A/N: Hey, posting this slightly early since I'm going to a Christmas Eve church service. Important reminder that this is Day 2 of triple-chapter Christmas season finale! If you're like me and you usually click the "newest chapter" button, make sure you've read Chapter 26 as well.

Thanks to Zain and Moedernaaier for the reviews! Naoi really does need to get his act together, but Yuri hit quite a sore spot with his existential issues... Yuri's pride versus Naoi's. When wounded, not a good combination. Moedernaaier: very true, the reveal was inevitable; it's the how and when that matters most. Timing is everything - and Rumple sure picked a hell of a time to screw things up. (Speaking of timing, definitely hoping it won't be 4 months! I should be getting more time to write now, so it all depends on when I've churned out at least 10 more chapters).

I'd love to look over and revise this chapter a little bit more, but gotta head out now. Enjoy!


[Chapter 27]: Odd One Out


In the days that followed since the incident, Ayato found himself reliving some of those wonderful high points of what he called "the six month absence."

Same scrutiny from his coworkers, who had noticed the change in his desktop background. Yui had included him in the email she sent out with the latest group shot, but he ignored it and reverted the work computer's background to its default purely out of spite. They were whispering again, about him and Yuri. If he heard anything under their breath involving a fight over at the walking bridge he was going to officially file some restraining orders.

Same conflicted concern and disapproval from his boss when he tried to work extra hours. Ogura's resistance to his amount of overtime had always baffled him – what upside down world did this man come from where it was wrong to work with every ounce of strength you had? To use whatever time you could offer? Ayato was giving him productivity, even volunteering it, and all Ogura could think of was his sleep schedule? If Kimito heard of this, he would be rolling in his metaphorical grave.

On that note, at least one thing was different. His mother was fine, and still contacting him. So Ryou hadn't cut off her phone service after everything he'd said, even though he'd practically egged her on at the end. He supposed that was something only he was petty enough to do.

His mother was still asking about Yuri, which told him that either her dear little nurse friend wasn't keeping in touch or she just hadn't said anything. That was probably best, since his mother was looking for good news from the outside world. He'd always hear her cheery voice through the phone, glowing with the mischief of broken rules, simply begging to hear more about his charming friends.

When she asked about them, he couldn't just create a convenient excuse about how busy he was or mention a coworker demanding his assistance. It wasn't like he could just "call her back later." One badly-timed ringtone and the jig would be up. He managed a begrudging but brief description of Otonashi's budding medical career and Kanade's gardening prowess, died a little bit inside when his mother playfully asked if he'd given Fujimaki her number yet, and found masterful ways to change the subject after that.

He didn't know why his foul mood seemed to leak out even when he talked to her. She was, ironically, his only contact with the world outside of work. His only positive means of social interaction since Saturday. No one from the Battlefront had tried to reach out, which only reminded him where their loyalties must lie.

He doubted he'd see them in Mizuzaka this weekend, or any other weekend after that. This almost felt like the custody battle he and Yuri never had. She was their leader, sister, mother, and what was he to them?

Their God, once upon a time… but otherwise, he'd rather not answer that.

The truth was, he pushed working overtime like he did last winter for all the same reasons and more. During the six month absence, he had hated coming home after work more than he had hated coming home from school back in Akuma. He used to have intense pottery training and a spiteful father to look forward to back in his school years. Now all that awaited him was a dark, empty house.

The change had shocked his system in October. He would come home from work to absolutely no lights on as the season got darker, and it had hit him that Yuri always got home before him. The lights and TV would be on and the house would usually smell like dinner. Without it — without her — seasonal depression had smacked him straight in the face.

But it had just rolled into May, so that shouldn't even be a problem. And yet here he was, wondering if his hypnotism worked on freezing time or even adding more because the last thing he wanted to do was go home to a silence he wasn't sure would be broken anytime soon.

At least at work, he had a purpose. At work, gossip and personal matters aside, he belonged. Nobody was disappointed in him. Nobody was trying to push him out.

Except for Ogura, who was now apparently insisting he take an extended lunch break.

Ogura had pulled this before, starting all the way back in October during the divorce, which perturbed Ayato to think he was already giving off such depressing vibes. He took the break anyway, since his coworkers were still sneaking glances and he decided he'd had enough probing eyes on him for now.

It would be good, after all, to get some lunch at the shokudo restaurant a few blocks away. To show that he wasn't a cryptid or a workaholic as Ryou persistently implied. But then again he didn't have to prove anything to her.

Making up his mind, he walked out of the building and into the warm May air. A lot of people were out and about at lunch hour during this time of year, but the shokudo didn't usually have too huge of a crowd. That was ideal, permitting those who were there minded their own business about him coming alone.

With a resigned sigh, he turned to start heading down the block towards the crosswalk — and found Otonashi standing in his path just a few meters away.

Ayato's mouth opened and closed a couple of times, but he couldn't find any words. He didn't know what to make of the man's sudden appearance, or the way he was looking at him now. His eyes were soft, and he dared a sheepish half-smile as he cut the distance between them.

"Hi," he said.

Ayato frowned at him, uncertain. "What are you doing here?"

Otonashi shifted awkwardly, which validated his suspicions. Even if this was his break as well, Mizuzaka wasn't exactly "in the neighborhood" for him. Why was a doctor (or doctor-in-training) like himself skipping work?

"Are… are you headed to lunch?" Otonashi asked after a pause, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah." He had a feeling he knew where this was going, but he was still caught off-guard to see him here. "How did you know where I worked?"

"I asked Ryou."

Ayato didn't bother to mask rolling his eyes. Of course he did. She'd tell everything to everyone except him. For that matter, he was still peeved and greatly disturbed by Sunohara even mentioning Yuri's fertility.

His eye roll didn't seem to faze Otonashi. "Did you yell at her or something? She seemed kind of—"

"Would that surprise you?" Ayato asked darkly. "As you're well aware, I have a track record of insensitivity towards women."

Otonashi did a poor job of covering up a wince, and the part of Ayato's conscience that held affection for him desperately warned him not to dig himself into a deeper hole. But a far more bitter part of him wondered why he should feel remorse for making Otonashi feel bad about offending him.

All the same, he breezed past Otonashi down the block. Then he glanced over his shoulder.

"Aren't you coming?"

Otonashi blinked twice, obviously thrown by the mood shift. He was quick to recover. "Ah – yeah! Right behind you."

In dutiful silence, he led the way a few blocks south to the shokudo restaurant. The line wasn't bad, but the tables were occupied and the noise level was a dull roar, which Otonashi seemed to notice as he took a sweeping look at the place.

"Do you mind getting this to go?" he asked. "I was kind of hoping we could talk."

Ayato agreed to it and they got into line. Despite his admittedly rather broody protests, Otonashi paid for both of them. The man behind the register looked at the pair and lifted his eyebrows at Ayato meaningfully.

The implications there startled him – not the assumption itself, but how strange it seemed.

When they were in the Afterlife together, he honestly would have preened at such a suggestion. No one else had held his attention and respect quite like Otonashi did, and he'd wanted more than anything to earn his praises again. To the point of throwing himself on Evil Angel's sword. There was no denying that he'd been a little infatuated with the boy in the Afterlife who'd affirmed his existence.

But it was different between them now. He wondered when he'd outgrown those feelings – what had changed.

He didn't feel like lingering over it, and luckily he didn't have to. Otonashi took his mind off the subject with light conversation as they searched for a better place to eat their food. Mindless work things, stuff they might've talked about over the phone this week, if… if it hadn't been for…

Ayato frowned; he couldn't help but notice what wasn't being said.

This side of Mizuzaka also had a park area fit for walking — not as nice as the one near his house, in his own biased opinion, but the spring sun did it some good. They meandered for a while, then found a small table to sit and eat where it suited Ayato's interests. In other words: out of the way of lunchtime traffic, but populated enough to people-watch with discretion.

Yes, he was allowed to scrutinize other people. They were just too beneath him to earn the privilege of staring back.

"Naoi."

He turned to Otonashi, who was giving him the same soft look from earlier. It reminded him of the last expression he saw on his face before he vanished, except a little different. Fondness, maybe, if he was feeling optimistic… and traces of contrition.

"I'm sorry. For ganging up on you the other day," Otonashi said. "It was a protective big brother instinct, you know?"

Ayato cut his eyes to the side. "I wouldn't know."

"It's… Remember what Hinata said when we found out about the divorce?" Otonashi made his voice sound snappy and gravelly. "'Yurippe's like my sister! You've gotta at least let me kick his ass a little.' It's kind of our responsibility. It wasn't easy to hear that she'd been hurt to the point of self-induced amnesia."

He'd appreciated Otonashi's deliberate attempt at a stupid-sounding Hinata impression at first, but the faint grin left as swiftly as it had come. "Well, it wasn't exactly an ego-boost for me either."

Otonashi nodded in understanding. "She hurt you too."

He clenched his jaw tightly, to keep from humiliating himself with a trembling lip. Someone else acknowledging his pain tended to make it feel significantly more… magnified. He'd cried in front of Otonashi twice before and personally wasn't in the mood for a third.

"You both made mistakes," Otonashi continued wisely, finishing some tempura. "It's not fair for us to forgive one and not the other."

"I know why you do," Ayato muttered.

His sullen manner was the only cloudy spot on an otherwise beautiful sunny day. It was a wonder Otonashi was still sitting here and even bothering with him, as if he was worth the effort. This pity visit wasn't fooling anybody. Ayato did a lot of big talk in his Battlefront days but now he knew where he stood.

His companion stared at him for a moment, made a confused protesting noise that fell flat, and looked away with a sigh.

Ayato expected as much.

They continued to eat in silence for a few minutes, leaving him to stew in his conflicted thoughts. Otonashi felt somewhat more human to him, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. It was easier to put him on a pedestal before, in the Afterlife, when he was keeping Ayato at arm's length and doing brave heroic deeds that changed people's hearts.

He still admired Otonashi, certainly, despite the incident. Despite the renewed distance he felt. The traits he'd valued were still all there – wisdom, bravery, kindness.

But to really see human flaws in him… it was unsettling. Like falling out of another tree.

"Naoi, you know…" Otonashi hesitated, "you're still one of us…?"

He said it like it was a question, as if it astonished him to think Ayato could ever second-guess something like that. The latter raised his eyebrows at him in disbelief.

"Am I?" he said, his tone dreadfully listless.

"Of course!" With the emphatic conviction in his response, coupled by its promptness, Ayato was almost tempted to believe him. "Naoi, why would you—"

"Because Yuri is your leader—"

"And you're our friend," Otonashi interrupted.

"—and she's the one who decides who belongs in the Battlefront." He harrumphed, then, at Otonashi's defense. "I'm not their friend. I'm barely even your friend. If there's one thing Yuri taught me, it's that these things are supposed to be a two-way street."

Solidarity, remember?

He shook his head at the memory. Goddamn that voice.

Otonashi's brows furrowed, but his eyes showed a surprising amount of repentance. "I considered you a friend back then too. We all did."

"I wasn't a friend, I was a villain," Ayato countered. "I should have known I was still an antagonist the moment I tried to enter the Anti-Angel Headquarters—"

"Because you refused to say there was no God and got sent flying out the window," Otonashi reminded him, looking amused.

Ayato scowled. "It's not funny."

"That trap happened to me too, you know. You're lucky Yuri even gave you the password beforehand."

He made a disgruntled sound of half-hearted acknowledgement. Fair warning or not, he hated the trap ever since. He still remembered hearing the Battlefront idiots through the open window laughing their asses off.

"Everyone still viewed me as an antagonist… even you," he went on. "When Hinata started fights with me, you would only intervene after I retaliated. When I agreed to Yuri's hypnosis idea, you got angry at me. I gave Ooyama a little push when he was clearly up next and you called me a monster. I told you I was staying to be with you and you told me not to."

These were just a handful of the Battlefront memories that had been keeping him up at night since the incident… the incident that had forced him to drastically reconsider things. People too.

"So forgive me," Ayato said resentfully, "if I don't feel like a friend who belongs."

Otonashi lowered his gaze to the table for a moment. His features had twisted uncomfortably throughout Ayato's speech, even more so when he mentioned Ooyama (Ayato supposed that was kind of a gray area). Then he looked back up and exhaled quietly.

"I won't make excuses, just explanations," said Otonashi. "I wasn't much of a social person until I joined the Battlefront. My sister was the only one I'd really talk to. It took extreme exceptions, like train wrecks – and, you know, death – for me to break out of that shell."

Ayato tried not to appear moved. If this was his explanation, he didn't buy it. Otonashi had been plenty chummy with Hinata and Yui by the time baseball season rolled around.

"Even Hinata was too forward with me at first. I got used to it. It became a running joke." He shrugged, a sentimental grin tugging at his lips. "But you… I didn't know what to do with you. I felt like a petulant baby duckling had imprinted on me."

Ayato's determination to stay angry dissolved, at least long enough for him to burst out laughing. He couldn't even clamp a hand over his mouth in time to stifle the first giveaway snicker. The description should have been emasculating but he couldn't even stop to breathe, let alone assert his godliness.

"A duckling?! A petulant baby duckling?"

Encouraged, Otonashi was laughing too, red-faced and grinning from ear to ear. "I wasn't ready for children, okay?!"

"I can't believe you! Don't ever call me that in front of the others!"

Otonashi was still chuckling about it, but Ayato's own laughter died down after that last bit. Jokes aside, he still doubted his existence would matter to them. He figured the way they'd see it, they weren't that close with him anyway.

Also, did Otonashi just call him clingy?

"I wasn't perfect, Naoi… no one is. It's not that black and white," he said, crinkling his to-go bag. "And you weren't a villain – not after your recruitment. You were just… unconventional."

"Unconventional," Ayato repeated, narrowing his eyes at him.

Otonashi nodded in confirmation. "And disrespectful. Which, I have to say, hasn't really changed."

"Disrespectful…" The denouncement made him snort. "For mind games, harsh words, and violence? You'd think those were the classic qualifications of a Battlefront member."

With a laugh, Otonashi reached over and clapped him on the shoulder. "Now you're getting it!"

Ayato stared at him as if he'd grown twelve heads. Was Otonashi praising him or criticizing him now? Or couldn't he make up his mind?

"Naoi… you've always been one of us," Otonashi said, with a firm sort of gentleness that compelled him to listen. "The only one pushing you away is you."

Upon reflection, Ayato could believe that. He was the one to yell at them to get out, after all. But it didn't take him long to realize this was only optimistic thinking, contagious positivity as a result of Otonashi's visit.

"And Yuri," he noted. Then he lifted an eyebrow at him. "This is different from the Afterlife, Otonashi. You can't honestly expect that Yuri's beloved group of imbeciles would welcome me back with open arms like you did."

Otonashi shrugged. "I got them to recruit Kanade, didn't I?"

A grunt from Ayato. That was under entirely different circumstances.

"And I'm sure Hinata has had some choice words for me this week," he added as an afterthought.

"No more so than usual," Otonashi said with a smile.

He wasn't sure why that made him laugh, but it was also slightly frustrating that Otonashi was being so positive. He didn't know if he wanted to be cheered up. Especially by someone whose life was essentially the stuff of fairytales.

The talk died down for a bit as they ate the last of their meals. It left him to his thoughts, which mainly centered on how different this lunch break had turned out to be. Or even this week. Though he was inclined to hold a grudge and let the Battlefront withdraw from his life just as Yuri had almost seven months ago, he couldn't deny what Otonashi's gesture meant to him.

It almost made him regret what he'd said to Ryou that night… No, still, fuck the Battlefront – except for Otonashi, of course.

He had a love-hate relationship with solitude. It was necessary sometimes, and he self-isolated, but he didn't want it as a last resort. He didn't like having companionship ripped out from under him. And he hated even more to think that he'd brought it upon himself.

And that was what made him so angry at Yuri. Somehow, she had managed to make him blame himself for the six month solitude and for this one. For the way she abandoned him mentally and physically.

She managed to break his heart and somehow make him feel guilty for it too. But she wouldn't see him drinking a potion for that.

In fact, not that he was petty enough to do it, but with circumstances as they were, he damn well could have gone to Rumpelstiltskin and fetched one for himself without too many consequences.

If it weren't for Otonashi.

Ayato glanced at the man in question, whose gaze had drifted out towards the park's walking path. He was people-watching innocently, with a thoughtful expression on his face. Same softened look in his eyes that he'd seen when Otonashi first showed up at his workplace. He followed his line of sight to a little ways down the trail, where a small family of three was taking a lunchtime stroll.

It was a relatively young couple, maybe just three years older than him or Otonashi. The husband was grinning like an idiot, and Ayato might've described him as bright-eyed if said husband didn't have his vision obscured by two tiny hands. He had his son on his shoulders, a giggling toddler with a mess of black hair like his. The wife was giggling just as much and encouraging the little boy's mischief.

"Don't worry, he'll be your eyes," she said as the couple passed their table.

"Easy for you to say! He's already got yours."

For a moment, Ayato watched them curiously. Was that the same family he'd seen at the restaurant during his and Yuri's third anniversary dinner? The son had certainly grown, but his shrieking laugh was the same. It was surreal to see them again, like an artifact from a different time, when so much had changed.

Shaking his head, he turned back to the table and returned to his food. Otonashi's attention lingered just a little longer on the family, and Ayato was tempted to wave a hand in front of his face to break the spell. That little kid must be dangerously cute or something.

Finally, Otonashi glanced away with a wistful smile. Ayato decided not to call him on it, but really – someone had petulant ducklings on the mind.

Later, as Ayato was finishing his food, Otonashi spoke again.

"Listen, I hate to ask," he said, which didn't sound like a promising way to begin. "Especially with the way you reacted to Hinata, but…"

Son of a bitch.

"Do you… love Yuri?"

Ayato clenched his jaw. He couldn't help it – he glared at Otonashi, curling a lip disdainfully.

Otonashi grimaced, then recovered. "I mean… did you?"

The correction only mollified him a little. But he knew that it wasn't a hostile question when it came from Otonashi. The truth was, when Hinata asked, he didn't know what to think. And now… well…

"It was a lie," he said with finality. "Just like the first time – a lie of omission. It was a deceptive love."

Otonashi looked thoughtful. "So you fell in love with her, but you wouldn't have if you'd known she'd done this to herself."

He managed a nod. This conversation was already draining him.

"But wait," Otonashi said, tapping his chin, "what made you fall in love with her this time?"

"Otonashi…" he groaned, then cringed. That sounded so whiny!

"Tell me."

Even louder groan. Just because Otonashi was playing nice with him didn't mean it was any easier to articulate his feelings for Yuri.

It had been… a lot of things. Her laughter when he hypnotized Hinata, the occasional evil glint in her eye, the way she teased people, how simple it still was to talk to her about things like his father, knowing he could trust an amnesiac even when she saw him as a stranger, the compassion she had behind all that charming malevolence…

Otonashi folded his arms on the table. "Fine, then tell me this. Was it anything about her that changed when you found out about the potion?"

Ayato glared some more.

"Well, the trust part has sure as hell taken a blow," he said spitefully. "And then there's strength. Love. Compassion. Bravery. Consideration for other people and their pasts!"

Otonashi opened his mouth and then closed it, not having any words of wisdom this time.

"She abandoned me, Otonashi!" he snapped. "She left town so that she could magically erase me from her mind. She purposefully made it so I had never existed!"

Passersby picked up the pace. He didn't care – no one in this town mattered to him.

"When she left, this place became a cold, cruel, hellish purgatory." He crinkled up his bag in restless anger. "I was alone. Because she disappeared without a trace. Because she only thought about her own happiness! She didn't think about what it would do to me!" He threw the bag at a nearby garbage bin. "You have no idea what that's like!"

Otonashi raised an eyebrow but remained silent.

The way his friend's mouth had twitched, as if in concealed amusement, only agitated Ayato more. His situation was laughable. Horribly laughable. Unrequited love mixed with magic? It was one of the best jokes he'd ever heard.

"Go ahead and laugh." He stood up and started pacing around the table. "Here's something that just makes me laugh so hard I might cry. Stop me if you've heard this one. You and Kanade are the most blissful married couple I've ever seen. Hinata and Yui have gotten married too, just as promised, but they are both blatantly having some sort of emotional affair with Shiina and it's somehow the one thing they aren't even fighting about!"

Otonashi blinked, and interrupted with a frown, "I don't think—"

"You live in the same town as them! How can you not be seeing it?" Ayato said impatiently. He started counting on his fingers. "So we've got Otonashi and Kanade as the happily married couple living the perfect love story, Hinata and Yui married to each other and also dating Shiina and apparently it's no big deal…"

He turned back to Otonashi for the grand finale, slamming his hands on the park table.

"And then there's Naoi and Yuri, the love story that fucking imploded," he finished in a hiss. "The story where everything went wrong, everything went to shit."

Where even when it got rewritten, the only ending was heartbreak.

Otonashi stared at him, almost contemplatively, for what felt like endless minutes. He was looking him up and down, his expression darting back and forth between sympathy and thoughtfulness.

Then he furrowed his eyebrows. "You think Kanade and I have lived the perfect love story?"

Ayato gaped at him in sheer disbelief. That was the only part of his rant that he wanted to focus on?

"You two are heartmates," he managed to say after he'd regained his composure. "You were bonded by a heart in your past life. You found her and fell for her in the Afterlife. And you found each other again in this life. Clearly you two are destined for each other. You have it so easy."

Otonashi laughed, shaking his head.

"It hasn't been that easy," he said with a smile. "We've had our obstacles too."

"No offense, Otonashi, but I don't think arguments about which curtains to buy count as obstacles. Considering the scale of things."

With another good-natured chuckle, Otonashi patted the park table.

"Sit down, Naoi. Let me tell you a story or two."

Ayato hesitated, but after a moment he obediently sat back down across from him. This had better drive him to tears.


A/N: This chapter got SO LONG before I cut it. 7K+ words!


Preview:

"All alone in that world."

"I wonder if he's still there."

"You talk about her condition so easily."

"There are always bumps in the road."

"Nakamura isn't interested in remembering."

"And you?"

[Chapter 28]: Parted.