Work Text:
The ping of the lift every time it reaches a new floor sounds muffled and distant. Ayato is slouched against the wall, too tired to hold himself up, eyes lost on his warped reflection in the mirror. He pokes it, feeling a swirl of disgust curl in his stomach as his finger moves to his pronounced dark circles, his sinking cheeks, the mole next to his nose…
Wait, since when does he have a mole there?
It takes him embarrassingly long to realise it is not a mole but a nick on the mirror. He laughs when he notices, but it doesn’t sound amused.
It’s Thursday. Only Thursday. For most it’d be a day to celebrate, but Ayato is dreading the coming Saturday, knowing full well he will have to work anyway, and the lunch meeting planned on Sunday.
He wants to sigh, but he doesn’t find it in himself to do so. Instead, he just stares at the lit number marking his floor for about a minute before he gathers his remaining strength and finally leaves.
When the door to the apartment opens, a warm light and an appetising smell drift from the secluded kitchenette. As Ayato puts his dress shoes in the cabinet, a voice greets him.
“Welcome home!”
After leaving his briefcase by the entrance and draping his jacket over the first chair he can find, he walks towards the only illuminated place in the house. There he finds Thoma, sitting at the kitchen table with a hot beverage in front of him. When their eyes meet, the blond smiles.
“How was your day?” He asks, getting up. “I’ll heat up the foo一”
“Ah, don’t bother with my portion.”
Thoma stops in his tracks. “You already ate?” When Ayato’s only response is a nod, he frowns, but he is quick to smooth out the expression. “I thought we agreed you’d let me know when you ate supper out.”
His tone is gentle, as it often is, but Ayato doesn’t appreciate being chastised nonetheless. "Couldn't you have guessed by the time?" He retorts with a scoff. When he realises he’s snapped he tries to fix it as best he can. "I was busy during the meal, so I forgot."
"... It's ok, I'll pack it for your lunch tomorrow," Thoma says, serving the lukewarm soup in a single bowl. "The bath is ready."
“Ok,” is all Ayato mutters over his shoulder as he makes his way to the bathroom.
The constant flow of water seems to only encourage the flow of thoughts to become an even stronger current. Yes, they did agree he’d call if he happened to get pulled into supper with the company last minute, but he also insisted countless times that Thoma should eat if he sees it’s getting too late. But it’s not Thoma’s fault, he is well aware he won’t be able to keep up with this work rhythm for long. Still, he must endure until he has the next promotion well in his grasp. Should only be a few more months 一 if the strategy he’s planned for the upcoming deal with the Fontaine investors works in his favour none of the old coots will be able to oppose the change anymore. He sighs. But first, tomorrow, Saturday and Sunday, and then next week. There are still quite a few things to be done. He rolls his shoulders under the steaming water, disappointed that it doesn't manage to loosen up his tense muscles.
He can think of something else that may be able to relax him.
Thoma’s already slipping under the sheets when he enters their bedroom. He gives Ayato a small smile, hand moving to turn off the lamp on the bedside table, but slim fingers wrap around his wrist before he can reach it. A moment later, said fingers are yanking at the blond’s nightshirt to pull it off.
Chivalrous as he is, Thoma quickly shifts their positions and takes all the work onto himself. As soon as both of them are naked he moves to a new task, placing soft kisses along Ayato’s skin to arouse his body.
But as gentle as those lips are against his cramped neck, this is not what the exhausted office worker wants right now.
“It’s already late as is… We don’t have time for this. Hurry it up,” he demands with a whisper, not to soften the blow of his words but because he doesn’t have the strength for more.
The only reply he gets is a small exhale of air, creating an awkward pause before Thoma does as told, retrieving the lube from the nightstand and preparing Ayato almost monotonously. A few minutes after he breaches the rushedly stretched rim with the same lack of fanfare, his own member not at full mast yet, which makes the insertion not ideal. Ayato encourages him by wrapping his legs around the blond's waist and pushing with the balls of his feet against his back, urging him forward. Much to Ayato’s relief the sway begins almost immediately, but said relief is short-lived since Thoma’s movements are lacking the edge he was craving. Too soft, mindless. Mechanical.
The headache Ayato has managed to keep at bay during the entire day begins to manifest.
“Thoma… Harder,” he mutters, but his words fall on deaf ears. “Harder…!”
“Your back will hurt even more, just take it easy…” The blond shushes him, giving a single deep thrust in compensation.
It makes Ayato moan, but it’s still nowhere near what he needs. “It doesn’t matter, do it harder.” Thoma starts to kiss his neck again, ignoring him. Ayato bites his lip in frustration. Without thinking about it, he scratches his back. “Thoma!”
That does manage to pull a reaction out of the other, making him stop in confusion. “W-what?”
Ayato himself doesn’t know what to say. What indeed. He just sighs and averts his eyes. They sting from sleep and exhaustion, but his body is still so tense…
Thoma keeps looking at him, frowning. “Are you ok?”
“Yes, yes I’m fine…”
The frown deepens. The blond begins to pull out, which makes Ayato panic for a moment. He tightens his legs around him. “Where are you going?”
“We shouldn’t continue if you aren’t feeling ok.”
“I said I am fine. Can you stop worrying and just fuck me like I ask you to?”
Thoma stills, then he untangles the legs with his hands. “You look really tired, try to get some sleep,” he says with a gentle voice.
The pressure against Ayato’s walls reduces, the member inside him softening, which just makes his irritation spike. He separates on his own, the awful squelch of when Thoma is removed just emphasising his displeasure. He turns to the side and screws his eyes shut, set on forgoing any further conversation and sleep, but he’s forced to open them once more when the bedroom door screeches.
“Where are you going?” He asks again.
Thoma turns to look at him from the doorframe. “I think it’d be better if we let it cool off a bit, I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
“Are you serious?” Ayato snaps back, anger thinning out his patience and not letting him take a moment to consider if he should voice his thoughts. “So even just sleeping next to me is too much for you now? What's next? If I'm so unbearable, why don’t you find somewhere else to live?”
The mix of bewilderment, complete nudeness and plummeting crumpled pyjamas would have been funny, if not for the situation. Right now though, all Thoma can feel is absolute horror, judging by the painful twist of his expression. “I… didn’t say that.” He pauses for a few long, agonising seconds, his voice turning into a murmur when next he speaks. “Are you breaking up with me?”
“I don’t know, am I? Do I have to decide this for you as well? Can’t you take your own goddamn choices for once?” Ayato spits out with uncharacteristic vile, biting his own tongue to avoid any more from spilling. He should not make Thoma pay for his foul mood. “Sorry, I…. Yes, I'm tired.”
“It’s ok, I understand,” the blond says with a smile that doesn’t reflect the hurt in his eyes. “Let’s get some rest, yes? Goodnight.”
Ayato yanks the covers and curls underneath them, pretending he doesn’t hear the shuddering breath down the hall. He grabs his phone and begins to alphabetically organise all the documents he needs for tomorrow's meeting, knowing full well he won’t be able to sleep.
***
If there is any benefit to a restless night it is that it ensures an early morning, and Ayato also wishfully hopes it will mean work getting done sooner. His departure from the apartment is as silent as can be to not risk disturbing the sleeping form on the sofa. On his way out he notices the carefully wrapped lunchbox on top of the kitchen table, but he doesn’t take it 一 he saw yesterday that a meeting was moved to his lunch break, which means he won’t be able to eat anything besides a light snack. A shame, truly, since the soup smelled quite nice. For today’s supper, then.
Another perk of the early hour is that trains are not as packed, so Ayato is able to grab a seat and spend the ride without shoves, pushes and sweaty smells. He relaxes looking out the window, watching the waking city go by and letting his mind meander towards that which he avoided thinking of last night. The memory of that moment is as clear as day, every word of the conversation still fresh, almost resonating inside his head; the fateful instant in which that delicate, tender thing he had built with Thoma had begun to collapse. Or perhaps it started long before, and he just noticed it at that moment
It started with a carefully worded question, a hesitant voice, and a conversation Ayato wasn’t ready to have.
‘Aren’t you working too much?’
He was. He still is. He knew then and he knows now still, but he isn’t ready to deal with what acknowledging it will bring.
‘You’re leeching off me so don’t lecture me about how much I work.’
He apologised almost immediately, but not with a full heart. He relied on Thoma’s kindness to erase the stench of his poisonous words.
‘It’s ok.’
Is what the blond said, and what he keeps saying whenever one of their arguments escalates too much. Ayato wonders how much longer they can keep pretending it is.
His stop is announced before he has time to ponder about the matter for long. He must put these thoughts aside for now, lest he wants the lack of concentration during work to turn into double the things to take care of.
***
Though not all meetings go as planned, Ayato has at least managed to finish a bit earlier than usual. He boards the train with a certain lightness, imagining the comfort of his sofa when he collapses against it.
He returns to a spotless apartment, as it often gets on Saturday since it’s the official deep cleaning day. The person responsible for the immaculate work, however, is nowhere to be found. With a raised eyebrow Ayato grabs his phone and begins searching his message logs, passing many a business inquiry until he finds the puppy icon he was looking for. As he expected, there's a new message.
'I won't be home in case you're still mad at me. Let me know if I can come back,' is what the message really says. Is it that hard for Thoma to just say what he means? And even though legally this home is under Ayato’s name, doesn’t he live here too? What need does he have to ask for permission to return?
The irritation from the night before crashes over Ayato tenfold. At least he has 30 minutes to try and subdue it.
Thankfully his sofa is still there, inviting and plush and warm, and oh so beloved that Ayato falls asleep the moment he lays on it, but his sleep only lasts for a bit more than 30 minutes.
“I'm home!” Thoma proclaims cheerfully once he opens the door, effortlessly carrying two full bags of groceries in one hand.
“Hello,” comes the reply with a slurred grunt.
The silence of the apartment gets shattered by the sound of plastic bags, cabinets closing, and the annoying beep of the refrigerator that has been left open for too long. Just as Ayato thinks it’s finally over, another irritating sound follows suit.
“... Did you eat?”
A carefully worded question. A hesitant voice.
Ayato sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Thoma, whatever you want to say just say it. I don’t have the patience for your roundabout ways right now.”
Thoma emerges from the kitchen with his eyes already on the floor. “Ok… Can I sit down first?” Once Ayato nods and scooches on the sofa to make some space, Thoma sits down next to him, the fingers of his hands intertwining. He takes some time to start talking. “I’ve been thinking today and… lately, we’ve been arguing a lot, haven’t we?”
“Can you even call it arguing if you never get back at me?”
Can you even call it lately when it’s been going on for almost two years?
“Yeah, touché,” Thoma laughs like he always does to keep the mood light. “Well, so… Sorry,” he shakes his head for a moment, combing through his hair with a slightly trembling hand. “I’ll just get to it. I have been thinking today, and I realised you don’t look very happy with our relationship anymore, and… perhaps it isn’t good for either of us at the moment. So, maybe一”
Nausea gets rid of Ayato’s remaining sleep in an instant. He interrupts Thoma to get it over with. “So you want to end it, is that it?”
Though his eyes are clouded with uncertainty, he at least dares to make them meet Ayato’s. “I…” Or so he thought, because Thoma shifts them to the wall as soon as he can. “Yes, I guess that’s the best outcome.”
The silence returns to the room, the calmness it brought just moments ago morphed into an unbearable weight.
“Do you have someplace to go tonight?”
Thoma's head snaps back at him, eyes wide. "T-tonight? Alread一?" He clears his throat and springs up from the sofa then, immediately giving his back to Ayato as he makes his way toward the bedroom. “Yeah, I’ll get a hotel room or something, just need to grab some of my things.”
The clash of the wardrobe doors opening and closing echoes around, ricocheting off the walls in a deafening manner. When Thoma finally comes back to the living room, Ayato’s ears are still ringing.
“Is it ok if I come to pick up the rest in a few days?”
“Sure.”
“Alright…” Thoma lets his words linger, as if he wanted to say something else, but the only thing that comes out of his mouth is a heartfelt farewell. "Goodnight.”
Ayato stays on the sofa long after the entrance door has shut. From the corner of his eye he can see the wrapped lunch box, untouched, and the sight of it makes his stomach twist in such a way he loses any kind of appetite he could have.
For the second night in a row, he doesn’t sleep.
***
On the first few days he’d woken up like he usually did, walking directly to the kitchen before going to the bathroom or washing his face. It’s not until he groggily stumbled onto the empty space, with no steaming bowl of food waiting for him, that he remembered what happened. He refuses to admit he did that for the better part of the week, so when Thoma finally breaks the radio silence the following Saturday 一or Sunday, technically一, a part of him almost innocently believes it was all just a bad dream.
Of course, it is not.
Without supper or a bath, Ayato went straight to bed when he came home the previous night, so it’s not until the next morning he sees the missed calls and text messages, thankfully atop the list since they were sent late in the evening.
When he finishes rubbing the sleep off his eyes he gets out of bed and walks towards the living room, realising that quite a few things are indeed gone. But rather than the missing items from the shelves and now more spacious drawers, what makes his stomach truly sink are the things that have been left behind; the apartment keys and the engagement ring. With his gaze fixed on them, Ayato touches the finger where his should be. He stopped wearing it after the first few weeks, fearful that it would bring more obstacles toward his promotion. People would assume the marriage to be with a woman, which would mean the possibility of children shortly after, and with it a paternity leave. No one in their right mind would find him eligible for the position then. The plan was to get married once he was fully settled into the position, with no options for the assignment being revoked.
He couldn’t even do that right for Thoma. The end of this relationship will be beneficial to both of them. This is the best they could do, Ayato tries to convince himself over and over. He goes back to his room and digs through the bedside table, pulling out a pack of cigarettes he had hidden from his, now, ex-fiancé. He lights one up, half-expecting the blond to storm in and yell at him that now the smell will get into everything and that it is bad for his health.
The apartment starts to get filled with smoke, but it stays quiet.
Yes. It is best this way.
***
Nothing goes better after that.
It takes a surprisingly short amount of time for Ayato to know the location of all the nearby convenience stores, and even shorter to discover which ones sell the ready-made meals he likes best. Unfortunately, not all of them have his preferred brand of cigs, but he always tries to combat the irritation by telling himself that a bit of walking is healthy for him. This arrangement also helps him keep the apartment clean, since the kitchen has been unused and he spends most of his hours away from home. The only real task is to take out the trash from the store-bought meals and empty the ashtray.
Or at least that’s how it was at first.
How can things get dusty so easily? Where is all this dust coming from anyway? And why has the bath started to smell and grow… mould? Since when does mould grow in bathrooms? And how come his suit gets so many wrinkles? He’s sure it did not before… Perhaps he is using the wrong setting on the washing machine, he doesn’t know why the damn thing needs to have so many different options. He can only get by buying a brand-new suit once or twice…
Looking into hiring a person to do the housework is on his to-do list. Not very high on it, but definitely there. He’s set his deadline until Ayaka comes home from her studies abroad, wanting to avoid the earful he’ll surely get if he leaves the house like this. But regardless of how clean the apartment is, the conversation will be unpleasant nonetheless; how is he supposed to tell her he’s through with Thoma? Or perhaps, he realises in horror, Thoma has already told her. Ayato knows how close they are, so it wouldn’t be strange.
… Would she know how he’s doing? Maybe he could ask her一
He stops the thought before it has time to finish, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands to get rid of the sting. He stayed up typing away at his computer for longer than he wanted, staring into the bright screen in a completely dark room. He lights up his before-bed cigarette before getting up, considering if it’s really necessary to change out of his work clothes as he lets his body plummet onto the undone bed.
He needs to renovate his closet anyway, so a third suit couldn’t hurt.
***
The attempts at hook-up dates don’t last. No matter how light their hair, straight their nose or bright their eyes they all lack… something, a something that doesn’t make it worth the trouble of going through all their dull conversations and clear attempts to get to Ayato's wallet.
Better spend that time and effort expanding his stash of sex toys.
The diverse types of shapes, sizes and remote options manage to hit the spot at the beginning 一 who would ever need a partner when one could satisfy themselves so easily? Soon, though, he begins to encounter quite a few things that bother him, especially the… stickiness of it all. He doesn’t remember experiencing it until now, nor the unpleasant sensation on his skin or oddly smelling bedsheets. With stomach-wrenching horror he realised that usually after he’d relieved himself there would be warm, steady hands passing wet towels over his body and hauling him over so the bed was changed. Once these memories sink in, he finds himself missing the weight of arms around his waist and the sometimes unbearable heat of another body close to him.
Perhaps he can try out the dates again once everything has calmed down.
***
He decides to pay a visit to the doctor when the suggestions from his secretary become too obnoxious. As expected, he doesn't like what he hears; malnourished, not enough sleep, bad smoking habits, a very nice smelling perfume but poor personal hygiene. The drilling is so intense he even expects him to diagnose a broken heart. When the day for the next appointment arrives, Ayato doesn't show up. The secretary stops insisting with just a single threat of firing her. Thankfully, he did it before she had the time to contact Ayaka or, even worse, ‘that good friend of yours, the blond foreigner’.
He’s sure he starts feeling even worse after hearing that.
***
The opportunity for a two-week business trip shows up. Ayato takes it immediately. Two weeks where his mind will be too busy to think of anything but work, two weeks without having to step into the apartment to face the ghost of the past 一 a ghost that he sees all around the city, in every happy laughter, every sunny smile, every doting boyfriend he happens to pass by, all tinted in a light too familiar and painful to remember.
Two weeks without regrets.
Much to his co-workers and even his own surprise, the relief allows him to get a few consistent hours of sleep on the plane.
***
The drafts in the chat log keep growing by the day.
Hello Thom一
You forgot to take with you the一
I was wondering how you’re doi一
How do I use the iron 一
Thoma I’m sorr一
Can we start ov一
The innocent look in the puppy’s eyes makes him uncomfortable.
The messages are left unsent.
***
After 3 years of hard work, he finally gets the promotion. He’s all polite and cheery at his former bosses 一now co-workers一 during the dinner held in celebration. The workflow change will be good for him. It will bring a different routine, new perspectives. It’s going to be fine.
He gives his reflection in the lift mirror a fake, encouraging smile, knowing full well he is lying to himself.
***
Ayato can’t remember what they settled with. It was a tough decision to make; what sounded better, what was nicer to hear? Kamisato Thomas, or Ayato Seidel? He did like hearing his name paired with the foreign surname, it made him feel… lighter, for some reason, like it helped remove the burden the family name has carried for so long. But it also felt wrong, as if he was cutting ties with Ayaka, and as Thoma pointed out the Kamisato name could still keep some doors open for them in Inazuma.
He does remember where they were, on an open terrace overlooking the ocean that separates the isolated archipelago from Liyue. It was a special spot, one from where you were able to see the tall, spiky peaks of the impressive Liyuen mountains if you were lucky enough to visit with a cloudless, sunny sky. They were that lucky that day. The light reflected so brightly on their brand-new rings it sometimes blinded him when Thoma kept turning it around, over and over, on Ayato’s finger.
What did they choose? Or did they just decide to think it over when the wedding was closer?
He can’t remember. He wishes he could. He wishes his newly appointed co-workers would call him ‘Mr Seidel’ instead, at least it would make their disdain hurt a little bit less.
The house is too cold, and his chest aches too much. He stares at the dark ceiling of the bedroom for the rest of the night.
***
It happens shortly after.
Every so often the higher-ups hold dinner parties in search of new places to hold events or take clients. Today, they’ll be dining at an establishment that opened only a few months ago which serves avant-garde fusion cuisine, to see if their renown stands true and if they meet the company’s quality standards. The truth about these lavish meals, though, is that the greedy middle-aged men like to go to fancy restaurants and pass the bill as company expenses. This is the first one Ayato attends, and he isn’t very thrilled to spend his Saturday night pretending to have a lovely evening with his co-workers. Yet another thing to add to the ever-growing list of unpleasant work requirements.
When he arrives at the place he finds some of them at the lounge, already sipping at the free drinks offered by the waiters. He makes sure to let his sigh escape silently before approaching them, careful that the exhaustion of the day doesn’t make him spit disrespectful remarks.
“Ah, there he is, our very own golden boy!” One of them greets in a mocking tone, gesturing with his glass to Ayato. “Well, Kitanishi is still missing but we can get started without him.”
That said, he turns to one of the waitresses that is hovering nearby, and the moment Ayato shifts his attention to her is when he sees him; standing at the back with the rest of the staff, hands neatly folded at his back, golden hair combed backward and tied in a nice ponytail, piercing green emeralds staring right at him.
Ayato averts his eyes in an instant, his head beginning to buzz. He sneaks a few extra glances to confirm this is not yet another ghost or hallucination.
Right there, in the same room as him, is Thoma.
Almost unconsciously Ayato passes a hand through his hair, tries to smooth out the wrinkles on his suit, casually pats beneath his eyes to see if they’re not too puffy. Can he somehow pretend he hasn’t seen him? The fact that he’s technically still at work isn’t helping to control his sudden panic attack, coming face to face with his ex-fiancé and having to deal with the insufferable old men too potent a mix for him to handle.
The gods gift him a small mercy in the form of a jolly restaurant owner, who comes forth to greet the group enthusiastically and guides them inside. Ayato follows mechanically, the pressure on his shoulders diminishing slightly when he doesn't feel that stare on him anymore. They’re brought to a secluded part of the grand saloon, to a table with a beautiful centrepiece and exquisite cutlery, and once they all accommodate to their seats the owner approaches again with another man at his side.
“It is an honour and a pleasure to have you with us tonight,” he begins. “As was requested, we have prepared a full-course meal with various samples of all our specialties, which we have arranged meticulously to provide you with an extraordinary gastronomic experience. I must leave you at the moment, but our maître, Mr Watanabe, will take care of you tonight, and I will join you again at the end of the evening. I hope you enjoy,” he finishes with a sharp bow before he takes his leave.
“Gentleman, let us start,” says the maître. “Before the first samples are brought in, we’d like to introduce the first wine we’ll be tasting tonight. We have meticulously selected them so that they’ll complement and enhance the meals that they’ll be accompanying.” As he speaks he does a wide gesture with his arm, and much to Ayato’s utter horror Thoma appears from behind him, coming to a stop next to the table. “This will be your guide, Mr Thomas, our very own sommelier from Mondstadt.”
Thoma gives a polite bow after the introduction. Now that he mentions it, it’s true that the blond’s uniform is slightly different than the others 一no vest and with the sleeves rolled up, a short black apron that only covers the upper part of his legs, and a simple dress shirt stretched across his chest with its buttons struggling to keep the fabric together一 but Ayato can’t help the wide, side-eyed look at the face of such a shameless lie. An expert on wines? This Mondstadter who rejects that part of his heritage and only mingles with spirited drinks for cooking purposes? Ayato’s pretty sure the only wine he’s seen him drink is overboiled glühwein with a substantial amount of sugar in it. What a load of bull, but his companions seem to be eating it up, exchanging happy murmurs and surprised gasps; nothing more effective than to have a ‘native’ explain things to you, after all.
Thoma catches him looking and gives him a small, lopsided smile, the same one he did when they were trying to keep surprise birthday parties from Ayaka. Against his better judgement Ayato finds himself smiling back, feeling a sudden adrenaline rush at the thought of having a little something to share with Thoma once more. He moves his eyes back in front of him as soon as he can, forcing his expression back to neutral.
“To open the night, we’ll start with a white. Grown on the rich soils of the western Mondstandt prairies, even though its siblings tend to sport bold flavours this one is low on acidity…”
The gentle light of the restaurant clings to Thoma's frame, melting around him as if trying to lure Ayato’s eyes onto his figure, which it accomplishes with ridiculous ease. He indulges the temptation until he notices the co-worker at his side staring questioningly. In an attempt to play it off he pretends to start looking at the decore, quelching the burning need inside him by training his ear on Thoma’s speech. His voice pleasantly soaks into Ayato’s body the same way warm water unravels sore muscles, muffling his ears and making his mouth run dry. He is surprised by how confidently the blond presents and exposes the wine, serving their glasses with impressive mastery. He smells it, instructs them on how to appreciate the subtle scents, colours and flavours it has, but doesn’t take a single sip of his own glass.
Before Thoma finishes the missing member of their table finally shows up, interrupting the lulling sound of his monologue.
“Ah, Kitanishi, about time. Thankfully we aren’t too far in.”
“Ah yes, sorry, my wife was being very difficult today…” He says, sitting down and grabbing his own glass, gesturing rudely to the blond. “Here, boy, serve some.” Thoma moves to do so, and then he turns to his companions. “What are we having today?”
“A white from the western wineries, you said?” The man next to Ayato speaks, asking the maître instead of the supposed sommelier. “For how pricey this is, you’d believe it’d be from the better brands.”
“Yes, could you please repeat the name? I didn’t quite understand what the foreigner said…” Another one condescendingly asks.
Ayato is so flabbergasted he isn’t able to stop his lips from parting. Both Thoma and the maître are too polite to refute them, and so the Inazuman takes over and continues with the explanation while Thoma simply smiles and nods along as he speaks, serving some more wine to those who ask.
Ayato doesn’t feel like being so gracious, though.
“I believe the gentleman can speak Inazuman just fine, sirs,” he says with an angry tint. “Please, let him continue.”
Who do they think they are? Anyone who thinks Thoma’s lacking in smarts is too full of themselves to recognise the cunning spark hiding beneath the softness of his eyes. He could do these clowns' jobs ten times better with how capable and proficient and responsible and wonderful and handsome and—
Ayato catches himself and closes his eyes tight, pinching the bridge of his nose and missing the thankful look Thoma gives him before he resumes talking.
Once their glasses are empty the food samples are brought in, coming one after the other and prompting a switch of wines every so often. Ayato pays little attention to the whole thing, all senses trained on tracking Thoma wherever he goes. Emotionally overwhelmed as he is, memories from the past begin to blur with the present, making him confuse the intricate, exquisite cuisine of the restaurant for curry made with store-bought roux, croquettes overly stuffed, or simple miso soup. Those are the things he is craving, just as he is craving whatever piece of Thoma he can still selfishly cling to, which right now is wine refills.
He takes all of them. Anything, everything, just to get Thoma a little closer to him.
Ayato rabidly stares at the way he holds the bottle when he pours, hand curled around the heel and thumb sunk into the punt in an almost obscene way, all while the muscles of his forearm tense and activate to keep the heavy bottle from falling. Discreetly adjusting the collar of his shirt Ayato loosens his necktie, both air and rationality escaping him the more he drinks, something his co-workers don’t miss.
“Looks like someone fancies wines quite a bit.”
“These younglings, preferring this over good old sake… Our future is ruined, I tell you.”
Ayato forces out a smile. If only they knew what it is he truly wishes to savour.
Regretfully, Thoma disappears the moment the deserts show up and Ayato doesn’t see him again. The rest of the evening becomes muffled background noise, the only thought in his mind being how desperately he wants to grab his phone to text his ex-fiancé and how much he should not do it. He cannot wait to get back home and let the excess alcohol take care of his messed up brain, preventing him to process the sudden encounter at least for a little bit longer.
The dilemma lasts for the rest of the meal, thoughts still circling in his mind even when he finally parts ways with his companions hours later. So distracted he is by them he almost abandons the premises without noticing a blond figure leaning against the road rail a few meters down the street, eating a steaming meat bun and cheeks red from the cold. When Ayato looks his way, he finds Thoma’s eyes already on him.
He approaches without a second thought.
“Hey,” greets the blond as soon as he comes into hearing distance, a carefree smile on his lips.
The wide smile that involuntarily spreads across Ayato’s cheeks makes his face hurt, as if the muscles had lost the practice. “Hello.”
“It’s been a while. How have you been?”
“How does it look?” The overworked company employee says with a shrug.
“Same as ever.”
That stings a little. "How about you?"
"Well, you saw," responds Thoma with a similar shrug, which he follows up with a small pause. "I… knew you'd be coming tonight, saw in the schedule that there was a booking from your company."
He knew I'd be here and didn't ask for a change of shift.
Ayato chastises himself with haste. Perhaps he just couldn't change it; this was a big client for them, that surely required all hands to be on deck.
"It’s just an excuse to gorge at the company’s expense, not much real business going on here."
"Yeah, that's what it looked like," the blond says with a chuckle that steals Ayato's breath away. "I don’t remember you going to places this fancy, though..."
"Perks of the new position, I suppose.”
Thoma’s face lights up. "You finally got it? Congratulations." The rush of uneasiness Ayato gets at feeling happier about this simple reaction than when he got the promotion leaves him speechless, which leads to a small, awkward pause. Thoma looks up at the sky, audibly taking in a breath before he speaks again. "How are you getting home? Sorry for intruding, but… You drank a lot, and..."
Ayato’s heart quickens. "I was going to call a taxi. You?"
"Trains run late today. Saturday." At a loss for words yet again, Ayato replies with a small nod which makes him suddenly lightheaded, though he isn’t sure if it’s because of the alcohol or the way his body is overheating. What he does know is that he stumbles, and he doesn’t fall on his ass thanks to a firm, strong, glorious arm catching him. "... Do you mind if I come with you? I just want to make sure you get home safe. What if the driver takes you somewhere else, or steals from you, or—"
His already unsteady breath catches. Don’t get your hopes up, he repeats in his head.
"Still a worrywart. Would that let you sleep in peace?" Ayato manages to croak out.
Thoma rubs the back of his neck, averting his eyes. "Yeah."
"Alright then. Let's go."
The taxi ride is long, silent, and torturous. Ayato’s mind is abuzz, juggling with the many questions he wants to ask.
How did you get this job?
Where do you live now?
Are you seeing someone?
Did you get over me already?
Do you still lov一
He stills his tongue with a mighty bite. The long journey also puts a pressure on his stomach that makes him want to vomit, and in his deep concentration to keep it at bay, he barely registers arriving at their destination, getting off, and entering the apartment.
When the door closes behind the blond, Ayato is scared to look back at him. Even as his nausea worsens, he dares sneak a glance and sees Thoma looking around with a soul-wrecking hurt marring his handsome face. At one point his eyes fall on the full ashtray, but continue moving forward without a comment. He sighs, gently, and takes a step backward towards the door.
“Are you leaving already?” Ayato asks with a higher pitch than usual.
“Yes, I should… It’s quite late.”
Ayato bites his lips. He wants to scream, beg. Please don’t go.
“Would you… Would you like a cup of coffee?”
Thoma gives him a troubled look. “If you drink coffee now it’d make your stomach hurt, with how much you’ve drunk.”
Of course, Thoma is always right. Ayato flops down onto the sofa, face hidden behind his hand as he laughs pathetically. “Yes, I guess…”
The odd, sudden reaction seems to change Thoma’s willingness to go. “Are you feeling ok? Do you want me to get something for you?” Ayato doesn’t reply, pushing his face against his palm a bit firmer. “Are you ok?” Thoma repeats.
For a moment, he isn’t sure of what is happening to him. His chest contracts into itself with a pain that makes him double over as his lungs lose air. His nose crunches up, his eyes begin to sting and it takes him a few seconds to realise he’s begun crying.
“Hey… hey,” Thoma’s voice sounds alarmed, worried, and Ayato feels a weight sink next to him on the sofa. He curls further into himself. “What’s going on?”
What indeed. Ayato shakes his head no, having been so long since he's cried that he isn’t sure of what to do. He didn’t remember it feeling this wrong, or hurting so much. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe the longer he tries to keep his sobs at bay.
“It’s ok, just let it go,” gently says the voice beside him, a warm hand coming to rub circles at his back. “Let it go.”
Ayato closes his eyes to see if it’ll manage to keep the tears from falling, but all the sorrow, ache, and loss he’s felt since the day Thoma left through the front door power through his frail will, and they begin to freely fall down his cheeks. Each shattering hiccup makes his frame shake. During it all, Thoma doesn’t stop rubbing his back soothingly, but the considerate touch only makes him want to cry even harder. This kindness Thoma is showing him is no different than the one he offers to stray kittens and helpless strangers. His unwavering attention and love are something Ayato had long ago, and something he’d lost during the past few years.
He would rather be abandoned in a ditch than be submitted to the torture of Thoma’s sweet yet cruel tenderness.
“Do you want to talk about it?” The blond asks with clear hesitance when he sees the sobbing getting louder.
Ayato scoffs with a disdain Thoma does not deserve. “What do you want me to say?” He begins, the drunkenness and heartache finally letting his tongue loose. “That I'm even more miserable than before? That I am incapable of taking the reins of my own life, and that you were right leaving me because of it? That I cannot move on like you did?”
“... What makes you think I’m much better off than you?” The blond replies, stopping to touch his back. "I miss you a lot, you know."
Ayato's brain is spiralling down at such speed he doesn’t have the chance to hold onto those words. "No… Don't do this to me Thoma, please don't."
There is a long, uncomfortable silence before the whisper is heard. "... Sorry."
At that, Ayato realises with horror he’s doing exactly what partially led to their doom, dismissing Thoma's feelings because they make him feel uncomfortable. He sniffles, trying to dry his tears. "No, I'm sorry, I… I'mー" He halts his tongue when he realises he's once again about to slip into another old habit, using one of his excuses. I'm tired. I'm drunk. I'm lonely. "... Sorry."
"It's ok." This time Ayato doesn’t flinch because of a sob, but because of the flood of bad memories that those words bring with them. He keeps his head low, so he doesn’t see the offered tissue until Thoma brings it right next to him. He takes it, but doesn’t use it. "... Can I hug you?"
Another sharp, piercing wave of pain. "Why?"
"You look like you're hurting."
The air around them seems to suddenly materialise, weighing onto him heavily. Ayato wants to say yes, yes, yes so badly, but he knows if he accepts Thoma's warmth now he won't be able to let it go again, not without losing himself completely, even if such warmth is just fueled by pity towards his craven, lonely self.
“Why do you always have to be so… kind and considerate…. It’s not fair…" Ayato murmurs, arms curling around himself to resist the urge to give in. "It's not fair! How can I deserve to be with you when you’re so perfect and I’m such a goodman mess all the time.” Always so sunny, so gentle, never pointing fingers at Ayato no matter how much he hurt him. “... Why did you never get mad about the ring? Why were you never angry at me, about anything?”
That manages to make Thoma look away with guilt. "I just… I just wanted to give you anything you desired, because you deserve all that is good in this world. No matter what it was, if you told me you wanted it then I’d find a way to give it to you. I didn’t care if you didn’t wear the ring, I didn’t care if you didn’t love me as much as I loved you, I didn’t care if…" He needs to gather his courage with a gulp before continuing. "If you only wanted to have sex with me. It didn’t matter… As long as I could take care of you and see you smile, it didn’t matter.” He lets out a small, pathetic laugh. “I didn’t actually want to break up, you know. I thought that maybe it could get better if we just spent some time away, but you said it with such a firm voice that… I couldn’t say no.”
Ayato's head snaps up, his already shattered heart breaking into even tinier pieces. Is that how Thoma saw him? Is that the supposed 'love' he'd been giving him? Thoma was always willing to find a solution, and it was Ayato who decided their relationship wasn’t worth his time.
The pain in his chest reaches such a burning white pain that he needs to recoil once more.
“You're lying, Thoma, you did care. This is not how it works. You cannot just… completely shut yourself off and do whatever it is I want, or what you think I want. And I know it was not just your fault, because… Because I took advantage of your kindness." And who wouldn't, when they are handed something so precious like Thoma's pure, unyielding, blinding devotion? "But a one-way relationship like that cannot work, you should’ve told me how you felt, what you wanted… You should’ve told me when I was being an absolute asshole." He stops, short of breath, fingers digging into his forearms. "And I should've known to ask. I wanted to make you smile, too. I wanted to be the best partner you could have. I wanted to be the only one worthy of you.” He needs to brace himself for another wave of pain the moment he hears Thoma sniff. “But I wasn’t. I know I wasn’t. I know I cannot be.”
“... How do you know that?”
“How much work do you think it takes to change 10 years of bad habits?”
“Well… Who could say. But according to Ayaka, we’re both workaholics,” the blond says with a subdued chuckle, interrupted by another tiny sniff.
Against his better judgement Ayato lets a small smile escape, one he is quick to rub off, together with his tears and snot, messing up the pure white sleeve of his shirt. “Is that so.”
For some reason the undignified gesture makes Thoma chuckle again, but it’s a genuine sound this time. When he speaks, his tone is a bit lighter. “I did mean it. I miss you.”
Defeated, weak and inconsolable, Ayato yields. "I miss you too. I miss you so much that sometimes it's hard to just… be."
“Yeah, I get that,” Thoma says, sounding just as crestfallen as Ayato is feeling. He lets himself fall back onto the sofa, gaze moving to the ceiling. “Can we… try again?” When he gets no response, he repeats it. “I want to give us a second chance.”
Ayato finally turns to look at him, trying to decipher his expression through the mist in his eyes. “Why, Thoma?”
“Because I don’t think I can keep going like this, with this… Horrible sensation of having had something torn off me. This is no life, not the one I want at least.” He explains, his hand fisting his black shirt right over his heart. “And I believe you, so if there is even a small chance… I will fight to get my missing part back. What about you?”
Optimistic to a fault. But isn’t this exactly why Ayato adores him so? Isn’t that the reason why he’s been unable to forget him, reduced to nothing but a shrunken, miserable vision of himself when abandoned in such a harsh and cold world? Blinded by his own ambition he unknowingly denied the comfort, the warmth, the home that Thoma blessed him with.
He is tired. Of everything. But if there is still something of him to be given, then he wants Thoma to have it.
“I will fight. I want my missing part back too.”
With a soft smile, Thoma reaches out and cups one of his cheeks, gently brushing away the tears as he stares at Ayato like he is the most valuable existence on earth. The longing in his eyes is practically palpable, weighing down on Ayato’s shrivelled heart, making him feel so undeserving of this devotion he almost has the urge to pull away.
But he does not. He nuzzles further into that big, rough hand he’s missed so much, his body becoming light at the mere contact, as he looks back at Thoma with the same unbound love, unable to control himself any longer.
“Just do it. Please.”
With incredible speed Thoma pulls him to his chest, caging Ayato in his arms while his lips begin to caress his face, spreading gentle kisses on his forehead, cheeks, and beneath his eyes. Ayato melts with each of them, every peck prompting a new tear to flow down his face, until he greedily captures Thoma’s mouth with his own and clumsily returns his kisses. He feels small, drunk, and sweaty, but he doesn't let go, whining the moment Thoma separates just an inch.
"Let's talk more calmly about it tomorrow morning, ok?"
Ayato meekly says yes, keeping his lips in contact with the blond’s skin. With little effort Thoma picks him up and carries him to the bedroom, all while he keeps murmuring gentle reassurances into his ear. The moment Thoma tries to lay him in bed to rest, though, he clumsily stumbles forward when Ayato doesn’t let go of him, entire body curled against his.
“What are you, a koala?”
The drunkard grumbles displeased. “Yes.”
“Oh dear,” Thoma chuckles. “Mr Koala, are you going to sleep with that dirty shirt on?”
Leave it to Thoma to still act as a mother hen no matter the circumstances, though Ayato’s fond smile fades away when he answers the question.
“I… The rest of my clothes are… also dirty,” he admits with a small voice.
When Thoma doesn't reply he just buries his face further into him, his escape route failing the moment the blond pulls him away. With confusion Ayato watches as he takes his sweater off, laying it to the side and then unbuttoning Ayato’s shirt and slipping it off his shoulders. Before the cold has time to cling to his pale skin, Thoma slips his warm, soft, oversized top onto him.
“Is this ok? You should take your pants off too,” the blond says before he realises the implications, which bring a beautiful crimson to his cheeks. “Well, I mean, to sleep! Like not to... Ugh, you know what I mean.”
Ayato clings back to him as he lets out a loud laugh, muffling the sound with another kiss. Thoma accepts it all gladly.
Sleep is difficult to find Ayato, or rather he refuses to let it take over him, afraid that when he wakes up the next morning he will be back on an empty bed and not in the warm embrace of Thoma’s arms. He loses the battle after an hour, and when he finally manages to drift away, he has the most peaceful slumber he’s had in years.
***
Even though the rush hour is long past and there’s plenty of space to sit, Ayato decides to stand and wait next to the doors, silently watching the obscured cityscape. This line doesn’t tend to get crowded, but he always tends to prefer to let his legs stretch a little bit during the commune. He already spends too much time sitting anyway.
His mindless, almost meditative trance is broken by a low vibration against his tight. He opens his briefcase and looks through it, taking one of his phones out.
Ayato did have the intention to slip away as soon as he could, so he didn’t tell Thoma about the unscheduled meal, but as always work managed to strand him for longer than he wanted. He takes the blame, knowing he should’ve warned the blond sooner, but as always Thoma also decided to wait no matter the hour…
Ayato sighs. Old habits really are hard to get rid of but, an improvement is an improvement, no matter how small.
Their reunion hadn’t been something passionate and easy, like how it often is in the movies. Afraid of destroying the precious little embers that still remained of their relationship, they rekindled them slowly and patiently; meeting just once or twice a week, going on dates and long walks in the park, flirting as if they hadn’t known each other for almost half their lifetime. It brought back candid memories for Ayato. He vaguely remembers that day Ayaka came home, explaining to him that her friend that went to the neighbourhood’s public school had a new classmate who was having trouble adapting since he was from abroad. Ayato didn’t think much of it, as focused as he was handling his first year of university, until the day he stumbled onto his sister with two blonds at each side; the girl’s clearly died with drugstore products, while the boy’s had a natural sheen that could only come from the sun reflecting on the naturally gold hair. At some point, they started to come over for their chats, both their cheerful personalities making the household feel a little less lonely than usual. Then, somehow, the boy started staying for longer, always interested to see what Ayato was working on. He started to stay over at night. Each time, he sat closer and closer to Ayato. One day they kissed. And the rest is history.
Conversations about the past are quite often between them now, though exciting ideas for future plans always sneak in. He’d love for Ayaka to go down the memory line with Thoma and him, but whenever they call 一which they try to do more regularly now一 he can tell she’s still a bit upset at him. He finally told her about what happened, the same way a child only confesses a wrongdoing once they’ve managed to somehow fix it, and he sure did get quite the scolding for having kept such delicate information 一 ’And yes, breaking up with your fiancé and partner for more than ten years is a big thing, brother!' She yelled over the phone. Even though it makes Ayato's heart ache to see his sister like that, he knows she’s simply concerned, since she's as much of a worrywart as they are.
All and all, it's been a long, laborious journey, but for once Ayato can say with confidence all the work was worth it. After almost half a year of healing, they've decided to live together once more but not in the old, gloomy apartment tainted with so many memories of the past. They looked for a new place, one with a smaller living room but bigger kitchen, with tall windows that welcome the sun for most of the day, and even though it's a bit further away from his office, it's close to the retail store where Thoma's started working. The change was a breath of fresh air Ayato didn’t know he needed until now, and even though he intends to keep the old apartment for when Ayaka returns, he wouldn’t give up the new home for anything in the world.
When he finally arrives and opens the door to the apartment, he sees light coming from the kitchen. He takes off his shoes, hangs his suit jacket on the coat hanger and leaves the briefcase next to it, turning off his work phone and bringing with him the personal one. He walks to the kitchen, finding in there a welcome sight that makes his lips stretch into a fond smile; Thoma, cheeks puffed out, munching on whatever delicious treat he’s cooked today.
“Ayato! I didn’t hear you come in,” he greets, giving back the smile.
“Is supper so good it has you that distracted?” He asks teasingly, leaning down to place a soft kiss on Thoma’s mouth. His lips are still warm from the soup he must’ve finished just moments ago.
“Yup, wanna try?” The blond says, offering a mouth-watering meatball with his chopsticks.
Ayato shoves the whole thing into his mouth, now himself the one with puffed cheeks. It’s so delicious he considers braving the food load stomach ache, but reconsiders after realising it’s not worth it to spend the Saturday in bed.
“It’ll make a tasty breakfast,” he says instead. “I… really am sorry for coming back so late,” he apologises with a softer voice.
Thoma smiles at him, stealing another short kiss. “A compensation is in order, then.”
“Oh, how cunning!” Ayato jokes, walking to the kettle and filling it with water. “Please, do not take advantage of me, Mr Thoma.”
Thoma barks out a laugh, though his cheeks still gain a bit of colour. Not knowing how to respond he returns to his food, eating a bit faster than normal.
Ayato smiles to himself and turns back to the tea. Perhaps Thoma would like a trip to the craft store, he's making a big blanket for them to share on the sofa during movie nights and he’ll probably need to restock in some colours. They can go after tomorrow’s cleanup, and get something nice and sweet to drink afterward; since Thoma works outside the home now the place isn’t as spotless as it used to be, and the couple uses the weekend to upkeep it. The hypercaloric drink will be a nice reward for their hard work.
Tea finished, Ayato pours it into their matching cups and serves them at the table, taking a seat to catch up with his boyfriend. Their fingers intertwine as the conversation continues, and even though they don’t glimmer with the splendorous sight of engagement rings, their connection has never felt stronger. Such things can come at a later time. For now, they’ll just enjoy the happiness they’ve been blessed with.
"Are you not bathing today?" Asks the blond, their cups having emptied a while ago.
"Yes, but... we can do it together," Ayato suggests with a sultry tone, though he looks at Thoma with a question in his eyes. He’ll be more than satisfied with just cuddles in the bathtub.
Thoma clears his throat, turning his head to the side to poorly hide his adorable, crimson blush. "Ok, let me handle the dishes first,” he says, standing up and putting both dishes and cups onto the sink.
Ayato stands up as well, coming up behind him and making him turn around with a hard pull on the collar of his shirt.
“I turned off my phone until Monday, you can abandon your precious dishes until tomorrow morning,” he says, taking off his necktie and passing it around Thoma’s neck. “Right?”
“Y-yes…” Sounds the shy, helpless whimper.
“I’ll help you wash them,” Ayato adds with a smile, starting to kiss his neck. Thoma stiffens immediately, recalling all the casualties there were last time he offered to ‘help’. Ayato can’t help but laugh, the saucy mood be damned. “Ok, just rinse them.”
“Deal.”
Dragging Thoma by the necktie, Ayato walks them to the bathroom. Once there, he pins the blond to the wall and begins undressing him, taking his sweet time to slide his hands over each firm muscle he can find. He allows Thoma to do the same but doesn’t offer much help to remove his own clothes, already busy mouthing lovely red marks wherever he can. Just as he’s about to sink his teeth in, Thoma stops him.
“I… I’d like to have you for myself tonight,” the blond confesses with an unsure but raised voice, probably hoping the volume will hide the hesitance. He visibly swallows to stop himself from adding a ‘please’ or any other sort of plead. His hands squeeze down on Ayato’s waist.
With a wicked smile painted over his lips, Ayato drapes himself over his dearest and purrs in his ear. “I am at your mercy. Be gentle.”
The strong hands travel downwards towards Ayato’s buttocks, cupping them gently before peeling the tight underwear off.
“Always.”