"There's no reason for you to be grateful. And just to be clear, I'm not being modest—the thought really did cross my mind. To not save you. To abandon you, to just let you disappear forever."
Kaname knows that this is a low blow, that these are words he spits out for no reason other than to feel the weight of them hanging in the air like bitter fruit. A bait, an attempt to gain some sort of petty edge over this boy in front of him who he feels has taken so much yet, truly, has done so little.
But maybe he shouldn't care, anyway, because Tsumugu's stare remains indecipherable, his expression as calm as always. It irritates Kaname, infuriates him, yet at the same time he nearly wants to laugh at the irony. After all, isn't this how he's gotten by for so long?
I don't want us to change, Chisaki told him once. I don't want any of this to change. And so Kaname made sure that things never did. That his smile remained impenetrable, that he remained that reliable, steadfast presence by her side, that his true feelings remained buried, still.
But maybe he should learn by now to simply just accept the fact that there will always be somebody else able to be what he can—and what he cannot.
Finally, Tsumugu says, "But you dove in after me, anyway."
It's not a retort, not a challenge. A simple fact.
Only because of Chisaki, Kaname wants to spit in response, but the words are stuck in his throat and he hates it because—Why, even after all this?
"Besides," Tsumugu continues, "if you had been able to do something like that, I would never have let you be with Chisaki."
"So the truth comes out."
Despite the iciness that Kaname puts into his voice, to his own ears, it sounds like a resignation.
Tsumugu nods.
"Yeah."
He says it so bluntly that Kaname momentarily doesn't know what to say—doesn't know whether he feels surprised or bitter or just defeated at how easy this all seems for Tsumugu. But he doesn't get the chance to say anything, because Tsumugu continues talking, moving on, pulling him along effortlessly like the ebb and flow of the sea.
"But... I really am grateful that you guys came back." His face softens. Now he seems to be gazing at something in the distance, even though he's still facing Kaname. "Things have been up in the air this whole time. But now, both Chisaki and I can move forward."
"Move forward, huh." Kaname still remembers hanging off of the edge of the boat that night. The groan of the hull, the roar of the ocean below, the tremble in his arms as he did all he could to continue clinging on against the crashing of the waves.
I don't want us to change, Chisaki told him once. I don't want any of this to change.
Kaname looks at them now, and he wonders if he's the only one still clinging on.
.
.
.
.
A/N: I wrote this spontaneously at 2 am after feeling the itch to write something bitter and angsty, and because I wanted some sort of outlet to just experiment with my prose and writing style. tbh I think I wrote Kaname more bitter and intense in here than he actually was LOL but I honestly always enjoyed seeing that bitter, pettier side of Kaname during the second half of the show. It was such an interesting contrast to his calm smiles and composure from the first half. While I can definitely see how it might've been annoying to some people, it made me like him more because the fact that even he wasn't immune to being emotional and resentful despite the fact that he was portrayed as the "calm mature" one in their group made him feel more real to me. Plus, considering the circumstances he woke up to, I found his feelings understandable :') Anyways, this anime is super old and I'm pretty sure the fandom's dead by now, so if you're here, thanks for reading!