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grierpilots · 1 day ago

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₍^. .^₎⟆ synopsis: it's supposed to be a simple (enough) mission: a grade 1 curse, a quiet neighborhood in tokyo, midnight. instead, nanami finds something else. his ex-fiancee, bleeding, unconscious, five years having passed. word count: 13.1k+ (i'm so sorry!!!)

there's a certain quietness to midnights in tokyo that nanami can't get enough of.

the city's still buzzing with bright neon lights, flashing images painting the dark alleyways in blurs of red and orange, accompanied by the occasional flicker of the traffic lights. but the roads are quiet, the taxis few and far between, maybe a single drunk couple leaning against the walls of a closed cafe whispering to each other.

but with his mind on the mission, his surroundings are just that. background music fading to the sidelines, as he cranes his neck up at the night sky. it's a clear summer night, little clouds, a full moon with a harsh evening chill that makes his spine run cold.

the curses have been getting stronger recently. he thinks, fingers toying with the bottom of his necktie as he slowly loosens the fabric. after all, it's not every day that a grade 1 spirit appears in the middle of the night, curling itself in between half-finished houses and abandoned playgrounds.

the neighborhood he's been called to is just that on the surface: safe, normal, boring.

but the winds blow stronger, and there's an odd smell attacking his senses that makes his hairs stand up a little bit straighter. muted breaths accompany each careful step, his shadow illuminated by the half-empty vending machines lining the roads and the white streetlamps up ahead. muscles tensing, jaw clenched, mind already rushing with adrenaline for the fight ahead, nanami turns the corner and steps into the background with his arm outreached into a defensive position when-

it's empty.

well, almost.

the remains of the spirit can be seen even in the dark. whisps of black fog, curling away into the wind. burnt ash coating the sandbox that begins to slowly sink into the floor. the nearby grass slightly burnt and fraying at the edges.

and in the middle of it, standing in the wreckage.... a woman.

under the cover of the clouds, nanami can only roughly make out basic outline of her hair and face. the majority of her outfit is covered by a lengthy trenchcoat, billowing in the fierce winds, and her boots land heavy when she kicks the dust one more time - as if to make sure that the spirit was really gone.

and whilst nanami can't quite place his finger on it, there's something about her that seems... familiar.

he stands silently for a few more moments, monitoring the situation (and frankly, still at shock at the mysterious woman able to defeat a grade 1 curse by herself like it was nothing), until he notices that her steps seem... slower than usual.

heavy.

as if she's injured.

badly.

"are you alright?" he decides to speak up then, slowly approaching the stranger with concern.

then you turn around and he forgets how to breathe.

you look the same, and yet so different all at the same time. your face seems to have gotten sharper and more mature: eyes sunken in with determination, cheeks less babyish when you suck in to take a deep breath. your hair's slightly longer than the last time he's seen you (and maybe even in a different shade, though he's not too sure in the dark), and your sense of style seems to have done a 180. gone are the frilly lace tops and cut out jeans, replaced by sleek waistcoat top and dress pants.

even the way you're standing seems different: cold, tired, defensive.

"n...nanami?" you whisper out loud, in disbelief.

your name, a sacred prayer he's not dared to utter since he's last seen you five years ago, sits on the tip of his lips. but then your eyelids suddenly flutter shut and your body is heading straight to the ground.

with impossible speed, he manages to catch you before your head smashes against the pavement. his shaking hands cradling your body close to his chest to prevent any damage.

fuck.

he'd had no idea you would be here. he had no idea you were still fighting curses, let alone that you'd moved back to tokyo.

when the clouds in the sky part and the moonlight shines onto the playground again, he gets a better look at the long gash running up your left leg. the bleeding is quite significant, and the nasty swelling of your left calf tells him something was sprained.

mind swirling with a million unanswered questions and anxieties, he's determined to get you somewhere safe for now.

his apartment.

=====================

you were dreaming about something nice when your consciousness began to pull you back towards reality.

something pleasant. something sweet. someone's warm touch on your shoulder, pulling you onto their lap as you excitedly pointed to something in the sky. there was a bike ride surrounded by sakura trees, knees touching whilst sharing sandwiches overlooking the lake, a calloused hand coming up to cup your face. their face had come closer, your vision had blurred, and it was-

nanami.

you jolt awake immediately, your body already having gotten used to sleeply lightly on the edge. heartbeat racing in the dark, you can feel your back against something soft and cushy, and you're running the mental calculations of what the most likely worst case scenario you're in is.

sitting up straight, your eyes shut in reflex at the sharp pain running up your left leg. even without touching the tender skin, you can feel the brutal cut on your left leg, a pain excaberated when you try and roll your ankles and find one of them to be twisted.

gritting your teeth through the excruciating pain, you swing your legs over to the side of the sofa in an attempt to get up. hands feeling around in the dark, raw nails cicking against cement until you manage to feel something that feels like a light switch and flick it on-

shit.

far from being stuck in an unfamiliar place, when your eyes adjust to the light, you realize it's... your past home.

with everything somehow still in its place. the wallpaper still muted green and in perfect condition as if you've never left the place five years ago.

the stack of interior design books that neither of you ever read, but kept around because it looked good pressed up against the kitchen table. still there, not a single speck of dust on the cover.

the flower vase you'd refilled every friday when nanami would finish his weekly park run. now next to the tv, occupied by a single sunflower (your favorite).

the bookshelf he had spent an entire sunday building whilst you'd attempted (and failed) to help, reading out the instructions from the couch as he fumbled around with screws and wooden planks. emptier than usual, but still lining the wall facing the bedroom.

everywhere you look is a painful memory, a past joy that feels like a dagger to the heart and forces your legs forward towards the door.

you need to leave. now.

suppressing the urge to scream at the sharp pain shooting through your left leg with each brutal step, your arms shakily shoot out to grasp at the walls to support yourself. and you're almost at the front door when-

"what are you doing?" your ex-fiancee's voice rings out, stern and ticked off.

and there he is. the man who has haunted every dream you've had in the past five years, still tall, unwavering and handsome, staring you down with his arms crossed. you bite your lip to suppress a sigh, knowing it'd only piss him off more.

"thanks for catching me earlier." you grit out, pulling off your trenchcoat from the coat rack. fuck, you think. bastard still uses the same coat rack i bought for us when we first moved in here. "but i need to get going."

"with a twisted ankle and a heavy gash?"

he actually sounds worried, and your heart twinges at his tone, but you remind yourself that you've done fine by yourself the past five years.

you don't need anyone.

"yes, nanami. besides, it's not even that bad." you're lying through your teeth whilst staring up at him defiantly, hoping your legs aren't shaking as much as you think they are.

his eyes carefully survey you, lips thinning in an unreadable expression.

"listen, i'm... sure this must be really uncomfortable for you. and i won't force you to stay. but if you are going to leave, please at least let me drive you to the hospital so i know you're safe?"

you shake your head so fast you nearly strain your neck.

"no hospitals." you respond, already cringing at the image. you hate its sterile smells, its bright lights, the constant shuffling of people in hallways. it makes you feel trapped. watched. lonely.

nanami, stubborn as ever, doesn't seem keen on letting it go.

"but your injuries-"

"i said no hospitals!" you scream, and a rush of dizziness hits your head as your left leg suddenly gives out from under you. you can't even let out a gasp of surprise as quickly as nanami's strong arm encircling around your waist, him pulling you up into his embrace as you shakily grasp his sweater like it's a lifeline.

your breath coming out in short staccatos, his gaze as heavy as the oceans, you mumble into his chest. pleading, really.

"no hospitals. please."

you feel pathetic, begging him, but you're so tired and weak. and you honestly don't think you could manage to drag yourself out of the room if you wanted to.

nanami's heart breaks at how small you sound, exhaustion and pain evident in your voice, and though he'd really like to be able to take you to see a medical professional-

he accepts your answer.

"alright, alright. no hospitals. just... let me check on your bandages in the bathroom before you sleep?" he pauses, taking in a deep breath and flashing you a reassuring smile. "i'm not the best with treating injuries but.. i've been learning."

he smiles nervously at your careful nod, purposefully leaving out the part of saying how he's managed to learn first aid. of how he's learnt it all in the past five years - as he'd only ever bothered learning how to patch himself up after the breakup (once you were no longer there to kiss his injuries and heal his wounds).

too tired to argue, you let him carry you to the bathroom before he gingerly sits you down and flicks on the light. eyes shutting in exhaustion, you feel his light touches on your leg - respectful and soft - and hear the sounds of tape ripping and scissors cutting into a new roll of bandages. it's all happening in the dark to you, your sleep already rolling in in waves.

it's like your body knows, you're home. or at least, somewhere you used to call home. and the years and years of running has come to a temporary pause.

"all done." nanami whispers, gently tapping your cheek to wake you up. you flutter just your right eye open, staring down at his careful expression. "i've laid out your old clothes on the bed for you, okay? i'll be on the couch so if you need anything, just give me a shout."

you should've argued with him. you should've said that this was wildly inappropriate (for you to be sleeping over at your ex-fiancee's place for the first time in five years). that he shouldn't be sleeping on the couch of his own place, that you were fine with sleeping on the floor for all you care.

but your body is so heavy, the bedsheets too inviting in your exhausted state that all you can do is hum a quiet thank you and let him set you down on the bed before he gently shuts the door behind him.

the only thought you have before you drift off into a dreamless sleep is the realization that nanami kept some of your old clothes that you didn't collect.

funny, you thought he'd have thrown them away by now.

=====================

you wake, this time, not from a pleasant dream.

but to the sound of something hot sizzling in the pan and the clinking sound of dishware being shuffled around in the kitchen.

the air smells refreshing - fresh brewed coffee and citrus melting with the summer air - and there's a quiet jazz tune playing in the background (probably from the record player that nanami had always adored).

it's just like when you two were together.

pushing the silly memory away in your mind, cursing yourself under your breath for the flutter of warmth now occupying your stomach, you push yourself up into the bathroom to wash your face.

you'd hoped that a full night's rest might have miraculously healed some wounds (or at the very least given you some of your strength back), but you can barely make it to the door before you hear the stove being turned off and a door swinging open.

"good morning."

of course - nanami looks good, even at 8am on a saturday. his baby blue polo shirt slightly unbuttoned, rough hands lightly powdered in white sugar, muscular thighs hugged by a comfortable pair of green boxers.

diverting your gaze away from his body, you force yourself to mumble out a groan of acknowledgment. he holds your right arm up as you hobble over to the kitchen counter, your mind angry that you're letting him touch you, but your body grateful for the physical support to be able to move.

"i made your favorite." nanami softly admits, draping a kitchen towel over his shoulder. you blink at him surprised, staring down at the presentation of food in front of you. soft pancakes with strawberry jam, alongside a side of greek yoghurt and blueberries.

it's perfection.

"you don't need to take care of me, nanami." you grit your teeth, another headache starting to form at how domestic he's acting. all this tender affection and devoted attention is nauseating, especially when you recall how cold and uncaring your last moment with him was all those years ago.

the venom in your voice stings him, alongside your inability to unclench your jaw or look at him in the eyes. your entire body is tensed up like a bomb about to explode, it's as if nanami can hear the dynamite ticking in his brain as your fork carefully touches the food, knocking over the stack of pancakes in disdain.

had he really hurt you that much?

just as you had hurt him, all those years ago?

shaking those thoughts away, he reminds himself that his immediate focus has to be your health.

"i know you don't need anyone's help. but you're hurt, badly hurt at that. and nutrition, alongside rest, will aide in your recovery." he slowly explains, trying to keep his tone neutral.

you scowl, another bitter reply rising in your throat, only to be interrupted by the unmistakable growl of your empty stomach. truth be told, you hadn't had a proper meal before the mission. you weren't even supposed to be one to take care of the curse, but you'd been -

reckless.

it's amazing how reckless someone can get when they have no one to care for, no one to answer to.

"fine." you mutter out. "i'll eat."

you have to suppress an urge to cry upon taking the first bite, because the sweet syrup and soft batter brings about a wave of nostalgia. it tastes like lazy breakfasts in bed on kiss-filled weekend mornings, a taste you haven't had for years (as no matter how hard you tried, you could never recreate the taste of nanami's pancakes).

nanami retreats to the other side of the kitchen counter, eyes fixated on his own bowl of porridge and fruit, the sounds of chewing and clinking cutlery filling the otherwise silent room. it's painful for him, as it's not the safe, comfortable kind of silence you two used to have.

no, instead, this silence feels tense. rushed. thick enough to cut with a knife.

half an hour later, you two sit in complete silence, plates empty but neither of you wanting to be the first one to speak.

you're looking at anywhere but him, making a mental note of every small detail in the room. the crack in the innermost corner of the kitchen cabinet is still there. his choice of cologne hasn't changed, based on the nearly empty bottle sitting near the doorway. his shirt needs an iron, folded neatly over the armchair.

meanwhile, nanami is searching for the right words to say, mind still in disbelief that his ex-fiancee is sitting right in front of him. in their old apartment, one that he couldn't bear to let go even when you two had split up.

it's deja vu in all the worst ways.

surveying your face in the sunlight trickling through the curtains, he sees a small cut on your cheek. bruises on your upper thighs that look painful to the touch. a sharp scar that's barely noticeable now, mostly healed but permanent, kissing down your neck.

you're still beautiful, of course. but he can't deny-

you look rough.

you hadn't had any of these injuries on you five years ago.

what had happened in those years? he can't help but wonder.

"i can practically feel your thoughts screaming at me, you know." you snap, finally tired of the silence. "just say what's on your mind."

he stares at you for an extra moment, fabric rustling when he shifts in his seat.

"i think you should stay. at least, until you're better."

your body tenses up at the suggestion, eyes finally drifting away from your surroundings to stare directly into his eyes.

"are you insane?! nanami, i'm not gonna stay here one more night. this-" you gesture to the apartment. "was a last minute decision made by you. and i was too tired to decline last night, but now i'm fine."

nanami's jaw clenches at that, eyebrows furrowing in frustration.

"i understand, but i had no other choice. you were badly hurt, unresponsive, and i had to make sure you were safe." he lets out a deep sigh, trying to calm himself down. he knows how stubborn you can be, and how he's not going to get anywhere if he's too stern with his words.

"and thank you for that. but now, i'm going to leave."

"and go where?" he retorts, sharp as a knife.

it's an innocent and straightforward question. but it feels like a blow to your chest, because you know the truth: you have nowhere else to go. no one else to run to. you had no apartment in tokyo, having made peace with awful sleep in cheap motels, and your life was a never-ending string of missions of killing curses, bento meals for one, constantly bouncing from one city to another.

"i'll... i'll figure it out." you mumble out, ashamed.

it doesn't escape nanami's mind that you haven't said you'll go home. you haven't even said you have somewhere to stay in tokyo.

so maybe she hasn't come back, permanently at least, nanami thinks.

nanami is practically pleading at you with his intense, sorrowful gaze, and you wish he'd yell at you instead. you can't stand the weight of his worry, the heaviness of his disappointment.

"i'll be fine just by myself. i never stay too long in one place anyways." you grit out, trying to hide the sharp pain you feel when you twist your leg around to glare at him.

nanami holds your angry gaze for a few moments, sighs, his lips thinning into a straight line. his palms are now resting on his knees, massaging circles onto his skin, his habit for when he's nervous.

"i'm aware that we don't owe each other anything anymore." the confession hurts both of you, but nanami continues speaking. "but i wouldn't be able to sleep or get anything done if i knew that letting you leave this house would mean you dragging your injured, tired body to the next city, the next motel to brave by yourself. that's-"

he pauses, and in between the flash of hurt and worry, you swear his eyes become watery and his voice splits into a shaky whisper.

"that's how people get killed, (y/n)."

maybe it's how he said your first name suddenly and unceremoniously.

or maybe it's the way he's looking at you, begging, eyes glistening and head hanging low in defeat.

or maybe it's that damn heart of yours, aching to be closer with your ex-lover, resolve dissipating into thin air when your mind starts to think of... not running constantly, for once.

"all i would like, is to know you are safe and resting. the spare key is yours to use, and you know this area as well as i do. so when i am gone, you are free to use this space as you would please. the next door neighbor is a nurse, so she can drop by occasionally to keep an eye on your recovery. i spoke to her this morning and she said an injury of your scale might take a month or so to heal. a month, and then-"

he takes in a sharp breath.

"then you can leave. i won't complain, i will not put up a fight, i will consider the agreement finished. from one sorcerer to another. one person, looking out for another."

nanami genuinely can't read your expression when he finishes his speech. his blood is rushing so loud he can hear it in between his ears, heart thrumming at a million miles a minute. you seem to have an internal debate with yourself, teeth poking out to bite your bottom lip, before you huff and meet his eyes.

he knows he's won before you even speak.

"fine." you groan, and a smile automatically spreads across his lips. "but just a month, nanami. once i'm better, i'm out. deal?" you ask, cocking your head sideways.

"deal."

========================

as expected, the first week is rough.

you find yourself not being able to do much because of your leg injury. nanami's left you with a mountain of ice packs and strict orders to rest your feet by propping them up on pillows wherever you can.

mostly, that's meant being sofa-bound. flicking through a few TV channels whilst laying on your side. reading through a few books on the bookshelf - a book on historical trade routes, a political analysis of asia, a collection of essays on grief. on a good day, you even find yourself sitting on the kitchen counter, counting and re-organizing all the kitchenware in the drawers so you'd have something physical to do.

but mostly, you spend your days staring up at the ceiling, reflecting.

the rain had been brutal. a downpour, vicious thunderstorm, winds so strong that you could barely hear yourself speak over the chaos.

but it felt like nothing compared to how nanami was looking at you, quiet and unmoving despite the storm.

"i don't understand what you want from me anymore, kento." you'd said, exhaustion weighing your shoulders down. "it's always 'we'll go next week.' or 'i'll make it up to you soon-"

"you know how important our mission is." he'd gravely said, his voice strangled. you clenched your jaw so hard it hurt, your eyes unblinking despite the torrent of raindrops blurrying your vision.

"and i'm not doubting that. i'm there with you, for fuck's sake, but god, sometimes it feels like these damn curses see you more than i do!" your anger is rolling off of your tongue in waves, the months of resentment and swallowed apologies spilling out in angry tides.

"i'm sorry, honey-" nanami had reached out his left arm to cup your face, but you stepped back, hating his touch and his sweet words at the moment.

"and when i needed you today." the tears come out now, messy and uncontrolled. "w-when i genuinely thought maybe, this was it, i had finally met a spirit i couldn't exorcise by myself-" you choked, the brief flashes of terror replaying in your mind. "where were you?"

he pauses, face falling in sadness.

"... the higher ups had informed me that you had it under control."

you let out a broken laugh at that. a harsh, humorless sound that made nanami flinch.

"the higher ups said. so that's it. what they say goes above me."

"again, i truly apologize, but you must understand this is bigger than both of us-"

it was your time to flinch at the way he said it.

"you're right." you cut him off, standing up straight. he'd tensed at your sudden change of tone, no longer resentful and emotional, but cut and dry. "this is bigger than both of us. so big, apparently, that you're incapable of choosing me over it. and i'm-"

you paused. you couldn't hear your thoughts with the constant rumbling of thunder up ahead, combined with the cacophony of clashing sounds of rushing water and hissing winds. but your heart felt heavy and your mind, foggy as it was, was determined to take a stance.

"i'm done."

you removed your engagement ring, the small piece of jewelry suddenly feeling like several tons in your shaking hands, and threw it on the floor.

"d-darling-" he was choking up too, and you had to physically turn away to shield yourself from that sound, the god awful sound of him crying.

"goodbye, nanami."

heartbroken, confused, and fearful, nanami felt himself sinking to his knees in the rain as you walked away.

gaze blurry from the salty mix of tears and raindrops, you swore to yourself you were going to forget him, forget tokyo, forget the life you two had built and wanted to continue building.

you'd disappear.

you have to admit, in the present, that there is a great sense of irony in creating multiple identities, severing all your friendships in tokyo, and overloading yourself with missions to avoid staying in the same city for more than a few days for five years...

only to eventually end up back at your ex's place.

rolling over to your side again, you stare up at the ceiling, head lost in the clouds. you're not sure how much time has passed until the sudden jingling of keys forces you to sit up, and nanami walks through the door with a reserved smile.

surprised, you glance at the clock on the wall. 5pm.

"you're off work early." you note passively, remembering that it was a tuesday.

"i am." he shrugs off his jacket, hanging it neatly by the front door. "i was able to shift some sick days around." to come see you, he wants to say, but he isn't quite ready to admit that the thought of you alone in his apartment (bored and tortured with nothing to do) was eating him alive.

you hum to conceal your surprise - nanami kento, using his sick days to get out of work early? that was highly unlike him.

though, you supposed, five years could do a lot to a person.

"would you like to have dinner outside today?" he questions from the bathroom, fingers working to undo his tie. "being pent up in the apartment probably won't do you any good."

dinner with your ex-fiancee is probably a terrible idea, but you also can't ignore the glittering opportunity to actually leave the apartment and wonder outside for a few hours.

"...sure." you end up mumbling, as if it pains you to admit it. "but did you forget my swollen ankle?" you sass, when nanami exits the bathroom and gives you his signature smirk.

"ah, i have a solution to that."

"...you're fucking kidding me."

you can't conceal your surprise when nanami carefully walks you over to the parking lot of his apartment, where his two seater bike is left chained up.

"what are we, 10? nanami, i can't ride this." you're flustered and angry, but you're also cursing at yourself when you're bombarded with a flood of memories of riding this bike with nanami through various parks in tokyo on your precious days off.

he just looks at you, amused, before cocking his head to the side.

"well, given your leg, it was either this or... i give you a piggy back ride to the restaurant."

cursing under your breath, you shove his shoulder with yours in a weak manner.

"fine. but you're doing all the pedaling."

he just smiles at you, bright and boyish, and you both pretend you feel no sparks of electricity when his fingers brush over yours whilst handing off the helmet.

the restaurant he takes you to is nice. it's small, family owned, overlooking the bay area. nanami has to stop himself from instinctively reaching out to pull your seat out for you, and you stare at the menu for an ungodly amount of time to avoid looking at how perfectly nanami's sculptured face evens out when he is concentrating.

"i think you'd like the stir fried noodles. second from bottom." nanami suddenly speaks up from behind his menu.

you're grateful that the thin paper menu is concealing your look of surprise, as he's pointed out the dish you've been eyeing silently.

"how can you be so sure?" you posit quietly, looking at him from the corner of your eyes. he seems to pause at your question, lowering his menu to the table as a serious gaze takes over his eyes. there's a mix of emotions evident on his face, perhaps a mix of regret and longing, when he responds so tenderly.

"because i know you."

you swallow the heavy feeling threatening to rise from your chest.

"knew me, nanami." again, you use the menu to shield your face from his piercing gaze. "it's been five years. a lot can happen in five years, you know."

"i know."

a beat of silence passes before the waiter is asking for the orders to be placed, the menus are cleared and the table is re-set for the dishes to come. you can't stop yourself from fidgeting in your seat and nanami isn't subtle with how he's staring at you, a million questions sitting on the top of his tongue.

he's sorry.

he's hurt.

he's missed you.

he wants to know how you'd disappeared off the face of the earth, wiping any trace of yourself from tokyo. not even your friends and family had known where you'd went, only an occasional postcard with your simple signature signalling your safety. a friend of a friend said you'd moved abroad and settled in germany. another claimed to have seen you in a shopping mall in osaka, selling perfume. he'd thought maybe you'd finally quit sorcery and moved to a quite seaside town to open a bakery.

but no, here you were.

alive, breathing, so different and confusing.

"i... i'm taking a month off of work." he decides to say, slowly testing the waters. your eyes snap to his, your lips immediately parting in shock at his confession. "i wanted to ensure i could be there for you in your recovery."

warmth blossoms across your chest at that, at the soft way in which his eyes are enveloping your figure, how his fingers are nervously thrumming against the table when admitting this to you.

"you didn't need to do that." you mutter, embarrassed.

"i wanted to." he admits, even softer.

you can't help but let out a small chuckle at that, taking a sip of your water whilst shaking your head.

"the nanami kento, taking a full month off of work for me? who are you?"

it's his turn to chuckle.

"well... like you said-" he pauses, pursed lips parting for a brief second. "a lot can happen in five years."

dinner happens in relative silence as that comment hangs in the air, neither suffocating nor light.

but it does leave a warm feeling in your stomach that is hard to ignore.

================

the second week, you've learned, is when the routines start being established.

every day at 8, you wake to the sound of jazz music and nanami rustling around in the kitchen. you know to not put too much pressure on your left ankle as you hobble over to the bathroom and check on your bandages, ensuring nothing has bled through or come undone over the night.

breakfasts are no longer completely silent, instead being filled with short exchanges of information. whether it's nanami recounting of your schedule for the day (gentle yoga, your pills in the upper cabinet after lunch, the evening walk in the park) or you reminding him that he was running low on kitchen towels.

neither of you bring up the past, and neither of you push.

nanami steals more glances at you out of the corner of his eyes then he'd like to admit, but he forces himself to maintain that distance from you to ensure you're comfortable. he plans things to do during the day whilst you're busy, pre-cooks meals in the fridge in case you don't want to eat out in the open, and continues to sleep away from you (alternating between the sofa and the guest room).

it's a small sacrifice, he considers, in exchange to see you getting better.

whilst you find yourself starting to regain your strength, your wounds starting to fade back into your skin and your ankle no longer screaming out in pain every time you took a step.

you hate to admit it, but nanami's meticulous planning - signing you up for local yoga classes to build by mobility, his careful distribution of medication, and recommendation of daily gentle walks - has really helped.

looking at the clock on the wall, you see that it's 6:30pm - 30 minutes after your usual scheduled evening walk, as you'd been pre-occupied with a random fiction book you'd picked up from underneath nanami's pile of clothes in the bedroom. placing the book back down on the bed, you walk over towards the entry way and see nanami bent over tying his shoes with a few grocery bags in his hand.

"are you heading out?" he asks, straightening up.

"yeah. evening walk." you respond, carefully sliding past him to reach for your own shoes. you're dressed simply in baggy pants and a tank top, perfect for a breezy summer evening, whilst he irons out the creases of leather jacket and cotton slacks with his right hand.

"mind i join you?" he asks casually, the question escaping his lips faster than he can regret it. "the supermarket is on the way to the park, so i shall not bother you for too long." he corrects himself, trying not to seem too desparate.

you shrug, ignoring how warm his body is against yours when you slide past him to sit on the floor to tie your laces.

"sure. whatever's easiest, i guess."

"great."

the walk to the park is usually 20 minutes, but it feels much longer. particularly when you two are walking side by side: close enough to feel each other's presence, but too far away to touch.

it's far too unbearable for both of you, in different ways.

"how was your yoga class?" nanami decides to ask. ask her a safe question. an easy, non-intrusive question. he thinks, carefully surveying your reaction (and nearly breathing a sigh of relief when you shrug).

"uh, it was good. you picked a nice studio, i really like my instructor." a beat. "thank you for signing me up."

"it's my pleasure."

then it's back to silence, the city buzzing with life around you. rowdy school children pushing past each other on a bridge, taxi drivers speeding through flashing lights, exhausted businessmen exiting train platforms in droves... it's overwhelming and you almost don't realize you are walking into traffic until nanami's hand grabs your wrist and gently pulls you backwards.

"t-thanks." you manage to stutter out, his touch leaving a burning sensation on your skin. his hand disappears from your wrist as soon as the bus passes, but your mind can't help but linger on it, and with how he'd flashed a small smile your way.

the same smile you fell in love with all those years ago.

you nearly want to cry with relief when you see the familiar glittering outline of the supermarket, signaling the end to the semi-awkward walk.

"i guess i'll see you back home?" you posit, shifting your weight nervously under his quiet gaze. and, of course, the moment you say that so you can begin to walk towards the park-

it starts raining.

hard.

the kind of downpour that pelts the ground and sends crowds of people running into the nearest store, including you, dragging nanami into the supermarket to avoid the sudden downpour.

"i cannot believe this." you grumble, staring up at the now splotchy grey sky. "there was no rain forecast, i literally checked right before we left the apartment!"

nanami chuckles at your anger - he's reminded of how cute he thought you looked whenever you got angry, cheeks squished as you suck in your tongue, glittery eyes narrowing in annoyance.

"perhaps it'll stop in a bit?" he suggests, picking up a basket. "you're more than welcome to stick around as i shop."

giving in (as the only other option is to stay out in the rain), you trail behind nanami like a lost puppy. the blonde man moves with the speed and fluidity of a local, knowing where every produce is and what brand to buy (making his decisions within five seconds), whilst you helplessly follow behind him looking completely lost.

eventually, you get distracted by the desserts aisle and drift away for him for a bit, your eyes fixated on the assortment of mochi packs on the top shelf.

"(y/n)?" nanami questions aloud, surprised at your sudden disappearance. he spins around once in a full circle, before poking his head at the next aisle, then the second next, going through every corner of the store before he finds you squatted down low. eyebrows fixed in concentration, eyes seemingly zeroed in on comparing two mochi brands.

nostalgia hits him like a truck, pinning him to his spot.

it was autumn. you were wearing a hoodie with sleeves far too long with your hands, red checkered pajama pants you hadn't bothered to change out of. grinning face bare and glowing with mischief when you'd turned from your spot in the grocery store to stare up at nanami.

"kenny, matcha or vanilla?"

he'd laughed quietly under his breath.

"darling, don't you think we have enough mochi back home?"

your face had scrunched up in faux disgust, and you grabbed your chest dramatically as if you'd been shot.

"are you trying to insinuate that we have an excess amount of mochi? my heart! how could my husband say that."

his heart had skipped a beat at that, his engagement ring clinking against yours when he held your hand lovingly.

"not your husband yet, my sweet. still two months."

"mmm... i do tend to be impatient, don't i, my dear husband?"

he'd narrowed his eyes at you.

"... you're just using that to get me to agree to us buying more mochi, aren't you?"

he'd meant to scold you, but with the way you were smiling at him, digging your face closer into his chest... suddenly all his words were mush.

"is it working?" you'd asked, seemingly already knowing the answer.

"yes."

"I used to love this brand." you say fondly in the present, snapping nanami out of his recollections. he isn't hard to find with his striking blonde hair and tall stature, as well as the fact that your body seems to have a sixth sense for where he is at all times.

nanami swallows nervously when you shift the box in your hands to show him. he recognizes that logo, all right. it was the same brand of mochi you'd beg nanami to buy every thursday when the supermarket would re-stock.

sakura for the spring, strawberries for the summer, matcha for the fall, and sesame for the winter.

you'd stack them neatly on the upper left corner of the kitchen counter, a hazardous but neat stack of half-empty boxes always occupying the kitchen.

his heart aches at the soft memory, a stark contrast to the sad smile on your face as you place the box back down.

"let's get one." he suddenly says, voice slightly strangled with emotion.

you look up at him, surprised.

"i thought we were only here to stock up on missing ingredients for the rest of the week."

he shrugs, trying to come off as nonchalant.

"perhaps old traditions aren't so bad."

old traditions - the phrase leaves a bittersweet taste in your mouth, a flash of memories entering your mind of shared bites in the park on hot summer days, him carefully arranging your favorite flavors on a plate and sliding it under the door when you were bedridden from the flu, a friday night when nanami had braved a snowstorm to get you the newest flavor of mochi from a supermarket 30 minutes away.

"maybe so." is all you can offer in response, fingers lightly brushing against his when you pass him the box.

the rest of the groceries are gathered within ten minutes and the check-out takes another ten, the skies still an angry grey and spewing down hell. staring up at the sky from the safety of the cover of the supermarket, you look back at nanami with the grocery bags in his hands, cocking your head.

"what now?"

"would you like to finish your walk?" he suggests weakly, already knowing your answer.

"think that's a bit pointless with the rain." you muse, rolling your eyes. "i don't know, uh... did you bring any cash for a taxi maybe?"

he shakes his head sideways.

"not enough for what'd be required in the rain and this distance." he responds, craning his neck to the side to catch glimpses of young couples down the street screaming and giggling furiously whilst ducking into the nearest shop to avoid the rain. it leaves a slight pain in his chest, seeing couples in love frolicking in the rain, while his ex-fiancee stares him down from the side with an unreadable look on her face.

"a bus then? if we run for it, we could make the next one that stops in front of the library?"

nanami's eyes nearly bulge out of his head at your suggestion.

"the library is at least a 15 minute walk from here."

you roll your eyes playfully, and there's a glint in your eyes that makes his heart race with nerves and excitement.

"which will be 5 if we run."

and before he can even begin to go through the list of (many) reasons why running in your condition would be a bad idea, the potential to catch a cold in the rain, the worries of you worsening your injury by tripping over your feet - you're off. sprinting down the sidewalk, leaving nanami to silently curse under his breath before running after you in equal pace.

you eventually have to give up a few minutes away from the library, your left leg protesting at the sudden burst of exercise, forcing you to slow down enough to let nanami catch up to you.

rain has soaked your entire body from head to toe, tank top clinging tight to your waist and raindrops clouding your eyes, but you can't help but grin when nanami begins to scold you in his angry tone.

"do you understand how reckless that was, running into the rain when it is slippery and you are injured-"

"it's going to help us catch the bus on time though, is it not?" you tease, poking him on the side.

he narrows his eyes at you, sighing, before taking off his jacket to wrap it gently around your head.

"don't run off anymore, please. and stay close." nanami mumbles quietly as your fingers find their way towards clutching the lapels of his jacket, bringing it slightly over your head to shield yourself from the rain. and when he notices you walking a little more slowly than usual, awkwardly walking in a way to avoid putting too much pressure on your left foot, he wordlessly puts his arm around your shoulder to prop you upwards.

the bus eventually does come, and nanami helps you board the bus before giving up the only spare seat on there for you, his warm hands lingering on your back. it's an uninterrupted, but comfortable, silence as the bus slows down into your neighborhood and he grabs the grocery bags in one hand.

and grabs your hand with the other, ensuring that you step off the bus safely.

when the apartment door finally closes behind you, both of you dripping water onto the floor and completely drenched from the storm outside, you glance at him for a moment. his neat blonde hair now a wet mess sticking out in odd directions and your pink shirt now an angry red color - you both burst out laughing.

it might've been the twitch of nanami's eyebrows. or the way you bit your bottom lip at him, the first sign of a dangerous laughing fit incoming. or the way you both stared at each other, unmoving but breathing, taking in the sudden silence of the apartment in complete contrast to the chaos outside (harsh rains, screeching tires, and the hurried footsteps of civilians).

but now you both can't stop laughing, your stomach hurting so much that you have to bend yourself over and nanami is grasping at the empty wall, leaning against the cement to support himself.

it feels warm. it feels right. but most importantly, it feels like all the slight tension and worries of the previous weeks have melted away.

"you're- you're unbelievable." he says, trying to calm himself by running a hand through his hair, but there's no bite to his words. if anything, he's staring at you with a blend of amusement and awe, a way that still makes your stomach flutter five years later.

"and you're just as insane for following after me."

he pauses, taking off his shoes on the drying rack and spinning around to smile at you so brightly your mind blanks for a second.

"perhaps i am."

you take in a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself down.

"wash clothes, warm bath, lazy dinner in?" you suggest, already shrugging off your socks and tossing it into the washing machine. it's as if you read his mind, and he nods, mind already spinning with options of what to make for dinner.

"sounds perfect."

dinner that night ends up being the most lively yet. a candle lit mid-way, the sounds of rain enveloping the apartment, mixed with soft jazz and inside jokes revitalized from memories past.

========================

the third week is when things feel normal.

he stops asking if he can touch you when he extends his arm forward as a support, letting your fingers wrap around his bicep as you navigate in the dark or step off of a high ladder.

you start leaving the bedroom door open, not caring if he needs to come in to grab a spare tie or to check his face in the bathroom mirror one last time before he heads out.

old routines start to come alive - how you'd neatly pressed and ironed his favorite polo shirts and placed them in the top left corner, nanami's precisely cut mochi squares left untouched and perfectly preserved in the fridge, you being careful to place his good shoes on the top of the shoe rack so he could reach for them easier.

one night, you ask him to keep you company after a bad dream. he stays lying next to you, convincing himself to try and fall asleep, pretending like his skin isn't on fire. when you two wake up the next day, his left arm is thrown above your waist and your face right up against his chest.

you never ask him to move back to the sofa. so he doesn't.

it's easy, this life. you rarely have to ask for everything, with nanami seemingly having the gift of understanding everything you could need and when, and nanami feels his body melting into the domesticity of it all.

hell, he's even humming to himself in the mornings now. the barista at the local coffee place where he's a regular asks if he's gotten good news lately, when nanami sports an ear-splitting grin every morning when entering the store.

it's so good, that you've almost forgotten what you ran away from. so shielded by the warm and familiarty of nanami and this apartment, that when your phone buzzes, you don't for a second think it's about hunting curses.

unknown number. typical.

but based on the message, you know who it's from.

"special grade curse floating around south of the harbor. the usual?"

your jaw clenches at the end of the sentence, those two crude words 'the usual' referring to the vast amounts of money they'd offer to taking out the most dangerous of curses. the catch being, you'd have to be the first sorcerer to do it and it had to be done alone.

it was a betting pool of sorts, a competitive ego race connected by loose messages and a vast underground network of sorcerers egging each other to take on more dangerous missions in return for money, recognition, and power.

you hadn't meant to fall into it.

it was a seedy secret you'd stumbled into when you'd first beaten a curse on a windy night in kyoto, only to be sworn at by a clearly more seasoned sorcerer strapped for cash.

"killing curses first for money? that's absurd." you'd dismissed it, your tongue darting out to lick your dry lips. it was freezing, a windy winter night on the top of a mountain, and the aged sorcerer smiled at you so wide like a predator who had found its prey.

"think about it, child. everyone gets an equal chance. the money is quiet, but huge. collected within the first hour of the announcement, no questions asked." the man had paused, scanning you up and down with a serious look on his face. "nothing to lose, everything to gain."

you'd clenched your jaw so tight it hurt.

"how do you know i have nothing to lose?" you'd questioned.

he didn't even flinch at your sharp questioning.

"simple. from your eyes."

craning your neck discreetly to the side, you find nanami sleeping quietly on his side of the bed. he'd insisted on putting a movie on that you'd like, a lazy sunday morning being enjoyed with slow cooked pancakes and warm coffee, and you already feel bad about how much he's had to dote over you for the past few weeks. you can see the fatigue on his face - his proportionate and sculpted face drawn into thin lines, his head sinking into the comforting pillows of the bed.

even now, you must admit, he's devastatingly handsome. and without really thinking about it, you find yourself unfolding a blanket from beneath you and draping it over him to shield him from the cold.

your entire body is begging you to stay. to finish the movie with him on the bed, the distance small but still existent, to sink back into the domesticity of it all.

but your mind can't help but race, re-playing the words of the text in your mind, thoughts racing with anxieties about the future.

before you can even process what you're doing, you call the number back.

"i told you to stop texting me." you curse into the receiver, slipping into the balcony so that nanami wouldn't hear you. the masculine voice on the other side chuckles, clearly amused.

"thought you died or something. haven't seen you claim a curse in weeks."

"well, i've..." your eyes drift back to the bedroom. "i've been busy."

"hm." is all the guy says on the other end, intrigued and unconvinced. "whatever the case, clearly you're still interested as you've not blocked this number."

"i can't keep doing this you know." you grit your teeth, frustrated by his smug voice. the man only laughs at the other end of the line.

"hey, you're free to leave any time. just don't come crawling back to the club when you're eventually broke and lonely."

your eyes narrowing back in on nanami's sleeping figure, a sinking realization spread across your chest.

because you should know better. know, that this can't last.

that once you leave, you'll be back to zero. some money wouldn't hurt, let alone if it's a special grade curse. the betting pool would be significant, enough money that could get you going for at least a few weeks. a city or three, with motels and food included.

you can't get too attached to this life, (y/n). you scold yourself, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. your weak heart causes you to look back at nanami, at the sleeping face of your ex-fiancee, as you're reminded that this isn't permanent.

it's temporary.

and just like last time, it'd end with someone walking away.

you hang up without speaking and quietly dim the lights, before slipping away.

twenty minutes later, nanami wakes to eerie silence.

and it's not the comforting, alluring type of silence he's gotten accustomed to in the past few weeks with you around.

instead, it's the type of silence that sends a chill down his spine, a silence that hints at something - someone - missing.

he sits up in a panic, his hands reaching out for you in the dark. nothing. your phone is still sitting on the table, cold to the touch - you weren't on it recently. but your favorite jacket is still folded over the desk chair and he knows you'd never go anywhere without it.

there's a pit in his stomach signaling that something is wrong, a bitter taste in his mouth which follows.

he scans his mind for the most reasonable explanation for your disappearance. a random walk perhaps. the fridge was empty and you needed more groceries. a neighbor wanted to invite you for coffee.

your phone screen lights up as if on cue.

leaning closer, he sees it's a random number not added to your contacts. curiously, however, the message seems to indicate the sender knows you.

"you taking it or not?" is all the text says, but something feels off.

biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, he snatches up your phone and guesses your pass code. your birthday.

wrong.

his birthday.

wrong.

come on. he scolds himself.

he knows there's only a few more incorrect guesses he can make before the phone locks him out, so he thinks of what date could have the most significance to you.

hands trembling, he types in the date you left.

0818.

your phone unlocks.

reading the second to last message about a special curse floating around the harbor sends a shiver down his spine. he'd heard rumors about this amongst the sorcerer circles. some underground gambling. sorcerers getting off on seeing each other get hurt, some even die, from taking on special curses by themselves. he hadn't thought much of it.

let alone, consider, that you'd somehow be a part of it.

his mind works overtime, movements fluid and natural, as he changes his clothes and dashes out the door to find you.

a crash - something blasts into the right side of where you're standing, hot flames missing you by a few inches. there's a dark figure with glowing red eyes advancing in on you, your fingers wrapping so hard around your blade you swear it leaves a dent on your skin.

"i'm going to enjoy killing you, little girl."

"go fuck yourself." you curse, swinging the metal to cut into its side. you only get a few cuts in, in between the dodging of its claws and ducking under shipping containers, but the curse is incredibly fast. dissipating into the dark, dark tendrils spreading out over the cement before it reappears, even bigger, to your right.

before you can even blink, it throws you against the wall a few feet away, your body taking the full hit at the sudden force. your head is throbbing, and you feel a trickle of blood run down your head, but thankfully, you know nothing is broken by the way you're able to stand back up (gritting your teeth through the pain).

curse my still healing ankle, you think, as you tunnel your way into the maze of ships laying around the yard. you can hear the curse's voice taunting you, skipping from one container to another, the sound of metal hitting metal echoing through the yard.

"you know, i always thought you sorcerers were a lot stronger than this." you hear its ugly voice from a few meters away, your boots digging into the sand. "but i'm getting quite tired of this game of cat and mouse, aren't you?"

limping on your left leg, you wonder if you're starting to run out of options. your headache's getting worse, there's a dead end up ahead, and your hands are shaking so hard you can barely conjure a spark.

"there you are."

there's shattering glass and then the heavy drop of a slimy body, your determined eyes unwavering from its beady red ones. if you're going to go down, you think, you might as well die in a fight. right hand raised with the blade, your left hand wiping the blood dripping from your head, you take the first step when-

the curse goes up in a blue flame.

it screeches, screaming in pain as it jumps back, and a familiar blonde figure steps in front of you.

you expect him to sternly tell you to stay put. maybe yell. maybe scold you.

hell, if he's really angry, even curse. but he doesn't.

he doesn't say anything, doesn't even look at you.

just wraps his tie around his right hand one more time, entire body ablaze in a blue flame, the curse having no fighting chance with the sheer amount of power radiating off of nanami. his eyes - usually filled with so much warmth and honey - cold. focused.

you're forced to watch as the curse becomes ash, nothingness swept away by the sea breeze, before he turns around and roughly pulls you up with his wrist.

"nanami, before you say anything-" you start, already anticipating his protests.

he simply glares at you. the sharp, disappointed, brimming with intensity type of glare that makes the rest of the words die in your mouth.

"we're going home." is all he says, before he takes off his jacket and orders you to wrap it around your head and apply pressure.

the entire journey home, you keep on glancing at him out of the corner of your eyes, nervous and frustrated by his silence. but your ex-fiancee refuses to look at you. simply standing upright with his jaw clenched, his knuckles bruised, eyes staring dead straight ahead with the diligence of a soldier at war.

it's only when he opens the door to his apartment, and you clamber in behind him, head hanging low... that he explodes.

"how could you." he starts, low, clicking the door behind him with a firm shove.

you have to scream at every bone in your body to not flinch, because this level of anger is rare with nanami. he's usually so poised. so rational. so level-headed, that even major annoyances become inconvenient for him to express in a few minutes.

you don't even have to raise your eyes to meet his to know that he's furious - furious beyond words.

"i-"

"do you know you could've died if i didn't intervene?" he adds, stepping closer to you as you sit down on the couch, your legs giving out from under you. "that curse was feeding off your fear, a special curse at that, hunting it down on an injury-"

"i could've handled i-"

he laughs. a cold, dark laugh that makes your shoulders shiver.

"really? you could've handled it yourself? even when its claws were a few centimeters away from puncturing your skin?"

his words dig in like knives into your heart. calloused, sharp, but true. it makes it all the more uncomfortable as you shift into the cushions, wishing you could be anywhere but this room.

"and i..." his hands grip at his hair, furious and confused. "i can't believe you'd put your life at risk for what, some, some money?!" he scolds you, voice starting to raise slightly higher. "god, i thought i knew you better-"

"WELL YOU DON'T KNOW ME AT ALL, NANAMI." you burst out, no longer able to stand his anger.

your sudden outburst seems to stop him in his tracks, his fury dissipating into shock.

"whatever person you think i am, that person is dead. a lot has happened in five years, nanami. i've changed. i've-" you swallow a sob, hating yourself for getting emotional. steely determination settles over your beating heart. "i've had to."

he just nervously licks his lips, sensing the shift in atmosphere in the room.

"(y/n)-"

"do you know what leaving you meant?" you accuse, veins alight with anger. it's coming out of you, all at once, this waterfall of hurt and trauma, fuelling you to stand back up and glare into his now concerned eyes. "it meant leaving behind tokyo. our apartment was in your name, kento."

you spit out his first name like it's an insult, and he flinches.

"our bank account, your name. fuck's sake, my phone bill, in your name." you let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head sideways. "i cut off absolutely everyone i knew in tokyo and moved to the other side of the country with nothing but a few pairs of clothes and an old id card in a backpack."

you breathe slowly, bitterness now fuelling you more than sadness, before taking a step closer to nanami as you jab a finger onto his chest.

"i was alone, tired, with no money and no friends to rely on. so i had to get creative." you spit, shoulders tensing. "so sue me, kento. i know you despise what i've become. but i've had to do it to survive. it was survive, o-or-"

fuck. you feel tears welling up in your eyes, forcing you to look away and blink fast to force it away. you refuse to lose your upper ground to him right now in this argument, especially with the way his face is overcome with an unreadable expression.

"or perish. and i refused to perish."

your body feels like it's been tightly wound up, chest compressed and ablaze with anger, your shoulder rising and falling with your heavy breaths as you stare up at nanami in defiance. he blinks at you wordlessly, once or twice, as you brace yourself for another fury storm of anger and moral righteousness-

but instead, he hugs you.

with so much force your back hits the back of the sofa, his muscular arms wrapping around your waist, his chest heaving with sobs that his whole body shakes.

"i'm so sorry, love."

it's the first time he's called you anything other than your name the whole time, your anger quickly melting into the summer air.

"i'm so sorry you've had to deal with all that since we broke up. i'm sorry you felt that you had to survive, and survival meant giving up everything and living on the run. i'm sorry t-that-" he puts his head into the crevice of your neck, murmuring a million apologies into your skin, your eyes now also stinging with tears. "that i hurt you so bad you felt like you couldn't come back to tokyo."

he sinks into the floor, and you go down with him. you bite your lower lip, unsure of what to do with this revelation.

"i... i wanted to come back. i did, and so badly. but the whole city reminds me of you, and i was never brave enough."

he shakes his head at that, pulling you in closer and onto his lap.

"it wasn't about bravery, darling. it was about me being a coward. i've spent every day since you left regretting not putting you first. of not listening to you when you needed me, of always thinking other people had the right answers instead."

his hands clasps your shaking ones, cold hands gripped by warm ones.

"and i'm sorry i yelled at you. it's just, god, when i saw that fucking curse about to strike with blood pouring out of your head all i could think was-" his voice wavers and he swallows the sob, your fingers rubbing smoothing circles onto his skin as he blinks away his tears. "that i was going to lose you again."

swallowing down your own tears, you stare him square in the eyes, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible. to show him that you were still here. and that you cared, deeply, about him.

"but you haven't. i'm still here."

and just when you say that, the clouds part, the moonlight hits the crown of your head and he's reminded of the first time he's ever seen you laugh. head thrown back at something gojo said, the summer sun glittering on your face, an ethereal glow around you.

"i love you." he blurts out, breath heavy and uncontrolled, his demeanor unwavering in response to your widening eyes.

"that's not fair." is all you can say, your heart splitting in two. all you can think to yourself is you can't go through another heartbreak. another letdown. you can't be at the receiving end of his cruel goodbye even one more time, the thought sending shivers down your spine.

"i know." he says, before nervously swallowing. "but i still do."

the tension is thick enough to cut with a knife. you force yourself to look away from his burning gaze, afraid of making any rash decisions.

"let's get you to bed." you say quietly, standing up whilst avoiding his gaze.

you don't, however, let go of his hand.

======================

the fourth week drags.

it feels as if time is mocking you, each day feeling excruciatingly long and suffocating.

nanami's sensed your shift in attitude. he moves his pillow from the bed where you lie back to the guest room, making sure to knock on the door before entering each time. he's careful with you, wording every sentence in advance and being sure to time his return to the apartment around the times you'd be up and moving. on the odd day he finds you on the couch, reading a book in a sweater and comfy pants - he sits on the far end of the couch, opening up a computer and typing away.

it's as if two strangers are living in the same space together.

and it's killing him.

surely, nanami thinks, this is the worst of it all.

not having you - when you physically were gone, disappeared without a trace, was one kind of hell.

but to have you next to him, to be able to hear your breathing on the other side of the room, to have your warm presence and vanilla scented shampoo invade all of his senses whilst you refuse to acknowledge his presence...

is a different kind of heartbreak.

he slaps himself at night for it. why, why did he have to say he still loved you? when he can't sleep, he forces himself into a cold shower and stays unmoving in front of the mirror, watching the water droplets slowly fall from his face until his skin is completely dry. all he can hear is the winds from that night, how shallow your breathing had gotten, how crimson the blood falling from your head was-

his knuckles around the sink tighten.

if keeping you safe meant you hating him, he'd have to live with it.

little does nanami know, however, you're far from hating him.

you had returned home that night and refused to let him touch you up, his love confession tearing a new hole in your fragile heart. having his warm eyes stare into yours under the glow of the night light, his deft fingers carefully patching your wounds, would've made it worse.

so you 'kicked him out' of the shared bedroom, insisting that you could address your own wounds.

you'd made sure to cry into a pillow that night, so that he couldn't hear you.

your head still hurts, softly, enough to take painkillers every day alongside the breakfast nanami still sets out for you (but that you leave half of. if it is out of spite or out of sadness, you're not sure).

you want to forgive him.

god, a part of you wants to say hell to the high ground. and to immediately invite him in back to the bed, to forego the past you've been running from, and recommit to the man who was once your fiancee.

but a bigger part of you, the wounded heart, the woman who had tore herself from everyone she knew in tokyo and lived a life of a traveler without a purpose for years - grounded only by exorcisms and the next flush of cash - is not ready to forgive.

because when you picture nanami's face, you can't see the sweet, doting, and gentle man who has put his job on pause for you.

instead, you still see the remnants of the unmoving man that rainy night five years ago. the one who chose his work above you and changed the course of your life forever.

the ache claws at your stomach and heart, a persistent state of nausea plaguing your every waking moment. you can't help but keep on glancing at the calendar on the wall, counting down the final days of the month.

'just a few more days.' is your mantra.

as you avoid his gaze.

and limit your answers to a few words.

and pretend not to notice his shaking hands when he sits down next to you, his not-so-obvious glances at you from the corner of his eyes.

it's 10pm. on a friday. the tv isn't muted but the volume is so low it might as well be, a cool breeze flowing in through the gap in the open window which makes your eyelids flutter closed and open inconsistently. from where you're laying down on the couch, you see that the bedroom light in the guest room isn't on.

that's odd, you think to yourself, before redirecting your attention to the tv. perhaps he was out for a mission tonight. maybe he was meeting friends. a night walk to clear his head.

but then it becomes 11pm. 11:30pm. midnight.

your texts are delivered, but not read.

your calls go through, but lead to a voicemail.

when the clock strikes 1am, you're wide awake and panicking, heart torn at whether to call emergency services or to throw on a jacket and shoes to go looking for the man yourself.

it's not like nanami to go somewhere without telling you, or at least, he'd leave a note behind.

as if on cue, it's then that the front door swings open and nanami comes in stumbling in.

flushed cheeks, his hair wildly swept to the side, tie slightly undone. his long legs shaking as he waddles into the room, his drunken eyes lighting up in recognition when he spots your frozen figure in the middle of the room.

"oh! my darling!"

before you can even say anything else his lips are on yours, fire and electricity rolled into one, the intensity of his force causing you to bump up against the wall. his right arm comes down to immediately catch your waist, left smoothing down your hair whilst he smiles at you lovingly.

"i missed you so much, m'wife."

"we're not married, nanami." you say, quietly, trying to ignore the rush of joy prickling at your skin.

"not yet." is all he says, spinning you around so that you're both sitting on the couch. when you try and remove your hands from his grasp he groans, like a small child being denied their candy, and he moves in obnoxiously closer.

"w-what are you doing?" you find yourself asking, breath hitching at the sudden proximity.

he's now so close that you can smell the alcohol on his breath, his face somehow finding its way in between the crevice of your neck and shoulder. you can't move, body tensing at the warm contact, mind fuzzying at how domestic this all is.

"i've been... a bad husband." is all he says.

his tone is light, whiny even, but the sincerity of his tone catches you off guard.

you stay silent, unsure of what he means, and he doesn't move an inch from where he's sitting. holding you tight, his voice reverberating against your skin.

"i let you down five years ago and thought i could win you back with just some apologies and an i love you. but i know that's not enough. it could never be enough. you, my darling-"

he places his hands on your cheeks, his cold hands a stark contrast from your warm face.

"deserve the whole world. not some workaholic coward who needs to drink six bottles of soju to tell you the truth."

"why didn't you look for me?" you ask, voice breaking under his warm gaze. he looks so sweet, so genuine, his sleepy eyes drinking you in as his arms curl around your waist, his head against your chest. you're not even sure where you can put your hands, tears threatening to fall from your eyes, when he speaks.

"i did. but clearly, i didn't try hard enough." he lets out a bitter laugh at that, but with his drunken state, it comes out as more of a wheeze. "but i deserved that. the five years of loneliness and regret. i don't regret that."

you blink, surprised.

"you don't regret it?"

he suddenly stands up, and you swear he's no longer drunk, eyes as clear as the day you first met him.

"what i regret is how it left you, alone and scared for five years."

you stutter, taken back.

"all i've been doing is hurting you when you least deserve it. so i get it."

he looks like a kicked puppy, his head hanging low, voice so sad and pitiful. your doubts about whether he's drunk flies out the window when he suddenly stands up and rushes to the bathroom, the sound of his violent throwing up causing you to cringe.

quickly filling up a glass of water and grabbing a packet of tylenol for the next morning, you slowly approach him in the shared bathroom, your fingers first touching his suit jacket to remove it from his trembling frame.

"s-sorry you had to see this." he groans, face now pink and sickly. "it's not... very... becoming."

"no it is not." you admit, now undoing his tie and taking off his socks for him. "can you stand up by yourself in the shower?" you worry out loud, standing up.

"mm... i don't know." he groans, grasping his head dramatically. "my head hurts."

sighing, you roll up your sleeves and decide to run a bath. his dirtied clothes in the washing machine, your anxious fingers thrumming along the side of the bath tub as the water fills up past his knees. he gives you a cheeky grin, the daze of drunkenness and love still fogging his senses, which causes you to lightly poke his head.

"get your mind out the gutter, nanami. i'm just washing you."

"i know." he admits, tilting his head back. "but i missed your touch."

you pretend that the comment doesn't cause your heart to skip a beat, your shaky fingers starting to rub shampoo into his scalp. your eyes laser focused on the bubbles on his head, you force yourself to focus on the task at hand and not the loving way with which he keeps peeking at you.

"i'd quit my job for you, you know."

you almost drop the bar of soap in your hands.

"that's not funny, nanami." you quip, washing your hands in the sink. but he just hums, content, as if what he said was as casual as describing today's weather.

a silent beat passes, and you wonder if he'll continue the serious conversation.

"i'm hungry." he laments when you finish rinsing his entire body, his sleepy eyelids batting at you pathetically.

"i'll see what's in the fridge, okay?" you sigh, tossing him a towel. he looks like an overgrown child as he stumbles into his pajamas and brushes his teeth in the mirror, grumpily. you disappear into the kitchen for a few moments to quickly assemble a sandwich, only to re-open the bedroom door and see him passed out on your side of the bed.

the bastard.

sighing, you carefully wrap the sandwich in wrapping and return to the bedroom to turn off the lights.

you jump when his left hand shoots out and grabs your wrist.

"don't go."

"nanam-"

"please." he doesn't open his eyes, but his grip is strong. "just for tonight."

"okay." you admit, curling into him carefully.

and for the next few hours, his drunken words replay in your mind, the haunting green glow of the alarm clock next to you reminding you that tomorrow was the final day of the month.

===================

nanami wakes up and feels two things.

one, a splitting headache. judging by the burning in his throat and the nausea bubbling in his stomach, he'd gone overboard with the alcohol last night.

two, the warm body sleeping next to him is now gone, the sheets cold with the imprint of a person who previously laid there.

his heart sinks, realization weighing on him like a heavy stone.

you'd left.

he should've known. he had gone out drinking precisely because he knew the deal was almost up. it'd be a month since your arrival and you'd leave just as quickly as you came, and he'd had the foolish hope that you'd stay.

worst of all, he showed himself as a drunken, bumbling idiot on your final night together.

slapping himself on the forehead, he curses his choices. why the hell would he think that's a good idea? what was he thinking? god, what had he even said last nig-

"morning."

surely, nanami thinks, he must be hallucinating.

because there you are. standing in one of his spare dress shirts, eyes half-awake from sleep, a steaming cup of coffee in your hands as you lean against the door frame.

"you... you didn't leave." is all that comes out of his mouth.

he's shocked. in disbelief. thanking whatever gods are up there.

you chuckle, shaking your head.

"i didn't."

"w...why?"

"i... think i'm ready to try again. if you are." you slowly admit, sitting down on the mattress next to him as you carefully place down your mug on the side table. "they say drunk words are sober thoughts and i guess i... i was too afraid of repeating the past that i missed out on what could happening now, in the present."

"oh, honey..." he grabs your hands in his, bringing his chapped lips to shakily kiss your skin. "you have no idea how happy that makes me. i will do you right. i will spend every day of the next month, year, five years, decades, making it right with you."

"you better."

he tastes like peppermint and salty tears when you kiss him this time. soft and hesitant, but strong.

he tastes like home.

the kind you don't run away from.

but the one you run towards.

and when ten years later your daugher tugs at your shirt, asking why every anniversary with you and nanami starts at a random playground in tokyo, he shoots you a low, loving smile.

============================

a/n: ahhhh i am so sorry for the long wait on this slow burn fic my lovelies!!!! not only did it take so long because it ended up being over 10k, but i was working full time + sorting out a move to a new place + getting ready to study a new program from september + it was my birthday this week so i had literally no time off!!! but i missed you all so much and i am very happy to be able to post something for you all today. i am totally unsure of how this turned out but i am happy that i challenged myself and hope you enjoyed it too :) slow burn exes to lovers for the win!!!

ᯓ★ likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! ᯓ★

#lovelies #nanami x you #nanami x reader #angst

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