zanshvn:
It’s been months.
They’ve passed in one long sleep-deprived blur. Takashi remembers the sharp crack, the pain, the pain pills. The funeral and the board meetings. The ache in his chest, the gnawing dread in his stomach. He’s buried in schoolwork, and it’s just as well that he is, because he doesn’t think he’d have held it together otherwise.
It’s been so long he’d almost forgotten.
His professor is droning on in front of a projector slideshow of dissected cadavers. He’s restless – lectures are always more tedious than labs. He might actually have to pay attention if he didn’t already know the rest of the lesson plan (Doctor Kim is essentially reading verbatim from the textbook at this point), but here he is, allowing himself to be distracted by the notification that’s popped up on his phone.
[ 1 unread email ]
It gives him a glimpse of the sender’s name but doesn’t allow him to see any of the message. It’s this name that has him opening it immediately.
He hasn’t spoken to their contact in the Tokyo police since the week after his father died.
He reads the message once in disbelief, and again, while understanding settles firmly into place between suspicions he’d tried to suppress and cold hard facts he’s known for a lifetime.
From their snickers as he rushes from the room, it’s obvious his classmates assume he’s being squeamish and can’t stomach the images flashing before their eyes. He can’t even bring himself to care. He locks himself in a bathroom stall, until the entire message is burned into his brain and the panic attack slowly starts to wane. His hands are still shaking as he finally exits, and when he catches his pale reflection in the mirror he almost looks dead.
Home has never felt so uneasy. He should be working, but all he does is sit in an armchair until the sun slips below the horizon and leaves him in darkness.
Eventually, his eye is drawn to the shaft of light let in by the door opening. He doesn’t greet Kazuya, merely turns his head to look at him after a long moment.
In his eyes, the accusation he doesn’t dare voice. In his chest, a heaviness that disturbs him. Nervous apprehension mixed with uncertainty. It’s not that he’s never felt it – he has, often.
Never like this. Never because of Kazuya.
Things are in motion. There are cogs turning without him having to lift another finger. He’d anticipated resistance, but there’s been little to stand in his way.
His brother doesn’t want the throne, and his mother doesn’t want to sit there either. Beyond them, CEO is his position for the taking. The committee wouldn’t dare impose someone outside the family at this point. There are too many ties that would have to be severed.
Everything is running as smoothly as reasonably expected at this point. There are some bumps in the road, sure, but so far there hasn’t been anything that he couldn’t handle.
As he goes through the motions of his day-to-day schedule, he doesn’t expect anything out of the ordinary. His classes are normal, his short shift at the office is uneventful. Filing, counting, faxing. It’s almost as if he’s asleep at his own desk.
It’s only when he approaches his apartment after the workday is over that things begin to feel... weird. He can’t put his finger on it, but it’s as if there’s an uneasy energy surrounding his door that tells him he should turn around. He’s not especially superstitious - read: not at all - so he squashes the feeling in his stomach as he puts his hand on the doorknob.
It’s dark inside, which is a little strange. Normally, the light in the living room is on at the very least. Takashi is considerate like that. But today the hall is dark, and he’s immediately suspicious.
“ただいま!”
It’s not until he removes his shoes and steps forward that he notices a shape in the darkness. It’s hard to make out, even having adjusted from the bright hallway of the apartment complex, so he feels around for the light switch.
“Ah.” It’s Taka, sitting in the armchair their decorator put in the corner. He’s silent, looking at Kazuya with a mix of emotions that the blonde doesn’t recognize. It’s concerning. Normally, he’s able to immediately tell what his twin is thinking, but right now it’s as if he’s staring at a stranger with his face.
“What’s wrong?”
