AN: These chapters were meant to go out in December, to prove (at least to myself) that I did something for this fic during 2020… I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that didn't happen lol But I am putting them out now as a kind of continuing promise that this fic will eventually be finished! I have the whole outline set it's just the writing part that never happens… but I promise it will!

Chapter 7:

Mamoru had never been one to waste his time doing nothing—one didn't become the youngest resident at the University of Tokyo Hospital by lounging around "relaxing"—but for the life of him he could not remember what he did yesterday after Usagi left. He knew he must have put their breakfast dishes away, moving stiffly through the motions on autopilot, and he thought he may have collapsed onto his couch rather than face his bedroom and its still-tousled sheets, but after that he drew a blank.

He was currently lying on said couch, blinking up at his ceiling as his brain slowly registered that the light filtering in through his balcony doors means that it was now Sunday morning. Did he really spend the entire day yesterday lying on the couch? The twisting, empty knot of his stomach and the way his back protested as he shifted his position slightly told him that, yes, yes he did.

With a groan, Mamoru rubbed his hands over his eyes and then left them over his face, taking a moment to watch the phosphenes behind his eyelids blink and spark across the darkness before fizzling into nothing. Kind of like your love life, huh? he asked himself and then snorted at his own dark humor before moving his arms back to his sides. He blinked away the wetness in his eyes before it could manifest as something solid, something real he would actually have to acknowledge.

With a grunt and then another groan, Mamoru leveraged himself up and then off of the couch, stretching his back out with his hands on his hips and a grimace on his face. "Alright, Chiba," he muttered to himself as he began his slow limp to the bathroom, "time to rejoin the land of the living."

He felt a little better, as he always did, after taking a hot shower, though it quickly disappeared when faced with his closed bedroom door. He stared at the doorknob, frozen, as if by simply wishing hard enough, the contents of his room would rearrange themselves to their state on Friday before – before –

"Get a hold of yourself, Mamoru," he chided himself through gritted teeth before gripping the doorknob hard and pushing the door open. He stood in the doorway for a few moments before letting out the breath he had been holding and stepping inside. The curtains were still open, letting the muted light of morning filter in and across the rumbled sheets of his bed and the few items of his clothing that were still strewn across the floor from where he had left them after helping Usagi into the bathroom Saturday morning. He bent down to pick up his shirt and simply held it for a moment, remembering how he had been so eager to prepare breakfast for Usagi that he had simply skipped his normal morning hygiene routines.

Usagi…

Mamoru glanced at his bed and swallowed the lump in his throat. Moving closer, he stopped in surprise when he stepped on something that crinkled under foot, choking out a laugh as he bent down to pick up the empty condom wrapper, already spotting the other packages that had fallen out of the box in his eagerness to open it before. Without meaning to, his other hand drifted down to caress the sheets and he imagined for a moment that they were still warm. When he realized what he was doing he pulled his hand away as if burned, the wrapper crumpling as his other hand formed a fist.

"Fuck," he muttered, pushing his fingers hard on either side of the bridge of his nose near his eyes, hoping to stave off the headache he could already feel building as he blinked back tears for the second time that day.

Breathing harshly through his nose, Mamoru pointedly turned his back on the bed and threw the wrapper away, stooping to gather the others back into the box, which he then numbly returned to the drawer of his bedside table. He momentarily considered just chucking the whole lot of them in the trash, but that seemed a bit too dramatic for him right now. Better to just tuck them away and pretend they weren't there at all.

With a fortifying deep breath, he continued moving around his room, slowly picking up his clothes and depositing them into his hamper before pulling out clean ones from his closet and dressing himself methodically for the day. He contemplated approaching the bed again—to make it or perhaps strip it, he honestly wasn't sure which would be easiest—but when his stomach flipped at just the thought of doing so, he decided to put it off again until later today. Besides, if it really came down to it, he could spend the night on the couch again. Right?

He was just wondering what on earth he was supposed to do with himself for the whole day—his boss would think he was crazy if he called in asking to work instead of taking the full weekend off that he'd been gifted, but he would give anything to bury himself in his work right about now—when he heard his front door opening.

For one brief, shining moment, Mamoru thought that Usagi had come back. Perhaps she had forgotten something, perhaps she had changed her mind, perhaps she had realized that what they experienced had been something special, something more than just her job and –

But upon sprinting into his front room, he was met instead by the sandy-haired head of Motoki, bent over as he took off his shoes and surrounded by what looked like this week's grocery delivery.

Mamoru did his best to shake off his disappointment and plaster his usual smile on his face before Motoki could glance up—the last thing he needed was his perceptive best friend to start asking pointed questions about, well… anything.

"Mamoru!" Motoki greeted him with his usual wide grin as he straightened up and Mamoru stepped forward dutifully to accept the bags Motoki handed him, "And how was your week?"

Mamoru was pleased his back was now to Motoki as they walked toward the kitchen so his friend couldn't see whatever his face did in response and tried to answer casually, "Oh, you know, the usual."

Motoki hummed in understanding, "Too much work and not enough fun?"

Mamoru snorted derisively while Motoki chuckled at his own wit. If only he knew…

"What about you?" He asked, eager to get the conversation away from himself.

They proceeded to move around each other, putting groceries away as Motoki chattered on about his own week—Reika was gearing up to defend her dissertation in a few months' time and was going crazy in the library, Unazuki had redecorated the arcade (again) in her attempts to gain more customers, and oh, did Mamoru remember Kino Makoto, who used to hang out with Tsukino Usagi at the arcade all the time?

Having mostly let Motoki's words wash over him as he mechanically put things away, Mamoru was so startled to hear Usagi's name that he fumbled the bag of apples he was holding and two went bouncing to the ground and rolled over to Motoki's feet.

"Oops, I've got them!" Motoki cried, scooping them off the ground and doing a rather lame attempt a juggling as he teetered toward Mamoru.

Mamoru set the rest of the apples carefully on the counter and willed his hands to stop shaking. He was probably suffering from low blood sugar, he realized with a start, having not eaten since yesterday morning.

"Ta-da!" Motoki sang, catching the two apples and then bowing toward Mamoru with a silly grin.

"Very impressive," Mamoru murmured, as he took the apples back and busied himself arranging them and the others in the bowl on his counter. "So, um, what were you just saying? About, um, that girl… Usagi?"

"Oh, right!" Motoki swung himself up onto the counter next to Mamoru with a grunt, "Well I was asking if you remembered that whole group of girls. You interacted with Usagi the most – what with all your teasing or, well, let's just call it what is was: flirting."

Mamoru glared at him from the corner of his eye, but after giving him a sly grin Motoki continued, "Anyway, one of her friends, Makoto, wants to open her own bakery after she finishes school. She's getting her business degree at the moment, but she wants to try out some recipes with real customers first, so we made a deal and now she's going to sell some of her baked goods at the Crown. Isn't that neat?"

Mamoru glanced up to find his friend brimming with excitement.

"Did you guys write up an agreement?"

Motoki rolled his eyes, "Yes, yes, Mr. Worry-wart. She put her degree to good use, and we wrote up a contract and everything!"

Mamoru snorted, "And did the terms favor you both equally? Or are you basically letting her take you to the bank?"

"Maybe," Motoki shrugged, unconcerned, "but Makoto isn't really like that. And besides, it's her food, why shouldn't she see most of the profits?"

Mamoru opened his mouth to retort—Motoki was far too trusting and one day it was going to run him out of business—but the other man was already clattering his way off the counter and propelling himself into the other room.

"So how are you planning to spend your last day of freedom? Actually, how did you spend your first day of freedom? It's, what, like the first real weekend off you've had since starting med school?"

"I guess." Mamoru walked out to find his friend already lounging on his couch with his feet up, flipping lazily through a medical journal Mamoru had left out.

"Don't tell me you read this all day yesterday?" Motoki asked with a wince, dropping it back on the coffee table.

Mamoru shrugged, "No. I didn't really do anything yesterday."

Motoki's mouth dropped open and he sat up with a start, "Wait. Are you telling me you sat on the couch and did nothing? Chiba Mamoru, have you learned to relax?!"

Mamoru shrugged and shifted uncomfortably, unable to meet his friend's eyes. He couldn't exactly tell Motoki that he didn't actually know what he did yesterday, but it seemed more like he had zoned out in some sort of depressive state than done any relaxing. Well, he could tell him that, but then Motoki would want to know why and while part of Mamoru wanted nothing more than to ask Motoki what he had done wrong—Motoki had always been better with people than him—he couldn't do so without telling Motoki exactly what had happened. Not only would Motoki be shocked and perhaps upset with Mamoru's choice to call a Companion service (he'd probably somehow take it as a sign of his own personal failing as a friend), but Mamoru couldn't explain the real issue without also outing Usagi's secret, and he would never do that.

Besides, as much as he didn't exactly want to admit it, he knew what he'd done wrong: he'd let himself fall too far into the lie. He never should have let Usagi stay in the first place and he certainly shouldn't have let things go as far as they had. He'd never been able to help himself around her and so he really should have stopped things early, while he still had his head about him. But no, he'd become too enamored by the fantasy that she was his—that they were true—that he'd forgotten his reality. His cold, empty, lonely reality.

He must have been silent too long, let something show on his face, because Motoki was standing in an instant and stepping closer to him. "Mamoru, is something wrong?"

Mamoru did his best to clear his face and looked up at his friend with a self-deprecating smile, "No, not really. I think I'm just tired – I didn't sleep well last night. Figures I'd have more trouble resting when I have time off than when I'm working."

Motoki answered his lie with a hesitant smile, but Mamoru could see the worry lingering in his eyes. "Sure, sure. I've always said you work yourself too hard."

Mamoru nodded and, after a moment, Motoki seemed to take the hint and moved back toward the door to head out. He never stayed long anyway – only stopping by to drop off food before heading to work – though this time Mamoru could admit to himself that he had a strong urge to ask him to stay. Even just for a few more minutes to help keep his mind off of… everything.

He was silent, however, as Motoki bent down to tie up his shoes. When he looked back up, Mamoru could see the concern still there.

"Maybe you could find some time to take a lunch at the Crown this week?"

Mamoru knew this was Motoki's attempt to check-in on him, and while part of him wanted to brush it off he knew that if he pushed Motoki away he would just become more concerned and force him to talk. And that would only end badly. He couldn't usually get lunch off, but a few of the other residents owed him for covering some of their shifts in similar situations. In the end, he figured staving off Motoki's worry was worth cashing in a few of those favors.

"Sure," he said and smiled at the way Motoki's shoulders dropped a bit in relief at that simple promise. What had he done to deserve such a friend?

"Alright, I'll hold you to that!" Motoki warned, wagging his finger at Mamoru as he stepped out the door and Mamoru felt a real grin break out at his friend's antics.

When the door clicked shut, however, it vanished quickly. With a groan, Mamoru turned back to his apartment and contemplated his options. He supposed he could turn the TV on to some of mindless crap Motoki was always recommending to him, or he could actually attempt to read the journal he'd left out for himself – there was a fascinating article on the potential antibacterial benefits of a specific bee's honey paired with bone scaffolding in sites of trauma he'd been itching to read. Suddenly, however, the very thought of trying to concentrate on anything made his head start to ache again and he remembered that the first thing he should do is finally eat something.

Of course, when he got to his kitchen – now empty of Motoki's bright energy – all he could remember was making breakfast for him and Usagi to share. He had never really cooked for anyone but himself before. He'd made dinner a few times for Motoki and Reika before he started medical school, but that hadn't held the same intimacy as when Usagi perched on his counter and avidly watched him chopping ingredients.

Deciding to forgo anything complicated, Mamoru rummaged through his cupboards to find some of the instant ramen Motoki always made sure was shoved somewhere in the back – just in case Mamoru couldn't be bothered to make a good meal. He'd just have to get his act together by tonight to meal prep or he wouldn't have anything to eat the rest of the week.

Mamoru carried his ramen out to his table and then stopped short at the memory of Usagi sitting next to him there and jostling him with her elbows as she devoured the meal he'd made for them, making the most adorable and sometimes arousing noises as she ate.

Gritting his teeth – and yep, he really had a headache now – Mamoru bypassed the table and collapsed onto the floor in front of his coffee table, leaning back against the couch with a sigh. At least he could still look at the couch. If he wasn't careful, memories of Usagi were going to drive him out of his home and his mind!

As he sat in silence, slowly working his way to the bottom of his bowl, he tried to sit with the quiet and the empty air and let it calm him as it often had before. Instead, by the time he had finished with his sorry excuse for a meal, he was feeling more frustrated and tense than when he'd first woken up.

Blowing the air out of his nose, he pulled his knees up to his chest and pushed his head between them, holding onto his elbows as he wrapped his arms around himself and tried to concentrate on slowly his heartrate down. He could feel it, thumping harsh in his temples, and he carefully pressed one finger after another into his skin in time with his heart, counting in his head, one, two, three, four, five, six…

He felt itchy and tense, tired and drawn. He had for weeks, months, years if he were honest, but it had felt so pressing lately. He wasn't even sure what exactly had triggered it, the looming sense of fear of being lonely forever that had finally pushed him to call Luna's, convinced that if he just sated this need for contact, for easy attention and affection, that he could keep living as he always had. That he could just keep going and be okay. Obviously, that hadn't worked and now he felt worse than before.

It was like he was a child again, waking up in a world devoid of comfort, lonely and afraid, missing something he couldn't even remember having – like a whisper of touch at the back of his mind, taunting him with what he couldn't have and didn't know. Was this his fate? To have something good and lose it? To remain trapped by his own inability to form connections and be unworthy of anything more?

The tears prickled at his eyes again and this time he didn't push them back, listening with detached interest as his breath caught over and over in his throat.

He had had it, he had had her for the slimmest moment of time and now what was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to get up, make dinner, go to work tomorrow, keep going now? He didn't want to feel like this anymore, he was so tired of feeling like this and didn't that count for something? Couldn't the universe give him just that one small inch of relief? He knew what love looked like, what it acted like, even what it meant to, in some measure, receive it. Motoki had taught him a lot about love – had saved him from himself and the darkness he seemed to carry everywhere with him, more times than Mamoru could count – but he couldn't fix everything. He couldn't fix what Mamoru was sure must be wrong with him – something deep inside him that meant he'd always be alone. First his parents, now Usagi – he should have known, shouldn't have let himself think or hope…

Just like before, he was lost and alone again.

Except… except it was different. Mamoru lifted his head with a small gasp, letting the cool air of the room fill his lungs with relief after the closed, humid heat of his own breath in the small space of his curled body, letting himself sit with this new realization as his tears dried on his cheeks.

This wasn't like before because this time he would remember.

He let his head fall back against the couch with a thud and stared at his ceiling with blurred eyes. When he really thought about it, taking a step back from his emotions and focusing on his body, the ache in his chest did feel different then before: it was a full ache – a harsh, bleeding, throbbing ache – not the dull, cold ache of his childhood as he reached for memories he'd never have, feelings he must have felt but couldn't remember. This was the ache of something lost, yes, but not something missing. The death of his parents and the loss of his memories had sat like a hole inside him all his life, but Mamoru didn't feel incomplete right now. If anything, he felt too full. And that was its own unique pain, yes, but it was different. And… and it was better.

Mamoru sat with his eyes closed until his breathing evened out and his heartrate slowed down and he was calm again. Or as calm as he could be right now because it hurt and he knew it would hurt for a long time, but maybe that was okay. Maybe it was good even.

Usagi – and wasn't this just like her? – had given him a gift. For one blessed night and one amazing morning Usagi had made him feel loved. She had filled up all his cracks and showed him what it was like to have someone care for him, take care of him, and even if the moment had been short, and even if it wasn't real and couldn't be what he really wanted, he would have those memories tomorrow and the next day and the next.

He knew now and that knowledge, that sense memory, was his forever.

He felt his lips tug into a smile. He thinks Usagi would have been happy to know that she had helped him – she probably already knew, of course, this was her job and she was good at it. No, she was just good. He tried not to think about the other clients she would see and the other people she would help and how – he didn't want to tarnish what she had given him.

But… there had to be a way that he could show her what their time together had meant to him, a way to help her in return…

AN: I hope that wasn't too much angst inside Mamoru's head – I just really wanted to explore his headspace after this whole thing because I think it would be a big bundle of confusion and messy feelings. I wasn't even sure exactly where he would end up until I wrote it, but when I got to the end, it felt right!

Again, this story is not abandoned, and I love it just as much as I did before – it will get finished! You are all wonderful people and I wish you all the best in the coming new year 3