Shuichi's hands tremble as he opens the door. He isn't quite sure what he'll find in here, but he enters anyway.
"R-Rantaro...?"
His voice raises an octave as he calls out. He pauses, hoping for a possible answer or any sign of movement before sighing and heading inside.
Shuichi did feel slightly guilty for just entering uninvited, but he knew Rantaro wouldn't mind. He hardly ever did.
The apartment was warm and inviting, while cold and eerie at the same time. Although that probably had more to do with the fact the heating wasn't on, and Rantaro wasn't home to give Shuichi a hug.
He glances into the other rooms. It was his first time actually entering Rantaro's home, as he had been too busy the previous times... or so he claimed. Shuichi knows he shouldn't make excuses, but it felt wrong just intruding into someone's privacy like that.
Eventually, Shuichi finds what he assumes to be Rantaro's room. It's clean and tidy, but messy enough to give it a... lived in vibe. There was dust collecting on all the furniture and pretty much everything. A couple suitcases and various trinkets lie beside the bed, reminders of the boy that loved to travel so much he hardly spent much time here, in his own home. Even so, Shuichi recalls something Rantaro had claimed.
"Don't get me wrong, I love going on adventures and seeing the world. But it's nice having a place to return to, my own personal area that I can call home. Does that make sense? Do you have a place like that?"
"Y-yeah, I get it! You'll always have a place to depend on.."
"And yes... I do have a place... wherever you are is my home."
...Obviously, Shuichi didn't say that last part out loud. That would've been mortifying. Shuichi just kept all his admiration for the other boy in his mind, and while it seemed smart in the moment and he knows he couldn't have said those things out loud anyway, some part of Shuichi wishes he did. He still hasn't admitted his feelings out loud, and he isn't sure how to either.
Stepping over an open duffel bag laying on the ground, Shuichi hesitantly opens the closet. Hanging there, many oversized shirts and comfortably stylish tops could be found.
Well, oversized for Shuichi. While he wasn't too much smaller that Rantaro height wise (only three inches! although it felt like a lot more when he was pinned against the wall- wait, what?), his stature was rather skinny and most of Rantaro's clothes would drape over Shuichi like ponchos.
Shuichi slips a large green sweater over his head, foolishly glancing around as if someone would catch him doing this. The sweater was cold, but still smelled like cookies and pine needles and fresh air..the way Rantaro did. Shuichi pulls the collar of the top over his face a bit, breathing in the scent, trying to imagine Rantaro's arms wrapped around him, telling him it would be alright.
But how could it ever be alright when Rantaro is gone?
The image flashes into his mind without permission. The sight of Rantaro's body curled on the ground. The obnoxious smell of blood, so brightly dirtying Rantaro's pretty green locks.
When Shuichi saw him, lying on the ground, of course he couldn't believe it. How could he? How could he refer to his love as...an object? As a corpse? Why did he have to investigate this?
Shuichi had immediately dropped down next to Rantaro, willing him to wake up. None of the others knew about him and Rantaro, and now they never would. In a final feeble attempt, Shuichi took Rantaro's hand for the first time.
It was cold. Nothing like the boy he had fallen for. Rantaro was cold, and someone had caused him to be this way.
And Shuichi knew who it was.
But even that inkling was wrong.
It's all Shuichi's fault isn't it? He signed up for it.
How could Tsumugi? Didn't she understand? How could anyone...
Shuichi takes a shaky breath. They'd all lost so much. Maki, Himiko.
He should stop complaining. He survived, and the rest didn't.
He can't really help it though. The pain is as raw as it was the first time he realized Rantaro was never, ever coming back.
They told him it would get better. That time was a healer, and eventually he too would forget and move on. That he'll find someone else and fall in love again.
They were wrong. The tears won't stop coming, and underneath the sound of the many raindrops pounding on the windows, his heartwrenched sobs could be heard. Shuichi was cold, so, so cold. But he didn't have Rantaro to hug or tell him it'll be alright.
Shuichi can't tell what's worse. To never fall for anyone at all, or to only realize your love after they're gone?
The memories come flooding in. It was too soon. Shuichi didn't even have enough time to tell him, even once, how pretty his eyes were or how much he liked listening to him speak. How he wanted to see his smile, his real smile, the one he kept hidden from the world under a calm demeanor. How he wanted to spend the rest of his life with him.
And he did. But not nearly as long as he'd hoped. Rantaro's life was ended too early, and Shuichi didn't do anything to prevent it.
Rantaro is gone, and no amount of crying will ever bring him back.
