Kippei could not breathe. Everything in the world did hurt, but nothing so much as that look in Shinji’s eyes. Three years. Yeah, it had been three years. He had never thought he could hurt more than when they told him Shinji would never wake up again, over and over until he’d finally believed it; but that pain seemed small and insignificant now. And the damn tears wouldn’t stop. He felt like he was drowning in them.

“Shinji,” he whispered again, because he had absolutely nothing else to say. There was nothing, and Shinji was so far away. He reached out, hesitantly, and let his hand fall before it touched. He couldn’t reach across three years.

Shinji stared, stunned, with no idea what to say. Everyone kept crying and telling him weird things and he just had no idea what to say. He couldn’t even move to hug them or say sorry and the word felt meaningless anyway.

Nothing made any sense anymore. It felt like yesterday he woke up in Kippei’s bed, tangled up in his sheets and climbed out the window, reminding Kippei to be at the station on time because the later train was too late and Kippei had just smiled lazily and pulled him down for more kisses…Shinji closed his eyes and tried to control the shiver that ran through him. That was three years ago, he had to remind himself. Three whole damn years.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, unable to talk any louder but wanting Kippei to hear him. “It’s okay…Tachibana-san.” But it really wasn’t.

It really, really wasn’t. Kippei winced, and took a deep breath, wiping some of the tears forcibly away. Not okay at all. “I thought I lost you,” he whispered hoarsely, and it seemed a random, foolish thing to say, but also the one thing that was important. The one thing he’d thought was going to kill him, but it hadn’t. And now Shinji was back, and that really was going to kill him.

He tried to reach for Shinji’s hand again, wanted just to touch him so badly, but he couldn’t quite manage it, nor could he climb up and sit beside him. That ocean he couldn’t cross. Shinji couldn’t cross it either, maybe. He crouched beside the bed and rested his head against it, next to Shinji’s hand. “I’m sorry,” he said, because he hadn’t been here. Because he hadn’t waited. He should have known better, really, but they had all been so sure. He’s never coming back, they said, and after a while it had just hurt too much to try to keep believing.

Shinji sighed, shifting his fingers until the tips hit Kippei’s hair. He felt sometimes like it must be a dream because he couldn’t move; could feel his whole body like a lump of lead with no strength in it, as if possessed by a brick, and it felt horrible. But Kippei’s hair still felt the same, just like he remembered it, and he wanted to cry but he couldn’t even make the tears to cry with.

Kippei thought he had lost him, but Shinji was just the same; weaker and confused, but everything he knew and everything he felt hadn’t changed in three years. It was Kippei who was lost.

“Mum…my mum said…you got a boyfriend.”

Kippei shivered hard, feeling a keen knife of pain slice through him at how horribly, terribly unfair it all was. And he hadn’t even gotten to tell Shinji himself. She’d probably felt like she ought to warn Shinji, so he wouldn’t think Kippei was his right off, but…it was so unfair. It shouldn’t be this way.

“Yeah,” he admitted finally, because it was true, and that wasn’t fair either. That he’d even been happy, while Shinji was laying here asleep. And now he wasn’t Shinji’s anymore, even if part of him cried desperately that he always was, always would be, and nothing could change that.

Shinji felt bad for asking immediately when he saw the look on Kippei’s face, but he was glad his mum told him, because it would have been weird, wondering why Kippei didn’t reach out, just sat there looking miserable. Shinji would do anything to take away that look. His fingers curled, wanting to grab and hold on but he was almost glad it didn’t work, that all he touched was air. He didn’t want to make it hard.

“Does he play tennis?”

Kippei shook his head. “Shinji, I – I wish–” He barely even knew what he was saying, but he wanted somehow to promise things. It would be okay, somehow, he could make it okay. Not without hurting everyone more. He would have to hurt someone else to be with Shinji, and part of him wanted to say that he would, and another part of him knew that he couldn’t. It was going to be hard no matter what Shinji did. He reached for Shinji’s hand anyway, because at least this much they had, or deserved, that much comfort, surely.

“He doesn’t play,” Kippei said finally, looking away, and maybe that had been one of the reasons. He held onto Shinji’s hand as tightly as he dared and just breathed. Damn tears wouldn’t stop, but at least they weren’t streaming down his face again.

Well, that didn’t leave much to talk about. Shinji bit his lip when Kippei picked up his hand, just staring, wishing for more, wishing for it to be a joke or a dream or…but it wasn’t and he knew it wasn’t. Even in his nightmares Kippei would never say he had a boyfriend who didn’t play tennis.

“I’m…glad.” And he was, sort of. Happy Kippei hadn’t been alone, had been able to move on; had gotten over it. But things felt numb and memories were darker, because what good were all the promises about always and forever? What good was I loved you?

Kippei laughed, a soft broken sound. “Jesus, Shinji. What is there to be glad about? I don’t…I don’t even know what to think. I can’t even believe this. It’s all wrong. I used to dream about you waking up, and it was never like this. I can’t even…” he shook his head, gripping Shinji’s hand and just wishing that those three years were gone. That nothing had happened, that Shinji was smiling at him and Kippei could lean down and kiss him and everything would be just like it had been. But that could never happen, now.

Shinji’s heart sank even deeper because Kippei was right. What was there to be glad about? He’d been asleep three years, his body was trashed, his boyfriend moved on and was living happily with someone else, hell…everyone had moved on! He’d ruined three years of his family’s life, his sister had grown up practically without her mother, his other sister had damn near run the family…what the hell was there to be happy about? It was never supposed to be like this. He was never supposed to wake up at all.

“I don’t know either,” he whispered, feeling detached, as if he were caught outside of time; trapped three years ago and looking at everyone else in the future, not liking what he could see. He didn’t know, what to think or do or say or feel.

“I don’t know what to say,” Kippei murmured, holding onto Shinji’s hand like a lifeline. “I wish I could tell you.” I love you, I missed you, I’m so sorry. He still felt all those things, but distantly; an old would reopened, not fresh and new like Shinji must be feeling. He’d lost Shinji a long time ago. Shinji had lost him today, and that hurt just as much. His fault, all his fault.

“It’s not that I don’t want–” he stopped, biting his lip, wondering why the hell he was trying to explain something Shinji probably didn’t want an explanation for. It’s not that I don’t want you, he wanted to say, but Shinji probably knew that, maybe. He wished he could go back and do things differently, wait just a little bit longer, believe a little bit more–and yet he had to admit that he had things now he didn’t want to lose, that he would miss if he went back. He still loved Shinji, would always love Shinji with an all consuming fierceness, but he couldn’t deny that there were other feelings too.

“God,” he muttered, feeling selfish. He just wanted to tell Shinji he loved him, but how would that make anything better? He couldn’t have his new life and the one that had died three years ago too, no matter how badly he wanted it. And he felt guilty for knowing how close he was to saying the hell with it and telling Rien it was over, that he couldn’t stay with him now that Shinji was awake. That would hurt and he knew it, but maybe it would hurt less. Had to hurt less than this.

Shinji wonderd if they would give him morphine if he asked for it, but he was pretty sure the answer would be no, and that it wouldn’t help anyway. He could see ‘I love you’ in the way Kippei looked at him, but it wasn’t like ‘I’m in love with you’ anymore. Shinji wondered what the new boyfriend felt like, when Kippei looked at him like that.

“It’s okay,” he reminded Kippei. “You don’t have to…” Kippei didn’t have to anything. Shinji thought he had tortured Kippei enough for a lifetime already. He wished there were a way to go back and tell them not to call Kippei; not to tell him at all, but it was the first thing he had asked for, before he knew any better, and they had wanted to give it to him. Be careful what you wish for…

“Were you…okay? I mean…there was…” He frowned, staring at the ceiling. He only remembered blood and screams and the pain in his head, and seeing Kippei’s closed eyes before his own closed. Three years ago, but he sensed it like it was still happening.”You’re okay?”

It was not okay. It was nothing like okay, and it never would be again. Kippei thought he could feel his heart breaking in his chest. Nothing was okay!

“I can still play tennis,” he said quietly, knowing that was all he had to say, that Shinji would understand, aching for the old familiarity of a lover that always understood. He’d died when he’d finally accepted that Shinji would never wake up, and he’d never thought that coming back to life would be worse agony than dying. But then he’d never thought it was a possibility, either.

“Shinji,” he whispered. “Shinji, I missed you so bad.” He bit his lip, hard, to stop himself talking.

Shinji winced, because it was what he wanted to hear, but it was too late too. Missed him so much he moved on, which was a good thing, and found someone else and got a life with them, with tennis and everything. Missed him, but forgot about him too. Shinji felt a lone hot tear run down into his hair and looked at their hands, feeling that odd detachment again.

“I miss you now.”

“I know,” Kippei told him, reaching up to brush the tear away and hating himself for not being able to fix this. For having caused it in the first place. Furious with himself for having to choose, for having a choice, for not being able to make it. “I know. I wish I could make it better. I wish I had been asleep with you. I’m so sorry. I tried…I tried so hard. I just couldn’t do it without you.” It sounded ridiculous to say that he couldn’t handle waiting for Shinji when Shinji wasn’t there to wait with him…for himself? But that was how it had felt. He was stupid and still making excuses. Shinji didn’t want excuses. Why didn’t matter. It was now that mattered, and Kippei couldn’t even imagine what happened next.

“I know…” And Shinji did know, because he couldn’t have done it either, only he would have died trying and then Kippei would have woken up, and moved on like he had and it would be better. Everything would be better. Everyone would be. He needed something to focus on and grabbed the only thing left.

“Did you go pro?”

Kippei laughed a little and dropped his head, shrugging. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.” He rubbed his thumb back and forth over Shinji’s hand, feeling his eyes stinging again. It hadn’t meant anything without Shinji there, but he’d done it because he hadn’t known what else to do. “I’m missing training now,” he murmured, remembering that he’d run out of the house without even calling it off. “Or I already did.” He had no idea what time it was.

Shinji blinked and then laughed, wondering why he possibly felt good that he had mattered more than training. Like it mattered anymore; he was not only making Kippei miserable but putting his tennis career at risk too. Brilliant! He knew it wasn’t that dire, missing one session, but he felt a weird sort of guilt over it anyway.

“I’m…sorry…” It was the first time he had managed to say it, to anyone, since waking up and he wanted to say it to everyone. “I’m sorry for everything.”

Kippei just looked at him, a deep sad look that hurt clear down to his soul. “Don’t be sorry,” he answered, struggling to speak past the tightness in his throat, shaking his head. “It’s not your fault. You haven’t done anything. I should have known better. I should have waited. I wanted to, so much–” his voice broke and he bit his lip, trying to hold back the sound. “It was like you were dead. Felt like I was dead too, and then nothing mattered. Would it be easier,” he asked with a painful smile, “if I had died? If you woke up and I was gone, would that be better? I think it might.” He took a deep breath, but the air caught in jagged shards in his chest.

“I want to kiss you,” he whispered. “I really want to kiss you. But I don’t think I should.” Damn, stupid, tears and he couldn’t stop them.

“No!” Shinji gaped at him a little. “That’s not better at all! I don’t want…I don’t want you to feel bad, or guilty, or sad or…You lived.” A small smile made it onto his face despite his own sadness. “You’re alive.” And living and doing well and living just like Shinji had always wanted. Just not with him.

“It wouldn’t be any fun,” he joked, because he wanted it too badly. “If I couldn’t kiss back.”

“I don’t feel very alive right now,” Kippei told him grimly, swiping angrily at his tears. Living without Shinji had always been hard, but it had been the only choice he had, because Shinji wasn’t there. And now Shinji was awake again, and Kippei had to go on living without him but knowing that he could have had it all back. That Shinji was right here, and just not his anymore. Kippei didn’t want to live with that kind of pain, and wasn’t sure he could.

A soft knock sounded on the door behind them, and a familiar voice followed. “Am I interrupting anything?” Kippei froze and then looked over his shoulder, feeling trapped, his face haunted. Hell yes, you’re interrupting, he wanted to say. But instead he just watched silently as Rien walked into the room, coming over to stand beside him with an unreadable expression on his face. Someone must have told him where Kippei had gone.

Shinji just blinked, confused as hell for a few heartbeats before he realised. Kippei’s boyfriend. Shinji frowned a little before his face went blank. He was angry, because this guy had Kippei, and was going to get to keep him, and here he was turning up on the one day Shinji got to have and he shouldn’t be allowed to! But at the same time, this was the person who kept Kippei alive and gave him a life and helped him move on and Shinji couldn’t hate him at all.

“No.” He wasn’t interrupting anything he didn’t have every right to interrupt. He was Kippei’s boyfriend…Shinji wanted to scream, but he couldn’t even clench his fist. “Is…is he the best tennis player?” He forced a small smile, wishing the guy would tell him his name.

Rien looked uncertainly from Shinji to Kippei and back again. “Who?” he asked, a little confused. He wasn’t a tennis player. He supposed Shinji meant Kippei, and Rien knew Kippei was a damn good tennis player but he had no idea whether he was the best or not. He nudged Kippei’s shoulder gently, because Kippei looked a little dazed and like he was just going to sit there and stare at Shinji until they both stopped breathing. Rien didn’t want to be jealous, because he knew the story, but he still was, a little.

“Um.” Kippei took a ragged breath and wiped his face on his sleeve again. “Yeah. Shinji, this is Rien. He doesn’t play tennis.”

Rien wondered why that suddenly sounded like a shortcoming, something that he should apologize for. No, he didn’t play tennis. He was pretty good at martial arts but he’d never been into sports. “Uh, hi,” he said finally, feeling awkward as he flashed Shinji a smile. “I’ll, um, just go then.” He laid a hand on Kippei’s shoulder and squeezed lightly, hoping it seemed supportive rather than possessive although he wasn’t really sure how he’d even meant it, and turned to walk away. He was more than half sure that Kippei was going to come out and tell him he was sorry, but he was still Shinji’s and he had to leave. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? He couldn’t even blame either of them, really. He knew how it was. He’d been fighting Shinji’s ghost for as long as he’d been with Kippei, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever really won.

Shinji winced and closed his eyes a moment, feeling horribly lethargic and wishing he could just fall back to sleep, but he knew that would hurt Kippei. And his being awake was hurting a perfect stranger…Rien looked ready to accept the inevitible and Shinji wanted to say yes, go away, I hate you when he saw Rien’s hand on Kippei’s shoulder, but at the same time it looked right and comfortable and he wondered how many times that hand had been there when Shinji himself hadn’t. Too many times.

“No…it’s okay,” he whispered, because there wasn’t even any pride to swallow, it all hurt and it didn’t make any difference anymore. “It’s okay…you can stay.” He pointed a finger at the chair by the bed that Kippei had avoided. He was sickly curious, wanting to see them together and see what they were like, together. Just to make sure, or something.

Rien hesitated, looking down at Kippei, wanting to stay and feeling horribly curious about Shinji himself, but it was awkward and it hurt and he was only staying if Kippei wanted him to. Kippei looked up at him, met his eyes, and nodded a little; Rien winced too at the sheer pain in them. Those liquid dark eyes that always looked so warm, and sure, always shadowed, but still warm. Now they were shattered and dazed, showing pieces of a torn and bleeding soul, and Rien could almost feel it. He wanted to put his arms around Kippei and hold him and tell him it would be okay, that he would always be there, but that was the whole problem. The fact that he existed was the problem, and him being there wasn’t going to be any kind of comfort. He sat down on the edge of the chair and studied Shinji, trying to see through him, to see if he was good enough to let everything go for.

Kippei relaxed a little, feeling somehow comforted nonetheless, though he couldn’t say why. Nothing was better, nothing had changed, but Rien wasn’t going to make this any harder than it had to be, and that was a relief. Someone who loved him was going to be there, even if it wasn’t Shinji. Still, it was weird sitting between them like this, feeling as if he belonged to neither, or both. He stared at the floor, and didn’t let go of Shinji’s hand. How could he let go of Shinji again?

Rien sighed and dragged his chair closer. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” he told Shinji softly, trying to smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” Not necessarily from Kippei. Getting Kippei to talk about Shinji was like pulling teeth and then feeling afterward like you’d kicked a puppy. Rien had given up on it a long time ago, but people An and Akira had been willing to fill in the blanks. So he’d know what he was dealing with, he figured.

Shinji snorted softly, because oddly enough he hadn’t heard much about Rien. Although, it seemed Rien was all anyone had talked about since he woke up, or maybe it was just all Shinji had heard. The doctor had raved, the nurses fussed, his mother cried, his father cried, his sisters cried and then everyone kept reminding him, everything was different, had changed. Nothing was the same, except Shinji.

“If you don’t play tennis…what do you do?” How did he meet Kippei and steal him away while Shinji was sleeping?

Rien shook his head. “I’m just an ordinary guy,” he muttered, and Kippei snorted. Rien kicked him. “Officially, I work for him,” he said cheerfully, jerking his thumb at Kippei. “Unofficially, I work for other people.” He smiled at Shinji, but his eyes were just a little bit wary. He didn’t think he could tell Shinji exactly what he did. Furthermore, he had to keep doing it. This was going to suck a lot, if he had to break up with Kippei and still work with him. Because working for Kippei was a very, very good cover. Got him into and out of all kinds of places. It wasn’t like that was the only reason he and Kippei were together, but it sure did make it easier. He had a lover he could take with him, instead of spending weeks and months apart.

Kippei shot Rien a look, a careful measuring glance. Tell him, it said.

Rien narrowed his eyes right back. Not happening. Kippei’s eyes flashed with just enough anger and anguish to remind Rien that Shinji wasn’t going anywhere or telling anyone anything. Rien sighed and relented, just a little. “I play bodyguard and other interesting things,” he told Shinji, which was sort of closer to the truth.

Shinji just blinked. Kippei needed a bodyguard? For what? Who the hell would be dumb enough to want to attack Kippei? Shinji looked at Kippei, wanting to demand…something, but not sure what and he stopped, the feeling subsiding and he turned his attention back to Rien who okay, was maybe a little interesting. But Shinji’s fingers still twitched around Kippei’s, the current equivalent of a deathgrip.

“…you don’t sing whitney housten songs, right?”

Rien stared at him and then he laughed, relaxing back into his chair, slouching down until his knee brushed Kippei’s shoulder, which may or may not have been an accident, and maybe it was his imagination that Kippei leaned into it, just a little.

“Nah, man, I don’t do any singing. I leave that to the experts. But I can dance. Unlike some people.” He reached out to ruffle Kippei’s hair affectionately, and then his smile faded when Kippei jerked his head away irritably. Okay, right, not the time for joking. He stared helplessly at Kippei for a minute, wondering why he was even here, and then he shrugged an apologetic look at Shinji.

Kippei was currently struggling not to squeeze Shinji’s hand in a death grip of his own, and the warmth at his side was only partly reassuring. This was insane, and he knew Rien’s usual defense and reaction to almost anything was to lighten things up, ease the tension, but right now Kippei didn’t really want it eased because this was fucked up and even Rien should know that. Kippei knew that Rien did know that, no matter how he was acting, but it still felt wrong.

“Can you be serious for like two seconds?” he growled.

Rien went still behind him, and his eyes went dark and watchful, resting on Shinji. “You want me to go, babe,” he said evenly, “all you got to do is ask.”

Nononononono! They were fighting and hurting and god, it hurt to see when he could also see that they loved each other; were in love with each other. Rien knew Kippei, like Shinji used to know him and didn’t anymore and that hurt like hell, but it was good and they shouldn’t be fighting over a joke. It was a joke…it was supposed to be funny. But Shinji remembered nights demanding Kippei sing him a lullaby to help him sleep and the memory felt tainted now by reality. He swallowed hard and stopped trying to hold Kippei’s hand, which he had been doing a bad job of anyway, and let it go limp. He didn’t have the strength to hold it up anyway so trying to was pointless. He swallowed, throat dry and did his best not to just cry since that was just about the only damn thing he could do. Instead he smiled a little and nodded.

“You can both go.” And don’t come back…please don’t.

Rien looked over at him and his eyes softened. He wished he’d met Shinji under different circumstances, a different time and place. A different life, maybe. He was sure he would have liked him.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly. “He should stay.” He swallowed hard, knowing that walking out the door would be like saying goodbye, and stood up, touching Kippei’s shoulder briefly. “Stay,” he said. “You both need it.” He smiled at Shinji, a sad smile. “I’ll see you later,” he said to Kippei, and it even sounded like goodbye. Then he walked out the door.

“Shit,” Kippei muttered, climbing to his feet and giving Shinji a torn and helpless look. “I’ll be right back,” he said hurriedly, and went to catch up with Rien. “I’m sorry,” he said, catching Rien’s elbow.

Rien looked down at it as if it belonged to someone else. “What for?” he asked wearily. “I always knew this was going to happen, somehow. You were never really mine. Go on, go make him smile again.” He pulled his arm free and turned his back, but he couldn’t quite walk away.

Kippei clenched his fists, hating that he was hurting Rien and Shinji both and not knowing what the hell to do about it. “Don’t go, Ri. Don’t go, you don’t have to.”

Rien exhaled, a long breath through his teeth. “Yeah, I do. I’ll see you at home.” He stared at his feet, willing them to move, and was mildly surprised when they obeyed, moving down the hall, further away from Kippei.

“Dammit.” Kippei slapped the wall with the flat of his hand and almost kicked it, but after a minute he took a deep breath and went back into Shinji’s room. He walked over slowly and sat down on the side of the bed, taking Shinji’s hand again. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do,” he muttered, rubbing his face.

Shinji listened and stared at the ceiling and wanted to scream and rage and punch and kick and throw the tantrum of his life, but all he could do was lie and listen and wish for something that could never be. When Kippei came back in it didn’t make him feel better, it made him feel worse because he knew Rien had gone home thinking Kippei wasn’t coming. And Kippei had no idea what to do, which only left one person…Shinji wished he had never woken up. Everything would have been better if someone had just told him not to.

“Yeah, you do…” He smiled faintly at Kippei, sad but resolved, already having given up. “You already did it.” Just walk away and don’t look back.

Kippei gave him a shocked, angry look. “That’s not right!” he burst out, his hand tightening around Shinji’s. “That’s the wrong thing to do. I shouldn’t have…I shouldn’t have given up. I can’t do it again, Shinji, I can’t.” He gritted his teeth against more tears and wondered why it felt like losing Shinji all over again.

“I can’t do this.” But he couldn’t do anything else. He was still stunned from hearing Rien say that Kippei had never been his, and he knew…knew that it meant that Rien would let him go, and a small selfish part of him wanted to just go with it, go back to Shinji and pretend he’d never left. An even smaller, more selfish part wanted to kick and scream and rage until he found a way to keep them both, and wasn’t that just the most insane thing ever.

“You can too,” Shinji told him, feeling horrible for telling Kippei anything other than what Kippei wanted to hear. But telling Kippei he loved him, adored him, worshipped the hell out of him and never wanted him to leave…was admitting he was okay with hurting anyone just to get what he wanted and he wasn’t okay with that.

“It’s the right thing to do!” Shinji glared, because if he was mad then maybe Kippei wouldn’t see how bad it hurt. “You said it yourself, its like I’m already dead!” And he felt it, and wanted it and wanted them all to go away and forget and leave him alone.

“No,” Kippei told him, turning to give him an intense look and leaning down to plant his hands on either side of Shinji. “It’s like you’re back from the dead. You think I stopped loving you? You think I ever stopped wishing it was different, wishing you were here? But you weren’t and there was just…nothing. And now you are. If you think it was hard to move on before, and you don’t even know how hard it was, you have no idea how impossible it is to leave you behind when I know you’re here, waiting. When I know you’re awake and you want me here. It’s like yesterday for you, isn’t it? Isn’t it! How can I walk away from that?” he asked, voice shaking like his bleeding heart.

Yesterday. Just like that. Shinji winced and felt all the anger rush away, leaving the cold and the emptiness and the numb sense that there was something wrong and he just couldn’t feel it and he wanted to laugh because of course there was something wrong. He went to sleep for three years and his whole world fell away because he wasn’t supposed to wake up.

“Because I’m asking you to.”

“Why?” Kippei demanded, frustrated and in more pain that he’d ever thought possible. Against all the odds, like a miracle, his Shinji was back, but Shinji wasn’t his anymore, and he wanted him to go away. “You don’t want that. You don’t want me to leave. And I don’t want to, Shinji, I can’t stand to just…walk away and leave you hurting. None of this is your fault, and you shouldn’t have to pay for my mistakes. I should have been here. This is my fault. Please,” he whispered. “Please, let me stay.” Don’t tell me that I’ve killed the one thing I never wanted to lose.

“It is my fault!” Shinji blurted out and the tears finally came and he wanted to wipe them away and make them stop and turn away so Kippei couldn’t see but he couldn’t even do that and it just made it worse. “Everything was fine! Everyone was okay, and then I ruined it! All I had to do was stay asleep and everything would have been fine! I ruined everything!”

“No,” Kippei told him, whispering, leaning down to kiss away the tears because he just couldn’t stand it. “Not you. We all missed you. We were never fine without you, not any of us. It tore a hole in me when I lost you, Shinji, and it’s never healed. If I had just waited, just one more year, then everything would have been fine, and you would have been back. This is my fault. I should have waited for you.” He’d known, even then, that he was breaking promises, but he hadn’t been able to stand it, the emptiness, the loneliness of knowing Shinji was never coming back. That was his weakness, not Shinji’s. All his fault.

Shinji couldn’t stop crying and felt even worse for it. Kippei’s kisses were a salve and a brand in one, soothing the pain and making it worse because he couldn’t have them, not really. Couldn’t have Kippei. He shook his head and wished he could sink through the floor and disappear, turn into air and just watch from Kippei’s shoulder or something.

“But you didn’t!” He was blubbering and saying things he didn’t want to say and it was hellishly embarassing and he didn’t care because he’d ruined everything and now everything was wrecked and he had no one to blame. “You didn’t…”

“I know,” Kippei managed to say, and the words felt like red hot iron in his throat. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry. They said you would never wake up, and they were so sure, and it just hurt so bad. So bad. I’m so sorry.” He was crying too, the tears he couldn’t hold back streaming down his face, and he hid them in Shinji’s hair, leaning down to hold him, covering him, wishing so badly that he could just stay here forever and Shinji would be his to hold and keep and protect, to dry his tears and make him smile. “I didn’t want to,” he said, and his voice was raw and painful. “I never wanted to let you go.” And he didn’t think he could do it twice, but god, what other choice was there?

Shinji wasn’t sure he would ever stop crying, wishing Kippei’s weight would never go away, that he would stay there until Shinji could hold on to him and then never let him go, but wishes seemed pretty useless. He lay there for a long time, until he was containing most of the sobs that wanted to break free and then he took deep breaths, forcing his arm up, demanding that it obey so he could touch Kippei’s face, making sure he was looking at him, and he forced himself to smile, feeling the effort of it in every part of his body.

“I forgive you.”

Kippei stared at him, horrified. “No,” he choked out. No, you can’t. How could Shinji forgive him, when he could never forgive himself? “Oh god, Shinji,” he mumbled wretchedly, and then he was sobbing, unable to hold back the flood of grief as he buried his face in Shinji’s neck and held on so tightly that Shinji probably couldn’t breathe. For sure, he couldn’t. “I love you, I love you so much, god I’m so sorry,” but sorry didn’t mean anything, and neither did love, not anymore. It hadn’t been enough.

Shinji wanted to die. He thought he might die, knowing how badly he had hurt Kippei, irrepairably. He wished he could wrap his arms around Kippei and pet his hair and make it better, but maybe it was better he couldn’t because that wasn’t his job anymore, it was Rien’s and Rien was at home, waiting for Kippei.

“I’ll always love you,” he whispered. “No one else, just you. But that’s okay because Rien loves you too.” He kissed Kippei’s skin where it rested against his mouth and hoped that when he went to sleep tonight he didn’t wake up again.

Kippei sobbed as if his heart were breaking, all the grief he hadn’t let out before, and he kissed Shinji’s neck, cradling him close and rocking him, wishing so desperately that he had chosen the right way, that he had kept waiting even if it killed him.

“Don’t leave,” he breathed, aching as he kissed Shinji’s cheek fervently. “Don’t go away. I need you so bad, Shinji, please.” So selfish, god, he was so selfish, wanting to keep them both. He couldn’t, he knew he couldn’t, but god, he wanted to. He was in love with them both, and that was never going to change.

Shinji was quiet. He couldn’t promise Kippei anything anymore, and all the promises he had made before were worthless now. He couldn’t stay. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how he was supposed to live. How did you learn three years you didn’t live and then move on? How did you even forget the accident? How did you do anything, when there wasn’t anything left to have? But Kippei wanted him here…Shinji closed his eyes and wanted it all over.

“You need to go home, Kippei. I’m tired and everything hurts and Rien’s waiting for you.”

Kippei tore himself away, feeling burned, sitting on the side of the bed and putting his head in his hands, squeezing until his head hurt. He barely felt it, everything else hurt too much. “Kay,” he said hoarsely at last. “I’ll go. I’m sorry. I love you, Shinji.” One last hopeless affirmation, useless and pointless but he did, oh god, he did. But there was nothing to be done but to straighten and turn and walk away, feeling like he was leaving his soul behind. Leaving everything important behind, and just a shell of him was walking out and going home.

The room was colder when Kippei left, but Shinji didn’t notice. He stared at the ceiling and imagined Kippei walking home and into the place he shared and saying ‘I’m home’ and Rien there, smiling, wrapping him up in arms and warm skin and taking him to bed. Doing all the things shinji once dreamed of, and Rien had been doing them for a year. Shinji wouldn’t be able to do that for himself for a year. The whole world was gone, and none of it seemed worth it. He faked being asleep when his mum came in to kiss him goodnight; they were going home and Shinji didn’t care. They could go home now and feel better or something. Whatever. When they were gone he opened his eyes again and just stared, unaware when the world turned blurry through his tears, only seeing the white of the walls holding him still in his tidy little box.

“You didn’t forgive me.”