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[ T e x t ] // [ V o i c e ] // [ V i d e o ]

[There is only one thought that flickers through Yagyuu's head at that precise moment, the moment when Niou's fingers curl and those words are spoken, and that thought is that the net, frankly, needs to get the hell out of his way.

But of course it's not a thought he acts on, not in the demonstrative way that part of him wants to. If he were safe beneath a white wig and contact lenses, then maybe he would—maybe he'd jump the net, leap it like a gazelle, cross the last symbolic barrier between the two of them. But it's always easier to do things as Niou than as Yagyuu, and this is a moment when he needs to be Yagyuu, because he needs Niou to be Niou and there's a natural balance that must be maintained.

But the words take him back to that meeting long ago in the forest, when he'd ached to be Niou and had to be Yagyuu a previous time, when he'd said the same thing to quiet Niou's same fears. We'll find our way back together. We always do. That's how we are.

And Niou came back, like the stray cat he is, at his own pleasure and on his own time but he came back, and here they are.

He's at the net before he realizes it, too, having gravitated slowly and unconsciously nearer, the racket still held loosely at his side.]

There was something I told you. The last time.

[They're so close, and he wants to reach—but no, it's Niou who moves and Yagyuu who waits, and he's Yagyuu, he's Yagyuu.]

[It's kind of like a moth drawing closer to a flame, in a way. Because they are not perfect - not only does that state not exist, but there are far too many lies and deceit in everything in a way that makes this no where close to perfection. When his own hesitancy at stepping forward proves to be not needed, however, he lets his breaths slow out and forces himself to relax.

He's clear on who they have to be here, after all. It's just a shame that this is harder to see the steps ahead before they happen so he can calculate all of his moves.

So he doesn't calculate anything. He just reaches out, reaches up to grip onto Yagyuu's shoulder and squeeze gently. He can feel himself gravitate in closer, just a little, until the personal bubble is completely popped and he's wormed his way closer.]

What was it? [He's not pushing though, not as much as he could at least. Just enough, much more than he has done so far.]

[It's not as though he doesn't see the touch coming, because he does, but that recognition isn't enough to keep him from flinching in the moment it makes contact. It's such a small thing, so insignificant next to all the ways they've interacted before, and yet there's something else there, too, that's worth jumping at—the familiarity, the anticipation.

Ball's in your court, Yagyuu. What now?]

The same thing.

[Different words, the same sentiment. Deep down, they're so alike, aren't they?]

You went six months without me. Before I caught up. It's...a long time to wait.

[Maybe the actual game has stopped, but the rally hasn't really. They're still in a slight tug of war, only this time it's with actions and words.

He actually laughs under his breath at that response, because predictably enough, he thinks almost the same. It shouldn't be a surprise at all. Even if he hadn't quite expected him to flinch at the contact.

Only now he has to deal with this... again. Back to his turn. Back to see what he'll do with this. Take the easy route out, or to not.]

But I'd still wait.

[I always will. In fact, while he might've been a little more invasive had Yagyuu not flinched, he does still nudge Yagyuu's chin with the top of his head. It's a distancing sort of comfort that only lasts for a second but it's still there and asking whether the hand on his shoulder was going too far or what.

It would have been okay back home.]

[This would've been natural, once, between them.

It takes a moment to sink in, to really connect, but when it does it hits hard—not like a punch, but like a dousing of ice water, a sudden waking up to the truth. This was natural once, to move like this and move each other like this, and they never thought twice about it. Not until Yagyuu opened his eyes to a bedroom that wasn't his own and learned he was somehow six months late without ever realizing he'd even been a single step behind, and everything shifted, wobbled, like a top beginning to succumb to the gravity of its own weight. This was natural once, and now he flinches when Niou touches him, and he is the only one who knows why.

And suddenly he knows, knows, what it had been like to be Niou, six months of memories alone and faced with someone who didn't realize, hadn't lived an instant without him, hadn't changed from the separation and the factors acting on his psyche that forced him to react, to adapt, to survive.

He'd asked Niou once, that day. You used to be able to tell me anything. What changed? And now it's his turn to keep the secrets, and now he knows exactly how Niou must feel because he was once that same person, under those same circumstances, with that same confusion and lack of clarity and uncertainty about where to move next from there.

It's nothing new to Yagyuu, the discovery that he's a hypocrite. He finds it stings, just the same.]

If I had my way, you'd never have to.

[He still doesn't know where the line is, how much is too much. But he tips his chin down, nudging back with his nose, feeling the brush of white hair against his mouth.]

The things I haven't told you...it's not because I think I can't. Or because I don't trust you. I thought it...might make it easier, if I didn't. That's all.

[In a small way it's harder, because he usually is the one to make the first move as well. He's already treading so thinly on ice as it is, the flinching had proved that, and normally he's not this cautious either. He pushes until he breaks through, creates an opening but in this case it's harder because he can't see the results like he normally would. He's not stupid. He knows there are things that are important here that he doesn't know, things that leave him stuck with this confusion and lack of understanding about what is going on.

So he just takes what he can.

He breathes him in, maybe he shouldn't, but this is the closest they've been since he got back and it's nice that even though there is a barrier between them, it's not as big as it was. Not really.

He also knows that on some level, it might never be the same as it was back home either - time does curious things, after all. Niou can see the changes, even if he doesn't know the causes for those changes. And Yagyuu's words are enough for now. They're warm enough and while they don't really let him in on anything, it's a sign that he shouldn't really take it as personally as he could do. It's why, while Yagyuu isn't looking - can't see even if he might already know - he smiles.

He might not know much about what has happened, but he sees enough.]

I know.

[It's why he's waiting, isn't it? Waited and waiting and will wait.]

[There's a moment, as those two simple words drift away through the chill winter air, when Yagyuu almost lets himself wonder if maybe there's a chance.

At what, he's not precisely sure, but maybe it's whatever they were stumbling toward the last time they were together, or maybe it's at something similar but new, or maybe it's something different entirely. He doesn't know, isn't sure, but he thinks vaguely that it's something he wants, and the relationship between them has always been colored and defined with overtones of desires. Niou wanted to see his walls come down, wanted to watch him cut loose, wanted to see what lurked beneath the face he showed the world. Yagyuu wanted to taste the freedom that came with being someone else, wanted to be someone else, wanted to be himself as he really is in a way that no repercussions could attach. They want things, and they make them happen. That's who they are.

The words that set off that first reckless kiss were anything you want.

But he's learned, now, not to be reckless. Maybe it's making him overly cautious, swinging too far to the other extreme, but mistakes were made and flaws dug in like needles and it isn't often that people get second chances like this, to fix what went wrong by never choosing that option in the first place. He wants to push but he doesn't, because pushing is how inertia builds, and he doesn't know yet if it will cut a new path away from those past mistakes, or fall back into the groove that led right to them.

And yet his arm fits so well around Niou, gathering him in close—and come to think of it, when did that happen?

It's so instinctive to want him close, like they're two halves of the same whole fighting to get back together again.]

Do you want me to?

[He thinks he means, do you want me to tell you, but on second thought, maybe he's really asking something completely different.]

[He's not entirely sure when it happened either, but the hand that had been holding onto Yagyuu's shoulder ends up sliding up to rest at the back of his neck anyway - more for ease as he is pulled closer. It's natural though, in a way that's possibly unnatural. Everything does bleed together in ways, when it's like this. Even if they had been in the same house, the same rooms, it didn't exactly feel like they ever were up until this point either. The closest he'd sat had been when Yagyuu had been sick.

He thinks over the question now that he can. He knows he's relaxing more than he should, because he doesn't know what any of this means, he just does it. But that question almost throws him off, because he can hear the possible double meanings to it, but he doesn't know if he's just hearing it because he wants to hear that either.]

Whenever you're ready.

[It might seem like a simple answer to it, but it caters for the either/or there as well. What is it that you want? The question in the back of his own mind asks whether he ever will be though.]

He's really gone.

[He puts his head down, breathes, caught up in thoughts and memories that he can't beat back and suppress no matter how fervently he tries. He pins down one and another escapes, bouncing back to prick incessantly at the back of his mind, nagging and taunting. So many of them have gone. So few of them are left.

Akaya was the first familiar face he met in person after he was dragged in here, himself.

But it's not easier to think about the fresh wounds of Akaya's departure in lieu of the older, scarred ones of Niou's. It all stings the same. There's too much to think about and he can't clear his mind, and it's colored all over with the lingering, wrenching urge to steal a kiss from his partner's mouth just to make himself forget for a little while.

But he won't, because Niou has seen through him again; he's not ready, not yet, because that urge is a reckless one and he already succumbed to recklessness once, and sometimes it feels exquisite to let himself be swept away by the undertow but not here, not now, not with this.

He's been fortunate enough, beyond all expectation, to be given a second chance. He's not about to press his luck and hope he might still have the safety net of a third.]

You'll know, when I am.

[But this is all right, for right now. They're too close and too wrapped up in each other for the boundaries of friends or teammates, but that's never stopped them before. They're partners. It means something. It makes this all right, no matter what feelings lurk behind it.]

Mm. [It's hummed out more than anything, just an agreement.] It doesn't mean he won't be back either though.

[Maybe he shouldn't be offering that at this point. Maybe he shouldn't be commenting on it any further when there is so much that is rocky and hard to touch upon already. He hasn't been there long enough this time to notice what it really feels like to get used to this territory with someone else for it all to be washed away.

It's different, somehow.

Either way, at this point he knows and understands more than Yagyuu tries to let on. He knows that while he may not be clued in on things, that he isn't all that ready to discuss whatever it is he's struggling with. All he can do is be there whenever that time comes.]

I always do.

[There's another small hint of a smile on his face even as he says that - even if it's a little painful to hold on to this uncomfortable feeling for a little longer. To keep questioning everything. If he thinks about it though, he can assume it's like another mind game they have to play until the final result is released. That makes it a little easier, as does the hold they have right now - close, but not quite touching upon how close they are.]

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