The Story of Our Feelings

That one time… It had been a long time since then, but both Alan and Keith still remembered it vividly, despite the fact that neither of them had been entirely sober. They had just landed jobs at Primavera after a long, exhausting search in a Tokyo that felt completely alien to them. To celebrate their new beginnings, they’d headed back to the rented apartment they shared. As glass after glass disappeared, Keith felt a growing dizziness but, watching Alan seemingly unaffected by the alcohol, decided to keep it to himself. He’d never drunk so much before but wanted to give it a try. Alan had been so convincing, and for the first time in a long while, Keith felt an incredible sense of hope. It seemed their lives were finally starting to turn around. “You'll see, bro,” Alan declared cheerfully, “everything's gonna be great now! We'll make a ton of money and definitely figure out how to survive in this new world. It's a good thing places like Primavera still exist in Japan.” “Definitely,” Keith agreed, leaning back in his chair and studying his friend thoughtfully. “But... don't you think we're kind of stuck in this whole thing?” “Huh? What do you mean?” “We keep killing people,” Keith replied quietly, his gaze distant. “To survive.” Alan's smile vanished instantly. In the sudden silence, the ticking of the wall clock seemed too loud, and the steady passage of seconds felt unbearably slow. “Don't talk like that, as if it's the same thing,” Alan finally broke the silence, shaking his head as if to dispel some vision. “In the war, we didn't even know what we were fighting for. But now... we know what it's all for.” “Yeah, right,” Keith chuckled, “to make as much money as possible and make a name for ourselves.” “Of course,” Alan nodded, “but I'm talking about what their Madame promises. I like that idea. Maybe we can... eventually serve our countrymen.” “You believe that?” Keith snorted, swirling the liquid in his glass and absently examining its contents. “Yeah. You know, these guys seem trustworthy for some reason.” “Heh. Who knows...” Keith downed the rest of his drink in one go, then set the glass on the table. Alan emptied his glass at the same time. “And then, we still need to sort out our personal lives, find ourselves a girl,” he mused dreamily. “Can you imagine, I've never even dated a girl.” “You're telling me,” Keith replied with a smirk. He hadn't had any experience with girls either, but unlike his friend, he wasn't bothered by it at all. The thought of a relationship with a hypothetical girl didn't evoke any joyful emotions in him. “Oh, yeah, you too...” Alan gave his friend a mysterious smile, scanning him from head to toe before saying, “Well, then we both have that ahead of us. We can finally build our lives the way we want, bro, and we should live it to the fullest!” “I'm not interested,” Keith shrugged indifferently. “You live your life however you want.” “You say that because you don't know what it's like,” Alan lectured. “As soon as you have a girlfriend, you'll realize that's all you've been missing this whole time.” Keith laughed. “How would you know?” “I've heard a lot.” They spent the rest of the day and into the evening that way, drinking and talking about whatever came to mind. At one point, Keith got up from his chair to move to the bed—they were drinking right in the bedroom, which served as his room—but stumbled, feeling especially dizzy, and grabbed the table they were sitting at. “Oh, buddy, you should probably stop,” Alan said, watching his friend's sorry state. Keith waved him off. “I'm fine. Pour me another.” Alan snorted but didn't argue. He filled Keith's glass once more. Keith took it and walked over to his bed, settling comfortably on it and propping himself up on the pillow. “Hey, Alan.” “Yeah?” “So, you say you believe in Primavera... that they can change something in this country.” “Mm-hmm.” “When do you think that's going to happen?” The guy paused in thought. “Probably not anytime soon,” he finally answered honestly. “We'll be lucky if we live to see it.” A shadow immediately crossed Keith's face. He said nothing, simply taking another sip from his glass. “You understand how bad things are right now, don't you?” For some reason, Alan felt the need to explain, as if trying to justify his answer that had upset his friend. “It's going to take a long time just to provide our people with a relative level of material well-being. And overcoming the hatred between people will take even longer.” “Yeah, right,” Keith muttered gloomily, setting his glass down on the bed beside him. “I doubt that hatred will ever disappear.” He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, staring blankly at a single point. Alan, not knowing what to say to that, finished his drink and reached for the bottle again. “I hate,” Keith whispered viciously. “Whom?” Alan asked without enthusiasm, stopping just in time to avoid spilling the wine. “Our senior officers, who did nothing but boss us around. Our leadership, who sent us to war without having the slightest idea of our abilities, let alone why that war was even necessary... And those of our countrymen who supported all of this and now turn their noses up at people like us. I hate all of them. I hate everything that happened.” Keith's voice began to tremble, his tone shifting from aggressive to hysterically strained. “Why did this have to happen to us? For whose damn ambitions did we have to pay? For what noble goals... did my whole family have to die?” His fragile, cold-blooded mask shattered, and tears streamed down his cheeks—Alan managed to see it before Keith buried his face in his knees. “Keith... You're mostly right, but our families didn't suffer because of the war. The earthquake would have happened anyway.” “Yeah,” his friend whimpered, his head drooping. “But if I had been with them then, I would have... died with them. It would have been better that way.” Those words struck something deep within Alan, making him unexpectedly feel offended. Of course, he had also grieved the loss of his loved ones, but he had never considered sharing their fate. If that had been the case, he would probably have shot himself in the prisoner-of-war camp instead of trying so hard to get out alive. And he had dragged Keith along with him, but... maybe Keith had never wanted to be saved? “Don't say that, Keith,” he said after a few agonizing seconds of silence, hearing his own weak, uncertain voice with disgust. “I don't think your family would be happy to hear you say that.” “Of course they wouldn't,” Keith replied barely audibly, still hiding his face. “Maybe, at the last moment, they were glad I was far away from those places, and hoped that at least I would survive...” His speech broke off with a sob, but then he fell silent, as if trying to hold back his tears. Alan stood up from the chair, grabbed the glass of wine, and sat down on the bed next to his friend. Keith didn't move, only twitched slightly. “You know, I... I often think about them. Sometimes it even feels like I can hear their voices. Like my mother asking me to look after my brothers, like my father telling me to be careful with the gun and not carry it around with me all the time. Damn it. They didn't want me to leave... I should have stayed with them. Why did I agree to go?” “Because there was no other way,” Alan reminded him, staring blankly ahead. Against his will, too vivid memories of how it had happened to him resurfaced. “You know what would have happened to us if we had refused to obey.” “So what?” Keith grumbled. “They could have hung me as a traitor, better than what happened in the end. Better than going through this hell, losing everyone close to me and...” He paused, then spoke hesitantly, with difficulty, as if overcoming some barrier just to say, “We're stained forever. You feel it too, don't you, Alan? There's no way back for us to a normal world. All we can do is make money in the mafia, because... we're already criminals.” “No,” Alan replied sharply, and Keith looked up, meeting his gaze. Alan wished he hadn't, because the sadness in those tearful eyes made his insides twist uncomfortably. “There's no other way for us now, simply because our country has become a place where there's no room for Japanese people. We're not corrupted. We'll fight for our future... the best way we know how. That's why I sympathize with Primavera. I think they're on the right track in that sense. And I want to be on their side.” Keith sniffed and looked away, saying nothing in reply. “Of course, the war brought a lot of misery to everyone. It was a mistake and it shouldn't have happened. I agree with that, but you know... even with all that, I can't say that I regret everything that happened to me. Even though I lost so much, still... I gained something important too.” When Alan said this, Keith looked at him with genuine curiosity. “What is it?” Alan smiled gently and reached out to his friend's cheek, wiping away the moisture with his fingertips. “You. I have no one closer to me than you, Keith, and I cherish what we have very much.” In that moment, Keith forgot how to breathe. Alan's words struck him to the core, filling him with both joy and shame for everything he had just said. It had sounded as if Alan meant nothing to him at all, when in reality he was immensely grateful for this person's presence in his life. Without him, he would never have been where he was now. And he would never have known what true friendship was. Without Alan... he would have died alone long ago, cursing the world for his misfortunes. “Alan... I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to...” “I know,” Alan suddenly pulled him in by the shoulders, and before Keith could react, he was wrapped in his friend's strong embrace. “You're just more sensitive than I am, and you were very attached to your family. I can be anything but a replacement for them. It's normal that you still grieve for them.” Keith clung desperately to Alan's shirt, hugging him back. He couldn't express it in words, but his irreplaceable comrade, his partner who understood him without words, had become his family. Not instead of the one he had before, but a new family. Just as lovers who finally find each other become the closest people, so too had fate brought them together. True, they weren't lovers, but in the end, isn't friendship built on the same kind of love? Yes, Keith loved Alan, and he knew exactly why—he was always kind to him, always there to support him, and had saved his life countless times. However, he didn't understand what his friend saw in him, because in his mind he was more of a burden than a support. Alan always gave him more than he could give in return. Nevertheless, he stayed with him, and Keith was infinitely grateful for it. This man was a gift from fate, and in his own opinion, an undeserved gift. “Thank you,” Keith whispered, gently pulling away from Alan after a while and wiping the wet trails on his cheeks with his fingers. “For what?” Alan tilted his head slightly and looked at him, smiling warmly and tenderly, like the sun warming in mid-spring. Noting this comparison for the umpteenth time, Keith smiled too, looking into his friend's eyes. “For being you.” For a few moments, they looked at each other silently, then Alan held out a glass of wine to Keith. “Let's drink to that.” They laughed and drained their glasses in one go. By then, they were pretty drunk, but they didn't plan to stop. A new bottle of wine was opened, and sitting on Keith's bed, they continued to clink glasses and happily chat about all sorts of nonsense that they couldn't remember later. Feeling dizzy again, Keith sprawled out across the bed, and Alan, watching him, did the same. “Hey, Alan,” Keith said, his voice filled with laughter. “What?” Alan replied in the same tone. “You've never actually had a girlfriend?” Turning to face him completely, Alan stared at him with a wide grin. “And what makes you doubt that?” “Well, you know,” Keith glanced to the side and giggled, “guys like you are usually surrounded by attention. They don't even have to try, girls just cling to them. All you have to do is choose.” “Guys like me?” Alan asked, intrigued. “And what am I like?” “Um, well, you're easygoing, fun, girls love guys like that. And you're not bad-looking either.” Keith would never have said such things to his friend if he hadn't been so drunk, and later, remembering it, he would always want to sink through the floor with shame. Alan just hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe, but... I haven't had that. I guess I wasn't old enough to be interested in girls yet. And then the war happened, and there was no time for that.” At the mere mention of the most horrible event in their lives, their cheerful mood instantly vanished. Alan coughed and spoke again, trying to shift the focus back to the previous topic—however embarrassing it was, it was better to talk about it than about what they had experienced during those terrible years. “You think it's hard for guys like you to find a girlfriend?” “Yeah,” Keith replied calmly, closing his eyes. “I don't stand out, neither in looks nor in personality. People like me usually go unnoticed,” and just as Alan was about to cheer his friend up, saying that he was much better than he thought of himself, he added, “but that's fine. I don't need anything like that anyway.” Alan snorted. “This is the first time I've met someone who's happy to be unpopular with girls.” “But you'll definitely find yourself a girlfriend,” Keith looked at him and smiled, “and I hope it happens soon. I just hope,” his smile faded a bit, “you won't forget about me right away. You know how it is, some people fall in love and completely forget about everything else.” “That won't happen with me,” Alan said confidently and reached for Keith's hand, squeezing his palm in his. Keith glanced at their joined hands for a moment, then looked back into Alan's eyes. “No matter how my life turns out, you'll always be a part of it.” They both immediately sensed the gravity of what had been said and, a second later, shyly looked away. Then Alan, deciding to lighten the mood, laughed and ruffled Keith's hair with his other hand. “Don't even think about something like that, buddy. I would never forget about you.” “I…” Keith started to speak timidly and then stopped abruptly, burying his face in the pillow. Alan squeezed his hand again, hoping that this gesture would help give his friend confidence. But when Keith looked up at him next, he froze in astonishment—because in the eyes opposite him were tears. “I'm so afraid of losing you, Alan...” “You... won't lose me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. With his free hand, he touched Keith's cheek and stroked it, not quite understanding what he was doing or why. But Keith didn't resist at all; in fact, it seemed to Alan that the corners of his comrade's lips turned up in response to his actions. “I'll always be here.” “You can’t know,” Keith countered in a whisper, not breaking eye contact. His eyes, shining with tears, were dark and deep, as if drawing him in, and Alan's mind clouded strangely. He moved his hand from his cheek to the back of his friend's head, burying his fingers in his black hair. “But imagine, I do know,” he moved closer, pulling Keith towards him so that their foreheads touched. “We'll always be together. We'll go through everything together, and we'll even die together.” The situation was clearly crossing all boundaries, but they had both long since stopped thinking rationally. Keith could feel Alan's breath on his lips, could feel his hand caressing the back of his head, and his head was spinning more and more. Swallowing, he said softly, “If you die, I won't be able to bear it.” Alan didn't answer immediately. He looked at Keith's face right in front of him, then lowered his gaze to his lips and swallowed too. “I told you,” he whispered, smiling, finishing the phrase against Keith's lips, “everything together.” Keith’s mind was completely clouded. He didn't even realize right away what had happened, and only a few seconds later it began to dawn on him—Alan, his best friend, was kissing him like he would a lover, and so decisively and insistently that Keith doubted again about his friend's complete inexperience in relationships. He was even more surprised when, a moment later, he realized that he was willingly returning the kiss and didn't want to stop. His lips melted under the pressure of the other's caress, his heart pounded wildly in his chest from an astonishing mixture of confusion and excitement, and without controlling himself, he pressed closer to Alan. Their hands, which they had been holding until then, separated, and Keith ran his hand up Alan's torso, grazing the buttons of his shirt. Feeling the last of the fastened buttons, he slid his hand higher, beginning to stroke the exposed area of skin at his collarbones and neck. Alan groaned contentedly into his mouth and squeezed his body tightly in his arms, causing a shiver to run down Keith's spine. It was pleasant, insanely pleasant—to the point of trembling limbs and pain in his suddenly tight pants—but at the same time, it became scary, because he was already beginning to understand that they were doing something completely wrong, unacceptable. However, Alan hadn't come to this realization yet, he was completely losing his head, because he began to kiss even more passionately than before, and then suddenly turned and pushed Keith onto his back, hovering over him. Keith rested his hands on his shoulders, but didn't dare to push him away, and meanwhile, the other's hands were all over his body, squeezing his hips, slipping under his sweater, and touching his bare skin. Feeling it becoming difficult to breathe, Keith broke the kiss and turned his face away, tightening his grip on his friend's shoulders to hold him in place. “Stop,” he barely managed to say in a trembling voice, “what are we doing, Alan...” He couldn’t meet the eyes that he felt were staring straight at him. Then Alan quickly pulled away and sat up on the bed next to him, staring out the window. “Yeah,” he said quietly, “I'm really sorry.” Keith sat up too, shifting closer to the center of his bed, farther away from Alan who was sitting on the edge. He watched his back, having no idea what emotions were overwhelming him right now. In fact, he couldn't even figure out his own feelings. “I'm going for a walk,” Alan said unexpectedly and, getting up, quickly left the room without looking at Keith. The latter watched him go, and as soon as the front door slammed shut, fell face-first onto the pillow, exhausted. The effects of the alcohol were still lingering, but he felt a little sobered up, because his brain finally turned on and he started asking questions. What had just happened? Why did Alan kiss him, why did he respond? Why did he enjoy it so much? Remembering the moan that had escaped his friend's lips, he felt a heaviness in his lower abdomen again, which he knew was a sign of his arousal, and he burned with shame. He couldn’t understand why he felt this way, but he knew it shouldn’t be. There couldn’t be anything like that between friends, even close ones. Especially if those friends were the same sex. He tried to get it all out of his head, but it was no use—his lips still burned, as did the skin where Alan had touched him. He didn't know that Alan could be so... What? Keith cursed himself for these thoughts. He didn't blame Alan and didn't think he should apologize, even though he had started it. After all, he probably wouldn't have done it if Keith hadn't acted that way. Why did I tell him all that? Why did I look at him like that? And when he got closer to me... shouldn't I have understood where it was all heading then? He found only one answer to his own questions, and he didn't like it at all. He wanted it. He wanted it, but when it came down to it, he got scared, and that's why he stopped Alan. He wanted to howl with anger at himself, but instead he gritted his teeth and buried his face in the pillow. What would happen between them now? How could he talk to Alan like before after what happened? And where had he gone? For all his mental turmoil, Keith couldn't help but worry. After all, Alan had drunk as much as he had, and even with a higher tolerance for alcohol, he was probably feeling unwell. How would he wander the streets in such a state? What if something happened to him? The more Keith thought about it, the more worried he became, but there was no point, because he couldn't do anything to help anyway. At the moment, he was too weak to even get out of bed, and even if he weren't, where would he look for Alan? He decided to wait for him to come back, but eventually he started to feel sleepy. He was too drunk. I must never let this happen again. That was the last coherent thought before Keith's consciousness faded, and he didn't know what it referred to more—to drinking so much alcohol or to the situation that had happened to him and his friend today. Waking up the next morning was anything but pleasant. When Keith opened his eyes, the sun was just beginning to rise, which meant he’d fallen asleep pretty early the night before. With a heavy head, he managed to get out of bed and stumbled towards the door, but almost immediately tripped over something clinking on the floor. It was the empty glasses he and Alan had left there yesterday, too lazy to put them on the table. Alan… The first thought of his friend brought back all the other memories of the previous day, especially the end of it. Keith pressed his fingers to his lips, once again feeling a wave of shame that made his face flush. He remembered everything so clearly, even though he wished he could forget. How could he face Alan now? But more importantly… Stepping as quietly as possible, Keith left his bedroom and approached the living room, where Alan usually slept, glancing at the shoe rug in the hallway as he passed. His friend's boots stood there next to his own, which meant he was home. Keith listened. There was no sound coming from the living room; most likely, Alan hadn't woken up yet. Keith wanted to open the door and make sure he was there and that he was okay, but he didn't have the courage. He sighed, angry with himself again for his helplessness. Finally, they met in the kitchen about an hour later. Keith was sitting at the table drinking coffee when a sleepy Alan appeared in the doorway. “Good morning,” he mumbled, walking into the room and sitting down opposite Keith. “Morning,” Keith replied softly, trying hard not to look at his friend. Then he remembered and offered, “Want some coffee? I just made some.” “Thanks,” Alan smiled weakly, “I’ll have some later.” Keith decided to look at him a little more closely. Alan looked worn out and kind of depressed, which was a far cry from his usual cheerful disposition. He pressed his hand to his forehead, wincing as if in pain, and quickly glanced at Keith. “How do you feel?” “Like crap,” Keith chuckled, looking away. “We shouldn’t have drunk so much last night.” “Yeah,” Alan sighed deeply, burying his face in his hands. “Even for me, that was too much. I feel terrible. I don’t even remember everything that happened yesterday.” ‘Really?’ Keith involuntarily doubted his words, as he himself had forgotten nothing. But something else was bothering him, and he timidly asked, “And when did you get home yesterday, do you remember?” Looking up, Alan stared at him in surprise, and Keith immediately felt uncomfortable, as if he had said something he shouldn’t have mentioned. However, after a second, a thoughtful look appeared in his friend’s eyes. “I think around eleven or so. It wasn’t very late.” Keith hummed noncommittally in response. He wasn't sure exactly what time Alan had left, so the time of his return didn't really clarify the situation. How long had he been out and where had he gone? Keith desperately wanted to know, but he just couldn't ask. At least he'd returned safe and sound, and that was already good. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a smile briefly appear on Alan's face and felt a little embarrassed, not understanding what had caused this reaction. “Listen, Keith,” his friend began hesitantly, which was also unusual for him, “if I did something wrong yesterday, I’m really sorry, okay? You know I only want the best for you... and I certainly don’t want to hurt you.” Keith’s heart skipped a beat. It was immediately clear what Alan was apologizing for, and that he remembered everything perfectly. His cheeks flushed again with the overly vivid, shameful memory of the previous day. “I know,” he mumbled, not looking up. “It’s okay.” “Really?” Feeling Alan’s gaze on him, Keith dared to meet his eyes and couldn’t help but smile, seeing immense relief in his friend’s eyes. “Yeah. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry too.” “You shouldn't be…” Alan waved him off—apparently, he really considered himself the only one at fault, which Keith strongly disagreed about. And so he said, “I think I should.” They looked at each other again, this time openly and confidently, instantly feeling the weight of doubt lift from their shoulders. In each other's eyes, they saw a desire to restore their previous relationship, and neither of them was angry with the other. Perhaps they could forget what had happened as an unfortunate mistake, and everything between them would be as it was before. Keith smiled, and Alan, smiling back, extended his right hand across the table. “Truce?” “Truce,” Keith laughed, shaking his friend’s hand. They never mentioned that incident again, and everything seemed to return to normal. They continued to live together peacefully in that same apartment and communicated as they always had, sometimes even drinking, but now they were careful not to overdo it. However, as soon as their new job brought in the first good earnings, they separated from each other, coming to a mutual decision that it would be better for each of them to have more personal space. Keith stayed in the same apartment, and Alan rented a place nearby. They still saw each other often, but now they had time for other things, not related to each other. They were both happy with this arrangement. That incident gradually faded from both of their memories, but they didn’t drift apart; their friendship was unshakeable. However, when, after a decent interval, Alan announced that he had met an amazing girl in every way, Keith felt a strange, unpleasant prick in his chest. No, of course, he was happy for his friend; Alan had wanted this so much, but something was still wrong. Maybe it seemed that way to him because of this girl who, judging by Alan's stories, was playing with him and probably didn't take him seriously. Or maybe he was already starting to worry that soon Alan would get closer to her and completely stop paying attention to him. Or maybe... he was simply jealous because he wanted to be the only one for him... No, no, no. Keith immediately began to vehemently object to himself. His friend was doing everything right, that's how it should be. And he would accept it over time and calm down. Alan would always be around, he would never leave him. He promised, after all. Later, Keith really stopped worrying about it. He calmly listened to Alan's stories about new dates with his passion and sincerely rejoiced with him, although he still considered this girl a fickle person who was taking full advantage of his generosity. Be that as it may, he liked seeing his friend so happy, and he involuntarily wondered—could this love do such things to people? He didn't understand this for a long time... until Stella appeared in his life. Stella... Alan… And again, Keith opened his eyes, waking up from his thoughts as if from a dream. How long had he been awake, thinking about all this? And most importantly, why? Why now did he have to remember this old case that he had tried so hard to forget? Alan was still asleep. He was lying on the bed facing Keith, very close, so close that he could see all his features in detail. His eyebrows, drawn together in a tense line, his eyelashes fluttering slightly—he was probably having a bad dream. Keith watched for a long time, then his hand reached out on its own to Alan's head and very gently, weightlessly stroked it, as if trying to calm him. Indeed, his friend was so... wonderful. A man with a truly beautiful soul, despite everything he had been through and what he had had to do. That's why he always helped him, so weak, so clueless about this world. He helped him survive—both then and now. And he forgave him, agreed to forget his terrible, unforgivable sin, in order to stay together. No one else could have done the same. And he was capable of it, because he was incredibly beautiful. Handsome on the outside and even more beautiful on the inside. Keith's pathetic, rotten little soul was not at all worthy of such happiness. He suddenly felt like he had just had some kind of wrong thought, and a second later he realized—he was looking at his friend and thinking about how good he looked. Is that how you look at friends? “Damn it...” Muttering to himself, Keith sat up in bed and rubbed his temples. He was starting to get really annoyed by these inappropriate memories and thoughts that kept creeping into his head. Why, why now? Even Stella, who existed only in his mind, had told him the same thing. It must be because he spent literally all his time with Alan. Maybe he should distract himself with something else, but honestly, he didn't have the slightest desire to. He was more than comfortable in his friend's company, and he preferred not to change anything about it. Probably... that was exactly what was wrong with his thinking. He was too attached to Alan. Soon, Keith found the strength to get up and go to the kitchen. On the way, he glanced at the clock—the hands were very close to twelve. Usually, he and Alan woke up much earlier, but last night had been unusually long. He remembered his worries from yesterday and mentally rejoiced once again that Alan had stayed with him after all. He had actually believed for a moment that Meijiu would take his friend away from him, the last close person he had left. However, wasn't it the same for Meijiu? After losing his sister, he clung to Alan, probably because he reminded him of her and therefore seemed to replace his family. Who else did Meijiu have left of his close people? Perhaps, that little Chinese girl who faithfully served him. Thinking about this, Keith felt a pang of guilt again. After all, it turned out that it was he who had taken Alan away from Meijiu, and this was after he had taken his sister away from him. If I were in Meijiu's place, I would have killed myself. Hearing quiet footsteps at the threshold, he turned around. Alan stood there—disheveled from sleep, still in his pajamas, he evoked a feeling in Keith that he couldn't quite explain to himself. It was strangely pleasant, warming him from the inside, overflowing with a tenderness he wanted to express somehow—with attention, care, maybe even a hug. Inappropriately, he remembered that episode from their past and quickly looked away. “Good morning,” he mumbled barely audibly, immediately turning to the dishes, but from agitation, he almost dropped the cup. Alan, watching him, raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Good morning. Is everything okay?” “Y-yeah, why do you ask?” Keith tried to laugh casually, but his voice treacherously cracked at the beginning, and he bit his lip in annoyance. Alan was silent, thoughtfully looking at his friend. “You're just acting strange. Like you're nervous.” Keith said nothing, just shook his head and went to the refrigerator, intending to find something to make breakfast from. Alan sat at the table and, propping his head up with his hand, began to watch his actions. “Can I help?” he asked, smiling. Keith shook his head again negatively, spreading the products out on the table. “No need. There's nothing to do here, it's just sandwiches.” “Well, you don't let me do anything anyway,” Alan objected, and Keith looked at him with a smirk. “And what's wrong with that?” “No-thing,” the other drawled, leaning back slightly in his chair and putting his hands behind his head. “I'm glad someone takes care of me.” A slight smile appeared on Keith's lips, and he modestly lowered his eyes. Alan looked at his face and found this reaction absolutely charming. A few moments later, however, he came to his senses and stopped examining his friend, turning his gaze to the edge of the table. “Listen, Keith,” he began cautiously, “do you have much money left?” “Huh?” The other was momentarily taken aback. “Yeah, I think so.” “Hmm... Who would doubt it, you've always been good at saving money,” Alan chuckled, recalling that his friend had always spent little on himself, allowing him to save a large portion of his salary. “But I can't boast of the same. My money will run out soon.” “Well, I still have some,” Keith replied calmly, not distracted from making the sandwiches. “Are you suggesting I live off your money? That’s awkward.” “Nonsense.” “And besides, your savings aren't endless either.” Keith's face darkened slightly. He put down the food and the knife and looked at Alan. “Are you saying we should start looking for work?” “Well... yeah. At least, it wouldn't hurt to start thinking about our options.” Keith hummed noncommittally, also sitting down at the table. Alan thought that his friend had instantly lost all his confidence. “I... I’ve already thought about it,” Keith said timidly, looking at his feet. “But no matter how you look at it, there aren’t many good opportunities left for us here. Either wait for a low-paying job from a staffing agency or... find another group that might be interested in us. But honestly, I don’t want to do that anymore. Not for... people like that.” Alan understood him. After all, typical mafia members were nothing like Primavera, with their noble goal of fighting for a better future for their countrymen. More often than not, they were scoundrels like Alfred, focused solely on personal enrichment and not shying away from any methods to achieve it—certainly not the kind of people he wanted to support. “But those aren't all the options,” he objected, and Keith smirked. “Not all. We could also try to leave the city, say, go to the countryside, but I'm not sure it will be easier there. Or we could learn English or Chinese, maybe it would be easier to get a decent job. But that takes time... and money, of course.” “Well, I had something else in mind,” Alan smiled mysteriously and immediately caught his friend's piercing gaze. “Well, go on, say it,” the other replied with obvious skepticism in his voice. “I hope you're not suggesting we join the army again?” “Never in a million years,” Alan actively shook his head, emphasizing his categorical unwillingness. “I was thinking about this: why don't we rejoin... Primavera?” Keith stared at him with wide eyes. “Are you... serious?” “Why not?” Alan shrugged, involuntarily looking away. “I told you yesterday, remember? According to Meijiu, they're really short on people right now. And besides, you're a talented sniper, you'll be even more valuable to them than I am.” “Valuable? Haha, what are you talking about?” Keith forced out a nervous laugh. “They'll tear me to pieces if I show up there.” He turned pale and even shuddered slightly, imagining too vividly the reaction of the people from Primavera, those who undoubtedly thirsted for revenge. Alan looked at him with pity. “They won't,” he said firmly, “I won't let that happen.” Keith's lips curved into a slight smile. “You'll be my bodyguard? That's all I need.” “Well, only if it's necessary. Anyway, I think you're exaggerating, they won't do anything to you. Most likely, no one there will even care.” His words clearly didn't seem convincing to his friend—he sat in his chair, hunched over and staring intently at one point. “No, I can't, I can't... How can I go there, how can I look them in the eye after what I…” “Keith, listen to me,” Alan leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table. “I understand your doubts, I understand that you still blame yourself, but... I'm sure they've figured things out too and don't hold a grudge against you. I'm talking about the people you might have hurt, but we might not even meet them. We'll talk to Madame Jeanne, and there's definitely no reason for her to be angry with you.” “You're... as always, too optimistic.” “And you, as always, worry too much about nothing,” Alan snapped, but immediately softened his tone. “Believe me, everything will be fine.” “Do you even believe what you're saying?” Keith asked dully. “How can everything be fine after all that?” After a short pause, he added, “As far as I know, Wayne is still in the organization.” “Yeah, he's like Madame's first assistant now.” “I... once tried to kill him and Rose.” Alan was about to respond immediately, but he faltered after those words. His friend hadn't told him this before, and he had no idea when it could have happened. Hardly during that battle in the cemetery, because he had been watching him most of the time, and as far as he remembered, Rose and Wayne hadn't been together. He wanted to know how it happened, but he didn't dare ask. There was no point in reminding Keith again of what he felt guilty about. “He won't forgive me. And the others won't forgive me either. No, no,” Keith shook his head, “it's impossible. That option is only for you. I can't go there.” Alan sighed heavily. “Okay, then I'll ask it this way. Would you like to continue fighting together with Primavera? Would you like to continue working towards their ideals?” “You're talking to the wrong person about ideals,” Keith said with a weak smile. “Everything changed under Richard. We aimed to rid our society of foreigners, especially the Chinese.” “But you don't think that's right anymore?” “No. But... I don't know what's right anymore. I don't know which foreigners can be trusted.” Keith closed his eyes. He remembered the major, in whom Richard had placed too much trust, and he himself had been no better. Cyrus had been the only one who sometimes doubted the correctness of their actions, but even he couldn't appeal to their clouded minds. They had easily turned friends into enemies and enemies into friends, all because one person had decided to use them to avenge his old personal grievances. And even though that monster was no longer alive, who was left in the garrison? Corrupt officers who, under the threat of exposure of their corruption schemes, would dance to anyone's tune? The captain, who had been a mindless puppet of the major? It was clear that none of them could ever be trusted again. The Chinese weren't much different in this regard. Of course, Meijiu wasn't the devil that he and Richard had long considered him, and yet the leader of the Golden Dragon was still a cunning fox, using Primavera for the benefit of his organization. Yes, sometimes Primavera also gained something from the alliance with him, but the benefits for the Chinese were incomparably greater. Besides, there was always the threat that one day they would really want to get rid of such an inconvenient Japanese society of countrymen. The Japanese would always have to be on their guard with them. As a result, no one among the leading forces could be trusted, and the Japanese themselves were, unfortunately, too weak. And how could one fight in such conditions? “You can only trust yourself, if it comes down to it,” Alan remarked with a smile. “But choosing to join Primavera isn't about who we trust and who we don't. It's about how we're going to live our lives: go with the flow or choose our own direction.” “And you think I'm going to go with the flow?” “No one can be blamed for that. But still... remember what you originally wanted. Remember what you and the people you wanted to walk this path with were striving for.” Those words immediately awakened memories in Keith of the moment when he finally decided to be with Primavera. Under the sunny autumn sky, he promised Richard and Stella, as well as little Yuuji, that he would continue to fight with them, even when he received more favorable offers from other groups. Because in their aspirations, in the ideals proclaimed by Madame Rose, he saw a glimpse of the future for their people that he wanted to live for. After everything he had been through, when his soul was filled with despair and distrust of almost everyone around him, he finally wanted to strive for something again, he saw meaning in his life again... and it made him happy. “Yes, I... I remember,” he replied, involuntarily sniffing. “I would like to go back to that, but... nothing can be undone.” Alan paused, smiling at his friend. “Your desire is all we need,” he said confidently. “We can at least try, we have nothing to lose. And if they refuse... then, I promise, I'll close this topic forever. We'll move somewhere together and try to build our lives anew.” “They'll only refuse me,” Keith scoffed, “they'll take you in.” “But I'll be with you, no matter what.” Keith looked at Alan intently, meeting his completely serious gaze that left no room for doubt—his friend really intended to follow him anywhere. For a moment, he felt ashamed that his helplessness was forcing his partner to make less than ideal decisions for himself, but this feeling was quickly replaced by another—strangely pleasant, quickening his pulse, stretching his lips into a foolishly satisfied smile. He was glad, impossibly glad that Alan wanted to always stay with him. “Okay,” he said softly, looking into his friend's eyes, “let's try.” That evening, after Alan's persistent persuasion—Keith had really tried to put it off, but eventually gave in—they stood at the back entrance of the Primavera Club. Nearby were a few cars, probably belonging to bodyguards, but there was no one outside. Alan glanced at his friend—he was shivering, slightly hunched over, his hands buried in his pockets. “Don’t worry,” he smiled encouragingly and patted Keith on the shoulder, “nothing's going to happen. I'm right here.” A faint smile flickered across the guy's pale face for a moment. “I’m just cold,” he explained, and Alan nodded, pretending to believe him. Before they could get closer to the door, it swung open from the inside, and three tall men in expensive suits emerged from the club one after the other. Keith involuntarily took a step back, ending up behind Alan. The first man out stopped immediately and scowled, taking in the unexpected visitors. “What are you doing here?” he asked calmly, but his tone was slightly threatening. “If you want to get into the club, the entrance is on the other side.” “Hold on, they're clearly not customers,” the second man’s voice was much friendlier. He looked the two of them over curiously. “You guys here to meet someone? Madame, maybe?” “Exactly,” Alan replied with a wide smile that usually put people at ease. “We'd like to talk to Madame Jeanne about work. We heard you're in need of good fighters.” “That's right,” the bodyguard nodded in agreement, “only you've come to the wrong place for that. Madame Jeanne's hardly ever here.” “How? You just said...” “I meant Madame Meryl,” the man smiled. “I thought you were here to apply as bodyguards for the club.” “Oh, I see. No, we... we used to be part of the Battalion. I'm Alan Aramaki, and this,” he nodded towards his friend who was practically hiding behind him, “is Keith Kisaragi.” “Oh, I've heard of you. They say you were top-notch cleaners. Decided to come back? I think you'd be welcome.” “Yeah, but not that gray-haired guy,” the third man, who had been silently observing them with an even more sullen expression than the first guard, suddenly declared. “Now I remember you. Alan, are you all better now? Think you can go back to that kind of work?” “Yeah,” he replied a bit uncertainly, “but I'm not much use on my own. He's a genius sniper,” with those words, he gently pushed Keith in the back, bringing him forward. Under the man's cold, piercing gaze, Keith immediately shrank back. The other two watched with blank expressions. “You seriously think they'll take you? Do you even realize how many of us you've killed? You'd better get out of here while you're still in one piece.” Keith's face, already as pale as chalk, grew even paler. He almost turned to leave, but Alan held him by the shoulder and glared at the men in front of them. “We would still appreciate it if you told us where to find Madame Jeanne,” he said firmly. “She's the one who makes the decisions, right?” “Well, it's not up to you to decide,” the friendliest bodyguard laughed and patted his angry companion on the shoulder. “Guys, you can find Madame Jeanne in her office, but you'll probably miss her even there. She's constantly meeting with different people now, her schedule is packed every day.” “Really?” Alan asked, confused. “So what should we do then?” “Hmm, let me think. Oh, I think I saw Wayne in the club.” Turning to his colleagues, the man added, “Any of you see him leave?” It turned out that no one had witnessed it, and he disappeared back into the club building to check on Madame's assistant's whereabouts. Outside, Alan and Keith were left with two—the one who was glaring at them both, and the one who was drilling Keith with a look of outright hostility. “We shouldn't have come here,” Keith muttered, visibly nervous. “Or rather, I shouldn't have come. They'll bring Wayne in, and he'll send me packing... or something worse.” “Everything will be fine,” Alan said with a smile, trying to reassure him. “I'm sure Wayne will help us.” “Where do you get your confidence, I wonder...” Alan didn't know the answer to that himself, but for some reason, he was certain of his prediction. He'd heard that Wayne wasn't quick to forgive those who had been his enemies, and yet, being the closest person to Madame, he should be rational enough to assess the current situation without unnecessary emotions—or at least, that's what Alan thought. At the moment, their fate depended on this man's decision, and so it was easier and more peaceful to believe that he would be on their side. And so, keeping his calm, he hoped to reassure his friend as well. Soon, the friendly bodyguard returned with Wayne—he was in his simple everyday clothes, not the striking suit in which Alan and Keith had once seen him at work, from which they concluded that he was probably off duty today. Wayne looked the two snipers over gloomily, but this expression was usual for him, so Alan, without the slightest worry, smiled at him and waved. “Good evening, Wayne!” “Good evening,” the corners of Wayne's lips lifted slightly, but his face immediately thawed. Watching this, Keith was once again amazed at the impression Alan's natural charm made on others. If Alan hadn't been there, no one would have even looked at Keith. “Alan, is it really true that you've fully recovered? Madame Jeanne talked about you, but I never thought you'd be back in action so quickly.” “Oh, yeah, I'm fine, thanks for asking,” Alan laughed a little embarrassedly. “We just wanted to meet with Madame, but they told us here that she's very busy and it's not so easy to find her. Could you help us?” Wayne hummed thoughtfully, glancing at his wristwatch. “She should be free soon... I'll try to contact her. Maybe she can come here. Come in for now,” he stepped aside slightly from the entrance to let them pass. “Thank you,” Alan smiled contentedly and walked towards the door, pulling his hesitant friend by the elbow. “Wait,” exclaimed the man who had previously objected to Keith. “Wayne, this guy, he...” As soon as the conversation turned to him, Keith stopped again and freed his hand from Alan's grip, staring uncertainly at Wayne. Wayne sighed and, looking at the disgruntled man, said, “I know. But that's not your problem or mine. Madame will figure it out.” Then he turned his gaze to Keith and added calmly, “Come on in.” After these words, Keith no longer hesitated and went inside after Alan. The latter turned around mid-step and winked at him. “See, I told you everything would work out!” he said in a low voice so that the others couldn't hear, but even so, there was a noticeable amusement in his tone. Keith nervously chuckled. “It's too early to say, we still have to meet Madame.” “Everything will be fine, I assure you...” Then they were both led into a special room reserved for honored guests—in fact, it was where the leaders of Primavera held their meetings and negotiations with business partners. Wayne told them to wait here and left, closing the door behind him. “How is that possible?” Keith mumbled, looking after him in bewilderment. “Why did he let me in? He doesn't seem angry at all...” Alan meanwhile plopped down on one of the soft sofas. “That's because, Keith, like I said, you're worrying too much. And Wayne is a reasonable guy, I never doubted that he would understand.” “Yeah, right, too much,” his friend’s words still seemed overly confident to Keith. “Did you see how that bodyguard reacted to me? And I'm sure he's not the only one like that.” “Big deal,” Alan shrugged indifferently. “He doesn't make the decisions about us anyway, and you won't have to work with him if we're accepted. And I'm almost one hundred percent sure we'll be accepted. The main thing here is to get a meeting with Madame Jeanne. Imagine how lucky we are that Wayne happened to be here.” “It's so easy for you...” They argued about it for a while longer, and neither of them convinced the other of their point of view. Keith never sat down, instead nervously pacing the room and glancing anxiously at the door at every noise outside. Finally, Alan sighed wearily and fell silent, allowing his friend to indulge in pointless self-torment. And then the door creaked softly, and Keith stopped instantly, turning to Wayne as he entered. Alan also turned to him, involuntarily straightening his back. “I've contacted Madame Jeanne,” her assistant reported, his expression remaining so unreadable that one could only guess at the outcome of this conversation. The two waited anxiously for his next words. “She's free, so she'll be here soon. Wait for her.” A load was taken off Alan’s mind at once. He exhaled with relief and, smiling broadly, replied, “Thank you very much, Wayne. You've helped us a lot.” Wayne's stern mask finally cracked, and he smiled openly. “You're welcome,” he said, glancing at each of them in turn. “It's good that you came to us. We really need more people right now.” When he came out, Alan jumped up on the couch and exclaimed happily, “Great! See, everything's working out for us, Keith. Oh,” he trailed off in surprise as his partner turned to him, “what's wrong with your face?” Without saying anything, Keith walked over and sat down next to Alan, looking down at his feet. His gaze was distant, almost vacant. “I don’t understand how you can do this,” he said softly with a forced smile, “how you can treat me like this. Even Wayne, and he… It makes me feel… so worthless.” Alan knew that guilt still held his friend in a tight grip, squeezing his heart. It was preventing him from living a normal life, and of course, Alan wanted to help him somehow, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find any comforting words. After all, Keith had done a lot of terrible things, things that even he, as a loving friend, couldn’t justify. …Loving, yes, in spite of everything. “What has the murderer of my sister done to deserve it?” Alan winced, rubbing his temples hard. A sharp pain shot through his head, like the venomous voice of Meijiu replaying in his mind. “Alan? Are you okay?” He turned around, meeting Keith's worried gaze. Involuntarily, his lips curved into a smile. His friend was always attentive to his reactions and, moreover, tended to worry about him excessively. Ever since Alan had narrowly escaped death from his recent injuries, Keith's concern had multiplied tenfold. Now, all it took was for Alan to seem a little less cheerful than usual, and Keith would start asking if he was feeling alright. Alan wished, sometimes, that Keith would worry less, but on the other hand, his care was undeniably pleasant. Keith's face stretched as he watched his friend's emotions fluctuate. “What the hell. You're frowning one second, smiling the next... Something's definitely off with you.” Alan laughed. “I'm fine,” he assured Keith, then placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. “You tell me, how much longer are you going to torture yourself with these thoughts? Or maybe you want others to hate you?” “It's not that I want it,” Keith turned away, the corner of his mouth twitching in a mirthless smile. “It would just be fair.” “Fair, you say?” Leaning back against the couch, Alan looked ahead. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his friend's hunched back and the long, gray hair that hid his face. Once again, he thought with pain of how much this once so confident guy had changed. Now he was afraid of everything and everyone, constantly blaming himself, and even a kind gesture was seen as something abnormal. ‘If Meijiu could see this, maybe he'd understand. This punishment would be more than enough for him.’ Sighing, Alan continued, “Well, then I hope you'll forgive me for not being able to hate you.” Keith turned to him, staring in surprise at first. Then his eyes glistened slightly, and a faint, unbearably sad smile appeared on his lips—one that made Alan's heart ache. Before he realized it, he had reached out and pulled his friend into a hug, feeling the other man's body startle in surprise. “I don't know how to help you,” he whispered. “I... I feel sorry for you.” Keith's heart suddenly pounded faster. He wasn't sure why: was it because Alan was so close, or because of what he was saying? Sorry? He wanted to laugh hysterically, and at the same time, he was choked up with tears. He hated this weakness that forced his kind friend to pity him. Unable to say anything, Keith simply clung to Alan's shoulders. He shouldn't accept sympathy from this man, but he couldn't refuse it either. Alan's warmth always helped melt the icy cold in his soul. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, gently pulling away from the hug. “I just keep bothering you with my problems.” Turning away again, Keith surreptitiously wiped away a tear that had almost rolled down his cheek. His other hand rested on the couch, and soon he felt it covered by another hand. Hesitantly, he glanced in that direction and looked into Alan's eyes, which were kind and sympathetic. “They're not ‘your’ problems, remember?” Alan said. “They're ours.” Keith immediately remembered the moment Alan had said that to him. Since then, he had stayed in Keith's room every night on his own initiative to protect him from nightmares. And although it had really helped, even Alan couldn't free him from his guilt. Understanding this, he couldn't help but smile. The mere fact that Alan was willing to go to any lengths to help him feel better made him incredibly happy. Meanwhile, Alan didn't take his eyes off his smiling friend, and to his own surprise, he realized that strange, inappropriate, and wrong thoughts were forming in his head. For some reason, he remembered the joke he had once made at that bar where he and Keith had been drinking after another fighting festival, which he loved to participate in. “You can tell right away what you need. If I were a woman, I'd be uncomfortable.” “If you were a woman, Keith, I would hug you tighter and kiss you.” And at that moment, looking at his best friend, whom he had known for so many years, Alan was thinking about actually doing to him exactly what he had said back then. “Alan?” noticing the intense stare on him, Keith tilted his head to the side, perplexed. “Oh, hahaha, sorry... just thinking.” Laughing nervously, Alan quickly turned away, then stood up from the couch and walked over to the window. Keith looked after him in confusion, never daring to ask what he had been thinking about. However, he quickly decided it was better not to ask any questions. If Alan was remembering something from their past, any one of Keith's many mistakes... then it was definitely not worth bringing it to his attention. His friend was trying to forget about it, and he, in turn, should at least not remind him, since nothing could be undone. Keith looked down, regretting his earlier outburst. After all, those very pangs of conscience were the reminder that should have been avoided. Alan remained with his back to him near the window, so he couldn't see how the other nervously chewed his lip, his fingers digging into the windowsill, and the emotions on his face quickly changing from surprise to embarrassment and complete confusion. He couldn't understand what was happening to him. Since when had he started thinking about Keith like this? Was it all because of what Meijiu had said to him yesterday? Or had Meijiu simply noticed his true feelings before he had? He glanced back at his friend for a second and saw him sitting with his head down. ‘No good,’ Alan thought. ‘He'll think I'm remembering the past and start blaming himself again.’ But right now, he couldn't go back to his usual behavior. His own thoughts were confusing him. He'd never had them before... or at least, they'd never been so clear. That night a couple of years ago when he and Keith had gotten really drunk, he'd felt something similar, but then he could justify it by saying he was drunk and didn't know what he was doing. Now, he couldn't find any explanation for his feelings except that maybe... he was in love with his best friend? Looking again at Keith, his head downcast, he realized with regret that he couldn't distract him now. Because in order to do that, he'd have to tell him what he was really thinking about, and that was definitely not an option. Maybe his friend wouldn't hate him for it, but he'd definitely start to be afraid of him. They spent some more time waiting without speaking to each other, each lost in their own thoughts. Keith was nervous; despite Wayne's attitude and the fact that he had allowed them to meet with Madame, he was afraid that she might still reject him for one reason or another. For example, she might listen to her subordinates who were against him. Or, thanks to all his past ‘exploits’, she might consider him an extremely unreliable ally. Alan was almost completely confident in the success of their future negotiations with Madame, and yet even he thought it was right to consider what he would say in defense of his friend if anything happened. However, nothing came to mind except his recent abnormal reaction, and he felt awkward again and again. Finally, the door to the room swung open, and there she was, the one they'd been waiting for ages—Madame Jeanne herself. She was accompanied by several bodyguards, and Wayne followed right behind. “Good evening, young men,” she said brightly, and Keith jumped to his feet, while Alan stepped closer. “Evening, Madame Jeanne,” he bowed his head slightly as a sign of respect. “Thanks for seeing us.” Since he had last seen her during the decisive battle between the two factions of Primavera a few months ago, Jeanne had changed noticeably in appearance. She had become more distinguished, as befitted a person of her status—her former simple outfit had been replaced by an elegant pantsuit, and her hair was now gathered back in a neat hairstyle. But she herself remained the same—the fire still burned in her eyes, and a bright smile shone on her lips. She glanced at the two guys in front of her and stopped her gaze on Alan, who had spoken to her. “It's been a long time, Alan. You helped us a lot last time and, unfortunately, got hurt. I apologize for not visiting you in the hospital, but I inquired about your well-being. Then you were discharged, but we couldn't get in touch with you. And now you've come to us yourself. I'm glad you've finally recovered.” “Thanks a lot for thinking of me,” Alan smiled. “And you absolutely don't need to apologize, I totally understand you're incredibly busy. Things are pretty hectic in Primavera right now.” “Hectic is an understatement,” Jeanne sighed. “I've barely even settled into this 'Madame' role, and I'm already drowning in meetings. Plus, there are problems popping up everywhere. Wayne here can vouch for that,” she gestured towards her assistant, who nodded with a small smile. “But anyway, let's get down to business. Shall we sit?” Jeanne took a seat on one of the sofas, and Alan and Keith sat opposite her. One of the bodyguards who had come with her stayed near the entrance, while the rest stepped back. Wayne remained, but moved to the far corner of the room and leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Jeanne watched him for a moment with a smile, then turned her attention back to her visitors. “I already know Alan, but this is our first time meeting,” she turned to Keith, who flinched, not daring to look up. “You're Keith Kisaragi, right? You used to work together with Alan.” “Y-yes,” the guy's voice trembled despite his desperate attempt to speak firmly. Despite all his friend's assurances, despite the seemingly friendly behavior of Jeanne and Wayne, he felt incredibly uncomfortable here and could barely keep himself from bolting and running away as far as possible. He remembered how the night before he had run away at the mere sight of the club building on the opposite side of the road, and considering this, it seemed doubly strange to him that he had let himself be persuaded to come here today. What was he even expecting? He tensed up and immediately felt a light touch on his shoulder. Turning around, he met Alan's gaze—confident, calm, as if telling him to calm down too. Keith's lips trembled in an attempt to smile, but it only lasted for a second. No matter how hard Alan tried to support him, he couldn't cope with this unless he could somehow get into Keith's head and rebuild his consciousness. “You two were quite famous, from what I've managed to find out. Two snipers who only work together and cover their tracks perfectly, there were almost legends about you,” Jeanne smiled. “Although, lately you,” she added, focusing her gaze on Keith again, “have been known for something else.” Keith flinched. He just knew they would bring up his past. While he was preparing to apologize for coming and immediately leave this place, Alan spoke for him, “That's right, Madame Jeanne, many people knew us, and it's largely thanks to him,” he gestured towards his companion. “He has exceptional abilities, you'll definitely find them useful. And as for what happened recently... believe me, he's realized everything. And I can guarantee you that nothing like this will happen again, because,” with these words, he put his arm around Keith's shoulders, “I'll always be there to set him straight.” At that moment, something inside Keith seemed to finally loosen its grip, and he managed to relax and smile weakly in response to his friend's statement. That's right, as long as Alan was around, he had nothing to fear. As long as his personal sun was with him, no darkness could fill his heart. “Well, even if you say so, Alan,” Jeanne leaned back on the sofa with a slight smile and looked at the two of them with half-closed eyes, “I'm afraid we can't take you both on. You, on the other hand, are welcome.” Keith's head slumped. Alan felt his confidence draining away. Were they really going to turn them down? He frantically searched for the right words, trying to convince Madame of the invaluable asset Keith would be to the organization, when Jeanne continued, “The thing is, as far as I can tell, only you want this. I don't see this desire in your partner.” “Huh?” Both of them stared at Madame, surprised. She smiled leniently, as if explaining the obvious. “Look, Alan, you're speaking for both of you, and I can see you truly believe what you're saying. But your friend here… he looks like he just wants to get out of here. I'm not sure bringing him into this would actually be good for him.” She fixed Keith with a steady gaze, and he quickly looked away. Alan let out a relieved laugh and clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, Keith, say it yourself. See, they don't understand because you're not saying anything.” “I…” Keith started, then faltered and fell silent. Everyone waited, watching him intently. Taking a deep breath, he finally decided to speak. “I really want to rejoin Primavera. If you'll allow me... I'd like to continue fighting for the future of our countrymen together with you. I admit, I made many mistakes in the past, and I... want to apologize for them. To you, Madame Jeanne, and to everyone I've ever harmed.” “As far as I'm concerned, you haven't done anything wrong to me,” Jeanne shrugged, smiling casually. Keith shook his head. “Yes, I have,” he dared to look up and meet Madame's eyes, in which there was actually no trace of condemnation, “to you as well. And,” he turned to the far corner of the room, to the very one where Madame's closest assistant stood, “to you, Wayne, and to Rose.” At the mere mention of the name, Wayne flinched, his already furrowed brow creasing even deeper. Keith cowered, easily picturing how angry Wayne must be with anyone who had even tried to harm his beloved Rose. Nevertheless, he continued as firmly as he could, meeting Wayne's gaze, “I'm sorry I put you through all this. Please forgive me if you can.” Wayne merely grunted in annoyance and turned away. Jeanne glanced at him with a smile. “Well, Wayne?” she asked cheerfully. “Are you going to forgive him?” Gritting his teeth, Wayne said, “I forgive him,” and then, glancing sideways at Keith, added, “only if he promises to think before he acts in the future.” “Oh, Wayne, don't be so harsh. Besides,” grinning, Jeanne winked at him, “that advice wouldn't hurt you either.” “I know,” he muttered, “I was deceived too. That's why I understand you,” he turned to Keith this time, looking directly at him. “But here's what I'll tell you. Many people make mistakes, there's no getting around it. But it's important to be able to admit your mistakes and take responsibility for your actions. That's the only way to learn and become a better person in the future. So you're on the right track.” He smiled, not at all looking hostile or skeptical, but rather quite friendly. Keith realized that his recent displeasure was just a manifestation of his usual character, and not resentment at all. And at this thought, a lump came up to his throat again. Why do you all forgive me so easily? Keith looked at Jeanne, whose face was still adorned with a friendly smile, and from the corner of his eye, he caught his friend's gaze—surprised and approving at the same time. “Exactly, Wayne. You've said it all,” Madame summarized, then turned to the two awaiting her decision. “Well, guys, we're happy to welcome you to the new Primavera. From this day forward, we're counting on you.” “Thank you, Madame Jeanne!” Alan exclaimed joyfully. “We won't let you down!” “I have no doubt about that,” she replied with a wide smile. Keith sat there, bewildered, unable to utter a word. Finally, deciding he had to show some kind of reaction, he mumbled weakly, “Thank you,” and instantly lowered his eyes. Jeanne watched him silently for a few moments before speaking, “It's good that you've realized everything that happened, Keith, but you know... you shouldn't think about it too much. The past is best left in the past, don't you think?” “Y-yeah,” Keith replied uncertainly, barely holding back tears. He would have preferred to forget, to erase it from his life, to pretend it had never happened, but he couldn't. The sympathy of those around him only made things worse. He felt he should be punished, but no one was going to punish him. “Wayne,” Jeanne glanced at her assistant, who started at the sound of his name, “you said not everyone here accepts him, right?” “Yes,” Wayne nodded. “Some are categorically against it.” “Well, their feelings are understandable. But don't worry,” she turned to Keith, “I'll talk to them. I think they'll understand. In any case, you won't have to see them very often. And if anything happens,” she glanced at Alan, “I guess your friend won't let anyone push you around.” “I won't,” Alan grinned, wrapping his arm around Keith's shoulders again. Keith smiled too, looking at his cheerful friend beside him, and his face finally brightened a little. With Alan, everything was surprisingly simple and easy. He could even return to Primavera and become an ally of the people he had tried to kill not so long ago. He could start life anew, having lost, it seemed, absolutely everything he had. And for the first time in a long while, he felt that he could still be happy. All this had ceased to be impossible since Alan had reappeared in his life. Later, when they left Primavera and had walked far enough away to avoid being seen by the bodyguards, Alan, overcome with emotion, threw himself at Keith and squeezed him in a hug. “We did it! I told you it would work!” “S-stop it, people are looking,” Keith tried to hold Alan back by his shoulders but soon gave up, letting him hug him. He didn't know why he was suddenly embarrassed, as his friend had a habit of hugging him in public before. It was probably because he was starting to see their relationship differently. How? He preferred not to dwell on that thought, but on a subconscious level, he felt that no one would ever be closer to him than this person. He was ready to spend the rest of his life with him alone. “Oh, come on, who cares,” Alan said, stepping back a bit and glancing around quickly. Passersby were indeed paying attention to them, but only for a second. Wrapping one arm around Keith’s shoulders, he walked on with him. “By the way, I have to say, I’m impressed.” “Huh? What are you talking about?” “About how you apologized to everyone. I don’t think you had to do that, but… the fact that you did is really cool. I’m not sure I could have done the same.” “Oh, that,” Keith smiled, looking down at his feet. “I don’t see any reason to be proud. After everything I’ve done,” the smile on his lips faded slightly, “it’s the least I could do.” Alan looked at his face, realizing once again how much he loved this guy. Although Keith wasn’t strong enough to withstand all the difficult trials on his own, he was fighting as hard as he could against the demons in his head that still prevented him from living, and that was why he was standing here now, smiling. Alan wanted to do everything possible to ensure that this smile never faded. “You know, I adore you, partner,” he declared, pressing Keith against his shoulder and ruffling his hair. Keith laughed. “Stop hanging on to me already,” he said, sounding annoyed, but warmth could be heard in his voice. Then Alan suggested they go to a bar and celebrate their successful reunion with Primavera, and Keith couldn’t find any reason to refuse. He looked up at the night sky, illuminated by the cold moonlight. Everything seemed to be finally falling into place and reminded him of how it was two years ago when he and Alan had just returned to Japan from the prisoner-of-war camp and settled in Primavera. Back then, it also seemed like everything was still ahead of them, and that this time they would truly be moving towards a bright future, making every effort to do so. As if that terrible year that had separated them had never happened. Alan was still by his side, still smiling at him and joking carelessly, still the same cheerful and reliable friend. Tears welled up in Keith’s eyes. He wanted to believe that they could really start over, forgetting forever about pain and betrayal, about hate and revenge. He could never find the words to express the depth of his gratitude and love for this person. More than a friend, more than family—what is he to Keith? Simply the one he loves the most in the world.