Growing apart with Akaashi Keiji -346 words of angst
“It was my birthday yesterday.”
Akaashi glances up at you from the genkan, a shoe still on his foot, his briefcase still looped around his elbow. Shadows obscure your face as you sit at the dining table.
The lights are off. It’s dark.
‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t seem quite sufficient given the last two birthdays he’s forgotten, so he settles with a brief ‘I’ll make it up to you tomorrow’ instead, hoping that you’ll give him a pass just like you have twice before, and let him collapse in bed instead.
You barely acknowledge his words, only gesturing for him to sit beside you, pushing a stack of papers towards him. Even though the words on the page seem to swim before his very eyes, he can make out their meaning, their intent.
Divorce.
His bones sag into weak flesh, his blood freezes in his veins, but he manages to raise his head, meet your cold stare.
“Why?” he asks.
You haven’t fought with him, haven’t told him you were unhappy, he can’t understand why you would throw away your marriage so easily, like it means nothing to you at all. He’s not the most attentive of husbands, not the most affectionate of husbands, because surely he has an excuse, work has been taking up all his time. Yes, he could do better, should do better so surely you’ll give him another chance?
“Because we don’t know each other anymore”, you reply simply.
Even as he shakes his head to deny it, he can’t answer your pointed questions, doesn’t know your favourite tea nor the TV show you’re currently watching, fumbles when you ask him when the last time he’s been to your parents’ place for dinner, can’t even name a single one of your co-workers or more damningly, even get the name of the company you work for correct.
“You can’t love someone you don’t even know” you tell him, your tone flat, dead.
He knows defeat when he sees it. He is not too far gone that he can’t own up to his mistakes.
He picks up a pen.
a/n:reposting because the tags are being evil rawr.
