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What a day, huh.
Every day in Milgram had been exhausting, in some way or another. Yesterday, it had been Fuuta causing a ruckus over his breakfast and fighting over truly meaningless things with Kotoko, today, it was Mahiru bringing in her newly requested and delivered radio, putting it on an extremely loud volume. When she walked in with that device, everyone present - Yuno, Amane, and Kazui - were simply too fond of her to tell her to turn it down.
Kazui's head can still feel the individual beats and claps essentially ripping through his eardrums. Even he, the most unromantic person he knows, has to admit, though: The cheesy, poppy love songs she was playing were pretty damn catchy.
Having a little music never hurt anybody, was what he said to her, and she immediately shoved the device into his hands at dinner, telling him to 'keep it for the night, everybody deserves to feel a little love in their lives,' and left without elaboration. He himself is still entirely unsure as to what she implied, but now, he's seated in the kitchen on his own, a tiny music machine singing tunes for him alone to hear.
"You're still awake?"
Not for him alone to hear anymore, apparently. Shidou stands in front of the table, eyes darting in between the radio and Kazui's half-empty glass of whiskey. If he wants to say anything about the alcohol, he doesn't. That's good. He'd rather not explain his odd nostalgia for even the most painfully average liquor.
"Barely," Kazui lies. "What's your excuse?"
"Insomnia." Shidou replies, matter-of-factly. Everyone's gotten a restless night or two during the span of Milgram's imprisonment, but Shidou had been the most regular person to join Kazui's nightly kitchen excursions. It made him a little sad to see.
"Will a drink help it?"
Kazui leans back in his chair. A subtle invitation to join him. Shidou's never comfortable enough to drink around his fellow prisoners, despite his smoking habit. Maybe tonight is different, though.
'Hey, get comfortable with me, I know I'm a lone wolf, but I don't bite, do I?' 'A good glass of liquor's never killed a man before, so sit down with me?' Something like that, he thinks to himself, starting to feel a little embarrassed about his ongoing internal monologue.
Shidou sighs and seems to think it over. He'll say no or switch the topic next.
"Are you offering musical accompaniment to your newly-opened kitchen bar?" He points to the radio. And there's the change of subjects.
"It's not mine," Kazui chuckles, "But if I'm ever planning on opening this joint, I'll try to bribe Mahiru into playing DJ."
That answer satisfies Shidou, who gives him a soft smile. It's one of his for-show ones, not the kind Kazui particularly likes. But that would be hypocritical of him to say out loud, wouldn't it?
The doctor takes the seat opposite Kazui and folds his hands beneath his chin. He looks restless, hands shakily holding up that brilliant head of his. There's something deeply sad when looking at a wonderful person and seeing his eyes remain completely devoid of happiness.
He raises his glass to Shidou, who gives him an acknowledging nod.
But there's something more cruel about imagining that person happy - and being glad they aren't, because you would be jealous.
Kazui downs his drink, and another calm, heavy love song starts to play, tugging at something in his chest.
"You can barely tell this is one of Mahiru's requests." Shidou tries to break the silence with a sarcastic comment.
"Oh, it's Mahiru's, for sure. She's the only person I know who'd request a radio that only plays love songs." Kazui shrugs. "Her way of looking at life is something I'd like to do again, too."
Would he really? He hasn't had the greatest experiences with the kind of love Mahiru seems to be infatuated with. The kind of love that requires public exposure, regular displays of affection, telling your parents about all the benefits of your relationship. The kind of love that leads you to long discussions of weddings and dresses, of holding a crying partner as she promises to love you forever.
She would have loved Mahiru, no?
"...Hey, I'm getting old, aren't I?" He looks back up to face his companion.
He blinks. "Being motivated to love isn't an age-restricted thing, is it? I, for one, wouldn't say older people aren’t allowed to fawn over things." Shidou strokes his chin. "...Besides, I prefer to say that the world is getting younger."
"Hm," he hums, satisfied with the answer. He's not too keen on elaborating on his feelings regarding this topic - but it seems he doesn't get a choice.
"You have a wife, too, don't you? If anyone should know about love, it's you."
The question catches him off-guard, slightly. It's only natural that someone asks him about the ring every now and then. His colleagues all already knew her. When he came back into work to hand in his badge, they could barely look at him. They all blended together, telling him they were so sorry, that they wished he could stay. He'd wished, back then, that they'd yell at him, tell him to get lost for killing her. Hatred was a much kinder pain than pity.
He didn't realize it, but something about his reaction must've caught Shidou's eye. He plays it off with a soft smile.
"I did."
"Oh," Shidou replies.
Kazui knows about Shidou’s wife. He’s known ever since their first week at the prison. Shidou was curt about it. He knew what this was like. He knew what losing someone close to you felt like - though losing his wife wasn’t quite the same as Kazui losing his best friend.
"No need to feel bad for me. I've done my share of mourning already." He hasn't.
"I'm sorry."
"You're fine, really." Let's stop talking about it.
And they do. For a while. Before Shidou takes it upon himself to continue the conversation. He's not the best at this late night talk thing, but he tries.
"I think I do know the kind of love Mahiru wants. It's not really about being a perfect housewife like she wants to be, though. It's about the experiences you share." He strokes his hand thoughtfully, tracing along his ring finger. "At least, I think that was the core of it. Just the little things. Eating. Talking. Listening to music."
And he's right. Kazui knows he enjoyed doing those things with her, too. He liked going out for dinner. He liked exchanging opinions about plays they'd gone to. In any other world, he would've loved to fall in love with her. But that part was just missing from his script.
"Hm," he hums in agreement.
The music from the radio becomes less of simple noise to his ears as he listens more intently while lost in his thoughts.
Something about it also seems to make Shidou relax a little. He wonders – Does Shidou like this kind of thing, as well? Comfortable silences, humming to songs. It really does feel like he's the only person in this place that he can just sit with and feel like a normal person, for once in his life.
Wouldn't it be nice to have one of those little moments to share with him? Kazui doesn't like being greedy. Just one little thing, just a few minutes of his time is all he wants.
So, it slips from his lips sooner than he can actually consider his words:
"You've danced before, right?"
Hook…
"Well." Shidou starts, slightly taken aback, "It depends."
Kazui traces the edge of his now empty glass. "Mmh, you seem like a waltz guy."
Shidou raises his brow, amused. "...What does that imply?"
"You know, you're…" He pauses. "Very formal. Courteous. I think, if I were hosting a ball, I'd send you an invitation to visit - Does that make sense? Don't mind my rambles…"
A ball? Right, because Kazui loves the social pressure that comes with events that expect you to bring partners.
"That's an odd way to phrase it." He smiles. "But, I believe it does. Why do you ask, anyways?"
"Just thinking." He props up his chin with his hand. "That's the kind of experience she really liked back in the day."
"You used to dance, then?"
"I had to practice for the wedding. I was never that great at it." He sheepishly cocks his head to the side. "I stepped on her toes a lot. Curse of having two left feet, I suppose."
Line…
Shidou hums, amused. It sounds gentle, pleasant. What a sound. "I'm sure it wasn't that bad."
"Trust me when I say it was." He rubs the back of his neck.
"Any interest in improving your skills?"
Sinker.
"What, right now?" Kazui blinks.
"You don't have to,” Shidou admits. “It was just a thought.”
Kazui shakes his head. He wants to, and badly. He almost lets that fact slip when he eagerly stands up, but he quickly manages to hide it with a reluctant sigh and a huff of air. "If you insist… But go easy on me."
Shidou obliges and stands on his feet. It's odd how fast he takes grasp of Kazui's hand - either that, or the moment passes faster than it really does.
"I did have my fair share of waltz lessons, but I'm not an excellent teacher." He smiles. “So… I’ll let you pick your part.”
"...There's no 'easier' part, is there?"
"Not really." Shidou chuckles.
Kazui wonders about that. Men don’t dance with each other, not from his experience. He’s always just been the lead, like the rules dictate. The man should lead, the woman should not. But now, he’s here, and those rules and their enforcers don’t exist. It’s odd. He hesitates to ask the question.
"Could you lead?"
"Sure," he replies, and promptly places his fingers on his waist. It's an odd sensation – he was awfully used to her delicate hand on his back, his rougher hand on her waist. Something about it feels wrong, but something else, which is much more fulfilling, feels right.
"Okay." The man looks back at him. "Do you remember the steps?"
He nods. One-two, step, one-two, step. It’s a simple pattern. He still knows that.
The music continues, and Shidou counts to three, quietly. They start. The whole thing feels surreal to him. He can barely make out his own feet in the dim lighting of the kitchen, much less does he really care to see them. He’s too focused on trying to keep his chin up and look at his partner, like she’d told him was social etiquette with dancing.
“Ah, Kazui–” Shidou interrupts, “...Left foot first.”
“Oh.” He deadpans. He plays it off with a laugh. “Sorry, sorry. Let’s try again.”
“Take your time,” he reminds him, voice slightly shaky.
A new song starts, and they sway side to side. Stiffly, at first, but Kazui starts to get the hang of it after a little while. His steps are a little too harsh, too clumsy. He hasn’t perfected it. Not yet. But, for some reason, Shidou remains ever-patient with him. His reassuring grasp on his hand safely guides him through it all.
Why? Why would anyone ever be so kind to him?
The worst part of this all is that Kazui isn't imagining Hinako. In fact, when he realizes she isn't on his mind at all, he feels a cold chill run down his spine. All he can see in front of him is a man with the kindest eyes he's ever seen. What a cruel thing, to look at someone with so much respect and empathy.
Slowly, the two men grow a little closer, almost dancing chest-to-chest, and it makes Kazui’s heart beat faster. He shouldn’t be doing this. He is, though. And it excites him like nothing else. How much would the other man hate him if he tried to touch his face, just to feel something? He needs to feel skin against his, again, he doesn’t even care how or when, but he needs something to tear open his sewn-shut chest and let it all pour out. He wants to feel that sweet pain that alcohol couldn’t truly mask all over again. How much would it cost him to say ‘I love you’ again? Another friendship? How many people would have to suffer for his sake?
It’s at that moment when Shidou buries his face in his shoulder and begins to sob. “Oh, god..” he mutters, though Kazui can barely make out the words. His eyes widen.
“Hey, hey,” he whispers, supporting the man with his other hand. Why couldn’t it just have lasted, this time? Just this once?
Unfortunately, he can guess what this is about.
"...You miss her?"
"I do," Shidou responds, "I do."
He doesn’t look up, his words come out muffled and barely audible. But to Kazui, it sounds as clear as day, regardless.
"I–I think about her all the time." Kazui gently strokes his back in a weak attempt at comfort. "I think to myself, 'it's gotten better', but in truth, I've never even started feeling better in the first place."
Shidou finally raises his head again, eyes puffy. He dabs at his eyes with his sleeves. It’s not a sight he gets to see often. He doesn’t particularly cherish it.
"I walk by a window, see a gorgeous dress and think to myself, I've got to tell her about this once I get home. – But when I come home, she's not there anymore." His voice turns shakier, "And when I pull out my phone to call her, her last message is still there, but she won't pick up."
He knows. God, he knows, and it stings. Shidou’s partner dying wasn’t even his fault, but Kazui’s was. He can’t say anything. He killed her, after all.
"Shidou…" He states, "I'm so sorry."
"...No, I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have done this."
“Don’t say that.”
"It's just, sometimes, I see her in every person I meet. And it hurts every time."
Shidou’s eyes finally meet his, and like a dagger to his heart, Shidou smiles.
"I suppose you reminded me of her."
The music stops. Kazui feels like throwing up.
“It’s okay,” he lies, “You’ll be fine. It’s hard to get used to.”
“I’ll try.”
Shidou lets go of him and rubs his head, as if he’s just woken up from a strange dream. It wasn’t a dream, right? Or was it just another unattainable little fantasy of his? He can’t seem to tell anymore.
“I’m… I’m sorry for this. I don’t know what came over me,” Shidou explains, “I think I need to get some sleep. These past few weeks have been stressful.”
He’s bad at lying. It takes a liar to know one, but Shidou Kirisaki is a liar when it comes to facts, not feelings. That would be his own field of expertise, if anything.
“I know. Go rest up. You’re the only one we’ve got to help if anyone gets injured. Can’t afford to lose that.” Kazui grins at him. It hurts.
“Right.” Shidou sighs. “Thank you… for the company, regardless.”
“It’s no big deal.”
Kazui watches him leave, just like everyone else.
The kitchen is empty. It’s just him, his empty glass, and the radio.
Right - his glass is empty, isn’t it? That sounds like a good idea right about now. He could use a drop of liquid down his throat.
As he reaches for the cupboard, he’s struck with one last coherent thought for the night.
He doesn’t think he’ll ever deserve that second chance at love.