Chapter Text
Trying to get your life back on track is a bigger ordeal than you anticipated, and so far, your attempts at being self-sufficient aren’t going quite the way you hoped they would. Perhaps you should have known better when Chiori offered to help you find a new apartment that her suggestion was too good to be true. And, in retrospect, perhaps it would have been wise on your part to be a little suspicious when the subject came up, but —in your defense— you were too preoccupied figuring out your living situation to recognize the danger until it was too late. You were just happy to reconnect with a high school friend and thought nothing of Chiori’s intentions until it was too late.
Well, shows what you know, as the saying goes.
Although your belongings only consist of a handful of boxes and some secondhand furniture, your injuries hinder your progress so moving in nearly takes you the entire day. By the time you finally finish unpacking everything and cleaning the whole apartment as well, it is already well past midnight. The apartment is bigger than you expected, in a safe and quiet neighborhood, with all the necessities you could ask for and more, while being well within walking distance of the nearest train station. There’s no mistake that this place is definitely outside your price range, and you have an inkling that Chiori may be the reason behind it.
You sigh over the sad convenience store bento you’re half-heartedly picking at —freshly showered and your injuries wrapped in new bandages— when your cat, a white and fluffy thing named Sora, starts meowing and pawing at the balcony door. Amused by this unexpected display of fearless adventuring when Sora usually shies away from new places and people, you set down your food and get up from the coffee table you were using as a place to eat and open it for him.
The cat darts past your legs as soon as he can squeeze through the door’s opening and clambers outside, prowling and sniffing every corner of the balcony. The sight makes you smile as you lean against the railing and stare out at the twinkling city lights while the cool nighttime air tousles your hair, before the expression on your face fades to something more melancholy. As happy as you are to have Sora with you and to be free from your obligations at last, you still can’t hold back the wave of loneliness that washes over you.
Suddenly, Sora perks up, ears twitching and fluffy tail lashing back and forth. His strange reaction confuses you, and although it’s too dark to see much of anything, you worry there might be some pest scurrying in the walls that your cat will try to lunge after.
“Sora?” you ask.
Without warning, the cat darts to the edge of the balcony and slips right through the divider separating your property from your neighbors. It happens faster than you can think to stop him, and then you’re rushing outside in your socks to crouch near the divider, gasping when the movement pulls at your injuries. Reopening them is the last thing you need right now.
“Sora!” It comes out louder than you mean to and you quickly lower your voice. “Where are you, baby? Come here.”
The cat in question is usually so well-behaved and never ventures far when you let him outside, so Sora’s behavior is truly baffling. The last thing you want to do is give your new neighbor a bad impression or to have a complaint filed against you on the very same day you move in, and knocking on their door at this hour to retrieve your cat from their balcony surely won’t win you any favors.
You crouch lower and try to peek through the gaps of the divider, ignoring the pain it causes. After all, you’ve already experienced a lifetime worth of it, so what’s a bit more? It’s too dark to see anything, but the light from your own living room helps make the faint outline of the cat in the darkness more visible and you can see him rub his face against a pair of slippers left out by the door as he meows furiously. He’s very loud, and it’s a miracle that their neighbor hasn’t come out to investigate yet.
“Why are you being like this?” you ask wearily.
Sora just meows louder in response.
Seeing no other option, you grip the balcony railing and pull your body around the divider. Some contorting is required and the edge of the railing digs painfully into your bruised ribs, squeezing the breath out of you, but unfortunately the cat is still too far away for you to grab. You feel guilty enough with this situation as it is, for the sake of your neighbor —who is probably just trying to enjoy their evening— and your cat —who has been cooped up in the bathroom all day while you were hauling boxes and furniture about by yourself— but the last thing you want or need at the moment is to do is plummet from your second story balcony. Being left with no other choice, you swing your leg over the neighbor’s railing, just as the curtains inside the other apartment open and light illuminates the balcony, shining on Sora’s milky white fur and whatever dumb expression is currently on your face at getting caught so spectacularly.
Resigning yourself to an awkward encounter, you attempt an awkward smile at the figure standing in the doorway as the sliding glass door pulls open, before catching sight of your new neighbor’s face. With a sinking heart, you wonder if Chiori knew all along or if she was playing some mean trick on you. Because out of all the people you could move in next to, why did it have to be Wriothesley?
He’s taller now, and broader in the chest and shoulders. His hair is longer than the shorter look he had in high school, stray black and gray strands framing a painfully familiar face. Wriothesley is even more handsome now than he was back then, his face having lost its youthful roundness and looking even more defined. It also doesn’t help that he clearly must have just showered himself, because his hair is wet, and he's wearing a black henley he’s wearing and matching tracksuit pants, softening his sharp lines. At a complete loss, you can’t help but stare at him and then at his bare feet.
Wriothesley stares right back at you with wide ice blue eyes. With a blush, it occurs to you that you’re wearing a faded gray sweatshirt and light blue pajama bottoms, small white bunnies printed across them. Your hair is messily pinned back after your shower with a claw clip and some of it has fallen out by now after all the moving around you’ve done, if the strands whipping around your face are any indication. You can only imagine how terrible you must look at the moment, making you feel more embarrassed than you ever have in a long time.
The urge to climb back over the railing and pretend this encounter never happened is strong, but your concern for Sora is stronger. You can’t just leave the cat out here, who has flopped over and began gnawing on the sandal in his grasp like a dog does to a chew toy. Wriothesley probably isn’t going to appreciate the state his sandals will end up in, but you’ve somehow forgotten how to form words and can only continue to gape at the two of them like an idiot.
In the long silence that follows, you and Wriothesley stand there like statues. Wriothesley recovers first, only because Sora bats playfully at his bare toes, and steps outside. Sora wastes no time and uses the opportunity to stand on his haunches, reaching up with his front paws and mewling for attention like a kitten. Wriothesley briefly glances at you, but the cat cries and grips at his pant legs until he finally caves in to the cat’s demands and picks him up. The traitorous feline flops into his arms at once, purring triumphantly, one amber eye and one blue one squinting up at him in bliss.
“Were you always this shameless, Sora?” Wriothesley asks, scratching the cat under his chin. “Look at what a big boy you are now.”
Sora meows indignantly, but melts into the scritches all the same.
The sight fills you with a warmth you haven't felt in a long time, but there’s a sharp throb in your chest too. Sora hasn’t seen Wriothesley in nearly a decade, yet recognized his scent immediately and could so easily pick up right where they left off. You watch your cat nuzzle under the man’s chin and envies the simplicity of it, thinking to yourself, if only it were that easy for humans.
But then again, maybe it is that easy.
Maybe this is your chance to finally move on.
“Sorry about...all of this,” you say and your voice wavers only slightly despite yourself. You swallow hard and your next words come out a little steadier. “He missed you.”
I missed you too, you think.
Wriothesley stares at you for a long moment, causing you to hesitate and wonder if he still hated you that much, until the cat in his arms snuffles against his cheek and sneezes right in his ear. The man glances down at Sora before looking at you again, and although you expect to be left outside or have to climb back over to your apartment, Wriothesley surprises you when he shifts Sora in his arms to grab your good wrist and help you over to his balcony. The movement pulls at your other injuries, but Wriothesley’s touch is warm and gentle and very steady. Being this close to him, you notice that his hair curls slightly when it’s damp, and he smells of soap and fresh laundry. The smell transports you back to when you were seventeen and reminds you of your high school days, when things were simpler, when you were happier.
When you were young, hopeful, and so in love.
Especially with the way Sora is rubbing his face all over Wriothesley’s clean clothes, leaving a horrendous amount of cat hair that he surprisingly seems unbothered by. Rather, he actually looks...happy. It’s been so long since you last saw that look on his face.
You used to love that look.
Seeing it now leaves you with a feeling that you desperately want to hold onto, as tightly as you can, before it drifts away like dandelions swept up in a gust of wind. The way it did back then. But you remind yourself that neither of you are young anymore and those feelings are traces of a distant past. A chapter that ended, no matter how much you wished it hadn’t.
Summoning all the strength you possess, you offer the man a smile and say, “Thank you, Wriothesley.”
He doesn’t reply and just continues to stare at you, causing you to glance away, unable to bear the intensity of his stare. You know that you’ve changed over the years, with lines on your face and heavy bags under your eyes. Your hands are always calloused and dry no matter how much moisturizer you use, and you lost a lot of weight —you try very hard not to think about the way your pajamas are hanging on your frame in the most unflattering way and tug shyly on the edge of your sleeve. You can only imagine how much of a wild mess your hair looks after being exposed to the wind for this long and a part of you desperately wishes you had a mirror to check, before remembering that Wriothesley doesn’t care, so you shouldn’t either. Still, you reach up and touch your hair clip, halfheartedly pushing it back into place.
All of a sudden, Sora meows and squirms out of the Wriothesley’s arms, dropping to the balcony on all fours and darting through the open sliding glass door before either of you can stop him. Heart sinking, all you can do is watch him scurry down the hallway into another doorway, which is most likely Wriothesley’s bedroom.
This entire situation has gone from awkward to terrible really fast.
“I—I can get him,” you say quickly. Your voice sounds small and hesitant to your own ears, and you hate it. You hate that this man still affects you like this, like a schoolgirl with a crush so many years since you last saw each other. It wouldn't even surprise you if Wriothesley doesn’t remember you anyway, or —if he did— wishes he didn’t, especially when you are acting so foolish around someone who already rejected you.
The man turns to you with an expression you can’t read, before sighing and gesturing to the door. “Come on in,” he says.
Wriothesley steps aside to let you through and you squeeze past him, trying not to think about how huge Wriothesley’s shoulders have become in comparison to your. Despite your best efforts not to touch him, his arm brushes the man’s chest as you pass, who clears his throat and steps around you to close the balcony door.
Right, the last thing Wriothesley would want is to be touched by someone like you, even if it was an accident. You shuffle to the side and belatedly glance down at your socked feet, regretting the hot pink ones you chose when you thought no one was going to see them. But as always, your luck is abysmal, and you had to track everything from outside on top of it.
You’re so childish, a snide voice said to you once, and they’re not wrong. When are you going to grow up?
“Sorry, I can clean up after I get Sora,” you say.
“It’s not a problem. I’m barely here anyway,” Wriothesley replies with a shrug.
That statement seems true enough. You look around the apartment, mainly as an excuse to avoid looking at the man next to you, before realizing how barren the inside is. There are some essentials —basic things like a simple black couch and an entertainment center made of dark wood with a modest sized TV, along with a sitting table, where a laptop and a steaming mug of tea sit on top of it. But otherwise there’s nothing that stands out or appears personal in any way.
It doesn’t necessarily surprise you, remembering how Wriothesley struggled with money back in the day, but it’s heartbreaking to see all the same. You would never have thought that Wriothesley would be the type to still struggle financially at this point in his life, and the complete lack of personal effects is alarming; there aren’t even picture frames on the walls. When you glance at him, Wriothesley looks away like he’s embarrassed, and you remember that you should leave as soon as possible so the both of you can pretend neither saw the other, because the last thing you want to do is embarrass him.
Mind made up, you head straight to Wriothesley’s bedroom in search of your wayward cat. You feels guilty barging into someone’s abode like this and it feels like an invasion of privacy, but the faster you find Sora, the faster both of you can get out and you can bury yourself under the covers, then pretend this never happened. Although there’s no sign of the cat in the bedroom or in the adjacent bathroom on the initial glance over, you kneel down and find Sora hiding under the bed.
The cat peers back at you with his paws tucked underneath himself, looking like a fluffiest and silliest white bread loaf with fuzzy ears. He blinks slowly at you before beginning to purr, as if proud of his accomplishment.
“You’re making this very difficult,” you murmur, trying not to think about how foolish you must look with Wriothesley here to witness this, kneeling on his floor while trying to negotiate with your cat. Your face feels like it caught on fire, your cheeks are burning so hot. “Come on, baby. We have to go.”
Sora squints his eyes and continues to purr, blissfully unaware of the messy situation he’s made. You wish that you had the foresight to bring some treats to tempt him with, but don't want to prolong this anymore than you have to by fetching some from your apartment. Better to try doing this in one go.
“Sora, please,” you say, sounding resigned and pitiful even to your own ears.
Suddenly, there’s the crinkle of a packet and the sound of treats being shaken in a bag. Sora immediately slithers out from underneath the bed, chirring excitedly. You turn to find Wriothesley standing behind you and the man gives the treat bag another enticing shake before Sora lunges at him, weaving through his legs and meowing. He kneels down in front of the cat and begins to feed him a couple, petting him absently.
It makes your heart swell up at the sight; Sora standing on his hind legs to grab the man’s hand with both of his front paws, nuzzling his face against his palm and treats all but forgotten in his pursuit for pets instead. Wriothesley gives in to his demands and scratches him beneath the chin with a smile, expression warm and soft. This strange and embarrassing situation is all worth it just for the adorable picture they make together, and how much it reminds you of the past. But it doesn’t last, when Wriothesley glances in your direction and pauses, as if suddenly remembering you’re still there. It hurts, knowing that those sweet memories are gone forever.
It’s better this way, you remind yourself. No need to get your hopes up or let those feelings resurface, not when the man made himself very clear all those years ago. And you can’t bear to face that kind of rejection again.
You scoops Sora up in his arms despite the protesting chirp the cat makes and looks down at his disgruntled little face so you don't have to meet Wriothesley’s gaze. “Thanks again for your help,” you say. “We’ll get out of your way now.”
You notice Wriothesley steps closer, perhaps closer than he needs to, and holds out the bag of treats. When you meet his gaze, the man pointedly nudges it at you until you shift Sora in your arms to accept them. The cat squirms, trying to reach the bag until Wriothesley grabs him from your arms and walks out of the room. You follow more out of the need to get out of the man’s bedroom than anything else and allow yourself to be led to the front door.
“Thanks,” you repeat, because you don't know what else to say. “This was…I mean, thanks.”
Wriothesley nods, and —to your surprise— opens the door and walks you all the way back to your apartment. Even when you try to take Sora from him, he refuses to relinquish his hold on the cat and simply waits until you punch in the code to unlock your front door. You hesitantly open it, suddenly overcome with the need for Wriothesley not to look inside, although your belongings are just as sparse as his. But while the man’s apartment is in good condition, yours is filled with used furniture or homemade pieces that you cobbled together yourself. You don’t want Wriothesley to see how far you’ve fallen, even though it’s impossible for him not to know. The entire nation saw the very public fall of your family and still hound you about it years later.
Thankfully, Wriothesley doesn’t move beyond the entryway and only gets in far enough through the door to carefully set Sora down. When he straightens, he gives you a look that is difficult to read before inclining his head. “Goodnight, class president,” he says, and it startles you just how deep his voice is now.
You feel heat creep up into your face at the thought. Way to be incredibly inappropriate. “Oh, right,” you say quickly. “G–goodnight, Wriothesley.”
Wriothesley nods again and closes the door behind himself as he leaves. Sora stretches and trots away to the bedroom as you stare blankly at your socked toes. There are smudges of dirt on them. You’ll have to wash them now.
With a groan, you sink down and cover your face with your hands as the realization hits you like a freight train that Wriothesley called you class president.