It would've been easier to come together, but Katsuyuki had insisted on separate taxis - something about it being 'less obvious', though what it was that would be obvious, he hadn't clarified. Whatever it was, it seemed Katsuyuki was intent to keep their evening hidden from the others. Yuanfei supposed the separate ride had something to do with that – to keep them from questioning what the two were planning together – but he suspected it was more for Katsuyuki's own comfort: to avoid the question he didn't want to ask himself either.

The taxi pulled into a free spot on the sidewalk; he was here, it seemed. Yuanfei peered put the window. Even now, spending all these months in this place, the city's hugeness awed him, but this part of town was something else. Every building towered over him here, all with the same stark, glassy facade. The sky was crowded with them to a near suffocating degree, the horizon completely lost behind them. The dark of night barely penetrated the streets; every corner was glowing with the lights and signs and shop fronts at full brightness.

He stepped out and closed the taxi's door behind himself. Leant against the wall to the side of entrance, just out of the reaches of nearby lights, Katsuyuki waited for him in the dark.

“Hey Yuki.” Katsuyuki's head whipped up. He seemed taken aback, as though wrenched out of a deep thought.

“Oh-- hey.” He stood upright and adjusted his clothes. It was always a pleasure to see him dressed up, and this night was no different. The air of superiority and dignity of an expensive and well-tailored suit fit Katsuyuki perfectly, playing right into his stoic gracefulness. Yuanfei only had one shirt – two if he counted his work uniform - with the distinctive fit of something clearly off the rack. He felt remarkably underdressed in comparison. And yet, Katsuyuki looked back at him with a sheepish look that mirrored his own. An awkward silence swelled between them that belied an edge to Katsuyuki's mood.

“... You good?”

“Yeah. Of course,” Katsuyuki replied curtly. His eyes flicked down Yuanfei's body. “... You look... interesting.” Yuanfei forced a smile to cover his embarrassment; it seemed Katsuyuki thought he was underdressed too.

“ ... Ah, well... I tried to wear something nice, but I don't have much that's...” He trailed off. Katsuyuki's expression softened in surprise.

“Huh? Oh- I didn't mean it like that. I just... I meant I've never seen you dressed up before.” He cast another look over Yuanfei. “You look great-- I mean--...” He forced a cough, taking the moment to reaffix his typical stoic mask. “You look fine. Not bad for someone who just got out of hospital.”

Yuanfei smiled. Another awkward silence brewed. “You sure you're okay? You seem kind of... nervous.”

“Tch, of course I'm not nervous. Why would I be?” He rolled his eyes. “What, are you nervous?”

“Well... Kinda, yeah.”

Katsuyuki's shoulders dropped a little as the stoic mask slipped once more. He sighed uncomfortably. “... Me too.”

Yuanfei smiled sympathetically. “It's not too late to cancel if you want.”

“I don't.” Katsuyuki beckoned him to the restaurant's entrance. “Let's just try to pretend this isn't a weird situation and...”

“...Try to have fun?”

“Something like that.”

“We've actually been kind of getting along since the tournament.”

Yuanfei's eyes lit up. “What? Really? Even with Hunter?” Katsuyuki nodded with a small smile.

“Yeah, really.” He lifted his glass to his lips. “I'm not happy about it, but I guess we've reluctantly made an alliance.” Yuanfei grinned.

“And it only took until the end of the season to get there.” He looked down at his plate, but found it already empty. The minutes had flown by unnoticed; he'd been so absorbed in the swing of conversation, absent-mindedly picking at his meal between spirited back-and-forth, that he hadn't even noticed that nothing was left. Katsuyuki could be a little hard to crack, but once he opened up, the rapport flowed effortlessly between them. “You think you'd even consider them friends?”

"Maybe not quite friends."

“Better than enemies, at least?” Katsuyuki smiled a little and shrugged. “So what happened? How did things change so much in just a couple days?”

“I guess they were happy about what I did to Nikolai after what he did to you. Especially since they couldn't do anything themselves without compromising their matches.”

“You mean...?”

“Beating the shit out of him.” Katsuyuki tilted his head with a slight wince of embarrassment. “Or trying, at least.” He subconsciously rubbed the knuckles on his left hand. They were faint, but the bruises were still just about visible in the dim candlelight. “Seemed like we were finally on the same page about something, seeing what happened to you...” He trailed off, cutting off his pensive tone with an abrupt cough and leaning back in his seat. “There's nothing like witnessing a team mate's illegal head injury to bring the team together.”

Yuanfei let out a small laugh. “I'm glad I could help.”

“Speaking of which, how is your head?”

“It's fine,” Yuanfei said, lifting his fringe to show what remained of the injury. Katsuyuki didn't seem comforted by the sight, and his relaxed expression changed into one more serious. “They said it probably won't even leave a scar.”

“Hmh. That's good,” He replied gently. There was something softer about his tone, almost sad, or regretful. “At least they won't...” The sentence hung in the air unfinished. He cast his eyes downward.

“What?”

Katsuyuki shook his head. “Nothing.” He reached for his wine glass again. Head lowered, his silver hair tumbled over his eyes. “I'm just glad it's over.” He idly tapped his fingers against the glass stem while he took a quiet moment of contemplation, before eventually releasing a soft sigh. “... I won't put you through something like that again.”

Yuanfei frowned in confusion. “You didn't put me through anything. It's just how it goes in Yaobudo – sometimes we get hurt. It happens to all of us.”

“But not like that. Not against a known cheat. I knew what Nikolai was like, but I still...” Katsuyuki sighed again, this time with the strain of frustration. “I shouldn't have told you to do it.”

“Then the same thing would've happened to someone else.”

“It's not the same. You know what I'm trying to say.” Katsuyuki leant back in his seat, exasperated. “Of course I wouldn't want the others to get hurt either. But I want it to happen to you least of all.”

Yuanfei smiled playfully. “So you're playing favorites.” Katsuyuki responded in kind with an exaggerated eye roll.

“Sure. You're my favorite.” He said barely above a whisper. The little flutter of excitement at those words caused Yuanfei's smile to widen. “But you already knew that. You're just trying to make me squirm.”

“I don't want to assume that.”

“Tch. Like you didn't already know. You don't see me buying shit for the others. The cabin vacation, the nights out...”

“And the fruit basket.”

“Well - I already told you that one was from all of us.”

“I know,” Yuanfei nodded slowly. “But I get the feeling it might have been your idea.”

“What makes you say that?”

“A couple of things.” Yuanfei took a sip of water. “I don't think Hunter or Sammy would've thought of giving me something like that. Even if they did, I don't think they'd know any of my favorite fruit either - that's something I think only you would have noticed. And the other reason,” He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it behind his shoulder and revealing a sheepish smile. “... When I thanked them for it, they didn't know what I was talking about.”

Katsuyuki's eyes fluttered shut for a short moment of exasperation. “Of course.” Yuanfei laughed.

“It's sweet that you tried to share the credit.”

“Yeah, well... I didn't want you to think I cared too much.”

Yuanfei raised a sceptical eyebrow. “You don't care now?” Katsuyuki sighed, gaze awkwardly diverted from Yuanfei's own.

“You know I do. I'm just an idiot that doesn't know how to show it.” Katsuyuki rarely expressed emotions with much intensity - save for anger - but Yuanfei had come to recognize the more subtle cues he would exhibit. Tapping a finger lightly on the table with slow deliberation, it seemed he had taken on a nervous energy. Yuanfei placed his own hand on the surface an inch or two in front of Katsuyuki's, something of a symbolic comforting touch when a physical one would be out of the question.

“It's fine, Yuki.” He gave a relaxed smile. “You show it just fine.”

Katsuyuki lowered his head with a guarded, cynical smile. He paused a moment, as if looking for something to say, but ultimately opted for silence instead. The finger stopped its anxious tapping and instead gingerly extended outward, gently brushing against Yuanfei's own. In kind, he slid his hand forward just a little more to close the gap and deepen the touch. Katsuyuki didn't move away.

The candlelight flickered as it dimmed, casting dancing shadows across the table; its time was nearly up. Yuanfei lifted his eyes to meet Katsuyuki's. His expression was reserved, but there was a subtle contentment in its calmness. He looked back at Yuanfei with a soft stare, holding a connected gaze for just a little longer than usual - just enough to feel purposeful, meaningful - before giving Yuanfei's hand one last quick touch and slipping it back onto folded arms. His signals were hard to read, intentions obscured under layers of caution and stifled self-expression - but he felt like he'd read a hint of something intimate, something he could express only a fraction of in public through a fleeting touch and a glancing look. But regardless of its brevity, that feeling of connection lingered long after the moment had ended.

He was beautiful as ever in the low light. He always carried himself with dignified grace, but in quiet, more private moments like this, with his guard lowered just a touch, he took on a more intimate charm; something a little more vulnerable, a little more trusting and open than he was typically capable of. It was rare, modest and utterly captivating. Yuanfei's fluttering heartbeat thrummed with adoration.

It was time. In the secluded dark of the waning candlelight, it felt like the right moment - as right as it ever could be, at least. He'd held it back for so, so long already, but he knew that he owed it to Yuki - and himself - to finally be honest with his emotions. It was time to tell him.