Furuta frowns as he opens the door to the small apartment he shares with his s/o. His secret. The one he doesn’t trust even the clowns to know about. 

The apartment is dark and silent. Unusual. 

“Kichimura. Nimura,” says his s/o’s voice from behind him. “Souta.” 

He starts at the secret name. But when he turns to face them, he forces a little laugh through his lips. “Took you long enough to figure it out.”

“You think this is a joke?” They hold out a box and dump its contents on the floor. When they flick on the lights, Furuta’s taunts dry up.

Washuu family records. Photos. Letters. 

His s/o knows everything.

He glares at them. “How did you get this?”

They laugh. They laugh in a hopeless, despairing manner – the same way Furuta has always laughed.

He originally sought them out because their laugh was full of life. 

He’s too perturbed to move as they fall over onto their bed, laughing into the bedspread.

“I guess we played each other,” they finally say, wiping their eyes. They hold out a badge, then. 

Private Investigator. 

Furuta glowers at them. They’ve been fooling him this whole time? 

“I was hired by the family of a woman named Ami. To track down her disappearance. Who knew I’d track down far more than that. Rape gardens. Ghouls and humans interbreeding. Advanced aging. Corruption at the highest levels.” Their voice is flat.

They know everything. Furuta can’t swing this any other way. They’re too smart; they’ll see through his lies. He ought to have chosen a dumb s/o, but no, he had to choose the intelligent, sassy one. 

“What do you want to do?” Furuta forces his voice to come out smooth, as if his only lifeline isn’t decomposing.

“I was caught retrieving this information. In the Washuu mansion. By your father, no less.” They tilt their head.

Furuta sees red. Even if his s/o ruins his life, or tries to, he can’t – he can’t bear the thought of his father so much as looking upon them. If Tsuneyoshi laid a finger on them –

“He’s horrible.” They open their eyes to look at Furuta again. “So, what do I want to do, Souta? I don’t know. I just know…I want you to hold me.”

Furuta is confused. 

“Your actions are un-atonable. That doesn’t mean I want to hurt you, or don’t see where you came from.” They blink back tears. 

He slides onto he bed beside them, wraps his arms around their waist, buries his mouth in their neck. “Does this mean you love me anyways?”

“I don’t know what to do. Ami’s family deserves closure.” They gasp as Furuta’s hands slide up to pinch their nipple. 

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“So are you.” They turn their hungry face to him and push him flat against the mattress. Their fingers tear off the buttons to his shirt. 

“ I don’t know what love is,” Furuta admits. He’ll take the first plunge. 

“But you love me.” His S/O tugs on his pants. 

“That’s good,” they whisper as Furuta pushes inside them. “I love you no matter what.” 

And in the middle of sex, as their bodies rock in rhythm, Furuta looks up at heir teary eyes and feels, for a moment, normal.