Summary: Future. Sad. Dedicated to Ritsuka's birthday (which passed, but still).

A/N: I got the idea to write this fic by reading Dlbn's fic dedicated to Ritsuka's birthday, which according to "Wikia" was December 21st.

Disclaimer: I don't own Loveless

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"One question"

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"Twenty three, what does that even mean?" Ritsuka asked no one.

It means Soubi is thirty one...

His mind replied. "Or is it thirty two?"; the blonde never did mention his birthday. He swallowed another gulp of red wine. It played sweetly on his tongue, then burned going down his throat, and finished with warming his chest.

With a rush of deep sadness, he consumed the remaining half of the bottle.

"Depression, my oldest friend", wine breathed from his lips sarcastically. The empty container flew across the room and shattered against a living room wall.

Chuckling he peered at the wall now stained with drops of rouge and shards of glass; beside it was the door he had known for many years. It opened and closed and locked with a key, just the same as most every door. The difference was that each time he opened this door, he still expected to see that man.

The rent for this apartment was paid through another two decades.

Soubi's apartment.

Aoyagi Ritsuka's name was on every paper attached to this house, signed "Agatsuma Soubi". Kio found the record one afternoon ten years before. He phoned Ritsuka, and after they met at his apartment shared many minutes of silence.

At seventeen, Ritsuka decided to accept the fighter's last gift to him.

Since moving in to the studio apartment, he changed nothing, except half of the clothing in the dresser.

The younger Aoyagi sibling threw away the "sacrifice" name Loveless, but lived by its message each day.

Twenty three means I've been spiraling into nothingness for ten years...

"Happy birthday Ritsuka" he whispered, pouring the contents of another bottle into the tall glass that never left his hand.

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End

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