1 year post grad
It was midday when he reached the store; he'd lied about tending to business affairs so he could get away from her for the afternoon.
He was running, running with nothing but a desire to escape the rigid hand, the black leather and the iron buckle that marked his past.
Swinging open the doors, he was automatically blinded by the sparkling treasure trove surrounding him. If he wasn't careful, he'd be stuck here for hours.
It was a divine hand that urged him onto a plane, a divine hand that hid him away, deep within the cargo. It was a mortal hand that dragged him out by his collar, a mortal hand that threatened to kill him.
He carefully scanned everything behind the thick glass.
It was his prowess in the kitchen that saved him.
There were so many to choose from, but none of them were enough for her.
That was when he met the second version of himself, the brooding, dark horse hibernating in the back of his mind.
He spent four hours pacing around the store until he found what he needed.
Then he put on his bandana and it opened its eyes.
After everything she'd done for him, it was nothing, but at the very least he hoped it would convey what his words couldn't—his gratitude, his prayers that one day he would be worthy enough to return everything she had given him, all the joys and feelings and love, and then even more.
"Bad dream?"
"Sorry. Did I wake you?"
"You look like you need a hug."
In the two years since they started sleeping in the same bed, she had become privy to a secret he had long kept from himself. That same nightmare had plagued him every night since he was six.
It took him thirteen years to get over it, because dissociation was never the answer.
They were sprawled across the loveseat, his head on one armrest and his legs draped over the other, her body snug against his side.
"I'm terrified," she said, her voice muffled by his chest.
"Of?"
"That you're going to go into fugue."
"What makes you think I'm going into fugue?"
"It's getting worse, isn't it? Your second personality. It's starting to show even without the bandana."
"I guess so."
"I did a lot of research. There's only one way to get rid of it."
"Is that even possible?"
"It's about getting over the trauma."
"I don't know how to do that."
"Think of it this way. Are you more afraid of the past, or that the past will turn into the future?"
"It's not like you to spout philosophical bullshit."
She puffed out her cheeks. "It isn't philosophical and it isn't bullshit. Are you afraid that you'll be abandoned again?"
He was silent for a long while. "Yeah."
"I'm not going anywhere, though."
"I know you aren't," he replied, kissing her forehead.
"But… tell me one thing." She bit her lip and blushed a little. "You go through hell every time you fall asleep, but how is it that you take me to paradise in every waking moment?"
He looked into the rubies that were her eyes, the silk woven from moonlight that was her hair, the way she propped her head up to gaze at him.
She continued, "Why is it that I can't stop thinking about you, ever?"
"Because you always have things for me to do?"
"Jeez, that's so mean!"
"Enlighten me, then."
She grinned. "Well, the answer's simple. It's because I love you."
It took a moment to process what she'd said. "You love me?"
"Obviously. I love you a lot, Ryo-kun."
And that had changed everything.
Back then he had not known such emotions as trust or love, but she had taught them to him.
While he was healing her heart, she was mending his. He brought her out of the abyss that was her cousin's shadow and proved that she was worth so much more than everyone else had made her out to be and that it didn't matter if they thought otherwise, because he knew her true value and he was all she needed. She filled the gaping hole left in him when he ran away from his parents, realizing that if he didn't survive in the kitchen he would die, and she brought his split—no, his shredded—personalities back together.
Thanks to her, his past had dimmed into a quiet ache, but that was nothing new and certainly nothing to hinder him in the future he wanted to share with her. He would never have nightmares again. He would no longer have that resurgence of his second personality that always seemed to intensify his cooking, but that was a price he was more than willing to pay.
Because the answer had always been Nakiri Alice.
just a warning but this is one of the happier chapters lol