touya is halfway through his workday, grease up to his elbows, little jumpsuit half undone down to his waist, when iguchi comes in to tell him "someone's askin' for you out here".
he's not sure who it could be, but there's no telling, so he just decides to take a smoke break and wander out of the automotive garage, maybe imagining one of siblings out on the pavement.
but the minute he sees you, he stops. nearly drops his cigarette on a rough, "oh shit."
it's been a while since he's seen you, a year or two, and the packet of paper in your hand can only mean one, bullshit thing.
"nah, nah, nah, i ain't signing any papers," is how he greets you, shaking his head the minute you start up the path with a big, determined frown. touya doesn't run, but he sure twists on his heel and starts back up the path, too, as you start calling out his name.
practically all of his coworkers are watching when he comes back into view, not bothering to hide how nosy they're being. their audience makes you falter just a tad and touya clings onto it; anything to stop you.
"never a good sign when your wife comes to find you at work."
there's a long silence, from everyone. when he looks back at you—at your manilla folder and carefully stapled documents, your petition for divorce—your eyes are heavy and wet, almost the same way they were when the two of you stood in a courtroom, lying about your age in order to pledge until death do you part.
almost. now they're just sad.
from somewhere in the garage, toga calls out a bewildered, "you have a wife?" that makes him feel a way he can't understand, both amused and devastated all at once.
your wedding ring isn't on your finger, but if he stares long enough, he can maybe see the difference in color of your skin, a former tan-line that's begun to fade.
he sold his for stuff he shouldn't have been buying, stuff that ruined him and you and your marriage, a long time ago.
but touya only smiles, and calls back, "yeah, i do."
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