Work Text:
"I'll be gone by Monday."
This is what Fudou had said. He had arrived at Yagen's door on a Friday night with all of his worldly possessions in two duffel bags and a notice of eviction on the grounds of being drunk and disorderly.
"I'll sort it out," he had promised.
It's been a month. A long month. And it's worse than just an eviction notice from the student lettings agency. Not only has Fudou lost his apartment but he's also lost his part time job and his place on his college course. Asking his parents for help just isn't an option; they gave up on him years ago. This leaves Yagen, his spare blankets and his unending patience.
"Whoops..."
Or rather, his thinning patience.
Yagen puts down his pen, abandoning study, and pushes his glasses higher up his nose.
"Fudou."
"What, I'm not doing anything."
Fudou is lying on the floor and staring up at the ceiling, cheeks reddened and a wide, bemused smile on his lips. A rapidly emptying can rolls away from his outstretched hand. Yagen turns to sit backwards on his desk chair, legs each side of the backrest, and sighs again.
"What does the carpet feel like?" he asks.
"Pff, stupid question. Like carpet."
Yagen waits until curiosity gets the better of Fudou like it always does and he rolls his face into the carpet with an audible squish.
"Urgh! S'wet!"
"Yes it is."
"Where's my drink gone?"
"It's a mystery. It was also the last can so I'd call it bed time, wouldn't you?"
Fudou wails like a banshee and begins flailing around looking for another drink. While he does this, Yagen takes the opportunity to tidy his notes away, prepare his books for tomorrow and firmly lock the front door to stop drunken hands finding their way out onto the street. By the time he's finished, Fudou has exhausted himself and is snoozing gently, cushioned on a blanket of his own hair. The gym shorts and t-shirt he's taken to living in are rumpled and stained with the remnants of the ramen they'd eaten for dinner. If it wasn't for the reek of hours old sake seeping from his clothes, Yagen would think he looked cute. Gross, but endearing nonetheless.
As if trying to prove him wrong, Fudou mumbles nonsense in his sleep and rolls into a ball, still smiling and reaching out for his long lost can. It should be tragic, really, but damn if that isn't cute as well. Cuter than when he's awake, for a start.
"Fuck."
It's a half-hearted curse. He takes off his glasses and lingers for a minute longer before heading to his small bathroom to wash up for bed. Cold water helps. It usually does. While he counts the seconds brushing his teeth he forces himself to think back over his day's studies, the precise names of procedures, the history behind them, anything other than the wayward youth sleeping on his floor. Yagen's good at distracting himself, it's why he hasn't ended up like Fudou or Souza or, God forbid, like Hasebe. When he walks back into the living and sleeping area of his shoebox apartment he's feeling more like himself, which is to say like nothing in particular, and certainly not like crying or breaking anything which means he still has one up on the others.
"Now then. I should get some rest."
Talking to himself is a bad habit he hadn't realised he had until recently.
"You're doing it again, Yagen."
It had come to his attention a month ago, to be precise. He rubs his eyes and takes a deep breath before answering.
"Go back to sleep."
Fudou is sitting up and blinking at him, appearing much more sober than before. Yagen knows him too well to hope for this to be true. A little sleep reboots him for a few minutes but that's all. It's not going to fool him tonight.
"I don't wanna," Fudou grumbles.
"Fine, just don't make any noise."
Yagen deftly steps over him and onto the bed. "I have an exam coming up, you know? If I fail because of you I'm going to make you hurt."
"Is that a promise?"
Fudou is wiggling an eyebrow as if he understands what he's suggesting and so help him but Yagen has to fight the urge to actually show him what he's joking about for being so damn difficult.
"Don't steal my lines," he says instead, snapping off the light and plunging the room into darkness.
"But they're so much better than mine!"
This is not necessarily true, Yagen thinks. His being mostly sober when hitting on people tends to help. When he's not completely wasted, Fudou has the nice guy face and harmless charm that works on plenty of girls. Not that Yagen is going to give him the satisfaction of knowing. He stays silent, not rising to the bait of more conversation, and tries to fall asleep.
Like many things that he used to take for granted, sleep isn't easy with Fudou around. Even when he's being quiet, his presence means it's still noisy in Yagen's head. Instead of counting sheep he's counting cans, arguments, meals. The last is always the lowest of the three. Behind the numbers there's something else, a deep gnawing unrest that reminds him of how things used to be, of how he's been losing his strangest and closest friend a little bit more with each drink he takes.
"Yagen."
Sleep is fast becoming a stranger too. He rolls to face the wall and grits his teeth.
"Yagen? Hey. Hey Yagen are you awake?"
"No."
"Great, so-"
"That was sarcasm."
"-did you want to play cards or something? I'm bored."
"Fudou."
"I have no one to talk to when you're at class so-"
"Fudou."
Yagen doesn't raise his voice. With Fudou he's never needed to. There's a cold edge to his tone that the other has never been too angry or too drunk to test.
"It's two in the morning," Yagen continues. "I have classes all day tomorrow and I need to study after. I could really use some sleep."
"Oh. Yeah. I guess I get that."
Fudou has a way of making his voice so small that it makes Yagen feel guilty even when he's done nothing wrong. It's infuriating.
"I'm just... I want someone to talk to."
They must have had this conversation dozens of times over the last month. Yagen grudgingly turns back to face Fudou and tries to keep his tone gentle.
"You know, if you want someone to talk to you can always-"
Even before Yagen can finish his sentence, Fudou pulls out his phone from his pocket and hits a button.
'They tried to make me go to rehab,' a soulful female voice opines. Fudou mouths along with the rest. 'I said, no, no, no.'
Yagen stares.
"Amy Winehouse."
Fudou stares back, silent.
"Really."
Yagen stares for a moment longer before giving in to a short bark of laughter.
"Damnit Fudou." He rolls onto his back and presses a hand over his eyes. "If you sorted your life out as quickly as you sorted that sound clip then you wouldn't be in this mess."
"Sound clips're easy."
He can't argue that one. After a moment of silence he raises his voice again.
"I keep telling you, anyway. It's not rehab. It's this retreat up in the mountains."
"Can I drink there?"
"No, but-"
"Then it's rehab."
"It looks really peaceful, you know."
"I'll play the clip again."
Yagen gives up but not without shooting Fudou a withering look across the dark room. The place he had found a few weeks ago really is a retreat up in the mountains and he's put aside enough money for them both to go for at least a week if Fudou would agree, money he should have been spending on food and study materials.
"You're sighing a lot, Yagen."
He hasn't told Fudou he's ready and willing to go. Knowing won't make him agree so there isn't much of a point.
"Mm. Guess so."
"Do you not want me here?"
"Where else would you go? Don't be stupid. Go to sleep."
He closes his eyes and for a time everything is blissfully silent. He separates himself from the knowledge that Fudou is likely frowning at the floor with that sad look in his eyes that's never suited him. Distance helps. It's what's kept him going so long. Thinking of nothing, sleep begins gently creeping in.
"Yagen?"
A tiny voice. The world crashes back.
"Yeah?"
"The carpet's cold and sticky."
This is where he thinks he should get angry. That would be the logical reaction and how he would respond to anyone else. It's a mystery to him even now why he always relents so easily when it comes to Fudou. He distances himself from that too as he shuffles back against the wall and pulls the blanket aside.
"Come on, then."
Fudou wastes no time in climbing onto the bed and getting comfortable, curling up against Yagen with a mumbled thanks. Yagen slings an arm over Fudou's waist, an old habit, a throwback to when they had both been young and small and the dark had frightened Fudou enough to stop him sleeping. Maybe it still does; Yagen isn't going to ask.
"You smell good," Fudou mumbles, voice heavy with sleep. "Like coffee 'n peppermint. S'nice."
Yagen's breath catches. He's usually good at distancing himself from his feelings. He can be objective about his faults, his fears and his past. But unintentionally sweet words and a soft sigh of contentment will ruin him every time.
"Yeah?"
"Nn. Y'know the life thing? I'll sort it out, 'kay?"
Fudou falls silent and eases into steady breathing. With nothing left to count in his head, Yagen counts the breaths instead. Once Fudou has fallen to snoring, a new number presents itself.
There are three things in Yagen's life that are a certainty. He'll never stop worrying about his brothers, not a single one of them. He'll never stop trying to better himself in any way possible. And he'll never be able to quit Fudou. Not even now when things are at their worst.
I'll sort it out, Fudou always says.
"I hope we both can," he says to no one.
Another week passes. The day before Yagen's exam, he's woken by the unpleasant sounds of Fudou being sick in the bathroom. It's not the first time this has happened and Yagen knows better than to hope it will be the last but today he just can't summon the energy to deal with it. He has to study and rest, not play nurse to someone who really doesn't deserve sympathy for something self inflicted.
"Come on..." he mutters, forcing himself to get dressed.
Looking into the bathroom once he's up and ready, he finds Fudou slumped on the floor, snoring. Out of mischief, for now. He's not heartless and so before he leaves, Yagen places a glass of water and some painkillers on the desk. He considers for a few minutes and then leaves a note as well.
Gone to study. Won't be back until late. Pizza in the freezer if you get hungry. You can use the bed if you want.
That, he decides, is that. Generosity is all well and good but he's tired and he needs to be sharper if he's going to pass his exam. A handful of his brothers have sent him good luck messages throughout the week - he's not going to let them down. After one last glance into the bathroom - Still breathing, check - he heads out to campus.
Once he's in the library, time loses all meaning. There are notes to read, videos to watch and diagrams to study. Set up in a corner with a laptop, a pile of books and a large coffee, Yagen manages to forget all about the little problem sleeping in his bathroom. He's still tired though, and as the hours wear on a crushing exhaustion begins seeping into his body. The third time his head falls forward and his eyes droop he knows that he's fighting a losing battle.
Not that he's going to give up. With another coffee in hand he heads along to the office of one of his teachers, aiming to clear up a few concerns before the exam tomorrow and hopefully wake himself up a bit. The evening is already gathering in but the office is occupied and for a while it seems like his plan will work. He's always been a favourite with his teachers - a little too much for some, he always reminds himself - and so it's easy to have a conversation as well as talking about his studies. He's asked all the usual questions every time, about his scholarship, his myriad brothers, how having such a large family means he doesn't want to rely on anyone but himself to get by. People tend to feel sorry for him; he's never understood why. Family is important. When he gets a good job he'll send them as much money as he can, most of them being younger than him after all.
"I'm sure getting a well paid position will be easy for you, Toushirou-kun," his teacher tells him. "You're a smart young man."
Such a smart boy, aren't you?
A pang in his chest, a voice in his head, leering words straight from memories that he takes care to hold distant but which always come back. Intangible hands touch him and hold him tightly, hot breath pants against his ear; his expression flickers for an instant and his chest feels tight.
"Thank you, sensei," is all he says before excusing himself and heading out for some fresh air.
The past, he always says, should remain there. He'd taught himself that at a very young age. He wishes the others could learn that too. He feels a little off, a little shaken, but it's already passing.
"I'm better than that," he reminds himself, pulling a face when he realises he's talking aloud again.
As he walks back to the library, he repeats it in his head with each step. He's better than flashbacks and trigger words. He's better than any buzz word the media has applied to him. He's better than that man and anything he ever did in that dingy room at the back of the gym. Hell, he doesn't even hate him for it. But his own weakness, his own failures, those are worth hating.
It's getting dark outside and he knows with certainty that he needs another coffee before facing Fudou.
***
A winter night. Fudou curled against his chest, trembling, one eye blackened.
"Heshikiri hates me because I won't hate sensei."
"That's not true."
"It is too!"
"He just gets mad easy."
"Souza hates me too!"
"No, Souza just cries a lot."
"I bet you hate me as well. I'm useless. I don't deserve to be-"
A kiss had stopped him from speaking, the first for them both. They hadn't talked about it after but Fudou had stopped crying. That was enough.
***
He wakes up to a throbbing in his cheek and a close and personal view of his laptop keyboard.
"I fell asleep?"
Pushing the dream of a long distant memory aside, he tries to get it together. When he raises his head he can see a full page of gibberish flooding his word processor, kindly typed out by his cheekbone against the keys. He feels, put simply, like shit. A quick check of his phone shows him that it's nearly eleven at night and that he has a text from Souza wishing him good luck tomorrow along with a dozen rainbow heart emojis.
He's really going to need it. Damn.
Halfway down the hill home, bags haphazardly packed and weighing him down as he rushes, his phone goes again. This time it's from Fudou.
Ygghen! Wherear oyu ?.!!?
He all but flies the rest of the way down the hill into town. His apartment is in a rundown central location and he has to play a game of 'dodge the drunk' to get back to the one he keeps at home. The front door is open when he gets there, the air smoky, and he leaves his bags in the hall, not bothering to take off his shoes.
Inside the apartment the place stinks of smoke and all the windows are open. Yagen forces himself not to panic and looks for Fudou in what can only be described as the wreckage of his room. There are clothes and papers all over the floor, the desk chair is tipped over, and there are cans littering every available surface. The microwave door is open and inside lurks the blackened remains of a pizza.
"Ya-gen! Izzat you?"
The shout comes from the bathroom and Yagen can’t stand the hint of fear he can hear in the slurred words. He rushes in to find Fudou slumped over the sink, his whole body shaking. The bathroom stinks of smoke as well but it does little to hide the stench of vomit underneath.
“S’burning,” Fudou mumbles, reaching for Yagen and missing. “I thought I was gonna…”
Yagen’s not sure if Fudou is hiccupping or sobbing as his words dissolve but he can’t bring himself to watch any longer either way. He reaches past to turn on the shower, gritting his teeth.
“Yagen? What’re you-“
“Just hold still.”
Yagen is business-like in removing Fudou’s dirty clothes and ushering him into the shower.
“Stay in there until you feel better,” he orders, shutting the door firmly behind Fudou and turning away. “Keep it cold.”
This is definitely where he should be getting angry. He can feel it prickling at the base of his skull, a headache setting in. He tries to ignore it, setting to tidying the mess Fudou has left instead. The bathroom is a state and he ends up finishing a bottle of bleach just trying to clean it up. He tosses Fudou’s clothes straight in the bin and then slams the door behind him. The living room takes longer. He rights furniture, throws away trash, vacuums the carpet scrubs the inside of the microwave. He doesn’t keep track of time while cleaning, only the slowly growing headache evidence to how much must have passed.
Once the room resembles normality, Yagen sits heavily on the edge of his bed, running his hands through his hair. I’m worth more than this, he had thought earlier. More than letting the past hold him down. More than letting anyone hold him back. If Fudou has become part of that lingering shadow in his life then perhaps it’s time to let him go. Yagen’s not a doctor yet. He’s not cut out for this. It hurts, as much as he hates to admit it.
“Hey…”
The door has opened while he was lost in thought and Fudou is leaning in the doorway wrapped in a towel. His face is pale and he’s squinting a little but he’s no longer swaying or shaking. He can’t have been as drunk as Yagen had thought which means fear had played a large part in the state he was in. Yagen really has no idea if this is better or worse. He says nothing, just raises his eyes and stares.
“Got any clothes I can borrow?” Fudou asks hesitantly. “I don’t think any of mine are…”
“Help yourself.” Yagen gestures to the chest of drawers and makes no move to get up.
“Yeah? Thanks.”
Fudou turns away to dress and Yagen doesn’t bother closing his eyes. Now that he’s looking he can see myriad bruises and grazes covering Fudou’s body, presumably from where he has walked into things or fallen over. When sober he can be quick and precise, graceful even, but it’s been a long time since they’ve played a sport together or even gone for a jog. Yagen can’t remember the last time they did anything other than go out to parties or sit indoors. What had they even done before?
“I can’t remember,” he murmurs to himself.
“What?”
This, finally, is what breaks his self-control. Fudou turns back to face him, pulling one of Yagen’s shirts over his head, with the gall to look only mildly confused. There’s no trace of guilt there, no apology, nothing at all. Yagen wonders if he even remembers, if his amnesia isn’t limited only to childhood trauma.
“What’s wrong, Yagen?”
The hint of concern in Fudou’s voice is too much.
"You need to sort this out,” Yagen says in a low voice, eyes narrowed.
“Yeah I know, I know.”
They stare at one another for a long moment. Just as Yagen opens his mouth to speak, Fudou interrupts.
"I will, I told you, don't keep on."
"When?”
Yagen’s voice is sharp and he gets to his feet in a sudden motion, hands balling into fists at his sides.
“What d’you mean by-“
“When I throw you out?” Yagen asks, reaching up to take hold of Fudou’s shoulders and giving him a shake. “When you can’t remember anything anymore?”
“Hey, let go of-“
“When it's too late?"
Fudou tries to take a step back but he’s still unsteady on his feet. As he falls backwards, Yagen falls with him, bracing himself with his hands each side of Fudou’s shoulders. He doesn’t relent even as Fudou groans with the pain of hitting his head on the floor, instead leaning closer and hissing between gritted teeth.
“When are you going to listen to me?”
“Why…” Fudou pushes weakly at Yagen’s chest, voice trembling with uncertainty. “Why’re you being like this?”
"I can't just sit back and watch you ruin your life anymore."
It’s the wrong thing to say and he knows it. It could be the end of the threadbare friendship they still share. Still it feels good to say it, a weight off his shoulders. He’s not going to apologise, not now. With this, like everything else, Yagen can’t do anything other than see it through.
Fudou’s eyes are wide with surprise but this moment of honesty doesn’t last. His eyes narrow and he raises his voice.
"It's my life to ruin,” he spits. “Why do you even care?"
"You’re ruining mine too.”
Yagen can remember the way Hasebe had screamed at Fudou when they were children, during the trial and after, how he had called him cowardly and selfish. Even Souza had shouted a few times, through tears. But Yagen has always been different. He’s never raised his voice at Fudou before. Now, the savage anger in his voice in no different to Hasebe. They stare at each other in the silence that follows until the soft darkness of Fudou’s eyes become too much and Yagen stumbles to his feet and moves away.
"You're ruining me," he says softly, sinking onto the bed and lowering his head into his hands.
Something has changed; he can feel it in the air. Maybe he’s a coward too because he can’t bring himself to look back at Fudou, to see the hurt in his expression, to see if he understands even a fraction of what Yagen is feeling. The seconds slip past like sand through his fingers until Fudou raises his voice in a low murmur.
"So what, should I leave?"
"Probably."
Yagen takes a deep breath and looks up to see Fudou sitting with his back against the wall, knees drawn up to his chest. His long hair, still wet from the shower, is dripping down his chest and onto the floor and he looks every bit as small and dejected as he did as a child. Something in Yagen’s chest tightens.
"Do you hate me now?" Fudou asks.
The answer is easy. The problem with having been in love with Fudou for years is that Yagen can’t bring himself to hate him, no matter what happens.
"No.” he says with a dry laugh. “And I don't want you to leave, either."
Fudou glances up at him, cheeks reddened, and then turns his eyes back to the carpet.
"Stupid," he says.
"I don't want to hear that from you."
Yagen's head is pounding. He wants to talk this out, to reach an answer, but more than anything he just wants to sleep and wake up to a world that isn't so complicated. It'd be easier to hate Fudou, to get into a fight, air out all of their frustrations like old laundry. Too bad that he's never gone for 'easy'. Too bad that no matter how hard he works to win other people over he can't dig Fudou out of his heart.
Of all the emotions that had tried to linger as he was growing up it's only this one that remains, the only part of him he can't change. In the wake of the trial that had brought their ragtag band of kids together he had learned to control his feelings. Like Hasebe, he was angry because that man had hurt him, bruised him for talking back, made it so he couldn't breathe. Like Souza he had been violated, humiliated, frightened to speak up. Unlike them both he had found a sense of calm once the truth was outed, after the fire that claimed sensei and almost claimed Fudou burned all of the secrecy away. Terrible things had happened to the three of them and presumably to Fudou as well, he knows that and suffers through nightmares as much as the others, but he refuses to let it control him. He's stronger than that. He's better than his past.
The soft rustle of fabric brings Yagen out of his thoughts and he realises that he has been staring listlessly at the carpet. Fudou is standing, avoiding looking at Yagen as he shuffles across the room and flops onto the desk chair backwards, leaning his arms over the backrest and resting his chin on top.
"Can I tell you something?"
His voice is quiet and serious, a tone Yagen hasn't heard him use in a long time, and he's staring fixedly at the wall opposite. Yagen has always wondered just what goes on behind those bitter eyes of his when their conversations fall silent, what he's been thinking all these years.
"Sure," he says, carefully keeping any trace of hopefulness from his voice.
Fudou takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment, curling his fingers against the wood before letting it go.
"I remember," he says.
Those two words carry more weight than anything else he could have said. Yagen can't count how many times people had asked Fudou to say them; police, lawyers, medical professionals, Hasebe, Souza and Yagen himself - all to no avail. Fudou has only ever said that he can remember nothing other than how nice sensei was in class, not why he had been in that room after hours nor how the fire had started. Despite his self control, Yagen's eyes widen.
"You remember? What he-"
"Not that." Fudou huffs and runs his hands through his wet hair, fidgeting with some of the tangles. "Other stuff. I mean, I do remember that he was burning. I know how bad that smells. But everything else about it is..." Fudou waves his hands vaguely in the air and falls silent.
A chill races up Yagen's spine and an echo of a putrid smell catches on his next breath inwards. Fudou remembers something awful and the knowledge shocks him to his core as if he had been there himself. The word 'melting' is on the tip of his tongue and he swallows it down, focussing on the present, on the facts.
"Why didn't you tell anyone?" he asks when it becomes clear that Fudou is waiting for some sort of encouragement. "They all wanted you to-"
Fudou interrupts him with a scowl and venom in his words.
"They only ever wanted to know if he treated me like you guys and he didn't so what's the point? It would just make them believe me even less."
He's right. No one would have believed that he had forgotten everything if he remembered a horrible detail like that. But to keep it to himself for all these years... Yagen wonders when he had started thinking of Fudou as stupid.
"I never said you guys were lying, you know," Fudou says reproachfully. "So why is it not okay for me to be telling the truth?"
The weight Fudou must have been carrying for years sinks onto Yagen's shoulders and he feels as if he might fall. He scoots back across the small bed until he can lean against the wall, legs splayed messily before him.
"I believe you."
Fudou's head snaps up as he speaks, eyes wide and jaw almost comically slack.
"Always have," Yagen continues. "And it's fine, to not hate him. Whatever the others told you."
"It is?"
There's a hopeful light in Fudous eyes that he's never seen before
"Of course it is. I don't."
"You don't? But he-"
Yagen shrugs and tips his head back against the wall.
"He was just a man who did some good things and some very bad things too. Like everyone else. He was good to you so you've got no reason to hate him."
"I'm sorry."
The apology catches Yagen by surprise. Fudou is watching him with startling intensity and maybe it's because he's tired and the room is cold but Yagen finds himself shivering.
"I'm sorry he did all those things to you guys. I should hate him for that."
"There's no should or shouldn't about it." Yagen closes his eyes and wills the ache to go away. "Don't worry about it too much. Not around me."
The bed dips and Yagen feels Fudou clamber over to sit beside him, shoulder to shoulder. When he speaks his voice is barely above a whisper.
"I want to tell you the rest but you won't believe me."
"The rest?"
"No one ever does."
Yagen forces his eyes open to see Fudou watching him. This close he can see the redness in Fudou's eyes, the way his lips are chapped, the sheen to his skin. It's a sickness, alcohol dependency. Seeing it so clearly makes his chest ache. Yagen should have been asleep hours ago. Knowing this, knowing everything wrong with this situation, he still smiles.
"Try me."
Fudou hesitates for a moment, picking at the blanket with his fingers. He keeps his eyes lowered as he speaks.
"D’you know about reincarnation?"
"I guess," Yagen hazards, not hiding his surprise. "It's a theory some people believe in."
"I remember before all of this. Another life. It's all blurry ‘cause it's so much like this one."
Yagen nods, not quite following but wanting Fudou to continue.
"You were there with me, you know? Souza and Heshikiri too. And we were in a safe place. I guess we were all hurting like we are now but we were being looked after so it was okay."
A safe place for all four of them in the wake of something that hurt them? Yagen imagines Fudou telling a therapist this, words like 'projection' and 'idealising' coming to mind. It would be easy to dismiss this as the work of a traumatised mind.
"You don't believe me."
His thoughts must be showing on his face.
"You must know what it sounds like..."
"Yeah but listen for a bit." Fudou reaches up and presses a hand over Yagen's eyes. "Just...try. This one time."
It's ironic that this is the most confident and stable Fudou has sounded in years and he's talking about something completely crazy. Yagen's sure he doesn't believe in past lives or anything like that; he's a man of fact, of science. The problem is that Fudou's hand is warm against his face and his voice is close to his ear.
"All right," Yagen says softly. "I'll listen."
"You would scold me for drinking too much sweet sake," Fudou begins. "And the air was always filled with cherry blossom..."
***
The sweet scent blew on a breeze drifting through the gardens, petals finding their way into the corridors and endless rooms of the modest but beautiful buildings. Water bubbled over the rocks in a small brook. Over the sound of the birds singing the morning in were sounds of laughter and conversation, the occasional clang of steel on steel.
Yagen was looking down at his feet, bare legs spread in the warm grass, and listening to Fudou talking. He can’t quite catch the words, or the names, but he knows it’s a sad conversation and one they’ve had many times before.
A bell rang in the distance, a call to arms. People from all over the complex began heading towards the sound. Yagen stood and extended a hand downwards.
“But I’m useless.”
Pulling Fudou to his feet, Yagen raised his eyebrows.
“Prove it.”
***
"…had a room with some others but you slept in my room a lot, I think. We'd sit on the porch and look at this... I don't know what it was but it-"
"Metal," Yagen interrupts in a whisper. "Clockwork. Sometimes it would glow gold."
“Yeah!” Fudou’s hand has slipped from Yagen’s eyes and is now clutching at one of his shaking hands. “It was really pretty.”
“You were bad at using it.”
“I think I just liked watching you do it.”
“I think I liked watching you watching.”
Fudou doesn’t reply. After a time, Yagen steels himself and opens his eyes. They’re still in his shitty apartment, surrounded by modern day clutter. Music is thumping from a building further down the block and a car alarm is going off. This is all normal, nothing has changed out here, but behind it, underneath it all, Yagen is keenly aware of something else. A place which was always beautiful and plentiful. A place where he had worked hard and learned lots. A place the four of them had shared.
It’s madness. Sleep deprivation. Too much coffee. Still…
“I don’t understand,” he says quietly. “How can this…”
“Dunno.” Fudou shrugs with the biggest smile Yagen has ever seen him wearing. “But it’s right, I know it is. It feels more real than anything else.”
Yagen can remember the taste of blood in his mouth, hands flapping at him in a room meant for training, his own laughter, I can fix this myself.
“Mm. You never mentioned it before, though. Why?”
“Because I thought you’d leave me behind for good. But I figure things can’t get much worse than they are now.”
The casual way in which Fudou is speaking cuts right through what little remains of Yagen’s discipline. He shakes his head and presses a finger to Fudou’s lips, offering a weary smile.
“They can get better,” he says. “If you keep being honest with me.”
Fudou’s smile flickers and his eyes begin to shine with unshed tears. Not the floods of drunken misery that he usually lets loose but something softer. Yagen has an almost overwhelming urge to do something stupid and has started leaning forwards when Fudou interrupts him.
"I remember deeper back too! Before we all lived in that place we were somewhere else. But we didn’t look like this, we were-“
***
Sharp, cold, compact, clutched by large calloused hands, thrust into pulsing heat, drenched in thick black blood, the clatter of horses at gallop, the shouting of men thirsty for violence, waiting for darkness, waiting to be useful, to make Him proud-
A long night. Screaming in the halls. Smoke curling in through cracks in the doors and windows. Crimson flames licking at skin, at metal nearby. An inferno within minutes, bright death all around, boiling, changing, melting, and-
***
"Stop.”
Bile has risen in Yagen’s throat. The images press as the edges of his vision, things he doesn’t understand but feels keenly, like a vivid nightmare that loses shape upon waking. A cold sweat is beading his skin and his heart is hammering in his ears. He focusses on the sound of his breathing, counting the seconds, until he can see clearly again.
“Yagen? Are you okay?”
“It's too much,” he manages, searching on the bed blindly for a moment before finding Fudou’s leg and giving it a squeeze. “Not now. Another time.” He catches sight of Fudou’s face, his lip trembling, and sighs. “I’m all right, don’t worry.”
"D’you believe me?"
"I don't know.” He can feel Fudou shrink back as if stung and carries on quickly. “But you have something. I don’t understand it yet and it doesn't excuse the way you've been acting but..."
Fudou gives a dry laugh and shrugs, leaning his head back against the wall.
"I remember better when I'm drunk."
If Yagen had the choice he thinks he would probably want to remember a peaceful haven filled with blossom instead of the school that had changed all of them, or any of the miserable parties they’ve been to. Fudou has been drinking to remember, not to forget. Although the difference seems important it still all leads to the same thing.
He looks towards Fudou at his side, the way his own clothes are a little tight on him, the water still dripping from the ends of his hair. Fudou reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck and as Yagen watches his fingernails scraping over his skin he becomes very aware of how human, how fragile, how impermanent they both are. They can talk of memories and other lives all they want but it doesn’t change anything. The seconds and minutes and hours will slip by regardless of how they spend them. He wonders how much sand would be left in his hourglass and is certain that Fudou’s is emptier.
"You should stop drinking,” Yagen says firmly. “You should be living this life, not rushing to make it a memory in the next one."
"But I'm useless,” Fudou says instantly. “I'm only good for-"
A kiss stops him from speaking. He freezes in place and Yagen closes his eyes so that he doesn’t have to see if he’s made a terrible mistake. His hand is still resting on Fudou’s thigh and he grips it tightly, caught in a breathless instant, waiting to be pushed away. Instead he feels a hand tugging at the front of his shirt with painful gentleness and a soft movement of lips against his own. For a moment he almost loses control but a tiny hitch in Fudou’s breath reels him in. He can’t. Not now. Fudou needs him right now, he knows, but not like this. He’s better than this.
“Stop saying that, already,” he murmurs, pulling back with noticeable hesitance. Fudou’s eyes are closed and his cheeks as flushed as they are when he’s been drinking. He sways forwards as if chasing the kiss, stopping only when Yagen places a hand against his shoulder.
“You’re important,” he continues. “You deserve to be happy.”
“You did that before,” Fudou says in a small voice, ignoring him. “Why?”
Because I’m in love with you and I can’t stand hearing you talk like that isn’t an answer he can give. He settles for a simple truth.
“It stopped you talking shit.”
“And this time?”
“Same thing.” Fudou stares at him and he sighs, defeated as always. “And because I wanted to.”
“Oh. Okay.”
For a time they sit in silence, Yagen looking at the ceiling and Fudou twisting the fabric of Yagen’s shirt between his thumb and forefinger. It seems stupid, really, how talking about crazy reincarnation theories had been easier than this.
“I'll make you a deal,” Yagen says suddenly, causing Fudou to jump.
“Yeah?”
“You want to understand more about this memory thing, right? So let’s talk to Hasebe and Souza about it.”
“C’mon, you know they won’t listen to me. Heshikiri would hit me again.”
“Start by respecting his wish to not be called that and you’ll be halfway there,” Yagen says with a smile. “And I’ll come with you to do it. I’ll do my best to help you explain and to back you up.”
Fudou’s eyes are wide and he presses his hand flat to Yagen’s chest.
“You will? For real?”
“Yeah. And if they think it’s stupid then they’ll have to insult both of us. Does that sound good?”
Nodding slowly, Fudou worries at his lower lip with his teeth and it takes considerable effort for Yagen to stop himself from kissing him again. When he’s not drunk or angry he’s too cute.
“So whatcha want in return?”
“Go to the retreat I told you about.”
Fudou groans and starts reaching for his phone and Yagen grabs his hand to stop him reaching it.
“Hear me out, damnit. It’ll just be for a weekend. Two nights tops.”
“But I…” Fudou looks away, cheeks blazing. “’m scared. I don’t wanna be all the way up a mountain in the dark on my own.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“Yagen c’mon, I can’t afford that. Rehab is exp-“
“I’ve already got the money. And it’s not rehab, I told you.”
Fudou’s expression is beyond description. Yagen feels something in his chest twist and hopes that Fudou is too surprised to thank him. Gratitude would be too much.
"Let’s try understand that crazy brain of yours without having to get drunk,” he urges.
Instead of answering in words, Fudou slides off of the bed and crosses the room to switch off the light leaving Yagen blinking in the sudden darkness. He’s back a moment later, hands on Yagen’s shoulders and pushing until they’re both lying down. They’re the wrong way up on the bed and the blankets are trapped beneath them but as Fudou reaches for Yagen’s glasses and sets them carefully on the desk he really has no urge to move whatsoever.
“Deal,” Fudou whispers, pressing his face into Yagen’s neck. “Two nights, tops. I’ll do it.”
“Good.”
“Can we sleep like this tonight?”
“Yeah.”
Now that the room is dark and Yagen is comfortably nestled against Fudou’s warmth he begins to drift off more quickly than he has for months. He can feel himself starting to snore when Fudou jolts and practically yells in his face.
"Oh shit, Yagen! Your exam..."
“Shut up, idiot.”
“But it’s tomorrow and I-“
Using a hand on Fudou’s head to urge him back down onto the bed, Yagen finds that he really isn’t worried about the exam after all.
"I can always redo it."
“You can?”
There’s always another chance for exams and for grades. Actually getting Fudou to talk, and getting to hold him as the sun starts to rise outside, these are things that might never happen again. Like everything else he sets his mind to, Yagen is determined to see this through.
“I can. Sleep now, okay?”
There’s a faint touch, a ghosting of lips against his own, and he keeps his eyes closed.
“Night, Yagen.”
“Mm. Night.”
There are three things in Yagen's life that are a certainty. He'll never stop worrying about his brothers, not even when they’ve all grown up. He'll never stop trying to better himself in any way possible, to do the right thing and stick to his morals.
And he'll never be able to quit Fudou. Not even if it means falling into a past, and a love, that he doesn’t understand.