By the time Suki reached his own front door, the high from the trip had already started to fray at the edges.
The house smelled like citrus cleaner and fabric softener. Someone had left the hallway light on for him—Mei, probably, before her night shift. The entryway was quiet, no sisters yelling, no TV blaring. Just the soft echo of his key turning in the lock.
He toed his shoes off and stood there for a minute, backpack still slung over one shoulder, staring at the wall.
It's fine, he told himself. We made up. We're okay.
The part of his chest that still felt weirdly hollow didn't seem convinced.
He padded into the living room. A sticky note was taped to the remote: Leftover curry in the fridge. Don't stay up too late — Rika. P.S. Don't burn anything. P.P.S. Or anyone.
Normally, he'd laugh and send a dramatic selfie to the group chat.
Tonight, he just peeled the note off, stuck it to his own forehead for a second, then took it off again and dropped it on the table.
His phone buzzed.
He grabbed it instinctively.
Ryuzi: Home.Ryuzi: Showering.Ryuzi: Tired.
Three short messages. No emojis. No "honey." No "sunshine." Just… factual.
Suki stared at the screen.
His thumbs hovered, then he forced himself to type with his usual flair.
Suki: Welcome back to civilian life 🥲Suki: Did u miss my snoring alreadySuki: bet ur bed feels lonely without me starfishing on it
He watched the delivered status sit there. No typing dots.
"Okay," he muttered to his own reflection in the black TV screen. "He's tired. It was a long trip. People are allowed to be tired, Suki."
He tossed his phone onto the couch, then immediately picked it up again and carried it into the kitchen like it might run away without him.
He warmed up the curry on autopilot. The microwave hummed. He tried to think about anything else—about Kenji nearly falling out of the kayak, about Aoi catching Haruto when he'd nearly slipped on the dock stairs, about Miyako's laugh when she'd beaten them all at cards.
The good stuff.
His phone buzzed again.
He snatched it up fast enough to nearly drop it.
Ryuzi: Sorry, just saw these.Ryuzi: Yeah. It's… quiet.Ryuzi: I'll probably crash early.
Just saw these. It had been eight minutes.
Suki bit his lip, counted to three, then replied.
Suki: go sleep then 🥱Suki: tomorrow we can do a post-trip debriefSuki: I'll bring snacks. payment for tolerating me for 4 days
He added a silly sticker of a chibi sun hugging a cloud, then hit send.
The dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Ryuzi: You don't have to.Ryuzi: The snacks, I mean.Ryuzi: See you tomorrow.
Suki stared at You don't have to, and something about the way it sat alone on the screen made his stomach twist.
He typed:
Suki: do u… not want to hang out?
Then deleted it.
He typed:
Suki: u ok?
Then deleted that too.
He finally settled on:
Suki: okay!! good night 💤Suki: dream of my beautiful face
This time the reply came faster.
Ryuzi: …Ryuzi: Good night.
No heart. No "I love you." No little extra word that used to slip in almost accidentally.
Suki set the phone down on the counter, leaned his elbows beside it, and rested his forehead on his arms.
"It's fine," he said out loud to the empty kitchen. "He's just tired. We just spent four days sharing a room. That's a lot of Sunshine for one emotionally constipated boy."
The microwave beeped. He didn't move.
He lifted his head after a moment, forced himself to straighten up and grab his food. "Yeah," he said to the curry, "it's fine."
But later, when he lay in his own bed with the ceiling a soft blur above him and his phone clutched loosely in his hand, he couldn't shake one thought:
Why does it suddenly feel like he's three steps away again?
⸻
Across town, Ryuzí sat on the edge of his own bed, hair damp from the shower, phone screen lighting his face in the dim.
His room felt too familiar and too foreign at once.
The trip photos were already starting to flood the class chat—Kenji had uploaded a string of blurry shots with captions like "proof Haruto can smile" and "Aoi about to murder me with her eyes (footage)". Suki had spammed the thread with reaction stickers and gushing commentary until about fifteen minutes ago.
Then his name had stopped appearing.
Ryuzí scrolled back up through their private messages, thumb hovering over that You don't have to line.
He winced.
It had sounded colder than he'd meant.
He hadn't meant, you don't have to bring snacks, I don't want you to.
He'd meant, you don't owe me anything, you already gave me so much this trip and my head is loud and I don't know how to be a good boyfriend today without breaking something.
He tossed the phone onto his pillow, then immediately retrieved it when it buzzed.
A different name flashed across the top of the notification banner.
Dr. Kudo: You mentioned wanting to schedule a follow-up after the school event.Dr. Kudo: How are you feeling after the trip?Dr. Kudo: If you're avoiding, that's useful data too.
Useful data.He huffed a humorless breath.
He stared at the message for a long moment, jaw tight, then typed.
Ryuzi: It was… good.Ryuzi: I didn't panic. No flashbacks.Ryuzi: But now that I'm home everything feels… louder.
He watched the cursor blink.
Dr. Kudo: That's common. You were in "contained mode" — focused on others, tasks, keeping it together.Dr. Kudo: When the structure falls away, all the background noise returns.Dr. Kudo: Have you told Suki?
Ryuzí's throat tightened.
He typed, then erased.
Ryuzi: No.Ryuzi: He thinks we're fine again.
He hesitated, then added:
Ryuzi: I don't want him to think I'm sick of him.Ryuzi: I'm just… tired. Of my own head.
He hit send before he could chicken out.
The typing dots came almost immediately.
Dr. Kudo: That's a very clear way to put it.Dr. Kudo: Avoidance is one of your patterns. You withdraw when you're overwhelmed, and people assume it's about them.Dr. Kudo: Is that happening now?
His chest clenched.
Ryuzi: Maybe.
The reply:
Dr. Kudo: You don't have to force yourself to be "the perfect boyfriend" when you're struggling.Dr. Kudo: But disappearing emotionally will hurt both of you.Dr. Kudo: We can talk strategies. Session this week?
He stared at You don't have to force yourself to be "the perfect boyfriend" until the words blurred.
He typed:
Ryuzi: Yeah.Ryuzi: This week is fine.
He set the phone down, screen facedown this time, as if that would muffle his own thoughts.
A loose memory surfaced: Suki laughing at the bonfire, cheeks lit by flame, leaning into him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Suki whispering, You're doing so well, honey. I'm proud of you.
Warmth and pressure tangled in his ribs.
"I'm trying," he said softly into the quiet. "I'm trying. I just… don't know how to not mess this up."
He lay down, stared at the ceiling, and told himself he'd act normal tomorrow. Less weird. More present.
He closed his eyes.
Sleep did not arrive on command.
⸻
Morning at school felt strangely like stepping onto a stage they all knew the lines to, except someone had shifted a prop two inches to the left.
Suki bounced through the gate with a canned coffee in each hand, forcing his grin to be bright enough to burn away the leftover anxiety.
"Good morniiiing!" he called, sing-song, when he spotted Haruto and Aoi near the shoe lockers.
Haruto looked up from adjusting his laces, and the quiet smile that tugged at his lips was softer than usual. "Morning."
Aoi's gaze flicked over Suki in a quick scan, then softened. "You're loud at 8 a.m."
"It's part of my charm," Suki said, distributing coffee like blessings. He handed one to Haruto, then offered the other to Aoi. "Bribery for my favorite power couple."
Aoi's ears pinked, but she took the can. "We're not—"
Haruto coughed. Aoi shot him a look. He looked away, cheeks faintly red.
Suki grinned. "Uh-huh. Sure."
He turned, scanning the courtyard for a familiar slouch and mussed dark hair.
There.
Ryuzí was just coming through the gate, bag slung over his shoulder, expression neutral. He looked up at the exact moment Suki's heart gave its usual little leap.
Their eyes met.
Suki felt the automatic smile rise in his chest.
Ryuzí's mouth twitched—something too small to be called a smile, but it was something. He lifted a hand in a small wave.
Suki jogged over, smile stretching wider. "Morning."
"Morning," Ryuzí replied. His voice was even, unreadable.
Suki held out the coffee like a trophy. "Offering in exchange for tolerating me this past weekend."
"You don't have to bring me things," Ryuzí said, almost reflexively.
The words pricked more than they should have.
Suki forced a laugh. "Wow, rejection at the gate. Brutal."
Ryuzí blinked, seeming to realize how it sounded. "I didn't mean—" He paused, exhaled, then took the can. "Thank you."
The apology was in his tone more than the word. Suki caught it. Clung to it.
"Forgiven," he said lightly. "On one condition: you eat lunch with me. And not while pretending your textbook is tastier than your food."
"…I'll try," Ryuzí said.
Suki's smile faltered a millimeter. Try, not of course.
Before he could poke at it, Kenji barreled into them from the side, looping an arm around both their shoulders. "Good morning, my emotionally unavailable sons!"
"We're the same age," Ryuzí said flatly.
"Spiritual sons," Kenji corrected. He looked between them. "You two look weird."
"We always look weird," Suki shot back.
"Yeah, but this feels like… post-DLC awkwardness," Kenji mused. "Like you unlocked a new cutscene and the game's still loading textures."
Suki blinked. "Why is that weirdly accurate?"
Ryuzí sighed. "Kenji."
"I'm just saying," Kenji continued, undeterred, "if you're gonna be all soft and couple-y on the trip and then come back acting like you're in a tragic indie film, at least warn us so we can bring popcorn."
"We're fine," Suki said, a shade too quickly.
Ryuzí's gaze flickered, then slid away. "We're fine," he echoed.
Kenji stared at them for a second longer, eyes narrowing… then plastered on a grin. "Okay! Fine it is. I'm monitoring the situation, though. For science."
He trotted ahead to ambush Haruto and Aoi with more chaos.
Suki watched him go, then glanced sideways at Ryuzí. "We are fine," he said, softer.
Ryuzí hesitated. "Yeah."
"Cool." Suki forced a grin. "Then walk me to class, boyfriend."
He hooked his arm through Ryuzí's, half-daring him to pull away.
Ryuzí didn't.
He didn't lean in either.
Just… walked, matching Suki's pace, shoulder brushing his lightly now and then, eyes fixed ahead like the path required his full attention.
Suki laughed too loudly at something small. It clanged in his own ears.
No one else seemed to notice.
⸻
The day moved in fragments.
In homeroom, Suki doodled little suns and hearts in the corner of his notes while the teacher droned about upcoming exams. Every so often, he'd glance sideways.
Ryuzí's pen moved steadily. His posture was straight, his attention seemingly glued to the board. No shared glances. No tiny, secret smirks across the aisle.
During break, Suki drifted over to his desk anyway. "Hey," he said, leaning on it with his usual casual sprawl. "You wanna help me not fail math after school?"
"I have… something after school," Ryuzí said.
Suki blinked. "Oh? Club stuff?"
Pause. "No. Just an appointment."
"With who?" The question slipped out before he could check it. He tried to make it a joke. "Secret second boyfriend?"
Ryuzí's hand stilled on his notebook for half a second.
"…It's just a thing," he said eventually. "I'll text you later."
The wall was soft-spoken, but it was still a wall.
"Oh." Suki straightened. "Yeah. Okay. No worries."
He turned the smile up to full brightness as he shifted away, chatting with Kenji, chiming into Aoi and Miyako's planning argument about presentation fonts.
If anyone watched closely enough, they might have noticed that his laugh came just a little delayed every time.
⸻
Lunch on the rooftop had always been their space—chaotic, loud, full of arguments over how many fries constituted "sharing."
Today the sky was clear, the breeze cool, the city spread below like something from one of Haruto's sketches.
They all sat in their usual loose cluster: Suki and Ryuzí back against the rail, Kenji sprawled like he owned the roof, Haruto with his knees drawn up and sketchbook open, Aoi half-watching him and half-writing notes, Miyako carefully dividing snacks into equal piles.
Suki poked at his bento. "So," he announced, "trip debrief. Best moment. Go."
"Kenji nearly capsizing the kayak," Aoi said immediately.
"I didn't nearly—" Kenji began.
"Kenji nearly capsizing the kayak," Haruto echoed calmly.
"Traitors."
"My best moment," Suki said, pointing his chopsticks at Haruto and Aoi, "was you two falling off that stupid swan boat because you were too busy making heart eyes to notice the edge."
Aoi flushed. "We were not—"
Haruto hid a smile behind his hand.
Miyako's eyes crinkled. "I liked the bonfire," she said softly. "It felt… warm. Like something I hadn't had in a while."
The group quieted a bit at that. Kenji slung an arm around her shoulders in an exaggerated gesture. "Then we'll have a hundred more bonfires," he declared. "Metaphorical ones too."
She smiled, small but real. "Metaphorical fire sounds safer."
"And you?" Suki asked, nudging Ryuzí's shoulder. "Best moment?"
Ryuzí looked up from his food, caught mid-bite. All eyes turned to him.
He swallowed, glanced around at the group, then down at his lunch again.
"…The morning on the dock," he said finally. "When it was quiet."
Suki's chest tugged. That had been just them, sitting with their legs dangling over the water, Suki chattering about nothing, Ryuzí listening like it mattered.
He smiled. "Yeah. That was good."
Ryuzí didn't look at him. "Mm."
The "mm" wasn't cold. It just… ended.
Conversation shifted. Kenji started a loud debate about which teacher secretly had a nightlife. Aoi shut him down with a raised brow. Haruto sketched the curve of Miyako's hands as she arranged cookies. They all laughed.
Beside Suki, Ryuzí finished his bento with methodical movements, gaze far away.
Suki's hand lay between them on the warm concrete, fingers slightly spread.
Ryuzí's hand didn't reach for it.
⸻
After school, Suki lingered by the shoe lockers, tapping his phone against his palm.
He watched students trickle out. Friends shouting. Couples walking side by side. Someone yelling Kenji's name from across the courtyard.
Eventually, he saw Ryuzí.
Bag slung, headphones around his neck, expression distant.
Suki stepped forward. "Hey," he called.
Ryuzí stopped. "Hey."
"Want me to walk you?" Suki asked, trying for light. "Part of my boyfriend package is escort service."
"I…" Ryuzí looked past him, toward the gate. He hesitated long enough for the silence to sting. "I have to go the other way today."
Suki blinked. "Other way?"
"That appointment," Ryuzí said. "I told you."
Right. The "thing." The something.
"Right," Suki echoed, scrambling. "Yeah. Of course. I'll just… head home then."
"Okay," Ryuzí said.
There was a beat where Suki waited for something else.A let's call later, a text me when you get home, a stupid pet name squeezed in like an afterthought.
Nothing.
"See you tomorrow," Ryuzí said instead. He lifted a hand in that same small wave and turned away, footsteps already pulling him down the side street.
Suki stood there for a second, watching his back.
"See you tomorrow," he said quietly, too late for anyone but himself to hear.
He realized his hand was clenched tight around his phone and forced his fingers to relax.
You're overreacting, he told himself as he walked home alone. He's allowed to have his own… things. He doesn't have to be glued to you. You're not the main character of the universe, Suki.
But the hollow feeling in his chest remained, stubborn as a bruise.
⸻
That night, his phone stayed quiet longer than usual.
No random memes from Ryuzí. No "did you eat." No "Suki, sleep."
He paced his room, then flopped onto his bed, then rolled onto his stomach and scrolled through their photos.
There they were on the dock, Suki's arms flung around Ryuzí's shoulders, both of them laughing. There they were on the bus, Suki asleep with his head on Ryuzí's shoulder, Ryuzí pretending to be annoyed but his hand resting lightly on Suki's knee.
"I didn't make that up," Suki said to the pictures. "That was real."
His phone buzzed.
His heart leaped, then tripped when he saw the name.
Class Group: Reminder! Bring gym clothes tomorrow!!
He groaned into his pillow dramatically, then forced himself to reply something stupid and loud so no one would guess he was quietly spiraling.
It was nearly an hour later when his private chat finally lit up.
Ryuzi: Sorry.Ryuzi: Busy day.Ryuzi: Home now.
Suki stared at it for a second, then typed back.
Suki: welcome back 🧡Suki: u ok?
Dots. Stop. Dots.
Ryuzi: Yeah. Just… tired again.Ryuzi: Brain won't shut up.
Suki's fingers hovered.
He wanted to say: Talk to me. Let me in. Let me help.
Instead, he typed:
Suki: stupid brainSuki: wanna call? I can be background noise until u sleep
The answer took longer this time.
Ryuzi: Not tonight.Ryuzi: I'd just be quiet.Ryuzi: You don't have to deal with that.
There it was again.
You don't have to.
Like Suki being there was a chore.
His throat felt tight.
Suki: I like your quietSuki: but okSuki: rest then
He hovered, then added, more tentative:
Suki: did I… do something?
The typing indicator blinked.
Stopped.
Started again.
Ryuzi: No.Ryuzi: It's not you.Ryuzi: I'm just messed up.Ryuzi: Sleep, Suki.
Suki stared at Sleep, Suki.No pet names. No softness on the edges.
He swallowed.
Suki: okSuki: night
He put the phone face-down beside his pillow and stared into the dark, eyes burning in a way that had nothing to do with exhaustion.
"It's not you," he whispered to himself, trying to believe it. "He said it's not you."
But another voice, smaller and meaner, muttered back:
Then why does it feel like it is?
⸻
Somewhere else in the city, Miyako sat on her bed, knees drawn to her chest, the glow from her phone screen the only light in the room.
The last message on her screen still read:
Unknown: Do you miss me?
She hadn't replied.
She had muted the number. Archived it. Pretended it didn't exist.
New notification banners slid in above it—Kenji's ridiculous voice memos from earlier, Aoi's efficient bullet-point trip summary, Haruto's quiet "Thank you. It was fun." message to the group.
Miyako's fingers hovered over the Unknown thread.
She locked her phone instead.
"I won't let you ruin this," she whispered into the stillness of her room. Her voice came out thinner than she'd intended. "Not this time."
Her thumb worried at the chipped edge of her nail until it almost hurt.
Then she opened the group chat and typed:
Miyako: Did everyone get home safely?
Within seconds, replies popped up.
Suki: YES captain!!! alive & dramatic as everKenji: physically yes emotionally no (I MISS THE MOUNTAINS)Aoi: Home. Don't dramatize.Haruto: Home. Thank you for organizing the schedule.Ryuzi: Home.
She read them all twice, then let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
She didn't reply to the unknown number.
Not tonight.
⸻
Back in his dark room, Suki rolled onto his side and pulled his pillow tight against his chest.
He thought of Ryuzí's last message.
I'm just messed up.
"Me too," Suki whispered into the cotton. "You don't have to be messed up alone."
But the only answer was the soft hum of the night outside and the quiet buzz of his phone when the screen dimmed to black.