when you first moved in, it took sae months to adjust to how lively his house had become.
how his bland and unadorned penthouse was now filled with your belongings, your warm lamps that you bought because you hated the white lighting.
the beautiful lace curtains that now covered the rows of exposed windows. fluffy blankets that complemented his crimson couches, filled with soft and decorative pillows that you adjust in a very particular order. pictures of you and his wedding photos, your bright smile bringing life to his once shallow and empty house.
your vanilla perfume that trailed behind you all the time, slowly seeping into the fabrics of your furniture.
not only did he have to get used to your undeniably amazing taste in decoration, but also your inability to sit peacefully in a messy house.
sae wasn't one to maintain a messy house—he in fact, always made sure it was clean. but he had a horrible habit of tossing clothes on the floor and keeping dishes in the sink, unattended for days on end due to his exhausting schedule.
which inevitably turned into your first fight now that you shared a domestic lifestyle together, as you constantly told him to fold his clothes and do his part of the dishes.
eventually though, things settled down as the two of you finally made agreements on chores, as he finally got used to just how much life you brought into what he called home—just how much light and joy you brought into his life all together.
the penthouse became his escape, not just a place for him to sleep and eat, but a place for him to wind down, a place he sought comfort in knowing you'd always be there—always there to embrace him and smother him with your undying love.
suddenly, itoshi sae found himself having to get used to the sound of your child's cries in the dead of night—the creaky rocking of the crib as he lulled her back to sleep.
your cries of overwhelming joy as she took her first steps and spoke her first words, "dada."
she always seemed to have a preference towards her father, a preference he never thought would fade.
as she turned three, the house was suddenly scattered with toys everywhere, piles of outgrown baby clothes in her room, and stocks of baby food in the fridge, as she still refused to eat anything remotely crunchy.
what was once just you and him was now a family with a little baby boy on the way.
sae was now used to the constant pooping and cries; he'd get up in the middle of the night no questions asked, telling you to go back to sleep with no groans or complaints.
sae now no longer had the luxury of waking up to his alarm; instead, he would wake his ten and seven-year-old jumping in the bed, begging for breakfast eagerly.
he no longer had the luxury of coming back to a quiet home; instead, he came back to a house filled with chaos and children's laughter.
something he never knew he'd relish in.
sae was now used to this life, no longer being on his own; he was now surrounded by love, by support, a system he could fall back on if something went wrong.
something he never knew he'd lose—until that night—he never saw a future without you, a future where the death of his lover and only son would be his fault.
it was normal night, he was driving back home after dinner with his parents, his hand on your thigh as the kids argued in the backseat.
soft music played from the radio; he couldn't help but smile.
sae had never felt so fuffilled in his life, like he was actually worth something. like he had so much to look forward to.
and then for a moment—just a moment—sae got distracted, turning his head to the kid as their argument grew, telling them to shut up and deal with it later, and when he turned… it was too late.
all he remembers is you yelling his name, the last thing he ever heard from you, and the collision of the crash; he lost consciousness for a moment before his eyes opened, the loud sirens blasting into his ear as he turned. he remembers the way your head was thrown back—the blood that gushed out.
he desperately tried to shake you awake—the tears in his eyes as his head whipped back to check on his children, the sudden movement sending a shock of pain through his body.
fate is a funny thing, isn't it?
he remembers when you once asked him if he believed in it, and he brushed you off, telling you it was a silly thing.
but now, sae could only laugh.
how fate decided that he would be the one to survive, not you.
the warmth of the home sae spent years getting used to was gone—just like that.
the years he spent pining for you, loving you, being married to you, and raising kids with you—gone like they'd never even mattered.
no, it couldn't be that simple.
fate couldn't be that cruel.
he couldn't be that undeserving of happiness.
now, sae had to adjust to life that had been sucked out of his home.
his crimson couch somehow duller.
wedding photos that once adorned the walls gone because he couldn't bear to look at you.
warm lamps that once made the home welcoming; now unplugged and replaced with his old white lights that filled the house with a sense of melancholy.
your perfume stored away in a box as your scent slowly faded off the fabric of the furniture.
the only remembrance that you had once been here being your personal belongings that sae couldn't quite get rid of, stored away in boxes.
your daughter constantly locked away in her room—somewhere she wouldn't have to look him in the eyes for him to know that she blamed him for all of it.
the house was quiet, empty.
sae was never there; your daughter always returning back to an empty house with only leftovers in the fridge.
the tv that once used to make a home in a living room where a mother and her children would support their football player father through the screen, now empty and lifeless.
