A/N: lol sorry guys university destroyed me and also this is a pretty dialogue-heavy chapter :(
Chapter Nineteen: Drown your Sorrows
Nagisa barely heard the berating speech Ms. Westwood administered upon his re-entry to the building. She said something of this being the perfect example how not to act at a professional publication, but he'd stopped caring somewhere between the trek from the coffee shop to the office. His eyes, red-rimmed and puffed up from embarrassingly public sobbing, didn't escape the attention of his coworkers, though however much they wanted to help they couldn't - the constant reminder of their jobs being on the line stopped them from saying much. Once the authoritarian woman vanished to a lunch meeting with an investor, Momo, Gou, and Hana confronted him about his appearance.
"Are you cold?" the younger man asked, referring to his runny nose.
"What happened to you?" the redheaded woman inquired, fretfully examining him.
"This can't be good," the photographer commented, her tone the most subdued. It was this calm presence of understanding that made him give in at last. The blond had no more tears to spill, but he buried his face in his hands at his desk.
"I'm fucked," he groaned. "The editor told me to get Satsuki Momoi to be the cover model, but she flat-out refused because of - personal reasons," he explained choppily. Her miscarriage was anything but public knowledge, and he couldn't bear it if he screwed up bad enough to be the leak of that information. "I don't know what to do!"
"Don't worry about the cover model and focus on writing your best," Hana advised, giving him a quick squeeze. "I'll touch bases with media relations to get a different one, and then whatever happens will be on me." Gou nodded in agreement.
"Just write as well as you can. There's no way you'll be disciplined or anything. Your articles have some of the highest reviews online," she informed him confidently. His misery began to subside, although he had lied about the heart of the problem.
"I'll try to keep her attention off you!" Momo added. "That way you won't have to worry about her breathing down your neck." The writer sniffled slightly and wiped his nose on his sleeve (which was beginning to look a little worse for the wear).
"Thanks, guys," he murmured, giving a half-hearted grin. At least that was one less thing he had to worry about, but he still had four hours of the daily grind to get through.
More focused on wallowing through his self-pity than doing actual work, Nagisa skimmed through menswear websites, imagining what his ex-boyfriend would have liked and what would have looked good on him. More than once he bitterly recalled that pressuring Rei to change his style was likely one of the reasons why the attorney had dumped him so unceremoniously. More than once, he felt that he had really deserved it.
Fortunately for the columnist, misery was not without inspiration (weak though it may have been), and he settled on the topic of menswear accessories - what to add in the workplace, how to increase confidence, and precisely how to toe the line between feminine and masculine. A solid idea if he ever had one, but he wasn't as invested in it as he should've been.
"Suspenders, bow ties, oxfords..." he listed to himself in a whisper as he hunted through designer websites and runway looks. While some had been converted seamlessly to women's fashion (bow-tie necklaces, oxford heels, etc.), others still possessed a distinctly masculine aura (suspenders, cufflinks, three-piece suits like the ones Rei wore...). Much of the advice he weaved into his first draft was similar to what he'd told the attorney on their shopping date, and that only made him want to cry again. Thankfully, once he finished work, he had only a bus ride to wait to fling himself into the arms of Haruka and open the floodgates once more.
The blond burst through the doors of his shabby, lonesome house to find his roommate poring over documents in the living room. The American peeked up over his reading with his usual inscrutable expression as Nagisa threw himself onto the couch at his side.
"Haru, I'm having the worst day," he moaned, shutting his eyes to the yellow light of the lamp. A shuffle of papers and a small huff sounded beside him, but when his friend didn't elaborate or ask after him, the writer steamrolled on. "Rei and I got into a fight last night, and now it's over! He didn't text me back at all today!"
"Is that it?" Haruka asked irritably, for once ignoring the name-jab. Momentarily shocked by the apathy, Nagisa opened his eyes and sat straight up.
"What do you mean by that?" he protested, for once looking his friend in the eye.
"I mean that this happens all the time. The world doesn't revolve around you," he stated. On the surface, his tone was emotionless, but the blond thought he detected... bitterness? The slight disdain that Haruka revealed was too much for the younger man, and he lost any semblance of control over his emotions.
"So, you mean I find and lose the love of my life all the time?" he repeated, distraught at the very thought. The words were far too close to the 'dumb whore' mantra that had played through his mind all afternoon. "Why does everyone hate me all of a sudden?!" he exclaimed, tossing his hands into his hair. He wanted to rip his straw locks straight off of his scalp.
"That's not what I fucking said," Haruka deadpanned, his teeth grinding against one another. "I said it's not all about you and him and your perfect fucking relationship. Every time you get into one stupid fucking fight, it's the end and you come crawling back here, expecting me to be your goddamn mother hen. Some people have real problems to work out!" he snapped, showing more emotion to the blond than he ever had previously.
"Why are you getting so mad?" the writer whimpered. He wasn't used to such a passionate version of his friend. "Are you talking about you and Makoto?"
"What does it fucking matter?" Haruka retorted. "There never was a 'me and Makoto' in the first damn place, and it's all because of that dumbass case he's got!" The black-haired American stood, papers scattering all around. "Jesus, you've got it so good, but you're too dumb to see it!" he hollered. Nagisa's only response was to break out in heaving sobs, the cumulation of stress, grief, and sensitivity overwhelming him, and escaped into his room. The rational part of his brain (a part that sounded suspiciously like Rei) told him he was acting like a fifteen-year-old, and that Haruka had only lashed out because he was feeling the exact same was as the blond, but his heart was in favor of ignoring the fact.
Nagisa cried himself to sleep that night. He didn't notice Haruka leave, or come home. Maybe it was selfish, and maybe it was stupid, but he could only focus on all that was spinning out of control. He'd lost his boyfriend. He'd lost his best friend. He was well on the way to losing his father. Any pleasure his job had once given him all but vanished, and he really began to question whether he'd been wrong about his passion, and that all he had been doing was pushing his own judgment onto his loved ones. This was the white noise that lulled him to a restless sleep.
He awoke several times throughout the night and morning, and eventually called in a sick day at work. Even though it was Friday, he couldn't bear to spend even a moment under his horrific new boss' stare. He spent most of the morning mulling about his room, listlessly switching between his new article's first draft, checking his bank tab for his incoming payment for his last one, and watching some movie he was only half-interested in until he heard Haruka leave. Briefly, the blond recalled that today was his court testimony and hoped he wouldn't be back for a long while yet.
Though Nagisa didn't much feel like feeding himself, he took the opportunity to get out of his room to boil water for at least a bit of oatmeal and tea, both completely laden with sugar. A comfort food if ever there was one. Burrowing himself in a blanket, he spent the whole afternoon at the breakfast table with his food and laptop. At least working on the article would distract him from the situation at had, at least a little.
As time went on, it was clear that his earlier wish had been granted - Haruka didn't come home that afternoon, or that evening, or even the next day. Briefly, Nagisa had the decency to hope that he was working things out with Makoto, but a nagging voice in his heart told him that the American was only avoiding him after their fight.
Late Sunday morning, as he repeated his oatmeal-tea routine while depressively pining for both his ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend, a hard knock on the door startled him out of his stupor. Strange - he distinctly recalled the jingle of keys as Haru left for court on Friday. He surely wouldn't need to knock if he'd decided to come home.
Nagisa shuffled over to the front door in his pajamas, wearing a look somewhere between quizzical and pathetic, and checked through the peephole. He immediately recognized his distinctly displeased landlord and warily opened the door.
"Oh, hello, sir," he greeted after summoning the energy to deal with what would likely be a shitstorm over a small matter. The old man marched into the room without so much as an explanation. Dramatically, he pointed to the sofa that contained a blanket and Haru's scattered clothes.
"Ha!" he exclaimed angrily, picking up a pair of boxers on the edge of his fingers. Nagisa recoiled at the disregard for personal property, momentarily surprised out of his misery. "You're in violation of your contract!" he snapped. The blond's blood ran cold, and he was more awake in that moment than he'd been all weekend. "This is not a two-for-the-price-of-one house, kid! And look here! Housing someone! Without paying extra rent! To live your - your degenerate lifestyle with!"
"I beg your pardon?!" The writer blinked several times. The implications of that comment didn't bode well at all with him.
"Renters from my other properties have seen, you know! The dresses, the endless men! You're that type! And you've been in violation of your contract!" the landlord declared with a crazed sense of glee, as though he had just been waiting for this to happen. "And on top of all of that, you're unemployed! You didn't go to work on Wednesday, or Thursday, or Friday! Now listen here, boy, this is your eviction notice!" He shoved a white packet with dense text at the overwhelmed columnist who couldn't even get a word in edgewise - namely, that he and Haruka were not sleeping together and that he was very much employed.
"But - but -" he tried, only to be interrupted by the ultimatum he'd been positively dreading.
"You have one month to get all your stuff, and get off of my property!" he sniped. Through the open door, Nagisa could see a number of well-to-do neighbors eavesdropping on the ordeal. His eyes pricked with tears. How could he know which were the ones to report him? Which were the ones that looked at him with such disgust?
"You can't be serious," he attempted pleadingly, but the old man just gave him a disgusted glance and stalked out, not even bothering to close the door.
For a short while, he just stood there, his thoughts bouncing around as though his mind were a mirror, but eventually the heat of his neighbors' stares pulled him out of his trance. He hurried to shut their gazes out, slamming his entire body against the door hard enough that he was sure he'd find a bruise on his arm later. A shock of cold seeping into his bones alerted him to the fact that he'd fallen to the floor, as though the thin papers in his hand had turned to stone and forcibly pulled him down.
He didn't know how long he laid there crying in the doorway, stomach churning, body growing cold from the draft seeping between the cracks. One moment the cloud-filtered light leaked across the room, and the next, his digital clock flashed 4:38 in the black of the early morning. What was the worst end to his week transformed into the worst beginning of the next as he realized it was Monday morning and he had work.
The blond pushed himself weakly to his feet, the popping of his stiff bones the only sound in the house. He might as well attempt to get another couple hours of sleep, despite how exhausted from oversleeping he felt. He doubted quantity over quality would help him much at that point, but all the same the fatigue overtook him as soon as his sore body hit the bed.
It was a testament to how drastically he overestimated his abilities to think while as tired as he was, when he awoke past 10am, having forgotten to set an alarm for work. His bleary, red-rimmed eyes opened to a dim light spilling over his body. His phone buzzed a few times in his pocket - the culprit that actually woke him. Puzzled at his sudden popularity, the writer checked his texts.
From: Momo Miko
nagiiiiiii where r u D:
From: Gou 3
Babe get your ass up here before ms shitstorm works her magic
From: Chigusa Hana ✿
Nagisa Hazuki if you are not here in the next five minutes, all of my hard work covering for you will be in vain
From: Chigusa Hana ✿
She's in a good mood so far but not for long so hurry your pretty little ass up
The final text from his coworkers was timestamped at two minutes ago, though the others were from more than an hour past. His blood ran cold as he texted them to try for an extra 20 minutes as he threw on anything he could find on his floor, splashed water on his face, and sprinted out the door (now featuring an extra eviction notice posted out of bitterness by his landlord).
It was an added pity that he hadn't been jogging as of late - he nearly missed the bus that only came once every 30 minutes and was well winded after he chased it down for half a block, only to be faced with an angry driver in full-on lecture mode. The blond guessed that the driver only stopped when she saw how close to tears Nagisa was, and let him off with a "don't do it again".
Once off the double-decker, he sprinted his three blocks to the office, used the seven flights of stairs instead of the elevator, and popped in fully flushed, red-faced, and sweating despite the late January chill.
"Way to look desperate," Hana griped, having materialized at his side as the columnist tried to catch his breath by the stairwell. "Where have you been?"
"Didn't... set my... alarm," he panted, hand clutching his blouse over his racing heart.
"You idiot," the photographer groaned, patting him on the head nonetheless. "I told her you were doing your photography in the morning this time. I emailed you a few shots I took between session breaks, too," she informed him as she guided him to his desk. The blond shook out his curls as he regained his composure. He had just settled in at his desk when Ms. Westwood herself stepped through the elevator doors with a touch of a smirk on her face as she headed towards her office, Momo scampering around behind her.
"Ah, it's you," she condescended to greet him. Her demeanor looked pleasant enough, and he ventured an uncomfortable smile. "Your contract has been terminated. Have a good morning." The entire bustling office stiffened. Hana's green eyes went wide at the declaration. Momo physically jumped back from their boss.
"What?" he exclaimed, taken aback at the casual dismissal. His throat went dry, and he couldn't make any of his muscles move from his half-seated position.
"Excuse me, I should have been more clear. You're fired. You may collect your belongings and leave. There are cardboard boxes in the photography department." She pivoted on her black stiletto heel and marched away from the stunned young man, and vanished into the dark corner that was her office. Simultaneously, the employees she'd left behind in her wake all turned to look at Nagisa. People he'd known for years. Michael from publishing. The tech gurus that had helped him format his first article. Momo Mikoshiba. Hana. Gou.
"You've got to be bloody joking," he muttered, his mind whirling with every bit of exhaustion and negativity that had been building over the course of weeks, ever since that untimely New Year's Eve encounter with Kent and Jonathan Curley.
His friends helped him pack. Everywhere he went in the office sympathetic eyes followed him. Whether or not he'd deserved to be fired didn't matter to them - all they knew of the kind, sunny blond was that he didn't deserve to be fired like that. At least with the entire office on hold to assist their ex-coworker, the job got done so fast that Nagisa really couldn't say whether or not he'd ever recovered from his shock enough to even stand during the hour and a half it took. The time passed in a blur, and before he knew it Gou was saying, "I'll go put this in my car," and lugging off all of his decor by herself. All that was left was his emotionless shell of a body.
Nagisa shoved himself out of his desk, his head tucked to his chest to hide his humiliation, and gathered the last of his belongings. He didn't give another look around the building that he'd grown so familiar with over the years. He couldn't meet the pitying gazes of his friends and coworkers as he mustered as much dignity as he could and swiftly escaped to the elevator.
He drifted through the London streets until his aching, blistered feet bulged in his traitorously pretty black boots. His fashionable computer bag dug welts across his shoulder until it felt as though it would nearly sever his head. The wool coat he'd snatched off of his floor was soaked with the consistent, light rain that fell from the grey, cloudy sky in place of the tears he'd long since cried out. At last when vanished behind the clouds, and whole city turned from steel to black, he found what he had all day been seeking.
A pub. As a true English countryman (so he justified it to himself), Nagisa knew there was only recourse at this point in time - alcohol. And one with a fair number of patrons, considering it was a Monday night.
He collapsed on a rickety velvet barstool and promptly said, "Whiskey, please," without an ounce of hesitation. Almost as soon as the golden drink was in his hand, he knocked it back like it was a shot, the red burn paving itself all the way down his throat. "Another, please," he requested of the already exasperated bartender, fully intending to savor it this time. There was nothing like the smooth warmth of a good whiskey in a bar with the vague acridity of smoke clinging to the wood of the tabletops.
"Looking to get wasted?" inquired a familiar voice at his side, interrupting his pitiable film noir fantasy. Too miserable to be irritated, he glanced over only to find who but Ms. Amakata in a state sadder than his. Her once-fine curls were tied back at the crown of her head in a messy half-ponytail, and she was drinking what he assumed was straight vodka (it certainly wasn't water, at any rate). Her eyes, which once held such inspiring passion, were empty as she turned to him and said, "I see they got you too."
"Yeah," Nagisa sighed as a joint response to both of her statements. He couldn't even bring himself to be surprised that of all the pubs he could've found, he managed to land in the exact one his old boss wanted to drown her sorrows at as well.
Briefly, she looked like she was going to spout some proverb at him, or try to comfort her old employee. She opened her mouth and closed it again, before simply deciding on, "Take a shot with me," a request which he gladly obliged. The blond didn't much feel like discussing his failure as a writer. Amakata, however, appeared to have other ideas.
After downing her vodka like a champ, she sighed dramatically and lamented, "I can't believe them, firing me. I made that magazine. Without them, they'd be nothing. It isn't my fault magazines are falling by the wayside! And even then, I took preventative measures. Like Gou." The younger man finished off the shot she'd bought him and turned back to his whiskey, the fuzziness of both 40% alcohol drinks beginning to affect him.
"None of us saw it coming, for sure," he agreed, turning up his nose at their nerve. Blaming others for his problems sounded like a better time than actually examining his own conduct at the moment, and so he channeled his grief into indignance. "I don't know why they'd even think of it!"
"It was the New Year's party," she replied humorlessly. "Or at least, that was their excuse. I got a complaint written up from HR."
"What? So it's all my fault!" Nagisa exclaimed as he finished his drink and proceeded to commiserate with another. His ex-boss waved off the response.
"I would've done it again in a heartbeat, even knowing the consequences," she insisted stubbornly. "I've been grooming you up for the big leagues for years. Nobody's gonna talk to you like that under my watch. Have another shot." He obediently did as he was told.
"You've been grooming me?" he repeated between sips of... whatever it was he was drinking, his speech slowly growing slurred. It seemed the older woman was in the same boat, as she grew more boisterous with each shot she took. He wasn't sure how many she'd had, nor had he noticed that they were both drinking like sailors.
"'Course, I couldn't let your talents be wasted on a goddamn internship! Assistant-ship... whatever it was you did! God, your ideas were so good. I almost never wanted to say no!"
"You almost always said no to me!" he protested with a sharp laugh. Alcohol certainly turned her cool exterior into an honest woman.
"'Course I did!" she cried, "I had to, I was your editor! But damn, I saved every single one of your ideas for future reference! So I could make you write them later!" Her face made a smacking sound as she collapsed into her hands, and Nagisa began to drunkenly giggle at the display.
"Naw, you didn't!" he protested with the false embarrassment of someone accepting an expected gift.
"I did," she assured with a sharp nod and a slosh of her drink. "Like, like when you said that hyper-pigmented lips would become mainstream!"
"You flatterer," he snickered as they reminisced - that incident had happened when he was only an intern. At first, the sharp look Amakata had sent his way made his skin crawl, and he'd regretted the remark immediately. Later, however, he came to realize it was a look of shrewd attentiveness that indicated an idea and a plan to execute it. Even in his drunken state, he'd be able to recognize that brilliant spark anywhere.
"And I remember those damn execs gettin' their knickers in a twist when I had a model with a blue lip on the cover," she sighed dramatically. "And they don't even know half the shit they talk. Have you seen how they dress?"
"They wouldn't know art if it hit them in their faces," Nagisa agreed as the exasperated bartender sent another whiskey his way.
"More concerned with sales," she replied. "God, you don't know how much I hated it. Do you know what we were selling?" She grilled her former employee with a severe stare that he hadn't encountered since he was a child in primary school.
"Magazines?" he ventured, too drunk to think anymore critically about it.
"Insecurities," Amakata quipped, "and if I could do it all over, Nagisa, I would have changed everything. All of it. I would change the landscape, starting with the godforsaken name. Elite. What bloody shit. Those 'elites' don't know what they're talking about."
"Well, why don't you start over?" he questioned, not realizing that going back in time by three or so years wouldn't exactly be a feasible plan. She sent him a wry glance, but inebriated as he was, he ignored it and barreled on, his drink sloshing around in its glass. "Fuck it! Make - make your own majazine... magazine. Thing. Be the editor-in-chief you were meant to be."
"That's the worst idea I've ever heard," she responded. "Let's do it. Let's have another shot."
Between his ex-boss' apparent love of vodka and his own need for whiskey and a distraction, Amakata and Nagisa were well on their way to drinking rowdily until morning (despite it being a weekday evening). Every time they came up with an awful, infeasible idea they'd celebrate with an undeserved shot until the dark, low-lit room was spinning around the blond, and their laughter was echoing off the walls, drilling into his mind. All at once, the 80-proof liquor had hit them like a ton of bricks. He forgot where he even was. And who was shouting at him?
"... cutting you off... home... drunk..." a voice sounded from behind the blurry bar.
"'m not drunk," he responded, hugging an empty whiskey glass to his chest. He was only twenty-five, and people in their twenties simply didn't get drunk. It was a fact.
"... need to call someone..." Ah. It was the bartender that was speaking. But who to? To him? The blond lifted his head and attempted to put his surroundings into focus. Ms. Amakata was half-passed out on the shoulder of her dubious fiance, whose eyes were locked on Nagisa. Clearly, he could only babysit one intoxicated adult at a time and was at a loss with what to do with him. In his hand was a phone encased in a pink and orange watercolor print... Wait. Nagisa's phone. Goro most certainly had Nagisa's phone in his hand.
"Uhn," he groaned, attempting to snatch it away, and tripping into a stool in the process. The advertising executive gave him an exasperated glance before dialing a number. The part of the blond's brain that sounded like Rei told him he ought to have a passcode if he didn't like people going through his phone.
"Yeah, can you come pick him up?" he heard Goro say into the receiver.
"Who you talkin' to?" Nagisa whined, making grabby hands at his phone. The older man attempted to hold him at arm's length while still supporting his fiancee, but it didn't take him long to wrap up whatever he was talking about and pass the phone back to its owner. The blond petulantly stuck out his tongue before scrolling through his recent calls to find out just who intended to interrupt his perfectly deserved drinking session. The name pictured nearly made him sober.
Rei was coming to get him. He should have figured - Goro had met him once before. He knew that they'd dated, but not that they'd broken up. Any ounce of fun, of comfort, of indignance he'd felt flew out the window into the rainy night, and was replaced with great shame. He'd never hated the thought of an ex seeing him like this, but as he sat back down and took a glass of water, he could feel tears welling his eyes and blotchy patches of heat rising in his cheeks.
"What'chu do that for?" he sniffled helplessly, lacking the words to describe exactly what it was that upset him.
"You're wasted," Goro replied as he settled the bill with the bartender (and included a large tip). He wrapped one arm around Amakata's back, the other around Nagisa's, and walked them outside. The cold bit into the tracks of tears along his red cheeks. They stood there, ignoring Nagisa's steadily falling tears until a familiar black sedan pulled through the developing fog and parked along the curb after what seemed like a heartbeat, and an eternity. Rei stepped out.
The attorney's face was completely inscrutable, as though he was wearing a mask, and it only made him want to cry more that he couldn't understand. What did the brunet feel when he observed him so detachedly? Was his mind as still as his face? When he opened his mouth to speak, the blond leaned in so far to listen that he stumbled, barely keeping his balance thanks to Goro.
"Let's get you in the car," Rei sighed neutrally as the blond's weight was transferred from one man to the other. His bottom lip trembled as more tears cascaded down his face. "Don't cry," came his steady voice. While it lacked the warmth that he so craved right now, the younger man clung to its sensibility and groundedness, hoping against hope that it would again be comforting and affectionate.
The lawyer buckled his ex safely in the car like he was a child, and he certainly felt like one. Their drive was quiet, void of all the banter and bickering that had once characterized their relationship. The longer the silence lasted, the harder Nagisa's tears fell until they were punctuated with half-drunken hiccups that evolved into full-on sobs echoing in the car. He hated this unfamiliarity. It was like he was trapped in a small space with a complete stranger, and the thought of the man that he loved so dearly thinking of him with such distance crushed him.
"Why are you still crying?" Rei asked, his eyes trained on the foggy road in front of them.
"Be-because you don't lo-love me anymore," the blond blubbered, his own gaze blurred by cloudy tears. "Y-you br-broke up with me." His irregular breaths punctuated his speech. At last, a bit of emotion peeked through the distant mask the attorney wore.
"I didn't break up with you," he assured lightly, glancing at Nagisa for the first time that night. "I was certainly angry, but we both said harsh things that we didn't mean."
"You didn't?" he checked, turning his pleading expression back to Rei. His hands reached for the attorney's arm that rested on the gear shift, but he pulled away as they approached a red light. His heart felt like a bruise.
"No, but we need to have a very long and serious talk. Not tonight, though. You're drunk." Nagisa's eyes filled to the brim with tears once more.
"Ok-kay," he agreed before abandoning himself in the silence. His head was spinning. The city shrouded in fog eluded him. Every now and then, a blurry yellow light from the streetlamps would permeate through his vision until at last, they pulled onto the drive by Nagisa's house. The lights were already on inside, and as soon as they stepped out onto the grass, the front door opened, revealing Haruka's silhouette.
"Nagisa," he called as the pair approached, the smaller man supported by Rei, "there you are!" He looked like he was about to ask something, but upon catching sight of the blond's state, he stepped back to allow them inside without saying anything more. The warm light burned the writer's eyes, and he automatically flinched, burying his head into Rei's arm. The brunet guided him to the couch where he collapsed, grabbing a discarded sweater to place over his face.
"What happened?" inquired a soothing voice in a low tone.
"Makoto?" Rei asked, pulling himself away from Nagisa. "What are you doing here?"
"We were waiting for Nagisa to get home. When I dropped Haruka off, we found this..." In the background, the blond heard a sheet of paper unfurl and wondered what it could be.
"'Eviction notice'...?" the attorney read, dismay creeping into his voice. The younger man's eyes flew open underneath the sweater and again filled with humiliated tears. What kind of adult was he? How could he have let that happen to Haru, who depended on him for a safe place to live? How could he have let Rei find out? "Nagisa, why didn't you tell us about this?"
"I'm s-sorry!" he choked out a sob, curling into the back of the couch. A small poof sounded beside him and the sofa sagged with the weight of someone else. A soft hand combed through his hair.
"We aren't mad," Haruka told him in a voice gentler than he'd ever heard from him, "we're worried." Nagisa sniffled. "So, is that why you're so drunk? You don't normally do this."
"Yeah... well, not the only r-reason," the blond confessed, his voice muffled by the couch. Haru's relaxing fingers massaged his head and his muscles began to lose their tension. "I got f-fired," he stuttered between hiccups. "And my dad is - my dad is..." His lips trembled as he tried to find the words to finish his sentence.
"Is he sick again?" Haruka murmured. Nagisa's following outburst of sobs answered his question - it seemed the poor blond hadn't run out of tears yet.
"They think it-it's cancer!" he howled as the emotion overcame him. His breaths hitched in his throat as he coughed out his cries. Before any more sounds could creep up his throat, however, his entire mouth went damp and a slight flavor of bile colored his tongue. He stood shakily and darted to the bathroom.
Over the sounds of his miserable retching in the toilet, he heard Haru say, "You guys should probably go. We're not gonna get anything coherent out of him tonight." His footsteps approached the bathroom. He didn't hear their response, but a hand reached up and began to stroke his back sympathetically and through the open door, he heard the other two men leave.
After a few more minutes of misery, Haruka filled a cup of water at the sink and passed it to the blond, once he was certain he was done dispelling the contents of his stomach. Nagisa took small sips to clear the taste from his throat and spit it out while his roommate quietly helped him to his feet and guided him to the bed.
"Make sure to lay on your side," he murmured as he drew the curtains shut so the light of the street lamps wouldn't bother him. The pathetic boy certainly felt miserably ill, but even in his half-sober state he figured he didn't have alcohol poisoning. As such, it was safe to drift off almost immediately after the American drew the blankets over him and wished him a goodnight. Eyes still encrusted with tears, he fell asleep to the first dreamless night he'd had in a long while.
Nagisa awoke the next morning to a hand gently shaking his shoulder, followed by a vague sense of light, and finally the most painful splitting of his head he'd felt since he partied as a freshman in uni.
"Uuhnnn," he groaned, curling up into the fetal position and clutching his head.
"I have ibuprofen and water," Haruka whispered. A soft clink on the bedside table followed. "Rei's here, so take the pills and come out when you feel up to it. Makoto and I'll be back in a couple hours."
He took the proffered medication and lay back down, sipping at the water for another fifteen minutes or so before he felt ready to get out of bed and face what promised to be an incredibly difficult day. Like a frightened animal, he slunk out of his room and down the hallway to find Rei sitting at the breakfast table, concentrating on the crossword puzzle. At his boyfriend's sheepish appearance, he set the newspaper aside and gestured to the chair across from him.
"Have a seat," the lawyer told him as he stood and approached the kitchen. He didn't look the blond in the eye. "Do you need anything to eat or to drink?"
"Coffee would be nice..." Nagisa replied, thinking that he didn't even deserve the gesture. Rei busied himself for a little while longer than necessary as they both steeled themselves for their conversation. The younger man tried desperately to quell his emotions and prepare to listen, as the older man tried to organize exactly what he had been feeling since their explosive argument.
"Well," Rei sighed as he set a pair of mugs down in front of them, "shall we start at the beginning, or last night?" He sat down and placed his elbows on the table, looking intently at the blond. Nagisa noticed that there were deep bags under his eyes, half blocked by his glasses. Clearly, this hadn't been easy on his boyfriend, either.
"I guess the beginning," he offered, his lackluster gaze dropping to the coffee in his hands, prepared just the way he liked it.
"Where is the beginning, anyhow? It couldn't have started with that fight - I realize that now." The older man grinned wryly while the blond at last reciprocated his willingness to communicate.
"I actually started feeling upset at the New Year's party..." he confessed, recalling the harsh words Rei's ex had tossed at him, tainting the entire memory with bitterness. "Dancing with that guy sucked and all, but that wasn't really the problem. First, you didn't introduce me as your boyfriend to your ex, and normally it wouldn't have bothered me, but you said that you two were gonna get married... It made me feel really insecure."
"I see," Rei replied. "I didn't introduce you because I didn't want him involved with our private life at all. I just wanted both of us to get out of there," he informed the younger man. "I'm sorry that you felt that way."
"It wasn't only that. He must've known we were together." Tears stung Nagisa's eyes, but he tried to hold them back. He took a sip of his coffee. "I'm never gonna forget what he said next, after you left. He told me, 'Rei must not have paid much for a whore like you'," the blond repeated with a regretful smile. The brunet's jaw went slightly slack and his eyes reflected his astonishment. "He said - he said you were using me as a pick-me-up, that I was dumb, and some other things... I mean, I didn't believe that was true, but the thought wouldn't go away."
"I can't - I'm sorry. That must have been awful," Rei sputtered. For a moment, it was unclear whether he was angry, sympathetic, sad - but with a deep breath, he set the emotions aside and focused on listening.
"That's why I said those awful things," the blond pushed on, through his choked words. "I-I don't think you treat me like a whore. And I don't think you're bad at sex. I was just so stressed about being good enough for you that I didn't think about what I was saying." He glanced up at his boyfriend to see his glasses off and his hand covering his eyes.
"I won't lie," the attorney stated, his voice shaking, "what you said then really hurt me. It felt like you were targeting my insecurities, and it made me feel very vulnerable." Nagisa hiccuped and felt his first tears of the day fall at the confession.
"I-I'm sorry," he apologized, "I never meant to make you feel like that. I'm sorry. I just didn't feel good enough for you, and I still feel like that, and I took it all out on you at once."
"Is it because of the conversation we had with Satsuki and Daiki at dinner?" he probed, slipping his glasses back on as he steadied himself in preparation for the rest of their conversation.
"It wasn't just that - it was mostly because you guys said those things while I was having a bad day... I'd only just gotten the news about my father and it's a huge strain on my budget, and well, now I'm unemployed, but... Even with all of that, I want to feel like I'm your equal. Like I'm supporting you and providing for you just as much as you're doing for me." Nagisa met his gaze, his rosy eyes alit with sincerity. "I'm a man as well, Rei. And more importantly, I want us to share a life, rather than just me injecting myself into yours."
"That's what I thought moving in together would do for us," he replied with equal earnestness. Their hands found one another across the table. "I feel the exact same way as you do, so I suppose I don't understand why you're saying no... To me, it really feels like if our relationship is stagnating over this..." He bit his lip and squeezed Nagisa's hand like he didn't want to let it go. "It-it feels as though it's the end. As though we should break up."
The blond closed his eyes and felt a tear drop down to land atop Rei's tanned knuckles. He took a deep breath before replying, "If that's what's best, maybe we should." Instinctively, their fingers entwined as though refusing to let go. "I-I don't want to, but what I need right now more than anything is consistency. I said no because you're the one constant in my life right now. I don't know what's happening with my father, I don't know what's happening with my housing, I don't know what's happening with my job. Moving in together is a huge step, and I just - I can't dedicate any time to adjusting to that. Not yet." The brunet took a deep breath, and for a moment was silent.
"I understand, Nagisa. If that's the case, then I'll wait," he decided simply. The writer's head snapped back up and looked into Rei's gentle eyes. "I don't want to give up. I don't want to lose you over this."
"Me too," he sniffled. "I love you."
"I love you too."
The couple sat there, hands clasped tight in warmth, for a long while. The gravity of their words weighed on them, no longer light and feathery confessions under the winter night snowfall, and Nagisa realized just how hard it was to love, deeper than that of the frivolous, half-hearted choices that he'd made before in life. And as strange as calm hindsight felt, he didn't hate them - he felt rather empowered, despite the knowledge that he had hurt both himself and Rei. He wondered whether his lover felt the same, and what thoughts swirled behind his impassive face.
A knock at the door caused their attention to flicker away from one another. As the knob turned, Haruka announced, "We're back," and entered with a sheepish looking Makoto.
"Haru, don't just open the door," he scolded, looking embarrassed at the thought that he might have interrupted something.
"It's all right," Rei replied as he collected the now-cold coffee and set it in the sink. "We were just finishing breakfast." Haruka pulled out a seat next to Nagisa, who offered him a wistful grin.
"Thanks for staying with me last night," he said apologetically, "I didn't mean to cause trouble for you." His roommate shrugged.
"Whatever, it's fine," he replied, grabbing a folded sheet of paper out of his pocket. The eviction notice. "We've got some other stuff to talk about." Makoto took the last seat, sandwiching himself between Rei and Haru. His roommate opened and closed his jaw a couple times as though he was searching for the right words to broach the topic, but was uncertain how to be sensitive about it. Nagisa appreciated the effort, but wasn't surprised when Haruka simply decided on, "How did this even happen?" All three men looked at the blond. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, wishing that it wasn't too soon to take more painkillers - this conversation was its own headache.
"Honestly, I'm hardly sure," he said, resting his head on his elbows. "I think it's because we've been living together, sort of... There's this stipulation in the housing contract that says if somebody has resided here for three months, aside from the primary resident, that the landlord must be notified and a new contract drawn up."
"But I moved in late November, early December," Haru pointed out, "and it's only the middle of January now." In response the blond gave a defeated shrug.
"I know. I called him last week about updating the contract... I knew I was cutting it close, but I guess he just wanted me gone, no matter the circumstances. Apparently, the neighbors have been complaining about us."
"Complaining? How so?" Rei chipped in, concern rising in his features. Haruka's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Nagisa blushed at explaining the whole ordeal - being called a homosexual slut wasn't exactly in his top 10 fun memories to recount.
"Well, the neighbors have apparently seen, um, all the feminine clothes. And once Haru moved in, I guess they thought we were together. So the landlord just looked for the first opportunity to boot us, I guess. You know, that whole 'no sinners in suburbia' kind of thing," he explained with an awkward smile and laugh. There was only so much one could ask for in a city as big as London. The two lawyers, however, shared a concerned glance before looking back at Nagisa. Makoto's lips were pressed in a thin line, the first sign of any displeasure he'd seen from the fairytale man, and Rei's brows tucked underneath his glasses in a familiar gesture of concentration.
"Do you remember his exact words?" his boyfriend interrogated seriously. The blond stopped to think a moment, taken aback by how seriously the two of them seemed to take it.
"Well, he said I was in violation of my contract, and that I wasn't paying extra rent in order to live a 'degenerate lifestyle' with Haru," he explained, "and I think he watched me for a few days 'cause he saw that I wasn't at work Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday of last week. That was before I was fired though."
"Nagisa, that's illegal," Rei asserted in a grim tone that held the slightest touch of anger. The writer glanced to Makoto and Haru to see that they wore similar expressions.
"Well, I know that," he replied with confusion, "but he's technically evicting me for not telling him about Haru in time... isn't he?"
"Does your renting contract explicitly state that you're required to contact him within three months?" Makoto cut in as he examined the eviction notice with greater concentration.
"I can't remember," the blond confessed. "The landlord definitely told me that when I started living here, and I'm pretty sure it's written, but I guess I must not have read through it terribly carefully... I just remember signing." He nervously tucked a lock of hair behind his ear as his eyes drifted to the floor. An intelligent lawyer like Rei must think him so naive and stupid for such a thing.
"Some parts of contracts are conducted orally, so that shouldn't be a problem, particularly if your landlord rents out other properties and has given similar stipulations," the attorney stated, more to himself than anything else. Makoto had his phone in his hand and appeared to be taking notes. The blond's eyebrows raised.
"What are you doing?" he asked them skeptically. Rei took a pause from his considerations and replied, "You should file a lawsuit. You're entitled to some serious compensation under antidiscrimination laws."
"Yeah," he scoffed, "but you have to win to get money." He hardly wanted to believe he was deserved anything in his miserable, though the consideration was tempting. Fleetingly, he thought of his father's surgery scheduled in only days... There was no point pursuing the money, he thought, if it would come to late to help his family. But Rei and Makoto didn't budge.
"Nagisa," the latter addressed him, green eyes soft and pleading, "it's my personal opinion that it's not right to let him get away with this. It's my professional opinion that this is an open-and-shut case. It'd be very difficult for you to lose."
"But," he continued weakly, balking under the certainty of his words, "none of that changes that I can't afford a lawyer right now. I'm spending all of my savings on Dad's surgery." A legal battle was both time-consuming and fund-draining, never mind the emotional toll it could take - he couldn't commit to that with the certainty of future medical costs, with his father's life in jeopardy. Makoto didn't hesitate to respond.
"I'll represent you." The other three all took a double take. "Pro-bono," he added with confidence. "I just won the case with Haru," he proceeded, sliding a hand over the American's on the table, "so I'm not busy. I might not be able to argue your case in court, but I can build the arguments, write the briefs..."
"But... why?" Nagisa relented. He didn't know Makoto all too well, aside from hearing about him here and there - what reason did he have for helping the poor blond?
The Spaniard's eyes crinkled downward in a gentle smile as he said, "How could I not help my closest friend's loved one?" He punctuated the statement with a laugh. "Or my loved one's closest friend?" Both Haruka and Rei had gone a bit pink in the face, looking at anything but Makoto and Nagisa, the latter of which at long last offered up a wobbly grin.
"Well... if you're sure... I don't know what to say. Thank you," he stammered, feeling his eyes well up with tears. "All of you, really. I was so stupid, not asking for help," he confessed, "but you've still put up with me and all the problems I'm causing..."
"You aren't causing us problems, Nagisa," Rei told him, tentatively placing his hand atop the blond's and brushing his thumb over his knuckles. Haruka rubbed a hand across his back.
"But where should we go? Court cases take a long time, don't they? Should we just stay here like nothing happened?"
"No, that's probably not a good idea," his boyfriend advised, leaning back in his chair. He was quiet for a moment before suggesting, "What about your sister? I know she only just moved to London, but she may be your best option." Makoto and Haru were both tactfully quiet on the topic - though neither knew what the fight was about, they sensed the caution in the attorney's tone, and the silent offer with it. Nagisa allowed himself to feel grateful, however, that Rei didn't push the topic of living together so soon after their not-quite-resolved argument. Although staying with his boyfriend temporarily sounded like the most natural option, it was clear that they both needed space to cope with the near-disastrous fight.
"Yeah," he agreed, running his free hand through his blond hair (that most definitely needed a wash). "I'll have to call her today, and find some time to get all my stuff into storage somewhere." He could perhaps auction it off for extra cash, but he was on a strict schedule of only a little over three weeks.
"Do you need some privacy to make the call?" Makoto offered, rising from his chair. The other two followed suit, but Nagisa waved them down.
"No, it's all right," he assured, standing to look for his phone. He'd probably left it in his bedroom. He stretched to remove his stiffness from sitting too long - serious conversations sure required a lot of time - and shuffled down the short hall to his bedroom.
His phone wasn't hard to find, considering it had nearly vibrated itself off his bedside table. Carefully picking his way over mounds of dirty clothing, he snatched it right as it buzzed off the edge and checked the screen to see - speak of the Devil - Emi herself calling him. Nagisa quickly swiped to answer.
"Emi, I was just about -"
"Where have you been?" she exclaimed frantically, causing him to jump. The blond shivered. "I've been calling you all morning - never mind, just hurry to The Princess Grace Hospital, it's Dad! The tumor, he's hemorrhaging and they need to operate immediately. I'm almost there, but please hurry. This could be -" Her voice cut off as though she couldn't finish the words, and Nagisa heard a car honk in the background.
"E-Emi? Is he going to...?" he choked out, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip to keep any minute semblance of control over himself. Someone - he wasn't sure who - called to him from the other room, but every last bit of his focus was on her next words.
"I think so."