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There’s a lot he’s come to regret over the years. Yet, perhaps the most ironic, is that fact he almost finds himself regretting finding his own sense of self.
There’s nothing glamorous about living for others, no matter how much love they give you or affection they shower you in.
Just like there’s also nothing fulfilling to be found when you force yourself to be an outsider, a helper, someone temporary. But as Nazuna finds breaking free of that mold… It’s harder than he thought. It’s harder than the first mindset he shook himself out of. Back then, he had no choice. It was to either sink or swim. He chose to struggle against the waves.
He was so confident, telling those two how he’d walk on his own two feet, and smile as he moved freely and without instruction. He’d given them words meant for them to do the same. To find themselves outside of each other, outside of the small world they used to slave away to maintain and hide in. To shine and learn to live for more .
Yet, there were too many times he found himself a failure. Whether it was when he let down his children, he picked a fight he couldn’t lose, or once again had to watch as the one who already broke for him to stick out his neck under the weight of opposition again.
He doesn’t know how to explain any of it to anyone. His kids are far too sheltered, (Perhaps that is his fault.), and those who know even the surface of it are far too close to understanding him for him to feel comfortable talking about it.
There's only one he finds he can consult with these feelings and worries.
(They’re far too similar. If Nazuna closes his eyes, and focuses, he can almost hear a lighter and more refined voice. He won’t see messy gray, but closely cropped pink. The harsh words become softer, but just as heavy and full of itention.)
Izumi is someone who Nazuna doesn’t really consider a natural fit in the group of people he sees as friends. They didn’t really gravitate to each other until after the war. Sure, they shared a club, but considering the state of things… Both were too caught up in their own power struggles and troubles.
(Nazuna can taste something bitter on his tongue when he thinks about their different outcomes in those struggles. He never wants to imply Izumi didn’t suffer or experience loss, but it almost makes him want to scream. He sees Izumi next to the person he’s always cared for and he feels-)
Yet they almost hit it off immediately. Izumi is rude, has a terrible attitude, and isn’t afraid to mock or criticize Nazuna. Likewise, he doesn’t hesitate to insult him or scold him when he steps out of line. They spend far too much time exchanging words back and forth that he is equal parts delighted and confused by.
It’s the first time he feels he totally let himself shine through without the expectation the other person is either going to write him off, see him as strange, or take everything with delight.
(It was thrilling, back then, how Itsuki would take everything he did as some god-given miracle or blessing. Sure, he would treat him similarly to how others would at first, but it was sincere. And he didn’t stop once he let himself act out. He doesn’t want to think of how it became stifling, though. How it became too much.)
So, they talk. They hang out. Sometimes they check up on each other through text when things get busy or hectic. By all means: They’re normal high school friends.
Of course, that doesn’t mean things don’t escalate eventually.
Nazuna forces Izumi to stay behind after club practice once, helping him sort out supplies in lieu of a verbal scolding for his attitude earlier. While he’s gifted on stage, he can admit quite easily that even he can trip over nothing while just going about his day.
Izumi is quick to catch him, hands wrapping around his waist and pulling him back up right. There’s something prickling under his skin at the feeling of it. He can’t really pinpoint the exact reason why. All he knows is that two days later, when Izumi catches him alone, he isn’t the only one affected.
If he was a bit more bashful, he would use more flowery language to describe what they did. Or if had more tact, he would simply brush it off. Maybe if he still had some hope for romance in his life, he would see it as a build-up for something more.
All he really ends up thinking is: Sena Izumi is a pretty good fuck.
(Alright, he’s more than pretty good. He’s amazing. Not that he has a wealth of experience to compare it to.)
There’s far too many close calls they find. While Izumi would throw a fit if Nazuna even thought of leaving a mark, much less someone visible, there’s been too many times he finds himself grimacing as his concealer starts to rub off from one of the many hickeys he’s begun to sport. His kids are far too perceptive. Bug bites are a cheap excuse, and don’t work once the weather gets cold, and he’s not exactly eager to explain this to his more naive juniors.
The only negative to this arrangement would be the feelings that come with it.
It’s a cliche, the person you start fucking with no strings attached suddenly becomes far more important than you can imagine.
Nazuna could live with that. His feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated, sure. But it would be welcome considering what his actual feelings were.
He begins to dream of towering presences. Of elegance so unlike the brash nature of the person he ends up falling into.
Maybe he should have seen this coming. As much as he pushes those thoughts away, Izumi has always reminded him of Itsuki in a way. It’s not surprising he would begin to think of him again.
But he’s far away. Farther than he ever was. The first time Nazuna truly sits and thinks ‘I want him to hold me’, it’s when it’s no longer possible. He’s sure he’ll move on, find someone new, and Nazuna will be left reaching for the person he used to take for granted.
So, instead, he reaches for the one who is near him. Who he can grab during free periods and drag into an empty closet, and kiss him so aggressively he complains in their brief gasps of air.
His complaints mean nothing to him. Because the one he’s looking at isn’t him. Maybe he knows, maybe he doesn’t. Izumi never brings up the fact he never responds outside when he needs to consent, doesn’t even flinch when Nazuna almost says a different name.
(Nazuna doesn’t say anything when Izumi does say another name once. He almost feels bad for him. It’s much harder dealing with unreturned love when the person you love is constantly by your side. He doesn’t acknowledge it just like Izumi doesn’t apologize. It works.)
It’s almost funny how he exchanges one unbalanced relationship for another. But he can’t find it himself to regret it. The sex takes his mind of off the many stressors of leading a bunch of first years, and it’s not like Izumi wasn’t an active participant. He was just as bad as him. Nazuna was sure he was also seeing someone different, almost brushing past every defining feature that made him unique, to focus on what he could level as who he really wanted.
They were both messes.
Maybe that’s why they came to understand each other on a level he didn’t want to admit too.
And the mess naturally sorts itself out when one of them finds what they were truly looking for.
Nazuna is casual when he waves off Izumi’s insincere apology. He can’t be mad or disappointed. He’s happy that even if it took them graduating and planning to move across the ocean, the two ended up together in the end. Izumi deserves someone who won’t use him as a replacement. Not that Nazuna was deeply emotionally invested enough to take it any farther than casual sex.
It still disorients him. He feels like a kid, wanting to scream how unfair it was that their friend got the present they always wanted while they were left filling their wants with replacements and off-brands.
Man… he’s become rather cruel, hasn’t he?
When he first enters college, he throws himself into his studies. He doesn’t risk hooking up with anyone, the thought of someone outside of his specific sphere getting access to a vulnerable side of him that’s all too easy to use as blackmail makes him shiver.
The saving grace of the situation is that Itsuki is also on the other side of the world right now. Had Izumi left, left with the one he truly liked, and Nazuna was forced to even exist near Itsuki with no outlet-... Well, he was sure he would go crazy.
That doesn’t stop the nerves underneath his skin from crawling every time he gets a new message, hears the ringtone he picked out specifically for him, is reminded that the person he willingly left behind a year ago is now reaching out for him again.
It’s this ringtone that feels him with a nauseating amount of relief and dread, as he picks it up when it’s far too late here for anyone but cramming college students to pick.
He takes a deep breath, and he greets the person he would run away from only to desperately chase as soon as he was out of sight.