Archive of Our Own ^beta

This probably won't work, Eiji thinks.

(It's been a quiet winter — it feels like, for the past few years, there's been a lot to call Eiji back to Tokyo over the holidays. He'd come in pre-emptively, this year — after chasing another lead on Ankh's medal that went nowhere, another failure added to the pile that seemed insurmountable; of course, Eiji thinks, dryly, the one year I think ahead is the one year that things are quiet.)

This probably won't work, Eiji thinks, watching the man in the black cape observe Ankh's medal — he always feels anxious when it's not in his pocket.

(Maybe it was the rush of a train, or the ticking of a clock — something had alerted Eiji, one night in Vienna, looking for somewhere to sleep in a public park. He'd been thinking about Ankh's medal, and where to go next — what to even try next, on this seemingly endless, fruitless quest to find a way to put Ankh back together.

The next thing he knew, there was a slip of paper in his hand, with an address scribbled on it: Furasu High School, a continent and change away in Japan.

He'd seen stranger things. He'd gone greater distances for less concrete leads than a slip of paper. "I need to visit more, as is," Eiji had murmured, wondering what on earth was at a high school in his home country that could finally give him what he wanted. He'd have his chance when the holidays came around, anyway.)

This probably won't work, Eiji thinks, as the man in the black cape's brows furrow — he's used to that look, of course. It means something that should be easy is difficult, instead, and that he's likely going to go back to Chiyoko's with nothing but a cracked medal in his pocket to show for it. For now, he bites his tongue to keep his leg from bouncing. He tries not to hope. It never stops him, but he tries not to hope.

(Most of his dreams aren't about bombs anymore — Eiji's not sure if it's a curse or a blessing. Now, it's all flying, flying, and falling, watching Ankh slip away, watching his own hand fail to reach him one last time. Sometimes, the nightmares mix together, and Eiji wakes up, shivering, clutching the pieces of Ankh's medal as he tries to steady his breathing.

There's pain in everything he truly wants for himself. But at least that means he wants something, right?)

This probably won't work, Eiji thinks, as that brow creases even further; this must be some kind of last ditch effort. This probably won't work, Eiji thinks, as something sparks and fizzes. This probably won't work, Eiji thinks, trying not to look too visibly disappointed. This probably won't work, Eiji thinks, and then —

There's sound, first — Eiji barely has time to register it, but he'd recognize that sound anywhere. There's rumbling, and the distinct jingle of medals. Then, there's a brilliant flash, the most dazzling thing Eiji's ever seen; he covers his eyes with his forearms instinctively. He lowers them slowly, when he's sure it's over, blinking a few times as his vision rushes to readjust itself.

He sees them when the spots are all faded away: a pair of beautiful, vivid, familiar wings. No matter how many times he blinks, no matter how much he tries to wake up (because he's had dreams like this, too, ones where everything works, ones where it all goes smoothly — those ones don't make him panic, but he's found that he can never quite go back to sleep when they're over), no matter how many seconds pass while Eiji stares, dumbfounded, the wings don't change.

Eiji draws in a shaky breath. His mind is blank, and his eyes are still readjusting, but he stands up and steps forward. His dreams never let him get this far. But he does reach out, hesitantly, to put a hand on Ankh's shoulder.

His form doesn't disappear. He doesn't disappear.

Ankh makes a tch noise; his wings fade, his cell medals clanging as he changes into his human form. (The alchemist lets out a sigh of relief that Eiji faintly registers.) His eyes flit over Eiji, and the room they're in — Eiji can see the flickers of vague familiarity washing over Ankh's face at some of the objects stored in it.

His gaze turns to Eiji once more. "You," he says — his voice sends a shiver down Eiji's spine — "owe me a lot of ice cream."

Eiji laughs, and wipes at his eyes. There are a million things he could say — it's the middle of winter and you still want ice cream? or I didn't realize how much I'd missed your voice or please don't wake me up yet.

But he's known what he's wanted to say to Ankh for years. He swallows, hard, and takes the deepest breath he can manage; it doesn't take as much force as it usually does for him to smile. "Welcome home, Ankh," he says, the words coming out just a bit too choked.

Ankh scoffs. He rolls his eyes and looks to the side, sneering. (The facial expressions, the sound of his voice — it's all still fresh in Eiji's mind. And even under fluorescent lighting of this academy, Ankh is so beautiful.) But the words still come out, delivered in that sharp, harsh, Ankh-like way: "I'm home."

(It isn't like Eiji holds back his tears, exactly; it's more like he can't make them fall. They press behind his eyes, but there's something blocking them — it's like he's too tired to actually cry.)

He lets go of Ankh's shoulder — hesitantly, as if Ankh will disappear when the contact is gone, though he doesn't — and takes another deep breath. "I do owe you ice cream, don't I?" Eiji says, then, with his exhale. "Let me, uh, explain things to Mr. Kudou," he adds, noting the man's confused expression. "I'm not sure what he was expecting, but..."

"Just don't take too long," Ankh mutters, shoving several alchemical instruments out of his way to perch on a countertop. Eiji chuckles; that's Ankh, alright, he thinks, fondly, as he explains to the alchemist exactly who — and what — he just brought back to life.

(He's half-scared that when he turns back around, Ankh will be gone — that the room around him will dissolve, and he'll wake up somewhere cold, as alone as he's felt for the past two years — god, nearly three, now. It's enough to make Eiji's ears ring.

But when he glances back, Ankh's still there, with a surly expression on his face as he waits for Eiji to stop talking. It's real, Eiji thinks. He's real. He's here. It worked.

He figures that the tears will come eventually. But it's been a while since the last time Eiji cried, now that he thinks about it. He brushes it off, though. Not crying isn't that much of a problem, now that he has what he wants.)

Ankh and Eiji do stop for ice cream, before heading back to Cous Coussier. (Eiji always stays at Cous Coussier, when he has to be in Japan for more than a few days at a time; the silence, without Ankh there, is always deafening, but Chiyoko always looks so genuine when she tells Eiji that there'll always be room for the both of them. He never has the heart to turn her down.) "Here," Eiji says, handing Ankh five of those blue popsicles he loves so much, just outside of a convenience store. "I mean, I owe you more than this, obviously, but it's a start, right?"

Ankh snatches the popsicles from Eiji's hand and clicks his tongue. "A start," he agrees, before unwrapping two at once. Eiji can't help but stare at Ankh's expression as he bites into them — he didn't know it was possible to miss the way someone ate ice pops, but it makes something in his chest squeeze tightly regardless. He's also relieved — vaguely — that Ankh is too focused on his favorite food to notice the way that Eiji's staring.

When Eiji pulls out his phone, though, Ankh turns around so quickly that it almost scares him. "I'll be needing that back," he announces, taking a bite out of his third popsicle. "For —"

"Information gathering, yeah," Eiji finishes. "Guess you have a lot to catch up on. Let me just — shoot everyone a text, since you're... y'know. Here." Eiji doesn't waste time: it worked this time. ankh is here. i'm giving him the phone back now, though ^^; he types, sending it to Hina, Chiyoko, Date, Gotou, Shingo, and Satonaka, before handing Ankh the phone back. "You'll have to deal with everyone texting you back, though."

Ankh scoffs, and grabs the phone from Eiji's hand. "Idiots," he says, with the tiniest trace of fondness in his tone.

"Hey, we all missed you," Eiji replies, chuckling just a little at the way Ankh jumps when the phone starts vibrating with everyone's messages. He catches a glimpse of it all from over Ankh's shoulder — a well-typed response from Gotou, a string of emojis from Date, a scream from Chiyoko, and —

"Oh, Hina wants a picture," Eiji notes. "Here — you know there's a camera on this thing, right?"

"Of course I know that much," Ankh spits back. He pauses, for just a second. "Where is it?"

Eiji swallows his next laugh, and points out the phone's camera to Ankh. "I can take it, if you want me to."

"Then do it," Ankh says, shoving the phone back in Eiji's general direction.

The phone vibrates again — with another text from Hina. With both of you ಠ_ಠ. Neither of you are allowed to get out of this!! it says, and Eiji sighs. "Guess it can't be helped," he notes, switching to the inner camera. "Say cheese, Ankh!"

"Why the fuck would I —"

The shutter sound makes Ankh jump, and Eiji can't contain the laugh that escapes; it's an awkward picture, with Ankh looking like he's just seen a ghost and Eiji with his eyes squeezed shut, but Eiji sends it anyway. "There. I promise I'll never touch your phone again," Eiji adds, with a small smile.

Ankh scoffs. "This thing was your only companion for the last two years, and you're giving it back to me so easily?"

"Well, it's more yours than anyone else's," Eiji says, as mildly as ever. "Shingo got a new model, so it isn't really like he needs it..."

Ankh's eyes narrow at Eiji; he then shoves a popsicle into Eiji's mouth. (Eiji manages to not choke on it, which is nice.) "Glad to hear you've gotten chummy with the detective," he says, as if the mere idea disgusts him.

Eiji pulls the popsicle out of his mouth and shakes his head. "I mean, he was involved in everything too," he explains. "...I'm not sure if I'd call it being chummy, though..."

(It's just always so — so awkward, on the rare occasions that Eiji spends time with Shingo. He hates himself for doing it, but more often than not, Eiji finds himself looking for Ankh where he knows Ankh isn't — in Shingo's face, his voice, his word choice. Shingo is kind, and admittedly handsome, and an incredibly friendly person, but —

He's not Ankh. It's not his fault that he's not Ankh. But it's a wall that Eiji has trouble overcoming, regardless.)

A flash of a smirk crosses Ankh's face. "Good."

"Why is that good?"

Ankh makes a noise that means he isn't going to dignify that question with a response. Eiji doesn't feel the need to fill the silence, either; he licks at his own popsicle while Ankh bites down on his.

"I'm surprised that you haven't told me it's time to head back yet," Ankh notes, after a while; he's glued to his phone, devouring social media posts as he catches up on the past two years.

Eiji just shrugs. "I mean, everyone's excited to see you — I'm sure Date's going to fly back to Japan over it," Eiji adds, raising his eyebrows. "I just... wanted to..."

Eiji trails off, but he catches himself before the words disappear. "I wanted to spend more time with you," he admits.

Ankh turns to give Eiji a discerning look; Eiji forces a weak laugh. "You can let me know if I'm being too clingy," he quickly adds, like it's an excuse. "If you want to spend time with everyone else, or by yourself —"

"Don't be stupid," Ankh interrupts. He finishes off his last popsicle and turns to Eiji. "Let's go."

"Do you even know the way back from here...?" Eiji half-asks, though he follows Ankh anyway. He finds himself reaching into his pocket out of habit; the brief panic that sets in before he remembers that Ankh has his medal back, now, makes him stumble a little, but he recovers before Ankh notices.

(They do get a little bit lost, before Eiji shows Ankh how to use the map on his phone. Eiji doesn't mind the extra fifteen minutes, though. People will be asking Ankh — and Eiji himself — so many questions, once they're all back together again. Not having to answer any, and getting to bicker with Ankh like no time has passed at all, is more of a relief than Eiji can say.)

Of course, Chiyoko welcomes Ankh and Eiji with open arms — quite literally, in fact, giving Eiji a warm embrace and Ankh... maybe the third hug he's ever had in his life, if that. "Look at you, in one piece again," she coos, running her hands over his shoulders; Ankh looks like he has no idea what to do with the affection she's giving him, and Eiji does his best not to laugh at the expression on his face. "I've made sure to keep the freezer stocked," she adds. "All the ice pops you can eat."

"That doesn't mean you don't owe me," Ankh says, pointing at Eiji, before strutting off to the freezer.

"I know, I know," Eiji calls, at Ankh's retreating back; he shakes his head. "He hasn't changed any, has he?"

Chiyoko gives Eiji a strange look; it's one that either he can't read, or one he can read, but not process. But it's gone as quickly as it came. "We'll be celebrating, of course, the moment Date's back in Japan," Chiyoko says, like it's obvious. She leans in, conspiratorially. "Kougami's sending an ice cream cake. Ankhy's going to love it."

"...Of course he is," Eiji says, bemused. "I'm sure it'll still have 'happy birthday' written on it, though."

"That's Kougami for you," Chiyoko agrees. Her expression changes again. "You and Ankhy will be sticking around for a bit, won't you? I could always use an extra pair of hands," she adds.

Her gaze feels just a little bit too... worried, and not about Cous Coussier — but Eiji nods. "I'm happy to help out," he replies, almost automatically. "And Ankh, well..."

"He'll stick close, as long as you're here," Chiyoko interrupts, smiling again in an instant. She claps Eiji on the shoulder. "Well — I have a welcome home party to finish planning. You go talk to your bird."

My bird? Eiji almost says, but he closes his mouth before the words can come out. "Thanks for letting us stay here, Chiyoko," he says, instead.

Chiyoko shakes her head. "Consider my attic your home for however long you need it, okay? And that goes for Ankhy, too," she adds.

"...I will," Eiji says; he tries to ignore the weird twist in his chest, and when he can't, he writes it off as a side effect of being on the road for so long.

He then joins Ankh in the kitchen; Ankh has a box of ice pops open on the counter, with several empty wrappers surrounding him. Eiji's silent, at first, staring at Ankh as he devours one ice pop, and then another. It's just so — normal — being here in Cous Coussier, in the kitchen where he's prepped meals and washed dishes, watching Ankh eat popsicles with no regard for the trash he's leaving behind; just one day ago, this was so much more than Eiji could've imagined.

And now Ankh's here, actually here, in front of Eiji's eyes — if this was a dream, Eiji knows he would've woken up already. He reaches into his pocket, just to make sure; he reminds himself that the fact that it's empty is no longer a reason to panic, and smiles, just a little bit. "You're really back, huh," he murmurs, more to himself than to Ankh.

Ankh scoffs. "Obviously," he says, gesturing with a half-bitten popsicle.

"Well, I mean, yeah, but —" Eiji shakes his head. "I haven't even asked you how you're feeling yet. Being, y'know." Eiji's brow furrows; he really doesn't know exactly how to put it. "...Like Chiyoko said. In one piece."

Ankh's eyes narrow at Eiji. He looks around, then: at the trash strewn around him, at Cous Coussier's kitchen, at the popsicle in his hand, and at Eiji. He looks at Eiji for a long, long time; something about his gaze makes Eiji feel a little bit warm, but not uncomfortably so. (Or, well, the warmth isn't uncomfortable in itself. But it's so much more than Eiji's felt, for a while. He almost doesn't know what to do with it.)

"...Satisfied," Ankh answers, finally, tearing his eyes away from Eiji with what looks like some effort; he sounds like he can't quite believe it himself. "I'm... satisfied."

Eiji's eyes widen — he doesn't really know much about how alchemy works, even after all this time, or exactly how that Kudou guy went about restoring Ankh's medal. But a Greeed, feeling satisfied, is something Eiji knows is nothing short of a miracle.

So he smiles, and it takes no effort to do so. (That's a little bit surprising, too, but Eiji buries that in the back of his mind.) "...I'm glad to hear that," he says, his voice soft. "Really."

"Of course you are," Ankh mutters. He turns his gaze back to Eiji, and for a fraction of a second, Ankh's lips curve up a little. His trademark sneer is back in an instant, but even after two years without seeing his face, Eiji knows how Ankh's facial expressions work. He really is satisfied, Eiji thinks.

Something in his heart feels a bit more settled, now that he's sure that Ankh is doing alright.

He stays with Ankh in the kitchen until the box of popsicles is empty, with no sounds other than Ankh tearing into the wrappers. He can't bring himself to scold Ankh for leaving the trash behind, either.

It doesn't take long for Date to get back to Japan — Eiji overhears the word Kougami in Chiyoko's phone call with him, and that clears up any questions he might've had about how Date got back so fast. The party ends up being the same night, right at Cous Coussier — Satonaka wheels in the single biggest ice cream cake that Eiji's ever conceptualized, with Happy Birthday, Revived Ankh written in bright red frosting.

Cous Coussier is decorated, too — exactly when Chiyoko did it, Eiji isn't sure, but the red lights strewn around the place do give the whole place a festive vibe. "Eat! Drink!" Chiyoko declares, as soon as everyone's arrived; Hina turns on the stereo, and with a catchy pop song, the party begins.

Everyone has something to say to Ankh, of course; Eiji sticks close by, just in case (and because, well — Eiji can't remember the last time he was at a party; he feels awkward, even though he's not the one being celebrated). Hina gives him a hug, making sure not to squeeze too tightly — one which Ankh, albeit awkwardly, actually returns; Date claps Ankh on the shoulder (and shoves a drink in Eiji's hand — "You aren't getting out of celebrating, Hino," he says as he does so), and Ankh looks like he's barely restraining himself from clawing through Date's chest. Gotou and Satonaka's greetings are far more brief, and maybe it's Eiji's imagination, but Ankh looks a little relieved at that.

When Shingo walks up, it's... strange, of course; Eiji finds himself looking between the two of them, noticing all the little details that are different in two otherwise-identical faces. "You... aren't going to be needing my body anymore, right?" Shingo asks, a little bit hesitantly.

Ankh lets out a harsh laugh. "Lucky for you," he says, his tone of voice a little bit ruder than Eiji would expect. (Though, well, it's Ankh; his personality isn't going to change just because he's been brought back to life, Eiji figures.)

Shingo, of course, takes this in stride. "In that case, all I have to say is welcome back. And congratulations, Eiji," Shingo adds.

It takes a moment for the fact that Shingo included Eiji to register; "Oh," Eiji says, uselessly. "I mean — thanks, Shingo. It's always nice to be back home."

"It is," Shingo agrees, with a small nod, looking between Eiji and Ankh. "I'll leave you two to it."

As soon as Shingo's out of earshot, Ankh clicks his tongue, irritated. "This is all ridiculous," he mutters.

Eiji shakes his head. "Maybe a little," he agrees, taking a sip of his drink. "But everyone really is happy to have you here. Even Shingo."

Ankh clicks his tongue again. "At least there's ice cream," he says, shortly, before strutting off to grab himself a piece of cake. (Eiji's glad that the rest of the party is too occupied with their own conversations to notice the way he stares after Ankh's retreating back.)

Eiji just watches, for a while, hanging back and nursing his drink; whatever it is that Date handed him certainly isn't enough to get him drunk, but there's a nice enough buzz. Shingo and Gotou are in an intense-looking discussion about police work, while Date tells Chiyoko about where he's been on his travels; Eiji doesn't lose sight of Ankh, either, or the way his eyes widen in awe as he eats a sizable slice of ice cream cake.

Eiji doesn't notice Hina walking up next to him until she pokes him in the shoulder, nearly knocking him off his balance. "Hina," Eiji greets, grinning. "I haven't caught up with you yet. How's the internship going?"

"You haven't," Hina agrees, matching Eiji's smile. "And it's been good. Really good. It's convenient that you're back in Japan, actually — I've missed using you as a model," she adds.

Eiji raises his eyebrows. "Well, let me know when you need me, and I'll be happy to help," he says, almost automatically.

Hina smiles brightly. "And let me know if you can convince Ankh to model for me, too. Some of my designs were made with him in mind, and my brother just can't pull his style off," she muses.

Eiji looks in Ankh's direction again — he has another slice of cake, which he's stabbing with a spoon to eat, which is... kind of adorable, honestly; Eiji can't help but let out a fond sigh at the sight. "I'll do my best," he promises.

"If anyone can convince him, it's you," Hina says. "So what about you, Eiji?"

Eiji raises his eyebrows and blinks. "What about me?"

"Well... y'know." Hina takes a sip of her own drink — and Eiji faintly realizes that, yeah, Hina is now legal drinking age. There's always a pang of guilt that goes through him when he thinks of all the things he's missed out on, during his travels; Eiji loves his friends, he's sure of it, but at the same time, he can barely consider himself a part of their lives, can he? "How are you doing? Now that Ankh's here, I mean."

Eiji opens his mouth and closes it, his gaze once again going to Ankh; there's frosting on the corner of his mouth, and he's glaring like he'd rather be anywhere else (which, knowing Ankh, probably is exactly the case), and he looks so beautiful that Eiji nearly chokes on air. "It's, uh," he says, awkwardly. "It's... a lot, isn't it? Having him here."

Hina gives Eiji a slightly suspicious look. "I'm sure it is," she says, slowly.

"...I guess it just hasn't really sunk in yet," Eiji says, finally, because that's nicer than saying he's here, we're both here, but I can't even cry happy tears and I don't know why.

Hina doesn't let up with that suspicious look, but — thankfully — she changes the subject. "What's next for you both, then?" she asks. "Once everything calms down a little."

Eiji stills for a moment. It's just that the future is so... blank — Eiji can do whatever he wants, now, but he can't figure out what what he wants is. His hand finds its way to his pocket, once more; strangely enough, now that he has what he wanted, he feels more lost than ever.

But he doesn't let it show on his face. "Well, Chiyoko needs some help at the restaurant, so I guess I'll be staying in Japan for the time being," Eiji answers, casually. "As for Ankh... well... you'd be better off asking him, probably..."

Hina shakes her head and smiles. "That's answer enough. You should get back to the party, Eiji," she says. "Ankh's not the only person everyone missed, you know?"

"Huh? But —"

"I'm going to go talk to Satonaka," Hina interrupts. She gives Eiji's shoulder as gentle of a squeeze as she can manage, and walks away.

Eiji knows he should listen to Hina — that there's a lot to catch up on, in the lives of the people who he cares for so much. But he's been doing the same thing for the past two years, and now, he can't think of anything significant ahead of him. The world's been spinning, their lives changing, while Eiji's been stagnant, with no plans other than finding a way to restore Ankh's medal. And now that he's done that — now that Ankh's at the counter at Cous Coussier, being talked at by an enthusiastic Date Akira about something — Eiji's tomorrow feels... empty.

He gets through the party with some effort; really, what Eiji would like to do is sneak up to the attic and stare at nothing, ruminating on his own life and lack of plans — but the last thing Eiji wants is for everyone else to worry about him. He puts on a smile and talks and drinks, and hopes, silently, that nobody notices how he's only doing so because he feels the need to.

(He catches Ankh's eye, once or twice — they're brief moments, though, because if Eiji doesn't force himself to look away, he'll end up staring.

They make Eiji feel happier than anything else does, though.)

"That was awful," Ankh announces, shortly after the celebration is over with, as he slams the door to the attic, startling Eiji. "You left me to fend for myself down there."

"Well, I couldn't monopolize you," Eiji says, evenly. "Everyone —"

"Missed me. You keep saying that," Ankh interrupts, glaring as he hops into his nest. "It's pissing me off." His face twitches. "Your stupid human parties don't make any sense to me."

"You probably won't have to go through more, at least, if you don't want to," Eiji says, mildly. "Feel free to stay holed up here, if that's what makes you happy."

Eiji sighs, then, looking at the red-orange sunset from the attic's window; there's something else he has to tell Ankh, a conclusion he came to in between drinks and laughter that hurts — but Ankh has to know this, at least. "...And you don't have to stay here, if you don't want to," Eiji adds, quietly.

Ankh glares. "What are you talking about?"

Eiji shrugs, and swallows down the lump in his throat. "I mean, it's just... I'm sure the Kougami Foundation could get you a passport, or an ID. They've got the money for it," he adds, avoiding Ankh's gaze. "You could get a job, or study... you could... do anything. It's your life, y'know?"

"Quit dancing around whatever it is you're trying to say and say it," Ankh snaps, getting out of his bed and taking a step forward.

"I am saying what I'm trying to say," Eiji replies, his own brows furrowing. "It's your life. Your life. You... don't owe me anything, so if there's — if there's something else you want, you're free to go and take it. And if what you want isn't here, or in Japan, I don't want to be the reason you don't take it." He takes a deep breath. "You're... free to do whatever you want. I just wanted to make sure that you know that."

Ankh grinds his teeth, taking another step forward; he's really in Eiji's personal space, now, which is all too familiar and a bit unsettling all at once. The look he's giving Eiji — a mix of frustration and concern and wariness — really doesn't help matters, and the fact that Eiji can nearly feel Ankh's breath on his lips is just, kinda —

"You're an idiot," Ankh announces, shoving Eiji backward and climbing back up. "You told Chiyoko you'd help downstairs, for the time being," he adds, going back to his phone.

"...I mean, yes?" Eiji says, absently rubbing at his chest, where Ankh's hand just was. The warmth from it isn't going away — it's comforting and unnerving, all at once. "She needs the help, so —"

"You're an idiot," Ankh repeats, refusing to elaborate further. Eiji opens his mouth to argue — or at least ask Ankh what on earth he means — but decides against it; he's tired, and probably couldn't keep up with Ankh in an argument without saying something stupid.

"...Guess I am, huh," Eiji decides, instead, settling on his bed with a small sigh.

It's quiet again, for a moment; Eiji faintly wonders if Ankh's fallen asleep. But Ankh does speak, after a while. His voice is softer than Eiji's ever heard it, but he does hear it. "...Don't be so quick to try to get rid of me."

Eiji sits up in bed, frowning. "I'm not trying to get rid of you." In fact, just the idea makes something in Eiji's stomach twist uncomfortably. "I just want... I want you to know that you can —"

"Of course I know that. And you should know me well enough to know that I don't just do things out of obligation," Ankh spits, as if the suggestion itself is preposterous, and Eiji doesn't have to see his face to know the way he's rolling his eyes. "Is that enough to please you?"

It... doesn't — it really doesn't make Eiji feel like any of this is fair to Ankh, even with that extremely Ankh-like reassurance that he's here because he wants to be. But he makes a noise that he hopes Ankh will read as a yes; it works to silence Ankh, at least, because he doesn't say another word for the rest of the night. (And Eiji knows for sure that this is true — he doesn't sleep at all.)

Things settle down, after that, and Eiji falls into something of a routine; he wakes up, buys Ankh ice cream, helps out at Cous Coussier, makes sure he has underwear for tomorrow, and goes to bed. It's similar to the way things were two years ago — just without any breaks in between to fight Yummies or the other Greeed. (There's a tiny part of Eiji that misses the excitement — and, more than that, the power to help anyone, no matter how far away they are. But what he can do, now, is help Chiyoko, so that'll just... have to be enough.)

Ankh, too, seems to have his own routine — Eiji makes sure not to spend every second of every day with him, but more often than not, Ankh's at his usual table in the corner, scowling at Cous Coussier's customers and picking at whatever Chiyoko's tried to feed him. Sometimes, he'll go out without a single word, cell phone in one hand and a frown on his face; other times, Eiji will step outside to pick up a shipment or throw away some trash, and he'll catch Ankh on the rooftop, dangling his legs and staring at the sky.

But no matter what it is Ankh's doing on any given day, he always comes back to the attic when it's over. They don't talk much, unless Ankh wants Eiji to explain something to him, or hand over his ice pops, but strangely enough, Eiji doesn't mind; he might be confused as to why Ankh is choosing to stay at Cous Coussier with him, instead of doing anything else with his new life, but at least Eiji isn't alone — and the more he thinks about that, the more that a nagging sense of malaise begins to pick at him, so Eiji tries not to.

It's not like Eiji doesn't notice the way that Chiyoko acts a little too concerned around him, or the way that Hina frowns when she stops by and he brushes off her questions. But compared to everyone else, Eiji's worries are trivial. Chiyoko's trying to run a business, and Hina's trying to graduate from school... the last thing they need is to be burdened by Eiji's own troubles.

When it's Ankh, though, looking at Eiji as if he's trying to figure out what piece of a puzzle is missing, it's a little bit harder to make his lips curl up into his usual everything's okay, there's no need to waste your time worrying about me smile. But Ankh never really says anything about it, so —

"You've been washing the same dish for five minutes," Ankh says, snapping Eiji out of his thoughts one evening. He slams the door to the freezer — he'd come down for ice pops, and Eiji had been so spaced out that he hadn't even noticed.

Eiji lets out an awkward chuckle and rinses off the plate he's been holding. "Must've been spacing out," he says, quietly.

Ankh clicks his tongue, and bites into an ice pop. "That much is obvious," he mutters, perching on the countertop.

"...I probably need to catch up on sleep," Eiji says, as lightly and casually as he can manage, although he's aware that it's not going to convince Ankh of anything. "I'm... just not used to having a bed —"

"Bullshit," Ankh interrupts. "You're thinking so much that I can nearly hear it."

Eiji blinks. "Greeed can't read minds —"

"But I can read you," Ankh interrupts, finishing his ice pop and hopping down from the countertop in one fluid motion. He gives Eiji a discerning look. "And I can tell when there's something you're keeping from me."

Eiji sighs, drying off his hands so that he can comfortably cross his arms. "What would I have to keep from you?"

Ankh steps closer to Eiji — there he is, again, too close to Eiji's face, with the same look he'd given Eiji that night after the party. It makes Eiji's face feel warm, like the hand on his chest did, and a little bit dizzy. "You look like you did when those purple medals were inside you."

Eiji swallows hard, and takes a step back — and he thinks back to December, a year ago, when he'd used those powers ever-so-briefly to help out some of the other Riders. He'd been able to control it without needing to be snapped out of it — the fact that he was still searching, then, for a way to fulfill his desire, might've been a part of it — but the fact that he'd been able to use them at all —

Eiji sighs. He can lie to everyone else just fine, but he doesn't want to lie to Ankh. "...The things on my mind aren't yours to worry about," he decides, finally. "You shouldn't spend too much time on them."

Ankh steps forward, right back into Eiji's personal bubble, and grabs Eiji by the collar; his eyes have grown even angrier, and Eiji knows that means that the only thing he's succeeded in doing is making Ankh even more worried about him. And with Ankh this close, it's impossible for Eiji not to notice just how gorgeous he is. He could spend an eternity like this, mapping out every little detail of Ankh's face.

What Eiji wants — really wants, horrifyingly and intensely, so much more than he's wanted anything, lately — is to lean into Ankh's touch, to bury his face into Ankh's shoulder and explain how lost he feels — to reach out to Ankh and pull him close and ask him to stay, because the hole in his chest feels a lot more full when Ankh's with him.

But Eiji refuses to burden Ankh like that. Ankh doesn't deserve that. None of Eiji's friends deserve that. He pulls Ankh's hand away from his collar and turns back to the dishes. "I have to finish these, or Chiyoko's going to kick both of us out tomorrow morning," he says, trying to keep his voice light.

Ankh scoffs. "Moron," he mutters, just loud enough for Eiji to hear. There's the sound of the freezer opening and slamming shut once more, and then, the click-clack of Ankh's shoes as he walks back upstairs.

Once Ankh's gone, Eiji drops the dish he was washing in the sink and takes a deep breath; his stomach's in knots, and his heartbeat pounds in his ears. He doesn't want to push Ankh away. He doesn't like pushing Ankh away. But the more Ankh worries, the more Eiji feels like he has to. He can't let Ankh spend the life that he wanted so much carrying something that isn't his.

Eiji takes another deep breath, and finishes the dishes in silence.

Time passes — at some point, the new year begins, though Eiji isn't sure he'd have even noticed if Chiyoko didn't drag him and Ankh out for a visit to a shrine. Eiji really doesn't mind doing the same thing every day, but it's definitely messing with his sense of time; the fact that he hasn't been sleeping as well as he thought he'd be probably doesn't help either.

But when people ask — and they do ask, especially Hina and Chiyoko — Eiji says he's fine. If they can see through Eiji's lie, they're at least nice enough to not say anything about it. And Ankh, well —

Ankh acts the same as he usually does — pestering Eiji for his daily allowance of ice pops, staying in his corner at Cous Coussier, and gathering information on his phone. At this point, Eiji's purposefully keeping his distance, but Ankh hasn't said anything about it; it's not comforting, exactly, but Eiji can handle Ankh being his usual too-brash self far better than he can handle Ankh when he's worried. (Plus, ignoring all the concerned glowers that Eiji catches Ankh giving him has worked... fine, so far.)

It's a relief, almost, from the monotony of Eiji's routine, when Date walks into Cous Coussier one February afternoon; Eiji's hanging up Valentine's day decorations (and occasionally sneaking glances at Ankh, who's in his usual corner) when the door opens. "Oh, Date? I didn't know you were back in Japan," Eiji greets, stepping down from the ladder with a friendly grin.

"Didn't leave, actually," Date explains. "I planned to get back into the field, but Gotou can be pretty... convincing, when he wants to be."

"...I'm sure he can," Eiji says, processing that information and promptly storing it with other things that he doesn't need to think about too much. "What brings you in?"

"I'm here to steal you, actually. Been too long since the two of us last went out for oden!" Date declares, clapping Eiji on the shoulder. "You can leave Anko alone for a bit, can't you?"

That's all I've been doing lately, Eiji thinks. "I wouldn't mind oden for dinner," he says, instead. "Let me just ask Chiyoko if it's okay, and —"

"Already got permission from her, actually," Date says, holding up his own phone. "C'mon. The usual place is still around, isn't it?"

"Sure is," Eiji replies. (The fact that this dinner has apparently been planned, and was approved by his boss in advance, settles uncomfortably in Eiji's stomach, but he ignores that, too.) "In that case, well, I'll... grab my coat."

(Eiji sneaks another look at Ankh, before he leaves with Date — there's something like a pout on his face, which is both really cute and kind of concerning.)

As soon as the two of them have bowls filled up with oden, though, Eiji realizes he was right to wonder about the exact nature of Date's invitation. "I'm not a psychiatrist," Date begins, in between bites.

"...I know you aren't?" Eiji answers, slowly.

"So I'm not gonna, y'know. Diagnose you with anything," Date continues. "But word on the street is that you've seemed tired lately."

Eiji takes a particularly large bite of hanpen, so that he can think through his response. "Well, I wake up pretty early to help at the shop," he says, mildly. "And the dishes usually take a while. Late nights, early mornings... I'm sure you know how it is."

Date's eyebrow quirks. "Just sleep trouble, huh."

"...Just sleep trouble," Eiji agrees.

"Nothin' to do with the bird who looked like I stole his ice cream when I dragged you out here?" Date asks, then, and Eiji drops his chopsticks. "I figured you'd be sleeping like a brick, now that you've got him back."

Eiji opens his mouth, but closes it immediately after; he shakes his head. "...I wanted him back, and I got that," Eiji says, very quietly. "The best thing I can do now is let him live his own life." One that's not tied to the guy who doesn't have anything in his future, Eiji thinks, unable to stop the gloomy expression from crossing his face.

"So let me guess," Date says, gesturing with his chopsticks. "You're barely interacting with him more than you have to, right? So that your feelings don't get in his way."

"My feelings," Eiji repeats. His eyes widen. "How'd you know —"

Date smirks. "Of course I know how you feel about Anko. Known since... god, what was that Yummy? The chicken? When you were going all he's not like other Greeed about him. Not to mention the fact that it's written all over your face," he adds.

I'm pretty sure it wasn't a chicken, Eiji thinks, but he shakes his head. "...That obvious, huh," he says, instead, idly stirring his bowl of oden, staring into it as if it'll give him an answer to some question he doesn't know how to ask.

"Clear as day," Date confirms.

"And does everyone else —"

"They know," Date interrupts. "Like I said — written all over your face, man." He swallows down some more oden before he speaks again. "You have a desire, Hino — have had a desire, for a while, where Anko's concerned. You're just not acting on it, and it's eating at you."

Eiji sighs. He can't really argue against Date when he's putting it so bluntly. "Even if I did... even if I told him how I felt, now — he doesn't... he just got here," he manages, lamely. "If I told him how I felt — that'd just... it'd just..."

Eiji shakes his head. His own voice sounds distant. "I figured, after a while... that it wouldn't have changed anything," Eiji says. "If I'd acted on my feelings for him or not, back then, I mean." Or maybe I just started telling myself that, he thinks. So that I'd have one less thing to regret. "And right now, all that telling him how I feel would do is... wrap him up in a bunch of problems that he shouldn't have to deal with."

Date hums, and takes a huge bite of eggplant before he says anything else. "I get that Anko's not the only reason you're depressed, but it'd probably help if the two of you at least got on the same page. And on the off-chance his answer's no, at least you've got it over with, right?"

"...Off-chance?" Eiji asks, his brows furrowing.

Date blinks, looking at Eiji like he's just grown a second head. "...Three years since I met you, and you're just as oblivious to love as you used to be," he says, shaking his head. "Finish your bowl before it gets cold and think on it, alright, Hino?"

Eiji blinks. "...I will," he hesitantly says — now that he thinks about it, Eiji hasn't really had that much of an appetite lately, and he's sort of grateful that Date won't let him leave without finishing his meal.

"Good. I won't bug you about your mental health anymore, either," Date promises. "Just... think about what it is you really want, okay?"

"I will," Eiji agrees, though he avoids Date's gaze while he does so. He knows that Date is right — that if he doesn't explain to Ankh why he's acting like he is, why he's desperately been encouraging Ankh to spread his wings and find his own life and happiness, then Ankh will never take the chance to do so. It'll be a lot harder to actually figure out how to put that in words — and words that Ankh will take the right way, at that, but...

Date, to his credit, swiftly changes the subject to how his work's been; Eiji always appreciates it when Date talks about his travels. For the rest of that dinner, at least, Eiji doesn't think about trying to keep a smile up for everyone else's sake.

(And when Ankh shoots Eiji a nasty look when he comes back to Cous Coussier — one that, if Eiji's being really generous, could be interpreted as jealous — he wonders if Date's right about Ankh feeling the same way.)

Of course, when the new year is over with, Cous Coussier gets busy — Chiyoko's increased her collection of costumes over the past few years, which means even more themed days to dress up and decorate the restaurant for. Most days, by the time they're over, Eiji's too tired to do much of anything, let alone actually talk to Ankh.

It's March, by the time he manages — Chiyoko's taking a spring vacation to Bolivia, which means that, for the first time in a while, Ankh and Eiji are alone at Cous Coussier. Eiji still dithers about it — it's a couple of days into that break before Eiji brings anything up. But late one morning, Eiji finds himself sitting at the counter, drumming his fingers against it nervously; as soon as Ankh comes downstairs, he takes a deep breath. "Hey, Ankh," he says.

He hands Ankh his daily ice pops, then; Ankh looks at them suspiciously, though he also snatches them out of Eiji's hands with no hesitation. "Spit it out," Ankh says, sitting on the countertop.

"...Right," Eiji says — of course Ankh would be able to read him that easily. He takes another deep breath. Eiji's saved the world on several occasions; he should be able to have a frank discussion with Ankh about his own feelings. "...I know I've... kind of been avoiding you, lately," he begins.

Ankh takes a bite of his ice pop and clicks his tongue. "If you didn't give me ice cream every day, I'd never see you," he says, with enough bite that Eiji can tell Ankh feels more hurt than anything else. It makes Eiji's stomach twist with fresh guilt.

Eiji swallows hard. He can do this, no matter what barbs Ankh throws his way. "Ankh, you — you reminded me of what I wanted. You made me want to live again." He slides his hand into his pocket, out of habit, even though it's empty. "And then you gave me something to live for. I can't thank you enough for that, so... I want you to get to live, too." He forces himself to make eye contact with Ankh, even though it makes his chest ache. "I don't want to hold you back."

Ankh hisses. "Not much of a life if you keep telling me how I'm supposed to live it."

Eiji's brow furrows. "That's not what I'm trying to —"

"Especially since you, Eiji," Ankh says, hopping down from the counter to grab Eiji by the collar, "You've been walking around like you're dead. Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"I'm — that's not remotely what I'm trying to say," Eiji gets out, even though Ankh's proximity is making it a lot harder for Eiji to breathe. He can't back down, and he can't give into the urge he has to close the gap between his lips and Ankh's, either; he has to properly explain himself. "You... Ankh, you can do whatever you want. You've got so much ahead of you. You shouldn't spend it with someone who doesn't."

Ankh's eyes flash; he's livid, Eiji realizes, as he quickly disentangles himself from Ankh's grip. "You're so pathetic," Ankh snarls. "You and your ridiculous martyr complex. Even when there's something you want, you're too self-sacrificial to do anything about it. And now you're actively trying to push me away, because you think that breaking your own heart would fulfill me." He clicks his tongue again. "You don't know how to live if it's not for anyone else, and I'm sick of it."

"Ankh —"

But Ankh's already leaving Cous Coussier, taking his ice pops with him. He slams the door behind him, so hard that the decorations around it rattle.

Eiji blinks, slowly, and takes a deep breath — he should — he should feel more rattled. Or maybe he should feel satisfied — because Ankh just left, because maybe Ankh won't come back, because he'll live his own life, far, far away from Eiji —

And that's for the best, Eiji thinks, over and over again, standing up only to slump down against the counter. It's for the best. Maybe Ankh's angry with him right now, but — but it'll eventually make him happy, so —

Eiji buries his head in his hands. If there was ever a time for him to cry, it's right now, while he's alone, after watching his greatest desire storm right out the front door. But the tears don't come out — Eiji lets out a heavy sigh, and a bitter laugh.

You've been walking around like you're dead, says Ankh's voice in Eiji's mind. His heart's been shattered into pieces, and Eiji can't even bring himself to cry — "Maybe I am," Eiji murmurs, to the silence in the empty restaurant. And if he never sees Ankh again, there's no way that he'll ever fill the emptiness in his chest.

When he drudges up the energy to move, Eiji walks up into the empty attic and closes the door. He sort of falls asleep, eventually — or, well, he breathes while his eyes are closed, even as he tosses and turns and thinks about Ankh. And that's for the best, he thinks, like if he does so enough times, it'll make him feel... anything.

For the rest of the break, Eiji really doesn't do much — he can't bring himself to get out of bed until his body's screaming at him to eat or shower. Eiji does his best to greet Chiyoko with a smile, when she gets back, though — but of course, she sees through it immediately. "Where's Ankhy?" she asks, her brows furrowing with concern.

Eiji takes a deep breath — when he's had the energy to do... anything, he's practiced his response to this question, knowing that it was inevitable. "I'm not sure," he begins. "We had an... argument, a few days ago. I haven't seen him since."

Chiyoko's brow furrows even further. "...If he's still not back here, he must really be upset," she says, crossing her arms. "How have you been holding up, without him?"

Eiji shakes his head. Forcing a smile now feels like pulling teeth, but he manages. "I'll be able to work, like usual," he says.

It isn't an answer to her question, and Eiji knows that Chiyoko knows it. "Eiji," she begins, putting a hand on his shoulder.

But, no, no, Eiji can't do this right now. "It's for the best," he says, and at least, it sounds like he believes it. "Wherever he is, whatever he's doing, it's probably what he wants, right? That's enough for me."

"...Is that what you really think?" Chiyoko asks, so genuinely that it makes Eiji ache.

He still manages to nod. "I just want him to live his own life."

Chiyoko shakes her head. "That's not what I mean," she says, softly. "...Do you think being without you is what he wants?"

Eiji falters; his stomach lurches. "He... wanted life. That's what he told me. So..."

Chiyoko gives Eiji a look that has so much concern in it that Eiji can't maintain eye contact. "How about we just worry about preparing for tomorrow?" she asks, gently. Her hand's still on his shoulder, and Eiji wonders — does he even deserve this?

But he nods. "You must've come back with a bunch of new recipes, huh?" he says, grateful for the distraction.

"And costumes!" Chiyoko says, though Eiji notes the concern that works its way into her cheer. For the rest of the day, though, Eiji manages appropriate small talk and questions about how work's going to go for the next few days — Chiyoko, too, is kind enough to not bring Ankh up again.

(He's so determined to ignore her concern, in fact, that he doesn't catch the scheming look in her eyes.)

For the next couple of weeks, Eiji manages to... exist.

He wakes up, and habitually goes to the freezer, before remembering that he doesn't have anyone to give ice cream to; he manages to shower and brush his teeth and even prepare tomorrow's underwear. He brushes off the concerns of everyone who shows it, and tries not to let his face fall when anyone's around to see it. The hole in his chest only feels more and more like a bottomless pit, like an abyss that Eiji's one bad day away from falling into — but he won't do anything stupid. All that would do is inconvenience Chiyoko, after all.

It's a day like any other when that changes — "Oh, Eiji, thanks for getting the groceries," Chiyoko says. "Would you grab me the big soup pot from upstairs? We'll need it to make the mushroom soup for Hungary day tomorrow."

"Huh? Oh, yeah, of course," Eiji says — he isn't suspicious of this request, because he has no reason to be. He takes off his coat and leaves the bags on the table. "I'll be back in a sec."

As soon as he climbs the stairs up to the attic, though, Eiji is greeted by an unexpected face. "Hina?" he asks, frowning. "What are you —"

"Sorry, Eiji," Hina says, though she's smiling a little too much to really seem apologetic. "My brother kind of got tired of him brooding on our couch, so..."

"Tired of — what —"

Eiji tries to ask about a million questions, but before he can get a full one out, Hina's dragging him to the attic and shoving him in. The next thing he hears is the door locking. "Hina!"

"Sorry!" she calls back. "I'll let you out when you two have talked things over!"

Eiji takes a step back, and then turns around — "Ankh," he says, eyes widening. "What are you..."

"I was bribed," Ankh says, bitterly. "With ice cream."

Eiji blinks, in disbelief — Ankh is here, he's here, in the attic at Cous Coussier, and it's almost as astounding as when he'd been brought back in the first place. "You were... at Hina and Shingo's place?"

"Did you think I'd left the country?" Ankh snaps, already climbing into his nest. (Eiji hasn't touched it at all since their argument.)

"...I tried to not think about it," Eiji admits, leaning by the window. "I didn't... want to get in your way. Not any more than I already —"

"And you're still on that bullshit," Ankh growls, rolling his eyes. "You aren't helping either of us with it."

Eiji opens his mouth to argue, but he really can't. "...I know," he says, quietly. "I'm... I'm sorry, Ankh."

Ankh crosses his arms, but says nothing.

Eiji sighs. "Ankh, seriously, we're never getting out of here if —"

"Then you go first. Tell me the truth, Eiji." Ankh climbs down from his nest and gets into Eiji's personal space again, his hand by Eiji's head on the wall. He's so close, so close, and Eiji's skin prickles, like all of a sudden, his heart's started beating again. "Tell me what it is you actually want. Unless you're still so stupid that you can't even do that."

Eiji takes a shaky, hesitant breath. "What it is I actually want," he repeats, trying to avoid Ankh's gaze. The words he's been telling himself over and over again die on his tongue — if he says them again, he knows that he'll never get the chance to be this close to Ankh again.

So while Ankh has him slammed against the wall of the attic, while there's still that worry disguised as rage in Ankh's eyes, while the rush of actually having a desire floods through Eiji's veins — he grabs Ankh's collar, tugs him forward, and kisses him.

How many years, Eiji wonders, has he been sitting on this desire, waiting for an outlet to express every form it takes — because it comes out, now, like someone's put a flame next to something in Eiji's heart that had grown cold. His free hand cups Ankh's cheek, and even the feel of his skin makes Eiji feel a little bit closer to burning. He wants Ankh, wants to be by Ankh's side, wants Ankh to stay by his side — and Eiji knows that wanting someone isn't the kind of desire that someone can live on. He knows he's going to have to find more than this.

But if he has Ankh now, and if Ankh's with him tomorrow, and the next day, and the next — that makes those tomorrows worth living for. And what Eiji wants the most, with every cell that makes up his body, is to see all of them.

He pulls away with a shuddery breath, dropping his hand from Ankh's face. "...Sorry," he says, after he's come to his senses. His lips are still warm where they were just on Ankh's, and he can't move his other hand from Ankh's collar, either; Eiji is pretty sure if he did, he'd fall down. "Sorry, I just..."

Eiji swallows, hard, but it's like something's overflowing from him — he's crying, finally, clinging to Ankh's shirt like it's a lifeline, while months — no, years — worth of unshed tears fall from his eyes. "I'm sorry," he gets out, when he can change his tears into words. "I just — god, Ankh —"

Ankh's hand moves down from the wall and on to one of Eiji's shoulders. He pulls Eiji close, squeezing him a bit too tightly — he's probably never given someone a hug before, Eiji thinks, even as he buries his face in Ankh's chest and tries to stop himself from soaking Ankh's shirt.

"...That wasn't telling me anything," Ankh says, once Eiji's a little bit calmer. "I'm still expecting an answer from you, idiot."

Eiji takes the steadiest breath he can. "...You," he manages, after a moment. He pulls away from Ankh's chest, though he lets Ankh continue to hold him — he's not sure what would happen if he let go. "You, Ankh. You're what I want."

"Then why the fuck have you spent every moment since you brought me back trying to get me to leave?" Ankh asks, shaking Eiji a little bit — the look in his eyes, though, is far more fragile than Eiji would expect; it almost looks like Eiji won't be the only one in tears, soon.

"I missed you, Ankh," Eiji chokes out, after a moment. "So much that I — that I didn't know what to do with it. I would've died, if it meant getting you back," he admits. "And then I did. I got you back. And I — I don't know what to do next. I had a desire, and then it came true, but it didn't — it didn't make me any different. And you deserve more than having to deal with my brain, Ankh. You can't want that."

"You don't get to tell me what I can and can't want," Ankh snaps. "What I want is for you to quit trying to make choices for me. If you want me to live my own life so badly, then you need to let me."

Ankh clicks his tongue, and exhales through his nose. "And what I want," he continues, through gritted teeth, "is to — to be someone you reach out to for help. If you need it. Idiot," he adds. "So let me do that, too."

Eiji lets out a noise that's somewhere between a laugh and another sob. "Just — just tell me that you're sure," he says, when he knows he can. "That's all I —"

He's cut off, then, by Ankh pulling him forward and kissing him again — it's a little bit awkward, since Ankh's first kiss was probably when Eiji had snapped a few minutes ago, but the intention behind it is sure. Eiji sighs into it, letting Ankh's warmth melt away anything else that he's frozen in his heart.

"Since that's a way of telling someone something, apparently," Ankh snarks, when he pulls away.

"...It can be," Eiji says. "And speaking of things I want, I — I wouldn't mind you doing that again, if you —"

(They don't get out of the attic for a while, but Eiji doesn't mind. And the way Ankh's lips quirk up — it seems like Ankh doesn't mind much, either.)

It's a warm day in late spring, and once again, things are routine.

Eiji still works at Cous Coussier, though he has one extra day off — he's been seeing a therapist, someone Date recommended, once a week; Ankh still sits at his usual table, demands ice pops, and generally spends most of his time glowering. When he isn't glowering, though, he spends time with Eiji — they don't have to be doing anything in particular, it seems, to satisfy Ankh, so long as it's together.

Tonight, for example — cuddling in Ankh's nest isn't productive in any way, but it's probably the best Eiji's felt all week. Some days are easier than others, certainly, but with Ankh at his side, Eiji knows he'll be able to get through all of them.

"Just sleep, idiot," Ankh mutters, fondly, snapping Eiji out of his thoughts. "You're about to doze off."

Eiji hums. "You're probably right," he murmurs, snuggling closer to Ankh's chest. "I'll see you tomorrow, Ankh."

The last thing Eiji feels, before a peaceful sleep takes him, is Ankh drawing him close to his chest.