pslplz | Futureverse

Oh. It’s not that she’s forgotten how her brother and Akaya met. But tennis was such a huge part of Seiichi’s life, it’s easy to fall back on that subject in casual conversation. Hokuto should’ve known that it has a powerful association to him.

She could just keep the conversation safe and talk about the band, the tour, and the album, but she knows that it’s not really what her brother is asking.

What is the gentle and true thing to say? That he’s happy? That he’s dating again? Hokuto feels that her brother hasn’t quite moved on, despite the many months since the break-up. And she also thinks (and Nami might disagree) that they belong together. She likes Omi, really. But the hopeless romantic in her has always felt that this love that Akaya and Seiichi have is the stuff of epics. Fiery, fierce, and eternal.

“He’s all right. He’s been...seeing someone. I don’t know how serious it is, but he’s brought him around a few times, to the after parties.”

Seeing someone. Not sure how serious it is... so maybe not very. Or maybe it is. Yukimura feels something uncomfortable pitting in his stomach thinking about it, a gnarl of heartache and bitterness at the sense of unfairness of it all, that Akaya should get to move on and find a partner when he hasn't been able to do the same. It's a horrible feeling to get about the happiness of someone he cares for. He should want Akaya to be happy, and to find a satisfying relationship with someone else since they were clearly not meant to be for each other.

And yet.

"I see," Yukimura says, with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "That's good for him. What's he like?"

The atmosphere is heavier, Hokuto can sense it instantly in the way he smiles. She wishes he wouldn’t bother with those pretenses around her, but she doesn’t speak on it.

What’s he like. Oh, Seiichi. Why are you doing this to yourself?

She frowns slightly.

“He’s a programmer. He fixed Nami’s synth a little while ago. He seems sweet. I’ve only met him a handful of times.”

A programmer? Like a nerd? That doesn't sound like Akaya's type (insofar as he can be said to have such a thing). Not that it's a bad thing to be-- it's just odd to try to imagine that as the kind of person attached to Akaya's hip. It doesn't seem right.

How much could you guess about seriousness from those small tidbits? The gut reaction is to think of course it isn't serious. But would he bring him to more than one after party if it wasn't serious? How many was a few?

He seems sweet.

Yukimura relaxes.

"That isn't serious. Sweet isn't Akaya's taste for the long run." He needs someone who can add some spice to things. A sweet programmer sounded like someone safe, predictable, and boring. Probably good for an occasional cheering up, though.

"So, how long has he been playing with him?"

There’s something a little nasty about that question that takes Hokuto aback.

“Seiichi...”

She finds herself at a loss on how to answer. Even if she knew when they started dating, it seems wrong to go along with her brother’s characterization of it. But she can’t really bring herself to call him out on it either, because she knows why he’s doing this. And it makes her feel a little breathless from the hurt.

Hokuto sets her chopsticks aside and leans across the table to take her brother’s hand in hers.

“What is it you really want to know?”

Was that so harsh? Certainly, it was blunt-- blunter than he usually is-- but he doesn't think it should warrant a Seiichi.

That's the knee-jerk thought, anyway, until Hokuto takes his hand and asks that dreadful question that stops him cold. It stops him because he realizes in that moment is that what he really wants to know cannot be answered in any questions about Akaya and this new thing he has:

Will I ever find that kind of happiness too?

If he didn't have doubts about that, the ghost of this relationship wouldn't continue to haunt him, and he wouldn't have to fear losing something he'd already thrown away.

He averts his eyes. "I'm sorry. Nothing."

It’s not nothing though, is it? If it were, he wouldn’t look away when he says it. Hokuto thinks this is a bad habit of his. It was the same when he got sick. He’s stubborn and independent. Unable to show weakness. Maybe he couldn’t because he was a captain back then, but before he had that title, he was also a brother.

She falls silent for a moment, but doesn’t let go of his hand.

“...you know, growing up, I used to think how unfair it was, that we were always forced to share everything. Half of the room, half of the toys. Half the attention.”

Hokuto looks down at their hands as she threads their fingers together, smiling.

“Now I think, I wouldn’t have it any other way. So tell me. If you need me to share your burden. That’s what I’m here for.”

Sweet Hokuto, she puts up with so much out of him sometimes. The problem is that it's not her burden too this time, at least it shouldn't be. Hokuto isn't just his sister. She's also Akaya's bandmate and friend, and this conversation places her in an awkward position. It was thoughtless and self-indulgent to engage her with these questions. Moreover, he doesn't get to see Hokuto very often. He doesn't want to squander it dwelling on things she shouldn't be involved with. This was their time.

And, if any further reason were needed to put an end to this unbecoming behavior, it's unproductive to say anything further on the issue. If Akaya seeing anyone else is really such a problem, that's not something to be addressed with angsting over dinner. He can do something about it or accept it and shut up. There are no other options.

He squeezes Hokuto's hand.

"No. There isn't any meaning in continuing this conversation. Let's change the subject."

It doesn’t need to have a meaning, Hokuto wants to say. Feelings don’t always make sense, and if they’re messy and upsetting, then why not acknowledge that? She thinks Seiichi tries too hard to push those feelings aside, when what he ought to do is talk about them and work them out.

But she can’t force him to talk if he doesn’t want to, and he will deal with things as he always has. Sometimes, she wishes he’d let her in. She squeezes his hand back, careful not to let her disappointment show.

“Okay.”

It’s late. They’ve been walking for a while now, after having dinner at one of Akaya’s favorite tempura joints downtown. He should’ve spent the entire day in bed, given the crazy touring schedule that just wrapped up a couple days ago. But somehow, he’d messaged Omi earlier, and here they are, lingering in each other’s company. He forgets how exhausted he is when he’s laughing with Omi about the latest memes, or or breaking down the twist ending from Mizuki’s recent movie (did you see that coming?), or having a serious discussion about whether celery should be tempura’d or not.

“I don’t mind it,” he says with a grin. “It’s crunchy. Besides, it’s battered and fried. It all tastes the same.”

When he got Akaya's text, Omi took a moment to stare down the probable all-nighter he'd be pulling to make a deadline for a client and jumped at his chance. It would be worth the rough night ahead to see Akaya while he could.

"Ugh," Omi sounds, and despite himself he's grinning, too. Akaya is doing this on purpose-- he knows he hates the stuff. He doesn't mind this kind of teasing, though.

"That's lucky, then. I know I can count on you to eat every bite of it for me." He could eat it if he really had to, but what's the fun in saying that?

He accents his point with a little accidentally-on-purpose bump of Akaya's shoulder.

Their shoulders bump and he laughs. Honestly, Akaya isn’t a huge fan of the stuff himself, but it’s fun to tease him about it sometimes.

“How about I write a song about it? It’ll be so fun and catchy, you’ll always associate it with good things and can’t help but love the stuff.”

Sometimes, what you really need is a good walk to clear your head. Yukimura suspects that in this case, it's going to take rather more than that, but it's a start. Maybe.

Even a walk isn't simple, of course. He dresses down in jeans with a hole in one knee and a worn t-shirt under a light windbreaker with a high collar that helps obscure his jawline. He's added a cap he borrowed from Sanada for extra coverage. Sometimes, it's fine (if a bit exasperating) to be recognized and clustered. Tonight, he'd really rather not deal with it.

This time, it isn't the quiet, hopeful squeal of a fan asking confirmation of his name that stops him in his tracks. It's the sound, ever so faint in the din of the evening crowd, of a laugh he'd recognize anywhere, because it belongs to a voice he'd recognize anywhere, whether it was singing into a microphone, goading from the other side of a tennis court, or gasping underneath him between the sheets.

Akaya.

That laugh. It came from the west. Was he approaching or walking away? Did it matter? Because either way, aren't his feet turning in that direction and carrying him closer to it?

His stomach aches, because he knows that's a happy kind of laugh, and he has a sinking feeling what he's going to find. And just like dinner with Hokuto, against better judgment he's drawn into this masochistic sense of curiosity, this need to see the face of the one who's lighting up his life now, who's bringing that beautiful sound to life to reverberate through his memory and drive him mad with regret for what never could have been.

The sheer ridiculousness of the concept of a metal rock song about celery prompts another laugh. "Your music deserves better than celery. It wouldn't help anyway. I already associate your songs with other good thi--"

A personal alarm sounds on his wearable, causing his face to immediately fall. Is it really already that late? It went by so fast.

"That's my cutoff. I've got to go churn out that patch or I'm going to be in real trouble." And not the fun kind. The downside of freelance coding was it was competitive and a lot of work to build up and keep a client base. If your reputation took a hit it could mean more than one lost source of income, and quite a lot of missed opportunity in new clients.

"The rest of this week should be flexible. Let me know if you want to meet up again."

Hey, he can make a song out of celery, why not? (And maybe he will, just because.) The amusement is soon rudely interrupted by the pesky thing called time.

“Aw.” Akaya looks a touch disappointed too, but he knows Omi has a deadline and it’s late enough already.

“Well, go home then, before you turn into a pumpkin.” He chuckles and leans in to nuzzle his ear. “Call me when you’re free.”

Somehow, Akaya can even turn saying goodbye into something that makes him happy, and he makes a noise that sounds dangerously close to a giggle. The anticipation of seeing him again soon brings some sparkle back into Omi's eyes as he turns into the nuzzle and tips his forehead against Akaya's.

"You'll be the first to know. Promise."

He ought to leave it at that, but he can't quite help himself, and kisses him briefly-- definitely a mistake, because it's so hard to pull away after that. But he does, and with a last look turns and summons a cab.

He sees them mere seconds later, paused on the sidewalk with their foreheads touching and gazes locked. He's not sure what he was expecting, only that he wasn't ready to see it. The boy is way too close.

The kiss makes something hot twist in his stomach. He keeps himself exactly where he is, a safe distance away, until the cab takes Akaya's company away, leaving him alone.

The smart thing to do should be to walk in the other direction and forget he saw anything. Fuck that. He has no interest in what's wise right now. He's tried that for most of the last two years; there's nothing waiting for him down that road.

Instead, he approaches like any other pedestrian just minding his own business, until he's standing in the same spot Akaya's little friend occupied a moment ago to hail that cab, and he flags one of his own. He doesn't make eye contact.

But if he sees Akaya dare try to turn and walk off from his peripheral vision, he'll be summoning his Captain voice. Just because he's pretending to ignore Akaya right now doesn't mean he'll tolerate Akaya ignoring him back.

Edited 2020-11-16 22:50 (UTC)

The taste of Omi’s lips lingers as Akaya watches him ride off in the cab. His smile is lingering too, almost like the last bit of energy he still has after being on the go for so many weeks. He should really head home and crash...

And maybe he’s about to, but something catches his eye. A familiar silhouette, one he can recognize anywhere, even disguised like this. It’s not just the shape of him that’s familiar. He has a presence like no one else. It’s not his appearance, or his scent, or his mannerisms, but perhaps an intangible combination of everything, an aura that can stop his heart in an instant.

“Yuki...”

His mind goes blank, unable to even form the obvious questions that his sudden presence should demand. No, all he can do is stand there, rooted to the spot because he can’t remember what he’s supposed to feel. Breathless.

There's a cold, sick satisfaction from the fact showing his face around Akaya still has this kind of effect. If he were a nicer person, he'd hate that it does because they both should have moved on from each other by now. But at heart, he's selfish this way. Jealous even over someone he long ago let go of.

In fairness, Akaya wasn't just a someone. Akaya was special. There's a reason Yukimura hasn't been able to fully move past him.

The driverless vehicle pulls in and slides open its door to welcome its passengers. Yukimura turns and meets his eyes. He keeps his own expression and tone unreadable. Neutral and flat and comfortably in charge.

"Get in."

It’s like he’s been watching everything in slow motion and under water. The bustle and sound of the city around him is muffled, sluggish. All he can see is him. When he finally says something, the world suddenly comes back into focus.

He blinks.

Akaya stares at him for a moment, fixed on that expression that says so much and nothing at the same time. And even now, the questions don’t form in his head, much less his lips. They’ll come later.

He gets in without a word.

Akaya complies without making a scene, which is for the best (or the worst? It's what he wants from him, at any rate). Yukimura climbs in after him and pushes the button to close the automated door.

Instead of sitting down, he leans back against the side of the car with his arms folded. "Home," he instructs. The cab obediently glides into motion and merges into traffic.

The door opened, and he walked through it. He’s not really sure why. Maybe it’s because Yukimura told him to. Or maybe he’ll tell himself later it was to satisfy his curiosity. In truth, he should know that it’s reflex. Like an addiction, obsession. He has no choice but to follow it. Around Yukimura, it’s a familiar sensation. Sometimes, he forgets it’s a thing. And then he’s confronted by moments like this, and his body moves before he has a chance to think.

He stands on the other side of the car, which feels strangely too big and too small at once. If he finds it suffocating, it’s probably because he’s forgetting to breathe.

And whatever it is on Yukimura’s mind, he doesn’t seem especially willing to announce. Before, Akaya might've been tempted to ask. But why should he be the one to break the tension? Feelings begin to creep back from underneath the initial shock, and what do you know, he’s caught up in another familiar sensation - stubbornness. He stares back at him, daring him to speak.

Edited 2020-11-17 02:56 (UTC)

The tension in the air is palpable, the silence deafening. Yukimura lifts his gaze and meets that stare with a poker face. Does Akaya think he'll be the one to talk first? It would be perfectly reasonable to expect that, if only there were anything he could say that didn't expose this raw hurt and anger that would leave him so vulnerable he'd sooner walk home naked. He has everything to say and nothing to voice.

He won't speak. But he will eventually take his weight off the side of the cabin and step across it to Akaya and reach for his face to cup it. He brushes his thumb across Akaya's mouth. In his mind, it's wiping away whatever traces of that boy might have lingered there.

It doesn't belong.

The silence is heavy and long. The cityscape flies by outside the window like a dream, as if all this movement is happening to someone else. Inside, it feels like time stands still.

When Yukimura moves toward him, Akaya stiffens, keeping his eyes locked on his all the while. Yukimura’s hand reaches for him, brushing his face, his lips. He hasn’t felt his touch in a long while, but he can never forget what it was like. Even something as simple as this feels like a jolt beneath his skin. Akaya furrows his brow as he feels his lip tremor just a little. His body, it seems, reacts of its own volition.

His hand reaches out and grabs the hem of Yukimura’s shirt by his hip. He doesn’t know if he means to shove him away to pull him closer.

In the end, they don't speak because they don't need to. Touch speaks for itself. Akaya's hand closes around the fabric at his hip. Yukimura takes the back of Akaya's neck in his other hand and presses on his chin with his thumb to lower Akaya's jaw for the possessive, demanding kiss he pulls him into.

He takes another step in, pressing Akaya's warm body against the wall of the cabin until their hips are flush.

Futureverse

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