🂡 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥

011 ❘❘ Cleaning

✧˖°. ࣪𖤐 𝐒𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐧

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━───Today, you're cleaning the guest room.

The room is quiet except for the soft hum of your voice as you sway a little, scrubbing surfaces with a rhythm that matches the song echoing in your head (Rest In Rampage.) A small smile tugs at your lips as you work, the song bringing back memories of Keisuke's grumbling about the "weird" songs you listen to, though he never minded when you played them around him.

You're the same age as Keisuke, your birthdays only a week apart. It was a tradition, almost sacred, that you'd celebrate together when your parents were busy, with a cake they managed to squeeze into their schedule. Those cakes were always a little too sweet, hastily decorated, but that never mattered. What mattered was that you and Keisuke would share that time, singing the birthday song with your own silly additions and often spending the whole night talking until sleep caught you off guard.

However, ever since you moved away you and Keisuke celebrated your birthdays through phone. And mostly you two talked all night without sleeping, that's what you both do whenever your birthday is coming up.

You stand back, wiping your hands on a towel, admiring your work. The once-chaotic guest room gleams with a new sense of order, the last of the clutter sorted and pushed aside. You clap your hands together, a satisfied grin on your face. "Finally! It's done!"

Heading back to Keisuke's room, you decide to take a third shower. The warm water feels like a gentle reward after hours of tidying, and you take a moment to let the steam relax you before stepping out and changing into a clean set of clothes. Afterward, you pull your packed luggage into the guest room, taking a deep breath as you unzip it, ready to make this room a bit of your own for however long you'll be here.

First, you start with your clothes, lining up the simple but elegant dresses your mom insisted on packing. Each hanger you slip them onto feels like a little reminder of her, her own elegance and her insistence that her daughter maintain the same sense of style. Then you find a few familiar T-shirts, the soft, worn ones you practically live in, hidden among the dresses, as if they'd snuck in under your mom's watchful eye. They're your favorite shirts, the ones you'd never wear outside but love for how comfortably they fit, and you place them neatly in the closet with a small, satisfied nod.

Once everything is organized, you realize one bag is missing. The realization dawns on you, Keisuke. Of course, he'd rummaged through it, likely searching for snacks. You sigh, already picturing him shuffling through your things in search of the chocolates he knew you'd bring.

With a resigned smile, you march back to his room. As you enter, you spot your bag resting innocently on the desk. It's a bit scuffed, clearly having endured Keisuke's "exploration," but the contents appear mostly untouched. You reach to grab it, ready to return to your room, when something catches your eye, a slightly open cabinet under the desk, with an envelope peeking out.

You squint, recognizing a familiar scrawl. Your curiosity flares, a mischievous grin creeping onto your face as you inch closer. "Is that... what I think it is?"

Reaching out, you slide open the cabinet a little more, revealing the envelope. Your grin widens. The handwriting is unmistakable, Keisuke's. It's messy, rushed, as if he barely had the patience to finish writing it. You hold the letter up, studying the jagged lines and smudged edges, amusement dancing in your eyes. Keisuke Baji, your cousin, had actually taken the time to write a letter. A letter.

"That idiot." You chuckle softly, tracing the barely legible letters. "His writing has actually improved. Better than when he was twelve, at least."

A memory surfaces, one of those late-night calls when Keisuke called, voice unsteady, confessing guilt after everything that had happened. He spoke with quiet shame about how he had let his studies slip, how his mother had cried, disappointed and heartbroken. It had been the one time he hadn't masked his emotions around you, the night he'd confessed that seeing his own mother cry cut him deeper than any wound. He'd swallowed his pride that night, asking for advice in a low, tremulous voice.

"Do your best," you'd told him simply. "Just try. She'll see it." And for the first time, he'd let a few tears slip in front of you, hiding nothing.

You clutch the envelope a little tighter, feeling a wave of warmth. This is why Keisuke had called you at his lowest. You understood him as if you were twins, perhaps because your mothers had raised you side by side, planning your lives in sync as if they had known from the start that you two would be inseparable.

Ever since Sano Shinichiro's death, the loss of that older brother figure he and his friends idolized, Keisuke had changed. There was a weight in his eyes, a shadow that only ever faded on nights like your birthday calls, where you could make him forget for a while.

But you know better. Keisuke Baji, beneath all the bravado and messy handwriting, had a heart big enough to hold every letter he'd ever write and every secret he'd ever share. You and Keisuke understand each other so well that it feels like he's your other half and you're his, a fated pair of blood-bound souls. He loves to boast about it, too, with that reckless grin and the glint of pride in his eyes, declaring how your bond is deeper than anyone could imagine, closer than even twins could ever be.

And who could comfort him in his bad days aside from the one he considered as his closest person? The one he considered to be his greatest support is you, (Y/n) (L/n).

That's why he listened to you. He force his body to work hard, actually doing his studies and attending school at daylight and being a gangster at the night. Such schedule is the only way for him. He's too loyal to his friends that he couldn't leave Toman, too loving of a son that he fears his mother crying. So he force his body to do both roles each and every day.

Maybe that's why Baji was almost thrilled to hear you'd be moving in with him. The idea of the two of you sharing a roof brought out a rare softness in his tough exterior, like he found a sliver of comfort in knowing his closest person would be right there with him.

The two of you really are a pair.

Yet deep down, you both know that your support for Keisuke runs stronger than his for you. You've always managed your own problems, barely needing a shoulder to lean on. If ever you stumbled, there was that older brother of yours, brilliant and capable, practically a genius, always ready to catch you if you fell.

But now, thinking about your cousin, about how your heart sank like a stone when you first learned he'd ended up in juvenile detention, you feel a creeping coldness settle in your chest. The news hit hard, a shock that left you gripping his letter tighter as the memories rushed in.

"At least he's becoming more and more responsible," you murmur, letting out a chuckle that barely reaches your eyes. You trace a finger over the crinkled paper, his handwriting messy but familiar. "But being too responsible... it's alright if he could just enjoy whatever he's doing, you know?"

Your voice trails off, soft in the silence, as if hoping he'd somehow hear it. You allow yourself a small smile, picturing his face, that mix of recklessness and sincerity that only Keisuke could pull off. You sigh, wishing he'd find balance someday, a way to live for himself and not just for everyone else.

───── · ·End of Chapter 11· · ─────
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