It’s a rainy night at Takeshi’s apartment, the gentle patter of raindrops on the windows blending harmoniously with the cozy ambiance inside. Takeshi’s space feels warm and inviting, filled with lush greenery. Plants hang gracefully from the ceiling, others line the entertainment center, and several more thrive on the balcony, their leaves swaying slightly in the breeze sneaking through the cracks.
Takeshi had always known he didn’t want kids, so he found joy in other forms of nurturing—his plants and his three cats. Sweet, a sleek black cat, lounged atop the arm of the couch. Chin, a chubby orange tabby, claimed the prime spot on a window sill, while Music, his tuxedo cat, sat regally on the kitchen counter, observing every movement like a self-appointed supervisor.
The mouthwatering aroma of freshly baked chicken fills the apartment as Takeshi carefully pulls the roasting pan from the oven. Beside it on the stovetop, two smaller pans hold perfectly cooked mashed potatoes and a colorful medley of glazed carrots.
“Dinner’s ready,” Takeshi calls, setting the chicken on the counter with a satisfied smile.
Takeshi takes off his oven mits and tosses them neatly toward the microwave, where they fall into another pair of oven mits. Omar excitedly jumps from the couch and runs to meet his boyfriend in the kitchen. Takeshi turns around, as his boyfriend greets him with a legated kiss. One with two meanings.
He removes his oven mitts and tosses them toward the microwave, where they land neatly atop an identical pair. From the living room, Omar Brown, his boyfriend, leaps up from the couch with the enthusiasm of someone who’s been waiting all day for this moment. Omar had been aimlessly flicking through YouBlue videos, his indecision growing with each click of the remote. He bounds into the kitchen, meeting Takeshi with a kiss, warming and lingering, its meaning as layered as the meal on the stove
Takeshi matches Omar’s lips with confidence.
Takeshi kisses back with ease, a smirk playing on his lips. “That’s one way to say thank you.”
“I gotta pay you back somehow, right?” Omar replies, his tone playful.
“You pay me back in more ways than you know,” Takeshi admits, his voice soft but sincere.
Omar raises an eyebrow. “You say that, but didn’t you just prepare an entire meal in the pouring rain, while I couldn’t even decide on a video to watch.”
“I also made brownies,” Takeshi replies, nodding toward the oven. “Ten more minutes.”
Omar grins and leans in for another kiss, this one quick but filled with gratitude. Takeshi grips the oven handle instinctively—he’s learned to anchor himself during Omar’s affectionate swoops, knowing how much his boyfriend enjoys the sensation of slightly lifting him off the ground. Despite being taller by an inch, Takeshi had always harbored a fear of heights, while Omar was a thrill-seeker at heart.
Plates in hand, the couple settles onto their plush couch, the soft cushions enveloping them in comfort. Omar picks up the remote again, resuming his quest for the perfect video.
“So,” Omar begins, scrolling through the options. “I’m torn between a video from our favorite creator or that prequel movie you said you wanted to watch—the one that ties into the series you’re obsessed with.
His sentence trails off as he notices Takeshi’s attention shift. Takeshi is staring at his phone, the faint glow of the screen reflecting in his glasses. Omar knows what he’s looking at. It’s not the news, not the weather, and definitely not another man. It’s VBL.
Omar’s grip on the remote tightens slightly. He doesn’t say anything right away, but the irritation simmers beneath the surface. He’s sick of it.
“Can you not look at your phone for one second?” Omar snapped, his voice sharp and cutting through the cozy warmth of the apartment.
The sudden shift in Omar’s tone jolted Takeshi out of his scrolling, his attention snapping to his boyfriend. His heart raced as he tried to process the unexpected outburst.
“I’m sorry, I was just checking—”
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“VBL. Yes, I know! You’re always checking VBL. Take a break for once, will you?” Omar interrupted, his frustration bubbling over.
“Omar, where is this coming from?” Takeshi asked, though his voice faltered. The question felt hollow even as he asked it; his rattled mind struggled to catch up to the moment. The last thing he wanted tonight was a fight.
“It’s coming from every single time I try to connect with you, but you’re glued to something VBL-related! New updates, new players—whatever. It’s like you’re some otaku who can’t separate real life from your stupid game!” Omar’s words came in a heated rush, his voice rising with each syllable.
Takeshi’s chest tightened, his patience wearing thin. “Let me remind you that the reason we’re able to live like this is because of that ‘stupid game,’” he said, his voice tense as his own frustration began to build. “I know I need to work on how much I look at my phone, but—”
“No. It’s not just about how much you look at your phone. Ninety percent of the time, it’s VBL! I feel like I’m competing with a video game for your attention. We can’t go on a date, eat dinner, or do anything without VBL being a part of it!” Omar’s voice cracked under the weight of his emotions.
“I have to stay updated. If I fall behind, I risk losing sponsorships. And if I lose those, then we lose this life we’ve built together!” Takeshi’s voice rose to match Omar’s. “Don’t forget it was VBL that helped support us when you didn’t have a job.”
“How dare you throw that back in my face, like I should be ashamed of it?” Omar shot back, his tone venomous.
“I’m not saying you should be ashamed! Nobody can control when life throws shit at them. But don’t hate on the thing that gave us stability when we needed it most. Without VBL, we wouldn’t have this apartment. Without those sponsorships, we couldn’t pay the rent. Am I wrong?” Takeshi demanded, his voice trembling with conviction.
“No, you’re not wrong,” Omar admitted, his anger faltering for a moment.
“Then why are you mad? I’m doing my part. I’m contributing. VBL is the only thing I feel like I’m truly good at right now, and you’re acting like it’s some curse instead of a blessing.”
“It’s not VBL that I’m mad at—it’s you,” Omar snapped. “You let it bleed into every part of your life, including my time with you! You can’t even set boundaries. Don’t act like some saint who saved me from the gutter. You were a mess when we started dating! Your parents abandoned you, and you were aimless.”
Takeshi froze. Omar’s words hit like a physical blow, the mention of his parents cutting deeper than any argument ever could.
“How fucking dare you bring my parents into this?” Takeshi’s voice broke, his anger boiling over. “You think that’s okay? Dragging up the most painful part of my life?”
“I have your attention now, don’t I? You’re not looking at your phone anymore! Is this what I have to do to get through to you?” Omar yelled, his voice shaking with emotion.
“No. That’s all you have to do to piss me the fuck off,” Takeshi shot back, his voice trembling with anger. “My parents threw me away when I tried to be myself, and now you’re mad at me for succeeding at something? Fine. If you want to bring them up, then be like them. Leave!”
The room fell silent, the weight of Takeshi’s words hanging heavily between them. Neither of them moved, neither wanting to break the tension yet both knowing what was coming.
“Fine. I will,” Omar said quietly, his voice devoid of the earlier fire.
He turned and walked to their bedroom, grabbing a backpack and shoving clothes, chargers, and other belongings into it. Takeshi stood frozen, his heart sinking as reality set in.
“… Wait,” Takeshi whispered, his voice cracking.
“No,” Omar said simply, zipping the bag shut.
“Hang on, hang on. Where are you going?” Takeshi pleaded, taking a hesitant step toward him.
“I’ll figure it out. Don’t you dare follow me,” Omar said, his voice low but firm, each word cutting like a blade.
“That’s not a real answer! Just stay—we can talk this through,” Takeshi pleaded, desperation edging into his voice.
“I’m going to a hotel. We’ve said all there is to say to each other,” Omar replied flatly, his tone devoid of warmth.
“I haven’t,” Takeshi began, but the words caught in his throat.
Before he could finish, Omar turned on his heel and stormed out of the apartment. His steps were hurried, almost frantic, and he didn’t bother to wipe the tears streaming down his face. The door slammed shut behind him, the sound reverberating through the quiet apartment like a final punctuation mark.
Takeshi stood frozen for a moment, his mind racing. Then the weight of everything hit him all at once. His legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the couch. Grabbing a pillow, he buried his face into it, muffling the heart-wrenching scream that tore from his chest.
Out in the hallway, Omar walked briskly toward the elevator, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. He jabbed the button repeatedly, each press harder than the last until his frustration boiled over, tears falling freely now, unchecked and unrelenting.
Back inside the apartment, silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by Takeshi’s uneven breaths. Slowly, he pulled the pillow away from his face, letting it slip from his grasp and tumble onto the floor.
His black cat, Sweet, leapt onto the couch, settling beside him. She curled up against his side, her warmth a small comfort amidst the storm raging inside him. Takeshi reached out and gently stroked her fur, his voice barely above a whisper.
“…I’m sorry,” he said, his words trembling, meant for no one and everyone at the same time.