When All Hell Breaks Loose

Week One: Emotion Identification - Ryusei

Ryusei had spent a lot of time in the apartment he and Sae owned, especially after he'd retired from soccer and wasn't travelling as much as Sae was, but now, it felt like a place he didn't recognize.

He had been mentally preparing for this, but he still felt like the wind was knocked out of him entirely the second the door closed behind him. He didn't get dizzy too often anymore, but he found himself stumbling over to the kitchen island, holding onto it for support and dear life, closing his eyes until the nausea passed.

It's fine, he assured himself. You're fine. This sucks, but you're not dying.

It felt a lot like he was, though.

It really wasn't supposed to be a long trip. Get in, get all the stuff he would need for six weeks, get out. He'd planned for this. He'd had an airtight list in his head, knew where everything was, and had the exact order of which he would retrieve and pack everything.

However, the entire plan was going out the window at that very moment. The room was spinning, even as he stood there, leaning over the island counter, eyes squeezed shut, and all he could think was this is it, it's all over, I'm going to die of a broken heart induced brain aneurism right here on our kitchen floor.

He didn't die, though. Eventually, the room stilled and his eyes opened. The dizziness was gone but the overwhelmingness of it all remained. Once again, there he stood, alone in his and Sae's kitchen, missing his husband in a completely different context.

Ryusei was well used to missing Sae in smaller, more manageable doses. Across an ocean and in another time zone, but nothing more than a few hours or a phone call away. This was something else entirely. For once, they were spending six entire weeks in the same city, and he'd never felt further away from him. It was difficult to ignore otherwise, but here in their apartment, it felt impossible.

Get a fucking grip, he demanded of himself, in Sae's voice. It was easier that way. More effective.

He forced himself into the bedroom. This was according to plan. All he needed was to shove six weeks worth of clothes into a bag and toss a few of his best hair and skin products in and leave. He had been strategic with who he'd asked to put him up for the next six weeks. His first choice would have been Bachira, of course, regardless of the fact that it meant that Rin would have been part of the package deal. But that was off the table for obvious reasons. Instead, he'd asked Mikage, because in addition to being a fairly decent friend, he would have anything and everything Ryusei would need, which would lessen the chance of him rationalizing to himself he'd just stop by the apartment to grab [insert item here].

Even though the housekeeper had definitely been by since, he knew this house, their house, like the back of his hand, so he could see every single absence of Sae. He'd taken the robe from his side of the bed and the collection of chains he tended to hang up on his lamp rather than putting them away before bed. However, this curse was a double edged sword. He could see the ghosts of Sae that remained. He hadn't taken his pillow, the one he refused to share under any circumstances. He hadn't taken the framed wedding photo from his side of the bed, either.

Didn't think he'd need it, Ryusei figured.

It was too hard. Instead of going over to his own closet, he did what he'd spent the entire Uber ride here promising himself that he wouldn't, and ducked into Sae's.

The absences and ghosts were here too. Ryusei could see at once everything that Sae figured he'd wear and need over the next six weeks and what he knew he could live without based on which hangers were empty and which drawers had space and what remained. He couldn't help but feeling a sense of kinship with everything he saw.