You threw your pieces, they washed up on my shore
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“Do you ever miss it?” He asks, because he’s never had a chance to.
“I missed you” Inupi says, gazing out at the blackness of the night like there is a view to be had. He sniffs, puts out his cigarette and brushes his hands down himself. “But I still miss the fear”
Hajime's gaze flickers down to him. “The fear?”
“When I thought I was gonna die every night, when I fought. It’s a drug, Y’know and you’re all addicted. I had to - live when I left you. Actually, live and at first it sucked. Cos it’s boring and it’s tedious. I realised pretty early I never stood a chance of winning you back against a drug like that”
Koko’s throat hurts, like there is a ball in it.
“It’s really fucking sad” He blows smoke out his nose, tips his head back. “That you’ve had that little speech prepared for over a decade” and he doesn’t give himself a chance to consider the truth of any of it.
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“You redecorated” Mikey says, His thumb is drawing comforting little patterns on Ran’s wrist. He used to do that to Draken too, Baji sometimes. He kneads, like a cat, when he’s uncomfortable.
“Did I need your permission?” He hears himself say because he’s so angry and maybe fighting Mikey would help. Although Mikey really might just put a bullet in his gut and call it a day. Fighting seems preferable to - whatever pathetic attempt at reconciliation would likely be rebuffed.
“I guess not” He smiles and then, softer like a child again. “You look - look good, Ken”
And that hurts. It aches, it cuts so deep and so perfectly that he can’t help but try. “How about you come here, Mikey? Let me have a look at you”
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