Chapter Text
“Hey, I know how nerve wracking it is to let people see even a glimpse of this side of you, but I’m so glad you’re okay with me telling Benkei about us. It makes me so unbelievably happy to finally have a family who accepts me for who I am, with people I can be honest with and relate to. Benkei has been a massive pillar of support throughout this whole ordeal, and I’m certain he’ll be no different with this. Just wanted you to know that I really, truly appreciate how much you’re putting yourself out there for me, and if there’s ever a time in the future where you need me to reach out of my comfort zone for you, I will gladly do so. I hope you have a good night <3 (wish you were here to kiss me goodnight again…)”
That was what Nile’s text read, so beautiful and heartfelt and terribly, unabashedly honest. That was the last thing Kyoya needed right now.
“What is this, Kyoya?” His father’s voice echoed through his skull like a scream in Wolf Canyon.
“It… uh…” The unbearable tension in the room made breathing near impossible, so much so that he couldn’t gather enough air in his lungs to respond. “It’s…”
“Your friend…” his father started, the bass in his voice slicing into Kyoya’s throat, “or something more?”
His teeth clenched together, tight as prison bars. He could barely pry them apart to speak. “He’s...” He closed his mouth again to swallow, as if trying to suck down the truth. But there was no hiding it now. There never would be again. He inhaled deeply through his nose before managing to confirm, “More.”
His mother grimaced, while his father looked down at the floor, shaking his head. “When did this happen?” he asked.
“A few weeks ago,” Kyoya replied, meekly.
“Weeks?” his mother rasped, cringing with disgust. “You’ve been hiding this from us for weeks?”
Kyoya swallowed again. “Not hiding,” he choked out. “I didn’t think you’d care.”
“Of course we care, Kyoya,” his father stressed. “You’re sixteen—two years away from beginning your work at TC. Your reputation matters more now than it ever has. So this kind of behaviour cannot be tolerated!”
He knew exactly what he meant. He knew exactly why they were angry. But he’d be damned if he didn’t make them say it; he wanted to hear it directly from the horse’s mouth. “What kind of behaviour?” he asked, trying his best to make his expression into a confused one, but his frightened, angry eyes betrayed the knowing truth.
His father merely scowled at him. “Don’t be coy with me, young man. You’re not a fool.”
“But—”
“Kyoya—”
“I don’t get it!” Kyoya pushed through. “Why am I in trouble? What have I done wrong?”
His father took a step back, his eyes full of disdain. “I should’ve known your comrades were a little too colourful…” he muttered, before straightening himself out into his formal, CEO posture. “Ever since my grandfather founded TC, the company has been passed down through our family, eldest son to eldest son, blood to blood. If our competitors somehow got the idea that my son couldn’t have one of his own… the vultures would start to swarm, waiting for me to either retire or die so that they can swoop in and pick at the company’s bones.” He stepped towards Kyoya and shoved his finger into his chest. “I will not let this legacy die on account of your tastes.”
Kyoya stood firm on his ground. “It wouldn’t regardless. You have two sons.”
His father only scoffed. “And what would that look like? Letting my oldest, who has always known and accepted that he will one day inherit the company, bow out just so he can mess around with boys? You think I want people to think I’ve raised a–-” Perhaps for the first time in his life, Kyoya’s father stopped himself in his tracks, composing himself before the obvious could rear its ugly head. He put his hand on his chest and cleared his throat, as if resetting his temper. “For once in your life, you need to stop thinking only of yourself,” he continued. “You could jeopardise our whole company, our family name. Ruining not just your own future, but your brother’s as well!”
Kyoya’s frown grew tighter. “What? Kakeru wouldn’t—”
“If I let you abandon your responsibilities and give Kakeru your inheritance, he’d be severely underprepared! He hasn’t had the training you’ve had, he doesn’t have the backbone you have, he doesn’t already have the respect of my colleagues like you do—most of them don’t even know he exists! He’d be easy pickings for any rivals to take advantage of once I’m out of the picture.”
“Are you kidding me? He knows way more about the company than I ever will, and he’s only fourteen! What about that is easy pickings to you?”
“Knowledge alone doesn’t make you a good businessman. You must know this much by now, at least.” Something in his voice shifted, almost becoming desperate. It irked Kyoya in the strangest way, his father expressing any emotion other than anger or neutrality. “If you still care at all about this family and its future, you must put reputation above all else. You’ve always known that, deep inside; your reputation was perfect—the King of Beasts was perfect. But this?” He gestured to the phone still gripped tightly in his hand. “This is pathetic.”
Pathetic. Many of his enemies had used this taunt in the past, enemies that he’d proven wrong time and time again. But how could he prove his own father wrong when his patheticness stemmed from his very brain chemistry? Was he just born pathetic? “I can’t change who I am,” he said, quietly, but assertively.
“But you can change how you act.” He tucked the incriminating phone away in his pocket before taking another step towards his son. Kyoya braced as he usually did, but instead of the harsh hand of discipline, he felt his father’s firm grasp on his shoulders. “Become the King of Beasts again. Be ruthless, and stern, and cunning. Don’t bend to the will of others, and don’t let their weakness dampen your resolve.” He moved one hand up to Kyoya’s cheek. “Only when you do this, will you become the man I know you can be: a good man.”
Kyoya could feel himself shaking in his father’s gentle grasp. How long had it been since he felt like this? Like a weak, malleable child? “You want me to be… like I was before?”
The wave of relief he felt when his father removed his hand from his face only gave rise to shame. The man took that hand and placed it on his own heart. “Of course I do. That was our son—our real son. Whoever this boy in front of me is, is unrecognisable. Soft, and riddled with weakness.”
Was it something in his father’s voice that made his throat burn? Or could it be that there was a certain truth to his words that some part of Kyoya couldn’t help but agree with? The King of Beasts hadn’t reared his head in so long… had he really been that good of a son back then?
His mother reappeared from behind his father and grasped Kyoya’s hand. “Kyoya, my boy, don’t you see? We miss you. We love you. But you’ve been hiding the real you recently, and it’s…” She stopped to take a breath. “It’s really taking a toll on us,” she croaked.
“I…” The breathlessness he had felt at the beginning of this confrontation couldn’t compare to what he was feeling now. He could barely keep himself standing, yet alone try to talk anymore. There was no more fight left in him, nothing left to give at all.
A squeeze on his shoulder brought his attention back up to his father. “You’re the only one who can fix this, Kyoya…” he started, his voice solemn and stern, “and you know how to do that, don’t you?”
He didn’t want to know, but of course he did. And this time, there was no playing dumb. “Do I have to?” he asked, meekly.
In lieu of a response, his father simply stared down at him for an unbearably long moment, before finally looking away as he retrieved Kyoya’s phone out of his pocket. “Don’t make a fuss about it,” he instructed, handing the phone down to Kyoya. “Just cut it off, clean and to the point.”
His hand barely steady enough to hold his phone, Kyoya turned it on. Nile’s message once again shined brightly on the lockscreen, the flash of light welling up Kyoya’s eyes. How could he do this in the state he was in? How could he do it at all?
His parents were unmoving, looking at him and his phone expectantly. Did they really think he would just do this now, without another word? “I…” I can’t do it. I can’t do it. Self-preservation was likely what kept him from saying it; “can’t” was not in either of their vocabularies. But what else can you say, when nothing is all you can do? “It—it won’t be clean if it’s not in person,” he finally managed to choke out, not looking either of them in the eye. “No matter what I write, he’s not going to get any closure until he really speaks to me. And he’ll chase that closure to the end of the world, if I make him.”
The sigh from his father that followed told him exactly how believable that was. “Kyoya…”
“I can do it tomorrow,” he insisted, this time looking up at him. “I can do it.”
There was a moment of silent contemplation between his parents, before both finally relinquished their hold on him. After helping his mother off the ground, his father looked down on him one final time. “You will.”
He couldn’t remember ever sleeping last night; it’d felt more like zoning in and out of consciousness for hours on end as he lay helplessly on the floor, still in the clothes he’d worn on his last date—his very last date, ever, until his parents inevitably set him up with some poor girl who they could intimidate sons out of. It was a beautiful vision of the future he’d had that morning, after hours of mourning his soon-to-be past. He would repress any feeling of love he ever had for anyone ever again, never know laughter or excitement or joy, all for the sake of the company. And all the while, the King of Beasts would roam, now a corporate demon, devaluing human life to the extremes for profit.
All he had to do to achieve this bright, sunny future, was break it off with the only person he had ever felt one hundred percent comfortable with. Served him right, opening up like that; that mistake would never again be repeated.
Kyoya could’ve been standing outside the apartment door for five, fifteen, or even thirty minutes; he couldn’t tell, but none of it felt like enough time to prepare. He very well could’ve never summoned the courage to go inside, had the door not swung open to make that decision for him.
“Let’s-a-go—Ah!” The little orange-haired boy jumped back at the sight of Kyoya looming in the doorway. “Geez, Yoyo, you scared the life out of me!”
Kyoya, having been unable to leave his own mind all morning, also jumped at the sudden action. “I—what are you doing here?”
“Um, I live here?” Yu snarked.
“You haven’t been living here for weeks,” Kyoya countered.
Yu put his hands up. “I know, I know. I’m just messing with ya. We were just picking up some more games and checking up on Demoomoo and The River.”
Kyoya blinked down at him, dumbfounded. “Demoo— wait, we?”
A loud stampede coming into the hallway answered his question before Yu could get the chance. “Wait up, Yu! There’s no need to rush—” Madoka stopped in her tracks at the sight of Kyoya, causing the three boys rushing out behind her to stumble.
“What gives—? Oh, Kyoya!” Gingka exclaimed. “Figured you’d show up eventually. What’s up, bud?”
What’s up, he asks? He, Madoka, Kenta, and Benkei—and still Yu—all looked at him with their usual wide-eyed and curious expressions, as if absolutely nothing could be going wrong that day. Why did his dogshit luck have to summon an audience?
“Nothing, just… here to hang out,” he mumbled, as nonchalantly as he could possibly muster.
“Neat! We were just about to go back to Kenta’s place, so that’s great timing!” Gingka dragged on, obliviously.
“You missed out on the cookies, though,” Madoka lamented. “One of my best batches, if I do say so myself.”
“Bummer,” Kyoya deadpanned. “Where’s Nile now?”
“He and Demure are out on the balcony,” Benkei answered—oh fuck, Benkei. Had Nile told him already? He didn’t look like it, with not a trace of tears or a fierce blush to be found. Perhaps Nile had been put off by the rest of the rambunctious crew; perhaps they had been a blessing in disguise after all.
“Cool,” Kyoya muttered, tucking his hands in his pockets in feigned nonchalance. “I won’t hold you up, then.” He stood to the side, allowing them to pass through the door before stepping in himself.
But before the door could swing shut behind him, a hand from outside quickly stopped it, allowing only a head to fit through the small gap that remained. It was Benkei, whose previously dim-witted expression had softened into a knowing seriousness. “Hey, Kyoya?”
“Hm?”
A quick smile flashed over his lips. “I’m proud of you, pal.” And with that, he quickly ducked his head back out and let the door close.
Kyoya stood still, staring at the closed door behind him. Call it denial, but he still couldn’t quite tell if this meant he knew or not. Sure, it could be the obvious answer… but what if he was actually just proud of all the change he’d gone through to be a better friend? Maybe seeing him turn up on an average day had reminded Benkei of all the progress he’d made.
But then again, the reason wasn’t too important anymore. There wouldn’t be anything to be proud of soon.
Kyoya peaked around the corner into the kitchen, spotting Nile and Demure out on the balcony, both holding cups that blew steam into their content faces. Shaded from the bright morning sun with a cool breeze blowing through, it was the picture of an ideal morning.
Before Kyoya could mull any further on why god hated him so terribly, he was caught in that damned keen eyesight of Demure’s, as the boy noticed him and waved for him to join them. Kyoya nodded at him and took a deep breath before skulking over. Obviously, he couldn’t do this in front of Demure; he’d find out immediately afterwards, of course, but this was something Kyoya needed to do without interference or observers.
The cool breeze hit him as soon as he stepped outside, the usually calming sensation sending a sharp chill up his spine. He clenched his fists shut and shoved them into his pockets again to hide his nerves from view—assuming his face wasn’t giving them away as well.
“If you came for a snack,” Nile started, as he turned his head towards him, “you’re out of luck. I think that crew ate everything they brought with them and all the food in the fridge.”
“I don’t think there’s ever been a pantry they couldn’t empty,” Demure added. “Maybe I can duck out to the store this afternoon, if Kyoya’s here with you.” He also turned to look at him. “Would that be okay?”
The first issue that came to mind was that Kyoya thought he might pass out if he had to wait all day to break it off, especially since he’d barely made it through last night; the second was that, despite not wanting Demure to be there when he did it, not having him in the apartment at all meant that Nile would be completely alone when it was over, and that would likely not bode well for someone in his condition.
Having put all this together in the span of a millisecond, he quickly conjured up an excuse. “Well, as much as I love you forcing us to hang out together,” he tried to joke, moving to put his hands on the back of Nile’s chair, “my parents got there before you. I have plans this afternoon.”
Despite his strong efforts to seem relaxed, his body stiffened up as Nile reached back to place his hand on his own. “Not another business meeting, I hope,” he said, calmly, but with a tint of concern.
Kyoya gave his hand a slight squeeze—to reassure him or to stabilise his own shaking hand, it wasn’t clear. “Family dinner. Don’t know if that’s better or worse.”
“Euck,” Nile hissed. “I won’t try to guess.”
“Well,” Demure started, before a yawn interrupted him, “I could probably go now, before I pass out.”
“Why so tired?” Kyoya asked. “Bad night?”
“Is there such thing as a good night?” Demure sighed, reaching a hand over to pat Nile on the shoulder.
Unable to return the gesture with one hand on Kyoya’s and the other cradling his tea, Nile shrugged up his shoulder to press Demure’s hand to his cheek. “You don’t have to go, if you’re tired. I’m sure takeout can sustain us for at least another night.”
“Oh, if you insist,” Demure conceded happily, with another yawn. “Do you mind if I take a nap, then? Unless you and Kyoya want to use the bedroom…”
There was no suggestion in his voice as far as Kyoya could tell, but the way Nile looked at him regardless would’ve been enough to make him laugh, if it wasn’t yet another reminder that his family’s legacy rested on him not messing around with boys. “Go. Now,” Nile insisted, with death in his eye and a hint of panic in his voice.
“You like your privacy, is all I’m saying!” Demure half defended himself, already resigning to stand up out of his chair. He took one final sip of his tea before walking past the two of them to the door. “Don’t have too much fun without me!” he sang, before quickly walking back into the apartment and closing the door behind him.
“Hell,” Nile muttered into his tea. “He’s going to hell.”
“Far from the worst assumption he’s made about me,” Kyoya mused, absent-mindedly. The awkwardness that had suddenly filled the air made for a good cover, coinciding with the growing anxiety inside Kyoya. This is what he needed; time alone was what he’d been waiting for. And now… and now…
“Hey.” A tap on his stomach from the boy sitting in front of him snapped him out of his paralysis, and he realised his fingers were griping tightly into his chair. As he pried them off, Nile lowered his hand and pat the arm of the chair Demure was just in. “Come sit.”
His legs struggling under the weight of all his troubles, it took no convincing for Kyoya to comply. He lurched down into the chair, sitting straight as a board against the seat’s back, his arms sticking to the armrests as if tied down to them. He looked forward, eyes transfixed on a small building far off in the distance.
There was a clinking sound to his left. Kyoya could see out of the corner of his eye that Nile was looking down at his tea intently, tapping the ceramic cup. “You didn’t happen to bump into Benkei on his way out, did you?”
The mention gave him mental whiplash; it felt like so long ago already, as if the last five minutes of his life had been stretched over hours. “Yeah…”
“Did he… say anything?”
So he had been told. In hindsight, his restraint was truly impressive; practically a work of art, coming from him. How well would he be able to conceal his reaction to the next bit of news, Kyoya wondered. “Not much,” he answered, honestly.
Nile sighed. “He was excited when I told him about it, obviously… but he was also really mature about it. And when I asked him if he could keep it cool around you, he was completely on board. But… I don’t know, maybe it was still too early.” The sudden feeling of Nile’s hand once again on his made Kyoya’s stomach drop. He kept looking forward, trying to ignore Nile’s sad eye boring through his skull. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pressured you into this. We don’t have to tell anyone else, okay?”
It was in the way his grip tightened around Kyoya’s hand, and his thumb rubbed gently against his knuckles, and his voice sounded defeated in a way only someone being shoved back into the closet by their coward of a boyfriend could understand; that was what brought a sting to Kyoya’s eyes. He tried to blink away the feeling while also paying close attention to his breathing; he watched his chest rise and fall, wondering if it looked natural, or if it looked too fast or too slow or too controlled. If any focus drifted from maintaining his composure, he knew he would never get it back.
“Kyoya?” His hand squeezed again, and his thumb rubbed circles in his palm, and his voice was a quiet and desperate whisper. Kyoya couldn’t stay like this forever. He had to act.
“I…” His voice came out unbearably quiet, unable to find his breath while speaking. “Um… I think…”
“Kyoya…” It was a quiet sigh, accompanied by a dejected look of understanding that lowered Nile’s gaze to the floor, and his tight grip shakily loosening from Kyoya’s hand. The absence of warmth sent a jolt up his arm that almost made it move to grab Nile’s hand tighter on its own. The slightest step into his future without him, and Kyoya couldn’t take it.
His eyes watered as he practically forced himself to speak again. “Listen, I…” One slight mistake, one glance in Nile’s direction to finally see the despair forming in his face, and the ache in his chest finally pushed the tears from his eyes. Unable to stop himself, he whispered, “I want to stay.”
Nile looked back up at him with a pleading eye. “Then stay. You know you can.”
Kyoya nodded, looking down at their now barely-touching hands and grasping Nile’s in both of his. “Tonight? Can I?”
Leaving his teacup in his lap, Nile brought his other hand to hold both of Kyoya’s, gently brushing over his knuckles. “Of course, you can. Has something happened? What do you need?”
Kyoya frowned. “I don’t… I just wanna stay.”
Nile leaned his head down to kiss his knuckles. “You can,” he whispered. “You can always stay.”
Demure didn’t comment on the sight of Kyoya curled up on Nile’s lap on the couch when he came out of the bedroom, nor did he question why the so-called family dinner plans weren’t a factor anymore. He ordered dinner for three, and laid out some spare pajamas, and let the two boys retire quietly at the end of the night.
It wasn’t in the human body’s capacity to hold Nile’s body as close to his own as he wanted to, but that didn’t stop Kyoya from trying all throughout the night. This was all he had, here in his arms; all he could think to want in the moment. He would not let go until his father had to pry his corpse away—and knowing his father, that was exactly what was going to happen when he woke up.