Title: Wasurerarenai (Fantasy AU – Alternate Universe)
Pairing: Keita/Ryuichi
Author: venenatus.venustas
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Don’t own them.
Inspired by: This Chinese movie. I have no idea what it’s called. Historic romantic comedy.
Summary: If this was in a world where anything could happen, this could.


Author’s Notes: The title in English translates to “Cannot Forget”.




O.o o.O

The old man eyed the boy before him warily. He looked young – but carried himself too much like an adult. Forced maturity, he thought, and he was probably right. And the eyes- the old man always looked into their eyes. These eyes were –

“It’ll cost you.”

“Leave that for me to worry about.”

“O-oh, touchy, aren’t we?”

“Shut up and tell me how I can get it. And how much it will cost.”

“What do you want it for?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

The old man gave a soft, amused chuckle. “Of course it is. It always is.”

“So, how much is it?”

“Five million.”

“Yen?”

“We’re in Japan, aren’t we?”

“It’s not a problem then. When are you going to give it to me? I can get you the cash by tomorrow afternoon.”

“I give it to you when you give me the money.” The old man scratched his chin, and looked the boy up and down, taking in the clean white trainers, the diamond-studded jewellery and the designer clothing. “Though I can’t understand why a boy like you would want anything to do with it.”

“Some things can’t be bought with money, as I’m sure you well know.” The boy gave him a short, curt nod, and spun on his heel, leaving the dark alley.

The old man watched him go, before shaking his head and sighing. Sometimes it was better dealing with the impetuous ones – the ones that would break the deal or never show up because they decided they didn’t want it. Those ones were always better than the other ones – the other ones that would think it through in stone-cold sobriety, the other ones that would ponder over it with detached analytical thought, plan for the post-event, and then go to him, needing only the final magic touch to make it all happen.

This boy, the old man knew, was one of those other ones.

O.o o.O

Ryuichi hefted the backpack higher onto his shoulder. He hated wearing backpacks with both shoulder straps – it made him feel insecure having his things not within immediate reach.

The old man looked up as soon as Ryuichi neared – they had told Ryuichi to call him the Alchemist, but Ryuichi had yet to be polite and actually call the old man by any title, and so he merely gave a short nod of greeting, lips unsmiling and eyes mirrored.

“You have the five million?”

“Of course.” Ryuichi slid the backpack off his shoulder and held it out to the old man. “Five million. Do you want to count?”

The Alchemist shook his head, a strange grin coming to his face. “I trust you wouldn’t fool an old man like me.”

Ryuichi didn’t reply, staring stonily off to the side.

“Having second thoughts?” the old man asked.

Ryuichi’s eyes met the Alchemist’s. “I know what I’m doing.”

The old man produced a bottle from his ragged robes, and despite the general filthy appearance of the Alchemist combined with the less than sanitary conditions of the area, the bottle itself was like a star of purity amidst the dark surroundings. It was a bottle of translucent black crystal, and Ryuichi could see the liquid inside, transparent but giving off a faint light all the same.

“This is it?” Ryuichi took the bottle, revelling in the weight of it in his hand. “This is not a lot.”

“You really only need a shot of it. I gave you enough for a couple, at least.”

“I won’t overdose?”

“No such thing as overdose. Not with this.” The Alchemist fished out a wrinkled pack of cigarettes and lit one up, the smoke from it curling around the both of them.

Ryuichi slid his hand, wrapped around the bottle, into the pocket of his jeans. The stern expression on his face softened slightly. “Thank you.”

The old man breathed out a lungful of smoke. “May I ask why?”

“You may. And I may not answer.”

“As the creator, I’m interested in the cause of its application, naturally.”

“Why does everyone else get it?”

The Alchemist gave a veiled smile. “For love. Are you in love?”

Ryuichi gave a sudden bright smile and the Alchemist’s mouth fell open, cigarette dangling uselessly from his lips as he recoiled slightly in fear. “Of course I am.”

O.o o.O

Sentiment, Ryuichi thought, was a loathsome sort of thing.

He knew he wanted it to happen – but now that he was holding it in his hands, there was the faint lingering fear that something would go wrong – after all, alchemy was not at all a precise science, having only been developed in hidden circles and underground societies.

There was something else as well, and Ryuichi cursed himself for his sentiment, determined to ignore it, even though the voice it had taken in his head was sounding remarkably like Ryohei.

Ryuichi sat at his kitchen table, bottle clasped in both hands, and he only had the small lamps on, bathing his dining area with small pools of yellow light. The potion glowed steadily – its light hadn’t dimmed at all, and Ryuichi wondered if it was safe for him to drink.

He was still afraid of death, after all.

Ryuichi sighed, lowering his head and closing his eyes. He lifted the bottle to his lips, tracing over the patterns cut on the surface, and the potion made the bottle cold to the touch even though he had been holding it for the entire night.

Do it, the voice in his head hissed at him. Do it.

Ryuichi looked at the bottle again, finally removing the stopper and setting it down on the tabletop, where it rolled around for a little bit before settling into one position. He raised the bottle to his lips, letting the edge rest just inside his mouth, and Ryuichi took in a deep breath, holding it in for five counts before releasing it, breath whistling against the opening of the bottle.

He lowered the bottle again, staring down at the glowing clear liquid inside, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his thumb and index finger out over his brow, trying to smooth away the headache that was beginning to form. He squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling sharply before tossing the potion back like he would for a shot, and it was cold, so cold, and Ryuichi could feel it as it moved down his throat, behind his lungs, and into his stomach.

The bottle fell from his hand, tipping over sideways onto the tabletop, and Ryuichi’s hands were shaking – shaking so hard he couldn't keep his fingers curled around the bottle, and Ryuichi took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He didn’t feel any different, except for the cold in his stomach starting to spread out into his entire torso, and the room started spinning – spinning, spinning, spinning – and Ryuichi pushed himself to his feet, stumbling as he slid out from behind his seat, and he fell against the wall as he staggered towards his bedroom, arms waving for balance. Ryuichi shook his head, squinting as he tried to make out the doorknob on his bedroom door, and he finally managed to get into his bedroom, tripping over some dirty laundry before falling onto his bed.

Ryuichi closed his eyes, feeling like he had just gotten off a rollercoaster, and fell asleep immediately.

O.o o.O

“Ryuichi, are you feeling alright today?” Ryohei placed his head on Ryuichi’s forehead, trying to feel for a temperature. “You look fine. You don’t have a fever. Is something wrong?”

“Why?” Ryuichi tipped his head to the side, smiling at Ryohei. “Should something be wrong?”

“No, it’s just. You’re acting awfully strange today.” Ryohei couldn’t quite meet Ryuichi’s eyes as he spoke, and hoped that Ryuichi wouldn’t notice that he was saying less than he wanted to.

“Am I?” Ryuichi laughed. “I think I’m normal. Am I not supposed to be like this?”

You’re acting like you used to, Ryohei wanted to say, but he would sooner lie than say something like that, which was exactly what he did. “No, you’re exactly the way you’re supposed to be.” He gave Ryuichi a weak grin.

“Then why do you ask if something’s wrong?” Ryuichi smiled at him, turning his head sideways to look at Ryohei out of the corners of his eyes. “Are you trying to trick me?”

“What? No.” Ryohei shook his head and tried to laugh. “No, I’m not planning anything.”

“I know you. Don’t think you can fool me.” Ryuichi crossed his arms, giving a mock-glare. “Did you get together with Keita or something? I’m not going to be tricked, you know.”

“What? Why? Did Keita say something?”

“No, he’s just been giving me strange looks all morning. In fact, both of you are being strange today.”

“Really?” Ryohei gave a weak laugh. “You’re probably just imagining it.”

“Hmm. Okay.” Ryuichi reached for his magazine, flipping back to the page he was at.

Ryohei suddenly couldn’t quite stand to be so close to Ryuichi, and so stood up, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “So, um. I think I’m going to get something to drink. You want anything?”

Ryuichi looked up. “Nah, I think I’m good.”

“I’ll be quick,” Ryohei said.

“Not like they’re going to be done any time soon,” Ryuichi said, nodding over to where a makeup artist was applying more powder to Keita’s face as the photographer shouted instructions at his assistants.

“Um. Yeah, whatever.” Ryohei walked away quickly, eyebrows knotting into a frown.

Ryuichi was a good actor, Ryohei knew, but even he had given up trying to act after the first week, all after which the hurt and betrayal had been clear in his eyes. What was the point of acting again now? It wasn’t going to make things any less strained between the three of them, and it certainly wasn’t going to improve matters between Ryuichi and Keita any more.

Ryohei would have liked to think that Ryuichi had decided to get over Keita, but that seemed a highly unlikely possibility, seeing as Ryohei had only seen Ryuichi the night before, and Ryuichi hadn’t even mentioned anything of the sort. In fact, Ryuichi had spoken very little all of last evening after he returned from dinner, watching the people around them with a detached calm that had rather unnerved Ryohei, who had in turn been watching him.

Looking over his shoulder, Ryohei saw Keita go over to Ryuichi and say a few words as the assistants hurriedly changed a light bulb that had gone off. Ryuichi’s smile was light, his eyes clear, and his laugh easy – in contrast, Keita’s grin was strained and his eyes shaded as they had been for the past few months, but even more so at Ryuichi’s relaxed countenance.

Ryohei sighed, and turned back, unable to watch anymore.

O.o o.O

Two weeks later, it was pretty much obvious to all those in constant close proximity to Ryuichi that something was wrong, but no one, other than Ryohei on the first day, had dared to ask Ryuichi what was going on.

“Is he on drugs?”

“What?” Ryohei blinked at their manager, who sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Look, you and I both know what’s been going on, and the way things have been for the past few months. But look at him now – he’s – he’s happy again.”

“And is there something wrong with being happy?” Ryohei asked, instantly on the defensive for Ryuichi.

“Of course not. Not when it’s natural, of course. But Ryohei-kun, you can’t ignore the fact that it was an overnight change, and a radical one, too. One’s natural conclusion is drugs.” Their manager shrugged before sighing again.

“Ryuichi’s not on drugs,” Ryohei said firmly. “He resisted when the pain was fresh and strongest, and there would be no reason for him to get into them now.”

“But what if he decided he was sick of living with the pain?” their manager countered. “It doesn’t matter if the pain is fresh or old, or how strong it is. It’s there, all the same. And the difference in this situation is that Ryuichi has to be so close to Keita everyday, all day, sometimes for the full twenty-four hours. You must accept that –”

“I will accept nothing,” Ryohei said, “except for belief in Ryuichi’s character.”

“If you say so,” the manager said, pursing his lips.

Two days later, the three of them were given a random drug test, and Ryohei almost threw the cup with his urine in it at their manager, but resisted when he saw how nonchalant and relaxed Ryuichi was and decided finally that no, that was not the behaviour of a druggie.

O.o o.O

“It’s like he’s completely forgotten about you, isn’t it?”

Keita was silent, gripping his glass tightly with both hands, unable to answer.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed.” Ryohei’s gaze was unwavering and determined. “I have.”

“What does it matter if I’ve noticed?” Keita tried to laugh.

“Stop with the fucking act,” Ryohei snapped, and Keita’s lips pressed tightly together until they formed a hard line. “It matters to you, and both of us know it.”

“You should start minding your own fucking business.”

“And you should start growing some fucking balls.”

Keita glared, but did not reply.

Ryohei sighed, some of the tension in his shoulders melting away. “I’m just worried. And I know you are, too.”

“How could we help if we don’t know what’s wrong with him?”

“I think his behaviour is a good starting point. Don’t you think so? The people he hangs out with – the places he goes…”

“You know he’s been with a different group since…” Keita cleared his throat.

“Yeah, but now he’s back with the old crowd again, acting as if nothing had ever happened.”

“Not just with his friends,” Keita muttered, raising his glass to his lips, the ice cubes inside clinking against each other.

“With you,” Ryohei said. “With you especially.”

Keita didn’t say anything.

“Look, if you want to mend things between you two, maybe this is your chance.”

“There are no more chances,” Keita said curtly.

“I don’t believe it,” Ryohei said defiantly. “There are always more chances. That’s the privilege we’re given as humans. We have choices. We always have more chances.”

“Choice, yes. But sometimes our choices leave us with no more chances.” Keita slammed his drink down onto the bar, sliding out of his seat. “It’s late, I’m going home.”

Ryohei just looked at him for a brief moment. “Alright. Do whatever you want.” He turned back to his drink.

Keita blinked at Ryohei, completely not expecting Ryohei to give up so easily. “Right,” he said. “Right, I’m going home.”

Ryohei ignored him, and Keita spun on his heel to leave, a flash of anger bubbling up inside him before disappearing just as quickly.

The night air was chilly outside, and Keita drew his arms around himself as he flagged down a taxi. It wasn’t until about ten minutes later that he realised the taxi driver had the radio tuned onto one of those creepy late-night channels that spoke of the supernatural and the like.

“Equal exchange,” said a voice. “This is the basic principle of alchemy.”

“But how do you measure the immeasurable?” said a second voice. “How do you measure emotions, feelings?”

“That is why you must not dabble in the imprecise. Stick to cold, hard, material goods.”

“I do not believe that is the case. They cannot be measured against others, but they can be compared within themselves,” the second voice argued. “One cannot measure happiness, but one can compare a greater happiness to a lesser one.”

“Then the basic principles governing the use of alchemy would be –”

The taxi driver pressed a button. “Fucking freaks,” he muttered.

“What, alchemists?” Keita spoke up.

“I beg your pardon, sir?” The taxi peered into the rear view mirror to look at Keita.

“Alchemists? You think they’re freaks?”

“Well, yes, sir.”

“Why?”

“Well, no offence, sir,” the driver said, casting Keita a rather anxious look.

Keita laughed. “No worries. I’m not an alchemist. I’ve never really heard about it before either.”

“Well, sir, alchemy is…witchcraft, in my opinion. It’s not really like how it is in the comic books, sir, where they put things back together and stuff. They – they create. That’s what they do. They don’t fix. They create.” The taxi driver shook his head. “Things like that aren’t meant to be meddled with.”

“Is that so?” Keita frowned, pursing his lips. “Could they create love potions?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Wouldn’t that be against the laws of nature?”

“It’s a loophole, sir. They create, but they can be unlocked and undone.”

“How?”

The taxi driver shrugged. “Who knows, sir? I’m just a taxi driver after all.”

“…Right.” Keita suddenly felt ridiculous, and gave the nice man a rather large tip when they finally arrived at his apartment complex.

O.o o.O

“Really, I don’t understand what you’re looking for.” Ryuichi frowned, sprawled out length-wise on his sofa, flipping through the television mindlessly as Keita puttered around his living room, looking under cushions and tables and inside drawers. “Are you sure you left – what is it you left, actually? Are you sure you left it here?”

“It’s – I’m sure it is,” Keita said, going through Ryuichi’s stacks of mail on a shelf. “It’s at your flat, really.”

“Well,” Ryuichi said, stretching his arms behind his head. “If it’s here I’m sure you’ll find it. I haven’t cleaned since – well, ever, really.” He laughed, and Keita paused. It still struck him each time he heard it exactly how long it had been since he had heard Ryuichi laugh like this – so freely, so easily, so lightly, as if he had not a care in the world – not a care, that is, until Keita had happened along.

“Hey,” Keita said, leaning over the back of the sofa to speak to Ryuichi. “Could I look in your rooms?”

“Sure.” Ryuichi waved a careless hand. “The worst thing you’ll find is porn, I’m sure, so feel free.”

“Great.” Keita flashed him a grin, heading for Ryuichi’s bedroom instantly.

The room was a mess as per usual, with clothes and books and sheets of music littering every available surface, and Keita carefully picked his way through dozens of pairs of shoes, and the occasional sock, to Ryuichi’s desk.

Two seconds later, he was pretty sure that whatever he was looking for probably wasn’t going to be anywhere near Ryuichi’s desk, which was covered in a layer of dust so thick it was visible to the naked eye.

Keita tried to look under Ryuichi’s bed, but it was worse than the desk, so he gave up completely and decided to head towards the closet. He opened it, pushed aside a few jackets, and was met with –

Shelves of pornography.

Keita raised his eyebrows. Ryuichi certainly hadn’t been lying when he said Keita would find porn. Suddenly curious as to the sort of porn Ryuichi had, Keita picked a random magazine off the top of the stack, flipping it to where the page was the most wrinkled – whichever hot pinup hunk on it was obviously one of Ryuichi’s favourites.

Keita smirked. Ryuichi had pretty good taste, if he would say so himself. Keita tilted his head to the side, squinting. The man had a similar body build to Keita’s – but his muscles were less defined, probably because Keita actually did hardcore exercise, and the only hardcore anything the man did was probably gay pornographic movies. Keita hurriedly put down the magazine, suddenly imagining himself as the man in the magazine, seeing in his head Ryuichi masturbating slowly on his bed to the photograph, and Keita shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the image, which was rather hard seeing as he knew exactly what Ryuichi would look like when masturbating, with his lips parted, pink and swollen, and his cheeks flushed with blood and abdominal muscles flexing as he would –

Keita cleared his throat.

He really should just leave the porn alone, but he couldn’t really help it and reached for another magazine in the stack. And then he laughed, because he was holding an old issue of Junon in his hand. He flipped it open, wanting to know which –

Keita froze, and wished he really had just left the porn alone, because there was his own photograph staring back up at him – that glamour shot they had taken of him back when they did the “beautiful boys” issue, and it really was just one huge close-up of his face, shoulders bare to give the illusion of nakedness.

Something painful pricked inside Keita’s chest then, and Keita could feel his lungs tightening as he struggled to breathe. Because instead of suspicious stains there were dried water stains, and because the magazine had a glossy finish to all its photo pages the ink hadn’t run, even though there was still the crunchy sort of feel to the page the way paper becomes when it dries after being wet.

Keita ran his fingertips over his photo, wanting to vomit, head spinning and hands shaking, because he could see it as well – could see Ryuichi crying over the photo, could see the teardrops as they would splatter onto the shiny page and eventually soak into it.

Keita carefully replaced the magazine into the stack, and decided that whatever it was he was looking for wouldn’t be in Ryuichi’s bedroom. He slid the closet doors closed, and stood there, staring at them blankly for a few moments, blinking back the tears in his eyes and taking in deep, slow breaths to try and calm himself down.

Perhaps Ryuichi’s bathroom would be a better bet – the one attached to the master bedroom, of course, because Keita knew Ryuichi well enough to know that the bathroom outside in the flat for guests was empty except for bare essentials like soap and hand towels. And toilet paper. Sometimes.

A small smile coming to his lips, Keita opened the bathroom door, prepared for another war zone – but no, the bathroom was clean, orderly, and the white tiles sparkled in the light – everything was a stark, harsh white, and Keita quickly scanned the countertop, looking at various bottles before going through the cabinets under the sink, which stored cleaners and toilet paper and air fresheners.

Keita straightened, feeling ridiculous again. He was just thinking too much, he decided. After all, if he had never heard of alchemy, Ryuichi probably hadn’t either. And really, just because Ryohei insisted it was so, who was to say that Ryuichi had drunk some weird potion from an alchemist and suddenly became this way?

Keita went back out to the living room, sighing as he fell into a squashy armchair.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Ryuichi turned his head slightly to look at Keita.

Keita shook his head. “Maybe it’s not here after all.”

“Well…” Ryuichi sat up, brow knotted into a frown. “If you tell me what it is, I could help you look for it. Or keep an eye out for it, just in case it shows up later.”

Keita shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine. I guess – it’s not important, anyway.”

“Right.” Ryuichi rolled his eyes, a teasing smirk on his lips, and got up from his seat. “It’s getting dark,” he said, as he flipped on all the switches on the wall. “I’m getting something to eat. You want?”

Keita shook his head. “Nah. I’m just going to. Hang out for a little longer and then go home for dinner.”

“Suit yourself,” Ryuichi said, shrugging, as he disappeared behind the wall into the kitchen.

Keita sighed, tilting his head from side to side to stretch out his neck. He turned slightly in his seat to stare into Ryuichi’s display cabinet – Ryuichi, for some strange, unknown reason, had all sorts of small Swarovski crystal figurines, and he put them all into a glass case that shone spotlights onto them and made them glitter like diamonds.

There was one new addition, however, which Keita only realised after staring at it for entirely too long. He got up slowly from his seat, as if moving any quicker would make it disappear, and he walked just as slowly to the cabinet, placing one hand on the glass door.

This was it. He just knew it. He knew it – knew it because he could practically feel the remains of something extremely powerful emanating from the black crystal bottle, penetrating through the glass door and straight into him.

“Hey, Keita, what’re you looking at?” Ryuichi wandered back into the living room, holding a bowl of fried rice, settling back onto the sofa.

“Where did you get this?” Keita asked, pointing.

Ryuichi shrugged. “Dunno. I found it on my table, so I washed it out and put it on display. It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

“It’s – Ryuichi, could I –” Keita couldn’t quite find the words to ask for the bottle, but Ryuichi’s eyes were sharp and his mind sharper still.

“If you like it you could have it,” he said. “Is it what you’re looking for? It’s yours anyway, take it.”

Keita shook his head. “It’s not mine, but…could I?” He pouted slightly, and Ryuichi laughed.

“Of course you could, silly. You know I wouldn’t mind. Take whatever you want. Just not the turtle; it's my favourite.” Ryuichi changed the channel on the television and began to spoon fried rice into his mouth.

Keita opened the glass door gingerly, fingers curling around the bottle and plucking it off the shelf. He turned it over in his hands, marvelling at the handiwork of the bottle. First step (finding evidence) was done. And now came the second – finding where the bottle came from.

O.o o.O

Keita pursed his lips. “Right, so there are possibly thousands of alchemists in the city, but he’s the Alchemist?”

“That’s right.” The woman blew out a thin stream of smoke through her too-red lips. “Go to the third door of the alley behind the Chinese restaurant ‘Yung’s.’ They’ll show you the way.”

“You were supposed to show me the way,” Keita said sourly. “You and the other five million people before you.”

The woman shrugged. “Hey, the Alchemist isn’t supposed to be easy to find. That’s the point, kid. It’s to weed out those that aren’t serious – not to say that sometimes fools aren’t lucky enough to meet him.” She eyed him out of the corners of her eyes. “It’s all rumour, kid. I heard that’s how you find the Alchemist. I heard about Yung’s. I also heard about you – the kid looking for the Alchemist. Most people your age don’t get as far as me.” The woman lit up another cigarette, and Keita wanted one himself just for the nicotine rush to take away the headache pounding in his temples.

“I take it most people are older.”

“Of course,” the woman smirked. “You’re a pretty good-looking kid. Why resort to the Alchemist?”

Keita’s face closed up completely, and the woman laughed, pounding down hard onto the table with her fist.

“You know who you remind me of? This other kid that came in about a month and a half ago – he looked a bit younger than you. Maybe because he was such a tiny little thing.” The woman licked her lips. “Made you want to eat him up.”

“That’s nice,” Keita said offhandedly, turning to leave.

“He was so young. So sad.” The woman’s expression darkened then, retreating completely into herself as she put out her cigarette and lit another one up. Her eyes lowered, and her fake lashes were long and thick enough to hide her gaze from Keita. “So sad,” she whispered, and took a long, deep drag of her cigarette, hissing the smoke out as she exhaled.

Keita paused, and then turned back. “This kid, you said. My age?”

The woman shrugged. “Probably.”

“What did he look like?”

“What’s it to you?”

Keita took in a deep breath and tried not to lose his temper. “Did he say why he was looking for the Alchemist?”

“Did you tell me why you’re looking for the Alchemist?”

Keita’s hands curled into tight, shaking fists. “Why won’t you tell me anything now? You were so willing to talk just now, why won’t you talk now?”

“I told you about the Alchemist, didn’t I?” The woman smirked at him. “Run along, kid. Places like these aren’t meant for people like you. And take my advice – don’t bother looking for the Alchemist.”

“I will find him,” Keita said tightly.

The woman shrugged. “Then you will. But don’t expect anything from him.”

“You don’t know why I’m looking for him.”

“Don’t I?” The woman smirked. “Very well, then. Go to the Alchemist. He won’t solve your problems with a potion, you know. Your problem is beyond that of a potion.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Keita said, throat constricting to the extent that it actually hurt, and his eyes had narrowed into black slits on his face.

The woman shrugged and stood up from her seat at the bar, going to the back entrance of the pub. She placed one hand on the door. “I think I know a little bit. After all, the Alchemist’s own daughter couldn’t be that much worse than her father, could she?”

Keita tried to run after her, but the alley that the back entrance led to was completely empty.

O.o o.O

“You’ve been looking for me.” The old man gave the young man a toothy grin that was somewhat oddly white next to the filthiness of the old man’s appearance.

This young man wasn’t much more polite than the one before him two months ago, the Alchemist mused.

“You’re the Alchemist?” the young man asked.

The Alchemist grinned. “People call me that, yes.”

“You brew magic potions?”

“There is nothing magic about them,” the Alchemist said patiently. “My potions create illusions that can be broken. I am a magician, but it is not magic I do.”

“This comes from you?” A black crystal bottle was produced, small enough to fit completely into the palm of the young man, but still deep enough that it would hold the hypothetical potion in question.

The Alchemist nodded. “Indeed.”

“I know someone came to you – it must have been at least two months ago. A boy, my age. Do you remember him?’

The Alchemist shrugged. “My clients are all anonymous unless they wish to disclose themselves. I might have had a client two months ago. Whether the hypothetical client is or is not the one you’re asking about, I have no idea.”

“Then do you remember what this bottle stored?”

“This bottle is my trademark, not the potion’s trademark. Any of my potions could have been stored in it.”

“What sort of potions do you make?”

“What sort of potion do you want?”

“I want –” The young man stopped suddenly. “I want that feeling again. That feeling of being with that person.”

“You want a love potion then.”

“Could you brew me a hate potion?”

The Alchemist shrugged again. “If you want one.”

“Wait,” the young man said, and turned his face slightly to the side. “You said your potions could be undone. I want an antidote.”

“There are no antidotes for my potions.”

“Then how are they undone?”

“Depends on the potion. Which is the potion in question?”

“Is there one where…” The young man paused and licked his lips. “Have you ever heard of a potion that makes you forget a loved one? I mean, not forget, but just…forget you ever loved them?”

The old man paused. “Yes.”

“Does it really exist?”

“Yes.”

“Can you make it?”

“Yes.”

“Can you make a potion where the person remembers their loved one again?”

“No. That would be an antidote,” the Alchemist said before the young man could cut in. “It would not be necessary unless the potion to make them forget their loved one exists in the first place.”

“That’s – that’s…” And suddenly the young man looked that much younger, that much more boyish than his already delicate features, and he had lowered his head, shaggy fringe hiding his eyes from the Alchemist’s sharp gaze. “I need to know how to undo the potion,” he said tightly.

“Are you sure that’s the potion then?”

There was a pause. “No. But – but he – he goes around as if nothing ever happened between us.”

“He?” The Alchemist raised his eyebrows. That explained a lot.

The boy continued as if he hadn’t heard. “He laughs like he used to, and talks to me like before. I can’t – I can’t stand it anymore. I thought the silence was as bad as it could have gotten. The silence, and the looks he would give me. But this is so much worse. To have him just – acting like he never felt that way about me, I – I…”

There was a moment of silence between them, and the Alchemist lit up a cigarette. “Perhaps then you should wonder why he sought after my potion in the first place. You know what I do. The ones who told you the way also told you about me. So for him to know what I do and still to seek me out, to know how dangerous alchemy is and still to take that chance – they know a desperation so great that they know nothing else.”

“Then he did come to you? He did buy that potion from you?”

The Alchemist shrugged. “I am not saying if he was or was not my client. But you are convinced he is, and I will neither confirm nor deny it. I was just telling you the sort of clients that come to me. The clients that are, of course, serious about my goods for sale.”

“Will you not help me then?”

“I have already told you more than enough. I have told you too much.” The old man took another suck from his cigarette and flicked it to the wet, muddy ground. “Have a nice day.”

The young man gave him an unreadable look and spun on his heel, leaving the Alchemist without another word or salutation.

O.o o.O

“I’m sure it is,” Keita said. “I’m sure he bought it from the Alchemist.”

“He confirmed it?” Ryohei’s eyes were serious and the normally easy smile on his lips was completely absent.

“He said the bottle was his trademark. It has to be him.”

“What else did he say?”

“That he doesn’t do antidotes, but that the potions can still be undone.”

Ryohei frowned. “That doesn’t…wait. Never mind. It does make sense.” He nodded to himself, and Keita wished he wouldn’t feel stupid asking, because it didn’t really make any sense to him. What was the point of making something that could be undone, but refusing to make the potion that would undo it?

“So what do I do?” Keita asked, and hated feeling so goddamned helpless.

“Undo the potion.”

“How?”

Ryohei shrugged. “You were the one that met the Alchemist.”

Keita sighed. “I wish I knew what to do.”

“I looked online, you know,” Ryohei said. “Easier potions can be undone by antidotes. The more complex ones involving stuff like memory and feelings, things that can’t be measured and calculated – those are almost mythical. No one can confirm if they actually exist or not. The people that have taken it don’t remember ever having taken it. And the ones that know about it are part of a very exclusive community that would never leak any information out. That’s why the Alchemist is so secretive about his business.”

“How does that help me?”

Ryohei shrugged. “Helps if you know what you’re up against.”

“I’m not ‘up against’ anything.”

“That’s nice,” Ryohei said, inspecting his fingernails.

“I’m not!”

“That’s nice,” Ryohei said again.

Keita made an exasperated sort of noise and crossed his arms huffily, sitting back in his seat.

“Look,” Ryohei sighed. “The Alchemist said his potions could be ‘unlocked’. So there must be something that undoes what he calls the ‘illusion’. There is no antidote, so it must be something else.”

“Right,” Keita muttered, and leaned forward again, resting his elbows on his knees and covering his face with both hands. “I just…tell me what to do. Ryohei – tell me what to do.”

“I would if I could, but I can’t.”

“Bullshit.” Keita ran a hand through his hair. “You – you always know what to do. You’re supposed to be the mature, knowledgeable one.”

Ryohei shrugged. “I am, I admit it. But that doesn’t mean I should tell you what to do all the time. Don’t you think that something like this should be between yourself and Ryuichi? That – that if I help you, it’s not real and therefore we won’t be able to undo the potion?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. I just want you to tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix things. I need you to tell me – tell me…” Keita swallowed hard. “Tell me how to get my Ryuichi back,” he finished softly.

“I don’t even know why I’ve been helping you so far,” Ryohei said. “I’ll admit – the overnight way he reverted was sort of freaky. But now that I know why – now that I know for sure that he had been to the Alchemist – I feel…I feel like that’s enough for me. I don’t feel like the potion needs to be undone.”

“How could you say something like that?” Keita’s words were accusing, and his eyes all the more accusing still.

Ryohei’s lips pinched together slightly. “Keita, do keep in mind who you’re speaking to. I may have been a mere spectator in your relationship with Ryuichi, but it was more than enough for me.”

“What are you trying to say?” Keita sat up straight, gaze narrowing at Ryohei.

“What do you think?” Ryohei shot back, and stood up. “I think I should go. I don’t want to argue with you about your relationship with Ryuichi. It’s none of my business. And what you do now is none of my business. I really think you should just leave things the way they are now.”

Keita stood up as well, glaring down at Ryohei. “You don’t understand anything. What Ryuichi is now – it’s not him.”

“Of course it’s still him. He’s still Ryuichi. All that’s happened is that he’s forgotten you, Keita. And I really think that’s for the best.”

Keita could only turn his back to Ryohei in stony silence, and he could hear Ryohei sigh.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at work,” Ryohei said, and let himself out of Keita’s flat.

Keita’s fists clenched together as soon as he heard his front door close. How could Ryohei understand? How could anyone understand? Things weren’t supposed to be this way. Nothing was supposed to be this way. This wasn’t the way he wanted it, which he knew was an extremely self-centred thought, but that was the way things always had been.

For as long as Keita could remember, he had been selfish, and the people around him had always let him, for as long as he could remember. At some point in his childhood he realised how self-absorbed he was, but he had never cared about it, never thought to change it either because he got what he wanted and that had always been good enough. And then there had been Ryuichi.

Ryuichi, who was so sweet and loving and caring and he had cared about Keita more than anyone else around him ever had because Ryuichi had been the only person ever to ask Keita not to be so selfish. Keita still remembered the exact words that Ryuichi had used. “Please try not to be so selfish,” Ryuichi had said. “It’s okay to be so. Just not too much. You’ll end up hurting the ones you love, and through that, hurt yourself.”

Keita hadn’t listened, of course, and he knew full well that they wouldn’t be in this situation if he had. Ryuichi was right, after all, because Ryuichi was always right; that was Ryuichi’s specialty – being right on everything – and Keita was hurting now, and he wished Ryuichi would know.

But it’s not enough, the voice inside him said, and Keita wished he could block his inner voice the way he could block other people’s voices, but he couldn’t, and it continued to berate him for his behaviour.

It wasn’t enough. Not anymore. You knew he was hurting before, and you rejoiced in it – rejoiced in it, you bastard, because you hadn’t wanted him but hadn’t wanted anyone else to have him either and to have him hurting meant that he was still yours and even though it hurt to see Ryuichi like that, Ryuichi’s feelings for you had always been your one security.

But it’s just not enough anymore.

And Keita needed to fix it, because he was the one that created the mess in the first place.

O.o o.O

Keita had seen it on television before – people would lose their memory (usually it would be amnesia from a terrible traffic accident) and their significant other would say something or do something and trigger the return of their memories. It was really quite simple, really.

“Hey, Ryuichi.”

“What is it?” Ryuichi tossed away the little paper cup that he had just been drinking from.

“I need to tell you something.” Keita’s hands started pulling at the hem of his shirt, a nervous habit that would intensify the more nervous he got until he would be twisting it up in bunches around his waist.

“What is it?” Ryuichi asked again, waiting patiently as Keita continued to fidget.

“I, uh…” Keita looked around them nervously. “Let’s go somewhere a bit more private.”

Ryuichi looked around them too. “There really isn’t any place private,” he said. “Is it something secret?”

“It’s…not secret, exactly, but – but important. I just, you know, don’t want people to hear.”

“Hm, okay then. We could…see if they have a spare room in the building.” They were at yet another photo shoot, and it was Ryohei’s turn at the camera right now. Keita followed Ryuichi out of the large studio that they were shooting in, and down a long white corridor with absolutely no doors.

“There isn’t anything here,” Keita said, feeling somewhat miserable now, and Ryuichi glanced behind him with a small smile.

“Well, I guess you could tell me here.” Ryuichi looked up and down the corridor. “There isn’t anyone here.”

“I guess.” Keita scratched behind his ear and sniffed as he gazed at Ryuichi, head lowered shyly.

“What is it?”

“Ryuichi…I just wanted to tell you something.”

A few seconds of silence later, Ryuichi raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Um. I love you.”

Ryuichi blinked at him. “Oh.” He gave a somewhat confused smile. “I love you too?”

“Like, love you sort of love you,” Keita explained.

“Um.” Ryuichi looked away, blushing slightly. “I don’t know, then. You’re my best friend, I…just never thought about it. I don’t know.”

“Oh. Then. Um. Okay.”

And then Keita ran back off to the photo shoot and tried to avoid Ryuichi for the rest of the day, even though it was sort of difficult during the group shots.

O.o o.O

It was supposed to have worked, damn it. Keita was supposed to tell Ryuichi that he loved him, and Ryuichi was supposed to get his memory back and then things could go back to the way before – but then again, was Ryohei right? Should things go back to the way they were before? Before the potion?

Keita was sprawled out on his sofa again, one hand on his forehead, the other holding a bottle of water. He had just taken a few painkillers for his headache, which he suspected was stress-induced – the stress being, of course, Ryuichi’s response to his confession this afternoon.

Should Keita just leave Ryuichi be, and move on?

But he didn’t want to move on.

So why had he done all those things in the first place? Why had he been such an asshole, why had he done all those hurtful things on purpose, and why had he wanted Ryuichi to suffer?

Karma worked in funny ways to be sure, and Keita was certainly the one suffering now, because just being around this Ryuichi made him physically hurt – really, physically hurt, and even though he had been hurting when he did those things to Ryuichi and after Ryuichi had left him, it hadn’t quite hurt so much as it did now, a sharp pain compared to the dull one of old.

He just needed a different plan is all, no big deal. So the confession hadn’t worked – he could do something else. He could say something else. Or something.

Keita sighed, and raised his head slightly to take another sip of water.

Or something.

O.o o.O

Keita stared at Ryuichi. “Well?”

“Well what?” Ryuichi stared back at him, a deep, furious blush on his cheeks.

Keita’s hands were on Ryuichi’s shoulders, and he gripped them tighter. “Don’t you…?”

“Don’t I what?”

“Um. I don’t know,” Keita said, and started to feel rather stupid. And embarrassed.

Ryuichi lowered his head again. “Keita, about that, I don’t…I mean, I don’t think – I…”

“It’s not that, it’s…never mind,” Keita said, and ran away.

Forty-five minutes later, Ryohei climbed over the wall of the toilet stall and glared down at Keita, who was sitting on the closed toilet lid. “What do you think you were doing?” he demanded.

Keita frowned up at Ryohei, who was still hanging over the cubical wall. “It’s none of your business.”

“Ryuichi told me about it. How you practically attacked him in the dressing room.”

“I didn’t attack him.”

“You forcibly kissed him; you attacked him.”

“Well…” Keita covered his face with both hands. “I just wanted – I just want him to remember me.”

“Leave Ryuichi alone, Keita.”

“What…what did Ryuichi say to you?”

“He just told me you kissed him, and asked if you were trying to trick him because he wasn’t going to be tricked so easily.”

“I wasn’t trying to trick him.”

“I know you weren’t. The trouble is, I think what you’re trying to do is even worse.”

“How so?” Keita snarled, and glared up at Ryohei.

“You want him to remember you. That’s a thousand times worse than his idea of you playing an elaborate joke on him only to humiliate him in the end by laughing it off if and when he finally returned your ‘confession.’”

“How so?” Keita asked again, and stood up, leaning against the other wall and crossing his arms.

“Well.” Ryohei shifted around to make himself more comfortable. “Think about it. Why did he buy the potion in the first place? Why did he drink it? I was with you when you were looking for the Alchemist all those weeks. I know as well as you do how dangerous potions can be. And he still took that risk, knowing it. You know why he drank that potion. Stop being so selfish, Keita, and leave Ryuichi be.”

“I – I can’t. I can’t, don’t you understand?” Keita’s fist slammed against the cubicle wall. “I can’t have Ryuichi like this!”

Ryohei finally climbed completely over the wall, and jumped down to stand by Keita’s side. It was a tight fit inside the cubicle, and Ryohei was right in Keita’s face as he shoved him against the wall. “What the fuck do you mean you can’t have Ryuichi like this? What right to you have? What. Fucking. Right? You were the one that left him, Keita, and you’re going to have to fucking live with it.”

Keita shoved Ryohei back, and the cubicle shook as Ryohei was slammed against it. “I made a mistake, alright? Everyone makes mistakes!”

“It was no mistake you made! Did you ever love him? At all?”

“What does it matter to you?” Keita hissed back. “Unless you want him for yourself.”

Ryohei tilted his back in an incredulous laugh. “Ryuichi’s my friend. I was there for all of it, all of your shit. I can’t just stand by and watch you play him like that again.”

“I never played him,” Keita growled.

“Keita, did you ever look yourself in the mirror when you left him? Do you remember what you said, how you said it? You had two girls with you. In your flat. In the bed the two of you shared. ‘Come on, Ryuichi,’ you said then. ‘It’s just for fun.’ And do you remember what else you said? A couple days after that? ‘I didn’t know you were serious about us,’ you said. So now – now you’re serious? You can’t honestly expect anyone to believe you now.”

Keita’s lower lip trembled, and his eyes filled with tears.

“Oh, don’t pull that shit with me,” Ryohei said crossly, glaring at him.

“Don’t – stop yelling at me, okay?” Keita shouted. “I know I was wrong, okay? I feel like shit now, does that make you feel better?”

“It doesn’t matter what I feel. It just matters that you don’t get your shit all over Ryuichi again.”

“Well I know now, alright? I know what an asshole I was, but now I can’t fucking live without him!” Keita stamped the ground with his foot and then with both feet, feeling exceedingly childish but needing to vent out the frustration somehow. “I have to have him back!” he screamed. “I don’t fucking care what you think any more, I need to have him back! I fucking need to have him back!” Both fists slammed against the wall then, and Keita hit it one more before, letting out a frustrated cry before leaning his forehead against his hand, choking back a sob, sniffing back his tears.

Ryohei was silent behind him.

Keita sniffed again, and rubbed the tears from his eyes.

“Look, Keita,” Ryohei said quietly. “Just…just do whatever you want. Do whatever you want, okay? Just don’t – don’t…” He sighed. “You have to be prepared for the possibility that even if you get Ryuichi’s memories back, he might not want to be with you again.”

“I don’t care,” Keita said stiffly. “I don’t care. I’d rather have that, than have him not remember me that way at all. I don’t care, do you get it?”

“Then do you get why you shouldn’t mess with Ryuichi now? Why you shouldn’t undo the potion? He would rather forget. He would rather risk his fucking life than to remember. Just think about that. Just think about how much of himself he put on the line when he drank that potion, and why you shouldn’t be messing around with him now.” Ryohei slid open the lock on the cubicle door and left the bathroom, leaving Keita to slump against the wall and slide down until he was crouching on the floor, trying to stifle his dry, hiccupping sobs.

O.o o.O

“So…” Ryuichi fidgeted nervously. “Look, Ryohei told me about your trick. He was covering for you at first, but I made him tell.”

“Trick?” Keita blinked at him. “What trick?”

“The one where you pretend to like me and then after I confess to you, you broadcast the recording of my confession over the sound system at the studio so the entire company will hear it.” Ryuichi’s head was lowered, and Keita couldn’t see his face at all.

“That wasn’t why I asked you to come over,” Keita said. “And I don’t want you to say anything to me. You don’t need to confess.”

“What?” Now it was Ryuichi’s turn to be confused, and he glanced up at Keita before ducking his head down again when their eyes met.

“Ryohei was mistaken.”

“Ryohei wouldn’t lie to me,” Ryuichi said, and just from his voice Keita could tell he was frowning.

“Look, I really – I really…” Keita sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I just wanted to tell you something.”

“Again?”

“I…” Shit, how was he supposed to say it? “This might sound very strange to you, but…”

“Yes?” Ryuichi looked up, and just as Keita thought, Ryuichi was frowning rather seriously.

“I understand.” Keita swallowed hard. “Why you did it, like.”

“I don’t know what you’re –”

“Just – just let me finish.” Ryuichi fell silent, and Keita continued after clearing his throat. “I understand why you did it,” he repeated. “And I’m sorry.” And then tears were blurring his vision and Ryuichi was looking so confused and Keita pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, and he couldn’t believe he was losing his composure like this even though he’d practised in front of a mirror all of last night.

Ryuichi tilted his head to the side, still confused, and Keita choked back a sob and continued.

“It’s ridiculous of me to expect – expect anything because – and I learned my lesson. I – I’ll let you leave me, however much I wish you would come back. I wish you’d remember. I just…wish you’d remember.”

Ryuichi’s voice was faint when he finally spoke. “Keita, I don’t feel well.”

“I…what?” Keita looked up, and Ryuichi was bent over, hand on his head, and he went to kneel on the floor next to Ryuichi, who was sitting on the sofa. “What’s wrong?”

“I feel. Dizzy. Nauseous. I want to – I don’t feel well,” Ryuichi said in a tiny voice.

“Lie down a bit. Here, come on, just shift back a bit.” Keita helped Ryuichi move into a more comfortable position on the sofa, and lifted Ryuichi’s legs onto it. He brushed Ryuichi’s fringe back from his forehead, which was screwed up in a painful expression.

Suddenly, Ryuichi’s eyes blinked open. “Bastard,” he hissed at Keita. “You want me in pain again?”

Keita’s eyes were wide as he gaped at Ryuichi. “No – no, I…I…”

Ryuichi squirmed, rolling over onto his side and cradling his head in his hands. “I don’t feel well, Keita,” he moaned. “Everything’s spinning. Too fast. Keita – Keita…”

“Ryuichi? Oh god, what’s wrong?” Keita’s hands stroked Ryuichi’s side and arms and back and hair and he didn’t know what to do, as if touching Ryuichi would mean he could find what the matter was.

“Keita,” Ryuichi moaned again, and there were tears sliding out of the corners of his eyes as he squirmed some more. “Help me, Keita.”

“Tell me what to do, oh god, tell me what to do.” Keita felt frantic, a nauseating lump of worry knotted tightly into his gut, and Ryuichi shoved him away with one fling of his arm.

“Get away from me!” Ryuichi shouted. “I’ll never believe you ever again! Liar!”

“Ryuichi – what…” Had it worked? Had Keita finally said something – done something – to undo the potion? What had he done? What did he say? “Please, Ryuichi, don’t scare me like this…”

“Stop it,” Ryuichi groaned, turning his face into the cushions of the sofa. “Stop it, god, please stop it.”

Keita went back to Ryuichi’s side. “Hold on, Ryuichi. Just…hold on.”

“Why do you want me back?” Ryuichi asked, and his eyes were wide and shining with tears that overflowed onto his cheeks. “It hurt so much, I’m never coming back.”

Keita shook his head. “No, I understand. I do. I just wish you would. I just wish you would, Ryuichi,” he repeated, and Ryuichi was crying as he gritted his teeth and arched his back and flung his head to the side. “I love you. I do. It’s okay if you don’t remember anymore if you remember it now. Go. It’s okay. It really is.”

“I’m never coming back,” Ryuichi said again, and then closed his eyes and lay down on the sofa. “Keita, make it stop,” he whimpered, and Keita stroked Ryuichi’s hair and pressed a kiss to his sweaty brow.

“It’s okay,” Keita whispered. “It’ll be okay soon. Just hold on a little bit more.”

“I…Keita,” Ryuichi murmured, and even though he was still grimacing, he was already starting to relax.

“Shh. That’s it. Relax. Get some rest.”

“Keita…” Ryuichi’s breathing evened out, and Keita knew he was falling asleep. “Keita…”

Keita bit down hard on his bottom lip as he watched Ryuichi sleep. “Goodbye, Ryuichi.”

O.o o.O

Ryuichi woke up, and knew it was all over.

He pushed himself up to a sitting position, and the comforter that was draped over him pooled around his hips. He looked around the empty living room, and then stared down into his lap.

It was over. For nothing. The Alchemist didn’t sell this type of potion twice to the same person, and Ryuichi had already used his chance.

There was some noise coming from the kitchen, and Ryuichi guessed that was where Keita was. He stood up slowly, limbs stiff and tired, and stretched out his neck. He walked over to the kitchen door, which was closed, and he opened it.

Keita was at the stove, stirring something, and he jumped at the sound of the door opening, spinning around, spatula in one hand, and sizzling sauce splattering onto the floor between them. “Ryuichi,” he gasped, and then gave a weak smile. “You scared me.” He turned back to the pot he was stirring, and Ryuichi inspected the splatter drops on the floor.

“You’re making spaghetti?”

“Yeah, well.” Keita turned to give him a brief grin. “You weren’t feeling well earlier, so I thought I’d make something hot for you to eat when you woke up. Are you feeling any better now?”

“I wasn’t feeling well?” Ryuichi frowned. His memory seemed sort of vague, like a dream, and the more he tried to remember, the more he couldn’t.

“Are you still dizzy? Nauseous? You should sit down outside and wait for me. Are you hungry now?” Keita stirred faster, and Ryuichi stared at Keita’s shaking hand.

“I’ll sit outside then. Do you want me to set the table?”

“No, that’s fine.” Keita laughed, and Ryuichi blinked at Keita’s strange behaviour. “I can handle a couple plates and forks.”

“Okay.” Ryuichi closed the door and went to sit at Keita’s dining table.

Ryuichi had no idea how long he had been sitting there, with his hands folded on the tabletop, staring down at the grainy varnished wood, and the same old hurt and pain seemed to drown his brain of all senses.

“I wanted to make you something nicer, but pasta’s quick and easy and I have a lot of it so…” Keita came out from the kitchen and set down a plate in front of Ryuichi before sitting down across from him with his own portion. “So, rehearsal today was tough, right? I’d never seen Ohji so pissed off before.” Keita laughed again, and Ryuichi poked at the pasta. “Is the food not good? Do you want something else?”

Ryuichi looked up, startled out of his stupor. “Oh, no. It’s good.” He took a bite, and it really wasn’t bad. Especially considering that Keita never used to cook before.

“Are you still not feeling well? Maybe you should take another nap.”

Ryuichi shook his head. “I feel fine right now. Just a bit tired.”

“That’s good.” Keita’s grin was shaky.

A few minutes of silence passed by, and Ryuichi couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Keita, look at me.”

Keita looked up with a smile plastered onto his face. “What is it?”

Ryuichi shook his head. “Look at me, Keita. Be a man and look at me.”

Keita finally looked at Ryuichi, and Ryuichi stared back.

“Look what you’ve done to me again.”

Keita lowered his eyes. “So I really did it.”

“Why?”

“I…” Keita shook his head. “I needed to. Something inside of me. I needed to have you back.”

Ryuichi’s fork clattered onto his plate and he leaned back in his seat, tilting his head back and covering his eyes with a hand. “I can’t take this any more.”

Keita didn’t reply, and Ryuichi didn’t say anything else. “I meant what I said.”

“You said a great many things.”

“I mean – when – when – just when you were between getting your memory back. I love you. And – and you don’t have to come back to me.” Keita’s voice hitched, and Ryuichi faced Keita again. “You didn’t have to do anything anymore. I just – I just wished you would remember. I just wished it.”

Ryuichi sighed and leaned his elbows on the table, covering his face with both hands before sliding his fingers into his hair. “You unlocked the potion,” he said dully, and Keita shifted in his seat.

“I – I guess I did. I’m not too sure what it was I did or what I said or…” Keita licked his lips. “I didn’t mean to. I really didn’t mean to.”

“That’s the secret to it,” Ryuichi said. “You have to let go.”

“Oh.”

“But I can’t,” Ryuichi said. “I can’t let go of the past.”

Keita swallowed hard. “I – I know.” It was what he had been expecting after all, even though there had still been that slight glimmer of hope that maybe – just maybe – Ryuichi would remember and Keita would be so much more suave than he was being now and Ryuichi would fall into his arms and life would be good again.

“But I also can’t – I can’t…” Ryuichi swallowed. “The Alchemist told me – he told me…”

“What did he tell you?’

Ryuichi shook his head. “It sounds pretty lame. And corny. But…” He fell silent, and Keita gazed at him again from lowered eyes. Ryuichi was just looking back at Keita, and Keita couldn’t help the words that burst from his mouth.

“Please, let’s try again.”

Ryuichi blinked at him. “I don’t know.”

“Please. Really. For the last, I don’t know, three months, I – I really have changed. Well, not so much changed as realised.”

Ryuichi didn’t reply, but he could tell from the look in Keita’s eyes, from the tone of his voice.

After a long silence, Ryuichi spoke.

“You…weren’t going to try it with me without my memories?” he asked.

“I…I couldn’t,” Keita said softly.

“It would have been a clean slate. You could have started another relationship all over again with me, and I would have had no idea.”

“No, I could only do it with you.”

Ryuichi took a deep breath. “I don’t understand.”

Keita shrugged. “It’s difficult to explain.”

“Indeed,” Ryuichi said, rather dryly.

“I just…I was being – I don’t know what I was being. Was I selfish? I need to have you remember me. You don’t – you don’t know what it was like, having you next to me every day, laughing and talking to me like nothing happened. Not that you would have known,” Keita added hastily.

Ryuichi sucked his bottom lip into his mouth briefly. “What do you want from me?”

“I want…I want…I want you to be with me again,” Keita mumbled.

Ryuichi didn’t say anything.

After a few moments, Keita finally realised he hadn’t gotten a rejection and he looked up, shocked. “Would you?”

Ryuichi still wouldn’t say anything, and took a resolute bite of the pasta that had, by now, cooled considerably.

Keita reached across the table, catching Ryuichi’s hand in his, and Ryuichi was still clutching the fork but it really didn’t matter. He smiled at Ryuichi, and Ryuichi gave a small, hesitant smile, which to Keita felt so much better than any of the mega-grins that the Ryuichi before would give him.

“I need you,” Keita said simply.

“I couldn’t forget you,” Ryuichi replied, just as simply.

“Stay with me?”

Ryuichi nodded. “Okay.”

Keita drew Ryuichi’s hand close, and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

Ryuichi said nothing, but his timid smile lost its uncertainty, and that was enough for Keita for now.

O.o o.O

Fin.