed. "Is that what you're worried about?" he says, unable to keep himself from raising his voice. "Really? You're so full of yourself—"

   "You like me too," Nagi snaps back. He lets go of Reo's shirt in favor of locking a hand around his arm, anchoring him firmly in place. "You miss me. You want us to get back together. Don't lie to me, Reo."

   "I'm not lying."

   "I've been waiting for you," Nagi says. He brings his face close to Reo's, enough for Reo to feel every word fan across his lips as he speaks. "I've given you time and space. I gave you enough time to forget me and you haven't, and I haven't forgotten you, either. There's nothing stopping us except for you."

   Reo braces a hand against the bathtub and pushes. Water surges over the sides of the tub, splashing onto the ground, onto Reo's feet. "Stop, Nagi," Reo says thickly. "I don't want to, okay?"

   Nagi digs his fingers in, and Reo bites his tongue. "Why?" Nagi asks, his voice low and fierce. "Are you afraid of me? Do you think we'll hurt each other again, is that it?"

   "You know me best," Reo says, bitter. He shrinks into himself and he feels Nagi's grip loosen. "Why do you bother asking?" 

   Nagi lets go of Reo's arm to curl his fingers over his shoulder, so abruptly tender that Reo's heart drops at the touch. "I don't understand," Nagi says, and suddenly he's faltering, and the lines in his face aren't quite so severe anymore. "What's wrong? How many more years do I have to wait?"

   "Don't wait, Nagi. Just—" Reo tries and fails to rip himself out of Nagi's grasp, and he's spitting as he says, "Just find someone else to date, it's not that hard."

   "I'm not leaving you on your own."

   "You're not leaving me anywhere. You're not responsible for me—"

   "I want to be."

   Reo closes his eyes. Nagi pulls him closer and tilts his forehead against Reo's, still sopping wet. "I won't hurt you again," he whispers, breathing shallowly into the centimeter of space between them. "I'll make sure you're happy this time."

   "It's not the same anymore," Reo says. He winces as the words leave his mouth, and he feels Nagi flinch against him. "You said you hated me, Nagi. You've said it so many times."

   "Only because you said it first," Nagi protests, distress sharp and clear in his voice. "I mean, Reo—" his voice cracks, and Reo opens his eyes just in time to see Nagi's face fall. "It hurts when you tell me that, what else was I supposed to say?"

   "I wish I did." Reo raises his hands and nestles them in Nagi's hair, and Nagi lets him, trembling imperceptibly against him. "Wish I hated you. Everything would be easier."

   Nagi slides his hands along Reo's arms, dragging damp lines into his sleeves, until he curls his fingers around Reo's wrists. "I love you," he says. Reo looks away, at the drops of water swelling on the porcelain between them. "Look at me, Reo. You don't believe me."

   "How am I supposed to?" Reo mumbles. He feels himself breaking, too. "You never showed it before."

   "I know better now," Nagi says softly. Reo dares to meet his gaze again. "I won't take you for granted again."

   "You don't mean it."

   "Reo—"

   "You never mean it," Reo snarls, dropping his hands away from Nagi's head. He makes no effort to quiet down. There are three years of unspoken fury boiling under his skin as he says, "I don't care how much you love me if you treat me like I don't matter, Nagi. You can't just—can't just throw me away when you feel like it and expect me to wait for you."

   Nagi exhales sharply. "I wasn't throwing you away."

   "Do you know how many times you cancelled our plans to hang out with Isagi and his friends?" Seven. Reo's counted a million times. "You forgot our anniversary almost every year. You forgot Valentine's Day. You forgot my birthday once, Nagi, and I—" and Reo cuts himself off at that, burning under Nagi's scrutiny. "Don't look at me like that."

   "I'm sorry," Nagi says. He's so quiet, and Reo feels something akin to shame at the sight of him so suddenly subdued. "I didn't mean it like that. I won't do it again."

   "It doesn't matter." Reo shakes his head. "It's not like you're obligated to make me happy. I shouldn't expect so much from you."

   Nagi lets the silence stretch between them for a few long moments before he replies. "You're so mean to me," he says quietly. "You're defensive when you're mad and you overreact too much. It's impossible to talk anything out with you, you know?"

   "I know," Reo mumbles, abashed. Nagi's eyes soften, and he squeezes Reo's wrists gently, a silent apology—I'm sorry, I still love you—and Reo chokes up just looking at him. "I'm trying to be better now."

   "I believe you," Nagi says. He smiles, and he looks a little sad as he says. "I'm better now, too."

   They'd never really talked about things like this, Reo realizes. They shouted about it and skirted around the issue and pointed fingers about a dozen times, but Reo has never apologized. He does it now—he tries to inhale and finds himself shaking, and it comes out like a sob as he whispers, "I'm sorry, Nagi,"

   "I am too."

   It feels like coming home when Nagi kisses his cheek. Reo lets him, and then he leans in to kiss him back, a careful press of his lips over the bridge of Nagi's nose. "I want you to believe in me again," Nagi murmurs, tracing circles into Reo's skin with his thumbs. "I think we can make it work, Reo, I really do."

   "Even if we love each other," Reo says gently, "that doesn't mean we're good for each other."

   Nagi lowers his gaze. There's a terrible anguish in his face, but he tightens his grip on Reo's wrists and says, "Would it really be so bad if we tried again?"

   "It might not change anything."

   "You don't know that."

   Reo just shakes his head. Nagi presses a kiss to his shoulder, and Reo leans into his touch, as much as he hates himself for it. "Love you," Nagi breathes, fragile and beautiful in front of Reo. "I love you so much. I don't know how I ever thought I could live without you."

   Me too, Reo wants to say. It's absolutely true, but he still remembers Nagi's words from three years ago stinging like yesterday and he holds his tongue. "Maybe," he says instead. "Maybe, Nagi. We can try, okay? I'll do my best."

   Nagi brightens immediately. His smile is slow at first, and then Reo blinks twice and Nagi's beaming at him. There's a rare fire in his eyes, one that Reo seldom got to see even when they were still friends, and it makes his heart ache now.

   "I will, too," Nagi tells him. "I promise."

   Neither of them are enough, yet. For the first time in too long, Reo allows himself to hope that they will be.

5.

   The sun rises. Nagi is still here.

   Reo finds Nagi asleep on the couch when he wanders into the living room, glowing under the late morning sunlight. The blanket Reo had given him for the night is strewn across the ground, and the potted plant on the coffee table is toppled somehow. It's been so long since Reo had seen such a mess in his apartment, and he feels a little silly for smiling at it.

   "Nagi," he calls. He gets no response, so he crosses the room to shake Nagi's shoulder. "Nagi, wake up. It's almost noon."

   Nagi opens his eyes blearily. He fumbles around until he finds Reo's hand and squeezes it tight, blinking away his drowsiness. "Good morning," he mumbles. "Breakfast?"

   "I'll make something."

   "We can always buy something," Nagi suggests. He rolls off of the couch and onto the ground with a muffled groan. "Going to go change my clothes," he says. "Help me up."

   Reo rolls his eyes and reaches down to grab Nagi's arms. "You're useless," he says, pulling Nagi to his feet. "Someday, my back will break from carrying you around everywhere."

   "As if," Nagi says. "You've done it so much. You would have given up way long ago if that was the case."

   Reo kicks Nagi's shins and Nagi jumps away sluggishly before he trudges to the bathroom, still sleepy and stumbling over his own feet. Reo watches him go and allows himself to feel a little giddy before he turns away and heads for the kitchen.

   The fridge is despairingly empty. Reo's groceries from last night are still sitting by the front door, and he's not in the mood to sort them out now. He leans against the kitchen counter and pulls out his phone instead, and only a minute passes before Nagi returns, plastering himself against Reo's back with a happy sigh. "I'm so tired," he says.

   "You just woke up."

   "I'm so tired."

   "You're so dramatic," Reo says, and his heart flutters when Nagi laughs against him, warm and solid and real. It's been so long, he wants to tell Nagi, but time has made him a coward and he settles for saying, "That bakery we used to go to is open right now."

   "I'm tired," Nagi says. He pauses, and then he adds, "Do you want me to go buy breakfast for us?"

   "I want you to come with me," Reo says. "If you go on your own you'll fall asleep or you'll be too lazy to order at the counter."

   Nagi hums quietly. "You want to walk there," he says.

   "Yeah, I do."

   "I'm tired..."

   Reo tilts his head and leans his cheek against Nagi's, unable to stop himself from smiling when Nagi nuzzles into him. "I'll carry you if you're that tired," he amends. "And I'll pay. All you have to do is keep me company, okay?"

   "Fine." Nagi wraps his arms around Reo. "Let's go soon. I want to come back and take a nap."

   "You've got to let go of me first, you know," Reo says.

   Nagi goes quiet, and Reo chuckles. "Two more minutes," Nagi finally decides. "And then you'll carry me there."

   "Sure."

   Nagi buries his face in the crook of Reo's neck. Reo turns his attention back to his phone, tipping his head to rest against Nagi's. It's domestic, and it's comical how happy it makes him. He's naive for being content so soon, maybe—he can't bring himself to care, not when Nagi is breathing so close to him, radiating gentle warmth across his skin.

   "I love you," Nagi says softly, his whisper tickling Reo's neck. Maybe he's naive, too. "I love you so much, Reo." He pulls away for a moment, and as Reo turns to look at him, Nagi takes his face in his hands. "Can I kiss you now?"

   And Reo's so happy, but he finds it within himself to say, "Shouldn't we wait a little?"

   Nagi sighs. He says, "I was going to ask you out again today, too."

   "At least give us both some time to think about it," Reo says. He's unable to keep himself from laughing a little. "A week, maybe."

   Nagi blinks at him slowly. "A week, then," he concedes, and he says it like a promise. He smiles tenderly, and Reo falls in love again, hard and fast. "Look forward to it."

+1.

   Exactly seven days later, Nagi rings Reo's doorbell. His hair is in terrible shape and he's in the same clothes Reo saw him wearing in the selfie he sent two days ago. He's carrying a massive bouquet of red roses, though, and he holds them out to Reo as soon as the door is open. "I'm in love with you, Reo," Nagi says. "Please go out with me."

   "Really?" Reo says, unimpressed, leaning against the doorframe. "I thought you were going to surprise me, at least."

   "Too much work," Nagi mumbles. He sets the flowers delicately into Reo's arms. "So, is it a yes?"

   "What if it wasn't?"

   "I'd cry," Nagi says solemnly. "You don't want to make me sad, do you?"

   Reo groans and rolls his eyes, and as soon as he drops the bouquet and opens his arms, Nagi collapses into them. "I love you too," he confesses. "But you know that already."

   "No, I don't. You should say it more."

   Reo sighs. "You're so insufferable," he says, and Nagi chuckles, like it's some kind of compliment. "Don't laugh. That's not a good thing."

   "It's not that," Nagi says softly. He draws back just enough to look Reo in the eye, and he tells him, "I just missed you a lot."

   It's such an understatement, really. For Reo, it wasn't missing as much as it was dying, withering slowly into a shell of himself without Nagi around to fill the empty space at his side. He tries to say as much, and the words crumble about halfway to his tongue, and all he manages to get out is, "Me too."

   It's not the same. It's not enough. Nagi still catches everything he wants to say, and he smiles when he hears it. "Reo," he says. "I'm really happy right now, you know?"

   "How come?"

   "Well, I get to come home to you again. Isn't that enough?"